Flying Solo

“Don’t look back, you’re not going that way.” I could feasibly have that tattooed to the lenses of my eyes, I enjoy the mantra so much. I am queen of reminding us all to look just forward of where we stand, not too far ahead, but certainly not backwards. With all this fully in mind, I have found it challenged by the ever-passing nature of Father Time and the way life changes and grows with or without one’s permission.

I have had the strange experience lately of encountering nearly every ex from the past 5 years – heck, the past ever – and their new romances. I can’t count a single ex-boyfriend as not being currently attached, co-habitating, married, or divorced and remarried. Okay there’s one who’s single, but he’s a (darling) hot (super hot) mess (meant in the kindest way possible) in regards to making sound decisions about both life and mating. So why does this bother me?

It doesn’t, per se. I’m not pining over any of these relationships, actually quite the contrary. I’m so grateful for everything each one of them has taught me. I’m most grateful, though, for the past two years of aloneness. The only time I’ve had in my life, since becoming dating age, of being truly companionless. In the past two years I have dabbled in dating. A couple semi-serious beaus. A couple more potential beaus turned friends or thank-gosh-I-never-have-to-see-him-agains. Nothing I’ve experienced in the past two years has shaken me from what felt, and still feels, like a consequential, pivotal moment in my life. Intuitively I have known to remain unattached, despite opportunities and the human instinctual craving for a partner. I am unspeakably grateful that I’ve listened to this intuitive current and let it carry me along. I’ve grown and gained more in this small space of time than I could have possibly imagined from where I stood three years ago.

What this time has offered me is independence; perspective; a strong foundation on which to stand. But that doesn’t mean I’m immune to the subconscious, egoistic musings of my little inner devil, hunkered on one of my shoulders, shrouded in shadows. The one that whispers my flaws into my ear when my guard is down, the one that steps up to battle with my archangel, perched gracefully on the opposite shoulder, warring over my imperfections and shortcomings in the space between my ears. That same little devil is the one who murmurs in lucid moments how interesting it is that every one of my exes have found love again. How coincidental that I have not. How amusing that I am the only one still alone.

Every once in a while I let that little devil finish a soliloquy. More often than not my archangel knocks the fool off his perch before a hurtful sentence is finished. My rational reaction is always to reiterate the first portion of this essay to myself when those thoughts pop up. But there’s bound to be a little residue of the piteous image he painted, bound to catch a glimpse of the shapes before its colors dissolve. It’s in those moments that I see myself as pathetic, alone, almost suspended in time; suspended in what it felt like to be in these relationships, what it felt like to be important to these men. That’s the strangest part and the hardest to confess. I don’t miss them, I don’t miss the relationships; what I miss is the feeling of mattering to these people. The feeling of being cared about, thought about all the time. Very egoistic, of this I’m acutely aware, and yet…it persists.

Why does it matter to me that I’m no longer on these guys’ radar? I don’t feel irritated towards their new girlfriends and wives (with the exception of one, though my spirit work is towards liberation from that; in the meantime at least my nickname for her is without a curse word). It matters because the ego says it matters. The ego, also known as the devil, is a total bastard. He (no offense, I don’t mean to attribute universal gender to this force, it just happens to appears as an ugly little bird in my mind, and just so happens to be male) tinkers with things that are perfectly well, otherwise. He whispers heinous untruths in the dark of night and glazes over the most pleasant of mood in the heat of day. But do you want to know a secret? Okay it’s completely not a secret, but one might think it’s a secret given the seeming confidentiality of what I’m about to say.

We control our little devils.

Yep. Not what you were expecting, right? Or maybe it is. Either way, it’s the truth. These little bird assholes are figments of our imagination. Elements of our own consciousness. There is no separation; the devil and the archangel are not two separate entities. They are one. It is all one.

Here’s another whopper.

This is not about my exes. This isn’t even about human relationships in general. It’s about emotions and what we let them do to us. Emotions are also figments of our imagination. Elements of our own consciousness. Bear with me…but a thought has a vibrational frequency. A thought elicits an emotion. We then attach identifications to that emotion, “good” or “bad.” But even the descriptions, the concepts, of “good” and “bad” are creations of our own mind. What’s “good” to me might be “bad” to the guy next-door. Who says what I see as and call the color blue is actually blue to you too?

Our thoughts, and subsequent decision to either believe the thought(s) or not, create our reality. Our choices to either, as Byron Katie says, “love what is” or argue with reality are occurring all day long, every single day. We are constantly having thoughts and either believing them or questioning them. When we question a thought, we liberate our reality. We liberate our Selves. When we don’t question a thought, when we just go with it mindlessly, numbly, as though we haven’t any say in the matter at all…we are bound in limitation.

The unquestioned thought is bound in limitation. The questioned thought is boundless liberation.

So no, this isn’t about feeling like a pathetic 25-year-old spinster just because my exes have moved on to other relationships and I haven’t. This isn’t even about the fact that I’ve chosen not to embark upon another relationship until I’ve thoroughly and luxuriously enjoyed the one with my very Self; until I’ve come to know Sara on a cellular level, body, mind and spirit; using this sacred time of youth and vigor to explore my life on my terms and my terms alone, with no strings attached and no one to consider by myself. This isn’t about saying their way is right and mine is wrong, or vice versa.

This is about the fact that we are all exactly where we’re meant to be. This is a solo trek, this leg of my journey. Perhaps my whole journey will be, but I find that doubtful. I am a creature that relishes the physical, spiritual and emotional coupling of another human being too much to feasibly see myself a lone rider for always. What matters is that this leg of my voyage is being flown solo, and I trust the Divine Mother and her guidance of my intuition wholly. The relationships of my past happened in realms that were absolutely perfect. I carry with me little threads of those human beings, just as they carry with them a little fiber of my own cloth. This is about loving oneself enough to not need the attention, adoration, or even interest of others, much less exes. This is about fulfilling oneself enough to not crave external validation. This is about being so whole, so totally complete, that attention, adoration, interest and validation from outside are like a cool breeze, warm sand, the caress of sun…lovely, pleasurable, even dreamy – but still totally impermanent. Because the breeze will fade, the sand will cool and the sun will set. But in the still air, evening sand and brilliant glow of sunset, we will sit in reverence with the core of unchanging nature, with the greatest companion of all; ourselves.

So I nod at my singleness. I smile sheepishly at my egoism. I sigh contentedly at my journey. Then I look lovingly at the fingers of my dearest companion, my most intimate friend, and watch them as they whirl about the keyboard, typing these words. I observe her selecting her final words and gazing at her finished essay. I feel grateful towards her, for cultivating the courage to brave this odyssey. I feel love towards her, for finding the peace to enjoy this quest so much. And finally I feel joy towards her, abundant gratitude, as she rises slowly and heads to the kitchen to brew a nice cup of tea for us. Me, myself, and I.


Holding On, Riding Through

Lately I have been living viscerally. Life has been so…I don’t even know how to put it. Interesting? Doesn’t seem to cover it. Unpredictable? Grand understatement. Frightening? Inarguably. Exquisite? Without a shred of doubt. 

But what happens when life is all of this at once? Naturally it’s always all of this at once, there is no separation, but what happens when mind acknowledges all of this at once? It’s overwhelming for the human psyche. At least in my experience. We, generally speaking, love separation. Separation as a means of coping. How does one subsist if life is both pleasurable and painful at once? Deeply haunting and incomparably radiant in the same breath? It’s enough to make my eyes fill with tears just writing this. I understand it and yet it’s difficult to comprehend the oneness of it all at times.

Mercury is retrograde through July 1st (my birthday) and this past Thursday was the full moon. The full moon cusped right on top of Friday the 13th, a very spiritually auspicious day. A dear friend of mine wrote on Friday that, in ancient times, Friday the 13th was the day of Love. That in honor of the Goddess Venus, couples would stay home on this day to make love. How amazing is that? The day, regardless, is packed with potent energy. As is the full moon. As is Mercury. By the way, Mercury in retrograde means that, from our perspective on earth, the planet appears to reverse its orbit. Hence the flow of “backward” energy in many of us celestially awakened beings. Read more on Mercury in this lighthearted piece.

All this being said, I was going pretty strong up until about a week ago. I was making peace with Mercury as I tend to do in the few times per year it goes retrograde; being gentle with my own forgetfulness and working to harness the opposite flow of energy for good rather than evil, if you will. With the full moon, however, my body welcomed a stormy shift of emotion. An emotional (temper-ish) tantrum unlike any I’d had since I was a little girl. A full blown hyperventilating panic attack, again, unlike anything I’d experienced since childhood. A deep-set and overwhelming need to control what was going on around me and a complete emotional shut down when I realized I could not. It was alarming, considering what I practice every single day, that I was not able to reach my yoga and pull myself out of the hazy confusion. Everything became viscerally real before my eyes. Life and death. So many deaths have crossed my radar in the past weeks, a number of people in my immediate life have left this world, and the experience rocked me. 

The ultimate breakdown occurred with family-related circumstances and one of those moments occurred when life begs one to be with one’s own Tribe. All I could think of was curling up in my momma’s arms as though I were a broken baby bird. The realization that life is unpredictable as the weather, determined as the wind and yet stunning as the sunrise was all so destabilizing in this particular that I sought the comfort of the only thing that grounds us (or me, rather) in such a moment. My family. When life gets too real, loss is palpable and fear is threatening to sink one’s ship, it’s time to head to port.

I still feel queasy from the experience, this morning. I still see the faces of those who have died floating past my vision and it still brings me to tears sitting here writing about it. This is coming from someone who believes deeply that nothing is an accident, that there are no mistakes, that we are held by the Divine Mother and everything is happening as it’s meant to happen. This is coming from a dedicated yogini whose self-inquiry has uncovered deep-rooted fears and faced them head on. This is coming from someone who works every single day to meet fear with love, to seek Truth and nourish Spirit with it. So to be so toppled over by life, by the realness of it, by the horrific interlaced with the breathtaking…was unexpected. 

I suppose the whole matter lies embedded in the human need to control. To control one’s own life, control the length (and sometimes events) of the lives of those one loves, control the weather and sadness and successes and the past. We even tear ourselves up over trying to control what has already happened. Am I speaking to you? 

The point is that these Truths exist all wrapped in one neat package. One pill to be swallowed. It’s when we break apart the capsule and try to sort through the threads of Truth within, separating them, hiding the “bad” ones under the tablecloth, that we find ourselves in conflict. It’s when we can’t believe that the monstrousness of the world is as necessary as the brilliance of the world. Naturally the latter is always easier to digest and celebrate. But ignoring the Truth and existence of the former, that’s when we begin to draw veils down over ourselves…veils that only obstruct our own vision. I don’t know about you, but I seek clarity, in all forms.

It’s hard when your comfort in this world, your trust in this life, is shaken. It hasn’t happened to me in a very long time. But I know it has happened for a reason. It has offered me a chance to seek Truth over ignorance. It has offered me an opportunity to deepen my own self-inquiry immensely as well as tap into the collective consciousness and the rawness of humanity. It has allowed me to share in an experience that many, many, many other souls are also having. I am still riding the waves of this tempest, but after the maternal medicine I received I am riding more smoothly. I am grateful for a tribe of supporters, for parents who support and love me, and I am absolutely overflowing with love for my brothers and sisters who experience suffering under the guise that they don’t have that same network of support…because they do. It may not be in the same physical way as others, but it is why I come to my mat with the intention of healing. It is why I focus, personally, on emanating healing energy. Because I know how blessed I am to have my loved ones, and I seep gratitude for them every single day that I breathe. I can’t imagine what it must feel like to navigate this thing we call life in a state of loneliness. 

You are never alone.

And yet…alone is all we ever truly are in essence. Another surface dichotomy that, upon examination, is all One. I haven’t a neat package to wrap this up with nor a fancy ribbon to wrap around it to give it the appearance of tidiness. This is raw, real self-inquiry on the page. This is an honest conversation about how gorgeous and terrifying it is to be human, to take the risks and experience the blessings that we do every single day. This is about Oneness. This is a reminder that, in every single breath and every single heart beat, we are in this together.


Goodnight Dream Weavers

I’ve been dreaming like crazy lately! Lots about events that are happening in real life. Warped into bizarre realities behind my eyelids as dreams tend to do. As we can all tell by my last essay, dated May 25, a whole two weeks ago, it’s been too long since I’ve downloaded on Body Karma the myriad of musings that play inside my mind from day to day. Trust me, I’ve had lots to share and lots to tinker on about, as I so love to do, but as my dreams imply, I’ve been a bit scattered of late.

I’m currently in nutrition school. I have just nine months left (but who’s counting?) and am very much excited about the concept of finishing and bringing together the final stages of my business. Holistic Wellness. I’ve been building this for years and am elated that, this time next year, I will be able to finally begin putting forth the energy I’ve been cultivating all this time.

That being said, I’ve found myself buried in homework and studies much of the time, thus leaving little free play time to weave words here in my sacred space with all of you. I’ve so missed my bi and tri-weekly posts, goodness have I missed them. It’s interesting, the rotation of things in life. What are non-negotiables rise to the surface and what can be feasibly lived without (or tolerated less often) sink to the bottom, like shiny gemstone river rocks. My feigning hunger for literature, avid chakra and Ayurveda studies, detailed journaling and constant attention to Body Karma have all waned significantly in the past months. To balance my dense nutrition reports, projects, studies and learning I find myself filling all spare time with exertion of sorts. Asana, hiking, walking the dog, stretching, foam rolling, more yoga, trigger point therapy…I suppose the time I spend sitting and plugging away at meal plans and condition reports are so intellectually jammed with information that I crave an excessive amount of movement to balance it out. It all sometimes seems like an endless hamster wheel, the routine of each day, each day turning into a week, weeks bleeding into months and suddenly it’s a new season…

It’s a good reminder to be present. Present and grateful. I’m finding more and more that gratitude is the antidote to everything, gratitude heals all wounds, pacifies all doubts. Speaking of all that one learns with each passing year, I’m 25 for several more weeks. I’ve always been comically neurotic about my birthday. It must be a past-life thing or some karmic tendency embedded in my cosmic DNA. This is my last banana as a _____-year-old…this is the last time you’ll talk to me as a _____-year-old…never ever again will I ever be ______ years old. It’s frankly ridiculous and yet, as ever, I confess it here to you. It’s not that I mourn the aging process, not at all. I’m always excited about my birthday but I have some bizarre obsession with what’s being lost, in the same breath. Some strange pull to cling to what I’m leaving behind. The last everything as a whatever-year-old. I’m doing a little better with bidding farewell to the iconic 25, and yet I still manage to sign off from every journal entry with a PS) I’m 25… as though I of all people would forget.

I’ve found my dreams to reflect the state of my life lately. Busy, deeply laced with symbols, intensely colorful, wrought with emotion. I’ve journaled as many of them as I can [which I always recommend clients and friends do, we learn so much about ourselves and our subconscious mind when we make note of our dreams], oftentimes in the middle of the night with one eye open, scrawling sideways across a blank page of my journal, fragments of dreams, images captured in several words that I hope will initiate access to the full memory come morning. It almost always does.

So what does this mean? I think it means I’m trying to think of a thousand things at once all day long. I don’t feel stressed out (for once in my life) which is magical, a welcome peacefulness that’s been carefully cultivated, but my busy dream state exposes the preoccupied nature of my waking mind. Perhaps this is why I so love my time on my yoga mat, or one of the reasons. An hour, give or take, to blissfully check out from the constant, albeit scenic, train ride of the mind. Thoughts, constantly, at all hours of the day. It makes me rather fond of my dreams, no matter how alarming or unnerving they may be at times, because they dance on without my having to take any part in them. I don’t have to decide which to have first, which to remember best or which to have last the longest. They just go on, like a picture show, illustrations of my deepest fears, woes, triumphs and fantasies playing out on a private screen behind my eyelids. How magical, no?

When people ask me how I am lately I find myself at a loss for words. To reply “busy” would be foolish, who isn’t busy? To reply “blessed” would be sincere, and yet too cheeky to get away with in most circumstances. But the latter is the really the honest to God truth. I may be busy with my energy going in ten different directions, but I will never fail to see the absolute abundance in which I rest. Many are not so fortunate. I do not know the meaning of hardship, of hard work, of struggle. Yes, I have had my share of trying experiences, I have known tragedy and I have experienced my own humble spectrum of oh so human passion. But I have no right to be anything but grateful. Grateful for my dreams, my opportunities; grateful for you, for this space, for the chance to share these words; grateful for my connection to the Divine, to God, to the energy of which we are all comprised and the collective consciousness of which we are all a part. I am so thankful. So with that I will say goodnight, abruptly, while my Truth is most alive and my gratitude most abounding. “God is that which exists within that is of Truth and Love,” my teacher Seane Corn says. Thank God for Truth and Love. Sending out a wavelength of healing energy and love tonight, and dream weaving in vibrant color. May peace in its purest form fill your being and may we always, always, always return to gratitude. Namaste ❤


art - dream