Knitting

I am knitting
a sweater. For myself.
But it is more
than a sweater.
I am knitting
a new life
fastening together
binding
tying
piecing delicate patterns to create
a whole.
It is stronger as a whole.
I am stronger as a whole.
Yarn unraveled is
weak
stringy
tangled
messy.
Woven into a pattern
two sleeves
a hood
lovely lacy leaves
it is warm
stable
strong
dependable.
The disembodied sections
of myself
back together again are
stable
strong
beautiful, sparkly, creative,
singing songs
dancing under the moon
creating beautiful things
like sweaters.

Rain

When you're at your wits end, when you feel like you've lost all the but the very last piece of who you are, when you're exhausted from the fighting, or from the not fighting, when you're tired for settling for less than you deserve, when you realize that your problems can't be worked out, when therapy won't work, then perhaps divorce sounds like the solution.

For me, it was.

The novelty of the past year has kept me moving forward. I've had so many changes this year that when asked what my New Years resolution was, I said, "To chill." So many of the changes have been positive. The growth that I've made as a person has been paramount, and I'm still learning. Parts of myself that had shut down are resurfacing and I welcome them back with the same surprised, happy squeal of joy I'd give an old friend who showed up on my doorstep.

Now that the newness is wearing off, I'm bare footing through life, feeling my way as I go, careful not to step on anything sharp, and I'm beginning to scowl at the rain that stings my face.

Nobody tells you that you lose your best friend. No one reminds you that you're giving up the good with the bad. The person that you went to with all your hopes, dreams, fears, embarrassments, bad days, good days, wins and losses will be gone. The person you laughed with, cried with, shared adventures with, shared animals with, fought with, made up with, counted on, was there for, all for eight years would be gone. I'm now beginning to understand what I gave up.

Regret is pointless. Regret is the lesser representation of more primary emotions, like sorrow or anger, and doesn't manifest without a strong inner critic. I am learning how to turn down the voice of my inner critic, and allow myself simply to have sorrow. The more that I let myself have it, the more capacity I have for it to be there without regret, and then to pass through me. I have more capacity to feel, and that makes me stronger.

Now I start over, and learn to become the person my husband was for me.

Crash, Burn and Learn

I'm starting a new job tomorrow. It's a job that I'm really excited about, working with people I like and a vision I support, and it's one step closer for me "standing on my own feet" after all that 2012 brought for me.

I won an i-Pad.  For real.

I have some really nice friends in Seattle and I love it here.

My new hair stylist did a nice job at the barber shop yesterday, so I've got that going for me, too.

Basically, I have a whole lot of good in my life right now. Which should mean that everything is fine and dandy and that I should be feeling on top of the world. Except that I've been having a hard time when it comes to relationships (which I imagine is natural after a divorce....right?).

A friend of mine writes a fantastically frank and honest blog and is currently working through issues so similar to mine that I've been living my blogging life vicariously through her (I mean, if one of us is writing it, why should the other?). She talks about the aftermath of a break up, and of realizing herself as someone who is co-dependent in relationships and moves through the world in consideration of her partner, so much so that now that he is gone, she's having a hard time relating back to herself.

I feel like a new born baby when it comes to relationships, commitments, sexuality, and standing in my own light and my own truth. I want to have a handle on all of those things. I want to have a fantastic relationship with myself -- one in which I'm always on my own team (and not batting against myself). I want to know what I want in terms of commitments, sex, and understand how to keep my own light shining and hold my own level of enthusiasm for life even when the people I'm with would like me to tone it down.

Oh, and I would like to move into this state of being with ease and grace. (No "perfect pictures" there....)

Instead, I feel like I'm in a pattern of crash, burn, and learn.

Those of you who know me well know that I have a high enthusiasm for life. I am very passionate about the people and topics that I love; passionate to the point of an intensity that is shared by few others. I am the type of person who would rather get to the heart of the matter than beat around the bush. I'm highly sensitive, which means both that I'm intuitive and usually know more about a situation than can be seen, heard, or inferred; and I feel more deeply criticism or hurt. I'm also female, a body which inherently carries a higher energetic vibration than a male (I mean, we're made to create new beings -- that energy has got to come from somewhere besides fat cells).  I am introspective and am good at articulating what I'm feeling. I am also a healer by nature and have so much dang compassion that I will instinctively try to heal any person or situation before moving away.

Maybe I should have that tattooed onto my forehead as a type of disclaimer.

I am inherently a trusting person. I'm also a truth teller.  I've realized lately how many people simply aren't. It hurts me when people lie to me. First, because generally I know they're lying to me (seriously, don't lie to a psychic) and second, because being lied to hurts and it makes me wonder what it is about me that warrants being lied to.

The disclaimer would be followed by something like, "Please be honest with me. Please don't play with my emotions because while it may not mean much to you, my heart is a fragile and complicated pattern to put back together."

I'm finding it difficult to allow myself to be vulnerable and share who I am with others because as I've allowed myself to do this recently, I've gotten burned. It hurt. Luckily, I have a big heart and, at this point, I want to keep sharing it. But I feel like I need to protect it with barbed wire. 

How do I continue to allow myself to be vulnerable even though I have the intimate knowledge that doing just that could very easily get me hurt? How do I continue to pick myself up and still believe that being me is okay?  My nature -- of being open, of choosing to be vulnerable rather than closed off, of being truthful and wanting to trust others -- sets me up perfectly for getting hurt.

Often times in yoga I teach my students to focus on the muscles that they can un-do. Where are they gripping that can release? Where can they find more ease? I hear my teaching voice in my head as I think about what it is I can un-do -- which is what I wrote above when I said, "being lied to hurts and it makes me wonder what it is about me that warrants being lied to."

Part of being on my own team is learning to stop blaming myself for hurtful situations that truly aren't because I'm lacking in someway, or should have known better, or shoulda, coulda, woulda. I need to support myself for the decisions that I make, which means I need to be very honest about who I am, what I'm feeling, and what I need.  The reason I've "crashed" is because I allowed myself to be vulnerable. It's okay to crash once in a while as long as you can pick yourself back up. Vulnerability is in essence being honest and and open about who you are, so in order to find a partner or develop a deep friendship, vulnerability is part of the game. However, if you crash, the key is not to burn.

I think I've been "burning" because after the crash, I started to blame myself. I've recently been in a couple situations which hurt me and didn't turn out the way I wanted them to. In both, I spent too much time analyzing where I went wrong or what was wrong with me. Don't get me wrong, introspection is good and taking responsibility for one's action is admirable, so long as it's not self-defeating. I've been moving into self-defeating territory far too often. So I'm learning to accept the decisions I make and be on my own team about life.

The great thing is that the "learning" part of the cycle never goes away. Hopefully, I can move forward now and remove the "crash and burn" part of my current cycle as I move forward in life accepting my enthusiasm, my passion for my world and those in it, my sensitivity, and my perfect imperfections.

Story Time

The wind is whipping outside, spitting torrents of rain against my window in mad little spurts. Rain storms are rare in the high, alpine deserts of Utah, and when we were blessed with rain, wind, thunder or lightning I would cower under my covers, afraid.  My mother told me to pretend the storm was singing me a lullaby, and since I was good at following instructions, I did. Now storms lull me to sleep and bring me comfort.

I've lived in Seattle for two months now and people keep asking me if I like the weather. When I tell them I do, they ask me if I've spent an entire winter here. When I tell them I haven't, they lift their eyebrows at me as if I'm oblivious to the fact that it will keep raining all winter and that I shouldn't like the rain. So I keep my secret about finding pleasure and comfort in storms and raise my eyebrows back at them.

I like the rain.  Deal with it.

It's interesting, the stories we tell ourselves about life. I tell myself I like the rain, and so I do. My mother told me the rain was a lullaby, and I chose to believe her. Our lives are created and constantly determined and redefined by the stories we tell ourselves and how we choose to see ourselves.

Yes, how we choose to see ourselves.

That voice inside? The one that says that you hate being wet, and winter sucks, and how much happier you'd be if it was sunny all the time? That's you choosing to relate a certain way to your surroundings.

And the one that tells you that you're too fat, thin, ugly, pretty, lazy, stupid, smart or whatever? That's you choosing to think a certain way about yourself.

Sometimes our thoughts don't feel like a choice. Sometimes they feel very set in stone, and our story about our past that plays us as a victim or a villain seems to be written on golden plates. THIS IS MY STORY, we think. THIS IS MY IDENTITY.

Here's a fictional example. Scarlet is depressed. Her mom won't give her the praise she feels she deserves and her family doesn't give her the attention she wants. She isn't getting what she feels she deserves from the people around her, and because of that, she is depressed.  Even her body seems to betray her as she often falls ill or becomes injured. She feels like the victim in her own life.  But this is not how she has to relate to her story.  Slowly, Scarlet can start to choose to be her own hero -- the girl who doesn't need the approval of others to be warm, successful and sassy.

This year, through a variety of circumstances, I lost my husband, my best friend, a good friend, my home, my dog, my cat, my security, my Ayurvedic practice, a boyfriend, my yoga community, and access to good burritos. That's one way I could choose to look at this year. Instead, I can choose to see it as shedding old habits and patterns that no longer serve me and allowing space for new things to enter my life, including new friends, animals, work, relationships and good Pho.

For me, like is growth, and I'm continuously assessing my relationship to my story. So it was a shock when my teacher called me out a self-limiting pattern I couldn't quite see. She said, "I support your goals, but can't you see that you're so focused on self-growth that you're not able to give yourself love if you don't achieve it? You're not even on your own team! You need to change this and I suggest X,Y,Z."

I was so angry at her for "busting my game," or for calling me out on a pattern that felt comfortable and allowed me to relate to myself in a different, but ultimately same, old judgmental ways I had before. I was angry that I hadn't seen the pattern that I was in. And sometimes that's the hardest part -- recognizing the pattern your in. And then the second hardest, being willing to let go of that pattern.

I wasn't ready to let go of mine. I struggled with moving forward for a few days, losing myself in the new Twilight movie, reading book after book, and diving into the nostalgia of my past through old journals. The the more I struggled against moving forward, the more by body let out protest -- I clumsily injured my foot, my spine became unaligned and I had nightmares.  Yet again, I needed to change my relationship to my story -- my story that said I didn't deserve to give to myself unless I achieved.

So how do we start to recognize our stories so that we can step back from them, see them for what they are, and then change our relationship to them to bring about whole health and healing?

I obviously give myself a few days of lee-way to get used to the idea.  After that, the idea is simple on paper but harder in practice.

First, we need to realize that we are Spirit. We are Perfection in a human body having a human experience and choosing in each moment of each day how to relate to ourselves and the world around us. We need to learn to become neutral to our situation and to find amusement at both the big and small things. Once we can laugh at our struggles they tend to lose their power over us and we become free to move in a new direction. Then, by all means, move into that new direction!

Today, I am working mechanically through the instructions my teacher gave me. In other words, I'm going to fake it until I make it, because I know her suggestions are in line with the next step for me. So I'm praising myself before I write this post, which feels strange because I haven't done anything yet. And when I feel like it's not working, or that I don't like it, or that my life is otherwise difficult or a struggle, I'm going to get up and dance the funky chicken at that struggle, so then I can laugh, and let it go, and move on.

And I'm going to walk in the rain. Because even though I like the rain, I don't like to be cold. Or so I tell myself.

A week of variety

It's been an interesting week.

It's been painful. It's been joyful. It's been stressful. It's been relaxing. It's been a week that has hurt me so deeply that I thought my heart might actually break in two, and then flooded me with so much joy that I thought I might lift off like a hot air balloon and play in the sky. 

It's been a week full of new experiences.

Some of these experiences I would have rather not had. Like having my heart broken. That happened this week, so suddenly that it felt like a slap in the face. It left me so angry that I wanted to throw things recklessly, like glass bottles against walls, just to hear them crash into a million different pieces. I didn't, because my mom is a bit of a clean freak and I kept hearing her voice in my head telling me to clean it up. Somehow the thought of breaking bottles and then sweeping them up didn't sound as appealing.  

Instead, I allowed myself to drink more coffee, and eat more bacon, and take more hot baths.

Other experiences were so unexpected and so much fun that I felt like a child being spun around in circles, getting dizzy and laughing.  Like being asked out for a night of dancing in a hip-hop bar. With a guy.  Who can dance.  Or spending time with a new friend, slacklining for an afternoon in the sun, getting to talk one-on-one and connect. Or just spending time by myself with the blessed Seattle sun, layers of outdoor clothing, cool air and a slackline, and being grateful that I'm alive to have those simple joys.

I cut bangs. Myself. And everyone asked me if I colored my hair.  

I bought red lip stick. And wore it.

I celebrated my 31st birthday. Kind of.  I did my best.  Meaning that I put on a new dress, my new lipstick with my new bangs and went to work with the intention of celebrating myself that day.  I did pretty well.  But then I got stuck at work that night and ended up at a sushi restaurant with my ex, having the "I need closure" talk, instead of out to see music with my roommates.  The owners of the sushi place gave me ice cream with a candle and sang me happy birthday. I have never had any of those experiences before, but now I can cross them off my list.

You never know what life is going to throw at you.  You can only choose how you react. I'm realizing that the pain that this week brought on hasn't completely gone away, but that doesn't mean that I can't still be my happy, healthy, annoyingly-cheerful-in-the-morning self. The more that the pain fades, and the more that I let the past fade away, the more I allow myself to open to new experiences and the more capacity I have to enjoy them.

I don't have a big, profound message for this post. I'm working through life just like everyone; I'm just choosing to share it here. I think that sometimes we feel really alone in our processes, and while being alone is just fine, sometimes we can feel so alone as to believe we're isolated. A friend argued to me that we are all alone, but I disagree. I believe we're all cells of the same organism, and the more we can share and connect and learn from each other, the easier this whole human experience might be for all of us.

The Art of Holding Space

As life continues to teach, my mind continues to try to categorize and make sense of its lessons.  Recently, the lesson that I seem to be learning over and over again is the art of holding space. (Well, that, and the art of letting go, but we've already covered that in previous posts).  Not only have I been learning to hold space for others, I've also been learning to create more space for myself.

What does it mean to hold space?

The first time I brought this concept up to my ex husband he looked at me with a blank expression and said, "Okay. What does that mean?"

The funny thing was that I only had this vague picture in my head as to what it meant, and I couldn't describe it exactly. At the time, what I had wanted from him was more space to be with my own process, my spiritual growth, and to have validation from him in the form of freedom, listening without advising, and acceptance of where I was no matter where that was.

Interesting enough, I was pretty close to what others describe to be the definition of "holding space."  In a blog that discusses spiritual awakening, James Trolles breaks down the art of holding space into four key components: "Letting go of judgement, Opening your heart, Allowing another to have whatever experience they're having, and Giving your complete undivided attention to the situation/other person."

Basically, holding space means that you allow yourself to be with another individual without trying fix them, judge them, win their affection or affect any kind of outcome.

It's harder than it sounds.

I'm a yoga teacher, an alternative health practitioner, and a medical intuitive -- I teach people how to fix their problems on a professional level.  And have you met me? I like to solve problems. That's part of the reason I got into Ayurveda -- putting a report of findings together is like solving a big puzzle.  So when a close friend or lover comes to me with a laundry list of things gone wrong, I immediately go into "fix it" mode.

Note to self: you cannot hold space for someone while simultaneously trying to fix their problems.

Holding space is about allowing a situation to unfold without fueling the emotions that may be part of it.  Holding space is trusting that by allowing a person to express their emotions freely, their deeper healing is already at work.  Anything you say while holding space must be free from your judgements about them and their situation. You get to create a safe space for them to have their process.

In relationships, holding space can be difficult, if not down right scary.  Holding space for a lover may mean being non-reactive when they come to you with tears, and allowing them to cry while you stay neutral to their emotional storm. This can be difficult for a lover who wants you to feed into their emotional issues and debris, rather than hold space so they can dig through it themselves and clean it out.  The practice of holding space for a partner can shake them up or even end relationships that aren't ready to evolve.

The practice of holding space has illuminated where my emotional work is. As I've been practicing with my partner, I find that it brings up questions in my space like "Why can't he just take my advice? Does he not value my opinion? Is it okay that he wants a week to himself? Do I trust him? Will he still want to be with me once he's gone through his process?  Am I okay with that? "

So I've got some work to do.

Which brings me to the concept of holding space for yourself.  James Trolles says that this concept is silly, since he says that it:

 "reinforces an inner duality that doesn't need to be there. Building inner space involves becoming the watcher or the witness to your thoughts. . . .This can be a way to develop a deeper sense of stillness, and as you come to understand this deeper space inside you, it becomes easier to let go of "you" and your ego desires and whatnot. Being able to move into this internal space is how we can hold space for another."

I feel like what I'm doing is trying to push my ego to the side -- push aside all the judgements and criticisms I have about who I am, where I am in my life, and the choices I've made that have brought me here -- so that I can realize that those judgements are just the muck that is making its way from my subconscious and running through my brain. My higher self, that stillness Trolles talks about, doesn't make judgements and, as long as I'm still alive and having experiences (and most likely after that, too), it's good to go.

I've spent most of my life basing my worth on what I accomplish -- how much education I have, how much physical activity I can do, the importance of my field of work, or how much money I have.  But a life based on those things without unconditional acceptance of myself as a person is a life devoid of true happiness and joy.

So not only am I holding space for people in my life, I'm also trying to hold space for myself, so that I can continue to heal my body and make myself more available to my soul. I'm finding that the more space I give myself to just BE, the more joy I find in the simple things.  And the more space I can create for myself to simply BE MYSELF, without the old list of definitions and criticisms, the more joy I'm able to feel and sustain.

As I've said before -- isn't sustained joy the whole purpose of life?

I find that the more I hold space for myself, the more joy I'm able to feel, and the more joy I feel, the more space I have to hold for others. So the practice is like a big joy-generating wheel! It's a little difficult to get it started, but once it's going, there's more joy and freedom for everyone involved. The great part about it is that, like yoga, it's a practice, so you just get to keep trying; once you jump on the wheel, you're on it; it might slow down from time to time, but the practice is just to keep it going at whatever speed suits you.  Just like the famous yogi, Pattabhi Jois once said, "Practice, practice and all is coming." All you've got to lose is the joy ;)

Seattle

I've been a week in Seattle and the rains have finally come. I took a walk this morning in my new, knee-length rain jacket and listened to the pitter-patter of rain drops on my hood juxtaposed with the crashing of horse chestnuts falling from nearby trees and narrowly missing me, somehow, every time.  I wasn't even a quarter through my short morning walk when I was sighing from the heat and removing a layer of clothing from beneath my jacket.  I haven't quite remembered how to layer for cool weather.  I spent so long in southern California that I seem to think any temperature below 60 is cold and requires multiple layers. The outcome is that I end up sweating through all of my jaunts outside.

But I'm learning, and as long as I picture myself in some sort of "Seattle kindergarten," then I can laugh at myself and try again tomorrow.

The move went smoothly. My house, room, and four roommates are fantastic.  On a clear morning, of which I had a few in this first week, I can see out past Lake Washington from my bedroom window during a rosy sunrise. I live in a big, old house near the University of Washington, which has its advantages and disadvantages.  The house is beautiful -- three stories, hardwood floors throughout the upper two floors, set on a wide street with other similar houses.  It's near a beautiful, wooded ravene park. Many of our neighbors are families, although a few are rentals like us and host UW students. On my first Saturday night, someone through such a raging party that our windows almost rattled. Thankfully, they quieted down by 10 so I could get some sleep.

I've remembered the joys of bike commuting.  I switched out the clip-less petals on my mountain bike for flats and started riding around on it.  I've realized pretty quickly that first, that bike is too flashy to be riding around in a high bike-theft area, and second, that what I really want to be commuting on around here is a road bike (seriously, my legs are already getting huge from hefting that huge frame up all these hills).  So I'm working on figuring that out.  In the mean time, I'm lucky enough to be able to walk to the store, the YMCA, the park, the cafe, the bar, and the burrito place (which, I was right, just doesn't add up to the quality of those OB burritos. Insert sad face here).

I've been working part time from my computer as an administrative assistant for a local yoga therapist.  I love the job, I just wish it was more hours. I've been looking for more work and trying not to get too frightened at the dwindling numbers in my bank account during the search.  I figured out how to jump through all the hoops of practicing Ayurveda in the state of Washington, which requires me to have a "hands on touch" license.  It will just take me passing the national massage test and paying a massage school a transfer fee, and paying for a new license.  All to the tune of about $700.  So I'm working towards that, I just don't yet know when it will all come together.

I'm still working on feeling my way through life rather than thinking so much. I really tend to over-think, over analyze, to the point that I can make a problem out of anything.  I'm working on surrendering to my life, rather than pretending I have so much control.  I knew it was right to move here, so I know that the Universe will take care of me. I just like to have answers to things and the not knowing is so challenging!  But when I worry I do silly things like I did yesterday, which was slip down the stairs in my hurry out the door and sprain my finger.  There's nothing like a painful digit to remind you to slow down and be a bit more mindful.

Speaking of surrendering and feeling my way through life. I've been working on my vision of how I want to help people heal. I love Ayurveda and believe in its ability to help us heal, but I also use my intuitive skills a lot when working with clients. To that end, I've joined a medical intuitive training program called the Wellness Alchemy Master Healers program.  Many of you know that I am a clairvoyant (intuitive, psychic, same thing), and some of you have had readings from me.  Now I'll be practicing giving Wellness Alchemy healings over the next year, so please contact me if you'd like to schedule an appointment. I see myself using this skill in combination with Ayurveda, Yoga and massage to offer clients whole body-mind-spirit healing.

So that's my experience in Seattle so far.  I'll keep you posted.  Oh, one more thing -- the coffee here is excellent.