Rave New World

I came for the Om🧘... and stayed for the Oontz Oontz🕺!!!

Hello, angel! Welcome back to the inside of my brain.

The true definition of yoga is union with the supreme soul.

I came to Koh Phangan expecting to find yoga on a rubber mat… but I ended up finding it on the dance floor instead!

Below is the journal entry disclosing that transformative experience.

But before we get into it… I’d love to share my latest yoga resources with you!

She Studies Healing… But Can’t Heal Herself (Yet)

^^this is a new series where I publish conversations I’ve had with students of mine!

They tell me their problems and I give them yoga solutions!

I trust you’ll learn a lot from this conversation!

THIS PODCAST IS AVAILABLE ON ALL PLATFORMS BTW!

Breathwork for Better Sleep: 4 Techniques to Help You Rest Easy

And now, a juicy tale from my visit to Koh Phangan:

January 19th, 2025

Koh Phangan, Thailand

Koh Phangan does not whisper its identity. It declares it boldly, unapologetically. Within moments of arriving at my hostel on the flowering island, I found myself enveloped by a kaleidoscope of characters, each reflecting a different version of the community’s allure. Georgia, an elegant Italian woman who could have walked out of a Renaissance painting, was the first to cross my path. She taught water aerobics, and as we sat on the sand discussing the parallels between her work and yoga, she gestured toward the ocean as if it held answers to all questions. Her stories painted Koh Phangan as a hub for spirituality, connection, and the kind of divine serendipity that no itinerary could plan.

Then there was Sasha. She spotted me walking barefoot, flashed a radiant smile, and called out, “I see you vibrating so high over there! You’re beautiful!” Her candor disarmed me, and before long, we were sitting side by side, marveling at the sunset. Our conversation wove through Tibetan Buddhism, tantra, and the chaos of my native New York City. Sasha, like Georgia, seemed to embody Koh Phangan’s essence: a balance of grounded wisdom and free-spirited exploration.

The island felt like a place where I could safely shed layers of pretense. That night, I left my hostel with no shoes, no shirt, and no phone—just a pair of pants, some baht, a bandana, and my eyeglasses. I wandered to a beachside café, devoured a plate of pad see ew, and watched fire dancers twist flames into hypnotic shapes. They moved with a rhythm that felt primal, instinctual, as though the fire was leading them rather than the other way around.

After the show, I meandered along the beach, the sound of waves mingling with the pulse of distant music. A bar blared a hip-hop anthem from the 2000s, and without thinking, I started rapping along. Two Belgian women, Milan and Louise, waved me over from their table. They were childhood friends from Antwerp, now backpacking through Asia together. As we talked, I saw bits of myself in their stories—solo but not alone, searching but content. When they invited me to a party across the island, I hesitated. I’m not exactly the rave-until-dawn type. But something in their laughter felt like an invitation to say yes.

The journey to the party was its own adventure: a rickety motorboat packed with ten strangers, bouncing over waves in the pitch dark. The stars above were brighter than I’d ever seen, as if the universe was cheering us on. When we finally docked, a steep, unlit trail led us to the cliffside venue. The party itself was a whirlwind of pulsing beats, sweat-drenched bodies, and an infectious energy that defied sleep. I danced until my legs burned, fueled only by water and the electric charge of the crowd.

At some point, Milan, Louise, and I escaped to the edge of the cliff, where boulders jutted out over the ocean. There, we took turns giving each other foot massages under the glow of the half-moon. The waves crashed below us, a reminder of the duality I’d come to embrace: chaos and calm, introspection and abandon. When our feet felt ready, we returned to the dance floor, where I lost myself in the music. I wasn’t just dancing—I was channeling something greater, moving as though my body was an extension of the divine. I thought, This must be how those fire dancers feel!

Around 1:30 a.m.—or so I guessed, since I had no phone—I found a quiet corner to rest. I fell asleep on the same boulder where we’d shared foot massages, only to wake hours later, shivering in the seabreeze. The stars were still out, painting the sky with specks I could finally name: Venus, Jupiter, Sirius. I stumbled back to the surf, boarded a creaky boat, and watched the horizon shift from night to dawn as I returned to my hostel’s beach.

I crawled into bed just as the sun began to rise, exhausted but alive. Koh Phangan had already taught me something invaluable: life is a dance between contradictions. I came here seeking stillness and healing but found it in the midst of noise and movement. I came here alone but discovered connection in every interaction. Both truths coexist, and both are beautiful.

Koh Phangan doesn’t demand that you choose one version of yourself over another. It invites you to embrace your multiplicity, to lean into the contradictions that make life whole. This island has a rhythm all its own, and for now, I’m perfectly happy to let it guide me.

Thanks so much for taking the time to read this.

I love you!

-Etai