On Friday, I bought a "weekly organizer." I had always insisted that I’d never do such a thing, but since I practice at two different yoga studios—it would be too much to expect them to be right next door to my apartment!—and because digital calendar apps just don’t resonate with me, I decided to get one.
I know there are two sides to every coin. An AI-powered app might be able to estimate which classes are best for me on a given day, based on my other commitments and free time... but does that app know how I’m actually feeling that day and what I need? It doesn’t. Besides, my eyes prefer reading from paper notes—I suppose you could call me "old school." Whenever I look for ways to improve my life, I always think of my daughter. We don’t live together, yet we often face similar challenges. I considered buying her a blank planner too, but I wasn’t sure if she’d laugh at me—so I decided I’d just offer her mine if she wanted it. To my surprise, she did! :) I feel like we’re constantly learning so much from each other—I love that. I only just got the new planner today, so without it, I got a bit mixed up with my schedule for Monday (unfortunately, every day is different). Still, all in all, I managed to attend my first KUNDALINI yoga class today. It was a class I’d been a bit apprehensive about. Physically, I’m more advanced than most of my instructors, but they have this incredible ability to ground themselves at the snap of a finger... I’d read a bit about Kundalini yoga, and I knew that the whole experience would really depend on the instructor. I was expecting either something wonderful or a total disaster.
Today is the fourth day since I stopped taking my medication completely. I keep waiting for the storm to hit, but it just hasn’t arrived. I have a bit less energy, but if that’s the only side effect I’ll have to deal with for the next two weeks, then I’ve made a great decision. Besides, the shift to winter time is also playing a part—and it’s not just me; everyone seems a bit on edge once the sun goes down. I know that physical activity and being around other people help me maintain my balance and keep myself in check, but I’m not experiencing any of the side effects I read about online, and I’m having no trouble with concentration either :)
People have always perceived me as unbalanced whenever I spoke to them about the power of the mind—a power fueled by love—to such an extent that I would begin to doubt what I was saying. Among the people I associate with now, however, my views are beginning to be appreciated, and I am so glad that fate has given me this opportunity. I would be foolish to get scared and give up on these classes just because of my accent, a limited vocabulary, or other such things. I believe I am in the right place, and that I will be able to help many people look deep within themselves—just as I have done for myself. 
Isn’t that enough to give life meaning? There is nothing more beautiful or valuable than sharing light, awareness, and love with others. 
On Saturday, just before my classes, I had a panic attack: Bella had peed on the carpet, and because I was in such a rush, everything kept slipping from my hands! I hadn’t prepared any food on Friday because I was busy with my daughter, and time was slipping away. The moment I crouched down with a bucket to scrub the carpet, all the cats—naturally—wanted to cuddle and be petted. Could anything be more important? And yet, time kept ticking... I skipped my coffee and checked three times to make sure I had everything, but I began to feel dazed; suddenly, I felt my patience wearing thin—my nerves were fraying, and I just wanted to scream. No, I didn’t scream—I consider that a sign of weakness—but tears welled up in my eyes. Life had been too kind, and I hadn’t accounted for the possibility that something might go wrong; I hadn’t allowed myself any extra buffer time. When I reach that state, I feel a massive lump in my throat that makes it hard to breathe—a panic attack, I suppose. Just the day before, I’d been reading about breathing techniques; I’ll admit I didn’t fully believe in them, even though the material was interesting.
So, I had a choice: break down in tears, or sit comfortably and practice breathing—pausing to hold my breath after both the inhale and the exhale. Option number two won out. I could hardly believe it, but it actually worked! I decided to tell my daughter about it that evening, as she sometimes goes through even tougher moments than I do. I felt as if I’d discovered something extraordinary! As we study the descriptions and properties of various asanas, we discuss every tiny detail on our class forum. We always begin our sessions with an hour-long Vinyasa flow, after which we share our observations—noting the nuances that distinguish the current session from the previous one. While we were discussing the dynamics of breathing during Vinyasa, I mentioned that I’d had a panic attack that morning and that breathing had saved me. For the rest of the day—all eight hours—the entire class focused on their breathing like never before! :)
As for my Kundalini teacher today, she showed up to class with dreadlocks and a sleepy expression on her face. I had previously taken a Vinyasa class, but I wasn’t happy with the instructor because she didn’t offer any corrections to the students during the session; instead, she simply recited her memorized sequences.
I almost couldn’t take it—there was no one else besides me who managed to bend their knee at a 90-degree angle and keep it aligned with their ankle—but I decided to let it go; better not to draw any unwanted attention...
I was also quite skeptical about the Kundalini class—at least until it actually began. The moment I heard the teacher’s breathing while she sat perfectly still, I knew she understood what it was all about and that these 75 minutes wouldn’t be a waste of time. By the end of the session, I felt cleansed; I wanted to give her a hug, but I held back—it was only my first class, after all. I believe that anyone carrying internal trauma or struggling with anxiety—even those with no prior knowledge of Kundalini or yoga poses—should try meditation using this technique. Of course, you need a certain level of physical flexibility to fully experience everything, and it might not happen for everyone right away—not even after a few classes—but for me, it worked. My emotions found an outlet; as I breathed, tears began to fall while I was in a twist pose, shortly after we had spent several minutes moving our arms vigorously. We tapped our chests to the rhythm of fast-paced meditative music, exhaled with our tongues lolling out, and tapped our shoulders with our fingertips. My mind went completely blank, save for the image of the path my breath was taking deep within my body. I don’t know where the tears came from—it must have been a form of cleansing. A wonderful experience—I managed to perform the "Bird of Paradise" pose for the first time in my life, and, more importantly, I was able to hold it—both in movement and in stillness.
How I managed to find this school and get accepted, even though it was fully booked, I don’t know. How it happened that this training coincided with a period of profound inner change—I don’t know; I hadn’t even planned for this more than a week in advance. What I do know for sure is that it’s worth trusting your intuition and following your heart, without fearing the loss of money or friends—I am living proof that the Universe knows best.
As for friends...
There is a truth—and because I’m a bit contrary, I’ll share it with you:
We are born alone, and we die alone.
Recently, I’ve received several texts and messages asking why my online accounts have disappeared, where my "TER" and reviews have gone, where my photos are... and whether I’m doing okay.
I suppose I can’t quite explain to the "business-minded" types what’s happening with me right now :P I haven’t lost my mind, I don’t have a man who’s suddenly started supporting me, and I’m not leaving Chicago. It dawned on me that all my loyal friends may have first come to meet "Harley," but they always kept returning for "Adrianna." I’ve grown fond of Ada; I no longer want to hide behind the persona of the wild Harley—I have nothing to hide. My accounts have been deleted because I’ve chosen to dedicate my future to helping people on a spiritual level, and I no longer wish to spend my time on new acquaintances or people I’d only see twice a year. My time and my soul are far too precious; I only want to share them with those I love. No more toxic people, no more being at everyone’s beck and call. No more stressing over how to cram everything into my calendar while trying to find a moment for myself. I want to live, and I want to love this life. I want my daughter to be proud that, instead of chasing money, I chose to work on myself. And I want to be proud of myself, too.
 A few weeks ago, I experienced something extraordinary—a moment so significant that it awakened all my senses, to the point of enabling telepathic communication. I realized that I had experienced heaven while living an ordinary life on Earth, and the person with whom I felt this is someone I know nothing about—yet for whom I would give my life without a second thought. In moments like these, one’s clothes, home, car, social class, or watch hold no significance whatsoever. What truly matters is invisible: it is our spirit. I do not know if I will ever have the chance to feel this way again, but I want to prepare myself for such a moment. I wish to strip away my past and everything burdensome, so that nothing stands in the way of experiencing paradise on Earth. I want to feel like a pristine, blank sheet of paper, waiting for the best chapter of my life to be written.
I am not sure if I will ever again be able to afford a yoga school that isn’t conducted online, so I have taken some time off. I want to prepare for my daily routine—to ensure I feel no stress when I return to sharing myself with "my people," with those who have truly earned a place in my life. No, I do not fear losing money, nor do I fear loneliness or old age. I believe in a divine plan, and my true friends will understand this and cheer me on.
I am not here to please others. I am here to leave something behind—so that when I am physically gone, my elementary particles in the universe will be complete, with no need to ever return to Earth again.

My closest friends know that I often feel as though I’m living in a dream—a bit like in *The Matrix*, where life is sustained by a chip and a digital program. There’s no particular reason for this feeling; it’s just something that comes over me at times. It has been with me for quite a few years—perhaps even forever—and I used to be terrified of it. The very thought that I might be asleep, experiencing reality only through some kind of projection, would give me goosebumps and keep me awake; there were simply too many unanswered questions.
Some might say that everything depends on one’s state of mind, the level of acceptance, or the ability to master one’s fears...
I can honestly say that I have experienced just about everything life has to offer, and I am no longer afraid of this sensation. I don't need anymore a camera in every room and I do everything I can to stay grounded in the here and now, with no desire to wander off into other dimensions.

If this is just a dream, then let everyone know that I am happy within it—and that, very slowly, I am building a home.

Peace and love.