Trust

For me, February was about trust. Every conversation I had about yoga, teaching, design or life peeled another layer off of this trust/not good enough/stop seeking answers outside yourself onion. I'm really good at signing up for things. I add it to my calendar, I set reminders—you can call me more or less organized. I'm really good at calling myself out on stuff. It's a form of brutal honesty where I extensively highlight all my inadequacies and can explain in detail I how I am a shitty designer, a terrible yoga teacher, and overall a pretty dull person. To some degree self awareness is great, but I am slowly realizing I am not getting anywhere with this lack of trust in my skills as a human and as a designer.

I'm also really good at hiding. I want to trust myself but it's an all or nothing formula for me: I have to leap. Always. It's not small teaspoons of courage for me. I have to call myself out ahead of time and commit to a deadline for whatever and never look back. Leap and trust. 

So I made a poster. In a matter of a couple of days, showed it to my designer friends when complete... waited for them to rip it apart. None of that happened. They loved it. Posted it on Instagram, it got the most likes in paperreka history. "The road to hell is paved with likes" said someone at a design conference once, and while I agree, you get my point. I taught a fucking scary ass class on drishti (focus) at Speakeasy last week that was so magical, you could hear every drop of sweat hit the floor because everyone was so "in it."

So as the month draws to an end I ask myself (Carrie Bradshaw style), what the hell am I so scared of doing, achieving, and trusting? In what universe am I not good enough as an adult who moved across the world at the age of 18, got a degree, holds a job (pays taxes—had to), drives a stick for the love of god. I work full time, run a biz full time, teach 4 yoga classes per week, do side projects in the middle of the night. I made a kick ass poster, I teach amazing classes. 

I already have everything in me that I ever need. I have to start trusting that what I have learned, seen, done are enough. Nice enough, good enough, soft enough, pretty enough, challenging enough, smart enough. Just plain old ENOUGH. 

March, what you got for me?

Twice a month

As I updated a few wonky looking images in my portfolio pages, I wondered... can I really attend to this website just a few hours a month? Is it possible to find balance with everything I have going on? 

I am currently reading The Yamas and the Niyamas by Deborah Adele, who is coming to Dayton for a weekend workshop to talk about things beyond your physical yoga practice. Her line in the first section Ahimsa (non-harming or non-violence) hit me today: "It is anti-cultural to claim any space that is simply space [...]" Shit. This is what I don't know how to do. So beyond the obvious interpretations of non-violence to others, how about non-violence to self? How about courage to create balance, how about unconditional self love, how about allowing space for something? 

What does it take to simply claim space? To simply be, to not rush, to trust, to just sit with silence? To be ok with who I am, to love myself as is? These are so foreign to my understanding of what will make me successful: the passion, the drive, the no sleep—yet I crave the pause and I want the balance. I'm hurting myself and those around me but not taking the time for myself, not resting, not loving. So as this month wraps up... I'm going to sit with this yama for a few days. I'm going to allow space, I'm going to love myself, so I can love others. 

Trust the magic of beginnings

A year ago I started tweaking a site that was going to be easy and simple, using a template so I can share my work more easily. It back fired. It was so easy I never finished it. I overthought every aspect of it. Design, type sizes, writing, images. So in 2017 I'm posting this site as is, going to update products god knows when, will finish tweaking my writing when I feel like it, and it will just need to be good enough.

I can't do it all.

Despite popular belief I'm not a robot, spent the end of 2016 severely ill, so I too, need sleep, time off, and self love. I wrote down some things—intentions if you will—and it's just going to have to be enough. Raw, imperfect, sometimes bitchy, always brutally honest.

But I have to start somewhere. Have to accept something as a beginning, have to jump in, blindly, trusting—the magic of beginnings.