I used to be so depressed.  I know, judging my photos you would never believe it! Or, you don’t even care because based on my photos what on earth does a girl like me get depressed about? I live in La, it’s in the water.

No but seriously, it was dark, vast and endless. I would close my eyes and black out, feeling title waves crash down on me to the point where, it’s not that I couldn’t breathe it’s just that I didn’t want too. It always came and always lingers in the dark edges of my psyche.  Waiting for me to abandon myself and it to resume control.  I am a musician and the depression would be hand in hand with highs and lows.  I always could go so high into a thought and into a song or musical moment… but what goes up must come down.  I also act and model and those, were like taking shots of rejection. Thank you casting director may I have another door slam in my face? Thank you modeling agency may I have another comment about how I am not tall enough, thin enough or “there’s no place for you in high fashion” or better yet…”No.”

Oh ok, cool, I’ll just go home and write a song about how shitty this city is (<- click the link to hear).  No worries, brush this all off my shoulders, wake up a new day, with a new attitude. Except, I couldn’t wake up. I couldn’t get out of bed. When I first moved to LA I layed in bed until night time or as close to the night as possible so I could go to sleep and make it all go away again. I thought sticking to music, being the master of my domain was a safer avenue. I could build my own studio, I could teach myself to produce music, I wouldn’t need anyones praise or critique I could just go off with my mind and play and sing and write and create and I did. And after I wrote albums of songs alone, I would go drive hours to  a studio in the middle of nowhere at all awful hours of the night and make the final recordings.  I would wake up and work in a retail job for minimum wage and completely frizz out over the fact I decided to leave college and pursue something I thought I could make happen no matter what the world stacked against me. But slowly my world started to crumble. Black out. Sob. Fantasize about death. Wanting to die. Black. A pile of bricks stacked on my chest. Writing happy songs, singing my soul to hope. Kept singing hopeful, kept dreaming brightly. Black out. Fall out. Fall down. Crushed. Bad people, bad business. Bad luck. Black. Blackness. It was so heavy. It was so terrible. Because everything about it betrayed all the gifts I was granted. If blessings could be counted, I’m a billionaire. I’m really good at writing music, I am a really good artist. But every path to pursuing is extraordinarily difficult.  I didn’t realize this until later, but similar to women who develop post partum depression, I too developed depression after creating. Especially albums. Holy moly, the end of an album you don’t want to know me in a month.  A complete psychological break down of doubt comes over me beyond comprehension. Crippling me.  Then depression. Then horrible cancer like doubt.  Eating away at every moment of truth I was ever granted in seeing and writing and creating.

Ok ok, now the yoga bit where I tell you it saved me and cured me and it is a wonderful thing.

Well…yes. But let me explain why.

On a physical level, the body holds stress and yes through a practice one opens the body and alleviates it.

On a psychological level, the body opening up allows the mind to do the same and start to regulate it’s thinking patterns so one is less reactive to the world around it and more of a “peaceful observer” if you will..not really affected or reactive.

On a spiritual level, there is something called a “Kundilini Experience.”

Kundalini

So what I suffered from was something called Kundalini Syndrome. And it all made so much sense! I had intense spiritual experiences through music (see I kind of skipped the ladder of yoga) and went straight to euphoric heavenly states. I mean really beautiful out of the realm, heavenly blissful extraordinary visions. From those visions I would write music.  But what happens is, when you go that high in meditation, one must be guided safely back to the ground.  And since no body ever knew where the heck I was going, I would just plummet out of the euphoric state. No guide was there to show me the way back. It would send my entire nervous system into a shock.  Handling a reality, that I spiritually knew wasn’t real.  Feeling like a failure for not belonging in a  world that wasn’t the world I even wanted to belong too.

Yoga, brilliantly provided me a step ladder, from the ground, up to heavenly thoughts and gently back down again.

Do I still go high to low? Sure, I am not a yoga master.  Does it go from bliss to suicide? No, the spectrum no longer goes that vast and severe. I just go to bliss, and back to earth to handle… bills and other human tasks.

I learned in my meditation, that sadness does not have to become depression. I can be sad over something and not become depressed. It was, the holy grail of relization to my delicate beautiful mind.

I think this is why, I like to teach yoga to artists.  I know where they go. I know how to take them there physically, mentally spiritually and I also know, how to bring them here into the present moment. Into a world that most artist use drugs or anything else to deny them that. And once you become strong in the present moment, you become a conquerer of your dream. It’s such an exciting state to be in new  possibilities at every turn.

I no longer black out, I am able to handle any and many jobs. I also teach yoga to whomever I can whenever I can. I take yoga every day to help regulate my mind and keep me in state of “wellness.” When I am here in that state I am the most creative and productive and most importantly happy. So happy. I see how beautiful every moment of life is. And never take for granted the breath that I used to wish away.