I am alive

The moments are less fleeting now.
Those moments of clarity, of peace, of calm.
I can rest, in savasana, at a concert, or next to my lover, and my heart doesn’t race, my body doesn’t tighten, my mind doesn’t scan the perimeter for an escape route.

I feel alive.

My life has returned.

I don’t require as much lubrication through alcohol. I can stay home on weekends. I no longer worry about whether I am liked.

I feel loved. I love in return. I exude happiness, and I spread joy.

I am not perfect.

I allow myself to live, in the moment. The schedule, so packed, full of its windowshades of black and white, are no longer all shut. They’re open, allowing early morning rays of sunshines and fleeting sunsets to peek through. They no longer queue up like an infinite series of monotonous moments. They have meaning, they are unique, and they are mine.

Happiness comes from the green tea latte that adds an extra 200 calories.
The sushi platter with friends that breaks you vegetarian streak.
The trip to the mall on a weeknight, all alone, for frivolous things.

I am blessed.
I am proud.
I am humble.

And I am alive.

Peas

Tonight, I rattle around this apartment like one of the last two peas in a can. I don’t feel much like a pea in a pod these days. I feel like I’m wearing flesh-colored underpants.
I trace the lines in the creaky floorboards, and I scan the bookshelves, for something to inspire me. Too many good things happened at once. I used up all my tickets, and now I’m left to watch while others ride the carousel.
My body needs to move and my mind to rest, after 27 years of the inverse. I dream, not of that feeling of exuberance between sobriety and intoxication but of the feeling of exuberance between exhaustion and exhilaration.
I want to sing out. And I want to be free.
My feet are cold. Not in the proverbial way.
I don’t want to read poetry or fiction. I only want to read memoirs, as validation that dreams come true, that people conquer their addictions and that we never stop evolving.
I rattle around this apartment, that one pea left in the can.
The doors are open, and someone is home. I pull my jacket closer around me, tuck my feet under my body, and try to calm my mind. I need stillness to sleep, but all I want is to move.
I dream of this weekend, strapping my bike to my car and taking a ride. A long one. Feeling it in my legs and allowing my lungs to breathe fresh air. I want aching quads, an endless stretch of road and great music on my ipod.

I want to clear the dust, get rid of the cobwebs and wipe away the fog.
I need a new challenge, a new project.
Fitness, I think, it shall be.

A life less grey

He asks me every Thursday: “Why do you like this show?”
Tonight, as a song from a previous season, from a previous life, played, I wept. And then I explained why.
I was that girl.
I made bad decisions, used poor judgment.
I slept with inappropriate men, drank until I blacked out and woke up the next day with my life in shambles and my head throbbing.
I pushed forward, I trudged on. I was a walking train wreck, and everyone around me knew it.
I was either raw and heartbroken or high on life. There was no normal.
The music spoke to me, opened my eyes and my world.
I was impressionable, and I was at a crossroads.
Soon, I had several song lyrics that became mantras: “Sometimes in the morning, I am petrified and can’t move, awake but cannot open my eyes.”
And later, once I’d made it through the day, “Today has been OK.”
I stood at the bus stop, waiting for the 1226 to pick me up and take me to school. I boarded, grateful to be shielded from the piercing, dry winds. I held the handstrap and tried not to fall atop ajumas. Today has been OK, I told myself. Today will be OK.
That’s all I could ask for, and that’s all I could achieve then.
But today, that’s a different story.

These days, I’m loving more, worrying less.
I’m saying yes
I’m opening my heart
I’m sharing

Breathe

Tonight’s yoga class was spot on. I felt loose, good and strong. I bound in my Marichyhasanas, I brushed fingertips in Kurmasana, and I faltered but once in Utthita hasta padanghustasana. I felt capable and confident.
My headstand held for 10 breaths, after I wiped my sweaty forearms. My lotuses didn’t hurt and nothing felt strained. I even managed a few jumpthroughs. And I stayed calm and perfectly still in savasana.
Kim taught me that if you get your binding arm really low, with the armpit on the standing knee, you can bow more easily in the Marichyasanas. The hip of the lotus foot will continue to lift, but in time balance comes.

Yoga is about more than touching your toes or contorting your body into pretzel-like poses. It’s about reconnecting your mind and body.

We spend much of our lives focused on the neck up, and each of us here today knows what it’s like to be trapped in a body that won’t allow us to move with the freedom we’d like. Before embarking on a healthy journey, our bodies are like tin soldiers, moving in two planes at best, stiff and awkward. Through exercise and hard work, we learn to move our bodies full circle. Hands clasp around waists, legs cross, and long-lost toes reappear.

Today, let’s focus on reconnecting with the bodies we’ve worked so hard to improve. Close your eyes, roll your shoulders back and relax your hands in your lap, palms up, left hand stacked on your right.

Focus on your breath. Take deliberate, even, deep breaths in and out through the nose. Ignore everything else in the room, every thought passing through your mind and just focus on that breath. It goes in and out, the inhale matching the length of the exhale.

Take a few more breaths.

We’ve spent much of the day listening to people talk about setting goals and achieving them. The mind is a powerful tool, and it can make or break our plans. Instead of allowing your mind to control you, let’s focus on controlling our minds.

Think about the next step in your healthy journey. Imagine it. Visualize it. If any obstacle enters your mind, your exhale will send it away.

Breathe in hope. Breathe out fear.
Breathe in optimism. Breathe out self-doubt.
Breathe in life.

Self centered, sted self-centered

When I was young, I came home each night and wrote about my day, good or bad. I detailed every moment of my life: my feelings, my friends, my nemeses, my stresses, hopes and fears.
Now, I can’t be bothered. I write for a living, and when I come home, it feels like more work to write.
The days pass more quickly than they did back then, and I live in the moment rather than live in anticipation of events yet to come. The goods are greater and the bads are worse. But the details are blurry.
Today I taught my first yoga class, Intro to Yoga. I had just two students, Gary and Terri. They’d never taken a class, and they were eager and willing students. Despite a stuffy head and a nose full of snot, which I managed to keep in until the end of class, I felt good. I felt strong and capable. And I stayed on task.
We’ll see what tomorrow brings.
I’ll teach my first regular class, my weekend winddown class. I’m not letting myself worry about it too much. I can’t change the universe, what will happen will happen regardless. All I can do is try my best.
Lately, I’ve been feeling quite spiritual and introspective. Faced with the idea of my own mortality. Someday, I will die. I will be dead. That terrifies me, because I am so accustomed to being in control and knowing what will happen next. But it also motivates me to make the most of my life. I want to drink less, do more, love more, complain less, say kinder words and reach out and love the world. I try to quiet my mind when I start to feel angry. It doesn’t work all the time, but I am trying. The desire to gossip and complain is lessening, and I want to support everyone around me with love. Instead of sending negativity into the world, even when I am the recipient of such energy, I’d like to respond with sending my own version of a Care Bear stare. Love, peace and kindness.
I’ve been reading Paolo Coelho books and listening to Eckhart Tolle’s “The Power of Now.” It’s slow going, the latter, but I feel like I’m really absorbing it. I’m trying to live each moment with purpose and make it less about me. I’m trying to let my mind relax.
I need to write more.
I need to take time to quiet my mind and allow my thoughts to flow out.
Some thoughts from “Brida”:
Women are a whore, martyr, virgin or saint.
We follow two paths to learn our purpose in life: The Tradition of the Sun, which teaches us through the space and world, and The Tradiation of the Moon, which teaches us through our minds, our pasts and time.
Soulmates are bits of the same soul that was cleaved long ago. You can recognize your soulmate from the light in the eyes or a spot of light just above the shoulder. We’re all searching in this life for a soulmate, but we all have more than one.
“When you find your path, you must not be afraid. You need to have sufficient courage to make mistakes. Disappointment, defeat and despair are the tools God uses to show us the way.”

Je rentre

I rejoin the blogosphere, and though there is much to do, and I have miles to go before I sleep, I want to be nowhere else.