Tuesday, October 2, 2012

Just like a woman.....



You’re not a little girl anymore.

I caught a glimpse of my my calves, the way the muscles sit high and long on my leg, the shadows that hours of yoga and wearing the highest heels have attributed to the shading and I thought, “that’s a woman’s leg.” A woman’s leg from the tips of my childishly glittered toes to the top of my thigh. You’re a woman...one who knows how to move and adjust, manicure and present, settle, satisfy and offer her body. You’re in your body.... finally. Who would've thought that day would come? If only I could hush that 18 year olds fretting mind, so lost inside herself.

In the ways that my heart is young and optimistic, accessible and open it has, as a Woman's does, acquired the necessary walls and carefully maintains the ones worth keeping. But in those walls, only a woman knows where the doors are and who is worth letting through. My gut, my instinct alerts like a woman.... it knows the difference between “right,” and “not right for me.” My heart, is no longer an empty room, with a "come one, come all" sign, waiting to be filled with someone else’s stories, likes and dislikes that I'd hastily claim as my own in an attempt to keep them. That heart vessel doesn't say "Unoccupied," waiting to be invaded, or pillaged like it had been before... It stays FULL and entertained while deliberately awaiting the arrival of one worth re-arranging "the things" for.

My mind thinks like a womans now.... fiercely wanting to protect and nurture, hold and advise those younger around me. Despite my own need for advising. But as a woman can, I admit where guidance is needed and welcome...so that I don’t become stubborn, or rusty.

I can too, admit the places where I’ve hardened. I can track the steps, straight to the source... in honor of my spirit, I’ve done the work layer, by layer. I know now the longer you go without acknowledging the wound the harder it gets to heal when you decide you’re ready.

All of a sudden, in a way I hadn’t craved before...I have this insatiable desire to make sure you’re fed. Physically, spiritually, mentally. I understand that it is our job to bring something to the table and offer it up, without any expectations at all. I want to stimulate your mind, nourish your body, and sustain your spirit...because I've learned how to do it for myself first.


I admit that I need to learn from my Mother, my Grandmother, your mother... matriarchs... the ways to make a home feel like a place to nest.... the secret ingredients.... the go-to meal.... the must-have medicine cabinet items... patience. Knowing how to gracefully walk away, or pick my battles. This is all a part of it.

Unlike a Girl, I know that things take time. That nothing comes to full bloom in a day. I’ve relinquished the need to have all the answers, or to make you see things my way.  Unlike a Girl, I know what it feels like to try and fit a square peg into a round hole, but now, rather than attempting it, I see the pieces for what they are and let them be.

Unlike a Girl, I don’t wish to be blonde, or shorter. I don’t wish for my hair to fall the way that hers does, or to have smaller ribs, bigger boobs, higher eyebrows... I don't compare relationships.... I know that no one has it “better,” we each just have it “differently.” Unlike a Girl, I’m comfortable with transparency, even if you aren’t. That my words are only of value if they are genuine and without pretense.... that the interaction, relationships, contracts that say, or feel otherwise aren’t “mine....” and that’s okay.  Unlike a Girl, as a Woman I don’t look to be anyone else.... and the “exemplary examples” that I hold ideal, as Mentors I humbly acknowledge will make mistakes. That the only true guide you have is YOU. As a Woman, I find that power terrifyingly exhilarating....unlike a Girl, I’m prepared to harness, feed, listen to my own True North.

The way a Mother subtly does, as a Woman I know when to save my advice, I’ve learned to identify closed ears and closed hearts. I've learned when to slow down, speed up, or just stop completely.

I’ve come to know the power of having a personal spiritual practice that is accessible to me, that is mine, a dialogue that is open before the time of desperation. In my private moments between that of monotony and doubt, I have a deep, deep faith and personal devotion, a commitment to that beautiful divine side... that’s just for me. As a Woman does, I commit to a daily practice, of surrender and awe.

A Woman learns the things that are hers to keep. Her precious moments. The “alone” ones,
the kind of alone that drives home at night and yearns for only the shape of their own body, soft and familiar in the forms that it takes. Wrapping itself around a pillow, taking up the space... misconfigured, immodest, spilling over and dipping freely and comfortably. You must learn to crave that specific type of alone.

As a Woman I’ve learned the power of graceful restraint, coming to know when what you ache to say is already spelled out, a woman learns to trust subtle knowingness. She learns that words are the smallest part of the whole, as fun as they are to play with.... play can be spared.

A Woman knows that despite everything, she will be alright. She knows the well of resilience and strength that resonates through her whole being, even when she can’t bear it...she can do anything.

As a woman I trust my ability to love selflessly and selfishly in equal measure, inward and outward.

I may not always pay my parking tickets on time. I still wonder which paths my career will take me on....or who I’ll end up with. How the hell to organize my closet properly and if 4 Luna Bars & iced coffees in one day can be considered proper “meals,” when on the run (the answer is no.) I still need my Dad. I still want my Mom to like my outfits, my boyfriends, my hair color. The parts about being a Girl worth keeping are there....they’re playful and raw, completely, softly discernable. While ALL the years, the lessons, the introspection of a Woman exist, freely and proudly, I embody that which I've wanted to become..... and embrace that it's all still a process....

...Growing up isn’t too bad.



Tuesday, August 7, 2012

On Taking Breaks......


To break.....

the definition:
To exchange for smaller monetary units

To crack without separating into pieces.


To part or pierce the surface of



To find an opening or flaw in


I broke. Three months is a long time for me to stay so far removed from this. But I broke. I needed breaking. 

See, when you "exchange for smaller units" the smaller units get the attention that perhaps they needed, the neglected get nurtured. With less surface area to cover, it's hard to miss a blemish. Concentrated attention in spoonfuls. Saturated revolution. 

The empty bedside journal, cracks its spine and the pages become worn. Bits and pieces of truth come out often, in waves...so you start to make room for their sporadic arrival. Focused room. Prepared to keep these pieces of "ah ha," solely to yourself.  When we break, we honor our internal seasons, the ones that people don't teach us about. The seasons that aren't granted "holidays." We give our souls permission to regenerate and we give parts permission to die, so that new life, new patterns, new energy, can grow in their place. 



I'm in the final week of what has been a three month yoga journey- (I will be an official Heated Vinyasa teacher by the end of the week), a three month returning to my CENTER period- finding my voice again and using it, and a three month adventure of consciously focusing on experiencing radical joy, self examination, intentional energy-giving and utmost, humble gratitude. During those three months, I've left a job, started a new one, watered new relationships and let others fall away. I've rewired thought patterns, and refocused. 

"To crack without separating into pieces..." is when we allow the light to shine through. The cracks are there for you to see something that was locked up behind that wall that you were always curious about, but didn't have the key to find out for yourself. And then, something cracked. Enough room was made for you to peer into the other side. 

That veil lifts and you get a glimpse of what you've been visualizing for years and hadn't yet tangibly experienced. When you see through it, keep looking. Stay there. That crack wasn't a flaw, or an accident, that was a new visual barometer to guide your next steps. 

When you see what it is that you want, stop questioning whether it's yours to have or not. It is. If you know you need to make art, if see yourself on a stage, or in front of a classroom....that is yours. Trust that timing will do the rest. You don't need to fall apart, or go off course trying to find it without a compass or proper hiking shoes....you've got this. Stay there. 

You know what it feels like when you experience a "breakthrough," but it's never one singular BREAK. Breakthroughs are gradual shifts, tiny cracks..... a small "piercing of the surface." And they're ACTIVE. We're constantly given the option to break.... but we rarely commit to the "through," part. Because that means that we have to acknowledge the "break," and when we really, truly start noticing them we have no other option than to shift our actions....through and forward. 

Break often. Find the "flaw" and see through it. Take a break from the internal chatter that no longer serves you. Tell yourself it's okay to feel GOOD and be happy and not give an actual DAMN about what anyone thinks about how you did it, or why you're doing it, or what their idea of the "right way" is. Take a break from giving a damn. 

When we break, we have to find a way to make use of the TIME we spent on old habits. When we break, we begin something fresh. When we break, we spend more hours spooned in bed with your favorite book or your new favorite person, you take an evening to watch the moon affect the ocean tide and you don't worry about what time it is....or who you're "obligated" to meet. When you break, you cut-off the flow so when you finally unwind again you're flooded. Ahhhhh. 

Break for oranges and patios. Break for happy hours and beach houses. Break for sweaty mats and silent meditation. Break for new relationships and precarious territory, perfect for fancy footwork. Break for audible sighs and 3pm snuggles. Break for fresh eyes and eager ears. Break for the juiciness in anticipation and breathlessness. Break for a good sob and surrender. Break for daisies. Break because it is the most pure form of faith. Break, because taking yourself so seriously is overrated. Break for complete rebellion and barbaric barefoot dancing. Break to challenge your own ideals and exercise your beliefs. Break for what you can't get enough of and devour it. Break for what will expand your mind and have you clenching your heart, because it's all. soo. much. Break.

When you break the "big deal" thing, is less of a big deal and more a friendly neighbor. A trusty companion. 

Break. Break, because contrary to what "breaking" infers which is isolation, imperfection or delay- the truth is that breaking means movement and light, both of which are beautiful, sacred and profoundly gratifying. 

Back, but still breaking.

xx




















Thursday, April 12, 2012

YOUTH: You're probably fucking up, but don't worry about, you've got time.


There's something about the smell of the air at 10pm in Hollywood, when the sky doesn't give you the privilege of seeing the stars that makes you feel like you're eighteen again.

...tugging at your clothes wondering if you look pretty, if people will think you're funny, or if they're feigning interest... or if people can tell you've been eating peanut butter for dinner for like, a month straight, while piling into a car with a person you barely know, wondering if they're going to remember your name when you run into them at Gelson's in a week.

There's something about that smell. 10pm, right before summer comes full force, that reminds me of all those weird insecurities that you hope you've masked enough for functionality sake...now that you're 25 and all. You'll put this mask on autopilot. Chipping away at truths, layers trailing behind you, reminding you of what you're desperately trying to shed.

But here's the thing about youth. Right? YOUTH. Isn't it equally magic and horrendous at once?

The thing is this; sometimes, when you're 25, you'll end up cuddling with someone you shouldn't and you'll feel terrible the next morning and think, "when in the fucking, FUCK am I going to get it right?" then, you'll remember that sometimes, a warm bicep feels better than a pillow.

That sometimes, you'll isolate yourself and then you'll spread yourself thin. Sometimes, you'll be in the middle of the desert, with your arms in the sky, fingers splayed, tips touching the smoky dome of the Universe and you'll think, "Am I experiencing the actual best moment of my life right this second?" Then you'll fist your hands back up, the lights will turn off and you'll worry about your taxes. Or if you're eating enough greens.

Sometimes, you'll play Tetris with your plans and awkwardly dance atop the teeter totter like a lost puppy with a smile on their face while repeating, "I got this... I think? I got this... i think?" and like a charged game of Russian Roulette you'll hope you land on "GOT THIS SHIT." Then of course, you won't land there and you'll make yourself a quesadilla. And hopefully, play another game.

Sometimes, you'll have all the feelings and feel nothing at the exact same time and you'll think, "oh my god...is THIS the undiscovered dimension all humans throughout time have been feeling?" Then, you'll crawl into your bed all charged and "wise" and suddenly, you're on your phone debating ordering a pizza or calling your Mom, pretending that you have your shit together. Then you'll meditate, do some yoga, talk to God and feel "okay" again, until you wake up and have to relearn the epiphanies you had the night before and then, you'll feel bad for forgetting them. For not taking them seriously enough. For not making significant life-altering changes on your way to Starbucks, interspersed into your Daily Routine.

SOMETIMES, while you're mid-hangover, you'll be sitting alone at a café and the most beautiful family will be sitting in front of you and you'll be like, "THAT'S ALL I WANT." Then, you'll proceed to text that person who makes you feel like a Douchebag to see if they'll acknowledge your existence, by which the following steps occurs- Step 1. If so, they give you one word. You do a cartwheel. You project progress. Step 2. you'll try to hang out with them, which obviously won't happen... Step 3. You actually give up. A month later, you're back at the same café, staring creepily at a family coveting their life and thinking, "I'm lonely. No, I'm not, I'm awesome?... But still, I'm here creepily envying you? " thus, back to feeling all the things at once.

Sometimes, you'll collect all the wrong people and place them behind your fancy Windex-assaulted hutch, shiny glass and all and then at some unexpected point, you'll be forced to reevaluate their worth and realize you have to make a painful trade. You'll give up and then you'll take up. Then, you'll repeat it all again.

Sometimes, you'll have everything you want right in front of you, but you won't give it the time of day because you're too afraid to let go of the things that validate you just enough to survive, while counteracting your true desires at the same time. Because, obviously, it's too risky to flee. If you let go of one, what if nothing becomes of the other? Then you'll wonder why you're still hungry, clutching to the familiar.

Sometimes, you'll wake up. And each time, you hope you'll stay awake. Until you accidentally fall asleep again...

Sometimes you'll make a thousand excuses as to why you can't. Why you can't find love, why you can't pursue your dreams, why you can't find the time...then, while you're surrendered, empty and ready to be filled again you'll hear this strained voice tell you;

"Move out of your own way."

What they were really trying to say when they were telling you to "let go," was "...kindly unclench your tiny fists that are holding that "thing" that you so want to get rid of, move out of your own way."

It isn't that you're "too busy," or that you don't know what to do, it's that you've decided to know the answers before living through the answers, move your stubbornness aside. Then see the result. In fact, don't just move out of your own way... keep moving, in general. Move. Shift. Take steps.

Sometimes, you'll be like an elephant who just wants to plant a pretty daisy amidst the rose garden and proceeds to fuck the whole operation up.



What are you learning about YOUTH....what do you acknowledge to be true?










Wednesday, March 28, 2012

It's okay to ASK. For more PARMESAN. For more cuddles. For help. ASK, ASK. ASK.



I lifted my heart to the heavens and asked that it be filled.


Ah, isn't that such a vulnerable moment, the ASKING.


...The asking of anything, really; permission, grace, advice, guidance.... ten more minutes, unapologetically declaring the need for more pleasure, or some damn directions. Extra cheese. Real answers. Proof. A little more time. There's great confession is ASKING and when there's a confession, you also reveal a wound or a "heart-piece." A, "hey, I trust you enough to tell you what I need right now." Asking is RAW and when something is raw, it is tender and when something is tender, it is delicate...so when we are in the place of asking we're admitting that we ourselves are fragile and that no matter what emotional facade we may build up around us, we are not made to be emotionally, physically or spiritually bulletproof.


Almost two years ago I went through what is my deepest ache-the one that left the floor and Iintimately familiar. Yes, while seemingly trite it was my first, real, true love heartbreak. See, I'm acutely aware that a breakup isn't an ounce of the pain or heaviness that people struggle with in the larger scheme of life, however, the dark hours that followed for me were as a result of this experience. The point isn't that specific experience but the things that I carried from it as a result; you will not feel this depth of pain, to this capacity forever. Even when it feels like it now, the Gods above will grant you some respite before you crumble. And, the most important one was this;
It is our job to lift people up.
Caring, is not a "special personality trait" it is what we are here to do. If we aren't genuinely caring, unconditionally loving, connecting- holding and selflessly giving to those around us, what matters?


.... remember how supportive all of you were, when I was revealing my cringeworthy pain to you?


When I was heaving in a ball, clutching my heart and a pack of cigarettes, you were planning, scheming, sending prayers and notes. With no expectation, just to 'wave hello' that you were out there, thinking of me. I didn't realize the expansiveness of what it felt like to be HELD until I went through that. But, the thing I also didn't prepare for was; In order for me to heal, part of what I needed to do was reveal to those dear the parts of me that were still aching.


While, I see infinite magic, miracles and awe in this singular precious life that we're living, I recognize and acknowledge that there is true pain and heartbreak happening. That we're all surviving and navigating through our own suffering. We're experiencing loss of our loved ones, our visions, our self-control, our fortitude. Our minds. We're hurting. We each have different degrees of pain, on different timelines, wearing different outfits. But all of us have it. Which makes this whole COMPASSION thing, pretty essential.


Be there before someone needs to ask. Rush to their side. Assume they need tequila. Assume they need you to listen. Assume they need a bowl of spaghetti. Be still and silent. Expand your own heart and test your humanity by beving brave enough to truly comprehend what they must be feeling. When the words on the tip of your tongue are just answers for YOU, reevaluate them and give words made for who's in front of you. Take yourself out of the picture. Reserve your need to find a solution, or be right, or make a judgment and realize that by presently being with someone the answers you thought you had for them, actually work both ways and that there's something they're teaching you too. Make a little more space in your heart.


Pour one out for the homie. Dedicate a prayer, mindfully.

Send out a practice. A poem. A card that says, "...we'll find our 'happy.'" Send pears, or cabernet, bad chick flicks, or text messages full of emoticons.

Feed. Nurture. Nap with. Peel. DO THE HEAVY LIFTING. All for someone else.

...and if you are in the place of asking; it's okay.

Declare what you are and what you are not. What can be and what you need a little help with for awhile.

Give your pain a name and let the people who love you, snuggle up next to that distinct, bitter anguish and let them endure the thing with you. When you feel stale and vacuous, ask for a sip of their light to start the engines again. Then let them sweep you away from the ache, if even for a moment and make you smile again. Let them distract you. Take you on an adventure. Stimulate your senses, through food and music and newness. Let those around you make you feel alive again, when you're enduring the deepest opaque moments, when you think it isn't possible- feel. alive.

There's a reason we have the ability to hold each other. So keep your arms open.

If sleep, or the night. If food, or the mirror. If loneliness, or the silence. If unanswerable questions, or the confusion. If the ability to make a five minute plan, let alone a 5 year plan is plaguing you, we're here.

When you need a ride. Someone to tell you a story. A partner in crime. Physical presence. A light. Someone to count to three for you so you can scream on four. A person to look you in the eyes and say, "...you're going to be okay." When you need these things, ASK. But more than asking, be these things. This is our job, it is part of the human condition to take care of one another.


Let's stick together shall we? I got you.



How can you OPEN YOUR ARMS TO SOMEONE TODAY?

































Wednesday, March 14, 2012

My idea of balance is like.... eat broccoli all week, or live on cheese plates and whiskey. ALSO TITLED: The blog about Self Awareness.



"Something hit me in the stomach today; he could, can, will move on and be with someone else eventually. Then, I got really sick. So there's that. It's distant enough at this point that I recognize that statement as a reality. And... my ego doesn't like the idea of him getting to move on before me......wow, that was honest."

I typed these words to a dear friend yesterday. And while I don't generally lack the ability to be forthcoming, I momentarily, somewhat unknowingly, admitted a subconscious fear.
The way friends always seem to know how, she said the thing that is a truth but one I hadn't quite pinpointed.

"I appreciate your self awareness."

I appreciate your self awareness. The words turned around in my mind. Somersaults. Up and over.

The thing is, are any of our fears really subconscious? Or are we blindly turning our head towards a different view, because we just aren't ready..... there's a difference between being unaware and between being unprepared to handle a truth.

Often, the moments we have an "AHA!" we're really just finding the lock that fits the key, we knew there was a key. We knew there was a lock. They just existed in different places in our lives. Whatever was behind the door was maybe, something we weren't prepared to handle. Something we weren't ready to accept into our lives... to let assist in our evolution of spirit, self, movement.

The answer doesn't always present itself in one conspicuous gesture. The answer is a riddle.
The answer is a journey, that involves a lot of mini-answers along the way. Yes, no. Mhm-yeah-baby-more-please and hell-to-the-never-ever-fuck-that-shit.

EVERYTHING we are doing is honing our self awareness. Polishing it, so the "Yes" feels more effortless and the "No," is less frequent- there's less to say No to, when we start dancing with the things that we know are parallel with our Yes.

I'm a big believer in making friends with your fears. Letting them live on the surface so you can become familiar with the things that feed their hungers in a positive way and that feed them in a negative way. A precautionary step to avoid any sneak attacks, if you will. "Why hello little fear, you little punk, stop ruining my day- shall we have a cookie and hash it out?" That's more my approach.

::disclaimer, hippie shit is about to happen:: Click to Pinterest, Facebook, etc. now if you aren't down. Ok. Back::

The other day while I was on my yoga mat, surrendered, my thumbs at my Third Eye a voice said, "Hey.... I'm always here. You just have to ask me to wake up." What parts of yourself need to wake up.... it's already there. We may not hibernate, but parts of our spirit do if we don't urge them to stay awake.

I am intimately aware that:
My idea of nurturing myself is often counter intuitive. Sometimes, the things I do to "nurture" myself, are things that feed the wrong beast. I am aware that, while I may resist certain cravings, they are almost always right and if I ignore them, it only perpetuates their eagerness and deprivation. I am aware that truth rises to the surface, always.


I am aware that my idea of "being an adult," is skewed. I am aware that I will never, probably ever, be comfortable with making plans two weeks in advance and not being tempted to break them. Or, having to answer to authority. Or remember which bills I paid on time. Or having a well balanced fridge. Lucky Charms? Modelo? Broccoli? Marinara? Almond butter? Done. I am aware that I will have to work around my "imperfections," but that it also makes me keen on improvising and that, just like Truth I rise under pressure.


I am aware that I could use some work in the laundry department. That my friends are better at sending gift baskets than I'll ever be. That I go cross eyed when you talk about numbers and that I fear my relationship with money is a long road.... but one I don't want to admit, out of fear that it will keep me from embracing it. I am aware that at the core of everything, I'm actually a performer. That I'm happiest on stage. Or in front of a camera. Or a microphone. That I'm afraid I'll be chained to a chair forever and ever while my Gypsy implodes. I'm aware that I am fearful of imploding.

That I kind of have a temper. That I'm terrible at not getting my way. (that I usually find a way to get ' my way' and that, that particular conquest drives to the edge of insanity.)

That my two things are; love and significance. That when I'm in love my need to feel "significant" lessens, to the point of extinction. That there's a reason one was taken from me. That these two things need to find a way to live beside one another, eventually. I am aware that I like to fucking GO THERE, let's get our hands dirty. Bullshit meter, on high.

That sometimes self awareness is a rabbit hole. Which makes me weirdly insecure. That I want to lift people's consciousness, but that starts with lifting my own first. Through art. Through words. Through action.

I am aware that this blog is too long. Hi.




What are you SELF AWARE about? Good, bad, in between.





























Sunday, February 12, 2012

These are the ways you can love yourself.....


I'll sleep in. Just one more hour.... snooze button pressed. I can skip yoga for the day, I said. Heart heaving. Bad decisions. Raw text messages. Lifted the veil, to reveal the tawdry parts that embarrassed me. Guilt, thick and distinct like gasoline at the pit of my stomach... why did you do that, why did you do that....

Reluctantly, I pulled myself up, imaginary strings attached to my shoulders, lifting me out from my lackluster. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Release it and move on. Thirty minutes later, on my mat, staring down at my newly manicured sparkling turquoise toes (a color chosen for the very specific reason that it was a silly color), I said.... see, this is how you love yourself.

Feeling anxious, letting my unnecessary panic decide the course of my day is not an option. Getting up and going anyway, while your insides spin out of control. Holding the pose all the way through, when your mind teases you, telling you you can't. Staying when you want to run somewhere called "safe," but really it's just somewhere hidden. These are the ways you can love yourself.

I stared at the list, of my "to-dos" none of which included my "to-enjoys," and while en route to check off the items, I found myself instead in a bookstore, cranking my neck up to the ceiling seeking Hafiz, words that would ground me. I walked away with Rilke, anthologies and a cappuccino. These are the ways you can love yourself.

I told the cute boy at the check out who never smiles back, that I had spent most of the day laying on the floor painting a brown jewelry box pink and writing myself Valentine's Cards with crayons.... he cracked a smile and said he didn't like Tuesdays. Not a total success, but at the very least I had now revealed that I was a little odd, which is, I like to think...a little charming and truthfully, I just wanted to talk to someone. When you want to talk, talk. Tell people stories, without them asking first. When you have extra sequins, make Valentine's. Have sequins, in fucking general. Smile at the stranger who never smiles back anyway, these are the ways you can love yourself.

Not checking the time, or worrying about email. I sat outside and I listened. I paid attention to where I was. To the man that was reading an article about tacos for a solid 45 minutes, which meant he wasn't reading at all but that was probably listening too. I listened with him, I wonder if we heard the same things? Ask yourself questions. Eat tacos. Wonder what a 60 year old man wearing White Converse sneakers does with his days? Imagine that he's a cartoonist, with a propensity for Pez and a collection of rare flutes. Make up funny images in your head. These are the ways you can love yourself.

I watched the couple that walked holding hands, buzzed from bottomless mimosas, still fluttering, they kissed by the car. Innocent, sweet. She left. He walked back, holding a bag of oranges and bundles of greens. I watched him smile and thought, how lovely that I got to witness how happy he is... I wonder if she can feel him smiling. Ten minutes later he walked back the other direction, this time with a friend, retelling his day, erupting with optimism. "We went to the market, then we had lunch...it was a five. hour. date." He was beaming. A lucky moment to observe, that I would have missed had I been texting. Or checking Twitter.

Tell your friends the details. Grin that kinda silly grin. Feel insanely thrown off your game, then let the amount that you keep it cool be ZERO, let someone in and let them make you feel completely exhilarated, these are the ways you can love yourself.

When you can walk, but feel like driving.....walk. When you have lingerie, wear it. When you find your favorite poem, read it four times in a row out loud....record yourself reciting it and listen to your pretty feminine voice. Hear yourself the way other people do. Eat a spoonful of frosting, test your guilt meter and tell it actually fuck off. Make a purchase in anticipation for something....for instance, I bought a full length beaded gown. Yes, beaded. gown. With no where to wear it.... I anticipate that won't be the case for long.

When you want to look soft, like the girl who wants to open her heart to you....the girl who wants to stay up late and tell you about the recurring dream of her and the moon, then whisper to you some of her most tender admissions.... be that girl now, you don't have to wait for someones acknowledgment to unfold. Unfold. These are the way you can love yourself.

When you feel like life is wrapping its fingers around your spirit, clenching its fists around you energetically, placing its strong hands on top of your head in an attempt to say, "stop. growing." push back. It's a test. When you wonder if you're invisible, or perhaps no one will love you or see you, or that you may have to compromise your spirit because, "that's just life".... remember that the ground beneath you will always support you, that the heart that's beating inside of your chest is always your steady companion and that your life is YOURS, that you decide your shine, the only person who can switch on/off INNER LIGHT, is you. These are the ways you can love yourself. Light, on.

Listen to Joni and Whitney, Carole and Patty. Sing out loud. Create for the sake of creating, whether anyone sees it or not. Dance naked, feel ridiculous and awesome at the same time. Admit you need to be held and touched and don't feel sorry about it. Tell your friends you need alone time, make less excuses and make more truthful declarations. Tell yourself you look nice today. Spend an extra ten minutes on something. Wave at a baby. Tell someone ELSE that you think they're beautiful if you're thinking it, even if you're out at a loud bar where everyone is trying to act cool, but everyone really needs someone to tell them, "you already are." Read people's name tags, look them in the eye. Dorothy, at Gelson's made my day. What a great name.... follow the yellow brick road.


Remember that the judgements you make towards yourself are harsh, unnecessary and tactless. That you pretty bird are a delicate, extraordinary miracle. Speak accordingly.


...these are the ways you can love yourself.



How will YOU love yourself?
















Monday, February 6, 2012

The things I'm saying to myself..... minus all of the things I say to myself about Beyonce. That's another blog post.



You will be compelled to act, when you are meant to.

The nudge, the "go on now...." the stumble into action, the 1. 2. and jump before you can reach 3.... you know the difference between the times you've made calculated decisions and the times a seemingly imaginary force shoves you..... you will be. compelled act, when you are meant to.

.... so give yourself a little bit of a break, really. Conserve your brain fuel, it is a precious.

This moment, is just that- a moment in your life, it isn't your WHOLE LIFE so all the over generalizing and dramatic statements about what this moment means for your future are probably premature, this. moment. is a screen cap, a blip, a 3 minutes in a 90minute picture.... even if it isn't the moment you want to be IN, you're in it, so savor it. Chew on it. Wring it dry.

Pick up every crumb with the tip of your index finger, because after THIS moment, you'll be wrapped up in another one and I can almost guarantee you'll have a bought of amnesia and romanticize what it is you're so desperately trying to run away from right this second.

They're all good. Minute 6, minutes 9-15... there's all different pictures though, right? With different angles and different lighting, making one. whole. So like the frame you're in...even if you're discouraged by it, because it's a part of your whole story and this is YOUR STORY. It would be helpful for you to stop pretending that you get a take two.... within the same lifetime, anyway.

Where you're at right now is preparing you, polishing you. Causing friction so that you are fucking. smooth. when it's showtime. In fact, you're studying for something and you don't even know what yet, find odd comfort in that. The surrender. The, "ah...I remember seeing that somewhere..." or "that's so funny, because I was just reading about that..." Nothing is coincidence. No thang.

Sometimes, it's as simple as this- you're just feeling a little blue. When you give it a name, "I'm having a Sad Balloon kind of day," it's a lot easier to let go of. But, I promise, it's easy to make feeling a little blue, feel like a whole fucking monsoon of gray, gray, gray has attacked you.... just keep talking about it. If you really need to go there. Or hey, maybe don't.

Oh and you should know this, but for the record, you should probably stop giving a shit about that guy. You know why? Because you're really fantastic and you should never need to convince someone of it. Bye. bye.

You're a dime plus ninety nine.

Forgive yourself. Stop feeling guilty about feeling guilty.

Smile inwardly, at yourself and then out to Universe.

There isn't anyone reminding you to take care of yourself anymore... so, set your boundaries- what do you need? What do you NEED? Fuck what everyone is saying you can/can't do; peers, family, friends, work... do what you know will make you FEEL GOOD. Look out for yourself.

Leave earlier. Leave later. Operate from that which you KNOW, that soul stuff, even if it isn't fast or convenient enough for your current circumstances.

Take space. Have another. Refrain. Slow down. Ask. Confess. Save some of what's left over for your own little feast.

Don't let them convince you otherwise. Honor your intentions. Don't make excuses just to be nice, it isn't nice if it isn't truthful. To yourself, or to anyone else. Spend time feeling insanely sexy, even if no one is around to see it. Especially then.

Do you. Repeat times ten.

It's all okay.







How do you take CARE of your spirit? What do you tell yourself?


































Thursday, January 12, 2012

Familiar things. Insomnia and....where are all the men in this town?


“Can we take a nap?”

They were the first words that spilled out of my mouth when we saw each other, in our comfortable familiar place, with familiar sounds, of puppies nails on the kitchen floor scurrying to give me a nuzzle around my ankles. It was a home where I’d spent days and hours working from the study, digging into the homemade granola that tasted different because they kept it in the fridge (and I liked it that way, because it was how they did it) making myself egg sandwiches and sifting through pictures of him as a little boy.

It was a home where I’d fallen in love with his family, where we’d had our first fight, where I napped. Because I felt safe enough there.

The energy I’d exerted, working myself up to be in his presence again without falling to pieces was enough to take me out for a week. With his basement windows, covered, 2pm sunlight aching to break through…. I could’ve hibernated there for the rest of the year. A year that I was so terrified of letting go of, because I knew that what was to come would be new and different and perfect, but every event, every holiday, every weekend and milestone would occur without him in it, or with him but a different "him." Valentines day would come again, as would summer, BBQ’s and St. Patty’s Day… Monday afternoon and Friday morning and all of them, unlike the memories before would be missing something familiar.

“Yes, we can do that….” He said, the outline of his shape so acquainted with the outline of mine and how we fit. I wanted him somewhere familiar. Somewhere that I was used to having him. In bed. Comfortably. Guards down. Equal playing field.

So we napped. We napped, because I wanted to trick myself for an hour, or two, or however long I could stay asleep- into thinking that we were “Us” and that life would SLOW for me. Those two seconds when you open your eyes and forget that the landscape has shifted. I wanted two seconds.

See, I have trouble sleeping a lot of time, he was always sort of my, “Sleep Whisperer” he told me stories, or he talked me out of nightmares- often, ones that I had about him- when I was asleep I was safe. Just the presence of him, the rhythm of his breath and the warmth of his body was enough to lull me….somewhere else. Somewhere cosmic and uninterrupted. It was the time that I trusted him the most, because he wasn’t meddling, or planning, or seeking someone different.

We were Us and we were simple. Sleeping.

Often holding hands, on our backs. Our different languages didn't get in the way and fuss with things, there.

I hadn’t seen him in months and we complicated things by using too many words anyway (something I'm guilty of more often than not), conversation could wait... I just wanted to nap. So we did.

It's odd, actually- It’s been surprisingly easy and uncomplicated- but quite possibly the most profound and complex situation I’ve ever found myself in all at once. It’s like, centuries ago in different lives when we were both kings and queens, paupers and peasants, we fulfilled our promise to one another, to love forever and ever and ever….and this time around, it just wasn’t in the cards. But, our souls still know the difference….

When he’s in trouble, on some Greyhound, on some quest for his Higher Self through alchemy and crystals, meditation circles and smoke signals, in the middle of the desert, running away….I text, “Are you okay?”

When I’m looking at the pack of cigarettes on my kitchen table, a nasty habit we formed together, my phone buzzes and says, “….Don’t smoke cigarettes ☺….”

When my heart is so full, so aching, so overwhelmed- he says, “I’m going to shine 33 seconds of light on you….” and for 33 seconds I feel just a little bit better.

We’re so obviously not meant to be with one another- but we still….just. love. So much.

He knows, he KNOWS how much I want the whole “dream.” I want a partner. I want an equal. I want my prince to look me in the eye and say, “let’s do this THING.”

Enough time has gone by now that I see what it is that I want. The problem is, I can easily find men who fill in categories where he was lacking…. I can find missing “pieces”- but it isn’t “missing pieces” that’s the goal. It’s the whole thing.

He knew…that I was shiny. He saw that I shined. While, now…. I can barely get a boy who I have a crush on to return a text message?

He knew that I existed in both simple and complicated frames of mind at the same time, that I was equal parts ambition and dedicated lover. That I was lay-down-in-the-middle-of-the-mother-fucking-train-tracks for you, loyal, but never. Ever. A doormat.

That I was worth being treated like a fucking goddess, but not to feed ego, or pride or some chicky insecurity, but because I would treat HIM like a my counterpart and that together we were celestial, powerful and treasured, because WE valued each other. We said without saying, “I see you.” Soul understanding, ya see?

He knew that I would be a mother who picked two books every night, acted out ALL THE VOICES…. and always stretched “bedtime” with room for two more…..

He knew that I was “too much…” but he would never want me to operate and FEEL like I was. LIGHT IS NOT MEANT TO BE DIMMED DOWN OR DIMINISHED.

So, while we can nap and love one another, in different times and spaces, presently and nostalgically- he’s still a boy. On a journey, one different than mine. We were a We once, but now we aren’t and the times that I want to say, “I wish you were here…” and he says, “I’m exactly where I need to be.” I know that he’s right.

….and I guess, so am I. Exactly where I need to be.

I just wonder, will anyone else ever see me… through a lens as transparent as his….or, will they even try?


WHAT ARE YOU THINKING ABOUT TODAY.....?

 
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