Never Stop Scuttling

What happens when the bubbly girl has an off day?

People freak. Or so was the case today, at least.

To be quite honest, “people” included me. I literally found myself saying I’m cranky, and I’m not used to it, so I don’t really know how to handle this…

I woke up in a funk this morning, which is unlike me, and for the second day in a row! Never happens. So, naturally, I grab my iPhone and check the mooncast app. I know very well that the new moon is in just shy of a week, but I was hoping Miss Moon might lend me some insight as to the funk I’m. Next was the mercury retrograde app. Again, technology confirmed what I already know. Mergury goes retrograde on October 21st. So what the flip is up with me?

I’m not trying to claim I never get grumpy. That is so not the case. But it’s safe to say I’m sunshine and rainbows the vast majority of time, probably to a nauseating degree in the and of some, so when strange moods strike I sometimes feel blindsided.

Back to the question…what the eff got under my skin? It could be that today is my “rest” day, a day off from vigorous practice, which usually leaves me in a fog. I rely on my asana to clear the mental clouds as well as drain my otherwise too-boisterous-for-my-own-good energy. But, as any good yoga teacher and wellness counselor would do, I enforce periodic rest days to avoid fatigue, RSI, the like.

Looks like fatigue beat my rest day to the punch, though. And the not-moon-nor-mercury induced frump-fest that I woke in lingered all day long. Another rarity! Usually I kick my funk within a couple hours at most. Not this time.

It was miserable. And, the worst part? I had no control over any of it. Do not put the bubbly girl in a funky state AND take away the control freak’s control! Gah, the horror.

Nearly everyone was in my face at work all day about the different energy. As a healer, I exude more beneficial energy than need be at times. Hence my recent post about energy reserve and preservation of said reserve. They were’nt in my face in a rude way, per say, but my quietness was definitely as alarming to them as it was to me. I was even told by one person, NO! You can’t be cranky, that’s not you, slap yourself!

Oh yeah, sure, that’ll un-crankify me.

If it wasn’t already apparent that I take my own classic upbeat nature for granted, it was now also apparent that my immediate circle did too. Snap out of it, many said.  A choice few, some of the more sinister-in-an-admirable-way folks, just nodded empathetically. Cranky, yes, we’ve been there, their expressions told me, though we’d have probably called it pissed off or bitter, something less floofy.

Only bubbly people use the word cranky.

The less cranky I tried to be, the more my funk intensified. My perfectionist tendencies were rising in me like a lump in the throat and I just felt like crying. I felt like a victim of identity theft. That sounds ridiculous, I know, but it’s true. I felt like someone had robbed me of my bubbly normalcy. I didn’t know how to operate as solemn Sara. Everyone I encountered asked me what was wrong.

The true answer? NOTHING! I just didn’t feel like chatting everyone’s head off for once! Can’t a girl get a day with a little more peace and quiet? Perhaps – gasp – a tiny bit less smiling? My face just didn’t feel like smiling today. Is that such a crime?

Isn’t it better to be true to one’s current internal state of affairs rather than force a dishonest mood?

I understand that being a monster is not only inappropriate, it’s unpleasant. I am in no way advocating for waking up in a foul mood and justifying behaving like a beast out in the world. To an extent, we must fake it till we make it. Maybe in doing so we’ll trick ourselves back into happyland. But I wasn’t being a monster, I just didn’t feel like fake smiling all day. I was being perfectly pleasant, I just wasn’t fully “myself.” The result? I felt like I was letting everyone down.

The more I thought this way, the worse my mood became. I masked the grumpiness on the outside and tried to quell long conversations with musing smiles and nods, turning my attention elsewhere. Today would have been an epic day to be able to take a vow of silence. In response to my inner frustrations, my voice even began to turn hoarse.

Needless to say, when 4pm finally hit, I drug my cranky bum home in quite the tizzy. I dug immediately into a snack. That’s usually one reason I get crabby; low blood sugar. While my raw “cheezy” zucchini pasta with tamari and pumpkin seeds was a delicious hold-me-over till dinner, the fog clung on. Shortly thereafter I tied on my tennies and took off on a brisk three mile walk.
It was. The last. Thing. I felt like doing. But, alas, there are three remedies for me when a funk strikes: nourishment, movement, restoration.

So I nourished…then I moved. On about mile two I started to feel the haze lift. By the time I came home my heart was rocking out to its own melody in my chest, my blood was pumping, light had returned to my eyes and my hunger was revved up again. I made some delicious, warming, vata-grounding, nourishing dinner and whipped up my classic immune booster digestif tonic. Then I moved on to stage three of the funk kicker equation: restoration. I set my beloved studies aside for the evening, donning jammies at 6pm, and picked up where I’d left off with What to Expect When You’re Expecting on Netflix.

Boom. Goes. The. Dynamite. Now we’re talkin’.

Am I feeling better? Meh. I’m certainly 110% comfy cozy. So that gets a thumbs up. I’m fed, warm, exhausted and absolutely infused with gratitude. Gratitude to be where I am and not standing, working, tired, frankly anywhere but here.

If the entire purpose of my funk was to leave me saying I wouldn’t want to be anyplace else, then it was worth it. Because that’s really how I want to feel at the end of every day.

A little kindness, with others as well as oneself, goes a long way. Next time the dreaded fog finds me and I rise in a funk, I’ll be sure to be nice and patient with myself. Same goes for other people. The usually bubbly, upbeat people in our lives can have bad days. In fact they should have bad days, otherwise there’s no darkness to rim their brilliant light. They must coexist. We’re all human. Funks hit. We must realize that we’re sentient beings, not robots. We are deeply influenced by energetics, the moon, seasons, the solar system, weather, environment, the Universe. We have emotions, we pick up on energy. Sometimes we feel ways we can’t comprehend in the moment. That does not make our feelings irrelevant. We are doing ourself a disservice by not feeling them fully.

Had I smothered my funk today, I’d not have written this piece. I’d not be a pile of exhaustion in cozy pajamas, banging out the final words of this essay. I’d not have learned this lesson, be digesting this gratitude nor sharing this material with all of you lovelies. So everything truly does happen for a reason. Maybe the bubbles will be back tomorrow. I certainly believe they will be. One thing is for certain, they reside in me. Right beside the little cranky girl who also is a part of me. My yin and yang. I’m an emotional cancerian crab, after all. I certainly spent today scuttling around, one grumpy eye leering out from inside of my shell. Self-preservatoin. A necessary act in treating any funk. I learned today that perfectionism has no place in an emotional body. Things will never be perfect, nor should they be. Perfection is unattainable.

Perfection is boring, and it is definitely not what I am. What I am is a crab. A crab beached somewhere between bubbly and cranky, lazy and exhausted, totally ready to hit the hay and begin again tomorrow.

And you know what? There’s not a darn thing wrong with that 🙂

Keep on scuttling, Tribe. Cranky or bubbly, never stop scuttling.

 

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Sea Glass

What is it in us that needs attention? Not just needs, but craves, demands, searches for…

Forgive me for saying “us,” and counting you into this attention-needing group. But we are a tribe, after all. We are human. This behavior is simply in our nature, though more for some and less for others.

Do you ever feel like this? Do you have times where you feel like your phone just won’t stop jingling, people want things from you, demands coming from every angle…you’re spread thin and can’t seem to please everyone and you just want some peace and quiet? Come on, I know you have felt that way. We all have, at some point or another, had that overwhelming sensation capsize and leave us feeling like a little piece of sea glass, buffed smooth in the crashing ocean waves.

Well, what happens when the waves stop thrashing, when they fall tranquil? What happens when that perfect little piece of green sea glass washes ashore and no one’s there to pick it up? To run their hands over the smooth surface, to hold it gently after all its been through. All of the crashing subsides, the tide rolls back out…and you’re left all alone. What then?

Life ebbs and flows, much like the tides of our great ocean. When the chaos dies down, then everything gets quiet, do you indulge in a deep sigh of relief and take rest? Or do you panic, not knowing what to do without the jingling, the constant “I need something from you,” the purpose?

I’m somewhere in between, usually. I relish the silence, the solitude. But there’s an expiration date on that. If I went an entire day without my phone going off once, I admit, I might have to battle some feelings of omg no one loves me waaaaaah!

Slightly painful confession, but true nonetheless.

I have been having this experience in the past couple of days. Hot on the heels of a Holy Shitake LEAVE ME BE! couple of weeks, endless texts, calls, emails and requests…I’m left in silence. Or, seeming silence. It’s certainly not lonesome, but it’s far less “busy” than before. The resistance that’s coming up for me is unsettling. Unnerving. I don’t like it. It makes me uncomfortable. Which is precisely why I knew I needed to write about it.

What is it in us that makes us want attention? I find myself starting text conversations with people I don’t even really want to talk to…people I wanted space from even just days before and, once I get that space, I prod the sleeping giant. Like did you forget about me? What about me? Me me me! Even though I’d been wanting them to leave me the heck alone!

Please pardon my french here, but what the fuck is up with that?

I don’t get it. This constant need for attention. Sure, at 25 I’m wayyyy better than I was at, say, 20. Five years has offered me immense growth, perspective and independence. But I’m beginning to recognize a layer of attention neediness that resides in adulthood. I can only assume that in my forties (as I’ve heard repeatedly that they’re the best years of a woman’s life) this tendency will have declined. And by assume I mean hope.

I don’t like being needy. I’ve written ad nauseum about the neediness that came out of me in my last relationship. Ew, bleck, gross. Been there, done that, bought a t-shirt. But I’m not talking about romantic neediness, or heck, even neediness in general. I’m talking about human interactions and the desire for attention.

Even in conversations. Two people talking. The urge to unload all of one’s “latest,” the accomplishments, the vacations, the news, so on and so forth. Attention. In wanting recognition for tasks we’ve done “well.” Attention. Around friendships, even around strangers…this one’s sticky. How about when a girl gets all fancied up and goes out expecting – yep, you guessed it – attention, and receives none? We’ve seen this in so many modern chick flicks (cue the nightclub scene in Knocked Up when the sisters don’t get let inside because one’s prego and the other’s “old,” remember that? If you’ve not seen it, it’s hilarious, rent it). Attention from the opposite sex, particular male to female, that line’s about as thin a line as it gets. Too much attention and it’s inappropriate; too little and it’s like what’s wrong with me? 

The demand for attention is an epidemic.

Naturally, as with all topics, this doesn’t apply to everyone in the same way. There are varying degrees of attention hungry people, but it’s there to some extent, in all of us. Even if you refuse to admit it.

So if it’s just a fact of our human nature, why am I so bugged by it? I guess because it feels almost masochistic, in a way. I find myself pushing away attention when it’s smothering me, when I’m busy as a bee and can’t answer everyone and please everyone and find the time for anyone, much less everyone. But then things slow down, I get a day off, I’m home by myself and the dog’s just staring at me and my phone has no messages. That’s when I’m like, well I’ll just text them…but then the cycle inevitably starts back up. They take forever to respond and, by the time they do, I’ve lost interest or am in the middle of yoga, or writing, or a movie or, or, or…

I might be sounding like a brat. That’s the risk one runs when one admits to the ugliness of human nature. Hi I’m Sara and sometimes I feel like an attention whore. There, I said it. It’s out. Gross.

It really does irk me, that I ever feel this way. But what I’m grateful for is that I’m cognizant of it. I am aware of the tendency to need attention. I am working towards getting a handle on it and understanding why it happens (if you’re reading this waiting for an answer, I don’t have one). I suppose that’s part of life; it’s certainly part of the yoga practice. Self-observation, self-study. Working towards understanding why we operate the way we do, why we feel the way we do; learning to not identify with these traits and qualities, learning to not dub them our “nature.” Because, my yogis know what our true nature is…

Divine light. We are divine, we are Bliss Absolute. We are not attention whores, we are beings of Divine light living in transient bodies with chattering minds that just succumb to attention whore behavior!

We are not that behavior. We simply observe and, through trial and error, devise route through this world that is least painless and most luminous. The path of least resistance.

We are bits of translucent sea glass. Buffed smooth and serene by the ocean waves. The thrashing polishes us, the stillness lets the light rest on us. We needn’t be picked up, we needn’t be held, to be our beautiful selves. The ocean will be back for us, the waves are never far off, the thrashing chaos always seeming much warmer and more familiar when the tide rolls out. We needn’t be tossing around in it incessantly to know it’s there, it makes us, and it will be back. So when the tide rolls out and everything gets quiet, may we just rest quietly in the sand, all by ourselves. May we let the sunlight rest on us, and listen to the waves in the distance.

Sea Glass Beach

#lovetrio

Okay. Challenge time.

A little lovefest has branched off of the #r3movement. It’s called #lovetrio.

I challenge us to come up with three things we love about the present moment everyday, at LEAST once per day.

The real challenge? EVERY time you get swamped with negativity, I want you to stop, drop and let three things you LOVE about that moment roll right off your tongue – put out the negativity flames and fan the fire of LOVE with three affirmations. Three recognitions of the BEAUTY that resides in even the darkest moments! CHALLENGE yourself.

In those moments of negativity, this is hard. Which is why it’s a CHALLENGE rather than a game. The first recognition of love will likely be easy. The second, maybe a little harder. Sometimes the third will fight to stay hidden, concealed in the shadows. Dig deep, unbury it. Wear it with pride.

Light your life on fire with love. Post on your facebook, twitter each day and hashtag #lovetrio. Also feel free to scribble on post its, write in your journal, and keep it in your head. Just take the challenge. See the love . Let the pyro-love-mania begin!

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Must Trust Must Trust Must Trust

Last night I sliced the h-e-double-hockeysticks out of my left thumb. I literally left puddles of blood all over the house in my attempt to change bandaids throughout the evening. It was like a crime scene. I momentarily considered going to the ER for stitches, before the reality sunk in that all the people with non-digit (aka actually serious) injuries would be seen first, and I’d likely waste 4-6 hours waiting for thread to be painfully woven into my flesh.

You can understand why I chose to, instead, kill two boxes of bandaids at home.

Pardon the TMI here, but the bleeding just would not stop. When it finally came time for bed I was still completely wired as a result of all the blood sighting (I’m a queasy little doe) and my PM cacao creations. A girl can only blame herself here, for the theobromine fix late in the evening that is, but seriously, I can’t seem to quit my healthy cacao concoction habit. At least there’s antioxidants pulsing through my high as a kite body. Hi I don’t do stimulants, can you tell… I digress.

As I was trying to inch myself towards lights out, I noticed I was bleeding through yet another set of bandages. Cool beans, dude. At this point I’m seriously concerned my thumb is going to bleed all over my fresh sheets and cream pillowcases. So I bandaid the funk out of it and called it a night.

Well, little miss Cacao Queen here bandaided her poor swingnone (my word for “finger” as a toddler) straight into oblivion. The circulation was literally struggling to make it to the thumb. Which I didn’t realize in a timely manner. Plus side? I managed to stop the bleeding after six hours. Down side? I couldn’t sleep at all. Oh, the throbbing…the miserable, frigging throbbing…

I tried propping my hand up on my headboard (seriously, don’t laugh). I tried resting it over my head, I tried burying it beneath my other hand, under the pillow, under my body. I tried talking menacingly to it, trying to intimidate it into remission. I tossed and turned and whimpered. I got up. I lay back down. I turned on the light. I checked the time. I counted the less than six, five, four hours I’d be getting before the alarm went off. I shook my wounded thumb madly in the air, cursing the kitchen knife (and user error) that landed me in this predicament!

I was to wake up at 5am and go to yoga, my Tuesday morning ritual, have a nice hot shower at the studio and make it to work with plenty of time to eat my yummy brekkie before clocking in.

Plan. Set.

Well, in the middle of the night I came to the dire conclusion that I had to really investigate this bloody, throbbing finger situation (if throbbing could even adequately describe my thumb having taken on its own agonizing heartbeat). Fully prepared to hit up the ER at this point, I stumbled into the who-knows-what-o’clock, blinding light of my bathroom and unwrapped my pulsating, “it’s aliiiiive” swingnone.

What I found was a white, bordering on purple, finger with no feeling whatsoever in the upper portion. Slightly bizarre considering the excruciating pain I’d been in. Unwrapping it and waiting a moment (a moment in which I lightly prodded quizzically at the creepy looking flesh, certain it’d resume its fountain of crimson any moment) actually provided immense relief. The bleeding was momentarily stopped so I wrapped the trauma scene back up and hauled myself into bed.

I woke up at 4am to pee and was frankly ready to start my day. Just another hour of shut-eye, I thought to myself. Normally I’m an 8 hours of sleep minimum girl but, for some reason, I was totally prepared to rock it on 6 hours today. Which leads me to the disappointment of…

…waking up to see it’s light out. Thankfully my eye pillow had come off in my tossing and turning, allowing the light to stream in through my pitious curtains. 

Oh how strange, it’s usually pitch dark at 5am, that’s unusual, I sleepily thought to myself. The senselessness of the thought quickly registered and, upon double take, I saw that the clock read ten past seven. What the SUGAR!!! 

I’d slept through my alarm.

I have never done that in my life. 

Not only had I missed yoga, which I was soooo looking forward to, but I’d also managed to wake up a good ten minutes after I needed to leave the house for work. 

Awesome.

I did take a moment to thank the Universe for knocking my eye pillow off and kicking my internal clock into gear, but then that moment passed and then the curse words came, kind in the way the blood had spurted haphazardly from my thumb the night before.

I tugged on my button cap, flew into some semblance of an outfit (both of which I oddly raked in probably two dozen compliments on today…hey, I guess the Universe gives ya a break where She can…), grabbed my food for the day and ran out the door.

My next door neighbor happened to be sitting outside with one of her little ones as I flung my belongings into my trunk, and she caught wind of my batshit crazy pace. 

“Hey,” 

“I was supposed to leave at 5:30…” I managed.

“…ah,” she nodded. She’s a real no-nonsense gal, which I like. ‘Cuz I’m all about the nonsense. “You won’t even remember this day in 10 years.”

wow. Boom. The penetrating truth of that statement has been sinking in, deeper and deeper, with each passing moment of this day. It’s frankly what got me through the morning. Shook me back into my yogic state of, “everything happens for a reason.” 

She was so right, and it was no accident that she happened to just be randomly sitting on her front steps outside her gate at 7-something in the morning, not doing anything but sitting there…the Universe laid it all out. It didn’t even fully process until later just how profound that sentence was. My face registered my appreciation of her statement, even though my mind was still racing to say yeah but yeah but yeah but! 

“Plus,” she added as I was climbing into the driver’s seat, “your body probably thanks you for the extra sleep.”

Yeah, there’s definitely that.

I pulled out of the driveway, momentarily calmed by her words. Then I glanced at the clock again and the curse words caught up to me.

As I drove to work I broke one of my golden rules. I ate breakfast behind the wheel.

Gasp.

I know, I know, the horror…a nutrition advisor, a mindfulness mentor, eating behind the wheel?! No bueno. I know. But a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

I’ll save y’all the savagery that both the freeway and backroads unveiled and just tell you I clocked in 40 minutes late. 

I was hardly awake, hadn’t had my morning yoga practice (which is rare), and I felt a little like my face was on backwards. 

I told everyone my sob story at work (mostly because I was afraid they’d think I was lying if I didn’t tell every person the truth, but also because I just tend to do that) and was fully expecting the day to go miserably. What shocked my little socks off, though, was that circumstances were quite the contrary.

I felt so human. 

Now, let me say that I come into contact with people on a daily basis who are having bad days. I get to see them for just an instant of time, often when they’re rushing like mad and trying to multi-task early in the morning. I hear them say things like, “I’m not even awake,” and, “I just need to go back to bed and start over.”

I commiserate, but frankly, I rarely feel that way (which I attribute less to my competence as a human being and more to the fact that I just so happen to be a morning person). 

This morning was different, though. had become one of those people. The one who wasn’t awake, felt like her face was on backwards, slept through her alarm, whose plans were totally bunked and who would love nothing more than to crawl back into bed and get a do-over. I felt myself connecting with people who felt the same way, when normally I’m just the sympathetic head-nodder, the friendly face who “aww’s” at their story and wishes them well for the day. Today I was one of them. 

I found myself being even kinder and gentler with people, but also with myself. I wished people well but they wished me well back. We were in the same boat. The same rocking, sprung a leak, not going to make it on time boat.

I genuinely felt a profoundly positive impact on my humam interactions as a result of everything having gone “wrong.”

Like I said, I also got a bazillion compliments on my pulled-together-in-12-seconds-outfit (bizarre but appreciated nonetheless), and I even felt more at ease just knowing that my perfectionism is not the have-all-be-all.

Sometimes, the Universe just has alternate plans for us.

As I drove to work I thought to myself, maybe this happened to save me. Maybe the Universe intervened, in bigger ways than I can understand. Maybe, had I woken on time, I’d have been in a car accident on my way to yoga…or injured myself in class…or, or, or… 

I developed the mantra: Must Trust Must Trust Must Trust. I told myself what I always tell my clients and friends, alike. That it’s happening as it should. Butterfly effect type stuff. If it had happened at all differently, everything else would also have happened differently. So who are we to ever question how it all goes down?!

I consoled myself with the fact that, in ten years, I won’t remember this day. If I do remember it, it will be for the lessons I learned; the lessons you’ve just read about. I will continue to trust I will continue my mantra…must trust must trust must trust. I will continue to tell myself, my friends, my family and my clients what I truly believe to my very core…

When things don’t go “right,” trust that the Universe is divinely orchestrating them so that they’ll go better.

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Purging Noxious Relationships

Today I ended a friendship.

Not in an I hate you and don’t want to ever see you again kind of way. But in a this is not serving me kind of way. It is our responsibility in this life to keep up our “mental hygiene,” as my master teacher calls it, but it’s also our responsibility to do some cleansing in terms of the company we keep.

The people we surround ourselves with speak volumes about who we are, and who we are becoming. Whether we like to admit it or not.

That’s why it’s imperative to purge our lives of toxic relationships!

The purpose of today’s essay is to reinstate a vow I took to myself a spell ago. It’s a vow of honesty, luminescence, if you will. A vow to fill my life only with the most luminous, clear, truthful people, experiences, thoughts, actions and intentions. Such things make our lives, after all, and when I learned that I made the vow without ever looking back.

Today I spoke to a friend who I’ve only known for a short span of time. I’ve sensed from the get-go that this person was not going to be a luminary in the realm of friendship. I knew, and yet I embarked on a friendship anyway. I am not one to judge any person or situation without a deeper look. I felt a connection to this person and was interested in exploring why I felt compelled to build a friendship despite my intuitive conclusion.

Since meeting, we’ve experienced a very intense friendship. Now, I’m a very intense person. Not in a bad way, but intense nonetheless. Intense can be bad, of course, and it can also be very good. It’s just a quality that I am aware I possess, and I am very mindful as to how and where I channel it in my life. I use the intensity deliberately, to mitigate negativity and radiate beneficial energy. That’s my intention, at least.

So this friend happened to meet me during a very intense transition. Being a healer, I couldn’t help but connect on that level. I want to heal. I want to help others through transition, as I lived a long while suspended in “limbo,” unable to transition without knowing where my feet would go. I don’t like to see people suffering. I care deeply, about friends and strangers alike. I like to think we all do.
So, I communicated clearly what my intentions were, literally what I had to offer (friendship and nothing but, see my recent post for clarification, ha!), and we were off to the races.

I’m a very intuitive person. I learn this about myself more and more as time passes. I have met a couple of souls along my journey, like my divine teacher and soul sister Mel, who are also tapped into their intuition in this way. It’s made me feel more at home in the often unnerving sensation of being able to read deeply into energetics. It’s not like a woohoo I’m so special, I’m so intuitive, look at me… It was always more like whoa, this is wacky, people are going to think I’m weird, how do I feel so much when so little has actually happened. I’m coming into my intuition, as I grow and evolve, and I’m learning to harness it in the most beneficial way.

That being said, I intuitively knew that ish had hit the fan with said friend, in just a 24-hour period of not even seeing them or hardly speaking to them. I could just tell.

In a recent post I wrote about being slapped with truth. Since coming to terms with that experience, I’ve found myself increasingly grateful for it…and increasingly appreciative of the beautiful friend who “slapped” said Truth on me! She gave me such a gift in providing me with her Truth. The episode has offered me so much growth and I found myself thanking her again today for her true friendship and for being honest and open with me. What ensued was a deep heart-to-heart, just the two of us and our yoga mats after everyone else had vacated the studio. Bonding as our sweat dried and we mutually expressed with half smiles how the experience shook, frightened, empowered and changed us. We are so much closer now and, after enduring it, I am certain we will be friends for life. One never knows when one offers such Truth how it will be taken. Even the receiver doesn’t know if it will be a game ender or a strengthener, until it’s been processed. I’m deeply satisfied with the conclusion.

The reason I bring this up again simply to illustrate a point. That is the kind of friendship I have space for in my life. The human beings I count as my friends are people who inspire, uplift, teach, challenge and empower me. We have neither the space nor the time for people who drain, stress, irritate and hinder our ability to thrive. 

So that is why I chose today to remove myself from this new friendship. I probably was a bit harsher than necessary, but I’m defensive of my positive lifestyle. Nothing but beneficial energy, is a mantra of mine. Since I’d known all along that there was negative energy in attendance, the biting tone was likely more appropriately directed towards myself. Listen to your intuition, girl! It never steers you wrong. After all, I’m the one that invited this toxicity into my life when I entertained the idea of a friendship with this person. I knew better, and yet I tried to be a good friend anyway. What I ended up with was an irritating scenario that left me feeling grumpy, frustrated and a bit sapped. Like my good energy was being sucked dry by the toxicity.

No, thank you!

But you know what the cool thing is? It’s a lesson learned. We must be mindful of who we let into our lives, because our prana is at stake. Our vital life force. Even in just ordinary friendships, our sacred powerhouse of hard-earned energy can be siphoned, like gas from our tank by a stranger in the dark of night.

Don’t let that happen. Take a look at your life, your relationships; friendship, personal, professional, romantic…take the blinders off and look deeply into the people you’ve formed unions with in your life and ask yourself, are these bonds serving me? Are they offering nothing but beneficial energy?

If there are any “no’s” when you do that inventory, you know what to do.

Don’t let them siphon your prana. The toxic people. Don’t let them. Bar them, kindly, from your life. 

You don’t need to be harsh or mean, you don’t need to sweep them out that very moment. The people themselves are not bad, they’re more than likely really genuinely good people. Either the combination of their energy with your energy is toxic, or they’re experiencing toxicity in their own life that is reflected in your experience with them. Whatever. Either way it’s not welcome in your happy, holistically healthy life. Just become cognizant of their presence and move towards distancing yourself from these relationships. In moving towards that, you move away from resistance. 

Allowing these people to remain in our lives puts little holes in our shield. Don’t let that happen.

This is the R^3 Movement! Be radically in charge of your life! Be revolutionary in your decision making. Be radiant in your interactions. Because, after all, we only have so much time in this one precious life. Let’s not let our carefully cultivated energy leak out all over the place. Keep whole and hole-less by setting diligent standards around the kinds of people you allow into your intimate life, the kinds of relationships you will tolerate being a part of. You are the most precious thing in your life, so put yourself first. I promise, lovebursts, your mind, spirit, body and prana will all thank you, emphatically 🙂

Namaste

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To Be Whole

The Harvest Moon arrived today.

The harvest moon is the full moon that lands in closest proximity to the autumnal equinox. It turned perfectly ripe and full this morning, just before the sun rose to greet the day. I felt her energy from the moment my eyes opened. If you’re here on my blog, you likely know what a moonchild I am, and this banter is not unfamiliar.

In celebration of my favorite full moon of the year, I went to my divine teacher Melanie Salvatore-August‘s yoga class this morning.

We said our usual hello and then, just before the commencement of class, we brushed shoulders and locked eyes. Doing a more thorough, wordless check-in, we sized one another up. We have a way of communicating metaphysically; I love when I meet people who can transmit with me on this level. Mel is like this with everyone, though, she’s a healer. A healer with a divinely intuitive gift.

“You seem whole,” she said to me. Conviction registered in her radiant features. She said it not as a question but as a statement. An affirmation.

Truer, more validating words have not recently been spoken. My beautiful teacher and soul sister, Mel, hit the nail on the head. As she so often tends to do.

It honestly hadn’t dawned on me in that particular sense, until she spoke the words. I have felt full, increasingly whole, more and more complete with each passing day…I know I observed this in myself…I’m certain I was cognizant of it…but was I really? Or did it just sink into me, did I just become full, did it just meld right into the rhythm of what it is to be me in my life, day-to-day? Did it manifest without my declaring it as being so? Did I suddenly come into wholeness just like my beloved moon did, this morning before sunrise?

Looks like it!

Well, I’m not complaining. I just find it so interesting that here I am, feeling whole (a huge part of my intention and journey in this life, mind you), and I didn’t even get to throw a party over it. No frilly lace, no bells and whistles. I feel like in coming into wholeness I ought to have garnered some sort of celebratory spiel. But no. It just became. And everything about the way it just became is so perfect, so incredibly divine, so exactly how it should have gone down.

I think it speaks immensely to growth as well as vairagya, non-attachment, when one needn’t celebrate every step of the journey. Now, notice I didn’t say one shouldn’t celebrate every step of the journey…I didn’t say that at all. But when one needs to celebrate every step in order to feel validate in said step…that’s where resistance accumulates. Celebrating for the simple pleasure of celebrating…that’s the marrow. That’s where the sweet stuff lives. That’s growth.

I only know how whole I feel because I’ve felt fragmented. I’ve been completely shattered. One cannot know wholeness without knowing shards of split glass on the floor, because they are one. One allows for the other and they exist together. I’ve been partially put together, too; flimsily relying on glue and scotch tape to stay together, my reinforcement transparent, my resolve wavering. I’ve been mostly full, at least on the fuller side of the “glass is half full.” I have felt the quivering of the surface beneath me threaten to shake my glass and let it all come sloshing out uncontrollably.

Now I have felt whole. Full. Complete. And it feels a whole lot less dramatic than any of the steps it took to get here! It feels calmer and more dignified than I’d expected, because I’d grown accustomed to the chaos of emotion. Whole is calm. Whole is supple. Whole is unflustered.

Who’d’ve thunk it?!

Now for the best part…just when you thought I was getting all braggy, all “I’m so whooooole,” on you…I’m here to tell you, whole is a spot on the map. It’s a stop on the journey. That’s all this is, this whole “living” thing that we’re doing. A series of stops on a (hopefully) long, enjoyable journey. Whole might seem like the destination, but it’s really just a very important stop. A stop in which to stay a while, grab a tea, hunker down into the wholeness and observe it…study it…learn it.

In learning it, we are able to bottle it up, stuff it into our pockets and trace it into our memories. We’re able to imprint it in our being so that, when the glass is rolling round on its side, empty and drenched in its own contents, we can return to what it felt like to be whole…and then we can reassemble ourselves and collect the droplets that have scattered.

We are always whole. Even when we’re empty, we’re whole. It’s important to recognize when we’re feeling whole; it’s not egoistic, it’s crucial. In fact, I’ll go so far as to say it’s of essence to notice when you’re feeling whole, to bask in gratitude for that, and then to immerse yourself in the study of this archetype of wholeness. Wholeness comes to us in many forms, learn those forms. Learn to observe yourself in whatever state of fullness you’re in, even if you’re cup’s gone and rolled right off the table, shattering in a mess of water on the floor.

That’s okay. Because you know what? You will pick all the pieces up. You’ll quiver behind the scotch tape and glue, eyes darting around nervously…then you’ll teeter, rocking to and fro; feet dancing to gain balance and equilibrium, water threatening to slosh right over your edges…then finally you will come back into fullness. Wholeness.  And you will say, ah yes, I’ve been here. I’ve been here and I’ll be here again…

 

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Do You Dare? The R3 Movement™

I have a challenging exercise for you. Dare you accept it?

This is what I’m asking you to do…

Sit, or stand, tall. Root your sitting bones. Parallel your chin to the floor. Take a slow, steady inhale, pausing at the top. As you exhale, go slowly, let the breath leave your body the way sap trickles down a tree trunk. Continue like this, growing oozier, thicker, longer, slower exhales with every round.

Give yourself permission here, in the space of these exhales, to surrender…to everything. The moment. Your life. What you are and what you aren’t.

I’m not asking you to be weak. I’m not asking you to give anything up. I’m not asking you to raise the white flag. I’m not asking you to even THINK. I’m just asking you to breathe, and release the need to be anything in that moment other than present. Inhaling. Exhaling. Palms open, fingers relaxed, letting the permission to surrender and just BE slip through your grasp……

……because it’s nothing you need to hold. It’s nothing you need to clamp your hands around. It’s nothing that needs safekeeping. It lives there, in your breath, in your being. You are a microcosm of what it means to be alive, and the profound capacity to come to stillness and release all recognition, identity and responsibility, is an exercise you should do everyday.

The world will keep spinning and you will keep being you, even as you surrender. Imagine living in surrender. Not fighting against anything, but just being…just swimming with the current rather than against it. It’s all up to us.

Let that sappy exhale flow, feel its sweetness on your skin. Bottle up the freedom and peace you feel in this moment and cork it. Label it “When resistance strikes,” and put it in a safe place. It’s always there for you. You are divinely placed and divinely graced. Just BE. In doing so, you lift the pulse of the universe, you open yourself up to greater capacities and you shine. Oh, how you shine. I see your light. Keep shining.

Namaste ❤

 

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The R3 Movement™