On Values, Balance, and Alignment

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I’m happy to report that my tummy troubles are mostly cleaned out.  I guess I just felt the need to take spring cleaning to another level!

Ok…the sometimes-witty-sometimes-awful poop jokes will stop now, promise! 

All-in-all, I am super proud of myself for stopping to recognize and honor that my body needed a rest.   This is a lesson that definitely grew out of my injury as I learned to ask for what I need, even of myself.

Anyway, today I want to talk a bit more about values, something, quite frankly, I don’t think about very often.  On my weekly coaching call last night, I mentioned my tummy troubles to Hillary and she basically stopped me right then and there and was like, “WHOA girl…tummy stuff is always emotional.”

HUH?!  I thought this was just about the fiber…  what the hell is she talking about?

So we worked through it and chatted and went over by close to 30 minutes and it was wonderful and beautiful and she gave me new exercises to put into practice to address these issues and so on.  At the end, she asked if there was anything I needed…I brought up balance, something I struggle with in a mental and emotional sense albeit not physically.  <–I find it fascinating when there is a discrepancy between my physical and energetic states!  And she said one sentence that blew my mind with its simplicity and raw truth: Balance comes from alignment.

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It is easy to see how this manifests physically, especially if you’ve ever attempted something like Warrior III.  But I didn’t see how it manifested energetically in other areas of our lives.  Hillary mentioned something about values but until this morning, I could not grasp the lesson.

I began the day with one of the exercises Hillary asked me to complete: drawing a pie chart of my life.  I drew the circle, listed the ten things to put it in and got to work divvying it up.  I let my heart guide the pen rather than my hand.  At the end I looked down, feeling proud of my work, only to realize that not only was it severely out of balance, I had not made room for everything on my list.  Things like future tripping and reading blogs have a huge chunk of my time while family and friends barely have slivers.  My Passion biz didn’t even make it on the chart.  This both broke my heart and showed me how accurate the chart reflected my current state.  As I focused my attention and awareness on this chart and how I could bring it into more balance (dare I say, “fix it”?), the word values rose from my heart.  So many lessons that I have heard and read and so many things I’ve been told bubbled to the surface as the lesson became clear.

Our lives are in alignment not when everything is going perfectly, but when we are living in accordance with our deepest values.  And so it is true that from this alignment and this alignment only, can we find balance.

I turned inward to examine my values and from this examination I drew a new pie chart, one that put no one person or activity above the other, recognizing and acknowledging the Tantric/Spirit Junkie teaching that we are all one. I grabbed markers and highlighters and colorful pens and let creativity and the Universe flow through me.  Encircling the circle are my most important values, things like simplicity, integrity, willingness, love, and peace.  I left two areas free, designating them “Miscellaneous” in recognition of the fact that this pie chart is not a static drawing, but rather a living, breathing, changing force.

The new chart looks less like the pie from your family dinner, where everyone chaotically asks for different size pieces, and more like a wheel, a hot pink,  functional wheel that has the power and the know-how to keep the bike steady.  Surrounded by the things I need and respect the most, this is a wheel that will never let me down.  It will keep moving forward, it will hold me up, and it will allow me to find balance.

This is the wheel of my life.  I cannot control everything, but I can control my mind and how I react and where I place my energy. I cannot control those or the world around me, but I can make a commitment to living in alignment with these values, knowing that they may change over time as I myself grow and change and learn and continue awakening.  This is not a static image–what circle ever is?–but rather one that will flow and grow and shrink and rotate and dance along with the ebbs and flows of my life.

Life is a journey and this is vehicle I’m choosing to travel it on.

Yoga/beauty/life,

Kait xo

Wednesday Revelations: For the Rejected Among Us

Monday evening I posted the above photo to facebook with the following caption: “It only took 6 years and 23 applications…”

It blew up newsfeed apparently because in about 12 hours it had over 50 likes plus numerous comments.

Then Tuesday, while listening to The Voice at work I had a revelation.  Yes…I had a paradigm-shifting experience while watching reality TV.  Who woulda thunk it?

What about those who didn’t get in and who didn’t win?  What about the rejected?

And I immediately thought back to the picture and the caption and sent a little prayer/love note/universal hug to every person whose letter from JHSPH didn’t start with, “Congratulations…”  I held them in my heart and whispered words of encouragement and hope and love.  Because I have been there…21 times in the last two years and numerous more in the last 6.  I’ve been the “almost” girl more times than I can count and had started joking that I would fail miserably in the dating scene because, clearly, I’m a terrible closer. 

This is the time of year where acceptances start rolling in.  And in our moments of glory and pride and relief and joy and pure happiness, we forget that for every one of us, there are countless others who’s dreams have been squashed.  Who call their best friend as soon as they see that small envelope waiting in the mail pile and beg her to drive across the state at 11 at night with cookies and hugs.  Who are broken with pain, with diminishing hope, with inertia and boredom and fear and anxiety and pure disappointment.  Whose beliefs in themselves are being shaken.  Who are starting to think they aren’t worth it.

This post is for you.

On the night I received my rejection letter from Einstein, the last med school I was waiting to hear from, I wrote the following (ironically, found days before I received my Hopkins letter):

“My roommate left the envelope in plain site.  We both had been eagerly, hopefully awaiting the news.  I did not let its’ small size get me down since others had mentioned their good news had been packaged in that way.  Moments later I felt as if I had been ripped apart from the inside.  Every failed attempt, every forgetting obligation, every “No” I had ever heard roared through my body, filling me with despair, regret, death.  I welcomed the emptiness that followed many hours of the deepest pain I had ever felt.  This surely was personal….there is no way it could not be.  Something had to be wrong with me for I had failed yet again.  My asthma flared up, my heart raced, and I had never been so happy for my isolation as in that moment…

We make plans.  We organize our lives around these plans and let them influence what we see when we look ahead in time.  Then the Universe, or God, or whatever higher entity you choose to believe in, steps in to say, “Hold on.  Take a step back.  Let’s rethink this situation.” and we find ourselves broken, faithless, and questioning.  Those of us who consider ourselves optimists try to find a deeper meaning in the situation, hoping that good will eventually come…after all, it should be our turn by now.  So we jump back into action mode, a little late in the game, and start moving forward.  But in those dark moments when we find ourselves alone in our apartments or in the stage between wake and sleep, the gremlins in our mind begin to sneak in and remind us that we are not worth it, that we were rejected for a reason, and that we will never be good enough.

Day in and day out we move along, maintaing a smiling face and being productive.  We tell others that we are “Good” out of habit rather than truth, and never reveal the feelings of inadequacy that threaten to overwhelm us at any given moment.  We find ourselves more prone to crying when we read medical charts and start to question whether medicine is even our correct path.  For those of us who are empathetic to a fault, a season of rejections is traumatizing.  We replay every interview and reread every application, trying to discern wherein lies our fault.  We pretend that we are coping when in reality we feel lost, uncentered, and off-balance.

We begin the process of reapplying and wonder if its even really worth it.”

For me, those feeling plagued the rest of 2011.  You know…you’ve been reading along with me.  Because, for me, it wasn’t just one season of rejection letters but years.  It was a pattern. And it hurt like hell.

So I get you, the rejected, the lost, the broken.  I’ve been you more times than I wish.  And my advice is this: feel your hurt.  Let the rage and angst course through you, overwhelm you, fill you up, and break you.  Scream, sob, snot, heave, cuddle your pets, have angry sex, punch the wall, break a glass.  Do what you need.  Let yourself go numb for a while…then channel those emotions into creating something.  Write, draw, bake, dance, run.  Let others help you.  <–I know how hard this is. Don’t hide from your emotions, but rather let them fuel you.  Reassess, do some soul searching, try to find the teaching moment.

I know now that I needed another year.  I thought last year I had it all but that was before the injury, before yoga became a spiritual practice infused in my everyday life, and before I could even realize that it was not my time.  No way could I have dealt with medical school + my wrist situation.  So in a twisted way, I am grateful.  <–never saw that coming last year!

And for those who have received that long awaited acceptance: CONGRATUFRICKINGLATIONS!  Celebrate, revel, rejoice.  And when you find a moment of quiet (for me it took a couple days), place your hands on your heart and think kindly of those who were not as lucky.  Send them your love and your encouragement and whisper words of hope and comfort and peace.  Know that I am not telling you to feel bad or guilty because you got in and so many others didn’t.  Instead, I’m asking that you acknowledge your luck and fortune and hard work, be grateful, and be mindful.  Scream it from the rooftops but do so with love.

Yoga/beauty/life,

Kait xo

P.S. For those wondering about the picture…the science department at my alma mater, Stonehill College, has a success board in the main lobby of our science center.  When people are accepted to schools or programs, we get our names on the board…its a huge honor and accomplishment and something we all hope to accomplish over the course of our time there. 

From My Heart to Yours

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Its been a long road.  Without realizing it, I started this blog as a way to reach out to others and to help heal myself.  Some part of me also hoped that my transparency would help others as well.

All of this has come true.

Let me back up.  Yesterday I mentioned that I received oodles of good news this week.  I held on to this news for a bit because I’ve learned over the years to really relish in and appreciate my news–good, bad, or otherwise–before broadcasting it to the world.  I consider this lesson my earliest foray into the world of mindful living (also known to me as YOGA) for it was the first time in my life that I learned to stop and cherish life before broadcasting and rushing through it.  Furthermore, when I did tell others, I did so consciously and by choice, telling only those closest to me who would share at the deepest level in my trials and tribulations.

So when I started to receive good news this week, I fought back my immediate desire to share it with the world.  Instead I skipped out of the hospital, texting the beau as I went and calling momma later in the day.  When I opened the package I admittedly called momma and beau immediately but then stopped and hugged myself, filling up with appreciation and pride before calling the others.  I let myself smile and giggle incessantly, much to the chagrin of those around me (whose opinions, suddenly, didn’t matter one bit).  Slowly but surely I disseminated the information more but, again, only to those who could fully share in my joy.

Yet through it all, I knew I needed to write about it.  So many of you came into my journey at the mid-way point and you’ve been besides me every step of the way since.  So here goes…

Saturday I rocked into half moon pose…on both sides.
Monday morning I was discharged from hand therapy.
Wednesday I received my acceptance letter from John’s Hopkins School of Public Health.
I’m moving to Baltimore in July.

In other words: I’ve arrived.

Every time I think about these things, I am filled with infinite amounts of joy, peace, and gratitude.  As recently as a couple months ago, I did not truly believe that I would, or could, reach this point.  Surgery was a viable and increasingly attractive option as I sought a way to end the pain, anger, sadness, and inner turmoil. I hadn’t gotten my shit together for applications.  Even when things started to improve, I was still scared, living from a place of lack and waiting for the other shoe to drop.  I had hope for the first time in months, yet I still was deeply wounded.

My discharge and subsequent marked the final step in my healing process.  Let me repeat that: I am healed.

I’m not longer the “almost girl.”  My letter from JH is so much more than a new opportunity.  Its proof positive that I am worth it.  Yes I know…I shouldn’t seek validation from outside sources.  Yet I still do, especially when I am rejected time and time again  (a pattern that extends all the way back to friggin high school applications, if you must know).  My acceptance to Hopkins proves that it is time for me to take the next step…time to jump and leap and SOAR.

As for my physical issues, they are not gone.  In fact, the opposite is true.  But instead of being angry or questioning when enough was enough, I’ve come to accept that, fact of the matter is, I have flexible joints and there is nothing I can do to change that.  Its how my beautiful body is built.  I can stabilize many of them (e.g. shoulders, spine, hips) through strength training.  I can make lifestyle modifications that will consciously protect the others (e.g. thumbs, wrists).   I will continue eating an alkaline, anti-inflammatory diet, meditating daily, and practicing heated yoga (the heat lubricates and protects the joints) that emphasizes alignment over being the best.

Despite all this, new opportunities and doing best by my body, I’m not invincible.  But I know I can overcome whatever else the Universe has in store for me.  My big plans (which were to move to CT in May and shack up with the beau after 7 years of being apart and not really having a plan beyond that) have been drastically changed, a fact which presents new dilemmas.   I’m re-entering school after 2 years off and going straight into an intense accelerated Master’s program at the top-rated School of Public Health.  It won’t be a walk in the park.

But I know I can do it because I have the most amazing support network both among friends and family and the blogging community (that includes you, dear readers). I have my writing and this online diary to show how far I’ve come…how dreams can come true, even if we don’t really know they are dreams yet.  And I have me.

To everyone who has listened or read about my journey, who has held me, comforted me, wiped my tears, and supported me, to those who offered words of encouragement and hope:  I owe you a boatload of gratitude and love.  Both have been filling me up since Monday…I’m literally overflowing with peace and joy and gratitude and general love for all that is around me, including the snow/sleet that New England is finally experiencing!

So from my heart to yours…

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

Yoga/beauty/amazing life,

Kait xo

Wednesday Revelations: How Far I’ve Come

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Yoga classes have been hard lately.  I’m going through some sort of change and I’ve left classes feeling like shit.  Not energized and light per usual but completely drained and down on myself.  I thought there was something wrong with me until a recent teleseminar I tuned into with Hillary Rubin.  It was geared towards yoga teachers but I listened anyway (what can I say, I adore her and will listen to any content she puts out).  Well…I half-listened, as I do on most teleseminars.  But my ears perked up when she talked about her healing process and how, during times of cosmic shifts, yoga used to leave her feeling…well exactly like I had been lately.  That stuck with me, even though I didn’t know why (yet).

Fast forward to this past Sunday morning’s yoga class.  I woke up in a weird place.  Dragged my ass outta bed and forced myself to get grocery shopping before class to avoid the rush from people who were just realizing that the Superbowl was in a couple of hours and New England was playing.  I make my way through class, sometimes feeling juicy and strong and sometimes wanting to just give up.  I pushed my wrists harder than I should have.  At the same time I was gentle, taking rests when the Chataranga Dandasanas got to be too much or when my breath came restricted.  Jen was, as always, full of wisdom, encouraging us to modify twists and other poses (I’m guessing in response to the recent NYT yoga scandal), and talking about how we often mistake strain and shallow breathing for working hard when, in fact, our true edge still allows us to breathe deeply.

Then we moved into half pigeon.  Now, if you’ve ever practiced yoga, you’ve likely heard a teacher discuss the hips as emotional warehouses.  We send so much pain and joy and hurt and fear to them.  Physically, we sit all day and wear shoes that are awful for us.  Hip openers tend to be intense, always physically and sometimes emotionally.  I was doing fine until Jen said one word: change. 

Heaving/gasping/weeping…I couldn’t stop.  She went on to discuss navigating change gracefully and linked it in to opening the hips and finding calm in moments of intense sensation (but again: not pain!) and so on.  I don’t really remember because I was caught up in this wave of emotional release…of self forgiveness…of enlightenment.

At my parties I say that g-spot orgasms are a full body, out of body, curtain climbing experience.  This was better.

I cried through the other hip.  I cried through savasana.  I cried through our closing ohm.  I tried to grab a bathroom to sob in but none were free.  Other people clearly felt uncomfortable, not sure what to say.  But I couldn’t stop it.  The tears flowed out of me taking with them months of guilt and hurt and anxiety and I wouldn’t have wanted them to stop even if I could have.  I made a deal with myself that I would ask Jen for a hug.

Sounds so simple, right?  But I’m never sure of the line with my teachers, especially those I’ve only practiced with a handful of times.  I was sure, however, that I needed the comfort of someone else’s touch.  The fact that Jen is an awesome massage therapist mighta influenced that thought. 

So I asked, and I received.  It wasn’t a big deal.  But what came after the hug was.  I looked at Jen and said, “Don’t worry.  This is good.  Its all good.  I need this.”

Because it was and because I did.  I felt cleaner and clearer than in months.  No tightness in my third eye, no worry over returning home to who-knows-what, no question in my mind that I should travel down to see my honey for the big game.  Just calm and peace.

Fast forward one day.  When I walked out of work on Monday, I immediately was stopped in my tracks by the sight of the moon over Lake Quinsig (kind of like the one above).  Inspired by the pure beauty of that sight, I meandered home slowly, taking in every bit of hope the dusk had to offer.  I determined I would stop rushing, stop running, stop whizzing through life.  I missed my “regular” yoga class b/c I was caught up in the many moments of my wakl.  How beautiful is that?

All the while I kept thinking: look how far I’ve come.  I posted a while back about how far I had to go.  And when I posted my 2011 review and 2012 intentions, I didn’t acknowledge a lot of the self work I’ve done.  As a society we are so focused on the material things.  On quantifiable accomplishments.  But mine over the past two years have been quieter than that.  I’ve come to know myself in the deepest ways possible.  I’ve learned to accept myself, faults and all, while recognizing the areas where I could use improvement.  I’ve seen my strength and learned to ask for what I need.  My yoga practice has transformed from something physical into something spiritual.  I’ve found my edge, played with it, and sometimes pushed it all the while learning to find calm in discomfort.  There is still a lot of work for me to do.  There’s a lot of forgiveness I need to give and I still feel the pressure of needing to “figure things out” in a way that fits society’s standards (and therefore many of my standards #workingonit).

I might not have a grad school acceptance letter.  Hell, I might not even have a plan for May when my lease is up.  But I have me and all I’ve learned and an amazing support system and the true belief that I’ll land butter side up, right where I’m supposed to be.

Yoga/beauty/life,

Kait xo

Wednesday Revelations: Quiet Sobs

I wrote this post over Christmas.  As many of you know, my grandmother had been rushed to the hospital the Wednesday before the holiday and my whole family was on edge.  I have yet to post it because much of the emotion was still so raw.  But I am working on moving things out now, have had many a cathartic releases since this post and have helped the individual mentioned receive the proper care, the care I could no longer give, the care that continues to drain my life force every time we interact.  Lissa wrote about this today but I had already reached the same conclusion: I must do me first.  I must put my needs above those of others so that I, in turn, may better serve them.  That is part of the reason I write, to fill me and, hopefully, inspire you.  With love, gratitude, and appreciation, I give you my heart.  Thank you for caring for it.

I have a confession to make: when I was younger I used to envy those who could cry silently.

You see…I was a loud crier.  In fact, crying isn’t even the right term…heaving, breathless, snotty, red-faced sobber better describes me.  If something inspired tears in public, it was all over.  Sad movies, a moving sermon in church, nevermind a funeral…it was all over.  And yet as I looked around me I noticed that the adults could all cry silently, barely taking in a breath.  And I admired that skill, wondered how the managed to acquire it and make crying look so, well, proper and neat.

As we all know, I am neither of those two things.

And yet, now as an adult I find myself quiet sobbing more and more.  And I hate it.  I realize now that quiet sobbing is not something to be envied or admired but rather just another example of how we shove our emotions away in an attempt to soothe our wounds and/or please and protect those around us.

I quietly sobbed as I wrote this post, the previous situation inspiring it.  I didn’t want to alarm her because I knew that she would jump into caring mode, worrying more about me than about her situation, the conversation surrounding which led to the aforementioned sobbing.

I resented it.   I resented her for caring too much while simultaneously hurting for her, feeling everything she was masking with anger. and caring and avoidance.

You see the thing about quiet sobs is that they choke you.  They aren’t cathartic like the loud heaving sobs because you aren’t breathing.  You aren’t releasing anything but rather holding it all in, leaving you feeling more troubled, more hurt, and more (insert emotion here).

In my opinion, there’s nothing adult about quiet sobs.  As adults we are expected to be responsible, courageous even.  We’re supposed to stand up for what we believe in, for ourselves, and for those around us.  Quiet sobs do none of that.  They conform to a society that tells us expressing emotions = weakness when, in fact, in our emotions lie our greatest power.  Quiet sobs avoid the problem at hand, pushing it deeper inside of us so that we can hide from it a little bit longer.  They are weak and as cowardly as things get.

I’m done with them.  I’m done with hiding my emotions so that I don’t hurt others more by reflecting back what they are truly, madly, deeply feeling but afraid of or unable to show.  I’m done with the quiet sobs.  Give me the heaving, the breathlessness, and the boogers…give me the coughing and the shaking and the clinging to anything as if it were the only thing keeping me alive.  Give me the passion.  Without it, our lives are just a shadow of what they could be.

Universe I am your vessel.  Abide in me.

Yoga/beauty/life,

Kait xo

Wednesday Revelations: Adrenaline Junkie

This post is about 2 weeks overdue but still so relevant.  I’m going to need you all to use your imagination for this one, though, because we need to go back in time

*Cue Back to the Future music*

I’m driving home the Thursday before New Year’s.  Its about a 2 hour drive which means I either call someone to chat (usually Nessa), rock out to my iPod, or listen to a teleseminar about life/love/business.  This drive, however, was different.  In the back of my mind I heard my yoga teacher telling us about the quiet moments, the ones we simultaneously long for and run from.  She tells us how every night on her commute home from teaching she drives in perfect silence.  No radio, no phone, nothing but the sounds of her car running, the air whipping past, and other traffic.

Now to put this in context, this type of talk comes towards the end of class when we are laying belly-down on the floor, hearts pounding, sweat dripping, wondering how in the world a bamboo floor could feel so delicious.  In some ways, this part of the practice is the hardest (well this and Savasana).  The traditionally “tough” parts, the ones that make us sweat and burn and question our strength…we are good at those, being part of a society that focuses on competition and getting to the top.  We might bitch and moan but we kind of crave it.  It’s the quiet moments, on the other hand, we don’t really know what to do with.

Anyway, back to my drive.  With this in mind I take it as my cue to drive home in silence.  To have a good thinking meditation about where I’ve been and where I’m going and what I like and what I want to change.  One of the biggest things I’ve been struggling with for a while now is disappointing myself.  My inner self talk has turned downright mean (as in Mean Girls, mean) about how I’m always late, how I always wait until the last minute, how I miss deadlines because I’m unorganized, how I don’t complete my to-do list, how I won’t ever get accepted to anything if I don’t get my ass in gear and actually send out applications, how I keep failing myself and letting myself down and then being a bitch and/or hot mess to those around me because I’m really truly madly deeply angry and frustrated with myself.

Shit.

Now, I’m not saying this to garner sympathy or empathy but rather to set the situation up for you.  These are the types of thoughts that have been running through my head, these are the dark places I’ve been, and these were the thoughts I was thinking about on this drive home.  This time, however, rather than just sitting in those thoughts and feeding the illusion I asked myself why.  Why do I set myself up to fail, to let myself down, to not move forward?  Why do  set myself up to disappoint, to pound things out at the last minute (something, I must say, I’ve become quite amazing at)?  I was no longer content just accepting that this is who I am.

And in the darkness and the silence, my courage in asking these hard questions was honored.  My IPL quietly but firmly began to weave another memory, one of me listening to Dr. Gottfried’s Hormone Q&A teleseminar and paying specific attention to the part about adrenal burnout and the havoc that cortisol wreaks on the body and perking up at the question of how to heal the adrenals even though I was sure my levels were normal.  And I had my answer.

I am addicted to the rush.

I love the surge, the joy, the triumph that comes from finishing something in a seemingly impossibly amount of time.  I love rushing through traffic, through tasks, through life because it left me feeling high, like I had succeeded, contributed, done something amazing.  I am hooked on my body’s own natural opiates.  In order to get things done I need to have that challenge because its what I enjoy…and because it feeds a highly effective neurological pathway that was designed for things like running from saber tooth tigers and the like.

Like I said above, the challenge stuff, we can do.

So I decided to counter this, to heal both my adrenaline junkiness and my adrenals (or is it the same thing?) I would give myself a new challenge; to start and finish without rushing.  It hasn’t been going very well but I’m ok with that.  I recognize that its going to be a long journey and will require constant mindfulness and awareness of what I am doing and why.  Its something I’m going to have to work at day in and day out until maybe forever.  Simply having awareness of the issue is, to me at least, a big first step.  Admitting it publicly is also huge since this is something I’ve been sitting with on my own for a couple of weeks now.  So I’ll take it from there.  Each minute I start anew and I’m given a choice about how to proceed.  All I can do is my best.

One final, related note.  Among my other realizations from this ride home (you should see how many WR drafts I have), I also realized how little time I take to listen in.  I had been hinting at the “why” for weeks before I understood my junkiness, but it was always in a rushed context (shocker, I know) and never when I just had time to quiet the distractions within and around me.  So with this, I was reminded again that we really do have everything we need within us.

Let me repeat that.

You already have everything you need.

Sometimes we just have to shut up enough to realize that.

Yoga/beauty/life,

Kait xo

Wednesday Revelations – The more you hope

This is a story about a cookbook – the BEST cookbook ever to be precise.  It is also a story of the consequences of hoping too much, reacting too much, attaching too much.

I’ve had the cookbook for about 3 weeks now.  I had this post mostly written (and have since updated it) but got caught up in the whirlwind of cooking and being productive.  The story, however, still needs to be told because the lesson is one that I think we can all apply to something in our lives.  For me, its my physical ailments.  For you, it can be anything.

Long story short, what I went through waiting for this book has was a strong lesson in how far I have to go in terms of non-attachment and being less reactive.

Let me back up.  I pre-ordered back in August, made sure that my free Prime trial would still be good, and started counting down the days.  When you fall in love with a cookbook, you cannot wait for its sibling to arrive.  I cook from the original Happy Herbivore Cookbook at least once per week.  Usually, all of my meals come from it.  I’m also a recipe tester for the third cookbook that Lindsay is currently writing.  So yes, I was excited when EHH was being released early.  And even more excited when it was discovered that pre-orders were being shipped as early as Monday, November 21st!

For some reason, or more precisely to teach me a much needed and perfectly timed lesson, the Universe thought it would be funny to delay this book a whole week.  Yes, I realize that  some of you are thinking I’m batshit, but bear with me.  And see the above comments about my love for the book. 

I anxiously awaited my shipping e-mail from Amazon.  Monday passed…so did Tuesday.  Wednesday came and still nothing.  I had some wine, I ate some food, and I contacted Amazon to say WTH?!  It turned out there was an issue in the fulfillment center and my book was being delayed.  But don’t worry…they took care of it.  And they’ll give me a $5 promo certificate for my order.  And no there really isn’t any way for them to give me more.  And oh wait…when I tell my story to a person over the phone, I magically get $25.  And I’m ok because my book will be here Monday the 28th and what better way to end Thanksgiving weekend than with a cooking bonanza.

I hope the stream-of-consciousness of that paragraph gives you an idea of where my head was at during those weeks.  It was not a pretty place.

Guess what?  The book didn’t get picked up until Monday because UPS was closed by the time I thought to contact Amazon on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving.  And unlike FedEx, UPS would give me absolutely no information about getting in touch with the local distribution warehouse to go search for pick it up myself.  I was bummed.  I moped.  I even cried a little.  I was also going on very little sleep and lots of weekend traveling so no judging please.  And then I figured I’d deal with it.  I also ate…a lot.

On Tuesday (the 29th), I woke up under the weather (nose bleed plus aching thumbs…happy Tuesday to me).  I went to yoga, did laundry, wrote this post, read my blogs.  I got my exercise running between the couch and the front window each and every time I heard a truck slow down.  I went up and down the stairs too many times to count just in case they dropped it without knocking first.  I got frustrated, depressed, and upset.

I really failed in the whole be-present-and-non-attached-and-peaceful thing.  I was pretty diva-esque.  Especially since the UPS truck was across the street during the afternoon and I hesitated about running to meet it and demanding my package…only to look out and watch it disappear down the road.  Which begs the oh-so-practical question: why do the neighbors get their packages at 2:30 and us, after 5?  WTH?!

Anyway, back to the story.  I kept saying, is it really asking too much to just get my damn book?  I mean seriously…that’s all I want Universe.  I’m asking “why am I being presented with this challenge?” and the answer was not coming like it normally does (easily and quickly).  In fact, it took until after I had received the book and received the news I didn’t want last week in order for me to truly see the lesson in this experience.

When you want something too much, so much that it hurts, you often will not receive it.

Source

I’ve given this advice to so many people seeking something (especially a relationship)…”don’t want it so much and it’ll show up when you least expect it to.”  Well that advice was kicking me in the ass pretty hard.  I was full of jealously and greed and conceit.  Why did THAT person already receive it?  How come I don’t have it yet?  Me me me…and I want I want I want.  <–all pretty negative energy I was spewing, wouldn’t you agree?  So no wonder UPS came so late to deliver…I’d avoid the house with the crazy black cloud over it too!  Knowing this didn’t make it any easier while I was waiting.  The cortisol was pumping through my body and I was miserable for two days.

Over a book.  And yes not just any book but a book I desperately wanted and knew would make my life better. <–except only I can choose to do that, right yogini Kait?  RIGHT?!  But a book nonetheless.

I kept making excuses about why this was upsetting me so much…other people made mistakes, I deserved it, etc.  But at the end of the day, I’m not sure.  What I am sure of, however, is that the second I stopped obsessing and waiting and started doing something else, my phone buzzed, and it was here.  Literally…it took less than 20 minutes of me switching my focus to editing my personal statement and BOOM!

All was right with my world.

I got right into action mode and cooked 3 recipes in about an hour.  The next morning I woke up before my alarm and hopped right out of bed.  I got to work on time and got to work (if you know what I mean). I feel energized despite only getting about 5 hours of sleep.  I wanted to go go go!  The feeling lasted the whole week.

Here is what I wrote the day following my receipt of the book:

“Apparently, all I needed was a dose of newness get my booty in gear.  And I love the feeling.  And wish I hadn’t wasted two days moping.  In hindsight, I did try to figure out why I was so down and out and miserable.  I wish I wasn’t…but I couldn’t figure it out.  I still can’t.  Maybe it’ll come to me after yoga tonight…maybe not.  Its in the past now though so I’m going to try and be like a dog and go on with my day like there was no yesterday and is no tomorrow.”

Learning in progress.  Self-realization, does indeed, rock.

Yoga/beauty/life,

Kait xo

Wednesday Revelations : What if

What if…

instead of asking “What do you do?” we started off conversations with, “What’s awesome in your life?”

instead of complaining, we took the time to inquire, act, and change

instead of numbing out, we learned to breath through our pain, sorrow, and suffering

instead of using conversation as a way to air our dirty laundry, we used it to connect

instead of listening for a break in the other person’s story so that we can jump in, we open our hearts and our ears

instead of saying, “yes” to please someone else, we learned to gently say no

instead of cursing our challenges we look for the lessons in them

instead of jumping into healing others I needed my own healing journey so that I can always stay grounded

instead of ignoring our deepest desires we learn to ask for exactly what we need…and receive that and more

i love you all

yoga/beauty/gratitude/life

Kait xo

Wednesday Revelations: The Unfinished

“Suffering is optional. Joy is a choice.”

Source

Janetha’s post from yesterday got me thinking: what do I have unfinished in my life?

Answer: a lot.

Unfinished MPH applications, unmade appointments (financial, physical, hand therapy, chiropractic, and dental), uncatalogued client information, the list goes on.  If you come to my house, you’ll see evidence of this unfinished business everywhere, from the receipts that need to get filed to the stacks of books, magazines, etc.  Its rather depressing, actually, when I think back on the good intentions I had (set up the reading nook, keep everything organized, etc) whose associated projects have since gone down the drain.

The worst part is, at least in my case, the only one who suffers is me.

When I miss deadlines, I’m the one who, in turn, misses an opportunity, whether it is to get into a medical school (yup, the jig’s up: I missed at least 5 application deadlines last year), volunteer at Kripalu, or something else.  When I forget to do something, its usually related to me and my life and my hopes, dreams, and desires.  <–I guess that makes me a people pleaser?  Usually it leads to more pain (like that whole needing-to-get hand therapy thing).  Fact of the matter is, my memory is shot and I usually just forget, likely a result of our get-it-now society.

Actually, scratch that, I’m living in such a zoned-out, numbed state lately that I can’t possibly remember because I’m not feeling the pain (or much of anything else, if we’re being honest).  I’m walking around like a zombie, tired and out-of-touch.  Everyday I wake up, hoping that today will be the day I cross off those things I want to do, finish that e-course or book, or not zone out on the couch.  Yet I don’t.  And, truthfully, its all my choice.  Lissa pointed this out last week.   The quote from above has been weighing on my subconscious ever since, and I’ve been constantly questioning why am I doing what I’m doing?

Source

Why do I waste hours mindlessly browsing the internet or watching TV when I have a to-do list a mile long?
Why do I feel so loser-ish when sitting home on a Friday night when I really do need the time to be productive?
Why, why, why?

I know that focusing on it won’t necessarily help (remember those Lessons in Non-Attachment?) but I also know that I do have to at least examine my motivation for zoning/zombieing in order to work through it.  I say I feel stuck in a state of inertia, yet I’m not really doing anything to move out of that state.  I have great ideas, I put my all into them for a while, and then they fizzle.  I don’t want to say that I’m unmotivated, since motivation is not enough, but I also don’t want to say that I’m uninspired because the ideas are inspiring.  Many of them are life-changing, for myself or others or both.  They get me pumped up, energized, excited, and hopeful.  They are awesome.  Or they could be if I could finish them.  <–does this mean I’m not a closer?

What some women do with diets, I do with motivation/inspiration/to-do lists/ideas.  I gogogogogogogo and then I fall of the wagon.  Then I start again…and fall off again.  I figured out how to get off the diet roller coaster, but can’t seem to get off unfinished train.  Yesterday, for instance, I made some progress thanks to Janetha’s posts and its reminder of the things I’ve been needing to do but haven’t.  I made an appt for my yearly physical, I got the name of a hand therapist in Worcester, and I made that appt.  Last Friday I finally found my voice with my MPH essay and sent it out to reviewers.  I love moving forward.  I’m a mover and shaker by nature (in case you didn’t figure that out) so the more I do, the more I want to do.  I blame the Aries in me! The opposite, however, is also true.  When I get into a state of laziness, I get stuck there too.  Then it gets to the point where I’m so ashamed of being behind (because of aforementioned laziness) that I weave stories or think its too late and give up.  UGH!

Source

Maybe today is the day I’m turning things around.  Maybe to start that, I need to be held publicly accountable.  So here’s my to-do list…and to hoping.

• Make appt with financial adviser to sort out $$$ and get a better overall sense of my financial situation.
• Call the chiropractor to chat and/or make appt.  <–this depends on how the above conversation goes.
• Take 20 minutes each day to catalog client information in order to have everyone cataloged by the end of December (yes there is a lot!).
• Edit PS and adjust accordingly for each MPH program.
• Contact each MPH program to double check my MCAT scores will be accepted.
• Send transcripts to SOPHAS and Johns’ Hopkins.
• Submit MPH applications by Dec 1.
• Figure out Google Reader so my online time can be more directed and less browsy.  <–yes I just made up that word.

I’m leaving it at that by now.  Honestly, it feels kind of juicy to air my dirty laundry.  Now you know: I gotta get a move on and do it soon.  And hopefully, through this movement forward, I’ll begin to feel unstuck, motivated, inspired, energized, and energetic.  Once those apps are in I can focus on my biz surprise that’s been swept under the rug (only for the time being).  That will be my next To-Finish List, coming after Dec 1.

I might go write it now just so I don’t forget…

Yoga/beauty/life,

Kait xo

Wednesday Revelations – The Need for Touch

“We need 4 hugs a day for survival. We need 8 hugs a day for maintenance. We need 12 hugs a day for growth.”

~Virginia Satir

Source

A good friend of mine had this quote on her dorm room wall during her senior year.  I had already graduated but often visited or stayed with this friend when I went back to my alma mater.  The quote resonated deeply with me because I recognized in my new location, with few friends nearby and almost no coworkers my age, I was not getting enough hugs.  In fact, I wasn’t getting touched enough, period.

Yes I realize that sounds “dirty” (a phrase which bothers me at the deepest level…but we’ll leave that for another Wednesday) but let me explain: I grew up in a household where hugs, cuddling, kissing, and “I love you’s” were always available in excess.  I think this partially due to my mom’s upbringing and her concern that my big brother and I had enough affection in a single family home.  Regardless, we were, and continue to be, an openly affectionate family.

Fast forward to high school and the beginning of my awesome albeit brief acting career.  Well it might surprise you to know that theatre folk are a touchy/feely bunch.  We liked to hug and hold and grab and cuddle…a lot.  In college, my friends and I hugged whenever we saw each other, at the beginning and end of an exchange, regardless of whether it was our first time seeing each other that week or the tenth time that day.  Then I joined the orientation team, known for its touchy/feely shenanagins.

HCHS Theatre love

O-team love

H.O.P.E. Honduras Love

More O-team love

Senior Formal Love

Then I graduated and moved to Worcester.  And touch all but disappeared from my life.

Until last Saturday, I didn’t realize what a negative effect this lack of touch is having on my life and my health.  I didn’t realize that I’ve begun living for those moments, begging, at least internally, for them, when someone touches me in a way that is healing, comforting, and free from expectations.  I didn’t see that the reason I love assists in yoga is the same reason that reiki, chakra balancing, marma, and massage help so much.  I grew up with touch, had it my whole life,  and need it.

Last Saturday night this all came out while visiting some friends from school.  This wasn’t my “main” group for the four years but we grew particularly close during my (and then their) senior year since I was taking lower level courses to finish my med school pre-reqs.  I didn’t even arrive at the party until after 1 am but immediately I was greeted with hugs and how are you’s and all those little things that make friendships so wonderful.  Half of them were sleeping when we arrived but as I’m sure you can imagine, since I didn’t know this, I made quite the entrance, and they got up to greet me.  And then we all cuddled and held hands and hugged and talked about the one thing we miss about school: the lack of people constantly around us.

We kind of looked like this!  Source

This observation, in turn, led to a conversation about the lack of hugs and general touching in our lives…which led to back, hand, and foot massages…which led to me being practically pain-free ever since.  <–the very thing that made me stand up and examine WTH is going on.

And when I got to thinking about why this particular massage was so therapeutic and healing I realized it was about intention: my friends and I love and want to hug and cuddle and massage and hold each other.  Ok, so some more than others (I ADORE YOU TOO), but we intuitively “get” when the other just needs physical comfort.  And we intuitively crave that comfort too.  And I think a lack of this is part of the reason my wrists have gotten so bad…because I don’t have someone around day in and day out to hug or cuddle or touch.  Because when I see certain people who grew up without this touch and who don’t need this touch, there’s unspoken expectations that go along with anything that happens.  Because the lack of touch means that fear can pool in my body, rather than dissipating out through the touch of another.

Can you imagine what would happen if we all just touched each other more?  If we gave more hugs, high fives, and cuddles?  If we were open to the giving and receiving of massage, no strings attached, just for the pure pleasure and relaxation it provided us?  How would the world be a better place if we held each other during our tears, held hands as we walked,and cuddled while watching TV? 

How would you be a better person if you got your 12 hugs each and every single day?