This is my journey ~PrasthAna means "system" or "course" in the sense of a journey; traya just means "threefold." It refers to the three sources of knowledge of the Self (shabda), nyAya prasthAna, shruti and smRRiti.( My translation of the three sources of knowledge of the Self: mind, body soul.)
Michael Fukumura went from being a government lawyer in Washington, D.C. to a yoga instructor and surfing fanatic in San Diego. This is the story of why he left.
This is a video clip of my yoga instructor. He is the one that really showed me how to connect and ground myself in yoga and a large part of my practice has been influenced by him. I know little background about him but this video to me was priceless. I appreciate all he has taught me and influenced me with. I hold him in high respect and gratitude.
I want to live simply. I want to sit by the window when it rains and read books I'll never be tested on. I want to paint because I want to not because I've got something to prove. I want my body to fall asleep when the moon is high and wake up slowly, with no place to rush off to. I want not be governed by money or clocks or any of the artificial restraints that humanity imposes on itself. I just want to be, boundless and infinite.
Okay, I haven't been here in a while.... Life has been busy.... work has been busy.... and writing has been sacrificed to make way for personal time of meditation and staying balanced. However, a business associate shared a post on FB that bears passing along so I've managed to wander back and remember forgotten log-ins and passwords to repeat the story. Be mindful. Be present.
As Told by Trish Meyler~
This has been an emotional week on many levels. Yesterday I witnessed the purest, truest love that I will never forget. Waiting in the lobby of Kaiser, (my meet your new doctor appt.), I heard a man, probably mid to late 60s say to a woman, "Nancy. Nancy, where are you going? Come sit down over here." She slowly kept walking while looking down at her feet, step by step and sat down in a different chair. He let it go and waited in his seat. He proceeded to pick up a magazine from the table next to him and as he was reading she slowly, quietly got up and walked across the room and before he knew it she was standing right in front of an elderly man, mid to late 80s. I watched as the man held his hand out and she placed her hand in his. Her husband, quietly apologized to the man as he got up to bring her back to the seat next to him. The man kindly shook his head and smiled and said, "Oh, no sorries." As Nancy sat back down she lowered her head into her hands and begin to sob. Her husband just rubbed her back and sweetly said, "You're ok love, you're ok." The woman sitting next to them, that had a few conversations with the husband during all of this, of which I couldn't hear, said to Nancy, "Let's go for a walk", and they did. She talked softly to Nancy, and showed her the mosaic tiles on the wall, talked about how beautiful they were and told Nancy that they reminded her of a quilt. Nancy just walked slowly and never said a word. During the walk her husband received a phone call from a friend and he told his friend that he was at Kaiser with Nancy and explained to him that Nancy had Alzheimer's, that it wasn't good and was quickly getting worse. He said that it was ok, they were ok, that it's "life". Of course at this point I'm bawling, trying my best for no one to notice. They took two laps and the lady walking with Nancy sees me and stops and asks if I'm ok. All I could think was, oh I am, please just keep walking, I'm sorry to distract you and I don't want to upset Nancy. She then asks me if I need a hug. Little did she know she was a part of why I was crying. At the end of their walk Nancy's husband helped her softly sit back down and he told her, "I've loved you a long time Nancy. A long time. I will love you for always."
Life is too short, love with everything you've got.