Dear Internet,
I've sat down to write a new post at least three dozen times but my hands always go still over the keys. Numb from the shame of what it is I want to tell you.
This has been a hard month for me and I just need it be over. My meditation practice has become nonexistent, I fell off the cleansing wagon pretty hard, I'm uninspired in my yoga teaching, I STILL haven't gotten a couch for my office, or worked on my pilot project, or kicked into handstand, or, or, or.
Call it the ides of March. Mercury in retrograde. Depression. Exhaustion. A dosha imbalance. Spanda. Whatever it is I need it to go away because it's making feel pretty helpless. Restless. Like a failure. A fraud.
I sat here and talked about how I'd never go back to my old patterns again because my new way of being just feels too good. Yet, what I ate yesterday in honor of Brian's birthday begs to differ (pancakes, bacon, carrot cake, pizza).
I claim to be a yoga teacher yet half the time I keep my fingers crossed hoping no one will show up to my class. And I avoid my own practices. I show up to class five times a week and call my work done. Not sitting, not engaging my home practice, not breathing on my own.
I say I want to put my counseling degree to use yet do I have a couch, or a chair? Have I made flyers or bought advertising? No, no, and no.
I call myself upbeat. Joyful. So loud and positive and happy it makes people's teeth hurt. But it's been weeks since I actually felt light. Connected. So ecstatic I could cry.
And I'm not sure what to do. Or why I'm back here.
I thought I'd slayed this beast. Dumped the weight. Overcome the depression. Changed my thought patterns. Gotten new habits. And yet here I am. Again. And probably again. And again.
Because that seems to be how things work. In cycles. In roller coaster ways instead of straight lines. Because what goes up must come down.
And I've been up for awhile.
So I'm down. And while I know that this place isn't forever. That I'll pulse back into my practices. Get paid so I can buy green vegetables. Reconnect to my teaching.
I don't like this place. It scares me because I've been stuck here before. I've pulled the covers over my head, eaten a banana nut muffin, and called it day. And a day. And a day. Until the days added up to a fat, depressed Sara.
And I don't want that to happen again.
So I'm telling you. I'm trusting that you're big enough to hold my brokenness. My vulnerability. That you can love me. All of me. Even if I'm not drinking green smoothies three times a day, meditating until my butt hurts from sitting, and twisting myself into a pretzel everyday.
Because the truth of life is that sometimes it sucks and you don't know why. Sometimes you do eat a banana nut muffin. Sometimes you cry and don't practice yoga. Sometimes you are just human and imperfect and that's ok.
Because when you open yourself up to life. When you crack your heart open. You let everything in. Even the suck. And if you resist that. If you run from it. And don't let yourself feel it then you can't heal it.
So here I am. Feeling it. Lying broken in a pile in front of my computer screen. Because I know that's the only way I can pick myself up back up.
XO,
Sara
A fantastic article on my favorite never not broken Hindu goddess...Why Lying Broken in a Pile on Your Bedroom Floor is a Good Idea
And a wonderful talk about connection, vulnerability, and banana nut muffins...
My Next Great Leap
"I'm scared."
"Me too. But it's a good scared. Like when you hike up to the top of the mountain and you're about to drop in. You look down, take a deep breath, see your route, and then just go for it. It's why you climbed up there."
"Yeah but it's scary."
"I know but I usually don't make it that far unless I'm committed to making the run."
"Usually, I'm so tired and annoyed from dragging the other person to the edge of the cliff that when I get there I don't have anything left and I say forget it and walk back down alone cursing."
"I operate a chairlift."
I let his words sit with me. And I realized he was right. Getting to this place has been easy. Like riding a chairlift. Sure at the beginning we had a few stops and starts and things were icy. But once we got going it's been fairly effortless.
Something I'm not at all used to. I'm used to forcibly tying the person to my back and dragging them along for the ride whether they wanted me to or not. To marching us forward even when we were about to kill each other or collapse from the exhaustion it takes to keep a bad thing alive. Because we will be the Valedictorian of love dangit, get up, let's go! Struggle and strife and not fitting is my comfort zone.
This set it and forget it. This natural rhythm. This ease. Not so much. I don't know what to do with it. Especially now that I'm faced with jumping. With having to decide what next and where do WE go from here. WE. Not Sara. Not me. WE.
Instead of hammering out a plan I come up with all the reasons he's not right for WE. Why I should just leave him standing there and walk down alone. Not yogic enough. Not smart enough. Not rich enough. Not old enough. Not settled enough. Not driven enough. Not enough enough.
Then I pick fights and act crappy and yell about blue hair so he'll tell me, "Forget about it I don't wanna jump with you after all."
Except that's never what he says. He says perfect things like, "I operate a chairlift." Things that make me realize that what's really going on is about me. My enoughness. My strong enough. Interesting enough. Pretty enough. Smart enough. Rich enough. My broken not enough chatterbox self up to her old lies.
Because all this time I've been dragging people to the cliff she's been in charge. Been telling me no one would really jump because it'd be with me. Little broken not enough enough me.
Except I'm not broken anymore and neither is he.
We didn't drag each other to this place. No one was kicking or screaming or dying to run away. It just happened. The chairlift did its job. Got us to the top. And now we have to drop in or ride back down.
And while I'm not ready to say which one it will be, either way I hope we do it together.
Because this is a ride I'm not ready to get off (even if it does terrify me).
XO,
Sara
"Me too. But it's a good scared. Like when you hike up to the top of the mountain and you're about to drop in. You look down, take a deep breath, see your route, and then just go for it. It's why you climbed up there."
"Yeah but it's scary."
"I know but I usually don't make it that far unless I'm committed to making the run."
"Usually, I'm so tired and annoyed from dragging the other person to the edge of the cliff that when I get there I don't have anything left and I say forget it and walk back down alone cursing."
"I operate a chairlift."
I let his words sit with me. And I realized he was right. Getting to this place has been easy. Like riding a chairlift. Sure at the beginning we had a few stops and starts and things were icy. But once we got going it's been fairly effortless.
Something I'm not at all used to. I'm used to forcibly tying the person to my back and dragging them along for the ride whether they wanted me to or not. To marching us forward even when we were about to kill each other or collapse from the exhaustion it takes to keep a bad thing alive. Because we will be the Valedictorian of love dangit, get up, let's go! Struggle and strife and not fitting is my comfort zone.
This set it and forget it. This natural rhythm. This ease. Not so much. I don't know what to do with it. Especially now that I'm faced with jumping. With having to decide what next and where do WE go from here. WE. Not Sara. Not me. WE.
Instead of hammering out a plan I come up with all the reasons he's not right for WE. Why I should just leave him standing there and walk down alone. Not yogic enough. Not smart enough. Not rich enough. Not old enough. Not settled enough. Not driven enough. Not enough enough.
Then I pick fights and act crappy and yell about blue hair so he'll tell me, "Forget about it I don't wanna jump with you after all."
Except that's never what he says. He says perfect things like, "I operate a chairlift." Things that make me realize that what's really going on is about me. My enoughness. My strong enough. Interesting enough. Pretty enough. Smart enough. Rich enough. My broken not enough chatterbox self up to her old lies.
Because all this time I've been dragging people to the cliff she's been in charge. Been telling me no one would really jump because it'd be with me. Little broken not enough enough me.
Except I'm not broken anymore and neither is he.
We didn't drag each other to this place. No one was kicking or screaming or dying to run away. It just happened. The chairlift did its job. Got us to the top. And now we have to drop in or ride back down.
And while I'm not ready to say which one it will be, either way I hope we do it together.
Because this is a ride I'm not ready to get off (even if it does terrify me).
XO,
Sara
Here We Go!
"I didn't hear all of that but from what I did you need to be teaching a real class that people come to." Had I been a deer I would have head butted her and headed for the hills. Sorry Bridget, but my flight or flight was screaming, "Fly! Fly! Fly! Fly already! What are you doing just sitting there letting this woman talk you into teaching a real class that real people to come to practice real yoga? Punch her and be done with it already!!!"
But I didn't. I told my broken not good enough self to shut it the woman had a point. Hadn't my birthday wish been for piles and piles of money to swim around in like the opening of Duck Tales? And what better way to start attracting the green stuff than to, oh I don't know, teach a class that people actually come to? To use the skills I sweated, and bled, and cursed, and cried (mostly cried), and paid a handsome sum for. Teacher training-not so casual guys just in case you were wondering.
Don't I know stuff? Aren't I loud enough and bubbly enough to drag people through an hour and fifteen minute class? I mean what's the worse thing that could happen?
If I let the broken not good enough chatterbox of myself answer those questions she says, "No. No you are not good enough at all. You suck and people will probably throw things at you and not have a good time and they'll never come back because you are a terrible terrible teacher. And they'll tell other people how awful you are and write about it on Facebook and then all of Driggs will point and laugh at you. So you just keep teaching your tiny not real hardly anyone ever shows up for class because that's all you're good for."
And that's when I realized she was who I really needed to punch because seriously? We're here again? I thought I squashed her when I dumped all that extra weight, moved into a yoga studio, and fell in love with my life.
But some how she still gets out every once in awhile and tries to spread her vile lies. Sure I'm not the best yoga teacher in the world. I stumble over my words, constantly mix up my left and right, and am not always as clear as I could be. But so what?
So what broken not good enough chatter box self? If I've learned anything from my journey so far it's that I don't have to be perfect. Yes, I, the Valedictorian of Everything, just typed that. Pick your jaws up off the floor. It's not nice to stare.
The only thing we are called to do in this life is be. That's right. Be. Be good enough just as you are. Be love. Be loved. Be wild and creative and open. Be broken and vulnerable and courageous. Be steady and dedicated and passionate. Be ourselves. All of ourselves. Whatever that is.
But it's easy to forget that. To say I can't or I won't. To hide or run or cloak. Because it's safer. Easier. Less pit of stomach, head for the hills, broken not enough chatterbox talk when you stay in your comfort zone.
But that's not where the magic happens (you saw that image). Not where the radiant, shiny, jump up and down, fall in love with life, share your gifts, help others happens.
That happens when you gag your broken not good enough chatterbox self, sit her in the corner, and tell her not to move or else. When you just do it already. Do what scares you. What moves you. What exhilarates you.
Because at the end of the day it really isn't how well you've done it but how you feel about it. And when you can quite all the reasons you shouldn't or can't and jump. You feel amazing. You let so much joy and love and light in.
And that broken not good enough chatterbox self usually shuts up and enjoys the show.
So get over yourself already and do whatever it is that scares the bejesus out of you. Let the magic in.
I will be Wednesday morning from 7:15-8:30am.
Let's do this!
I'll pray for you.
XO,
Sara
Stop the Ride I Wanna Get Off
The never ending soundtrack of my life used to be I'm fat...terrible...unathletic...not as good as her...or whatever horrible thing that pointed out how different and unworthy I was. Hello Anava Mala and Mayiya Mala for those yogis in the know.
Don't worry if your tongue just tripped over those words. They're just a fancy way of saying I felt unworthy, not good enough, and cut off, separate, different from most everyone else in the world. And therefore deserved to go eat worms because nobody liked me everybody hated me.
But now that I've lost 70 pounds, started keeping up in the Tuesday/Thursday practice (for the most part), and pretty much love the skin I'm in my self talk has shifted to something I've never experienced before. Karma Mala. Or that nagging feeling of not being able to do enough, have enough, finish enough, oh my gosh why am I even taking the time to type this right now when there's so much else I HAVE to get done enough.
Something I used to be too fat, lazy, and unworthy to even consider. Sort of hard to worry about doing when you can't even get going. But now that I'm going. And oh am I going. On any given day I have about three million irons in the fire. Studio stuff. Cate stuff. Personal stuff. Blog stuff. Family stuff. Friend stuff. Boyfriend stuff.
Stuff. Stuff. Stuff. And all stuff that I need to do. Have to do. Must do. Or else. Stuff that people want from me. Need from me. Have to have from me.
So in an attempt to get it all done I've developed a whole new way of being which often includes skipping breakfast. Eating only an apple for lunch. Sucking down a heavy dinner because I'm starving. Staying up too late. Ditching my morning meditation.
Washing. Rinsing. Repeating.
Which is radically different for me. Because for last 26 years I pretty much did as little as I possibly could and then sat and ate ice cream and cried about how little I was doing. And forget skipping meals I stocked up on extra just in case. But then I went to therapy and grad school and found some friends who pretty much kicked that right out of me. So for the past two years I've been building up some speed. Speed that helped burn and transform some nasty patterns away (thank god because if I kept that up any longer I was going to have to buy stock in Ben & Jerry's and Prozac).
But it's built others. And now I can't seem to stop them. I'm flying down the hill no brakes hands off the steering wheel. And any minute I'm going to crash. Spontaneously combust. Fly off into space never to be seen or heard from again. Because rocking body and soul that I now got they still aren't strong enough to hold the constant doing. Moving. Going. Even God needed to rest on the seventh day.
I need a brake. Break? I'm just not sure how to safely stop the ride because I've never been on it before.
I need someone to flag down the conductor like my dad did when I was six and my cousins talked me into getting on the Siberian Sleigh ride. My tears and screaming something even 23 years later I haven't be able to live down.
But it's hard to flag yourself down. To press the stop button. It's easier just to keep going. Even through the tears and screams and threats of vomit. Because if I get off the ride. Say no to things. I might let other people down. And then we're right back were I started-eating worms because nobody likes me everybody hates me.
But I think back to what one of my very wise teachers once told me, "Saying no to one thing is saying yes to another."
So I'm saying yes to slowing down. To stopping the ride. To pausing.
At least long enough to eat lunch.
But for now I gotta go! ;)
XO,
Sara
Don't worry if your tongue just tripped over those words. They're just a fancy way of saying I felt unworthy, not good enough, and cut off, separate, different from most everyone else in the world. And therefore deserved to go eat worms because nobody liked me everybody hated me.
But now that I've lost 70 pounds, started keeping up in the Tuesday/Thursday practice (for the most part), and pretty much love the skin I'm in my self talk has shifted to something I've never experienced before. Karma Mala. Or that nagging feeling of not being able to do enough, have enough, finish enough, oh my gosh why am I even taking the time to type this right now when there's so much else I HAVE to get done enough.
Something I used to be too fat, lazy, and unworthy to even consider. Sort of hard to worry about doing when you can't even get going. But now that I'm going. And oh am I going. On any given day I have about three million irons in the fire. Studio stuff. Cate stuff. Personal stuff. Blog stuff. Family stuff. Friend stuff. Boyfriend stuff.
Stuff. Stuff. Stuff. And all stuff that I need to do. Have to do. Must do. Or else. Stuff that people want from me. Need from me. Have to have from me.
So in an attempt to get it all done I've developed a whole new way of being which often includes skipping breakfast. Eating only an apple for lunch. Sucking down a heavy dinner because I'm starving. Staying up too late. Ditching my morning meditation.
Washing. Rinsing. Repeating.
Which is radically different for me. Because for last 26 years I pretty much did as little as I possibly could and then sat and ate ice cream and cried about how little I was doing. And forget skipping meals I stocked up on extra just in case. But then I went to therapy and grad school and found some friends who pretty much kicked that right out of me. So for the past two years I've been building up some speed. Speed that helped burn and transform some nasty patterns away (thank god because if I kept that up any longer I was going to have to buy stock in Ben & Jerry's and Prozac).
But it's built others. And now I can't seem to stop them. I'm flying down the hill no brakes hands off the steering wheel. And any minute I'm going to crash. Spontaneously combust. Fly off into space never to be seen or heard from again. Because rocking body and soul that I now got they still aren't strong enough to hold the constant doing. Moving. Going. Even God needed to rest on the seventh day.
I need a brake. Break? I'm just not sure how to safely stop the ride because I've never been on it before.
I need someone to flag down the conductor like my dad did when I was six and my cousins talked me into getting on the Siberian Sleigh ride. My tears and screaming something even 23 years later I haven't be able to live down.
But it's hard to flag yourself down. To press the stop button. It's easier just to keep going. Even through the tears and screams and threats of vomit. Because if I get off the ride. Say no to things. I might let other people down. And then we're right back were I started-eating worms because nobody likes me everybody hates me.
But I think back to what one of my very wise teachers once told me, "Saying no to one thing is saying yes to another."
So I'm saying yes to slowing down. To stopping the ride. To pausing.
At least long enough to eat lunch.
But for now I gotta go! ;)
XO,
Sara
Wishes for a New Year
On the eve of my 29th year I'm feeling like some what of a fraud. I'm a yoga teacher who doesn't have time to properly plan her classes. A counselor who often takes work related calls during dinner. A wellness coach who routinely skips breakfast and doesn't sit down to a regular lunch. And an adult who rarely has more than a grocery bill's worth of money in her checking account.
And while I have accomplished a lot this year...
5. Learn how to cross country ski
11. Teach a regular yoga class
16. Lose50 30 15 pounds
17. Learn how to knit
31. Become a yoga teacher
47. Learn to be bien dans ma peau
63. Finish all the house projects (not my house, not my problem anymore!)
94. Graduate with honors
117. Quit my job
139. Learn how to hula hoop
142. Model for Dr. Sketchy’s (or rather fully nude for the Teton Arts Council numerous times)
It's time to get down to business...
First by becoming waaay more competent with money than I am. Because no one wants to be 30 and still broke. So numbers 56. Have a fat savings account of at least six months living expenses
and 57. Pay everything off are my top priorities this year.
Followed closely by 34. Own my own business (The Joie Revolution). Since you know that will help with 56 & 57.
Then there are my I'm not really a yoga teacher because I can't goals that I need to strike off...
1. Hold Bakasana for an extended period of time (I'm soooo close on this one!)
2. Kick into Handstand on my own (Not so much on this one)
12. Finish my RYT-200 (even more important now that Anusara is in the toilet)
And since I'm still not sure where the wind will plant me I'm fairly certain these two might just happen out of necessity...
77. Throw out everything that I don't adore
26. Drive cross country with an important boy and see silly things
And if that important boy is smart he'll help make this one happen...
27. Ride in a hot air balloon
and this one...
4. Eat at the crazy french fry place in Boise
Then they're are just some fun ones...
68. Go on a yoga retreat
95. Make (gluten free) biscuits, pancakes, and pie crusts by heart
And a tedious one...
106. Back up all my files, clean my computer, update my software, get a freaking battery! (because my god I can't go another year fearing I'll lose everything I'm working on because the magnetic. MAGNETIC power cord gets pulled loose. Most brilliant and stupidest Apple invention ever.)
And one that quite frankly scares me...
137. Write a book
But if I had a dollar for every person who told me I should do this, well then I'd have $5 dollars. But those are five very important dollars given by five very important people. And since I wrote this list years ago it finally feels time to give this one some serious thought. Ok make that six dollars. As the important boy reading over my shoulder just threw his 100 cents in.
So it seems like I got my work cut out for me this year Internet. But if this one is anything like this past one I'm fairly certain the planets will align and I'll get it all done. No seriously. The planets will align. Huffington Post said so.
I'm also fairly certain this year will bring me things I can't even imagine. Because I'm typing this in my boyfriend's house in Idaho. IDAHO. Didn't really see that one coming.
So I can't wait. Really. This year's going to be amazing. Especially since I have you.
Thank you for everything you do. My life wouldn't nearly be as wonderful without you.
So much love,
Sara
And while I have accomplished a lot this year...
5. Learn how to cross country ski
11. Teach a regular yoga class
16. Lose
17. Learn how to knit
31. Become a yoga teacher
47. Learn to be bien dans ma peau
63. Finish all the house projects (not my house, not my problem anymore!)
94. Graduate with honors
117. Quit my job
139. Learn how to hula hoop
142. Model for Dr. Sketchy’s (or rather fully nude for the Teton Arts Council numerous times)
It's time to get down to business...
First by becoming waaay more competent with money than I am. Because no one wants to be 30 and still broke. So numbers 56. Have a fat savings account of at least six months living expenses
and 57. Pay everything off are my top priorities this year.
Followed closely by 34. Own my own business (The Joie Revolution). Since you know that will help with 56 & 57.
Then there are my I'm not really a yoga teacher because I can't goals that I need to strike off...
1. Hold Bakasana for an extended period of time (I'm soooo close on this one!)
2. Kick into Handstand on my own (Not so much on this one)
12. Finish my RYT-200 (even more important now that Anusara is in the toilet)
And since I'm still not sure where the wind will plant me I'm fairly certain these two might just happen out of necessity...
77. Throw out everything that I don't adore
26. Drive cross country with an important boy and see silly things
And if that important boy is smart he'll help make this one happen...
27. Ride in a hot air balloon
and this one...
4. Eat at the crazy french fry place in Boise
Then they're are just some fun ones...
68. Go on a yoga retreat
95. Make (gluten free) biscuits, pancakes, and pie crusts by heart
And a tedious one...
106. Back up all my files, clean my computer, update my software, get a freaking battery! (because my god I can't go another year fearing I'll lose everything I'm working on because the magnetic. MAGNETIC power cord gets pulled loose. Most brilliant and stupidest Apple invention ever.)
And one that quite frankly scares me...
137. Write a book
But if I had a dollar for every person who told me I should do this, well then I'd have $5 dollars. But those are five very important dollars given by five very important people. And since I wrote this list years ago it finally feels time to give this one some serious thought. Ok make that six dollars. As the important boy reading over my shoulder just threw his 100 cents in.
So it seems like I got my work cut out for me this year Internet. But if this one is anything like this past one I'm fairly certain the planets will align and I'll get it all done. No seriously. The planets will align. Huffington Post said so.
I'm also fairly certain this year will bring me things I can't even imagine. Because I'm typing this in my boyfriend's house in Idaho. IDAHO. Didn't really see that one coming.
So I can't wait. Really. This year's going to be amazing. Especially since I have you.
Thank you for everything you do. My life wouldn't nearly be as wonderful without you.
So much love,
Sara
Walking the Line
"Sometimes you walk the line
and sometimes it walks you."
Dear Internet,
Noah opened the weekend by telling the story of Shakuntala. For those of you not familiar with ancient Indian myths I'll give you the Reader's Digest version below. For those of you who are you can just skip this next part.
_______________________
Shakuntala was out wandering in the woods, as young beautiful women in these kind of stories are apt to do. Meanwhile King Dushyanta was out with his army hunting and killing things, as men in these kind of stories are apt to do. He sees her and immediately has to have her. So he asks around about who she is. Finding out she's the daughter of a sage he's bummed because having her is a big no no. Some caste system thing.
Heart heavy he decides he'll focus on killing deer and rides to the ashram in order to get permission to kill said animals on the sage's land. Some ancient custom thing.
And lo and behold who's there? The girl from the woods. Who upon further inquiry turns out not to be the real daughter of the sage but the ADOPTED daughter. Thus making his lust perfectly ok.
So they meet and instantly fall in love and birds begin to sing, and flowers bloom, and they get married and all is well. Except the King has kingly things to do and must ride off and go kill more stuff leaving Shakuntala alone at the ashram. As a promise that he swears he'll come back for her, he gives her his signet ring.
While he's gone Shakuntala is sooooo in love she doodles hearts and Shakuntala and Dushyanta Forever all over everything and can't really be bothered to properly do her job. She forgets her duty and slights a very important guy. In return, he curses her (of course). The curse is that the object of her thoughts will forget her and will only remember upon being shown a personal token he's given her. Shakuntala blows this off because she's got the ring she's good (you know where this is going don't you).
Soon she gets tired of waiting for her slow poke husband to come back for her and sets off to find him. Along the way she loses the signet ring in a river. Yeah. Not good.
So she winds up in King Dushyanta's (her husband) court a stranger, pregnant, and claiming to be his wife. Riiight. Like single pregnant ladies have NEVER pulled that one before. So even though she pleads, "Remember you saw me in the forest and we fell in love and got married and you pledged you'd come back for me and I sang Shakuntala and Dushyanta sitting in a tree so many times," he doesn't recognize her. You know because of the curse. And the fact that she up and lost the ring in the river.
So she gets thrown out of court and has to make a go of it on her own.
A while later a fisherman gets hauled into court and accused of stealing because he's in possession of the King's signet ring. He says, "Wait a minute I just cut open a fish and inside its belly was this ring."
Upon seeing the ring, the King instantly remembers Shakuntala, rushes out of the palace, finds her, and they live happily ever after.
Yay. Love and flowers and hearts.
_______________________
Now for the moral of the story. This part you can't skip.
We've all been Shakuntala. So in love, so stirred by our heart's desires, so full of lust and desire and want we've forgotten our duty. What we're supposed to do. We've let things slide. Wandered off the path. Not washed the dishes. Not followed through on projects. Dropped the ring. Because doing what feels good is often more fun than doing what's right.
"Sometimes you walk the line and sometimes it walks you."
Because let's face it walking the line is hard. Our hearts are powerful organs. They want things. Desperately.
Sometimes those things are good and true and right and they keep us on the path. And we are thankful for that burning desire that keeps us glued to the straight and narrow.
Other times though, our hearts want things that are bad and false and wrong. And we get pulled from the path only to find ourselves wandering around the in woods lost, alone, and without a king to rescue us.
So our practice becomes distinguishing between the two. Between figuring out what is actually good and true and right and what is bad and false and fattening (as my heart usually wants Ben & Jerry's).
But we're not always good at that. Sometimes it takes us a while to recognize that our choice wasn't the best most authentic life affirming one. Hopefully though, like Dushyanta, something causes us to remember. To wake us up. To move us back to the path. And we start walking again. One baby step at the time. One shaky foot in front of the other. One breath to the next. We walk the line. Even when it's hard. Even when our hearts desperately want something else.
Because that's the only good and true and right thing we can do.
XO,
Sara
PS-I won't pretend there aren't threads of what's currently happening in the Anusara community in this. There are. My hope is Anusara can find its way back to the path because right now it's so lost and alone in the woods and it really needs a King to rescue it.
D: All of the Above
Dear Internet,
This month marks the halfway point in my internship and the beginning of my existential crisis.
When I packed up and moved across the country to live in the back of a yoga studio I never expected to love it. I thought I'd do my time. Learn some things about running a business. Get some experience teaching yoga. And let my mind reset from two long years of intense graduate school work. Then I'd move back east and get on with my life. Like a normal adult person.
But no. I had to go and fall in love with this place. Not to mention find someone who I like more and more each day.
Which presents a problem. A big glaring one the post office hammered home when I updated my forwarding address information earlier this week. "Do you ever plan on living at your old address again?"
Do I ever plan on living at my old address again? Ha. Why not just ask me how much I weigh? Or what my political beliefs are. Or what color underwear I'm wearing. At least those, while personal, I could answer.
But that one. The one about where I'm going to live. How exactly do I answer that Internet? Because well maybe, who knows, it depends on...doesn't exactly fit into the yes or no box I had to check. Much like most of my life really. Except what I currently own. I could probably get that into a box.
But this. What I'm doing. Where I'm going to live? Who I'm going to live with? If I'm moving back home? If I ever plan on living at my old address again. How I'm going to make a living. Not really yes/no box material anymore.
What I do isn't neat and tidy. I don't punch in at 9 and out at 5. I have many boxes that I juggle on any given day. Daughter. Friend. Employee. Yoga Teacher. Counselor. Intern. Blogger. Figure drawing model. Girlfriend. Skier. Really terrible broomball player.
This isn't third grade anymore. I can't just check a box and hold hands at recess. Relationships. Jobs. Life. Isn't as easy. There are consequences to your checks and I's dotted with hearts.
Boxes now have meaning and weight. Sometimes they are hard to hold. They're heavy (Student Loan Ower, Broke Intern) and you'd like to huck them off the side of a cliff and never see them again (Student Loan Ower, Broke Intern).
Other times you have so many boxes checked you have to go to bed and start over in the morning because you can't hold them all (Intern, Personal Assistant, Counselor, Girlfriend, Sane Person).
But then sometimes you don't have enough. And those boxes you want to check (Successful, Financially Secure) seem just out of reach and you wake up anxious about how you're going to pull everything off this month. How you're going to pay for your gluten free, vegan soup AND mortgage.
Others are so easy they help lighten your load (Girlfriend, Friend) until they do something annoying like dye their hair or don't return your calls.
But none of them are simple. Are yes/no and forget about it. They all take work. They all have repercussions. And your checking them or not can hurt.
And I'm not ready for that particular hurt. So, I let that yes/no where are you going to live box hang over my head. Let my mail be on temporary forward. Let what my permanent life looks like be on hold.
Because I honestly don't know what to do. Which box to check.
Yet.
And I have plenty of others to tend to (Intern, Personal Assistant, Counselor, Girlfriend, Friend, Daughter, Sane Person).
XO,
Sara
This month marks the halfway point in my internship and the beginning of my existential crisis.
When I packed up and moved across the country to live in the back of a yoga studio I never expected to love it. I thought I'd do my time. Learn some things about running a business. Get some experience teaching yoga. And let my mind reset from two long years of intense graduate school work. Then I'd move back east and get on with my life. Like a normal adult person.
But no. I had to go and fall in love with this place. Not to mention find someone who I like more and more each day.
Which presents a problem. A big glaring one the post office hammered home when I updated my forwarding address information earlier this week. "Do you ever plan on living at your old address again?"
Do I ever plan on living at my old address again? Ha. Why not just ask me how much I weigh? Or what my political beliefs are. Or what color underwear I'm wearing. At least those, while personal, I could answer.
But that one. The one about where I'm going to live. How exactly do I answer that Internet? Because well maybe, who knows, it depends on...doesn't exactly fit into the yes or no box I had to check. Much like most of my life really. Except what I currently own. I could probably get that into a box.
But this. What I'm doing. Where I'm going to live? Who I'm going to live with? If I'm moving back home? If I ever plan on living at my old address again. How I'm going to make a living. Not really yes/no box material anymore.
What I do isn't neat and tidy. I don't punch in at 9 and out at 5. I have many boxes that I juggle on any given day. Daughter. Friend. Employee. Yoga Teacher. Counselor. Intern. Blogger. Figure drawing model. Girlfriend. Skier. Really terrible broomball player.
This isn't third grade anymore. I can't just check a box and hold hands at recess. Relationships. Jobs. Life. Isn't as easy. There are consequences to your checks and I's dotted with hearts.
Boxes now have meaning and weight. Sometimes they are hard to hold. They're heavy (Student Loan Ower, Broke Intern) and you'd like to huck them off the side of a cliff and never see them again (Student Loan Ower, Broke Intern).
Other times you have so many boxes checked you have to go to bed and start over in the morning because you can't hold them all (Intern, Personal Assistant, Counselor, Girlfriend, Sane Person).
But then sometimes you don't have enough. And those boxes you want to check (Successful, Financially Secure) seem just out of reach and you wake up anxious about how you're going to pull everything off this month. How you're going to pay for your gluten free, vegan soup AND mortgage.
Others are so easy they help lighten your load (Girlfriend, Friend) until they do something annoying like dye their hair or don't return your calls.
But none of them are simple. Are yes/no and forget about it. They all take work. They all have repercussions. And your checking them or not can hurt.
And I'm not ready for that particular hurt. So, I let that yes/no where are you going to live box hang over my head. Let my mail be on temporary forward. Let what my permanent life looks like be on hold.
Because I honestly don't know what to do. Which box to check.
Yet.
And I have plenty of others to tend to (Intern, Personal Assistant, Counselor, Girlfriend, Friend, Daughter, Sane Person).
XO,
Sara