Re-birth

I haven’t been writing here much.  Mostly because I’ve been writing so much on my yoga blog.  And truly, the Challenge has been taking up a lot of my energy.  Both in the area of blogging and just overall.  But I felt like I should take a little time to write something that had little to do with sweating, or postures, or dialog, or Bikram.  Just something from me.

I had a conversation yesterday with a dear, old friend whom I had lost contact with.  It was lovely to speak to him again.  He and I went to high school, church, evertything together.  Kind of like a brother to me, really.  But as life goes, our ways parted for a long time.  But what has been interesting as I speak with him is how eerily similar our lives have been.  All these years gone by and we’ve had very similar life experiences.  We spoke about Faith, growing up in stringent religion.  We discussed our disillusionment with the status quo and how we both had to reach a real crisis before we could come back around to what we believed and who we really were.

We spoke very frankly with one another and I appreciated his candor.  I sometimes feel nervous to talk to people from my past, afraid of what they’ll think of what my life is now.  This is not to say I am in any way ashamed of who I am or the life I lead.  But there’s a shift in reality when the past Karen and the present Karen somehow merge in one interaction.  I often avoid these interactions, dreading the awkwardness that will ensue.  But speaking with Nic is the exact opposite of awkward and there’s a mutual understanding and respect between us that makes me thankful to have him back in my life.

Perhaps the most amazing thing drawn from our conversation was this idea of Re-birth.  I believe Nic and I have both experienced a veritable re-birth.  On many levels we have both shed a shell of a former identity, and emerged a new person.  Nic and I spoke about tolerance, compassion, and love – and the stark contrast between the way we identified with those things ten years ago and the way we do today.  We both agreed that “hitting bottom” spiritually is sometimes the very best thing that can happen.  But the real triumph is getting back up and being strong enough to find your way again.

I’ve never really understood fully why we have to go through these struggles to find truth.  But I know for sure that without shedding, dying, and re-birth – life gets incredibly stale.  We are constantly re-examining the Whos, Whens, and Whys of our life.  Isn’t that the point??  My dear, sweet friend Sean wrote a while ago,

Life isn’t just a cycle. It’s like a long run of parallel narratives, stories we keep telling with our days and our actions and our relationships, our diets, our brilliant plans, our mistakes, and even our successes. We never stop trying to live what we will be, what we want to be, nor do we stop living what we were, what we always have been.

So maybe in all of this there is a parallel truth. That we can become new and fresh. But we always carry the person we are and have been and will be. They’re all the same person. Even when the old one dies off and the new one is born. So, as Nic found me and we re-connected, we found that we were totally different people. Different and exactly the same. Maybe it’s the constant change that makes us identical. We both changed. Neither of us stayed the same. So in that, we were alike.

But at the end of the day, it’s comforting to have a friend like that. It’s comforting to know that we aren’t alone in our change. Change can feel isolating and scary. But having someone to lean on, to talk to, and who will listen is irreplaceable. And as the cycles of our lives, the births and deaths of self come and go, we can find common ground and know that regardless of the past and present we are ever connected and always the same.

I can do anything.

I can do anything. I can.

I don’t say this flippantly. In fact, it’s probably taken me the entirety of my 29 years of life to get up the courage to say it. I can DO ANYTHING.

I believe every day we wake up, eat, shower, dress, move through our domestic rituals, and never even think twice about it. We don’t often stop to give pause to the fantastic opportunities that life wants to hand us. Of course, it’s not in our nature. And really is it even sensible? Waking up and walking around wanting to grab hold of life with all of our fervor, it’s not exactly practical. Or is it?

I’m in the middle of a little wrestling match between my brain, my heart, my body, and all of my stubborn will. It’s messy, it’s frustrating, and it’s exhilarating. It started about a week ago. I was thinking (meditating?) and watching the rain fall. I remember having this tiny thought, that eventually turned into a bigger thought, which then proceeded to occupy my thoughts for the next six or seven days. It’s inconsequential to discuss the thought, really. Doesn’t matter, it is what it is, right? Thoughts are just thoughts. The come and go, rise and fall. Even the power of this tiny thought, that is now all-encompassing is tiny to me. I can rise above it. I can let it go, breathe it out. I can forget it, push it away. I could try, and I have tried. But it’s not working. That tiny monster is here to stay. And it just won’t let me go.

I can do anything..

That was what entered my brain last week as I sat on my couch, staring out at the rain. I have heard it before. Certainly, I have said it before. I said it during my last Bikram Challenge. Over and over, I said it. I have probably written it, blogged it, screamed it from the bottom of my soul. But I rarely give it much thought. It’s like one of those things you just say. The equivalent of answering “fine” when someone asks, “how are you?”

But I can’t say this phrase with that kind of passive thought anymore. Because now, this tiny thing, these four words, mean something to me. Now before this entry turns into some strange motivational message (God help me) I should say this. I believe self-affirmation is important. I believe we have to believe in ourselves before anyone else will. I also believe that we are the only ones who believe our own excuses. But these words are more than a motivational message for me.

They seem, instead, like a responsibility A command. An order.

Marrianne Wiliamson said in her book A Return to Love:

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others

I love this quote, always have. It gives me hope, and inspires me. But it’s challenging. It leaves me no excuses. No choice. It’s like standing there on my mat, kicking my leg up into Standing Bow, no choice. I could fall, I could fail, or I could do it. I can do anything right??

It’s a massive responsibility to bear this revelation. It’s immense, and deep. And really, if we truly embrace it, it is isolating. My teacher said today, quoting Bikram, “we spend our entire lives learning how to kick the world’s ass. In this room, on our mats, we learn how to kick our own..” How very true. Every day I am learning how to kick my own ass, work myself out, no choice… It’s the opposite of what we are told. And in many ways, it feels incongruous with “Yoga” to say it. But if I can do anything, why would I settle?

I’m in the middle of several difficult journeys. My world is changing so much. I am shedding huge portions of a person I decided I no longer wanted to be. I am running headlong towards a dream that I refuse to take my eyes off of. I am raising my kids, with as much passion as I can muster. I am healing, growing, and changing. Sometimes I say, as I meditate, “this is who I have always wanted to be. This is the person I am supposed to be.. This is who I really am..” And it’s true. I look at my life now and I see more truth than I have ever seen. I recognize a drive, a stubbornness that is getting me through difficult family issues. I am standing firm and choosing to be unwavering in relationships. I am in love, I am happy and whole. I am healthier than I have ever been in my adult life. I have everything I could ever want. And I believe that this kind of joy comes with immense responsibility. “To him who much is given, much is required...”

I said before that I believe that we are the only ones who believe our own excuses. This has been a hard lesson for me. And really, I think it’s so true. The lies we tell ourselves only serve to destroy our spirit. We can only be responsible for the choices we make ourselves. But really, isn’t that enough? I am trying, desperately to be responsible, accountable. But it’s a burden to bear. Accountability demands character, and honesty. But again, no choice..

So I carry this with me, I carry this knowledge, this phrase. I carry it in and out of my days, on and off my mat. I carry it with me in the choices I make and the things I say.

I can do anything.

Mammaren Reviews: UnSpoken by Matt Morris

Matt Morris:  UnSpoken

Brief Bio:
Matt Morris is a Colorado native songwriter and musician whose roots go deep into the music world. Born in 1979 to Terri and legendary musician Gary Morris. Matt went on to do a four year stint on the Mickey Mouse club. He has received several Grammy nominations for collaborations with the likes of Christina Aguilera and Kelly Clarkson. Matt also counts among his super star friends Justin Timberlake. Matt Co-Wrote the duet between Reba McEntire and Justin “The Only Promise that Remains.” Matt has released one album, UnSpoken, and is currently in the studio working on his second album. He was recently signed with Justin’s label Tennman Records.

The Album:

UnSpoken is unlike anything I have ever heard. I found this album a little by mistake. But man, am I glad I did. Matt’s songwriting is complex and thoughtful. His lyrics go beyond “typical” and lean on the heaviness of emotion. The big track, Eternity is a heavy hitter with surprisingly spiritual references.

“Somewhere between the first creation and tonight
Was a million incarnations of me, myself, and I
I was a savior in another life
With a white robe flowing in the morning light
I walked with angels through my darkest plight
In the desert for forty days and forty nights”

It gets better, much better…

“I’m carrying the memory
Of these things inside of me
I greet them with humility
They’re with me for eternity”

Matt goes on to write with such intensity that it seems that surely he will run out of amazing metaphors, but he doesn’t. Interspersed through the 14 tracks are 4 “interludes” of haunting piano and simple vocalizations. Matt is no novice musician, and he proves it. My personal 2nd favorite track on UnSpoken is “Betting Man,” a song about lost love

“You had your red stilletos on the day you walked all over me.. “ Ouch

Later in the album, Matt sings “Let Me” an unusually intimate love song.

“Let me, let me make a memory. Let me take you slowly, let me go deeper. Just hold tight, I will make it alright. I will love completely. If you just let me..”

UnSpoken is beautiful from beginning to end. Released in 2002 it was ahead of its time and still is. There’s no shortage of thought or talent in this album. Perhaps the only thing missing is more tracks. I get the feeling that I’d like Matt to sit at my piano and sing. UnSpoken is available on Amazon as well as iTunes.

UnSpoken is so rich and powerful, I find myself impatient waiting for more. Matt is a true artist and a uniquely personal musician. I think we’ll be hearing a lot more from Matt.

Be sure to check out Matt Morris.net for real video blogs from Matt and personal writing.

Bittersweet… Symphony.

Great song, so great.. and the song on my iTunes at the moment.. so it becomes the title of this blog.

I have had some challenging religious conversations today. And basically I feel a little confused and exhausted. But what I am left with is a simple reflection.. I am not responsible for changing the way others view God. I am responsible for sharing what I know of God and sharing his love. But ultimately, I am not responsible for changing someone’s beliefs. It’s hard to swallow, having been raised in such stuffy churches.. Where you weren’t right if you weren’t Baptist. Of course, I had no idea then what I would come to believe. Probably good because nowadays I see little of who I used to be. In a good way. I have mentioned before the so-called spiritual crisis I often feel that I am experiencing. I am not afraid of it, or worried. I am simply experiencing. Experiencing the thrill of taking it all in again fresh. Learning who God is, what Jesus was all about – from scratch. It’s amazing, like eyes of a child (if only) and frightening all at the same time. Some days I feel a little bit like I am floating in a huge ocean of religion on a tiny life raft of my own spirituality. Other days I feel like I am firmly rooted into the earth, with my roots shooting deep. While I don’t know the difference yet, or what happens to make the two happen separately, I can appreciate the differences.. Observance is my closest friend lately. Observance, silence, stillness, and reverence. I am trying to be completely thankful, completely open, completely believing, completely receptive. But the focus has narrowed. The flesh and bones of my faith is not the huge doctrinal statement, the one that I tried desperately to cling to as a teen, but a simpler handwritten letter from God himself. “I love you, I made you, I want you to be near me.. Share me with other and love deeply..” It’s not long, wordy, or complicated. It’s simple, and bittersweet. It makes me frustrated some days, wishing He’d write more. Other days it comforts me, the simplicity of the command. Even still, some days it reads like a beautiful song.. And I share in the chorus.. The most beautiful and touching part of the letter is that it invites a personal touch, a personal relationship. God is reachable, touchable, and real. He’s here, with me, always.. And that is all the comfort I need..