Introduction to Practice

I did not begin this journey seeking answers. I began with a quiet ache—an unspoken yearning for something that pulsed beneath the surface of my ordinary life. As a child lying under the wide Nagano sky, I felt that something sacred was whispering, not with words, but with presence. That whisper, over time, became a call. And that call became practice.

Practice, for me, is not a technique to master or a structure to impose upon life. It is the way life breathes through us when we remember our true nature. It is how we walk barefoot into the charnel ground of our own hearts, with courage and tenderness. It is how we turn toward what we most fear—and bow.

I have never felt the need to divide my path into separate compartments: the fierce clarity of Vajrayogini’s gaze, the raw, liberating severance of Chö, the intimate attunement of Subtle Body Yoga, or the quiet ceremonial grace of Japanese chanoyu—each are not separate streams, but reflections of one radiant river. This river is alive. And it flows through each of us, waiting to be heard.

The Tantric View: Everything as Path

In the Vajrayana, we are invited into a sacred view that holds nothing outside of the path. The messiness, the sorrow, the beauty, the fatigue—we do not reject them. We whisper into them. We feed our demons with compassion rather than banishing them. We wear the bone ornaments not to terrify, but to remember our impermanence with fierce love.

This is not the path of self-improvement. It is the path of self-liberation. It does not require perfection—it requires intimacy. And it asks us to show up with our whole being.

Whispers from the Lineage

The Ear-Whispered Lineages that I carry are not merely teachings—they are living presences. They move through voice, through breath, through unspoken knowing. They are the heartbeat of those who wandered alone through snowy mountains and charnel grounds, who saw through illusion not through intellect, but through devotion and practice.

To receive these teachings is to become part of a stream that flows backward and forward in time—ancient, yet alive in this very breath.

The Feminine Ground

As a woman on this path, I have often found myself in spaces that did not yet recognize our sacred way of holding, listening, and embodying the teachings. But the dakini does not wait for permission. She dances in the gaps, in the silences, in the spaces the mind cannot reach. Her whisper is not always loud, but it is unmistakable when the heart is soft enough to hear.

Everyday as Practice

Whether I am preparing tea with full presence, bowing to the shrine in the early morning light, or walking among trees soaked with Oregon rain—practice is here. It does not demand robes or retreat centers, though those may come. It demands our sincerity. It demands that we do not abandon ourselves.

And so, to those who arrive here with trembling hearts and open hands, I say: Welcome. You do not need to know everything. You only need the willingness to listen—to the breath, to the body, to the whisper of your own innate wisdom.

“Let practice become the breath of your life—not something to achieve, but a way of returning home.”