a space for nurturing authenticity

Month: February 2015

I Lost my Panties

I lost my panties

I thought you knew

I couldn’t find them

I thought you knew

I rummaged my gym bag,

Its pockets, my shoes

I lost my panties…

So commando I stand

Before you

I begin this blog post by going commando to show a point:

At times we lose our shit, whether it be a tangible item, a mental moment, or a spiritual path, sometimes the way, our way feels lost. I felt like this yesterday, BIG TIME. First of all, something was off. I felt lagging in many aspects of existence. Taxes to do, school to investigate, pet care research, business construction, books and workouts to write, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. All of the sudden those tasks pile up so high, I become buried in them. Been there? It can mess with the head. I use to hate when I felt like this. I evolved to believe it is constructive to experience these sorts of days to learn how to deal with the emotions. Yes, I may feel buried by my goals, my desires, my life-long list of things to do, and the weight may promote weary and doubt, sometimes even momentary defeat. It is what I do with these emotions that counts. Do I stand up tall, weight and all, walk forward, and persevere? You bet my commando ass I do, and it makes me stronger.

Look, no one has it all together. Stop comparing to the Instagrams, the Facebook photo-opps, the viral sensations — the Corporate sector positions I contemplate filling, while the very breath of my being undergoes a cessation. I feel mad. I feel lost and crazy like I have not a damn clue what I am actually doing with this vehicle of a life I drive. Which way to turn? No idea. Right, left, straight; it all sounds the same in this crazy game. Blood pressure heightens, stresses increase, and all of a sudden, the realization I carry deep within strikes: I do not have to exist as any of this, any of what I am not. I am not Corporate. I am not a straight line in the sand of time. I am creation. I am an artist. When I follow this gushing heart inside whispering these aide-mémoirs, I calm. The breath carries me through.

My yoga practice continues to teach me how to maneuver through these emotions: Through adversity, though difficulties, through other’s actions we cannot change. Recently I showered in my brother’s bathroom, and as I washed, I looked up to find a self-made plaque hung above the shower head displaying the Serenity Prayer:

“God grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change;
Courage to change the things I can;
And wisdom to know the difference…”

Through the wine we drank of another’s vintage, through the layoffs, judgments, and diagnoses.. Through the drama, the bullshit, and the silver linings, come back to the breath to find the calm. In the world’s fury, when everything seems hazy-blurry, come back to the breath. The breath leads the way, a beacon, a light, on the stormiest day. They may hold jealously for the wind; they may not understand. All you need is breath to hold your hand. Keep breath’s grip, don’t let it go when challenges plummet upon you like snow.

“…Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace…”

I conversed with a dear friend, one of my brides-maids-to-be the other day, and she summarized what I have experienced like this, “You can have a pencil and a paper and be writing a plan and life will come by with its big eraser and erase what you’ve devised.” It is true. It is also true this does not mean one should not have a plan. It is just to say you may have worn your panties to the gym, you may have planned on wearing them out, but life knew your need for freedom…

… Your need to go commando under those blue jeans.

Three Years & Marbles

Time flows.

Time settles us, and tucks us in.

Over three years have passed since I resided in the Valley — the Salt Lake City of Utah. If you would have asked the three-year-younger-version-of-myself if I shall ever return here to live, my answer would have been, “Hell no.” If you could have heard me when my little family journeyed back through the canyons of Colorado, or on the Interstate system of I-15 in Utah Valley, you would have heard, “Absolutely not. We are not staying here. This is a pit stop.”

And here I am. Utah, I am back.

I traveled many places. Modeled many faces. I have wandered lost, unfocused, enraged. I met many friends — Bostonians, Cheeseheads, Jerseyites, Floridians, Steelmen, D.C.ers, Bosnians, Bulgarians, and plenty of those Buffalo Bill’s fans to go around. I fell in love with humidity as I struggled. I cried. I triumphed. I challenged myself. I grew tall inside my tiny framework. I showed up in my life, everyday, even when fear fumbled through each nerve and joint in my body. I researched. I learned. I studied my head haywire. I laid on my yoga mat under the wave of the palm trees’ tropical breeze and watched my Yorkie’s hair flutter in tranquility. I sat in stillness. I regained Faith. I learned I never really knew the depth of love and its actions. I discovered I am a people-person. I am a teacher who loves the water.. who loves to swim… who loves grains of sand but prefers a beach with crashing waves, rock, and seashells.

Like Pan, I found my marbles, and when I did, my voice flew, my passion as a writer renewed. With my marbles I stumbled upon the world: It is a stunning setting of diversity, and when I walked outside into it, I saw myself accepted as I am, no change required. Me. Pure and simply complex, me.

Finally, I digested my beauty, my uniqueness.

I experienced tragedy. I felt pain thousands of miles away. Time over time, life threw me into the wringer and I came out stronger. I exited better than I entered, through Faith, through patience, and through acceptance… through knowing what truly matters most.

I acquired a crush on fine-tuned Public Transit, while recalling my affection for art and its museums. I came to know Cancer as so limited; it cannot invade the soul or conquer the spirit. I experienced what it feels like for another’s trust to rip away, and on the other side of the sword, the pain of my trust in another being singed. I became timely. I evolved. And then I swallowed this lesson: YOU CANNOT TAKE ONE THING, ANY ONE THING, WITH YOU WHEN YOU DIE. So I discerned, even more fully, to not place energy on thingamabobs, thingamajigs, or whatchamacallits.

Live light, travel light, spread the light, be the light.

Chance showed her face and I accepted her invitation to take risks. The risks taught me actions do not always end up as envisioned; they unravel exactly as intended, for learning, for growing. Though of course, if you’d like a sofa in your living room, envision a sofa in your living room and you can attract it. You are capable. The world is your canvas to create — expanding on one of the invaluable morals I journeyed back to Utah with: The world in my home. 

And so it is with this lesson, which has settled in my bones — the world in my home — that I own with certainty, I must be here now. Not forever… now. A pit stop. A perfectly imperfect pit stop. I was destined to follow my way home. I must let go of the attachment to the belief that I would never move back and let it be as it is. Being in the here and now is beautiful. I see clouds puppet their shadows across the mountain ranges. I witness sunsets of violet and rose. The birds who are my neighbors, sing to me each day. I do not know all. Yet as I continue to bend with time, the teacher within will show me the path onward…

…perhaps to a beach with crashing waves, rock, and seashells, where one may play with her marbles…

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