Nothing Trumps Authenticity

There are so many things I sat down intent on writing about this evening. Let me just give some examples, to offer you a peek into the Monet that is my writing muse today (from far away it looks okay but up close it’s a big ‘ol mess! Yes…that was a Clueless quote, for all you other 90’s kids. I digress…). Marriage, vegetarianism, intuition, fear, routine, money, death, pregnancy, reckless abandon, fitness, and realizing one’s own purpose.


With all of that floating around my head, how am I to choose? I had a few essays sketched out in my mind, most of them coming to me with poor timing…as the hot water serenaded my back in the shower, or as I flew down the freeway, rising up off the pavement in undulating waves. Some came to me bound and twisted in the middle of my asana practice, others when my hands were (quite literally) full in the middle of a workday. It goes without saying that none of these scenarios played out in places where I could stop and feasibly jot down even bits of what I wanted to later write here, on this blank canvas. So, instead, I have an entire week’s worth of thoughts, a mishmash, “sloppy joe” of an essay coming out now, the blinking cursor hardly pausing before the next ill-planned word makes its presence known.

I suppose it’s really quite fitting, actually, this mass exodus of random ideas. Haphazard and waiting for no one. Outside the sunset is burning orange and pale pink on the horizon, the trees a dark and wispy silhouette against the pastel layer cake sky. I’m sitting here feeling pretty accomplished, quiet, composed – and yet my ideas today resemble something quite the opposite. With a typical essay I sit down like a painter, my ideas neatly arranged like squirts of thick oil paint on a palette. Today they’re more like like water colors, beautiful but unruly, all running together and becoming one.

Perhaps it’s a good lesson for me, the ambiguity. I’m such a concrete person by nature (my label maker was my prized possession as a child), always having been happy to tidily categorize aspects of my life till the cows came home. But sometimes things just aren’t so neat and tidy. Even when life feels calm and rather placid, it can appear a watery, idly blended, indeterminate color. And isn’t there something beautiful about that in itself? Isn’t there something satisfying about the nebulous, not-to-be-pinned-down nature of it?

It’s up to us to determine how we see our own lives. If I choose to see my scattered and clumped together ideas as messy and frustrating, then they will be. Or I could choose to smirk at the hulking mass of them, glommed together awkwardly as though touched by the hand of Midas in their mad, climbing dash to reach the tip of my consciousness. I could see that bulbous hunk for what it is; pure gold.

Nothing trumps authenticity. Be kind to yourself. Even on the mishy mashy watercolor days, the bulbous hunk of ideas days, the can’t hold two thoughts at once days…it’s all gold. Pure, pure gold. So embrace it. Be it. Be YOU. Be your gorgeous, glorious, vibrant, perfectly flawed, absolutely brilliant, ONLY one of you out their Self. Because no one else can. No one else can admire the amorphous nature of your cloudy mind nor can they pick apart the shining perfection of your neatly categorized headspace…because no one else gets to be inside your skull.

That’s our gift; one of many. We are the only ones allowed inside the borders of our own mysterious minds, to tinker with things as we wish. We can pick up a thought and lie it down across the room, the room of our brain that is, and then find it a week later and look at it in a new light. No one else has the master key to our heart. The place where both the juiciest warmth is bred and the shrillest, most biting cold can make a home. No one else can choose whether we decide to melt or freeze, empty or fill this promise-filled hollow space. We are the only ones with access to the space within the fibers of our spirit. The place where we can spin dreams and wild fantasies, where we know without a shred of doubt that we are safe even, when the thrilling, heart-racing rush of uncertainty beckons us to entertain it.

Bask in this gift. This threefold gift. This inherent gift. Let go of the rules and expectations, as we just love to build rules and expectations around ourselves; a fortress of self-doubt and fear masquerading as protection. Let go, just as I’ve let go of any hope that this essay would have a predetermined direction, or any direction whatsoever. I just keep typing. Keeping both hands on the wheel, my eyes straight ahead, the seatbelt on. The Universe has it all under control. We think we have to direct energy all day long, as though anything we do, think or say really has the capacity to override the Universe’s will. We are sacred, sentient beings, yes; but we are merely players in her big, gorgeous game. Dots on the map. We serve a purpose and that purpose is to serve one another. We best serve one another by nourishing ourselves holistically. We can begin to do that by letting go, letting go in every way we can while still being genuine, aware, awake, inspired beings of energy. Letting go of all the junk, the trash, the lumps of coal that weigh us down. Making space in our palms for the hunks of gold that we find inside our minds, the sparkly threads that come loose from our spirits, the warm and weighty echo of a heart beating true.

Life doesn’t always look the way we intended it to, planned it to, expected it to. Life, choreographed by the Divine Mother Herself, doesn’t always do what we [think we] want. But always, without a doubt, no matter how messy or brilliant it may look in the moment, it always ends up taking us exactly where we’re meant to go. So keep both hands on the wheel, eyes ahead, seatbelt on…and just enjoy the ride. Because you are doing your job…being fearlessly, unapologetically you, just as I am being fearlessly, unapologetically me. And that’s a job well done. Because nothing trumps authenticity.



2 thoughts on “Nothing Trumps Authenticity

  1. As I read on,I felt this essay should never come to an end.The serene beauty of appropriate and perfectly placed words never compelled my consciousness ever to get distracted from it.I felt like i’m meditating.Thanks for the treat Sara. 🙂

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