roller coaster ride

i’ve got that feeling again…
it’s a feeling that is all too familiar.
it’s the one that creeps into my neck when my throat clenches a little too long, when i have something to say yet i don’t really know what the words i wish to speak actually are.
so instead of talking so much, i am trying to listen deeply. i am trying to hear the language of my heart.
that usually works.
i’m in the habit of asking my body how it feels about momentous shifts… my head usually knows when to get out of the way. but not this time, it seems.
one moment, my heart sings a sweet whisper of a song. it’s a soft, comforting yes. the next, it shouts no so loudly i have to cup my hands over my ears and dream of the ocean. and so my head is confused.
the opening is too small for me to fit through. nevertheless, i can’t quite shut the door.

i’m on a roller coaster ride with bright neon signs coaxing me to try the buffet at the bottom of the hill. it really is the best!
another billboard convinces me that the food is always fresher next door. i’m moving so fast i can’t figure it out. the ride is wild – slow, rickety rises and hair-raising drops. i’m sure i am turning left and without a warning I turn right.
i’m tired and I want to get off though it seems whoever is running the show isn’t ready to let me slow down quite yet. in any case, if i were to step off now, the ground would feel shaky and it may not hold me in my dizzied state.

stones are grounding, right? we’ve figured that out together already.
i’ve been carrying my sodalite with me everywhere for the last two weeks. i reach a hand in my pocket and feel it’s smooth surface and visualize it’s creamy white and blue. no one knows it’s there except me, and whether or not it’s true, i imagine it helps me get the words out.
it’s one of the stones associated with the throat chakra. it is meant to help me discover my inner truths and then assist me in expressing them freely and lovingly. i don’t know if it’s working. there is no on button and it’s taking too long. i can feel the stone’s frequency in the palm of my hand but my throat is still tight, my words are still frozen…

i know that time will help me figure it out. it always does. i just wish i could speed things up a little. images-5even thought it could make the tilt-a-whirl go faster, it might also quicken the whole process and end it before i get motion sickness.

only, what if time doesn’t lead me to a decision?
what happens if I never get to know what my inner truth is?
what if there is no right or wrong answer to this particular question?
i am putting more weight on myself than i need to. I know that. it’s difficult not to when i know the outcome of my process will affect people i love.

it’s a lesson in patience.
apparently i’m still learning that one.
it seems i keep getting knocked over the head with it.
the cast iron pan is heavy this time.
i’m scared it will knock me to the floor.

the only thing I can do is be gentle with myself. so that is what I am doing…
touching cedar, running baths, eating dates.
the sun feels lovely on my skin, and the spring breeze helps with the emotional nausea.


playing with rocks


i feel like a kid.
it’s nothing new, i often feel like one. but today it’s really apparent, i’ve got my toys out.
it’s raining and chilly outside. it looks like an april skating rink out there and i don’t want to move.
so i’ve been playing with rocks: tourmaline, citrine, sodalite, to name a few.
i’ve been picking them up and feeling their weight.
the hematite is silky smooth and heavy. i let it sit between my legs at my root.
i put the rose quartz on my heart and just breathe.
the amethyst’s jagged edges scratch at my forehead reminding me to look and see with my other eye, the one that doesn’t blink.
don’t tell anyone, but i’m lying on the couch as i write this, my laptop propped on my legs. this is the only way i can get the stones to stay put. it must be quite the sight but the dog doesn’t seem to mind.

my partner asked me if I am becoming “all wooey wooey”.
and you see, this is the thing. as a yoga teacher, i’ve always had a fear of being perceived as “granola” (and i’m not talking about the goodness of breakfast cereal).
my sister thinks I’m pretty close to wearing socks and birkenstocks. she teases me about being flaky because i love to touch trees and be barefoot in the grass. i get really excited about lichen and moss. Sometimes i want to eat lilacs because their perfume is so intoxicating, it transports me into another reality.
in the past three weeks of my yoga classes, we’ve been exploring the chakras. we started at the base and are working our way up. next week my classes will be themed around the heart chakra.
it’s a pretty new-agey concept i guess, but when you let go of the stereotypes and start to connect with the meanings and ideas behind those little balls of energy, the practice has the potential to show you exactly where you are.
the base of the spine asks: am i actually holding myself on my own two feet? am i living a stable, balanced life?
the second chakra begs you to look deeply into your pelvis: am i connected to my creativity, my sensuality? do i still know how to take pleasure in my life and have fun?
i am certainly not trying to spin my chakras back into alignment.
i am not wearing rose-colored glasses either.
i think i am pretty grounded even though i sometimes dip my feet into magical territory.
i’m not trying to convince you.

the truth is, it is my groundedness that allows me to explore the mystical aspects of life without getting lost and without floating away. when i take the time to dig my toes into the dirt i am always reminded of where i came from and why I’m here.

so why am i telling you all this?
perhaps because i’ve been sitting with ideas.
i’ve been wanting to take myself in a (slightly) different direction.
i imagine some tiny little gnomes tugging at my hands: this way! No, no! this way!
it’s no surprise i guess. i have this thing with duality as you may have noticed.
my head tells me to be rational, to let go of the dreamland.
it also warns me of what people might think or say if i showed them what i carry in my coat pockets – gasp!
but my heart… my heart wants to pick up feathers and cedar. it wants to talk to foxes and whales.
my hands want to make food to feed your soul. they want to lay sweetgrass across your throat and help you sing.
i want to tell you how beautiful you are, how much you are loved.


i am navigating the sea of possibilities right now. i’ll let you know where it takes me, i promise.
maybe there is a way to do it all. i don’t know yet.
in the meantime i am enjoying spending time with my stones.

a long time coming


‘he’s aging so fast, and not so well’ she said.
she’s been letting the tears come, and then the frustration, and after that the desperate laughter.
she’s been saying goodbye, both consciously and not so consciously.
and in the process, she’s been weeding through the garden of her relationships.
she’s been sweeping out the cobwebs and saying what needs to be said.
she’s been expressing her gratitude, she’s been telling them to piss off.
she’s sharing her pain and allowing herself to be raw, laying it all out for the spring sunshine to heal.
she’s been feeling the age of holding it all in.

and so she said what has been sitting between us like a paper cut.
she found the courage – or was it the resignation – to voice what’s been at play there, that heartbreak twang of a country song unheard in the deserted strip mall parking lot.

the wounds were opened a bit, stretched out and slightly stinging, wanting to be washed.
we peered in to see what was there.
we found words, lots of them. there were lonesome words carelessly strewn about, and secret notes torn to shreds and impossible to piece together again. we found old dusty pictures of us laughing, and some of us hiding from each other. there were love songs, poems of mistrust and a rusted wagon that held our deep seated wish to be each other’s ‘person’. both of us sat there, poking at our noodles and wanting to take a spin in the red flyer once again.


we felt vulnerable as we spoke our truths. we were talking to each other, yes, and also to our own hearts.

they had sensed it before we could, had offered a window into the freedom that might come if we gave ourselves (and each other) permission to expose the burden of our hurt. they didn’t talk to each other, yet they each told us the same thing. he watched the sadness and the protectiveness and knew that all we needed to do was talk with honesty and clarity. she whispered at first, and then let it come with more certainty. she knew that if we just let it out, if we just gave it up to each other, then we would feel better. they both knew we could love each other and hold each other and allow for each other’s truth without getting in the way. they knew before we did because they know how to hold us without getting in the way.

it’s been a long time of so much.
we rummaged through it all in those couple of hours.
we dusted off the dirt and found diamonds and lotuses.
we yanked at the weeds that had made thick roots and found that if we both pulled together, they weren’t so deep after all.
we dug into the dirt and found beautiful healthy bulbs that have kept us holding hands and we planted new promises…
to shed the old callused skin of protection,
to see each other,
to listen and hear our own songs,
to find the lovely harmonies we know how to make together, if we both give ourselves permission to sing.

it is our very own spring, our very own thawing.
becoming best friends is an afterthought – somehow we both know that we are already sisters and mirrors of each other.
we didn’t say it explicitly. the words weren’t spoken out loud because they didn’t need to be. we know now that what has the most value is this net we’ve decided to cast for each other. we know that if either of us chooses to jump, the other will catch us. we know that the bumps and bruises we will inevitably get along the way will be given time and space to heal.
we’ve decided to trust.
all we need to do is continue to put one foot ahead of the other and keep walking.