stay strong through your pain
grow flowers from it
you have helped me
grow flowers out of mine so
however you need
Your pain is valid. My pain is valid.
But a lotus flower grows resiliently high above the mud because it knows the mud was never the end point.
One by one, petals open with strategic wisdom
bursting forth into a colorful and exquisite collective consciousness.
across cities, coastlines, and continents
however far away
my dear ones
I bloom (with &) too.
If you don’t like where you are, change it. You’re not a f*cking tree.
Okay, I might have added one point there.
But those words are all too necessary as I come into a season of feeling antsy and self-critical. A season of leaning into the overcritical opinion that I’m just coasting through the motions of life, but with a simultaneous awareness that I could totally change my situation at any time (how beautiful yet grossly privileged).
I am not a tree. I am not stuck (emotionally or physically). I literally moved my entire life across the globe fifteen months ago. I am not completely limited. But I am weirdly frustrated. It's the realization that I don’t have the familiar daily grind; the structure of working full time for five years (summers included) in education.
As much as my rebellious, travel-without-an-itinerary free spirit wants to shove this reality away, the reality is that (professionally) I dig structure. I might be late to a friend’s dinner party, but I will always be the one 10 minutes early to my job or a doctor’s appointment. I guess my high school choir director’s reminder that “early is on time and on time is late” annoyingly stuck (thanks, Mr. Cahoon). When I worked as a counselor in Brooklyn, I kept a small spiral notebook with me wherever I went. I made checklists. I legit drew little boxes next to the reminder to call a guardian or input a mediation case note (sometimes up to 3 or 4 mediation case notes in one day--for one student)…and felt NOT OKAY if all those little boxes weren’t checked off before I left for the day.
And now I’m here. Living in the Middle East. Living in a city that was settled only 16 years before the U.S. Declaration of Independence was adopted. I'm a two hour flight from India and a two minute walk to my choice of Starbucks or a Seattle's Best. I don't have an 8 hour work day. Weekends are often work days.
I’m here, trying to wiggle my way back into education (which has been a maze of frustration, to say the least) while I explore/deepen/share all things yoga in the meantime. It’s weird. There is no immediate answer or concrete plan. It’s lonely sometimes. But it’s a healthy opportunity to go hard, uproot this false feeling of being stuck, and set a higher bar of expectation by myself and for myself (and definitely plan another trip to India)--all things that will undoubtedly shape me in more ways than I know.