"I can think. I can wait. I can fast..."

...As the main character claims in Hermann Hesse's beautiful novel, Siddhartha. I've chosen to recall these words because they are quite descriptive of my current experience, and the meaning of them have deepened for me as of late. Today is the last day of my own fast; I've spent the previous few weeks doing a good amount of thinking, waiting, and abstaining from food - which has led me to a few revelations I'd like to share with you, because they have to do with a deep part of the human experience and the quest to live a good life (which, when it comes down to it - is what I try to write about in all of these blogs).

I decided to embark on my fasting journey about 4 weeks ago, after a few indulgent weeks of celebrating the arrival of summer, traveling, visiting with family, and enjoying all those good summer treats we love to eat when family and friends get together: hamburgers, hot dogs, pizza, fries, chips, beer... My summer started out with a celebratory bang, and I realize now that in my mind - and perhaps yours - "celebrating" and "indulging" can be synonymous. 

Long story short, I indulged a bit too much and my taste buds were becoming accustomed to the fried, greasy, cheesy treats I was gobbling with gusto. I noticed my taste buds were asking for those treats when the celebrating was over... My taste buds would ask for a burger, and I would say to my husband, "Hey! Let's do burgers tonight!" And he would oblige, because burgers are tasty. Tasty, but not very life-regenerating. In fact I found myself feeling sluggish. My yoga practice was bland, and most days I wasn't motivated to practice because I felt I had too much food in my tummy. That depressed me a bit, and I found myself walking through life in a foggy, greasy food-induced haze. Not very fun...

That's about when Jeff suggested we fast, and he laid out a game plan: the first week, we abstain from meat. The second week, we abstain from everything but whole foods (whole grains, nuts, seeds, fruit, veggies, legumes). The third week, we eat nothing but fresh fruits and veggies, preferably blended. And the fourth week - which is where I am now - we eat nothing and drink water. 

Eee! I was skeptical at first, as I've never fasted before, and I love food - both for the sensory pleasure it brings me and the fuel it gives me. The thought of abstaining from something I love so much for its pleasure and necessity seemed like insanity to me. However, I had a curiosity and a desire to explore untrodden territory in my mind and body, and I made the commitment to follow it (loosely, in the beginning - I had to tip-toe in slowly.) 

So here I am now, sipping water and sitting with the hunger pangs - and here is my list of fasting revelations:

1.) Your taste buds adapt. You adapt. Yup, you might think you want the hamburger, but your body doesn't really (not for every meal, anyway).  Your habitual eating tendencies dictate what your taste buds are going to crave. If you eat nothing but lentils and veggies, you can bet you'll get excited about diving into a beautiful bowl of steaming, earthy, nourishing lentils at dinner time. If you eat nothing but fried foods, that's what you're going to think about when it's mealtime. I can't tell you how indulgent it was to dip my spoon into an avocado half during the whole food phase... I was awed by the beautiful color, the creamy texture, the rich taste... I was definitely not thinking about hamburgers, and I was totally excited about exactly what was in front of me. 

2.) It's a really good idea to take a step back. Fasting is a way to take a step back from your habitual tendencies and view them clearly, with perspective. When you take a break from your daily habits you're able to see them as they are - just habits - and they don't have to be in the driver's seat of your life. When you take a break you realize the nature of your attachments, and you're able to sort out what's good for you, and what's toxic for you. What control and power that gives you!

3.) It's okay to be uncomfortable. I'm not going to lie, fasting is hard. It's uncomfortable, both in mind and body, because you're doing something completely foreign to your body (that is, if you're a first timer like me). You experience hunger and dizzy spells, and then you experience fear, because you wonder if you're going to die without food, but then you remember the plump energy stores you got in your rump and you calm down a bit... Until the intense desire for food rears its angry head and wages battle in your mind. That's when the practice begins: to stay clam and observe the discomfort, fear and conflict within you. If you can stay present with the discomfort you can get beyond it and observe the nature of your relationship with food (or whatever else you may be abstaining from). You realize the discomfort is coming from your attachment to it. It's not the lack of food that's the struggle, it's the dealing with your mental attachment. When you can realize this, and accept the attachment for what it is (just something that's been created over the years through your past history, beliefs and habits), you can choose to let go, and then you can realize the strength in yourself.

4.) You're faced with the deeper reasons why you eat what you eat. I realize a lot of times I eat out of boredom, or to distract myself with the pleasure of yummy goodness. When I take food out of the equation, I'm forced to sit with whatever I want to be distracted from. It's not that cool; stuff comes up - but that's actually a good thing. I'm not hiding behind food, I'm recognizing the residual painful emotions that lurk beneath the surface, left over from my past struggles with being human. Sitting with the edgy, antsy, boredom of fasting is incredibly empowering, because you realize you are not your past, you are not your habits and you are not your attachments; letting go of those is hard at first, but quite liberating and strengthening.

5.) Fasting is an excellent way to reboot, restore and contemplate. While your digestive system gets a much needed rest, your mind does also - from planning, preparing and cooking meals. That's a lot of time that's freed up to... Contemplate. Think. Sit with yourself. Decide how you want to live. Decide what healthy habits you want to adopt when you go back to eating. It's like going on a vacation without going anywhere but inside yourself. Maybe not a vacation... more like a silent retreat... Inward.

6.) Meditation is easy-peasy during a fast. I've turned a corner on my yogic path this week and I've been able to drop in to mediation quite easily without the heavy presence of food in my belly. Senses are heightened. My connection to my sense of self has been strengthened. 

7.) I can survive. Wow wee, I can do it! I can be hungry and survive it. I can be uncomfortable and accept it. I can sit with myself and be okay. In the aforementioned novel, Siddhartha, the main character finds himself seeking a position with a merchant, who asks him what he has to give. Siddhartha's answer is,

I can think. I can wait. I can fast.

When the merchant asks him what that's good for, Siddhartha's reply is this:

It is very good, sir. When a person has nothing to eat, fasting is the smartest thing he can do. When, for example, Siddhartha hadn't learned to fast, he would have to accept any kind of service before his day is up, whether it may be with you or wherever, because hunger would force him to do so. But like this, Siddhartha can wait calmly, he knows no impatience, he knows no emergency, for a long time he can allow hunger to besiege him and can laugh about it. This, sir, is what fasting is good for. 

... So there it is. I know now that I am capable of patience. I am capable of laughing in the face of discomfort. I'm in the driver's seat now; nothing and no one is going to force me into any situation because of my hunger, or my attachments to my habits or life's pleasures. This is because I can think, I can wait and I can fast. 

As I end this blog, I want to make clear that I am not recommending abstaining from food to my readers. Every body is unique and it's up to the owner of that body to tune in and figure out his/her individual needs. One man's medicine might be another man's poison. If you are interested in exploring the revelations I've discussed, you don't have to go without food, as there are other ways to fast. Think about what you are attached to on a daily basis - perhaps copious amounts of T.V, over-consumption of unnecessary material goods, or facebook, or a relationship that has been stressing you out... take a break from it and find yourself again! It's okay! It's empowering :) 

Posting this with lot's of love and a big thank you for reading. 

Love and Gratitude <3

A woman's beauty...

Doesn't come from make-up. It's not an age, or a dress size or a glowing complexion or shiny adornments. It doesn't come from her social circle or her career or her romantic relationships. It doesn't come from people telling her she's beautiful. A woman's beauty comes from realizing it. Herself.

That is the journey: casting aside the culture-conditioned ego that tells the woman she should look like everyone else; that the next woman over has something she doesn't, that if she dropped a size or changed her hair she'd be beautiful... The journey is casting aside that paradigm to realize her uniquely beautiful, strong, bad ass self already dwelling within her own heart.

A woman's beauty is what she gives to the world; it's whatever she deems beautiful, it's whatever gives her joy. It's her head held high. It's her open heart; it's her courage. It's her honesty. It's her humility. It's her carefree laugh with her head thrown back. Beauty is when she listens. It's her presence: when she is present in the moment and courageously accepting it for what it is - no expectations, no worries. A woman's beauty comes from letting go... letting go of trying to be beautiful... and relaxing into being beautiful. It comes from her acceptance of herself, and her rejection of anyone or anything that's ever told her to be anything different, anything other than who she is.

A woman's beauty is not something that can be attained, or bought; it's not a destination. It's not something you strive for; it's something you accept.

This Being Human...

A loved one of mine suffers from addiction. I've watched him struggle with it; watched him move through homelessness, rehab facilities, jail time, hospitalization and near-death experiences for over a decade now, and it's had an effect on me. When I can extricate myself from the pain and fear I feel for this person, I find addiction to be a fascinating human phenomenon, and I read up on it so I can understand the struggle.

The truth is, we live in a pretty addiction-ridden society; it's not just drugs and alcohol we attach ourselves to - it can be the processed sugar in our morning muffin, the TV show that enables you to check out, the card game you need to play just one more time, the brown leathery skin I see some people obsessed with attaining, the breast implants some women believe can never be big enough; I see addiction in the skeletal physique of a woman who can't be thin enough... Humans can become addicted to thought patterns, or certain images of themselves or others; addiction is apparent in abusive relationships - a person can simply be addicted to the rush of remorseful love that follows pain. Why is that? How, and why, do we so deeply attach ourselves to these substances, images, thoughts and feelings?

I don't really have an answer. I do know that the human body is an amazingly efficient and intelligent system, but it's possible for it to get confused, and out of whack. I've read that every cell in the human body (an estimated 50 trillion cells - correct me if I'm wrong) is equipped with a certain intelligence, and this intelligence gets used to what we give it. It's like each of our cells has a memory of its own, which leads me to view addiction as a holistic disease - it starts with a distorted image or idea in the mind, and proceeds to take over the whole body (if this is confusing, I recommend reading Deepak Chopra's Quantum Healing: Exploring the Frontiers of Mind/Body Medicine, as he explains this more clearly than I can, and with more depth).

So, addiction is something that starts in the mind - spurred by a thought pattern or conviction that's attached to the memory. The cells in the body pick up on it, causing the addiction to occur on a cellular level - making it pretty dang hard to detach oneself from whatever the body may be addicted to. Every cell in that body is egging him on to feed the addiction - causing him to act impulsively in striving for the object of his addiction, which leads to feelings of guilt, shame, or justification of the impulsive actions - and those negative feelings and justifications perpetuate the addiction.

My tender heart recognizes the struggle, and it goes out to those who experience this. It's kind of humanly impossible to eradicate addiction unless one realizes how deep the struggle goes.  Unless one learns how to develop the practice of pausing, and summoning silence, before one acts on his impulses...

Unfortunately the addicts that I have observed in my life can be pretty self-righteous, believing that it's simply a matter of will power, that they can stop when and if they want. I saw this a couple years ago when my loved one was going through treatment at a rehab center. I had the opportunity to attend meetings every Wednesday night - held for those in treatment, and their family and friends. I think the  intention of these meetings were to give family and friends a better understanding of what the users were struggling with, and also to let the users know they had a support system.

I remember feeling annoyed with my loved one at these meetings, as it was apparent that he had no interest in admitting he had a problem - to himself, let alone a room full of people. I'd pipe up and put in my two cents and I'd pose questions to the group, trying to participate in an effort to put us both on a path toward understanding and healing - all the while feeling my loved one seething in embarrassed, stubborn silence beside me.

The time came for him to "graduate" from his treatment, and at the last of these meetings, I had an opportunity to address him in front of the group. I could have told him anything. I wracked my brain for the right words of wisdom my immature, 23-year-old self could summon. Something told me this could be my one and only chance to tell him what I felt while he was sober, some-what humble, and listening. Ultimately I decided to speak to the good, loving, pained person I saw inside him, not the ugly user that felt compelled to lie, cheat and steal. I told him, simply - with a room full of witnesses - that I would love him no matter what. That I would support him - no matter what, always.

I go back to that night, that meeting, that opportunity - often. I think back to that night on the few occasions when I see him, glossy eyed and checked-out, and I think, Man! Maybe I should have been mean. Maybe I should have threatened him. Maybe I should have put on a stern face, looked him in the eye, dropped an F-bomb, and said, "If you mess up, I will disown you."

But I don't think that would have worked, either. What I want to tell him now is something I'd like to share with my readers, because I think it's something we should all try and remember, whether we're struggling with an addiction or not. It is this:

There is a story about a successful business man, who was interviewed by a news reporter. This man had it all: wealth, happiness, health, love... and the reporter, recognizing this, asked him,

"Sir, what is your secret to success?"

The man replied, "Three words. Making good decisions."

The reporter then asked, "How do you know how to make good decisions?"

"One word. Experience." - Was his answer.

The reporter came back with, "Okaaay... how do you gain the experience that enables you to make good decisions?"

"Three words," He answered -  "Making bad decisions."

So you see, making bad choices, making mistakes - is part of the process. You can't know how to live a good life unless you mess up a bit. This being human is a very, very difficult thing. We're all groping blindly, trying to deal with the hand that's been dealt to us. How are we to know how to deal? We do the best we can. Messing up, falling off the wagon, hurting someone else, what-have-you, will inevitably happen, because we are human. What matters is how you respond to your bad decisions. You have a choice: you can either be mindful of your mistake, address it, learn from it, forgive yourself and move on; or you can can let it lead you into a downward spiral of negativity.

Remember that 10% of life is the uncontrollable stuff that happens to you. 90% of life is how you react, or respond to that crap. That's a big chunk of life that's left up to you. You always have the choice of how to respond. You can't know how to respond unless you know how to pause, mentally remove yourself from your habitual tendencies, observe them for what they are, and choose a course of action that's better for you. That's waaaay easier said than done - it takes time and practice - but it starts with being honest with yourself, forgiving yourself, and then being mindful.

Addiction is a pretty scary thing. Even if it's possible to heal, it can leave some nasty scar tissue. But the cool thing is that it's possible to rise above. It's Possible. I commend the individuals who rise above it everyday. Everyday they realize it's up to them to make the choice for their own greater good... I'm sure some days are easier than others... but it's that struggle, the honesty with the struggle, and the ultimate realization that they are not their addiction - they are something more - a conscious, living, choosing human being - is what it's all about.

Who Am I to Think My Sh*t Doesn't Stink?

I recently returned from a trip out to Arizona, where I was visiting my mom. She is a yoga practitioner and teacher as well, and it's pretty fun to compare notes when we get together. On the drive to her home in Prescott from Sky Harbor Airport, we found ourselves discussing our yoga practices. I was pretty eager, as always, to hit up her studio and take a couple classes, and I told her, with a sigh,

"Portland would be perfect if it only had the yoga scene that Prescott does."

I had just finished telling her that yoga is everywhere in Portland, and she glanced at me, confused, and asked, "What's the scene like in Portland?"

"Eh, it's clicky," I shrugged, recalling the small handful of seemingly awkward occurrences I got off my butt and sought yoga outside the comfort of my own at-home studio.

My mom paused for a moment before she carefully replied, "Maybe Portland's yoga scene isn't clicky - maybe you're too cool for it."

I bristled at this, initially finding this assertion ridiculous - too cool? - I thought - I've never been too cool... If anything I'm the biggest dork I know. 


I defensively told her so, adding that it's not that I'm too cool, it's simply that I'm shy - or really, I prefer to use the word reserved. Always have been, and I've come to accept that as part of my personality - never pausing to wonder what lies at the root of my reservations.

My mom didn't skip a beat; her response was that she used to be like me - she'd hold herself back from situations and relationships, caught in the grips of anxiety and awkwardness, until one day she experienced a revelation in the midst of prayer. My mom is a pretty godly woman, and she prays. Everyday. I prefer to call it meditation myself, but each to their own.

Anyway, one day - my mom related to me - she decided to pray for confidence. She wanted to experience the lion's roar.  She needed it; she teaches uninterested hormonal high school students, and they have a tendency to give her grief. I could picture her sitting in silence before going into work, with an open heart, genuinely seeking guidance from the well of wisdom within. She told me that she took a good, honest look at herself, in an effort to seek the root of her insecurity - and when she did so, she got an answer. She paused to apologize for her language before she told me, "Caitlin, ultimately I ended up asking myself,

Who am I to think my shit doesn't stink?"


"Brilliant" - I told her - "Absolutely brilliant" - because in that moment I understood. In that moment I was flooded with visions - of me - in past occurrences, closing parts of myself off from people for fear they'd find out I'm not perfect. Visions of me avoiding eye contact with the person I'm conversing with, as I wrack my brain to come out with the perfect, witty, intelligent thing to say. Visions of me deciding that it's more comfortable to practice yoga on my own, in my home, because putting myself out there is a scary thing. In that moment I realized why it's so scary: I'm afraid of messing up, making a mistake, hurting someone, saying the wrong thing - showing someone that, in reality, I'm not as good as I want to be. Eek.

The second I realized my reservations come from my fear of baring my imperfections to the world, I got amped. I felt that lion roaring inside me - and I repeated to myself, "Who the heck do I think I am - to think my sh*t doesn't stink?! It totally does! Everyone's does! Geez!" What a struggle I had with myself, wanting the confidence so badly to put myself out there in this new town I'm in - never realizing that it is in fact humility that gives you confidence. When you let go of needing to be perfect, you find you want to put yourself out there. It's kind of like an "F - it" attitude - it's a here I am, I'm me, and this is what you get kind of attitude. It makes me want to shout from a mountaintop. What a liberating feeling - to realize that my sh*t stinks - and that it's okay; the only one that's hung up on it is me, and the fact that I'm hung up on hiding the stench is the very thing that's holding me back from fully living life.

I'm not the best yoga teacher. I'm quite a novice, and I'm usually pretty nervous and apologetic about that. My nerves come from trying to hide the fact that I'm such a guppy, and my apologies come from the the nerves that compel me to stumble over my words and avoid contact. Well, no longer. I know what I know in this moment of time, and all I can do is do my best to share my love for the practice. At this moment my love for the practice is what really matters - I can't be a master teacher over night, I simply can't - I might as well buck up and be honest and teach what I can.

It sure feels good to walk with humility. Posting this with a good dose of humble pie and lot's of love... Namaste xo

Emptying the Tea Cup

This living in Oregon these past months has been therapeutic for me in ways I never imagined. The time and distance from familiarity has provided a vantage point from which I am able to observe whence I came. More importantly, this vantage point has offered perspective on the person I was, and who I am growing into. Not that I feel I'm changing in anyway... more like shedding unneeded outer layers... the way a snake sheds his skin...

Anyway, speaking of who I was, I'm reflecting now on my early-early adult years: the awkward, uncertain years right after college - when I was groping blindly and struggling to realize who I wanted to be, wanting to be who my parents wanted me to be, but not able to shake the tickling feeling that beckoned me elsewhere. It was a period of being out-of-sorts, unsure, and antsy. I wasn't fulfilled by my job; the only reason I had it was because I thought it made my family proud. I had an obsession with knowledge, a secret dream to be a writer, and a harbored secret agony over the fact that I'd never be one (HA! Little did I realize all you need to do to be a writer is to write).

I read a lot, but didn't really read. I picked up a new book everyday on something I thought sounded intelligent and skimmed enough to pick out the intelligent-sounding words, then got bored and moved on to the next. I was on this haphazard mission to acquire knowledge because I thought it would lead me somewhere... maybe into being a novelist, or the most charming girl at the cocktail party... or something...

It wasn't until I followed that tickle down to Costa Rica for my yoga teacher training when I realized what my problem was. During that trip I travelled with Thomas Pynchon's Gravity's Rainbow; I'll never forget having that big tome open on my lap as I jostled around in the backseat of a bus that made it's 7 -hour journey through the jungle from San Jose to Nosara. I fumbled over words only physicists could fully understand and struggled to grasp a convoluted story line with lofty themes. I guess it's a masterpiece, but I was trying too hard and I was missing the monkeys in the trees as we drove by.

Upon arrival in Nosara I threw myself into yoga, ocean waves, jungle-walks and quiet contemplation.  My yoga teacher-training consisted of three sessions throughout the day: one pre-breakfast vinyasa flow,  a lecture session from 11a - 2p, and then another post-dinner session from 6p - 9p. The nighttime sessions would close with guided relaxation, which would morph into meditation, or straight up, deeply satisfied snores.

On one particular night, our director, Don Stapleton, was leading us through a guided relaxation, intent on teaching us how to teach others how to listen in to the inner voice. We were lying on our backs in Savasana as I listened to Don and did everything his hypnotizing voice told me to do. I was at once highly alert to my surroundings and sensations, and deeply, heavily relaxed. The most poignant sensation I remember noticing was how deeply my heels were grounding into the wood floor. It felt as if the bones were making impressions in the wood - almost  painful - but I was too relaxed and lazy to move them. After long days of swimming, surfing, walking, laughing with friends and practicing yoga three times a day, it sure is easy to melt into the floor - and that's exactly what my body did. As I was exploring - and relishing - this heavy, yet light feeling in my physical body, I heard Don's voice instructing us: "Now, open yourself up to anything you need to listen to."

I paused, noticed my presence, felt silence in my mind. I think I remember telling myself, "I'm listening." And then I listened. I listened to the thoughts that bubbled up. Didn't judge, didn't attach, didn't respond, just listened. After a bit of listening to the petty stuff, a thought came through that was attached to a powerful feeling... a feeling like this is important, listen up. Remember this. After that thought came through I stopped listening, and started repeating this thought, like a mantra over and over in my mind. I was holding on to that thought like it was a port in a storm, a beacon of light, anchoring me to right where I was.

My inward chant was interrupted by Don, who was gently leading us out of our Savasana. As I rolled onto one side and tucked my knees up, I cracked my eyes open a bit and noticed a pen and a piece of paper next to me. Without thinking or widening my gaze I grabbed the pen and scrawled my important message to myself on the paper. I cast the pen and paper aside and closed my eyes again, breathing my self back into a normal state of consciousness. I sat up into a cross-legged seat, pressed my palms together in front of my heart and bowed my head to my hands, sealing in the last bit of relaxation, listening to the hustle-bustle of students rolling up their mats and gathering their things.

After I had rolled up my own mat, I picked up the paper, curious to see the little thought I had deemed so important minutes before. When I read it, I was confused, and then I chuckled a bit. It read, in a messy scrawl,

I don't want to know anything anymore. 


The next morning I went on a run with a friend and shared with him my little break-through, and expressed my confusion as the girl who desires to know everything. My friend looked at me knowingly, and said,

"It sounds like you want to empty your tea cup." At my quizzical expression, he related to me a zen story, about a young scholar who travels far into the mountains, seeking the teachings of a wise, old Zen Master. The Zen Master agrees to take on the scholar as a student, and begins with the first lesson. The scholar rolls his eyes and says, "Master, I already know this. We can move on to the next lesson." At the next lesson, the scholar feigns a yawn and says, "Master, I've already learned this. What's next?" And so it went... Until one morning finds the Zen Master pouring tea for the scholar. The Master filled his cup, then reached over and began filling the scholar's cup. He poured, and poured - and the scholar's eyes began to widen as the tea filled to the brim and welled over, spilling onto the table, dripping onto the floor. The Master kept pouring. Unable to restrain himself, the scholar shouts, "Master! What are you doing!? The cup is full! You can't pour anymore!"

The Master stops pouring, looks at the scholar and replies, "You are like this cup. How can I show you Zen unless you first empty your cup?"

So we go through life acquiring experience, learning lessons, absorbing knowledge and hanging on to it like it's all we got. The lesson here is that we can't really grow, or take on anything new until we've shed unnecessary frames of thought. Take a look at the history of Science. At one point in time people believed Earth to be the center of the universe. That's a piece of "knowledge" that had to be dropped after Copernicus, and even more so after the invention of heavy-duty telescopes. Think about atoms - life's building blocks -  it was once thought that that's as small as it got - until we started exploring the exciting sub-atomic realm. Just when we think we know something, we get schooled.

Or how about this for an example: think of the poor child who's taught at home that it's okay to respond with anger. The child then moves through life thinking aggression is the way to go, and she won't know any differently until she's able to let go of the first lesson she's ever learned. We're constantly evolving as we move through life, and the knowledge, or "know-how"we needed before might not be what we need now.

Knowledge is a powerful thing, and my curious mind will never cease to be tickled by it. However, I don't think it's the end-all, be-all anymore. In fact I think if we attach ourselves too much to what we think we know, it might close us off from what we could, or should know. Better to be open, and approach learning new things with a child-like curiosity. Stop knitting your brows; don't try too hard. Don't be afraid to stop searching for answers and start listening. You might be surprised to find out what you're trying to tell yourself.

Let go of what you know. Empty your cup and pour yourself some fresh tea. It's delightful.

Namaste xo

26 Promises for my 26th Year

I love birthdays. It's the one day out of the year that commemorates your existence; a day dedicated to you, an opportunity to honor your entrance into the world and your journey through it thereafter.

Here I am. 26 years old today, and celebrating by making a few personal resolutions... 26 personal resolutions, actually. To be precise, my 26 resolutions are housed under one big umbrella resolution I'm promising to commit to this year: to love myself. Yup, love love love, I'm making a birthday promise to conjure a hefty batch of feel-good, be-powerful, straight-up awesome-sauce Love for the one and only Self. To be shared with others, of course. As an extension of my last blog, I'd like to share with you the 26 ways I will be remembering myself this year. With the intention of whipping up some sweet, sweet self-love, here are my 26 mindful practices:

1. I promise to live intentionally. 
I've come to find that moving through life with intention is a powerful thing. I first learned about intention when I started practicing yoga, and it took me a few years to understand it. What I understand now is that when you mindfully connect with your intention before you enter into an action, you are connecting the what you are doing with the why you are doing it. This puts quality in your experience. Your actions hold more meaning for you when your head is in the game, and you know exactly why you are doing the things you are doing. Being mindful of my intentions as I go about life connects me more deeply to the core reasons of why I do things, thus, connecting me more deeply to my values, and my sense of self. Being clear on your intention before you act puts purpose behind what you do. It reminds you of what is important to you, and it helps you act from a genuine place.

2. I promise to sit in silence.
Oh, good, sweet silence. A little bit each day. Enough said.

3. I promise to be present.
The past is done; it's gone, it's but a memory. The future hasn't happened yet. Why dwell on things that don't exist? The only thing that really exists, the only thing we can really be sure of, is now. It's all we have. Let's revel in that and see what happens.

4. I promise to give.
My time, my smiles, my word, my energy... whatever is fitting... I think the best way to feel awesome about your self is to step outside yourself and do something nice for someone else. Fail safe. Tried and true. If I had a religion it'd be Kindness. Best medicine ever.

5. I promise to snuggle with my cats everyday.
Because they're fuzzy and soft and really cute and they make me feel like I got champagne bubbles inside me. Laughter bubbles... Love bubbles... A super easy way to muster up love bubbles is to give love to a furry friend.

6. I promise to tell my husband I love him everyday. 
More importantly I promise to take a moment and feel the gratitude when I say it, too. It's easy right now - we're still fresh - but I also know it's easy to fall into a routine with the one you live with... the daily responsibilities of life are more pressing than mushy-ness and such. However, if I may paraphrase the Dalai Lama, he said somewhere recently that "a loving atmosphere in the home is the foundation for your life." Bring on the Love!

7. I promise to think of one thing I'm grateful for each day.
Maybe when I wake up in the morning first thing... Or when I brush my teeth so I can make it a habit. I think it's super important to make the effort to feel gratitude. As humans it's like we're hardwired to feel lack... We're conditioned to strive for things, which I think gives us a bit of a complex: we're more likely to think of what we don't have rather than what we already do have. That's a dangerous mentality, because it tends to lead to feelings of low self-worth, or not deserving what you want. That paradigm imprisons you, and it's completely false. Eee. Much more fun to think of what you do have...

8. I promise to enjoy having a healthy body.
This is a rough culture for the woman's body image. It wasn't fun as a teenage girl, trying to live up to what society convinced me was beauty. It wasn't fun as a young adult, berating myself as I was striving for an unattainable ideal, photoshopped and featured in magazine pages, created by something outside of myself. Silliness. I'm revolting against the whole thing. Screw society and it's false conception of what beauty is. Beauty is my own fleshy flesh because it's mine. Boo-yah. It's pretty awesome to love your body - every dimple, curve and roll - it makes you want to treat it well. Make it sweat, feed it nourishing food, give it rest.

9. I promise to practice Yoga. 
For many, many reasons. Yoga is the shiz-nit.

10. I promise to call my mom.
Moms are important. They ground you. As a teen, it was a different kind of grounding... Hehe... Now it's more of an anchoring to what's important. Mom's have a certain wisdom no one else can match.

11. I promise to do something that scares me, large or small, whenever the opportunity arises
Nothing like stepping out of the comfort box. Fear is an amazing thing to explore. I think when we experience fear, we clench up, and identify with the fear. That's when we allow the fear to become us, and it's debilitating. When we make the choice do something that makes us uncomfortable, we realize we are greater than our fear, which is pretty self-empowering.

12. I promise to be decisive. 
It's easy to fall into the habit of letting life live you. Meaning, allowing life to run you over; allowing yourself to get worked up over things like getting stuck behind a train or spilling coffee on yourself. No doubt those are annoying things which warrant an inward growl. But don't forget you have a choice - you can choose to let those things roll off you. You can choose to laugh it off, or you can choose to complain to everyone you know and perpetuate a bad day. Ultimately it's up to you to decide to be happy. Every instant you make a choice - you choose to react, or to respond. You choose to either stay locked in your present paradigm, or you choose to move forward. When you are conscious of your choices, you are living life - not the other way around.

13. I promise to read.
Just because it's something I love to do. I'm on a fantasy kick right now. Also I think it's good for the brain. And for the soul.

14. I promise to write. 
Writing is the yoga of mental exercise.

15. I promise to run. 
Running is a pretty deep exercise for me. It's a simple activity; putting one foot in front of the other - but after a while it becomes a way to explore your inner drive. Then it becomes empowering. When I run I feel like a warrior princess who can take on anything. Like a viking or something. Rawr.

16. I promise to laugh.
I don't think this needs explanation.

17. I promise to make music.
Nothing like playing your own song.


18. I promise to dream big.
Because I can, and because it's fun.

19. I promise to have fun.
Why not? Who said we couldn't have fun?

20. I promise to face discomfort with openness and courage.
Meaning the uncomfortable phone call I don't want to make, the truth I don't want to see, the feelings I don't want to face... I think it's an easy initial tendency to either launch ourselves into denial, freeze up, run away or become defensive when uncomfortable situations arise. It's important to remember that the sage does not encounter problems because he faces them. Perhaps the discomfort doesn't come from the situation, it comes from your reaction to it. I think when we face our discomfort with acceptance, it diminishes, and you realize how strong you are.

21. I promise to respect my environment. 
I would like to promise to keep my home tidy. I simply feel better when the environment around me is clean. Keeping my environment tidy is a way of telling myself that I deserve to sit in comfort, with beauty to look upon.

22. I promise to walk in nature whenever possible
Fresh air, wind through the trees, birds chirping, greenery fills the eyes - it's medicine. Very grounding, very centering. Happiness-inducing.

23. I promise to enjoy exercising. 
I don't have to do it every day. I'm simply promising myself to remember how good it makes me feel.

24. I promise to eat my food mindfully. 
Man, I think we take eating for granted. Munch, munch, munch I could do it all day - I'm such an eater, and food is all around. I think it's a pretty beautiful practice to be mindful of the food you put into your body - mindful of where it came from, how it was prepared, what it can do for your body. The way you eat has a pretty powerful effect on your quality of life - it can affect your sleeping patterns, your brain chemistry, your energy levels... Simply being mindful of the experience of eating, and its affect on you is another way of respecting yourself.

25. I promise to give myself a break.
Some days are good. Some days, not so good. In the end, it's all good.

26. I promise I won't give myself a hard time if I forget about these promises. 
It happens. Life is a river and it keeps moving. The mind is a big sky, with many forms of weather that blows through it. All I can do is weather the storms and bask in the sunshine.

Posting this with Love. Namaste.

Don't Forget About You

My birthday is approaching, and I think it's fitting to spend these last few days of my 25th year with a bit of reflection.

It's been a road since we moved up to Oregon. It's always a road... Bumpy... Smooth... Sharp inclines and unexpected turns at times... Other times the way seemingly stretches on, placidly, with no change in sight. Sometimes I'm cool with where I am, and I relax a little, venture a look from side to side, and take a satisfied breath in with the view. Other times I'm knitting my eyebrows and craning my neck to see ahead, desperate to know what the future holds, chiding myself back into presence. Chiding never works.

Along this road there is an ever-present uneasiness that has a tendency to dance around me as I make my way. Like a hyped up little kid, it skips around, to and fro, as I go about my business. It hangs back and quiets down when I distract myself with work, food, TV, what-have-you. Sometimes it gets louder and more annoying than the distractions, and I let it get to me. Other times, I'm patient with it and I give it a good pat on the head and let it be. The point is, this uneasiness is always there, and I think it's a good idea to address it while I'm in a nice and patient, pat-the-cute-thing-on-the-head -  kind of mood.

As I sit and reflect, I realize a lot of my mental energy is devoted to, for lack of a better way to put it, trying to be a good person. I try to do well at my job. I try to be a good wife. I try to be a good daughter. I try to be a good samaritan. I try to be a good citizen of this world so I can contribute something positive to it. All this effort is well and good, until the trying turns into over thinking it, and that turns into stressing.

Then, instead of trying to be a good person, I'm stressing about being a good person. The stress contributes to second thoughts and self-doubt, and if I let that get to me, well, nothing good comes out of that: I  tremble before work and find myself asking my husband, with a nervous girly giggle, if he loves me. All of the sudden, the whole "trying to be good" thing is out the window, and I'm nursing the wounds I've created by doubting myself by seeking love and affirmations outside of myself.

It's ludicrous, and a dangerous net to catch yourself in. It may start with a good intention. You want to do well. You want to be good. But the moment you let your monkey mind jibber-jabber in your head about the "correct" way to do things, what would make others happy, what would make you look good in the light of others, your mind goes on a rampage and develops superficial fears and desires on which the ego feasts. The ego, being concerned with self-image in the light of others, grows fat and takes over. That's when you lose sight of yourself, and the good intention you started with. When you forget you, and concern yourself only with that which is outside of you, uneasiness is experienced. You experience uneasiness because you're not living for you any longer - you're living for your ego, which lives for what others think of you.

So the key is that you can't forget about yourself. You can't forget what sparked your good intention in the first place. Perhaps I want to be a good person, wife, daughter and teacher because I simply love people and I want to give to them. It's dang easy to get confused and convince yourself that what other people are thinking about you is the only way to gauge how you're doing. That's not the only way, and if you try to gauge how you're doing by relying on what other people think, you'll drive yourself and your relationships into the ground.

My advice, which I think I feel comfortable giving, because this is my life-exploration right now, is this: before you engage in your work and relationships, first connect with your self. I'm going to go further than that. Fall in love with yourself.

If you can't experience love for the most important person in your life - you - there's no way you can bring true and honest love into what you do and who you're with.  If you can't bring good, honest love into your work and relationships, there's not much you can get out of those things - aside from a dose of inexplicable uneasiness. Partaking in life's activities and forging relationships with others without loving yourself first is like trying to enjoy food without tasting it. You keep eating, and scanning your plate for what's next while you're still chewing, thinking and hoping the next bite will satisfy.

Forging a loving connection with yourself eliminates self-doubt, which shushes the chatty part of your mind that tries to tell you to feed the ego, who tries to convince you that you don't matter, only other people and what they think of you do.

How do you love yourself? Be present. Stop. Seriously, just stop. Stop trying. Stop thinking. Stop stressing. Stop reading.  Close your eyes and take a big. Full. Breath. Fill up. Fill up the lungs, feel full; feel it reach capacity. Hold it in for a moment and notice silence. Notice sounds of the room, of outside. Notice that you can control your breath. Allow that thought to empower you. Let it out. Relax. Relax jaw. Relax neck. Relax shoulders. Realize that you are enough. Realize that everything you could ever desire in life is already within you, beneath the layers of thinking, stress and self doubt - it's here, with you, right now, waiting for you to put the protesting ego on the back burner and accept.

Only in the silence of the present moment can we feel the love for the self. Only in the present moment can we feel our strength, our capacity, our vitality, our joy. It's a natural tendency to move about life mindlessly, forgetting about what's going on inside our hearts and minds. It's a good practice to remember to remember yourself. Only when you remember you, can you shed uneasiness, live fully and truly bring goodness into your world.

The key to loving your life is loving your self. The key to loving yourself is finding your way into presence. I will close with a quote from Deepak Chopra:

The only moment that never ends is now. The most important activity in your life is what you are doing now. The most important people in your life are the ones you are with now. The most important way to create your future is to be present now.

Turn your attention from reading this, to the one that's reading. Be aware of the listener.

Shedding Light on Simplicity...

Well I was just doing some yoga in our little yoga studio we’ve created in our one-bedroom apartment here in Milwaukie, Oregon (Portland area) and I was compelled to do some reflecting on our current situation. It’s an intriguing one - and I thought I’d share.

An interesting turn of events has occurred. As you could surmise Jeff and I have moved to the Portland, Oregon area: to a little pocket of goodness surrounded by trees and squirrels and chirping birds called Crystal Lake Apartments. We found the place by an Internet-search when we were back in California and signed the lease from afar with a wing and a prayer. We packed the car tight with as many possessions as we could – mostly the stuff with sentimental value - books and musical instruments basically; and what didn’t make the cut we either sold or gave away. We made the 17-hour drive up the coast with two panting cats. One sat in my lap and threatened cardiac arrest and the other cowered in the makeshift litter box we set up in the back seat. Perhaps the familiarity of the litter was her safe spot.

Upon arrival, for the first couple months I sent resumes out into the great Craigslist abyss, practiced yoga and dealt with the age-old question of what to do with myself while Jeff dabbled in the wine sales industry and ultimately realized it was perpetuating a lifestyle that didn’t line up with his values. Life’s too short to do some something that gives you the jitters: the antsy, nervous feeling that something isn’t quite right… Was he working this sales job, dealing with the unwanted pressures and stress that came with the job, in order to make the money that paid for the lifestyle that perpetuated having the job? It was something like that.

So I got a part-time job working behind the front desk at a gym and he got a part time gig at the Starbucks down the street. He starts this Thursday and he’s looking forward to walking to work and leaving it behind him when the shift is done. We live simply up here and we make it work: our rent is $700.00/month. Our diet consists of essentials and that’s it: beans, brown rice and vegetables are staples. Oats. Olive oil. Whole-wheat flour. Eggs. Peanut Butter. Fruit…Cheese if we splurge. With an array of spices and cheap sauces (Sriracha is my favorite) and a bit of creativity you’d be surprised how kingly – and inexpensively – you can cook with a few simple ingredients. I’m finding the body doesn’t need as much as our society is telling us it does. In fact I’ve been feeling lighter and more energetic than ever since we’ve simplified our eating habits.

We don’t pay for cable; we don’t have a TV. We watch our news and favorite TV shows on the Internet that we get for free with the apartment.  We spend the majority of our time writing: we write music and play for one another. We write poems and stories. We read: philosophy, physics, autobiographies, story’s about the Hero’s Journey, books on how to still the mind… We listen to lectures via podcasts by our favorite philosophers and Buddhist teachers. We meditate and contemplate and listen to the sounds outside the living room window. We set up our bed in the living room underneath said window and sleep with it slightly cracked, to feel the fresh Oregon air on our faces and let the tinkling sounds of our wind chime percolate into our consciousness as we sleep. The bedroom is a free space, thus, to practice yoga. We hung a great tapestry on one of the walls with a large “Om” sign emblazoned on it – and it’s a good reminder of the sacredness of the space we created.

When we’re not eating good food, writing, playing music, reading, listening, contemplating, meditating, sleeping or practicing yoga we’re working our jobs – which, relatively, don’t take up too much of the time, energy or responsibility that could otherwise be devoted to our art or development. I don’t know how much longer this is going to go on, but for now it’s a pretty sweet situation. I don’t know what is going to come of this. Deep down I had this desire to empty out and pair back to almost nothing because I have this feeling that the best sort of things come out of nothing. In fact, I think the whole universe came out of nothing. And that’s a lot of something.

Jeff and I got tired of mindlessly chasing the carrot in California so we relocated, paired back and quieted down. It’s an important thing to do, I think, from time to time, because it allows the perspective you have on your reality to broaden a bit, enabling you to see what’s important to you. Each individual has his own definition of “pairing back.” Perhaps to most my definition is extreme. You don’t have to subsist on rice and vegetables and get rid of your cable if you don’t want to. If you want to practice simplifying, practice letting go of just one thing in your life you could probably live without (engagements you convinced yourself are obligatory, that junk-food TV show you watch in order to forget about your world and shut your mind down for a bit, potato chips, magazines, your weekly pedicure, that monthly hair-do session…) and see how it affects you. If the detachment is difficult, or painful, observe those feelings and see if you can get to the root of them. Perhaps you may feel lighter, or more willing to pick up a hobby you wouldn’t otherwise. You never know until you try. Life isn’t done yet. Switch things up a bit - the lessons you learn are good for you. You get closer to yourself and who you are and why you are when you de-clutter your life a bit. Do it. I dare you.

I can testify that I’m pretty dang happy living my low budget life with my measly front-desk job. My time is a precious commodity to me and I like to use it doing things that unfortunately don’t bring in bacon (at least not to my knowledge yet). But that’s just me. You gotta find it for yourself. Your path is your own. I’m happy to share mine with you. Much Love.

P.S. The cats have since fallen in love with their new home here – they’re now in kitty heaven, in case anyone was curious. They have a nice and safe grassy area to chase all the birds and squirrels to their hearts’ desire. They’ve really been able to come into their own cat-ness despite the harrowing car journey north. So hooray for all of us!