Commitment

Flashback: I’m in my college lit class, steaming with self-righteousness, as we discuss Toni Morrison’s Song of Solomon .

The protagonist, Milkman is a classic commitment-phobe. He runs from relationships and responsibility and nonchalantly glides through the motions of life. As the story progresses, Milkman begins to make commitments – to a family quest, to a lady and takes responsibility – and ironically, as he decides to commit to life, instead of becoming caged and stuck, he is set free from his past and able to grow into a confident and full human being.

The discussion struck a raw heart chord.

Talk about commitment sparks thoughts about men like Milkman – the dancing through life men folk who dazzle and flee – and at that time, I was fuming over my own commitment-phobe heartbreaker. I even considered sending him my lecture notes.  Life Advice For You, I gleefully imagined the email subject line would read.

My frustration with commitment-phobes has provoked many eye-rolling rants. I never (like never ever) thought I was at all similar to the world’s crew of Milkmans. I’ve always prided myself on my emotional openness and ability to commit.

Well, I’m learning to beware of what I rant against because I tend to project my own issues onto others. Thank you, Universe, for that lesson. Instead of thinking of my then-ex during that English class lecture, I should have been taking notes for myself.

This recent autumn bout of restlessness dissolved when I made this epiphany: I’m struggling with committing to Life. I’ve been weighing my options, researching and researching, and hesitating to the point of paralysis. Keeping my options open has left me feeling anxious and unclear. I’m not taking action in the fear that I may make the wrong decision and take the wrong course of action.

My yogi-self knows that commitment issues are signs of an unbalanced third chakra. Taking action, showing up in the world and making a commitment are aspects of Self ruled by the third chakra, the energy center dwelling in the space above the navel. This is our power center, home to our ambitions, self-image and confidence. Represented by an inner sun, it represents the vibrancy of our personality and our inner majesty. 

I struggle with my third chakra. I struggle making and adhering to personal boundaries. I feel self-conscious about my looks. Recently, instead of taking intentional action, I’ve been prone to inaction.

Thankfully, I’ve got family members and friends with kick-ass (and that would be the mantra of the third chakra) power centers. My younger sister immediately comes to mind. She knows her needs, knows her boundaries and speaks up for herself and for others.

My childhood best friend is a force to be reckoned with, too. She knows her dreams and actively manifests them into reality. A recent example: she was looking up trips to the Bahamas, happened to fill out a “win a giveaway trip” form at a sushi restaurant while in Alabama and won a legitimate free vacation for her and her boyfriend to a resort there. Now, I need to channel some of that visioning power.

My third chakra has been off balanced. I can partially blame Mercury in Retrograde and the Vata winds of October, but the third chakra demands us to be responsible and to take responsibility for our actions.

So, I’m taking responsibility and taking action. I’m getting clear on goals and taking steps: booked a plane ticket to New York City to see a best friend and do some grad school visiting and started studying for the GRE. I’m not taking action to just take action. I’m taking the necessary pause to breathe deeply and listen and if I hear a “yes”, I go for it. 

Returning to that undergraduate English class, I hear my professor say, “Commitment liberates.” And like Milkman (and maybe those commitment-phobe exes have learned this, too) I’ve found this to be very true.

Tips For Powering Up Your Third Chakra:

*Watch an action movie.

*Go to the gym. Sweat and sparkle. Or take a walk. Get moving.

*Look Good. Dress Up. Impress Yourself.

*Practice a fun, vinyasa flow. Focus on yoga poses that strengthen your core, home of the third chakra, like boat pose.

*Take time to be quiet. Contemplate an issue or something you’re struggling with making a decision on and see what your gut tells you. What option feels light and right? Trust yourself and go for it.

Get Pumpin’ Playlist :

*Play It Right – Slyvan Esso

*Don’t Wait – Mapei

*Bang Bang – Nicki Minaj, Jessie J, Ariana Grande (my guilty pleasure)

*Every Other Freckle – alt-J

*Bailando – Enrique Iglesias

*Girls Chase Boys – Ingrid Michaelson

*Left Hand Free – alt-J

*So Have I For You – Nikka Costa

*Hey Mami – Sylvan Esso 

Restlessness

 There is something in October that stirs the gypsy blood: We must rise and follow Her. When from every hill of flame She calls, and calls each vagabond by name." 

~ William Bliss

***

Restlessness prompts a walk at twilight. Stepping out onto the front porch, I breathe in the fading evening. I set off on a familiar path. I pass by dimly lit houses, ruby red tinted trees, and glowing street lamps. I walk in the middle of the street, relishing the sound of my boots clicking against the pavement. No cars appear; no one interrupts with a hello or neighborly small talk.

My whispering thoughts are background noise to a present heartache. A heaviness is here, a heaviness that is not entirely mine, a collection of stories spoken by loved ones and news reporters. I walk quickly, as if I could somehow outrun this ache.

Walk with the heartache. Be present in the discomfort. Breathe.

The moon rises in a grand, slow debut. In the darkening shadows, I’m tempted to run, carefree and wild down the block. Running may satisfy this nagging hunger. It’s a hunger that doesn’t want to consume. It’s a soul hunger eager to give my entire self to a cause, a person, a piece of writing. This hunger is growing and is becoming a daily presence. It’s manifesting in a restlessness begging for a short trip, pushing me out to walk alone at twilight.

I resist the urge to run. I continue to walk and breathe deeply. I listen for the lesson, for the wise voice to tell me what to do next. I don’t hear an answer, only the sounds of the falling night. I let myself be restless. I breathe into the twilight. I notice the appearance of the stars. I embrace the moment and let the starlight embrace me. 

Grounding Down for October Magic and Fun

October, I am thrilled you are here! I relish the crisp air, the whisper of magic, the carved pumpkins, the appearance of leather jackets and boots. I’m planning Hocus Pocus movie nights and a trip to Magee’s Bakery for the famous pumpkin cookies is definitely on the Fall agenda.

I’m ready to embrace the playful, sweetly wicked side of October, but I also recognize that I’ve been feeling ungrounded lately. The Fall season, with its winds of change, can easily stir me into many a thinking frenzy and am lured into scheming about the future, repeating the past (Gatsby, I can relate) and end up disconnected from my body and the present moment.

What helps ground me down? Routine and rituals focus my dancing, Vata mind. I just need the discipline to follow through with them. So, I add a little bit of sparkly fun to encourage my bouncy self to settle down for a moment. 

At the start of the new month, I make a point to sit down with my beloved, personalized Erin Condren  planner (best gift to self EVER) and a prized collection of pretty inked pens and take the time to record appointments, yoga classes, birthdays and events onto the calendar. Instead of feeling stressed or overwhelmed with the to-dos, scheduling the month actually makes me feel better prepared and helps me make intentional plans. If I see that I’m double teaching for a few days in a row, then I know and make sure that I get a day off to take it easy and decompress.

A morning mindfulness and meditation practice also replenishes and calms my go!go! mind. Before I get up and start the day, I take a few moments to simply rest, hearing the sounds around me and noticing how my body is feeling. I rise and find a comfortable seat for meditation. Meditation lets me witness where my thoughts are flying off to – either the future or the past. I compassionately recognize them and then lovingly return to the breath.

Sometimes I fear that when I meditate I’ll just go more thought crazy, but I haven’t found this to be the case. I feel calmer, breathe more deeply and operate more smoothly for the rest of the morning. There’s also no “bad” meditation experience. So even if I were to meditate and just bought into thinking the whole time that would be all right. It’s an experience. I can always begin again with a new cycle of breath.

There are a few rituals special to October that invite me to experience the beauty and magic of one of my favorite months. First of all, I relish the Fall weather. October promises beautiful walks around the Ashland Estate, through pumpkin patches, across sidewalks carpeted with red and yellow leaves. During these walks, I set an intention to receive and marvel at the beauty around me. I feel my feet connecting me to the ground. I take courage from the rooted trees and see my thoughts like leaves, floating in the wind. Walks connect me to my natural, unhurried self.

For Halloween, I’m musing on whether I should be a flapper (for the third year in a row, but the roaring twenties are my favorite era!), or Cher from the 90s classic Clueless. I’ll be celebrating with all the ghosts and ghouls and will be doing so with a calm mind and both feet on the ground. The midnight broom ride can wait until November. 

Peaceful Presence

As I write this, a hawk watches from the tree outside my bedroom window. He’s a royal prince, arriving at dusk and just in time to catch me from spending too much time locked in thoughts. His acknowledged presence reawakens me to the fading splendor of the moment – the last glow of sunlight on the leaves, the evening hush falling gently on the street.

The hawk exudes such quiet strength, a peaceful majesty. His observant, intuitive way of being answers a question I’ve been returning to again and again these past few weeks.

I begin by replaying the scene: The Saturday morning blooms sunny and crisp. I stand behind a glass door, my heart a flutter with pre-yoga teaching nerves. I play the hostess role, standing at the entryway, on the lookout for yogis to welcome and show them the way to a new yoga class space.

From my self-assigned doorwoman position, I see a barefoot boy pause before crossing the street, motioning for a stopped car to go. The driver, instead of simply preceding to turn the corner, explodes in a verbal rage.

“JUST FUCKING GO!” he roars. He continues to hurl obscenities as the boy bolts across the street. The boy, his face scarlet, runs barefoot down the block. The driver, fuming and cursing, turns, but his anger leaves an imprint on the morning. I still stand at my post, behind the glass door, silent and in disbelief.

A few minutes later, I take a seat on my yoga mat. Smiling yogis greet me. The theme of the class – compassion in action, being a presence of peace – holds a new heaviness. The scene outside puts into glaring focus what it means to truly be a presence of peace in this world.

I am troubled to think that I am just a bystander. I wish I had been an advocate for the boy. The confusion of the moment left me truly stunned. It happened so quickly and a part of me can’t believe I saw what I saw: a kid verbally abused for not crossing the street soon enough. I’ve seen actors explode on screen but I’ve never seen someone in real life unleash such rage.

In this moment, before I begin the class I’ve been longing to teach, the one combining my passion and my heartbreak, I silently hold the boy in my heart. I think of the driver, too. I let go of the need to psychoanalyze him. I feel compassion for his struggle, his projected pain.

A part of me thinks it’s rather silly now to sit on a yoga mat and breathe in peace and send it out to the world, but my wiser self tells me to rise. She reigns. The nervousness I felt disappears with a deeper conviction to teach from a place of peace, a place of awareness and presence.

I am grateful for my co-teacher, my kindergarten soul mate who is a true example of compassion in action and she will listen to this story with understanding and love.

I am committed to the students in front of me. I feel such gratitude for this conscientious group of yogis who took the time and effort to come to a new place for a Saturday morning class.

This breath, this moment, and this class is an opportunity to be peaceful, to move with intention, to offer a safe space for self-acceptance. This peace may only be present until the end of savasana; or maybe a sense of calm stays with one student for the rest of the day. One conscious breath, even if it is my own, is worth it.

The practice doesn’t erase the scene I witnessed. It’s a harsh reminder that people in my community are struggling and makes me question how can I truly be a presence of peace in my hometown.

At this thought, the hawk flies away, off into the twilight. I’m grateful he stayed for as long as he did, a motivator to focus and write. I’ve been on my own a bit too much today. My thoughts were growing mean. The sudden sight of the hawk brought me back to kinder, gentler self and brought me to the blank page.

“Embrace presence,” says Eckhart Tolle, “the place where life happens.”

How to be a presence of peace? The hawk reminds me to be kind to myself, for peace begins from within, and to be compassionate to others, for we are all waging our own battles.  

The hawk’s watchfulness, his intuitive way of being is a lesson: be here, be a witness, and know when it’s time to act, to fly.  

Bliss & Heartbreak

 Joseph Campbell encourages us to “follow our bliss,” to pursue what makes our heart sing. I’m feeling blissful these September days as I write and teach yoga to teens and beloved Barefoot Works  students. I’m in a swoon for emerging Fall. I relish the calm that comes with the sweet chill.

The appearance of Fall also brings a melancholy, a feeling not too far from heartache. This heartache intensifies as I read and listen to the news. I’m reminded of my heartbreak as I read about the escalation of Iraqi women raped and sold into slavery.

“Follow your heartbreak,” is Andrew Harvey’s  mantra. Harvey advocates for us to become “sacred activists” in our local communities by committing energy and purpose to the injustices of the world that break our hearts: Animal abuse, child neglect in the foster system, the lack of affordable nutritional food in grocery stores…the list goes on.

The trafficking of the innocent and the vulnerable breaks my heart: Youth runaways seeking a safe haven only to be controlled and pimped out at truck stops on I-75 and in advertisements on backpage.com. Immigrants’ dreams of a better life - a life made by an honest wage, free from civil war or an abusive home – become a web the traffickers use to ensnare their innocent victims.

I followed this heartbreak through college, studying, researching and presenting on trafficking abroad and here in the Bluegrass.  And this Saturday, I feel blessed to have the rare opportunity to combine both my passion and my heartbreak: teaching a yoga class that benefits victims of human trafficking in Kentucky.

I’m delighted to be co-teaching with my wise and beautiful friend, Delia Rose at the Plantory, a recently remodeled office space for non-profits and other sacred activists. The proceeds benefit the HOPE Campaign , an outreach program aimed at directly helping victims out of trafficking.

A former victim once realized that her only alone time was during bathroom breaks between johns. This insight sparked an idea to place critical, life-saving information on soap bars in hotels and truck stops where trafficking frequently occurs. S.O.A.P. outreach succeeded during the Kentucky Derby in reaching victims of sex trafficking.  Inspired by S.O.A.P, the HOPE Campaign distributes chap sticks (featuring the national human trafficking hotline number) in Lexington hotels, laundry mats, parks, and surrounding truck stops.

The Polaris Project , an advocacy organization based in D.C. runs the national hotline for human trafficking and since the implementation of the HOPE Campaign has reported a significant increase in calls from victims in Kentucky. Calls from victims are a rare occurrence; typically, a concerned witness calls the hotline.

Preparing the indie-inspired playlist for Saturday’s class (Sylvan Esso is my new music crush), I think about pairing yoga, a practice geared toward self-realization and self-love with the heavy heart topic of human trafficking.  I believe the two, like bliss and heartbreak, can fit perfectly.

Yoga is not about escaping the world. Yoga is learning how to live and be in the world. This begins by whole-heartedly embracing yourself. I can easily embrace my joyful, sparkly side, but yoga also challenges me to acknowledge and embrace my fears, my insecurities, my moments of jealousy and meanness. I mirror the world and the world mirrors me. I can connect to myself and from this place of connection reach out and express compassion, understanding, or simply be a presence of peace in the world.

Bliss and heartbreak are present as I prepare to teach. Bliss delights in designing a fun yoga flow and while I choose alt-J songs for the playlist. Heartbreak appears when reviewing the statistics about trafficking victims in the state. Heartbreak gives rise to anger and a determination to do well and do my best. The two share my heart space, prompting me to follow both my heartbreak and bliss.

Busyness & BEing

Sunglasses and car keys in hand, I mentally repeat my day’s to-do list as I head out the front door. I shout a bon voyage to my dad who suddenly appears, asking where I’m headed (I’m a true  millennial, I’m living at home with my parentals), and I cut him off, quickly launching into my day’s planned errands, schemes and yoga classes scheduled to teach.

Busy, busy, busy.

My dad kindly listens and then goes on to say he just wanted to give me a heads up about a plumbing crew coming to the house that afternoon. He wishes me luck as I go on my way, and I feel rather silly for giving such a grand speech about my “busy day.”

Busy: My hot button word. Lately, I’ve become sensitive to saying “I’m busy” and conscious of how I schedule my time. I’ve even become aware of the “busy rant”. This is something I’ve witnessed friends and family do. And I’m totally guilty of it, too. During a “busy rant”, I list to-dos, scheduled musts and elaborate on the day’s details in an effort to prove my self-worth.

Here’s the flow of logic: If I’m busy, then I think I’m doing enough, and if I’m doing enough, then I am enough, meaning I am a whole human being.

This logic could be the result of a busy-obsessed society. We are all busy. We all are pursuing passions while fulfilling obligations and crossing things off and adding things on to the never-ending to-do lists. We are in the midst of a busyness epidemic. We live in a caffeinated, pill popping society that pressures us to be constantly busy because if we’re not busy, then what are we? How do we define ourselves without our full calendars?

I know that one of the main reasons I busy rant is because I’m seeking validation. I want external validation from my friends, family and peers about my worthiness, a worthiness determined entirely on the external. My ego wants to purr.

The ego feeds off of busyness. The ego craves recognition, superiority, success. The ego pushes us to have full calendars, to go and go and do and do until the brink of exhaustion. The ego taunts us, hissing that we are not enough until we achieve this grade, this position, this type of car, this status. In the greedy eyes of the ego, we will never be enough, and happiness will always exist in the next step, in the next achievement, always in the future, never in the present.

My busy rant to my Dad stemmed from insecurity around not having a full-time job. I want to prove that I am doing enough and therefore, that I Am Enough. The ironic thing is that I busy ranted to a person who loves me unconditionally. My agenda for the day does not determine how much my Dad, or really my parents, love me.

I’m blessed to have parents who fully and lovingly accept and support me, and all my bohemian-like decisions (like taking a year off before I went to college. The “gap year” was one of the best decisions I ever made and I had the full support of my parents to do it). Their pride and belief in me does not stem from my academic achievements, my VISTA year, or how many yoga classes I teach – they love me for me. And true friends and romantic partners love me for me and not my resume.

And frankly, I don’t want to be busy. I want to be intentional. Sometimes being busy truly can’t be helped, and I get that. I’m concerned with the always on the go busyness. And I’ve done that busy, busy, busy routine and in the end I always erupt in tears. I feel foreign to myself because I haven’t granted myself the time to reconnect and nourish my creative, introverted self.

My schedule dramatically changed since ending VISTA and I’m curious about my reaction to blank space. It doesn’t necessarily need to be filled. I’m teaching more yoga and I feel fabulous and passionate about my classes (!!!), but it also calls for more downtime. For an introvert like me, teaching, really any type of public speaking engagement requires downtime because I am giving energy to students and taking time to thoughtfully create and plan. This blank space is not for others – it is for me. The blank space in my planner stays free from scheduled to-dos.

This time of non-doing is time of great doing. It’s a pause that creates clarity. Purposeful action emerges from the pause. The blank space asks me to check-in and make sure I say “yes” to opportunities and people that light me up and politely say “no” to events that feel heavy and limit time with people who consume and leave me exhausted.

As Rumi says, “Be with those who help your being.” I whole-heartedly agree.

September promises to be a full month, so I’m consciously taking more quiet time and investing in relationships that truly nourish my soul. This is my life right here and right now, and I don’t want to spend the majority of my existence feeling busy and stressed, especially if this busyness means not nurturing relationships, manifesting my dreams into reality, and caring for myself.

This Fall I’m taking busyness off my to-do list. Time to get comfortable with simple blank space. 

You CAN Wear White After Labor Day

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.