the truth about Emergence

the truth about Emergence

Are you one of those shy people like my child who likes to observe their surroundings before stepping out and into the chaos?

Or maybe you are more like me, a person that has no fear taking headlong leaps into the dark abyss?  For nearly  10 months we have lived in a constant state of fear, for ourselves, our families and friends. We have hidden away and locked ourselves up tight in hopes or preventing the spread of a virus that until recently held us gripped in panic.

As the vaccine begins to spreads and we carefully take a step back out into the world, I wonder with what type of outlook and open heart we are emerging. We have lived isolated, cut off from every single source that fills our cup. We have replaced social human contact with electronic devices that more so that not have spewed anger, frustrations and even accusations to a world that is filled with soulful human beings who are just as confused and saddened as the rest of us.

Our sighs have deepened and not for an energetic release and recuperation but more so of a deep-seated sadness that resides in the pit of our bellies. We have tried to replace the nurturing touch of other humans with electronic devices that have numbed our sensibilities and compassion for one another. I see the side stepping of people who once open heartedly embraced me. The scowls of people in stores when their safety is at risk by an incorrectly worn masks. The quick tempers, the irritations and validations of irrational opinions based on unproven facts. 

At what point do we embrace our emergence? Who or what are we allowing to dictate we have the all clear to live our lives?  We will all step back into the world completely different people, there is no doubt. But I ask you, how will you reemerge and share your gifts and grace with the world? With bitter temperaments, anger from loss  … or gratitude for the gift of life?

Every human soul is born with love and grace in their heart. Every. Living. Soul.

Step out and seek to find that seed that may be buried deep in your neighbors, your co-workers, even distanced relatives and try to look upon them with compassion as we all tentatively take in a deep breath. Emerge slowly if needed. Your conscience and heart need to be fully awakened as you step out. But my friends, it is time to release the anger, the sadness and impatience with one another and wrap our arms around each other and heal this incredible loss of life, family and freedom we have experienced this year. It is time to move forward and emerge with hearts blazing.

Micki Beach, owner and lead instructor at Tree of Life Yoga Studio in Oak Island, NC, is the author of 10 Little Rules for Finding Your Truth. Her book is available at, on Amazon, and at select retail stores and her studio.

Read Me Leave comment

the truth about Manifestation

the truth about Manifestation



an event, action, or object that clearly shows or embodies something, 

especially a theory or an abstract idea.


I am always looking for a great book to read. I found out some of my Oak Island, yogi friends were reading E2 by Pam Grout about manifesting your intentions. 

Small 48 hour experiments for even the most steadfast skeptic. 

I am done Existing.
I am done sitting back and patiently for the universe to send me what I need.
I now feel worthy … almost.

It’s time. My time.
So I bought the book and I started reading. 

Let me preface what I’m about to tell you…

I believe. 

Most days… 

But here is the catch. 

I doubt sometimes… 


Whether it is self esteem or those pentacostal teachings of humbleness or greed… 

there is always a tiny seed of unworthiness or doubt deep in my heart.

But I was ready to give this E2 experimentation a good old college try! 

As a child, I remember spending sun soaked days down at The Point on Oak Island. It was a peaceful time. We swam and sailed and threw sand and chased gulls. If we needed our mother, we could always find her knee deep off the sand bars with a bucket full of sand dollars and one of shark’s teeth. 




 Buckets full! 

So here I was. 

Remembering that I had never found a whole sand dollar on the island.

There were only pieces that teased that they were just beyond my reach. 



And, of course, my mother had found hundreds of them. 

(So can I)

So I cast my net so to speak. 


“I will find a whole sand dollar today.”

I went to The Point. I sat and enjoyed my view where the Intercoastal Waterway meets the vast ocean. I talked with a friend. I prepared my paddle board for an evening ride. 

I guess I was giving the universe ample time to get that sand dollar and put it in a place where I was sure to find it. 

And I said my intention over and over. 

Out loud and in my heart. 

In my mind…

and again out loud for good measure. 

I nudged my friend…

it was time. 

As if I was professing to the universe… “Wake up. 

I am ready for my gift from the sea.” 

We headed right to the sand bars. Got down on our knees and began to dig. We laughed and played and talked. 

(No need to doubt right?). 

That’s what the book says. 

We dug for at least an hour…

dug to China, 

pulled embedded shells out of our knees and rubbed our sore backs. 

No sand dollar. 

So I decided it was time to take a walk.  

(Surely if the universe didn’t bury my sand dollar in the exact location I chose to dig, it would just be lying out in the open on the beach for me to find… despite the other 400 beachcombers out that day). 

It WAS just waiting for me. 

We walked…

I professed… 

I didn’t cling…

I only doubted … a tiny bit…

as the sun started setting. 

Soon we would take to water and paddleboard a bit. How long could I encourage my friend to be patient with the universe? 

In all fairness 

(I told myself), 

you ARE supposed to allow 48 hours for your manifestation to be revealed to you.

It had been what, 4 hours?  

But I have never been known to be patient. 

We walked the sandbars and dodged crabs. I stopped “looking” for my treasure/gift from the sea. I just rationalized and schemed how I would find time to get back out to The Point within my 48 hour window.

I didn’t make excuses or lay blame or chastise a busy universe. I just decided it was time to enjoy my day and stop searching. 

It would COME to me. 

That’s what the book said…

I didn’t need to search for it. 

(That was my Type A kicking in) 

So as we rounded the last sandbar and casually discussed our children, I ventured toward the water to rinse the sand from my hands, one last time before paddle boarding. 

The slow ebbing wave eased out to be part of it whole again. 


in the sand…

poking out just a bit..

Oh my god! 



I reached down. 

Rubbed my fingers over the knobby exterior. 

Its color brillant. 

Buried almost fully. 

I dropped to my knees and had to tug to free it from its grainy home… 

It seemed as if it wanted to stay and again become part of the earth from which it came. 

On my knees, 

The Universe spoke to me. 

Not a whisper. 

Not a reassurance. 

It bulldozed me! 

and I cried. ​​ 


This was not my sand dollar. 

My friend looked confused. 

I could not speak. 

I rinsed it, turned it over, 

rubbed and loved my channeled whelk. 

My friend offered to place it in our bag and I refused. 

To hold it for me…

I refused. 

This moment was undeniably one of the most profound in my life. 

I held my friend’s hand…

then began to explain when I saw his confused gaze. 

“When I set my intention upon the universe earlier that day, there was a streaking thought.”

“I wish I could find a large conch.”

“But I never find them whole or even bigger than a finger. Not ever.”

“So … I conceded …

I will ask for a sand dollar. My mother found millions here. I WILL find a sand dollar today.” 

And so my mantra went…

It was a self assuring way that I knew the Universe WOULD NOT, 

COULD NOT let me down. 

But here I was, 

on my knees holding the largest conch I have ever seen, let alone found, in its natural habitat. 




The Universe told me loud and clear…

“You deserve everything!”

“Never doubt me!”

Be Yoga. 



Micki is the author of 10 Little Rules for Finding Your Truth. Originally posted on Tree of Life Yoga Studio’s website on Our Voice Blog.

Read Me

the truth about Excess

the truth about Excess

I get my inspirations at the oddest times. Today it presented itself during a beautiful ride in my Jeep. All the windows are off. The doors are off. Cool breeze … taking my little one to work. I’m anticipating a leisurely ride back over our island bridge and a gentleman (I use this term loosely) pulls quickly out in front of me, obviously in a hurry to get somewhere. I immediately know in my heart he’s on his way to see someone special. At 45 mph (properly spaced 4 car lengths behind (see I remember my drivers ed), I can literally taste his cologne. Taste it!

My dad always told me you should only wear enough of a scent that a person invited into your personal space can smell it. But obviously this gentleman did not have a father like mine.

So I start thinking about excess. The excess of things we have. The excess of things we want. Excess of the things we think we need.

I am an empath. I have a heightened sensitivity to people who talk too much … to bright lights, loud sounds, and all strong smells. You can imagine this man’s cologne was putting me over the edge.

By the time I got home my brow was furrowed, my head was hurting and all I wanted to do was close my door and turn the air conditioner down and sit in the dark.

We rarely think about how our excess affects other people. But even more so how it affects OUR lives. When we have too many choices to choose from, it becomes an overwhelming job just to complete a task.

Think about how many pairs of shoes you have. When it is time to get ready to go out, how many times do you change your shoes? We spend so much time, energy, and effort making choices because of our excess, it robs us of valuable time we could be spending in the moments that we are trying to get to.

Eliminating access is not easy. It was forced upon me last year when I moved from a 3,300 square-foot house into a 1,200 square-foot house. I had five shelves full of books. My tiny little beach house was not gonna hold all this literature. And although it pained me as I sifted through the books, gently caressing the covers remembering every story between the pages, I had to decide what was more important … this home that I always wanted or keeping my treasures gathered around me.

The Majestic Bookstore in Osaka, Japan

So I packed up all my books (I saved one bookshelf of my favorites) and took them to a beautiful little consignment bookstore in Southport. I was prepared to donate all the books hoping that they would find the loving hands of another avid reader. When I brought the boxes of books into the store, they told me that I could actually get store credit for the books I turned in and would be able to purchase more with my credit in the future.

One book at a time.

This cleansing and purging felt so good I actually, with confidence, was able to go through all my pocketbooks and give away all but one in each color. That solved the problem of having to figure out a way to store my many pocketbooks in my tiny new closet. I then went through my shoes, my clothes and even my housewares. I had collected over 12 comforter sets including curtains and rugs over the years. Who needs 12 different comforter sets?

Why do we hang on to the excess? Many people tell me it’s because someone gave them some special thing. They feel like they needed to hang onto a specific item because Aunt Kate or Grandma so and so gave it to them. They feel guilty throwing it away or passing it along.

By releasing the excess that I had, I actually created space for more beautiful things to enter my life.

If we take a moment and try to clear the lens that we are looking through, we may begin to understand that we hold on to memories in our hearts and not the material things people give us. We can still hold these people dear and not be attached to the material things they impart on us.

So take some time to look around your house. What excess do you have that you can release back into the universe?
When we let go …
we make a space for more beautiful things to enter.

Side Note:
The only thing I have not purged is my fingernail polish. Now that’s a whole different story! What can I say? Rainbow toes make my heart happy in Down Dog. 

Read Me

the truth about Restraint

the truth about Restraint

I still get amazed at others’ greed, self-centeredness, arrogance, rudeness …

superiority … (feel free to add here).  

I find my center,

I breathe so I don’t throat punch people,

I stretch and release the knots of frustration trapped in my body, 

I fold to humble my rising ego …

I do ALL these things … 

so I can be better …

more peaceful to others. 

My type A and OCD personality is too BIG for many, so I find peace in the storms through my breath and my mat. 

Yet …

I am tossed right back into that sea of churning waves of chaos of others when they present to me (as an entitlement), exactly what I work so hard to shield them from …

in me. 

My pre-yogi nature emerges and says ”what gives you the right?” (and a few other nasty words)

… and then that saying comes back to me …”forgive them, they don’t know any better.” 

That’s hard …

YOU don’t deserve me on my bad days or even moments. I have learned to step back, reflect, soften my heart. 


I know the pain you hold makes you bitter and mean and unapologetic.  

Even though I KNOW ALL THIS …

when others take my softness, my calmness and accepting nature as weakness …

Well let’s just say 

The urge to kick someone in the spleen reemerges. Like ninja karate style 

So back to my mat I go 


It is a lifelong practice 

A daily practice 

A ritual to protect our souls, our sanity and our rap sheet. 

(I just want to drag some of those jerks to the mat as well.)

There is no excuse for rudeness or superiority. 

No one has the right to make you feel less than a superhero! 

And if they do … dig down into that uddiyana bandha and surge that solar plexus power right up to your throat chakra and speak your truth! 

Being a yogi 




to being a doormat! 

Repeat that! 

Let it be your mantra! 

And remember …

It takes control to find restraint! 


It is strength! 

Be full of awesome!

This post first appeared on Tree of Life Yoga Studio’s website at and is posted here by permission. Micki is the author of 10 Little Rules for Finding Your Truth.

Read Me

the truth about Patience

the truth about Patience

Mach speed.

I move at no other pace and often get impatient when others aren’t keeping
up with me. It’s been labeled as “controlling” and “bitchy” in the past.

Neither did I fondly adore! But I am a firm believer in messages from the Universe. And although I love that I have the ability to recognize those beneficial doors swinging open for me, I now know that sometimes that gentle, metaphysical nudge I get in the back isn’t always something I want to turn around face.

In the last few months it seems I have had several people say to me, “Yeah Micki, you aren’t really known for your patience.” What me? I was a Elementary classroom teacher. I home schooled a child! If those don’t take absolute and utter patience, I don’t know what does.

But there it was … my dear friends would politely pause as they told a story that excited me so much I had to jump in and ask clarifying questions. They really do love me … An ex-husband who would often say … “well if you would just let me finish.” (Which mind you I would follow up with “by the time you finish your story I will have forgotten the 12 things I wanted to ask you as you told it”.) I always had an excuse for my impatience. Sometimes my thoughts weren’t very kind as I toe tapped waiting for someone to finish something … a task, a story. But I HAD learned to not actually physically take over said project or job. I WAS, of course, a teacher at heart!

After being dubbed “Squirrel ,“ (which I am absolutely positive now was not necessarily a good thing, as once described, when I mentally darted around with all my creative projects, writings and inspirations) I’ve tried to tame my inner chaos by stepping out of my box and painting. My mom always painted. It couldn’t be that hard right?

My first impression …

“Jesus … do people really do this as a form of relaxation?”

I was a ball of nerves even trying to free hand what I had hoped to paint.

Then there is my child who has completed two paint by numbers pieces of art that are absolutely amazing. Although I long for a beautiful piece to adorn my wall, I just shake my head as I walk past her hunched over and constantly offer her more light. I had absolutely zero desire to do one of these intricacies, none! THAT should have been my first clue that my patience needed a little hand holding.

She would sit for hours, completely entranced with brush in hand, earbuds in her ears painting away.

And then one more person commented on my patience …

So I ordered my kit. It had numbers. No creativity required.

Covid entertainment. Torture.

Therapy. The cheapest kind.

So here I sit and amazingly my heartbeat slows down. My monkey mind goes silent. There is no urge to dart from task to task. 

Sometimes we keep busy so we don’t have to listen to our whispers of truth.

Those truths let us see the beauty and sparkles in our lives but they also allow us to reflect and refine our own edges.

Life is a journey.

Keep growing …

and painting!




Read Me

the truth about Messiness

the truth about Messiness

We live in a home of artists …

always inspired by our next project before the last one is even done. I find myself at times apologizing to my daughter for my “messes..” Yet she always reassures me that it’s just organized chaos … with a purpose.

I have found my artistic inspiration has taken a great leap out of my metaphorical emotional window this last year. My nature-inspired art can even get a kick start on my beach walks or garden ramblings. I have unfinished projects laying on my outside workbench. A dragonfly doomed to never fly because his missing last wing is an enigma to me. My stacks of shells and rocks mock me every time I walk past them.

My walks, which were once inspiring, now leave with me that familiar voice in my head that says “why even look for anything else … you can’t even finish what you started.”

and sometimes I listen …

and I don’t look.

So my heart stays heavy. I can’t bear to throw out the projects I was once so inspired to share with the world. So my work space stays cluttered and I hang on to the hope that THAT particular inspiration will grace me again.

But I know this isn’t true. Those inspirations came from a place I am no longer in, a space, an emotion that I chose not have anymore. So do I toss it all and start again? How can I do that when there are so few things that inspire me anymore? I am literally cut off from teaching and loving and supporting all those around me. I thrive and fill my cup by being around my tribe until it spills over into art.

But …

I focus on gratitude … for all I have … my messes and all. For the inspirations that once drove those half finished creations even though they are no more. Because in that gratitude I remember the person I am. That everything I see in others is just a reflection of myself.

And today, as I walked by that tree that has been laying on my workbench for six months, an inspiration whispered in my ear. It said Eisha, my soul sister, is coming back to visit soon. So then I followed that thread. Yes, I jumped on that train! This is a distraction I DID need. So I drifted to our past visits and laughter and teasing and tears. The healing and all the sunshine she brings with her on her visits.

As I looked at this tree that was once supposed to cradle wooden hearts from all the places my ex and I would travel to, I realized that often times people travel to my home for healing and love. Then I knew that all those people who graced my home would always have a warm hug (and a room) to come to. So now my tree will hold heart rocks in its branches … the rocks that the universe sends me via the ocean sand and waves … to remind me everything is going to be o.k.

Most of my visitors come to stay because they need a safe place to heal. So now my guest room will have a bowl full of heart rocks that each visitor will choose their own to place on our “family tree” that will hang in that room and then one to place in their pocket to take home. I hope it will remind them that they always have love around them … if only they lift their gaze to find it.

Sometimes our messes don’t need to be thrown out, just transformed by what our heart is speaking. Our truth. Not last year’s or last week’s intentions or inspirations but what moves us in this very moment.

Life is messy. Sometimes we have to change our perspective and see what beauty lies beneath the chaos.


Micki Beach, author of 10 Little Rules for Finding Your Truth

Read Me

the truth about Perfection

the truth about Perfection

per·fec·tion: pərˈfekSH(ə)n/: noun

is defined as…

1. the condition, state, or quality of being free or as free as possible from all flaws or defects. 

2. a person or thing perceived as the embodiment of perfection.

the ideal, a paragon, the ne plus ultra, a nonpareil, the crème de la crème, the last word, the ultimate, the best; 

“More the action or process of improving something until it is faultless or as faultless as possible.”

Who determines our standards of perfection to which we drive ourselves ? 

Are we not all in a constant state of “improvement, betterment, refining, and honing”? 

And if we aren’t … 

we have achieved x, y or z … 

where do we sit, looking outward and basking in this isolated space of perfection?  

There is nowhere to go once we reach a state of (imagined) perfection. 

In our lives, 

on our mats 

or in our outward search for “more.”

My sea walks (with inspired bouts of yoga and photo snaps) have started to lean to a repetitive conversation with my companion. 

We always look for our favorite shells to collect. Slow walks, downcast gazes and easy conversations are had in this magical, cleansing space. 


“Oh look at this one! 

(Slow pause)…

It would have been perfect if …” 

and we toss it back into the sea. 

“Oh, I wish that one was whole …

or shinier …

or didn’t have that hole.”

The photography of my poses takes on the same tone … 

“oh, the light is strange, 


can you zoom out a bit


my lines aren’t correct …  

we will delete that one.”

We see the shells’ scars and worn edges. Broken pieces, halves with their beautiful patterns, elusive because we can’t imagine it in its whole state. 

We criticize ourselves 

and others 

and our poses 

the same way. 


Like the shells, my scars are plentiful. 

As are the scars of most people I know. 

We all have a story, a pain, a badge of honor we carry in our pockets that we struggled through … 

a rock we were battered against 

or a wave we were carelessly tossed by. 

What if every scar 

or our tears 

or pains 

were blazoned across our skin? 

Would we be discarded by others as easily as we toss those simple shells back into the sea? 

We search for perfection … 

in a mate

in a job

in a house

in our lives

and especially on our mats. 

We demand it …

we expect it … 

we struggle to attain it. 

But at what cost? 

Maybe, if we turned our souls inside out, we would have much more compassion and gratitude for others. 

If they could see our broken pieces too. Our flaws, 

our dance with our struggles. 

Our scars make us beautiful. Our pains provide opportunity for growth if we walk through them. 

We must share our stories, 

allow ourselves 

and others to heal …

then allow all those broken pieces to evolve into something beautiful. 


Something that, 

one day, 

someone …

will truly see …

and find the art, 


and inspiration in. 

Only then do we grow. 

Struggle not towards perfection … 

just growth, 

constant growth …

Walk the path. 

Enjoy the journey! 

Be Yoga ….


Read Me

the bliss of owning your story

the bliss of owning your story

“He can call you anything he likes. That doesn’t make it true.”

Those words pulled me up short. Spoken by a friend during a really rough time in my life, they drilled deeply into my soul.

Our story is so often conflated with other people’s stories about us that it’s easy to forget we are in charge of how we feel about ourselves, our lives.

I’d been telling myself various versions of other people’s stories about me for years, taking on their criticism and a side order of guilt.

“He can call you anything he likes. That doesn’t make it true.”

It only makes it true if I believe it, if I own it. This idea is one of the reasons why I founded 10 Little Rules … not just to publish my own book, but to give other authors a chance to tell their own story. In their words, not the words of anyone else.

It’s been an incredible journey these past nine years, and today we launch our next book into the world — 10 Little Rules for Mermaids, written by Amy Hege Atwell, owner of The Painted Mermaid in Southport, NC.

On the surface, it’s absolutely delightful. And just like a mermaid, it dives suddenly and gracefully into hidden depths, re-emerging drenched in sparkles.

I’m proud to be associated with this book. It’s fun (and lord knows we could us a bit of fun these days) and it is empowering. As Amy said last week:

“I found myself a little – something – about the combination of all the world wide stuff happening and the timing as it relates a rollout, and quite frankly I have decided this is indeed the time to heavily promote ALL of our books. Not so much because of the hope and sunshine they offer, but the EMPOWERMENT. What better timing to show women in particular what they CAN do to drive strength and change within themselves and therefore the world. “

So today we launch pre-orders on this beautiful, soulful book, and I hope it does help … make you smile, make you think, make you feel a bit stronger about your own story and owning it with pride.

Namaste, Mermaids!

Read Me