I was recently speaking with someone who voiced concerns about integrating Christianity with yoga, reiki and other holistic practices, after push-back from people she knew. It brought back a memory of when I was in Lourdes, France, having just visited the Grotto where the Virgin Mary appeared to Bernadette. I was by myself, about to walk The Camino de Santiago in a few days time, and a little raw emotionally at that time in my life. I didn't know the language, felt alone and with an incredible longing for friendship. After a day of crying, I met an American woman and we had lunch. When I mentioned how I came back to my Catholicism through the teachings of Buddha and my yoga practices, she became visibly upset. As if my exploration of my faith through a non-traditional lens was somehow a reflection on her, or on her faith. I tried to explain myself but her body language and pushback brought out my shell. I switched the topic. After lunch we left amicably, without exchanging contact info, and I was relieved. And a little pissed, too. When I started my Christ-in-Kundalini program a few years ago (9 years after that day), I was admittedly nervous. I'd seen the YouTube videos and witnessed the hatred of certain groups. But as I continue to create and explore how my practices work together, and how they beautifully bring me to my center - my Source, I find myself stronger and even more eager to help others bridge their practices, whatever they may be. If you find yourself alone in your faith & body journey, I've got you. We all have different ways into God. And sometimes our paths lead us to grace in the most unexpected ways. I'm here to give you another lens, not force you into putting on a certain pair of glasses. I'm also eager to hear your journeys and your wisdom. How did you bridge two parts of your life that other people thought didn't belong together? I’d love to hear how you create.

When anxiety hits today, where are you physically placing your awareness to stay rooted? The soles of your feet? Your tailbone? Your breath?" Take a Stance Today, every hour during your workday, take a "stance." Get up from your desk, grab a glass of water. Mindfully and gratefully hold your glass in your hands, breathing slowly, blessing your cup and its contents. Bring it up to your heart, again in gratitude. Then drink the whole thing, really feeling all it touches in you--your tongue, your throat, the way it moves down your esophagus into your stomach. Feel the thirst of your cells and let them be quenched. Feel the thirst of your legs, your thighs, letting them be enlivened, feeling the blood circulating through them. Feel the thirst of your feet, the ground beneath them; notice how you stand, all the ways you make contact with the earth--and how you water your roots. Put down your glass and stand in Tadasana, mountain pose: spine elongated, shoulders and neck over your hips; chin slightly tucked, hands down and palms facing out. Notice your stance. Notice what holds you and how you are held. Write: When I stand, I ____________________. Today, I stand to___________________. When I breathe into my feet_______________. What do you feel? Tell me.

Yesterday, we reflected on freedom, fight, and what it means to take a stance. This week, our anchor word is Sthāna (Sthah-nuh), which means place, position, or standing. Sthāna isn’t only where we stand with our feet. It’s where we stand in the body, in the breath, and in the spirit. It’s our physical and spiritual posture, a reminder that on the internal battlefield, our greatest victory isn’t an act of violence. It’s an act of presence. Here, we learn how to stand firm when the world feels chaotic and shaky. Today, we’ll practice Sthāna through a simple standing posture. 1. Horse Stance: The Earth Foundation Step your feet wide, turn your toes slightly out, and bend your knees into a gentle horse stance. Let your weight drop down through your feet. Keep the spine long. When we step the feet wide and bend the knees, the body drops closer to the earth. We feel the lower body immediately: the feet, legs, pelvis, belly, and center of strength. In yogic language, this brings awareness to the lower chakras — root, sacral, and solar plexus — where we often work with stability, endurance, courage, and will. The heat that builds in the thighs becomes part of the practice. It gives the body something real to meet. Can I stay present in the heat? Can I breathe when the body wants to quit? Can I remain grounded without hardening? This is one way the posture teaches the nervous system how to stay steady in the middle of intensity. 2. Open your arms out to the sides with your palms facing up. When we extend the arms wide, the body opens across the chest, lungs, and palms. We take up space. We become more aware of the field around us. With the palms turned upward, the posture becomes receptive, but not passive. We’re open to receiving Christ’s strength, while still standing firmly in our own body. The arms may get tired. The shoulders may want to drop. The breath may shorten. Let that become part of the practice too. Can I stay open without collapsing? Can I receive without giving up my ground?

For my U.S. friends, Happy Memorial Day. Today, I’m reflecting on what it actually means to “fight” for freedom, and how that fight shows up in the body, the breath, and spiritual practice. I was recently watching the finale of Outlander, which brings the characters into the heart of the American Revolutionary War. Because it involves time travel, history suddenly feels incredibly close. It made me think about my own lineage and my fifth great-grandfather, John Wallace, a new immigrant from Ireland who fought in the Revolutionary War. When I count the generations, that history doesn’t feel so far away. And yet, looking at the world today, it feels like so much has changed, and nothing has changed at all. Human beings are still fighting external battles over land, taxes, leadership, and love. But in Christ-in-Kundalini, we’re also asked to look at the internal battlefield — an ancient endeavor. What does fight look like inside of us? It isn’t a fight of violence. It’s a fight of presence. Standing when the body wants to collapse. Choosing to anchor the nervous system in peace rather than the chaos around us. In the yogic tradition, there are three powerful concepts that can help us explore this stance for freedom: "Sthāna" means place, position, or standing. It’s our physical and spiritual posture. When we practice, we plant our feet, lengthen the spine, and remember where we stand. "Moksha" means liberation. Freedom is not only political. It’s also freedom from fear, old patterns, inherited pain, and the places where the spirit has been bound. "Svātantrya" means sovereignty or inner freedom. It’s the capacity to belong to the Divine so deeply that our peace, identity, and joy are not entirely ruled by outside circumstances. Our ancestors fought on physical battlefields so we could fight the spiritual ones. And we’re still fighting on both grounds today. But we can take our stance. We can stand in Tadasana, mountain pose. We can breathe deeply. We can believe in the freedom of peace.