Tag: love

We don’t get mad because of what people do. We get mad because of what we make it mean.

Let’s say you and your bestie have planned a coffee date, but she’s twenty minutes late. You’re working through your second latte and  – not only are you now highly caffeinated – you’re fuming as well.

Chances are that you are not mad at your friend because she’s twenty minutes late to your coffee date. If she rushed in and apologized (accident! kid drama! sick parent!), you would likely forgive her. But if she doesn’t seem to have a good enough reason, you’ll be irritated. After all, doesn’t she realize that your time is important?

In this kind of scenario, you’ve made her lateness mean something.

In other words, it’s not the dishes in the sink that bug us. It’s what we make those dishes mean. (“Do I have to do everything?”)

Here’s the thing: you may be right.

Maybe you’re friend doesn’t care about your time, or your lover thinks of you as a glorified dish cleaner. But most of the time, people don’t act deliberately to be obnoxious. Most of the time, in the bubble of their head, they have a perfectly good reason for doing that irritating thing that actually has nothing to do with you. They could even be well intended. (“I was late because I wanted to bike and save the world from pollution!”)

An ex-boyfriend of mine used to pile his dishes next to the sink before we cleaned them. Liking clean counters, I would put all the dishes in the sink. We both kept getting irritated until we figured out that he liked the sink remain clear of clutter in order to use it, while I liked the tidiness of putting everything in the sink (I know, I know, just do the damn dishes already!). Now while that little moment may seem like a minor thing, relationships are built upon the daily details.

Here’s your task.

When you next get angry, take a step back and separate out the true action from the meaning. 1. What objectively happened, and 2. what is the layer of meaning that you’re putting onto it? Then have a conversation to find out what that person was really up to. Where were they coming from? Through this inquiry, you will discover something interesting about that person’s values and how their minds work.

While understanding their mindset doesn’t mean that you necessarily need to condone behaviour (“I appreciate your saving the world by riding your bike, but I still don’t want to be kept waiting for twenty minutes”), it may help to defang the personalization of the act. It will certainly make for a more interesting and informative conversation than getting into a row about who’s right and who’s wrong. And bonus: you’ll learn a little something about your own expectations as well.

 

If you like these musings, check out The Yogi’s Guide To Dating. Chock full of relationship musings!

His name is Chad. He’s a lanky black cat with bright green eyes and he came into my parents’ lives about three years ago. My parents have a farm in Boerne, Texas, and after my mom got her chickens, well, it seemed natural enough that a farm cat should complete the scene.

It was a long process.

Rather than getting a domesticated cat, my parents chose to adopt two feral cats, Chad and Copernicus. When the ferals arrived at the farm, they had to acclimatize to the place and get used to making it their home. So they stayed inside a cage inside the barn for a week. Then they were allowed out of the cage for a week. Then they were allowed out of the barn. My dad sighed, “We’ll see, maybe they’ll stick around.” Copernicus ran off (making his home at a neighbouring farm, we later found out).

Chad stayed.

At first he wouldn’t let anyone near him; he ran off and observed my parents from a distance. For about six months, the only way they knew he was around was that his food would disappear. But my Dad fed him every morning and night and the food kept disappearing.

“Sometimes, when I would go to the barn he would be under the tractor or someplace, but every time I would approach he would take off. Then I started walking as close as I could without him leaving and put down little treats on the ground and walk away back to whatever I was doing. “

Dad made Chad a special cat entrance to the garage and a special cat house to live in. And over time, Chad started coming a little closer.

After two years of consistent, dedicated, unconditional care taking, Chad felt safe enough to walk up to my Dad in the back yard and let him touch him.  He let himself be pet. And he started to purr.

Nowadays, my Dad can’t go anywhere without Chad coming over and rubbing up against him, or head butting him for a scratch. (“That darned cat won’t leave me alone!” Dad says exasperatedly, but secretly happy.) Chad’s become a big ol’ cat softie. At first, Chad got so excited about being pet that he would nip everyone’s hands a little (who doesn’t get a little scrappy when they’re testing a relationship out?), but now he’s relaxed enough to accept affection without much cat drama.

Here’s what I’ve learned from Chad:

• Deep down, everyone wants love.

• It’s only when we’ve been hurt and alone for awhile that we’re scared of connection.

• Trust takes time and consistency. Sometimes two years of being there every day.

• Being fed is nice. But being pet is important, too.

• When love feels new to us, we may get scared and scratchy, but underneath the biting, we really want it.

I’ve been watching over the farm and making friends with Chad. He’s still a bit wary of me, but last night he came on over and head butted me for awhile so that I got to pet him.

As I scratched his ears, I whispered down to him, “Chad, look at you! You found your family now.”

Chad the cat.

 

 

 

 

Does it have to be so hard to find love?

Last week I started working with Laurie, a new client, who came to me with a complaint that I hear very often:

“Why is it so hard to find love?  I’ve been putting a lot of time and effort into dating and not getting anywhere.  Maybe it’s just not going to happen for me.“

Laurie is a smart, attractive woman who enjoys her job and is a nice person. So why hasn’t she found her dream guy after putting herself out there consistently?  

Laurie continues, “Are there no good men left? Do I have to move to another city to find a great guy?  Do all men have commitment issues?”

Fortunately for Laurie, the answer to all three questions is NO!   

“So what’s the problem?  What do I do?”

I’m so glad she asked. There’s nothing “wrong” with Laurie her, but her logic and beliefs around dating and love are all out of whack!  

For years, Laurie has been justifying dating men (sometimes several at a time) who aren’t quite ready to commit. A few she’s kept around for fun and to avoid loneliness; they have “potential,” and she is waiting for them to change.   

She tells herself, “When he gets a job he likes or stops being so busy at work, then things will change.” Or “After he heals from his last relationship or gets tired playing the field he will realize how perfect we are for each other.”

I ask Laurie to consider:

“What if it’s not the fault of the men you are dating? YOU are doing the “picking” of those men, and YOU are choosing to continue dating them.”

While this is confronting and hard for Laurie to hear, understanding her own responsibility for her dating life empowers her make different choices –  and actually find her dream guy!

It can be challenging to confront our old habits. It takes time, effort and the willingness to be vulnerable. I understand – because I’ve been there. It took me a long time to figure it out that I was responsible for making the choices that were keeping me stuck and unfulfilled.

When I ask Laurie what she wants from a relationship, she immediately declares, “I want to get married and start a family.”

But when we review the men she’s been spending her precious time with, they were all dismal candidates:

Guy #1:  Recently divorced with two children, openly tells her he’s not ready for a serious relationship, but someday he wants to remarry and maybe would have another child if it was the right woman.

Guy #2:  He’s fun, hot and the chemistry is great.  He’s never married and says he’s looking for the right woman to settle down with and have a family.  She hears from him once every week or so. He’s busy with work and other commitments. They go out once a while, have a great time and then – poof, she doesn’t hear from him for days or sometimes weeks.

Guy #3:  What I call the “pop-up ex.” They dated last year. It didn’t work out for many reasons. Once in a while she gets bored or lonely (or drinks and dials) and wants some attention. It is fun at the moment, but she’s left feeling sad and a little resentful. Laurie says when she meets the right guy it will stop, but in the meantime thinks it’s better than nothing.

There is  nothing “wrong” or “bad” about any of these men. They’re just not looking for a committed relationship with Laurie. While there is nothing wrong with casual dating for fun or revisiting that great chemistry with your ex, you must recognize the peril of taking such actions when it’s not truly aligned with your relationship goals.

There’s a difference between taking time to let a healthy relationship develop and see where it goes – and waiting for a man to change to meet your needs.  

You need to make choices about whom and how you date based on what you want right now.

It can be very scary to let go of companionship, even when it isn’t giving us what we want. Many of us ask the question that Laurie asks me: “But why be alone? Why not keep dating Mr. Wrong until Mr. Right shows up?”

Here are two important reasons to cut the cord:

1. “Something” is not better than “nothing” in the long term.  Your time and space are all booked up with men who don’t want the same thing that you do. There’s no room for real love to enter the picture. You’re wasting her time.
2. If you are looking for a committed relationship that leads to a marriage and a family, why date someone who is not looking for that too? It’s like saying you want to lose weight and then eating donuts all day. It’s not going to happen!

Like Laurie, we must all be brave and honest when we’re asking for what we really want.

If your date doesn’t have the same relationship goals, it’s time for you to nicely say “goodbye.”

When I suggest to Laurie that she ask her dates what they want from a relationship, she is aghast, “You mean tell him I’m looking for a partner and a family?  What if I scare him off?”

We often get squeamish about asking someone else what they want in a relationship, even if we have no trouble asking about what they want in other areas of our lives! I ask Laurie if she has an issue asking these men about their career goals, interests, or where they see  themselves living long term. “Of course not,” she says.

“So why not ask about what he’s looking for in a relationship?”   

While I’m not suggesting your start an inquisition on the first date, it doesn’t take months to find out if you have a mutual vision for your romantic future. If your date is balks at the question, then you just saved yourself a lot of time and potential heartache.   

Let me ask you…

• If you wanted to travel to Paris would you take a flight to Miami,  hoping the plane might change course if you just hang in there?
• Would you accept a new job without even inquiring about the salary?  

It’s time to take a look at how you’re doing love and get out of your own way.

Here’s my advice:

• Take responsibility for who you are deciding to date.
• Don’t approach your romantic relationships hoping and wondering! If you don’t know what he wants, ask him! Have an honest conversation.
• Let go of relationships that don’t align with what you want. Don’t buy into the “something is better than nothing” belief!

It’s time for you to take control of your love life. Get out of your own way – and find what you want. The power to make a real change is in your hands.

*If you want to explore what’s been happening (or not happening) in your love life or get tips on how to have these difficult conversations, let’s talk! Special Valentine’s Week offer: book a complimentary 20-minute consultation with me to see how I can help.

This past week I had a difficult conversation with a loved one. It was one of those rip-your-heart-open-say-what-you-really-think experiences where I felt uncertain and scared. Usually a rational and controlled strategist, I found this heart-driven communication terrifying.

Imagine for a moment that you are surrounded by a lovely sphere in which “life is comfortable and where I feel good about myself.”  This is the good space, the “I’m doing okay” space. When we hit the edges of this space, suddenly we aren’t safe. Others may touch us, see us, know us. If we’re scared, we may retract our wings away to make sure they don’t get clipped by outside hazards.

While some of us may retract from this discomfort, others of us push back when we get uncomfortable. If someone threatens the nice boundary of our happy place, we get angry. We shove them back as trespassers and make sure they don’t get too close. We’re scared that they could touch our soft centre. We might even build impenetrable walls to keep them out.

Intimacy with another person – or the world – must occur at this edge of our sphere of comfort. When we play it safe by pulling in or shoving them out, we are really creating more distance.

When I stepped to the edge of my personal cliff in this conversation, I wasn’t playing it safe. I felt as if I were in a free fall-what-the-heck-are-you-doing(!) But then unexpectedly, even though the earth was falling away, something else awoke in the void that was present, awake, and true. Although I was at the edge, I was still okay.

When we step to the edge and are poised there – trembling – we are standing in the fundamental uncertainty of our human experience. Despite our best efforts to pretend otherwise, we can’t ever really know how things will go or what will happen.  Life at the edge is exposing. We stumble, we fall, we fail. We see that our expectations were foiled again. We are not in control, we are not perfect. The mask of “being okay” falls apart, and instead we stand in the truth of who we are right now, which may not be as glamorous as we’d like everyone to think. And in these moments of truth and bravery, our humanity is revealed.

And here resides our great beauty.

Beauty is not in our perfect symmetry, our excellent hair, our impeccable wit. Beauty is laughing too loud, occasionally snorting, being caught off guard.  It’s in the tears, the messy hugs, the painstaking communication.

Beauty is in our courage to step to the edge, stand in our humanity, and be seen for who we are.

Shall we step to the edge?

 

At the office.  8 pm on a Friday night. With my yoga administrator, Caecilia.  And I’m fussing over syntax in an email.

“Sorry, C,” I sigh, “I know this is picky.”

“No, no,” she waves me off.  “Love is in the details.”

I stop short.

“What?  What did you say?”

“Love is in the details,” she repeats an shrugs.

I fumble over to my keyboard, “Hold the phones. That is brilliant. I’m writing that one down.”

 

Love is in the details.

 

When we love someone, we don’t love them generally. We love for their idiosyncrasies, vulnerabilities, quirky beauty and oddball habits. Love is an arrow, a sweet shot through the heart that is specific, poignant, and achingly true.

I love my sister for her fast patter speech and cute snores. I love my Gram for her determined self-reliance when she fights me for the dinner check. I love my mother for her unrestrained love for elephants. My Dad for his enthusiasm for terrible movies (“They’re so bad they’re good!” we chortle).

Perfection doesn’t move us. Our hearts aren’t swayed by social propriety, grand proclamations, impressive salaries, or perfect hair. I will love you for your tragic flaws, your earnest goodness, and your late night confessions. I will love you for the same things that may also make me want to pull out my hair. Your beautiful humanity.  Your ridiculous quirks. I will love you for your details.

‘There is a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.’ – Leonard Cohen

We don’t express our love through a generalized, untethered wash of feeling. Love is revealed in action through our tiny, everyday choices. We show our love in the fine print. Like when we pick up the flavour ice cream that they like.  Or send the birthday text. Or remember to ask about their important meeting. Or wash the dishes, even though it wasn’t our turn. Or when we fuss over the syntax of an email.

Love speaks through the details.

As we move through life, let’s release our attachment to the seductive idea that love is a grand gesture, a grandiose movie script, a backlit kiss on a perfectly lit beach. Instead, let’s reveal our love in the small choices we make in every area of our lives.  When we take an extra breath, recycle the plastic bottle, listen for the extra minute, make the phone call, and do the dishes.

As it turns out, these tiny choices aren’t so tiny after all. They are the keyholes to magnificence.

 

“Rachel, what’s going on?”

“….”

“…Rachel, clearly something is on your mind….just say it.”

 

I am silent: my oceanic feelings are contained behind the steel-trap of my teeth. I feel, I feel, I feel, and I have no words for my feelings, because I’m desperately afraid that if I say them, the person in front of me won’t love me anymore.

Daring to say how I feel is terrifying.  When I was growing up, certain emotions were acceptable (joy, curiosity, humor, even sadness), while others were met with disapproval (anger, hurt, vulnerability).  I learned to edit my self-expression in order to feel safe.

As an adult, I was adept at easily (and unconsciously) avoiding emotional conflict. Rather than communicate my hurts or concerns, I ferreted away my feelings as burdens to be privately dissected and endured. I held imaginary conversations with my partner in my head, rather than aloud. The open space of real conversation was so scary that I ended relationships rather than talk through its problems.

And oh the irony: because I was smart and didn’t yell or storm out of the room, I thought I was an excellent communicator.

Self-expression – real, vulnerable self-expression (not the reactive, unaccountable kind) – requires bravery because we never know how someone else is going to react.  And we certainly can’t control it.  When opportunities arise for us to really be seen and heard, it’s often more comfortable to retreat rather than be exposed.

For me, I falter in the emotional landscape. For some of us though, the vulnerability of self-expression emerges when we’re asked to share our intellectual opinion or reveal ourselves creatively:

• “I don’t sing,” we declare. “Trust me, you don’t want to hear it.  It’s like a cat dying.”
• “I hate public speaking! get so nervous. No,” we demur, “I’d rather listen.”
•  “Dancing? In public??  Maybe after about five drinks.”

Whatever the venue, these peremptory, self-imposed shackles limit us. Scared of being rejected or judged, we allow our fear to box in our full range of expressive possibilities.  We become smaller, quieter, more muted.

Rather than running away, can we lean into the discomfort? The more we lean in, the more we learn to trust that the feeling is temporary, illusory, and ultimately benign. Beyond that temporary feeling of discomfort lies freedom: the self-expression that is purely and gloriously yours.

Wouldn’t all of our lives be richer, more colorful, and more empowered if we dared to reveal more of ourselves?

Let’s put our voices into the world.

Lean in.

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people will not feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone and as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give others permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.” – Marianne Williamson

Sweet, sweet freedom.

Oh the freedom to date whomever I want, whenever I want!  To run amok with plenty of fishies, tinder dandies, and e-harmonics!  What could possibly be more liberating that to have the absolute freedom to date anyone I want without commitment or a care in the world!

Right?

Hmmm.  Actually, no.

I have been confused about the nature of freedom.  Generally freedom sounds like liberation, which at first seems like a good thing.  Surely being able to do whatever I want whenever I want is ideal, right?  As my native state declares boldly on our license plate, “Live free or die.”

But the trick is, all that restless flitting about doesn’t really feel liberating.  Sure, going on five coffee dates in one week may look exciting from the outside, but after awhile it just feels like distraction and too much caffeine.  Running from thing to thing (or person to person) is really just another form white noise.  Plenty of variety…but no depth.

True freedom doesn’t come from our ability to run away.

We earn our freedom through our fortitude to stay put.

Binding ourselves to one spot and learning to stay there – despite the conflicts, challenging conversations, and awkward silences – propels us into a more elevated type of freedom. If we can simply check out when the going gets tough, we are reacting rather than choosing.

Our ability to stay, feel, and witness leads us through our limitations.  We thread ourselves through the tiny eye of the needle in order to create the tapestry.  In doing so, we discover that true freedom is our capacity to choose from a place of pro-action rather than reaction, decision rather than fear. Whether we bind ourselves to a person, value, or job, our decision to mindfully limit ourselves is paradoxically the very act that liberates us.  Otherwise we leave the coffee shop at the first sign of discomfort  – and never really discover who we are or what we want.

And so: dolphin plank.

When we stay in our dolphin plank for 75 seconds, 90 seconds, or even two minutes, we give ourselves the opportunity to practice staying put.  Now, as far as I know, no one has ever been broken doing dolphin plank.  But it’s a pose that provides a lot of feedback where we can see our desire to distract, run away, and opt out.  When we practice committing to plank, we strengthen our capacity for resiliency and dedication – the same capacity that helps us to stay in the room during a conflict, be patient with our screaming kid, express our vulnerability, or – god forbid – go on that third date.

When you are next in dolphin plank, remember that you are doing more than firming your core; you are strengthening your own inner fortitude: your capacity to stay in your discomfort for the sake of something greater.  Every extra second that you stay can act as an affirmation of your inner courage.

So when we are faced with a real life situation that makes us want to run away (screaming kid, conflict, third date…), we can remember how strong we really are…and then choose.

 

“Courage is not the absence of fear; but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear.”

-Ambrose Redmoon

I love to live in denial.

Not deliberately, of course, but it kind of slips in around the edges, hovers just outside of the edges of my vision.  And the funny thing about denial is that I don’t even know it’s there.  And when it finally swims into focus, the wake up is often astonishing.  Like finally noticing a giant black hair that must have been growing out of my chin for weeks.  (And yikes!  How does that happen? How did I miss it when it was just a little hair baby?)

This is how it goes:

My ex sent me an email to let me know that he was dating again.

I sit, staring stupidly at my computer, trying to register the polite words on the screen, “I don’t know how to come out and say it, so I guess I’ll just tell you: I’m dating again.”

The flood of unexpected feelings is fast and hot.  I have been punched in the chest.  I am angry, I am hurt, I despair.  I have been abandoned, cast off.  I am alone.

And as all these feelings engulf me, and I surprise myself by crying over my keyboard, the strange little (and not unkind) thought surfaces, “Well, I guess you weren’t quite as over that as you thought, were you.

Reality in yo’ face

Reality checks can be extremely uncomfortable.  Suddenly, the way we had viewed the world, and the way that the world actually is, collide.  Perception and reality square off, and, friends, reality always must win.

Sure, we can shove it down, push it underwater, or cover it with blankies, but ultimately reality is our benevolent and relentless teacher.

My ex’s email was a wake up call.  My attachment to him was exposed, like an upturned rock can reveal life swarming beneath a quiet surface.  The rational part of me that glossed over the breakup was shattered, smeared by the emotional monster underneath.

The crack in my reality armour was revealed.

In relationship, these moments happen continually: at the beginning, in the middle, and at the end.

beginnings

When we are just starting to get to know someone, it is so tempting to fill in all the missing pieces with our favourite hopes and dreams.  We project-vomit all over our subject, endowing them with habits and desires that are surely compatible with our own.  Or sometimes our projections produce anxiety and fear, as we fill in the unknown with the necrotic remnants of previous hurts.

So the practice becomes staying in the unknown.

middle

As we move from dating into relationship, the practice becomes to keep our eyes open.  Discerning the real from the unreal is viveka, or discernment.  As well-wired neurological beings, we will shape our perceptions according to what we expect (or want) to see.  Seeing our date or our partner for who they really are requires wiping (and re-wiping, and re-wiping) our perceptual slate clean so that we can experience them without our own agenda.

end

As my ex-husband and I split, I noticed that an alarming distortion began to permeate our relationship.  He began to say he “didn’t know me at all,” and that (despite 4 years) I “wasn’t the person he thought I was.”  To cope with the ragged awfulness of the split, we began to turn each other into strangers.  It was easier to believe that the other person was “wrong,” “evil,” and “selfish” than to sit in the reality of a mutually created split.  However, being “right” hardens us and divides us from the tender and complicated truth.  In conflict, the far more difficult spiritual path is to feel the whole scope of the situation, and to uphold what we need to do nonetheless.

The practice:

• Get comfy with uncertainty.
  • When you notice yourself fantasizing about an imaginary future or conversation, pause.  Stop.  Do a one-minute meditation and breathe.  Bring yourself back to the “is-ness” of the now.

• Be open to real information.
  • See what you see.  Hear what you hear.  And feel what you feel.
  • When you notice interpretation happening (“He didn’t mean that.” “She must have meant….”): Stop.  Ask.  Get more information.
  • Notice what you wanted it to mean, and ask yourself why.

And finally, be sweet to yourself.

When reality strikes, take a breath and pause.  Give yourself some space to process and integrate.

Reality is the gift that keeps on giving.  The more we soften to its wisdom and reflection, the clearer our vision can become.

 

“We accept the love we think we deserve.” – Mr. Anderson, Perks of Being a Wallflower

Consciously, we know that we are good, smart people.  Good people who try hard and deserve to have good things.

So why do we find ourselves in situations in which we would be aghast to find our friends?

Through relationships, the deeper currents of ours subconscious – or hey, let’s call it karma – are revealed.  While our conscious mind is happily thinking that we are cleverly avoiding all our usual traps, unconsciously we are re-creating patterns that expose our deeper hardwiring.  These are the patterns that we ultimately slap ourselves on the forehead about: “God, why am I here again?”

Not only do we accept the love we think we deserve; we accept the jobs, the friends, the criticism, the boundaries, and the lives that we think we deserve.

What a blessing.

Through active and mindful participation in our relationships, therefore, we can begin to gently and compassionately unearth our blindspots…and consciously make choices to reset our patterns and update our beliefs.  When we witness our relationships with the world, we can clearly be in the reality of who we truly are – not just who we think we want to be.  And from that honest and tender place, we can be brave enough to accept our “karma” and make decisions that are more in line with our vision for our highest selves.

Our yoga practice offers a clear and present mirror, where we similarly “accept the practice we think we deserve.”

Do we feel unhappy with ourselves?  Perhaps we have a deep feeling that we’re unworthy and need to be punished.  We will find opportunities to create these experiences in our practice.  Do we think that we are lazy, inept, imbalanced?  These beliefs will show up there, too.  Do we feell like we’re victims?  Bingo – in the practice.  Do we feel that we deserve to feel, to be nourished, and to express ourselves unselfconsciously?  Voila, our practice.

Our yoga practice is a blank canvas, waiting for us to begin to paint.  Through witnessing the art that we create, we are privy to a clear and present window through which to recognize our conscious beliefs, as well as our deeper, hidden patterns.  By honestly watching our thoughts and actions, we can compassionately begin to recognize who we truly are.  And through our yoga practice, we can then sweetly and mindfully untether ourselves from old beliefs and create a higher relationship with ourselves.

First within, then without.

As we begin to shift the tectonic plates of these old beliefs, our outer world will begin to shift too.  And while we will still be accepting the love (and the practice, the job, and the friends) that we believe we deserve, “what we think we deserve” may evolve to be something quite different.

Ask yourself:

• how do I treat myself in my yoga?
• what beliefs surface about myself?
• are there any consistent thoughts that keep surfacing?
• how do I want my practice to be?
• what would I have to give up – or let go of – in order to allow this to happen?
• what do I lose if I do?
• what do I gain?

Go explore, you beautiful creature.

Feel, move, love.