my heart still works

i fell asleep listening to my heartbeat last night. I say listening, even though this is technically impossible, because I was, actually, somehow listening.

I guess I wanted to make sure it was still working because it felt as though it had stopped. It broke a little bit. Again. And i suppose after anything breaks so many times, you wonder if it's finally that one time that is one time too many, ya know? Like that piece on my wooden sailboat that I've gorilla glued and super glued and hot glued so many times that if it were to even just be touched in the slightest of wrongish ways, the whole thing would probably just crumble. I suppose it is the definition of something fragile. Lots of things are fragile. The miniature ceramic flower planter of my mom's that i broke (and then hid) when i was 9- that was fragile. Mac earphones are fragile. I just threw away my third pair today. I let them ride around in my suitcase-size purse, pulling them out, throwing them back in, pulling them out.. They were likely in agony, being tangled in sunglasses and lipglosses, until one of those little earbuds had enough and threw itself into the bottom of the bag. Those things are fragile, and unexpectedly so. But there really isn't anything as fragile as my wooden boat. Nothing as fragile as something that may not even necessarily have been fragile to begin with.  But it was mistreated until it broke, then mended until it was mistreated and broken again. After enough times of this happening, I have almost officially retired the poor little wooden sailboat. It just sits there by my bed, and I look at it the same way you look at a homeless guy with a fifth of wild turkey in one had and 3 pennies in the other.  You want to help him out, but you know the destiny of your dollar is only more wild turkey and you don't want that for him, so you don't give him the dollar at all. That's the boat. I'd let him sail around a little, but i know he'd break, and i DON'T WANT IT TO BREAK so i don't.
It was so strong- the strongest of strongs- it was wood. WOOD. mistreated, it's now a withered conglomerate of glues. And i protect it for it's own sake.
Somewhere along the line, my heart theoretically became the boat. And it's sad to know that something once so strong- is at the mercy of you to protect it from crumbling.  When it wants to sail.  So when is it going to be that one-last-time? The one last time that it flings itself overboard like the earbud? Or that one of the heart glues that's held my heart pieces together just gives way..
So i listened to my heartbeat as i fell asleep and just laid there amazed with it. So proud of it. There it is, inside me, even now, and it's still beating. STILL.
It's the one thing that keeps a person alive. And it's the thing that if broken, hurts like nothing else ever could. But even now i feel it beating. And i'm rooting for it. Keep beating b-e-a-t-i-n-g beating! GO go GO!
It may be fragile in the fragilist of ways, but it's still beating. And i'm begining to think gorilla glue doesn't hold a candle to the glue that's keeping my heart together.
That stuff, whatever it is, is good..

a visit from my self.

While meditating today, I was visited by an old friend- my real self.

There isn't always 'time' to let her in.  Simply saying that, I wonder about all of the other menial things in life I do allow time for.  If not myself, who is important enough for my time? My friends, the guy in my life, my emails, my job, and lord knows, the lure of default discontent.
I've always struggled with commitment. Things always seem to bore me after a while. I want to do things i've never done, and keep searching, looking, shopping, discovering.  Commitment in romance is coming more naturally to me, and i've made such headway with sitting in something long enough to grow from it.  I've stuck with my last few jobs longer than I had wanted to, and I'm going on 3 1/2 years in L.A., as of this week, with my last escape attempt over two years ago.  I've learned the value of commitment, and i'm on my way to trusting it.  But how did I somehow forget my commitment to who realy needed me? myself.

In an attempt to have a more diligent meditative practice, I've found that a great time for me, that is easy to remember, is right after the shower.  It is a time, when given the luxury of silence, I can look at the bathroom floor as a safe haven for diving in.

Home alone today, the opportunity presented itself.

I don't know how much time passed before I realized she had arrived. But I knew my real self was there with me. She's a character, that self of mine- I love her so much. First things first, she reminded me not to take anything too seriously, and as my body relaxed with my breath, i awoke, really, in the stillness.  My hands woke up, too, and is of to say "hello, we're all yours! We're your own hands!"...rose up, one on top of the other, and placed themselves on my heart with an ease as if to also say "remember us?"
At the moment, my hands are typing away on my keypad, and reaching for my coffee cup every so often.  It's hard to believe that at that time they had so much to say.

So, as my hands gracefully showed me what they needed to, I showed up, too. I wasn't in prayer as I sometimes am- I was consoling someone I didn't know needed it.
This girl I found myself consoling has been aching and sore. She has been needy, lost, but most of all just very, very confused.
She had found herself in love again recently.  She loves being in love. With him. It's a place she loves to be. But as she found herself there, she couldn't avoid the darkness that also existed, looming there as it always has. waiting for her.
The pain is something she manages every day. Her pills she takes for her heart come in the form of other people, and other experiences, that she finds joy in loving and in finding gratitude for.  The pills come in the form of the things she does every so often to love herself, like yoga, or a massage, or a long, hot bath.
She's taken a few pills lately from a man, who says he loves her. A man she was beginning to believe. A man she was even thinking she might trust.

This girl has had a rocky road with trust. She never wanted it to create bitterness in her. She could see how much misery was in the eyes of all the people whose hearts were closed to trust. And she knew she never wanted that to happen.

This man that she has thought about trusting is a man who has earned it. Recently, however, something challenged the security she was building. The man did nothing wrong, but when she confronted him, he misunderstood her need, and dismissed it.

As she sat on this bathroom floor, with her hands on her heart, she knew what she had to do.  She sunk in, opened that heart of hers with her own love, and told herself that it was ok.  That she knew she was hurting, that she knew why, and that she would always be there to take care of her.

On the bathroom floor, the girl placed her past in front of herself and forgave it. With closed eyes and an open heart, she could finally let go of the need to be strong.  She felt her body, over the years grown from something small to something muscular and fierce.  She felt the stamina she had built to work hard and jump high, slowly but gently release. She saw the visions of her learnings; when she learned how to make money, how to stand tall, how to live alone, how to walk alone.  And she felt compassion for that girl who needed to do all of that, who had done it with an aching heart, and who had done it desperately.

Deep down, that girl who once counted on someone that let her down- knew that there was no need to keep looking for someone else who never would.  She was there, alone, on the bathroom floor, and it was she who had always been there, and who would always be.

Forgiving herself, she forgave all others. And the open heart that allowed her to do so, softened so that she could do more.  Her soft heart is now ready to love someone who would love to love her.  Ready to begin the commitment of a lifetime. Perhaps even the commitment to the man. There she was, readier than ever for the commitment to herself.

the baby in my life

I watched Baby Miss Mina today for a whole hour by myself.

This is big for any and all of the following reasons:
1. i haven't babysat in several years, and the responsibility one feels for someone else's child was a feeling I had kind of forgotten. It is intense.
2. Baby Miss Mina is only 10 months old, and is blessed to have a full time mom, my friend Darcy, so she hasn't been exposed so much yet to being on her own.
3. Baby Miss Mina is really cool, drop-dead gorgeous, and very well dressed.. making her a super-cool baby to hang out with.

Yes, she fully turned around and stared at me through the little window of the stroller top for a while as i walked her...but then obviously deciding i was cool, turned back around. (or just got tired.) After that, we went to get chai lattes, (latte) looked at roses and birds of paradise, then pointed at them, and then sat stationary for a whole 10-20 minutes (who's counting) because i locked the stroller and didn't know how to undo it.

No, i never took her out of the stroller. Why mess with perfection???
Mina, Me, and the Stroller are on the road to trust. I can just tell.

job searching

I am almost positively sure that i've come to the crossroads in 'career' more than about 98% of people on the planet. And i'm 28. All of you lucky ones knew a little bit more about what you wanted to study in school, or what you wanted to do to make a living, and a lot more about how to make it happen.  how'd you all know?

I've always been envious of people who have their paths clearly marked.  Of course, on a higher plane, I understand that we each have our own things to work through, find, and master. One of my biggest issues- the one that leaves me feeling lost and in tears at least once a year- is the path marked "career." First of all, it doesn't help that I'm as free-spirited as i am.  In other aspects of my life, my freeness and liberality is embraced; cheered on, even. It's America! In love, in art, in perception of life. My mind and heart are open.  But in America, the same place where freedom and openness are supported, one's career, credentials, finances, and achievements are honored, in a way, more than what they themselves are experiencing.

I like to think that If my time were up tomorrow, I'd feel accomplished in what i've learned on the human plane of love. (The subject I've incidentally found myself studying, in depth, throughout my 20's.)
Yes. So, I'd like to think that if credentials of such were respected, I'd have a Master's already. A doctorate.  The profoundness of what i've learned about relationships, about growth as oneself, about all there is to fathome of the divine...I'm proud of.

My focus and pride has never been on my own academia. I got good grades. if I wanted to. In college, I thought it was a shame to ace a test on a book I never read just because I owned the Cliff's notes. What had I really earned, had I not absorbed the story itself? An "A" did nothing for my growth. And neither did my agreement of importance of the books' words themselves, with he who wrote the exam.


Because of my view on this and other things, my contemporaries, for one thing, have believed me to be from another planet.  Especially since I was raised by a stock broker and a housewife.  in the midwest.
I can't explain why. Learning is bliss. I always enjoyed it. And because of this craving for newness and what I don't know- I've dappled in so many things.  I studied English for my degree. I took so many 'impractical' art courses that I got a minor. I was 3 credit hours shy of finishing a business minor, because I flunked Finance. daughter of a stock broker, i know..
I went on to find my first job as an "in the meantime." I got the job by wearing some cool shoes to a Chamber of Commerce breakfast with some suits.  A dude there commented on them and offered me a job at a sleek, high end hotel in St. Louis. So, ya, I got a job because of the shoes I walking in. And I respected the guy for his good taste in shoes and his generosity, more than the prestige of his title.
I worked the front desk, but got to wear anything I wanted. Parents: great that i have a job.  Me: i get to wear whatever i want, and not work a 9-5. score..
I then graduated to a real person job. A line developing assistant for a shoe company! Cool! This time, I could wear whatever I wanted, and I'd get high-fives for doing it. But when it came to designing the shoes, business wasn't being won with where my mind wanted to take it.
I left to experience nightlife. Working in restaurants and bars. That's how it started.. I had odd hours. could party when i cared to, had days off to roadtrip wherever i wanted. And found a whole new dimension to wearing whatever I wanted.
The rest is history.  Since then, I've answered phones at a beverly hills spa, waited tables at a French bakery, auditioned as an actor, taught pre-school, worked for a yoga company selling yogawear. I got certified to teach yoga dance classes, and got so close to opening my own yoga studio that i had a lease in front of me to sign.  And then the ultimate: I cocktailed.
I miss writing. Which is why i do this.
I've helped design rooms of friends' houses. I've created playlists for, and taught classes that have people tearfully thanked me more afterwords. I paint, I tinker, I design. I've started writing a children's book. I give good advice. I love it all. And more than anything, I love helping others find light in their lives. Someday, I know, it will click. And i'll know how to use my gifts the best way I can.
In the meantime, I found my first job as an "in the meantime" and have been "in the meantime ever since."

botox at 28

All of a sudden when I turned 25, my face started acting up. So, i had to figure out what blemishes were. I'm convinced that it had more to do with years upon years of birth control pills- (those trouble makers) but still- my body was now producing something that made me break out. So, i went to a dermatologist for the first time at 26, and there ya go, no more problems.

It was only natural to see one again recently, since I hadn't been in a while. i decided to find one out here in LA, mostly to have my Nordic skin looked at after working on a southern california rooftop in the sun all summer long.  I was expecting a scolding for not having worn 80 sunblock.

Instead, I was met with a few daunting questions, and fingers feeling around on my face.

"HAVE YOU EVER CONSIDERED BOTOX?"

Don't get me wrong- I wasn't overly phased, and I didn't go home and cry while staring at my reflection in the mirror. Of course, I had never considered Botox at 28.  Nor was I going to.

This is LA. And this is a doctor's office. And this doctor just so happens to have "cosmetic" somewhere in her dermatological title. So, no, i wasn't surprised.  This is her living, these are her techniques.

My heart did not break for myself. And for this, I'm thankful, and even a bit surprised. So, no- i didn't worry about it, or play myself a sad aging tune.  Instead, I thought of all the other 28 year olds that had sat in the same seat as I did, had come in for this or that, a zit here, a rash there, etc.. and had their faces prodded and poked by a doctor who then would tell them that she could "fix that" if they ever wanted to.

So, ya, my heart broke a little for those girls. They're out there somewhere, probably not looking at their faces like they used to. They may see an imperfection until they can't stand to see it anymore.

And so, those girls will go back to that doctor with cosmetic in her name, and have the procedure- not so that they can necessarily see perfection, but just so they can see something not imperfect.

It's these little lessons I learn along the way that reaffirm my gratitude for the work I do as an instructor.  I like to think that every time a student of mine leaves my class, they feel a bit more love of self than they did when they walked in.

And if they do, my job may not be grandiose and huge, but my job is pretty cool.

feelings- don't feel them so much

I am such a self-imploding, self-indulgent glutton, that i sometimes get lost in my feelings. I let my mind race, and the tornado whirl, and pretty soon, it's a miracle if I can find my way out.  The art of 'getting out' i now realize, is not as imressive as the art of 'not getting in.'
In childhood, getting upset was almost a cycle.  I would be disapointed by someone, and off i'd go into my room. painting, drawing, writing, listening to my collection of Beatles albums. It was the escape of what i didn't know i couldn't handle yet about life.
Now, it is the art of not having to go to 'my room' to paint or write...but it is most definitely the reason why I can.
And now, as I've built the harness to my emotions with the strength of heart, I can learn the lessons I need to, have the relationships I desire, and make headway with this grandiose world with which i was once at war.

help: life is funky

No one ever tells you that your 20's are just as gut-wrenching and torcherous as they are fun.

I could've sworn that growing up, the 20's seemed like ones' glory years. I always thought it was the 'prime' of life... it's when everyone looks their best, does the most, and...da.da.daaaaa....GETS MARRIED.

It was the predictability of life laid out for me that created my first rebellious move..a literal move.. to LA. Somehow, despite the underlying dream behind my departure to Hollywood, I figured i'd also conveniently escape the monotony of what, inevitably, my family was expecting from me.

After all, isn't it a little too coincidental that EVERYONE finds their spouse at that golden age of 20-something..and the natural course is kids at 30, family at 40, retirement by default after that..

I think that some of that actual trend is the biological clock's fault. We find what we need to procreate. when we can.

Contemporary society has a lot of exceptions. Exceptions, now, are not only acceptable, but prevalent. People are waiting. Women are choosing education, and following thier own paths. Men are off the hook a bit, with the blossoming concept of dual-income.

Women are having babies well into their 40's, and my friend D's favorite show, Cougar Town brilliantly argues 40 is the new 20.

So the 20's can be lived a bit less pressured, right?

Hard to say.

When you're in your 20's there's so much going on, and not an abundance of direction..which is what we're raised to expect. Suddenly, if you're going at a normal rate of speed, at the mere age of 23, you're out of an educational structure that has done the dancing for you. So..you're free, and it;s time to rush into the structure of a job. What happens when you free float...

i suppose something like what's happened to me.

Lots and Lots of loose ends!

But here we are, in our 20's, with the damn clock ticking, horomones gushing, (especially with girls on birth control) and hunger for money, success, and survival. The added dimension, which i'm not sure everyone can even see- is the unique threshold of enlightenment and spiritual awareness that people are finding whether they like it or not, can't avoid..

It's a collison of many things; this day in age. And this age .

So, ya, it's hard to say.

I have many friends who wonder why they're still single at 28, as the biological clock tick-tocks away.

On my 28th birthday, a guy at work congratulated me on the official commencement of my eggs shriveling.

And there are days, i'm afraid, I never escaped at all.