red dot little duck

The FIRST day of the cleanse SUCKED. I was soooo grouchy. Thinking “why would anyone do this to themselves?” (our first attempt at making the kitchardi was pretty much a fail and it tasted terrible) Then day two got a little easier, I basically sequestered myself in my office and didn’t really talk with anyone. Day three, Mike says something to me about setting an intention for the cleanse. I’m like, “intention? hhmmmmm… intention…” so I thought about it.

Day four I started my cycle and caught a cold. Day five I got my immunization shots for my trip. Both of these things added a little more pressure on the unpleasantness button. All the while I was thinking about my intention. I thought about it through drinking a half a cup of Flax seed oil. I thought about it as I ate another bowl of Kitchardi, as I gulped down bitter herbs and rubbed oil all over my body. I thought about it as I resisted the daytime snacks and the coffee and the after work glass of wine. I thought about it and thought about it. Intention… And then came the day of the purge.

I had gotten up about 5am so that I could drink the castor oil and get through most of the unpleasantness before I taught class at 9:30 and then a restorative workshop at 11. I read through the directions carefully and followed all the steps. Carefully. It was now 7:30 and nothing. I felt sick. Like the flu and stepped in and was slapping me around. I hadn’t pooped in days so I knew that if it didn’t happen soon I was probably going to die. Literally. I tried everything. Belly massage, jumping jacks, childs pose… and then it happened. I will spare you most of the details but what was coming out of me was unlike anything I had ever imagined. So gross. And so I’m sitting there as my insides are flowing into the porcelain throne, thinking, “what the hell was my intention?”

Later that day, as I started to feel better – lighter, it finally came to me. Throughout the week I had cut out the distractions, taking things out of my day that weren’t really supporting what I wanted to do with my life and my practice. And it wasn’t that hard once the decision was made to do it. Yes there were moments when I just wanted a handful of cheddar pirate booty or a mini butterfinger but for the most part it wasn’t that hard. Eventually it brought things back into focus. A place of knowing that I can create the conditions needed to support my practice and my life. And I am so incredibly GRATEFUL.

The organization of things has been keeping my mind occupied. Packing, moving, filing files; working files, you know… for work. Not just my day job but my side job… side jobs. So last night, as I waited for things to copy from there to there, I drifted back to the reason for all of this… oh man (ma) India!

What to pack!?? Yoga clothes – check. Favorite pair of pants – check. T-shirt – check. (have a feeling I will be wearing that T-shirt quite often) Probably some underwear… no need for socks. What about feminine hygiene? Dental floss? Fingernail clippers? Should I bring an eye pillow? Light vs dark colors? Have a shall…

Four weeks from today I will be on a plane… a jet plane! Jai!

It’s nice sometimes, to have a hot bowl of soup. Get a chance to slow down; sit, let the warmth seep through. Soup. Nourishment. It’s so simple, so easy. Leftover soup, often more flavorful than the first go around, heat it up in a pan and enjoy. All the ingredients have had time to fully meld together. Makes the place smell nice; stove heats the room a little – conditions are right. Times like these are ones to keep in the memory rolodex; the simplicity in taking a moment and enjoying something. Often, when we are presented with the opportunity to actually slow down and sit, it’s not as voluntary or enjoyable as this.

After living in the same place for nearly a … long time, the handle on the door to the back porch had begun to deteriorate.  This hadn’t been a problem until the other night when it finished it’s deterioration and denied my re-entry. No way. I have stuff to do… places to be! I was stuck on the porch. Hmmm.

I was able to get a call out and eventually help was on the way. Phew. No problem, I will have a seat. After all, it was completely out of my control. I sat. Not a lot that I could do… pacing, thoughts of breaking the door, sit.  Perhaps it was the fact that I didn’t have much choice in the matter or that I knew the door would open eventually, but in the end I did choose to sit, be still … and it felt good… it took a minute though.

The weekend continued in this way, ripple effects of changing plans, altering the course. Nothing seemed to pan out. It was as if my brain, was deteriorating like that damn door handle. The more I tried to open the door, the more stuck I felt. Several times, having to return to a seated position. After some time and effort, I chose to sit, like left over soup, and let the ingredients meld together…

In other news

India – been dreaming about it. It’s right around the corner! My friend Lars and I will be traveling together. We both practice at yoga shala Spokane and in about six weeks we will be walking the streets of Mysore. Been chatting about apartments and things to pack. Prepping. It’s all coming so fast!

… and I recalled the sound – you had played the rhythm on my knee… together, right, left, right, together. I was wearing my cowboy boots. And as I swaggered down the sidewalk – listening to the street performers, I suddenly imagined myself dancing with you to a slow country groove…

I decided to start getting rid of a few things. So much crap I have been packing around with me for the majority of my life. A good portion being stuff that really didn’t matter much to me at all. Boring things like financial records and such. Sure, interesting to a degree but not necessary and certainly a bit of a weight. Then there was another set of stuff. Journals, letters, pictures. One box. Holding the hopes and dreams of a person I no longer identified with. I wanted to let her go so I decided to burn it all; from bank statements to the words of a longing dreamer.

I figured by burning them I would feel less like her, this person I decided I didn’t want to be anymore. As the boxes emptied, I found receipts from most every milestone in my life. Car payments for the old Honda, hospital bills from check-ups to car accidents, vacations, moving to and from New Mexico, pay stubs from Murphy’s pizza in Ronan, Montana and well, a majority of things I had experienced in my life. It was interesting and even a bit nostalgic. Then the letters. The journals.

Glancing at the words, I saw her, a version of me. So much sadness, a longing dreamer. And as I flipped through my past and tossed the pages, pictures and letters into the flames, I realized something, she wasn’t that bad. I wasn’t that bad. That there was also a lot of love, creativity, hopes and dreams. I still have dreams. Always have hopes and dreams. Keeping that part of me alive while trying something new… cultivating compassion for my past and my present.

It was intense. Sitting there in front of the fire, so close to the flames. Beads of sweat rolled down my cheeks. So hot. Ultimately it felt good. Burning things I had held on to for so long. To know that I didn’t need to carry all that with me anymore. Physically or psychologically. That my past didn’t have to define me as I am today. Those memories, those pieces of me were given space, recognized and honored. Not forgotten.

And so, currently I sit in this seemingly new place. Planning. Preparing. Yet it’s as if it has been sitting inside of me my whole life. My true self has been knocking at the door of this existence the entire time. Waiting. And although I don’t know where it’s all going to take me or even who that true self really is, in the end… I’m ready.

Here it is… the Visa.

As I was filling out the paper work I got all nervous. Like somehow I was about to embark on some secret mission and if I didn’t fill everything out just right I would end up being taken away to some secret holding cell, poor lighting and a constantly dripping faucet. More simply, that I would be denied a visa and never see India’s sacred soil. As it turns out, it has been shown that I am an individual that can fill out paper work, pay a fee and trust that the good people of FedEx (and Trasvisa Outsourcing) can both deliver and return my precious passport with a fully valid visa. Thank you , thank you very much.

So… taking the leap, traipsing across the globe… trying not to freak out…

The last year or so has been a fairly trying one. In a good way. Life I suppose. A cracking open of sorts. An opening to a different level of understanding of myself and the world around me. What better time to jump in the deep end? Continue to peal back the layers of habitual conditioned learning? Stand in the fire and heal from the inside. And… have some curry while I’m at it.