Un-Bloomed

I try everything,

And nothing.

I choose both,

And none.

By not fully being

In any place,

I watch,

Observe,

Outside,

Seeing them grow, change, build together.

I stay here,

Watching.

Safe

Solitary

Alone.

In this cocoon,

Unborn.

In this bud,

Un-bloomed.

Til I Return Home

These plastic, shrink-wrapped thighs and painted faces.
These cubicles and cookie-cutter places.
They suck me.
They drain me.
With their fluorescent blaring lights.
My soul screams.
It begins to take notice.
It tightens, it shakes, it tingles.
This is not it.
So much energy to bring my presence.
To strengthen
To stand strong.
To know myself.
To love myself.
And stay rooted
To the Earth from which I came.
Which supports me, which grounds me
Which calls me, my name.
Remember who you are.
Be in it.
Own it.
Do not shrink your voice, your message, your song.
But that longing for the place I belong
It’s there, it’s real, it won’t be too long.
Til I return home.

Do Not Let Yourself Be Tamed

Do not let yourself be tamed. Do not shrink down in fear and hurt and shame. Feel it. Feel all of it and know. This is not the end. This is part of the process, part of who you are and what you are becoming. You are enough as you are so be true and listen. Listen. Listen. Do what is in you to do. Say what is in you to say. Be who is in you to be. Do not let yourself be tamed. Be wild and free in this world that seeks to tether you. To name you. To brand you. To call you by name. You are nameless. Timeless. Your every word and action, color, shape, sound. Let it out. Get it out. Put it out there. Do not hold back. Do not let yourself be  tamed.

11:13 PM Friday February 23rd 2018
Summit NJ
After watching FRIDA.

Bruja Life

As I was writing the last post, I hear a young girl on the main floor of the library (I am sitting on the second story, open-floor scheme balcony) talking about paranormal psychology, lights flickering being spirits communicating and she is asking the librarian to help her with her search. She is high-energy, fidgety, she gets up and runs around the center island, jumps into the librarian's seat and begins to search for on the computer. "Who is this girl?", I think to myself. What a character. The librarian comes back, reminding the girl, "You know, you're not supposed to do that." "I know, I know, I just really want to find these books!" The librarian asks again, "So what exactly do you want to search for?" "Paranormal psychology, or maybe, like, I don't know if that will show up, so maybe spirits, ghosts, something like that. I know, I know, it's weird, like, you don't usually hear 14-year-olds talking about these sort of things, but I just love it." I think to myself, I know all about these things. This girl is psychic, this girl has got it and she's so young. I know what she's looking for. Go. I get up, leave my things at my chair and head down to speak with her.

I walk up to them, "I overheard you all talking and I thought I would come down and offer to point you in the right direction." They both smiled and gasped and were surprised by my clarity and confidence. "Are you a scientist?" the girl asked, hands cupped over her cheeks in excitement. Her pink-rimmed glasses laid gently on her flawless milky white skin, I remember those days. She was tall, slim and wore a black and white patterned shirt, long and flowing over jeans. I liked her style. She was probably wearing converse, just like me. "No, I'm not." Ohhh, disappointment crossed their faces. "Are you a psychologist?" They were interested to figure out just who I was and why I had chosen to come up to them. "No, I'm not." Again, puzzled.  "I'm a teacher. I teach yoga, meditation, and was a school teacher for many years. Now I'm beginning to do work related to this field, kind of transitioning, it's what I do." "What do you mean it's what you do?" the neatly dressed librarian asked me. She appeared to be of my age or a bit older, her crisp collared shirt fit perfectly into her cardigan and her long, blonde hair, dyed highlights slightly grown in caressed her shoulders. Perfectly put together, this is suburban New Jersey.

"I mean, well yoga has been my entry-way into the world of energy, of spirit, and I've done a lot of reading on it, right now I'm beginning to see how I can use this and share it." "Oh my god, so cool! I am super interested in all this stuff like when I'm thinking of a song and it comes on the radio, or thinking of a person and I see them, like witchcraft and.." the girl moves her body about and twists and fidgets her hands. "Yes, that is what I do." "You're a witch?" "Well, we all are really, we all have the power to pick up on these symbols and things that are around us all the time, just some of us are more sensitive to it and more able to pick up on these things." The librarian chimes in, "Really? Why is it that these things happen? Like I was thinking about Tom Paddley and then a few days later I ran into Tom Paddley." "Yes, exactly, because you created it or you knew it was going to happen." Her head rocked back on her neck, she thought, it seemed she had never heard or thought of this before. "What? That's amazing!" the teenage witch-in-training exclaimed. You're amazing, I thought. How cool.

"Come on, I'll show you the books." And the story begins.

Keepin' it Together

What is this lurking cloud, this storm-like blackness that dulls and seeps and downpours over me? My throat clenches as my head tingles and chest burns. It's still here. Well I guess I haven't done anything differently. It's like I'm fleeing the moment instead of sitting calmly and patiently in it. When I sit in  here, quietly, calmly, peacefully, knowing. All is well. But there's this switch, the mental noise, a trigger, memories, habits, on repeat. Go, go, go. What is it that I run from? And why do I stay with what doesn't feel good? Why do I stay with what drains my energy? I begin to isolate and self hate. No no no! I've been here before and this is not what I choose. I choose love, I choose light, I choose togetherness, I choose community, I choose open, honest communication, I choose emotion, to e-mote, honesty, integrity, responsibility. I choose to align myself with individuals and community who value what I value and who seek to grow in love, seek to grow in light, seek to grow in opportunity and creativity and hope. For a better world, a better place.

I choose to love myself, to honor myself, to move towards what feels right. To leave behind all that does not serve me.

Taking Back Power

I am angry. I am pissed. I am frustrated and furious. That I was walking the Camino and let a series of distractions and emotionally-based decisions bring me half-way across the world (it's not the first time either), back to where I started, where I came from; back to my hometown in Summit, New Jersey. And not just my hometown, but a spare bedroom in my parent's house. I am furious with myself. I am back here - no job, no money, no idea what it is to do next. I feel I am scrambling but yet know this is all part of a process. There are places I'm revisiting, things that are coming back around, I see it, I feel it, and I observe. I have been making the same decisions and choose to be free of this.

I am tired of the drama, the manipulation, the heartache, the searching. I desire peace, calm, security, and responsibility. I don't want to run away any longer. I want to make the choices to do the things that are in my heart, and listen and live wholeheartedly, to show up bravely for this life that I have been given. To consciously create a life of abundance and love. I open up to it.

And the truth is because not doing so hurts. It hurts so badly. When you go against your heart, when you don't trust, when you don't allow your heart to dream and your mind to imagine, when you do not let go and so fall back into old ways of being, living, seeing.  There is so much discomfort in it. So so much. And sometimes I just allow myself to sit in it, for too long, for too much, the victim, instead of fighting. Fighting with all I've got, for a better life, a better place, a more suitable situation. I tend to judge this whole process, the sitting here in this place with these feelings, like I'm stunting myself, like I'm doing everything all wrong, like I'm not in the right place and I just want to run and run and run.

I guess that's why I'm back here in a way. To learn to see what I did not see before. To accept. To forgive. To be easy with myself and the people around me. To be in a place with the people who challenge me most, the surroundings that challenge me most, and choose to see not the obstacles but the opportunities. To turn inward, into myself, with my breath, my source, my light, to learn to ground myself, take care of myself, maintain my own practices despite the circumstances. To be grateful for all of this experience and all that it serves to teach me. To embody and accept all that I am and let it shine out, not concerned with what anyone else thinks. To stop comparing my life and my journey to anyone else around me, because it is just not the same. To love myself, to trust myself, to listen to all that I am and all that I desire and to quit waiting and wishing and hoping. To live it and to be it. To fight for myself and this life I've been given. One day at a time. One moment at a time. Each and every breath.

Choices that Can Change Your Life

                                                                    Relevant.
Live an integrous life.
Wisdom or Woe. Your choice.
Take risks - How many of our greatest fears have actually really happened? How many of the most wonderful things that happened to us did we actually have anything to do with? Don't take the safe path, don't look backwards for guidance. Be in the newness.
Choose new words. Lethal: Entitled, Blame, Deserve. Remove them! Bless each day.

Mind Chatter

Friday, February 9th, 2018

I'm barely making it out of bed. Yes, it's like that. Negative thoughts, helpless feelings, I'm doing what I can but man I was not expecting this. Though I do accept full responsibility, for putting myself here, again. So I get myself up, pull the covers back.

I play my meditation three times round because the chatter of my mind distracts me from actually paying attention to my body. I clench my hands and my body tightens, why can't I relax? What is all of this trying to tell me. I finally manage to listen to what the soft, soothing voice is saying. All is well, a divine white light heals me and cleanses me, offers guidance. Need that, a lot of it now. What am I doing back here? To learn. Take care, Lauren, take care.

I get out of bed, shower, walk to the bus. I wait in this cold. I wait. I call the hospital to see what my options are for getting my knee checked out. Nothing. Not a New Jersey resident, can't do anything. This is America. The bus arrives. I dump $1.60 in change into the meter. I haven't rode the bus in so long. I enjoy this new yet old experience. I remember.

"Have a good day ma'am," comments the driver, as I make my way off the bus. "You, too!" I call back to him. I wonder if his day was as heavy as mine; if he had to drag himself out of bed, repeat over and over to himself affirmations of why he's here and what is good and positive about his life. And maybe it's even worse. Does everybody do this? Man, it's wild.

I arrive a few minutes late to the building. The woman sees me and asks, "Meditation?" "Yes, I am a bit late and not sure if I can still go." "Yea, no problem, they are just starting, go right up." I had read about a mindfulness meditation group that met as this community center in downtown Summit and I decided to join their sit that Friday morning. All quiet, bringing attention back to the breath, calm, silence, observation. My mind raced, it screamed, my body wanted to run, I felt my eyes were moving back and forth, so much pent up energy, so many ideas running into and out of, this was intense. Extreme. Almost unbearable. When asked our experience at the end, I shared how challenging it was especially with everything going on in my life at the moment. She responded, "All that is going on is what we call our 'life story', because the truth is it is not happening right now. It is useful to watch it, to see it, and know that it does not exist in this moment." She was right, of course, but it didn't make it any easier. It didn't make all the wild, racing, shaking, crushing thoughts any lighter. When I opened my eyes, it helped. It grounded me in way. It was not easy to come back from it. That place, the groundlessness, that chaos of the mind.

If I remember correctly, this tends to happen in winter. Especially around the time I get my period - senses elevated, visions clearer, more attuned to the happenings. This is what it means to be human. This is what it means to be female. This is what it means to be alive. This is all a natural part of the process and we walk around in these bodies, playing these games, pretending that it's all okay. I've got to remember, this is Life, Lauren. This is all just a part of this Matrix, these games that we play. When I can begin to recognize it as it is and not get too stuck all up in it, then I can sit back and enjoy instead of fighting against what it is and thinking I need to change it and there's so many problems with it and blah blah blah. Life is suffering and everyone feels it, if you didn't you wouldn't be alive. But what do you choose to focus on, what do you bring more of into your life, from where do you wish to operate? MY friend said to me, "Do not compare other people's outward experiences to your inner experience." Man, that is powerful. This is just life, really. And the fighting, pushing, pulling is all just me not accepting it and fighting fighting fighting.

And I forget, what about what I stand for? Instead of fighting what I don't like and giving my attention to it, what do I want more of? What do I want to feel? Where do I want to spend time? What do I want to do? Focus my vision on that - what I love, what is good, what I am blessed with. And go towards that. Go towards light, love, a celebration of life.

I like to dance, I like to sing, I like to be outside, I like the sun, I like my friends, I like to see new things, go new places, I like to chill and relax (though that feeling seems a bit elusive at the moment). I want to feel that calm and peace again. Where did it go? I want to just be okay with things just as they are right now and stop beating myself up for never doing or being enough. I want to be kind, be gentle, be encouraging. I want to feel love. I want to share love. I want to melt into it.

So yea, all of this was probably happening in my head during the meditation, you see what I mean? To say that the day was challenging is accurate. It was not one where I was focused on all the abundance but rather on how can you help me and I need to be helped sort of thing. Pity party. Oh, my life sucks because I just came back from a life-changing experience and got to travel across my favorite country and am not sure how to begin from zero again since I didn't make any plans for my future self. IT's all you, Lauren. All you.

It's Life, Lauren

Written 1.26.18

"So how's the week been?" Terry asks as she walks over to me, light-blue sweater, pink turtle neck, thin-rimmed glasses and smile splashed across her face. Her short gray hair a bit disheveled after the class we just took. She is just so adorable, I thought to myself. I hope to be as happy as she is at her age. I didn't want to share with her all the turmoil I had put myself through this week, I dared to put it lightly. "It's been a rough week actually. You know the first week back is always exciting and new, revisiting, coming back..." "Then it's Reality, boom!" She says again with a chuckle, and an eye-thinning, heart-warming smile. I really didn't want to spread any gloom but she seemed receptive to hearing the truth. "Yea, exactly. I've been back for two weeks now and I feel like it's time for me to have everything in order, you know? Like have a job, be making money, have it all figured out." "Well, you've just come back from a really wonderful, life-changing experience and that is not easy to adjust from. You've left Spain, you've left the Camino..." I wondered how she remembered so much, so many details of my life, and I remember we shared such a lovely conversation last week at the library after I shared with the class that I had just returned from my walk. She used my name, Lauren, and spoke in a soft, slow voice. "Take your time, there is no hurry, be patient with yourself."

I went on to share with Terry other details of the transition and how it was seeming so challenging to me, to be back at this place that I have been before physically and emotionally and thinking that I wouldn't experience it again. She shared an anecdote with me.

A few weeks ago she had a visitor, Federico, I am assuming from Spain as she shared with me her passion for it, being a retired Spanish-language teacher, and all of the connections she still maintains there. Before his visit, she was busy running around cleaning the house, getting things prepared, buying food, planning everything, and just after he left, she became sick and took a whole week to recover. Stress. She was describing all of it to the teacher one day after class and she recommended Pema Chodron's When Things Fall Apart and asked a series of questions. Do you think he knows how much stress you are under? There is no way he could understand because he is so much younger than you, in a different state of mind, and most importantly, because you did not share it with him. If you do not communicate your feelings with him, how do you expect him to know or understand?

Terry added to this that Federico and his sister visited two years ago, and she was even more exhausted after that trip. "His sister just loved to shop and shop and shop. And it's not that I wouldn't have gone with her, but it was just too much, and I'm too old, and I got tired. But because I never said anything to her, she didn't know." She went on, "So I am telling you this, Lauren, because I am seventy-seven years old and this is a journey. This is life. It's dipping your toe in, feeling it, giving it a try. It's not always going to be or to turn out as you thought but it's mostly just giving it a try and doing your best. It is a process." I started crying. She stood there before me with a huge smile on her face. "It's okay, Lauren, you are going through a lot."

I though to myself, how could she be smiling so widely when there is so much pain? How does she after all of these years and all of the things she must have felt and continues to feel, be there smiling? I just couldn't grasp it at that moment. And then I remember, she is alive. She is breathing. She is here to tell me this story. For that she is thankful. This is life.

Coming Home

I step out and onto the pavement. The sun glares at my face. The blue skies clear. The crisp air hits my nose. I’m alive. I’m out here. It seems like forever. I pull up my GPS. Lee Highway it says. I walk where I see the sign. I’m singing to myself, glad to have made it out of the manufactured tower, the hotel room turned home, the circulated air that churns and twists its way through zig-zagging pipes, mazing their ways into and out of each cubicle-like home. Concrete jungle in winter. Is there anything more depressing than this?

I searched the internet “cool neighborhoods DC”. I wanted to find the artists, the creatives, the musicians, the city art, graffiti, the dirt, real life, character, life. I read of Dupont Circle, Logan Circle, Columbia Heights, Eastern Market. And somewhere in the various articles that I skimmed through, I saw something about U Street, “The Harlem of DC”. Well since I used to live in Harlem, Harlem, like New York City Harlem, I thought to myself, “That’s it”. Uncertain as to how or where, I chose to take a twenty minute subway ride instead of an hour, besides, the point was to be outside in the fresh air, seeing and remembering life, right? So adding more minutes inside a tube soaring past stops, time traveling into the past and future, laminate seats that haven’t been updated from their funky seventies colors is just not what I’m here for.

Let me preface by saying, I’m on a visit to DC. Funded by my sister who knows me, loves me, and wants to help me out. I’ve been sinking into a sort of depression again. Well, not sort of, it’s real. I’ve been here before so it is familiar. I know what this is and it’s not a fun place to be. It takes a lot to recover and it’s a super painful process. The thing that frustrates me is I thought I was over this. I thought I wouldn’t go here again. I thought I was on the other side. And I guess the fact that I have this awareness at this moment does say something. I am able to reach out for help in ways that I did not know before. I have tools I can use with myself that I did not have before. I also have a community of people on the path of healing who know me and love me and are encouraging this process. These people who are kicking butt and taking names, who are living their truth, being authentic, and open and free with themselves and the world. That is who I want to be. And for whatever reason, I’m not there yet.

I’m sitting on the sidelines watching the game go by. I’m not playing. I’m on the team, I’m here, I’ve practiced, but I’m not putting it into action. And it’s my choice. What am I holding back for? Why am I not speaking up and standing up for myself, putting myself out there? What am I so afraid of? And it’s not just myself that I hold back, it’s the reason I’m here, my message that I stifle, it’s my divine mission, my purpose, my place here and now, my divine nature. And that shit hurts. Like, aching in my chest, shortness of breath, forgetting to breathe, mind-bursting, headache-inducing hurts

So yes, it’s like a freezing in my chest. I feel it strongly. And since I’ve began to study this world, I know it too well. The chakras. Energy. Vibration. Thought. Intention. This is all real. My heart feels wounded. And what seems to be happening is that there is a tendency to ice it over. To shield it. To cover it all up and protect myself. To retreat. To hide and go back. To curl up. To stop participating. And I know to well what this means. This is not a place I wish to return. It is death, ultimately. It is a slow but sure process of the undo-ing of your life work, your fabric, your potential. It is sitting in misery and allowing your mind to be cluttered by garbage, by useless information and “What ifs” and worse case scenarios that never actually happen.

This is for real. And it’s wild to share about, but so so necessary. As I am on this healing journey, and I know I am not alone. If you are reading this, you are probably there, too.

So I choose Logan circle and I hit the streets. I walk up to a woman to ask for a quick re-direct towards the metro, once I find my way off of the side-of-the-highway roads and am into what looks like a downtown area. She flinches a bit and steps back. Her timid eyes blinking behind her glasses as she clutches her accordion folder against her chest. Just because I want to ask a question. I choose love instead. I smile, “Hi, good morning, do you know where the nearest subway stop is?” It seems she is surprised by my friendliness, and points me around the corner towards a “detour” sign. I thank her and continue on. U street in mind. Not sure why or where, on the road.

My sister said she had charged the metro pass so I tapped it. I tapped it. I tapped it. Insufficient fare. Okay, let me go figure this out. I have no money to my name, so I charge it to a credit card that I have somehow managed to continue to pay. This is bad. Not a good situation. No money, A couple thousand dollars in debt. No job. Depression sinking in. What the hell is to come of this? I don’t know but I’m off to U Street.

I get off at Logan circle and follow the sun up the most tree-lined street I can find. There’s a park, trees, I am thankful. This city reminds me of Boston. I studied there in college and this was bringing me back. I find Vermont Avenue, an axis running diagonally, intersecting the parallel city streets, branching off and out of the the center city. There is something about the design of this place. I heard once that it mimics the layout of Paris. Not sure, but there is definitely a familiarity to it.

The letters move up the alphabet as I walk north - L - M - N. I wonder if I should be walking this much as my knee is still a bit injured from my walk across Spain. Yes, walk ACROSS Spain. The Camino de Santiago. I’ve been back for just over three weeks. This could explain a lot of what I’m going through here. Q-R-S-T. Getting closer, I can feel it. I see the lego block high rises turn to Victorian homes turn to  colorfully painted, San Francisco-esque front-yard-garden-patio-with-mix-matched-patio-furniture-and-empty-flower-pots row houses. I like this place. I begin to take pictures. I can feel it happening. Old school mixed with new school. I’m coming home. I walk up to the crossing, U Street. I’ve made it. This is just the beginning.