Do What Makes Us Feel Alive

I needed to run some errands last week and I realized I was feeling impatient about it because I noticed being huffy with hitting all the red lights. So I turned on some singable tunes and rolled my windows down (my favorite things to do in the summer!) and took some breaths to remind myself I didn’t need to be in a rush.

I ended up being in my old college stomping grounds, so (since I wasn’t in a rush!) I grabbed a bubble tea from a favorite college hangout and drove through my favorite St Paul streets on my way to the freeway. I was reminded of the days when I would head to the chapel steps on campus on a gorgeous evening with a big black sketchbook meant for lyrical musings and I’d watch the sun set over the Dew Drop pond while writing my reflections about life, purpose, my heart, and what is it all for anyway. This was the time before Instagram and when cell phones were for texting and calling and didn’t have so many distracting apps for scrolling.

And as I remembered this time of my life while pulling off the freeway, I witnessed the glowing sun perfectly setting over a body of water in a gasp-inducing moment and I felt so alive.

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On Monday of that week (the beginning of beautiful June!), I shared a piece of art in my Instagram stories that said, “this week I will do what makes me feel alive” and without intentionally doing it, I ended up doing exactly that.

And my wish for us this new moon, this week, this summer, this season, this cycle, this year is that we do what makes us feel alive.

Maybe it’s Instagram or Facebook-worthy (and I’m excited to share in the experience with you as a witness if you do post about it) and maybe it’s those little things, like driving with the windows down, singing to belt-worthy songs, and reflecting on this brutiful life as the sun goes down.

Artist: @newhappyco

Another Ending, Another Goodbye

This past year has been quite the year of endings and goodbyes it seems.

it is with great sadness I share with you that River Garden Yoga Center, the home to my group breathwork circles since I moved back from NY in 2015, will be closing its doors on June 1st. The space will be reimagined into another type of community space and I’m not sure if I’m allowed to reveal yet what that is, but just know it will be in very good hands.

The magic and healing that we created together in that lower studio cave will be something I cherish forever. I can still hear our breath syncing up together before the start of the playlist, still feel the power of our voices, and still remember the incredible experiences, stories, and hearts that were shared with bits of chocolate and nuts in circle. I’m eternally grateful to have been given the gift of holding space in that room where it felt like we were being held in the embrace of the earth while tapping into deep emotion and profound moments. I’ve met truly incredible people in that room and felt completely in my purpose, in my body, and in sync with the cosmos. I will miss making beautiful center pieces as an offering to our circle, seeing you get all cozy with all the props, and moving about the room anointing you with oil and vibrations from my singing bowl. I will miss being left at the end of the night, tenderly cleaning up the space, feeling sweaty and satisfied by the work we did together there.

To give a proper goodbye, I’ll be holding one last circle at River Garden and you’re invited to come if you’re local. We won’t be doing breathwork (as I don’t feel quite comfortable breathing vigorously indoors together quite yet) but it will be a special ceremony I’m scheming up to honor our hearts and the dreams we are dreaming underneath the light of the full moon. I ask that you wear a mask to your mat so everyone can feel comfortable coming if they wish.

Each time I think about it, I feel waves of grief and gratitude. River Garden, thank you for everything.

{And please help me hold the intention for my next space to find me when the timing is right for us to breathe together in-person again. xo!}

The Anticipation of Blooming

In December of 2019, the River Garden Yoga Center teachers did a Secret Santa and mine got me a potted amaryllis. Being a novice plant mama, I loved receiving a new plant baby as a gift!

I didn’t really know how to take care of it though and all it did that first year was grow long green leaves that eventually got yellowish brown and fell off. At some point, close to Christmas of 2020, it was just a stubby bulb in the pot. I remember seeing a blooming amaryllis at the grocery store and texting a picture to my husband exclaiming: “this is what it’s supposed to look like!”

Then! On one of the gardening groups on Facebook, someone posted about the growing process of an amaryllis. The green leaves are what bring nourishment into the bulb and at some point in the year, you stop watering it and put it in a dark place to hibernate. When you bring it back out into the world to begin watering, it will grow the stalk that holds the buds with the flowers.

So I gave this a go. And to my great excitement, it bloomed!

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There are so many delicious metaphors for us humans in this little story about my plant.

The need to hibernate and shore up our nutrients for the growing process.

The importance of doing research/self-inquiry/experimentation on how to take care of something/ourselves.

The letting go of “supposed to” and allowing the space for a different kind of timeline.

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But I think what I loved most about this little story was realizing how FUN the anticipation of the blooming was.

Most of the plants I have in the house don’t have budding flowers, so the excitement of watching something grow (in February no less!) and change little by little each day tapped into a giddiness that felt like it came straight from my inner child. Not knowing what to expect and just being witness with a sense of wonder and allowing was a really freeing process.

And I thought: what if I gave MYSELF this permission to grow and change on my own timeline and in my own way. With wonder and allowing. With anticipation and excitement.

What if we did that for ourselves?

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As I reflect on growing pains and growth spurts, I know growing and changing can be challenging. We are asked to push our edge, to take a leap of faith, to stretch beyond what we thought was possible, to have hard conversations, to get out of the routine and the comfortable. What if we also threw in a dash of anticipation, a splash of fun, and stirred it all up with a bit of play?

As the moon continues to grow on it’s way to being full (on Monday!) and we celebrate Earth Day every day, may we find the excitement, hope, and promise in the growing and blooming process as we move even more deeply into the spring season. xo!

Fools Spring + Full Moon in Libra

I don’t remember where I read this recently, but the thawing of the earth is like crying.

The moisture of the soil loosening up from the winter’s hard freeze. The soft bouncy ground, the squelch of mud underfoot, the sound of rushing water to the street drains past the melting snow ledges leaning into curbs.

It’s a messy time of year. A time of year that requires a surrendering to the in-between. A softening of perfectionism into the practice of being in the moment.

What layers shall I wear today? Can I let my hopes up of warmer, brighter days or is this just fools spring? And isn’t it kinda fun to have the freedom that comes with being the fool? Giving ourselves the permission to make mistakes, change our minds, and try something new without being loyal and devoted to it for the rest of our lives?

What a beautiful (and muddy!) time to be alive for this awakening and unfurling.

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The last blog I wrote, I was feeling the deep desire to hibernate, but already this month my body is feeling the subtle changes of the thaw.

You know that feeling when you first wake up and you do a big huge stretch of your limbs and you feel that pull of the tissues from your fingers to your toes? That’s the feeling I’ve been craving lately.

The stretching tight of the body and the yummy release afterwards. The breath of fresh fragrant air after a long cold winter.

I’ve also been feeling the heartache of the gun violence and death and hardships and the grieving and the messiness of being a human. Of being a human living in a pandemic for over a year.

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My little pack added four more muddy paws to our family and with it the joyful, playful hope (and exhaustion!) that comes with puppy love. It’s doing my heart extra good right now.

This weekend it’s a full moon in Libra - an opportunity to feel all the fullness. Libra’s symbol is the scales of justice and I can’t help but also think of the equinox we had just a weekend ago: the day where the amount of daylight is the same as the darkness. The balance between shadow and bright.

My wish for you this Libra Full Moon Spring Equinox weekend is to allow space for both sides of the coin. To honor the sadness while finding the joy. For feeling your rage while also feeling your softness. To acknowledge the heartache and embrace the hope. Rather than either or, can it be yes and … to find balance in the chaos.

{In my case, I’m holding space for feeling tired (4 am potty outside) and the reason I’m tired (puppy Hazel!)…. :) }

Happy first spring full moon friend!