Tag Archives: authenticity

Keep Singing

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The voice clearly said
Bring your guitar and sing them the song.
And she shook her head, thinking, No way.
But the voice repeated
Bring your guitar, and sing them the song.
They went back and forth a few more times,
until she acquiesced.
She brought her guitar, she sang them the song.
And then silence…
So she asked the voice
Why would you have me sing
if they didn’t even acknowledge the song?

And the voice said,
It’s not about them, darling,
It’s about how you relate to yourself
when you step outside your box
and let your voice be heard.
Now, keep singing.

A Single Mother’s Prayer

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Dear God,
Thank you for this day.
Thank you for waking me up again.
Thank you for giving me strength
to make it through,
even when I’m tired, sick,
and all I want to do is rest.
Thank you for helping me to be
the most loving mom I can be to my kids,
for tending to their needs joyfully, patiently,
and with gratitude that I was blessed with children
(even when sometimes I wish I weren’t!).
Thank you for cleansing my heart
of envy when I see husbands
taking care of their wives
with love in their eyes.
Help me to embrace my loneliness,
so that if it is your will one day,
I might celebrate partnership again.

Fill In the Blanks

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Insert something inspiring here:

________________________________

And then something motivational:

________________________________

Something that’s going to get you really excited about your life:

_________________________________

Something uplifiting:

________________________________

Something that makes your heart dance:

________________________________

Sit quietly with these questions.
Go deep and go strong.
Fill in the blanks with answers that ring true.
Then stand at the mirror and look into your own eyes,
and give yourself permission to believe
that your answers are valuable.
Because they are.
Never forget this.

It Had to Happen

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I know now that it had to happen.
I’ve come to this realization before,
so bear with me, but you know how this works.
We keep circling and circling and circling back
to the same old stuff until one day we get it,
and we can finally set off on a new trajectory.
It had to happen.
I was comfortable, and comfort was making me complacent.
I knew deep down I was meant for more.
I longed to be met at my depth,
to be seen and held and loved by someone capable
of seeing my value and loving the woman that I was.
It wasn’t happening, and a part of me grieved deeply.
It wasn’t happening, and I resigned myself to a love
not quite deep enough to be congruent with my true nature.
I yearned for more, so deeply in my heart I yearned,
and a voice said that I was fooling myself,
that such a love wasn’t possible in this world.
I was determined to do the work inside myself,
to search for where I felt unmet and dissatisfied,
and discover how I could meet and satisfy myself.
Hence the meditation, the writing, the reading,
the sewing, the knitting, the kombucha making,
the therapy, the workshops, the trainings,
the research, the practice, the commitment to arete.
I secretly thought I was doing him a favor
putting up with his lack of depth, his lack of vision,
his inability to penetrate me fully to the core of my being,
to flower me open to bigger possibilities,
to take me open to God.
Well if this is it, I told myself,
then I may as well make the most of it.
So I kept going.
And then it happened.
He dumped me. ME.
Me, the mother of his children.
ME, his WIFE.
Me, his yoga teacher.
Me, his partner, his best friend.
He threw me away.
It had to happen.
It took a while, but I see this now.
At times I look jealously at intact families,
and I’m triggered by what was stolen from me.
But then my new mindset arrives and reminds me
It had to happen.
The comfort was making me complacent.
I had to be made extremely uncomfortable
to be forced out of this nest, this cocoon,
this cage of material wealth,
where my needs for food, clothing and shelter were met,
and the price I paid for it all was my authentic happiness.
I look back on who I was and I shudder.
I look forward to who I know I will be and I shiver.
I look within to the one I am now and I smile,
at peace with the fact that sooner or later,
it had to happen.



You’ve Got Some Digging To Do

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Really, dude? Trolling my blog? Really?
Why didn’t you care to read my words before?
Like when you said you loved me,
like when we shared a bed
and shared meals
and days and years together?
Why now?
All those years of putting my writing down,
minimizing my need for self-expression,
and NOW you are interested?
Go ahead then. I’m flattered.
You cannot shame me anymore.
Your tactics will not work.
When you left
I was devastated…
and I fell down, down, down.
I fell all the way down to the bottom,
and now I’m building up.
Breath by breath,
step by step,
day by day,
I’m getting stronger
and closer to discovering the real me.
Your blustery words cannot harm me.
Your storms and threats,
all that hot air cannot shake me—
my foundation built on rock
holds firm.
At some point,
the sands you’ve built on will shift.
The slights of hand,
the illusions,
everything you’ve used
to portray yourself
as something you are not
will fall away
and the truth will be revealed.
At that point I’ll lend you
my pick and my shovel,
’cause son, if you want a firm foundation like mine,
you’ve got some digging to do.

I Love Myself: A Mantra

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I love myself
I love myself
I love myself

Try repeating this mantra
while you breathe
deeply and slowly

Try standing in your strength,
rooting down,
stretching up,
breathing,
repeating

I love myself
I love myself
I love myself


What will happen
in the space of
inspiration,
when love is what is
felt on the inside?

What will happen
in the release of
exhalation,
when love is what is
expressed outwardly
as truth?

What if you knew your truth
would help others?
Would you speak it?

I love myself
I love myself
I love myself.


What would it feel like
if you really believed it?
What would it sound like
if you could really mean it?

What would your life be like
if you allowed yourself to really dream it?

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Inspired by Kamal Ravikant’s book “Love Yourself Like Your Life Depends On It.” I find the cover art pretty triggering, let me say…but don’t we sometimes need strong images to wake us up to the truth? Self-love saves lives. I found it well worth the read. I will read it again. I have been practicing the mantra for months, and began teaching it to my students this past month. It’s powerful to work with the mind in this way, to train it to reach for a better thought. The best thought…the one that could save your life, and the lives of those around you.

Authenticity, Safety, and Purpose: Some Thoughts on the WHYs of This Blog

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Today I’ve spent a great deal of time in my head mulling over the virtue of being fully disclosed, vulnerable, and authentic as we reveal our humanity to one another, versus the way we’ve been conditioned to hide what we think will make others uncomfortable—so that we can pretend we’re okay, and just sweep things under the rug, and just get on with our lives. This blog has been a space where I’ve purposefully made myself vulnerable, 1)As a space to explore my feelings in what I considered to be relative anonymity, because, honestly, no one in my life has ever really given a crap about this blog, so no one I know personally has ever followed it, and 2)As a way to connect with other humans who are interested in exploring the depths of feeling and being along with me.

Recently, however, multiple people have cautioned me against disclosing too much, and now I’m grappling with the idea that I might have to succumb to this societal proclivity to play nice, whistle a cheerful tune, and lay low until the storms have blown over…or worse, I’ll have to just suck it up, push my difficult feelings down, and be on my own with them until the storms have blown over. In either case, I’ll not be able to express myself authentically as I have been doing, and that feels just plain wrong. I have come to look forward to this time of sharing, reaching out, and connecting with the humans in this space who are brave enough to stand with me in the truth of what it means to be fully, consciously alive.  I have come to value immensely the words of empathy and encouragement from those readers who have taken the time to comment and let me know that I’m not posting in a void, but there are actual, real people, reading my actual, real words, and my words mean something to them, evoke something in them…

Where do I go from here?  In light of the recent trolling, the sense of safety I experienced in the past has been dashed to pieces, and I’m being pushed to make decisions out of fear of legal consequences.  I’m full of questions and the answers aren’t forthcoming.  I was given the argument “But your blog is public,” as a reason for why I should never have felt safe disclosing my personal thoughts and feelings; I was always running the risk of someone I knew reading what I had written, a risk that hardly bothered me at all. I always thought to myself, “If someone I know reads what I’ve written, good then, they’ll know how I really feel.  They’ll know I’m human.”  To have the potential for unpleasant legal consequences thrown in my face in an attempt to deter me from honestly sharing my experience feeds into the belief that we shouldn’t be real with one another, being real is unacceptable, being real is criminal, telling the truth of our experience is undesirable, etc. AUGHH.  Or how about this one—we can only be real with certain people, safe people, and everyone else gets a persona, a fabrication of a false self that will do the trick of navigating social interactions while hiding the deeper truth that waits in all of us to be expressed.  

No wonder our society is rampant with addiction! We’re being told constantly that only some parts of us are wanted and acceptable. Only some parts are worthy of being shared.  All of the other parts get stuffed down, and while we’re pushing and pushing against them to keep them down, these unwanted, unacceptable, unlovable parts are pushing and pushing back at us to be expressed.  We use any number of addictive behaviors to numb those parts down so that they don’t give us so much grief, but they remain there beneath the surface, clamoring for attention and starting their push to escape once the anesthetic wears off.

I made a conscious choice long ago not to play the addiction game. Decades of journaling and seven years of therapy, over a year of twelve step meetings and lots of sharing on Facebook, Instagram, and here has given me a sense of absolute responsibility to show up as my full self, regardless.  This is my LIFE for God’s sake! Agreeing to back down now feels like a serious integrity breach, especially when, if you back away from the situation and look in, nothing that I’ve written is earth-shattering, nothing will sully anyone’s reputation…I’m just an ordinary woman writing about my ordinary life, and the fact that there are a few people out there who give a damn about it has been a beautiful bonus.  Give that up now, when most other outlets for self-expression have fallen away? NO!

I don’t know what’s next. I’m going to think some more about this and decide if YogaMom should go on an extended hiatus while I figure my shit out…and then I can come back as YogaMom 2.0…and focus more on healthy lifestyle crap instead of my mental/emotional crap. Ugh. Would that serve anyone, though? Would privately working through the ugly dark night of my soul and waiting until I got “better” to post again actually help anyone? I’m inclined to believe that our pain links us to one another and reminds us that in this crazy game of life no one is spared devastation and annihilation…and when Life wants you to transform, it will do it to you, regardless of how ready you are or not.  Sharing my story was a way for me to reach out and invite others to see that they are not alone in their own personal hell, but in fact, I am right there with them.  I’ve been operating within the vision that at some point I will get better, and anyone interested can follow along and watch as this happens, and that perhaps my journey will help others who are suffering to see that they can get through their devastation one day at a time, just like me.

Maybe, though, it’s time to just be honest with myself.  My posts may have helped nothing and no one.  They may have just been moments of self-indulgence, clear evidence that I don’t have enough maturity to process these difficult feelings on my own and therefore need to “over share.” I just don’t know. I probably need to back away a least a little bit to gain some clarity over what purpose my posts were truly serving.  If they are not bringing value to the lives of others, then it’s probably time for them to stop…