Amour-propre vs. Amour de Soi

Let’s be honest. Some days are harder to love your body. That statement is not gender, age or sexual orientation specific. Some days it’s really hard to love your body. Well, I think it’s time that we start a revolution and it all comes down to using your body for what you love and not for expectations. 

I have often used humor to overcome my pockets of self-doubt. I have feigned confidence so often, that my sister was bold enough to twist the knife last week. While waiting in line for a water slide on a day that I was avoiding mirrors at all costs, my siblings and I began to share battle wound stories of scars claimed before. I am usually the 1^st prize champion of these types of assemblies, and mid conversation, my sister says, “smile!” I do, because well, my smile is the most charming version of crooked and she sticks a finger to my lip opposite cleft side and pushes it up to align with the other. Now, I must have reacted because she instantly retracted this gesture with a list of her own flaws and I realized my humor as well as my disgust with the flaw show had sent us on the wrong track. 

It turns out that joking about our scarred faces, bootylicious figures and features that we compare to Tim Burton characters is counter intuitive to those around us that we aim to inspire. Are we not taking a huge step back posting half naked pictures of the lbs. that we shed on social media or nodding along with girlfriends in despair of jeans that won’t zip? What if that sister or brother of yours soaks in all those details on a day that is REALLY hard to love their body?

Don’t get me wrong, be PROUD of body transformations. Be open to humor that avoids personal expense. The world is very realistically our stage these days so let’s take a moment to consider what our playwright is saying about our world. What kind of recognition matters deep down and where can you seek that by living the best damn life that you can? 

I challenge you this. What, to you, is the best damn life that you can live? How will your body help you get there? How can we as a community, inspire each other to be bold, resilient, strong, confident and worthy? Be thoughtful in every piece of bodily language that leaves your beautiful symmetric or asymmetric lips. Be thoughtful of every joke, conversation and photo and instead be a chameleon of passion. Change your mind to suit your passion, not your body. Today it might be hard, but together we are ready.

Starburst, Hockey, and other Life Lessons

Last week I tried these mini Starburst candies that come unwrapped and bagged. There was something about the lack of effort that it took to consume these candies that turned me off. I mean, all of this sugar and gelatinous intake is much more rewarding when there is detailed and chosen work to precede. The payoff is so much sweeter when the effort is there. 

I loathe the fact that I have just used a “Wrigley” product as a metaphor for life, but you have to find the teacher in what you can. Take my brother for example; my brother turns 15 this month and he is amidst a lifestyle change that will allow him to follow his dreams. Dreams? At 15 you may ask? When I was 15 I was playing out a modern Shakespearean tragedy where the heroin kept her tear ducts intact with a magnitude of black eye liner while holding up a cardboard sign that said “anywhere but here.” 

 

My brother is moving to live with a host family that will provide him the means to play for a national youth hockey team. I still remember whispering in my toddler brother’s ear, “this is the secret to life little buddy…you go to the ocean every chance you can get, you dabble in any sport that involves a board, don’t mess with girls and you will play hockey.” Little did I know that through this front tooth shattering sport that my brother would learn and project a sense of humble passion. He would look out for his brothers. He would develop strength and agility of the body and mind. He would experience rejection and, damnit, he would come out better. Through it all, he would maintain an air about him cool as a kiwi (cucumbers are not my thing). 

My brother’s life highway has hills, but so far he has started by foot, been offered a bike, shrugged and said “sure.” Got a flat, enjoyed the freedom from the bike. Hitched a ride, enjoyed the company. The ride ends, he embraces the opportunity for exercise… I’m not alluding to optimism alone, but more to acceptance of the journey. When we dedicate our lives to an activity that fills our soul and the travel is not a steady and manageable incline, how do we stay committed to a balanced and confident life? 

Swami Satchidananda would say, “If you feel bound, you are bound. If you feel liberated, you are liberated. Things outside neither bind nor liberate you; only your attitude towards them does.” This concept of course becomes a greater challenge when personal loss, self-worth, career or relationship comes in to play. Practice with me. Practice one “set back” at a time. If you didn’t make the team in this situation of life; how will it make you better?  How will you decide to protect your brothers and sisters? How will you inspire yourself through this experience to strengthen your body and mind? And through it all…how will you stay as coooool as a kiwi.

Emotional Debt Free, 0% Interest

No one owes us. I remember sitting at the hospital next to my rehabilitating boyfriend senior year of high school for months and when he woke up angry, my mom said, “he doesn’t owe you, Chelsea.” I looked at her as if she just spoke for the first time. Shock. Awe. Wonder. Brilliance. He doesn’t owe me. 

The situations may become more petty, but not always easier when we continue to remind ourselves that no one owes us. I mean this to the most literal sense…you gave someone $5 yesterday, live as if they don’t owe you. You spent 5 years in a relationship that left you in a single bedroom apartment with divided things? Your significant other doesn’t owe you a thing, not even the missing chair to your dining room set. You’ve moved away from your home town? New friends and old friends do not owe you a thing. Anyone, I mean anyone that you’ve done favors, spent time or energy on…these beings do. Not. Owe. You.

Ok, let me explain my broken record. Do everything you do because you crave a higher sense of good. When the time comes that you need something in return, surround yourself with those that also fight fearlessly for health and well-being and subconsciously bring this to you. Know when it’s time to leave something  behind. May every reaction be classy and a true projection of you. Remove disgust, hurt, resentment and guilt rom your emotional repertoire. They tend to spoil things like pride, flexibility and resilience. Be resilient. 

If you begin to live this way, you begin to take control of your own happiness. You are the master of what you project and what you take in. I hope you know, I never once mentioned that this was easy.  If you are projecting much more than you’re taking in right now, then celebrate your abilities and fill your cup wherever you can. And sometimes you have to cry or scream or yell, “SOB!!!!” but…let these moments be minimal. When we free ourselves of those that “owe” us, we open the doors to many other things. Sometimes the things we find instead are most beautiful.

Stay Hungry

The ocean and I go way back. Just like so many before me and surely more to come after, this magnificent body of water became the container for my escape plans. I still find myself creating these tactics to run and sometimes I wonder if it will take the right person or the right mind set or if I am just hard wired for dreaming.

You’ll never find any knock to dreaming on this blog. What you will find is an exploration of letting go. Finding contentment. Relieving expectations. My life recently has been an abstract form of art. Maybe not how I expected it to look, but something intriguing and wonderful has come out of it. Odd things suddenly fall into perfect placement. Or is it that I’ve given my life up to the universe and take everything handed to me with a new ease?

A new ease doesn’t mean it’s always easy. If you too have been genetically or behaviorally designed to run, build walls or hold up your bicep and say “I can do it!” then read on. We are not flawed, we are merely curious. Life to me is as questionable as the cosmos and even when I get exactly what I wanted, I continue to inquire.

Finally, my constant exploration has started to make sense. I fought for so many years to believe that any form of dependency was weakness. I now know that this only makes you hard. Allow yourself to give in to the true desires that vibrate in your core. Just like we do in restorative yoga, give in to sensation and allow yourself to dive in to the benefits even when you are screaming like hell from the inside to get out.

Let yourself love. I never had any problem with loving; it came way too naturally to me sometimes. I mean LET yourself love. It doesn’t matter if its a person place or thing, let yourself do it. I have the honor this year of officiating the wedding of two individuals who began to shift my definition of love when I was 19. Today I received some of their thoughts on love and marriage. I asked them how they knew he/she was the one. They had many charming reasons, but my favorite came from Corey. “You’re a dreamer, and I bring you back down to Earth. Someone has to do it.” Whoever. Whatever. Wherever you let yourself love, let it bring out the best version of yourself. Do not stop being who you are. Fight fiercely to stay hungry for what makes you burn brightest. Keep dreaming, but let someone hold your hand to keep you near the ground.  

I am only five months into my budding romance. Lately I have been feeling out of balance from my “single girl” routine. Less grocery shopping, more eating out. Less yoga, more play. Less cleaning, more disorganization. Today I came home to a spotless apartment and my favorite “paper towel” love note. I’ve been telling him that one person does not give you happiness, they only fit into that space. He’s not convinced yet, but he’s willing to try. If I can give in and cry over vacuumed floors and paper towel love notes, and if he can experiment with my yogic ideals, then maybe together we will stay hungry.

Are you hungry yet readers?

 

The Ex Games

In my relationships prior to this year I survived on an air of mystery. I could be brutally honest in matters pertaining to the heart when it was recorded in writing but my verbal strategy was to remain silent until a bomb needed dropping. I don’t know if this line of attack actually worked because it led me to something beautiful or if I just learned to find beauty in the most unexpected places. 

My move to Colorado gave me a luxurious opportunity to move towards a no bullshit kind of dating. If you choose to stand in my arena, our goal is to engage in peaceful combat with the sole intention of enjoying each other. The second you lose that, it’s time to send in the next victim. This new lifestyle put me entirely in control which worked out beautifully until I was surprise attacked by a game changer. My rules have vanished in mid-air and I’m left without a weapon in sight. I’m shining at the challenge and the 20 year old version of me would probably gag at the romance I’m capable of these days. 

As a silent assassin of a girlfriend in my past, I was able to maintain communication (or at least encounters not involving lethal weapons) with most of my ghosts of boyfriends past. There is one exception to this scenario and at the peachy age of 26, I’m now starting to question if he is the mastermind behind it all. 

That brings me to the ex games of 2013. 

With the omission of those that are born with the commitment bone, the majority of relationships from elementary to enlightenment have a built in back up plan. Most conveniently, this back up plan generally consists of an ex. I’m not pointing fingers here. Highschool I had a bench of “best guy friends.” These 2^nd line heart throbs fulfilled me emotionally where I was lacking elsewhere (Insert shameful head drop). When I was cheated on in college, I called my previous boyfriend bawling and apologizing (insert shudder). When we date but are unsure, we send random notes, we stalk, we flirt; we entertain ideas. 

I’ve always envisioned a partner that would hold my back-up plans in his fist until they turned to sand; he would throw my insecurities to the wind and we would dive in. Reality check. The point of change exists when a back-up plan is no longer worth your time because you are willing to compromise or completely banish any thought of not finding fulfillment where you stand. It’s the most heart breaking, thrilling aspect of a love life that I have encountered to this day. Although I may have come close in the past, I’m taking one this challenge on step at a time. I will have one, sole misty little plan and if it doesn’t  work out, I will have one hell of an adventure; just as I have in my past. Can you really say that you haven’t enjoyed every moment of fleeting love lessons from your past? Even the unbearable hurt has led you here and even an unknown path is a wonderful place to be. 

No one wins the ex games. The finest way to finalize in your category is to share only your genuine joy for your past. Wish only happiness. Send only positive intentions. Dive into your new life with the understanding that the past will eventually move on. If you step into a new role with a veil of fear over your new bond, then instead of a long distance runner, become a sprinter. Sprint your way to the core of where you find YOURSELF and then sprint your way back to the one person that will change you and shape you into the best version of yourself. 

If sprinting fails, then sit down with your friendly gurus and listen. Actually listen. Sierrah would say, “Maybe this will end in catastrophe…or maybe you will love the shit out of him/her for as long as you can.”

Lessons from life; Grandpa Paul

Death to me has been a scarcity and a factor of spontaneity in my life thus far. Or maybe it has been for all of us. What I’m trying to say is, with the exception of my stunning great grandmother who reminded us that she was ready and lived a gorgeous amount of years, every person I have lost came as a shock. When dealing with shock and a lifelong hesitation about religion, you must find serenity in another form. 

In this realm, nature has never failed me. When we lost Lauren in her adolescence and I didn’t understand, I walked and walked until I felt her in the sunshine. When Mallory made a decision that took her from this Earth I took in the reflections of the water until I decided to keep living for her. Today as I collapsed beside my car, Fall leaves started falling at a rapid pace and circling and cycloning me until I looked up and saw the perfect opening in the clouds above Chautauqua mountain. Today I lost my grandfather. My first grandparent to lose and I know that he will continue to exist in the beauty of this world. 

I always thought that the lucky ones were aware when the end is near, when it’s time to say goodbye. But are we not all given this gift? From the moment we enter this Earth, should we live as if we are bidding farewell? My Grandpa Paul (or Pa Paul as Ethan coined and my Grandpa shined his smirk of approval) was hands down the smartest man I have ever known. He was medically, musically and intellectually sound and as a child I remember debating whether to find this terrifying or incredibly fascinating. From my earliest memory, I remember my Grandpa Paul speaking to me as if I were an intellect myself. I used to choose my phrases wisely to try to impress this man and luckily for me I was always encouraged by his awe in my own abilities. Despite any darkness that ever surrounded his life, I remember my Grandpa as a piano playing, towering comic that could converse for hours and loved to show me secrets from his past lives. I’m so glad to have known these insights. 

I was never able to speak to my Grandpa about my current career choice, but I would have loved to hear his thoughts on yoga’s representation of starting over. We begin every class as a child and we end every class in death, an ending, a re-birth. We thank the individuals in the room for being our teachers. We leave our mats and we come back again. How do we explain then, when a journey actually comes to an end? How do we find peace with final, final savasana? The answer is already there. We seek the teacher in our loss. My Grandpa will live through the lessons that he taught my mother and my aunts and uncle. He will live through the lessons that were passed down to me. He will live through the lessons that I continue to share. 

This entry is not about seeking sympathy or begging hungry readers to speak love more often. This entry is celebration of a life and lesson learned. It’s remembering to live on the way my Grandpa lived. Embrace music and create impactful sounds. Laugh loudly at the Lake. Ask questions and never lose your intellect. Share what you have. Find a way to show your oldest daughter that you care, even during your last few breaths. 

Rest in the grandest of peace, Pa Paul. 11.13.13