Shoes

"One moment face flat on the ground reminded me that these hands were made for pushing strings and feeling thunder in my bones. So if lightening strikes me, what did I expect?"

Upon the completion of my very first teacher training, ever, I was raw. My spirit dragged me kicking and screaming into unfamiliar territory, dropped me on my ass, pointed to a distant mountain and said: "Well, off you go!"

At first I thought myself a warrior, when in reality I felt more like a fierce, stubborn child playing dress up. The act was a way to protect myself; with so much going on within me, I was a wailing kettle: under pressure, scrambling to escape. But teaching yoga required that I show up anyway and go through; my experiences were my strengths. I had heard the calling, and I had responded. There was no turning around.

In truth, there is always a part of us that fully believes that we can accomplish anything. The beautiful moments I've been a witness to, the inspiring spirit that reverberates in my soul and in yours, the mistakes, it is all so worth it. My hope is that we continue to believe that we are courageous, beautiful, and stronger than we ever thought possible.

When the starting gun fired, I spent the first few miles tripping over my own shoelaces. There were three options: keep tripping, tie my damn shoelaces, or kick off the shoes to feel the earth beneath my feet to truly know, connect, and feel.

I chose to go barefoot.

With Love,
Tasia

I say YES!

“There will always be moments in life when I stand at the end of an experience, look back, and wonder how the hell I got myself into such a beautiful situation.”

~

November. The weirdest thing to me about November is that sudden shift when the sky is enveloped in blackness by mid afternoon. It may also be for that reason that I'm having such a hard time finding my feet again after finishing Veera's teacher training this last weekend. I am a creature to loves and thrives on routine, but get me off my roller coaster, and it's a challenge to try and figure out how to clamber back onto something that's still going fifty miles an hour.

Last month I wrote about connecting with our story of origin, and I feel like I'm still on a similar track. But not so far back. I want to talk about the importance of saying yes to yourself, and the powerful wisdom in thanking who you were three months ago, six months ago, a year ago, ten years ago.

Between three and six months ago, I planted a kernel in my brain that would lead to me feeling more unstable than I have in a long time. That's what happens when we start to dig, whether it be looking in the metaphoric mirror, or hanging out in half pigeon, wondering how our hip joints could be so much like legos mummified in plastic wrap.

Now? Insecurity. Completely uncomfortable to the point where my skin itches and my body feels anxious like there's miles of energy compressed inside my muscles and my bones, and it's a GOOD thing. I'm 'suffering' from what I like to call creative constipation. I go so long without expressing myself in a creative way that I eventually reach a point where when I try to get back into it, I notice how much unnameable stuff is shoving a battering ram against my heart, trying to break through a rusty lock.

So I would like to take the time and thank my former self, three to six months ago, for saying yes. Saying yes to taking that left turn that led my path here. In honor of that former self, I opened up a folder from a chapter in my life where I wrote some form of creative writing once a day without fail. Sometimes you take a look at a thing you produced a long time ago, and in that moment it's a gift to yourself in the present. Exactly three years ago, I wrote something I needed to hear right now.

Namaste, my beautiful yogis. I am thankful for each and every one of you. I challenge you, and encourage you, to say yes. Start this new day with vigor.

"beauty manifests itself in its one million skins

shaping words poured from flexing fingers.

cry! they whisper in the ears of little children wandering by:

dirty faces and wide eyes—

tears dropping in unpredicted patterns

are no less lovely than that silly little smile you keep

perched beneath your nose.

don't be quick!

your simple minded states rest easily between overwhelming joy

and heartbreak clinging to your ankles.

to sit and stare, not so wasteful

as the times you went by forgetting all you saw.

notice me! they beg, weaving between the hollows of your face,

and the human being sitting next to you—

I emerge in moments, lingering only as long

as you watch."

by Tasia-Ray Weatherly, October 28, 2008