Trust

Sunday night I nestle up onto the living room couch, excited for Downton Abbey (I’m emotionally invested in Lady Mary’s romantic intrigues and delight over the fashion).  The opening credits arrive and so does an intense wave of nausea. Evening plans interrupted. I don’t end up visiting 1920s England, but revisiting all the foods I had eaten earlier that day as a vindictive stomach virus wrecks havoc.

When I wake on Tuesday (Monday is a clammy blur), I feel hollow, achy and sad. It’s a depression that comes with being ill. Negative and lonely thoughts take hold and without the ability to change space, or dance around my room to upbeat music, I am more easily swayed to believe their stories. The stories retell moments of failure, putdowns, heartaches and disappointments.

I become a victim to their tales and am only broken free when I hear my chocolate lab howl at the backdoor. She’s a dog duchess who prefers napping and reigning from her thrown of blankets on a small trampoline in the kitchen to the cold grass and muddy world of the backyard. Her wails of impatience push me to let the dog duchess in and when I do, I am gently greeted by fresh air, the bluest January sky and the call of geese. Their voices recite a beloved piece of Mary Oliver poetry:

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
 are heading home again.
 Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
 the world offers itself to your imagination,
 calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting --
over and over announcing your place in the family of things.

The moment brings peace and ease and grants me full permission to feel how I need to feel and to trust my body as I recover.

Trust. This is the word that emerged when caught in the throes of sickness and I was gripped with fear and panic. “Trust your body” was the answer and a calm would arrive and carry me through.

Mary Oliver wisdom on trusting the body has been a subject on this blog before. I suppose I’m returning to it now because I heard the wild geese call again, reminding me to actively listen and adhere to my body’s needs.

I carry a lot of fear toward my body. I believe some of this fear stems from being highly allergic to nuts. In an allergic reaction, the body irrationally attacks a benign substance. My childhood is spotted with memories of innocently eating a cookie or even a piece of fried chicken (the cook thought it’d be gourmet to place slithers of almonds in the crust) and suddenly, my mouth and throat are swelling, my breath is jagged, and my body is fighting to rid itself of a self-labeled poison.

These episodes leave me feeling unsafe in my body and push me to disconnect from my body. I fear the sudden violence that can be triggered from accidentally eating a hidden pistachio in a casserole. So, as a natural daydreamer, I escape into my imagination, my feelings and creative projects.

And then yoga safely guides me to connect to my body and breathe into the fear.

Trust. Breathe. Courage.

In yoga, I am astonished by the beauty and strength of my body and learn to practice compassion toward tension, aches and pains. Fear arises on the mat when I attempt an inversion or an arm balance that could have me fall flat on my face. I feel it rise from my heart to the throat and freeze me in mid-action. Yes, fear I know you’re here. Yoga lets me witness the fear without identifying with it.

Trust. Breathe. Courage. This is the mantra guiding me through the upchuck episodes and recovery. My thoughts are negative and my heart is heavy. The thought gremlins know exactly where to pounce and sink their claws down. “What are you doing with your life?” “Are you doing enough?” “Why didn’t you get that job?

 Then I am reawakened by the call of the wild geese heading to or from a lake nearby, and I hear the soft wag of my chocolate lab’s tail, and I am brought back to this time. No matter how achy and grouchy I may be, I am reaffirmed in my belonging. There’s the small whisper telling me to have faith and courage on the unfolding journey, to trust myself and breathe. 

Goddess Empowered & Rock 'n' Roll Inspired

Lauren from Thelma & the Sleaze, an all lady rock ‘n’ roll band out of Nashville.

Photo by the amazing Ann Sydney Taylor. Let her music and travel photography entrance and transport you.

http://www.annsydneytaylor.com/

Friday night I embark on an adventure with my childhood best friend. I accept her invitation to an art showing in Berea, my soul yearning for art and new sights. The car ride to the show refreshes my spirits (my Sagittarius friend recounting her tales from the previous night) and I quietly awe over the evening light gently spilling over rolling hills and pockets of towns nestled into woods and mountains.

We arrive fashionably late, but are greeted warmly. The art show is the debut of the Women’s Art Collective of Kentucky and my Sagittarius soul sista is a founding member, her rock ‘n’ roll photography  on display. Her featured photo along with mixed media and paintings fill the quaint space of the Village Trough, a Berea restaurant (grilled gourmet cheese with teas, coffees, vegan cookies and scrumptious, whip cream pastries).

The adjoining room becomes a makeshift movie theater and seating is provided in reclaimed church pews for the evening's documentary. Staying in theme with the female celebrated art show, Who Does She Think She Is?  follows the lives of contemporary women artists as they balance pursuing their creative work and being a mother. These radiant women speak of listening and honoring the inner muse; and the documentary explores ancient Goddess Culture, and second-wave feminists who combated the institutionalized sexism of the art world  (the Guerrilla Girls and  Judy Chicago’s The Dinner Party  make a scene debut). Intently watching, I feel myself reawakened and filled with feminist spark, a bit of rage and lots of passion.

The evening continues with a performance by the Kites, a Kentucky band who swoons me with their deep, resonating voices (like a younger version of the Civil Wars) and their songs about first love and dancing through daydreams.

The music pulls me into a soft trance. The cycle of concerns my mind has been obsessing over lately reemerge.

When will I hear back about that job? What if my research paper is rejected for that conference? Am I studying enough for the GRE? When should I apply for grad school, and that yoga program?

These questions have provoked such irritability and stress. I feel like my life is on hold. Waiting. Waiting for that next job, for the next heartthrob, and for an external confirmation to provide reassurance and clarity about my life’s path. I can feel the rise of anxiety, like a salty building of a wave, but unlike this past week where it’s been so consuming, it barely stirs a ripple.

I return to a friend’s recent yoga class focused on transitions: the transition from one pose to the next, from each inhalation to the following exhalation; even the easily overlooked, but significant micro-movements that lead into the building of a pose. My yoga-self knows that the waiting time is filled with precious moments, like this one here. This transitional space is the NOW where life is vibrant and abundantly rich.

The irritation and anxiety soften as I relax back into this moment. I am at home here – with my lifelong friend, in the company of artists, surrounded by the creative works of empowered women. The questions aren’t answered, and they reappear throughout the night, but the mind chatter is a broken record and the questions are just on replay.

Live the Questions Now, encourages the poet, Rainer Maria Rilke.

I release the need to fret and analyze this waiting time, and embrace the questions and the moment where there are twinkle lights, kindhearted souls, and vegan pastries. I don’t know how things will unfold, but I do know that I want to be vibrantly here and here is where I finally allow myself to be.

Intentions for 2015

I greet 2015 with a calm heart. I’m feeling peaceful about the beginning of a New Year. I honor 2014 by being thankful for its lessons and loves because it got me here to this coffee shop moment, where my present self feels centered and at ease, and my intentions for 2014 helped cultivate and ground this peaceful me.

My intentions for 2014 gently guided me to take more mindful breaths, to listen and adhere to the whispers of intuition, and purposefully nurture love for myself. 2014’s intentions manifested into daily practices that brought me ease, peace, and deep, nourishing breaths, and so I continue with intention setting for 2015.

For those new to intention setting, let me explain. I advocate intention setting (over goal setting) to celebrate the dawn of the New Year for several reasons. First, intentions are set in the present tense, affirming the worthiness and abundance already existing within. Intentions establish an internal foundation to help foster a shift in thought, or attitude, and this inner shift manifests through mindful action in the external world.

So, continuing with this, I welcome 2015 by setting intentions to help guide and nurture me as I learn, love and grow into the unfolding New Year.  

*I intend to stay connected with my breath and let the breath be my gentle guide and reminder of my true authentic self.

The past few years I’ve had an intention to breathe mindfully and I’m remaining true to this original intention. Breathing In. Breathing Out. Coming Home to Self.

*I intend to speak my truth.

This is the big one for 2015. Speaking my truth first begins with knowing my truth. Journaling, restorative alone time, and sharing my story with a few cherished friends helps me recognize and claim my truth.

Speaking my truth is a challenge if it means confronting someone. I desire harmony and peace. Conflict unnerves me. So, when conflict typically arises, I navigate with diplomacy and compromise. I practice empathy, see the situation from someone else’s perspective and grant forgiveness. I also seek to recognize what issues I’m projecting on the situation, or the person. And this process goes on quietly, in the comfort of my room, to the soundtrack of alt-J, and maybe I talk to a few people, but it’s an internal and privately held decision and resolution. Most of the time, this smooth course of stepping back, checking in, understanding and forgiving works and I don’t have to directly confront anyone, just myself.

Here’s the problem: this doesn’t work for every conflict. If a person I love repeatedly does something that upsets me, I just end up suppressing and growing resentful, angry, and passive aggressive, which results in a poisoned relationship.

Speaking my truth in the moment could save me a whole lot of emotional pain and spare the other person confusion and hurt. I need to let go of feeling responsible for how the other person will respond and this will take practice. I’m letting this quote be my guide :

"Truth spoken is a gift given. Truth withheld is more than a gift denied, it is an arrow aimed at the heart. It has been said that "the truth hurts," but the exact opposite is true. No truth is too hurtful, and no lie is harmless. Because every truth opens your heart to another, and every lie separates it.

Yet know this: The way you say your truth can be hurtful. So speak your truth, but soothe your words with peace. Right now."

*I intend to soften (even more) toward myself.

“Please be kind to yourself; I care about you.” The note was gently folded and tucked into my purse, a gift from a trusted friend. It was written at the end of 2013, a year that held challenge and struggle. I internalized outside criticism and was harsh towards myself in thoughts, words and even in impulsive action.  

This past year, the most significant change came from within: I softened toward myself. 2014’s intention of nurturing love for myself manifested by using positive affirmations, identifying and softening the voice of the inner critic, and practicing forgiveness toward myself. My  present self feels compassion for 2013 me, fresh out of college and striving to appease others and establish herself in the post-undergraduate world. This nurtured love for self directly impacts how I respond to people, situations and myself when caught in emotional upheavals and moments of crisis. Practicing compassion toward myself gave me the genuine ability to show compassion to others.

Soften resonates with my 2015-self. Soften invites a calmer voice, a letting go of mental holdings and physical tension. Soften invites me to wholeheartedly receive love and effortlessly and joyfully send love to others.

*I intend to not take things so personally.

I’m quick to take criticism and people’s comments/reactions to me very personally. I’m sensitive, a blessing and a challenge. I wish to be peaceful and loving toward all people and have those sentiments reciprocated, but that’s not always the case.

So, when there’s a charged dislike between me and someone, or a hurtful comment is said, I intend to take it as a cue to check-in: notice if I’m projecting and listen to my own personal triggers around the situation. Then, I can go neutral, which means I simply let go of the need to like or dislike someone and simply respect them as a human being who has his/her own story and struggle. And best of all, focus the energy that typically would go to fretting over the situation back to myself. I got Iggy Azalea to help me out with this mantra: “I just can't worry 'bout no haters, gotta stay on my grind.”

*I intend to believe in my own magic.

Somewhere along the way, I became scared of envisioning things for myself. It may be a defense mechanism. If I don’t dream it then I won’t be disappointed when it doesn’t happen. Ouch. A sad truth that I’ve been carrying.

2015 is the year to return back to my magical self. Time to return to believing in myself and trusting in my own ability to manifest dreams into a reality. Oh, this will be fun!

2014, I kiss you adieu! 2015, I’m wholeheartedly present for the adventures, the lessons and the loves you will bring. Let the breath be my guide as I soften, let go and build healthy boundaries, and invite a spark of magic back into my heart and sweet life!