Live from Ubud, Bali–Learn about Turned-On Living with me on a Community Zoom!

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After taking a two-year break from working on my latest book Wet (because I was severely burned out on this project–let’s say, I had even grown DRY), I came to Bali to work on the manuscript again, because I had an intuition that spending two months on this very special island could help me get this project out into the world.

Things are going well enough in my creative work that I am feeling the freedom to come out of my cave of isolation and take time to connect with you, my dear readers and clients, past, present and future, about Turned-On Living, in a LIVE ZOOM from BALI!

What is TURNED-ON LIVING? My new and favorite way to explain Turned-On Living goes like this.

We all have a light inside of us. That inner flame can be strengthened through care, attention, and community support, or it can go dark in all the pressures of modern life in an individualist society, when our inner critic takes control, and when we are focused purely on checking off our ever-expanding to-do lists. Our lists also go dark when we don’t have clarity about what we really want or boundaries to protect what is most precious to us.

Turned-On Living is my yearlong small group coaching program that brings together women who resonate with my work: my books Quirkyalone and To-Do List, the embodiment practice Pussywalking that I created to help women  step into their power, and my philosophy about living your life to the fullest whether you are single or partnered.

Turned-On Living teaches you how to keep your inner candle lit, so that you can live a turned-on life, whatever that looks like for you. It will also help you get clear about what you really want for your life, through connecting with your body. We do this work together, while practicing being vulnerable and real, in community.

Is Turned-On Living of interest to you? A new small group of women will begin this life-changing adventure with me again in September.

Turned-On Living is about the long game of transformation. I don’t believe in quick fixes or that epiphanies can do the work of change for us. Because it’s a big deal to spend a whole year together, I want to start the conversation now, early.

My eyes and ears are “casting” the group, bringing together the right mix of people to support each other. I have in-depth interviews with each person to create the right chemistry in the group of safety and care.

So here’s the plan. Let’s start the conversation now in April to create the magic.

On Tuesday, April 9, at 8 pm ET, 5 pm PT… let’s connect on Zoom! Sign up here.

What: A Live Zoom about Turned-On Living from Bali.

What we will do: First, we will dance, because we start every Turned-On Living meeting with dancing.

Then I will walk you through the curriculum of what we do in Turned-On Living, month-by-month. Each month has a theme, so I will tell you about  what you will get out of each experiential adventure (from Embodied Self-Compassion and Prioritizing Pleasure to Anti-People-Pleasing and Boldness).

I’ll point out a few commonalities that I am seeing in the Balinese approach to life and spirituality and my approach in Turned-On Living. Now that I have spent seven weeks total on this island (between my first trip in September 2023 and this current one), I am forming impressions about what makes Bali so special. There’s a lot to learn from Balinese people, who truly operate according to “karma.”

You can ask me any questions you have… and we’ll chat!

When: Tuesday, April 9, 8 pm ET / 5 pm PT.

I’ll get up early to share with you at 8 am Ubud time. I can show you some scenes of the extremely green, beautiful rice fields where I am staying in the very unique neighborhood Penestanan.

How long: We will go for about an hour, maybe 75 minutes. Be sure to come on time! If you can’t make it, you will get a recording. But you need to sign up to get it.

Why join? If you are interested in Turned-On Living, if you are interested in Bali, if you want to connect.

See you there!

xo

Sasha

P.S.  The deadline to apply to be part of the TOL 2024 group starting in September is July 1.

Spaces are limited because everything I do is intimate. Do you already feel called to be part of this? To get the ball rolling and secure your place, fill out this form and tell me more about you.

Preparing for a Water Purification Ritual, led by Luh, a Balinese spiritual guide

Luh leading me down the path to the water temple in a part of Ubud that has until now escaped notice from tourists… ahhhhh

  My friend Naja invited me to his temple, and I was the only non-Balinese person among more than 2,000 people present for a ceremony that coincided with the New Moon in March. Naja said it’s fine to share photos, and Luh agreed. I felt very privileged to be there. I’ll be sharing more about that experience in a separate blog post.

At work in Bali in the heat.

At Nirwa Homestay, one of the lovely places where I have stayed over the last month

This photo was taken on Organic Sari Walk. The sunsets along Ubud’s rice fields are stunning.

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“Body-shamed” in Singapore

No make-up, fresh off the overnight plane. Marc happened to take this picture so you can see the dress.

A good foot massage is one of my favorite things.

The day after I landed in Singapore, my friend Marc and I went hunting for a foot massage place as part of our walking tour. I needed some TLC after a rough overnight trip from Istanbul, a small excursion that wouldn’t take too much out of me since I had barely slept. When someone massages my feet, especially when they push certain pressure points, my entire body relaxes, often putting me to sleep.

We both agreed it was a good plan.

We walked through a small mall filled with tailors, maid service agencies matching Singaporean clients with domestic workers from Indonesia, Myanmar, and the Phillippines, and lots of foot massage places, not unlike the kind you find in California where the client sits in a chair with his or her feet up.

We finally settled on one that could accommodate both of us. Marc likes to pick places that are highly rated online. My method is to choose randomly. Risk-taking: roll the dice. Usually, my approach works. Well, this day it didn’t.

My male therapist gestured for me to sit down in the chair, and asked, “Are you pregnant? I need to know for massage.”

What? Flummoxed, I didn’t respond. The shock on my face must have been his answer. Did this guy not get the memo? Don’t ask a woman if she is pregnant ever! This is not a good question. The last person who asked me if I was pregnant was a seven-year-old girl who lived in my apartment building in Buenos Aires. I never forgot that moment in the elevator. Marc joked later that you should only ask a woman if she is pregnant if the baby is already crowning (coming out).

It got worse, if you can believe it. A red, blue, and yellow foot sign flashed near the door. I asked him to turn it off midway because the lights agitated me. I wasn’t resting during the massage, as I hoped I would. When the hour was over, he asked my age.

“You are doing good.” He told me I looked five years younger than I am. “Eat well, sleep well, little back pain, you can tell everything from the feet.”

Two-thirds of those things are true. I eat well and occasionally suffer from lower back pain, and I sleep okay. I feel ambivalent when people tell me I look younger than I am. Like most people, I enjoy compliments but what’s wrong with looking one’s age? Little did I know that it was remarkable for this man to pay me a compliment at all.

“You have a spare tire,” he said.

“What?” I asked. My jaw must have actually dropped.

“Fat.”

“What!” He called me fat! Or told me I “have fat.” I was speechless, but I couldn’t stop asking, “What?”

Marc said later that he wished I would stop asking questions so the conversation would end, but I couldn’t. This foot massage had turned into a car crash.

He continued, “Exercise. You have to take care of it,” pointing to my waist and then his own, “Exercise is the only way.”

Yeah, dude, I know about exercise.

Marc paid for both of us, thank goddess; I didn’t want to pay a Singaporean cent for his mediocre massage, which put far more tension into my body than it relaxed!

When we got outside, we obviously had to dissect the horror of what had just happened.

“Do you think I should go back and tell him off?” I asked. “If I speak up, maybe I will feel better.”

“You could, but I don’t think it would matter. He hears and says that kind of thing a hundred times a day. It’s the culture in Singapore. It’s the water they swim in. This is how people talk to each other.” In essence, Marc was saying that in Singapore, people think they are doing each other a favor by pointing out each other’s flaws.

“Do I look fat?”

“Your body is fine. Come on.”

My mind was still reeling. Did he actually call me fat? Did that just happen?

Marc has lived and worked in Singapore for seven years. “I have a friend who works with a personal trainer,” he told me. “She had to sit down with him over a drink and tell him that she wasn’t coming to him for comments about her body. That’s not what she wanted out of personal training. He stopped but only after she had to have a separate meeting with him to get him to understand.”

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s probably not worth it to confront him because I don’t have an ongoing relationship with him.”

Singapore is a multi-ethnic society, and people of Chinese ancestry make up about three-quarters of the population. I started connecting the dots between what had just happened to me and stories I have heard from Chinese-American friends and clients who have shared with me about their parents relentlessly criticizing them, as if pointing out flaws is how you express love. Now I had felt the sting of it myself. What I experienced was miniscule compared to what they have gone through, but it was a taste. Ouch.

“They actually seem to think they are helping by criticizing,” I said. Of course, people in the U.S. also criticize each other’s bodies, but we are more likely to do it silently inside our own minds. It’s a very common thought error in the U.S. to believe that we are going to improve when we call out our own “flaws.” As a life coach, some of the most important work I do with my clients is to help people replace (or partially replace) their inner critic voice with a more compassionate, gentle, supportive one. Change takes root when we are kind to ourselves because we get stronger rather than weaker.

Marc pointed out that it could be valuable for me to have had this experience because it would help me to empathize with Chinese-American friends and clients. That’s true.

He urged me to not give his comments any power. Anyone can say anything to us, but only we can decide whether to remember their words or give those comments weight (pun intended).

Of course, Marc was right but I couldn’t let go of the doubts immediately. I’m human. I’m dealing with my own aging body over here, just like everyone else. For the rest of the afternoon, I kept looking in mirrors as we passed glassy buildings and mirrors in shops to check out how the dress, a piece of clothing that I actually adore, looks on my middle. It’s the perfect travel dress because it’s lightweight, easy to pack, and never wrinkles. I also consider it a sexy dress. Did it accentuate my belly? Should I still wear it at all? Had I gained weight? I hadn’t stepped on a scale in two weeks because I was traveling.

I’m proud to say that I let all these questions go by the next day, and I’m no longer giving that man any real estate in my mind.

The truth is I have spent the last fifteen years engaged in a journey of learning how to see myself as beautiful after a mild case of body dysmorphia (a mental health label for fixating on perceived flaws in your own appearance). No one gave me that diagnosis, but I would say body dysmorphia is cultural in the U.S. too because we are taught to see our bodies as projects to fix.

After a few days, I came back to my own hard-won baseline, feeling good about myself as a luscious, unskinny woman who has a sweet little belly. My philosophy as a life coach is that our relationship with our bodies is one of the most valuable things that we have. We live inside our bodies; they are our homes. When we get in touch with our body’s sensations, we can be more in touch with what we want and make better decisions for our lives. What happens when we shame or criticize our own bodies? We become self-conscious. We lose that innate connection. We lose our power. And we might not even want to leave our own homes to allow ourselves to be seen.

The next day I called my Chinese-American friend and told her the story. She shrieked, “How is that any of his business? He body-shamed you. I won’t get a foot massage in Singapore.”

My friend’s comment was funny, and that’s why I am including it.

Is the moral of the story, “Don’t get a foot massage in Singapore?” Maybe. Ha. I’m not sure that the language “body-shaming” applies in Singapore since it’s a U.S. construct.

If you are in Singapore en route to Bali, I would say, Wait, and get your feet  massaged in Bali. Since I arrived three weeks ago, I have gotten a handful. Foot massages in Bali cost a fifth of the Singaporean price, and they are far, far, far more blissful.  No massage therapist in Bali ever made a comment about my body, negative or positive.  All they care about is helping me relax. And that’s the point of a good foot massage, is it not?

Developing a more self-compassionate relationship with yourself, and a more affirming relationship with your body and your sensuality are two things we focus on in Turned-On Living my yearlong group coaching program for a small group of intrepid women who are drawn to my work.

A new cohort starts in June. A self-marriage (or soul commitment) ceremony is part of the experience. Does that scare you? Perfect. Transformative things by their very nature push us outside of our comfort zones.

Curious about Turned-On Living? The next group will begin together in September–back to school energy, out of the slog and into turned-on living. Read more on this page, and fill out the form telling me about you. I talk to each person to create a magical group of sensitive, caring women.

I am going to do a live community Zoom from Bali this April to tell you about what I’m learning in this culture from Balinese people, and how those lessons intersect with the yearlong adventure we go on together in Turned-On Living. Make sure you are signed up on the newsletter to get the invite!

And if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to send a message.

Overheard in Bali at the Yoga Barn: “I would rather go home and use my yoni egg”

Overheard in Bali at the Yoga Barn: “I would rather go home and use my yoni egg”

 

in Bali

I was sitting at the cafe in the Yoga Barn in Ubud, Bali, almost a small college campus of yoga and spirituality when I overheard three women talking.

“Then she said, I would rather go home and use my yoni egg at the end of the acro-yoga class. She said we need to normalize it. Just talk about it.”

I smiled to myself and knew I would have to join this conversation.

Yoni eggs, if you are not aware, are egg-shaped stones that women insert in their vaginal canals to help increase blood flow, tone, and sensation in the pelvic floor muscles for their well-being. There’s a debate about whether yoni eggs are safe to use, and I actually do have an opinion, but I’m not going to wade into that controversy now. Because that’s not the point of this blog post, and really, their conversation was more about the boldness of using the term “yoni egg” in casual conversation more than it was about the practice itself. That’s what I’m most interested in writing about too: the language.

“I teach about that,” I interjected from across the table. We were sitting on loungey, couch-like things. Yoga Barn is a place where it’s easy to strike up conversations with strangers. It’s probably one of the places in the world where you are most likely to overhear people talking about “yoni eggs.”

“What do you teach?” one of the women asked.

“I teach pussywalking,” I said, and let that bomb drop. Using the word “pussy” in casual conversation is probably even more radical than talking about yoni eggs, but now that I have been teaching pussywalking for ten years I have gotten accustomed to the joy of letting the shock of the word set in on people’s faces.

“What’s pussywalking?” two of them asked at once.

I explained that I teach women, and now even men sometimes actually, to connect with their bodies through breath and other awareness practices to source their personal power, energy, and confidence from the pelvic region of their bodies. I talked about the tremendous sensitivity of the internal clitoris that exists inside our bodies, beyond the little external dot that we are taught to think of as the clit. I explained that the pussy can be a hidden source of power. And of course, even using the word “pussy” can be transformative.

In the last round of Turned-On Living, my yearlong group coaching program (adventure), getting over the taboo of saying the word itself was a huge conversation among the women. One of the women in the group even practiced by writing the word “pussy” more than fifty times on a small piece of paper and posted it to our Whatsapp group. The image was so funny and cute.

When I was growing up, the only time I heard the p-word was when young men in Camaros shouted the word out to us young women on the streets of Providence. The p-word was some kind of bizarre insult. Of course, it’s meant to convey weakness, when the truth is the opposite: our pussies are quite strong.

Actually, I like the p-word. It’s cute and cuddly and funny, unlike the c-word. I only got to this level of comfort of reclaiming “pussy” after years of immersion in female sexuality workshops in the San Francisco Bay Area where others used it and normalized it for me. Getting used to saying it out loud was a process that took time, just like it was for the women in Turned-On Living.

There are a lot of hidden benefits of getting comfortable with using taboo language and talking about our sexuality and sexual energy. When you get into bed with someone, you can be more comfortable with talking about your body. You an also more easily talk about sex (and bodies) with other women.

In Turned-On Living, we talk about “pussy energy” and practice pussywalking for an entire year while I bring together all I know about empowering yourself as a woman in this world. Along the ride, we get really good at talking about our “pussies.”

I interviewed each woman at the end of the year to find out what was most transformative for each of them. One of them told me that using the word many times over the year helped her find her voice in general, in relationships with men, with setting boundaries, with talking about what she wants and likes and what she doesn’t.

Here’s some of what she shared with me: “As a Gen X person, I grew up and became sexually mature at a time when consent was not a part of the landscape. Our bodies were dirty and dangerous. That was the underlying message of society’s narrative. The way to stay safe was to cover up our bodies and shut them down, and then turn them back on, on-demand, to please and tend to the needs of men in socially sanctioned sexual relationships. That led to disconnection from the tender, vulnerable parts of my body.  

Pussywalking has stimulated my dormant body awareness, much like a body scan does, and gives me agency over my body and female genitals. Embodiment is so big and so new for me (the journey began before Turned-On Living) that I don’t know how or what to articulate about it.

But I can say this: normalizing that I do have a pussy, and there’s energy there, is big for me. I mean, I’ve had a great sex life. Been there, done that. It’s been wonderful. But I think underneath that early social conditioning, that it’s dirty, and unsafe, and you need to lock it up and hide it away. Because that’s what we heard: ‘You’re gonna have your period. You’re going to get pregnant. You’re going to get an STD.’ There’s never anything positive said about the pussy. So I think this was a space where so much positive was said about the pussy, like, “Take a moment get in touch with your pussy.” Oh my gosh, I’m thinking about my pussy right now and saying that out loud to other women. Wow. So yeah, it’s almost indelible, I almost can’t articulate the power of it.”

Yes, reclaiming this language is big–which is why those women were talking about using the word “yoni egg” out loud and why I am talking to you about reclaiming the p-word.

 

 

I’m in Bali for the next two months focused on a creative project. In between this deep dive into my writing, talking with my 1:1 clients, and doing Kundalini yoga, I am forming the new special group of women who will be part of the next Turned-On Living cohort. We start in June and go for a year. We meet once for a soul-commitment ceremony retreat. The max group size is ten, so the experience is intimate. You learn what I have learned about female empowerment in order to create the life you want, by connecting with your body. The intimacy (and my unique teachings) make the group special.

I will do a Zoom session sometime soon from my place in Bali to talk you through the curriculum so you can find out about what you’ll learn in the community experience of Turned-On Living. Be sure you are on my newsletter list if you want to be invited.

If you are feeling called to Turned-On Living, you can write me and request a copy of the curriculum. I talk with each person to form the right chemistry in the group: like-minded women with a shared goal of living a turned-on life.

Curious? Tell me more about you and what draws you to Turned-On Living when you fill out this simple form.

 

Throwing up in Doha–and the Courage to Travel Alone

one of the enchanting pedestrian streets in Istanbul, on the European side in Cihangir. Just loved those umbrellas!

I left some audios for a close friend last night, and she wrote me back, “I love living vicariously through your travel adventures,” and “‘Throwing Up in Doha’ is a great title for a memoir.” This isn’t a full-blown memoir. It’s a humble blog post. But I will tell you the story of throwing up in Doha, anyway. (Doha is the capital of Qatar, in case you didn’t know–I don’t judge you. I didn’t know either. And it’s only in the last year that I learned to pronounce “Qatar.”)

I left that message with a friend to let her know that I have been going through a lot since leaving for this trip on February 14. My first stop was Istanbul for a week, then four days in Singapore, and soon I will be heading on to Bali for two months where I will continue to work with my clients remotely and focus on a creative project. My hope is that the availability of cheap healing massages and the energetic magic of Kundalini yoga will help me make headway on a writing project. I am very happy that I am finally living this dream, which took a ton of work to make possible.

But man, woman, nonbinary person, it’s been a rough two weeks. To recap, my father has been in and out of the hospital twice in the moment when I was about to leave the US and then a week later when I was due to fly from Turkey. It’s hard for me as an eldest child to step back and let my younger siblings, who are wonderful, and totally on it, take responsibility when I am away. There’s guilt to feel, and to release. Luckily, blessedly, after a ton of uncertainty, my father is doing much better, so we are all tremendously grateful.

There have been other things, like getting accidentally punched by a woman in a Turkish hamam, and living through a corneal abrasion for two days. Yes, the hamam experience was fantastic, and the inside of your eye can hurt badly when someone hits it. During these travels, there has been a relationship issue where I realize that I have been deluding myself in fantasy, longing for something that was never an option. and that has been humbling to face. My goddess it’s hard when I realize that I make the same mistakes over and over again. That comes up for a lot of us as we get older. There’s been a lot of looking in the mirror, and getting punched in the face. What can I say? It’s brave to look in the mirror. It’s the only way to evolve.

a snuggly street cat cozies up to the door of the place where I stayed with a friend in Kadikoy

But back to Turkey. Istanbul is spectacular, bursting with history, culture, street cats (watch the lovely documentary Kedi to learn about how Turkish people care for stray felines communally), food, warm people, and very flirtatious men. The cab driver from the airport told me I looked twenty-seven. That’s pushing it! Istanbul is a completely unique city that brings together the secular and the nonsecular, but also overwhelming. Fifteen million people live in Turkey’s capital, more than New York. Istanbul is the biggest city in Europe and straddles the Bosphorous, a natural waterway between the Black Sea and the Sea of Marmara. It covers more land mass than New York City.

On one side is Europe, and on the other lies Asia. I stayed on the Asian side in Kadikoy, which is said to be calm compared to the European side, but this bohemian alcove of a million coffeeshops still thrums with energy and bars, restaurants, and bazaars (markets). I have never been in a place with more cafes! Almost every day I went over to the European side, which could be a journey that took three or four forms of public transport or a cab ride that could take an hour and a half because of hellish traffic. I stayed out late four nights during that week, mostly at milongas dancing tango. All of this added up to exhaustion by the time I was packing my bags.

By the time I left for Singapore, I was depleted, beyond needing a vacation from this vacation. The flight from Istanbul to Doha was the most cramped I have ever been on. I was seated between an unsmiling woman and an unsmiling man. There was a very strange moment when, after I asked the flight attendant for a drink, and she passed me a tiny can of Diet Coke, the woman turned to me and asked if it was possible for me to not drink a Coke near her. I said, “I don’t understand,” because I was frankly flummoxed. She darted up and out to the first class section, and stayed there until we landed.

To say I was rattled would be an understatement. I hadn’t slept more than three or four hours a night in several nights, and all the stress was catching up with me. I had the irrational thoughts that I had traumatized this woman, and she cursed me. By the time we landed in Qatar, where I would be catching the next flight to Singapore, the pressure in my head started to squeeze my brain. I’ve had about 10 or 15 migraines in my life of varying intensity. Sometimes I throw up. Something must connect the gut and brain in the migraine state. So that was the situation, probably borne out of lack of sleep and stress. I was shielding my eyes to block the light on the way through the massive Doha airport (the number one thing to do in this state is to seek darkness) and then I found the most luxuriously, blessedly pristine bathroom by the gate. I threw up in the bathroom a few times, telling myself, “This is miserable but I will get through this.” That was my mantra.

When I saw myself in the mirror I thought, I do not look well. Why remember the bad moments from traveling? Because they are all part of the mix. People say they want to live vicariously through my adventures. Well, traveling can be quite challenging at times, especially in a city like Istanbul that is so vast with so many hidden places and confusing directions. But I love it. I still love to travel, and often I travel alone. Traveling is worth throwing up in Doha: I guess that is what I am trying to say.

While I was in Kadikoy, on the Asian side of Istanbul, I made this little video about the courage to travel alone, and the angels that help us when we run into problems. I was inspired to make this video by a conversation that I had with a Turkish woman whom I met in a remarkably friendly cafe called Tribu (Italian for “tribe.”) (Watch this little spontaneous video I made with the owner to learn about the cafe–and maybe someday you will visit).

This woman who had worked for the Smithsonian in DC after doing a masters in art history in the US was telling me about a solo trip that she had taken to a Greek island, and a moment when her phone didn’t work and she couldn’t find the place where she was staying. Someone came along to help her find her hotel. That sounded familiar. That is my experience too. Countless times when I have been traveling alone in South America, Europe, and Asia people have helped me when I was lost, sick, or injured.

Angels do come to help. Many of my coaching clients want to travel alone but they get worried with reasonable concerns. I made this video below to encourage other women to travel alone. Because even though shitty things like “Throwing up in Doha” happen, I would still say that traveling alone is worth it. More than worth it. It makes our world bigger. It makes us feel alive, More things happen when we are alone. And we are never totally alone. Angels will come forward. It’s important to acknowledge that and be grateful for them. 

Here’s the video I made for you walking through the streets of Kadikoy in Istanbul about solo travel. I hope you enjoy.

Are you planning any travels, solo or not? Let me know in the comments.

Filling My Cup with Pleasure… in a Flower Bath in Bali

Relishing a flower bath at Karsa Spa, in Ubud, Bali

Receiving a traditional Balinese healing massage and then soaking in a flower bath in Bali at the extremely special Karsa Spa was one of the highlights of my (first) three weeks on this magical island.

If you are headed to Bali anytime soon, I definitely recommend you bookmark the Karsa link — and reserve in advance. Massage and flower bath places abound all over Bali (what a place after my own heart!) but Karsa is special and it can take time to get a reservation. (If you check out the other pictures on my Instagram feed you will see more.)

The flower bath was part of the 10-day retreat led by my business coach of the last two years, Megan Taylor Morrison. Meg had heard Karsa was amazing from a longtime Bali visitor and it is!

I was last to emerge from the flower bath in the group because I could not tear myself away from the lush flower petals surrounding my body. I truly felt like I had been dropped in a peaceful heaven. Let’s call it a peak sensual moment! Over the last fifteen years, I have developed quite the capacity to savor physical bliss in all my trainings and explorations of sensuality (you’ll read more about that in WET when it’s finally ready for you). I can safely say this Karsa flower bath in Bali was maybe one of the most blissed-out times in my life that did not involve sex, drugs, tango, or Paris. Ha! I could have stayed in another hour. I plan to go back.

Savoring pleasure – and prioritizing and discovering it – is a big theme in my yearlong group coaching program Turned-On Living. During the year, we have monthlong themes, involving experiential “playwork” and reading. One of the early months is “Prioritizing Pleasure.” Why? Isn’t pleasure trivial? Isn’t sensuality hedonistic? Not really.

What if I tell you that your ability to slow down and savor pleasure is critical for your ability to develop self-worth… and even boundaries? Having been working with women and sensuality and sexuality in life coaching for more than a decade now, I can tell you that many women clients suffer from a pleasure deficit, not exactly what is technically called anhedonia, the inability to feel pleasure, but something close to it.

We are not working in the realm of diagnosis, we are working in the realm of real life. Most of the women I have coached feel some degree of resistance to feeling pleasure. They often feel like we have to be doing something to help others or improve themselves. Or what if we try to engage in pleasure or self-pleasure, and it doesn’t work? Performance anxiety creeps up around pleasure! The modern world has us avoiding rest and focusing on the next thing on the to-do list.  

Just think: how often are you without your phone, simply savoring being in the moment? Pleasure is a kind of breathing meditation. 

It can be hard to change your habits in isolation, which is why it’s so useful and helpful to be in a small group of women who have a shared goal of living a turned-on life.

This is a big reason I created Turned-On Living. There are ways we can learn together from each other in small groups that we can’t do alone.

Through Turned-On Living, I guide you in a yearlong adventure of exploring pleasure, boundaries, antipeople-pleasing, getting clear on what you really want for your life, pussywalking your way to your full empowerment, and more. This is a self-development program with a focus on embodiment. We talk, dance, and get into our bodies. We form a curated group of women to explore what it looks like and takes to live a #turnedonlife.

This is the time of year when I start talking with women to create the group for next year. 2024, we are looking at you.

If you are curious about being part of the group, what we do, and how Turned-On Living could change your life, take a look at this page, and enter your email address here to start the conversation.

I will send you the curriculum and costs so you have all the information, and if it feels like a potential fit, we will do an interview. I talk with each person in-depth to create a supportive, uplifting supergroup.

Another way to learn more about the vibe of Turned-On Living is to attend an Online Dance Party on October 25, at 8 pm ET/5 pm PT. In 2023, I am all about doing Online Dance Parties on Zoom to connect with readers and clients.

In between songs, I will be talk about Turned-On Living for Tough Times, and you will learn more about the program of Turned-On Living.

So here you go, important links…

GO HERE to sign up for the Wednesday, October 25, Zoom Dance Party on Turned-On Living for Tough Times, and to learn more about TOL 2024. Feeling tense? Stiff? Curious? Excited? Sad? Nervous? Let’s dance it all out!

GO HERE to learn about Turned-On Living and what we will do over a year together in a small, curated group. Enter your email and you will get the full curriculum with all the monthly themes and cost information. If it feels like a potential fit, we will do a personal interview.

See ya there!

 

 

Sue Aikens Talks @ Tango, Passion, and Still Pursuing the Dream in Buenos Aires (AKA my first celebrity interview!)

It was such an honor to interview Sue Aikens, star of National Geographic’s Life Below Zero, and an inspiring icon for independent women everywhere. When we shot this, I truly felt like I was doing my first episode of a celebrity talk show!

Sue came to Buenos Aires to learn tango with me and my team in January 2020. Three years later, we are finally getting this amazing video out there.

Sue is a beautiful, fascinating woman. She says so many powerful and delightful things in this interview. I love the way she talks about living a challenge-driven life. I can identify with that, having taken on so many adventures outside of my comfort zone over the years.

I also love her focus on pursuing dreams at every age. As she puts it, “I haven’t lost that yearning, simply because we grow up, and parts of our bodies sag, doesn’t mean that we can’t pursue the dream.”

What stands out for you here?

Talking about Getting WET on Virgin.Beauty.Bitch (new podcast!)

Listen to “VBB 215 Sasha Cagen on her Memoir titled Wet — a Story of Healing through Sensuality!” on Spreaker.

So excited to share this recently recorded podcast with you…

Christopher and Heather of Virgin.Beauty.Bitch are all about unpacking female stereotypes and creating a space where women are not afraid to be defiantly different. In other words, the hosts of this podcast are right on. This might be the most fun interview I have recorded, ever.

We start with that time in my mid-thirties when I was trying to get serious about being a woman, when expectations mount. I was trying complete the mandates of adulthood.

All that stuff like finding a partner in time to have a child (cue the biological clock ticking), saving to purchase a home, and funding my retirement account.

The time pressure was making me dry, so I decided to escape Silicon Valley and ran away to South America to get WET (aka find myself and happiness again by listening to my body’s desires), despite my quite persistent fears that I might be totally fucking up my life.

The themes of WET are focused on a woman’s journey to rediscover pleasure and joy. Prioritizing joy and pleasure shouldn’t be revolutionary because we should all feel free to seek out a beautiful life for ourselves and a daily experience of enjoyment without shame. But it is indeed revolutionary in a world where women are expected to drop their own needs to put others first and to accomplish certain milestones above all else.

We started off this way, with Christopher asking, “Now Sasha, Wet. It’s the name of your memoir, a story about healing through sensuality. But let’s rewind the story to when sensuality and your body might have been the last place you looked to find personal power. Who was that woman? And what’s on earth happened to her?”

We talk about:

  • The fear that our lives are not working because we haven’t achieved some arbitrary line of success and all the gears get tripped up. We need WD-40! We need to be lubricated! We need to get WET.
  • Why a big part of my message is about inspiring women to connect with their bodies and pleasure for their empowerment, and confidence, and to accompany their healing journeys from past trauma
  • The importance of speaking up for yourself and what you want in bed with your partner–and how that connects to your empowerment in general
  • What turned-on living means to me (not just sexually)
  • My take unpacking the archetypes of Beauty, Virgin, and Bitch for women. I am particularly drawn to reclaiming the “bitch” to reclaim anger.

Would love to hear what resonates for you in this podcast.

You can listen at the top of this post, or click here to the podcast on Apple podcasts.

After you listen, leave a comment or send an email!

xo Sasha

P.S. If the intimacy of this conversation appeals to you, and you want to be part of similar conversations in your own life, you should absolutely check out my new yearlong group coaching program Turned-On Living 2023. I am curating a small cohort of women and talking with each person to create the group. We start in January for a year of turned-on living. It’s going to be amazing.

Want to know more about Turned-On Living? Click here.

Spaces are limited … so if this catches your interest to know more then apply by telling me about you and what you would like to get out of this yearlong program (adventure) here.

Come away with me to Buenos Aires… in this video!

Come away with me to Buenos Aires in this video!

As many of you know, I lived as an expat in Buenos Aires for five years (from 2016 to 2020). I’m currently back in my native Rhode Island.

Before the pandemic changed everything, Tan Kurttekin and I shot this video in 2019 to show you a day in the life of my life in Buenos Aires.

In this video I take you to five of my favorite places collected over the five years that I lived in the city. The shoes. The body-positive tango fashion. The dancing. The cuisine. The mate. The men! LOL.

This video is a love letter to the city that helped me heal and find myself again, and to all the passionate tanguerxs I met along the way.

This video will also give you an idea of the places where you can go if you come on a Tango Adventure, once the pandemia has calmed down in South America.

FYI. We are now only offering Tango Adventures to my life coaching clients. I enjoy the deeper relationship and I think clients are better served by the transformation through tango with life coaching too … so if you want to go on a Tango Adventure in the future, you can prepare for the Adventure with life coaching. That’s something you can do from anywhere. If that sparks you then tell me more about you in this handy form.

Now on to the show…
As I watch the video now, I am filled with nostalgia for pre-pandemic Buenos Aires.
In the video we go to…
First: Cafe Nostalgia for the introductory coffee (a beautiful spot, you want to grab a cortado (coffee with foam on top) when you visit
Next: Ateneo, the world’s most beautiful bookstore
Next: Casa del Sol with Eva for Body-Positive Tango Dress Shopping, then mate on the terrazza
Next: Graphic Design Lunch at Mooi with Ansil
Next: Tango Shoe-Shopping with Sylvia at Alanis
Next: Out to Canning (an elegant milonga) with Jamila in the newly purchased dress. Did I buy the right one?! Should I have gotten that blue dress?

This video was shot by the genius (genio) cinemtagropher Tan Kurttekin, who also helped me make the pussywalking videos. The equally genius (genia) Magali Ayala edited. I love my creative team in Buenos Aires. The creative energy is one of my favorite things about Buenos Aires, actually. It’s a place where a woman can move on her own, meet other adventurous expats and crazy-creative Argentines too and creates lots of cool things together. Mwah!

Solo Chica Poster Girl Kelly Macias on Tango, Coaching, and Traveling to Buenos Aires


Solo Chica Contest Winner Kelly Macias on her trip to Buenos Aires with my Tango Adventure team, November, 2019

Way back in the pre-pandemic era, I created the brand Solo Chica to encourage women to travel alone.

To launch Solo Chica, we sponsored a contest.

We chose Kelly Macias from Washington, DC as the winner.

Kelly is a writer, storyteller and Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion consultant focused on social justice, currently based in Washington, DC. She uses storytelling as a key part of her DEI work to create worlds where everyone gets seen and everyone matters.

Kelly has been in love with tango for years but she was not dancing or studying when we first met. She reached out to me for life coaching, initially with reconnecting to her body and pleasure as the goal with the idea that she might get back into tango too. Through our coaching relationship, she decided to come to Buenos Aires for a Solo Chica Tango Adventure. Kelly came to Buenos Aires just a few months before the pandemia (the pandemic!) sidelined us from the dance floor.

We loved Kelly’s answers. Why should we choose you for the launch contest? “I’ve spent the last few years feeling very disconnected from my sexuality, sensuality and feminine energy, as a whole. I would the opportunity to get support in exploring it.”

What would it mean for you to rediscover the Tango Goddess in you through the photo shoot? “Like many working women in their forties, I’ve been busy focusing on my career for the last several years. The stress of trying to be successful in a hectic society centered around class and patriarchy and white supremacy has taken its toll. I’m no longer as carefree or vulnerable as I used to be.

Add technology and social media to the mix, and it has meant that I spend most of my time in front of a computer screen than tending to my intimate relationships. I want to connect back to my vulnerability and sensuality and joy and think that the Tango Goddess photo shoot is a way to liberate myself from all that has been weighing me down.”

The grand prize: a Free Tango Goddess Photo Shoot with our resident genius photographer Tan Kurttekin, who shoots for Netflix among other clients!

We are super excited to share the results of the photo shoot with you here. Kelly is definitely a TANGO GODDESS! She was already a goddess before she arrived.

In this video that we recorded in Plaza Dorrego, where tango is danced on Sunday nights in San Telmo, Buenos Aires, and the streets are taken over early in the day by pounding drums and a street fair, Kelly talks about what it was like to work with me in a coaching relationship and to combine that work with the trip to Argentina.

Before we started working together, Kelly struggled with her own doubts about whether tango is really a dance for a curvy, Black woman. She hadn’t seen many other women in the US tango scene who looked like her. She worried that to dance tango, one had to have a thin ballet-like body.

I could understand that fear. I used to feel the same way. I thought being a curvy woman would make being a tango dancer impossible. I’m sure many others have felt this way. Far too many women (and some men too) put our desires on hold thinking we need to get to some magical number on the scale, or BMI, before we go out in the world and do the things we want to do.

The most amazing part is how Kelly found me. She googled “curvy woman tango” and found me through an Internet search. I don’t ever remember using those words in a blog post, but I do put my body out there as an example that one doesn’t have to be skinny or flat-chested to be a dancer.

Kelly told us, “I feel much more connected to my body compared to at home, less hip and back pain. Just in general feeling much more alive and embodied and aware of what’s happening in my body. Also the feeling of not being stressed. I can feel space opened up. And the heaviness that I feel normally has been lifted. My muscles are working in ways that they haven’t in years.”

“I learned that the lessons that apply to tango, apply to life. Things about connection and being able to connect with strangers through dance. Dancing with a good dancer sort of feels like falling in love. So there’s been this experience that’s sort of like falling in love. Every time I’m dancing, every time I’m held at a milonga or at a practice, every time I trust someone new it’s just this wonderful sort of high feeling that I haven’t felt in a really long time so this experience it’s been transformative in that way.”


With the wonderful Wanda Abramor, a key teacher in my Tango Your Life/Tango Adventure team

As a poster girl for solo female tango travel to Buenos Aires, Kelly told us she wanted to help us show that tango is for everybody, and every body type, racial/ethnic background, age, and background. We are completely on board for this mission of inclusion!

It’s important to touch on the history of tango here. The African origins of tango in Argentina have often been erased since many Argentines perceive themselves as a white country with European roots. The African influence was present and vital in the roots of tango, and these days more people are talking about that. This recognition of the role of African influence in tango goes in parallel with social change happening in Argentina. It’s common to hear stories from people who realize they had a Black grandmother that nobody talked about. More and more Argentines are identifying themselves as Afro-descendants.

Kelly was the perfect fit for the Solo Chica Program because this project was created to show more women the infinite doors tango can open up beyond the dance itself.

Kelly said so many good things in our interview that we wanted to share more clips with you to share her story so you can see those in the Instagram clips below:

“Less Politics, More Tango”
“Mistakes as Part of the Dance,”
“The African Roots of Tango in Buenos Aires.”

On Difficult Decisions: I flew back to the US from Argentina during the coronavirus pandemic, but I wasn’t sure I made the right decision

Having lived abroad for five years, switching realities often between the US and Argentina, I’ve noticed that my soul often takes a little while to catch up with my physical body. My body travels thousands of miles on jets and goes through customs but my spirit sticks behind with the same people and routines. There’s a soul delay. That’s where I am now. In-between two worlds.

Physically I am in drizzly gray Rhode Island, just before spring, checking out sublet ads on craigslist at my mother’s house because that seems easier than furnishing a place during a pandemic, but my soul is still back in Argentina watching what’s unfolding in my other home.

I left Argentina to come back to the United States as the coronavirus crisis progressed and borders shut down, but I didn’t know if I was making the right call. It’s still hard to know.

While I was still in Argentina, I sat on the couch of my apartment watching the new Argentine president Alberto Fernandez take proactive, decisive national measures to protect the health of the Argentine people against the spread of the coronavirus. He said many times in many ways that the health of the people was his priority.

“We must slow the economy to slow the spread of the virus,” he said.

I still remember that feeling of calm settle into my body as I watched the Argentine president talk about reasonable and caring steps to protect the whole of society. That feeling was so unfamiliar to me: feeling calm watching a political leader. The whole idea that you could have a responsible, caring, rational president: wow.

Since then, Fernandez has drawn praise for his handling of the crisis with an approach that sharply differs from the madness currently happening in the US, Mexico, and Brazil.

As of this writing (Thursday, April 2), Argentina has 1,133 cases (2.5 per 100,000 people). The US has 214,461 (65.6 per 100,000). Argentina clearly was able to keep their numbers so low (compared to neighbor Brazil too) because Argentina  imposed a coordinated national quarantine when the pandemic was in early stages and only a few hundred people had tested positive for the virus  (versus the patchwork craziness of states making their own decisions in the States without help from the federal government). Guatamela and El Salvador imposed strict national quarantines days after Argentina.

This was all rather ironic given that Argentines often say their country is disorganized compared to the US. The contrast in how the Argentine government is handling the coronavirus crisis couldn’t be clearer compared to the US’ response.

Oh, how I wish more countries took decisive action based on the advice of scientific experts rather than their gut instincts. And on a desire to save lives.

++

I planned to fly back to the US on April 16, but on March 12, I posted on Facebook “I am dazed.” That was the day the president of Argentina announced the country was blocking flights between Argentina, and countries considered high-risk at that time: China, South Korea, Japan, Iran, US and all of Europe. That ban wiped out my original flight because American Airlines cancelled all travel to Buenos Aires until May or June. American Airlines would only take calls from people who had flights in the next three days, so information was impossible.

The morning after I recovered from the shock of that announcement I realized here were still ways of getting home through Panama, Brazil, or Chile. So the decision had not been taken out of my hands then. (Somehow life is easier when we don’t have to make decisions!)

But then one by one more countries’ borders started to close.

I didn’t know what to do.

My friend Chris thought I should go quickly if I was going to come to avoid getting trapped in Panama or Brazil. (Brazil might be the worst place to be after the US, as Bolsonaro, their president, is out-Trumping Trump still shaking hands with people at rallies in the middle of a pandemic.)

Jenny thought it was safer to stay put.

Both friends live in dense, large U.S. cities and were grappling with their own stay-or-go decisions. Tough choices are everywhere.

I thought it was safer to stay put too. I felt safe in that little apartment in Buenos Aires, and as a writer, I treasure having my own space. I had bought plenty of food for the cuarantena that had just been announced: lots of meat, vegetables, coconut oil, the food for the keto diet I had just started. I had gotten myself into a routine of yoga and a calming meditation in the morning, then writing most of the day when I wasn’t doing coaching calls. I have a memoir to finish so the solitude didn’t seem terrible: it would be an enforced writing retreat with no distractions. I had Netflix to watch from a comfy couch. I had my computer and a printer. I had more interaction on screens than I needed. I kind of liked all that alone time.

Meanwhile in Buenos Aires people started daily cheers at 9 pm for healthcare workers.

But of course I didn’t know if day after day, week after week of alone time would feel so good. I was afraid of being unable to get home if  my parents got sick. I was also afraid of infecting my mother if I got the virus on the plane rides. And I wasn’t sure it was such a great idea to run home to quarantine for an indefinite amount of time with my mother. (Just because you love your mother doesn’t mean it is a good idea to live together in quarantine.)

When I was in the middle of trying to decide, I walked into the bathroom, not because I had to go to the bathroom but just to go somewhere. I looked at the toilet with its modern flush button installed in the wall above the toilet. There was no reason to think the toilet would break but you know, Murphy’s Law.

I stared at the toilet flusher button. What if that toilet broke while I was in strict quarantine and there was no other bathroom to use? That question terrified me. In a flash I imagined the ocean in Rhode Island and thought of how much I wanted to plunge in the sea. Like many I was dreaming of the beach. If I didn’t go then I might not be able to go for many months. What about my family?

Decisions can be so excruciating. I’ve made a lot of scary decisions in my life, like the original decision to come to Buenos Aires on my own. As a life coach I encourage clients to make decisions based on desire and not fear. But with the coronavirus, there seemed to be no good decisions, only less bad options.

I walked into the bathroom and saw that toilet button again. The fear of a broken toilet in quarantine struck at my most primitive fears.

I walked back to the couch, sat down, clicked buy on the new ticket, and cancelled the other one. It was Friday. I needed to travel immediately to avoid the risk of being stuck in Panama indefinitely because Panama’s borders closed that Sunday night at midnight.

++

In a matter of seven hours I packed everything—two suitcases to take with me, and two to leave my with my taxi driver friend Gustavo for whenever I could return to Argentina—to rush back to the United States through Panama.

There were so many things to figure out. How to get the keys to the apartment owners. How to get to the airport. Argentina was in its second day of total national quarantine with cops patrolling the streets for offenders. The normally bustling, creative, chaotic streets of Buenos Aires were totally empty. I couldn’t tell if taxis were allowed to drive on the streets. I left a comment on the US Embassy Facebook page. They said taxis could circulate with a valid reason. (For the record, the US Embassy was not as helpful as they should have been.)

I messaged Gustavo, my taxi-driver friend. We arranged for him to come to my apartment at 11 pm for a 1:39 am flight.

My friend Tan wanted me to come over to say goodbye on the way to the airport but I couldn’t because then I would burst into tears. All I could do was go, go, go.

Just before leaving the apartment at 10:30 I seriously considered not going. I didn’t know how I would manage not touching my face to wipe away sweat while wheeling fat suitcases. Not touching one’s face takes incredible concentration. I was already so exhausted.

I called my friend Jenny, cried, and she listened. Sometimes all I need is for someone to be in my presence when I’m crying.

I kept packing the last things, leaving behind toiletries and all that precious coconut oil.

++

We drove to the airport in deserted streets, me in the backseat with the windows open. Windows open was the rule for cabs in Buenos Aires in the last days before the national quarantine was called. I still wasn’t sure I had made the right decision but there is a moment when there is no turning back. That moment came about ten blocks into the drive.

When he dropped me off, Gustavo and I hugged each other with the soft look in our eyes. We said later we had given each other a socially distanced hug through our eyes. This is something I treasure about Argentina: the affection. Gustavo is part of my tango business team, he’s a friend. He comes to my birthday.

Gustavo also took the airbnb key to give to the owner, the two big bags I could not manage, and some cash to pay my Tango Adventure assistant.

++

At the airport a man in full-body light blue protective gown took my temperature by putting the thermometer on my forehead. I also needed to show a plane ticket to enter. Argentina’s airport was he most strictly controlled of any that day. In so many ways Argentina took the pandemic seriously before other countries in North or South America did.

After checking in, I walked to security past dozens of people sacked out on the ground. The airport looked like it had been converted into a homeless encampment of people sleeping on the floor or camping mats. The airport was otherwise empty and quiet.

So began an odyssey that would take about 24 hours from Buenos Aires to Panama to Miami to Boston. Buenos Aires’ airport was quiet by then but Panama’s was bustling and so was Miami’s. Outside of Argentina the airports were business as usual. All the flights were full.  None of the airlines instructed us to follow social distancing.

On the first flight—the longest one overnight from Buenos Aires to Panama—I sat in a window seat (researchers say window seats are the safest) with a masked couple sitting next to me. During the flight the woman in the couple leaned on my shoulder as she slept.

Should I gently shove her to the right? Honey, dear, why don’t you lean on your husband’s shoulder?

When we entered customs in Miami we used the touch-screen devices just like normal, without any wipes or anyone to wipe them down.

I could understand why the flights from Buenos Aires to Panama and Panama to Miami were full because people were trying to beat deadlines as borders closed.

But it was hard to understand why the American Airlines flight from Miami to Boston was full. Running crowded flights with cheap seats at this point (March 21) seemed immoral.

++

I spent the first week after my 24-hour dash through Panama up to Miami worried I had contracted the virus: nauseous one day, cold symptoms another, body aches initially. It’s hard to separate symptoms that come from extreme emotion and stress and those that come from the dreaded virus.

Nine days later I am doing fine. My mother is doing fine too, thank Goddess.

In the end, I don’t think I had coronavirus. All the obsessive hand-washing and use of hand sanitizers, not to mention wiping down the trays and seats in the airplanes, protected me, or I just got lucky. (Or I’m aysmptomatic! I hope not–I don’t want to be a carrier.) In a world without testing you just never know. When are we going to get those tests?!???! Today in Rhode Island the state is ramping up to test 1,000 a day. I’m lucky to be from the state currently rated second most aggressive in its response to coronavirus by wallethub.com. Our governor Gina Raimondo clearly has the same fierce commitment to saving lives as the president of Argentina, but she could go even further with measures if she followed his lead.

A Buenos Aires friend told me over Skype it would take me three weeks for my body to settle. I think he was right. I’m practicing patience. I’m sleeping again. It’s been twelve days since that 24-hour period of travel. I’m almost through my 14-day quarantine. So far, so good.

Now that I am home, I wonder, did I make the right choice? I suppose I did because even though none of this is easy, none of this is easy for anyone, and it’s better to be close to family just in case. I am sad because I won’t be able to go back to Argentina for a long time–maybe not for a year or longer. I am sad I didn’t say goodbye to any of my friends other than Gustavo. Foreigners are banned at the moment, and even Argentines can’t leave. I don’t think Argentina will open up their borders until there is a vaccine, a treatment, or at least widespread testing.  My transformative tango program the Tango Adventure of course is on pause for a long time too.

I am enraged by the political situation in the US. I fantasize about having a president like Argentina’s who would actually take care of our country.

This US is poised to have the the most deaths in the world as a result of the coronavirus crisis. It twists my stomach to write that sentence.

The Argentines in my life never quite understood how fucked-up the US has become because the image of the US, like the image of Trump, is so Teflon–nothing bad sticks. My Turkish friend totally got it because Turkey is living the same nightmare, only they are ahead of us in the dictatorial timeline. Ojala (I hope!) we get off that timeline in November.

The pandemic has laid that “organized” image bare and will show the rest of the world how brutal American society is with our lack of accessible, affordable healthcare and leaders who clearly do not care about our welfare. Trump wasted two months he could have used preparing us calling this nothing more than a flu.  More sickening, prominent Republicans have suggested it would be OK for millions of people to die to sacrifice for the sake of the economy (aka the stock market). Why not do what European countries are doing and pay businesses to continue paying their workers?

But I am here in my native country that outrages me so, and with all these doubts shared, I am glad. I will choose to be glad here because this is what I have chosen. I couldn’t say that before because I was too jostled after suddenly swapping one life for another. With time my soul is arriving to meet my body.

Decisions are hard, but once you make a decision, you’re on a path. The more time you live with a decision, the less you regret it. Because you start living it, feeling into what’s good about that path.That’s how I felt walking through this park in Providence yesterday. Spring is on the way finally in New England, and if nothing else, there are beautiful walks. There will be more good things too. I just don’t know what they are yet. The magic will come. It always does.

Walking the path of life in Providence, Rhode Island, early spring, the green of life will come soon

Before I left I posted on Facebook about people in Buenos Aires clapping and shouting, “Vamos!” (“let’s go!”) out their windows nightly at 9 pm in support of health care workers. A friend in San Francisco, commented questioning if anyone in the US would engage in that kind of solidarity cheer.

The movement finally arrived here a couple weeks later. Rituals of support to express our gratitude (and amplify our life force energy) are starting to happen in the US under the hashtag #clapbecausewecare. The idea is to clap to support health care workers—and grocery workers, truck drivers, gas pumpers, food delivery people, and everyone else who is putting their lives on the line so we can stay home to stay safe.

From what I gather, the clapping happens at 7 or 8 pm in the US communities compared to 9 pm in Buenos Aires, which makes me chuckle. Everything starts later in Argentina. People in Buenos Aires are clapping nightly. Vamos norteamericanos. Let’s go!

A friend of mine in Marin just north of San Francisco says that in Mill Valley they are howling nightly at 8 pm to “collectively express thanks and connectedness” in the midst of the pandemic.

Howl, clap, bring it on.

 

Aplausos in support of medical personnel in Buenos Aires

Solidarity cheers in New York City for health care workers