Springtime Mantra Blocks
My mind has been so full of so much planning, I'm nauseous from all the reeling and spinning to get things done - for the summer, for the kids, the house, bills, the dog, vacation logistics. Blah, blah, freakin'-blah. And believe me, I am painfully aware of how "first world" all of these issues are, but that doesn't discount or minimize the brain space they all take up. It's depleting and disorienting and it's driving me a little mad, to be perfectly honest. And on top of all of that, I decided now - of all the times in the world, ever - to pick up another social media addiction. That's right, Instagram has wormed its way into my bad-habit-loving psyche and I find myself taking selfies in my bathroom before bed or spending inordinate amounts of time snapping the perfect pic . Of what, you ask?
- Novice shots of bourgeoning springtime wildlife? Yes.
- Unfortunate selfie attempts, routinely following too much wine or a yoga class I'm still high (and super sweaty) from? Yep.
- Photo remnants that prove my kids do funny shit? You got it.
My timing to glom on to something as asinine as Instagram is impeccable. Because lord knows what I need right now - to compliment my rabbit's-speed heart rate and breathing that resembles more a Chiwawa than a yogi - is another reason to be attached to my phone like it's my newborn infant child!
It's times like these when I feel like all the meditation and awareness in the world won't change the hurricane that is my busy, busy life.
And so I take a beat and think, in stillness; try to gather myself for a quick check-in. Recalibrate.
My springtime mantra resonated so fiercely when I came up with it last week; something I could really lean into and wear all over my outside body and into my heart:
FEARLESS. SEXY. CONNECTION.
Pretty awesome, right? Powerful! (I even wrote it down, as part of a women's Heart Tribe ceremony last week led by the lovely and amazing Lisa Rueff, and friends, so the message has effectively been sent to the Universe. Just sayin'.)
But honestly, I chose those three words with righteous intent, in order to manifest creative movement and build community for myself.
Fearless: from my own inner critic, so I can keep creating without limitation; Sexy: embodying feminine energies of nurturance, softness, intuition; Connection: to whatever community I naturally cultivate, be it a tribe of artists, yoga peeps, or just a new posse of friends I don't know yet.
It's thrilling, people! Are you with me on this one?! I'm like a trailblazer in my own personal wild, wild west - charting new territories, "Yes...and"-ing the shit out of every opportunity to see what's next. Like a freaking Warrioress!
I will tell you right now, though: there is absolutely no way I'm going to do any of this life-seizing brilliance if I keep tending to my social media accounts like a NICU nurse or keep wrapping my entire being, serpent-style, around my To Do lists.
So these obsessions stop now.
You heard it first. My witnesses.
Hear my fu**ing roar.
(But seriously, can we check in next week to make sure I'm on track? 'cuz despite all this activism speech, I kinda think I'm going to fall of the wagon. This shit is hard. Am I right? We all need an Accountability Partner to keep us steady. So let's meet next week. Same place, same time, and make sure there's been some progress. Or at least some joy in the journey. Peace.)
