Thursday, January 12, 2012

There is some sort of life beyond this...

I haven't just "blogged" it out in a while... last night as laid awake in bed at 1:30 in the morning, with my brain on over drive, that was the one thought I held onto... so here I am.

I just finished another rewrite on my book, after some feedback. Next month it will be two years I've been working on this novel and its only the 1st in the series. Currently, the second one is a whole 9 pages long, but you have to start somewhere... it's hard, finding time I mean. To blog is one thing, I'm on here for maybe an hour, as my son runs in and out of the room asking me questions like "What sound does a T make, mama?" But to really write is a whole other barrel of pickles... I would talk about this more, but I feel talking and doing never go hand in and for me. Hopefully the next time I find a moment to just vent away on here I'll have more to report.

No, I will have more to report. Oh, the decisions we have to make to move forward with our lives. ;)

One thing I have been doing is keeping up with my journal. Finding a cozy spot for it in the daily routine has been nice. Back in '09 when I started writing in the journal I'm still using, my entries were there to lift the depression I was in. I wasn't here (in L.A.), still in Cleveland thinking I'd never get here - my hope dripping away like water in a leaky faucet. There were a small group of people I thought I couldn't live without in my life who had left - having a child changes everything.

Even a year ago the transition of this new life just beginning was a strain at times.
Dreams looked more like the summit or an unbelievably large mountain, covered in snow and blustery storms - so very unreachable.
I had only been teaching about a year, and the book was a year in and never going to be finished - let alone queried or read by another living soul. And that was when I found a new yoga gig, for the first time it was in yoga studio. (It is the only time I've ever worked in a studio, I'm a bird of my own coloring - I like to dance to my own tune.)

I had one class, in all the time there, that I didn't have students, it was the very first day I worked - 1/20/11 - it snowed and I sat alone in the heated studio surrounded by candles and incense - waiting.

While no one came I wrote this:

There is some sort of life beyond this
An unseen world I have yet to meet
Filled with laughter and stories I'll remember
Till the end of my days

There is a world beyond this
One with tears I swore I'd never shed again
So salty and scornful 
they burn my cheeks

There is a world out side of this
This one I love so deeply
One I'll remember fondly
down the road

There is a world beyond this
Where future me looks back 
And sees this yesterday
with quiet intrigue

Ah, yes, a world I can see
One that I have breathed
But, somehow, have yet
to touch

There is a world that lies beyond
My hopes & dreams
Fears & dread
It will mold me into a new woman

A woman with long gray hair
wrinkles on her face
& my eyes

Yes, there is more
Enough to keep me going, enough to make me smile
Enough to let me know 
I need to be in this moment

Because before long, it will be gone too.

And now it's a year later.

I write on here and in my journal, because it allows me to look back and really see where I've come from. When time passes, it erodes our memory, leaving the essence of things - or the essence of what we wanted things to be. No, it's not torture - I don't go back to punish myself for being "bad" (whatever that mean) but it helps me change patterns that need to be changed. It helps me find the me that is SO buried under years of self-doubt and fears of failure - and set her free.

Free. What a lovely feeling.

I'm not there, yet, but I'm on my way and I even knew it a year ago - even if I wasn't willing to share it with anyone at the time. Let's face it, life is scary - but when you realize what the biggest things we fear   are, its much, much, much, easier to slay that Goliath. 

Press on my friends... press on. 
Enjoy every moment, even the crap ones, and I'll see you on the flip-side.


ps - the lotus flower... in meditation how you hold your hands is called a "mudra" - the Lotus Mudra, you press the outside of your pinkies and thumbs together, spreading the other fingers wide, with the bottom edge of the palm touching - this creates the flower.

I had a student who would always end her practice in Lotus Mudra, instead of Anjali Mudra (prayer hands), so I asked her why she did this. She told me, her old teacher had said, "We are all lotus flowers rising out of the mud and water, forming a beautiful flower."

Just remember, we all come from mud - and that will never mean you can not become a beautiful flower. 


  1. Aryn, I love your poem, it's so beautiful! Thanks for sharing such a deeply moving post, forward motion is always the best. We only drown when we stop moving :) I'm going to tuck this away in my heart strings. <3

  2. Hmm...I have lived that day, maybe even the same studio...thanks for sharing your beautiful thoughts :)

  3. Kerri - how true, about drowning. You may stumble, and you may fall - but as long as you keep going, it usually works out :)

    Jen - You're very welcome :)