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Thanks and prayers at Flight 93 National Memorial


Flight 93 National Memorial

Flight 93 National Memorial

By Donald Rubbo:

I took the off-ramp on I-70 to our destination, Somerset, Pennsylvania, and I noticed a road sign in my peripheral vision: “Flight 93 National Memorial.” As the words registered in my mind, I felt a deep quickening, and a bit of shock. I hadn’t thought of the United flight that crashed on this field on September 11, 2001, and the heroes onboard, for many years.

I was supposed to be on that flight, and my wife changed my ticket to the Saturday before so that I could come home early. There but for the grace of God.

We had left California on March 1st, 2013, driving up I-5 to Portland, Oregon, staying a night with my good friend Ed Barrow, and continuing northward to see my long-time friend Chetana Michaan to do healing work on her. Leaving Bellingham, Washington, I had decided that we would travel the northern route, taking I-90 to visit Yellowstone, and then we planned to continue on a northern route. But on March 15, in Gardiner, Montana, after exploring as much of Yellowstone as was open that time of year, we were sitting in a bar/restaurant and I noticed the weather report on the television. A huge storm was brewing, starting in the Seattle, Washington, area and was going to be quickly moving eastward, with massive snowfall predicted. Understanding that the Universe was giving me early warning, I decided the best route would be to go south, to Colorado, and then east on I-70.

We stopped in Ward, Colorado, on Sunday, March 17 to stay with Dennis and KayAnne Solem (my wife’s sister and brother-in-law) for a few days, and planned to get back on the road Tuesday. But we stayed an extra day to help them in their search to replace their car that had previously been totaled in an accident.

Bright and early Wednesday morning, March 20, we packed the car back up and drove off. We stopped in Topeka, Kansas that night, and the next night in Indianapolis, Indiana.

While we were in Indianapolis we looked at the map to decide our next stopover. Cheryl Lynne calculated where we might be after six or seven hours of driving along I-70, and she chose Somerset, Pennsylvania, as our next stop.

Friday evening we pulled into town, and because we hadn’t booked a hotel online (our usual procedure,) we looked around town to see what was available. As we were checking into the hotel, I mentioned to the women at the front desk that it was eerie to find myself in Somerset, as I was supposed to have been on Flight 93 that day. The owner of the hotel, who came out from the back and had overheard the conversation, said to me, “You have to go to the memorial site. Here are the directions,” and he handed me a piece of paper. I hadn’t really planned on going there, my emotions then were mixed, but since the hotel owner was insisting, I thought perhaps it might be a good idea.

The next morning we drove the 18 miles to the memorial, and although it was a cold, late winter day, there was one car ahead of us waiting for the gates to be opened.

The driver got out of his car and picked up some brochures that were by the gate. He walked over to our car and handed me one of the brochures. He started talking, and introduced himself. His name was Max, he was a retired pilot for Continental Airlines, and his plane had been in the queue at Newark Airport the morning of September 11, 2001, waiting to take off, right behind United Flight 93. I told him that I was supposed to be on Flight 93 myself, and only wasn’t because I had decided to return home early. He said, “You have real angels around you,” and I said, “So do you!”

He got back in his car as the gates were opened by a park ranger.

We drove up the long road to the crash site and memorial, and I felt the hair on my body stand up. We parked in the parking lot. The pilot first parked several rows from us, and then drove up and parked next to our car. He seemed to need the closeness. We got out of our cars and together walked slowly up the walkway. He asked to take my picture with his cellphone to send to his wife.

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Max told us that he knew it could very easily have been his plane that was chosen, his flight was scheduled to leave at about the same time as Flight 93, and by the grace of God he, his flight crew and his passengers were spared. The pilot told us his experiences that morning, of his flight to Orlando with a bunch of kids, and hearing bits and pieces from flight control about the unfolding horror. He and his co-pilot were first told that an ‘incident’ had happened, and then a little later that a plane had been hijacked. He told us he called the head flight attendant into the cockpit, and asked her to very casually walk through the cabin and see if any of the passengers looked nervous. She came back and reported that everyone seemed happy and cheerful. He then explained to her what he had been told, and asked her to bring him the crash axe, he was going to lock the cockpit door and if anyone tried to get into the cockpit he would kill them. Flight control directed him to land at another airport, but he requested that since he was so close to Orlando, to be allowed to complete the flight there. As his flight landed, he decided not to tell his passengers the terrible news.

This was his first visit to the memorial, and he stayed close to us as we made our way up to the crash site and the marble wall with the names of the crew and passengers.

There were only a handful of people that early at the memorial, but Max was so impressed that I had escaped the fiery death of Flight 93 that he told everyone, including the ranger standing guard, that I was supposed to be on that plane. One older woman from Minnesota was so overcome that she tearfully asked to hug me, and had her daughter take her picture with me. She said to me, “I am so glad you are still here.”

The unnatural, long rut carved into the ground and the boulder marking the site of the impact gave me a terrible sense of the reality of the crash, how the twisted, unfathomable intentions of a few changed the world forever that day.

Standing before the large memorial, gazing at the names of the passengers that were carved into the cold marble, I knew that Divine intervention was the only explanation that my name was not etched into this wall as well. God obviously had some more work for me to do.

Waves of powerful emotions washed over me, and tears came to my eyes.

In 2000 and 2001, I had been traveling to New York about every two months for two weeks at a time, to treat my mother as she went (successfully) through uterine cancer therapy. I always took Flight 91 to New York, and Flight 93 back to San Francisco. In early September my mother underwent surgery, for which I was there, and a few days later, she was well enough (her doctor found no evidence of cancer anywhere in her body, including in her removed uterus!) that I felt confident about my mother’s health and asked Cheryl Lynne to get me home earlier than planned. I took Flight 93 to San Francisco on Saturday, September 8, 2001.

Three days later, in our home in San Rafael, California, on Tuesday, September 11, 2001, we were woken early by the clock radio with the unbelievable news of the attack. We rushed out of bed and turned on the television, and watched, horrified, as the events unfolded.

In the shock and horror of the moment, I didn’t realize that I had almost been on Flight 93, that I had been spared.

The Twin Towers held so much meaning for me, in the sixties and seventies I lived on Canal Street in lower Manhattan, the SoHo area, and I had watched the Towers rise; from the holes in the ground that were dug for the foundations to the very top, the Windows on the World restaurant. As a young child, I was excited to see all the old artifacts brought out of these pits: from wooden ships to ceramics, to glassware, attesting to the fascinating history of early settlements in New York. I had been to the rooftop of Tower One many times, and delighted in the view, in all directions, of the magnificent city of my birth.

My aunt, a Federal judge, worked in one of the Towers; on the morning of September 11, 2001, she watched from her seat on the bus as the planes struck. She called me on her cellphone to let me know she was okay, and to pray for everyone who was in the Towers to get out safely.

My brother, George, worked at one of the restaurants in Tower One, and of all days, he slept in that morning. God spared my family.

I immediately knew that I had to offer my healing prayers to New York, America, and to the world. Feeling the powerful need to do what I could to help, I went out to Gerstle Park to teach my early morning Tai Chi Ch’uan and Qigong class, and I led my students in cultivating and sending out powerful, loving, positive, healing energy.

Two weeks later, we organized a large healing circle in our community, hundreds of people, all of us united in sending out love, healing and restorative intentions to all of the victims of this dreadful attack on our nation, to my hometown, to my country, and to the world.

For most of my life, my purpose has been to help others on their paths to healing, to recovery, to becoming whole, of gathering people together to bring healing and peace to themselves and the world.

Last Saturday morning, standing at the Flight 93 National Memorial, guided to be there that particular day by Divine Providence, I realized that I hadn’t taken the time to process the enormity of how this tragedy impacted my life. Many thoughts went through my mind. As a martial artist, how would I have acted, and interacted, with these passengers who took decisive, heroic actions, knowing they were doomed and acting anyway? Reflecting on my past actions where I had come to the rescue, without thought of danger to myself, of others in distress, I’m fairly certain that I would have been right there with these heroes all the way.

I felt a close kinship and bond with each one of the passengers and crew, and deeply grateful for their heroism. I read Laura Catuzzi Grandcolas’ name, a woman from my adopted hometown of San Rafael, California. There is a memorial to her and her unborn child in downtown San Rafael. We passed it many times, but I hadn’t stopped to consider the coincidence.

I give thanks to the Divine and my Guardian Angel for sparing me that day, and offer prayers to the victims and their families. I have a renewed sense of purpose for my life. Making this world a better place for everyone has always been the fiber of my soul, but now I feel that a part of myself was returned to me last Saturday, I was made whole and my life’s work was affirmed.

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As you raise your consciousness, you help all others to raise theirs


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We are passionate about helping to heal the world, and make this planet a better place to live for everyone. We love sharing our hard-earned wisdom with others, teaching how to permanently shift out of negative thought patterns and self-limiting situations.

In order to learn how to become self-aware, with the Rubbo Energy System of Transformation, you begin with stillness.

Stillness.

Awareness.

Sensitivity.

Wisdom.

From stillness, comes awareness. From stillness and awareness, comes sensitivity. From the integration of stillness, awareness and sensitivity, wisdom arises.

By allowing your mind to become still, and then by observing your ways of thinking and choosing the thoughts that serve your highest will and good, you can raise the vibrational frequency of your body, mind and spirit. We are all connected, each and every one of us. Our negative thoughts and emotions are harming not only ourselves, and keeping us in low-vibrating states, we are harming everyone around us, and our environment, because we can’t help but leak these toxic energies.

So, by mindfully choosing the positive thoughts and states of being, we are helping to raise the consciousness of the world, one loved one at a time.

The smallest seed of light will dispel the greatest darkness. It is therefore up to each of us to make our inner light shine brighter and stronger each day, and add more light to our world.

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An encounter with Donald’s father’s spirit, on December 5, 2012


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We had been staying in New York this past fall, with Donald’s brother Thomas, in the Bronx. One day in late October we took the subway into Manhattan, and after walking around a bit, we found ourselves in the East Village. We just happened to be on East 14th Street, and Donald looked around and said, “We’re near the bar where my father died.”

Donald’s father, Don Rubbo, had a long history of heart disease, and had been near death a couple of times before, from heart attacks. Don had hazel-colored eyes, was a heavy drinker, and he had turned bitter from the many setbacks and betrayals he had experienced in his professional graphic arts career. Born in Connecticut on December 5th, 1926, Don was Italian-Irish, and had served time in the Armed Forces during World War II. He had been in the Navy, and was stationed on Guam. Because Don had witnessed, from Guam, the testing of nuclear weapons at Bikini Atoll in the 1940’s, and had seen the mushroom clouds and had felt the powerful and unsettling shock waves from the blasts (and a year earlier had also been appalled when atomic bombs were dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki) he was vehemently against using atomic and nuclear weapons for any reason.

Don Rubbo passed away in January of 1979, after a long night of drinking at a neighborhood bar near his apartment. He’d been hanging out with his buddies at the bar, and when it closed at 4 am, they went to breakfast together at a nearby restaurant. At 6 am, when the bar re-opened, they all went back to have more drinks. Don said to his friends, “I’m tired now. I’m going to rest.” He put his head down on his arms, which were resting on the top of the bar, and a little while later, the bartender noticed that he wasn’t moving. He was 52 years old.

The previous December (1978), Don had been hospitalized after suffering a massive heart attack. His doctor called Donald (who was living in California) from Don’s bedside. Don was unconscious, and the doctor told Donald that he should get to New York right away, as Don was not expected to live much longer. Donald asked the doctor to put the phone to his father’s ear, and Donald said to his father, “Dad, I’m on my way. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Donald arrived in New York very shortly after that phone call, and found that his father had left the hospital and went back to his apartment. Apparently, right after the doctor hung up the phone, Don woke up, ripped the tubes and wires out, and told his doctor, “My son is coming. I have to go home and get ready to see him.”

Donald walked into his father’s apartment and found him on his hands and knees on the floor of the bathroom, vigorously scrubbing the grout between the floor tiles with a toothbrush. Donald was horrified, and said, “Dad, what are you doing? Get off the floor! You’re sick, you’ve got to go and rest!”

Don looked up at Donald and said, “I’ve got just one more lesson for you, son. No matter what you are doing, whether it’s creating art or scrubbing the toilet, always put your heart into the job, and do the very best you can. Make everything you do a labor of love, no matter what it is.”

That late-October day in Manhattan, in 2012, I took a photo with my cellphone of the outside of the funky neighborhood bar on E. 14th Street where Donald’s father had died, and then didn’t think anything more about it.

During our drive in late November from New York back to the Bay Area, we did not have a set itinerary, just deciding kind of last minute which highway, Interstate 80 or Interstate 40, we would take. After we chose I-40, we took it one day a time, and let the Universe guide us.

While we were in Las Vegas, visiting with our son, Julian, we were hearing on the news about a very large storm about to hit northern California. Although we wanted to go north, and cross into California at Tahoe, we were concerned about the mountain roads closing from heavy snowfall. We discussed going West, to southern California, and then driving north up the coast to the Bay Area.

The morning we left Las Vegas, on December 4th, 2012, we stood in the parking lot of the hotel and flipped a coin. Heads for going West to the Los Angeles area, and tails for going Northwest to Reno and then into California.

Tails it was, and we got in the car. We took 95 North to 80 West, and arrived in Reno around 6:30 or 7:00 that night. While still in Las Vegas, I’d researched rates for Harrah’s Reno, about $75.00, but I hadn’t booked it as we didn’t know what city or town we’d be in that night. We parked the car on a downtown street in Reno, and sat in the car discussing finding a hotel room. Looking to our right, we saw a Vietnamese restaurant, and decided to go inside for dinner. We had the best Pho (rice noodle soup) that we’d had in a very long time.

Full and happy from finding this Pho restaurant, we got back into the care and drove to look at a couple of motels (the rooms were sleazy, dark, small, yucko, expensive $75.00/$80.00!) I got online with my cellphone, and looked at Harrah’s website. They were having a last-minute online special, $23.00 a night, for a huge 4-star room! I booked it immediately, beyond grateful for modern technology.

The next morning, we went outside the hotel to find a cup of coffee, and right at the first corner we came to, we saw a wall plaque that read, ‘Blarney Stone,’ and above the plaque a rock was set into the wall. We stopped to look at it and read the inscription, and we heard a voice behind us.

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“Good morning! That’s a rather interesting rock, isn’t it?” We turned to see an older gentleman, obviously down on his luck and a street person, but since we never turn down an opportunity to connect with another human being, no matter what their circumstance, we chose to continue the conversation. We were very happy we did.

Jimmy Cunningham turned out to be a delightful man, with quite the ‘gift of gab.’ We had a wide-ranging conversation, we talked about politics, Hurricane Sandy and the storms brought on by climate changes, among many topics.

Jimmy was a Vietnam Vet, had been homeless for years, and was an admitted alcoholic. He had hazel colored, drink-reddened eyes, he was Irish-English-Italian, and had served in the Navy. He had been stationed on a nuclear submarine during the war.

Because of his experience on this nuclear submarine, he was adamant that the United States ban all nuclear weapons and close all nuclear power plants. Jimmy thought nuclear power was too dangerous, especially, he said, after what happened in Japan after the tsunami hit.

After we described the healing and transformative work we do around the world, he asked us, where did we think God was? I said to him, “Well, why don’t you tell us where you think he is.”

Jimmy replied, “God is in every molecule, in everything that is alive.” We couldn’t agree more.

As we stood there on that corner, on that cold, blustery day in early December, Donald and I both (as we later discovered) had a felt-sensation of Donald’s father, Don Rubbo, looking out at us through Jimmy Cunningham’s shiny hazel eyes.

On that cold, blustery December 5th day, in downtown Reno, in front of the Blarney Stone.

On that cold, blustery December 5th day, Don Rubbo’s birthday.

Just the other day, as I was looking through the photos on my cellphone, to delete some to make room for more, I found the photo I took on October 26th, 2012, of the dive bar on E. 14th Street, in the East Village of Manhattan, where Donald’s father had died in 1979.

I hadn’t noticed before, the name of the bar is:

Blarney Cove.

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Have the flu or a stomach virus and can’t eat? Try Asian rice porridge,


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If you are suffering from the flu, or the latest nasty stomach flu, and can’t eat any solid foods, here is a great recipe to build your strength and immune system. It is absolutely the best for anyone who is having trouble eating food, during any illnesses.

We used to cook this all the time in our immersive, sleep-away retreats, to give our retreatants extraordinary nourishment and strength-building breakfasts, for the strenuous practices we put them through!

Jook, congee, Chinese rice porridge, Vegan recipe:

1 cup white or brown basmati rice, washed
2 (or more) quarts water

Place the rice and water in a soup pot, over high heat until it comes to a rolling boil.

Turn down the heat, and simmer, stirring occasionally, for two or three hours, until creamy, and the rice is completely broken down.

Garnishes:
Fresh ginger, sliced
Scallions, chopped
Soy sauce to taste
Roasted sesame oil to taste

You can make a large batch, and keep in the refrigerator. Eat this nourishing, strengthening breakfast daily.

Jook, congee, Chinese rice porridge, Chicken recipe:

1 cup white or brown basmati rice, washed
2 (or more) quarts water
1 ½ pounds bone in chicken legs or thighs, skin removed and excess fat trimmed off

Optional: for more flavor, brown the chicken in the soup pot, with a little bit of olive oil, before adding the rice and water.

Place the chicken, rice and water in a soup pot, over high heat until it comes to a rolling boil.

Turn down the heat, and simmer, stirring occasionally, for about an hour. Remove the chicken, put aside to cool.

Continue to simmer the jook for another two hours, until creamy, and the rice is completely broken down.

Once cool, shred the cooked chicken and discard the bones.

Garnishes:
Fresh ginger, sliced
Scallions, chopped
Soy sauce to taste
Roasted sesame oil to taste
Cooked chicken

You can make a large batch, and keep in the refrigerator. Eat this nourishing, strengthening breakfast daily.

Check out the Wikipedia page on Asian rice porridge for the history of this great, restorative dish!

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BreatheStrong, and our battle with the Lance Armstrong Foundation


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We’ve read that Lance Armstrong is scheduled to do an in-depth, ‘no-holds barred,’ interview with Oprah Winfrey on January 17, 2013.

Here’s a question we’d like Oprah to ask Lance:

Why would you allow your nonprofit organization, the Lance Armstrong Foundation, to persecute and sue small nonprofits for ‘harming the brand LIVEstrong’ by their use of the words BarkStrong, PurrStrong and even, in our case, BreatheStrong (among other nonprofits using ‘strong’)? Many other organizations and companies have attached the word ‘strong’ to another word, with absolutely no damage to LIVEstrong, such as ElderStrong, HerbStrong, HealthStrong, etc.

According to the tax returns of the Lance Armstrong Foundation – the organization’s 990’s which are publicly available – the Lance Armstrong Foundation spent ten cents of every donated dollar on attorneys’ fees. That is a whopping percentage.

We have personal experience with this persecution.

In the situation of the Paul D. Pickens II Research Foundation, we created a ‘deep-breathing for health’ program that we named BreatheStrong. This name was chosen to represent the instantaneous, long-lasting, profound health benefits of deep, full, abdominal breathing. This type of breathing has been proven in the medical and scientific fields to be among the greatest self-administered therapies for maintaining and restoring health.

From our files: “BreatheStrong is a proactive system of self-care, incorporating time-tested deep breathing methods and life-style modifications.”

PDP II Research Foundation spent its donors’ hard-earned dollars on this important, life-changing program. PDP II built a beautiful website (BreatheStrong.org), researched and designed elegant jewelry that would vibrate at self-selected intervals to remind people to take deep breaths, and wrote and printed ‘The Extraordinary Breath’ book to educate the public on a time-proven system of stress relief, health restoration and life-enhancement. Some of our volunteers translated the word BreatheStrong into many languages, and some of our volunteers even helped Donald write a song for this program.

PDP II Research Foundation was accused by the attorneys for the Lance Armstrong Foundation of irrevocably harming the brand LIVEstrong, and told to to immediately abandon its trademark for the BreatheStrong vibrating jewelry, to delete the website BreatheStrong.org, and to cease and desist in all of our activities pertaining to helping the public maintain and regain their health through the BreatheStrong program.

We fought this unfair attack for as long as we could. Through the attorney PDP II Research Foundation was forced to hire, we explained that the target demographic for BreatheStrong were people in all walks of life, in all stages of health; healthy people as well as those who were dealing with ANY and ALL illnesses and diseases. Deep breathing techniques benefit everyone in the world, not just people with cancer.

After two years, when our organization could no longer afford to defend itself against the attorneys of the multi-million dollar Lance Armstrong Foundation, we sadly abandoned the BreatheStrong program.

Not long afterwards, deep breathing methods and techniques could be found on the Lance Armstrong Foundation website.

Although the Lance Armstrong Foundation succeeded in bullying this small health education nonprofit (that has had immense global impact) into shutting down a vital public health program, our spirits were uncrushed and we immediately morphed the program into The Extraordinary Breath.

PDP II Research Foundation released a free digital eBook, The Extraordinary Breath, which features the One Part Breath from the larger version of The Extraordinary Breath book. This free digital eBook has been translated into seven other languages, with more languages coming.

PDP II Research Foundation has also sponsored ‘The World Takes a Breath Day,’ an annual global health event with worldwide participation, millions breathing the Extraordinary Breath (intentional breathing for love, compassion, health, tolerance, joy and peace). December 12, 2012, was the third annual The World Takes a Breath Day.

You can visit http://www.ExtraordinaryBreath.com to see how not even one of the largest organizations in the country could keep PDP II Research Foundation from flourishing and growing in its mission to improve the health our global community.

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Let’s Honor our Differences and Embrace our Commonalities – 12.12.12 at 12:12 pm


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Let’s Honor our Differences and Embrace our Commonalities

We want to remind you how important it is to honor our differences, and embrace what we have in common instead of fearing each other.

This is now the time for humanity to focus more on what we have in common, than to allow ourselves to continue to be divided by our differences.

The conflicts that we are witnessing, all over the world, have their origins in our perceiving others as different from ourselves. The struggles in the Middle East, in Egypt, in Syria, in Myanmar, even the recent election here in the United States, are rooted in allowing others to state the terms of whether we create cohesiveness or divisiveness in our societies.

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We’ve noticed during our extensive travels the last few years, that although most people have good hearts and good intentions, so many are using both hands to hold their own lives together, holding up their own world, that they feel their burdens are so overwhelming they can’t extend a hand to help another in need for fear their problems will come crashing down around them.

Donald and I are here as Re-Minders, and as Donald likes to say,’ Many hands make light work.’

When we focus on our differences, it generates fear, and when we focus on the commonalities of humanity we can generate love. There are only two emotions, from which all other emotions arise: fear and love. Ask yourself, which state of being would you rather cultivate? We attract that which we focus on, and then that becomes our beingness.

Your mind is the fertile field in which these seeds take root, and the thoughts and emotions of fear, worry and doubt are the pesticides of your garden.

So be still, breathe and till the soil of your garden with love and plants the seeds of abundance: breathe peace, breathe tolerance, breathe happiness, breathe joy; for yourself, for your family, for your loved ones, for your community, for your nation, and for our world. You are the gardener of your life experience.

Uplift each and every person on this planet, with the same innate reflex as a flower stretching to reach the rays of the sun, expand yourself outward to include all, with the intention of love, peace, understanding, cooperation and abundance.

Create your future, one thought at a time.

“The underlying foundational structure of the human body is water, each person is an individual drop of water, and as we are an inseparable part of this vast ocean of humanity it is impossible to remove these drops from the ocean.” Bryan Singleton

Join us in creating a better world for all, on Wednesday, December 12, 2012, at 12:12 pm, WORLDWIDE, and take a meaningful breath with the intention of what you wish to experience in your next moment.

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Turn the Page on Stress: Tapping Into the De-Stressing Potential of Books and Storytelling



We are a nonprofit global health education organization (Paul D. Pickens II Research Foundation) building an App that will help people, all over the world, de-stress and gain greater health and happiness. Please check out http://www.Indiegogo.com/ExtraordinaryBreathCampaign.

There is a change in the thought of the world. This change has been happening for a while, and it is now happening at a faster rate. There is a vast difference between simply thinking, and directing our thought consciously, systematically and constructively, when we do this we place our mind in harmony with the Universal Mind, we are in tune with the Infinite, we set in operation the mightiest force in existence, the creative power of the Universal Mind. This, as everything else, is governed by natural law, which is that Mind is creative, and will automatically take its thoughts and manifest them.

Extraordinary breath: intention merged with breath; Directing your thoughts consciously, systematically and positively. Creating your future, one thought at a time.

The Extraordinary Breath is different from many other deep-breathing methods, this system is more than merely bringing a greater volume of air into your body; as you inhale and exhale, long, deep even breaths, your positive intentions are synchronized with your breathing.

Science has proven that every time you think a thought, feel an emotion, or perform an action, your neuro-circuitry changes. When you take charge of this process, through the Extraordinary Breath, the positive changes become limitless!
Read the Article at HuffingtonPost