Becoming the Light

My name is Andrea Ting-Luz.

I have become the Light.

The Moment

One balmy Sunday morning, in an 80s-style fitness studio located on the top floor of a muscle-head gym in downtown San José del Cabo on the Baja Peninsula in Mexico, I heard the precise words that would define my life’s purpose.

The room reeked of the rubber mat floor and the collective perspiration of the previous Zumba class, and was illuminated by a series of buzzing overhead fluorescent lights. I was trying to avoid catching my own reflection multiplied in every direction by way of the wall-to-wall mirrors – perhaps my least favourite environment in which to practice yoga. This was not a place I expected to be gifted a moment of profound revelation.

 * * *

Whenever I travel, I make a point of trying out a yoga class with a teacher to whom I have no previous connection. I believe that I have something to learn from every teacher, and so I attend each class with an open mind and open heart. I arrive early and stay through to the end, no matter what.

I have discovered some beautiful gems, whose nuggets of wisdom and brilliant turns of phrase I have adapted into my own teaching practice (always crediting the source, of course). I have also encountered some diamonds in the rough (some really rough) who have made me ruminate about the absence of consistency and standards offered amongst the countless yoga teacher training programs that seem to be mass producing a new cohort of instructors every week.

This teacher’s class was…ok. I found her cueing to be indirect, leaving her participants confused and glancing furtively around the room for someone to follow. She missed entire blocks of sequencing from one side to the other, leaving whole muscle groups imbalanced. Perhaps most disappointingly, her class seemed to be bereft of intention. No matter what asanas (or breathwork or mantras or playlists or any other elements of modern yoga classes) unfold through the course of practice, I seek a teacher who can tether their intention to something we might connect to, something that unifies the room. At the end of the hour, I thought that my only take-away might be a “what-not-to-do” in my own classes.

And then she said it. “Namaste means ‘may I live my life in such a way that the light inside of me ignites the light inside of others’.”

And my entire existence fell neatly into place.

The Practice

Through my 20s, armed with a Women’s Studies degree, I worked as a makeup artist for MAC Cosmetics, hoping to subversively chip away at “the system” from the inside. My daily act of rebellion was to illuminate self-worth in every person who sat in my chair, especially those who never saw themselves represented as beautiful: older women, trans women, non-binary folks, men who wanted to wear makeup, fat women, differently-abled women, women who never found their shade of skin colour represented accurately in cosmetic lines. I cherished my responsibility to coax each one to see their inner light and embrace what made each of them unique, and yes, beautiful.

Eventually, inevitably, I stepped up to lead my team of MAC artists. It is no secret that any retailers’ objective is to make money, and my primary responsibility was to ensure that my team met their collective and individual financial goals. My approach was never to teach my team the tricks of the “add-on sale” or other consumer psychology techniques that resulted in bigger, better sales. Instead, I taught them to cultivate and nourish relationships with their customers, to listen deeply to each one, and ultimately invite their clients to see their own incredible selves beneath the surface.

I did the same for my team. I made it my personal mission to help each of my crew thrive with confidence in their roles, to become the best version of themselves, to support one another with loyalty and generosity, and to flourish forward in their careers. Their success was my success. I shone the light on them, and they radiated their own light out into the world.

And incidentally, year after year for over a decade, my team shattered their sales goals, consistently showing top increases in our region. More importantly, we have forged a network of support and friendship that has long surpassed our time as teammates.

The Pattern

Fast forward to my mid-forties, and I am still here, casting a spotlight onto others who struggle to see it, or articulate it, or feel it in their bones.  

As a yoga instructor, I seek to help others find their true strength, to create a subtle (sometimes radical) revolution within themselves, and to draw upon their own capacity for self-empowerment and self-compassion.

As an educator, I strive to help yoga teachers, business leaders, and entrepreneurs dig deep within themselves to understand why they are pursuing their current journey and continue to forge their path from that distinct place.

As a curator of goods doing good, my mobile pop-up boutique Beatnik shines the spotlight on fledgling brands who are making the world more responsible, sustainable, equitable, and beautiful.

As a brand storyteller, I seek to help leaders and entrepreneurs wordsmith nuanced identities, amplifying their messages to be heard above the din.

The Rumble

Which brings me full circle to my own “brand”.

In 2019, following over a decade of unearthing my life’s purpose, including that moment on the stinky floor of the Baja fitness studio, I came to yet another profound revelation. In order for me to shine my light, I also needed a source of replenishment. I needed to be reminded of my worth. I needed to be reminded that my chosen path was important, even necessary. I needed to be seen, to be heard, to be felt. To be cherished.

And so he came. Curt answered my unspoken call.

From the moment we locked eyes, an irrefutable force pulled us towards one another. It felt as though a fissure opened at my breastbone and all my reserve incandescence came surging through, seeking urgently to merge with his. We plummeted into a maelstrom of connection without having exchanged anything more than a hug.

The Reckoning

The aftermath was swift, purposeful, and not without suffering. I ended my marriage – a 19-year relationship that was by all accounts steady and companionable but had become increasingly devoid of a mutual commitment to make things better. Our interactions had become transactional (What’s for dinner?), rather than transformational (What do you need in order to feel nourished?). I had long felt invisible, possibly the least optimal state in which to keep trying to regenerate my light.

Through the year that followed, I closed the physical location of my shop, shifted my career with the goal of teaching yoga and teacher trainings full time, negotiated custody of my beloved dogs, made the best of three different homes (finally settling this June into a place of our own), navigated the implications of a global pandemic on my prospects as a full-time yoga teacher, temporarily stepped into a cashiering position at my local grocery store so that I could help on the front line (and pay the bills), pivoted into a hybrid of teaching online and socially-distant in-person classes, only to pivot again once the second wave crested.

Amongst all that, I finalized my divorce.

As I scrawled my signature on that weighty document, positioned directly above the imprinted “Andrea Margarita Ting-Letts”, I realized that for the first time in my life, I had an opportunity to choose a name that was all my own, to rebrand myself. Andrea was my given name; Margarita was a reinterpretation of my mother’s first name; Ting was my father’s surname; Letts was my ex’s surname.

None were mine.

The Revelation

In my branding workshops, I reassure my students - who are largely solo-preneurs at the helm of heart-centered businesses and who are often uncomfortable promoting themselves – that branding can simply be defined as “how you show up in all that you do”.

I know for certain that I endeavour to show up in all that I do as the light that shines upon others.

In early December, I received my official government-issued documentation verifying that I have legally changed my last name to Ting-Luz. Luz translates to ‘light’ in both Filipino and Spanish, representing two of my three ethnic identities. Ting evokes the third - my Chinese heritage. My love calls me his “Little Light”.

In every way possible, I have reclaimed this light as my own.