This Saturn Return Business is No Joke Y'all

So I've been dealing with some pretty hefty growing pains over the last few months. It's been interesting how taking responsibility for every aspect of my life is bringing out all sorts of behavior I thought was long behind me-all tried and true coping mechanisms from my party girl past. Building a business is only a part. As I get clearer and clearer of my message, I am forced to get clearer and clearer on what my life is for. Mostly what I'm experiencing is a whole lot of resistance. I see what needs to be done, I map it out, I have a vision; but I can't for the life of me get into action. Can you relate? I'm finally getting my act together, but it took me getting so SICK of myself that I finally couldn't avoid it anymore.

Good thing I can blame it on my Saturn Return. (Click the links, it's some juicy astrological tish, yo).

Back to the growth spurt. My ego is one fucked up asshole sometimes, no lie. It's doing everything it can to distract me from all the actions I know I need to be taking, to forward all the grown up aspects of my life (finances, career, home, relationships-you know, all the things that make you an ADULT, people).

These pains are normal, my mind groks that--I know life is change and growth and when these natural processes stop I'll be dead. As a coping mechanism, I've been trying to think of myself as a butterfly (a caterpillar, really), going through metamorphosis. I know it's a bit dramatic but it helps when I'm hard on myself, or life feels sticky, to remember that some gorgeous stuff is getting cooked up in all this gunk. Especially on the days I feel like I'm doing everything I can to avoid change; the days when everything feels completely insurmountable and I can barely get out of bed. 

As if

Today in my morning pages I got that I am NOT A BUTTERFLY, and not only am I not a butterfly, I don't want to be one! 

I am a snake.

Shedding all the old ways, like a skin; a skin that's grown too tight. It doesn't slip off easily, like a coat or a jacket; it's itchy and unbearable - until - finally, it's all slithered through, the old casing a dusty shell. The head is the last to go. And it's not the last skin to be left behind...

Bring it

Anyway, I feel like I'm just starting to slither out. It's tight and near suffocating sometimes but I have to be patient and allow the new, fresh skin to reveal itself. What kind of snake do I want to be?

All this work, of being human, expanding oneself, committing to having a life of one's dreams: it's not pretty little butterflies. It is a snake shedding its skin. It's tight, dry, and above all, SLOW. It's not particularly glamourous.

More to come.

On Contraction and Expansion, Part I

Ay, fall, the time of year that is historically the juiciest for me. Summer fades away, and there I am, kicking and screaming, sad to see her go, only to be blessedly most pleasantly surprised time and time again by autumn's warm embrace. In this case, quite literally, it's nearly Halloween and the temperatures in the city have been upwards of 85 degrees for the past 10 days at least...

Summer is officially over and, despite the unseasonable heat, there is no denying the sweet signs of fall. The light is jamming in at crooked angles and everything seems backlit with an almost amber glow; although the trees don't really change color here (they kind of go from vivid green to dry and dead almost overnight), the streets are filling with leaves, the branches growing more and more visible every day. It's hard to explain, but things feel slower; despite living in a go-go-go culture (where I feel guilty on the days I come home and take a nap after work instead of doing something productive), if you take a closer look you'll notice a stillness, albeit a subtle one, as we innately, collectively prepare for the impending cold season.

One of the things yoga helps us align with are our natural rhythms, but also the rhythms of the world in which we inhabit. How can yoga do this you may ask? I think it has to do with the fact that it starts with a deep inner listening, both in general on the mat as we move into physical postures but also off the mat--within relationships, both professional and personal, and even more importantly, with the relationship we have with ourselves. The rich inner landscape we cultivate on our mats translates exactly to the way we walk in the world, the way we treat ourselves and each other.

It is with these ideas in mind that I wish to examine within the coming days/weeks this idea of moving into a more natural rhythm, even within the hustle and bustle of city life, how our yoga practice correlates; I'll also make a case for why we feel the way we do depending on the time of year, and how bringing an awareness to this aspect of our lives can help us make better sense of the world and our place in it, and ideally help us to go a little easier on ourselves.

That's a tall order, so go easy on me. And let me know if I'm going overboard on the semi-colons while you're at it.

photo credit: flora douville