Eleven Eleven.

Mood: Reminiscent
Music: Daughter- "Youth" (new music find, really diggin' her melancholy voice)

I'm pretty good at remembering birthdays, as well as strange dates too, like when someone's pet dies.  So it's no surprise that today, on 11/11, I woke up with this piercing thought- "Today would have been our three year wedding anniversary."

My unworn wedding veil, still in its protected plastic covering sits next my wetsuits in my closet, and sometimes I'll accidentally push it aside when reaching for the vacuum stored in that same space.  In a certain sense, it feels just like yesterday when my mornings were greeted by two kitties, happy and fed, who I would follow down the stairs.  The aroma of cardamom from the simmering chai on the stove would fill the house and I would smile when my eyes paused upon two ceramic bowls on the counter- one was full of his cereal, and the other was of my oatmeal.  Thoughtful, always.  

Yet, a part of me feels like that time in my life was ages ago.  In three years, I've witnessed friends marry and get divorced (some of them experienced both, sadly).  In three years, I've seen bellies grow and babies born and jobs lost and friends move away.  For me, this time changed the way I viewed setting boundaries, creating sacred space, and the value of transparency.  It changed how I approached navigating big goals without a plus one, causing me to rely on friends and family for support, but more importantly, knowing that I had to show up for myself and be my own biggest fan.  It changed the way I viewed my peers and my reactions when some unexpected gossip surfaced- I was less judgmental and more compassionate.  It changed the way I loved.  It changed everything.

On my birthday, my mom took out my baby book.  We laughed as we read her scribbly cursive handwriting recounting how she walked up and down the hospital hallway so she wouldn't have to be induced.  There was a list of all the visitors who came and their gifts.  And there, underneath my measurements of height and weight, was the exact time that I was born- 11:11am.

Eleven eleven.  The universe had greater plans, a grander way to signify this date cemented in my heart.  Now, instead of feeling a sting every time this day lands on the calendar, now it'll be a positive and symbolic reminder of my life- being re-birthed, giving rise to the new, with an innocent and open heart, arms stretched out wide to the heavens.

Something inside of me tells me this wasn't a coincidence.

Yin.

Yesterday while I was walking in the middle of the street, it just came out of me- unplanned, unfiltered- like some regurgitated food that suddenly forces itself up your throat, lingers for a second, then rushes back down to your belly where it belongs.  Loudly I said, "I hate people."

What I meant to say, was that crowds overwhelm me.  All of the weaving in and out, knocking shoulders with strangers, avoiding dog leashes and trying not to topple over people who walk SO slowly in front of you because they are on their phone.  All of the brushing arms with tattooed bodies and envying the girls who can walk effortlessly in 5-inch heels, and dodging out of the photo-ops for tourists... My body seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for that moment to just get some open space where I could reach out my arms and not hit anyone else, and then fully exhale in relief...

This is how our monkey mind must feel.  My outward verbal frustration was merely a manifestation of my inner longings.  An overwhelming need to sit silently and just breathe in and then exhale.  Always craving space, craving quiet, craving calm, craving some serious yin in my introverted world that seemingly always gets cluttered full of yang.

Yesterday was a far cry from last week's view at 17-mile drive in Monterey...

But you know what made it all worth it?  Seeing the bright-colored hues of purple(!) bell peppers, discovering how kabocha squash isn't always green, tasting jujubes and laughing at how that's my nickname.  Paying $4 for two honeycrisp apples but knowing that I was supporting local farmers.  Picking out my most favorite and beloved nashi (apple pears) that have been absent from Berkeley Bowl.  Sitting across from someone who enjoys deep conversation and beet salads and cold-pressed juice as much as I do. 

Our view from The Plant Organic Cafe

It's important to stay balanced.  Oh, the lesson I am always striving to learn.  Today included some sweat, wind and serious motion therapy on two-wheels.  

Keeping with the whole "n+1" rule for bike ownership. #SpecializedAmira

Sometimes it's the frantic, overstimulated, crowded environments that remind me of how drive and determination are key players to achieving a successful and adventurous life. 

And sometimes it's the sitting and writing on a quiet Sunday night, watching the flickering flame of my pomegranate candle burn, while enjoying every single delicious bite of a $2 honeycrisp apple that remind me of how much I love my solo space to reboot and recharge, and how really, my life is simple and beautiful.  It's a satisfying feeling that even 5-inch heels can't come close to.

Stepping Out.

"We begin to find and become ourselves when we notice how we are already found, already truly, entirely, wildly, messily, marvelously who we were born to be." -Anne Lamott

It's become an annual tradition to visit Point Lobos on my birthday.  Described as "the greatest meeting of land and water in the whole world," it really is just that.  Hiking on those trails, breathing in the fresh ocean air, hearing the waves crash against the rocks, and noticing the various hues of turquoise blue made me feel more alive and acutely aware of all my senses.    

Sand Hill Cove

Standing on those rocks also reminded me of my own humanity- a mere speck in the vast, grander scheme of the universe, but a soul in a body that knows what it's like to ache and break and breathe and heal.

Cypress Grove stairs

Yesterday I came across this quote- "The vision must be followed by the venture.  It is not enough to stare up the stairs- we must step up the stairs."  It was timely, because today I stepped out of my comfort zone.  With the encouragement and helpful advice from friends, I climbed those stairs.  I traded in my usual introverted, clinical nutrition computer charting hat for my more extroverted, lively, passionate public speaking hat.  Scared? A little.  Nervous? Sure, of course.  Excited? Oh, heck yeah!  This morning I used a tactic I normally use to psyche myself up for extremely long and daunting bike rides- I consciously made the choice to turn my fear into excitement.  And it worked.  

What a privilege it was to share my love and knowledge of nutrition with receptive individuals.  People who were open, authentic, truthful.  People who genuinely wanted to raise the bar on their own health and wellness.  I listened.  We talked.  And it wasn't all about fiber and green vegetables.  We spoke about how to inject more kindness and tenderness and mindfulness and gratitude into every breathe, every choice, every meal, every bite.  Because really, there's so much more to food than just the food.  

Yes, folks, we were able to get to that level.

It wasn't a hat that I would have initially chosen for myself, but today showed me that different can be beautiful.  This hat just may be a permanent part of my outfit...I'm smiling widely in the mirror and I know one thing for sure- it's not going to be hung up anytime soon. 

Birthday Eve Musings...

"I decided that the single, most subversive revolutionary thing I could do was to show up for my life and not be ashamed." 

-Anne Lamott

Las Trampas sunrise...

Today I really showed up for my life, released a lot of baggage and heavy rocks that I had been carrying around for years.  It was the necessary emotional and spiritual kick-in-the-pants that I needed, and now I feel lighter and freer.

It's my birthday eve as well, and today it occurred to me- this year has been good.  Actually, really really good.

I've finally stopped training.

And I've finally started living.

Grateful for everything I've learned in these 33 years of life, and looking ahead with bright eyes and a big smile for all that life has in store.  Onwards and upwards...  

WCW.

Winter writing.

"Writers are great lovers. They fall in love with other writers. That's how they learn to write. They take on a writer, read everything by him or her, read it over again until they understand how the writer moves, pauses, sees. That's what being a lover is: stepping out of yourself, stepping into someone else's skin."
-Natalie Goldberg, Writing Down the Bones: Freeing the Writer Within

It's Wednesday.

In officially honoring WCW (who comes up with these anyways?) Natalie Goldberg, I choose you.  

Start Where You Are.

Start where you are.

It's the best advice, really.  It's asking a lot to make someone who is used to eating 3 fast-food meals a day to immediately adopt an organic plant-based diet.  So we start small.  We weave a green smoothie bursting with vital nutrients and raw energy into their day, and allow them to eat the rest of the meals however they desire.  It's interesting to watch the shift.  They feel better from that one single change, and this starts them on a new trajectory towards better health and well-being.  First fix the food- then watch in amazement how the other areas in their life unfolds.

Start where you are.  I love that.  It also applies in meditation, as Susan Piver writes:

In meditation, it is not helpful to be mad at yourself for the inability to be peaceful.  Start where you are.  Start with sorrow.  Start with rage.  Start with boredom/anxiety.  Start with high hopes.  Start with disappointment.  Start with your very own body, breath, and mind.  Your experience IS the practice.  There is nowhere else to go.  Within your own experience, the entire path can be found.

This is something I'm still learning to grasp.  Letting go of expectations, enjoying this precious moment, unattached from outcomes.  It's been a process of teaching my spirit to not be defined by external constructs and labels.  To be unattached from my annual income.  To be unattached from the notions of being a homeowner or a mother or a wife.  To be unattached from a certain number on the scale. 

Because really, we have everything we need, right here, right now.  We were born complete, with abundant love, joy, grace and creativity.

When you start where you are, sometimes you realize that where you are is just where you need to be.

When that happens, you can finally relax.

And be yourself. 

Be Merry and Bright.

I never took anti-depressants.  Because I had spin class.  We first met each other there, in that sweaty, hot room, two lonely people- escaping our momentary realities for an hour.  That lovely hour served as a dark refuge, where we sweated off our worries and heartache at 100 rpms.

The holes and voids we each harbored in our own hearts from past hurts remained open and raw.  We were shadow companions- two empty souls desperately trying to fill a space of another person we could never be.  We allowed the charades to continue because it felt comfortable and safe and we were both still so fragile and afraid of being cracked wide open again.  He would sleep soundly and sometimes snore, so I would go and sit by the window, looking out, feeling so incredibly alone.  It was cold, so I would wrap my arms around my legs.  I would cry.  I wanted him to wake up and comfort me, but he never did.

One day while he was at work, I decided to surprise him by cleaning his entire house.  He always joked about hiring a maid.  I was willing to play housewife.  I vacuumed, dusted, scrubbed the toilets and the showers, perhaps symbolically trying to cleanse us both from all the debris and dirt and grime from our similar pasts. 

As I brushed the sweaty strands of hair from my face and pushed the heavy vacuum back and forth to make symmetrical lines in the carpet, I heard it, shrill and loud- 

"HEATHER!  HEATHER!!"

My God.  I never liked that parrot, but now I hated him.  His parrot continued to scream and call out his ex's name while I finished vacuuming, the anger rising in me with every vacuum line emblazoned into the carpet.

In that moment it became crystal clear that I did not belong there.  I did not belong in this relationship.  Here I was, cleaning and trying so desperately hard to be loved, needed, wanted, cherished- and the sign, oh, it was so loud and clear.

Shortly after the parrot incident, the dust settled- literally and figuratively- on our relationship. We reached a point where we discovered it was much more draining to stay in something that felt superficial and convenient than dealing with the deeper, darker Truths that held the key to our freedom.  

I can only smile, smile lovingly, at my former self who knew no other way during those months than to stay.  Who had no other sense than to quietly endure and rationalize and sit with the suffering.  Who somehow thought that the persevering could negate the way she failed in her other relationships.  But sometimes staying is more painful than leaving.

I learned a powerful lesson during this time-  It's futile to spend any excess energy on someone whose ghosts of past relationships continue to echo in their hearts (or in their homes).  Pack up your cleaning supplies, you Merry Maid, and move on your merry way.