A boring wednesday night blog.

I can’t think of anything to write today.

I tend to not write unless I’m semi-confident that something ‘good’ will be birthed.

Fuck it.

Suit up and show up. That’s what my friend Dave says.

So here I am at this blank screen with nothing, absolutely nothing to say.

Except that life loves me.

I showed up on my yoga mat this morning lethargic, convinced my life was doomed to the same damn spin cycle spun over the past 13 years, and angry. OH SO FUCKING ANGRY.

Sweet Michelle who was teaching class was just trying to lead us to our edge. I wanted to push her off mine.

Not her, personally…but she was the closest thing in my line of fire and oh I was angry.

And then I prayed.

High plank. I don’t want to fucking be here.

Low plank. Two more breaths and then I’m rolling up my mat and walking out.

Upward facing dog. Dear God or Universe or something larger, please help. HELP!

Downward facing dog. I want to melt into the orange walls.

This went on for an hour and a half. I cried. I sweat. I fought my thoughts. Noticed that I was fighting my thoughts and then continued fighting.

After Savasana, when we were cued to hug ourselves, I rolled over noticing a little voice whispering in my ear,

“I hate you, you ugly fat pig”.

Fucking A.

My mala beads must be defective. I’m supposed to be using them as a reminder to say “I love you” to myself 108 times every night. But I lost the 108th bead and every time I do it, I feel ridiculous.

I managed to string together the rest of my day with ginger tea, a friendly face asking how I was, and a last minute appointment with my therapist.

We sat on the floor of her office. I covered myself in a blanket, sipping on San Pelligrino, while rapidly using her box of tissues.

She asked me what it felt like to feel lonely and sad.

“Was that a trick question” I asked?

I thought I would get extra credit for already having identified my feelings as being ‘lonely’ and ’sad’. Now I was supposed to feel how it felt to feel those feelings?

Recovery is confusing.

The layers seem to get deeper and deeper.

She challenged me to show up for myself. I wanted to dangle her money if front of her face and tell her that in order to receive it, she needed to do better than that.

She was right though.

God I hate it when she is right.

There are a lot of things in life in which I feel confident.

Many things of which I am not scared.

But apparently my emotions are not one of them.

What is SO scary about feelings?

The thoughts that accompany them?
The fear that like a burning bush, they will consume me and forever claim my will to live?

The fear that they will incapacitate me indefinitely?

Apparently, there is no other way than radical acceptance of myself, my life, and my thoughts and a courageous willingness to feel my feelings.

That is all I have to say for tonight.

Bla bla bla

Cardboard memories.

There is a picture of me as a child being pushed around in a cardboard box by my older brother, Elliott.

I distinctly recall not wearing any clothes in the picture. I also do not recall me looking puzzled or questioning the ride.

For some reason, this memory surfaced yesterday as I was feeling extremely self loathing.

On Saturday, I went shopping because I was SOOO convinced that I needed new clothes. I dragged a friend with me and I could not find any good deals on confidence so I bought a pair of boots, scarves, and make up instead.

So much for being authentic.

I just went and covered that shit up.

I showed up to work on Sunday morning all decked out in my new outfit and was ALARMED to discover that my new clothes did not remove the disdain I had for myself.

I surveyed all the other girls in the restaurant and observed the rather noisy complaints I was voicing against myself.

Somehow, $200 later my mind told me I still didn’t measure up. They were still better looking and more deserving than me.

How could this be? I shopped at Banana Republic!

Later on in the day, I had a moment of sanity and turned around to question the self hatred and loathing.

“Who are you and where did you get permission to drive my bus?”

Funny, I have never questioned the loathing before.

As a child, I never turned around to question Elliott when he was pushing me in a cardboard box around the house. I just let him. Suppose he would have brought me to the top of the stairs and gave me a little nudge to watch me go flying down the steps?

Bad analogy.

I’m not a helpless, dependent child anymore. As a divine creation of the Universe, it is my right and responsibility not to question the self hatred, loathing, criticism, and jealousy…but to not feed it. To notice and then walk away.

I could sit all day long and analyze the subject, but you know what they say…

“Analysis Paralysis”.

I have tried to dissect why I don’t love myself.

WHY? WHY? WHY?

Its time to stop asking why and waiting for a response and to just start acting like I do love myself

I will be the star performer in my own play, being the face of Confidence and Self Love.

Will you come to opening day? This i

Transformation is a remembering…..

I pictured her sitting in my lap on the ground where my older brother and I used to play basketball. She had those big beautiful loose blonde curls falling around her face and her blue eyes sparkled so much you could swim in them. Her lips (gratefully inherited from her ‘Opa’)  curled up in a sweet innocent grin.

I saw her walk fearlessly through the neighbors yard asking the Borden boys if they were ready to play now. I watched her climb the rocket ship at the park and wave proudly to me when she got to the top. Her brave yet compassionate nature was life giving to watch. She came over to me to point out the blue birds.

“How do blue birds fly” she asked?

Lacking a researched or rather rehearsed answer, I shrugged my shoulders

“I guess they just do. They don’t think about it.”

“Well, I want to try” she responded.

She stepped onto a bench and put both arms out in front of her, staring back at me from the corner of her eye. When I didn’t move, she put her arms down and ushered me over, pulling my face closer to hers.

In a hushed whisper she said, “Lets pretend I am the bird, but you be my wings”.

“Okay.” I whispered back.

Again she put her arms out in front of her and before I could start flapping she leapt off the bench and into my forearms. We flew from park bench to bench, maple tree to oak, rocket ship to merry go round. Giggling and chirping like birds, we flew. We flew until we collapsed into the tall grass, surrounded by dandelions and we laughed so hard, I cried.

She embodied joy.

She knew no other way than abundance.

Amusement, variety, and an untethered creativity colored her days.

There was never anywhere to get to with her. All her dreams were fulfilled in the present moment.

It didn’t matter if she was playing dress up in the basement of the neighbors, coloring a crayon book in the pew at Church, or learning to tie her shoes…She was engrossed and in love with her every day.

As she sat in my lap and listened to the angelic whisper coming from voices, she did not recognize, she relaxed into my chest. Tears trickled down my cheeks and onto her shoulders.

LOVE EVERYONE.

THERE IS NOTHING ABOUT YOU THAT NEEDS TO BE FIXED.

HAVE FUN.

SPEAK UP FOR YOURSELF.

NEVER STOP BELIEVING.

When the whispers faded, she turned to face me…staring deep into my eyes. She wiped the tears from my cheeks and said,

“You don’t have to cry. I won’t forget.”

May her reality breathe life into yours.

Namaste.

Pre-homework blog

Is it slightly wrong to be studying/writing about the yoga sutras (ie. purifying the body and mind) while sipping on a glass of pinot?

Too bad. I have on a super cute dress with my “watch out world, here I come” boots and it just seemed right.

I found bliss today.

Maybe its the downward facing dogs, the meditating I come to ever so resistantly, or the newest venture of starting myself in the mirror reciting “I love you” 108 times a day.

Or maybe its the coffee.

Or maybe its all in the “let go”.

It has been my experience that real change happens gradually. Kind of hard to accept for a society that complains when the microwave takes more than 3 minutes to fake-cook its food and bitches at airlines when there is a delay because God forbid we have to wait, wait, wait…anymore.

We…I…have always been in a hurry. And what is “hurry”? Merely a well refined excuse to not live NOW. Last weekend, as I was “OM”-ing my way through Vinyasa, a dear soul challenged that part of me, merely posing the question “What is the rush?”…DEATH?

That’s an awesome way to live, Megan.

So, as I sit down to write a paper on things within and beyond my comprehension SO that I can fulfill the requirements to become a yoga instructor so that Iamnolongerwaitingtablesflounderingaimlessly…I am going to SLOW IT DOWN and enjoy each word, each connecting thought, each step along the way.

Because what happens when I put off my eventual joy for “when I…”?

I get to “…” and am still mildly to extremely agitated with life and continue to suffer.

My suffering ENDS NOW.

(only three sips into the Pinot, so I can assure you its NOT the wine)

I am consciously choosing to fully inhabit this moment.

Shalom.

Amen.

Namaste.

Any given day

As I was rolling silverware, completing an ordinary task I realized that the nooks and crannies of my life are anything but ordinary.

I currently work in a restaurant that is at worst dysfunctional (show me one that isn’t) and at best, humorous with a little side of “touched by an angel”.

Though working in a local cafe is not my ultimate career choice, being employed where I am is a local garden full of ammuntion for a story.

I could write about the dichotomoy that exists between the two owners who run the joint. The drama, the communication differences, the looks, the circles they run around each other.

I could write about the one owner whose heart seems as guarded as a maximum security prsion but who secretly is all gushy and full of pure love. How do I know?

She tells me that she started praying that she wouldn’t be so angry, she buys hams for customers whose husbands have unexpectedly passed, she asks about the little details of my life that even I forget. Granted this is all usually before or after she admonishes me for something I did or did not do.

She doesn’t want to be angry.

And he (the other) doesn’t wish to be passive aggressive.

They fight, you know. Usually about 4:45 pm she will raise her thick southern voice and say

“What you need to do is…”

and he will get that totally blank, lost, wounded look in his eyes and start pacing back and forth like the guy in Peter Pan who lost his marbles.

Meanwhile on the line, the night chef has a far away look in his eyes while he plucks the herbs and seasons the fish.

New servers come in to train and I laugh and tell them that any and all training they have had in life up to this point is enough to work at ZJ’s and don’t even bother studying the menu. Just focus on learning the customers name and drink order.

They think i’m joking.

I’m not.

My week is highlighted on Tuesdays when Carlo and Tom come in to talk business and listen to my dating mishaps, assuring me that as married men in their 40’s they were aloof and clueless up until….well they still are.

Jason usually waltzes in about 9:15 in a euphoric state about his newest favorite song and the fact that he gets to make coffee. He loves his job.

Tuesdays are also days when James will sometimes make a guest appearance. Usually he chooses days when my hair is still in a rats nest from bed and I haven’t mixed up my outfits in days. I wouldn’t care, but he’s do damn good looking…

Wednesday dinners are defined by half price appetizers and our loyal customers who come in weekly for the $3.50 nachos or $3 veggie quesadilla.

If we are slow (which is most often the case), I am mildly enterained by walking next door and making small talk with the guys at the tatoo parlor. I still haven’t learned all their names and am slighlty confused on the gender status of one of the employees, but it doesn’t matter.

Some nights are mundane and so boring, I wonder if I took a wrong turn somewhere. But then that ONE customer will come in whose company and conversation will put things back in alignment and I’ll go about my merry little way, knowing that all is well.

Thursdays are generally when Jen and her friend will come in ordering a Vanilla latte, even after I repeatedly steam the milk too much causing a mild burn on the tip of the tongue. They must like pain because they keep asking for more lattes. They don’t really eat, they talk quietly, and are usually gone with in 15 minutes of their arrival. I wonder the purpose of their visit sometimes.

Maybe its like me…I will go certain places (ie. Trader Joes) merely for the good feelings it ignites in me. Many times I walk out empty handed or with one item like a fruit leather.

I like to think that where I work is like that. Our food is not all that amazing, our staff is prone to bouts of dimentia and the kitchen frequently yells things loud enough for the customers at the restaurant across town to hear.

But we know your name and remember that your son just left for college and that was hard.

And that means the world.

To me it does.

To see and be seen.

To know and be known.

To love and be loved.

Maybe this is why church started in the first place and what it was at one point in time before it became…well….another day….

If the day to day of your life (maybe just one part of it (work, school, home) or all were a movie, what might it be?)

Mine would be something along the lines of “Whats Eating Gilbert Grape” and “The Waitress” and “It could happen to You”.

A note to me

Dear Megan,

I love you even when you take the easy way.

I love you when you do things that are not in the best interest of your heart and body.

I love you when you forget to trust, and start thrashing out of fear.

I love you when you are vulnerable with people and the after affects shake you to your core

I love you when you aren’t sure of what to do

I love you when on a Sunday morning at work where half of the customers are soaked and 3/4 of the staff are cranky, you start making jokes with the patrons and offer to start a dance party…

I love your enduring spirit and your desire to grow and change

I love you even when self love feels awkward, selfish, and very very silly.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

I love you for the sheer joy of loving you.

From there you can love others. Well.

Be at peace with all that is unsolved in your heart.

Indignant Resignation

Her face fell flat to the earth as she kissed the tilled soil her feet relentlessly trod upon.

She thought that if she was able, she would dig a hold and bury her heart and soul, like a dog hidings its bone.

Too many times it had felt as if her heart and soul were a pig being roasted on a spit over a fire, turning over and over making sure to blacken each side.

The scars remind her.

Remind her that its not over. It will never be over. Life will continue to break her heart.

Mother Teresa said “May my heart break so wide open that the whole world falls in”

She watered the soil with her unquenchable tears and thrust her breast upon the hole.

Moving her pen across the page, curls from yesterdays drunken hairdo falling across her right cheek…she watched the man adjacent to her, in his new balance shoes, and 1980’s headphones watching a youtube video on cutting wood. She wondered what his world was like. Where did his motivation to rise each day come from?

The faint tunes of Bob Marley played in the background and she thought of how her life felt like a movie, somewhere blurred between an independent film (though slightly unappealing to the intellectual types) and a bad Hollywood comedy (though unromantic and not at all comedic).

She tried to remember in that instant what it felt like to give a shit.

Her gaze was fixed on the signs posted on the door. Like a tourist in China, she was lost in the crowd of her thoughts.

“WAKE UP!”

She thought she heard a faint yell in the crowd, but she brushed it off and turned away.

A tear slid down each cheek with absolute precision.

A sniffle.

Her pen moves in stiff movements across the page.

How could she justify an open heart?

It hurt.

All of it.

She wanted to freeze her heart like a bank would her assets. She thought of calling Presbyterian to see if the ICU had an open bed for her soul.

All of the things she was supposed to remember today: breath, detachment, being unmessable with, breath, breath, trying easier….it all sounded like just another expensive self help program.

She heard Buddha whisper in her ear: This too shall pass

Fabulous. Can’t wait Buddha. Thanks for the uplifting words.

Bathed in her tears, however not cleansed she finished her Sugar Free Vanilla Soy bowl of morning joy and packed up her bag.

As she walked home, she envisioned publishing another boring book about surviving the 20’s…hoping that someone would find her thoughts, her words, her experiences original. But she resigned and sighed as she thought that the only thing she could say in a redundant 109.5 page book was that it was the little things in life that puzzled her. The day to day…

What laundry detergent to buy

Where to find a good pair of jeans that magically fit your body in all its yearly fluctuations

Who to list as an Emergency Contact when your best friend no longer speaks to you

How to discipline oneself to make your bed more than once every two weeks

How to politely ask customers NOT to wear patchouili as it causes severe PTSD

How to not be jealous of pretty girls

She thought that if she could just string together a few good days, maybe even weeks, then perhaps she could make something more of her life than just a broken record.

Sighing, she walked home…dimmed the lights and pulled the covers over her head until obligation came knocking.

This is my red donut blog entry: read at your own risk

Sri K Patthabi Jois apparently said

“Do your practice and all is coming”

However, that statement lacked an itinerary and cliff notes.

Downward facing dog today had me arguing with the Universe. I wanted her to know that I was doing my part by showing up (crazy fucked up thoughts in tow) and I would kindly appreciate if she would reciprocate by sending a nicely wrapped package of peace. I feel like she is holding it over my head like bait and I have to jump to her desired height to obtain it.

I was specifically wondering why I had not obtained the desired result from asking “said boy” out. I mean, I walked proudly up to his place of employment clothed in my “new way of being” and thought it took me a bit, I put myself out there. Yes, yes…I was attached to a specific outcome.

The whole date thing didn’t work out. He had made previous plans for Saturday and Sunday at 11;45 pm when he wanted to have coffee, I was turning in for the night. When I contacted him today for another try, he waited 6 hours to reply letting me know he was going to be with friends.

Story or no story. This date ain’t happenin’ and homegirl is not about to sit around on her muffet chewing hay, hoping that he will suddenly want to hang out.

But I am a little disappointed. Namely in myself for manifesting this outcome…

In the past months, I have heard it repeated that ‘the only way out is through’ and that is what I came to my mat with today. I was stuck in my head, clinging to my thoughts like I was on a merry go round and swirling faster and faster and I couldn’t figure out how to make it stop. So, I got my asana on. And when I got to Savasana, I was able to get some space from those crazy bastard of thoughts by imagining them being some science fiction movie available on DVD at a local independent movie store. One, I would never step foot in.

This helped me to breathe a little bit.

And I had maybe one original thought for the first time in days (maybe weeks).

The thought was that life does not happen in your head (or mine). Life happens right here, right now…outside of thought. And thinking does not constitute living. It constitutes thinking.

While coming out of thought and into the moment sounds so exhilarating, I can almost physically feel my resistance to the act. Its as if my ego can sense my desire to do so and has thus upped the anty….thoughts on fast foward, picking p momentum and crazy hitchhikers along the way. The residue of the ego was described to me in teacher training as a red donut…full of fear, shame, doubt, rejection, sadnes, loneliness….(the list goes on). I find using the ‘donut’ as a metaphor for being stuck in all of those emotional states very fitting. What happens when you eat a red donut?

Well if I liked red donuts (or donuts at all), i can imagine the scenario would unravel as such:

I would start to salivate at the thought of eating a red donut, giddy with rememberance of how good the last donut was and think of nothing else until artificially sweetened goodness was in my hands en route to my mouth. Once the glaze hits my tastebuds, an instant message (possibly via text) is sent to my brain reminding me that this taste is familiar and thus comforting. There is however, a snail mail message sent to the body alerting it that this crap was not a ‘friend for the long haul’. But because this voice is more faint and tbe message takes slower to arrive, the brain wins and before you know it you have one yourself a free dozen at Krispy Kreme.

How exactly did I plan on tying this in, you may ask?

I have no freakin’ clue.

EXCEPT for the fact that I have observed myself reverting back to red donut land and it feels like the abusive boyfriend who yes may have beat me unconscious, but at least it was familiar.

It takes courage to step into a state of witness consciousness, observing the ego’s ways, lies, and subtle cues to stay stuck. It takes absolute bravery to step into a new realm…a new dimension of existence where LOVE over rules fear, positive thoughts are served as physical sustenance, and limitlessness is a daily tangible reality.

Oh sweet highly enlightened 8lb 6 oz baby Jesus was onto something when he talked about (albeit 30 years and probably 140 lbs later) when he said something to the effect of (no bible on hand)….

“It is easier to fit a camel through the eye of a needle then to enter the kingdom of heaven”

I take this to mean that the task of living in the present moment (Heaven) through detachment and a willingness to choose expansion and love over fear is more difficult than sticking a big fat humped camel through Grandma’s sewing needle.

So, at 10:17 pm on Monday, August 10th when obligation knocks every second, exhaustion is your bed time story, and shame, fear, and guilt all sleeping with you….what will you choose? What will I choose?

What will we as a new humanity choose? To vibrate at a higher frequency of limitlessness, joy, bliss, freedom, authenticity, compassion, hope, forgiveness, kindness, acceptance, willingness, calm, synchronicity,and trust or to sit home and numb out to the broken record of shame and guilt?

I choose FREEDOM right here, right now.

Yoga has broken the seal on my tight heart

3 hours and $9.54 in beer later and I still hadn’t asked him out.

I’d like to take this opportunity to thank YOGA for serving as a high speed can opener for my heart. Apparently, I no longer want to live in fear and hiding and now when the opporuntity arises to step out of my comfort zone (usually in the form of a rapid heartbeat and shaky legs) I go for it.

Thanks YOGA, I feel a little bit like a case study for “Dating for Dummies”

We have had a total of three encounters, including our initial meeting and there was something about him that I was immeditately attracted to (besides the rad sunglasses).

Reading him was like trying to translate the bible in Hebrew or Greek (both are equally confusing to me).

I realized that not often (at least lately) does it happen that I meet a guy I am attracted to who does not fit into the category of

a. I like you and want to sleep with you, by the way…can you pay for dinner?

b. I like you, but I also like Lisa, Jenn, Sarah, and Leslie (all of whom which I am seeing)

c. I like you, but please don’t tell me girlfriend.

d. I like you, but I’m (christian, muslim, Jewish, allergic to women)

So, I surveyed the surroundings of our brief encounters and did not see any bright red flags and decided to go all “Sex and the City” on him.

I put on red lipstick and a heavy dose of confidence, after asking my ego to stay home and read a book and went to his place of employment. I didn’t have any way of getting ahold of him and knew that I wanted to ask him out immediately.

So, I did what any 26 year old girl with about as much experience in dating as  sea lion on dry land would do. I had a few beers, fumbled on my words, laughed at stupid jokes, and tried despereately not to look desperate.

He might be a good seed, because he obliged me for three whole hours straight through to the end of his shift until he offered to walk me home…at which point he asked me, something along the lines of

“So, were you stalking me?”

I wanted to harness a supernatural power, turn me skin inside out, erase the evening and evaporate.

I didn’t.

But I did trip on my vowels and consonants, while briefly drifting in and out of the present moment.

I think that I may have managed to say something to the effect of,

“Stalking, NO. But I did want to come up and ask you out, but wasn’t quite sure how to do that.”

“Well, I think you just did” he said.

We continued the walk, making akward small talk (Um, yea…so have I mentioned how much i HATE small talk…oh well…what’s a little small talk?)

We got to the door of my building and through a conversation that still felt like choppy waves, managed to make plans for Saturday night.

So there you have it.

I really feel like yoga and all this talk of LIMITLESSNESS, NEW WAY  OF BEING, and DETACHMENT has birthed this authentic me whose behaviors are beyond the ego’s control.

(SIGH)

I am opening.

A list of gratitude and an Easter Ballot

1. Ann

2. Wendy

3. Employment

4. My yoga community

5. Spending the day of my birth sweating, meditating, and later devouring crepes

6. My first ever pet: Shaniqua (she’s a sophisticated fish. And she’s red.)

7. Mary from Yoga One

8. Two hands, two feet, two legs, and a heart capable of opening

9. Mat for putting gas in my car last week

10. An unexpected bouquet of sunflowers

11. the color pink

12. Lavender

13. Staying up until 1 am with friends talking about the irony and beauty of life

14. Friends who transcend time and distance

15. People who refuse to live anything less than an abundant, positive, transformational existence.

16. Sunshine

17. Being taught how to fish vs. being fed a wild sockeye salmon

18. My breath.

19. Coffee.

20. Avacados.

As I was cleaning up what I WILL make into my practice room, I found something I wrote on Easter Sunday. My best friend and I took champagne, strawberries, journals and markers and went to the park for the afternoon. What emerged was the following (which i found very pertinent to my weekend)

Unable to gestate any longer, the flame burst forth with ferocious intensity and unrelinquished intention.

“I am here to burn, to ignite, to warm, to inspir, to create, to fearlessly and boldly move into all the crevices of my being knowing that my house of belonginig is within me. The earth supports my efforts and holds a space for me to dance across the landscape of others hearts. If I become too consuming, I do not fear for I know the ground will tether me. If I am with-holding out of fear that my flame will not be widely recognized, acknowledged, or supported, I trust a source will pass by stoking the embers until an orange light reflects off the night sky.

It is or was my greatness that scared me in days long past. But now, amidst the lush garden of my life, blooming with friendship, endless possibility, unquenchable passion, and incrompehensible peace, I realize there is nothing to fear. A life, a being waits to be taken off the rack, purchased and worn like it had left the hands of the designer and gone straight to my closet.

The wait is over.

Permission slips are reserved for 7th grade field trips. I no longer need a guardian to authorize my days or pre-approve my line of credit for life.

I am the author of my own story.

The editor of my past.

And the publisher of my future.

I will burn with passion, dance wildly around the sacred fire of my desires and apologize ONLY for not starting sooner. “