Category Archives: Gratitude

The perfect time is never. AND it is now.

Recently I discovered I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment for years. I was waiting for the perfect moment to book my dream road-trip out west. I was waiting for the perfect moment to come out as a body image coach. I was waiting for the perfect moment to visit my sister. I waited 8 years to get my dog, Daisy! It’s cool though. I know, to some extent, I needed to wait. I also know, that I tend to overthink and overanalyze to the point of excruciating self-induced anxiety that leads to feeling stagnant and putting things off and avoidance.

There actually is no perfect moment. Except that there is – the moment is NOW. And it’s now, and it’s now.

Is this making sense? Allow me to backtrack a little…

I’ve been wanting to travel more. It was one of my intentions for this year. I want to spend more time out west, visiting national parks, being in nature, visiting my sister, friends, going where my heart desires. But I kept putting this off for many reasons: work, family, pets, bank account balance, migraines. I overanalyzed my reasons for inaction to death.

I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment to live certain aspects of my life the way I want to live them. I’ve been waiting to be more virtual as a coach/teacher, to be at a certain income level, to be free of migraines, and to have a full time pet-sitter.

And then recently something happened and it PUSHED ME. I was diagnosed with lyme disease. It’s not the diagnosis I hoped for and it’s pulling me through an emotional roller coaster, but it also explains a lot of my recent health struggles.

There is something about a debilitating illness (migraines) combined with another debilitating illness (lyme) that can get a person to take stock of their life and move their boundaries[link to Sherpa].

So a few weeks ago I booked a flight to Los Angeles. I left my beloved puppy for the first time (not easy). I spent time with my sister, ate delicious food, went to yoga, walked to the beach, did some work, and returned home with a new perspective. I then booked another flight to LA two weeks later to do a little more work, spend time with my sister, and fit in some adventures. This is all happening while I’m still not at my desired income level and my migraines are definitely not totally cured.

And then it dawned on me, sometimes you have to do things in the order that might seem backwards. At what might seem like the most imperfect time. And guess what: This is absolutely 100% allowed!

My career is not set up the way I envisioned it need be in order to take trips like this. But the funny thing is: these trips are motivating me to move my business along in such a way that supports my health (ease up on teaching / increase coaching) and lifestyle (more time visiting national parks and in nature).

All this time I convinced myself my circumstances had to be JUST SO and so I waited, and waited, and kept finding excuses not to do what my heart and soul wanted.

I’m tired of listening to the broken record of me. I’m making changes. I’m traveling. I’m doing more of the work of my heart’s truth. And wouldn’t you know June is looking like the perfect time for a road trip out west with a dog named Daisy. (US National Parks here we come!)

The external circumstances of our lives may never look the way we expect them to in order to make the big (and small) decisions. The perfect time is never because we can always find reasons not to do the things our heart desires. The perfect time is NOW because sometimes we have to soften to those reasons or boundaries that are telling us “No, you’re not ready.” Especially if they are fear-based boundaries. Sometimes we ARE ready; we’re just scared.

Sometimes we need to allow ourselves to be guided by our hearts and intuition. Maybe it’s a medical diagnosis, the loss of a job, a death, or a birth that propels us forward toward the big dreams. And aspects of our life might seem so terribly messy we couldn’t possibly fathom planning a trip, starting a business, getting married, having a baby, or diving heart-first into a relationship. But be open, my friend. You will know when you’re ready. Your heart and your gut will be screaming it from the mountain tops. They will be telling you you’re ready! Not your bank account, not your mom, not a self-help book, not your partner, and not even your dog can tell you when you’re ready.

You will know when the perfect time is. You will know what to do. The perfect time can be never. And it can also be now. It is never, and it is now. It just depends how you look at it. Are you ready to remain open to surprise, adventure, and delight in this life?

Can you lighten your grip on the boundaries of how things SHOULD be? See what happens when you lighten the grip and permit yourself to be a little more guided instead of trying to figure it all out. Feel your way through it.

And if you need it, I am giving you permission right here: You have the permission to soften, to listen, and be guided. The perfect time is now.

What about you? What are you waiting for? What are the big dreams you’ve been sitting on? Maybe they need more time to marinade and they are just waiting for that little push.

Tagged , , , , , ,

My ME-ness is Unstoppable. Unbreakable.

I had a call this morning with a woman who is opening a fitness studio in Fairfield County. We were connected by a mutual friend in the fitness industry. She asked me about the style of yoga I teach – this Bowspring – because she had never heard of it. She gave me space to describe the practice and all that it has done for me: how it has furthered my recovery and growth beyond the confining walls of my eating disorder and poor body image.

I explained how my dance background influences my teaching style and that I encourage my students to explore or how I’ll often not so eloquently put it: “make shit up” — meaning if their body is feeling moved, answer that call. To not be afraid to wobble, or mess something up, or look like a dumb-dumb. (Because you never look like a dumb-dumb. When making shit up, you look like a brave soul connecting with your deepest truth.)

For a moment I regretted my words. Why did I have to be such an idiot and admit I tell my students to make shit up to a potential employer/partner?!

It was at this moment when the women stopped me and said she didn’t need to hear any more. She didn’t need a demo class. She was ready to put me on her schedule because she connected with my philosophy and my approach to movement. I could hardly contain my gratitude as I explained to her my vision has been to collaborate with other studios. And here she was, a messenger from the universe, manifesting my vision.

So the lesson? To keep speaking my truth. To keep stepping into my shoes. To keep fully inhabiting this body with my being. My ME-ness feels unstoppable. Unbreakable.

Tagged , , , , , ,

What is the purpose of our deepest emotions?

Our deepest and darkest emotions are not merely to put us in an everlasting state of sadness.

How many times have you experienced pain only to ask: Why? Or … Why me?

We don’t experience pain simply for pain’s sake.

Osho explains this concept very eloquently:

This pain is not to make you sad, remember this is where people go on missing… this pain is just to make you more alert – because people become alert only when the arrow goes deep into their heart and wounds them.

Take a moment and consider the moments in your life that have really moved you. Pushed you forward on your journey.

It might have been the end of a relationship, a death, a betrayal, or financial struggle.

But what happens when the arrow pierces us deeply in our heart?

If we are open to it, we become more alert and wake up to the world around us and the gifts the universe has in store for us.

We make decisions based on what will truly serve us, help us heal, shift us away from unhealthy patterns.

And sometimes we do need the arrow to go deep to become more alert. Sometimes we do need the wound to wake up.

When we are more alert we become connected to our truth instead of our ego.

And when we connect with truth over ego, our slate gets wiped clean and we see things more clearly. Our path is less clouded by the weeds of distractions and priorities come into alignment.

So the next time you are confronted with pain, or even discomfort, sit with it and see where it takes you. Allow it to wake you up to something perhaps you’ve never truly seen before.

May our learning never end.

With Great Love,
MC

PS. Click here if you’d like to schedule a discovery call with me. I’ve got time slots blocked out for the next week or so and would love to connect one-on-one with you.

Tagged , , , , , , , , ,

Finding Daisy

Yesterday my dog Daisy tried to run away. She ran away. She ran so fast out of my friends driveway. I watched her dart into the busy street. Barely escaping a truck. And up the hill and then – she was completely out of sight. And there I was – sprinting in Birkenstocks up the giant hill. As if running would help. But my mind was racing. Going to all the worst possible outcomes. I didn’t even need to go to the worst possible outcomes – I was living it. I was waiting to wake up from this nightmare. I lost my beloved dog that I JUST rescued. All the plans I had for us raced through my mind. My heart crushed at the thought of never finding her again. 

My friend swept me up in her minivan and we drove circles around the neighborhood – asking every pedestrian “have you seen a little dog?!?!” Desperation and fear held tight around my heart. After some time and now feeling more defeated I thought to look around one of her favorite spots – the little dog park near my apartment. I ran up there and into the woods surrounding it. Didn’t think twice about the poison ivy I was traipsing through. I called her name as sweat dribbled down my face and into my mouth. No sign of her. I was beside myself – again that feeling of when does this nightmare end – and I started to walk back. 

A woman saw me and said if I was looking for a dog she saw it run up toward the park. Immediately I turned around and went back to the same spot. I called Daisy’s name. I waited. I got quiet. I was going to find her. I could feel her presence near me. I knew this wasn’t the end of our journey together. I called her name again and thought I heard the jingling of her collar. To be sure, I called again, got quiet, and listened… 

Yes – it was her collar. I crouched down and stayed in one spot until I saw her coming up over a rock. About 40 feet away from me. This was it – I knew I had this one chance to get a second chance with Daisy. Stay stay stay – I told myself. I talked the sweet sing song talk to Daisy and she slowly stumbled toward me. She was limping but here she was just an arms length from me. All of the fear of losing her started to melt away as I slowly wrapped my fingers around her collar, took a deep breath, and swooped her up in my arms. 

We walked down the hill where there was a shaded clearing and I put her down and sat as I collected myself and told her how much I loved her and more sing song tones. I was given a second chance and I couldn’t fucking believe it. She ran all the way home. My dog ran home – to our spot! My heart swelled with joy and still is and probably will continue to do so for as long as Daisy is in my life. 

And so when I pulled this card this morning – it took me back to that big deep breath in the woods when I found Daisy. When I wrapped my fingers around her collar. A feeling of – Peace Peace Peace. There is no need to worry right now. Everything worked out beautifully.

Tagged , , , , ,

Why I’m Glad I Stayed…

Yesterday I had one of those days…
I went to my friend’s magical island.
I didn’t have my phone because it crashed that morning.
What I did have was a swimsuit, a dog, and a willingness to receive the day.
I felt groggy and had a headache from too much wine the night before.
My heart knew though, I needed the island and the friends there.
I needed to say fuck it to getting my cell phone set up in time.
Of course the normal panic of “what if so-and-so tries to contact me?”
I even went through all the texts I would miss out on that day.
The missed opportunities to post on Instagram and Facebook.
Missed opportunities to check in on what my friends were doing.
I made an intention to surrender.
I surrendered to feeling naked without my phone.
I surrendered to cherishing time with my dog and the people around me.
I am an introvert so after paddling and hanging poolside with the group, a little panic started setting in…
I immediately wanted to jump off the island and swim to shore, to my car, and go home.
But I couldn’t. For one I had a dog. And two … all my stuff?
My body felt tired and creaky and in need of rest and space and alone.
Alone, alone, alone.
I just wanted some time alone. I felt it deeply.
I meandered up the path to the tea house on the hill.
Perfect: yoga mats were draped over the porch banister of the tea house.
I took one and set it down on the floor.
Daisy the dog circled around the porch, watching birds and passersby on sailboats.
I liked to think she was also keeping watch, for me.
Bikini-clad, I felt the breeze against my skin.
I began to move in a way that felt natural to my body in that moment.
I moved, I sat, I breathed, I moved, I sat some more.
Daisy came and went, licked my feet when I sat.
Finally, after who knows how much time had passed, I laid down.
I draped my sarong over my shoulders and torso, unfurled my arms and hands by my sides, and gently closed my eyes.
I slipped into sweet slumber while the sounds of Daisy’s pitter patter on the porch and the chirping of birds lulled me in and out of this state.
I heard the motor of a boat every so often.
It didn’t bother me.
I welcomed it.
Here I was – so free.
No one knew where I was. No one could reach me. No one could find me.
No one, except the two little girls on the island that day.
They were 3 and 5.
I started feeling the thump thump of their running feet coming up the stairs of the tea house.
One of them squealed with delight: “Oh it’s Daisyyyyy!”
And I was tickled with delight to be brought out of my slumber by such dreamy innocence.
So I stayed.
I stayed on the island when my introvert-self screamed to get out and hide and be alone.
It’s like what we learn in meditation: when we stay, the real work occurs.
When we stay, we allow the softening to happen.
When we stay, we are more able to receive each moment as a gift.
AND when I stayed I got to go for a sunset sail with friends and Daisy.
I’m so glad I stayed.

Tagged , , , , ,

Thank you yoga, Thank you teachers.

It’s International Day of Yoga. My friend reminded me last week with a little nudge, nudge and soft encouragement that maybe I should do something for it.

 

I don’t have any special class or event planned and I’m hoping I’ll make it to class tonight or even to my mat to move a little and meditate. But what I will do, what I will honor is what this practice has done for me. And what I have been able to do for myself by way of my yoga practice.

 

I used to squeeze my thighs so hard to try to get them to look more stick-like. I’d pinch my belly fat and imagine how much better my life would be if I could just cut it off. I calculated every calorie going into my body and how each calorie (and then some) would go out. My mind was consumed and I was completely obsessed. My obsession with food and how I could control my body took over my life.

 

Yoga sandwiched my eating disorder. My practice began when I was 16 and my eating disorder was full throttle around 19 – so I was practicing yoga all through my disorder. But what I know now is that during a lot of that time, I wasn’t really practicing. I was going through the motions of yoga. Showing up, rolling out my mat, bowing my head and saying namaste at the end of class. I nailed poses ease because I’m fairly strong and fairly flexible and have always had great proprioception. What I wasn’t doing though was connecting. I was completely disassociating from my body and for a while there, I was using yoga as just another form of exercise to burn off those calories.

 

This all shifted when I found a small studio in Bloomington, Indiana and a teacher by the name of Wendy. I didn’t even know what style of yoga we were practicing (turns out it was astanga) add to be honest I can’t tell you a whole lot of the asana that I learned – but what stays with me to this day is the feeling of entering into a safe space. It was always quiet when I walked into the building, up the stairs and turned the corner. Everyone spoke with a hushed tone as we set up our mats and gathered our props. The space and the time was sacred.

 

Wendy didn’t tell me how or what to feel. She instead created opportunity for me to feel. I kept returning to her classes, as often as I could fit them into my schedule and budget. It was in this space that I remember looking at thighs and bursting into tears because for the first time I saw them as something other than “too big.” My thighs, for the first time ever, were strong and beautiful and amazing.

 

I came home to my body for what felt like the first time. That was inner peace. That was my invitation to heal and no longer allow myself to stray and disassociate from my body and being.

This was the tip of the iceberg and there have been many more teachers since then who helped facilitate my healing – and still do to this day. So, I can’t stress this enough but  … Thank you teachers.

 

IMG_9114On this international day of yoga I also want to acknowledge the practice for what it has brought me – healing and inner peace. Eating disorder recovery is not a one and done deal. It takes time and it too is a part of my practice: staying the course, staying connected, noticing when I get triggered, and repatterning my responses.

 

Thank you yoga.

 

I would love to hear from you: How has yoga impacted your life? Whether you just recently got your feet wet or are a long-time practitioner – what have you noticed?

 

Tagged , , , , , , , ,

An Education: Thoughts on Closing CT Bowspring.

As I write this I am in the midst of a transition. Although it could be argued: aren’t we always in transition at any moment of our lives?

 

I moved to CT in November 2013 and was eager to find my new yoga home and community in Fairfield County – a place that felt so familiar to my childhood and adolescent self but as an adult felt like new territory.

 

Through mutual friends I was introduced to the owner of a new studio in Westport. We clicked and I was hired on the spot.

 

And so began my teaching career in CT. I soon took on up to 6 weekly classes at the studio and found my way into my first yoga home here. As some of my students there liked to say, I found my church.

 

Eight months later, August 2014, I learned that the studio had less than a month left before it would shut its doors. My heart sank. I lost a job and would miss the students, the ritual and routine that helped me make the transition to my life in CT.

 

I felt stranded until I found myself at a beautiful barn-like studio in Wilton. October 2014 I took my first Bowspring class and haven’t looked back since. It resonated so deeply with all the shit I was working through with body image and healing the residue from my eating disorder. I dove deep into the practice, immersed myself in a new community, and adopted this practice in my teaching. I even had the fortunate opportunity to teach at this special space.

 

It was a short ride before I learned in May 2015 that they too would be shutting their doors. Bummed didn’t even begin to describe the way I felt about this loss. It felt sudden and I was afraid because not only were we losing the space but my two teachers announced they would be moving.

 

In September 2015 CT Bowspring made a brave attempt to resuscitate the community and provide a space to practice. We prayed we would retain students and somehow – it sometimes felt as if we’d need a bit of magic – attract new ones. We, perhaps naively, had the vision that we could show the world how innovative and effective Bowspring was. At least I did.

 

And now here we are just 2 days short of officially shutting our doors.

 

I feel sad, frustrated, angry, hopeless, and defeated. Admittedly I also feel relief because the path to this difficult decision was so murky and exhausting. I feel responsible for not being able to hold it together and for not being able to provide a house of belonging for our students.

 

Our student base is modest in number but deep in connection with each other and I wish I had a magic want to house that connection for them. (Someday though…)

 

My ego is also a bit bruised by the fact that in the three years I have lived here I have been involved with three studios that have shut their doors. And with each one I feel more and more vested – especially this last one. AND I trust that there is no better education than experience. I have learned so much working with the partners and teachers of CT Bowspring. Sometimes we all got along and sometimes we were at each other’s throats – often brought on by the frustrations of 8 people with 8 different visions, trying to run a business together. Live and Learn.

 

Ultimately we all shared the same passion to explore and SHARE how the body moves through space with each other and our dear students; even if it meant we looked like weirdos to the outside world. It is not uncommon to twerk in slow motion in a Bowspring class.

 

In keeping with the spirit of my love for all things cheesy, I want to share this with the teachers and students of CT Bowspring:

 

You held space for me to grow. You held space for me to stand up for myself. You held space for me to be angry and frustrated. You held space for me to experiment (and dance) in class. You held space for me to be more open to the way I was so hard on myself for years. You held space for me to soften when I saw YOUR hearts softening. You held space for me to see how strong I am when I saw YOUR strength. You held space for me to slow down and be gentle. You held space for me to feel like I belong.

 

I feel like we (where we = anyone who has taken a deep dive into Bowspring) are all in on this crazy secret. Bowspring. And it’s not just the alignment that we’ve been privy to, but the encouragement to be our own badass authentic selves – the dark AND the light – and to embrace who we are and what we’ve got rather than trying to fit a mold of what we should be.

 

You teachers and students of Bowspring WORLDWIDE remind me to do that every day. And even though we may not have a dedicated space (for the moment) here in CT we still hold each other accountable to keep up the good work.

 

Let’s keep up the good work, ok? 

With deepest love and admiration. MC

IMG_9461

Tagged , , , , , ,

When a migraine hits…

When a migraine hits I feel at a loss. I want to detach from my body. I feel fearful of the impending pain, discomfort, nausea, and vomiting that are a part of the whole migraine experience. I feel disappointed in myself for letting this happen. I feel a piercing pain in the right side of my head that travels down the right side of my neck and sometimes into my upper right trap which then seizes up toward my ear.

 

When a migraine hits I feel hopeless. I feel excited to find my comfortable spot on the couch. Although true comfort never seems attainable. I feel misunderstood and disconnected from almost everyone – hard as they may try to sympathize. I can’t stress enough: it’s not just a headache.

 

I feel like I am letting people down. I’m sure of it. I want to be 12 again in my parent’s house with my mom changing my ice pack every time it gets warm. Alternating between taking sips of icy ginger ale and eating crushed ice. The only things my stomach can somewhat tolerate.

When a migraine hits I feel responsible and at fault. I feel like there must be something I could have done differently to avoid this. And sometimes, I feel like in some way I am deserving of this.

When a migraine hits I feel isolated and alone and I want a familiar face around me. I want a warm hand on my back, reminding me it’s going to be ok, that this will pass. That even though THIS happens, I am still loved. It doesn’t make me a bad person.

 

When a migraine hits I feel depressed and disassociated from my body. In fact I want a new body: a new head, arms, intestines, and legs. Not because of the way my body looks this time, but because of the way it feels. I can’t imagine greater pain or discomfort (although I’m sure on some level it does exist – probably childbirth).

 

I feel the lure of distraction from a bad rom-com or TV series that can take me to another place where I imagine everything is good and perfect. I am healthy and don’t have to worry about a thing.

 

When a migraine hits I feel reminiscent of when they weren’t quite so bad. When they didn’t interfere with the life I want to live.

 

When a migraine hits I also remember. I remember that this too shall pass and am reminded of the transient nature of … EVERYTHING. I remember all the ways I am loved in texts received and shoulder rubs given. I remember how grateful I am for the days when I DO feel healthy. Healthy enough to work and enjoy the time I have on this earth.

 

When I wake-up the morning after I am left with the residue of the migraine. The pulsing in my right temple is still there but I feel lighter. I feel like my body has gone through the ringer and I’ve made it to the other side. Phew. I feel like I have been given a gift of the day ahead of me and the days to follow. I worry less about being able to fit in a run or knocking off all the things on my checklist.

 

Maybe I have also been given the gift of migraine to help keep me in check. To turn me around sometimes and to continue to grow what is good in my life. To Worry less and Love more.

IMG_0584

Tagged , , , , , , , ,

Leave room to be surprised

I love being surprised by what fills me up inside, by what makes me feel lifted.

On Tuesday I felt drained by 11:30am after a full morning of teaching that started at 6am. I felt off and short of breath for all of my classes and had many moments of “what the f*ck am I doing?” and dreams of days off, massages, and other things I could do to fix this feeling. 

I had a new client Tuesday afternoon: a couple in need of yoga as part of their physical rehabilitation program. I had a description of the clients’ cases and understood it would be a challenge. This case turned out to be one of the biggest challenges of my yoga teaching career. I had to really stay close to my center. Stabilize. Breathe. Be strong AND soft. And trust myself. Big time. 

I walked away from the session feeling a deep desire to help the couple get stronger and heal. And when I did my own practice Tuesday night I felt a fullness that wasn’t there before. I felt a renewed sense of trust and belief in myself.

So it wasn’t a massage, or a day off that I needed to fill me up. Instead it was an opportunity that asked me to fully rise to the occasion. 

It’s true what they say: we rise by lifting others.

Tagged , , , , , , ,