Happiness has always been a bit tricky for me. Even as a child I wallowed in the mellow dramatic, insisting that the whole world was against me, or doomed by some horrible fate. And lately, with the BP oil spill, which has lead me to discover more oil spills all over the world, and the still struggling battle in the Afghanistan and Iraq, I have had many reasons to loathe this existence. A funny thing has been happening, however, I don't loathe life. The Buddha taught me that all life is suffering. And yoga has taught me that it is how you deal with that suffering that matters. Where I would once cry in bed for hours wondering what in the world I could do to save the starving children in India, I now realize that the joy and hope starts at home. I go out and share the lightness of yoga with other people. I've been trying to be that tiny pebble thrown into the big sea, watching my ripples move beyond my home. Sometimes, I do get caught up in the worries of the world. And then I have to hold some crazy bound warrior for an ungodly amount of time, and I everything on the outside fades away. All I am is breath and blood. I can only share so much of my blood, but my breath is infinite. It has sustained me through some very hard times, and has been my connection to all the life in this world. I only hope that through my teaching, and my prana, I can help other people find there breath, and connection.