Celebration

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What if I lean into celebration to recalibrate my cells?

Noticing what is vs. what is not.

What is present vs. what is missing.

What is inherent in me vs. what is perceived to be lacking.

I welcome deep reprogramming from all directions : past, present and future. Receiving the love that I have been unable to let in.

My nose has been pressed against the glass searching for the imperfections, the shortcomings, the gap of where I am and where I want to be. Completely missing the inherent magic in right where I am.

I am coming into deep acceptance of myself and opening up to love in all forms.

“It is not the weight you carry but how you carry it : books, bricks, grief – all in the way you embrace it, balance it, carry it.”

-Mary Oliver from the poem Heavy

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Creative Expression

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I was asked by the mighty Marie of Move It Studio to lead her teachers in an afternoon exploring the relationship between self care and creative expression. This was an utter joy. Here is what I wrote in preparation of our time together, very much inspired by where I have been, and all I am learning from Anahita Joon while in a 6 month feminine leadership program.

It is a sacred act to engage with creativity. It can transport you beyond time and space. It can become a prayer.

We are conditioned that creativity as a means to express one’s heart is frivolous. It is devalued in a world that favors productivity.

Therefore, it is a radical act to engage with your spirit while you create. What can lay quiet as you go about the day : you will begin to hear the longings within. You will allow your energy to flow and invite the receptive part of you to lead.

I am happiest when I am in a practice of my own creative expression. Even though I KNOW this, I still let my paintbrushes go unused, my jewelry supplies lay dormant, words that would love the release of pen to paper instead swirl in my mind, my body begs to dance.

“But it is not practical, worthy of my time.” my mind quips.

I am luckiest when I listen to my heart who says, “Sweetheart, go ahead and make something that wasn’t there before. Delight in the process.” Then I make for the sake of the release it provides, and the inner dialogue begins to shift.

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Tender Transmutation

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Please transmute the pain, the grief, the sadness that has gathered from my attempts to hold it all.

Bring me to the end of this thread that has run its story. Let it be complete. I see that the heaviness is intertwined with comfort : because it is familiar. Let me find sweetness in the unknowing.

Allow these subtle structures that are crumbling be an invitation to receive exquisite support. I open myself up to genuinely receive it.

Let my cries for something other than what is be a prayer for what is coming.

Let the guilt for my repeated mistakes dissolve and in its place : forgiveness.

Let me stand firm in my center and not be swallowed by the world around me. There is enough room for me and I will not be crowded out.

Let me feel the rawness of the elements as they cleanse, rather than resist to what feels painful.

Transmute the perceived harshness into tenderness, please.

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Healing

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Comes in many forms, and beauty is a radical act of healing for me. Both creating it, and receiving it.

I go to incredible lengths to seek it. Mostly long drives that feel like pilgrimages. Every time I arrive I feel held, I feel a sense of harmony, I hear myself exhale, sometimes tears well up, and I quietly observe everyone around me as they attempt to capture the essence of the beauty that surrounds us.

Because my spirit grows weary from the amount I hold, and I feel waves of incredible sadness roll over me. Because the tenderness of life pierces me and because most of the time I just want to be held. I need to be awash in color, in sweetness, in creativity, in the devotion it takes to keep a space divinely tended too. This medicine revitalizes me.

I suppose the next step might be : EMBODYING it and noticing it in the mundane.

Until then the places that currently spark this deep within me are : Longwood Gardens, Terrain / Anthropologie, (PA) and Prema Yoga Clinton Hill Boutique / The Barn Upstate, ABC Carpet, + Shelter Island (NY), and Italy….

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The Shame of Hiding

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It eventually became so comfortable, I couldn’t imagine unearthing from my invisibility cloak.

When my third child was born I put myself on the bench.

He tipped the scales, and I didn’t have a strong infrastructure to hold it all.

Within self preservation : a part of me died. A release of the current self in order to evolve.

I am reassembling the parts, for I feel I have replaced one of my own limbs with a baby for these past 16 months.

Like a game of hide and seek, I was desperately waiting for someone to find me. The more I waited for that external discovery, the more I realized no one was looking for me. Except for myself. I was frantically searching as I understood : I get to set myself free.

It is me who gets to step off of the sidelines and get back into the game. To claim with arms wide open :

HERE I AM.

I needed time to heal, and I will continue to mend, but I wish for it to be more of a dance : expressing and resting, both vitally important and a healthy exchange.

For right now I’m ready to enter back into my life in a meaningful + engaged way. With my three children witnessing me as I step back in.

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Compassionate Revolution

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She was hungry; I fed her.

She was thirsty; I offered her something to drink.

She was tired; I let her rest.

She was sad; I felt her tears stream down.

She was desperate to move; I let her shake her hips.

She was filled with rage; I let her scream.

She was tired of hiding; I found her.

She was me.

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