355. experiences are only bad if you don’t learn from them.

from my poetry book Cycles, picture/link in sidebar

Yesterday, after a very busy day of running back and forth around town going to a business meeting, picking up my last CSA box of the season, and doing laundry, I went to my daughter’s father’s place to dogsit/housesit for him and his partner. On the way, I stopped by the store, and decided to grab a bottle of cider made from nettles (I’m a sucker for anything with nettles in it). 

I always thinking drinking is a great idea, until I actually do it. 

It’s funny because a lot of people think just one drink once or twice a week is actually a really great example of healthy moderation, and for many people, I think it is that way. However, I’m reminded every time I have one (1) drink that for me, moderation is none at all.

My one drink feels great while I’m drinking it. That nettle cider was tasty, I won’t lie, and the light feeling I got from it was rather nice since I so rarely drink. But then I get to deal with the almost immediate consequences:

  • Extraordinary difficulty getting and staying asleep. Some people find alcohol helps them sleep. Not for me. Last night, I got a grand total of maybe 2 hours. Why?
  • Anxiety. Suddenly I’m spending two hours vividly imagining tense conversations that have not happened yet and probably won’t happen. Suddenly I’m remembering scenes from that one scary movie I saw years ago that made me afraid of babysitting for months. Suddenly I’m incredibly worried that every little thing I’ve done wrong in the last several years are going to come back to bite me in the butt all at once, probably in the next few weeks.
  • Of course, all that anxiety and no sleep means I feel very blue the next day, maybe the day after that as well. I’m questioning my worth. My value. My ability. If I’m not careful, that can make me spiral down into a week-long stormy cloud over my head.

just because something is okay for everyone else, doesn’t mean it needs to be okay for you.

It’s OK if, for you, moderation means pretty much none at all. That’s what I have to remind myself of when I’m thinking of crossing my own boundaries and doing what I know isn’t going to make me feel good (and ends up being a waste of $8.75, to boot). 

I also have to remind myself that one bad decision doesn’t make null and void all of my other, better decisions.

In the past week, some good decisions I have made for myself are:

  • Switching up my daily 2 cups of coffee for 2 cups of yerba mate. 
  • Drastically reducing my bread-and-cheese intake.
  • Doing 30-45min of yoga, pilates, and hooping every morning. 
  • Staving off my urge to distract myself with sex by choosing instead to work out, call my mom, go to a success seminar, going for a nature walk, read, and write in my journal.
  • Standing up for a personal boundary in a calm and respectful but clear and firm way.
  • Letting myself rest when I feel stretched thin.

My one bad decision yesterday to drink a 16.9 fluid ounce bottle of hard cider does not cancel out all the good I’ve done for myself, nor can it stop me from doing good things for myself today. 

Because that’s, I think, the biggest part of self-love: self-forgiveness and moving on. If you can forgive yourself for the small mistakes and live a vibrant and integrated life anyway, then just imagine what you can do for yourself and your life when the bigger mistakes happen.

Because they will happen. 

But because you have practiced self-forgiveness on a daily basis, you know you’ll be better than okay.

Every morning is a new day. Every moment is a new opportunity to be just 1% better than you were before.

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356. you are worthy of growth.

why do you resist your blessings?

why do you put off what you know will help you?

Why do you tell yourself, “I’ll get to it tomorrow,” or, “After I….” ?

Why do you resist what makes you come alive?

I bet you never knew / there’s a universe inside of you

Can I,  by Alina Baraz & Galimatias

Are you afraid of stretching yourself? Of growing into the light? Are you afraid that you might feel…ecstatic? Content? Beautiful? Powerful?

Or are you afraid that you don’t deserve it?

That your past makes you unworthy? Incapable?

I have a secret to tell you. 

The tallest trees have the deepest roots. The most healthy, flourishing plants have the most complex and intriguing root systems. 

Roots dwell in the darkness. They are what enable the plant to reach for the light.

The darkness of your past is compost for your future.

You are more worthy than you realize. Your roots run deep. The rain that pounds overhead is what has been feeding you. The sun is waiting eagerly for you to break your lush shoots through the soil.

You will never be rid of your roots. Your roots will always dwell in the deep, fragrant soil. 

Let your roots ground you and accept growth. Accept the discomfort of struggle.

Do it because you crave it. Even if it’s scary. Even if you’re not sure you’re strong enough.

You are. You are.

The world is waiting for you to bloom.

But in the end, it’s all your decision.

are you ready to accept your birthright?

“Conditions are never perfect. ‘Someday’ is a disease that will take your dreams to the grave with you. If it’s important to you, and you want to do it ‘eventually,’ just do it–and correct your course along the way.”

Timothy Ferris

It starts today.

I recently went to a success seminar lead by a prominent philanthropist who, eight years ago, was living in a two bedroom apartment with 5 roommates, and couldn’t hold down a minimum wage job. One of my big take-aways from the seminar was this:

Today, whatever it is you long to do, whatever it is you’re trying to accomplish,

try to be just 1% better than you were yesterday.

Just 1%. That’s it.

Do it again tomorrow. Just 1% better.

And the next day.

And the next.

This time next year, you’ll be 365% better.

1% doesn’t sound like much. It may not even look like much. 

But next year, you’ll see the difference.

and trust me. you are worthy of that.

Day 358. gratitude morning.

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  • I am grateful for the way sweat lets my thoughts and anxieties out when all else fails.
  • I am grateful for public libraries. I am grateful for self-education.
  • I am so thankful for yerba mate, and I am thankful for being able to laugh at myself yet again–why do I ever think coffee is a better idea when this stuff makes me feel so good?
  • I am full of gratitude for the slow, soft November dawn.
  • I am grateful for my daughter’s absolute goofiness and sweetness. I am grateful for her wild, and I am grateful that life has shown me how important wildness is, and I am grateful that I live somewhere that supports my goal of raising her with love for her wildness.
  • I am so, so thankful for the safety and security I have. For my access to healthful food. For being able to work, so that I can meet my and my daughter’s needs, and have some left over to have fun, and to help others. For this apartment, with roommates that are also best friends, with a park just a couple minutes walk away.
  • I am so grateful for the friends I have had, have now, and will have. Friends make life less lonely, less scary, more hopeful, more beautiful.
  • I am so grateful for this body of mine. For my birthing scars and nursing scars and working systems and luscious curves. For my relentless heartbeat and ocean breath.
  • I am grateful for the coming and the going. For the quickening and the slowing. For the loud and the soft. For the birthing and the dying. The growing and the fallowing. I am grateful for every microcosmic and macrocosmic, internal and external spiraling cycles of this beautiful and terrifying and serendipity-adoring and oh-so-worth-it universe.

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366 Days of Solo Sovereignty [Days 1-5] What My Wanderlust Really Is.

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Wednesday, November 7th, was the New Moon in Scorpio, and Lunar Samhain — the day when the veil between the worlds is thinnest. Lunar Samhain is just about the best time to cast away the old and bring in the new. It is the Witches New Year (some witches celebrate this on October 31st to coincide with Halloween festivities as well).

For weeks, I had been restless inside.

What I desperately wanted to do (escape to the wildnerness for days on end) wasn’t possible when I don’t have a car, or proper camping equipment, and have the responsibility of working so I could pay rent and meet my daughter’s needs. I felt sad and lost and sluggish. I felt homesick for something hard to name. I felt like I was forgetting something terribly important.

Wanderlust

We long

for the

wildnerness

and forget

it is within

our souls.

from cycles

But I’m not the naive girl I once was, who didn’t know what her restlessness meant, and so chased it in places that didn’t quell it but rather, made it worse.

When the wilderness is out of our reach for reasons out of our control, yet we feel we must die if we don’t do something wild and reckless–that is our souls, crying out for us to release the chains that bind us from becoming fully ourselves.

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I came home the night of Lunar Samhain, with my daughter in tow. She plunked herself in front of a movie, and I looked about me with that restlessness sparking at my fingertips. What I must do, the root-deep knowledge and need that had been swelling in me for weeks, was unignorable.

knock knock on my roommate/best-friend’s door.

“Yes?”

Leaning against the door frame. Looking her in the eye. “I think I’m going to do it.”

It took her only a moment to know what I was talking about. “I’m ready now.”

I arranged a small altar on the bathroom counter. “If I don’t ritualize things, they don’t stick in my mind,” I explained as I lit candles and nag champa.

I sat on the orange plastic bathroom stool.

“You’re sure?” she asked, holding my curling hair in her hand, scissors and electric shaver ready.

“I’m sure.”

Tug. Pull. Bzzzzz. 

My hair fell away. Inhale, exhale.

I sacrifice my hair as a symbol of my commitment to myself for the next 366 days.

This is a releasing. This is a humbling. This is a symbol that I belong only to myself.

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On Samhain of 2017, I had recently separated from daughter’s father and had just moved into an apartment in the city. I was rebounding with the strength of a hundred rubber bands, and in the days leading up to 2018 Lunar Samhain, I realized that this past year has been a period of emotional detox for me. This year, I have intensely relived the relationship and love traumas and patterns that I have built up over the past decade of my life.

Since I was 14 years old, I have spent an inordinate amount of time either in unhealthy relationships, or pining after men, or lusting after them. I have never truly belonged to myself, despite my insistence in my past writing that self-love and self-exploration was the main focus of my personal life. But I have given my power away, again and again and again, and for what reasons?

I honestly am not sure yet. What I do know is that my mind is incredibly crowded with men, and not in a healthy way. I’ve realized that I don’t see men as whole beings, but rather as people I can project my traumas and patterns on. I do this because I don’t see myself as a whole being. I don’t embody wholeness, so I don’t see romantic or sexual pursuits as whole beings, either. I see them as tools who can distract me from the shadows and light that live inside me.

Every time I am faced with being completely single, my patterns rear up their ugly heads and wordlessly whisper, “If you are not being coveted and loved and lusted after, you are not worthy of being alive.”

It was horrifying to realize this about myself. When did this mindset take control, especially considering the incredible amount of books and people I have surrounded myself with who have inundated me with the value of self-love?

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Months ago, I came up with the idea of 366 Days of Solo Sovereignty, but hesitated to go through with it.

A year and a day (similar to the Wiccan spiritual “initiation”/learning period of a year and a day) of being completely single. No romance. No sex. Just….me.

It’s a scary prospect. My mind goes into a panic when I think about it: but but but–what if you meet someone you REALLY like? What if you get lonely? What if you really really really need intimate physical touch? You can’t get that from a vibrator. You know what happens when you’re single for a little while–you get super super depressed. What if…what if…what if…

But my heart gets fluttery. It goes, yes yes yes.

And my spirit takes flight. Yes yes yes!

And my soul settles down, relaxes, smiles. Yes. Yes. Yes.

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For the past five days, I’ve experienced the discomfort I expected when I decided to be completely single: I’ve had to hold myself back from calling that cute guy from work who gave me his number. I’ve avoided the irritating-but-great-in-bed card-player I’ve had an affair with the past two months and can’t seem to tell that I’m not interested in him anymore (people-pleasing–another pattern I need to break). I’ve forced myself to stay home and get cozy with myself when I’m feeling restless and lonely, instead of going out to that bar I’ve experienced plenty of men buying me drinks at.

For the past five days, I’ve also been thinking about the many ways I could use all this free time I now have on my days when my daughter is with her father. I’ve been reminding myself that this is a one-day-at-a-time venture. Every day, it’s me making conscious choices that I know are good for me, are going to connect me with myself: this morning I am going to read instead of check social media. This afternoon I’m going to write/draw/paint/clean/hunt for a job that doesn’t have me in front of a screen all day. Tonight I’m going to watch a thought-provoking movie/hoopdance/meditate/light candles and read/make soup.

Because that’s the point of these next 361 days. Learning what my life is like when it’s me I’m seducing, not someone else. Learning what my life is like when I’m centered in my own power and channeling it into my passions and my home. Learning who I really am when I’m not putting all my energy into being who I think my romantic/sexual interests want me to be.

Maybe this doesn’t sound like a difficult journey for some. But it is for me. Which is why I’m so thankful to have a circle of friends who are willing to hold space for me. Like last night–no light but candlelight, and us around an altar we created together, breathing, crying, laughing, speaking of what we’re releasing, and speaking of what we’re bringing in. Intentional, conscious togetherness.

I want my whole life to be an embodiment of intentional, conscious togetherness. I want to be a whole person. I want to see everyone I come in contact with as a whole person. I want to be the sort of person who holds space.

so mote it be.

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My living room. Last night, after our circle, I stood there looking at it, feeling overcome by gratitude for this space–knowing that my home is an extension of myself, and I can make it, and my life in general, into a haven of comfort, joy, safety, and sacredness.

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I’ll never not forget. I’ll never not remember.

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I forgot.

Who.

I was.

 

Forgot

the wind

even as it was

lifting my hair.

 

Forgot

the scent of

soil

even as it coated

the soles of my feet.

 

Forgot

the taste

of gratitude

even as

I bathed

in my

blessings.

 

Forgot

the ecstasy

of giving

even as

I went

through the motions.

 

I forgot.

 

But now

I remember.

 

I will forget again.

 

But I vow

to always.

Every crust of dawn

and every wholesome dusk.

Remember.

 

 

imposter syndrome + other fears on the way to wholeness.

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This Friday, I’m meeting with a woman I met several weeks ago, along with her life coach that she excitedly told me about when I tentatively revealed to her my interest in coaching. “This is an opportunity you don’t want to miss,” she texted me last night. “Especially if you’re really interested in true entrepreneurship!”

Entrepreneurship. It’s something I’ve wanted for years–ever since I first started blogging, really. I used to be an avid reader of blogpreneurs like Leonie Dawson and Gala Darling, and on numerous occasions I attempted to monetize my blogs. Various factors always broke my attempts down: some were external, like finances; most were all internal fears.

“Who am I to dole out advice on life matters? I’m so young,” I quietly lamented to myself. “I don’t know anything, really. To wish to be a teacher or a coach is so narcissistic of me.”

So I stepped back. I continued blogging, but stopped trying to make it in to a business. Briefly, I attempted to create an intuitive painting business during my daughter’s first year of life, but the same fears cropped up. I buried my longing for entrepreneurship beneath being responsible. But the niggling feeling wouldn’t go away.


This past weekend, I did another one of the journal prompts from Rebecca Campbell’s Light is the New Black. She encourages readers to answer the question, “What do you secretly long to be?” I answered it stream-of-consciousness-style, and let the words pour out of my pen (a few have been left out for the sake of keeping the topic of this post focused):

I secretly long to be a guide, a coach, a mentor–to make a career out of what I already love to do: get people fired up to achieve their dreams and overcome obstacles, to unleash love and encouragement on the fearful, to nurture and comfort the hurt…

I secretly long to be a life-doula, to lend my hand when people need help, to lend advice when people feel lost, to teach practices to help people accomplish their dreams…

I secretly long to be a leader, to inspire, to be in service, to be a channel for divine wisdom…

I secretly long to be a successful writer who is handsomely paid for my work, my work that inspires and helps all the people who need it in their lives…

I secretly long to be financially abundant, so that I can provide nurturance to myself, my family, my friends, the earth, and disadvantaged peoples…

I secretly long to create a beautiful, lush, abundant, peaceful, and workable intentional community and retreat in the mountains…


All of these stoke fear in me, I wrote.

Fear of responsibility. Fear of failure. Fear of not being good enough. Fear of rejection. Fear of hatred. Fear of being ignored. Fear of being misunderstood. Fear of being annoying. Fear of not living up to the role. Imposter Syndrome as the cherry on top. 

As high as I felt while I wrote my secret longings, I plunged down deep into the fears I also wrote down. I tried to let my wise self speak, reassuring me that fear is part of following our soul’s calling, fear is part of becoming whole. The deeper the calling, the more fear we have of it; it is, in fact, a sign that path is the right one.


The appointment with my friend and her life coach looms like a big, red circle on the calendar. My heart beats in excitement and trepidation. So many times have I tried to follow my soul’s calling; so many times have I failed. There have also been times where an opportunity ended up being too good to be true, and I ended up with time and money wasted. My soul wants me to hear what this life coach has to say. My heart wants to believe that this is the opportunity I am seeking. My mind is holding onto a healthy dose of skepticism.

But the true reason for my trepidation is my imposter syndrome. How can I think of being a coach? How can I think of trying to be a leader? I have so many flaws. I can’t even live up to my own standards, many days.

Then, at the end of a long and rather stressful day yesterday with my daughter, I opened ListheNB to a random page.

BE OK WITH WHERE YOU ARE

Be OK with where you are and all that you are right now–especially the bits that you are working on. The people you are here to guide are the ones who are a few steps behind you. You don’t need to have it all sorted, or be an expert…

It’s your humanness that truly touches people, not your superhuman-ness.

…You don’t need to pretend or prove that you have it together, rather, just share what you have figured out so far. We are all in this school of life together. There is no final destination, no end point, just increased consciousness and a deeper understanding.

…Sometimes words get in the way of truth.

Soften your mind, and your soul will be touched.

And I took a deep breath. And I was suddenly lighter.


I’m 25 and I’m still figuring it out. I’m still learning about life, and myself, and how to navigate my way healthily through all those two experiences contain. I still have so much to learn.

There is so much I have learned, however. I think of how much I’ve grown these past twenty-five years, and I experience a sensation of expansion, as though I am seeing myself and my life from an outside point: I see my life as a tapestry, not yet finished, but beautiful and whole and complex in and of itself. I see patterns beginning, ending, beginning. And I know that I am whole, and I am becoming even more whole.

I am here to learn. I am here to teach what I have learned. And because I am a mother, much of what I will teach will be nurturing and encouraging. And because I am a spiritual woman, much of it will be holistic and rather woo-woo. And because I am a writer in spirit as much as in skill, much of it will be through writing.

The awareness of my position in life does not take away my imposter syndrome; in fact, I doubt that fear will ever go away. But, perhaps it is this Venus Retrograde, perhaps it is my moontime right now, perhaps it is simply that I have lived a quarter century and am leaving my past behind–I am no longer willing to let my fears run my life.

Perhaps I’m not worthy of being a guide, or a writer, or a leader. But I think, perhaps, I’ll try anyway. The older I get, the more I find that helping others is what brings me the simplest, most lasting, pure joy. So I’ll follow that. And see where it leads me.


xoxo,

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may all your days end in laughter.

The ego is sneaky. It likes to think it’s the master of the house.

The ego is like the overbearing party guest who decides they need to be the center of attention, and if no one likes it, they can damn well leave the party.

Please don’t misunderstand. I’m not one of those people who think the ego needs to be destroyed. On the contrary, when people talk about “transcending the ego,” I will often be the one of the first to defend the right of the ego to have a seat at the table, being, of course, integral to our individual survival.

But I also know the ego isn’t the master of the house (the body, the life). The soul is.

Most of the time, this knowledge is purely intellectual. I can’t claim to have gotten to a point in my life when the ego is never the master of my house. The times that my soul is entirely in charge have too much distance between them, amidst the fears and anxieties of life.

However, my personal intention in my spiritual practice isn’t to cut the ego down to size, as I’ve found this to be an exhausting endeavor; my intention, rather, is to make far more frequent the amount of time the soul is in charge. This takes consistency and a healthy dose of cleverness and awareness, but is far less likely to feel like rowing upstream with a heavy wind to your face.

As I said, though, the ego is sneaky. When it’s not being the overbearing party guest, it’s being the vindictive one; the one that will let the host (the soul) think that they’ve finally got a handle on things, and then they make a few snide remarks that emotionally beat down the host and–sometimes–ruin the party.

The ego is great for taking the piss out of people (as my Australian mother would say), as well as for when a situation calls for strong defenses. Not so great, however, for situations meant to be expansive and wonderful or, at the very least, fun.


 

On Monday this week, the New Moon, I cleaned my apartment as much as I could. Keeping up with a toddler’s messes is difficult at best, and I lamented that I hadn’t yet been able to buy a new vacuum. Still, I tried my best. After a semi-stressful midafternoon trip to the library with my grouchy Lunabugs, she was sitting in front of a movie as I made dinner. My energy felt scattered, and I felt a sudden yearning for ceremony.

Those are the times I know my soul is clearing her throat and nudging me: when the yearning for ceremony becomes so great that I move without thinking. Ceremony grows out of the moment instead of feeling forced.

I found myself in front of my altar. The lights were out, except for the blue glow of the small TV that Luna watched her movie on, and my mind was already working on tuning out the sounds of Barbie – The Diamond Castle. Smoke curled up from the sage bundle I held over the central candle flame, and I waved the smoke around the room and verbally intoned a prayer of cleansing and blessing (Luna ignored me, being used to me doing this sort of stuff).

By the time I made it back to the altar, the sound of the movie barely reached my ears. My arms were out. Gratitude and love were pouring forth from my heart as I prayed to the directions, to the manifestations of the divine I connect with, to the soul of the land. I barely spoke–rather, the prayer was a feeling, unleashing in pulsing waves from every part of me. I began to caress myself, starting at my feet and working my way upward, sending these waves of love and gratitude to every part of my body as my awareness dwelled in each. I swayed and danced as I reach my torso, sang and touched my tongue and ran my fingers through my hair as I brought myself nearly to the brink of tears (I always am, when I take the time to give myself love).

When I finally reached my head/brain and turned once more towards my altar, I lit the other three candles arranged around it, and picked up my glass of red wine. I poured some into a small glass bowl with a few sprigs of rosemary in it, and held the wine aloft, unexpected words bubbling up intuitively: “To the Original Love, from which came Life.”

The glass bowl I put down, and picked up my own glass again. Luna noticed what was happening, and asked to be picked up. I hefted her onto my hip, and held the glass up. “My intention for this New Moon, for this moon phase, is to stand in the light of the Original Love. I am in the flow of the Light of the Original Love.”

I sipped some wine, then began expressing my gratitude once more to the directions, the manifestations of the Divine in my life, and to the Land. “Thank you, ____, thank you for your presence!”

Luna grabbed my face. “My presents!” She claimed. I laughed, and kept speaking my farewell; Luna kept repeating her own statement. She joined me in saying “Blessed Be” as I extinguished each candle.

I was bathed in absolute pure bliss and gratitude. My soul was the life of the party. All of my inner eyes were on her and she filled my body-house with Life and Joy. I was riding the high of the party…

then Luna “colored” with blueberry-stained yogurt in two of my favorite poetry books.

Suddenly I plunged into absolute irritation. “No!” I cried. “Not okay! You know that’s not okay! Get away from my books!” (I’m very protective of my books.) My ego grabbed the mic and plunged into streams of foul language. “Ugh, if you would just pay attention…I can’t believe you would try to do a ritual with your TODDLER present…and now look, you’ve gone from spiritually connected and love-filled to hypocritically angry…who are you kidding, you’ll never be who you want to be if you can’t keep it together for one freaking hour after a ceremony, why do you even TRY?”

As I started resentfully reading to Luna, I suddenly realized what had happened.

I had just made a very powerful intention for this moon cycle to dwell in the very energy of Original Love, and my ego FREAKED OUT.

Out of self-preservation, it flipped its lid. It went “OH NO. There’s a chance I won’t be needed anymore. Something needs to go wrong. It is going to go wrong RIGHT NOW, and it’s going to happen because you’re riding a HIGH of SACREDNESS and you haven’t grounded properly yet and you’re not paying enough attention…!”

Then when that thing did go wrong, my ego went, “Oh good, now that that went wrong, I can now insult my host so badly that they won’t ever try to be in charge of this party again, and thus my rightful place of Head Honcho will no longer be jeopardized.”

Once I realized the drama that just went on between my soul and my ego, the irritation with myself and with Luna just completely melted away. It felt like such a grand joke to play on me.

In fact, I just had a thought: the situation could even be seen as the Universe playing a joke on me. “Oh look at that, Rebecca is getting too serious again, forgetting that no matter how spiritual-y she is, Life still happens, and Life is messy…so let’s send her a reminder, eh?”

I once read something–I can’t remember where, but it’s always stuck with me–where someone said something along the lines of, “If you’re not laughing with the Universe, you don’t get the joke.”

This time I got the joke. Maybe not in time to not be upset about my poetry books, but at least I laughed at myself in the end. Oh, ego–you’re a sneaky one. And the Universe is even sneakier.

And maybe that’s one of the qualities of Original Love. It’s finding your own mistakes genuinely hilarious.

So I laughed at myself, then kept reading to Luna–this time, with more expression, more comedy, more singing, so that when I was ready to stop and eat some dinner, she was desperate for me to continue.


Think of a time when your day seemed to go from great to horrible, yet somehow you were still able to laugh.

That was your soul, back in charge.


xoxo,

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the things that make me weird.

This past week, I jumped on the bandwagon of reading Light is the New Black by Rebecca Campbell (I plan to do a review of it at a later time). One of the points she talks about in it is the fact that often what makes us ‘weird’–the parts of ourselves we sometimes feel ashamed of, or wish we could change–are often exactly the sort of qualities that support our souls, and souls’ calling. The sooner we embrace them, the better.

In this blog, I’m wanting to practice being authentically me. Embracing my whole self, rather than painting a picture of who I want to be. I’ve had a lot of blogs in the past, and though I enjoyed writing on all of them, once I stopped accepting my weird (around the same time I conceived Luna, and aaaaaall kinds of shame and emotional patterns I didn’t know I had, but that’s a story for another post), I stopped being able to consistently keep one blog going, much less one blog with authentic and quality content.

I’m hoping that by being authentically me here, I’ll inspire others to be authentically themselves, as well.

Here’s some things I wrote down during my reading of LITNB about some things that make me weird, but that I secretly love about myself, despite feeling ashamed by them when in the company of people who don’t accept my weird (in fact, I can tell these days who I actually need in my life by the level at which they accept my weird).

  • I’m more interested in solving the world’s problems with an optimistic heart. I believe that joy enhances the process and the results of the world-healing and problem-solving so many of us are trying to do.
  • I LOVE all things woo-woo, witchy, and goddessy.
  • I’d pick a kid’s movie over any other genre any day.
  • I’m interested in all people and their life stories. Judgement feels icky to me. If I don’t vibe with someone, I want to know why I feel that way, and I have the urge to have conversations with that person so that my preconceived notions can be flipped on their head. (This is a quality I’ve had to learn to balance with caution.)
  • I can be silly and serious at the same time. I love making jokes about what I’m also very serious talking about.
  • I’d rather do things that light me up inside. I feel my feelings–I can’t help to, honestly, being a Pisces Moon–but I am not the sort of person who’ll stay wallowing in them for days. I’ll have a one day pity party, and then I’m back to doing the things that make me feeling amazing. Blame it on my fun-loving Gemini Sun.
  • Laughter, hugs, and good food shared are the solution to most ills.
  • I love plans and lists, but I love to live day by day even more.
  • I feel all the things and their opposite at the same time.
  • I highly value my home life, privacy, and alone time–I need it in regular doses in order to feel centered and grounded.
  • I’m very eloquent when expressing myself in writing, but not so much when speaking out loud! Talking out loud, I can’t seem to connect my heart/head to my voicebox.
  • Hanging out in cafes, just drinking tea or coffee, and reading/writing for hours is SO FUN.
  • Walking = absolute daily necessity for sanity.
  • I value slowness, quiet, and freetime just as much as I value wildness, stimulation, and loudness.
  • Making people feel good makes me feel good; when people reject my sweetness, compliments, optimism, or silliness, I stop feeling comfortable around them.

What makes you weird? Comment below ❤

xoxo,

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