Trikonasana

I wish I were an everyday writer. I have been writing all my life, but the magic of story telling only comes to me during a pivotal point in my life or revelations. There’s something magical about the fire that burns in the bottom of my heart when I decide to write about what I feel. Maybe it’s a gift. Maybe my sensitivity and openness is a curse. Maybe it will save someone’s quality of life. Maybe it’s saving my own.

I received a hateful message this morning on Facebook from a younger cousin who has anger and alcohol problems. I should be used to the whole slut shaming and virgin/whore dichotomy by now… but for whatever reason it stung like 10,000 be stings into my intestines this morning upon awakening. My body began to tremble and my heart race with fear. I was triggered. That life threatening, survival instinct had kicked in. He talked about the well being of my child. My child, the only reason I have life at all right now. The very thing that pulled me from the gates of hell, and gave me the inspiration to fight mental illness, addiction, failure, and trauma, was my child. Is my child, I should say. I still fight these things, but I am WINNING.

Later this morning, I bowed into myself on my yoga mat in a class of thirty people or more. I have not been practicing much lately because I have been running from my fear so fast I haven’t been sleeping well or breathing well. So to finally get on my mat and be fully willing to surrender my things to do list, my anxiety about money, my fears of failure and inadequacies, was a relief.  I dropped into my breath over and over trying to let go of fearful or anxious thoughts… and then it happened. As I closed my eyes and gracefully leaned in & opened up into trikonasana (triangle pose) my heart metaphorically ripped right open to the ceiling. Tears trickled down the side of my face and onto the floor. There I was, shinning brightly, beautifully, radiantly , and I knew it! This is who I am. I am never the things I fear or what people have told me. When you are graced with that glimpse of who you are, the moment that can barely be described with words, the only option in to weep at the revelation of your own power and beauty. I’ve been running from my beauty and running from my power because it’s frightening. Frightening to think, I might just experience even greater love, even greater success. I might just fuckin pull it off again this whole “after college thing.” The fear that I will be abandoned by everyone I love if I truly fill my life with what I love and desire. The fear that if I don’t have another degree or save some children in Africa, that I’ll disappoint everyone who has cheered me on.

I am so scared, but as I stepped back like an acrobatic dancer into down dog & whipped myself back upside down into wild thing… I almost yelled out loud as I said in my head with my eyes closes, “THIS IS MY BODY. THIS IS MYYYYYYY BODY. THIS IS MINE!!!!! THIS IS MY LIFE. THIS IS MY HEART! THIS IS MINEEEEEEEE!!!!!” But, I just whispered it to myself. This is the yoga. It never fails. Somatic therapy. Connection to something greater. Tapping into power.

I have so much more to say on what was said in that message & my experience of female objectification and parenting, but I am really excited about organizing my room right now and shaking my ass to some dub step. … until next time.