Have you ever been guided by the universe in a forceful or dramatic way?
Have synchronicities been shaping your reality to the point where you feel some “Truman Show” vibes?
Last year, I went from being a full-time yoga teacher, working at high scale spas, and living in a house, to being homeless, living out of a storage unit, and uncertain of where my life would take me.
This is a story about how the universe—within divine reason—can be harsh at times.
“Would you like a detox water or anything?” The desk girl asked.
My eyes swelled with a salty sting, gazed at her, and replied, “Yeah, sure, that is really nice of you, thank you.”
She grabbed the water from under her desk and began lightheartedly telling me about how amazing this detox water was, how delicious the flavor was, and how important it is to stay hydrated. I couldn’t help but think this scenario was creatively articulated by my angels or guides. Perhaps they dropped this gesture down, as if it was a sign to be rest assured. I feel that our spirit guides will sometimes throw down a bone to us in the form of a gesture, a divine conversation, or a symbol of some kind.
I sipped the cucumber-flavored detox water, wishing it would detox all of the fear out of my current life situation. I followed her down the fluorescent-lit hallways of the storage units. Trying to hide my tears, I began crying as she asked me if I was okay, seeming concerned. I definitely wasn’t okay in that moment, but I felt some sort of deep knowing within my mind and body that this was a simple temporary slipup that the universe would guide me through. At least that’s what I kept telling myself.
The elevator opened and, as we stepped out into the blinding hallway, she put her arm around me. There I was, walking down a random Miami storage unit hallway with a complete stranger’s arm around me, consoling me. We slowly walked together toward the end of the seventh floor, and she showed me my five-by-five unit where I would fit my entire life into. I couldn’t help but see this moment as if it was a movie scene. This couldn’t be real. None of it felt real; it felt as if I was living a lucid dream or nightmare I needed to wake up from.
How could someone like me—a mindful yoga teacher—let her life reach this point of homeless rock bottom?
I feel that this was a flick from the universe. A somewhat forceful push out of a reality that was no longer serving my highest good. I had ignored a loud voice within my mind for about a year. A voice that kept prompting me to think about my life in Miami. I wasn’t sure if Miami was for me. After the four amazing years I lived there, and through the fear and guilt, I continued to push that reflection under the dirty rug over and over again.
My life from the outside looked flawless, as the lens of yoga and love and light can easily gloss over emotional pain. I loved the yoga community at the establishments I taught at, and I was definitely comfortable with my bubbly routine I had created, but I was experiencing deep spiritual isolation, even in the midst of teaching and connecting with so many amazing yogis on a daily basis.
The yoga scene was strong, but my emotional self felt weak and fragile. My physique was toned, tan, and slim, but my mental health was heavy, sluggish, and dark. That’s the thing about being a yoga teacher—the act of teaching fulfills and nourishes the soul in a way nothing else can. It’s the most vibrant, natural mental high that uppers would never give me. When I would step out of the yoga space, a wave of lonely depression washed over me, and it only became stronger and more prominent as my classes became more packed with yogis mat to mat.
Now, I know you are probably wondering how I exactly got myself into this predicament, so here is what happened. My roommate and I found a perfectly located apartment in Miami and signed the lease with our realtor who was a Hispanic family woman, who showed us apartments with her husband and two children. Once we paid her and signed the lease, she stopped replying to our texts and emails. We began to panic. Then, three days before our “move in date,” she told us that we, all of a sudden, got denied from the apartment association. She made up some crazy excuse connected to a marijuana charge on my record from more than eight years ago. I had never been in this situation before, and I didn’t know what to do, but I assumed that this realtor would give us our money back; however, I was sadly very wrong.
After some information-digging on the Internet, I found out that the realtor was a con artist who had allegedly done this same ghosting and money stealing two previous times. We tried to track her down with no luck. It left us with a deep hole in our wallets and no place to live. We quickly learned that the real estate and realtor industry in Miami is one of the most scammed locations in the country, so unfortunately, this was just another example of two young professionals getting taken advantage of by a crooked system.
That night, after five hours of emptying, compacting, and playing box Tetris, I somehow fit my life into a five-by-five cube. A peculiar wave of happiness and accomplished energy filled my body. I gazed down at my almost-dead phone and saw a text from a wealthy client of mine who was inviting me to his lavish birthday dinner at one of the most well-known and posh five-star restaurants in Miami.
I looked down at my sweatpants and Vans and shook my head. Oh, the irony. There was no way I was going to savage through the perfectly Tetris’d boxes I organized to find something to wear, so I politely declined, but he insisted I come and it didn’t matter what I was wearing. This client always had a way with words, and he spoke with power. He was one of the most wealthy men I ever knew, and had a grandfather archetype energy about him. I accepted his invitation and thought to myself, “What do I have to lose?”
I had officially claimed the fact that I was homeless in Miami and living out of a storage unit. My choices were clear: I could sit on the floor of my storage unit and sulk in despair, eat dinner alone at Whole Foods, or I could attend a fancy luxe birthday dinner at a restaurant that I would probably never get another opportunity to experience.
The hilarious irony was that out of all the days of my Miami life, the day I became a homeless yoga teacher was the day I would have dinner and drinks with two millionaires at a restaurant that served meals more expensive than my monthly rent. It just so happened that my storage unit was within walking distance to the restaurant at the hotel I taught yoga at, so I figured that was just another hilarious synchronicity bone that my guides tossed down to me. Oh, how creative they are!
I walked into the restaurant, messy bun at the top of my head, wearing a cropped gym top; an old, plaid button-up layered over; black sweatpants; and the dirtiest pair of Vans I owned. The hostess looked at me as I walked in and didn’t pay any attention to me, rightfully so—I looked insane and probably smelled like I had worked out five minutes beforehand. I asked where my client’s party was located and her face immediately lit up. She guided me toward the table, where I was welcomed by my client and two others.
That night was one I will never forget. I feel that it was the universe’s sick and twisted way of making me see a hilarious dark beauty of what my life had become. I was a homeless yoga teacher in Miami, enjoying expensive drinks and cake with people who owned million-dollar condos and private planes.
I had no idea what my immediate future was going to look or feel like, but there was some unexplainable knowing within my soul telling me there was a deeper meaning underneath this rock bottom. I certainly think the universe has a magical way of sculpting our lives in order for us to stay on our path, protect us, and redirect us. Some unfortunate scenarios could actually be blessings in disguise and a push in a different direction, for our highest good, even if we can’t see it in that moment.
So I allowed myself to sit back, relax, and enjoy the show that the universe was rolling through what was my life.