Meditation is hard. It’s even challenging for the most seasoned meditators. The reason why it’s so tricky is that our desire to meditate runs up against a traumatic, constructed, ego-based pressure to do, look, or be busy and productive.

Even though we have heard the admonishment that we are “human be-ings and not human do-ers,” the message that “being” equals laziness, unmotivated, or unproductive, keeps us from recognizing the power of “Being” and using meditation as a healing tool and not as another thing that we have to, should do, or are supposed to do. 

In this month’s Wednesday gathering on Sept. 3, we will explore this dilemma and share ways to unlearn the lessons of being equalling something negative and explore ways to “do” in stillness, peace, and purpose.

I have a question for you. But before I ask it, I should tell you — it’s a trick question. A paradox. A question that can’t be answered with words alone.

The question is: Who are you?

I don’t mean your job title. I don’t mean your personality traits, strengths, or even your divine gifts. I’m not asking what you do well, or what you’re working on. I’m asking:

• Who is the one holding all of that?
• Who is the one underneath the attributes, the behaviors, the survival strategies, and the accolades?

For many of us, this question is hard to hold, not because we don’t know the answer, but because we’ve been taught to look everywhere but within for the truth. We’ve been conditioned to believe that we are our flaws, our past, our labels, or our trauma. We’ve internalized the idea that we were “born bad,” are somehow less than, or that we must earn our worth.

That’s why, if I asked you to name five things that are powerful, beautiful, or sacred about yourself… many would freeze. But if I asked you to name five things you struggle with, want to fix, or feel ashamed of — most could rattle them off without hesitation.

But here’s the truth:

• The things you do — whether you call them good or bad — are not who you are.
• Your strengths and gifts are expressions of you.
• Your struggles are often the survival-mode versions of those same gifts, distorted by pain or fear.

So again — Who are you beyond what you’ve done, beyond what’s been done to you?

Here’s why this is a paradox:

• The answer isn’t something you describe. It’s something you remember.
• It’s the part of you that existed before the labels, before the shame, before the world told you who to be.
• It’s the stillness underneath the striving—the clarity beneath the noise.
• It’s the part of you that was never broken, only buried.

When you sit quietly and gather your strengths, your wounds, your divine gifts… and listen…you might hear something ancient. Something whole.

That is you, that is who you are, that is remembering yourself.
 
Let me share the difference between describing and remembering:

Example 1  

Describing:
“I am a successful entrepreneur who built my business from the ground up.”
Remembering:
“I am a creator. I turn vision into form. I was born to build what does not yet exist and to walk in purpose, not just profit.”

Example 2

Describing:
“I am a mother who gave everything for my children.”
Remembering:
“I am love in motion. I am the sacred container through which life is nurtured, guided, and made whole.”

Example 3

Describing:
“I am a survivor of trauma who’s learning to thrive.”
Remembering:
“I am whole, even in my brokenness. I am the one who walked through fire and carried light with me.”

Example 4

Describing:
“I am a Black woman who has fought to be seen and heard.”
Remembering:
“I am the echo of ancestors’ prayers. I am power, beauty, and sacred knowing. I do not fight to be seen — I remember that I already shine.”

Example 5

Describing:
“I am a consultant who teaches communication and conflict resolution.”
Remembering:
“I am a vessel for connection. I am here to restore harmony, awaken listening, and return people to themselves.”

Example 6

Describing:
“I am a recovering addict who made a lot of mistakes.”
Remembering:
“I am the soul that chose to awaken through contrast. I am grace wrapped in flesh, rewriting what healing looks like.”

This is the sacred work: to remember who you are. Let’s talk about your remembering at our next Wednesday gathering on August 6. I hope you’ll join me, not just to talk, but to remember. 

~André  

There are roles we play—often unconsciously—that shape the way we respond to life’s challenges. Two of the most common and extreme roles are those of the victim and the perpetrator. Depending on the situation, and sometimes even depending on what serves us in the moment, we swing between these two. They are reactive roles, rooted in pain, protection, and survival.

What’s dangerous about living in these extremes is that, over time, we become them. We internalize the role. We either carry the wound of helplessness or wield the weapon of blame. And while it might seem like the perpetrator holds all the power, victimhood wields its own kind of power—one that can control, deflect, and avoid responsibility. Both roles can end up using their version of power at the expense of others.

But there is another way.

There is a middle space—a grounded, integrated, balanced space. A space of integrity, self-responsibility, and compassionate awareness. In this space:

You honor your storywithout making it your entire identity.

You can acknowledge mistakesand take steps to repair without diminishing your worth or ability to lead.

You learn to own harm caused, without collapsing into guilt or needing to justify.

You allow your grief and lessons to shape you—but not harden or define you.

It’s not an easy path. The first step to any true transformation is awareness. And yes—awareness often comes with discomfort. But the gift of not having to live as a victim or a perpetrator is worth every uncomfortable step. In that middle ground, you find freedom. You find peace. You find your authentic self—no longer defined by harm done to you or harm done by you, but by the way you rise with awareness, humility, and grace.

At this month’s “Gathering” we’ll explore this very topic. We’ll reflect on the subtle ways we play out these roles, how they serve us, and how to begin shifting toward a balanced, integrated life—a life led by presence, not by pain.

Join me on Wednesday, July 9 in this ongoing conversation of healing, leadership, and liberation.

One of my daughters woke up one morning very angry. Now, as a parent, I’ve learned to recognize the early warning signs of the “it’s your fault that I have so many brothers and sisters” kind of day, but this? This was different. It seemed entirely out of character and didn’t match the kind of day we were having—one of those beautiful spring mornings after a gentle rain, with just the right amount of wind to fill the air with the scent of jasmine, gardenias, and wildflowers. 

Being an assertive child and operating under the assumption that most of her discomfort was either caused by me or could be fixed by me, she stormed up to me and declared, “I am really angry with gravity. It’s because of gravity that I can’t fly…” Then, a single tear dropped from her left eye as if on cue.

After a theatrical pause, she straightened herself up, placed her hands on her hips, and, looking uncomfortably like her mother, waited for me to either explain or, more likely, fix the problem.

At that moment, I had an epiphany: This was my fault. 

We had been outside when she asked me, “Daddy, why can’t I fly like the birds?” Being the ever-helpful problem solver, an empirical thinker (when it’s convenient), and a slightly out-of-the-closet nerd (basically an idiot), I launched into a long-winded explanation about gravity and how certain animals were born aerodynamically designed for flight (she thought aerodynamic meant to shoot them down).

I concluded with an objective observation: They were born to fly—and she wasn’t.

Little did I know she was upset for three days, waking up every morning and gradually becoming more and more resentful towards gravity for not allowing her to fly. This culminated in her standing in front of me with tears, waiting for an explanation that, if unsatisfactory, would lead her to call social services or, worse, grow up and write a book about her disappointing father.

With lots of apologizing, a paper airplane, and sharing how gravity works, its benefits, and how to work with, not against it…We got through the trauma.  

This event turned out to be strangely synchronistic because I was about to deliver a workshop on change to a corporate team. The company was in the middle of “Smartsizing,” one of those dreadful corporate buzzwords that means “firing a lot of people.” Naturally, the employees were filled with fear and resentment. Change was happening—unexpected change, unwanted change—and the atmosphere was thick with resistance.

That’s when it hit me: gravity is a lot like change—especially when it’s unwanted and not initiated by you.

Let’s look at these two inevitable forces and see if we can’t draw some meaningful parallels and learn how to manage them. I’ve come up with 9.

1. What are you angry with?

2. Change is inevitable

3. Understanding the reason

4. Preventing or Promoting

5. Radical Acceptance

6. Growth Opportunities

 7. Overcoming Resistance

8. Patience

9. Practice, not Perfection

The key lesson I learned is that being angry at gravity prevented my daughter from learning the lessons and understanding the power, beauty, and gift that gravity truly is. I think it’s essential that we view change in the same way. Anger with gravity—I mean change—requires a lot of energy, and fighting against an inevitability drains your soul.

When you redirect that energy towards embracing change, you will soon recognize the learning, the collateral beauty, and the opportunities that we might not have necessarily noticed if it weren’t for the change.

These are the ideas I would love to discuss with you in our next Wednesday talk.

Sabotaging one’s success

Over the years, I’ve often been asked, “How do I stop sabotaging my life?” For every person who has asked this question, I’ve asked it of myself at least a hundred times.

My usual response involves identifying the saboteur within and then applying certain practices, principles, and processes and embracing forgiveness to change the habits, beliefs, or agreements that fuel our self-sabotaging behaviors.

Common Saboteurs We Face

We often encounter familiar saboteurs such as procrastination, self-doubt, fear of failure, negative self-talk, perfectionism, avoiding difficult conversations, lack of boundaries, staying in toxic situations, clinging to the past, lack of focus and patience, and relying on external validation. Each of these issues has strategies and processes that can help us work through them.

However, there is a “secret saboteur” that many of us overlook...

One’s Own Intuition

Actually, it is not intuition per se—sabotage occurs when we link rules, rebellion, and intuition together.

Here’s what I mean…

As children, many of us were subjected to confusing, restrictive, and sometimes even abusive rules. Whether harsh or subtle, we were all told to follow certain mandates—clean your room, do your chores, complete your homework. If the directives felt onerous or abusive, we learned to sabotage the rules by rebelling against them.

For many, this “rebelling against rules” extended into adulthood, affecting how we respond to any rules—even those we set for ourselves or those stemming from our intuition. How often have you felt an intuitive nudge to do something, only to find yourself second-guessing, procrastinating, or convincing yourself it wasn’t necessary? This is essentially a rebellion against rules, including those originating from within.

When you unconsciously equate intuition with oppressive rules from childhood, you may begin to distrust and even oppose your intuition. The challenge is compounded when the rules of our youth, which might have been useful but poorly presented, become internal rules we rebel against as adults.

Your intuition has been disguised as the rules you rebel against…

Breaking the Cycle

The solution involves stopping rebelling against the rules of the past by bringing awareness to the moment of rebelling, forgiving those involved, and stop fighting the war you have already won.

Realizing that the rules you or intuition are asking of you are done out of love and opportunities for success and growth in the present moment.

I’m curious about your thoughts on this. Have you ever felt yourself rebelling against the “rules” that you know will lead to success?

Do you rebel against your intuition?

Have you noticed similar patterns in your behavior?

I am looking forward to your insights and discussions.

Join me for a deeper conversation on this topic at our next Wednesday Zoom talk.

Over the last few weeks, I’ve received various questions and requests for advice or feedback on different subjects. The questions start with:

“How do I…?”

“Do you think…?”

“Could you help with…?”

I’m very cautious about the advice I give, and I only offer feedback, share my thoughts, or “take someone’s inventory” if we have some agreement in place.

Even with a contractual, financial arrangement—where they’re essentially paying me to share my insights—I’ve noticed that no matter what I say, there is often a subtle, passive-aggressive, or even overt retaliation or “hitting back.”

I’ve noticed this in workshops where I’ve been asked to help people become aware of the thoughts, beliefs, behaviors, habits, and addictions that hinder their success. The moment I share my feedback, I can almost predict when someone will “hit me back,” taking issue not with what I said but how I said it, my tone, or the color of my shirt.

I’m very aware of the ego’s protective mechanism to retaliate or give back what it gets. That’s why when someone gives us attitude, we give attitude back. I’m also curious about why the ego, when it decides to retaliate, often adds a little more by saying things like “your momma…”

This reaction seems habitual, even addictive—we must hit back, even when receiving productive, requested feedback. To be honest, I’ve noticed this in myself at times. When people I love give me feedback, part of me is very grateful, yet another protective part wants to “even the score” by pointing something out about them.

I had to laugh at myself recently when my 6-year-old granddaughter corrected me about the name of one of her stuffed animals, saying, “Her name is Rachel... you always get that wrong.” Outwardly, I thanked her and promised I wouldn’t make that mistake again. But inwardly, my retaliatory protection wanted to say, “I’ll get that doll’s name right when you can pronounce Grandpa without a lisp.”

I started to laugh at myself, imagining a scenario where we stood throwing insults at each other, culminating in her saying, “Well, you’re not my favorite grandparent,” and me storming off in tears.

This need to “hit back” and retaliate is very prevalent. I see it in myself and others and want to explore why.

Why do we feel the need to “hit back”?

I’m not talking about legitimately protecting oneself but retaliating purely for the sake of retaliation.

Why do we need to make others feel the pain we experience?

Are we so desperate to be right and not wrong that we bypass the opportunity to learn, waiting instead for the moment we can retaliate?

Have we not evolved enough to receive feedback without responding with “What about,” “But you said,” or “Well, you’re short for a 6-year-old, so there!”?

Has retaliation become the norm?

If so, what do you suggest we, as individuals and collectively, do?

These are the questions I would love to discuss with you in our next Wednesday talk.

I would appreciate your thoughts, as I’m sure all my granddaughters would.

A while back, I posed a question to the participants of our monthly gathering about a topic they’d like to explore. One answer was the state of inner peace—what it means and how to achieve this common yet seemingly elusive goal.

The quest for inner peace is arguably a universal desire. Bronnie Ware, an Australian nurse with extensive experience in palliative care, delves into this in her book, “The Top Five Regrets of the Dying.” She found that the foremost regret among the dying was wishing they had the courage to live a life true to themselves rather than conforming to the expectations of others. In essence, they regretted not living according to their true values.

I firmly believe that living consistently with your values is essential to achieving true inner peace.

Understanding Your Values

The first step towards living your values is clearly identifying them. Values can range from honesty and loyalty to creativity and independence. They are unique to each individual and are shaped by personal experiences, culture, and upbringing.

Reflecting on moments when you felt happiest or most proud can help reveal your true values. Similarly, considering what makes you deeply uncomfortable or upset can also indicate values that are important to you.

Living in alignment with our values enhances life satisfaction, as it brings a sense of authenticity,  harmony, and the coveted “peace of mind.”

At our gathering this Wednesday, I’d love to delve into a discussion about your personal values and explore the impact, challenges, and benefits that come from living in alignment with those values. I’m also eager to hear your thoughts—and if you believe—that adhering to one’s values can contribute to inner peace.

Happy New Year!
 
I hope your holidays were festive and free from any political, spiritual, or generational dramas among friends or family. I'm looking forward to spending as much time with you as possible during our Wednesday conversations as we explore ways to enhance our connection to each other and to ourselves.
 
In my last post, I discussed the principle of Dadirri—the practice of deep, reflective listening, quiet, and still awareness. During our December discussion, the challenge of being present in the moment came up. I shared a personal practice of engaging in activities not merely to finish them but to truly be in the moment with them. This led to a discussion about how having “stuff to do” can interfere with our ability to be present or doing something with the intention to finish it.
 
So, for our January conversation, I'd like to dive deeper into the topic of being present. What does being in the moment mean to you? Is it important? Is it possible to live in the present moment? How can we live with present moment awareness? Why is it important to be present?
 
I would love to continue this conversation about the idea of being in the moment and hear your thoughts, ideas, and opinions about this way of living and being.

This discussion will be held January 8th from 6:30-7:30 pm PT. To participate, email team@andresalvage.com for Zoom link.

I don’t want to launch into a spiritual, philosophical, religious, or even scientific tirade, but I’d like to start this conversation with a question—a hypothetical, if you will:

What if every conversation you had was treated as a sacred event?

Whatever "sacred" means to you—what if you regarded the person you were talking to and the subject matter as sacred?

• How would you respond? 
• How would you talk? 
• How would you listen? 

I think the answers would likely include a lot of respect, perhaps even reverence, care, compassion, curiosity, objectivity, and, most importantly, connection.  

I know this is challenging because we tend to judge the people we’re talking to, classifying them as undeserving of our reverence simply because they disagree with us. This is a critical point—the practice is not just about seeing the conversation as sacred but also viewing the person you are speaking to with the same reverence—as a sacred being. 

Listening as a sacred event is not a new concept. It is deeply rooted in the Aboriginal spiritual practice of “Dadirri”, a term from the Ngan'gikurunggurr and Ngen'giwumirri languages. Dadirri reflects the practice of deep, reflective listening and quiet, still awareness. It is about being fully present, attuned to the natural world and the sacredness within and around us, and fostering a profound sense of connection, empathy, and understanding. Dadirri encourages stillness, patience, and heartfelt engagement with others and the environment. 

Now, back to my original question: What if listening itself was a sacred event? How would you listen?

My next questions and what I would like to discuss during this month’s gathering are:

Is it possible to see everything and every conversation as sacred? If you could, how would that change your life? How would it change your holiday gatherings?

Looking forward to having this discussion….

This discussion will be held on Zoom 12/4 from 6:30-7:30 pm PT. To participate, email team@andresalvage.com for link.

When companies enlist my help to mend their DEI programs, address an increase in HR complaints, or advance the group’s cultural sensitivity, the initial step is to establish a common goal.

On November 6th, the day after our national election, the polarizing extremes will likely continue to draw us into debates, further separations, and demonizing the opposite side.

I propose a discussion—not a debate—focused on the shared dreams, desires, and hopes that matter to us all, regardless of our political choices. I believe that most of us seek the same outcomes for ourselves, our families, and our nation. Let’s explore what we have in common; we can discuss “how we get there” in later conversations.

Firstly, it’s crucial to express and recognize that we are not as divided as the extremes would have us believe. The next step is to acknowledge that beneath the rhetoric, fear-mongering, and our compulsion to prove others wrong, we all share similar wants, needs, and desires.

Using our commonalities as a foundation, we can then encourage communication that is open, objective, curious, compassionate, and connective.

For this month’s discussion, I’d like to feed, nurture, and understand our shared values and commonalities. Please join me on Zoom, Wednesday, Nov. 6th at 6:30 pm PT. Email team@andresalvage.com for Zoom link.

 PS- This tactic is also excellent for holiday conversations.