When I was eight years old, I lost my voice and became a mute overnight. My beautiful picture

It was one of the toughest times of my life and I was constantly getting into trouble at school from one fight to another.

At the time, my dad found a new job so my family and I left our hometown and traveled thousands of miles to San Francisco.

I started fourth grade at Redding Elementary School, a small redbrick schoolhouse that smelled like a combination of instant coffee beans and refried beans from burritos. It’s a distinct smell that I can still vividly recall today.

During my third week into school, the kids at my table noticed that I don’t speak so they decided to play a prank on me.

A skinny boy with dark long hair who sat across from me asked, ”Can I see your Mazinga Robot paper pad?”

I nodded my head and slid over my favorite cartoon character across the wooden desk. He grabbed my pad, took a look at it and stuffed it into his backpack.

I was shocked to see what just happened. I wanted to ask for my robot back but I couldn’t say anything. I couldn’t even raise my hand and said, “Teacher, he took my pad.” I left home pretty angry that day.

Days go by and these bully kids would find new ploys to pick on me. They know that I can’t speak and therefore threw me under the bus for the things I didn’t do. I became the kid that gets blamed for everything.

Anything that went wrong, “Allan did it. He’s the guilty one. Shame on him,” as a fair skin girl points her index finger at me. I became the class’ mascot, The Sacrificial Lamb.

I find myself in detention hall every other day and I have to stay an extra hour after school sitting there at my desk wondering what I did wrong.

My teacher would send me home with notes like “Allan doesn’t pay attention in class and he is always causing trouble with other students.”

The misunderstanding and scapegoat pointing became a vicious cycle because I would fight back against these bullies for the things I didn’t do. Most times, I would visit the friendly principal’s office followed by more scolding from Mrs. Chen.   

Six months in to school, I got into a fight with a freckle classmate wearing a blue plaid shirt during recess. Fists were trading back and forth as he and I duked it out while other kids watched us at the schoolyard. He grappled me into a headlock with his right arm and around and around we turn as I tried to free myself. During the wrestling match, I slipped and my right blue Adidas shoe came loose.

When I untangled myself from his vise, the boy ran towards my shoe.  He picked my sneaker up, hurled it across the schoolyard, pass the 7 foot red metal picket fence and onto the adjacent one-way street.

One of the teachers came over to break our fight up.  Soon after, the recess bell rings and everyone except for me went back to class.

I looked for a near by green wooden bench and sat there dumbfounded. I didn’t know how to get my shoe because kids were not allowed to go outside the fence without adult supervision. At the same time, I watched 5 passing cars driving down Frank Norris Street crushing my shoe.

Metal Picket FenceI felt defeated and I thought to myself how much I hated school.

As I sat there with my head down, a woman in her early 40s with blonde hair comes over and asked, “Why are you not in class? Why are you sitting here?”

I shrugged my shoulders and I couldn’t speak. She asked me again but this time her voice was firmer and louder.

I lifted my head, looked up at her with my teary eyes and said, “I don’t speak English.

I don’t speak English”, was the only English sentence I knew.

The woman custodian said something else I couldn’t understand so I pointed m finger at my shoeless foot.

She asked me, “Where is your shoe?”

I pointed my finger towards narrow ally of Frank Norris. Together, she held right my shoulder and we hopped across the schoolyard, open the rusty metal picket gate and fetched my right blue Adidas.

I went home that night upset and told my dad what happened at school.

I said, “Dad, I’m done with school. I am not going back. I hate the school here and I hated it here.

In Taiwan, I was getting straight A’s. In America, I was getting straight F’s in every subject except for Math and Art.”

Dad looked at me with kind and compassion eyes. He knew that I was in pain but he doesn’t know how to quite help me.

Instead of telling me I have to go back to school, he said, “Son, what can I help you with so that other kids can’t pick on you anymore?”

I said, “I feel like I’m always the one to blame even when it’s not my fault.

Dad says, “I’m going to teach you these two words so listen carefully.”

He paused for a moment and said, “Not Me!”

I repeated after him several times saying, “Not me!”

A few weeks later, I found myself in the center of attention again. Someone had opened a broken window at the back of our classroom when we weren’t supposed to. Our teacher was furious and wanted to know who opened the window.

One of the kids pointed at me and said, “Allan did it.”

My teacher stormed towards me, leaned over my desk, looked at me with her fury eyes and started yelling at me.

That was the day when I stood up and said, “Not me!”

My teacher took a step back.

And again I said, “Not me!”

I took her and the rest of the class by surprise that I actually spoke. I have a voice and I am no longer the victim bullies easily picked on.

Since the incident, I still got into fights, but those bullies had to think twice before picking on me again.

And a year later and a new teacher, I was still a regular attendee in after school detention program. Except this time, I got in trouble because I can’t stop talking in class. 

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6S1D0196-LOne of the greatest quotes that influenced my life was from Steve Young.

He is a MVP Quarterback of the San Francisco 49ers for those that don’t know him. 

Steve says, “The principle is competing against yourself. It’s about self-improvement, about being better than you were the day before.”

When I read that quote, I took it to heart.

Being a very competitive person ever since I was a kid, I was always trying to out do another person.

I remember in 7th grade, I competed with another classmate, Erickson, on every subject, English, Math, History, Science, and even physical education. That year, I received all As from every subject and my parents were really proud of me.

When we moved into 8th grade, Erickson and I had different teachers and we only had one class together. Since I did not have a worth competitor in the other classes, my grades started to drop. I was getting Bs and Cs.

I lacked motivation and I didn’t care much about studying. By mid semester, Erickson said to me, “What the heck happened to you? Why aren’t you doing well in school?”

I learned a life lesson that year. I realized that if I continue to seek others to compete, I am just filling up my insecurity.

When I started to compete against myself, physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually, everything changed. I started to gain momentum again.

When I challenged myself, I grew faster.

This is what Tony Robbins talks about – CANI – Constant And Never-ending Improvement.

When you can CANI on a consistent basis, your life would just be that much richer.

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il_340x270.474198208_pqkdIt was spring of 1985 when a pretty eight years old girl came into my life. I was in 4th grade. She was in 5th. For the first time in my life, I could not keep my eyes from looking at Nicole.

She was taller than me by two inches. She had wavey black hair with fair skin. She wore these cute black frame classes and had the sweetest smile I have ever seen. Somehow her eyes just sparkle when I look at her.

I would look towards her way when she is not paying attending and then quickly turn away pretending not looking at her when she looks my way. I did that for an entire month because I was too shy to talk to her.

It is hard to muster up courage to talk to a girl like Nicole.

“What do I say to her? What happens if she doesn’t want to talk to me? She can’t possibly want to talk to me because I am chubby,” and on and on with the afflictions in my mind.

At the time, I have only immigrated to the U.S. for about a year. I just barely learned how to speak English. I live with my dad while my mom is in Taiwan and I miss her terribly.

I didn’t particularly like school because I couldn’t get along with most kids. I am always in between fights and even my 4th grade teacher thought I was stupid.

Our teacher played trivial pursuit with us when we behave in class. I wasn’t able to participate for the most part because I didn’t understand the questions that the cards were asking and if I did kind of understand the question is, I couldn’t say the answers in English.

I remember specifically one day our teacher pulled out a card that none of the other kids could answer.

“What is the name for the constellation that points to the North Star?” said my teacher.

I raised my hand and said, “Big Bear.”

I learned a little bit about astronomy when I was in Taiwan and even though I did not understand the word “constellation”, I took a wild guess.

My teacher said, ”Allan is right. It’s the Big Dipper and also know as the Big Bear.”

“You see, he is not as stupid as you guys all think he is,” she followed.

When I was in Taiwan, I was getting straight As in every subject. In America, I was getting straight Fs. The only two subjects that I was getting straight As were Arts and Math, the universal language.

I felt alone. I was always in trouble with the teacher and she hated me. Oh, did she dread my presence.

For Nicole to be in my life at that moment was a blessing. She was the only thing that I look forward going to school everyday.

In certain ways, she was my Big Bear that guide me to happiness and through the hard times.

We never say much during the school days because we were both shy and I never got her phone number after she graduated.

From time to time, I wondered how is she doing in life. When I think of her, the song “If You Leave” from OMD always pops into my head.

She was one of my favorite memories from childhood.

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Live.Love.Journey!

6S1D8056-L

I received an unexpected phone call 2PM in the afternoon and I answered “Hi, this is Allan. How many I help you?”

A harsh voice on the other end started screaming at me.

“The quote is due in two hours. Why haven’t you email the quote out yet?”

“You know what, no excuses. I don’t want to hear any excuses from you. “

“There should be absolutely no reason why you can’t respond quicker.”

“This is the year-end buying cycle. You should be working 24 x 7 like the rest of us.”

“You need to respond sooner and faster.“

“No excuses. I will not have you give any. You need to do your job or I’ll recommend to your boss to fire you.”

“This is not acceptable. You got promoted and you need to do more work.“

“Get it done!” as one of the Sales Directors I support scolded at me.

I took a deep breath and wondered what just happened and why am I getting yelled at.

I have been working since 6:30 AM this morning on trying to get the quote go through the proper channel for the discount approval.

I know there is a deadline with the quote. I am actively working on it.

I am waiting for another Manager’s approval on discount before I can email this quote out. I have emailed and called that Manager several times. He promised to give me the approval within an hour.

I understand the urgency of this. I am on top of it. I don’t understand why he is berating me when things are moving forward. I don’t get it.

I said, “Can I pause you for a second here? I am not giving you any excuses. I just want to update you the situation. Is that ok?”

 The Director was still fuming and reluctantly said, “Yes.”

“I saw an email come in at 8:12PM last night from one of the Sales Reps and I responded at 10:16PM to let her know that I will take care of it first thing in the morning.”

“I woke up at 6:30, finished up the quote and sent it at 7:00 to another Manager for approval. I have been catching up with my workload with them and email until 1 AM this morning.”

“I don’t understand why I’m getting yelled at for responding quickly? I really don’t get it.”

The Director says, ”Email me with what you just said” and click, he hung up the phone.

I spent the next two hours putting together all of my evidence emails so that I can draft another email showing the reason why I had indeed responded in the appropriate amount of time. I shot the email off to that Director.

At the same time, I wondered, “If today is my last day on earth, is the job that I am doing worth me stressing over, losing sleep and feeling burnt out?”

“Is working 80+ hours a week, sacrifice my weekends, be on road living from hotel to hotel and flying all across the country worth it?”

 “Is there a higher purpose than just hitting my uber high sales unattainable sales quota and helping my Sales Reps and their Sales Director hitting their quota?

 The answers were all “No.”

“Then I am doing this just for what?”

“Is it for the money in exchange of my relationship with my family, my health and my happiness?”

“At the end, is it all worth it?”

 The answer was still “No.”

Go out and live your life today.

If you don’t like something, change it. If you don’t like your job quit. 

This is your life. Do what you LOVE and do it OFTEN! 

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Live.Love.Journey!

I sat at MEPS (Military Entrance Process Exam) feeling nervous, anxious and sick to my stomach because I was about to leave home for Basic Training in Fort Sill Oklahoma. 

It was two weeks after my High School graduation where I packed a small bag of my clothes, a journal, a Walkman and left home. I was eighteen then.

It was two and a half years before where my dad had lost our house due to foreclosure and all of our family life savings went with it. We were forced to move into a garage turned into living quarters or also known as In-law unit in San Francisco.

My room had a big heating pipe hung over the entrance where I had to duck in and out of my room without hitting my forehead against it.

Life was miserable but we were happy that we had a roof over our heads and food on the table. At least we were not on the streets homeless. My dad’s salary was enough to cover rent and food but nothing more.

Discussion about paying for college came up and since we didn’t have money, I volunteered to join the Army and off I went to Oklahoma in July.

For the first few weeks of Basic Training, I felt just like home. Literally. I called my mom up one Sunday morning and she asked me what I thought about the Army life.

I said, “Mom, the Army life is just like home. My Drill Sergeants yell at me like how you yell at me back home. Only difference is I’m getting paid to be yelled at!”

She chuckled and knew that I was doing ok.

Then one day Basic Training changed my mind.

Imagine for a moment that you are walking a 20 kilometers tactical road march (about 12.4 miles) in the 120 degrees, 200% humidity during the summer in Oklahoma wearing full combat gear.

The full combat gear consists of 5 pounds Kevlar helmet, Load Bearing Equipment (Suspenders, canteen, ammo pouch), M16 Rifle and a 60 pounds rucksack on your back.

I could feel the burning heat transfer from the asphalt into my combat boots. It was that hot.

There were roughly about 240 of us in our company and during tactical road marches, we had to be split into 120 soldiers on the right side and another 120 soldiers on the left side.

We also had to maintain a 50-meter radius from the soldier in front us so that if an enemy were to throw a grenade, not a bunch of people will die or get injured.

Because I was in 4th platoon, “Stealth Fighters” our platoon was always stuck behind 1st, 2nd, and 3rd platoon in the back of the tactical road march.

This was a huge problem for us. When the other platoons in front of us slowed down during the march, they had to run and catch up with the leading platoon.

The slowing down and speeding up process created a rubber band effect where we would walk for four minutes and run for one minute just to fill up the gap in between us.

I would get really bad blisters from the rubber band effect where it feels like pins and needles poking my toes every time I took a step. And bad news was that we were only half way done with the march and our Drill Sergeants would say, “Just suck it up and march on!”

After a while, I would get new blisters underneath the old blister and some times even blood blisters. It was really that bad.

I hated those road marches so much I swore if I ever make it back to college, I would study the heck out of college and find a desk job with air conditioning. I never want to do this ever again.

When I did eventually come back to college, I studied night and day. I had almost straight As in my upper division business classes.

I thank my Drill Sergeant Miller and Drill Sergeant Parker for teaching me hard work and discipline.

After Basic Training, I would complain how hard life is sometimes. I would stop myself and reflect back to the hot blistering summer days of Fort Sill Oklahoma. I stop complaining and I smile at what ever problems I have in that moment.

One of the hardest times of my life was also the best times of my life.

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Live.Love.Journey!

Almost exactly a year ago, I was crying my eyes out while my ex-girlfriend drove me to Los Angeles International Airport. 

As a man, I can count the number of times when I broke down and cry uncontrollably with only five fingers.

I said to myself, “Be strong Allan. Things will get better. Just get through today and tomorrow is another day.” I repeated that mantra over and over to help me get through that day.

“Where did our relationship go wrong? Have I done my best and gave her everything,” I asked myself.

My inner voice said, “You have given your all and you have done your best. You gave her everything and done you could have. That is something you should be proud of.”

I was really torn. I was really broken.

My heart was in pieces as I left LAX wearing a pair sunglass at night for the first time. I didn’t want the world to see me like this, weak and fragile.

I was free falling towards depression and I knew I needed to somehow pick myself up fast because I support my mom and dad and I still have a hectic corporate job to do.

I needed to stop the bleeding so the very next day, I went to a power yoga session. I felt physically better after class, but I know my heart was still mangled.

Many times throughout the day, I would feel all sorts of heavy emotions from getting very angry, to missing her, to wondering what went wrong. This perpetual figure eight loop keeps circling over and over in my head.

The worst part was that I still have to work 14 hour days and on weekends to catch up. Heck, I even had to work during Thanksgiving and the day before Christmas writing statement of work.

By January of this year, I was burnt out with my super stressful job. Last year, I had logged in over 75 hotel nights and over 80,000 airline miles for work. Everything about me fell apart.

I asked my Manager to take time off from work. He gracefully supported my decision.

I felt like I had to get away from everything so that I have a better perspective. I took that opportunity and traveled so that I could pick up the pieces of my heart and to get away from ever piling emails.

I booked a one-way ticket from San Francisco to Savusavu Fiji, Sydney Australia, Ubud Bali, and Heifei China. It was a one and half-month trip and I’m not sure where I wanted to go after China.

Even thought I was suffering in deep depression and burn out, I committed myself to help people that came across my path.

I met many amazing people that simply needed someone to listen to and I was there to help support them if they wished. I asked for nothing in return.

I met a dog trainer who lost her dog, her best friend.

I met a man who’s parents looked down on what he loves to do in life.

I met a mother that was extremely depressed.

I met a dad that was overwhelmed with his job and didn’t know what to do.

I met a father who beats his wife because he felt trapped and angry.

I met a yoga teacher that could use a little confidence.

I met a woman that is working on her depression after a divorce.

I met a woman that finally forgive her brother after 20+ years

And I have met many others.

The profound thing was that I saw bits and pieces of myself in everyone that I had helped out.

The best part was that I met a young man who’s passion is to spread love and joy.

I learned that his mission in life is to inspire others to spread love and joy to their family, love ones, friends and even random strangers. Together everyone can make a difference in the world, one person at a time.

I found that young man in my heart. By serving the amazing people that I have met and by giving them my unconditional love, I was able to help heal my heart in return.

This year, I found what I was made of.

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Live.Love.Journey!

 

The good thing about having an older brother who is much older than I am is that he has more life experiences than I do. The bad part is that I feel like I have another person parenting me…

Like most teenagers, I was pretty rebellious when my brother was trying to tell me what to do.

“You must learn to be more considerate with everyone’s needs. You can’t just crank up the TV while I’m sleeping. You need to pay more attention!” as my brother scolded at me.

I did not appreciate his tone of voice and I automatically went into a defending mode.

I would say, “You have your own issues too! Fix your own damn issues first before trying to fix mine.”

It was this constant back and forth bickering about really small things that turned into big problems with shouting matches – he who yelled the loudest wins.

Reflecting back, I realized that I was insecure. I would have taken his feedback as a complement if I was self loving. Yes, he yelled at me. His tone of voice could have been better. However if he didn’t care about me as a brother, he wouldn’t have said anything at all. He could have careless and told me to go take a hike.

He cared so much about me that he is trying to teach me about respecting others. More important, it was about respecting myself.

Instead, I just pointed fingers right back at him trying to point out his faults.

If I respected myself, I would have said to him, ”Thank you for your feedback. I really appreciate it. I don’t’ like your tone, but I know you care about me and that is why you said those things. You wanted me to be a better person.”

The truth is that we all have faults. That makes us human.

I have learned that it is the imperfection that makes us perfect.

It is accepting whom we are, truly accepting ourselves that make us complete.

It is what we perceive as “Self Worth.”

When we are complete, we no longer need to defend ourselves like a porcupine under attack, sting the people who love us.

When we are complete, we can offer our love and joy to others instead of hate and anger.

I want to take a moment to send gratitude and appreciation to my brother for caring about me and teaching me all these years.

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Live.Love.Journey!

“No,” I did not reach enlightenment as the title might indicate. Well, sort of. I have received some insights but it’s not exactly holy. It is more of a hole to be exact.

Recently in the last few months, I have been finally able to do better balancing handstand poses now that I feel a lot stronger. I also feel like I can push myself a little more and learn to teeter around the edge a bit.

When my yoga teacher said to get into tripod headstand, I was a bit hesitant because of the previous neck injury caused by headstand two years ago. The pose caused bad compression on my neck and it took months for my Chiropractor to realign me.

Fast-forward two years later and here I feel like I am stronger now and I want to give headstand another shot. I had setup my arms like dolphin pose and gently rested the top of my head against my mat. Once I found the sturdiness of the pose, I slowly used my core to bring up my legs. I was also very mindful of not compressing my neck again, so I concentrated on the lifting part of the neck and spine. To my surprise, I was able to get up and balance with ease, well for a few seconds anyways.

“So far, so good,” I thought to myself.

Next thing I know, I felt the weight shifting forward and started to tip over to the front of my mat. The problem is that I know exactly what I am going to collide into. It was a large stereo amplifier with a bunch of sharp knobs.

What I heard next was a loud bang against the metal box after drop kicking it with my right knee and the other students’ loud gasps. I recovered from my fall and my yoga teacher immediate comes to me and asked if I was ok.

I felt fine and didn’t feel much pain so I just laughed it off and said, “I’m ok!”

I slowed everything down to assess the fall and I looked around my right knee since I did feel a bit of pain. To my surprise, I saw a dime size hole in my right leg, about ½ inch from my right knee cap.  I also noticed blood all over my mat, and some blood droplets near the stereo as well.

“It looks pretty bad,” my yoga teacher said.

From my Army medical training days, the first thing I did was to stop the bleeding. I grabbed my hand towel and firmly pressed it against the laceration. From there, I walked to the near by medical kit, taped myself up with gauze and medical tape and went back to the class to pack my things up. Then I rode off on my motorcycle and headed from the nearest hospital.

Since I had a few hours to kill at the hospital, I decided to reflect what just happened so here I am at the ER writing this blog on my phone.

I remember one of my favorite trainers, Scott Harris from Tony Robbins, talked about his concept “Feather, Brick, Truck.”

What does feather, brick, and truck have to do with my injury?

I have been experiencing some tenderness in my wrist from doing too many arm balance poses in the last few months and the soreness from my wrists are trying to tell me something. This is known as feather. It also doesn’t help that I am typing away for months now on a non-ergonomic laptop. I have noticed the pain in my wrist but I have been kind of ignoring it. Key word is “ignoring ” it.

“If you don’t pay attention to the feathers in your life, then you’ll get hit by a brick,” Scott says.

Bam, I get a deep laceration on my right kneed or AKA brick.

Since I understand feather, brick, truck, I realized what my body is trying to tell me. If I really don’t pay attention after this incident and continue to do what I’m doing, I will eventually experience truck and that will be some kind of a major injury.

I am fortunate that I did not injure my tendon or I will really be out of commission for a while. Even though I kept a real positive attitude by smiling all the way to the ER, I need to take care of my body. Due to this knee injury, I won’t be able to do yoga or chi gong for a while.  I also limp around my house from one chair to another and I can’t go out for a walk or drive my car or my motorcycle.

It’s the little things that we take for granted that we should always appreciate.

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Live.Love.Journey.

I went to a social gathering recently of the non yogi type with my Om necklace and I had quite a few people asking me “Are you 30 years old because your necklace says 3 – 0.”

“Thank you for asking. I am not 30 years old. I bought this necklace from my recent trip to Bali in early March of this year and it is a sign of Om, the Universal sound,” as I said and smiled warmly.

Then one of the girls said, ”Om, That’s interesting. No pun intended…”

I laughed and we went on talking about life in general, and living life.

After that night, I went home and reflected my journey thus far with “Om.” My thoughts brought me back three years ago when I was going through my 200 hours of yoga teacher training and why “Om” and chanting became an intricate part of my yoga practice.

One of our mentors, who falls under the Iyengar lineage, had us not only chant “Om” but also chant a gazillion invocations and another gazillion Patanjali sutras for twenty minutes before we start our physical asana practice. In the beginning, I dreaded these chants and sometimes I even felt restless as we went through the songs.

“What’s the point of chanting?” as I asked my friend who had previously attended the yoga teacher training.

She said, “For what it’s worth, just explore the sounds and vibrations in your body when you chant.”

For the first month of chanting, I thought it was useless and that we should just skip all of the “Num, num, yum, yum” sounding vowels as none of it made sense to me. I even tried to avoid my mentor’s classes because I just did not like chanting.

For me, chanting Sanskirt was not only hard to enunciate, but I couldn’t understand any of the meanings behind what I was chanting for. There is translation right below each chant, but I was also too lazy to look into the meaning so I never really took the time to understand what I was chanting to.

Worst part was that our mentor highly suggested us chanting as a part of our finals before graduating as a yoga teacher.

“Oh did I dread chanting…” I thought to myself. I kicked and fought chanting, in silence, the whole way through my yoga teacher training.

Something happened during the third month of the teachers training. When we finish chanting The Invocation to Patanjali with “Hari Om – my salutations to Thee,” my mind felt at ease. I felt like a sense of relief, a soothing energy that flowed from the top of my head, down my heart, and permeated to my entire body.

I felt whole and centered – one heart, one soul, one mind, one body, and all together as one. There was nothing to be attached to. The list of what I wanted – new car, new gadgets, new clothes, more money, etc, all went out of the window. I felt lighter, less stressed, blissful, content, and happy just where I am. I don’t need to keep up with “The Jones” and I didn’t need to have million dollars to be happy. I was no longer suffering from perpetual wants and needs of material things.

Instead, I am thankful for what I have in life. My family is in good health. I am in good health. I also have some amazing friends, teachers, and many more amazing people who I will meet along the way.

Was there something in your life that you did not enjoy doing in the beginning but somehow you stuck with it, and now it is a part of your life? I love to hear from you about your story as well.

“Hari Om. Nameste” – my salutation to Thee. I see the divine in you, and you see the divine in me.

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Live.Love.Journey.

As a yoga teacher, I believe I learn just as much as from my students as my students learn from me. Often times these learning experiences are very settle. Before the start of each class, I would always set an intent by sending a wave of healing energy to my students. The strange part is that often times I too feel the reciprocations from my students. What I mean is that I can feel vibrations from my students but I cannot explain to you what I see, hear or feel. I just sense a field of energy, kind of like “The Force” from Star Wars. Before I confuse you here and go down this esoteric path, I would like to cite a quote from one of my yoga teachers when I asked her about this strange energy that I feel.

“How do you know that there is a Force energy within us? I mean I can feel it, but I can’t explain why I feel this Chi,” I asked.

“When you see the leaves floating gracefully in mid air, do you see the wind? And just because you don’t see the wind, does that also mean the wind does not exist?” She asked.

Her question reminded me of a time when I taught yoga in Fiji, where I could feel my students’ energy reflecting off me and bouncing back at them. I didn’t want to say anything because some times this freaks people out. However after class, one of my students approached me and asked me why she feels this crazy energy. The weird part is she has been taking yoga classes routinely back at home for three years and she had never experience this feeling before.

I thought about it for a minute and I asked her, “Have you ever had massages before? Do you remember why there are certain masseuses’ having more healing power than others? What I found out was that my favorite masseuses’ had these amazing attributes – techniques, intuition, love and compassion.”

“Some masseuses have the technique, but they just go through the motion while their minds drifts elsewhere. Other masseuses care about us and offer their healing hands to help you recover. I remember meeting this masseuse at Esalen where I felt so blessed after his massage,” as I continued.

Similar to yoga teachers, some yoga teachers sees teaching as a job to make ends meet. Some even count the number of students in their classes to reflect how popular they think they are.

After spending almost five thousand hours of Yoga / Chigong for the last eight years, I finally realized why I loved certain teachers and why I resonated with them that much. As a yoga teacher, I often take other yoga classes as well because there is a big difference between teaching, taking classes, and also having my own practices.

The difference is where my favorite teachers teach from their hearts. They genuine care about the students’ well being. It was never about themselves and how significant they felt when their classes are packed with students from wall to wall.

I am very grateful to have studied under many warm-hearted teachers and great students to guide me on this path of spirituality.

*If you love my blogs, please help support me by subscribing to my blogs and sharing them with your friends so that we can all spread Love, Joy, and Peace to all living beings.

Feel free to leave feedback and/or questions I’ll do my best to respond.

Live.Love.Journey.