Graduation

I graduated from my 200 hour yoga teacher training today.

If I look at this as a day, or even as a year, or as any other finite thing, I'm devaluing it.  This is so much more than a single construct.  It's a living, breathing loving thing that will shape and change me in ways I cannot yet imagine.  I know that this is the beginning rather than the end of my journey, I know that.  But I also know that I can't possibly know what that journey is, where it will take me, or how it will change me.  But I am aware- in my bones- that it will.

Namaste.

Closings and Openings

Tomorrow I graduate from my 200 hour yoga teacher training.  It's exciting.  And scary.  And wonderful.  And soul-shakingly terrible.  All at the same time.

And I've been realizing lately, or seeing from first-hand experience, that that's how it is.  Whenever something ends, the possibility for something else starts.  Whenever you close a chapter of your life, you open another one.  And, if your life is anything like mine, that new chapter will be pretty damned unexpected.

I'm trying to be at peace with it.  I'm trying not to second-guess or judge or dismiss any of it.  I'm trying to be present for each and every moment.  But it never comes easily.  The mind judges and projects and worries.  The old shadows make their presence- damned persistent in spite of so many practices designed to settle them- known.  The old patterns which seemed broken return.

But that's the the whole point of this lesson that I'm learning and re-learning and will undoubtedly learn again: there is no such thing as done.  That truth, at times frightening and frustrating and maddening, is also the source of all this hope.  The source of all these new beginnings.

Soul Sisters

I'm understandably a bit of a mess here at the end of this.  The prospect of not recapping my week every Thursday night.  The prospect of Sunday coming up with no epic itinerary at the yoga studio.  The prospect of these awe-inspiring women not being a regular, integral part of my life.  It's frightening.

Our yoga teacher commented last night on how this group in particular has had each other's backs through a lot of shit.  We've all been through some stuff throughout the course of this year and we all relied on each other to get through it.  I can say for myself that I have absolutely no doubt that I wouldn't be where I am without these women.  I hate to say it, but I'm pretty sure I'd be back where I was, going on pretending everything was ok, scared and stuck and sightless to change it.

So looking out at life without that rock- my stable base, my net to catch me when I fall- is petrifying.  Especially with so many new things starting.  Embarking on the start of so much without them is more than I can take.

Which is why it's so incredibly comforting to know that I don't have to.  Because these women with their strength and love that has comforted, nurtured, healed and lifted me are always with me.

This morning while I did my daily morning meditation I noticed something as I made my way through my seven chakras.  They're in there!  Without me even knowing it they've made their mark on these most important parts of me.

Down at the root, where I connect to Gaia and that stable home base I so desperately need, is Gisette with her earthy, free-flowing, sensual nature.  Easy, thoughtless, comforting.  I can picture her and feel her hugging me the same as I can feel the earth.

In my sacral chakra where water and creativity come from I sense Lauren with her quiet confidence and effortless sexuality.  I can hear her voice and sense her willingness to move through the changes of life.

At my solar plexus where I connect with the sun I sense Jen- my fiery pitta who so loves planks and handstand push-ups.  And without even knowing it I seem to have inherited some of her fierce strength and determination to break down the walls that I encounter.

At heart where my emotions well up and I try so hard to stay open to everyone without closing down from fear of being hurt again I sense Suzanne.  Her wisdom, her courage to face down her own shadows, her fearless giving energy is in there.  She's part of the foundation of my heart now.

At throat where I struggle to stay true to my voice I hear Olivia with her soulful song.  "If I die with my song unsung it's nobody's fault but mine."  I can and will sing without letting my fear silence me- because of her strength, her courage, and her love.

At third eye where my brain is housed I sense Ericka- not just her analytical intelligence, but her beliefs.  Her many visions for herself and her path inspire me to follow mine and to dream big for my future.

And at crown where all the airy, windy energy lets loose I see and hear Tracey.  I sense her freedom and her desire to connect outside the bounds of limited reality.  And I am lifted by her weightlessness.

It wasn't intentional.  I didn't meditate or visualize or perform any rituals to try to find permanent housing for these women in the map of my own energy field.  I was aware that they were in there, certainly, but I had no idea they were so firmly seated.

I'm so glad they are.  Because now I can go forward even without the physical meetings and regular check-ins on the calendar knowing that who we've been to each other throughout this journey has permanently changed me and that these women who I love with all of myself are part of me.  Forever.

Thank you soul sisters.  Tits to the wall!

The Butterfly Maiden

How to sum up the most transformative year of my life?  Well, I can't.  Not because I don't have the words but because I will be integrating these lessons for years to come.

I came here seeking spirituality.  I was hungry.  I was lonely within myself.  And I was full of so much judgement and cruelty for my precious soul that I could scarcely take anything else in.  Full yet starving, how I've spent most of my life.

The changes came fast- faster than expected.  The surrender of my old belief system- giving up the facts and scientific proofs I used to validate everything I encountered and learning to believe in all that is unseen.  The break down of that overgrown shaming shadow- quieting that cruel judge.  The build up of my soul- that precious, brilliant self that I'd kept in a hole for so long.  And in the end, the biggest change- the one I never saw coming- giving up my prior definition of home and the man I used to define it.  That change- the hardest one I've ever made- has transformed everything else.

And yet, I realize, this is far from the end of the revolution.  If anything, I think, this is just the beginning.

Because Yoga and meditation and circle and magick and intuitive sight and opening and everything else I've learned over the course of this year are practices.  They are acts meant to be done day after day, year after year.  And there is no end to the depths of my soul to explore and embrace.

And that is where my journey continues to lead me.  I may be leaving this group- this amazing, magick group of soul sisters who have left a permanent mark on my soul and made me better through their fearless love- as a yoga teacher.  But I am still in the midst of learning.

My soul's path is clearer now.  My conviction is firmer.  I am braver, stronger and more luminous- I radiate my light with more ease.  But becoming the butterfly goddess, championing the change I so desperately want to see in the world, is a life-long journey.  And I see that this chapter, though the biggest of my life thus far, is still just part of the story.

And as I take these next steps, I carry with me all that has come before with gratitude and love.  Namaste.

Human

It's a phenomenon I've encountered before, and yet I so easily forget.  The assumptions and stories we tell about people when we're not in their presence.  The conclusion we form about what they're thinking, feeling, wanting.  The image of them we build up in our heads which has nothing whatsoever to do with reality.

It's something I've caught myself doing before, something I thought I knew better than to do again.  But these tricks of perception never go away easy, and it seems they never stay away too long even after we've banished them.

In this particular case, I do at least have some insight into what exacerbated the process.  E-mails and text messages, so emotionless, cold and devoid of so-neccesary social cues got me thinking.  And those thoughts took on a life of their own, assigning texture and context to simply, easy messages that held none.  And my reaction fed off the lack of information, building the story up into a catastrophe.  Like I said, I've caught myself here before- I know how it works.

But here's the change, or at least the effort: accepting that I've caught myself here before without judging myself for being here again.  That same "What if?" question I've been applying to myself again and again in order to remove the criticism and judgement from the narrative.  The permission to allow myself to feel whatever it is that i'm feeling without assigning identity and responsibility to it.  Something that I did, rather than something that I am.

And in that space- that blameless, curious space- there is humor.  I can laugh at myself, I can chuckle at the silly games I play in my head.  And there is acceptance.  I can deal with reality, take steps right in this moment to form a different narrative.  And there is wisdom (the hard-earned kind) from compassionate observation.  And above all, there is humanity.  Not perfect, not flawless..  But yes, humanity.

Action

Wouldn't it be nice if I wasn't a victim?  If these things didn't happen to me or even because of me but if they just happened and I could respond well?  If rather than hating myself for my perceived failures I could immediately tackle the problem head-on and take action?

I tend to be the most active when there is time to be excited.  To envision and plan and create without someone looking over my shoulder.  But in the midst of unspoken pressures and thankless effort it's hard to take the challenge as that, hard not to lay down and curl myself around my injuries.

I tell my clients to give themselves credit for the steps taken on the bad days.  The tiny, inconsequential, barely observable steps.  I tell them there's a certain kick-your-own-ass boot camp mentality to it.  I say we have to roll up our sleeves and get to work.  And yet I myself struggle with that so much.  I see the failure, form the conclusion and wish nothing more than to retreat until the backlash has calmed down and I can lift my head from the sand.

But today, because of all the pressures that be, I took some steps.  And no, of course not everything is solved- not even remotely.  But the simple fact that I could possibly encounter a new and novel experience definitely made me think.  What if instead of playing the victim I took action and responded- what mountains would I move then?

Low

I've fallen into the hole again.  The cynical, jaded and angry hole.  The place to wallow, to hate, to revel in disgust.  I've been better about staying out of there of late but damned if I didn't fall hard today.

It's funny- I've gotten so much better at fighting my own internal voice which, generally speaking, gives much harsher feedback than any real-world source.  That voice, so familiar to me because it's mine, had become easy to dismiss, to fight back against, to vanquish.  Because the message is the same.  Because it sounds so familiar.

But the external attack- or the unseen attacker- is sudden and violent and so, so devastating.  I have no defense because it seems true.  I am not prepared to fight back, and I don't think I deserve to.  From easy dismissal to the bottom of the hole in one single message.

And things are mighty dark down here.

Time Spent With Children

I've heard it said many times before but for the life of me I can't remember the last time I so clearly channeled my youth than today while spending time with two young girls.  I fed off of their excitement, their naivete, their fresh eyes looking at things for the first time.  I laughed louder, sang with more abandon, screamed with more force and loved more fiercely.  And every joyful moment was lived- fully and truly.

And there were so many other pieces of the day that were sheer euphoria- but they were all made better by the presence of those two girls.  It's a lesson to be sure, and a challenge to live that fully even without feeding off of the energy of children.  To look at the world through fresh eyes all the time.  To love without judgement, reserve or fear.  To live.  It's a challenge I take very seriously and one which I intend to meet.

The Perfect Day

A drive across the back roads headed east.  A bridge across the Delaware.  A town full of the quaintest shops, cafes and nooks one could ever hope to encounter.  A man so excited to show it all to me he doesn't know where to start.

There are brick sidewalks and doll-house row-homes lining the streets.  There are cherry and apple blossoms exploding with color and light.  The plants and trees and grass are such a vibrant green it's almost blinding, a full week of rain having packed them so full of life now bursting forth in breath-taking color.  And amidst it all is a world of scents I have to strain to distinguish.

One scent I know, and my soul loves it so much I dream about it.  It is the one found in pages of old books nestled in over-full shelves of some forgotten shop.  The kind-of place that houses nothing but leather-bound antiques and obscure titles so long out of print only the scholars know of their existence.  I flip through the pages and breathe deep, letting the vaguely musty but-oh-so intoxicating scent penetrate my nostrils, soak into my hair and clothes, envelop me like a hug from a long-lost friend.  The clerk walks by and gives me a knowing smile- he gets this all the time.  Those of us with the love of books find sanctuary in these places, and we never stay away too long.

A walk to the canal reveals a path by the water full of such picturesque vistas my inner photog can't help itself and I start snapping away.  The surface of the water reflects the world and gives the illusion of infinity- a neverending constitutional benefiting the soul rather than the body.  And for a moment- one of many on this day- time stops.  Whatever came before, and whatever will come next vanishes in the presence of so much else.  A breathe, full and enlivening.

A tiny little bar with so much nautical memorabilia it could well-be a museum and a toast made to friends about new beginnings. There is genuine excitement in the air, the kind of heart-felt regard that carries you through the uncertainty and fear into the safety of open arms and smiles.  I will remember this moment.  And yes, maybe it will become part of a story that will end in ways I didn't plan for.  But it will be a great chapter in my life, I know.

Dinner and jokes and stories that flesh out this person, this wonder of a human being I am beginning to submerge myself in.  There are late nights and adventures.  There are "I can't believe you"s and incredulous questions.  There are friendships and milestones and memories from great company, all enjoyed over mouth-watering entrees and the noisy bustle of a good Italian restaurant.  And under the table, the feel of a hand on mine.  One that my fingers are beginning to hunger for when I haven't felt the touch for a while.  It's a secret, a shared glimpse across the table, and I love it so completely it startles me.

And I am aware, as I have been aware for some time, that this is what I've been missing.  During all of those quiet weekends that I defended as being restful, relaxing and easy I was missing this life.  Vibrant, and loud, and wonderfully exhausting.  And being in it- truly sucking the marrow from this moment now- I feel rejuvenated and so, so excited for all that is yet to come.

In the evening, the twilight gives the town an even more magical taste and we wander like tourists in a strange country- marveling at the architecture, the sounds, the signs and windows and roads.  A million inconsequential sightings that endear this place to me in a way that only a new world can.  There's that not-quite-reality sensation on the surface of my skin.  Like the rules of existence don't quite apply for the moment, like truly anything could happen.  I keep breathing, desperate to take it all in, to fully absorb and consume it.  I am aware of the gift, and ever so grateful.

And even if it were the last perfect day, even if there weren't so many more to come, I would still be happy.  Because this day, this beautiful, full day that has filled my soul with so much life I am amazed I can house it all- is perfect.

Sight

We're not supposed to know the future.  I know this.  There are times, even, when I can be at peace with it.  But I don't like it.

I want to know that the choices I'm making today won't come back to bite me in the ass tomorrow.  I want to know that I'm doing the "right thing", whatever the hell that is.  I want to know that I am wiser, stronger, better equipped to handle all the uncertainties because I'm thinking things through and pursuing the best course I can.  That's what I want.

What I need, however, is to trust.  To trust that I'm doing not the right thing but the only thing I'm meant to do.  Even if it's "wrong", even if it's scary, even if it means pain and difficulty and a whole new soul-challenging journey.  I need to trust the universe to take me where I need to go, and I need to trust my soul to forge the path I'm meant to walk.

I'm trying.

The Last Class

Tonight was the last time that my yoga sisters and I met in classroom.  Our next meeting will be a more formal presentation of our final projects which the new teacher trainees will attend and our final gathering will be a graduation ceremony.  I am becoming acutely aware of the fact that this is all ending and it's beyond frightening.

It's funny, I can remember our very first class together- I looked around the circle at a group of strangers I'd never met before and I knew- because of the nature of the program, because of a gut feeling, because I was told that this was how it works- that I would grow to love all of them so fiercely that I wouldn't be able to fathom losing them.  I think I may have even said something of that nature at the time.

And even though I've known for a while that this was ending, even though the dates and times of final meetings were prepared well in advance, and even though I theoretically love and embrace change I'm still devastated.  I don't know how you give yourself so completely to a group of souls and not be when that connection ends.

Well, perhaps "ends" isn't fair.  I've been through endings before- time periods during which intense emotional contact cannot continue simply because of the details of life- and I know it's possible to keep those connections going.  The real ones, they say, never leave you.  But the context changes.  A LOT.  And coordinating schedules, making phone calls, following through on proposed visits is never easy, even though the person you're missing is close by.

And, of course, it's not the same.  My yoga sisters and I did battle with our greatest shadows.  We looked at some hard truths about ourselves that many of us kept so close to the chest for so long it's a miracle we were able to bring it out into the light.  We experienced each other in a way that we have not experienced any other human being on the planet.  And while I am nothing but grateful in the knowledge that that can never be taken away I am still floored by the impending end of it.

But, I'm smart enough to know that's just how change works.

The Persistent

I have moments.  Brilliant, triumphant moments where I am strong and powerful and ever-so capable of mountain-moving.  Moments where my grand dreams are only a small series of steps away.  Moments where I am all of the things I want to be, without question.  And the vision of me in those moments is blinding.

But, I begrudgingly admit, that's the not the norm.  Despite all my soul journeying, all of my fearless kali-burning, all my endless exploration and fearless facing of shadow- I'm still human.  And those repetitious, infectious thoughts still find a way in.  The judgements, criticisms and dismissals find the cracks in my visage and seep in, saturating me with that ever-so-familiar damp dread.

But like I said- I'm human.  It's bound to happen.  So I slough off the mold, towel-dry the dampness, and step out into the cold, clean air... ready to try again.

Between Snoozes

Not quite asleep, not quite awake.  That mystical edge of existence where anything is possible.  For some, like my father, it's the witching hour.  The time when the lines between the living and the dead are blurred.  The time where my grandmother, with all of her wisdom and guidance, could safely float the ship into harbor and settle the storm.  For me, with my not yet awakened sight, it's far more random.

My brain flashes on memories and images like lightening, illuminating them for just a second and then fading.  The moment when we first kissed, sitting on the park picnic table, under the streetlights.  The insight I gained from the masterful way you handled that question, that fear.  The reference to some shared cultural exposure- not exciting or earth-shattering in its own right, but illustrative of these superficial connections which are carved into much deeper crevices in the tapestry of our story.  And my mind switching, switching between them.  Each for only a split second, but so deeply felt.

And in the hours of waking light, after I've been dragged away from the twilight madness into the harsh reality of day, I try to make sense of it all.  There must be logical explanations, surely.  Some neurotransmitter firing the way it does when one is stimulated by lust.  How memories form in the subconscious when rules of format and category don't apply.  Thoughts- meaningless, unimportant and so easily dismissed when studied, dissected and pulled apart under the microscope of sterile self-study.

But beneath that- beneath the stories and explanations and clinical categorizations that file things into orderly classes- there is something deeper.  Something closer to the soul.  Something growing, like a fetus in the great mother's womb.  Something, perhaps, like love.

New Starts

Today is the first day at my new job.  Another new job.  Another new start.  It's the continuation of a theme- everything all at once.  The opposite of one thing at a time.  Birth- violent, messy, life-altering.

And yes, in this context all it really means is a new office, more paperwork and another learning curve as I work out the kinks.  But there's a lot of kinks right now.  Yoga in the park kinks.  Work kinks.  A brand new spanking relationship kinks.  Like I said- it's a theme.  Everything, all at once.

And I' trying to trust.  I'm trying to let go and flow.  I'm trying to allow the universe to happen.  But it is anything but comfortable.

May Day

Today is the first of May: a day usually marked by celebrations of spring, fertility, and growth.  It's been a common theme in my life of late.

I used to think that any change that would be sustainable- that one would be able to permanently integrate into life- had to be small.  Incremental steps in the right direction, tiny victories creating forward momentum, a stable basis to build off of and then add to one layer at a time.  I advised and counseled and even instructed people on the steps that seemed most likely to bring about the permanent change they claimed to want.

But this process of self discovery that I've been in has not been small.  The steps that I've taken have not been tiny victories.  And my stable basis for everything was completely and utterly destroyed in the process of so much birth.  It's nothing short of a revolution and I have no idea when things will settle down.  (Or if, for that matter.)

And yes, it's scary.  More frightening, really, than anything else I've ever done.  And yes, a whole lot of hard-won truths I've held as immutable have been completely tossed aside in favor of a completely different world view.  And yes, my cool, collected exterior and confidence has been rattled to the bone.

And yet, I feel more alive in this space- this scary, uncertain, constantly fluctuating space- than I have at any other time in my life.  Because this feels real.

I have no certain beliefs anymore.  And I recognize that what feels so fundamentally true to me right now could very well change tomorrow.  And I see that any claims I make as to who I am, how I'm defined, and where I fit are temporary.  And yes, I'm scared.  But I am most certainly NOT unhappy.

I'm following the green.  I'm catching the scent of plants pushing through damp soil and letting it lead me forward.  I'm listening to the birdsong in the wind and letting my feet trace the path.  I'm moving, constantly, in whatever direction this crazy journey is taking me and I am trusting that the steps themselves are the way.

It harkens back to one of those lines I've recited a million times over.  "It's not the destination but the journey that matters."  Well, what if there is no destination?  What if the reason the journey matters is because the journey is all there is?  Wouldn't that be revolutionary?