I've been delinquent in my postings. It's not because I haven't been full of words, as I am always overflowing with streams of words that flow out of me like the trickles of water that overflow the banks of pregnant rivers whose banks can no longer contain the flood. But I've contained my writing lately, dropping wet words onto large pages of multiple journals, because one is not large enough to contain within it the oozing weight of each word. In the past few months, I have continued to have the feeling that I am being shoved forward and commanded to embrace a new life now, not when I feel ready, but right now.
This constant movement forward has been frightening, and I could feel the tendrils of fear try to wrap around my heart and hold me in place, try to freeze me into a state of not-doing, of not-moving, of resistance. And I became afraid to write about the fear I was experiencing because, after all, I'm now Ayurvedic Anna, and I need to have it all together, right? But as the new moon came and passed, I was pushed out of my cycle of fear, like being spewed from a tornado, and I could look back on it and think, "Now wait, I'm certainly not the only one who's been stuck in a fear cycle. Why not write about it?"
Many of my readers know, although I have not yet said this outright, that I have recently moved on from an eight year relationship that included marriage. I loved my husband. It's hard to love someone so deeply yet know simultaneously that the love itself is not enough. It's harder still to clearly explain this. And I still love him, and I find it amazing how the pain of losing someone like that can grow more intense as time passes, rather then diminish along with the conversation, connection and affection. The decision to move on was clear, mutual, and not without serious discussion, meditation and thought. Unfortunately, none of those things makes it any less painful. None of those things make it any easier to bear the feeling of the floor being swept out from underneath my feet and feeling myself flailing in mid air in search of stability. For my marriage represented my stability -- it was consistent, it was comfortable, it was secure and reassuring in many practical ways. But too much stability can also become too heavy, can create boundaries and limitations, and can weigh you into patterns based on the comfort of the body, not the cries of the soul. So it is ironic, then, that the qualities that lead me to leave are the same I ache for now.
Nevertheless, I am building back up. For where is there to go but forward? Fear and pain want to hold me back. They want to keep me in a cycle of constant and crazy thoughts and keep me from moving forward into the role I've always wanted to fill, that of a confident, compassionate and successful healer and teacher. Fear was keeping me from evolving from a person who held myself back to one who embraces the challenge that heart-centered integrity requires. Fear, combined with the feeling of losing my stability, spun me around and had me wondering what to do next -- reach up and out or root down? The answer, of course, was found in the same words I've been using this month in every one of my yoga classes. "You have to root down into the earth first, through your connection points to the planet, and then you'll naturally feel the body rebound up toward the sky."
It was like I'd slapped myself in the face with my own words. Isn't it amazing how fear can keep you from even taking your own advice, or realizing it was there in the first place? As the new moon and solar eclipse came near last weekend, I could feel the shift occurring. These issues I mentioned became more pressing, and the need to motivate into action became a buzz within my body. Luckily, I woke Monday morning with a great sense of support that came from within. And this feeling that, even though it will take time to build a new foundation for myself, I am fully capable of doing so and I have the support and love from the Universe that comes from staying true to myself and my path, no matter how difficult it seems.
I'm rooting down now. I'm learning to process the pain as it comes, which is always when I least expect it, but I'm able to release it be grateful for what is, not what was. I'm out of the fear tornado, though I'm still brushed with tendrils of fear now and then. A friend told me that playing host to fear and worry is like praying for things you don't want, and I agree. I know that all I can do is continue to train my mind through meditation and conscious thought to focus on what I'm grateful for and what I'm ready to create and share with others. I'm building a foundation for my new business in Ayurveda, called "Ayurvedic Anna." If you haven't already, please "like" my page on Facebook and contact me if you want to know more. I'm excited about building better bridges between the Ayurveda and Yoga communities through donation-based informative talks and special discounts for yogis interested in pursuing the balance that Ayurveda can provide.
I'm evolving in my friendships and other relationships. I'm practicing heart-centered communication -- simple, honest and open transparency about who I am and what my needs are, and how much I care. It's not easy; in fact it's scary as hell to break long-established communication barriers with people I love but haven't told, or care about but who don't treat me well. It's also necessary, I've found, if I want to move forward and continue to evolve.
And I'm learning to be true to myself and my sensitive body, and get over the fact that I have a long list of needs. I've recently admitted to myself, like a friend recently admitted to me as if she were confessing to a criminal act, "I think I'm high maintenance." Which I used to think was a bad thing. Now I'm just realizing it's what comes with developing a steady, deep mind-body connection.
The important thing is that even through the pain, and fear, and constant change and growth, I am happy. I can see the beauty of the process, even when it feels ugly and awkward and stumbling. I am ready to share more, to do more, to love more, to sing more and to listen more. I'm ready to be more of who I already am.
This constant movement forward has been frightening, and I could feel the tendrils of fear try to wrap around my heart and hold me in place, try to freeze me into a state of not-doing, of not-moving, of resistance. And I became afraid to write about the fear I was experiencing because, after all, I'm now Ayurvedic Anna, and I need to have it all together, right? But as the new moon came and passed, I was pushed out of my cycle of fear, like being spewed from a tornado, and I could look back on it and think, "Now wait, I'm certainly not the only one who's been stuck in a fear cycle. Why not write about it?"
Many of my readers know, although I have not yet said this outright, that I have recently moved on from an eight year relationship that included marriage. I loved my husband. It's hard to love someone so deeply yet know simultaneously that the love itself is not enough. It's harder still to clearly explain this. And I still love him, and I find it amazing how the pain of losing someone like that can grow more intense as time passes, rather then diminish along with the conversation, connection and affection. The decision to move on was clear, mutual, and not without serious discussion, meditation and thought. Unfortunately, none of those things makes it any less painful. None of those things make it any easier to bear the feeling of the floor being swept out from underneath my feet and feeling myself flailing in mid air in search of stability. For my marriage represented my stability -- it was consistent, it was comfortable, it was secure and reassuring in many practical ways. But too much stability can also become too heavy, can create boundaries and limitations, and can weigh you into patterns based on the comfort of the body, not the cries of the soul. So it is ironic, then, that the qualities that lead me to leave are the same I ache for now.
Nevertheless, I am building back up. For where is there to go but forward? Fear and pain want to hold me back. They want to keep me in a cycle of constant and crazy thoughts and keep me from moving forward into the role I've always wanted to fill, that of a confident, compassionate and successful healer and teacher. Fear was keeping me from evolving from a person who held myself back to one who embraces the challenge that heart-centered integrity requires. Fear, combined with the feeling of losing my stability, spun me around and had me wondering what to do next -- reach up and out or root down? The answer, of course, was found in the same words I've been using this month in every one of my yoga classes. "You have to root down into the earth first, through your connection points to the planet, and then you'll naturally feel the body rebound up toward the sky."
It was like I'd slapped myself in the face with my own words. Isn't it amazing how fear can keep you from even taking your own advice, or realizing it was there in the first place? As the new moon and solar eclipse came near last weekend, I could feel the shift occurring. These issues I mentioned became more pressing, and the need to motivate into action became a buzz within my body. Luckily, I woke Monday morning with a great sense of support that came from within. And this feeling that, even though it will take time to build a new foundation for myself, I am fully capable of doing so and I have the support and love from the Universe that comes from staying true to myself and my path, no matter how difficult it seems.
I'm rooting down now. I'm learning to process the pain as it comes, which is always when I least expect it, but I'm able to release it be grateful for what is, not what was. I'm out of the fear tornado, though I'm still brushed with tendrils of fear now and then. A friend told me that playing host to fear and worry is like praying for things you don't want, and I agree. I know that all I can do is continue to train my mind through meditation and conscious thought to focus on what I'm grateful for and what I'm ready to create and share with others. I'm building a foundation for my new business in Ayurveda, called "Ayurvedic Anna." If you haven't already, please "like" my page on Facebook and contact me if you want to know more. I'm excited about building better bridges between the Ayurveda and Yoga communities through donation-based informative talks and special discounts for yogis interested in pursuing the balance that Ayurveda can provide.
I'm evolving in my friendships and other relationships. I'm practicing heart-centered communication -- simple, honest and open transparency about who I am and what my needs are, and how much I care. It's not easy; in fact it's scary as hell to break long-established communication barriers with people I love but haven't told, or care about but who don't treat me well. It's also necessary, I've found, if I want to move forward and continue to evolve.
And I'm learning to be true to myself and my sensitive body, and get over the fact that I have a long list of needs. I've recently admitted to myself, like a friend recently admitted to me as if she were confessing to a criminal act, "I think I'm high maintenance." Which I used to think was a bad thing. Now I'm just realizing it's what comes with developing a steady, deep mind-body connection.
The important thing is that even through the pain, and fear, and constant change and growth, I am happy. I can see the beauty of the process, even when it feels ugly and awkward and stumbling. I am ready to share more, to do more, to love more, to sing more and to listen more. I'm ready to be more of who I already am.
