"work with me" says heart

January 14, 2016 - Daily Notes

"So basically you are doing two full-time jobs plus another part-time job," said my primary care physician.

It was my annual visit and she is thorough. This came at the end of a series of questions designed to get at the possible underlying cause of the edgy feeling I've had for two weeks. My blood pressure is perfectly calm. Pulse strong and vibrant. Lungs working beautifully. Nothing a doctor can measure is imbalanced. My body is healthy. 

This tense anxious feeling? Apparently it does not originate in my heart. I started to explain where exactly I feel it. In my head. The vibration travels down my spinal column before it branches to my limbs. My ears constantly hear it, a high-pitched ring.

"Let's keep an eye on it, if it doesn't resolve in a couple of weeks then give me a call," she smiled. "I think it's stress. See if you can reduce it."

Today and tomorrow I hope to write the marketing and business plan for the launch of Issue Two of Lucia. I am beyond excited. I don't know exactly how it will get done, though. The likelihood is I will spend Saturday and Sunday working on Lucia because today I have PR clients to attend to. Media to pitch. Research to do. Calls to make. A living to procure for myself. Or at least, February's rent. Then there are taxes. Bills to pay. Emails to answer. And it's my night to teach yoga at the women's shelter, one of my favorite things. I know you know. We all have things.

The independent magazine business is wholly different than I envisioned it being one year ago today, when Lucia was an idea beginning to take form. I am still finding my feet. This struggle to be creative during the week while needing to manage the practical, the organizational, the tangible, the everyday work--I am not alone in it. I find comfort in my artist friends who tell me their experience is similar. "Managing" time requires headspace. "Creative" time requires heart space. One must be like a ninja during the week if she is to jump between to the two and not lose her footing.

This morning I looked at the watercolors I've been painting since August. When I painted them, I was not in my head at all, I was painting from a deeper place. I put my hand on my heart, closed my eyes, and listened. 

"Work with me," heart said. "I am here for you."

The exquisite tool that is my brain has been trying to run the show for the past two weeks. Gathering momentum, the juggling act of plans, schedules, ideas, dreams...it does so much. It's quite an instrument, but it can not work alone. It needs heart to ground, shelter, feel, and guide. Heart is what can make everything brain imagines into real.

I am teaching the two to work in tandem. It is a practice.

How do you do it?

xo
laura

the drive to dance

January 12, 2016 - Daily Notes

Both of my big toes have little bruises. I wouldn't trade them for the world. They come from dancing on Monday nights.

We were born to move. My niece was even dancing in her ultrasound, my sister said. So I guess we do it before we're born, too.

I still miss someone, so last night I took myself back to salsa lessons. Life keeps expanding no matter who shows up or doesn't and we have to keep dancing. It is the only way to live.

This third round of classes (I'm in "2b" now) brings a whole new circle of people, some familiar, others new. We are all learning and what I love most is the diverse experience of dancing with different people each time the instructors say "next partner," and the inner circle shifts clockwise one notch. Everything changes except the music.

Some of the leads I danced with last night were really good. Others are still learning basics. One could barely keep time to four beats in a row, let alone eight. I absolutely loved dancing with him, though, because he smiled the entire time. I smiled back. He was being brave. He was taking "2b" after only having one salsa lesson ever in his life. The drive to dance is strong.

I stayed after class to practice with a new friend who asked me. My toes were starting to feel the pressure of having danced for an hour in barely-broken-in shoes, but I told him "I'll stay for 30 minutes" and he agreed. We practiced the moves we'd just learned. Over and over he would twirl me in close, then lead me into an outside turn, then we'd do a move our instructors call "Macarena Muffintop." You sort of do the Macarena, then the follow (that's me) stands behind the lead and puts her hands on his waist for a few steps, holding on tight before the lead pulls her back out in front of him for a turn. "Muffintop is the shape our waists make after the holidays," the instructor explained. Everyone laughed. 

It is Tuesday now and my toes are tender. Rubbing them gently with arnica and sesame oil, I closed my eyes and felt my heart beat. A small sigh escaped my chest, content that for this moment, I am living fully. I am learning to dance.

xo
laura

love letters

January 10, 2016 - Daily Notes

When was the last time you received a love letter? When was the last time you wrote one?

I penned one last night. A reply, after having spent the entire day subconsciously preparing myself for the act. Truthfully, the last two weeks were spent preparing for it. Matters of the heart are often so tender every word feels potentially life-altering. The words we choose matter. And they don't. And they do.

First, a morning acupuncture appointment. "Yes, your pulse does feel a bit wiry," she agreed, showing me pressure points on my feet that would soothe this mysterious onset of edginess. Mysterious only if one does not happen to mention that she plans to respond to a heartfelt love letter later in the day.

Then procrastination--er, preparations--began in earnest. I stopped for my favorite coffee on the way home. I wrote a blog post about a new book of poetry. I looked around my house and decided I MUST CLEAN EVERYTHING before I can do anything. So I did. Everything includes the toilet, the shower, the refrigerator (eek!), the laundry (all items), and the vacuuming (all rooms). When those were done, I decided I must clean myself. Every candle in the house lit, all the lights off. I showered. I meditated. I called on angels, guardians, muses and guides...especially lighthearted ones...to come and help me.

At 8:30pm, I sat down to write.

A draft first. Short notes to guide writing the send-worthy version and make sure I say the most important things. I used a purple uniball because all of my black pens are out of ink. I did my best to write not too much, not too little. Each sentence was honest and true. I considered how it might be received. I made each word count. I asked a personal question without apologizing for it. I wrote from my heart. 

This feels alive, this willingness to be vulnerable (thoughtfully so). Maybe the objective is not to "make a relationship work." Maybe it's bigger than that. Maybe the higher aspiration when it comes to loving another person is to try to understand and then communicate what is in our own hearts and listen to what is in theirs. If we do this, over and over, and if we receive the same in return...well...that is what makes true love sustainable.

Meeting a soulmate, falling head over heels from the very first moment, it does happen. And it's beautiful. I've seen it, dozens of times. Living happily ever after? That's trickier. I think love letters may have something to do with it. 

Have you written one lately?

xo
laura