The other day I was working on my website.

This website.

And it was going super well.

I felt like I was in the groove and everything I wrote felt easy, fun and inspired. I finished up the piece that I was working on and felt like the next thing I wanted to do was write my first blog. This one. But I didn’t.

I can’t tell you how good it feels to be up before the sun, nestled under a blanket, coffee at hand, and fingers to computer keys. Underneath the sleepiness and the nervous stomach, there is a faint glow pulsating. It’s been such a long time since I’ve come here to write…I’m feeling rusty, yet hopeful. I’ve been so busy over the last 9 months with trainings and workshops and work and kids and practice and transitions and maintaining and future-tripping…and this moment, this space, feels like rest, it feels like arrival. Ahhhhhh.

I once was. I am becoming. I chose the name for my blog two years ago, and it still resonates. In one week from today, yet another chapter will close as I complete all of my requirements of a 6 month training to become a 200hr RYT (Registered Yoga Teacher). I mean, WHAT?? Me. A yoga teacher…I just can’t believe it. As the final round of homework is turned in, my last mandatory classes are attended, my practice teachings come to a close, the exam draws near…as each item gets ticked off the list, I find that I am, in amazement, watching myself complete this thing I once thought was an impossibility.

i did not come

to even the score

today I almost

<started writing my book>

i’m beginning to see

my silence was never to punish

it has felt

lately

at times

that i am some sort of alien

in this world

nostalgia

foggy rememberings

inviting and deceptive

it may seem a way to keep a person is

to tell her over and over who she is to you

to tell her all the ways she makes you whole

to tell her of the hell you would have to survive without her

but in the end we know she will never be enough for you

some days. alone. is the only thing i want to feel.

a thing that can happen when you feel at home in your body.

a kind of heaven it must be

to be wrapped in my tenderness

to be held by the soft folds of my skin

to be lost in the fullness of my breasts

I made a comment on a distant, male friend’s Facebook post the other day, about how triggering Dr. Blasey Ford’s testimony has been for a lot of women, and maybe he should cool it with the, “finally Kavanaugh gets to speak,” talk for fear of sending the women in his life the wrong message. A message that might sound something like, “Sit down and shut up. Let the man talk.” A message that has been carefully crafted and cultivated and spun out to women for ages. After I realized my comments weren’t landing and nothing productive was happening, I apologized for interjecting myself.

Man, oh man, do I wish that title was about me being on the other side of transformation. Like, “You guys! I did it! I transformed and got it all figured out!” But to no one’s surprise, this is not the case. I write to you today in the daily drudgery of angst and peace, pain and joy, blah and blah, and blah and blah.

For Mother’s Day, I went to a spa. An au-naturel kind of spa.

And at some point…from the first removing of my robe, to the hand-pouring of herb-infused water over my body (like a goddamn goddess), to the in and out of the soaking tubs (fresh unveilings on repeat), to the FULL BODY scrub (splayed out, all slippery and jiggly, positioned between a stranger and a dear friend)…in the fluorescent bright light, among this collection of women of all varieties imaginable with landscapes, inside and out, completely unfamiliar to me…it all became so vividly clear…we are all SO very and truly different.

I took a self-defense class this week and the instructor told us her story of the time she was attacked in her home. It blew my mind. Not because she was attacked in her home – although that was scary to hear – but the circumstances around the attack…they were gut wrenching. The main gist…a guy comes to the door in the middle of the night, she lets him in, and for 90 minutes she placates him and tries to fix the situation, knowing that he came there to rape her. Why? Because this guy and his family was friends with her and her family, and if he went through with his intentions, it would change everything…for everyone…not just her. It would disrupt the balance of her ecosystem. Everyone would have to adapt to or reject this new truth that was unfolding in front of her, and relationships would surely have to change. She didn’t want to be a burden to those close to her. She didn’t want those relationships to change because of her. She didn’t want to disrupt her ecosystem.

My controlled vulnerability…it’s driving me crazy. It’s so hard to realize that, even after all of my work to become integrated and live out my life as my true, authentic self, I find myself, still, trying so hard to look the part, think the part, FEEL the part. What part, exactly? Not entirely sure…probably the zened out, figured her shit out, I was once “dot dot dot” but now I AM “dot dot dot”, living her life of full of abundance, and woke-ness, and complete peace.

But that’s just not true.

Getting to know myself has been one of the most difficult, and wonder-filled things I’ve done in life. This morning, it’s felt something like standing over top a dark abyss…or maybe it’s more like looking out into the cosmos, to the beyond the beyond, wondering what the heck is all in here. Either way, it’s me, looking into me, and finding an expanse I have been unaware of for a long, long time. What am I going to find in ALL of me? The thought is intriguing and chilling as hell.

A few weeks ago after church, I had someone come up and encourage me about a talk, a.k.a message/sermon/teaching, I had given earlier this year. (You can catch ithere, if you’d like!) We talked about some of the tougher things we’ve gone through in life, and she made a comment that’s been rattling around in my head ever since. It went something like, “I have to tell you, years ago, I saw you with your cute little family out to dinner, and I was going through a rough divorce, and I remember thinking that you had everything going right for you. I guess it just goes to show, you really never know what people are going through.”

This past week, I pilgrimaged back to a place of rebirth for me. I’m sure I need to actually write out and journal about this experience, but all I can write now is short sentences, partially formed, mysterious and vague…so I will let it be.

who are these curious little creatures following me

one mimics the other and she mimics me

a nesting doll of behaviors, ticks, compulsions

miniature convex mirrors, screaming my reflection back to me