Lazy or liberated?

This article totally inspired me today, as did a conversation with one of my closest girl friends, and an awesome CST session I had a couple of weeks ago.

I love the synchronicity of everything because when I try to find a “starting” point for this story, I could just keep going and going and going back. But I have to stop (er…start) somewhere.

I had a friend call saying she was auditing a CST course and they needed volunteers for practice sessions on the last day. I of course went and was lucky enough to be paired with my friend, who I have shared amazing healing sessions with in the past.

The session was wonderful, though I didn’t walk away feeling profoundly changed or moved right away. This is sort of my M.O. – it usually takes a bit for things to fall into place for me.

The few days after the session I was sleeping like crap. Mind racing, laying in bed so fucking tired physically, but with a mind that felt like I’d just drank 4 cups of coffee. It was awful. It didn’t even occur to me that it’d have anything do with the session until a couple of days in. Of course it did. My body was totally processing all of the shit that had come up. Derp. I texted my friend, who suggested some rescue remedy and epsom salt soaks. I also grabbed a homeopathic for sleep while I was at it. That night, I slept like a baby after a little bit of self care.

During that same time I had a profound experience with a placenta. I brought it home and felt very heavy in my heart as I was setting it out on my table. I couldn’t tell why and thought maybe I was just being emotional since I hadn’t been sleeping well, maybe I was about to start my period, whatever. Bull shit excuses. My logical mind trying to make sense of the fact that I literally sat down next to the placenta, hand on top of it, bawling like a baby.

I dropped the finished placenta off and forgot to include the placenta print I had made. This prompted mama to share with me that she would be grateful to have the print as she had miscarried a twin early on, but had not passed the twin – it had fused to the placenta. THAT was exactly what I was feeling. The essence of that sweet baby who was there and gone all too soon.

Now – the first thing that hit me was why had I not shared my experience with the mom right off the bat? I had judgments about her that made me uncomfortable to share with her. I was embarrassed at my experience. I lacked confidence that I had felt anything “real” that would make sense to her. All kinds of shit like that was coming up for me, specifically related to more feminine aspects of myself that I wasn’t honoring as valid experiences. I was uncomfortable with myself, and I was doing that thing we all do when we’re uncomfortable – blaming it on the woman (me) being “too emotional”, “too sensitive”, “it must be that time of the month”, etc. What the fuck is that?

Also in this time we had some couch surfers request to stay. My boyfriend asked what I thought and my instant reaction was “No”, but then I felt bad. I felt like I “should” host them. That I “should” give them somewhere safe to sleep. That I’d want to someone to do that for me so I don’t want to put out “bad travel karma” by not doing it for someone else. I was feeling very emotional (it was the same day as the placenta) and like I was processing all kinds of things, but I didn’t honor that at all. A friend pointed out that if I had been physically ill I wouldn’t have hesitated to turn the travelers down. Why did I not have the same respect for what I was experiencing energetically? And why did I feel such responsibility for these travelers? Like I’m the only fucking host in Phoenix? That their salvation is in my hands? What a load!

As my boyfriend was texting these travelers back I said, “Ok, but tell them that they can’t come until after 9 or something. No. No, wait a minute – just tell them the truth. Tell them we’re fine with them sleeping here, but we are not up for company or hanging out.”

At least my throat chakra came out for a minute there.

Even that – why was my first instinct to lie? Why not just be honest? Who am I trying to impress? Whose feelings am I worried about hurting? What the fuck is my deal?

The travelers ended up coming, and it was ok, but we definitely shouldn’t have hosted them. It wasn’t about the travelers. It was about me and my total lack of regard for what was best for me. I even made assumptions about how my boyfriend felt. I assumed he wanted to host the travelers, and I didn’t want to disappoint him by saying I didn’t want to. In reality – he didn’t give a fuck. He would’ve been happy to do or not do whatever felt good to me.

And “Bad travel karma”? That is such bull shit. Karma isn’t tit for tat. And maybe karma is bull shit to begin with. But even so – you get back what you give, although I don’t believe it’s in the sense that the universe is keeping score. It’s not host a traveler and be hosted. Hold a door open for someone and someone will hold a door open for you. It’s ┬ádo good things and good things will happen to you. In general.

Speaking more to the article I posted above, which is titled “Puzzle Pieces: Letting Relationships End” – this is a belief that has made sense to me for a while.

I totally believe that some people come into my life for a very specific purpose, to inspire a great action, to teach a lesson, to nurture me through a difficult time and then we drift apart. Sometimes dramatically, especially if one person is not wanting to let go, wanting to make sense of it all, etc. ┬áMostly it’s totally natural. There’s no big event, there’s not even anywhere you can really pin point “the end”. It just happened.

Take my marriage for example: it was with my then husband’s support that I was able to dive head first into the unknown and become self employed as a doula. It was becoming a doula that made me realize how much in my life that I believed was total crap, and he did too. We changed our eating habits, phased chemicals (cleaning stuff and personal products) out of and off of our bodies, went to our first yoga class together, meditated for the first time together, became profoundly changed people, together.

Now, that’s not to say that our relationship didn’t end dramatically (it did), but looking back – it totally makes sense to me now and I’m grateful we were together, and am just as grateful that we’re apart now because in the end we were holding each other back and would’ve continued to do so.

A few weeks ago I made a list of the things that were flowing in my life and the things that were feeling resistant. The resistant list was very short, and the flowing list was long. Though often it can feel the opposite because the resistant things feel so much heavier, and they tend to be the things we talk about the most. Ever since that sort of realization I have been consciously putting my energy towards the things that are going well, and spending much less energy on things that are not going well. It might sound silly, but some examples are not getting caught in negative threads on facebook, not reading the comments at the end of articles, not replying to some strange emails I’ve received (where a response would’ve been pointless anyway), not pursuing relationships that have fizzled, etc. Maybe that’s lazy, but I don’t care.

It’s totally liberating.

 

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Pissing In strange places

As I sit here, about to head home after 6 weeks away, I’m reflecting on two common themes from this trip: pissing in weird places and sleeping in weird places.

I have pissed:
-in a hotel room sink in Vernazza
-in Tupperware in London
-In a cashew jar in London
-on the lawn of a fancy hotel, Guerilla style, in Milan
-in a drinking glass that I periodically dumped into the grass outside my sleeping quarters in London
-in a home made tin foil funnel feeding into a kombucha bottle in the back of a four runner in a train station parking lot (attempted, but failed)

I have slept:
-on a futon in Brooklyn
-on a bed in Manchester
-on a boat floating on the Thames river
-on a sectional couch in Greenwich
-in a loft bed in Rome
-in a 300 year old stone wall apartment in Tuscany
-on a foam pad in Copenhagen
-a futon identical to mine in Germany
-in a “tool shed” in London
-on a sofa bed nest in new haven

We have experienced such amazing things on this trip, the most important and memorable being all of the relationships we formed, and the open arm welcomes we got everywhere we stayed. It was very humbling. The kindness we received is unforgettable.

Huge thanks to all of the people who made this trip possible – it was a group effort!

-Todd, for taking us to the airport
-Matt, for letting us crash at his apartment in NYC
-James, for giving us his bed and showing us the best time ever in Manchester
-Sally, for letting us couch surf in London
-Alexandra and Paolo, for taking us in like family in Tuscany
-Klaus and Viktor for showing us around Copenhagen and housing us
-Our beautiful German friends for pampering us in Wettenburg
-Sarah, for giving us her bed in Stockholm, sharing her box of wine, and giving us her bus pass
-Melissa, for the nest, the great company, and the naughty professor Tumblr page
-Prikryl, for driving us to Boston, for finding Twisted Fork, for the book, and for being all around the most delightful, genuine person ever.
-Marissa and Anthony for taking us in on our last night!
-roomies for taking care of the birdies
-Denise, for taking us home from the airport
-Stacie, for picking up and starting a placenta for me!

Tea Salons & $14 McDonald’s breakfast

Day 24 Tuesday, October 1st Stockholm

This morning we got up ass early and boarded our train for Stockholm. The dollar is so weak here – we got breakfast at McDonalds and it cost the equivalent of $14. Crazy, right?

Our train was super swank. It looked like a train car out of an IKEA catalog. Even the bathroom was super nice. The ride over was beautiful:

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We went to our couch surfer’s house to drop off our bags and her place was so cute:

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Then we went into town to go to a tea salon that we read about in a magazine. It is located within a super swanky interior design shop. I fucking loved it. And it was one of the best afternoon teas we’ve ever had. On the bottom was dark rye toast topped with mayo, shrimp, hard boiled egg, fennel and lemon juice. That was one of the best things ever. In the middle were two hot out of the oven scones with lemon curd. And on top were three petit fours: dark chocolate & ginger, pistachio, and ginger merengue. And thanks to our weak ass dollar, it was only $72!

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Afterwards we walked around Stockholm and it was one of the most beautiful cities we’ve seen. Very surprising. We were so glad we were there since Stockholm had been a super last minute add on. We were just enchanted walking around. So lovely.

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Then we headed home and hung out with our host, Sarah, and had the best time ever. She is super fantastic and was so helpful. She even slept on the couch and gave us her bed.

A Secret Garden

Day 12 Thursday, September 19th London

Went back to Black Vanilla today for more euphoria via their gelato. I took these adorable pictures of my boyfriend as he was sitting in the window people watching

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and this one, while we were walking to the VodaPhone store

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We left Bill’s and went to meet our couch surfing host, Sally, who lives on a boat. Look how cute her boat is!

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She had little vignettes like this in every nook and cranny

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This is our sleeping nest

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We walked through an absolutely beautiful park that had a little secret garden in the middle

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And then we had dinner at The Yellow House. Everything is freshly made in house. Kris’ pizza was insane and our dessert was so delicious – fudgy brownie with home made white chocolate ice cream on top.

Afterwards we went back and hung out on the boat with Sally and her neighbor, Dave. Dave was awesome. He totally “got” us. He used to work for Exon and made tons of money and traveled the world, but soon realized that he was just another robot, totally expendable and meaningless. He quit, bought a boat, went back to school and did lots of traveling. He has a house in Brighton and invited us there on our way back through England.

It was such a fun scene on the boat – crammed in this tiny space, drinking wine, listening to Billie Holiday on the record player, talking about world travels and the meaning of life.