Plant Your Garden

Spring is here! It's action time. Now you plant the seeds for what you wish to grow. What is left after the deepening Winter rumination? There were many little deaths of what was complete. You gazed upon the baron field of ties that no longer work or what has lost its usefulness with a keen and sober eye.

Now the open field is fertile. Well worn, soft and ready to receive the seeds of what's to come. Listen to the little voice that called to you from that thumb-sized cave inside your heart. What does that little voice say? The earth wants to know your dreams now. It wants to feel your fire, for the actions you take in Spring are swift and instant. It's time to be bold with your wants; with your actions.

As for me, I wait still, but with intent and with purpose. My discoveries have revealed mostly my need for freedom, but also connection. I found my passion for culture and travel in a grounded way where I could deepen my relationships with old and new friends. I visited neighborhoods unlike my own, yet walking the familiar path of daily tasks and joy seeking. More of this, please.

I want more "let's go!" more eye gazing, hand holding, laughter and simplicity. More cafes with chatter in the background, more nature trips in wild places, more conversation, food sharing and errands we can do together. More exploring on my own (thank you Waze and Google Maps) in between routines of exercise, making meals and meditation. These were my points of interest. The living life that I have read about in books.

More YES. More travel. More adventure. More play. More of me in the present moment. More and more of me. That's what I want.

When in Maui, I ate a papaya that was bigger than my head for breakfast. I found it in my friends' garden. It was sweet, juicy and delicious. I ate it all. I did not hesitate. I swam naked. In rivers, in the ocean, in the warmth of the sun. I took ecstatic dance classes and restorative yoga.

When in Paris, I walked in the rain on cobblestone, found a secret bar behind a taco place, drank coffee and champagne. I ate whipped cream, croissants and brioche. I saw great architecture, art and brushed by Anna Wintour in a hallway at the Ritz during fashion week. I practiced yoga in French.

When in the Bay Area I walked steep hills, went to a Turn On, attended an interview at City Arts and Lectures by Roxane Gay. I opened my mind, ate pizza, took spinning and hot yoga. Chatted with friends old and new.

I spent time with my friends, went to school basketball games, was served yerba mate and babysat. I cohabitated with many animals, mostly cats and dogs. I attended many funerals.

I meditated exercised and journaled daily for grounding. Everything else was up in the air.

Today I plant a seed here with you.
More please.
More of me.
More connection.
More joy.
More play.
More freedom.
More YES.
More fruit that is bigger than my head.

Making Space

Creating. Producing. Working. Making. Doing. Consuming. Maintaining. Achieving. Striving. Providing. Fulfilling. Protecting.

This life can become a conveyor belt of actions, automatically re-energizing and defining who we have always been. At times, it becomes important to strike out and declare an identity. I am! What happens when the opposite occurs? When the need to release and let go creates an ego death that outweighs the productivity design, you must heed the call. I find myself here today.

I am a natural born doer. Even as a girl, I could never zone out to the television screen, but would require a number of tactile projects to occupy more of me. This feels like a primary need to me, resulting in great productivity. However, when what I do becomes who I am, the pressure to keep doing is equivalent to survival. The question arises: Who am I when I stop and become still, the way that I teach you to do? What happens when the teacher becomes the student again?

Relief.

I stop. I become stillness. Stillness inevitably becomes movement. Life is cyclical and nothing is static. I am in a constant dance of becoming. There is no such thing as emptiness, because all of life is a movement. I begin to feel moved by nature. Not by my need to prove myself, or to keep what I have. I allow myself to let go; to release what I think I know. I hold space for something new to bubble up. I feel my own nervous energy and become more attuned to it; more comfortable with the feeling of the internal buzzing that charges my body like caffeinated consciousness. Something rises that isn't me, but it lives within me. Is it my spirit, my life force, or nature?

Breathe.

The way the light hits the building across the street. The cacophony of voices in the upscale coffee place where I write. My empty belly. The self I see tapping at the computer, mining my mind for a jewel of a thought. Who am I to say what is valuable? Streams of thoughts running through me and rivers of people passing by my eyes. I feel a part of. Today is a day when I feel merged with all. I feel no desire to define myself with achievement. I watch and I wait for the inspiration. Today it wants me to be present in the moment as a practice. I don't doubt or question. I trust it. I trust my path. I trust that this is where I belong.

It doesn't look like what is expected of me. It looks like a woman with a well-worn face, but feels like a little girl who is her own parent. It looks like someone you remember for some reason, someone you once knew in school...or maybe someone you've seen before, a friend of a friend. She reminds you of something. Was she your teacher? Was she your entertainment? Was she your support system? Your guide? A memory of....something you can't quite place.

Being. Allowing. Releasing. Opening. Sitting. Receiving. Feeling. Not-doing. Meditating. Waiting. Listening. Merging.

Making Space.