every little bit…

I still question if I am living my most authentic life. There are elements of my life that feel exhilarating; that feel fulfilling; that feel like I am doing the thing that I always knew I would be doing.

But there are moments when I wonder if I’m playing out of someone else’s playbook. I wonder if I could commit myself wholly to yoga, to selflessness, to ecology, to compassion in all areas of my life.

I think it’s time to stop second-guessing myself. One thing that has always remained about me is my inability to perform in ways that is inauthentic to who I am and what I feel. I have always been stubbornly honest and wholly real – thus authentic.

Authentic, yes. But also wanting to belong. Before I awoke, before I understood how to think about things, how to question them, I accepted many things, many ideas, many behaviors that I understand now as unacceptable. I still wish I were different, further along, but I am on my way and for that, I should feel some comfort…

Self-acceptance is harder than it looks. But I’m working on it. As difficult as the journey is, it still feels wonderful to be alive, to question what to do with my time, to wonder if I’m living my best life. I look forward to answering my own questions.

About Forgiveness…..

Really beautiful things happen when you start showing yourself some love.  I know all of us hippy-dippy, spirituality-seeking, peace-promulgating, love-spreading, yoga-bending weirdos are all about this idea and we just don’t. know. how. to. stop. talking about it. I feel ya – it’s probably annoying to be told day in and day out to love yourself (especially when you think or feel or know that you already do).  It starts with the notion of, “Of course I love myself. I’m pretty damn awesome!” which usually leads to, “Do I really love myself?” and then you get lost in a myriad of questions that need answers only you have, but don’t know where to find. It’s a maze, a trap, a Schrodinger’s cat type question. Can you both love and not love yourself? Continue reading