Deep peace of the quiet earth to you. 

September 15, 2016

I don't want to go through my life, holding my breath, hoping I don't fall on my face. You know? 

Instead, I think I'd much rather make an ass of myself (hey, happens all the time) with enough breath left in my body to laugh said ass off every time. 

That, to me, seems a much more joyful approach to life. Fill up, fall over, try again. 

August 11, 2016

I've come to believe that I used to have this addiction (for lack of a better term) to complication. Not that I liked drama, because I don't, but I think I invited complications into my life because they offered me all kinds of excuses. "Oh, I *would* but I'm so b-u-s-y..." Or, "I *would* but I'm so b-r-o-k-e..." 

I mean, come on, sister! I am a creative individual. What means this 'busy'? What means this 'broke'? And what kind of world am I manifesting if that's the kind of junk I've got packed into my sweet little Boho bag? I mean, really. 

Broke and busy mean nothing in a world of creative engineering--internet, library, mentors, friends, barters, foraging, reading, learning, watching, listening, sitting, sleeping. All of these things are a) free and b) available (almost) any time. These are the kinds of wild-crafted resources just waiting to feed you into the next manifestation of yourself, a.k.a., your dream, dammit. 

Our ancestors did not risk predators, plague, persecutio...

July 8, 2016

Balance isn't balance if you have to hold your breath (or anything else) in order to stay put. Ask any yoga student--it's better to find that second, that millisecond of poise in which, by breathing, you feel as though you're floating, than to grind yourself into submission via tension. 

When we hold our breath to remain in equilibrium, we aren't in flow. Instead, we're the equivalent of shoving a stick into unyielding ground, just hoping it will hold our tent fast through the storm. Better to hike on, to find ground that yields to the stake, and that will hold us through the night, rather than the other way around. 

You'll find balance if you breathe, if you're aware, and if you're trusting of your two feet (or one foot, two hands, whatever your pivot point). Patience itself is a study in the arc (and art) of balance.

April 28, 2016

Anyone can balance anything--a body, a checkbook, a schedule, a relationship. 

 

But we don't *really* want to put in the time, the effort, the schematics, and the nitty-gritty discomfort it takes to find or (goddess forbid, topple) over that tipping point. 

 

We might hurt ourselves, after all...

 

Well, let me tell you this: we're hurting ourselves already, trying to cram ourselves into days, lives, hours, jobs, relationships that don't fit. It may not be car-crash painful, but it's repetitive-action-forty-years-at-your-desk-or-on-your-feet kind of painful. It's wearing you down and you're too numb to feel it. 

 

Or maybe you're not. Maybe you're just really, really good at ignoring pain, and eventually it becomes rote. Until (!!) someone or something pushes you (gently or no) OUT of balance. Suddenly you're forced into a new perspective and, holy cats, are you lucky if you get one of those opportunities. See it for what it is--an invitation, a hand up, a new skill, a Superman cape...

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