MY FEARLESS HEART

It takes courage to love.

Love is not what we think. It is not the cathartic release of repressed emotions. It is not the ecstatic expression of our bodily urges. It is certainly not marriage.

Perhaps these things may be components of a loving relationship, but they by no means encapsulate what it truly means to love.

Love implies a compassionate understanding of another. It is stepping outside of our own personal experience in order to truly see another person. Love is the warmth of true empathy—the natural kindness and appreciation that arises when we are in soulful accordance with a another.

This requires a level of fearlessness. When we truly love someone, we are momentarily foregoing our ego, our personal biases, and our predisposition. We are forced to let go of ourselves, in a sense, to detach from our personal identity.

This is a difficult thing to do.

To love is to express one’s vulnerability, and people don’t want to feel vulnerable. It reminds us that we are human, and all humans die. We would often prefer to abide in our own delusions and live in our thoughts. 

The act of loving reminds us of how fleeting the human experience really is, in some strange way, and this absolutely terrifies us. am speaking in the past tense because I don’t feel this way anymore. Although I still recognize these patterns within myself, I am not letting them be the driving forces in my life. 

I still feel alienated from other people as a consequence of my condition, but I am now doing everything in my power to bridge that gap, and this is achieved through complete and total honesty. If I am honest with myself, I am more likely to be honest with other people, and this takes a great deal of courage.

Self-love takes just as much strength and fearlessness as loving other people, and this is because they are the same thing. Loving another human being is ultimately a manifestation of self-love, for we must first bear that benevolent inner warmth before we can express it to other people. Like this, we have the courage to see ourselves in another; we find the spiritual bravery to acknowledge the fundamental sameness in all of us.

In the words of Albus Dumbledore, “While we may come from different places and speak in different tongues, our heart beats as one.”

It is easier in the moment to close ourselves off, to see ourselves as being distinctly different and separate from everything else, but to live in such a way is to remove ourselves from the most beautiful aspect of the human experience. We can remain as unique individuals, while at the same time understanding that we are all connected in a much deeper way. This deeper connection is defined by love.

When I opened my heart, my life changed for the better. I would rather die tomorrow having known love than live an eternity without it. In my experience, we can only endure suffering with dignity when we have first chosen to live with love—to struggle with all of our soul on behalf of the good.

It takes courage to love, and the cultivation of this courage is the path of virtue.

I have been feeling open to love in a way that I never have before.

I had a “dark night of the soul” experience a couple weeks ago, and the journey that has followed has been one of restoration. Something deep within me was forced to change.  I had been living in my head for a long time and had lost touch with my heart, and eventually this caused me to hit bottom pretty damn hard.

I’ve been really closed off because I was afraid that people wouldn’t like what they might see if I really opened myself up. The physical inadequacies presented have had a similar impact emotionally. I have felt like I am not good enough, that there is something profoundly wrong with me that other people couldn’t relate to. I was afraid of being judged.

THE SILENT VOICE

Sometimes, I hear my voice. And it’s been here silent all these years.

For years, I betrayed my own silently screaming voice.

My voice lay buried in a Word document, a constant reminder that I was on the receiving end of being silenced. I’ve experienced the vastness of the human experience due to my empathy sensitivities that have felt more like a curse than a gift most of the time.

Being on the receiving end of being silenced is a position no one wants to assume. It’s painful, it’s self-betraying, dishonest, inauthentic, and puts a kink in our connections with others.

But I want to help you honor your true voice. I want to talk about un-silencing your authenticity, because your story matters. I want you to dare to be your own truth.

Even when our inner voice seems silent, she’s speaking. But we can’t share her voice—our true voice—with the world until we’re truly willing to listen to her.

“I was 27 the first time I wrote my life story. I locked myself in a bathroom,  to pour my heart out onto paper. I needed to have a life outside of myself. I needed to displace outwardly how insane it all was. My life had for the first time gotten quiet enough for me to hear myself think, and it led me down a river of rocks that each shifted when I walked on them. I couldn’t see any way to solid ground. I was negligent for those two 24-hour days, but I had to write.

Writing was the first bitch in a long time that seduced my fancy, and I needed to spend time with her. I let her come because I had just read a book that defended the integrity of people who cut themselves to feel better, and I don't want self-inflicted pain.  But honestly, I needed to bleed.”

My silence eventually went from silently observing, with a stink eye, the reality of how I felt—”I see what’s really going on here, but I’ll keep pseudo-peace for you”—to an undeniable soul-scream saying, “I must free my truth, even if it kills me.”

Kill me it would, because to speak the truth in situations like these inevitably means we’re breaking the system that we feel broke us. When we break the system, we’re killing our victim-hood role.

That’s where the catch-22 arises. When a bully silences us for a long time, we assume that all power is abuse, and when we assume that, we fear stepping out of our victim-hood because it must mean we step into our own power, and to be in our own power must mean being a perpetrator of abuse.

We feel shame for speaking out, because we believe we’re perpetrating the same things that have been perpetrated against us.

I got to a dangerously pivotal point in my own soul evolution that I could either listen to myself, or I could continue to listen to them, and listening to them meant continuing to suffocate my life behind a hand-me-down pillow that wasn’t meant to be mine in the first place.

For me, speaking my truth didn’t just set me free. It set my bullies free, and I believe it has the power to free every shackled soul who longs to know the light. My mother saw the real me after 27 years of looking at me all wrong, just so she didn’t have to look at herself—not because she wanted to see the truth, but because the truth wanted to set her free.

The truth—and the importance of sharing it.

I dared share it, and now fully believe it can set us, and all of our ancestors and predecessors, free.

If your silence is wilting you like a flower praying for rain, award yourself the permission to be heard. For our stories live on, even after death. We must remember our untold stories lie dormant in the marrow of our grandchildren by default. They’ll be the ones contending the unresolved baggage of our lives we were too scared to speak of. But the stories that are told will die in us and be reborn as something greater—because we, ourselves, author them a new ending.

We don’t have to share our stories with any other souls than our own, but if our lives resonate with the signature feeling of being silenced by a someone or a situation that feels larger than you can handle, we can choose to let that story out. Write down the absolute truth about your story as you saw it. When you’re done, read it to yourself and notice how you can see yourself in it from above, as a writer of it. If you want to, you can even write a new ending for it. If you let it, the ending you give the story can give voice to the life your soul is screaming to create.

And if we really listen, we will meet our own inner strength, which we will find is neither a perpetrator nor a victim. Our strength is the only truth this story needs.

Do not stay silent for fear, or for maintaining pseudo-peace among others. Stay silent only if that’s what your inner voice truly wants.

The truth will take care of the rest.

THE "IF" WORD IN MY LIFE

“If.”

It’s an innocent sounding word, isn’t it?

But, I realised recently that this one little word is ruining my life.

I realised that I was using it in two separate (and equally negative) ways:

The “If Only” Problem

When I’m feeling depressed and low, I’m thinking, “If only I could just make it to the next part of my life, I’d be happy.”

This could manifest as surviving exams and finishing school when I was 15, which felt incredibly stressful. Or it could be in every job I’ve ever had in which I’ve wasted all my energy thinking that if only I could get to that next level (executive from assistant, manager from executive, director from manager) that this would suddenly make me feel content and as though I was “good enough.”

The “What If” Scary Thoughts

Conversely, when I’m struck with anxiety, I’m thinking, “But what if the next part of my life sucks? What if I can’t do it? What if I’m ill? What if I don’t have any money? What if he or she dies?”

The realization I had recently hit me like a ton of bricks: I’ve been thinking both of these “if only” and “what if” thoughts every day of my adult life.

I was fortunate to have the opportunity to take some years off work and go travel. This really should have felt like a huge achievement that I’d been able to save enough money to give it all up and just leave it all behind.

But, while my fiance and I had an amazing time, my “if only” and “what if” thinking didn’t stop. In fact, if anything, it got even louder.

Then, there’s guilt. How dare I feel like I’d be happier when settled at home while I was having such incredible experiences on my travels! And why should little old me be able to travel when there are others who are suffering and struggling to earn a living all around the globe?

One day when I was staring out of the window on a long bus journey somewhere, as usual thinking about the future, I had a “this is ridiculous” moment. I knew I was ruining the present moment with the constant guilt, the “what ifs,” and the “if onlys.”

From that moment, for the rest of my long bus journeys, I went on a mission to change my thinking and my attitude toward happiness.

A couple of things I’ve read in my search to feel better have really stood out. The first is this emotive quote from Marianne Williamson in her book, “A Return To Love.” I’m not a particularly religious person, but this quote had a profound effect on me:

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, ‘Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?’ Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

What really struck me was this idea of not playing small and feeling guilty about feeling happy or frightened of our own abilities.

I’ve also really enjoyed the books of Gretchen Rubin, a researcher who focuses on defining happiness. She makes the point that happy people tend to be more giving and loving to others than unhappy people. This definitely helped me to feel less guilty about feeling happy. 

I have always been a selfless person, giving more love and understanding to the person who have wronged me than prioritizing what I really feel and what is best for me in any given situation.  I would rather walk away than say hurtful words, because I don't want to be scarred with what I said.  I can never retract words -- especially when I am overwhelmed with emotions. 

I am certainly not fully cured of my “what if” and “if only” thoughts, nor of my feelings of guilt. But by being conscious of them, I’m getting better and quicker at correcting my thoughts and bringing myself back to the present moment.

Every time an “if” comes into my mind—whichever version it is—I try to think to myself, “What is my current situation? What can I do right now to feel good? What can I be grateful for?”

I am re-learning to take each day as it comes. I’m learning to do little things to make me feel better. And, I’m learning to focus on my own happiness more without feeling guilty about it.

Because, while it’s true that we need to look out for others and take on life’s challenges—perhaps more than ever in these times of strange and difficult global politics—we also shouldn’t feel guilty about taking care of ourselves and enjoying the present moment either!

With love and light,

THE LITTLE WARRIOR IN ME

Sometimes, it feels like the walls are caving in—

Like you have nowhere to go,

Nothing you can do.

You’re tired from trying to hold all the crumbling pieces of your life together.

And you want to give up—throw the towel in.

You’re closer than you’ve ever been to waving your white flag and calling it quits, but you’re not even quite sure you know what “calling it quits” actually means.

Or, maybe you do know.

Maybe you want to buy a one-way ticket to a far-off destination and leave everything and everyone behind.

Maybe you want to crawl into your bed, pull the covers over your head, and sleep the days away in the familiar comfort of the darkness.

But, you don’t do any of that…

No.

Instead, you fight—hoping that someday, somehow, the tides will turn in your favor.

But each and every day you wake up with hope for something better, it is is crushed to pieces by the tides that keep spinning you ‘round and ‘round in an inescapable whirlwind of chaos.

You’re hanging on by a thread.

You start to feel like a failure.

Like a fraud.

Like you will never amount to anything, no matter how hard you try—because every direction you travel in seems to be blocked by one thing or another: trashed finances, mounting debt, constant health complications, low self-esteem, your crazy-busy-hectic lifestyle that doesn’t allow you any time to catch your breath, let alone try anything new.

Walls upon endless, intimidating walls stand in your view.

Sometimes, you feel like you might be losing your grip on reality, and you start to question everything…

What is life? Do I really even matter?

What is the point of it all?

Will I always be like this?

Will it ever get better?

Pause.

I want you to try something with me now, love.

Breathe.

No really—right now, close your eyes and take a deep, slow breath…

In…2…3…4…

Out…2…3…4…

Perfect.

This is where you start.

Your breath—listen to it. Feel it.

When you begin to feel like you’re spiraling out of control—pause.

Pause to take that slow, deep, nourishing breath.

It brings life to your body,

Your mind,

And to your soul—the soul that cries out to be heard, acknowledged, appreciated, and cared for.

To be loved.

Yes, you need your own affection. Because if we want to live authentically, we need to show ourselves love—it is a necessary ingredient in the cake of life.

Don't get me wrong though, love, I never said it was easy.

Being vulnerable—tearing open your chest to expose your heart bare—is not easy.

Delving deep into the dark recesses of your mind—to explore that which you have locked away from even yourself, in fear of appearing weak or broken—is not easy.

No, it takes a warrior to embark upon such quests.

But that is what you are—a warrior.

A goddamn warrior.

So take your wildly pulsing heart, hold it gently in your hands, and let whispers of love and tenderness drip down from your lips.

Because being a warrior doesn’t mean you have no flaws or weaknesses. It doesn’t mean you will always know exactly what direction to travel in. It doesn’t mean you will never encounter any troubles.

It means that even though you may not know which path to take, even though you might be trapped by a barrage of huge waves, even though the winds of unpredictable change might sweep you off your feet—you will try your best to stay true to yourself.

To live authentically.

So, love, let those crumbling pieces fall.

Let those tides wash over you.

Let the winds whirl around you.

And breathe—breathe it all in.

This is life.

And it is terrifyingly, heart-wrenchingly, exquisitely beautiful.

Just like me.

With love and light,

TO THE LOVE THAT WAS NEVER FOREVER — THANK YOU

I didn’t expect to meet you.

I didn’t mean to fall in love with you.

It wasn’t part of my life plan.

Yet, there you were, out of nowhere—changing everything, cracking open my heart, showing me how to love.

You broke through my soul, awakened the sleeping lioness within me, and promised me the world.

I should be furious with you for loving me so thoroughly and ruining me so beautifully with every thought and word and touch—until I desired a forever I had long abandoned.

But, the kindness and love in your eyes reminded me that when you promised never to leave me, to always love me, and to remember me forever, you meant every single word in each moment.

Even though I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with you, I let you in.

I understood from the beginning that you were not my forever love. You were my right now—my every moment.

And you cracked open those dark slivers of my heart and helped me peer into the mirror of my soul, uncovering the parts of myself that needed to be examined, learning how to embrace the beauty that I had overlooked.

I found myself in your eyes.

You were my peace, and my chaos; my stormy lover, and my calm shores.

The holes in my soul were filled for a time by your white-hot passion for me and our timeless, colliding touch.

But with that love came intense pain, for I longed for our fantasy to become reality—I wanted a real life with you that you would not give. I had no right to want this future, but my heart longed for all that and more.

And so I broke.

The pain overwhelmed and threatened to take control of me. But then I began to breathe, as you taught me. And I awoke to parts of myself that I had not known before.

I remembered.

 I stood.

I started over.

And I saw you with the eyes of a woman who has been resurrected. My craving desire colliding with a gratitude that filled my soul—gratitude for you, for your life.

For you were my teacher. You showed me how to create a new life from my scars.

You held me while I cried, and then you let me go, so I could learn to hold myself.

You showed me how to recognize strength in pain. You showed me that I could put the pieces of my life together the way that I choose. That I should bleed the pain, the fear, the love, and the joy onto the page.

Thank you for the laughter and the lessons. Thank you for every moment—the evidence of your love.

You have been more to me than just words on the pages of my life. You have been an imprint on my soul.

You were my lover, my friend, a part of my becoming, and a pivotal point in my journey.

And the most important lesson I have learned from you is that the most amazing things in life do not come as planned. They arrive when we least expect them and awaken us to a new way of being.

For real love—whether it is experienced for a moment or a lifetime—helps us uncover who we truly are.

100% PROOF LOVE

It has been more than a year since I have written on this blog.  I have been so occupied with so many things that it took a whole lot of my time.  Needless to say, I have learned valuable lessons in life from my absence in writing.

In between the bitter winds of the wind and the hazy summer sun, I have made a vow to myself that is rooted in experience and the sensuality of living a life I love.

I have promised to not water myself down any longer; if someone can’t take me at 100 proof, then they aren’t meant to be in my life.

“Real love moves freely in both directions. Don’t waste your time on anything else.”

I have made enough mistakes to color the skies a different color.  I have changed myself for others; I have given in to their ultimatums, and have lived with forced smiles to the rules that they had created for me.

And for that reason, I have dulled my light, hidden my gifts, and pretended to be normal––all for the sake of love.

But, in gradually listening to my inner voice, I realized I have come home to myself. I know who I am and what I want deeply to my core, and I have lost the desire or ability to twist myself into an image just so others might love me.

I’ve come to believe that love is not about someone being exactly like us, but instead accepting them for exactly as they are. I think I may even start wearing a sign advertising myself in “As Is” condition. Take it or leave it. Besides, the way I see it, if someone really did love me, they wouldn’t possibly want me to change anything about myself––even the parts that drove them crazy at times.

That’s the only kind of love I want.

I don’t believe in fighting tooth and nail for love; I don’t believe in holding onto something that is trying its hardest to fly away.

I don’t believe in having to force love or relationships of any kind.

I’ve come to the point where I approach relationships and treat others exactly as I wish to be. I want to be held with strong confident hands; I want to be able to be that winged messenger that is free to flit from this and that, with never a fear as to whether I will return home.

I truly believe anything worth having won’t ever have to be clung to tightly—as Buddha said, “We only lose what we cling to.” How true this is.

Clinging to something is fear based. It’s having anxiety that someone or something else will be able to steal away what is ours, so we feel threatened, and then cling even more tightly—even when it’s apparent that it is not meant for us.

But, this is the really amazing thing: What really is meant for us, will never truly leave us.

Relationships aren’t about convincing each other of our worthiness of love, the ideals of what it should look like or holding on so tightly we both end up broken.

Lasting love is really just about two people who have enough commonalities to get along—and enough differences to make it exciting—coming together to see where the adventure will take them.

What I’ve come to learn is that part of realizing that we don’t need to convince others of our worthiness or ideals comes from falling into a 100 proof love with our self and our life.

Honestly, I can say that I am totally, deeply maddeningly in love with everything about my life.

I love my strong heart, and dirty imagination. I love my sensitivity, and my courage. I’m enamored by my fears, and weaknesses. I love the way my eyes sparkle when I’m excited and I begin talking really fast. I love the way that my body moves, and the way my hip bones stick out when I am cuddling between Egyptian cotton sheets. I love the voluptuous softness of my breasts and the way my hands can do amazing things.

I love waking up each morning and breathing in the smell of my children when their dreams are still hanging above their heads. I think it’s amazing the way the sun streaks through my windows creating beautiful shadows against the walls and floors of my home. I love my friends and the way we laugh together until our bellies hurt. I love every minute of my day, from my drive to work in the morning to the moments of solitude after my girls are in bed.

I live my life with the strength of 100 proof—dancing along the edge of passion and reason, and not apologizing for a minute of the whirling confusion and amazing moments that I create in this life.

I simply love myself and my life with a unbridled never ending passion, and it’s that same passionate love that I would extend to someone I was involved with. The love that we have for ourselves and the love that we are able to extend to another is really one and the same.

This is the key. When we can show ourselves unconditional love, then we wouldn’t expect anything less from anyone else. I already know that I am worthy and deserving of the love of others—I don’t see it as my job to try to prove that to someone else. If someone doesn’t love me, or find the value in who I am as a person then those are the very people that don’t belong in my life.

I’ve come to realize that the very love we seek, and the one that we deserve the most, is also the very one we won’t have to convince anyone of. We won’t have to feel torn, or stuck between what we want and what someone else is willing to give us. We won’t have to wonder or guess at what they are thinking or feeling—and we most certainly won’t feel fear that someone else would be able to steal them away from us.

100 Proof love isn’t casual, or traditional. It’s the kind of love that will stain our skin and leaves ashes in its wake. It will ruin us forever because after 100 proof, everything else just seems weak and transparent. A love like this is crazy wild beautiful; it’s bare skin and falling hot rain, it’s blueberry kisses and lemonade vodka, it’s the pulse of heat against our collar bone, and the desire that strums a beat throughout our entire body.

It’s the stuff of dreams, and the best we will ever have.

But a love like this needs to be held free in order to bloom. Because it’s mingling in between the spaces of our lives, and in the distance of our lips against beating hearts, that the magic can happen.

Because we all deserve the serendipitous magic of love at 100 percent proof.

“But let there be space in your togetherness and let the winds of the heavens dance between you. Love possesses not, nor would it be possessed. Love one another, but make it not a bond of love: Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.”

OM SHANTI.

RANDOM THOUGHTS : OLD YET NEW AGAIN

Letting go of someone doesn’t happen overnight, or in a month, or in a year.

They are all these memories, beautiful and terrible, fabulous and unbearably bad.

Memories become maps in our hearts—they don’t just disappear—only the magic of time dims the pain attached to them.

And sometimes our hearts are so battered and bruised, so deeply shattered and abused, that they need a lot of time.

After all, heart-wounds run deep—they bleed into our souls and race at dangerous speeds through our minds.

It’s okay.

We break so we can have a golden chance to be re-born and re-formed.

We break so we can heal.

And yes, healing can hurt more than being broken, but in the medicinal blue flames of healing, we are given wings.

We are given clarity and a kiss of fresh air and a soft, gentle touch.

We are given a chance to start over again.

A chance to settle into ourselves, taste the depths of our struggle, and hear the screams of our past pain.

To honor all that has happened, in a more sober way.

To take responsibility and learn the fiery lessons we so badly need to learn.

To nurture ourselves with sparkling waters of support and sweet honeyed spoonfuls of self-care.

And then—only then—will our heart-wounds stop throbbing.

We will close our eyes, take a big breath and say kindly to the past:

“With gentle lungs and a heavy heart, I release you.”

And in that moment, we will release our firm grasp on the cruel dogs of anger and regret and struggle and sadness.

We will feel the breeze on our cheeks for the first time.

And we will keep walking.

Everything will be the same, and.....

Yet so different than before.


OM SHANTI.

BROKEN AND IT'S FUCKING BEAUTIFUL

I fell on the floor with shaking knees and a trembling heart. Doing a crow pose isn't always easy and this morning I have failed on doing it a couple number of times.  So frustrating indeed !

I've been holding on so tight; gripping so hard for so long.

I have to fall apart.

So I do.

I unravel the stormy, zig-zagging seams of my heart.

“Finally,” says a sweet voice from deep within inside me.

I’m shocked. I resist. I am scared to make another try because falling is just painful but my mind is making a cross decision between trying again OR quitting.

But, she takes my sweaty hands so softly, and I fall deeper.

She leads me to darkness.

To where foamy waves crest and fall.

To where rusted wreckage lies, scattered and nameless, piled high in my damaged and restless heart.

I have to dive deep for this moment.

It has to be dark because this is when I learn to ignite myself.

It's as sacred as it is scary.

I implode.

I explode.

I break.

I crack open, shattering into a thousand splintered pieces.

I’m at my most powerful right now.

Raw, pulsating possibility blooms in the smashed cracks of my brokenness.

I gather courage and bust open the rusted lock on my heart.

I lick the poison off the clanking chains, realizing it’s not actually poison---that it never was.

I close my eyes and my whole quaint, compacted world swirls around me.

I want to scream.

I want to sob.

So I do.

I cannot suppress myself anymore.

So I take the false poison, swallow it whole and turn it into stardust.

I turned it into fire.

I gasped, exhaling to fan the flames.

I let it consume me.

I became a spark.

I cough and choke, slowly rising to the surface, able to breathe again.

I take root in this sacred transformational shift.

I hold my hand, squeezing my soul so hard.

I’m here.

I am f*cking here.

Transformation isn’t pretty.

It’s not meant to be.

It’s f*cking beautiful.




Namaste,

BEACH YOGA PHOTOSHOOT

THE TRUTH : AN OUTWARD REASON FOR AWAKENING

 What is it that you wish you had known sooner?

A question I have asked myself today as I sat here sipping my lemon and ginger tea. Bidding my own sweet time to think and contemplate about things, about life -- nothing in particular actually. Memories came slowly flashing back, sweet and bittersweet memories, waiting to be unraveled once again.

 

"It starts with forgiving ourselves," I suddenly mutter aloud, wishing so hard I'd known that sooner.

But, wait, I'm skipping way, way ahead. Let me reverse slowly and tell you a story.

Because before anything, there was frustration. A skin-crawling, mind-bending, stomach-churning frustration that made me want to run into a secluded place probably a forest and have a complete breakdown.

There was no outward reason to feel the way I felt. I had a fantastic day. But, you see, that's exactly why: my day was so unusually fulfilling and inspiring that it reminded me I'm capable of more. That I deserve more. That I need to demand more---from life and from myself.

Like a volcano erupting inside my chest, I began to feel sputtering emotions I usually shove under my heart's welcome mat like unsightly crumbs.

I handed myself a few hollow lies, saying how I'm doing great, saying how I'm totally fine, but they fell flat, landing on the dirty ground with a huge thud.

My soul---well she's beyond tired of that empty bullshit---so, she started screaming at roaring great decibels I couldn't ignore.

I started to listen. Started to listen to my inner voice, to what is really inside my heart.

"You're not living the vibrant life you want!" she said. "You're playing small and safe, staying only where you're comfortable. You're getting by, but that's just it, aren't you fucking tired of just getting by?"

She was right. Every sentence, every syllable rung so uncomfortably true that it made me sob into the folds of my turquoise colored yoga mat.

We don't realize, sometimes, the kind of hefty toll it takes when we aren't honoring our soul's true intentions. It's like a soft, inconvenient throbbing we've learned to tune out.

Because it's not that we're entirely miserable---we're subtly unfulfilled, dulled down into shadows of what we could be.

We're seeing in muted greys, secretly pining for peacock-like colors and fireworks and glow in the dark neon beauty.

We're going through our days like happy, spaced out zombies, while our spirits lie dormant and dying, seething under the surface with untapped potential.

And you know what?

At a certain point, this will make us fucking angry.

Angry at ourselves. Angry at life. Angry for all the times we didn't stand up and honor our needs.

Good! Because this bittersweet anger---it's our cure.

But, it can also be a dangerous spot to get stuck. We can wade around in hot pools of rage, indulging our indignation without truly moving forward.

I've been paralyzed there for a while now, burning myself on cruel sparks of self-criticism and hot coals of blame.

But, today, I stop for a second, hoping to see something I've never seen before.

But, really, I hear something I've never heard before.

My soul perks up and yells softly, "Please, stop taking your anger out on yourself. Let it inspire you and flow into you. Let it become part of you. Roar with it! But, please, please, please, be so gentle with yourself, my love."

My mind fails to comprehend this at all, but my heart understands fully. She takes the blazing flames of my rage and transforms them into fiercely passionate self-compassion.

My body vibrates with a great electromagnetic intensity and I know it's time. It's time to stop getting by and start living like I mean it.

"How?" my mind asks desperately.

Fuck knowing how, just for a moment.

Because I see that it starts with wide open hearts; with forgiving ourselves.

It starts with soft caresses and getting to know every crevice of our glittering magnificence.

It starts with seeing that pushing our bodies and souls into overworked exhaustion isn't the answer; it's the problem.

It starts with taking care of our needs so obscenely tenderly and generously that we become healthy and vibrant and fucking unstoppable.

Because once we recognize our gem-like worth, we can lock lips with what we truly long for.

We can live for ourselves.

We can become ourselves.

We can rise up out of hiding and claim the sparkling, gorgeous lives that are rightfully ours.

We can smile for real, with every fiber of our raw, shaky beings.

It's time, isn't it?

 

Let's put our hair down, exhale to the breeze and let our souls take the wheel.

It's time to stop getting by and start living like we....

FUCKING 

MEAN 

IT !

I DON'T EXIST TO BE "LIKED"

 There is always a turning point in our life. 

  

 It may seem mundane to other people that they just don't have the time to ponder on things -- too pre-occupied with the busy life that they keep.  My early morning meditation just before I do my usual routine of  sun salutations has made me realize one very important thing today.  Silence indeed has opened the loudest voice in me. 

And what is this that I have realized?

It is about pleasing other people at the expense of sacrificing my own happiness, thereby hiding my real and genuine self.  Damn it, I am sooooo  tired of it! I will remain to show my true colors, voice out my opinions -- call me a blunt speaker but that is just the way it is.  TAKE IT OR LEAVE IT.  I will speak my own truth the way I want it.

All along, I’ve been afraid of my voice. I’ve muted it for such a long time.

I’ve spent endless empty hours, minutes and days thinking about the “right” things to say.

I've lost sleep, trying to think of ways to get people to like me.  What for?  THINK. THINK. THINK.

It’s addicting, just as sadly satisfying as it is tortuous.

But, today, on this seemingly normal day, I dropped to my knees -- not because I wasn't focused on doing my Bakasana Pose (Crow Pose).

And I stop with this bullsh*t.

And yes, I’m still shaking like mad.

I'm raw and unsure as I type these words.

But, I know I can no longer live in this way.

My sole purpose and daily yoga meditation set with intention is --  I  cannot  go on to please others and get walked on. After all, BEING NICE WOULDN'T GET YOU ANYWHERE, right?

I am not here to be liked. 

I am here to be honest.

I am here to explore.

I am here to seek  a deeper meaning.

I am here to roar.

I am here, for many reasons I don’t even know about yet. It will all come to me at the right time and so much for the realizations that I have waken myself into, I will pursue my meditation, stop and be still for a moment.

But today, on this precious day, I give myself permission to speak -- really LOUD.  And let the vibrations of my voice soar like the forest falcons, and pick up the speed in the gusts of wind.

And cry out relentlessly to every cloud in the sky that ever existed, in the electric beauty of the passing storm of the dark night sky.

I will leave you all with an adage that goes " BETTER HURT ME WITH THE TRUTH THAN THE COMFORT ME WITH A LIE."

Namaste,

THE REASON WHY I HAVEN'T BEEN WRITING ...

Every time this blog has crossed my mind over the last few months, I’ve felt a sense of guilt. Sometimes, even dread. Believe me, this little spot in the big ‘ol internet has built my life in so many incredible ways, I could never truly complain, and it’s not the blog’s fault for how I feel…

…but I can’t hide how I do feel anymore. You guys… I’m burnt out.

It’s not that I’ve given up on love (I still believe in it more than anything else). It’s not that I don’t want to go on dates (though I’d rather the good start outweighing the bad). It’s not that I don’t want to help inspire and invigorate every single woman (or dude) out there to put themselves first, value their worth and not rush into an okay relationship instead of waiting for a spectacular one. It’s not any of these things… but it’s something.

It’s this deep-rooted, incredibly painful, slightly manic and utterly obsessive fear that’s in the pit of my stomach and within every racing heartbeat. It’s what has been keeping me feeling a little less like myself. It’s been the language I’ve been using and the words I’m selecting. It’s been the tone of my voice and the hushed cries at night that embarrass me more than enlighten me. It’s what I’ve been Googling and what I’ve been G-chatting about with my closest friends, who for some odd reason, still love me despite all of my messiness and need for reassurance on the same damn topic.

Will I be alone forever?

Now, I know that’s quite an ultimatum of a question. (And a pretty ridiculous one to wonder at the ripe age.) But, if you’re anything like me, or if you’ve been single for quite some time without much luck, I’m sure it’s crossed your mind a time or two. (I’ve written a blog or two about it, too.) Maybe it’s the easiest place for our minds to go after we go on another philandering date, or perhaps even worse, a great one that turns into nothing but a disappearing act by yet another so-called eligible bachelor. (Are they technically eligible if they make themselves so unavailable?)

Maybe it’s those crazy articles that go viral claiming that 25 percent of my generation will, in fact, remain single (partly by choice, partly by circumstance.) Or maybe it’s those articles that paint the not-so-pretty reality of the new age of dating: one where instant gratification is more important than emotional longevity. One where an orgasm is the endgame, instead of a prolonged intimate connection (that let’s be real, leads to way better orgasms anyway).

So while I’ve been trying my best to change my mindset and transform the ways I approach dating and love… I’ve been failing at it. Miserably.

I vowed to stay off of Tinder and signed up for a singles kickball game… where only a few people showed up, none of which, of particular interest (or could look me in the eyes without stuttering).

I vowed to be more present and mindful, to write down happy thoughts and keep a positive message circulating about love… only to look up and see that it was almost the end of the month of May, and I had only been on zero dates this entire year. (And not for lack of trying.) In a moment of weakness (caused by exhaustion and margaritas), I re-downloaded Tinder and went out on quite the promising date, only to figure out his intentions were less than tender-hearted.

I’m trying you guys. I’m trying really hard. And yet, what I’m finding is that the more I try, the less I get. And the more that I try to write a hopeful blog – or email or anything – about dating, the more I feel like, frankly, I don’t know what I’m talking about.

I was explaining this to my dear fellow single friend, K, on her bedroom veranda overlooking the business district, and she sweetly asked: “Well, do you regret anything? Would you have done anything differently? If you knew the outcome of breaking up with Mr. Possibility, focusing on your career and your writing, taking great trips and building yourself into a better person would have made you single for nearly five (5) years, would you have made different choices?”

Without a shadow of a doubt, without any hesitation at all, I said: “No. Absolutely not. I don’t have any regrets. I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished and where I’ve come from, and now, where I’ve been and hope to go. But the harsh reality of it is that I want someone to share it with.”

And I do.

More than I want anything else in this lifetime, I want a partner to share adventures, the good, the bad, the boring, the everything with. I do keep getting hit with hard times as I search for love, but if anything, this blog has helped me to see that I’m not the only one. And my friends, some who have found their lifelong mates and others who are in the same game of tag that I’m in, have taught me that we’re all on our own paths. We’re all figuring it out – life, love, money, sex, careers, body image – as we go.

No one has the answers, but we do have each other.

It never helps to hear that ‘that’s just how life is’ from anyone or that ‘you can work hard and get a raise but you can’t work hard and find love’ or ‘it’ll happen, I promise!’ – but what’s pushing me to keep on going is my faith in myself.

I’m not always nice to myself and I’m not always the best version of me that I can be, but if anything, I know I’m trying. I’m working on it, every single day, every single blog post, every single date and every single experience… to be better. Stronger. Happier.

I don’t know when I’ll feel like writing about love again – I’m sure it won’t be too long – but until then, I hope you’ll stick with me as I talk about other things. Because while I’m over here praying, crossing my fingers and toes, counting my lucky stars and wishing on the shooting ones, I’m also building a big beautiful life that’s full of many more things than the terrible men I’ve dated. (And okay, a few good ones.)

So if I can’t put my mind to it and make him appear, I’ll do what I’ve been doing all of these years of flying solo… learning to love myself. 

LEARNING TO LOVE FUCKING EVERYTHING.

Namaste,