Inspired on my bike.
______________________________
I found God
in flower ridden fields
in dancing drops of rain
in rays of heated sun light,
in sifting winds,
and grass tickled toes.
I found God
echoed back to me,
at every turn,
enveloping me
in a love run rampant.
Electric through me,
emanating from me,
I found God.
My first dream in life was to be a writer. If you know me, you know this.
I used to write stories for fun, back when I was still using the notebook paper with the dotted lines in the middle. When i wasn’t writing, I was reading. Not just for entertainment, but to learn how the authors developed their characters, to study the storyline and plot formation, and to expand my vocabulary.
When I was 7 I started to write my first novel. In hindsight this is hilarious because I was a child, but it was real to me. I was writing about a girl transitioning into womanhood. A girl who was torn between a life she had and a life she dreamed of. She lived on a farm, owned and run by her family, a farm that she was expected to help with, to work at, and to continue with as it was the family business. She knew her duties and she was good at them. But she had other dreams, of the city, of living in a place swarmed with different people from different walks of life, of endless possibilities, of experience and expansion, of being whoever she chose to be, rather than who she was told to be.
One day, not too long after I’d moved from Pennsylvania to Massachusetts, I printed out the 38 pages I’d typed up so I could review it as a whole and edit some. I edited a lot. I struck out lines and words, I marked the pages up until it looked like it must all be wrong, and I decided it just wasn’t good enough. I shredded it. I deleted it. I stopped writing for a very long time, unless it was for school.
I continued to read though. A lot. And I was just as much of a critic to those writers as I was to myself (still am, I won’t lie). And when I found something moving, or beautiful, or genius (there was more of this than not), then I was so blown away, so dumbstruck that I had to take a break from reading before moving to the next book, simply out of respect, like waiting to hop into a new relationship after a break up. However, these books continued to deter my writing, because how could I ever measure up to that?
I started writing stories again when 1. I had lived a little more life, and 2. I gained some confidence in myself (college).
But putting them on paper is one thing, sharing them is another. I’ll show you why. Take these excerpts:
—(Just winging it here) “His hand brushed mine as we walked down the dirt road. We didn’t speak or exchange looks, but I could feel him next to me, his steps matching my every breath, my every heart beat.”
— (From “Sunday Cycling”) “I watch the waves crash against the concrete steps that line the lake, but some days the water is perfectly still with no current at all. My breath slows and deepens as I watch the clouds form shapes above me. I am so heavy on the ground, it feels like I’m sinking into the dirt. I am so connected to the world around me that I can feel the tree branches swaying in the wind.”
As writers we try to paint a picture for the reader so they can feel like they’re there, or relate to the emotions in the story. We learned this in english class— create imagery, be detailed, etc etc. But for me, I was simply sharing my experiences. I was sharing the world through my eyes, how I see things, how my body feels, where my mind goes in those moments. You see my values and my humor, my joy and my pain. If it’s fiction, then I am creating a world through my perception of life (of what it is, or of what I want it to be). And THAT is like being naked onstage. It’s raw, it’s vulnerable, it’s intimate, and it’s fucking terrifying to put on display for the world to see.
I clearly am not in that space anymore, since this blog shares way too much information about my personal life, and I have literally been almost naked on stage for the world to see (bikini comp). Anyways… If I never truly tried to be writer, if I never put all of my eggs in that basket, then I could never fail, right? But ain’t that the saddest way to live your life? ( I hate the word “ain’t”).
So I am done getting in my own way, I am done with fear, I am here to be seen, understood, misunderstood, called crazy, ambushed with tomatoes to the face, whatever you wish, I really don’t care.
Recently, I was laying on my couch, scrolling through my Instagram page, just reminiscing. It was my last day of work at the office and I’d felt a huge relief as I let that chapter of my life go, a sense of completion if you will. I was done with this job and moving forward in my life despite my lack of direction.
I scrolled past pictures of me in college, in different countries, with friends, family, of me working, and partying, of baby pictures, of nature, and art. It hit me in that moment that I have done everything I’ve ever wanted, that I HAVE everything I have ever wanted. I pursued the career I’d always dreamed of and kept my hobbies alive, I travelled the world, I’ve witnessed divinity in nature, and have met beautiful people from all walks of life. I am an athlete and a writer, a body builder and an artist, a student and a teacher, an adult and a child. I’ve been lost, and remembered who I am. I’ve walked in darkness, and also shared my light. I’ve hurt people and have helped them heal. I learned how to heal myself. I have known love. True, unconditional, expansive love, for me and from me. I’ve been a friend and a wife, an aunt and a stepmom.
Being in this space— the knowing that I have experienced it all, that I have been everything at one time or the other, makes every additional moment of this human experience just icing on the cake.
Giving Poetry a shot =]
_________________________________________
Come In.
Shut the door behind you.
Seal us from the outside,
a world
icing over.
Peel your layers off,
drop your coat.
Revel in the warmth that floats
abundantly between us.
We are safe here.
Shielded
from the elements.
From the past, from the future,
from our fears.
Time dances around us to an endless tune,
but is lost.
Our beat creates it’s own harmony,
aligned,
expansive,
felt, not heard,
in waves of joy.
Through love.
When you go,
walking over solid water,
stand firm in your knowing
that Grace will guide us.
Listen
to the melody within.
A song that strings
you to you.
A song I hear
only with my heart.
I don’t know how I got here, I just am. I’m roaming on what feels like a marsh. Sand sinks under my feet, and tall grass surrounds me. Although I am close to the sea, I’m also on the the edges of a forest. I don’t know why I’m here. But then I see him. He’s wandering through a space densely populated with trees and shrubs. He’s carrying a pack of equipment on his back, it looks like a bag of tools and survival needs. He uses the machete in his hand to clear the path in front of him. I just watch, realizing I’m here in the wilderness with nothing but a t shirt and jeans.
“What is he doing?” I think. I watch him trek around, but I can see him both from where I stand and a birds eye view. Does he know that he’s just wandering in circles?
I intercept him, and he looks shocked to see me.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
He tells me about a thesis he’s writing, his life’s project, his gift to the world. He tells me how he’s going to show the world how to access an other world experience. He gets into scientist mode and shares his findings on the laws of physics and how limiting they’ve been to us. “There is another form of existence out there for us,” he shares, “and we can all access it, we just need to be taught how.” He shares about this life in a higher dimension, a heavenly experience on an earth rid of war, rid of hate, and fueled by love.
“I have all the tools,” he tells me. “I just need to get there.”
I smile at him, in admiration and understanding. “I know exactly how to get there,” I share. “I have the map.”
I grab his hand and start walking to where the forest meets the beach. He used his tools to clear our path. We walk up some hills and through different vegetations, until we arrive at this beautiful, ancient tree. “This is it,” I tell him, “this is the bridge.” He doesn’t question it or me, although he doesn’t understand. I turned to him and said, “I will show you.”
The tree trunk before us is like a hologram. It has the appearance of rigid, dried out bark, but I can push my hand right through it. I step in, holding his hand in mine. Like a laundry shoot, we’re dropped down and slide through a massive, dark tunnel. We slide so far but so fast, it feels like our entire journey happens in an instant.
We’re deposited on the sandy marsh, much like the one we’d come from, but completely different. The shore is exploding in colorful flowers, blends of colors I can’t describe. Water hits the shore with calming waves. The sky is a vibrant blue with streaks of color, as if the land was reflected in it. A tall, beautiful, white house sits at the top of a hill, overlooking the sea. It’s not hot or humid, but the air feels warm and tingly, like that feeling you get when your crush puts his arm around you. People are roaming everywhere, just frolicking and playing, we could hear the laughter from where we were.
“We’re here.” I say, but we both just take it in in silence.
“All this time I’ve been searching, and you had a map?” he says, almost in a whisper.
“Yea,” I answered. I had a map, but I didn’t know of what, until he told me what he was searching for.
“Well, we have to go back,” he says. “We have to backtrack, and draw it out, and collect data. I have to write it out.”
I didn’t want to go back. But I understood that we could open this up for everyone, we could shift everything with our findings. And his thesis— that was his mission here. And I knew that we could only do it together.
*****************************************************************************************
Over the next few nights I dreamt of this journey— of us going back and forth, taking notes and mapping this out. We wrote abstracts and brainstormed titles.. it was like being back in college again.
I woke up and tossed the white sheets to the side to free my face. I saw him laying beside me, still sleeping. As I sat up and looked around, I realized I was in the room I grew up in, at my parent’s house. I smiled and thought, “I am home.”
I turned over to cuddle him, and put my arm around his body. He squirmed uncomfortably under my touch, and subtly tried to push me away. I knew then that he wasn’t sleeping, and that he wanted to be left alone. So I let him go. I turned over to my side, leaving a large space between us. We were practically on opposite edges of the bed.
As I closed my eyes to sleep again, I felt him his arm land on my waist, and it was as if his entire being was embracing me in a bear hug. It was peaceful and warm, and all I could do was smile.
We both got up and walked through my parents’ house. Except the house was changing in front of me. The living room opened up and had vaulted ceilings and spiral staircases. The interior was all cherry wood with velvet reds, there were floor to ceiling bookshelves and fireplaces turned up in flames. It looked like the mansion from Beauty In the Beast. It was stunning.
“Let’s go upstairs, it gets better,” I said to him.
So we walked, hand in hand, up the staircases and past members of my family. They each had something to say.
“Don’t you have a boyfriend?” my dad said. I didn’t respond, and just thought, no dad, keep up.
My mom questioned, “who is that man?”
My brother came along with another remark.. “well what about…”
They each came to me like children full of fears and anxiety. But I did not stop to entertain them, we did not engage. I moved past them as if in my own protected bubble of bliss. I floated past them, smiling as I climbed higher and higher to spaces I’d never seen before.
What if you just let go of your whole life? Let it fall apart at the seams. Step away from your job, forget about your 401k or your investments, or that “what am I supposed to do next” thought. Wake up in the morning whenever your body is ready, and feel out what you want to do that day. What’s calling your soul?
The part of me that is a “realist” (stuck in the perceived truths of this reality) says yea right. How can you live that way when there are three thousand and forty one things to worry about, to do, to plan for, and that could go wrong. I was taught to work, to fulfill certain social roles, and to build security for my future. Check off all those boxes, and don’t question how limiting it is to be able to fit into any or all of them.
Another aspect of me is just observing myself in the life I’ve created already. I went to school for 8 years, became a doctor, supported myself, moved across the country alone, and travelled to various regions of the world. I look at all that I’ve done and I KNOW that I can do absolutely anything. Because the reality is, I already have.
So I’m here, at this nexus point (again) where I’d like to let it all go. People ask me “how do you do it?” Well, for one, I live a simple life. I am unattached, in several ways. I have no mortgage, car payments, or kids. I am responsible for nobody but myself, and this way of life was a choice. I am unattached from the need to have a mortgage, new car, or kids, to climb the latter at work, or to save the world. These were all very important to me at one point. I needed them like you might need a new iPhone when it comes out.
Now I am satisfied with the smallest moments of this human experience; hot coffee on my patio, unstructured writing, baking and feeding the people I love, simple interactions with the people I come across, the smell of damp grass in the morning, the colors of the sun reflecting off the clouds, the sound of my own breathing.
With every aspect of my life dismantled, I can get up and ask myself why i am doing what I choose to do. Is it enhancing my ability to enjoy these experiences, or getting in the way of them? This short human experience is a collection of moments, and these moments are OUR choice.
So what is calling your soul?
Silence wraps around my body, and I can feel its cold tail tracing down my skin. My body moves forward, and I hold this stillness close to me. There is nothing pending beyond this moment, and nothing I can remember from before it. All I know is I am free to continue in whichever way I please, to the moment which I next wish to experience. The space is vast around me, and the paths flow endlessly from where I stand. Whichever way my foot lands, it will do so joyfully. Because I am here. Because I AM.
Several people have been shocked to see me light up when they ask about my fitness competition. To most it looks like months of a restricted diet and physical exertion. More than once I’ve heard, “I’m tired just thinking about it.” But when I share my experience I start talking really fast and way too much, like I’d just crushed some extra pre-workout. It can be overwhelming to get slammed with this type of energy. I can see it on their bewildered faces.
So how did I get to this place?
Good question. It took me years to get where I am on my fitness journey. And I don’t mean that in a physical way. I’ve been more fit, more flexible, and have had a lower body fat. What I mean is that it took time to arrive at a place where my physical activity was rooted from a place of love.
To see the contrast of where I am today, lets dive into where I started, and more importantly, why.
1. Community
I was an athlete growing up, dedicated to softball year round, basketball in the winter, soccer one fall, and rugby another. It was an outlet for me on several levels. I was a part of a team, and always had a place where I felt that I belonged. I had a mindless escape, it was a beautiful place that allowed me to live only in the present moment.
2. Esthetics
Despite all that, I was slightly overweight (mostly as a kid, and then again in college). So I exercised to look cute in my new bikini, to fit into a new dress, or to be accepted in what was defined as beautiful, which in my youth was being “thin.”
3. Escape
It’s a well known fact that exercise can aid in fighting depression. A 20 minute cardio session pumps you with endorphins, can boost your mood and leave you with energy to push you through the day. As a native New Englander, I experienced seasonal depression from about October through April. The dark months and cold mornings felt draining and in turn I felt lifeless. So when everyone became sedentary and cozy at home, I ramped up my workout regimen. I tried to trick my body into thinking it was spring. I basked in the LED lighting at the gym. When I could feel the blood pumping through my veins, the pounding of my heart, and sweat drip through my clothes I felt grounded in my body again. I felt alive.
I didn’t always cope this way. In college I used alcohol and drugs as my escape. It was easier, it was quicker, and at that point I was strictly existing in a place of survival. That instant gratification spiraled into a constant source of comfort, until fitness made its way back to me. In this way, although I hadn’t addressed the true source of my depression, I traded one addiction for another, seemingly healthier one.
4. Empowerment
At 30, I drastically shifted my perspective on fitness. I no longer exercise to “fix” a part of my body or to escape my negative emotions. How did I get here? By working through those internal conflicts! Yes, this is a physical and spiritual journey. Addressing my belief systems and thought processes allowed me to heal and then detach from my coping mechanisms.
Now I exercise to celebrate my body, to celebrate my current strength and to push the limitations that I had placed for myself. I consciously choose to work out, simply because it’s fun to me. Honestly, it has only been fun after removing the judgement and the pressure of image and performance.
How I Use this Mindset During Prep:
During my competition prep I’ve learned the importance of intuitive eating and exercise. Do I follow my coach and her plan? Yes, in a way. She gives me a list of workouts for the week, and while I complete them all, I do so at my discretion. I choose the workout I’m doing that day based on how my body feels. Do I count macros? Yes. But I choose to eat those foods when I feel hungry.
It’s true, the plan is strict, but it is not imprisoning. Does it take time? Yes, but I still have time for everything else. There is no feeling of sacrifice when my time spent exercising is a conscious choice and not a task to complete out of obligation. This has been the big difference in shifting exercise from a physical need to a source of joy.
The term “burnout” has gained popularity in the last few years. We hear warnings about it, and symptoms like it’s a contagious disease.
But it’s not, it’s just a disconnect between your daily actions and your soul’s purpose.
There’s an unbearable level of exhaustion that comes from living life by the limiting rules that society has constructed for us. Have you ever gotten up and felt like someone hit the repeat button on your life? “Is it Tuesday or Wednesday?” you ask yourself, but you can’t tell because every day is the exact same experience.
Running on this never ending hamster wheel can be tiring, but sometimes we can’t see it until we crash. Whether it’s an existential crisis, a reckless night that leads to self sabotage, or a physical illness, life will show us that we can’t continue this way.
If you hate your job or where you’re at in life, you may not know what to do. The only thing that is clear is that you need a change.
If you love what you do, that’s great, so do I! But I’ve learned that the passion I’ve had for my career left me blind to the fact that there is more to life than just that, there is an unlimited amount of experiences to be had. You can love something, enjoy it, and then move on to another.
So, burn out. What does it feel like?
Dread. Like your body feels so heavy that you drag your feet to get to work and are too drained to do anything afterwards. It’s leaving for lunch and fantasizing about driving as far as your car will take you. It’s being excited about a flat tire because hmm…. I just might not make it in today.
Okay, those are pretty extreme. It can also be feelings of anxiety, nervousness, and fatigue. It may appear to you in a plethora of ways, we are all different in how we feel discontent.
So how do we wind up burnt out when we pursue the career we always wanted? I had my first feelings of burn out in the first year of my career, and I wondered how I’d gotten there so fast. The truth is that I’d been working for years to get to where I was. My life decisions to this point were rooted in my attachment to his outcome: to a job, a position, a title. I had glorified it, and it fell short of all my unrealistic expectations.
I invested time, money, and energy into learning a skill that I thought would bring me value. Yet all it lead to was work, to a position on the hamster wheel. There I was working for someone else, for hours that I couldn’t dictate, with little to no benefits. I had strived to work in a system that didn’t allow me to move.
Have you ever worked with someone who just gets up one day, loses it, and walks out? This is an obvious consequence to working in a space that is out of alignment. The dangers of burnout that we don't see, however, is the self doubt that can creep up, the poor decision making, the mind fog, anxiety that doesn’t leave when the day is over, depression, poor quality of work, and decreased creativity and learning.
Bring an awareness to your feelings throughout the day to see if you’re experiencing burn out in your career choice. Are you excited for your day, are you seeking expansion in your role? Do you have the passion you did on your first day in the office? Or are you tired and working from a place of obligation?
I found that writing down my feelings in the moment allowed me to look back on my daily experiences and gauge whether or not those were aligned with the life I am striving to create. Acknowledging where I am has led me to take action towards where I want to be.
For some people, it takes dramatic hardships and steep lows to seek out therapy. How many couples come in when their marriage is about to break? How many young professionals roll in mid burn out, or in the throws of some existential crisis?
I’m sure it’s more than we’d hope. I was one of those people.
Talk therapy has become popular now, and accepted as a normal “self care” practice. It’s in all our favorite movies and shows, and it’s become a norm in a generation inspired to seek self fulfillment and joy. We’re also living in a time of intense trauma, both on a personal and global level, where everyone needs to talk to someone.
Here’s what therapy did for me, what it lacked, and what I learned:
1. Therapy made space for me to be human.
In therapy I could share my feelings about anything and everything. I could have a pity party over the coworker who annoys me, and vent about the man who didn’t give me the attention I wanted, because that was what I was there for. It was a space for me to unload without severing a personal relationship, and to let out all of my emotions in the most raw, child like form without social repercussions. It was a wonderful release.
2. Therapy validated my feelings when I didn’t know how to.
Sometimes, the weight of the world can be sitting on our shoulders, but we are still okay. We experience things through life and move on, perhaps we're suffering but still functional. You’re friends see it, your family knows it. You’re strong, you’ll be fine. Sometimes all we need is for an outsider to confirm that, “that must have been hard,” or “that was a lot.” Simple, short words can let you unravel at the seams and acknowledge that sometimes it’s okay to not be okay. For me this validation was life changing. “You don’t have to be perfect, you don’t always have to be strong,” opened up a door of vulnerability in my life that allowed me to face myself on a deeper level.
3. I heard my story out loud. Over and over again.
Therapists are great at rooting your behavior and feelings back to an earlier event in life. The smallest childhood traumas can skew your perceptions, and these are the lenses we see the world through. Pinpoint the trauma to understand the perception. Root it back. Explain the experience, and feel the emotions. We have to feel these emotions to fully release them, but then what? This is what was lacking for me, this was the point where I felt stuck. I could pinpoint the cause of a feeling or reaction, but I had no tools to pivot and move forward. I have a story, yes, we all do. But how do we change the story? Without these tools we are running in circles, and simply reliving these moments, as if we’re stuck in a time loop. How can we create the life we want if we’re stuck in the past?
Simple; you can’t. Knowing that I had stories and was replaying them in a viscous cycle inspired me to dig deeper. I needed more. I did an emotional healing retreat that brought me into a spiritual practice and opened up my inner world. Only then did my outer world change. I learned to connect with my inner child, with the shadow aspects of myself, feel emotions I’d pushed aside, and learn to regulate those emotions through reparenting techniques. Again, this retreat was simply a doorway that led me to another healing modality, Marconics, which continued to expand my consciousness and shift my life.
We’re all on our own separate paths, and yours may look very different than mine. For so long I thought psychology would change my life, but what I needed was a spiritual awakening. Know that if you feel defeated after years of therapy and little progress, there is more out there for you!
4. Finding a therapist is like dating.
I saw 4 therapists in a year’s time. The first one told me that it sounded like I was doing pretty well, and wasn’t clear on what I was seeking. The second one felt more like a friend to me, and actually started sharing a lot more of his life with me than I did with him. He was late to our appointments, sometimes forgot, and would often vent about the pandemic. It made me wonder who therapists talked to, but my curiosity wasn’t enough to stay around and find out.
The stories go on and on. The point is that I had to find someone who didn’t fit the image I had of who I would “mesh with.” Someone that was neutral, and didn’t tiptoe their way into our sessions, and wasn’t afraid to tell me things how it is. It may be appealing to find someone who is warm and like minded, or someone who is simply empathic and understanding. Yes, we need to feel comfortable and receive compassion in this setting, but we also have to remember that the people who tell us the hard truth and inspire us to sit in our discomfort are the people who truly care about our well being and personal progress.
5. This is your journey, and yours alone.
You are your own advocate, no one will ever care more about your healing journey than you. Yes, you’re paying someone to assist you in navigating whatever it is you have going on, but at the end of the day, the work is yours to do. Don’t hand your life over to someone else to “fix your life.” They may have titles and qualifications and experience that you trust in, but handing over your power is self limiting. Only you have the power to change your life, and to create a reality that is all that you’ve imagined or more.
Whether you’re lost and not sure what’s missing in life, or you’ve been seeking guidance for years, there is a new place for you. Therapy, like life experience itself, is a tool to add to your armamentarium as you move forward. But remember, it is just that: a tool.
There is a turn in the road that can lead you to your greatest path, so long as you’re looking within and are open to finding it.
