My Morning Ritual and I'm Pompous Enough to Think Everyone Should Follow It

Who am I to be an expert on what a morning ritual should be? My last post was about strangers giving unwanted advice. And now, I can't help myself.

While many people around me this winter were dropping like flies with illness, I stayed above the microbe fray. My skin is so soft and smooth that I'll be sitting in a restaurant, sensually rubbing my own arms thinking, "Oh. Oh, now that's nice. OK. Stop. People are starting to look." By clearing my mind and learning to be present, feeling good...and things that feel good feel even better.

1. Rosewater

My feet hit the floor and I head straight for a spritz of rosewater. How can a day go too wrong when you've started it this way? It wakes you up, and it's the next best thing to diving face down into a bed of roses.

2. A lukewarm glass of lemon water. 

A chiropractor first turned me onto this and now I never miss a morning. It's good for the digestive system, reduces phlegm, and has various other benefits that you can read about here.

3. Getting Some Headspace.

Then it is time to get some headspace. I can meditate on my own, but why not be guided and feel less alone? This program is accessible for even the most jaded, please none of that sappy, flowery spiritual stuff needer of downtime. You don't even have to sit in a cross-legged position, much less burn incense. You get a free 10-day trial, plus an app.

4. Skin Brushing

Before jumping in the shower, I skin brush. Dry skin brushing wakes up the lymphatic system and helps rid the skin of toxins. And if you're not awake by now, you definitely will be when the shower hits your tingly skin.

5. Lather Yourself in Oil

I learned to love oils when studying ayurveda in yoga teacher training. Depending on the season, the right oil can cool you, ground you, and help with deranged vata. But after the shower, I like this fast absorbing oil.

Still one of my favorite rituals is morning coffee.  I don't think I can stop riding the brown horse, as Stephen Colbert calls it. And its natural segue is this: http://godstartshere.blogspot.com/2013/04/the-importance-of-dancing-with-wild.html

Enjoy!

Let Your Freak Flag Fly! "Hey Freak! You're waiving your pole all wrong!" The art of providing teaching moments for strangers

I was catching up with a friend and asked her how her 5K run went over the previous weekend. We take several yoga and gym classes together, but when it comes to running, ehhh, not so much.

"Why aren't you into running?" She asked. "I don't know" I immediately answered, but I knew of several answers: I'd heard it's rough on your joints, gives you jowls, and makes everything sag.  One other thing came to mind. Once upon a time I had been into running, but one day on a jog in Riverside Park, as I passed this man he shouted at me, "Hey! Hey! You are running wrong!" Maybe he said something about how I was bouncing too much. Didn't hear. I ran wrong but I ran fast.

This happens to me a lot, taking up an activity and it turning into a teaching moment for a stranger. I'm sure they are coming from a good place, but what it feels like is that they are assholes.

An example or two of my generosity towards a stranger's ego:

I took up an invitation to Vail for a ski trip, excited for the opportunity because I considered myself a skier: a solid blue trail girl who could dip into black territory.

For reasons I didn't understand on this trip, I could never keep up with my friends on the mountain. I was always way behind them.

They gently attempted to ditch me by directing me to the green trails they had graduated from as a warm up, but not before I met them one last time where they were patiently waiting for me. I huffed, puffed, and pulled myself up to them.

Only to catch the attention of this random woman who began to shout, "What are you doing? What kind of goddamn novice are you, wearing your lift pass on the outside of your jacket?" (It was on a ribbon around my neck, clearly exposed and apparently with a bullseye). "Are you trying to get yourself killed? That could catch on a tree limb and break your neck!" Everyone turned and looked before whooshing off in all their "I'm not the freak with my lift pass showing" glory. I was devastated.

Later that day, as I flew down the final hill, the sun at my back with all the confidence of someone progressing on the slopes, a man on the fucking next trail over yelled at me that I was holding my poles wrong. He may have given me direction as to how to hold them but I didn't hear because I was speeding down the mountain, enjoying the tiny correction I had made to not slow myself down but still feel in control.

I have a very libertarian approach to exercise and fitness, which is why I like yoga. I'm enough of a social creature that I like the community aspect of a yoga class, but also I consider my mat like a dog considers it's crate: This is my safe space, it is where I go to get away from it all when the world is yanking my collar, making me sit, heel, follow the norm. Yoga lets me be a freak and luckily involves no poles.

Namaste, Bitches!

The Importance of Dancing With Wild Abandon

I've deduced from vast experimentation that dancing with wild abandon at some point during a day will do the the body and soul much good.

1. You forget you are doing cardio, and thus burning calories, you are having so much fun.
2. If you add a huge, goofy smile and make your movements as wild as possible, it is an instant mood elevator. Much better and quicker than a trip to the pharmacist for antidepressants.
3. If you make yourself seem big, stretching out your arms and legs, owning as much space with your body as possible, not unlike if you were out in the woods and trying to scare off a bear, you release endorphins that make you feel confident.
4. All of the above is an instant salve to taking yourself too seriously. We're talking instant perspective.
5. Add friends for an exponential effect of 1 through 4. Seriously.

Here are two songs that do the trick for me recently.

For a super knee-bendy, grounded bring out your "I can do anything" attitude:

To feel airy, defy gravity, and release what's ailing you:

I highly suggest singing along to the chorus, too. All the ahh, ahh, ahh's. You'll figure it out. 

Feel free to add suggestions of songs in the comments.

Get to dancing.

Drop the smile, don't pop up, listen to Jessie J: It's ok not to be ok

The boots match the spirit. Here, the beginning of a life-long love affair with knee-high lace up boots.

Am I ok? Wait--are YOU ok? Because if you're ok, I'm ok.

I attended an artist workshop at the beginning of the year with the goal of gaining some clarity into why I can't seem to get out of my own way and make shit happen as the genius artist I am.

Where I'm from, this is the most validating scene you could ever hope for
of your "OK-ness."

When it was my turn to work, I decided to use as a starting point my nervousness when performing. I had felt shaky at the beginning of the workshop--anxious about what was ahead for the day, if people would like me, think that I'm pretty and thin and that I belonged there--all that crap.

I explained that though I have learned how to work around it, or take propanol, I didn't understand why my confidence lacked so much in doing what I love to do. I was asked to stand in front of the group and let it happen: Just plain ol' shake away. I went for it, but I couldn't help but laugh as an attempt to put everyone at ease that what they were witnessing was, I realized, not easy to watch. But not to worry; obviously I'm out of control, but somehow in on the joke of being out of control. With a big smile plastered on my face, waves of shakiness ran through me. 

Then the leader of the workshop asked me to drop that smile. 

That smile was holding back a cascade of tears and emotion that then burst through the seams like Deepwater Horizon.  It felt like a fever was breaking, though I was shocked by it. I stayed with it. I was curious, and I knew I was in good hands, in a safe place, surrounded by open, supportive artists. 

Years ago, I had explored the possibility of there being a memory I had blocked and went into therapy around my senior year of college, only to end up talking about the stupid guy I liked at the time. I guess while this therapist and I were picking apart the three nights I was clinging on to as a sign he loved me, I was already three chicks ago to that guy. Life is funny! I hope somewhere while I've been eating vanilla ice cream, some dude I've dated has been paying good money to a therapist to figure out why I wasn't available.

This is not OK, but what a relief!

Through gentle guidance in this workshop, I was soon revisiting a memory of abuse that happened to me as a child: vintage screams and anger erupted from deep inside, sensations that I had not allowed myself to feel since the trauma occurred. 

At the time it took place, there was a lot of confusion, desperation, and chaos in the lives of the adults in my life. The people who could have helped me did not have the power to do so.  I have no doubt the abuse was an attempt to break my huge spirit, to bring me down a notch, to let me know I wasn't so special. I was a little spitfire who spoke honestly. This was intimidating to someone who needed to exert control. 

Somehow, despite a life so far of fidgetiness, feeling trembly, being super hard on myself, and a little off kilter, I've known something just wasn't right. But early on, I was so worried for the adults in my life and wanted them to be ok, that it set in motion a lifetime of popping up and declaring, I'm OK! 

At the end of this journey in this workshop, when I tried to pop up, I was told not to. Instead, to be gentle with myself. One of the artists asked me if I knew Jessie J's song Who You Are and to remember her words: It's ok not to be ok. Now I am in love with Jessie J's music.

The healing continues, and it is an amazing journey. I want everyone to discover core energetics. Own your power. Be authentic. Change the world!

God Starts Here

Once upon a time, there seemed to be a lot of message tees. I was going to jump on that bandwagon and I had some good ideas! I shared them with a few close friends and they were all very impressed. I was encouraged to learn photoshop, and then figured I would need to learn to silkscreen, invest in the equipment, set it up next to my untouched guitars, banjo, and ukulele from my stint as a singer/songwriter, all while working my day job, trying to get my acting career going, fitting in yoga 4 times a week, some downtime (because, geesh, if not I would go insane) and finally some semblance of a social life. No, I know, why didn't I just ask someone to help me? That will be my second blog post.

One of my ideas was "God Starts Here" with an arrow pointing to a human heart. This was after 9/11 when everyone seemed to be claiming their rightful understanding of God, being a Christian, being a Muslim, what it meant to be American, a patriot...Do you remember all that? Oh, good, so I don't have to repeat it here.

Well, the tee shirt hasn't happened...yet (I don't know, are message tees even still a thing?)..but in the meantime, it is perfectly suitable as my blog name.

Today I took a walk in Central Park, enjoying our first real taste of Spring here in the city and realized the last time I walked through the park was New Year's Eve. That was a very different walk...

I chose to sweat out the Christmas season like a fever rather than tag along as an orphan to someone else's Christmas jam. I found myself mostly alone with plenty of time on my hands to take a long, difficult look at my life. 'Tis the season for that, I suppose, but usually it's just a reel in your head while you're smiling, surrounded by people you are growing increasingly annoyed and disappointed with as well as your own self before returning to the status quo.

I got so overwhelmed by what I saw: creative paralysis, relationship paralysis, career paralysis, that I considered checking into a hospital. I KNOW! That is so dramatic! But seriously: I wanted to check out. Something seemed unstoppable and ugly and I was powerless against it and it's unchanging-ness. I wanted to be strapped to a bed with healthcare professionals looking after me, hopefully sedating me til the fever (or Christmas) passed.

I stuck it out though. I took it breath by breath, step by step, like holding utkatasana in a hot yoga class. It was burning, I was cursing and shaking and feeling awkward and vulnerable, but I held on to the truth I know as a yogini: the only way past it is through it. That is where rebirth and change happens...where you transcend, and touch the divine...or at least enjoy a sweet savasana at the end of class.

Now it's Easter/Passover. and on my walk today, I was thinking, what a miracle that you can be reborn. You can reinvent yourself. You can start again and again and again. God starts here. Then here and here and here: This breath. This heartbeat. This step.

My Christmas "holding of utkatasana" turned out to be a huge gift to myself.

This blog may be about what's eating Leigh Ann Cobb (no--not like that) or what Leigh Ann Cobb is eating, or a beauty product I like, a lesson from one of my fantastic yoga teachers or yoga students, or a story or observation.

I hope you enjoy...and let's bring back the message tees.