What's Your Choice?

Something happens, someone does something and we're hurt. We might get angry. Maybe we cry and grieve, then it's over. We forgive but we don't forget.

We tuck the memory down deep inside. We might even forget that it's there. Until something happens to make us remember. 

It's a little thing, nothing really, but it triggers something in us. Fear rises up. It's a learned reaction. Perhaps an overreaction.

Then we face the choice. Do we close our heart to protect from the pain that's possibly coming? Or do we open to the experience?

Lessons learned we claim as we turn away, turn our back, shut down and close our hearts.

The lesson learned is to protect our heart. Protect our hearts at all costs. Shut people out. Stay safe.

It takes a rare kind of courage to face your fears, to remember past hurts and step forward into an experience that triggers those fears. It may not be the smart thing to do. It may lead to new hurts. It may stretch you out of your comfort zone.

It may.

Or it might give you new joy. It might give you new strength. It might give you new memories to cherish. 

How do you choose between the safe path and the adventure? Adventures have no guaranteed outcome. Perhaps you'll make it out alive, whole and content. Perhaps you'll come out the other side battered and broken. You don't know unless you try.

We're given the choice over and over again in this life, to take the safe path or to head out on a new adventure.

There is no right or wrong choice. Some days we need the safety and security of the known. We need comfort and consistency. Other days we are ready to set sail on the open seas and go where the wind takes us with an open mind and an open heart.

I am not stupid and stubborn for repeating patterns that have led to hurt in the past.

You are not shallow and weak for avoiding past hurts and keeping your heart safe.

There is no shame in either path. There are just lessons to be learned for both of us.

Exposed

I live with my heart on the outside of my body. Constantly exposed, raw and vulnerable.

So I build walls. I use those walls to keep people out, to insulate my heart, to keep me safe. The walls keep me from feeling more then I can bear.

They allow me to pretend that I can't see the pain and sorrow of the world. They separate me, just a little, from the anger and the fear. And we're all much more comfortable if I accept your lies as truth. Those lies you tell yourself and the world until you believe them. I don't want to see your hidden truth.  I don't want to look beyond the surface.

So I build walls to protect myself. I nod and smile when you tell me your untruths.  I keep you as far from my heart as possible. Because if you don't have the strength to confront your own truth you certainly don't have the strength to hold the space for my truth. If you have to hide from your own emotions, you do not have the courage to sit with mine. 

I hide behind my walls and pretend that I don't see you.

Until somehow there's a crack.  I let down my guard. I love more then the walls can contain.

It's like standing naked in a storm. Thunder and lightning, wind and rain. Every sense bombarded. Nerve endings screaming.  

Too much, too soon, too fast.

Not safe. 

It hurts me.

It hurts so bad.

I cringe and I cower. I run and hide.  I tell my own lies. Whatever I need to do to make the pain stop.

I push people away. I shut them out.

Then I rebuild the walls around my heart. I don't want to see you.  I don't want to hear you.  More then anything, I don't want to feel you inside of me.

I live with my heart on the outside of my body. Constantly exposed,  raw and vulnerable.

Listen to the Whispers

Sitting on my yoga mat I say whatever comes to mind. I wonder sometimes if it is the students that are listening to me that need to hear my message or if the messages come through me but are really for me.

Listen to your body, I say it over and over. Your body will tell you what it needs. It will give you small, subtle messages and it is for you to act on them. If you don't act on those subtle messages your body will scream at you to get your attention.

I say this in a class where someone has arthritis, someone has had open heart surgery, someone has had a stroke and someone is hemorrhaging blood.

It's too late for the subtle clues, we are past that.

Are we listening yet?

On the outside we all look fine. We go to work, we take care of our families, we smile and laugh. While on the inside it feels like our bodies have betrayed us.

What went wrong? Why me?

Are we listening yet?

I am the yoga teacher. I am supposed to know better, to do better. Yet it is I that is slowly losing my life force. I get dizzy sometimes and running up the stairs leaves me winded and light headed.

I'm bleeding out. It is a hormonal imbalance. I should be too young for menopause. The doctor checked for cancer and it's not that. So what is it? 

It is my body screaming at me to listen.  Listen now, before it's too late. Make changes, rest more, connect with people, find your truth and live it.

My body is screaming at me while blood pores our of my vagina. I leave blood stains on my sheets and on my jeans and even on my yoga mat. So much blood can not be contained.

Yet my life goes on as normal. No one questions, no one notices. 

I have a choice. It is a choice that faces all of us at some point. I can do something different or I can ignore what my body is telling me. I can have surgery where a part of my body is cut out of me and then proceed with my life like nothing ever happened or I can make some changes. 

I wonder, if I have surgery and let my uterus be removed from me, what message will my body give me next? If I don't slow down and listen to the screams how will the message manifest the next time? What does listening to my body even look like? 

Listening to my body means taking a nap, and going to bed early.  It means saying no to new commitments.  It means taking a walk or resting with my legs up the wall.  It means eating fresh fruit and yogurt.  It means exploring my childhood wounds.  It means having tea with my best cousin. It also means calling my doctor and then listening to her, taking iron supplements.

This is what my body is telling me.  I focus on nurturing myself and healing my wounds.  

What is your body telling you?  What do you need to do more of?  What do you need to stop doing? Who do you need to spend more time with?  Who do you need to spend less time with?  What emotional wounds are manifesting in your body?  What are you denying and ignoring and rejecting about yourself?  

You are the only one that can do this work.  Listen to your body as it whispers to you, make changes before it starts to scream. You are worth it. 

The Ones You Want

Why does loving some people come so easily?

Sometimes you meet someone and you love them.

No questions asked, nothing required,  

Just pure love, forever and ever, till death do us part.

Their imprint on my heart is deep and enduring.

I may see them again or not. 

They may be kind to me or not. 

We may be friends or not.

I will love them anyways. 

Then there are those others.  

The ones you want to love. 

The ones you try to love. 

The ones that break your heart over and over and over.

Those are the ones you want.

The ones that make you stretch and grow. 

The ones that challenge your beliefs.  

The ones that leave you broken, wounded,  alone in the dark.

You may think the adventure wasn't worth it. 

But those ones, the ones that make your life hard,

Those are the ones that change your life. 

They define you.

You can break. 

Or you can get stronger. 

You can close your heart or you can learn to love deeper.  

You can turn your back or you can lean in.

Home

I need to go home. 

There is something that pulls at me. Something unknown, unseen, almost unfelt, builds inside me, getting stronger and stronger until I can't resist.

I need to go home.

I've lived away for over 16 years. I've a new home, family, friends, community. I've settled in, I think.

But then that something builds up until it overwhelms me and I have to go.

I never plan to go home. It's always a last minute thing,  a whim. It's time to go.

I get antsy, restless, unsettled. I need to go home.

Then I'm here.  I sit at a border crossing waiting with a slow bubble of excitement inside.

I'm home!

Finally something in me settles, eases. It's like a weight I've been carrying is set down. What a relief!

There is something comforting about recognizing the names of streets and towns and stores, the speed limit being in kilometres and the temperature being in Celsius. 

I see Canadian Tire and Tim Hortons. There is the Husky with a giant flag, an Esso station. Signs are in French and English.  So are cereal boxes.

Homo milk comes in bags.

No one ever makes comments about my accent or the way I say "been" (like a bean not like a bin.)

Everywhere I go there is my name on street signs.

The names of the towns are familiar and full of memories. I never get lost here. No matter where I go I'm never turned around. Unlike America where I still get lost after 16 years.

This will always be my home. I was born here, raised here.  My babies were born here.

I played here, loved here, cried here. This is where my roots are.

I cry when I leave. 

A Taste of Love

A smile that lights up your whole face when you see me.

Joyous laughter that you just can't contain.

My face covered with your kisses.

I have found you.

Lift me in your arms and swing me around.

Touching, hands, face.

Shoulders leaning against each other.

Can't take my hands off you.

Can't take my eyes off you.

I have finally found you.

Sweet soft kisses in the night.

Tender touches.

Gazing into each eyes.

Two heads on one pillow.

Shared secrets whispered nose to nose.

I didn't know how much I missed you until I found you.

Dawn comes and so does reality.

A last lingering kiss.

Parting is such sweet sorrow.

Until the next time.

I will love you.