Category: 21 Day Challenge

21 Day Body Love Challenge – Knee Deep

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Upside down

“Ankles are nearly always neat and good-looking, but knees are nearly always not.” – Dwight D. Eisenhower

I love my knees. That is to say I love what they can do and how long they have lasted without much ado. I am not a fan of how they look so much. Knees in general are not often the objects of ardor. They’re like ears, functional and little odd looking and we’re all super glad we have them but don’t often flaunt them.

As a child I could not be tethered to the indoors. Once called in from playing outside for dinner I would sit with one foot pointing toward the door, half off the chair, ready to bolt back to my game of tag or baseball or throwing locusts at each other. Dinner was for adults, I was in, I was out.

With tree climbing, roller skating down slides, hanging upside down on monkey bars and swings and riding my bike really, really fast, my knees didn’t stand a chance. There was always something healing, bandaged, covered in Bactine, bruised or freshly scraped. Often all of the above at once. My father was an artist and for my 8th birthday he made me a card – almost life sized. It was a caricature of me that he had strung a tiny diamond heart necklace on. I was wearing shorts and a t-shirt – matching Danskin blue and white, if you must know – and on each elbow, knee and shin were band-aids. The gift came with the caveat, “Do not wear this outside.” Well then, where should I where it? Around the house in my finest pajamas? It lasted 2 weeks. Gone. He really should have known better.

At some point in my childhood I realized I walked a little pigeon-toed, my mother as well. My father, with his high ideas about beauty, probably mentioned some misgiving about our less than parallel feet. I took this as something that needed correction. I began to walk like a duck to overcorrect. It worked mostly and my feet are now both pointing in the same direction, but in the process I rearranged the cartilage in my knees producing a relief map of the Utah desert. Flat land punctuated by mesas and phallic rock formations. They look like they should hurt, but they don’t, they’re just interesting.

They have never given me issues, other than being skinless for my first 20 years or so, until this past February. I asked too much of them. I put them on a nine hour flight to London, then walked them for 48 hours straight so that I could see absolutely every last crevice, crack and castle before heading off to India for 2 weeks. Mr. Right Knee was very argumentative that first day, he warned me. He said, take the tube, or a cab, or just sit a while. I didn’t listen, I rarely do, but I am learning. For two weeks in India I limped along, barely able to do yoga in the mornings – and it was a yoga trip – and wincing hiking up and down hills, but I soldiered on. Recovery would have to wait until I returned home.

He’s better now,  Mr. Right Knee, but he’s a little disappointed in me. I know now that my body parts only have my best interests at heart. During the whirlwind in London I had a great time, but it’s the moments I was still that I remember feeling like I was THERE. I must have taken 45 pictures of Big Ben, almost all from the same angle, in an effort to absorb it, to ground myself to that time and place. That’s all Mr. Knee wanted. He wanted to rest and he wanted me to get it. I do.

The knee with its complicated system of ligaments and tendons, cartilage and plates and shifting this and floating that is both vulnerable to serious injury and incredibly strong. Its life can be altered or snatched away with a single wrong move, but it can also carry us forward, keep us upright, bend in proposal and fold under us in prayer. It is an appropriate and beautiful metaphor for life itself. And it deserves the same attention and care.

Life is messy. My knees are messy. And while I may not appreciate their aesthetics, I truly love their endurance and strength. I love my silly knees with their extra layer of protection on the inside and their craggy terrain on top. They’ve got a face only a mother could love and I’m that mom.

“I run like I have cirrus clouds for legs and rainbow knees. What is  life, if not a marathon of love?” – Jarod Kintz

 

21 Day Body Love Challenge – ‘Gam’orous

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“Darling, the legs aren’t so beautiful, I just know what to do with them.” Marlene Dietrich

I love my ankles, calves and shins. I include shins because of the three, my shins have taken the biggest beating and survived to tell great stories.

There are two body parts I know my father was very particular about on a woman. Oh, come on, it’s my dad! They were thin, delicate ankles and a long, graceful neck. In short, he would have been very happy with a swan. I never really understood the ankle thing, I mean, they’re pretty utilitarian, a juncture between the miraculous feet and, well, everything else. But then I met a woman who referred to hers as cankles. This would be the clever term for thick ankles denoting that her very calves have melted into her ankles.

To me, she looked like she had ankles. In her view, she had suffered through high school and college, hiding her ankles beneath long pants and socks. She had lost weight to the point of starvation, yet her cankles mocked her, diminishing nary a centimeter. Finally one day she realized she had the exact same legs as her mother and her two older sisters. They were all married, all happy and seemed to be oblivious to their plight. She realized that ankles were ankles and from that day forward she dressed like everyone else, shamelessly parading around in shorts and sandals, unafraid and unapologetic. Her confidence in her perceived flawed body part spilled into other areas of her life and she became the CEO of a large corporation, married a wonderful man and had three gorgeous children.

Gives me hope for my relationship with my thighs.

My own ankles have served me well. Scarred and bruised, they have never cracked under pressure. Never broken, never sprained. They have been twisted without damage while learning new dance steps, they have been stretched under me while attempting new yoga postures, and they have kicked many a soccer ball downfield, and they have always remained steadfastly true and stayed right where they were meant to be.

As a competitive swimmer for a minute and a half, a track star for 20 seconds  and a dancer for a few years, my calves developed quite lovely on their own. Not too big, not too thin, just right. Then one day, I moved away from the city to live in a faraway land called Florida, without a car. In this magical land nothing was close to anything else and walking would take days and melting was a possibility. Public transportation had not yet been invented where I was living so, instead, I procured a bicycle and set about to get around on two wheels. The byproduct of this was massive calfage. Bodacious bricks. They were quite a sight to behold and once I recognized them as my own,  I was a little proud. Today they are much softer and a lot less dangerous.

My shins on the other hand have seen some combat. As a soccer player for the better part of my childhood, shin guards could only do so much to prevent bruises and lumps and bumps. They took a beating. Being active outside of soccer left my shins defenseless as I ran around, climbed trees and overall had a blatant disregard for safety. On one particular occasion I wanted to share my gift of grace with a friend by showing her how adept I was at doing a walk-over in my living room. You know, gymnastics.

The handstand was flawless, straight up in the air, then as I began to narrate the walk over part something went terribly wrong. Instead of languidly placing my feet over onto the floor into a spectacular backbend, I crash landed into the coffee table. My entire shin scraped down the edge of the table removing most of the skin from the bone. But we were 15 so we laughed and laughed as I held my shin and secretly cried inside. It took many long minutes for it to even bleed. It was that deep. To this day I proudly wear not only the scar, but also the dent to my shin bone that resulted from my over-inflated sense of confidence.

All in all the lower half of my legs are keepers; they’ve been involved in all the hijinks and travel my feet have instigated. Every now and then one of my calves will cramp just to let me know it’s still there and maybe needs a little attention. So I take it to a yoga class and stretch it or to the gym or most recently I took both of them up, then down over 200 steps in a lighthouse. They were very chatty about that the next day.

Body parts speak but we’re usually too busy crafting stories with our mind about other more pressing matters such as hairstyles and deadlines. More importantly we are speaking to our body parts all the time; usually unconsciously and mostly negatively. Or we ignore them all together.  Every day as you rush through your morning or bedtime routine, stop and take a little extra time to massage oil or lotion into all your parts, cooing and sharing sweet nothings with them.  Each time you catch yourself berating your thighs or upper arms consider instead how valuable they are to your very existence. They’ll love your for it and they’ll respond in kind.

I have a great affinity for my calves and shins as they are the only part of my leg that usually sees daylight. My thighs often misbehave so I seldom let them out, but from the tops of my calves to the tips of my toes all is copasetic.

21 Day Body Love Challenge – Happy Feet

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“Forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair.” – Khalil Gibran

I love my feet.

As I look at my bare feet I see evidence of a life lived outdoors. Currently I have two faint thin stripes that indicate where my flip flops should be, my toes are a happy pink, my heels rough and hard despite many pedicures and there are two tiny pale ovals on each foot at the base of third and fourth toes. These elicit some of the best memories.

As a child, I was a fish. Ocean, lake, river, creek, bathtub or pool, water was my habitat. Once in, good luck getting me out. That 10 minute break each hour at the public swimming pool to allow adults time to swim was probably designed because of me. I just didn’t see the point of leaving the water. I did summersaults, handstands, walked on my hands, kick turns, cannonballs, dove, jumped, splashed and, on occasion, swam. While completing these amazing feats of agility I often scraped my feet on the rough floor of the pool – they weren’t so smooth back then – removing the first layer of skin on the joints of my toes and on the tops of my feet. And because I never got out of the water, I’d do it over and over and over again. Then come back the next day and continue the process. It never hurt, not even a little.

A bit older, but none the wiser, I was wading in a freezing cold creek in Virginia sans shoes, of course. My foot slipped on a mossy rock and landed on a broken bottle. It didn’t hurt, my feet were numb, but I knew something was amiss. I limp-walked my way over to my mom without ever looking at my foot, blindly leaving a trail of blood along the way. As I presented her with my foot and the question, “Is there something in it?” she gasped then quickly recovered pretending it wasn’t a big deal, but we should probably have someone look at it. Like a doctor. In a hospital. A steamy hot older man, probably 16 or 17, was summoned and I was whisked away like a princess in a fairy tale to my pumpkin that resembled a Pontiac LaMans a little too closely. All aglow I lay down in the back seat with my foot elevated as I waved so long to my handsome prince. Today, I am now the proud owner of a thick scar on the bottom of my right foot which always produces concern, then questions during reflexology.

The take-away was not to exercise caution when in nature with unbound feet, but rather; being rescued by handsome prince was everything Disney had promised.

My toes have always been long and thin, even when the rest of me was anything but. And I love them for that. They have been shoved in many pointy shoes with heels high and low, set aloft on ridiculous platforms, allowed to wiggle huddled in clogs and pressed against the sides of running shoes, but they are happiest when they are free. In general my feet have resisted captivity since I was very young, preferring instead to endure the occasional bee sting and extra tetanus booster.

My feet have taken me all the way around Central Park in New York. They’ve walked across the Brooklyn Bridge and down past the twin towers, both when they were there and they were not. They’ve walked through deserts and streets in India, played in the crystal clear water of Jamaica and the Virgin Islands and walked along the Thames in London. They’ve been barefoot on the beaches of Rhode Island, Cape Cod, Long Island, Delaware, Maryland, Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia, nearly the entire coastline of Florida and much of California.

There’s almost nowhere these feet won’t go and for that I love them. I love their courage and tenacity. I love their ability to tip toe, walk and even run. I love how they love to dance. And I love that they hit the floor every morning awaiting instructions, ready to go wherever I ask them to.

Thank you, feet, you’re the best.

And it’s not just my feet that are awesome. It’s yours too. A full one quarter of all the bones in the body are in the feet and ankles. 33 joints and more than 100 muscles, tendons and ligaments. Feet provide the body with support. If you’ve ever hurt your foot you know it can throw the entire body off kilter. Hips out of alignment, back pain, even headaches can befall the owner of unhappy feet.

Energetically the feet are related to the root chakra; our home of security and stability, our foundation. Makes sense.

Feet  even play a role in history and religion. Recently Pope Francis shocked the world by washing the feet of inmates at a juvenile detention center. It is a great show of humility and service to wash another’s feet. In the yoga tradition, kissing or touching the feet of the guru symbolizes bowing, not necessarily to the physical guru in front of you, but rather the guru within.

Today, honor your feet. Massage them, get a pedicure, thank them. Stick them in the sand or mud or on a plush carpet of soft grass or a real plush carpet. Appreciate them and all they’ve been through with you and because of you.

Your feet are always there for you, ready and waiting to carry you forward. Where will they take you today?

“I still have my feet on the ground, I just wear better shoes.” – Oprah Winfrey

 

 

 

21 Day Body Love Challenge

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I love my body. Everything about it. When was the last time you said, thought or heard another WOMAN say that about themselves? To be fair, self-loathing isn’t exclusively a female sport, but we certainly hold all the ribbons.

In recent months I have seen many responses to the model thin body. There are documentaries coming out and seeking funding that celebrate the female form, whatever shape that form has taken. There are rebuttals to perfection in blogs, rants on Twitter and even infomercials on the beauty of “regular” women.

The director/producer of the documentary on women’s bodies, seeking funding, went out on the streets and queried over 100 women in all shapes and sizes and when asked how they would describe their bodies the most common response was, “disgusting.”

This makes me very sad.

My body is flawed, much of it my own doing or not doing. I have scars, stretch marks, cellulite, wrinkles and sagging in new places every day. I have hated various parts of my body but that didn’t make things any easier. I have loved parts of my body to firmness and thinness, but that was fleeting when my love of Christmas cookies trumped my affection for thin thighs.

In part I think my argument with my body is not the shape so much as the knowledge that I am not doing all I could to improve my shape. I eat chocolate, drink wine and don’t move nearly as much as I plan. But still I have to reconcile myself with this physical form that houses the me that thinks, talks and sees things uniquely. So much emphasis is placed on being different, why has none of that been applied to the female form?

Now I find myself in a place of the compassionate observer, mostly.  There is still much I’d like to change about this meat suit gifted to me, but maybe I’m not supposed to. Perhaps this body, just like this, is here to teach me and others something. What if this body is the vehicle that will take me to the super-consciousness highway and where along the way I can pick up a few hitchhikers?

If I am truly God in disguise, then perhaps it is my mission to love the wrapping, love the cover of the book so that it can be opened and what’s inside can be read.

You are God in disguise or Divine consciousness in disguise or the Universe made manifest, or a dog in human clothing. I don’t care how you choose to look at it, what words you use, what belief system you have, you must just know that you are perfect and a reflection of divinity.

For the next 21 days I am going to explore this gift that has allowed me to travel, make a baby, snuggle my kitties and puppies, do yoga, dance my ass off, swim competitively and stumble and get back up. I am going to call out the Divine cells, one at a time until we are all on the same page. I will work with one piece of the puzzle at a time starting with my foundation – my feet, and ending with my salvation – my heart.

Care to join me?

All or Nothing

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manatee IMG_3784Go big or go home. In or out. Without realizing it most of my life has been guided by these phrases. If I decide that I am going to do something it has to be every day at the same time. Gym every morning. Juicing for lunch. Walk after dinner. If I miss one day, I’ve failed. So I stop.

This is a tough one for me. Consistency equals success.

I remember hearing Wayne Dyer talk about running. For years he ran every single morning. Rain, shine, snow, illness, injury. Everyday. Then one day he couldn’t. He was too sick or injured. He completely struggled with not doing it. Until he didn’t.

I remember thinking, “Wow, that’s so obsessive.” Hello mirror.

I still do it. It shows up a little differently each time, cleverly disguised as  resolve or gumption, but it’s still a 50/50 split.

The problem is with the nothing, go home, out part. That’s the easy part. It seems to take such a long period of cheer leading and hand holding to talk me into the healthy habit and a mere whiff of fresh-baked cookies or a frigid morning or a sore foot or whine, whine, wine (oops, how did that get in there?!) to pull me out.

Then a brief stint in the corner of self-doubt and shame helps me turn things around. This process is exhausting!

After all this craziness I believe a switch has been thrown. Finally I feel ready to tackle this or that. This is the time. I just need to do it every single day for a certain number of days and then…what? Keep doing it every day for the rest of my life? Integrate it into my life as a healthy habit? We saw how well that worked last time.

But, hold on. Maybe it did work last time. Maybe the time between the last 21 day challenge and this one was necessary for me to find those mirrors and hit those bumps and head smack myself a little into returning. Maybe it created enough of a recognition that it’s possible. That I don’t have to create an unrealistic schedule to succeed just to set myself up for failure.

Life happens. All of these things I’ve added in consciously, the writing, yoga nidra, gym or yoga – which by the way I’ve been to the gym 3 times this week and done yoga twice, thank you very much – are supposed to be about supporting my best self. They are supposed to be about loving myself. If I fall back, shouldn’t I just love myself back into action, rather than abuse myself? Yep.

The new challenge program has my deepest desire to show up as my biggest, bestest, most authentic self. That’s all. Now that’s something I can get behind.

That’s the switch. Make the choices that clear the path for ME to show up. When I show up clear and open, I allow others that same opportunity. It’s a win-win. And I like those odds.

[Photo: While playing hooky from blogging yesterday I scampered off to Blue Springs Park to be lulled into a state of waking meditation by the slow, gentle ballet of the beautiful manatees. Best reason to play hooky!]

Look What I Can Do

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me on ringsIt appears the treadmill is a good teacher and the second best place for aha moments – the first being “the chamber of insight” or as you may know it, the shower.

Walking has always been a head-clearer for me. If I’m walking in my neighborhood I don’t wear headphones, I like the sounds of birds, children, cars and the wind. When I’m at the gym, I’m definitely plugged in. And the music is loud. It propels me forward, because lets face it, the History channel, reruns of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Fox News just don’t really inspire me to break a sweat.

As my heart rate is rising and The Black Eyed Peas are encouraging me to pump it pump it, my mind is free to wander. Have you ever thought about how amazing that is? How we are able to do one thing, think another, look at something that has nothing to do with the first two and be aware that we are witnessing all of it? Pretty special, we are.

The most recent treadmill insight came as a nice energetic head slap. Don’t you just love it when you think you are a certain way, you are sure of it, you know yourself, then the tiniest thing flips everything upside down? You begin to question everything you believe to be true about yourself. Or at least I do.

I honestly believed that I no longer cared what others thought of me. Right? We all have that inner diva who still wants attention on some level. I noticed that as I was pumping away on the treadmill I couldn’t help but let my eyes wander to the heavy sweater next to me. At what speed was his treadmill set? Was I faster? Did he notice? Look, I’m faster. And I’ve been on here longer.

Out of left field. I wanted him – a random, middle-aged, slightly chubby man – to be impressed by my speed. Ignoring the fact that there were at least 10 people actually running that were way more impressive. I have no idea what this guy even looks like. I don’t know his story. I didn’t care. Did he notice and was he impressed?

Wow.

Of course I let that realization ping all over my frenetic mind coming up with all sorts of conclusions and ridiculous speculation. Who was I now, if not the strong, confident woman who didn’t care what others thought? But the fact remained that, of course I care what people think of me. It’s the human condition. If we don’t care what they think we look like, we want them to think we are smart or funny or have some other unique skill or trait that makes us completely unique.

The way we dress, talk, spend our money and our time all tell others something about us. This does not necessarily make us narcissistic, but human. How we look, what we say and how we say it is how we find each other. It’s how we relate.

The less we get caught up in the story we’re trying to convey to the world, the more likely we are to find those whose energy is a match for our own. Trying hard to convince others we are a certain way covers our authenticity and creates false impressions. The more we relax with who we are, the more peace we have. The more our true selves and authentic uniqueness can shine.

Dropping the masks and facades takes time. Lots of time and lots of practice.

For me, the realization was helpful. In truth, they all are, some are just harder to swallow. It showed me there is much work to be done. Continuing to let go through practices like yoga nidra, yoga and meditation. Continuing to be aware of these realizations and allowing space for them.

And apparently continuing to use the treadmill. At any speed.

Liberation

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SHC IMG_7067It was recently suggested to a group of yoga teachers I was with that it is our calling to help liberate others. Many are called. They become yoga teachers and scholars, yoga nidra facilitators, Reiki masters, counselors, ministers and leaders of all sorts. But when you are told this and it hits your gut with such a fierceness that it brings tears to your eyes, you know you are on the right track. 

Let me clarify. The liberation spoken of is from our preconceived notions about ourselves, our negative self talk, our victimhood. And while I believe no one can really free another, I know it is possible to help lift the veil of illusion just enough for someone to see their own perfection. I have seen it over and over again.

The rub for me has been a disconnect. I get it. Intellectually. My mind loves this stuff, it nods vigorously in agreement. Then it sets about to disprove it or pick it apart to  try to really understand it. To get it. There must be more. It creates problems out of this one principle just so it can solve them. And when it can’t solve them it takes me to the couch with a bag of potato chips and the remote. There must be a hole in the theory. We’ll figure it out from here.

I get it. And then I forget it.

I love to teach. Almost anything. But I especially love to teach yoga and yoga nidra. I love the way people look after a class. They have accessed something so deep that most of them aren’t able to articulate it. But they know where they got it so they come back. It’s not me.  I didn’t do this for them, I just held the space for them to explore. They allowed themselves to drop into that place where the veil got a little more transparent.

This is all beautiful. But I have been moving away from teaching lately preferring instead to work on my art. A fine choice. I love creating art; painting, photographing, cut paper designs, jewelry, coloring, it doesn’t matter, I love it all. The problem lies in the reason behind the shift from teaching to art.

I wasn’t even really aware why or what that was until this past weekend. Several very skilled teachers were able to help me with that veil thing. The disconnect for me is this: How can I teach yoga and yoga nidra if I’m not practicing it? Up to now I always thought that meant physically getting on my mat striking a couple of poses then lying in savasana for yoga nidra. Part of it. Maybe.

What I got while I was salsa walking on the treadmill to Gypsy Kings yesterday was this: How can I teach liberation, how can I help free others when I am still in a cage imprisoned by my own negative self talk? By my own lack of respect for the vehicle, the physical form that I was given? By the act of self-flagellation on an energetic level?

I have gotten this concept before. It’s an old, worn idiom: Practice what you preach. But now? I. Get. It.

I do not have to be a size 2 to teach yoga. I do not have to be pious to help others find peace. I do not have to juice and starve myself to help others get healthy. BUT, for me, when I am physically practicing yoga and yoga nidra; when I am at the gym early in the morning revving my metabolism and shining my sparkle; when I am eating clean; I FEEL free. I am an expression of that which I am teaching. I am a clear channel. And people get it faster. They don’t have to work as hard.

So in the first day of this new challenge, this ginormous truth has been revealed to me. My goal, yes goal, is to dissolve the cage by being what I am teaching. It is a prison of my own construction so there is no need to look outside of myself. The journey is inward.

Rising Again

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I just completed an intensive training the trainer training (got that?) for Yoga Nidra. It was amazing, intense, awesome, beautiful, grueling, revealing and a tremendous gift. Out of this training an unspoken challenge was issued: “Do yoga nidra everyday; it will change your life, you already know this.” And so I am prepared to accept this challenge because it has in fact changed my life. The effects are undeniable. I’m relaxed and I come from a space of peace rather than reaction perched white knuckled on my edge. I am able to be highly productive without stress. It’s magic. And I’ve let it go.

Let’s recap. Back in October I issued myself a 21 day challenge to live a more enchanted life and I identified 5 activities needed to clear the way for this to happen: yoga, yoga nidra, writing, photographing all once daily and the gym a couple times a week. I nailed the challenge then let it all go the next day. Yep. Moment of truth. I could speculate on all the reasons why, but the fact is I just stopped. As much as I wanted it to be a lifestyle change and not a “goal,” it turned into the latter. I achieved it. Done. Slowly one by one I’ve added them all back in. First the writing, then the yoga, etc. And that feels good.

In addition to Yoga Nidra, I have been asked to assist in another yoga teacher training and another 21 consecutive days of yoga has been requested of me.

Then there is a little memoir contest I have decided to enter so it seems writing daily would be a good idea.

On top of all this, I will be heading to India in, ready for this, 21 days and the Swami guiding the tour has asked all of us to commit to a daily yoga and meditation practice so we are prepared for the same once we’re on the other side of the globe.

Here’s the thing; when I did this challenge the first time I basically let go of EVERYTHING else. I went to work, I taught, I did what was asked of me, but 99% of my focus and energy was on the challenge. I was on a little vacation from my life and it was awesome! When I completed the challenge I had to play catch up, putting me in the same situation I was in before: not enough time for all of it. Or, more honestly, maybe a misguided assessment of my priorities.

So this time, and yes I will be doing this again, it feels different. I will add these things in, on top of the work that I currently do, rather than replacing it. I will create priorities out of some aspects of the challenge and allow space for others. I know it’s possible.

Here’s the challenge: yoga nidra  and writing daily. Yoga and Gym as often as I can. Which is to say I will do some sort of physical exercise daily, I’m just not going to be militant as to what. As I write this I don’t feel the same sense of urgency or excitement I did before, and I think maybe that’s good. Instead, there’s a quiet determination and a sense of calm confidence. I’ve got this.

A few days after the last challenge when it was clear to me that I had slipped into the to-do list abyss, I was feeling a sense of failure and berating myself for undoing it all. But I didn’t undo anything. I simply stopped doing all of it at once and brought each component back in as I felt the need. All the work I had done was valid. It helped. It was time well spent.

My life is still enchanted, magic happens everyday. I didn’t need to do all those things daily to create an environment for enchantment to arise. I did need to do the challenge to reveal to me that I already had an enchanted life. I only had to recognize it.

I also believe anytime I am moving a little farther down the continuum of  self care and self love; honoring the vehicle I have been gifted, it is always a win.

So I will rise to the challenge again with curiosity and an appreciation of the experiences. I’ll post daily as before for those who want to follow along or create their own challenges. Please share your challenges and ideas with me, and we can grow together.

[Photo: Salt Springs, Florida. Deep in the Ocala National Park where pine trees sing like running water.]

21 Day Challenge – Day 21 – Enchantment

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Wish web IMG_2159The 21 Day Challenge I laid at my feet three weeks ago has been met. I have been able to check each item off my list without a lot of trouble.

I have learned that when there is an intention to align with instead of a goal to be met, the force behind it creates openings for just the right circumstances to manifest keep me on my path.

Goals are often set out of exasperation, especially personal goals. They are bringing to light a shortcoming and putting it on a pedestal for all to see, so when we fail to meet that goal again the village can have a good laugh at our expense or just shake their heads collectively with, ‘here we go again.’

When goals are used as stepping stones to achieve something great they often work for a while, especially if that something great is aligned with our soul’s purpose. If we are failing to meet the same goal over and over again, it is not aligned, therefore it is a distraction from the real work of the spirit. It’s time to let it go and look beyond that particular goal.

I have goals. I have a pretty big one right now that I’m working on. It feels completely congruent with my intention; they support each other.

As I move forward from these 21 days I plan to continue the habits I have set.

1. Yoga Daily. This was more difficult than I thought, especially if I planned to do it at home. If you recall I had mentioned it is much easier for me to meet the expectations of others than to rise to my own tasks. Going to class helped a lot. It was actually easier to get myself out of my house, drive to the studio and take a class than wander to my back porch unroll my mat and do sun salutations. I’ll continue to work on a home practice, but for now I know what will work.

2. Yoga Nidra twice a day. This proved to be excessive. Once a day fit perfectly. I established doing yoga nidra at the mid-afternoon dip, to be the most beneficial and I’ll continue with that.

3. Gym twice a week. This is one that surprised me. I had no trouble going twice a week – one week I went only once, but took a very long walk outside. I am planning on attempting 5 days a week with this one. I feel energized and bright when I leave the gym.

4. Write 2 hours a day every day – even Saturday and Sunday. Overall this goal was easily met. Many days I wrote much more than 2 hours. There were times when I bored myself with my own voice and struggled with subject matter, but working through the process helped and I was able to check that task off feeling accomplished.

5. Fresh photos daily. Harder than I expected as much as I love to take pictures. It became a necessity. I would find myself locked into my computer or overcome with my sense of busyness and remember I hadn’t taken pictures. Just walking away from whatever task I was engaged in and going outside with my camera created a beautiful sense of presence. This I will continue.

6. No alcohol. Surprisingly easy. There were only two social occasions in which I would have normally partaken but didn’t. Bowling and a swanky little party. Both times I had water and no one scoffed or even noticed. And I didn’t miss it. I will drink wine again, but it will be much more deliberate – a single glass at a special dinner or party. It just isn’t worth the sluggish, cobwebby feeling in the morning.

So overall I’d call my little experiment a success. But the biggest gift in all of this was the Facebook Group that grew from that very first blog. A tremendous group of women who didn’t necessarily know one  another – I was the common denominator – came together in total unconditional support of each other. In three weeks that group has grown to include friends and relatives of my friends who I do not know and the power of the group has only expanded.

What started out as a seemingly selfish task has turned into a movement of upliftment and love. It is about no one and everyone at the same time. Women are able to share their darkest feelings and proudest accomplishments without fear of judgment. It all happened organically.

The only word I can come up with to describe this group is Enchanted.

My challenge was to change habit patterns that I felt were holding me back from the true expression of my soul’s purpose so that I could live a more enchanted life. What was created was a whole community of Enchantment.

I don’t know how it happened. I don’t care. The Universe has a way of rising up to meet us when we’re ready and many of us were ready. I didn’t do this. You didn’t do this. This could have only happened because we were all aligned on some level and knew we were to work together.

I learned that living an enchanted life had nothing to do with being the perfect size, in the perfect house or relationship or at the perfect job. It has to do with giving to others, being grateful, taking time to notice a bee on a flower. It has to do with presence. Showing up authentic and present for my own life.

It’s the last day of the challenge, but the beginning of a lifetime and lifestyle of enchantment as I, along with those in the group and elsewhere, continue to remind each other of our own magic and bigness.

The blogs will not end, it seems to be in my nature. I will continue to look for the magic in everything every day and share it. I encourage you to do the same.

[Photo: A little wish caught in a web.]

 

21 Day Challenge – Day 20 – Vulnerabilities

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sky IMG_2143For the past three weeks I have had the opportunity to witness bravery on a level I have never known. No one has saved a drowning child, run into a burning building to save kittens or lifted a car to rescue a person pinned beneath it.

But many of these women have jumped off cliffs without knowing if a net would appear. They have laid bare their deepest insecurities to be ridiculed or shunned. They have openly loved strangers with words that bathe the soul and tears of compassion.

I have witnessed great vulnerability. And it made everyone stronger.

It is in our ability to be vulnerable that we are able to share our authentic selves. This is where we meet the souls whose vibration is a match for ours. Not our soul mate, but our soul sisters and brothers. There is a recognition, a remembrance, although we may have never actually met.

We are taught our whole lives to be strong, take care of things, nurture others before the self. There is wisdom in those teachings, but they are not complete.

From the time I was in high school I was the one who took care of things. I made decisions and choices when others couldn’t or wouldn’t. I took control of situations that had stagnated, reversed course or took wrong turns.

I shared my weaknesses in my humor, sometimes sarcastic biting humor at another’s expense. I sharpened my edges on other’s weaknesses. I needed to feel superior, in charge, important. Vulnerability was the kiss of death. I could not be caught crying at a movie, at a funeral and definitely not a work.

Over the years I have worked to let go of that particular shell. It was very helpful, it took me through many storms and moved me to the top of more than one ladder and I thank it. It served its purpose.

But as the years go on and I continue to let go of the false sense of control I had I am able to see the beauty in perceived weakness.  It happened in steps.

First I had to witness a strong person “falling apart.” I had to see that even though they cried out of frustration, they did not break. They lost no power.

Then I began to play around with the concept crying in front of other people. First I started talking about it. Admitting it. “I saw that movie. Cried like a baby.” No adverse reaction. “Did you see that commercial? It made me cry!” Still nothing. Could it all be in my head?

I would go to the movies with friends and there would always be a crier – never me. Then one movie, I don’t even remember which one, it happened. I cried. My friend seated next to me just handed me a tissue like it was the most natural thing in the world. Because it is.

This was quite a number of years ago and much has changed. It is when I am at my most vulnerable that I feel freest. There is nothing that can be taken from me because I have let it all go, I have given it all away.

My authentic self can never be hurt or compromised or lost. Only covered by fear and pretension. When I am hurt or scared or feeling neglected, it is not me that is being rejected, it is one of the personalities I wear, one of the masks. As I set it aside I notice all those feelings go with it. I am left with peace and an open heart.

Vulnerability is the lens through which we begin to see our own true nature. My true nature is unconditional love, peace and divinity. So is yours.

That field that Rumi spoke of, “out beyond ideas of rightdoing and wrongdoing?” That is where our true natures recognize each other. See you there.

[Photo: Gentle moonrise as the sun begins its decent.]