Looking In the Mirror and Loving

Posted on August 22, 2011 by lyric

As a performance artist of ritual dramas, I found that I often created the very journey that I personally needed to explore. On one rainy weekend in the mountains, my priest and I created a ceremonial experience asking the celebrants to marry themselves.

The ceremony led each participant to approach a festively decorated mirror—look deep within. See all the parts of themselves. . . all their beauty, their ugly, their love, and their hate.

And accept themselves with hope, and fear, and wonder.

The responses were varied: from one fabulous soul who smiled big and gave his reflection a big old juicy kiss; to my mentor who looked at me in glee before looking back at herself in awe and performing the rite as if in a trance; to the sweet one who looked worried as she did the deed, tentatively.

At the end we all shared champagne and wedding cake to celebrate our self-nuptials

What Does Self Love Look Like?

The ceremony was only the beginning.  The first step, if you will, in the daily journey in

  • The effort it takes to surrender into accepting loving our gifts and our foibles
  • The angst found in simply being kinder to ourselves.
  • The ‘arrrrgh’ of loving our failures as well as our successes.

Perhaps self-love looks like forgiveness for what we can’t do and gratitude for what we can.

Or maybe it means we choose the apple and cheese over the soda and candy bar.

Or even taking 2 hours for ourselves to collect our thoughts and energy rather than being irritated with ourselves, our kids, our partner(s), and the driver in the car that just cut us off.

There is Nothing to Fix

Self-love is allowing yourself to be you.

Wow!  Self-love is, apparently, the mother of all journeys. For there are so many people (that I know personally) who were taught or told that something was wrong with them. That they were lacking or broken in some way—that they weren’t good enough and they need to be fixed.

Sadly it is a subscription to a magazine full of stories that we are horrified to read, but we do it anyway.  And unfortunately, it is a subscription that so many are still subscribing to.

But what if you didn’t have to?

What if there was, honestly, nothing to fix?

What if being you – the essence of you – is what you’ve got?  And what if it’s fine, just fine?   It means that you get to be here now as who you are now-–not as who you’re going to be later.

What if you could subscribe to a new set of tales?

One that had you in the present with the love and acceptance of your Self (and others) right here in this moment.

Do you want to?

Are you doing it already?

Yes!

The Revolution of Self-Care

Self love isn’t open to judgment or opinion from others.  Self love is an act of (r)Evolution.

Recently a friend had surgery with a 6 week healing arc.  She mentioned two other friends who had had the same surgery, but who paid no attention to the healing time.  Neither of those women could stay away from work, play, shopping, and this or that distraction.  She was sad as she told me that both women were now having serious health problems.

She said, “I’m not going to be that woman.”

I nodded and said, “The best gift to your self is to love yourself with rest.  And your only job is to heal.”

There is plenty of time to go shopping, see a movie, or take a bike ride.  When the knives cut into you, whether literally, as from surgery, or figuratively, as from grief, crisis, or other turmoil – give yourself a break!

Stop.

And let yourself be healing.

Love yourself enough to know that you’re worth the time it takes to move through this crisis and the next one too.

The Power of Patience

Give yourself the gift of the tortoise. True, it is an old tale wise and true, because indeed slow and steady wins the race.  The key is realizing the race is only against you.  Give your hare (egoism, competitiveness, arrogance) a rest.

Most skills, such as dance, music – whether expressed through learning an instrument or song  – crafts such as sewing or knitting, or even your livelihood, whether it be in business, medicine, or writing, is best learned over time.

My drumming teacher always cautioned us to ‘slow down.’  Playing a polyrhythm fast, just to see if you can, soon turns into a cacophony of noise.  He said, “the slower you play and with more patience the faster you will learn and achieve greatness.”

A mile is still a mile regardless of how fast you take it.  If you speed through the mile, you may miss vital information and learning.  Patience understands the power of smelling the roses and taking the scenic route.

Patience plays a vital part in our learning self-love through the practical application of that love with behaviors that exemplify it.   

Giggles, Snorts, and Guffaws

As self-designated High Priestess of The Coven of the Belly Laughs; I laugh daily.

Our manifesto: giggle, snort, guffaw, chuckle, chortle, titter, gurgle, cackle, and fall out!

Oh, and make it a practice to laugh good and hard once a day.

If I don’t feel amused, then I lie on the floor and start laughing on purpose. I put my whole body into it; shake, wiggle, and roll around while breathing in laugh-producing air and laughing it out.  Eventually the laughter becomes the laughter at laughter.

Laugh as if you have nothing better to do.  Own your laughter and revel in it—there is nothing better than the sore stomach muscles from a bout of raucous guffaws or bodacious giggles.  And there is nothing more motivating than the release and clearing that the breath of laughter offers.

Love your laughter with a grinning embrace and fall down laughing.

After all, what’s not to love?

Self Love Looks Like You

People that love themselves understand that in their list of concerns:  they matter first.

Of course we care for others, but we cannot serve others until we serve ourselves.  We each deserve our portion in the world.  So take yours from the buffet and move on down the line.

Taking care of you first is life affirming and energy providing.  It is only then you can care for your partner, kids, friends, pets, and the Earth.

As they say on the terrain of the plane:  put your own oxygen mask on first and then help others.

It is, in fact, the only sane way to operate and stay laughingly, lovingly alive.

Are You Looking in the Mirror?  

How do you love yourself? Share the wealth and tell me how you give the positivity of self-love to yourself!

Contact Lyric of the Silver Lining Experiment to schedule a Positivity Path reading with the Oracle of Initiation.  Find the Silver Lining on your journey.  Click here for more information and to schedule.

“I found Lyric’s Oracle Readings to be deeply connected with Spirit. She quickly delves into core issues and offers real-world actions that you can take to help manifest your intentions. Her 20-20 insights are informed by years of ritual experience and personal magickal practice and she brings this experience and higher-realm contact to your particular reality at the time of the reading. I can’t recommend her highly enough if you want to quickly cut through the garbage and connect with your best higher self.”
-John Cavanagh

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Stillness, Movement, and Creativity

Posted on August 15, 2011 by lyric

There is writing and then there is writing.  I am someone who absolutely does not believe in writer’s block and yet here I was over the past two weeks with nothing to post.  I have lots of letters and spaces.  I have words.  I have sentences.  I even have a paragraph or three.  Yet none of those have created the fullness of potential that makes a message.

Musings on the Muse

I have shown up at my desk each day.  And so has the Muse.  We sit and look at each other.  I won’t say that it is a contest of wills, no, but there is something different in the way we communicate.  She looks like the same muse.  But she has changed.  Perhaps she has been reborn, stepping from the fiery crucible of creativity, daring me to notice.

This muse is patient.  She looks at me and waits.  I look at her and wait.  There is a distinct element of stillness as we stare at each other. . .waiting.

It is as if she wishes me to say something and yet the silence between us builds.  I know I wish her to say something and yet the stillness stretches.

It’s as if I have never seen her before.  She smiles in response to that.  Perhaps I haven’t ever seen her, known her, or loved her.  The muse, she looks like me.

It occurs to me that even though my body and mind has shown up, maybe my soul hasn’t.

Movement and the Muse

Since the mythical ‘writer’s block’ has been hanging around for the two weeks I decide that something somatic was in order.  A clearing of the mind through movement of my body—the muse came with me—mayhap we’ll find my soul.

Off to the Railyard Park in Santa Fe, on one of the few overcast-and-threatening-to-storm mornings, to the Farmer’s Market I went.  It is the height of tourist season here and people are enjoying the grace and ease this small town offers.  A step into the market to give a quick “Hello” to my friends comprised of both shoppers and farmers and to partake of the market’s bounty to compliment my own garden. The bustling energy of the Market helps to wake me up. And then off to the quieter part of the park, the performance green.

This morning, I could go to African dance class for the movement I know I require; but don’t, because I wish for no witnesses.  Yet I stand on the performance green in front of god and everybody (admittedly this end of the park is quieter) and I move.

I stretch to begin and then slide into a quiet dance; one that honors the only-now-perceived stiffness of my lower back. There is a sense of “stuck” sitting in my sacrum wanting to release. I move to balance on one leg and dance from this perspective.  I squat and move from that position offering juxtaposition to my center of gravity.  I turn upside down and balance on my head and elbows; the world moves differently from this angle. I do not move into the full headstand.  Not wishing to fall over.  Not wishing to be a fool in front of all and, perhaps more importantly, in front of myself.

I notice people noticing.  I notice people not noticing.  As I move and sway and twirl.  I notice myself wanting to be noticed.  I notice myself hoping they don’t notice.  The Muse however is at full attention.

As I move into kneeling sun salutations the better to focus on the ‘stuckness’ in my creative center. I can feel the stuck unsticking.  I can feel the deep sigh of relief as the Muse is released.  She no longer sits and stares.  She moves with me; her energy flows up and down my spine.  She feeds me my soul through this shared dance. We are alone together in public.  I can’t wait to be alone with her in private.

Making Love to the Muse

I quickly walk home, having forgotten the very pens with which I need to write.  There they are sitting on the counter as I enter my adobe.  There will be not handwriting today.

Instead, I fire up my little red computer as the Muse whispers into my ear.  She moves to her place, the solid wooden rocking chair padded in red, crosses her shapely legs and smiles. I smile back, crossing my own legs, and begin to write.

As I press letters together to form words it is an act of love for what the Muse brings me. She dances into my life with her creativity.  And yet the Muse moves when I move.  When I love my body through movement the Muse is loved and she loves back – fully and without reservation.  She shares with me my soul, so when I sit back down at the keyboard she can then be unleashed; to dance and spin and twirl—as she sees fit—across the page.

And while this post may not be the most creative, exciting, or inspirational I have ever written.  It is on the terrain—museful—muse full.  I am grateful for the dance we share within my body and my life.

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Everyone Has a Big Ol’ “But”

Posted on July 28, 2011 by lyric

Pee Wee’s Big Mouth

“They say” that when you’re ready for something it will appear.  Apparently, that something was, for me my first viewing of, “Pee Wee’s Big Adventure.”   Yes, the 80’s film starring Paul Reubens as the iconic Pee Wee Herman.

PeeWee's big ol' but

Everyong has a big ol' but

There is a scene with Simone, the small-town waitress with big dreams of Paris. She is telling Pee Wee exactly why she cannot go after her dream.  (paraphrased)  ‘I dream of going to Paris Pee Wee, but. . . “

Pee Wee’s response, “It seems as if everyone one I know has a big ol’ but.”  It is meant tongue-in-cheek, but also with underlying seriousness.

What is your big ol’ but?

We all have them.  The “yeah, but” or why we cannot or will not go after our dream, our destiny, that awesome thing that calls to us deep inside.  Our buts look like:

  • But it is too unconventional
  • But I will never actually make it big
  • But my life is so settled
  • But I’m not good enough
  • But it seems so far away
  • But, but, but. . . .

Buts Simply Need a Nudge

This week, I have been finishing my book proposal for the Transformational Author Experience contest. This process has been illuminating for me in that I didn’t even realize I was stuck in “but” mode.  The contest began with a round of webinars. Two a day for two weeks; it was a bit much and honestly I didn’t make it to the second week.  I didn’t need to.

My big ol’ but:  ‘I’d like to finish my manuscript, but I don’t have time,’ got nudged on the very first call, then nudged again on the second, and then nudged thoroughly on the third.

I was inspired by being asked to stop and deeply feel my dream for The Silver Lining Experiment.

True, that I want it to take off and become a New York Times bestseller.  Truer, is that I wish to be a New York Times Bestselling Author.  Truer still, is that I want to teach and provide positivity readings to support all Silver Linings.  Truest, I can reach all of those goals while offering something of value perhaps to a few (and if my dream comes true – to many).

That my story, my journey, my learning, and my wisdom earned can assist others on their path.

The inspiring nudge was so strong that I began writing, rewriting, and organizing my proposal.

But Can I Truly Make a Difference

I can and I do. I make it right here in Santa Fe, New Mexico.  I have made a difference everywhere I have been, lived or passed through.  I can say that simply because I’ve been told that over and over.  The positive words of others and knowing I have made a difference is another sort of nudge that inspires me to get off my  ‘but’ and take action.

The feedback and sharing with others inspires the doing.  We live in this world together, we affect each other.  As mentioned in my post about Service, all that matters is what we do.

The Butt in the But

Negating the potential of what we desire or dream of with “I’d like to_____but. . .” does indeed give us a big old butt. A butt that grows heavy through inertia while we watch our dreams wither and die.  A butt that grows big by the enormous weight of ”can’t”.  A butt that belies the truths we hold inside ourselves of who we are and what we bring to this world, in this time, in this space, and in these bodies.

Big ol’ buts don’t allow us to ‘bring it.’

And bringing it is why each and every one of us is corporeal.

But nothing, y’all. . .just bring it!

“Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it. Begin it now.”    ~Johann Goethe

Contact Lyric of the Silver Lining Experiment to schedule a Positivity Path reading with the Oracle of Initiation.  Find the Silver Lining on your journey.  Click here for more information and to schedule.

“I found Lyric’s Oracle Readings to be deeply connected with Spirit. She quickly delves into core issues and offers real-world actions that you can take to help manifest your intentions. Her 20-20 insights are informed by years of ritual experience and personal magickal practice and she brings this experience and higher-realm contact to your particular reality at the time of the reading. I can’t recommend her highly enough if you want to quickly cut through the garbage and connect with your best higher self.”
-John Cavanagh

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Born to a Calling

Posted on July 22, 2011 by lyric

“When one is born to a calling, it should not be refused. To not do the thing one was born to do is a heavy burden to bear.”    ~Robert Jordan

Heroes

In the Fantasy genre, our hero is usually ‘born to a calling’ one that comes upon them rapidly and with sudden need.   The calling is one they cannot refuse, even if they go kicking and screaming–which they always do.  How true to life is it that authors make the heroes reluctant yet ultimately accepting of their destiny.

How often have we gone kicking and screaming as we inch towards our destiny?  Our heels firmly entrenched, leaving ruts in the earth behind us as we are pulled inexorably towards it.  Our eyes rolled back in fear and our teeth clenched in plain old stubbornness.  You and me: the reluctant heroes.

The Ocean Refuses No River

Our calling, what we came here to do, is something we can no more resist than an ocean can refuse a river.  Though sometimes it seems as if it’s easier to resist our calling, or to do anything, if not everything else but.

We get lost in distractions mostly thinking ourselves safe yet ultimately unfulfilled and we can’t figure out why.  We feel beaten down and depressed because we’re doing exactly what we’re not here to do.  We can be unsatisfied and bored while telling ourselves that it’s just the way it is and do nothing.

Or instead, we chase the bright and shiny gleam of purported enlightenment running from one guru or one ‘spiritual’ practice to the next hoping they’ll tell us, what we are here for or how to make it all mean something.

How do we just enter the flow and allow it to happen?

Shouts and Whispers

Our calling is something that either shouts at us or whispers gently in our ear on dark moon nights.

I envy those whose calling has a loud voice; at least they know. When I’ve heard the words, “I must paint,” or “I must write,” or “I must heal,” a smile lights across my face.  I am taken in by the surety of those statements.  The knowing the person has; the tangibility of their calling makes me cheer for them.

I want to hear mine speaking loudly at me, too.  Though to be honest, mine has whispered just out of earshot.  I turn quickly as I hear something niggling in my ear, only to find nothing there. I run towards the perceived sound in the dark calling out, “Hello?”

Opportunity and the Fool

Like our heroes in fantasy novels, who always find out their destiny because of some opportune encounter or dream; I too have existed in oblivion until whacked in the head by opportunity.  And I stood, like our heroes, on the precipice of choice, the opportunity arising as for the archetypal Fool.

In stories, if the Hero doesn’t do the thing he is meant to do, Youniverse will keep bringing it back to him again and again, whether via a random messenger or by unceremoniously dumping him right into the middle of it. Our hero’s only choice is to surrender.  Our hero will finally acquiesce; she will make it right, by doing the “right” thing, her destiny.

The Work of Destiny

How often do any of us do the work of our destiny?   My own is abstract: to inspire, to uplift, to serve.

There is no one way for me to do this; I could find a 100 different ways.  But 100 are too many when one or two or even three would serve, and with more depth than a multitude of paths.

Clarity comes with finding out what I don’t want to do and not doing it.  And by doing that which feeds me, excites me, and holds me.  And it also, the thing which moves me to tears of joy at the prospect of doing it.

My daddy had rules for living. One of them was, “Opportunity is often missed, because it is dressed in overalls and looks like work.”

I liken this to finding our destiny; might our whispered destiny be missed, because it looks too hard, or not like what we think it should?  As I actively engage in living and learning, I think perhaps that is my ultimate destiny:  to live this life to the fullest, and to smile and love.  It is here that I can uplift, inspire, and to serve.

Today, it looks like writing my book proposal, posting to this blog, and connecting with the people I love.  Who knows exactly what it will look like tomorrow.

But today, just for today, I get to be my own hero.

Contact Lyric of the Silver Lining Experiment to schedule a Positivity Path reading using the Oracle of Initiation.  Find the Silver Lining on you journey.  Click herefor more information and to schedule.

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The Myth About Love

Posted on July 11, 2011 by lyric

Recently, I received a message from a person with whom I was once more intimate than I am now. The less intimate way of being is new though. In the space of that newness, while asking myself, “what now?” I found that the past has a way of creeping up on the present.

The two of us had a way of engaging each other through our Tumblr blogs. Tumblr is a blog format which engages images moreso than text. One of the hallmarks of our relationship was how we communicated with each other through these journals.

A message he sent me was,

I went into a space of wonder when I read those words.  For indeed the word love was something I had “used” with him. But what truly held the space of awe in me was how I feel the message is simply a patent untruth.

I responded lovingly with

(You’ll notice the hearts.) Hearts because indeed it was a ‘screw you’ in the midst of my love for him. (I just disagree with you vehemently my dear.)

Say Love More Than You Think You Should

My belief is that love is something we feel and say far too little. Love is something we put chains on:  it has to mean this, look this way, be with this person. For Westerners in general, love cannot just “be.” Culturally, ‘love’ is far too frightening; so frightening, in fact, that collectively, we often cannot even recognize the feeling in our bodies and spirits.

A Love Opportunity

As events continued to unfold, I found myself as greeter at an ecstatic dance class. I grooved to the music as people filed in. And with my dance and a smile, I said hello, asked them to sign in, and collected the donations.  Thus, I found myself in the midst of an opportunity:

A chance to love every single person that walked through the door.

Whether it was my best girlfriends (with whom love is a given) or the three men, unrelated and unknown to each other, who were returning individually to the dance after a yearlong hiatus; or the crew that showed up early to set up and create the space.

Perhaps love was best expressed toward the older gentleman who has a degenerative hip disease and walks with a cane. Even with these disabilities he comes to dance every week. He enters slowly and painfully and sits down to watch. As he can, he gets up and dances a bit.  And while his dance is full of careful movement and probably a bit of pain, he is dancing and he is loving it and us.

As I greeted them all with hugs, kisses, and “I’m glad you’re here,” I watched others take their dance to the people that entered and do the same. And in dancing with all – even the man with the hip pain – each and every person was engaged in the act of loving.

Express Your Love Every Day

The love in this community built the dance and the dance built the community of love. If we choose not to express our love, how can we build anything? At least anything with heart.

How can we relate to each other if we’re not willing to dive into the great pool of love and truly feel it? Why wouldn’t I say, “I love you,” when I most assuredly do.

I love easily and I love often. Does it make my love less real?  In my reality it most certainly does not.

At the end of each day, what I know is that we have each other and we have our integrity.

At the basis of both–for me–is a deep rooted love: love, love, love, love, love and on to infinity.

And I will tell each person I love that I love them. Life may be the longest thing we do, but it is far too short to not share the most precious of gifts we have to offer:  our love.

Love Is Freedom

I will tell you “I love you,” because it is the nature of love to be expressed. Love wants to dance, sing, pray, run, jump, play, and cavort & frolic. Love wants to bask in your presence. Love wants to tap you on the shoulder and give you a big hug. Essentially, love cannot be bound, because its essence is freedom.

Love should be applied generously and outrageously.

My love…knows that the only way to love is

whole-heartedly, without reservation

And with no regard for convention.

~Fors Miner Gregg

Love should be central to everything we do. And we should feel it far too often and say it way too much, because there really is no such thing as ‘too often or too much’ when it comes to love.

I Love You

So my sweet and goofy friend (you know who you are), love is one of the most powerful tools we have in our toolbox.  It is the “duct tape” of Youniverse, except it doesn’t bind; it frees us.

I love you.  I always will.

Schedule an Oracle/Tarot reading with Lyric to gain clarity on love, life path, and livelihood.  Click here to schedule.

 

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Fall Down Seven Times, Stand Up Eight

Posted on June 29, 2011 by lyric

I’ve seen this bandied about the Internet on Tumblr and Facebook and then the other day I had it handed to me.  It was after I crashed my bike and fell down hard upon the railroad tracks and big chunks of rock.  It knocked the wind out of me and the pain brought tears to my eyes.  Instead of crying though I sat up and took a breath and then another ignoring the fact that I was smack dab in the busiest intersection of town, and was being witnessed by scores of eyes or perhaps no eyes.  So what if 75 out of hundred people in the cars noticed me?  So what if 0 out of a hundred people in the cars noticed me.  Regardless, all they did was notice or not.  There was no movement from within those shiny metal boxes.  This event was purely my own.

I’m a championship faller.  If I’m standing up, chances are I will fall down.  If there was an Olympic sport for falling down; I would win gold Every. Single. Time.  If the Olympics introduced a platinum medal – I would take it in a clean sweep.  I would compete in both the Summer and Winter games; seasons have got nothing on me when it comes to not-defying gravity.

I began falling at quite an early age.  At first it was honest since I couldn’t see.  As a toddler, my eyes were requiring my 2-3 year old self to have four surgeries upon my eyes.  Toddler tumble anyway, but this toddler took it to new heights.  I have scars that have lasted well into adulthood from those formative years

Too many falls:  from the top of the slide, from the top of the monkey bars, from the top of the stairs.  You name it and I fell from the top of it.  And even though I got back up each time the falls led me to not adventuring physically as most children do.  Instead I began to adventure in my mind.  At first falling there wasn’t quite real, but as I got older and learned to see a bit better I realized that falling down in our minds is just as damaging, if not more damaging than falling down and getting a bruise on my knee.

The stories we tell ourselves; the ones we overlay or have overlayed onto our beings from our environment, siblings, parents, teachers, friends, society are perhaps some of the worst ‘falling downs’ we do.  The overlay becomes reality of “I’m not good enough.” Or “They’ll find me out for the faker I am.”  To “I don’t deserve love, because I’m too fat, not pretty, sort of ugly, or just unworthy.”   These types of falling downs are typically unseen and they also take a lot longer to get back up from them.  But like falling physically, the questions is do we get back up from them?

Rising up is a feat on both plains and both physical and mental are inextricably linked.  Rising up from a crash on your bike or from falling down the stairs is not only a feat physically, but also one mentally.  The connection between the two matters in that it defines who we are as beings.  Can we get back up?  Or do we stay down?  Do we rise 8 times and then on the 9th fall just stop rising?

My own experience both physically and mentally has been filled with both desires and actions.  I fall down and sometimes pop right back up.  I fall down and sometimes lay there breathing deep before I stagger back up.  I fall down and sometimes contemplate just staying down for good.  Sometimes thinking about not getting back up is the only comfort I need in the realm of ‘sweet rest’ before I realize, ‘pshaw with that’ and rise once more.  Sometimes thinking about not getting back up keeps me down for awhile as I consider what it means to not get back up.

Most people I know have considered what it means to not get back up.  Whether it be shutting down and going back to sleep a la’ The Matrix, a metaphor for those awake and living and those asleep living in both fantasy and denial.  Perhaps instead it means taking the ultimate physical step of not getting back up and taking measure to return to the source.  The sheer act of considering either of these gives rise to our ultimate power over the self:  choice.

We get to choose whether we stay down or we get back up.  We get to choose what our staying down looks like and we get to choose what our getting back up looks like as well.  On the day I crashed my bike I chose to get up, dust myself off, get back on the bike, and continue to my meeting.  Though I could have just as easily chosen to cancel the meeting and go home to clean up and get some rest.  Or I could have just lain there in the dirt waiting for someone to help; perhaps eventually realizing the solitude of the event.  Exercising our right to choose matters and perhaps all choices are at the crux of falling down and getting up and which we choose each time.

This time, I stood up that 8th time. . . or to extend the metaphor to reality it would have been getting up at least the millionth time.  And with a nod to my Olympic creds, if there was a Gold Medal for standing up I would win that too.

Schedule reading with Lyric of the Silver Lining Experiment and the Oracle of Initiation and explore the positive paths on your journey.  Click here for more information and to schedule.

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5 Life Lessons from the Road: A Burgeoning Cyclist Finds Her Path

Posted on June 14, 2011 by lyric

At 40, I’ve found my inner cyclist and nothing can keep me away from my bike and the open road.  I ride daily as my passion for this new sport demands it.  I am, at this pivotal age, just now finding my inner athlete and the profundity of two wheels, two legs, and a crash helmet has me soaring.

What I adore about cycling is its accessibility to all shapes, sizes, and physical fitness levels.   Cycling offers an even playing field and a physical metaphor for any person to choose to begin what they dream and to begin it now.

My sweet BonitaIn the mode that life imitates art and art imitates life; I also see that cycling (and perhaps any athletic endeavor) also imitates life and life reflects cycling.  Through my exploration as a cyclist I’m learning exactly how:

Stow Your Gear: that includes your pants leg.  Mountain bikes will eat your pants leg for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and for a snack in between.  Battening the hatches and tying your gear down makes you 1) aware of your gear and 2) more likely to arrive at your destination with everything intact.  This truth follows in our lives regardless of our mode of transportation.  If we travel light on our feet or in an RV travel with a conscious eye to your ‘stuff.’ And while we will jettison some along the way, be aware of how you do so.  Are you littering your life and others?   Or have you successfully composted it?  Life’s detritus, more commonly known as ‘our baggage’ has a time and place to be good and done and we have a responsibility to dispose of it properly.

Shift Gears: constantly as the terrain and our strength varies.  Like in life, we aren’t riding the interstate most of the time and life requires us to adjust our speed and approach.  Whether it’s smooth asphalt or a dusty, rocky terrain the gears offer a tangible way to interact with the bike, the terrain, and myself.  As I become a stronger cyclist I’m reaching for gears that were only a dream when I began riding.  These new gears allow me to engage the road and myself differently.  My approach to the road is more confident.  My increased strength has opened an avenue into paths only eyed warily before.  I access more roads, higher hills, and steeper descents as a result of knowing how to shift gears appropriately and with more expertise.  Oh, and if you are riding the interstate of life, get off at the next exit, wake up, and connect with your road.

Explore the terrain: check your attention and your speed when you do.  When I tested two mountain bikes prior to purchase I navigated my concrete jungle (including a short stair way) over curbs and rocks and other city obstacles to test the ‘mountainyness’ of each.  The first bike clung to my direction with responsiveness and verve.  The second one, even though I noticed that I didn’t have as much control, I cycled the same route anyway and promptly crashed (hard) coming off the stairs.  With bruises in places I didn’t know I could bruise and a vivid imprint of the chain mechanism on my right calf. . . . I realized that exploration is great, but I was going to get hurt.  Caution can keep you, but curiosity is the cat’s meow.  I was proud of those bruises and my willingness to get them by falling down knowing that I would stand up again.

Be Seen: cars and even pedestrians don’t necessarily see you since most of them are in their own world otherwise known as autopilot.   Being noticed is a cyclist’s co-pilot and the solution is to “light up” and to “reflect up.”   From reflectors on your bike and your gear (such as a reflector vest or reflector strips on your backpack), actively combating the ‘sleeping while awake’ world is vital.   Maybe you nudge someone else awake long enough to save your life or maybe you jerk someone awake where they stay that way.  Either way lighting up and reflecting is an act of compassion for you and for the sleepwalkers.   For even at the end of the day, you cannot control their awareness, but you can control yours.   Being awake through life is far more interesting than on cruise control.

Passion is Fuel: I started biking with my cruiser which is a massive tooling around bike with double baskets and a bell.  When I started seriously riding i.e. looking for errands so I could get on my bike the passion had its own mission.  From choosing to return borrowed movies to a friend so I could get two more miles in tonight even though I was visiting with them tomorrow to cycling out of the grocery store, because “oops!  I forgot something,” that could have easily stayed forgotten.  I road miles and miles on this heavy bike with quads burning and heart pumping, but nothing – not even the discomfort could stop me from riding.  My passion for this sport took root inside of me and all I wanted to do was ride.

For me, the journey I’m taking as a new cyclist is mirroring the journey I’m beginning as a women powering up into what I know will be some of the most outstanding years of my life.   Hail 40!

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Junk Food Nation NOT! Releasing the Past with A Transgenerational Ritual

Posted on June 9, 2011 by lyric

I asked my nearest and dearest what their junk food was and how they deal.  Welcome to the final in a series of those answers and how to mitigate the power of our junk food. ~Blessings and positivity, Lyric

Courtesy of Christopher Jerome a nearest and dearest living without Junk Food.

Transgenerational Ritual

This ritual is a nine-week process to release energy and reclaim your Self (no junk food need be eaten).

  • Week 1:  Take the first paragraph and hand write it, read it aloud and burn it.
  • Week 2:  Take the second paragraph, hand write it, read it aloud and burn it.
  • Week 3:  Take the third paragraph, hand write it, read it aloud and burn it.
  • Week 4 – 9:   Repeat the entire sequence two more times so that you’ve written and burned each paragraph 3 times.
  1. Mother’s Side: I now release all negative emotional control from my mother’s side of the family, known or unknown to me. All forms of negative mental manipulation, all forms of fear of intimacy and the spirit of impatience, all forms of depression or any forms of emotional or physical suffering. I release negative rebellion and all fear of abandonment. I release any form of violence between a woman and a man. I return this negativity to its rightful place in the creative order. I release any form of disturbance in my energy field. I free myself and all relations connected to me. I now experience genuine feeling. I am open, I am tender, I am appreciative and I am without judgment [regret].
  2. Father’s Side: I now release all negative mental control [by me or against me] and all forms of emotional manipulation from my father’s side of the family, known or unknown to me. I release this negativity and all forms of competition, all forms of sexual abuse or any violence between a man and a woman. I release all criticism. I release this negativity and return it to its rightful place in the creative order. I release any form of disturbance in my masculine vibration. I now express and feel joy. I return to the knowing of who I am. I honor and acknowledge my own bliss. I am thankful and grateful.
  3. Both Sides and More: I now release from my mother and father’s side of the family, any and all cellular and genetic memory of physical injury, disease, trauma, or limitation. I know my body to be complete and whole in every way that manifests in radiant and abundant health and well-being. I release this from any and all lifetimes, embodiments and planes of existence.

Universal Rules when asking for direction/guidance

  1. Be Specific.
  2. Listen and Expect, Watch for an Answer.
  3. Say Thank You.
  4. Give yourself Much Needed Credit.
  5. And So Mote It Be:  “The difficulties avoided by not deviating from that standard practice were numerable indeed, and the blessings even more, and wonderful. All good things will come to us, and from us all misfortune flee! As we will, so will it be – tee hee hee hee hee hee hee! Now, please, thank you, karma-free. Without error, fear, misfortune or damage to any being, and for the highest good of All.”

Christopher Jerome is a daytime desk jockey, freelance artist, sailing fanatic and devotee of the Youniverse.

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Junk Food Nation: What is “Normal” Anyway?

Posted on June 3, 2011 by lyric

by Fors Miner Gregg

I asked my nearest and dearest what their junk food was and how they deal.  Welcome to the fourth in a series of those answers and how to mitigate the power of our junk food. ~Blessings and positivity, Lyric

What is “normal” anyway? Everybody asks that rhetorical question and yet, we seem to accept that there is an average/mean sort of human type. We debate often about nature vs. nurture at all extremes of the Kinsey spectrum, too. I’m not referring only to gay/straight dichotomies. So, on some level, at least popularly, we collectively consider a bookish, non-athletic sort of guy to be somehow less “manly” than the “rugged outdoorsy” type of man.

Why has this latter type become the standard picture of masculinity? Evolutionists would probably answer that it has to do with ancient hunter-gatherer societies, where MEN went ahunting, while boys and old men (both less than full men) stayed at home with the women and helped with the gathering. Presumably, the old man was not denigrated for this, since he had likely done his fair share in youth, and now could sit back and be the wise old fellow.

We don’t live in hunter-gatherer societies any longer (some may have noticed…) our societal structure is quite different now. Perhaps this fact – greater leisure (?) – may account for the so-called “feminized” male.  At any rate, it’s not necessary anymore for a man to be “macho” to be a man. The hunt itself is largely a “sport” as opposed to a life-necessity.

To consider a different angle: Every single individual on the planet – obvious similarities notwithstanding – is markedly different from his neighbors. He looks different, has a different voice, is taller or shorter, thinner or thicker, has different interests, different skills, different levels of skills, different preferences, different tastes, different experiences which make him…still not unrecognizable as a male of the species. So for some reason, we differentiate between activities and behaviors as being manly or not, in near total disregard for the shape of the package they come in. Why is that?

I suppose it’s largely the birds-of-a-feather syndrome: the same tendency that makes us favor, generally, things that are like us, and shun things that are unlike us. Even those of us who are xenophiles – who seek out the strange, foreign and exotic – still find ourselves most at ease among others who are like ourselves. Discover yourself in a situation where you’re the only person of your race/ethnicity in a room full of others. However much you may be enjoying the experience, it’s hard to forget your own “difference” in the context of the situation.

To continue with the analogy of so-called racial differences: If I’m a white guy in a room full of Navajos, does that make me an inferior human? No. One would need to delve a little further into who I am before being able to make such a judgment. By the same token, the simple fact that I don’t wear camouflage (often) or go fishing/hunting/footballing/fill in your “manly” activity, doesn’t mean there’s something “wrong” with me. It doesn’t make me “lesser” (or “more” for that matter) it just makes me different. I’m still wholly a man.

NOW, the real trick in this junk-food thingy has been to stop believing in my inferiority, because this brand of junk food is ubiquitous. It’s available for free (even without the asking) and occasionally, is foisted upon one without his desire or consent. When that happens, i.e. when that particular brand of junk food is seen to be “popular” then it becomes more difficult to avoid it. When Coke is such a huge brand name that people in general equate “Coke” with “Liquid Refreshment,” people often forget that Water is really the Real Thing, and reach for a Coke out of habit, even when it’s not really what one wants.

Similarly, it’s so easy to default into the everybody-believes-that-people-like-me-are-inferior-so-it-must-be-true habit – easy because then one doesn’t have to be concerned with thinking for oneself, with stepping outside of that cramped box. Like the fast-food meal, it’s just so much easier than going to the market, selecting ingredients, taking them home and preparing them, making them into a nutritious meal, i.e. doing it oneself. Yes! Everyone might say they would prefer that…but McDonald’s is just so much easier – never mind that it’s killing us. So, however much I may recognize my own validity as a man-as-I-am, and be able to think this out for myself…sometimes it’s “tempting” to relax into the “I’m not like them, so something’s wrong with me” train of thought, however self-destructive I recognize this to be.

Fors Miner Gregg a seeker in the realm of light and a Spanish teacher and translator. Contact Fors

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Junk Food: Kicking Barbie’s Ass

Posted on May 24, 2011 by lyric

by Amy Jones

I asked my nearest and dearest what their junk food was and how they deal.  Welcome to the third in a series of those answers and how to mitigate the power of our junk food. ~Blessings and positivity, Lyric

When I was a little girl, I was obsessed with Barbie. Peaches’ n’ Cream was my favorite, since she had the loveliest dress and the best smell. I could only dream of becoming her- perfect hair, perfect tits and legs that stretched for days. A wonderful “Ken” for my mate, a mansion, a convertible and even a passport!! Aaaah, the endless hours that were spent fantasizing about the life I would love to have.

But my sense of lack and money being scarce were felt even as a young girl, even through my Barbie adventures. Like me, my Barbie had hand-me-downs from my cousin- who always got the latest and greatest Barbie, and all the fun “stuff” that followed. And when that happened, I’d get a bag full of Barbie loot. But, unlike Cousin, my Barbie’s convertible was broken, her mansion’s front door was gone, and Ken showed up with half his nose missing, or it might have been the coke he was snorting with that bitch Maxi- I’m still not sure.

My downward spiral began.

Not only did I start comparing my Barbie and all her “baggage” with every one of my friends, but also I started to compare myself to my cousin. My first girl vs. girl competition. I was five. Surely, it would not be my last.

As we got older, my cousin and I grew apart. She grew tall and thin- I remained short and stocky. She went to college, bought a house, got married and has two children.  I worked as hard as I could to get over the hand-me-downs I got from Barbie: low self-esteem, weight issues, materialism, and the reality that the men I thought were “princes” were actually abusive and manipulative addicts. And sadly, so was I. Barbie fucked me up.

Anything and everything you could imagine, I have done, to heal my sadness. Cleanses, therapy, yoga, bodywork, dancing, screaming, crying, praying, forgiving, sobriety, love workshops, crystals, and even moving to good old Santa Fe—the land that eats your wounds. Yet, I was still sad.

A few years ago, I remember hearing a friend, whom suffered from depression, that one day while in her garden she decided to no longer be unhappy. That happiness is a choice, and it was one she was making right then and there. I didn’t believe that the choice was an option. I was still waiting for a miracle.

Then, the other day, while in my garden, I realized the most simplest of things was bringing me joy. It wasn’t my outfit, it wasn’t my car (though I am so grateful for wheels), and it wasn’t a partner. No, none of those things made me smile. It was connecting with the Earth—with my Mother. She who provides for me always and never compares herself to me, nor I to her. It was getting my hands dirty—something Barbie would never dream of—and re-connecting to myself. I don’t have to be bigger than or greater than and I know I am definitely not less than.

I am just Me.

No more, no less. No matter what my possessions are, or what my life looks like to those around me. I have wonderful friends, a wonderful place to call home, and a heart of gold. Meanwhile, Barbie’s still wearing those stupid shoes that don’t fit and waiting for Ken to come home. He never is girl! Get over the fantasy. I’m moving on.

Amy Jones is a Registered Polarity Practitioner and Craniosacral Therapist at Ecstatic Equilibrium.  Her work helps you to unfold from within with a special focus on assisting women who have experienced abortion or miscarriage.  For an in person or remote session contact Amy at 626-200-9590 begin_of_the_skype_highlighting 626-200-9590 end_of_the_skype_highlighting

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