This is a story of humility and vulnerability.

I’m here in Rishikesh, India at the International Yoga Festival.  This the third year that Kia
and I have been invited to teach here.  It is now like a homecoming filled with love, mutual respect and reverence among all participants, teachers and, of course, Swami Chidanand Saraswati (Swami-ji as we call him endearingly) who is as much a pure emanation of love as anyone I have ever known.  He is the real deal.  To be in his presence it quite literally feels as if time stands still and anything becomes possible.  His life is entirely devoted to service of humanity, all creatures and the environment.  I believe he thinks like this: There is a lot of sorrow in the world.  I’m devoting my time to making the sorrow less and while I’m doing so I remain happy, content, energized and free. It’s amazing to watch a man such as this.
Two days ago I was preparing to teach my first class at this year's festival.  While walking over to the yoga hall, a woman stopped me and said, “Tommy, how nice to see you again.”  I asked her name and apologized that I could not remember it.  After giving me her name, out of the blue she plainly stated, “You don’t look as well as you did last year.  I certainly hope you are ok.”  I was totally stymied.  No response to this statement came to mind.  I just kind of puttered along and went darkly internal for a few minutes.  
What was wrong with my appearance?  I did the first thing any suddenly insecure person would do, I found a mirror.  Then, I found my wife.  HELP!   Kia looked at me and kind of laughed it off not being able to take such a comment seriously.  She wondered as I did, what would possess someone to say that to a person.  
Then, I suddenly realized, "Holy crap I need to get my emotional game together and teach.   Here was my strategy:  Each person I came across on my way to class whose eyes met mine I projected so much love to them that it was beaming back at me from each of them.  A few people whom I knew stopped to say hello and I went out of my way to tell them how amazing they looked.  By the time I got to class I had forgotten the woman’s comment altogether.
That night at the sacred Aarti ceremony on the banks of the River Ganges among a gathering of a thousand people, Swami-ji sang beautifully and then honored some of the people present for their contributions in the world through yoga.  Each person stood up, went over to Swami-ji for his blessing and a mala necklace which he placed on each person’s head. Suddenly, and without any clue this was coming, I heard the words, “Tommy Rosen for his work to fight addiction through yoga.”  I was shocked for the second time that day.  
I headed  over to Swami-ji, took a knee and bowed.  He gently placed the mala over my head.  I looked up into his eyes.  He smiled, lightly tapped me under my chin and said, “I’m so proud of you.”  I cannot express to you how much it meant to me.  I am moved to tears in writing this now.  What a gesture of love.  It made such a difference!
My prayer is that we can all understand how important it is that we uplift each other at every chance possible.  Our words have power.  
Our job, as I see it, is to clear our heart of the mess we may have gathered and then be a conduit of love wherever possible.  This is how we can move beyond addiction, build amazing lives and help others to do the same.
We are in this together for life.
Miss you all.  Love you all. And hope to see you soon.
Sending you Love and Gratitude from this Sacred place.
Tommy Rosen