It’s been a while.
But I’m gonna jump right in, anyway.
This is my morning practice:
Brew espresso on the stove.
Froth milk in a frother.
Feed the cat.
Make my morning offering at my ancestral shrine.
Set down my big mug of latte with a tower of froth foam on the table.
Sit down to my open journal page to ponder, gather my thoughts and express them in words, talk about the weather until something deeper comes.
Some mornings I make the mistake of precluding this routine with social media before I even get started, while lying prone and half asleep. Something prompts me to pick my phone up and look.
My mindfulness app tells me that I have successfully completed yet another successive session (I fall asleep to Jay Oren Sofer’s sleep meditation mostly every night).
Then I scroll .. through socials, through texts and IMs .. to my increasingly bulging in box (remember the days when we’d clear our email boxes out daily?!).
Some days it’s a bad idea. I am swept into the daily rhetoric of whatever hot topic is giving out its siren call.
And this is when I realize why I’ve gotten the nudge.
(I of course immediately order Sonya’s book, The Body Is Not an Apology Second Edition: The Power of Radical Self-Love, with my available Audible credit).
(And the hard copy, because you know, sometimes you just want to have a physical book to-go.)
(And the accompanying workbook.)
(Jesus take the wheel and stop me now.)
This is how I’ve been feeling lately:
Having followed the self-help trends *everywhere* I have become exhausted and burnt out, on all things Self Improvement.
I want to flip everyone the bird and say – I’M GOOD, NOW!
At some point I stop and wonder if and when I’ll ever get off this crazy train.
I’ve been doing this for decades, almost half a century, and of course I’ve made progress.
The thing is, while progress is inevitable, it is also exhausting.
I remember feeling this way in my twenties, delving, digging, sorting out, exhausting the limits of my capacity and then falling into a sort of disengaged stupor, always feeling like I’m never quite where I want to be.
What I have come to find is that some people (“us” if you see yourself reflected in the aforesaid) will never get “there”.
Not for the lack of trying – lord no – but for realizing that the more you know, the less you actually know.
With each new level of realization that unravels, a whole new tangled ball of yarn appears.
This, it seems, is both a blessing and a yoke whose weight I’ve never seemed to be able to divest myself of.
Until now, maybe.
As I listened to even the first handful of minutes of this interview, I think I breathed deeply for the first time in a long while.
The concept of accepting yourself as who you are AS YOU ARE IN THIS MOMENT is one of the most radical acts you can enact.
The striving can stop.
Maybe in those fully embodied moments of beingness I can learn to tap in to what I really want.
Who I really am.
What I have to offer to the world.
Into lovingly embracing the whole of who I am, right now.
Not what the cacophony of external voices tell me I should/need/want.
Not what the wounded parts of myself tell me I should/need/want.
I’m going to let that tiny kernel grow with tender and careful tending.
Because how else are we all going to be free?