Love in Many Packages

I met Assefa on a plane.  A very large black man, with kind eyes and a ready laugh. I loved him, a coffee farmer from Ethiopia, married with three kids. We spent a few hours together sharing our story. We had lunch together and then ran in different directions to catch our connecting flights. 

I have not forgotten him. I will never forget. 

Assefa taught me that love does not see colour. He taught me that life is short.  Every moment should be seized with both hands and enjoyed to the fullest. He taught me to find beauty in the little things.

I love him still.

I met a pirate in a bar. He was tall and sexy, I climbed on to a chair to get my photo taken with him. I loved him, an actor from Las Vegas. We danced under the stars and played together until the early hours of the morning.

I have not forgotten him.  I will never forget.

My pirate taught me to follow my heart, to take a risk. He taught me to use my voice and ask for what I want. He taught me that love does not have to be reciprocated to be real.

I love him still.

I met Peter Pan on a rainy summer afternoon. I loved him, a young waiter in an empty restaurant. We laughed together as he spun me in circles around the dance floor.

I have not forgotten him. I will never forget.

Peter Pan taught me that love does not see age. He taught me to believe in a love out of time. He taught me to feel safe and special.  He gave me hope.

I love him still.

I met Tweedledee in a bar when i was drunk. He took me home and tucked me into bed. He lay beside me and listened to me. He shared his stories with me. He kept me safe then walked away. He taught me that there are people worth trusting.

I met Tweedledum on vacation and walked on the beach with him. He taught me not to trust blindly. He taught me that it is okay to walk away.

I met a Neanderthal by accident. A small man with a big personality. He taught me to forgive when I am hurt.

I met Tyler in jail. We did yoga together.  He taught me that there is good in everyone, no matter their past, their present, their future. Everyone has worth.

I met 'Fat' Norm over tea. He wasn't fat at all. A kind man, married with five children, still battling demons from his past. We talked for hours, about everything. He taught me that everyone has wounds.

I have not forgotten.  I love them still. 

Men who have touched my life so briefly, just for a moment, to teach me the lessons I needed to learn.

Love comes in many different packages. Never the same one twice. There's always a lesson to learn.

Forgive but don't forget.

Love but be willing to let go.

Speak your truth with kindness.

Ask for what you need.

Don't judge based on appearances.

Don't judge at all.

Live life to the fullest.

Keep your heart open.

Love is a gift. Unwrap it carefully and gently. Cherish it and then let it go when the time is right.

In the corner...

In the corner of my heart is a secret place kept just for you. 

My heart is full to bursting. It is noisy and messy. There are hugs and kisses and tears. There are angry moments and lots of forgiveness as well. There is comfort and peace and joy.

There are people imprints all over it. People who came and went, a few special people who stayed and a very few that I have loved until death did us part and love even still.

There are pets and places and even foods that take up space in my heart and I don't begrudge them the room.

I wonder if it is possible for a heart to be full up, no more room at the Inn. Yet it seems to always have just enough space for the next person,  the next place, the next memory.

In all the bustle and confusion of a heart full to bursting is a quiet place. It is a special place, saved just for you. 

In the chaos of a busy life and a full heart you come to mind. A soft smile touches my lips. My eyes focus on something distant, unseen by anyone else. I've glimpsed the door behind which is hidden your space.

Deep in the night, I tiptoe to the door and I peak inside. When all is silent and still I slip through the door into that special place that I have saved, just for you. It is here that I rest when I am weary. It is here that I find comfort when I am afraid. It is here that I find strength to draw from when I am sure that I just can't go on. 

More then any thing else, this little corner in my heart gives me hope. In the corner I am surrounded by love and I can believe, just for a moment that fairy tales do come true. In the corner I believe that happily ever after does exist. 

In the corner are the memories of being safe in your arms with my head on your shoulder.  In this small space that is shared with no one else, is joy, peace, contentment and a love that is more powerful then fear.

I don't come often to the corner of my heart that is saved just for you. But I know that it will remain there for eternity.

Always, a space full of love, just for you.

Today

Today I close the doors to my heart and I walk away.

Today I shut out love, and joy, also pain and sorrow.

Today there is nothing left to give. No more patience, no more forgiveness, no more compassion.

No more.

Today I walk away, leaving behind all those that touch my heart, for good or for bad.

Today I am lost. I am lonely. I am disconnected from others.

Today I immerse my self in solitude and a deep well of self love.

Today I allow my mind to empty of all the expectations that push and pull at me.

Today I let the beauty of the world caress my closed heart. 

Today I allow the waves of the ocean to beat against the closed doors of my heart.

Today I lay my body down on the earth and let something bigger then myself hold me and support me.

Today I find peace as the sun warms my skin and the wind plays in my curls.

Today I am safe. I am whole.  I am connected to my own true self.

Today I am fully present, completely aware.

Today there is only room in my heart for one, for me.

Tomorrow will come soon enough.

You Know, Right?

Did you know that I loved you from the moment I met you?

And do you know that no matter what happens I'll always love you?

Do you know that even if I never see you again, never talk to you again, my love will never change,

And that the imprints you left on my heart will never fade?

Did you know that even when I was angry, even when I was hurt, I never stopped loving you?

And do you know that I have forgiven you everything?

I hope you know that I wish for you a life full of love,

And that I wish you every happiness and joy,

and a heart full of peace and contentment.

Do you know that wherever you go, whatever you do, whoever you're with a piece of my heart goes with you?

Always and forever.

You know, right?

Ripples in the Pond

Have you ever felt alone, unheard, invisible? Have you ever felt like you just don't matter? I think everyone feels that way at some time in their lives, perhaps in a relationship or on the job or in their home.  Maybe you're drowning in responsibilities and feel like no one sees what you do. Maybe you're nagging your kids and they keep making bad choices. Maybe you have brilliant ideas at work but you're being ignored. Maybe your love has become to busy or just takes you for granted. 

Whatever the situation, it makes you feel small. It hurts your heart. It makes you feel like you just don't count.

I'm here to tell you that you matter. Yes you. Even if you think no one can see all that you do, you matter.

I was a child when I was invited to sleep over at the pastor's house. That evening while all the other children played I made cookies in the kitchen with the pastor's wife. While we measured and stirred she told me that she loved me and that God loved me. She made me feel that I mattered to someone. For just a moment I was not invisible. I was seen. I was heard. I was loved and I mattered.

The pastor and his family moved away and I never saw her again but those words stayed with me. Through my teen years, as I dealt with molestation and abuse I held onto that thought. I mattered to someone. Night after night as I sat in the dark at the top of a bridge,  I clung to those words. I stared into the inky blackness of the water below but I never jumped because I mattered. Someone, somewhere loved me.

I grew up. I got married. I had babies. Time after time I felt invisible, unheard, unseen, unloved. I gave everything I could possibly give and it still felt like it wasn't enough, never good enough.

I volunteered countless hours. I taught Sunday school. I rocked babies as a candy striper. I read stories in my kids classes. I helped out on sports teams.  I served dinner to the hungry.

Perhaps if I do enough, give enough, I will be enough was my thought.

I became a yoga teacher and started to teach. I talk to people from all walks of life, all ages, with all kinds of problems. People who are broken, in their bodies, and in their emotions. 

Then I began to teach yoga in the county jail. I came to love these guys that the world has hidden away. They smile when they see me. We laugh and play. We talk about fear and God and choices. With an earnest voice an inmate tells me how he realized, on his yoga mat, that he isn't just from God but that God is in him and he is in God and that we are all connected.  And I realize that I matter.

I have connected the dots to see the big picture. The woman who saved my life, she mattered too. Her words have rippled out through the world and touched more lives then she can possibly imagine. Because she was kind to me, I have made a difference in the world. I have rocked babies and read stories and touched the life of an inmate.

She mattered.  I matter and so do you.

When you think no one sees you. You're wrong. When you think your choices make no difference. You're wrong.

Every action you take,  every word you say, has an impact on someone, somewhere.  Even if you don't see it. You matter. You make a difference in so many small ways. You get to choose to smile at a stranger or scowl. You get to choose to cut someone off in traffic or let them in front of you. You can choose to be kind to your child when they spill the milk or yell at them.

Your words and actions will ripple out through the world in ways you can not even see,
for years to come. You will never know just how much you matter. This is your super power. You get to choose to use it for good or for evil.

Choose wisely.

There Are No Good Answers

Life is hard.  There are no good answers. 

Day after day, in so many different ways we are tested. People, places and situations designed to stretch us to the limits. And there is that little mocking voice in our head laughing at us "So, whatcha gonna do now huh?"

We torment ourselves with choices and scenarios. The right thing, the wrong thing, who gets hurt, who lands up happy. While deep inside our stomach churns and our head aches. 

Then we act. Or we don't.  The torment continues, sometimes for years. Guilt, shame, reproach and recriminations.

We find more and more ways to deny our selves believing that we are not worthy and carrying an ever increasing burden of should have, could have and would have.

Instead of living here and now we are stuck in the land of "if only".

And really, there are no good answers.

So we struggled and stumble and often fall flat on our faces. We get up and try again and again to find our way.  We end up lost and confused, lonely and afraid.

We wonder 'where did I go wrong?'  We retrace our steps asking 'what could I have done differently?'

And we find there are no good answers.

One day we wake up,  we look around in confusion. 'How did I get here?' We have done our best. We tried, really, really tried. Yet our lives are in shambles. We are broken, beaten and shamed.

Our best was not good enough. Because there are no good answers.

Introducing Victoria

I am a yoga teacher.  I am a hypnotherapist and a life coach. I've studied nutrition, as well as religion and spirituality.  I'm fascinated by Ayurvedic medicine.  I can have an educated conversation about homeopathy, flower remedies and accupressure. 

I'm also a single mom of seven. 

I've been married and divorced twice. I have experienced childhood molestation and domestic violence. I've lived with addictions and mental illness. 

I've lost my home to foreclosure and lived in poverty.  

I've gained weight and lost weight and gained it back again. I've been sick and tired. 

I'm addicted to sugar. I eat meat and I'm partial to vodka and loud music.

I've had sex with a stranger on a beach and had an affair with a married man. 

I fight with my boyfriend, get impatient with my mother and even sometimes yell at my kids. 

But I am a survivor and a warrior.

Through it all I have learned that not one of us is any better than any one else. We all have our broken parts. We all carry wounds. We all do things we shouldn't.  We have addictions.  We make bad choices. We struggle with fears and insecurities. We lose ourselves.

As a society we expect certain things of certain people.  If our doctor is an obese, chain smoker on meds for high blood pressure we don't put a lot of faith in him. If our hair dresser looks a fright with bags under her eyes and a really bad dye job, we'll probably go somewhere else.

So we expect our yoga teacher and life coach to have a lithe flexible body and to have all her ducks in a row. We expect good choices, a healthy lifestyle, inspiring monologues while we've got our ass in the air for a down dog

I don't have it all together. I make bad choices. I have wounds.

So why would you trust me to be your teacher and your coach?

Because I've been there. I've done that. I've survived and come out on the other side. I will never judge you and will always encourage you. I know what it's like to be broken and scared. I know the fear and hopelessness. 

I've cried the same tears, felt the same  frustration and loneliness.  I know that I don't have all the answers. 

And I know that you do have the answers within you. I know that you have the strength and the power and the courage to handle everything that life throws at you.

Because I know that some days you just need to pull the blankets over your head and cry. Some days you need to give up, to walk away. Some days you will fall and you will fail. I know that there will be bad days and hard choices. I know there will be days when you would rather do anything then sit with your fear.

I know because I've been there. I've seen my life burn down around me leaving me with nothing.  I've  cried tears of rage and grief. I've learned how to forgive. I've learned to face and feel my fear. I've learned to keep my heart open even when it's hard and it hurts.

I am not here to show you the way, to teach you or preach to you. I'm not here to inspire you. I'm here to walk beside you for a while. To encourage you when you fall. To celebrate your successes.  To share your pain and your sorrows.

I'm here because I want you to know that you are not alone. 

A Night in Neverland

Like a fairy tale, he appeared from nowhere. He wooed me with sweet songs and sexy kisses. Dancing together by the light of the moon, we played in Neverland, where time has no meaning and age is just a number.

Peter Pan stole my heart that night, asking me to believe in myths, like true love and happily ever after. He asked me questions that I have no answers for, leaving me uncertain and troubled.

I didn't know I was lost until he found me. I didn't know I was searching until he showed me. I didn't know I was lonely until he held me.

Peter Pan revealed to me how I have been living my life running from dragons that steal my joy and keep me confined. For just a moment I felt the freedom and joy of pixie dust.  I soared among the stars. I loved and laughed and played in Neverland where time has no meaning and age is just a number.

With dawn the pixie dust wore off and I crashed back into reality.  I came face to face with the dragons of the real world. I stared into the mirror at my own eyes, heavy with burdens and sorrows. I danced with my own loneliness.

I didn't know what I was missing until he found me. Now I ache to go back to Neverland, where time has no meaning and age is just a number. I long to fly with Peter Pan once again. But he has forgotten me and I remain trapped in the real world, without pixie dust, without joy, without love. 

I didn't know I was lost until he found me. I didn't know I was searching until he showed me. I didn't know I was lonely until he held me. Then he left me, flying back to his fairy tales and leaving me lost, searching and lonely, yearning for Neverland and the love of Peter Pan.

Invisible

I put on my cloak of invisibility every morning with my clothes and my mascara.

You can't see me.

I wrap myself up in it with a little bit of hair gel and lip gloss.

You can't see me.

I am a stranger to my mother, my lover and my best friend.

They can't see me.

No one even looks beyond the surface.

Every day we brush up against the edges of people. We notice hair and clothes, eyes and smiles. But we can't see them. They have donned their cloak of invisibility, just as I have.

We don't look at people. We see them with our eyes but not with our hearts.

We don't listen to people. We hear their words with our ears but we can't hear their truth.

We live in a world of invisibility. We are unseen, unheard, unknown and unloved.

We are invisible and lonely.  We ache to connect deeply with someone who will see our soul. We long for someone to be still and quiet and listen to our truth.

We reach out. We test the waters. We try and try again. Each time we come up short, brushing the edges without diving deep. Touching the surface without connecting heart to heart.

Our deepest longing is to find the one with whom we can share our selves.

We are searching for intimacy.

We are lost, alone in the darkness of our soul, praying for someone to find us there.

The Train is a Coming

I can't see it yet but I can feel it out there.

The train is a coming.

It doesn't take long before I can feel the ground start to shake.

The train is a coming closer.

Soon I can see it in the distance and hear the far off whistle.

The warning.

Get off the tracks, get out of the way.

I've never been good at playing chicken with the train. I'm the sort that heeds the warning. I step back, move away, get out fast.

I've seen the damage and destruction the train can leave in its wake. I've seen the blood bath with my own eyes.

The only options, when the train is steaming, full speed ahead, straight at your life, is to get out fast or take the hit. And the hit will hurt. It will hurt bad. It will leave you broken and bloody. The wreckage will touch all aspects of your life.  It will take months and years to heal. You may never completely recover. 

The train is a coming.  I can see it clearly. I can feel the ground shaking under my feet. I can hear the rumble and smell the heat.

It's almost here.

You wanna play chicken.  You hold my hand and pull me up the embankment into the path. I fight with all I've got to get away from the tracks. I'd like to pull you with me. To safety.

The train is a coming and I've seen the damage it can do.

I want to run. I want to hide. I want to abandon you to your fate.

Save myself.

The train is a coming and I'm scared to the depths of my soul.

The ground shakes.  Hot black lava rocks start to roll. The whistle sounds, once and then again in desperation. Squealing brakes. The hot rush of air sucking the breath right out of me.  It makes my eyes water and lungs burn.

And then the horror.

Too Much?

I've heard it over and over again. I'm too needy. I crave attention. I'm too demanding. I'm insecure. 

Am I too needy? 

I want to be loved deeply.  I want to be seen, down to my soul. I want to be heard. I want to love with my  heart wide open. I want to sleep entwined with my lover.  I want to eat dinner together and have real conversations.

Am I asking too much?

I want to be the one he wants, when things go right and when things go wrong.

I want him to wake up in the night wanting me.

I want early morning sex and late night snuggles.

I want him to stroke my hair, to bring me flowers and to take out the trash.

I want it all. Am I asking too much?

I want to go on long drives to nowhere. I want him to hold my hand when we walk together. I want him to hold me close when I cry.

I want him to celebrate my triumphs and soothe my wounds. I want him to encourage my passions and forgive my failings.

Am I asking to much?

I am not needy. I am not insecure. I do not crave attention. I can do it all - all by myself. I am strong and capable.

I am enough, just as I am.

I do not ask anything of you, I offer the most precious gift. I offer my heart, my body, and space to walk beside me through this life.

What do you offer me?

The Warrior Heart

It hurts. Living life awake and aware.

I long for the days when I could turn my back on others, ignore their wounds and cast blame and aspersions.

Instead I feel your pain and I ache for you. Even when you hurt me over and over. There is no judgement.

Sometimes I wish I could be that person that says f*ck you and walks away secure in my own righteousness.

When my heart aches I crave the bowl of ice cream to soothe my wounds or, better yet, the vodka that makes everything hurt less.  But no.  I stay present, and open.

I put up with the lies and the abuse, the anger that pulses like a living thing. I accept the yelling and the tears. It's a part of life. Life hurts and it's hard and people are wounded.

In your pain you do and say things to hurt others. It's not me. It's you.

Some days I'm strong and I can let it roll off me. It's not me. Other days you touch my wounds and the hurt runs deep. Some days I cry. Some days I get angry. Some days I do say f*ckem all. But I cry my tears, I rant and rage, then I come back with an open heart.

I understand your pain. I even understand your need to hurt me because you hurt so bad. I get it. I will cry my tears in private and then come back to you with an open heart again and again. 

My patience is eternal.

I'm not naive or stupid. I'm not a victim.

I am strong. I have a warrior heart that can not be broken. I have courage enough to accept your pain and my own.  I have the resilience to roll with life, taking whatever you throw at me.

I have a warrior heart that knows compassion.  I will choose love again and again. I can show you the way, if you chose to put down your fear.

I have a warrior heart that can not be broken. 

Alone in the Dark

I sit alone in this little room I've built to hold all my broken parts.  I pet my demons and feed them treats, showering them with love and acceptance.  I breathe in the rotting stench of fear. I inspect each one of my wounds.  I hold my broken, but still beating heart in my hands.  Alone in the dark.

I feel completely isolated, like I'm the only one, ever, who has come to this place.  Face to face with the broken parts. Alone in the dark.

I don't want sympathy.  I don't want reassurance.  Please don't tell me how strong I am. I don't want platitudes and pleasantries.  I am broken and broken is okay.

I dive deep into my wounded places to make friends with them.

I sit with fear, rage, grief. Emotions rising up, no longer willing to be quiet.  But there is no way to express them outside of this room.  So I sit alone, in the dark.

The darkness presses down on me.  It feels like a weight crushing the life out of me.  Crushing the joy out of me, until there is nothing left but darkness.  

Every day I go through the motions.  Trying so hard to be all things to all people.  Yet all I want to do is return to my solitude and my silence. I want to be alone with my wounds and my demons.  I am consumed with exploring the vast expanse of refuse left behind and unacknowledged.

The demons rage.  They roar and thrash, begging for attention, no longer content to be contained, to be silent, to be ignored.  I listen to them and stroke them.  I tell them I love them even though they rage.  Rage is okay I tell them and it soothes their anger.  The demons just want to be heard to be accepted.

Alone in the dark, alone with the demons and the stench, there are no pretenses.

Slowly the dark becomes my happy place and the demons become my friends.

The Rotting Stench of Fear

On the outside my life looks wonderful. I have a nice home and  my own business. All the bills are paid. I have a great guy, healthy children, the best dog ever and friends that I share a deep connection with. The American dream.

But something lurks beneath the surface. Something ugly and foul smelling.  It is the rotting, roiling, diseased part of my soul that hides from the light.

We all have that part of us.  Something happens when we are a child, something big and scary, so we build a little room in our soul, with a big heavy door and a lock.  We stuff the fear and the anger that we aren't supposed to feel into this little room. We slam the door shut and we turn the key. Then we walk away. We go on with our lives like nothing happened.

Over the years many things get stuffed into the closet. Things that are too big, too scary, too hard for us to handle. So we put them away until we are stronger, until we can cope better. The room gets full of nasty bad stuff, until there is no space left. We pack the stuff in and lean with all our might to get the door closed again. Occasionally something noxious may seep out from under the door but we pretend we can't see it. We pretend that we can't smell the stench and that everything is just fine.

Until one day the lock breaks, the door swings open and all the filth that we've hidden washes over us.

And that is where I sit, amid the rotting stench of my own fear. I drown in anger and frustration and bitterness. I struggle to hold my head above resentment, envy and greed. I am buffeted by judgments of self and other. Through it all runs the common theme of shame. I'm just not good enough, not smart enough, not beautiful enough. I have failed.

What I have truly failed at, is pretending. I have failed at keeping my darkness hidden. I have failed at soothing my soul with food and gossip and trashy romance novels and TV shows and the endless rounds of busy, busy, busy, that keep the truth at bay. I have failed at hiding from my fear, my anger and my sorrow.

After days of crying and saying awful things about everyone and everything I face a choice. I've purged enough with my tears and my bitching that I can squish the door closed again. I could probably keep stuffing into the closet for a number of years. I could put my mask back on and go through the motions, until it all gets too big for me again and the door breaks open and I'm once again drowning.

Or I could do something different. I could light a candle and go sit in that dark little room. I could sit there with all my demons and my broken parts. I could dig through the putrefaction with my bare hands and get to know the wounded parts of myself.  I could breathe in the stench of dying dreams and a broken heart. This is me, who I am, right now, with no pretending.

Could I find the strength and courage to face the darkness? Do I have what it takes to invite my demons into the light? Can I possibly pick up my broken heart and cradle it close to me so it can find comfort?  Is it wise to find a way to make friends with my broken parts? Is it even worth trying?

Today I have no answers. 

I used to write to God...

I used to write to God. Day after day, weeks turned into months, turned into years. I filled up one notebook and then another. Long rambling letters sometimes full of gratitude and joy, other times the pages were dotted with my tears, still other days the letters were full of questions and confusion.

But then I read a self-help book. It wasn't helpful. It told me that I was doing it wrong.  It said that writing letters to God was good but it also said I needed to say certain things and do it at a specific time of day. For three days I followed the outline in the book. For three days I wrote what the book told me to say. Then I quit.

I didn't just stop following their outline. No. I quit. I stopped writing to God. I was sad. I was lonely. I was confused.  I was silent.

One day I realized that just because they had written and published a book about it didn't mean that their way was the right way or the only way. It didn't mean that I had to do it their way or that my way wasn't good enough. So I sat with my notebook and my pen and my tears and I wrote to God once again.

It made me think about how often we look for answers outside of ourselves. We listen to the rich and famous. We read the self-help books. We go to church and listen to the preacher tell us how to do it. We have coaches and teachers and parents and lovers all putting in their two cents, but their way isn't necessarily the right way for me or for you. 

Within each one of us there is a deep instinctual well of knowledge. We know ourselves better then anyone else knows us. We know what matters to us and what works for us.  This is where our answers should come from.

Perhaps instead of sitting in a church you commune with God on a mountain top. Perhaps you meditate by curling up under the warm blankets on a snowy morning. Perhaps you get your exercise by dancing around the kitchen with the music turned up loud.

You like to run, he likes to swim and I do yoga. It's all good.

I write, you paint, he plays music. Is any one creative gift better then the other?

Do you bow your head and fold your hands to pray? Do you think God hears your prayers better if you get down on your knees beside your bed at night?

I find stillness on the beach beside the crashing waves. You find it on the top of a mountain. She finds it within the pages of the Bible. Each one of us is still connecting to God.

Yes, I like to call him/her/it God. I find comfort in the name he/she/it was given to me as a baby in a church. Perhaps you use a different name. Jehovah. Allah. Krishna. The Divine. The Goddess. The Universe. Mother Earth. The Creator. Life. Whatever name you use, we are all talking about the same thing and it is that which gives us our inner knowing.

It's so important to trust yourself.  Your way is the right way for you. Instead of looking out there for knowledge, look within. Is what you're doing bringing you joy? If so, run with it. If not, try something different. 

It isn't that all those books and teachers don't have wisdom to impart, but it is their wisdom. Listen, weigh it out, question it. Does it resonate with you? Does it work in your life? No one, no matter how rich or famous, no matter how many books they've written, no matter how much knowledge they have or speeches they've spoken, no one knows you better than you know you. No one knows what you need better than you. No one

Instead of looking out there for your wisdom, your gifts and your power, look within. Be honest with yourself. Trust your inner knowing and then authentically live your best life.

The Year for Yes!

One year ends and the next begins. We stay up late to celebrate the new year. We make our resolutions and raise our glasses high. We hug and we kiss. It's a time to look to the future with excitement. Oh the possibilities...

We are sure this year will be better. This will be the year that we lose weight, get fit, get strong. We will get control of our finances, pay off our debt, get a better job. This year we will fall in love, get married, have a baby, buy a house, buy a car, and go on a dream vacation. This year will be perfect! We are sure of it.

In reality this year will look much like last year unless we do something radically different. And let's be truthful, radically different is uncomfortable and unsustainable. It won't be long before all the big dreams and resolutions fall by the wayside, dissolving in the mists of daily stress.

I made no resolutions this year. I went to bed early and was asleep long before the new year rolled in. The first few days of January I contemplated things like being kind to myself and being forgiving of others. Perhaps I should spend more time in meditation or read more inspirational books.

Then I was offered an opportunity. I needed time to think about it. Within a few days I was offered a different opportunity and then another one. What to do? How to choose? It was all so exciting but would I be able to live up to what was being asked of me? Would I have enough time to nap?  

In the past I would 'be reasonable'. Right now, today, I don't feel reasonable. Right now I want to seize the moment. I want to experience what life has to offer. So I said yes. Yes I'd love a job, thank you. Yes I'd be happy to teach yoga at the high school. Yes, I do believe teaching yoga at a prison would be a fantastic experience for me.

Then the yes spilled over into my daily life. Yes you can paint your bedroom ceiling with water colours. Yes I'll come to that meeting with you. Yes we can play a game together. Yes you can help me bake cookies. Yes! Yes! Yes!

Too often we don't say yes. There is no good reason not to say yes. Maybe because we think it will be too hard, too messy, too painful. Maybe because we feel like we will fail or we think people will laugh at us or maybe because we feel like we just don't have time. But life is for living, for gathering up experiences.

So this year I am saying yes. I am making a choice to say yes to all the little things that make life a grand adventure. Yes may be messy. Yes may be hard. Yes might be painful and yes might even make me cry. But yes will also be fun. Yes will be exciting. Yes will expand my horizons and yes will help me grow.

This is the year for yes. Life is a grand adventure and this year I am saying yes.