It's Not All A Metaphor

Welp, it’s that time of the month for a good old fashion dressing down from the high tower that holds the multi stepped platform which rest my giant Yoga throne. While it can’t be gazed upon by the average human eye without turning the onlooker to stone, gold and jewel encrusted, I assure it’s grander than any simple mortal could envision. But it’s not just a chair in which I bask. It’s the seat of power in which I assert and force my dominance and tyrannical rule over the yoga community.


Truth is, I’m sitting here in my hole filled underwear, flipping through Netflix, waiting for Papa John’s, and reading Miami-Dade fire code. Perhaps maybe sounds like you right now reading this.

Great! Now we have established we’re both human beings. While, I don’t sit on a godly throne, I do lead: my community, my company, my staff, and my teachers. With leadership comes responsibly but also makes me a human punching bag.

If I responded to every shot that was taken at me, I would literally be writing every minute of everyday for the rest of my life. However, something so absurd was put in front of me it beckons a direct response.

Not everything in life is a metaphor. It’s easy for a skilled wordsmith to twist and turn an emotional moment in time to draw a parallel to their own life for praise and pity. When making comparisons in life situations, one may consider that comparing their life to that of a refugee fleeing political oppression, starvation, and revolting human rights violations is frankly disturbing. The amount of arrogance and unmitigated audacity it takes to see oneself in this light is self abusing from an overindulged ego.

Particularly, when comparing ones life to that of a refuge floating on a raft from the high perched deck of a floating fun house yacht. Only exasperated by that comparison was likely written behind the secure and luxurious gates of one of the wealthiest zip codes in the world.

Listen, I twist and turn things in my head all the time to narrate them in a way to victimize myself. Often I wipe away my extortive actions to only see my side of the street. But then I remember this...

I am not defined by my “traumas” and dramas. With a snap of my fingers I have actually godly power. In an instant I can cancel my bullshit and drop it (ya know, stop your samcaras). What I find makes this simple is I consider my real life treasure. Time.

If I were to waste an entire year of my life wallowing in self creative nonsense please do me a solid favor and also give me the same advice I offer you. Slap the fucking pacifier out of my mouth and tell me to grow the fuck up.

The clock is ticking

In reality, Michael the 8th