Speaking of the Dead

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I was sitting in the back of the room with the other yoga nidra facilitators listening with half an ear to the teacher in the front. I can’t even tell you who it was. I don’t remember. In my distracted state, I cut my eyes toward the giant picture windows to my right – I do this often – and between the lush, old stately trees I could see the lake sparkling. A small hole between branches provided the perfect view of a cerulean blue sky and in that tiny hole a vulture soared.

Another one.

They are everywhere in Florida. They are everywhere, period. But they are in my awareness more than almost any other creature.

During this 10 day training I have entertained hoards. At one point, I was peacefully rocking myself back and forth on a swing, enjoying the breeze coming off the lake, lost in the lapping of the water against the shore; I leaned forward for some reason and when I looked up dozens of vultures were making their way across the sky above me. They were low enough for me to see the holes in their beaks and hear their wings flap as they gained purchase against the wind.

They kept coming. I was awestruck. I have never seen so many aloft at once.

I stood, as much as a salute to their humility and grace as to close the gap between us by another foot or two. I longed – long – for one to swoop down and sit beside me. They are clearly my animal totem and I simply adore them.

No matter when I looked up, during this ten-day training, they were there.

As I sat in the back of the room watching my friend soar effortlessly, I thought, “What are they trying to tell me?”

“Clean up your dead.” It was as if that single vulture had stopped, looked me in the eye with hands on hips and said, “Clean up your dead.”

The meaning simultaneously accompanied the words, yet I tried to analyze it, figure it out. It was an opportunity, in that moment, to simply say, “ok” and let it all go. But I needed to know more. I needed to figure out what my dead was. Which relationships, beliefs, habits was I supposed to let go of? How should I clean them out, how will I know if I have?

This gift that was handed to me became a light that revealed a pattern that doesn’t always serve me. Planting a thought in my brain then attaching a million other thoughts to it. Trying to figure things out.

Sometimes I just have to say ok. And so I did. Sort of.

I am using this command, ‘clean up your dead’ each time I find myself hooking into a thought pattern that isn’t serving me. I won’t catch them all and it will be a process of recognition and repetition until finally it’s not. But I’m committed.

And if I hold on a little too long to the dead weight, I have plenty of airborne friends around to remind me.

21 Day Challenge – Day 11 – Shift Happens

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Something is shifting. It’s so subtle it would be easy to overlook.

Every challenge issued and completed under the Enchanted Living umbrella is about eliminating the space junk flying around in my (our) head so that I can enjoy every moment. It has always, ever and only been about becoming keenly present. Aware. Moment to moment.

This is where enchantment happens. It is about letting go of the to-do list and just being right here, right now. It’s a lofty goal. And for most of us not achievable every second of every day. But cultivating more moments of presence is always doable.

It’s starting to happen more and more for me.

I was recently feeling overwhelmed with a plate full of obligations. I dove deeper into my time at the gym, being there fully instead of whining my way through it. I went to my mat with curiosity for each and every posture. Then ‘magically’ the two that were causing the most angst corrected themselves seamlessly. I still have a lot to do but it’s just sort of happening, unfolding just as it should. Priorities are revealing themselves. Stuff is getting done and I’m not stressed about it.

I have more strength. In less than two weeks I can feel the difference. My lung capacity has improved, my balance and my confidence in all things physical is up. Back on that yoga mat I’ve become curious about my ability to go deeper, confidently experimenting with my own capabilities. And it’s fun.

This awareness has taken some interesting turns. I am more organized. My house is cleaner. I am purging stuff (again, I love to purge). And I have time. Time to listen to clients, time to have deep, meaningful conversations with friends, time to be.

It is all happening very slowly. If it wasn’t part of my intention of this challenge I might miss it completely.

But it’s the work.  My body loves to move. Now that it is, my mind can let go of all the chatter. My mind was never the problem as I suspected. It’s master plan all along, I suspect, was to continue to push me until I found the solutions that worked for my ultimate benefit.

In yoga, we’re always taught to get the mind out of the way, let go of the ego, but a favorite swami put it something like this: It is good to go beyond the mind, but we must use the mind to go beyond the mind. The mind is a tool.

As I continue to work through these challenges I am sharpening the best tool in my tool box.

 

21 Day Challenge – Day 9 – Not Your Grandma’s Calorie

Diverse Hands Holding The Word Calories

Remember when calories mattered? When they were all the rage? Then it was sugar and everything became sugar free. Then we eliminated fat, but had to add sugar so the cardboard was palatable. Soon after carbs became the enemy. The truth is we need all of that, okay, maybe less sugar, but we need good fats, and vegetables and fruits ARE carbs. And after all calories still matter. They’re just not very glamorous.

The science hasn’t changed, these diet shenanigans were mostly marketing tools used to keep us from getting bored with the same old stuff. Pulling our dollars in this way and that. And it made us fat and unhealthy. It confused our metabolism and messed with our heads.

Let’s take a trip back to simpler times and revisit the calorie.

Before you yawn and turn to something shinier, would it interest you to know that in other countries calories are called energy units?

We are going to combine two boring things you thought you would never use again and make it fun. Calories and math.

Back in the day we would look at a chart that had our age and weight and say, okay, I should be consuming 2,000 calories a day. Good start, but it’s a little more complex than that.

Food is fuel to be used as energy. We expend energy during the day, and even when we sleep.

Ergo: Energy Units Consumed (food/calories) minus Energy Expended (breathing/moving) = Energy Burned or Energy Stored.  If you take in more energy than you expend in a day what is left over becomes either stored energy or excess weight in the body.

If you use more fuel than energy units taken in you will either be depleted or lose weight.

But what I really love is this connection to food. By calling them calories we make them something unrelatable to our workaday lives. Knowing we need energy to perform tasks and well, live, we now can also see that food is the fuel that gives us said energy.

It simplifies everything. Obviously some energy units are more packed with nutrients than others. But the math still stands.

So as I start playing with my food this week I will look at my food as an energy source, not just something to satisfy my physical or emotional appetite. If I can recognize that my appetite is driven by emotions, I must also realize that eating to pacify those emotions will actually fuel them instead, leading me to eat more of the ‘bad’ stuff.

Or, I can just figure out how much energy I need to burn to make those sweet little chocolates disappear.

 

 

 

21 Day Challenge – Day 6 – They Mean Well

Cookie bite

Every day I try to bargain with myself. Maybe Wednesday will be my day off. Maybe Saturday should be my day of rest. I’m moving more now than I have in a while, what’s one cookie? Or five?

But then, why do I want to take a day off from radiant health? That’s what sick days are for and I really don’t ever look forward to being sick. And why would I bargain for something that ultimately will be the gateway for more creative excuses?

I’m learning. I still cheat.

When I get involved in something on the computer, I am typically sucked in, eyes glued to the screen, fingers flying, looking away only to let go of the shapes of letters so I can form original thoughts (hopefully). I enjoy it.

And it’s a very convenient excuse. I need to do this, whatever it is that’s in front of me. And if it isn’t this, I’ll make something up equally weighted with good intention.

There is the good Allison, the higher self version of my carbon based form. Let’s call her Allisun (a friend actually types my name like that and I rather like it). Allisun understands that the planning I go through with a tremendous amount of resolve is actually an intention I set for myself. She also gets that Allisin (the ne’r do well ego operated side of me) is very convincing and sometime “Sun” is powerless against “Sin.” Or let’s say weakened.

While Allisun peeks around the laptop screen gently pushing it closer and closer to the keyboard, crowding my fingers out, Allisin pushes it back open so we can ‘get things done.’

Allisun takes me to the gym, maneuvers me around food courts and cupcake trucks. She turns the music up so I’ll dance while I clean and she encourages me to do all those healthy things I promised myself.

Allisin believes that the ego should reign supreme, she is after all its spokesmodel, and as such she needs to feel a sense of accomplishment, productivity. Not a bad thing, just misdirected at times.

They could so easily work together if they could just learn to communicate.

Today, Allisin tried to convince us that it would be a good day to take a break from this silly health nonsense and eat some chocolate for crying out loud. We should cruise social media and text friends. Maybe we should think about cleaning the house or just play with the dogs.

Meanwhile, Allisun had planned on finally trying Zumba. She did clean a nice portion of the home, succumbed to a few morsels of chocolate and actually got a little work done.

Then it started to rain. Pour. Allisin saw no reason to leave the house in a downpour. Allisun waited it out.

We all went to Zumba. Then we had mashed potatoes for dinner.

Everyone was happy.

21 Day Challenge – Taking it to the Body

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It’s Challenge Time again! If you’ve been playing along, you’ll remember we added the good stuff in on our first challenge. Then we fell in love with our own bodies – right? – on the second challenge. Now it’s time to work with that beautiful beast known as the human form. This is more about uncovering your best, most healthy vehicle. Not about bikini season, that wedding or high school reunion. It’s not about a number on the scale or on a tag.

Think energy. Dr. John Douillard (you’ll hear more about him later) says we should have the same amount of energy all day long. When we get up, in the afternoon, when it’s time for bed. Is that happening for you?

Think radiance. Think joy. Think nourishment. This is not punishment, on the contrary it is the best gift you could give to yourself.

This could be about weight loss or weight gain. Maybe it’s about sleeping well or eating better. All valid goals, but it is also about longevity and sustainability so move into it at a pace that works for you.

At its core, this challenge is about using the body as a gateway to YOU. It is the act of sloughing off and peeling away the dust and detritus of daily living and stress so that the inner light that is YOU can shine through.

So, are you ready?

I will chronicle what I am doing daily and offer potential challenges for you. I am not looking for fellow travelers on this well-worn path. I am looking for your insights about you as you navigate food labels, personal trainers, yoga instructors and the ever present well-meaning friend. I am holding you up. I know you’ve got this. I know that even if you are at your peak, there is something you can change. Maybe the challenge for you is doing less physical activity.

The first week will be dedicated to movement. You know, exercise. It is your task to bring movement into your life everyday. Over and above walking from your car to your office or around the grocery store. Go to the gym, do yoga, swim, dance, ride a bike. If you’re already pretty active this week should be a breeze. If not, get out there and go for a walk. Your body will thank you.

I look forward to seeing you along the way these next 21 days.

Just Do You. That is the Work.

 

17 Camel IMG_4050Daily Prompt: If money were out of the equation, would you still work? If yes, why, and how much? If not, why would you do with your free time?

I was asked this question a million years ago. And I have since turned this question on others. It’s a good one.

About 8 years ago I decided to put it to the test. I quit my job – one in a succession of failed career starts – and decided to become a holistic health coach. That lasted just a few years. But what it did for me was show me that I could do what I wanted and the money would come in. Or as Joseph Campbell said, “Do what you love and the money will follow.” Sounds magical and all together impractical.

At the risk of sounding woo-woo, I now allow myself to be guided by – dare I say it? – the Universe. I have come to see all situations as teachable moments and guidance in one direction or another. I have never lacked food, housing, or transportation. In fact, I own my home, shop at Whole Foods (not every time, let’s be realistic) and drive a nice little Honda.

When I was younger I wanted certain things, specific markers of success: To live in New York City. Or maybe California. To travel the world, especially Paris. And have several homes. One definitely on the beach. All these things required a healthy salary, a particular status. I had to WORK for them, EARN them.

Then 8 years ago I decided to take my passion for natural health to the next level. I attended the Institute for Integrative Nutrition (IIN) in New York. I went just for me, but came away with an optional new career and possibly a whole new life.

I became a holistic health coach. As a health coach many of my clients inquired if I taught yoga when I suggested they try it. I did not. But that changed. I now saw the next step on my path.

When I began to study yoga, the philosophy in particular, I felt I had finally found the belief system that contained within it all that I had cobbled together for myself from various religions and philosophies. Now it had a name. And I was home.

In its teachings I learned to  lean back. I have learned to trust the process of life. I have cultivated compassion and I am free to look at the world through the lens of enchantment and wonder.

Now, when I reframe all those markers of success, I see that I have achieved them all.

– While attending IIN in New York City I had to be there 12 weekends over 16 months. I rented an apartment with a friend for just those weekends. We shopped for food, ate in the apartment, went out to dinner, wandered the streets. I lived in New York City.

– My brother has lived in southern California for over 10 years. I visit him a few times each year. I drive his car. I pick up groceries. I take my niece to the park. We go to the beach. I have made friends there. I have lived in California.

– During all this yoga stuff, the guru I was studying with (and still am) was taking a group of people to India. It was never on my list of places to go, but suddenly I had to go. He was 80 and I didn’t know if I’d have another chance. I went for 3 weeks. Then I went back the year after with a different swami, and on the way played in London for three days. Then this past July a friend flew me on a private jet to the Bahamas where we played on the beach. I have begun to travel the world.

– I have several friends with houses on the beach and I am free to stay in them whenever they’re not occupied. I have a friend with a cabin in the mountains, same thing. I have several homes.

When I let go of the need to work for these things and just leaned back, everything that was to be materialized. Everything I had asked for showed up. Just not as I expected it. I could have missed it completely.

Today I own a yoga studio – another gift – and I write and I take pictures and when I have free time, you know, between 3:15 – 4:45 AM, I make some jewelry. My life is truly enchanted.

I haven’t worked a day in the past 8 years. I do what I love – all of it – and I am taken care of.

 

A Different Kind of Light

 

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Daily Prompt: You’ve been given the ability to build a magical tunnel that will quickly and secretly connect your home with the location of your choice — anywhere on Earth. Where’s the other end of your tunnel?

Less than two years ago I found my soul’s home. It may not be its only home, I am a Gemini after all. But when I stepped out of the bus onto the streets of Udaipur, India, something in me shifted. I was at once grounded and lighter.

The town itself is built around a huge man-made lake. There are whole buildings; hotels, restaurants and palatial estates rising up from its center. The narrow streets can barely accommodate a car, causing pedestrians to press themselves against a building or duck into a store. A foot bridge crosses the lake at  a narrow point, a welcoming café at either end.

There is Indian life here, dogs roaming the streets, temples full of devotees to various deities, open air markets and street food. But there is something else at work. There is a presence, a light.

I suppose my tunnel would place me at the bottom of an uneven staircase leading to a rooftop café, four or so stories up. Here I spent several days both at dusk and at dawn, sipping chai, deep in rich and sometimes frivolous conversation. The whole city was within my 360 view, the white buildings shimmering as the sun began its decent, the warm glow of interior lights taking its place.

During sunrises those same buildings turned light pink and purple until the sun made its way high into the sky. Its whole purpose to dance on the water below.

Even writing this I am transported back to that rooftop. I can see the foot bridge, I remember the chai wallah who took order then sat down with friends, seeming to forget about us. I recall the walk there, the people we’d ask for advice or direction, the easy smiles and gentle ways.

Yes, this is the other side of my tunnel. It’s where I would go every morning for tea and as the sun rose over the lake I would close my eyes absorbing the Muslim prayers broadcast throughout the city.

The Tao of the Magpie

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Daily Prompt: Take a look at your bookcase. If you had enough free time, which book would be the first one you’d like to reread? Why?

It’s very rare I reread a book. Or re-watch a movie. When I was a kid summer was rerun time for favorite TV shows. I hated it. I played outside instead.

I have learned about myself in the past few years some very key things, and one is that I like new. Not new in the sense that I have to buy everything new, on the contrary, my home if full of found objects rich with some else’s personal history. New as in fresh, new to me. New as in ideas. It’s the spark I’m addicted to, not the finished product. It’s the first page and all the possibilities. The blank canvas. The blinking cursor.

As a creative person I am struck with the desire, or maybe even need, to make new stuff up. I used to think it was shiny thing syndrome – in the middle of one project and, but oh, what if we did this? About something completely unrelated. ADD? Perhaps. Gifted? Let’s go with that.

This was a real problem for me. I would sit at my desk and start stories, or put together a piece of jewelry or begin painting some mixed media thing. Once it was clear in my head? Once I could ‘see’ it all the way to the end? I abandoned it. In my mind I had finished it and now I could move onto the next creation.

I would write the most amazing self-help books, my insight fresh and aha inducing. The cover of the book was beautiful, you could tell right away it was something that could, no, would change your life. Every page had something so rich it begged to be highlighted. Oprah couldn’t pull little stickee notes off her fancy highlighter fast enough to mark the wisdom in those pages. She would have to have me on her show.

The interview went swimmingly, she shook her head in amazement and just couldn’t stop saying “Wow, you’re so right, I hadn’t ever looked at it that way. This is truly a game changer.” Then we’d go out to lunch and she’d fund my next big idea.

Then I’d look down at my notebook or journal or computer screen and there’d be one sentence. All it takes is one, it’s the tinder to my overactive imagination.

Sticktoitiveness. I lack that gene.

But then I would meet people who had worked the same job for 30 years and thought my life was magical. I would talk to people struggling to figure out what they wanted to do and they would look to me for advice. I am on the other side of 40, pretty far on the other side, and I still wonder what I want to be when I grow up.

I have learned to embrace my quirks, my magpie-ness. I have had many job titles and worked in many fields. I have read copious books from self-help to historical fiction to, well everything, making me a great conversationalist at parties.

So rereading a book, even if I had the time, seems almost wasteful. There’s so much NEW out there. But if I am being honest, I might pick up Sarah Addison Allen’s, Garden Spells again. And Eckhart Tolle always seems fresh to me.

But I don’t want to even entertain having extra time, because I would surely fill it with something new.

Saturday Morning Spells

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There is something so enchanting about the first morning light. As darkness relents to the rising sun the whole world is aglow for just a few moments. Light filters through trees, like a mystical omen of the magic to come. The world seems to warm. It’s only meant for a few. It’s too easy to miss, to sleep through.

During this time, in the summer months anyway – of which there are at least six here in middle Florida – the ground begins to make noise. Fallen leaves rustle, rocks are pushed out of the way by tiny reptilian feet. Most birds are still rubbing the sleep from their eyes, but a few start to chirp a little lazily.

There is one that seems to sit just outside my bedroom window whose sole purpose is to let me know the sun is about to come up. In an hour. He panics, I think.

Once the day begins to brighten and the sun makes its way to a visible point, the rest of the avian world begins to come alive. Two mourning doves coo sweet nothings on my fence. At times they roam around the floor of my tiny backyard looking for morsels. So at home, they wait until the very last minute to fly off in a huff when the hounds are released for their morning routines.

It is Saturday. The usual humming of car motors, the rise and fall of garage doors and the air brakes of the school bus are all absent. In their place is silence; the background on which all other sounds can be heard more clearly. A wind chime from two doors down announces a gentle breeze, a dog barks in the distance and beside me a cat works a catnip filled toy, causing the tiny bell on her collar to sing with excitement.

It’s too early and not enough hot yet for the summer bugs to begin singing. I don’t know what they are, some sort of cicada maybe, but I love their song. Or more probably, what it represents, and the fond memories of fleeting summers where there were three other seasons.

In an hour or so, the light will be different, more common. The sweet sounds against the quiet background will be lost to activity. The morning will be just a memory soon forgotten as the day picks up speed.

But later, much later – although it will be here before we know it – will be dusk. That golden hour when the sun, knowing it’s time is short, will flame out spectacularly providing the perfect light for a few fleeting moments before bidding adieu.

Yet there is still light, even after the sun slips below the horizon. As the creatures of the earth honor the rising sun each morning, it is the sun itself that celebrates the end of its workday with an explosion of colors that dance within the clouds.

I wonder what colors the sky will celebrate this evening.

[Photo: Allison L. Andersen. Taken at the Amrit Yoga Institute, Salt Springs, Florida.]

Wrong Address

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Daily Prompt: Secret Admirers. You return home to discover a huge flower bouquet waiting for you, no card attached. Who is it from — and why did they send it to you?

They’ve been delivered to the wrong home. Sadly, that is my first thought. As I search in vain to find the card or some shred of evidence by which to begin solving the mystery I allow my mind to wander. Maybe they are from him. But he never sends flowers. Aside from the freshly cut wild flowers he keeps stocked on the kitchen counter, I can count on one hand how many times he has purchased flowers. And never has he had them sent.

Nothing significant has happened. I’ve won no awards, received no promotions, survived nothing insurmountable. Life has been blissfully average.

I decide to let go of the need to know and just enjoy them. They’re beautiful and happy. Crisp white roses with sprigs of lavender and baby’s breath.

As I pick them up off my front doormat, I notice a torn piece of paper taped to the bottom of the vase. “..07 Sea Breeze Circle.”

I was right. They’re not meant for me, they belong to my neighbor. I don’t know her. I have only seen her a handful of times through the windshield of her car as she backs out of her driveway. I’m not even sure of her hair color. Is it her birthday? Did she get a promotion? Is there a new paramour? Was there an old one?

I stand before her door with the offering of these beautiful flowers. Hoping the occasion is pleasant and maybe we can at least learn each other’s names and have a chuckle over the misplaced vase. There is no answer.

I could keep them. No one would know.

Instead I remove the torn address from the bottom and place them gingerly on her front doormat. I try the doorbell one last time, wait an appropriate amount of time, then leave.

Maybe she’ll know who they are from. Or maybe they will be a mystery for her, as they were for me. A mystery in which I now play a part.