'& (Then)'... Sold

So. I sold my house. You know, the one from my very first blog post? The first time I thought I had achieved balance between the roots and the wings?

I was prepared to write a rambly post about how bittersweet it was to have sold, but really, it's not.

It's just really sweet. Yes, I'm letting go of what was once a very hopeful concept of my future, on that perfect lot with the shady backyard in almost-East-Marquette, walkable to the downtown and the lake, less than 5 miles from my parents' house, and a hop-skip-jump from one of my best friends.

But in my truest form, I'd done most of the letting go already. A dozen signatures just made it final.

I feel free. It's kind of scary, but in a very thrilling and intoxicating kind of way.

I asked the universe for wings, and now I have them.

Savasana & Fetal Pose

I've been thinking lately about spring. Why is it sometimes harder than fall, when fall is about letting go? Autumn is literally about things dying and fading away, little by little, until winter washes everything out.

But spring is often harder for me--the push and the pull, the teaser day in March when its 70 degrees and you see, physically feel, what you've been missing yet have to wait so long for.

In yoga, they call this savasana and fetal pose.

Savasana (corpse pose) is taken at the end of practice. You let your body splay across your mat, taking up as much room as possible, and letting all your muscles and thoughts go. It's said to be the hardest pose, because after an hour of exertion--of twists and turns and stretches--you collapse into total relaxation. It's hard to let go completely, to dissolve. It's hard to let go at all.

Source

But the hardest part for me sometimes, especially after a really "heavy" savasana, is what comes next: Bringing small movements to the body, and turning onto your side into fetal pose. It symbolizes a rebirth, a reawakening that marks the start of something new:

"...a new cycle of movement, awareness and being. [Fetal pose] is a momentary reminder that between the end of one cycle and the beginning of another, we must transition."

Sometimes I just don't feel ready to leave my mat, my place of contemplation and evolution, and, as one instructor says, "bring the practice, quite literally, to life." I suppose it makes sense, as I don't really like mornings, either.

It's the perfect metaphor for this spring in particular, which has been an exercise in transitions, a period of pause and uncertainty: Will the house sell by the end of the tenants' lease or won't it? What will my new boss be like? I've had to really dissolve into the unknown, and let any expectations or worries fade away.

I've learned that spring is hard because it takes resolve. After a strenuous class or a shitshow winter--whatever the twists, turns and stretches are in your life--it takes tenacity to find the courage to face the new with an open heart and clear mind, even if it has potential to be much warmer and brighter. 

Face Value: What's in the Cards?

Do you ever have a day where you feel totally insecure? But not, you know, about yourself? About the world? And your place in it?

I had that feeling yesterday and couldn't shake it. For the record, the one person I posed the above questions to didn't make me feel like a crazy face, so you're officially the best, Cody Blue. Thanks for letting my feelings pass like a cloud so they didn't become a rainstorm. Because those are a super fun and no one makes an umbrella strong enough.

Ahem. Anyways, I was seeking comfort, and so I pulled in the troops. A super long shower, tea, honey, freshly washed bedding, Henley Boo, a notebook, and my tarot cards.

Now before you brush this off as super hippie dippie, I have to explain that in college, my friends and I would read tarot cards and use them as a jumping off point to discuss the happenings in our lives. Could that card mean we are overreacting? (Probably.) Could this spread mean that we should be open to new love? (Totally, we totally should.) We never took them verbatim or changed our behaviors because of how the cards fell, but we did use them to open our minds a little and start new conversations.

Every once and a while, a card would come along that hinted at something you'd long hoped for but maybe didn't believe was possible. That was my favorite, when one of my friends or I would embrace hope again, just because we found it in a stack of cards.

Thus, their capacity for bringing me comfort.

I know you can find meaning in all of them no matter where they lie--kind of like a horoscope always applies to your life, this minute, omg. But as someone who seeks out meaning in my everyday--because for me, meaning precedes articulation, precedes vulnerability--sometimes it feels really good to know where to look, and who to call, when you need it but haven't found it yet.

"More Lilacs and Love Letters"

I recently stumbled upon a blog called "My Beautiful Words", which...just...I love. Homegirl quotes Rumi like twice a week. This was one of her recent posts:

Can you imagine a world with more lilacs and love letters? To paraphrase Ariel, I want to be part of that world. (Not this blog's first Disney link, people, and it won't be the last.)

I can't do much about lilacs--that's up to Mother Nature, and well, she's on the couch right now with a heating pad and a bottle of Midol. So I'm going to do what I can do, which is to put more love letters out into the world.

I'm not sure how that will take shape--maybe a mix of handwritten snail mail and some public profession here on the blog? But for now I'd like to recognize, ala the sentiment behind my tattoo, that there already is a lot of love in the world, and sometimes all you need to do is recognize it, and, in some small way, it becomes yours.

So, here, my loves, is a link to a stunning essay. Follow the links at the end, trust me. Go all the way down that rabbit hole, Alice.

On Turning Thirty

So, there was a point in time when I was pretty sure I'd spend my 30th birthday in a pile on my bed, clutching Henley's fur with one hand, and a bag of Doritos with the other. I actually envisioned, long ago, my phone ringing, and then going to voicemail, and then ringing, and then going to voicemail throughout the day. I thought I'd push everyone away and just be...sad.

I know that's dramatic. But the feeling of all-around uncertainty that comes with being single and on the verge of thirty is gripping, people. It can overwhelm a girl for a hot second. So #judgywudgywasabear. That's just how I was feelin'.

So, I started to prepare. On my 27th birthday, because that is how I roll. It was going to take some serious strategy to survive this thing unscathed.

Obviously, what this list was really about was #30: learning to embrace...just about everything. It became less about being single (because who knew I still would be three years later? And, because? It turns out, its seventeen kinds of awesome) and more about getting right with my attitude about life, in general. It became about losing the idea that I had to hit certain milestones by a certain time. It became about losing the list--and getting out there and living.

Let me give away the ending: I am stronger, happier, healthier, saner, wiser, more connected and more in love with life on this day than I have ever been. No Doritos in sight. I whole-heartedly embrace being single because it means I still get to fall in love. That is still ahead of me. That is so beautiful.

I embrace my untetheredness in general because it means I still get to choose. I embrace thirty because holy shit, the possibilities in general. I'm employed, experienced, valued, and contributing to a good cause. I'm surrounded and safe and loved. I'm healthy, active and able. And I can go anywhere from here.

It took a long time... (cough) three years...to get here mentally. Things aren't perfect. Change is only a matter of time. I still have goals that I'm gunning down. Meltdowns abound. I'm still saving the right side of my bed for someone other than Henley.

But I've worked relentlessly to feel the way I do today: that everything is as it should be this moment, and that that is enough. So that's what I celebrated on Sunday, the okay-ness, the enough-ness, the sufficiency that I have found. It was hard fought, but my cup is filled to the brim.

I've chronicled enough of it here on this blog, so I'll summarize for once in my life: The biggest lesson I've learned is that, girl, you gotta get after it. Get after happiness. Get after the job. Get after the skills. Get after health. Get after fitness. Get after love. Get after life. No one is going to do it for you. And very few people will give you permission, so don't wait for that, either.

So, I'm going to spend the next thirty and beyond getting after it, whatever the it of the moment is. That will never change. But I've also learned that to be happy in the moment is a constant work in progress. I'm down with that. I think I'm finally getting the hang of this roots and wings thing.

P.S. I did actually free myself of any rush to complete my list, but for those interested in how it shook out, click here.

Thirty-before-30: The Final Tally

Here's how I fared... 80%. Solid B effort.

(This varies from my original list a bit, but I had to pinch hit with some stand-in goals for things that just weren't possible, given geography, etc.)

1. Work for someone with vision. (If this turns out to be myself, then so be it.) Yup.
2. Re-learn French. // Je regret non. Maybe some day...
3. Get microdermabrasion.
4. Take guitar lessons // Still itching to do this.
5. Learn to sew. // This too.
6. Buy a great sofa.
7. Hang old family photos and create a space for new memories in my stairwell. // Donzo.
8. Teach at the college level. // I presented at two conferences, so I'm calling this one good.
9. Pay off my debt to my parents (and therefore become debt-free, other than mortgage and student loans). // Mmm nope, but I'm pretty close to ditching that mortgage...
10. Get a tattoo. // <3
11. Teach Henley a new trick. // Shake, baby, shake.
12. Watch the sun rise and set consecutively with someone special. // Ahem, somebodies.
13. Plant something in my yard.
14. "Study" photography, get a half-decent camera and learn Photoshop.
15. Go on a backpacking trip. // I feel many of these are in my future and will be worth the wait...
16. Join a rowing club. // Done.
17. Donate my hair to Locks of Love // Yep.
18. Sell a piece of refinished furniture // It wasn't how I imagined the scenario to be, but I did sell the pink desk and green chair to a friend!
19. Thank my English Teachers. // Check out all 9 lessons learned.
20. Take a graphic design class.
21. Go vegan for 4 months. Bonus points for completely organic. // I permanently cleaned up my diet.
22. Run a 5k and not die. // I ran several and am alive to tell the tale.
23. Plan an awesome 30th birthday celebration trip. // You know. Things work out in a funny, funny way. I'm counting my trip home to close on my house next month as a pretty sweet way to celebrate. It's not Hawaii, but it will do for now.
24. Visit my 6th country outside the U.S. // Anyone up for a Canadian road trip? ;)
25. Have 50 lunch dates. That's one every 21 or so days // This was no doubt the easiest goal to meet, and it was also the most enjoyable. Thanks everyone for the friendship and mid-day distraction.
26. Shoot a gun. // And no one died!
27. Twenty yoga classes in thirty days // My arms are killing me, people, but my heart is so happy.
28. Put off dying my hair. Embrace the grey before I start to cover it.
29. Go to the movies alone. // This was so liberating!
30. Be completely at peace with turning 30, well before it actually happens. 

Marichi's Pose

"Nothing ever goes away until it has taught us what we need to know." --Pema Chodron

This notion has been blowing my mind since December.

Life has presented a difficult situation lately--complex, without an obvious solution. Murky. Something that required a finesse I felt I didn't have, and a level of patience I feel I may never obtain. I was feeling inadequate, and so in light of my new motto of sufficiency, I dove in and starting looking for the lessons. Alright, Pema, what could these situations be trying to illuminate? What could I learn if I stopped resisting and started listening?

I found two trends: Flexibility, as in I needed to have more of it, and patience, as in...I needed to have more of it. Hmph, that sounded a lot like deficiency to me. No bueno.

So, I listened harder. I wouldn't say I shut down so much; it wasn't even really a child's pose.  I couldn't find reprieve; I was right in the middle of the action. I was being twisted and stretched farther than I'd like. But I just observed. (This isn't exactly true. I observed on the surface. I bitched and moaned and stewed like nobody's business behind the scenes.) I just...didn't act. Moreover, I didn't react.

And the situation started to resolve itself, as situations tend to do when left to themselves. The complexity--the pinch--started to work for me instead of against me. I noticed something else. Many of my initial concerns were correct. My gut told me what I needed to know from the beginning.    

Flexibility, patience, sure, I need to grow in those areas.

But trust in oneself...I've got this one covered. I just need to remember it when I'm in the middle of a chaos, when I'm feeling the squeeze.

And, of course, where else do these themes appear but yoga. Through flexibility, gaining trust in oneself. And through patience, realizing what you needed was there all along. Sufficiency.

Source

"[Marichi's Pose or seated twist] is often referred to as the Sage Pose, one who cultivates wisdom from both age and experience... Working with any twisting pose...helps you cultivate the patience to squeeze out toxins and release negative thoughts as you grow in awareness and sensible wisdom." - examiner.com

There are some days, in yoga and in life, that I don't feel any more flexible or patient than I was two weeks ago, six months ago, a year ago. But there are times, sweet fleeting times, where I gaze over my shoulder amidst chaos, and I'm able to tune out the pinch, and I realize just how far I've come.