Sunday, January 31, 2010

downward facing dog.

I'll be doing a lot more of those from now on--along with some planks, trees, baby cobras, and savasanas. Today, I just closed my eyes, handed over my credit card, and joined an amazing yoga gym where all the women look like they don't need yoga. It's okay, if all goes well, I'll be there soon enough. But, it's about mental well-being, right? Riiiight. No really...I'll explain.

Several months ago, I "dumped" my therapist. I'd learned so much from her, like how to identify patterns--the negative, self-sabotaging kind. But there came a point when i felt the learnings slowing down, and that was my cue to move forward. At times, while I appreciated her insight and understanding, I really needed some instruction, someone to tell me not to jump off that bridge. Like many relationships, this one ran its course, and ended.

Several times since the "break up," I've given thought to what I'd do if I needed to resume therapy sessions again. Looking for a new therapist in New York is a daunting process--there are so damn many, and they've all written books on "loving YOU more," "winning at love," or "getting the love you want." Time was when it seemed all my friends here had not so much. People don't have jobs, so they don't have health insurance, or maybe they're just finding other ways to cope with anxiety, addiction, loss, painful childhoods, and love woes.

It turns out my "other way" is yoga. Nothing new there really...I've always loved to practice, but after trying a week at this new-ish yoga/pilates/full-body-conditioning "ahhh come in, we love you here" studio in my neighborhood, I felt something different. Not sure if it's the lavender-scented mats, the huge multi-purpose rooms (lotsa props), or the super-human instructors, but I've felt this tangible sense of all-consuming happy energy after each class. I think they call it a "high." The type that you want to break in half and share with someone you know could use it. This must be how my-friend-Mer feels about her daily run, or another dear friend feels about ballet. Whatever it is, I feel good all over (channeling Stephanie Mills), and less inclined to run down aisle-hogging shoppers in Trader Joe's with my cart.

Another thing: During yoga, I don't think about my workday, or bills, or even what I'm going to be when I grow up. I'm in the moment...completely. And of course, trying not to focus on what the guy behind me thinks of my bum (which is also, by the way, very excited about the weeks ahead).

Sunday, January 24, 2010

...this morning i woke up...

...late. Missed my 11am pilates class. But it's worries. Lately on the weekends it's rare that I sleep past it ADHD, call it too many obligations, or call it an addiction to coffee. But today, I slept in a bit and finally listened to the Patti Smith interview with Terry Gross that my-friend-Rachel recommended to me last week on Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. Rachel knows a lot about Patti Smith...I know very little. Only that she's a poet and her music was a huge deal during the punk revolution of the 70s and 80s, she was part of that generation of Chelsea-Hotel artists, and that she's got this easy no-makeup just-woke-up androgynous manner about her. I'd love to look like that. Give me Tilda Swinton any day over say, Angelina Jolie (though I do heart Angie).

Anyway, Patti is promoting her new book "Just Kids" dedicated to her friend, onetime lover, and soulmate Robert Mapplethorpe whom you may know for his erotic often sado-masochistic style of photography. If you listen to this interview, you can hear two things in Patti's voice: 1)She's cool-calm. If you're like me you'll want to know how you can figure out how to find her and soak in some of it. 2)She fiercely loved and believed in Robert...they fused their passions and hunger and found a purpose for art and life together. She had this to say about how she found peace after the pain of Robert's death in 1989 of complications from AIDS:

The idea that time heals all wounds is not really true. Our wounds aren't really ever healed. We just learn to walk with them. We learn that some days we're gonna feel intense pain all over again and we just have to say 'Ok, I know you. You can come along with me today.' The same way that sometimes we start laughing out in the middle of nowhere remembering something that happened with someone we've lost. You know, life is the best thing we have....and I think it's very important to not be afraid to experience joy in the middle of sorrow.

If you can carve out 46 minutes and 16 seconds to listen to the interview--do it. It'll make you feel good...and we all could use a couple more things to make us feel good, right? As for me, it's already past noon, so I'm off to hunt down coffee, donuts, lavender soap, and brown eyeliner (so much for the "easy no-makeup just-woke-up androgynous" look, eh?).

Photo taken in 1976 by Robert Mapplethorpe

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

...i was just passing through...

...and decided to stay a while. I needed to, and yes, for good. I needed to figure out a clear purpose for being here, in this space. And it needed to be something I could sincerely commit to, at least for now :-) So after much thought, several months worth in fact, i'm giving in to my inner voice and dedicating my blog to love--the idea of it, perhaps the meaning (oh, I could write a book!), loss of it (at times, hopefully not often though), acts of love, you-name-it. Why? Because love is something I so earnestly obsess over, and know so much and so little about. It's something I can share with you--that is, if you still like me. I promise not to be boring.

Anyway, this calls for a re-design of sorts. Sorry I'm not more prepared--I just decided to sit on my bed, open my laptop, and sign-in b/c I knew that I could not go another night without writing something here.

p.s. when I signed into my account tonight, I hadn't done so since August **tsk tsk tsk**. I finally read and approved some extremely lovely and supportive comments. Thank you so much for those. Now to bed with me...xx

p.p.s. If you can't sleep, here's something silly to keep you up for a little--or maybe a lot--longer.