aruba Archives - The Manifest-Station

The Manifestation Workshop: On Being Human. In Aruba!

April 29, 2017

The Manifestation Workshop- On Being Human

Join Jen Pastiloff in her signature workshop and see why she sells out with a wait-list everywhere.

A yoga workshop that’s not just about yoga (and can sometimes be NOT about yoga at all). A writing workshop for struggling writers, to-be writers, and non-writers. A dance party and a sing along for dancers, singers, klutzes, tone deaf, and deaf and hard of hearing singers. A trust and love circle. A place to make shit happen. A workshop for humans.

All levels welcome. Expect to flow, sweat, sing, write, dance and laugh and share out loud as you let go of what is no longer serving you.

Please note: There will be much laughter. Maybe a few tears. It’s been known to change lives.
Bring an open heart. Expect to go beyond your comfort zone. Come see why Jen travels around the world with this workshop. Bring journal/open heart/sense of humor. This experience is about life: unpredictable, sometimes messy, beautiful, human.

Teacher: Jen Pastiloff
Date: Saturday 29th April, 2017
Time: 9AM – 12PM
$60 PER PERSON (Excl. 3.5% Aruban tax)

Secure Your Spot.

Guest Posts, Jen Pastiloff, Jen's Musings, travel

Be All In.

June 15, 2015

By Jen Pastiloff.

I got up before the sun this morning. The room was dark and I didn’t know where I was. I am in a twin bed, I am shivering and sweating, the sun is not up, where am I? I’ve been grinding my teeth really badly. I unclenched my jaw a little and felt my plastic night guard in my mouth, but still, I couldn’t quite place where I was. It’s funny when that happens, isn’t it? You wake up and have no idea what day it is or where you are or if you are late to work or what the fuck? Do I even have a job? Am I still waitressing? Am I late for school? School? I am a grown-ass adult, I don’t go to school, where the fuck am I?

Okay, okay. I am in Aruba. I remember. Calm the fuck down.

We are going on a sunrise hike and I have set my alarm for 5. Just 5 more minutes, I lie to myself. My mouth guard cracks inside my mouth. Are you kidding me? I still lay there with plastic pieces in my mouth, refusing to swing my legs over the edge of the small bed. This night guard that cost almost $500 and I just bit it in half. I still don’t get up. Just don’t swallow the plastic and die here on this twin bed in Aruba, Jen, I say to myself, and also, Are. You. Fucking. Kidding. Me?

Who clenches their jaw so hard they bite their night guard in half? What am I holding on to? I don’t panic though. I lay there calmly chanting don’t swallow don’t swallow and then make myself laugh because it reminds me of blow jobs and I feel like a teenager for laughing. Like when someone’s name was Dick and we’d laugh. Dick and blow jobs and plastic in my mouth. I better get up.

At least I can laugh because this piece of crap plastic is going to cost another $500 unless I want to crack my crowns. I recently got two crowns, one of which is gold. Classy.

Now I am on the plane. I am nestled against the window with the best $20 investment I have ever made (EVER): a pillow and blanket I purchased in the World’s Worst Airport otherwise known as Ft. Lauderdale.

I went to Chili’s in my 3 hour layover and got a vodka soda and salmon. My waiter was very accommodating and gave me black beans instead of rice and when I asked for salsa, brought me a huge Styrofoam container of it and some plastic cutlery. It brought back visions of the people I used to wait on who would ask for plastic silverware. (I guess it was a germ thing?) It also brought back memories of those skinny women who would come in shaking and saying, It’s so cold, when it was 65 degrees, Can I get a hot water with lemon? I hated those ladies. I wanted to tell them to eat a sandwich. (They always ordered the Tuna Deluxe, no rice, no dressing, and they never finished it.)

Anyway, I took a bath in my salsa and drank my drink and ordered another because 3 hours. Ft. Lauderdale. I asked the lady at the table behind me if the chips were any good.

“They’re greasy but they’re okay. Have one.”

I reached over and had one. She was right. They were meh, at best. I would just eat my salsa out of the Styrofoam with my plastic spoon sans chips. This is my first time in a Chili’s. They play good music. I’ll give them that. Steely Dan, Hey 19. A little David Bowie.

The hike was 5 hours long. We started before the sun came. Rooi Tambu, a long trail through a dry riverbed within the Arikok National Park of Aruba. I poured coffee into a plastic cup and spilled it all over myself in the car. The sun was still not up when we began.

I read a sign that explained that the dry riverbed was named after the sound of the tambu, a musical instrument used by inhabitants from African descent who were brought to Aruba to work as slaves. They used to hide in the dry riverbed to perform their dance rituals and play music, as it was forbidden by the Spanish catholic colonists who occupied Aruba from 1499-1636.

Isn’t it amazing how humans have the capacity for self-expression and creativity, no matter what? How art is so often born of brutal circumstances? How survival is contingent upon the making of that art? I bent down low to touch the earth, dirt on my fingers, on the backs of my calves, this is holy dirt, I thought, and wiped a streak on my face. The sun was rising. What was once forbidden flourished here.

We continued to walk until we reached the coastline. I climbed up on the rocks and tried to do a yoga pose but it was slippery and I was scared so I stood there with my arms in the air as my friend Yulady took a picture. I was wearing a tank top that said Be All In and was I ever. My feet were aching, my skin was filthy, I was soaked from a wave that had crashed on the rocks, but my god, was I all in, knee-deep in, waist-high in, up to my neck in, I was in, and I would keep going in, deeper.

I thought of Mary Oliver’s poem The Journey as I stood on that rock

But little by little,

as you left their voices behind,

the stars began to burn

through the sheets of clouds,

and there was a new voice

which you slowly

recognized as your own,

that kept you company

as you strode deeper and deeper

into the world,

determined to do

the only thing you could do–

determined to save

the only life you could save.

I read that poem a lot in my yoga classes so I could almost hear my own voice speaking it. God, I’m so dramatic. I climbed down off the rock, pleased with myself that I got up and did the hike instead of sleeping, that I stood on a wet rock on the beach and heard a poem in my head as if the sky was talking to me, as if I hadn’t been laying in bed just a couple hours before with plastic pieces in my mouth and a deep confusion as to where I was in the world, as if the clouds were reminding me to go out and make art, no matter what, make art, create, stand on rocks, recite poetry, get up and climb on rocks and forge your way through the world and do not be confused as to where you are: You are here. You are here. You are here.

Yeah, I was all pleased with myself. I am not a hiker. I hopped down onto the sand and laughed at myself for thinking the clouds could talk. Then I remembered that the minute I stopped believing the sky could talk, I was dead, I was no longer a poet, I no longer had an imagination, I would no longer make art despite the unflinching pressing of time on my body- that if I believed the sky went quiet, I might as well swallow the pieces of plastic and confine myself to a life of quiet choking, of relentless blockage, a life of words being stifled in the back of a throat. I would suffocate. So yes, the sky can talk and I can fucking hear it despite my near deafness. I can hear it and I am all in.

I am happy I came on this hike. I fly out in a few hours, to go home to L.A. and this will tucker me out for the plane. It will stay with me for days on end, the Manzanilla trees and the crabs with the big eyes, who looked dead until you got close and they scurried away. The way the ghosts of the music-makers from long ago lingered like any good art will. Art does not disappear. The clouds do talk.

My friend Yulady and her husband Gerry are also with me on the hike.

Yulady had breast cancer and now has a colostomy bag. She doesn’t complain. She made a video for me the other day where she says, I poop in a bag, and yet, she doesn’t complain. I learn from her.

My legs hurt so I squat down and my friend Mike says, No pooping, Jen. This makes me laugh and I think how poop jokes always do. Like swallow and the name Dick. No pooping, Jen.

Yulady has to poop in a bag. She is my inspiration. Amazing, like I said, how art is so often made through brutality? She tells me that life has not been easy for her. But she doesn’t complain. I want to rub her skin and take some of her back with me to Los Angeles.

I complain that my feet hurt and I have get home to finish packing. That I am hungry. That I am getting sunburned. I tell myself to shut the fuck up.

We finally finish the hike and get back to the house.

I thought about how I got quiet during the walk. Real quiet. It was nice. It was needed. How unquiet we are sometimes. Me. I am. With the constant ringing in my ears and my own chatter and the nonstop information and distraction of social media- how unquiet. During the hike, you couldn’t look up because of how rocky and uneven the earth was and that was okay.

One foot in front of the other, paying attention, getting quiet. How needed it is. I got soaked as I sat on that rock and I thought life is good. At least in this moment.

It’s good to get quiet. My legs covered with filth from the walk, my hair tangled with sea water, salt on my skin. Maybe I’ll stay like this a little longer. To remember.

I place my broken night guard carefully in its blue container and put it at the bottom of my backpack. I wonder if I can superglue it?

At the airport the long is long and women with heavy blue eye shadow and t-shirts that say Aruba: The Happy Island wear too much perfume. My bra strap breaks in line and my boob starts to hang out. I ask a stranger to fix it. (Not my boob. The strap.)

She kindly does. She is flying to New York with her husband. They have arrived at the airport almost 5 hours early. I, on the other hand, am worried I will miss my flight and my bra has just broke.

Two hours later, I make it though all the lines and my bra strap breaks again. I get in line at the Happy Bar and order a white wine, which he gives me in a mini bottle with a Dixie cup of ice. I take it to the gate. Thank you, Happy Island, for allowing me to walk through the airport with a plastic cup of wine. In the States, we can do no such thing.

Night guard breaking, bra strap busting, what next, Jen? Your head going to roll off?

I sit down next to a big guy who is partly in my seat. He sleeps with his head pressed into the tray table in front of him, from takeoff to landing, while his wife absent-mindedly traces the hair on his legs with her French manicure, as she reads a paperback. He lifts his head only once, to turn around and yell at (I am guessing) sons, “There’s enough room back there. Knock it off.

In Ft. Lauderdale I somehow have to go through security. Again. Fourth time in one day. I am so cold that I feel like one of those women who ask for lemon water. I am freezing. I buy a pillow and blanket in the airport shop and attempt to find a place to eat. This brings me to Chili’s. The Ft. Lauderdale Airport really does blow. (Ha ha blow jobs again.)

I am sad to leave Aruba. I wish I took more photos. I close my eyes and rest my head on the table at Chili’s and start to make art in my head. I rearrange words and create sentences out of fragments of stone and wind and blue, blue water. I remember a poem I wrote 12 years ago.

I am in awe of the things that cause change.

The forces, natural and apocryphal, that cause us to evolve-

The catalysts, those things working in our favor-

The impetus for us metamorphose, to mutate and transform.

Whether being trapped inside the earth in heat so blasting

A Guatemalan volcano has to spew its ashy breath-

Or having an old friend come to stay for a week.

We change.

We change shapes and figures over and over again.

We exchange one body for the next, one precious

Stone for a different one.

One pleasure for another.

I wonder about the things working in my favor. How I have been changed by this trip? By the Rooi Tambu? By other people’s pain and how their music settled into the bones of the earth so that when we walk over it, our feet touch their hearts. I wonder where my waiter is with my drink. I wonder why I clench my teeth so badly. I wonder what life would be like if I went all in, like really all in, like I stood on that rock as if I could never slide off. As if nothing could stop me. I wonder what being all in felt like. I checked to see if my boob was tucked in, if my bra strap was hooked. Yes. I was all in. I made myself laugh. This is important.

I wonder if I will make my flight.

I do.

I get home eventually.

Meanwhile, I cuddle in my blanket and pillow next to a Chinese man with a mask over his mouth. He eats peanuts and I eat salsa out of Styrofoam and I think that both of us are all in. He nods at me as if to say hello with his eyes and I turn my head to the clouds out the window of the airplane because they are speaking. Of course they are. I must get quiet to hear them. Shhh. Goodbye.

The 12 Day Detox is here. Sign up now for the March cleanse. Space is limited. This detox comes at just the perfect time. Reprogram your body and mind as we move into the new season of spring. This is your time of rejuvenation and renewal.This is not a juice fast, or a detox based on deprivation.

Jen Pastiloff is the founder of The Manifest-Station. Join her in Tuscany for her annual Manifestation Retreat. Click the Tuscan hills above. No yoga experience required. Only requirement: Just be a human being. Yoga + Writing + Connection. We go deep. Bring an open heart and a sense of humor- that's it! Summer or Fall 2015. It is LIFE CHANGING!

Jen Pastiloff is the founder of The Manifest-Station. Join her in Tuscany for her annual Manifestation Retreat Sep 17-24. Click the Tuscan hills above. No yoga experience required. Only requirement: Just be a human being. Yoga + Writing + Connection. We go deep. Bring an open heart and a sense of humor- that’s it! It is LIFE CHANGING! You must email info@jenniferpastiloff.com to book.

March 13 NYC! A 90 minute class for women, girls and non-gender conforming folks (we encourage teens 16 and up) and all levels that will combine flow yoga, meditation, empowerment exercises, connection and maybe, just maybe, a dance party. This will be a class to remind you that you are enough and that you are a badass. It will be fun and empowering and you need no yoga experience: just be a human being. Let’s get into our bodies and move! Be warned: This will be more than just a basic asana class. It will be a soul-shifting, eye-opening, life-changing experience. Come see why Jen Pastiloff travels around the world and sells out every workshop she does in every city. This will be her last class before she has her baby so sign up soon. Follow her on instagram at @jenpastiloff and @girlpoweryouareenough.
Jen is also doing her signature Manifestation workshop in NY at Pure Yoga Saturday March 5th which you can sign up for here as well (click pic.)

Guest Posts, Jen Pastiloff, Jen's Musings

Lying to Ourselves.

June 11, 2015

By Jen Pastiloff.

Hi, from Aruba. Whoa! I am in Aruba.

Am.

In.

Aruba.

I’m trying to blog more in an effort to remember details. So hi. Here I am.

I have this chalkboard in my room at home where I have written YOU ARE A WRITER: SO WRITE! because I don’t carry a notebook, thinking (naively) that I will remember that man with a speedo, a selfie-stick and a beer precariously taking a photo on the edge of a cliff in Aruba, and how I thought about my mom’s second husband Carl because the speedo man had his beer in one of those cooler things which I just had to google “What are those foamy things you put a beer in to keep it cold?” because I couldn’t think of the name of them (apparently they are called Koozies) and Carl used to drink his beer out of said Koozies. I have been thinking about Carl a lot because there are cacti everywhere here on the island and he collected them- had hundreds in his yard at home. He only drank Coors and I keep seeing Coors ads here so I think maybe, in some way, his spirit is here, and I wonder if he had ever been to Aruba but I can’t ask him because he is dead a long time now and that man in the speedos looks like he may fall into the ocean because of his dumb fucking selfie, so I want to write this stuff down but because I don’t carry a notebook or jot things down. I memorize it until I sit down here, at the table by the window, the wind blowing on my back, and I think if only I had a table at home where the wind blew on my back like this, I would really write, I would really get shit done.

Right.

Isn’t it amazing how easy it is to lie to ourselves?

Carl, if you were here, dude, you’d go crazy for the Bringa Mosa Bush and the Yatu Cactus. Also, we hardly wear shoes here and you’d love that. You hated shoes. Especially when you ran on the beach, which to me is just about the worst thing in the world. I tried to do yoga on the beach yesterday and I felt like I ran a marathon, it was that exhausting. My hands kept sinking deeper and deeper into the sand and I had nothing solid to balance on so I kept falling over. You used to run with Monet on the beach at sunset. I miss Monet. Every West Highland Terrier I see is him. We used to call him MoMo. You didn’t, but my sister and I did, especially after you and my mom got divorced and we moved back to New Jersey. MoMo and the cats, Runt and Tiger. And when I drank beer I high school, I thought of you because you were the only person I knew that had drank beer. I don’t recall my father every drinking so lord knows where I got my affinity for it. His thing was speed. Anyway, you’d love it here. So would Monet. There’s so many dogs everywhere. And cactus plants.

And Koozies. (I wonder why they are called that?)

I think sometimes I am afraid of remembering.

I should start writing things down more though because details, they’re everything. I think my mind can store it all, the way that boy with the braces from Houston was collecting rafts in the pool to build a bridge and run across, how proud he was of his achievement, and the way the woman who worked at the hotel bent down by the edge of the pool, a You are making my job more difficult pair of eyes, the way she stooped to collect the glass candles so we wouldn’t break them, her mouth a line of blame. Meanwhile I can’t even remember what I did last week so I should totally start taking notes.

Maybe I am afraid of remembering.

I remember sitting on the floor of the airport in Dallas a few days ago and how there was a little girl in a chair next to me with a sweatshirt on that said Birthday Diva. I asked her if it was her birthday. She had just turned 13 and had these huge stuffed animals on her lap. Her mom snapped photos of her as I sat on the ground and charged my phone. A man talked to me but I have no idea what he said. I wonder how often I lie to myself.

My sister is not feeling well back in the States, in Georgia. I don’t know how to not experience it in my own body. With her, or my mother. I do not know how to separate them from myself. I do not know how to not feel guilty.

I have moments- sitting here, the wind, the perfect Aruban wind and my God, is it ever fucking perfect, I would marry the goddamned wind if I could- sitting here with my coffee and the wind on my back, the sun burning the little patch of skin that is exposed, I do not feel guilty. I feel settled in my body, my ears are ringing as usual, but I am writing and the tinnitus can’t stop me, not when I am truly in it.

I so rarely get truly in it, not lately anyway. This past year I have hardly written a word. Right now though, I don’t feel guilty or like an appendage of anyone else- I am not aware of my hearing loss, or my family, or how dare I be happy because I am in it, waist-high, swimming in the bluest water you have ever seen. I am writing. I hate that hashtag (maybe because I so rarely write) but here I am #Iamwriting and so I am spared the responsibility of my guilt and how it weights me to the bottom of the sea where not only am I deaf, but I can’t breathe. So, there’s moments, brief ones, where I float and I sit on airport floors and watch Birthday Divas, everything still ahead of me, a possibility, not yet a disappointment. Continue Reading…

Q & A Series, Yoga

Brock & Krista Cahill. iFly Lands at The Manifestation Q&A Series.

May 23, 2012

Welcome to The Manifestation Q&A Series.

I am Jennifer Pastiloff and this series is designed to introduce the world to someone I find incredible. Someone who is manifesting their dreams on a daily basis.

Today’s guests are my friends Brock and Krista Cahill, which many of you know because you have taken their classes, seen some of their amazing photos, or the best yet, caught some of the work they have been doing for our planet.

The following interview is a mixture of both husband and wife, as are most of their classes and retreats. I hope you will get a feel for the power behind this couple. The power of flight, the power of love and the power of seva. I am honored to have them with me here today. I also urge you to check out www.kurmalliance.org or to check them out at Yogis Anonymous, in the studio or online. The Cahills and I both teach in Philadelphia at Dhyana Yoga a few times a year, as well.

Jennifer Pastiloff: What are you most proud to have manifested in your life?

Brock Cahill: i am most proud to have manifested a community of incredibly strong and dedicated yogis, that are not afraid to stand up for what they believe in, to show up and put in the hard work in their daily practice, and use our practice as a training platform to activate body, mind, and spirit, …resulting in an elevation of consciousness in decision and lifestyle. awesome work amigos!!

Krista Cahill: It always comes down to the LOVE. I really can’t believe the love I have in my life…it’s incredible… I love a lot everyday, and I feel love everyday from the people who are closest to me. in the most overwhelming way, i really believe that love is the most valuable comodity on earth, we all can use more love.

Jennifer Pastiloff: How did you find yoga, or perhaps a better question would be, how did yoga find you?

Brock Cahill: great question, i like how you put that… yoga found me through a series of horrendous shoulder injuries that the docs wanted to cut and sew back together with no real hope of a true recovery. sounded like horseshit to me… i thought there must be another way. a friend suggested yoga. from day one i was hooked, just as you all were. i felt as if i had finally come home to my Self. as my mat unfolded beneath me day after day, i saw that my true injuries were not living in my shoulders, but in my soul… the shoulders were a symptom of my toxic lifestyle, the heavy partying, the dishonesty and denial, and my own inability to wake up in my own skin and connect to my soul. perhaps you know what i mean? shoulder soldiers unite!

Krista Cahill: 13 years ago I really fell in love with Ashtanga vinyasa yoga. I loved stepping to the side for Standing poses and flowing throughout seated sequences, the many predictable drishti’s and sequencing… now I practice the opposite and Yoga is still the love of my life, so I am excited to see what my evolution will be for the next 13 years. Maybe I will study Iyengar more…

Jennifer Pastiloff: What is your favorite yoga pose?

Krista Cahill: Handstand, of course.

Jennifer Pastiloff: I am moved by your commitment to seva. Kurmalliance. Tell us a little about that and how it was born?

Brock Cahill: kurmalliance is our nonprofit org aimed at oceaniconservation and yogactivism. i am very much in love with the ocean. i believe that she is the soul of our planet. not to mention the lifesource! without the ocean, we wouldn’t be here. …& without the ocean we won’t be here. the ocean is alive, and we must fight to save her.

i believe the yogis have the strength and focus to do so …or at least to ignite the revolution. but it is going to take solidarity: it is going to take union: it is going to take yoga. i hope we can band together and make this our fight. in my years as an avid oceanic romantic, i have seen the state of the ocean take a massive nosedive toward unsustainability, with the amount of plastic trash discarded into her guts, massive oil spills leaking all over her pretty face, the rape of hugemongous commercial fishing practices, and the destruction of her coral reefs that is akin to breaking her back with a sledgehammer. i couldn’t sit by and watch… but i didn’t know what to do? the problem is huge, & it is with society at large; how we have chosen convenience over consciousness. when you look at it in macro it is tremendously overwhelming. what difference can i make? how can i change the world? a better question is, how can i not?? she needs us. she needs you. …and all your yogasuperhero friends. she needs me too. on my birthday a few years ago, the sledge that broke my camels back was unleashed. enter the bp oil spill, the worst ecological disaster of all time. i was up in arms about the millions upon millions of gallons of oil that were being spewed into the gulf of mexico, and nobody really doing a damn thing about it. you remember, it was crazy!! and then on june 22, the news broke that bp was sanctioning the corralling of crude oil on the surface of the gulf, and lighting it on fire to try to quell the accumulation of so much of an eyesore. in doing so, they also happened to be trapping extremely endangered juvenile kemps ridley sea turtles that were mired in the surface slicks… and burning them alive. oh fuck… i have always had a very special and fond affinity for sea turtles. from my first days in the ocean, they have accompanied me on nearly every journey, and awakened me to the divinity of the sea. every time i have a chance to look into the eyes of a sea turtle, i see myself a little more clearly. i found a very spiritual bond there… and one that cannot be explained, but can be felt very deeply. these are the kind of bonds that ignite us; that motivate us; that activate us. on that day, i felt like i got kicked square in the balls, and i knew god was saying directly to me, “you just gonna stand around and watch this shit go down?” absolutely not. the kurmalliance was born. kurma is the sanskrit name for the second avatar of god, vishnu. in an ancient hindu parable, vishnu came down to earth in the form of a turtle and was able to churn the elixir of life out of the ocean, in order to save the world. it was our turn to pay the turtles back! the yoga community rallied, and in just a few short weeks we had raised about $35,000, to spearhead a mission to the gulf in conjunction with our buddies at the sea shepherd conservation society, and get to work saving turtles, collecting data, and being an honest witness to the shitspray that bp was attempting to sweep under the rug. I’m happy to say that the evidence that we were able to bring to court in the case against bp did help the people, the turtles, the sharks, and the coastline of the gulf gain some retribution from the crimes committed against them. I’m bummed to say that it wasn’t nearly enough. many were lost. and the way of life in the gulf will never be the same. but the alliance is strong. and we will never give up. not until mother ocean is safe from harm. join us. www.kurmalliance.org

Photo by Jasper Johal.
I take Brock’s class often at Equinox Santa Monica, where we teach together. He is kind, compassionate and kick ass!

Jennifer Pastiloff: What is the greatest lesson you have learned from being a yoga teacher?

Brock Cahill: using integration, tapping into strength to cultivate balance.

Jennifer Pastiloff: From being a yoga teacher who travels so much?

to stay grounded and focused, no matter what the world throws at you, and no matter what continent you are on, you are home in your body, and with your soul.

Jennifer Pastiloff: From being married?

Brock Cahill: that you can’t do it all alone. it is real nice to have a teammate. especially one that rocks as hard as krista!

Jennifer Pastiloff: From saving turtles?

Brock Cahill: that even if you are not ready, the time is now, and it is not going to wait for you. activate!

Jennifer Pastiloff: From your beloved handstand?

Brock Cahill: to stand up for what you believe in. if you pour your entire self, your focus, your dedication, your devocean into something, there is no stopping you. there will be obstacles. there will be hurdles. get over them! and this is from someone that could not lift his arms over his head when he began practicing! let alone even think about a handstand…

Brock and The Yogitoes Prism. Click to connect with Yogitoes.

Jennifer Pastiloff: Krista, what about you?

Krista Cahill: Brock is a very good teacher, the harder he is on you the more he believes you can do better. He is teaching me about my greatest potential. he is extracting the best from within me. it has been a powerful journey. As a yoga teacher the greatest lesson to learn is how to be yourself. People love a teacher because they offer something different, something unique and original…it’s not always easy to be creative, but a daily practice is the only inspiration you need!!! if your getting your inspiration from youtube videos, then there’s is a problem…

My personal practice is my best friend, I have enjoyed every breath, new pose, ideals and friendships. Most of all, it is where I met Brock, so i know it brings you what you need.

Jennifer Pastiloff: How has being married changed your life?

Krista Cahill: Being married to Brock has been a massive life change. I am now yoked to this man for the rest of my life… everything I do I have to consider his feelings and preferences too. For someone as impulsive as me that has been my biggest shift thus far:)

photo of Brock by Jasper Johal

Jennifer Pastiloff: Gratitude is the greatest force In my life. Most of my classes are set to this theme. If you could say thank you right now, who would it be to?

Brock Cahill: yoga.

Krista Cahill: I would thank Brock, he has shown me that i am a tough cookie.

Photo of the couple by Jasper Johal

Jennifer Pastiloff: How has Kurmalliance changed your life?

Brock Cahill: It has given me purpose. it has allowed me to recognize my dharma.

Jennifer Pastiloff: When was the last time you laughed at yourself?

Brock Cahill: i’ve been doing that a lot lately… thankfully! i was taking everything too seriously, with the state of the oceans and much of the globes apathy to her condition…

So i grew this frickin hilarious mustache. it was comedy. just about every time i would look at myself in the mirror i would launch almond milk out of my nose, cracking up so hard!

Krista Cahill: I laugh everyday, mostly when i am teaching I laugh at myself because I am ridiculous… I try to be tough because it’s what I like as a student, but sometimes I just can’t keep a straight face.

Jennifer Pastiloff: Who/what inspires you most?

Brock Cahill: the ocean.

Jennifer Pastiloff: Who has been your greatest teacher?

Brock Cahill: my wife, krista.

Jennifer Pastiloff: What is your favorite part about teaching with your wife?

Brock Cahill: that we approach the middle ground from completely opposite sides of the spectrum, and as we meet at the meridian line, our teaching is so much more effective, informed, intelligent, and precise than it ever could have been on its own.

Jennifer Pastiloff: If you could impart one message to the readers of this, what would it be? Your message to the world………

Krista Cahill: Practice Yoga Everyday!!! Find a way to quiet the mind, for some of us that gets easier in an upside-down position…

Jennifer Pastiloff: Some words you live by?

Brock Cahill: elevate! activate! uplift! get conscious, and never give up. ever.

Krista Cahill: Don’t give up, if you want something you have to try and try again.

Jennifer Pastiloff: If you weren’t teaching yoga what would you be doing?

Brock Cahill: i’d be dead.

Krista Cahill: I would be a professional yoga student, i would get the most B.S. job ever and I would practice 2 or 3 classes everyday!! I would wake up for Ashtanga, then take a mid-day Iyengar class and then end the day with a hot’n sweaty flow.

Jennifer Pastiloff: How can we get involved in Kurmalliance and Pluckfastic?

Click photo to learn more about Kurmalliance.org

Brock Cahill: we are in process of launching five very important projects into the water, including the adoption of a leatherback sea turtle in costa rica, a turtle tagging mission to the cocos islands, development of a turtle hatchery and nursery in french polynesia, and in our very own backyard of the santa monica bay, we are trying to pluckfastic on a grand scale, by organizing beach cleanups, standup paddle excursions to collect plastic refuse along our coast, and bioboat missions out to the rim of the channel islands to document and collect the unfathomable amount of plastic refuse choking our own local ecosystem. folks can help us with fundraising, if that is an avenue that they feel moved to explore. perhaps they would like to make a donation, which is always very much appreciated… or have an idea of how to become an instigator in the yogactivism revolution and create a project that will help generate awareness, as well as funding. …because all these projects require a steady influx of cash to help keep mother ocean afloat. once we have launched our bioboat this summer we will have active opportunities for members of the kurmalliance to spearhead a pluckfastic mission and become a member of the crew, by donating toward fuel costs and then joining us on a cruise to commune with ma ocean!

for more info, please check www.kurmalliance.org

Check out the video of Brock and Yogitoes

Jennifer Pastiloff: What is on your joy list?

Krista Cahill: I’m pretty boring actually, I like a super hard yoga class, a warm snuggly bed, a hot man to snuggle with and 9 hours of sleep.

Jennifer Pastiloff: What’s up next for The Gravity Cowboys?

Brock Cahill: a big big summer chock full of festivals and travel. we will be teaching at wanderlust in tahoe, and vermont. midwest yoga conference in chicago, and our amazing annual retreat… this year we hit aruba! scuba in aruba, anyone?? uh yeah, count me in!

Krista Cahill: I am manifesting Fun and Flight this year:)

Aruba anyone? Click on pic for more info!

They lead retreats all around the world!

Krista poses for Jasper Johal. Every picture he takes of her is stunning!

Krista by Jasper Johal

brock was wearing a pair cowboy boots and a bit of a hangover when he accidentally stumbled across the path of yoga. he was out there fumbling around in the dark, trying to find himself, when the light of yoga clicked on and pointed him in the right direction. through the physical nature of the practice, and his intense dedication to it, brock has been able to enliven the body and clarify the mind, preparing him for a momentous trek on the winding road leading to the self and the soul. it is a road he loves to share..wanna go for a walk?

Krista fell in love with the practice of yoga in 1999 when she took her first Ashtanga class with Tim Miller. Since that day she has devoted her time and energy into exploring the numerous dimensions, both as a teacher and student. “I look forward each day to the possibility that my practice both on and off the mat can promote a greater awareness in our immediate need for global peace and unification. ALL is ONE.”

Krista teaches retreats around the world and regular classes at Yogis Anonymous in Santa Monica, CA. She teaches a vigorous Vinyasa flow class filled with challenging armbalances and inversions; she believes that our obstacles are our greatest blessings.

Click the magazine cover to learn more about Krista

aruba

The Manifestation Workshop: On Being Human. In Aruba!

The Manifestation Workshop- On Being Human

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Be All In.

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Lying to Ourselves.

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Brock & Krista Cahill. iFly Lands at The Manifestation Q&A Series.

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