I had no idea I spent so much time criticizing and judging myself until I had all this free time because I had no mirrors. What I noticed was that I was in a better mood, my Chatty Cathy in my head was pretty quiet and instead of ‘looking’ I was ‘feeling’ and I liked what I was feeling.
I used to have a fantasy that aging stopped at the age you started practicing asana. I think this idea came from looking at Shiva Rea and Gurmukh Kaur Khalsa; both of them are radiant, and really, when you look at them they're kind of ageless, aren't they? I could never really figure out just how old they are. Shakti is better than Botox.
Here we are, living active and full lives. Why do we even want to think about death? Then it strikes. We lose someone we love and we are faced with contemplating death and the afterlife. Scientists, theologians, writers, musicians, poets, and artists have all addressed the question directly or indirectly. It is at the core of organized religion's belief system, one that I grew up with as a Presbyterian. We believe that when you die you go to heaven. But what exactly is heaven?
Savasana is where appropriate reasons to be on the floor meet the gut-wrenching ones. It's such a skillful, shocking, relevant, underestimated Yoga pose, don't you think? The most regulated way of being a body on a floor flirting with death.
Sheesh, If you knew what a chaotic jumble of thoughts I have to untangle simply to make basic sense, you'd understand why I often joke about biting off my fingers and then chopping off my tongue, because why bother writing when there are impossibly brilliant writers like you and Lidia and Natalie and Eve, Cheryl, Mary, and Lauren?
Over time, I not only walked on egg shells, I tiptoed. I did everything I could to not provoke his ire or contempt, but I always failed. We always ended up back at square one: I had fucked up somehow, and he was so disappointed in my lack of character/judgment/rationality.
So I sit in a cloud of smoke of my own despair. I cannot breathe. I cannot see. I cannot move because I feel. I feel too much. I feel too deep. I feel everything I wish I never would, again. I feel heartbreak and made the mistake of not being prepared once more.
She would touch his face with sparkles of beauty and colors would stream from his tender lips. She would offer him pearls of rain, from places in her where there was no rain. They dreamed up a world where love was king, love was law and she his queen.
My life is filled with a constant barrage of the need to say hard goodbyes, both in person and in my mind -- a void that sometimes feels inseparable; estrangement by death and distance and shifting boundaries.
It was in that room that I unintentionally awoke a divine and powerful part of me that had been asleep for many years. And, much to my horror, this divinity within me was unwilling to compromise on the matter of emotional and spiritual presence in her marriage.
I want the kiss that draws my hips into the bowl of your pelvis like the tidal pull of the moon, soft and strong and irresistible. The one that tells me you will wait for me to come to you, steady as the sea on a dark summer night, and none of my fears matter.
You think you must be the only one in the world without a redeeming quality left, as you wage war against these secret creatures of yours, begging to be loved. The only straggler amongst all the others who've got their shit together. The only one who can no longer see your own face behind the masks. The only one fissured and flawed. The only one with guilt and shame seeping out of your eyes. No, darling, this is a human experience. We are all kindred in our universal brokenness.
I’ve never been able to pretend my way into a relationship and I’ve also never been able to be as open as I would love to be. This is the part that scares me. My growth now will be tested when I meet that person. All of this personal toil will be challenged and I feel frightened to soften for someone. I guess fearful of becoming damaged once again if rejected. The thought hardens me and I close up.
Yes, you are in for a lot of heartbreak in the years ahead. You will live through it. You will love again. One of the greatest things about you is your big, wide, all-encompassing, compassionate heart. Yes, betrayal hurts, but you will be okay.
A special thanks to Pooja Shah and Jenny Binovec for transcribing the below so beautifully. Next time we’ll share real human voices.
I came across an article a couple of weeks ago written by a very brave soul. She instantly healed a corner of my heart and became a powerful inspiration in my life.
I’ve walked portions of her path. I’m still lost on a few bends.
A distorted self-image has plagued nearly my entire life, mostly due to childhood pain and lack of self-worth know-how. But a few years ago, I made a commitment to self-care, love and to revealing as much of my authentic beauty as I can — and in doing so, encouraging others to do the same.
So here we are.
I’d love for you to experience her story, so that you too can be invited into the possibility of seeing yourself more clearly. With truth, self-acceptance and irrevocable...
We are to wait until we are spoken to, picked, chosen, rescued by the white knight galloping valiantly in on his mighty steed, coming to take us away to his palace, where we can live happily ever after. Cast this spell from your heart or fold into your half-lived life and fossilize.
No more temporary fixes of running back and re-infusing him into my blood to make the pain go away. No more loving the pain because it means I'm not alone. No more pretending I don't see the truth so that I can live out my dream with a Prince Charming who has a Maleficent on the side