This blast of August heat has sent
my fashion self in a craze for creamy lace and white tulle skirts (no wedding
bells, I’m actually in mourning for the now taken Ryan Gosling who is Eva Mendes’ baby daddy).
“Better get your white clothing
fill,” I hear that inner critic say, “because no white after Labor Day.”
There’s a flashback to middle
school (those high-water pants days): “Meredith is wearing WHITE shoes after
labor day,” a friend proudly taunted, pointing out my white strappy sandals.
I can still feel the hot flush of
embarrassment. I’m returning to this experience now to rewrite the fashion faux
pas. Also, this moment is relevant to similar societal and self-inflicted
pressures I’m feeling to “fit in.”
I’m transitioning from my first
“real world” job to…well, the Glorious Now. I’ve purposefully carved out this
time to be one of self-exploration. I’m taking time to center and tune in to
what makes my heart sing and makes me feel utterly alive. I’m a student of yoga
again, eager to take and learn from other wise instructors and passionate about
crafting playful and meaningful classes and thoroughly enjoying teaching. I’m
reading Brene Brown and Susan Cain, journaling and writing. Fall is
a sweet blend of additional yoga teaching opportunities and schemes for trips,
but there’s also a voice saying, “You’re not enough; you’re not doing enough.”
This voice is kept on the back
burner, but bubbles up when I get asked from more traditionalist folk: “So,
what are you doing?”
“Teaching yoga.”
“Teaching yoga and…what else are you doing?”
“Breathing deeply.”
I want to live an intentional and
soul-satisfying life. I feel content about my life as it is right now because
it is my sweetly gorgeous life and I have the privilege to decide my next step.
Sometimes I over-think about what others think and say about me wearing white
jeans after Labor Day, or my “bohemian” decision to be open to wandering for a
while. I’m back to being the sixth grader easily embarrassed by standing out
and not following the rules.
So, I'm standing up for that sixth grader to say: This no white fashion rule is way
out of date. Remember: “On Wednesdays we wear pink.” Basically, Victorian era mean girls got together
and thought up, “After labor day we don’t wear white so we can tell who and who
not to socialize with tonight.” I’m not particularly keen to revive that archaic fashion rule.
The traditional guidelines to
navigating a young gal’s twenties also no longer apply. I’m not getting married
and having kids (at this rate, I’m thinking mid-thirties, maybe forties…). I’m
not on the academic track. I hope to return back to school to pursue a graduate
degree, but I want to be crystal clear about the program I decide to go into
and have it align and feed my life’s passions. And that exploration will take
time, which is what I’m granting myself.
I’m struggling with fully granting
myself permission to take the time to listen and figure out, or simply be in the building of the next
step. I honestly feel a bit guilty about not throwing myself crazily into the
next big job, but a higher-self believes that taking time now will manifest in
me being a greater help to others sooner rather than later. Also, stressing out
about not doing enough or being enough takes up too much mental space and
throws me into analytical thinking instead of deeply listening.
I know better than to stress about
what is next. An achy tiredness descends when I give up too much energy and
time to stress. The things in my life that have worked out with such wonder and
fabulousness happened with great ease: enrolling and getting certified as a
yoga instructor, going to Denmark for a summer abroad program, and working at
one of my favorite non-profits. Before the beginning of each life-changing
event, I was calm and grounded and ready.
Now is the time to be calm, get
grounded and be ready. It begins by shedding off rules that no longer apply,
such as wearing a beloved fairy-like, lacey cream dress to greet the September
days. Wear white after labor day if it fits your mood and let your life
style be dictated by the number one fashion designer: YOU.
