there is an overused quote that i find completely ridiculous: "the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results." because guess what--this isn't even possible. the context is ALWAYS different. as if we could repeat something exactly as it was done before, in any sense.
however, one of my favorite quotes is: "repetition is the key to clarity." it was something another yoga teacher heard in a workshop and passed on in a yoga class i was attending. now, that's a quote to learn something from.
in yoga, we do the same poses, the same vinyasa, the same mantras, and the same breathwork over and over. and, if we're paying attention, each time we learn something new; we grow.
we move toward clarity.
we begin to understand our physical selves better, our metaphorical edges, and how we inhabit our bodies.
repetition as a tool for learning in our lives is an interesting concept. responding the same way to every argument with a friend or partner, for example, teaches us something, whether our response is effective or not. if we observe, maybe we learn that our response is something we utilize in order to protect ourselves; maybe we learn that in differing times of stress, the response is accepted differently. to really move forward, though, we have to be able to absorb as much information as possible at each time point.
it's that observation and awareness that we consistently try to develop through our yoga and meditation practices. the more we burn through, the closer we get to that internal point of stillness that allows us to see our lives and relationships with clarity.
and that's the real reason i practice yoga and meditation. because woah. that clarity, in the bits and pieces i keep finding it, is the balm to life's insanity.
Showing posts with label yoga. Show all posts
Showing posts with label yoga. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 22, 2019
Wednesday, January 24, 2018
betrayal --> bloom
yesterday i got on the train at 148th and got out a few minutes later at 125th. in the few moments that i was underground traveling about a mile, the weather changed. i had walked on to the train amidst sun and i walked out into heavy rain. and i felt betrayed.that betrayal is an exact replica of another area of my life right now, where i experienced a lot of warmth and then, shortly afterward, an insane storm that left me slightly ravaged.
betrayal can leave you feeling detached from others, which is protective (from the person who betrayed your trust), but it is also harmful. i.e. how can i move past this and continue fostering my relationships with others while feeling so detached?
i've had some version of this conversation with many many people over the past week. i've also meditated and yoga-ed myself to exhaustion, journal-ed it, art-ed it, and had it invade my subconscious and dream spaces. in other words, i've thought about it a little bit.
i've practiced several techniques of severing energetic ties, practicing forgiveness and compassion, and letting myself sit with my emotions, even the detached ones. overall i feel calm; i feel like i've processed. and i can see that it is working: as walking and conducting one of the meditations, a woman who was screaming and cursing into her phone as rushing down a busy NYC street stopped dead in her tracks and looked at me. she smiled, saying "you look nice." i felt her energy shift just as i keep re-directing my own.
but then there are tiny, seemingly innocuous little things throughout my day that trigger me, letting me know that i need to continue the process. to continue to trust; to continue to build; to continue to bloom. because really, isn't that what i naturally have to do? my parents gave me a name, a birthright, that seemingly demands it.
yesterday in yoga felipe read us a portion of this quote by marianne williamson that further sparked my desire to stay on this path of blossoming:
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”who am i not to be in full bloom?
despite the weather, despite the betrayals, who are you not to be?
Sunday, October 29, 2017
evolve with me
everyone knows that dating someone who is on a completely different life trajectory won't work: there has to be a basic underpinning in common to really build a life together.
as i move through my life, the basis of what that is has changed. earlier on it was most important to me to have someone who had the same educational aspirations. previously it has also been important to me to build a life with a runner or person who was into fitness. while both of those things still feature on a "that'd be nice to have a in a partner" list, there's something else that has replaced my non-negotiable when referring to the person i want to build my life with.
i want a partner who is a truth-seeker, who wants to evolve.
there are little ways that's kept playing as important to me: i notice i'm more drawn to people who practice yoga and meditation; i am turned on by someone who has chosen to stop using excessive drugs and alcohol in their life because they don't want or need the escapism; i follow my intuition toward events that are geared toward people that share these interests.
i kind of thought this was one of those "that'd be nice" items, but it has begun to scream its importance when i try to ignore it.
someone i've been dating had chosen to stop drinking with me, and while they hadn't started following a spiritual path, i was impressed and inspired by their commitment. until the dedication vanished overnight: they said their motivation was only driven by me and in time we had spent apart, the desire to prioritize non-use had waned and seemingly entirely disappeared.
their sharp change in attitude left me feeling deflated, and much more than i expected. i felt the disappointment magnify the more i thought about why it was important to me. it's not support in my decisions i want, it's a full and present life co-producer i yearn for.
i don't expect someone who doesn't make mistakes; it's impossible not to trip along the way. but it's the design behind the life path that matters to me. and, so that i can attract that in my life, i'm stating my intention clearly and with purpose.
i want someone who is present, who isn't afraid to be present, and who craves a full connection with both me and the world around them. i want someone who fully embodies the highest version of themselves because that's what they want for their life.
as i move through my life, the basis of what that is has changed. earlier on it was most important to me to have someone who had the same educational aspirations. previously it has also been important to me to build a life with a runner or person who was into fitness. while both of those things still feature on a "that'd be nice to have a in a partner" list, there's something else that has replaced my non-negotiable when referring to the person i want to build my life with.
i want a partner who is a truth-seeker, who wants to evolve.
there are little ways that's kept playing as important to me: i notice i'm more drawn to people who practice yoga and meditation; i am turned on by someone who has chosen to stop using excessive drugs and alcohol in their life because they don't want or need the escapism; i follow my intuition toward events that are geared toward people that share these interests.
i kind of thought this was one of those "that'd be nice" items, but it has begun to scream its importance when i try to ignore it.
someone i've been dating had chosen to stop drinking with me, and while they hadn't started following a spiritual path, i was impressed and inspired by their commitment. until the dedication vanished overnight: they said their motivation was only driven by me and in time we had spent apart, the desire to prioritize non-use had waned and seemingly entirely disappeared.
their sharp change in attitude left me feeling deflated, and much more than i expected. i felt the disappointment magnify the more i thought about why it was important to me. it's not support in my decisions i want, it's a full and present life co-producer i yearn for.
i don't expect someone who doesn't make mistakes; it's impossible not to trip along the way. but it's the design behind the life path that matters to me. and, so that i can attract that in my life, i'm stating my intention clearly and with purpose.
i want someone who is present, who isn't afraid to be present, and who craves a full connection with both me and the world around them. i want someone who fully embodies the highest version of themselves because that's what they want for their life.
Tuesday, March 28, 2017
newbie
i convinced a friend who had never done yoga to go to yoga with me last week. THREE TIMES, no less. i was super proud of him--he did every pose without a whine or audible sigh of annoyance. he didn't even shoot me any "is she fucking kidding me?!" eyes during some of the more painful parts of the classes!
nope, my new-to-yoga bff stayed with his breath through it all. and, if you have ever done yoga, you know this is a feat. especially when new to the practice.
alas, after the three classes, i heard my friend saying that he really tried to like yoga, but he found some of the things annoying and didn't really want to do it again. i didn't say anything in the moment, but i felt a little heart broken at hearing that. what i saw in his yoga practice was something that was rare with many beginners: the dedication to staying in the practice. and i don't mean simply following the poses, i mean he didn't break concentration or breath, he really was looking for the yoga: the yoking; the union.
reflecting on his aggravation, though, i'm reminded of how long i hated yoga: about 5 years to be precise. i would go to yoga once a week because i thought i should. because i thought it would round out my workouts. because i wanted to tell people "i do yoga."
and then i thought of all the lessons i know NOW, and what i wish i had understood about yoga earlier. and so, dedicated to my bff who still has 3 weeks of paid-for classes to sneak his way in to, here are some of the things i wish i had known:
1) yoga is hard for everyone. the person who is rocking every handstand might have a killer time trying to get into splits. the person flopping into forward folds so easily could be very upset about not being able to hold an arm balance. the person who seems to have most of the yoga class sorted could secretly not be trying any of the harder variations because they are afraid of change and terrified that someone might notice that fact. the person who is flowing perfectly through every pose likely has a mind
screaming "you should be doing it better" that they are trying to calm.
knowing that yoga is hard for everyone--but in different ways--is the first thing you have to remember. and then, you let the breath enter the equation and allow yoga to be the great equalizer that it is. yoga will even out your body side to side and strength to flexibility and balance. it will bring together your mind, body, and breath. and it brings US together as a community as well.
2) you can hold that warrior 2. when something is hard in yoga, and you think you cannot stand one more second of it, know that you can, and then just decide to do it. the teacher won't ask you to hold something longer than you can.
and there are two things that happen when you hold the pose as long as the teacher plans: first, as kelli so elegantly put it this weekend, you train your brain to know that you CAN do things that at first seem impossible. and, secondly, you transform. literally and figuratively. breathing through that fire that builds up in your legs, or your belly, or your shoulders is HOW you change.
3) yoga makes your LIFE better. yoga is sneaky in the ways it changes your life, but the most practical way i can explain it is through the shifts: every time you don't understand something your body routinely does in yoga (why you always lift your first knuckle when your hands are meant to be flat on your mat, pressing down through the ridge of the palm and taking weight out of the wrist, for example), it is practice for learning how to approach patterns you don't understand in your life off your mat. like "why do i always respond to my partner's jokes with animosity, even though i know they don't mean them to hurt me?"
these patterns in our body reflect the patterns in our lives. each little shift we find in our yoga practice--which continues to happen F.O.R.E.V.E.R in yoga--is retraining your brain to respond more effectively in life. every time i find a shift in a pose, i notice a shift in my life outside of the yoga studio. the act of hitting a new arm balance will carry with it a little shift in understanding in your brain that rewires how you understand something and will allow you to see something else differently later in your day or week. the confidence you gained from holding that arm balance will likely double the impact in your life. HOW COOL IS THAT?
----
mainly this blog is to say: stick with it. everyone is a newbie at some point. and the best thing about being new to yoga is that you get to have SO MANY little shifts and revelations, and that they will seem to come so quickly! look for them. examine and notice and take joy in the process. i promise it will serve you off the mat in ways you never imagined.
namaste.
nope, my new-to-yoga bff stayed with his breath through it all. and, if you have ever done yoga, you know this is a feat. especially when new to the practice.
alas, after the three classes, i heard my friend saying that he really tried to like yoga, but he found some of the things annoying and didn't really want to do it again. i didn't say anything in the moment, but i felt a little heart broken at hearing that. what i saw in his yoga practice was something that was rare with many beginners: the dedication to staying in the practice. and i don't mean simply following the poses, i mean he didn't break concentration or breath, he really was looking for the yoga: the yoking; the union.
reflecting on his aggravation, though, i'm reminded of how long i hated yoga: about 5 years to be precise. i would go to yoga once a week because i thought i should. because i thought it would round out my workouts. because i wanted to tell people "i do yoga."
and then i thought of all the lessons i know NOW, and what i wish i had understood about yoga earlier. and so, dedicated to my bff who still has 3 weeks of paid-for classes to sneak his way in to, here are some of the things i wish i had known:
1) yoga is hard for everyone. the person who is rocking every handstand might have a killer time trying to get into splits. the person flopping into forward folds so easily could be very upset about not being able to hold an arm balance. the person who seems to have most of the yoga class sorted could secretly not be trying any of the harder variations because they are afraid of change and terrified that someone might notice that fact. the person who is flowing perfectly through every pose likely has a mind
screaming "you should be doing it better" that they are trying to calm.knowing that yoga is hard for everyone--but in different ways--is the first thing you have to remember. and then, you let the breath enter the equation and allow yoga to be the great equalizer that it is. yoga will even out your body side to side and strength to flexibility and balance. it will bring together your mind, body, and breath. and it brings US together as a community as well.
2) you can hold that warrior 2. when something is hard in yoga, and you think you cannot stand one more second of it, know that you can, and then just decide to do it. the teacher won't ask you to hold something longer than you can.
and there are two things that happen when you hold the pose as long as the teacher plans: first, as kelli so elegantly put it this weekend, you train your brain to know that you CAN do things that at first seem impossible. and, secondly, you transform. literally and figuratively. breathing through that fire that builds up in your legs, or your belly, or your shoulders is HOW you change.
3) yoga makes your LIFE better. yoga is sneaky in the ways it changes your life, but the most practical way i can explain it is through the shifts: every time you don't understand something your body routinely does in yoga (why you always lift your first knuckle when your hands are meant to be flat on your mat, pressing down through the ridge of the palm and taking weight out of the wrist, for example), it is practice for learning how to approach patterns you don't understand in your life off your mat. like "why do i always respond to my partner's jokes with animosity, even though i know they don't mean them to hurt me?"
these patterns in our body reflect the patterns in our lives. each little shift we find in our yoga practice--which continues to happen F.O.R.E.V.E.R in yoga--is retraining your brain to respond more effectively in life. every time i find a shift in a pose, i notice a shift in my life outside of the yoga studio. the act of hitting a new arm balance will carry with it a little shift in understanding in your brain that rewires how you understand something and will allow you to see something else differently later in your day or week. the confidence you gained from holding that arm balance will likely double the impact in your life. HOW COOL IS THAT?
----
mainly this blog is to say: stick with it. everyone is a newbie at some point. and the best thing about being new to yoga is that you get to have SO MANY little shifts and revelations, and that they will seem to come so quickly! look for them. examine and notice and take joy in the process. i promise it will serve you off the mat in ways you never imagined.
namaste.
Monday, November 28, 2016
promises promises
i love the results a consistent meditation practice brings. but for a while i lost my practice. as in i think it wandered off while i was shopping, and no amount of PA system calling could place it.
ok clearly it didn't wander off. but that's what it felt like. it surely wasn't my fault that i lost it. i had been waking up early to meditate every morning for 6 months straight. i made an international trip to sydney and continued the practice, despite the irregular hours and erratic schedule while there. upon arriving back in nyc, though, my sleep was the most disrupted it had ever been, and my meditation practice got lost in the jumble. for the following 6 months, i meditated irregularly: a couple of times a week, when it was most convenient.
mostly, i beat myself up for not meditating. mornings that i woke up later than intended were begun with a rush to get brekky and a thought that i'd ruined my meditation plan. i would silently feel bad about this, think about the things i could be accomplishing if i had meditated and had a clear slate to work from, and then grumpily go about getting out the door.
despite knowing how the daily meditation practice helped me, i felt like there was some mental block keeping me from re-engaging with the practice. a couple of weeks ago i attended a coaching call with elena and laurie from the handel group on keeping promises. when laurie asked for examples of promises we were having trouble keeping, i mentioned this lost meditation.
elena and laurie talked about how feeling bad is a diversion. when it comes to making and keeping promises, engaging in the promised behavior provides you with personal integrity. if you don’t do the behavior and then feel bad about it, you obscure the fact that you didn’t do the behavior. so what’s happening is you’re listening to the other voice that provides you with an excuse.
this means that every morning i woke up without meditating and then silently yelled at myself up for not doing so, my mind felt like i had taken care of the problem. i was actually giving myself more of an excuse to continue NOT meditating.
ok clearly it didn't wander off. but that's what it felt like. it surely wasn't my fault that i lost it. i had been waking up early to meditate every morning for 6 months straight. i made an international trip to sydney and continued the practice, despite the irregular hours and erratic schedule while there. upon arriving back in nyc, though, my sleep was the most disrupted it had ever been, and my meditation practice got lost in the jumble. for the following 6 months, i meditated irregularly: a couple of times a week, when it was most convenient.
mostly, i beat myself up for not meditating. mornings that i woke up later than intended were begun with a rush to get brekky and a thought that i'd ruined my meditation plan. i would silently feel bad about this, think about the things i could be accomplishing if i had meditated and had a clear slate to work from, and then grumpily go about getting out the door.
despite knowing how the daily meditation practice helped me, i felt like there was some mental block keeping me from re-engaging with the practice. a couple of weeks ago i attended a coaching call with elena and laurie from the handel group on keeping promises. when laurie asked for examples of promises we were having trouble keeping, i mentioned this lost meditation.
elena and laurie talked about how feeling bad is a diversion. when it comes to making and keeping promises, engaging in the promised behavior provides you with personal integrity. if you don’t do the behavior and then feel bad about it, you obscure the fact that you didn’t do the behavior. so what’s happening is you’re listening to the other voice that provides you with an excuse. this means that every morning i woke up without meditating and then silently yelled at myself up for not doing so, my mind felt like i had taken care of the problem. i was actually giving myself more of an excuse to continue NOT meditating.
you have to quiet that excuse voice by giving yourself a consequence when you don't engage in the promised behavior. if you don’t do the promised behavior, you have to follow through by doing the consequence. this consequence replaces the voice that gives you an excuse.
although i've worked with the handel method before, i was skeptical that simply setting a consequence would magically find my wandering meditation practice. but, i set a consequence: if i did not wake up early and meditate for 20 minutes, i would not be allowed to watch internet tv before bed. (what i like about that consequence is that it is also providing me with a second opportunity for meditation if i miss the morning.)
i set the consequence and instantly i was back on track: my missing practice showed up. and it has been showing up every day for the past 12 days. i told my mom about this, and she said "you must really like to watch tv at night!" i laughed, because i suppose i do, but that's not actually what happened here. for example, when my alarm goes off, i don't think "i better get up and meditate so i can watch tv tonight!" i don't think at all, really. i just do it.
this is an example of personal integrity: of wanting to keep that promise to myself. of showing myself i CAN keep the promise. of becoming dependent on myself.
the coolest part of that is that it is SUPER EASY. showing yourself that you can keep these promises to yourself gives you faith in yourself. and that faith keeps multiplying.
go ahead, try it. maybe you could care less about where your meditation practice is. but maybe you beat yourself up about delaying email replies, about not flossing, or about choosing a sugary drink over water. choose one of those little things that has been driving you nuts, make yourself some promises promises... and then keep them.
although i've worked with the handel method before, i was skeptical that simply setting a consequence would magically find my wandering meditation practice. but, i set a consequence: if i did not wake up early and meditate for 20 minutes, i would not be allowed to watch internet tv before bed. (what i like about that consequence is that it is also providing me with a second opportunity for meditation if i miss the morning.)
i set the consequence and instantly i was back on track: my missing practice showed up. and it has been showing up every day for the past 12 days. i told my mom about this, and she said "you must really like to watch tv at night!" i laughed, because i suppose i do, but that's not actually what happened here. for example, when my alarm goes off, i don't think "i better get up and meditate so i can watch tv tonight!" i don't think at all, really. i just do it.
this is an example of personal integrity: of wanting to keep that promise to myself. of showing myself i CAN keep the promise. of becoming dependent on myself.
the coolest part of that is that it is SUPER EASY. showing yourself that you can keep these promises to yourself gives you faith in yourself. and that faith keeps multiplying. go ahead, try it. maybe you could care less about where your meditation practice is. but maybe you beat yourself up about delaying email replies, about not flossing, or about choosing a sugary drink over water. choose one of those little things that has been driving you nuts, make yourself some promises promises... and then keep them.
Wednesday, November 16, 2016
gratitude for what we attract
monday night i went to yoga and the teacher started talking about "gratitude, since thanksgiving is next week." WHAT?! --yeah, i audibly yelled that in yoga class. how the hell did thanksgiving sneak up on us? (no, no, i know how; please don't bring that up.) after that class, i began reflecting on my gratitude practice. i've gone through different stages of keeping gratitude diaries and finding lessons i can be grateful for in each life experience.
the gratitude experience that stuck out in my mind was probably the first time i actively used gratitude in a difficult situation: i was having a break-up conversation with someone i didn't want to break up with--he was the initiator. instead of reacting when he accused me of things, i silently reminded myself that i was grateful he was even talking to me, and then responded from a calm place. when he called me a liar, i reminded myself that i was grateful he had overcome his fears about coming over, and responded with grace.
the gratitude i silently washed that conversation with changed the trajectory of that morning and of my future relationship with that individual. we moved forward as friends, for which i was grateful.
shifting to an attitude of gratitude does have the power to change our experiences. after contemplating that for the past few days, i incorporated a gratitude shifting practice into the yoga classes i taught this morning. leaving class, i was feeling grounded and ready to tackle the day.
as part of my grab-my-day-by-the-horns, i texted someone and told them i needed them to do some healing before i could spend more time with them. it was a very hard text to write/conclusion to come to. mainly because i care about the person, but also because i'm not great at boundaries: i often let other people's needs outweigh my own. i had to protect myself in this situation, even though i didn't want to.
i felt a pain at letting this person go, even if only temporarily. but i also felt grateful that i had the strength to set that boundary for myself. coincidentally (or, perhaps, cosmically), i found something moments after sending the text that i had copied for myself months ago from a friend's friend's blog (written by Rosie Rees):
i needed to be reminded that it wasn't my responsibility to help this person through all of their difficulties, especially when they weren't asking that of me. but what was most helpful to me was being reminded that i was seeing a reflection of myself in this person: i was watching him cope with his life difficulties by sliding back into alcohol/drug use. moreover, i observed this as i was testing out not using any type of numbing agents.
he was the first person i went on a sober first date with--just a week into my original 40 day experiment. so as i was learning that i didn't need excessive alcohol in my life, my lessons were even more crystallized by the fact that he was experiencing negative ramifications from his own use.
i hope that he continues to grow and heal, but i know it isn't my job to arrange that. however, it is up to me to decide how i feel now, after sending that text this morning. and instead of being sad for losing him, i choose to be grateful for his appearance in my life at this time.
so just as i challenged my yoga classes this morning, see what you can shift by cultivating an attitude of gratitude. we can be grateful for even the seemingly worst aspects of our lives. there are several instances in my life that i could point to and say "that really sucked," but flipping that around is actually equally easy, and much more fulfilling.
the gratitude experience that stuck out in my mind was probably the first time i actively used gratitude in a difficult situation: i was having a break-up conversation with someone i didn't want to break up with--he was the initiator. instead of reacting when he accused me of things, i silently reminded myself that i was grateful he was even talking to me, and then responded from a calm place. when he called me a liar, i reminded myself that i was grateful he had overcome his fears about coming over, and responded with grace.
the gratitude i silently washed that conversation with changed the trajectory of that morning and of my future relationship with that individual. we moved forward as friends, for which i was grateful.
as part of my grab-my-day-by-the-horns, i texted someone and told them i needed them to do some healing before i could spend more time with them. it was a very hard text to write/conclusion to come to. mainly because i care about the person, but also because i'm not great at boundaries: i often let other people's needs outweigh my own. i had to protect myself in this situation, even though i didn't want to.
i felt a pain at letting this person go, even if only temporarily. but i also felt grateful that i had the strength to set that boundary for myself. coincidentally (or, perhaps, cosmically), i found something moments after sending the text that i had copied for myself months ago from a friend's friend's blog (written by Rosie Rees):
You have attracted this person, relationship and situation into your life to GROW through it. They are mirroring back shadow elements of ourselves that we have not claimed. It is NOT your responsibility or duty to change them. They need to do that themselves.let me just point out that i think the above statement is always true, which is why i tucked it aside for myself, but you know how some days some things just ring like SUPER TRUE? (yes, "super true" is definitely a phrase you should be using now.)
i needed to be reminded that it wasn't my responsibility to help this person through all of their difficulties, especially when they weren't asking that of me. but what was most helpful to me was being reminded that i was seeing a reflection of myself in this person: i was watching him cope with his life difficulties by sliding back into alcohol/drug use. moreover, i observed this as i was testing out not using any type of numbing agents.
he was the first person i went on a sober first date with--just a week into my original 40 day experiment. so as i was learning that i didn't need excessive alcohol in my life, my lessons were even more crystallized by the fact that he was experiencing negative ramifications from his own use.
i hope that he continues to grow and heal, but i know it isn't my job to arrange that. however, it is up to me to decide how i feel now, after sending that text this morning. and instead of being sad for losing him, i choose to be grateful for his appearance in my life at this time.
so just as i challenged my yoga classes this morning, see what you can shift by cultivating an attitude of gratitude. we can be grateful for even the seemingly worst aspects of our lives. there are several instances in my life that i could point to and say "that really sucked," but flipping that around is actually equally easy, and much more fulfilling.
i am grateful for my husband leaving our home; i was able to grow and heal in ways i would not have been able to without that impetus. i am grateful for my struggle with bulimia; it has taught me more about myself and my relationships than another avoidance mechanism that i could have more easily blended into society's allowances.
i am grateful i have learned to set boundaries for myself; i am grateful i can choose to see gratitude in each moment.
i am grateful i have learned to set boundaries for myself; i am grateful i can choose to see gratitude in each moment.
Thursday, November 10, 2016
bye bye judgement, hello love
i worked the elections all day yesterday in harlem. i watched
disenfranchised voters who suspected that, when i told them that were in the wrong polling
location, it was because of a conspiracy to keep them from voting. (it was actually that two polling districts used to be in one building and one of them had moved 400 feet away.) despite the challenges, harlem voters turned up and voted in droves: my precinct had about seven times the turnout as in the last election.
it broke my heart to hear their assumptions yesterday, but it really broke my heart walking around harlem today.
this morning i had decided that i was not getting out of bed to teach my two early morning harlem yoga classes. i figured everyone would hibernate through the day, and i knew i had nothing to offer in my teaching. but my conscience got the best of me and i showed up... and students showed up.
at the end of the first class i taught, a young black woman from north carolina started sobbing, saying that she didn't know how she could live through the next four years. a couple other women and i encircled her, held her, talked with her, and cried with her.
i didn't know how to respond to voters yesterday who didn't believe me; i didn't know what to teach in yoga this morning; i didn't know how to comfort the crying student this morning. i did what i could in each instance, following heart and offering what internal gifts i could find: feeling our sameness.
in "the universe has your back," gabby talks about separation, and all the ways that we make ourselves separate. sometimes it is easy to feel sameness, like when people commiserate with you about a shared loss. but other times, the separation and judgement feels so great.
i woke up at 134 am this morning to a message from a friend in sydney: "lucky you are a dual citizen!" it read. i knew instantly what the results of the election were. and in that second, i felt separate. alone.
i instantly blamed others for the results of the election and thus they became the source of my pain. but the blaming and separation didn't comfort me, and i was left feeling that nothing could.
then i was reminded of one day last week when i was freaking out about not having enough time to run as long as i wanted to. i only had time for a shorter run and i started out feeling angry that i hadn't left enough time to run. but i decided to try to change that: i decided to wish a positive thought to each person i ran by. like "i wish you love; i wish you happiness; i wish you abundance" etc. i ended up having an amazing run and feeling great. ...i felt like each person i passed was on my team.
so today, i remembered that experiment from last week's run. when i looked at the maps of red vs blue, i wished positive thoughts for the voters who disagree with me. when i got angry or sad thinking about the results of the election, i thought of the humanness we all share. when i let go of blaming and separating myself from them, my heart softened and i could feel healing.
love. the more we respond from a place of love, the more we can all heal ourselves and our country. (so i guess the short answer is, no, i'm not moving back to sydney just yet.)
it broke my heart to hear their assumptions yesterday, but it really broke my heart walking around harlem today.
this morning i had decided that i was not getting out of bed to teach my two early morning harlem yoga classes. i figured everyone would hibernate through the day, and i knew i had nothing to offer in my teaching. but my conscience got the best of me and i showed up... and students showed up.
at the end of the first class i taught, a young black woman from north carolina started sobbing, saying that she didn't know how she could live through the next four years. a couple other women and i encircled her, held her, talked with her, and cried with her.
i didn't know how to respond to voters yesterday who didn't believe me; i didn't know what to teach in yoga this morning; i didn't know how to comfort the crying student this morning. i did what i could in each instance, following heart and offering what internal gifts i could find: feeling our sameness.
in "the universe has your back," gabby talks about separation, and all the ways that we make ourselves separate. sometimes it is easy to feel sameness, like when people commiserate with you about a shared loss. but other times, the separation and judgement feels so great.
i woke up at 134 am this morning to a message from a friend in sydney: "lucky you are a dual citizen!" it read. i knew instantly what the results of the election were. and in that second, i felt separate. alone.
i instantly blamed others for the results of the election and thus they became the source of my pain. but the blaming and separation didn't comfort me, and i was left feeling that nothing could.
then i was reminded of one day last week when i was freaking out about not having enough time to run as long as i wanted to. i only had time for a shorter run and i started out feeling angry that i hadn't left enough time to run. but i decided to try to change that: i decided to wish a positive thought to each person i ran by. like "i wish you love; i wish you happiness; i wish you abundance" etc. i ended up having an amazing run and feeling great. ...i felt like each person i passed was on my team.so today, i remembered that experiment from last week's run. when i looked at the maps of red vs blue, i wished positive thoughts for the voters who disagree with me. when i got angry or sad thinking about the results of the election, i thought of the humanness we all share. when i let go of blaming and separating myself from them, my heart softened and i could feel healing.
love. the more we respond from a place of love, the more we can all heal ourselves and our country. (so i guess the short answer is, no, i'm not moving back to sydney just yet.)
Sunday, October 9, 2016
Halfway to Barbados
I was in the Miami airport, halfway to Barbados, and one of
my favorite songs came through my iPhone headphones: “Moments,” by Tove Lo. Partial lyrics: “I can get a little drunk/I
get into all the don’ts/but on good days, I’m charming as fuck.” Every time I hear those lyrics, I smile. And I identify.
I smiled. I smiled so
big that I must have looked a little crazy to, well, everyone else in the
airport. And I thought to myself, “I’m whole. I’m whole now.”
The truth is, I liked thinking of myself as broken. I liked the fragility and girlishness about it. I played into it. I felt like it gave me character.
Until I was halfway to Barbados. I was smiling, mouthing
along to the lyrics, walking toward my gate, and, upon hearing those lyrics, I
thought, “oh, that’s kinda sad.”
And I stopped in my tracks.
I actually stopped walking because I felt so confused.
I have had a narrative in my head that I’m strong, even though I’m broken; that I’m
surviving, even though I’m broken;
that I’m functioning, even though I’m
broken.
And when I paused to consider what was wrong, halfway
through “Moments,” I realized it was a miracle moment: what was wrong was that I didn’t feel broken
anymore.
I smiled. I smiled so
big that I must have looked a little crazy to, well, everyone else in the
airport. And I thought to myself, “I’m whole. I’m whole now.”
Feeling whole felt so fulfilling, and so different than
anything I could remember, that it felt startling. It feels scary for me to write: scary because
I’m nervous that the feeling of wholeness might be transient. My literal mind says, “but of course I was
always whole; I just forgot.” And so I begin typing, assuring myself it’s safe
to commit to digital ink.
The shift could be linked to the 40 days, friends’ life
changes, the spontaneous impending vacation, the yoga workshops with Elena over
the past two days, the reading and journaling I have been doing with Gabby’s
new book The Universe Has Your Back, …or most likely a little bit of all
of the above.
One of the lessons Gabby references from A Course in
Miracles is that we “create visions of the world we want to see,” meaning
that the stories we tell ourselves are powerful. The backstory to who we are,
even if it is never written down or spoken aloud, resounds through our
minds.
The truth is, I liked thinking of myself as broken. I liked the fragility and girlishness about it. I played into it. I felt like it gave me character.
But it was an excuse. The more I challenged the notion that
I was broken, even though I wasn’t always doing it consciously, the harder it
became to believe. Until the Miami
Miracle Moment, when it became impossible to believe.
Sunday, August 21, 2016
creating ease
—> friday afternoon
i walked out of my second movie ever last night. watching sausage party made me physically sick to my stomach. the rape culture that exists in our society was never so visible.
but spending any of my time writing about that movie is not what i want to do. i left four friends in the theatre. i texted them and told them that i would be around the corner at a bar. but i didn’t end up staying there: i sat down at the bar, ordered a glass of wine, started to cry immediately, and then promptly left and took an uber home.
when i got in the uber, i had a few tears trickling down my face. the uber driver told me not to be sad; i was too pretty to be sad.
that command, combined with the implied cartoon rapes i had just watched, crashed down a wall blocking a lot of sadness and anger. maybe even rage. i began crying hysterically. loud sobs were heaving from my body.
i texted my friends at the movie; i texted a best friend abroad; i texted my gf. tania called, heard me hysterical, and upon learning i was almost home, immediately followed up with my friends at the movie to ensure they were coming to attend to me.
(what was the uber driver doing, you ask? turning up the radio to drown me out.)
before tania even texted them though, my friends from the theater were on their way. they all crowded into my bedroom, soothing and comforting me. i was feeling guilty—that they had not gotten to eat dinner, that they hadn’t had a fun night out, that they would regret that they “had” to spend their evening this way.
of course that’s not what any of them were feeling. and their check-ins later in the evening and the next morning confirmed that. the gratitude i have for friends that are willing to chuck everything out the window to make their way to my side at a moment’s notice is… well, it's everything.
and this afternoon, here i am escaping to a yoga retreat in upstate new york: leaving the internet behind, leaving most of my every-day support behind, and venturing into soul-space.
space for my journalling, my sketching and doodling, my blogging, my chanting and meditation, and my yoga-ing. no bad movies, no uber drivers, no bad juju.
—> insert yoga weekend
we talked a lot this weekend about ganesha—who happens to be one of my favorite deities. he is generally known as “the remover of obstacles,” but one of our teachers (deb) flipped that a bit and called him “the creator of ease,” which i really liked. kenny told a story about him (oh, ps, he has the head of an elephant), where ganesha is the one who is under your foot, supporting it, when you lift your foot to take a step.
creating an easeful path, helping you move forward.
just like my support team.
this is a blog of gratitude (i know, common theme), but also a reminder. a reminder to 1) use your support teams without question: your friends love you and want to help. and 2) to reflect that back out to all your closest friends: see what you can offer before they ask. mirror mirror.
love/gratitude/support xo
i walked out of my second movie ever last night. watching sausage party made me physically sick to my stomach. the rape culture that exists in our society was never so visible.
but spending any of my time writing about that movie is not what i want to do. i left four friends in the theatre. i texted them and told them that i would be around the corner at a bar. but i didn’t end up staying there: i sat down at the bar, ordered a glass of wine, started to cry immediately, and then promptly left and took an uber home.
when i got in the uber, i had a few tears trickling down my face. the uber driver told me not to be sad; i was too pretty to be sad.
that command, combined with the implied cartoon rapes i had just watched, crashed down a wall blocking a lot of sadness and anger. maybe even rage. i began crying hysterically. loud sobs were heaving from my body.
i texted my friends at the movie; i texted a best friend abroad; i texted my gf. tania called, heard me hysterical, and upon learning i was almost home, immediately followed up with my friends at the movie to ensure they were coming to attend to me.
(what was the uber driver doing, you ask? turning up the radio to drown me out.)
before tania even texted them though, my friends from the theater were on their way. they all crowded into my bedroom, soothing and comforting me. i was feeling guilty—that they had not gotten to eat dinner, that they hadn’t had a fun night out, that they would regret that they “had” to spend their evening this way.
of course that’s not what any of them were feeling. and their check-ins later in the evening and the next morning confirmed that. the gratitude i have for friends that are willing to chuck everything out the window to make their way to my side at a moment’s notice is… well, it's everything.
and this afternoon, here i am escaping to a yoga retreat in upstate new york: leaving the internet behind, leaving most of my every-day support behind, and venturing into soul-space.
space for my journalling, my sketching and doodling, my blogging, my chanting and meditation, and my yoga-ing. no bad movies, no uber drivers, no bad juju.
—> insert yoga weekend
we talked a lot this weekend about ganesha—who happens to be one of my favorite deities. he is generally known as “the remover of obstacles,” but one of our teachers (deb) flipped that a bit and called him “the creator of ease,” which i really liked. kenny told a story about him (oh, ps, he has the head of an elephant), where ganesha is the one who is under your foot, supporting it, when you lift your foot to take a step.
creating an easeful path, helping you move forward.
just like my support team.
this is a blog of gratitude (i know, common theme), but also a reminder. a reminder to 1) use your support teams without question: your friends love you and want to help. and 2) to reflect that back out to all your closest friends: see what you can offer before they ask. mirror mirror.
love/gratitude/support xo
Saturday, April 23, 2016
centering
i got un-centered and i don't know how it happened. for months i was meditating every day. i was flossing every day. i was on top of things and i was "in flow."
and then i wasn't.
and i couldn't get it back. something was throwing dust over my glasses; shadowing the path; blocking the metaphysical flow. i tried taking time off: time off from work, time off from socializing, time off from anything that allowed it. i tried forcing myself back into flow by doing things like making myself a nice dinner. i tried spending quality time with cat. i tried binging the second season of unbreakable kimmy schmidt.
today i was very angry about how un-centered i felt. i was on my way to teach yoga to a few of my colleagues at CUNY and was listening to the most recent episode of freakonomics on productivity. in the podcast they were talking about habits and i started thinking about some of these good habits that i had lost recently--ones that i thought i had ingrained.
what keeps me in flow?
i wasn't sure i knew, but i wanted to figure it out. so, i began planning a theme around it.
as i was walking into yoga, one of my colleagues said "i've been feeling so out of it; i haven't done yoga in so long!" "perfect," i replied, "perfect."
so in class we 1) thought about something that felt in flow already, 2) identified what kept that area flowing, 3) focused on the feeling that flow created in our lives, and then 4) choose an area of our lives that felt out of flow that we wanted to use as an intention for the practice. we used the practice to explore how flow felt, how breaking out of constrictions felt, and exploring new flow.
all of class told me afterward how much better they felt. and after class i felt centered. almost instantly. weeks of feeling un-centered undone. i felt at ease. i went about my day and could notice where i had been acting out of habit, where i had been acting without thought, and where i had been on auto-pilot because of this lack of flow.
i texted a few friends about how much better i was feeling, and about how i was still angry about the last few weeks of un-flow. one friend admitted that he had been worried about me. i realized then that maybe it had been more severe, or more noticeable, than i thought.
at 630 i got a last minute request to cover a 730 yoga class in harlem. the class was right across the street from my office, where i still was, so the answer was an easy yes. i texted a friend that i'd be there, and he said "i hope it helps continue the re-centering process!" gone were any thoughts about creating a new theme for the class: i wanted to continue to focus on this idea.
after the evening class, i got even more positive reinforcement about the theme. one girl "vibed with me" so much that she wanted to insta a pic of us. (ps that is the first time a student has done that, and it kind of made me feel like a rockstar.)
all of the positive reactions to the flow facilitation made me start thinking about how common it is to get stuck--but it isn't the getting stuck that is the problem; it's knowing how to get unstuck and get back in flow. maybe we assume that there are just times when we'll feel like this and sit back into the stuckness. maybe we hope that someone else in flow will come along and dislodge us so that we don't have to do the work ourselves. (i'm both, and i'm ashamed of the second--i blame it on disney.)
either way, i encourage the work. go. find your flow. find your center.
and then i wasn't.
and i couldn't get it back. something was throwing dust over my glasses; shadowing the path; blocking the metaphysical flow. i tried taking time off: time off from work, time off from socializing, time off from anything that allowed it. i tried forcing myself back into flow by doing things like making myself a nice dinner. i tried spending quality time with cat. i tried binging the second season of unbreakable kimmy schmidt.
today i was very angry about how un-centered i felt. i was on my way to teach yoga to a few of my colleagues at CUNY and was listening to the most recent episode of freakonomics on productivity. in the podcast they were talking about habits and i started thinking about some of these good habits that i had lost recently--ones that i thought i had ingrained.
what keeps me in flow?
i wasn't sure i knew, but i wanted to figure it out. so, i began planning a theme around it.
as i was walking into yoga, one of my colleagues said "i've been feeling so out of it; i haven't done yoga in so long!" "perfect," i replied, "perfect."
all of class told me afterward how much better they felt. and after class i felt centered. almost instantly. weeks of feeling un-centered undone. i felt at ease. i went about my day and could notice where i had been acting out of habit, where i had been acting without thought, and where i had been on auto-pilot because of this lack of flow.
i texted a few friends about how much better i was feeling, and about how i was still angry about the last few weeks of un-flow. one friend admitted that he had been worried about me. i realized then that maybe it had been more severe, or more noticeable, than i thought.
at 630 i got a last minute request to cover a 730 yoga class in harlem. the class was right across the street from my office, where i still was, so the answer was an easy yes. i texted a friend that i'd be there, and he said "i hope it helps continue the re-centering process!" gone were any thoughts about creating a new theme for the class: i wanted to continue to focus on this idea.
after the evening class, i got even more positive reinforcement about the theme. one girl "vibed with me" so much that she wanted to insta a pic of us. (ps that is the first time a student has done that, and it kind of made me feel like a rockstar.)
all of the positive reactions to the flow facilitation made me start thinking about how common it is to get stuck--but it isn't the getting stuck that is the problem; it's knowing how to get unstuck and get back in flow. maybe we assume that there are just times when we'll feel like this and sit back into the stuckness. maybe we hope that someone else in flow will come along and dislodge us so that we don't have to do the work ourselves. (i'm both, and i'm ashamed of the second--i blame it on disney.)
either way, i encourage the work. go. find your flow. find your center.
Monday, December 14, 2015
double presence (and presents)
wednesday morning i received an email with this message:
this blog is about offering presence. which is more than just being present. it's actually like double-presence: there's an extra amount of presence that you have to pull off to be able to reflect your presence and offer it to those in your life.
level-up.
i taught a yoga class wednesday with this theme: we focused on this very idea of offering our presence as a present. we lit ourselves up with bouncy love so that it could be reflected back out into the lives of our loved ones that day. and we practiced re-wiring our thinking to think of ourselves in that way.
and then, as i made my way through the day, i watched as the extra time i spent with a university student lit her up. i saw how when i stopped and smiled and chatted to an older doorman in front of a building downtown, he lit up. i found extra energy to make dinner for my friend that evening and watched him light up in return. i kept giving pieces of myself, and i watched it reflect light right back to me.
so there were successes. there are successes. but. being so fully present in myself is ongoing work. friday night i was getting ready for a dinner out with friends, and i changed my clothes about seven times--maybe nine--because i felt so uncomfortable in my body; too big.
trying to shrink is typical eating-disorder behavior. i can recognize that my beliefs are not based in reason.i can recognize that i'm not seeing what other people are seeing. i can recognize that i'm sabotaging my own presence.
in that hour, i was pulling away from myself: shrinking is the opposite of fully inhabiting my body. i was pulling away from my friends: i was late in the offering of my presence. this mini struggle felt so uncomfortable to be present within. and it was the polar opposite of double-presence.
extra practice, please.
i have one friend who continually reminds me of the value of his presence. i sometimes find this hilariously amusing. but mostly i'm completely in awe. his presence is on-point.
so my self-challenge and my holiday challenge to you, as things start to whirl around you, is two-fold: 1) be so fully present that you are double present, and 2) offer your presence.
and then, see what happens.
Don't wait for something good to happen to you. Go out into the world with the intention to lift up the people around you and then see as good happens in return.it was beautifully timed, as this whole idea of being present and offering my presence has been ringing through my life over and over this week: i've heard it through pictures, a podcast, emails, from friends, and (of course) in yoga classes.
Say to yourself this morning "I am a gift, my presence is my offering."
Put a smile on your face and go into the world and give your joy away.
Watch as you get joy back. Watch as the effect you have on others lights you up. No matter where you go, you get to be the loving gift others need. You get to be the reminder of a loving world.
this blog is about offering presence. which is more than just being present. it's actually like double-presence: there's an extra amount of presence that you have to pull off to be able to reflect your presence and offer it to those in your life.
level-up.
 |
| my friend's brother made this. check him here! |
and then, as i made my way through the day, i watched as the extra time i spent with a university student lit her up. i saw how when i stopped and smiled and chatted to an older doorman in front of a building downtown, he lit up. i found extra energy to make dinner for my friend that evening and watched him light up in return. i kept giving pieces of myself, and i watched it reflect light right back to me.
so there were successes. there are successes. but. being so fully present in myself is ongoing work. friday night i was getting ready for a dinner out with friends, and i changed my clothes about seven times--maybe nine--because i felt so uncomfortable in my body; too big.
trying to shrink is typical eating-disorder behavior. i can recognize that my beliefs are not based in reason.i can recognize that i'm not seeing what other people are seeing. i can recognize that i'm sabotaging my own presence.
in that hour, i was pulling away from myself: shrinking is the opposite of fully inhabiting my body. i was pulling away from my friends: i was late in the offering of my presence. this mini struggle felt so uncomfortable to be present within. and it was the polar opposite of double-presence.
extra practice, please.
i have one friend who continually reminds me of the value of his presence. i sometimes find this hilariously amusing. but mostly i'm completely in awe. his presence is on-point.
so my self-challenge and my holiday challenge to you, as things start to whirl around you, is two-fold: 1) be so fully present that you are double present, and 2) offer your presence.
and then, see what happens.
Thursday, September 10, 2015
recovery is a long word
do you know what yik yak is? if you're not under 25, or one of my best friends, the answer is probably no. it's an anonymous twitter type app that i'm obsessed with--along with all 18-25 year olds. you can only see yaks that are posted in your immediate area, so if you're near a college campus, or in a big city, it will be super interesting. (if not, don't even attempt to download it!)
you can comment on people's yaks and up or down vote them. if a yak gets 5 down votes, it is automatically removed. which is kind of cool, because it is a little self-regulating. anyway, it can be a mean place (because it is anonymous), but it can also be a super supportive place (because it is anonymous).
point of the story: a young girl posted tonight about binging and purging. i replied, she replied, i replied, etc. she hadn't told anyone about her eating disorder; she kept it hidden; she didn't know what to do.
H E A R T B R O K E N
is how i felt. and i wanted to help her: i wanted to do all the things for her. i told her about how hiding it amplifies the shame, and about how admitting it (even anonymously) was a good first step.
that admission can be SO. HARD.
i've had other people grace me with their admissions in the past, both about eating disorders and other mental health issues. and every time i feel this intense yearning to soothe and nurture; to offer support; to provide forgiveness.
i know those feelings arise from the needs i have so strongly felt in my life. the needs that i was afraid to express, and afraid to have met--both by myself and others.
this morning i did an online yoga class with elena, and she said this:
and now, i feel like, oh, yeah. it's because all i do is struggle with how vulnerable i can be. how vulnerable can i be with exposing my sensitivities, my true feelings, and my insecurities? how vulnerable can i be with admitting TO MYSELF my sensitivities, my true feelings, and my insecurities?
seeing my struggle reflected back through a younger version of myself hurt. i wanted to protect her; i wanted to speed up her healing process.
not that i'm recovered.
not that any of us are.
from whatever.
but, you know, we're all ok anyway.
we're all on this journey of recovery.
which is actually just life.
so keep recovering. keep remembering that true nature. keep forgiving those who can't yet. keep supporting them. and put all your energy into the surrendering: to the vulnerabilities, sensitivities, feelings, and insecurities. i swear it's fucking worth it.
now watch this. #love
you can comment on people's yaks and up or down vote them. if a yak gets 5 down votes, it is automatically removed. which is kind of cool, because it is a little self-regulating. anyway, it can be a mean place (because it is anonymous), but it can also be a super supportive place (because it is anonymous).
point of the story: a young girl posted tonight about binging and purging. i replied, she replied, i replied, etc. she hadn't told anyone about her eating disorder; she kept it hidden; she didn't know what to do.
H E A R T B R O K E N
is how i felt. and i wanted to help her: i wanted to do all the things for her. i told her about how hiding it amplifies the shame, and about how admitting it (even anonymously) was a good first step.
that admission can be SO. HARD.
i've had other people grace me with their admissions in the past, both about eating disorders and other mental health issues. and every time i feel this intense yearning to soothe and nurture; to offer support; to provide forgiveness.
i know those feelings arise from the needs i have so strongly felt in my life. the needs that i was afraid to express, and afraid to have met--both by myself and others.
this morning i did an online yoga class with elena, and she said this:
the amount of energy that it takes to resist the expressions of our heart and recoil from our divine nature is exactly the same amount of energy it takes to surrender. this energy cannot do both at the same time.when she said that, i freaked out a tiny bit. like it struck a chord inside me pretty deeply. i couldn't say for sure exactly why this morning.
and now, i feel like, oh, yeah. it's because all i do is struggle with how vulnerable i can be. how vulnerable can i be with exposing my sensitivities, my true feelings, and my insecurities? how vulnerable can i be with admitting TO MYSELF my sensitivities, my true feelings, and my insecurities?
seeing my struggle reflected back through a younger version of myself hurt. i wanted to protect her; i wanted to speed up her healing process.
not that any of us are.
from whatever.
but, you know, we're all ok anyway.
we're all on this journey of recovery.
which is actually just life.
so keep recovering. keep remembering that true nature. keep forgiving those who can't yet. keep supporting them. and put all your energy into the surrendering: to the vulnerabilities, sensitivities, feelings, and insecurities. i swear it's fucking worth it.
now watch this. #love
Monday, August 31, 2015
the light at the end of the grocery store aisle
i was mopey all weekend. apparently i was being a "mopey mopey babe." last night one of my friends was trying to cheer me up and he dragged me out with him to pick up a pizza. as we were walking toward the pizza shop, it started raining. i almost broke down in tears, being in the mopey mood i was in. he pushed me into the grocery store we were next to, and told me to wait in there for him to get the pizza. as i walked into the store, a sad song was playing, and tears started streaming down my face.
and then, a small panic swept over me: i realized i hadn't brought anything with me--no phone, no money, no keys. i didn't know what pizza store my friend was going to, and now i had been deserted at this grocery store in the middle of a storm. i thought, "i could yelp close pizza stores... oh wait, i don't have my phone. i could go back to the house... oh wait, i don't have my keys."
i walked helplessly in a lap around the store, and then just walked straight back out, sure that i'd never see my friend again.
as i walked outside, my friend walked up and i collapsed in his arms saying i thought i was going to have to spend the night at that grocery store. he laughed a bit maniacally and said that he would never do that to me, though it would've been a brilliant plan--especially considering my level of mopey-ness.
well that whole thing showed me i kind of needed to turn the corner.
what was before the corner? saturday morning i woke up and found that someone i cared about deleted me from their life without any explanation. it was pretty jarring. i'm grown up enough to know that this wasn't my fault, and i reached out via text message to this person and offered compassion, hopefully offering a safe space for this person to respond back to me. they haven't yet. it left me feeling a little small. i was shrinking into myself with fear about the situation.
luckily my friends distracted me most of the weekend.
they are the most lovely friends in the world.
and then this morning i went to yoga. the teacher taught a theme of expansion: of expanding past our physical boundaries. on the mat, i reached my arms wider than i ever had before. i stretched my legs further apart. i cartwheeled my arms bigger, i radiated my heart with more passion and energy than i thought possible.
and i BREATHED. so deeply. so fully.
the feeling that emerged as i did this was overwhelming: i felt myself shattering the shell of fear i had encased myself in over the weekend. i felt myself thinking "i'm bigger than this. i'm bigger than this feeling of fear. i'm bigger than this mopey-self. i'm bigger than all this shit!"
i left the class with a knowing that i'll be ok. a knowing that i turned the corner: i made it out of the grocery store, and i'm making it out of this.
and to the person that evoked all of this: i'm also big enough to handle whatever is going on. that's an offering and a promise.
love, compassion, peace. and expansion. so much expansion. outside and inside.
i walked helplessly in a lap around the store, and then just walked straight back out, sure that i'd never see my friend again.
as i walked outside, my friend walked up and i collapsed in his arms saying i thought i was going to have to spend the night at that grocery store. he laughed a bit maniacally and said that he would never do that to me, though it would've been a brilliant plan--especially considering my level of mopey-ness.
well that whole thing showed me i kind of needed to turn the corner.
what was before the corner? saturday morning i woke up and found that someone i cared about deleted me from their life without any explanation. it was pretty jarring. i'm grown up enough to know that this wasn't my fault, and i reached out via text message to this person and offered compassion, hopefully offering a safe space for this person to respond back to me. they haven't yet. it left me feeling a little small. i was shrinking into myself with fear about the situation.
luckily my friends distracted me most of the weekend.
they are the most lovely friends in the world.
and then this morning i went to yoga. the teacher taught a theme of expansion: of expanding past our physical boundaries. on the mat, i reached my arms wider than i ever had before. i stretched my legs further apart. i cartwheeled my arms bigger, i radiated my heart with more passion and energy than i thought possible.
and i BREATHED. so deeply. so fully.
the feeling that emerged as i did this was overwhelming: i felt myself shattering the shell of fear i had encased myself in over the weekend. i felt myself thinking "i'm bigger than this. i'm bigger than this feeling of fear. i'm bigger than this mopey-self. i'm bigger than all this shit!"
i left the class with a knowing that i'll be ok. a knowing that i turned the corner: i made it out of the grocery store, and i'm making it out of this.
and to the person that evoked all of this: i'm also big enough to handle whatever is going on. that's an offering and a promise.
love, compassion, peace. and expansion. so much expansion. outside and inside.
Thursday, July 9, 2015
armor
sometimes i feel broken.
sometimes i feel like i cover myself in armor.
sometimes i feel like i'm the only one.
sometimes i feel crazy.
and then today happens.
i hear a young man say "everyone's a little broken; we wouldn't be people if we weren't."
--i feel some armor slide away.
i get an email from someone i don't know telling me that she read my blog and mentioned "I had a particularly bad day today and am feeling quite alone, and although there is no purpose to my email other than to tell you that I really admire your courage, typing this out makes me feel a bit more connected to the universe."
--i don't feel so crazy.
the email i received was from a young woman with an eating disorder and talked about how she felt alone, about some of the shame she carries, and about how she didn't feel courageous enough to tell some of the people in her life--specifically those at work.
the email made me feel so many things: empathy, sadness, admiration, gratitude... and kind of like i was a fake. yes, sometimes my blog feels courageous. but sometimes it feels like i get to hide behind it because i'm being so open here. like i have built some armor up through all the baring.
she complimented me on my career status and about how open i was with my eating disorder. it's true that i talk about my struggles and recovery status with people at work i barely know. but there are also things i don't tell them. like when i'm late to a meeting because i had to run a little longer to make my mind feel sane before i was allowed to shower and go to the meeting. or like when i schedule things around a yoga class i feel like i just have to get to or my soul will freak out. these things could be termed "taking care of myself," or they could be termed "selfish," or even, dare i say it, "characteristic of someone with an eating disorder."
there's STUFF. there will probably always be stuff. i've let go of a lot--and i am very proud of that. but there's still the little broken pieces i keep finding under the rug; the little shells of armor stuck to my skin that haven't all chipped away. and finding them can be hard.
in some ways, i don't know where this blog is going. am i trying to build up more armor for later? am i trying desperately to feel as courageous as this lovely reader portrayed me to be? what am i trying to do?
i think it's the shame that really gets to me. i carried so much shame about binging and purging... for so long. i still do. and there is so much stigma around so many mental health issues, and about seeking help for them, that i get angry at that shame. i get angry that it even exists. and when i read this email with the words "embarrassment and shame" included in it, i felt that familiar stinging in my heart.
it's only talking, sharing, and giving a face to a health issue that can de-stigmatize it. my shame disintegrates when i don't give it any power. when i told my mom about bulimia, when i told my co-worker about my bulimia, when i told my yoga class about my bulimia, when i post a blog about bulimia on Facebook, i lose the shame. it disappears with the broken pieces under the rug, it hides under the small pieces of armor still remaining.
i can't fix the world; i can't even fix me. but i also know that i don't need to. i can let go of the armor; i know i'm already whole. and i have hope that the world is ready for that.
and, to every blog reader, but especially L: the world is ready; i believe in you.
sometimes i feel like i cover myself in armor.
sometimes i feel like i'm the only one.
sometimes i feel crazy.
and then today happens.
i hear a young man say "everyone's a little broken; we wouldn't be people if we weren't."
--i feel some armor slide away.
i get an email from someone i don't know telling me that she read my blog and mentioned "I had a particularly bad day today and am feeling quite alone, and although there is no purpose to my email other than to tell you that I really admire your courage, typing this out makes me feel a bit more connected to the universe."
--i don't feel so crazy.
the email i received was from a young woman with an eating disorder and talked about how she felt alone, about some of the shame she carries, and about how she didn't feel courageous enough to tell some of the people in her life--specifically those at work.
the email made me feel so many things: empathy, sadness, admiration, gratitude... and kind of like i was a fake. yes, sometimes my blog feels courageous. but sometimes it feels like i get to hide behind it because i'm being so open here. like i have built some armor up through all the baring.
she complimented me on my career status and about how open i was with my eating disorder. it's true that i talk about my struggles and recovery status with people at work i barely know. but there are also things i don't tell them. like when i'm late to a meeting because i had to run a little longer to make my mind feel sane before i was allowed to shower and go to the meeting. or like when i schedule things around a yoga class i feel like i just have to get to or my soul will freak out. these things could be termed "taking care of myself," or they could be termed "selfish," or even, dare i say it, "characteristic of someone with an eating disorder."
there's STUFF. there will probably always be stuff. i've let go of a lot--and i am very proud of that. but there's still the little broken pieces i keep finding under the rug; the little shells of armor stuck to my skin that haven't all chipped away. and finding them can be hard.
in some ways, i don't know where this blog is going. am i trying to build up more armor for later? am i trying desperately to feel as courageous as this lovely reader portrayed me to be? what am i trying to do?
it's only talking, sharing, and giving a face to a health issue that can de-stigmatize it. my shame disintegrates when i don't give it any power. when i told my mom about bulimia, when i told my co-worker about my bulimia, when i told my yoga class about my bulimia, when i post a blog about bulimia on Facebook, i lose the shame. it disappears with the broken pieces under the rug, it hides under the small pieces of armor still remaining.
i can't fix the world; i can't even fix me. but i also know that i don't need to. i can let go of the armor; i know i'm already whole. and i have hope that the world is ready for that.
and, to every blog reader, but especially L: the world is ready; i believe in you.
Tuesday, May 19, 2015
write it down
i didn't used to believe that simply writing something down gave it power. now i find it hard to believe how much power.
last year i was doing some life coaching with elena and she had us make a list of dreams for the year. i skeptically made a list, including things on the list that i didn't even think were really possible.
among the items that i had been told were impossible or had no reason to expect that would happen: 1) receive ARC funding (check), 2) become an associate professor (check). at the end of the year, when i found that list in my phone, i almost freaked out. i hadn't even applied for the CUNY job when i made that list--i had no reason to believe that i would be able to get to where i am now at that point. sure, i had a hand in those things happening. but writing them down gave them a place in my mind, a sense of priority.
the same thing can happen in reverse. do you know what else i write down every day? how many calories i've eaten and how much i've worked out. this is one of those pieces of an eating disorder that i've termed "ok" for my life. it isn't actively hurting me, so why not?
because i'm giving it power. i don't even ever look back over my past days. it just gives me some sort of comfort knowing i have it in a list.
but it's also embarrassing: when i update the list, i'm terrified that someone will look over my shoulder and see what i'm typing. i envision my friend next to me asking "why are you writing down '45 mins run' in your phone?" my secret answer: "um, because i'm afraid that it doesn't count if i don't write it in this list right this second." hmm. clearly that doesn't make sense.
i've been writing down my exercise and food intake since i was little. my parents paid my sister and i to do so when we were young--it was about making sure we were getting our fruits and vegetables and dairy per day, etc. i don't think this version was bad parenting, but i've been doing variations of this for 22 years now, and sometimes with dangerous levels of obsession. there were points when i weighed food and wrote down exactly how many calories, protein, and fat in each serving of each thing i had that day. i carried a notebook with me everywhere. now i "just" make notes of exercise and a running tally of calories for the day.
some of my closest friends know about this, but i've delayed writing about it because i was afraid of what anyone might say about the initial food diary keeping my parents encouraged. but let me say this in their defense: my sister never even completed hers when she was getting paid for it. me, on the other hand? i chose this behavior as a safety net. i chose to take it into adulthood.
so why am i writing about it now? because i'm tired of it. i'm ready to let go a little more. and i had some motivation yesterday: i received this message via facebook from amy.
Hi spring! Not sure if you'd remember me...but I was also and instructor at Penn state! I graduated in '08. I was also a BBH major! Anyways I recently completed a 200 hour yoga teacher training....amazing!! So I have been reflecting back on all the inspiring teachers I've had along the way and you're one of them!! I always loved your classes at PSU...they offered a little something more than just fitness. And you were also a great female role model to look up to as I was just an ungrad and you were working your PhD! You totally emulated girl power!! I enjoy reading your blogs because it's always on a theme that anyone can resonant with! It just shows that by being a bit vulnerable and opening yourself up you really can connect on a deeper level! Anyways I just wanted to share this with you because as I look forward to a new blog post I realized that you probably don't know how influential you are! So thank you Spring for being such a great teacher!there are some days when writing things down makes more of a difference than we know. did amy know that message would hit me today? that it would inspire me right back? probably not. but that's what happened. (amy, that was one of the most beautiful messages i've ever received; thank you.) and i'm going to place attention a little more thoughtfully: 1) i'm making a new dreams-for-the-year list, and 2) i'm no longer going to write down my exercise activity. i want the dreams to have power; i don't want the disordered eating behaviors to have power.
when i was unpacking the things that arrived from sydney last week (FINALLY!!!), i found a notebook of exercise notes from 2008. yeah, i still had it; i always saved them. as evidence.
guess where the notebook is now? in the garbage.
i dare you to dream.
and xo amy.
Friday, May 1, 2015
5 things i'm grateful for this morning
2. the joy i have in my work. even when the administration of it all threatens to crack me, there are those bright spots of meetings with inspired students that reignite my passion. #gratitude
3. my yoga practice. last night it lit me up after a long day. this morning i'm looking forward to teaching at a youth-centered non-profit tonight. i can't wait to share that peace and light. #gratitude
4. starting to feel like where i live is my home. yesterday i went to buy a bagel and didn't have any cash: they were like, eh; just get it next time, and this morning i paid double. the belongingness i feel from that familiarity is so comforting. #gratitude
5. SPRING. (obviously!) suddenly i begin to see why people might like NYC. i've noticed new coffee shops and stores: i'm looking around more. my head isn't burrowed inside the hood of my jacket. and everything is blossoming. #gratitude
Monday, April 27, 2015
signs
you know the ones:
the little knot in the pit of your stomach,
the nagging feeling that something isn't right,
the little unease about, well, *something*
we get to be experts at ignoring them; we cultivate that practice in our society. i don't know why. it's not like politeness rules the airwaves. it's certainly not as if we never see or hear conflict in our offices or on the streets. (ok, yeah, yeah, get your "i'm a new yorker now, i must see tons of mean shoppers" jokes out of the way!) but i suppose avoidance can feel simpler. easier than figuring out what that little sign actually means.
i hurt my shoulder last weekend at penn state. i slipped on a step and caught myself by grabbing a handrail. it jerked my shoulder out of joint, but i didn't fall down the steps. my shoulder was not mobile at all for a couple of days. mobility started to return a little here and a little there. but this physical sign in my shoulder was much easier to listen to. yoga practice? not for a few days. then standing asanas without arms. then some flow without the chaturangas. now most of it, but still without the handstands. yeah, it's sucked. but i wish that listening to those emotional signs was as "easy" as this has been.
tonight i had a friend text about one of those feelings, that he had been experiencing it all day. <--that kinda stabbed me in the stomach. i know those feelings. if anyone knows those feelings, it's me. i know this is like one of the top 5 themes of my blogs, but, then again, i clearly need to write about it.
i've spent so much time ignoring uncomfortable twinges. and every time, the situations got worse. until they became unbearable in some way. either the friendship would dissolve, trust would be ruined, or maybe i would *just* take it out on myself by excessive exercise or binging and purging.
as i've learned to recognize these signs for what they are--signs that something needs to be explored, discussed, evaluated, and resolved--i've gotten more and more practice. and i feel so much better now that it physically hurt me to think about NOT talking through the issue; it hurt me to hear my friend had been sitting in that space.
since i've been in the US (3 months minus my quick 2 week trip back!), i've binged and purged a total of one time. i'm totally proud of that fact, but also horrified and ashamed and angry about it as well. it's a balancing act. but the balance beam continually seems wider.
and, for me, that openness is the key factor. i'll tell you anything you want to know. usually before you ask. i was at a "after seminar appetizers" event one evening a few weeks ago. i was with a colleague and some doctoral students. for some reason, the colleague was very interested in the types of food i eat. he was asking, in front of everyone, about my breakfast habits. i tried to evade and laugh off, but after his insistance, i answered. he then moved to lunch. i hadn't felt so uncomfortable in a very long time. i paused, took a breath, and said "i'm in recovery from an eating disorder, and i don't really feel comfortable discussing my dietary habits like this."
everyone laughed.
i didn't.
one woman glanced at my face and yelled "she's serious!"
and then it was silent.
i followed up with, "i'm ok, but i had to tell you that i was feeling uncomfortable." and then i changed the topic. yeah, it was awkward for a second. but a few minutes later? i felt much better than i would have if i had sat there and been grilled (food joke) about my eating without saying anything.
so yes. i blurt it out now. part of it is practice, part of it positive reinforcement for my openness... and part of it is that little extra inspiration. just this morning i received an email from my favorite energy healer patty about speaking your truth. i've learned a lot from patty on this subject, and i had just been inspired by it again this morning. so when my friend texted this evening, i was straight to the phone lines. READ THAT SIGN.
in her blog i read this morning:
yeah. i like that. we make these excuses for not being open, for not speaking our truth. "i don't think he/she/they will like what i have to say." or "i'm worried that i will hurt his/her/their feelings." guess what. that isn't an excuse for not talking about it. it's only an excuse that we tell ourselves to feel better about avoiding that sign.
i'm proud of my friend for texting about it in the first place. so i wanted to say it publicly. hard work this whole living-happily-in-a-functioning-society-as-an-adult thing, huh?
what's your body/inner knowing trying to tell you? i'm just hoping mine tells me i get to do handstands again soon. xo
the little knot in the pit of your stomach,
the nagging feeling that something isn't right,
the little unease about, well, *something*
we get to be experts at ignoring them; we cultivate that practice in our society. i don't know why. it's not like politeness rules the airwaves. it's certainly not as if we never see or hear conflict in our offices or on the streets. (ok, yeah, yeah, get your "i'm a new yorker now, i must see tons of mean shoppers" jokes out of the way!) but i suppose avoidance can feel simpler. easier than figuring out what that little sign actually means.
i hurt my shoulder last weekend at penn state. i slipped on a step and caught myself by grabbing a handrail. it jerked my shoulder out of joint, but i didn't fall down the steps. my shoulder was not mobile at all for a couple of days. mobility started to return a little here and a little there. but this physical sign in my shoulder was much easier to listen to. yoga practice? not for a few days. then standing asanas without arms. then some flow without the chaturangas. now most of it, but still without the handstands. yeah, it's sucked. but i wish that listening to those emotional signs was as "easy" as this has been.
tonight i had a friend text about one of those feelings, that he had been experiencing it all day. <--that kinda stabbed me in the stomach. i know those feelings. if anyone knows those feelings, it's me. i know this is like one of the top 5 themes of my blogs, but, then again, i clearly need to write about it.
i've spent so much time ignoring uncomfortable twinges. and every time, the situations got worse. until they became unbearable in some way. either the friendship would dissolve, trust would be ruined, or maybe i would *just* take it out on myself by excessive exercise or binging and purging.
as i've learned to recognize these signs for what they are--signs that something needs to be explored, discussed, evaluated, and resolved--i've gotten more and more practice. and i feel so much better now that it physically hurt me to think about NOT talking through the issue; it hurt me to hear my friend had been sitting in that space.
since i've been in the US (3 months minus my quick 2 week trip back!), i've binged and purged a total of one time. i'm totally proud of that fact, but also horrified and ashamed and angry about it as well. it's a balancing act. but the balance beam continually seems wider.
and, for me, that openness is the key factor. i'll tell you anything you want to know. usually before you ask. i was at a "after seminar appetizers" event one evening a few weeks ago. i was with a colleague and some doctoral students. for some reason, the colleague was very interested in the types of food i eat. he was asking, in front of everyone, about my breakfast habits. i tried to evade and laugh off, but after his insistance, i answered. he then moved to lunch. i hadn't felt so uncomfortable in a very long time. i paused, took a breath, and said "i'm in recovery from an eating disorder, and i don't really feel comfortable discussing my dietary habits like this."
everyone laughed.
i didn't.
one woman glanced at my face and yelled "she's serious!"
and then it was silent.
i followed up with, "i'm ok, but i had to tell you that i was feeling uncomfortable." and then i changed the topic. yeah, it was awkward for a second. but a few minutes later? i felt much better than i would have if i had sat there and been grilled (food joke) about my eating without saying anything.
so yes. i blurt it out now. part of it is practice, part of it positive reinforcement for my openness... and part of it is that little extra inspiration. just this morning i received an email from my favorite energy healer patty about speaking your truth. i've learned a lot from patty on this subject, and i had just been inspired by it again this morning. so when my friend texted this evening, i was straight to the phone lines. READ THAT SIGN.
in her blog i read this morning:
"the biggest block that tends to come up, is that we don’t want to hurt our partner / lover / friend / family member by telling them how we truly feel. but when our actions become more about the other person’s feelings, our personal vibration then starts to vibrate at a frequency that doesn’t resonate the truth of what we think and how we feel. as a result, our reactions and responses lack a genuine sincerity, which then results in a domino effect of misunderstandings and resentment."
i'm proud of my friend for texting about it in the first place. so i wanted to say it publicly. hard work this whole living-happily-in-a-functioning-society-as-an-adult thing, huh?
what's your body/inner knowing trying to tell you? i'm just hoping mine tells me i get to do handstands again soon. xo
Friday, March 13, 2015
impatienttransition
impatient. there's no other word for it. I can clearly differentiate between how I normally feel and how I feel right now. everything seems to take longer than it should. that six minutes til the local-stops train arrives on my way to my friend's house tonight? seems like at least 24 minutes. that additional four weeks til my blackmilk and Roxie's legs arrive from Australia? seems like two years.
I want to feel settled. hell. I want to BE settled. but I have this nagging sense that the feeling of settledness comes with a bed. you know. that bed that's still on the boat.
and so I wait. and wait. but not quite as patiently as I'm used to. talking with a friend as I leave yoga: "look, I don't know. just decide already!" him: "you're just... leaving yoga?" yeah. that's me as I'm leaving my happy place. can you imagine how I am as I walk into class?
luckily for my friends, it's mostly in my head. unluckily for me, it's mostly in my head. in yoga class yesterday, I taught about being present in a transition phase, rather than continually waiting for what was next. I taught that theme because I have been hearing over and over "I can't wait til spring is ACTUALLY here!" (btw, me too.) but this continual forward focus distracts from the now. ...and only today did I realize that I was really trying to teach that theme to myself.
so we are in seasonal transition. and I'm definitely in transition. but we are all in transition.
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impatient
transition
*more patience
*now
I want to feel settled. hell. I want to BE settled. but I have this nagging sense that the feeling of settledness comes with a bed. you know. that bed that's still on the boat.
and so I wait. and wait. but not quite as patiently as I'm used to. talking with a friend as I leave yoga: "look, I don't know. just decide already!" him: "you're just... leaving yoga?" yeah. that's me as I'm leaving my happy place. can you imagine how I am as I walk into class?
luckily for my friends, it's mostly in my head. unluckily for me, it's mostly in my head. in yoga class yesterday, I taught about being present in a transition phase, rather than continually waiting for what was next. I taught that theme because I have been hearing over and over "I can't wait til spring is ACTUALLY here!" (btw, me too.) but this continual forward focus distracts from the now. ...and only today did I realize that I was really trying to teach that theme to myself.
so we are in seasonal transition. and I'm definitely in transition. but we are all in transition.
impatienttransitionimpatienttransitionimpatienttransitionimpatienttransitionimpatienttransitionimpatienttransitionimpatienttransitionimpatienttransitionimpatienttransitionimpatienttransitionimpatienttransitionimpatienttransitionimpatienttransitionimpatienttransitionimpatienttransitionimpatienttransitionimpatienttransitionimpatienttransitionimpatienttransitionimpatienttransition
impatient
transition
*more patience
*now
Saturday, January 31, 2015
forget what you think you need
i. was. hysterical.
i spent the evening talking to a bunch of friends about how i was feeling and why. but i was still feeling weird about it the next day. until i heard gabby say "forget what you think you need."
i thought i needed to be in control of this situation: i thought i was going to file; i thought i was taking care of things; i thought i was going to be the adult here. when i got that email, a little piece of my reality changed.
what i thought i needed was to take care of this situation myself.
but i realized this was actually another little miracle.
sometimes blessings can be hard to receive.
this whole move has been an exercise in acceptance; in letting go of control; of forgiving myself and my friends for stepping on each other's toes (matt, anthony: i love you both and greatly respect your ability to forgive!). and that last one relates straight back to forgetting what you think you need.
gabby on forgiveness: 1) lose your shit and allow yourself to be in it; 2) choose to forgive, to see the situation differently; 3) let it gently lift as it is ready; and 4) what you need will be given to you when you are ready.
but only when you forget what you think you need can you be open to receiving what you REALLY need.
i need this divorce. and here it is, on its way.
so now i'm just working on trusting ALL of the seeds that i've been busy planting. we make all these little steps and decisions each day. they are steps toward where we are now. and where we are now is on our way to that next place--that next miracle. and we have to trust ourselves. and trust in the next miracle that's just around the corner.
anthony lost his wallet just before coming to meet me for the miracles talk. we spent a while on the phone searching the apartment with no luck. eventually anthony thought to check his work voicemail (since he had one of his business cards in his wallet). and--miracle--someone had found his wallet, handed it in to the local post office, and they had notified him that they had it. *miracle*
this morning i went to elena's yoga class. elena is my favorite of all yoga teachers, and my life coach. i'm used to stalking her internationally to make it to her yoga classes, or doing them online. i'm used to skyping with her in the wee hours of the morning sydney time. but today, i got to just walk in to her yoga class--because now i live in new york. while flowing during class, elena instructed us to dive forward, taking our arms through prayer position.
all of the sudden i remembered a line from one of her online yogaglo classes: "you can swan dive or take your arms through prayer; i usually take my arms through prayer--i'm a new yorker and i'm used to PACKED yoga rooms!" and, right there in the middle of her real-live yoga class, i started crying. i looked around the packed room and realized that was me now. i was a new yorker. *miracle*
so yeah, there are miracles all around us all the time. i'm living one. sometimes i just need to forget what i think i need in order to realize it.
Tuesday, January 20, 2015
committing. #sydneytoNYC
i haven't been getting excited. i've been freaking out. and mish got super pissed at me on my last full day in sydney because of that. she said SPRING! SHUT UP ABOUT YOUR STUPID APARTMENT! WHO CARES? YOU'RE GOING TO NEW YORK!!!
and i tried to get excited. i really did. but i had so much anxiety about the move (which i felt, in my stomach, every single day) that it was hard.
i was in a yoga class mid-move: those few days in LA between sydney and NYC were much needed down time. the teacher told us about how her six-year-old did the splits on the escalator that day. her advice to her daughter: "you have to commit; you can't be in two places at once!"
and that's when i realized what i needed to do: commit to NYC. sure. i did all the things. allll the things to get myself moved. but i didn't actually commit to NYC. so, right there in the yoga class, i decided to do it. i told NYC: i'm yours. totally yours. i breathed through each pose and smiled from the inside out. i repeated in my head over and over: "i commit to NYC."
by the end of the class i felt strong. happy. centered. ready.
there's a real lesson there: as soon as i committed, the anxiety disappeared. i filled my heart with love and it squashed the fear. it edged it right out.
and i'm going. RIGHT NOW. i'm in the air mid-way from LA to NYC: the last part of the move. i'm not even scared.
the only way i could have gotten to this place was through those friends that went so beyond the call of duty that i can't even begin to think of how i can thank them.
(hayden: thank you for helping with the boxes and computer. bal and chuck: thank you for stealing my stuff. matt: thank you for alllll the shit. and to all my besties who have supported me through millions of texts, chats, and company: thank you.)
so what's next? well, i run into anthony's arms at JFK. and then? who knows. anything can happen.
anything happens all the time.
i'm a New Yorker.
and i tried to get excited. i really did. but i had so much anxiety about the move (which i felt, in my stomach, every single day) that it was hard.
and that's when i realized what i needed to do: commit to NYC. sure. i did all the things. allll the things to get myself moved. but i didn't actually commit to NYC. so, right there in the yoga class, i decided to do it. i told NYC: i'm yours. totally yours. i breathed through each pose and smiled from the inside out. i repeated in my head over and over: "i commit to NYC."
by the end of the class i felt strong. happy. centered. ready.
there's a real lesson there: as soon as i committed, the anxiety disappeared. i filled my heart with love and it squashed the fear. it edged it right out.
and i'm going. RIGHT NOW. i'm in the air mid-way from LA to NYC: the last part of the move. i'm not even scared.
the only way i could have gotten to this place was through those friends that went so beyond the call of duty that i can't even begin to think of how i can thank them.
(hayden: thank you for helping with the boxes and computer. bal and chuck: thank you for stealing my stuff. matt: thank you for alllll the shit. and to all my besties who have supported me through millions of texts, chats, and company: thank you.)
so what's next? well, i run into anthony's arms at JFK. and then? who knows. anything can happen.
anything happens all the time.
i'm a New Yorker.
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