Breath Into Your Heart, Break Your Heart? Emotional Release and Yoga

I had two wonderful yoga classes this week. Normally, I take yoga twice a week, but this is my lucky week, and I get to go four times. Four.. times... ! Anyway, I had a class yesterday, one today, and have two more left before the week ends.

My yoga instructor's theme this week is back bends. I remember when we did back bending before, I had a difficult day afterward. I cried, I felt vulnerable, I felt just not together. Too open. Too scary. And that wasn't in class. That was *after* class.

That was several months ago. Well, yesterday, during class, I felt great. It was wonderful to undo all those hours I spend hunched over at the computer. I felt it in my shoulders the most, and it was wonderful.

But during the afternoon, I found myself much more tearful than usual. I cried with more ease. Interestingly enough, though, it wasn't scary this time. I didn't feel so much vulnerable, but more like a lock that kept me from my emotions had been released. I cried, and felt better. I cried, and I felt safe.

This morning, during another back bending yoga sequence, once again, the opening of the shoulders was wonderful relief physically.

At the end of class, I was lying in shavasana. A thick, cotton yoga blanket covered me, adding warmth and weight. The eye bag gave off the pleasant scent of lavender that I associate with yoga.

As I breathed slowly and deeply, I went to the place inside where I go when meditating, a creek where the water rolls over the stones, where trees surround me from all sides and for miles around. All there is to do is breath, watch the water rush between the rocks, and listen to the music of nature.

Then, out of no where, I started to cry. I don't know why. Perhaps I felt too safe. Perhaps my mind finally had the chance to let go of tears it was holding onto from previous stresses in my life.

Whatever the reason, I couldn't help it. I moved the eye bag away and wiped the tears away, and replaced the eye bag. I'd be ok for awhile, and then, I'd start to cry all over again.

I hate to cry. Even when I need to, I usually don't. But this crying, it was ok. I wish it didn't happen during a yoga class, I wished I had the chance to be alone, so I could really let the tears come. But it was nice to be able to let go and cry. Even if only for a short while, and even if only in imperfect circumstance.

13 Reasons Not to Let Ghosts from the Past (or Present!) Keep You (and me!) Quiet

13 Reasons Not to Let Ghosts from the Past (or Present!) Keep You (and me!) Quiet 1. Because I think about all those great books I read, and know if they held back, we would never had read their stories. 2. Because if you have secrets and shames that you are sure no one else has, chances are, more people have them than you guess. 3. (Corollary to the above) Because writing makes us feel less alone, along with our readers, who may take comfort in knowing they, too, are not alone. 4. Because we may not be able to change people, our pasts, our families, or our countries, but we can talk about the things that hurt. 5. Because if we don't speak up, who will? 6. Because... "I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, to discover that I had not lived." (Henry David Thoureau) 7. Because we probably spend much more time worrying about what Grandma Higgens thinks than she spends time worrying about what we write about. 8. Because chances are we almost wish that those whose ghosts we listen to cared about what we are saying, because that might mean they really care -- and given that they probably don't really care, all the more reason to write without fear. 9. Because it's impossible to write freely with mom, dad, sister, brother, Aunt May, that old boyfriend who doesn't even remember your name, your kids, your husband, your friends, and your co-workers looking over your shoulder. 10. Because this is OUR life -- and how many years are we going to let other people control what we write or say? If we wait until they die, how do we know we will make it longer? How many years will we waste? And what if we discover once the ghosts are all dead, we still can't break the silence? Better to start practicing now! 11. Because while there may be *some* things those ghosts don't want us to talk about, about 80% of what we worry about writing about are probably things they can care less about. 12. Because if there really are things we just can't say publicly, we can always use a pen name. 13. Because we need to listen to the wise words of Anne Lamott: Don’t be afraid of your material or your past. Be afraid of wasting any more time obsessing about how you look and how people see you. Be afraid of not getting your writing done.

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The Ghosts That Hold Me Back

I must have contemplated writing in this blog for a few weeks already, but it never happens. Not because I don't want to. It's two things -- 1. Time is a big one. (But I'm doing things in my life now to lessen time, and I want to talk about, perhaps later or another day), and 2. fear that I can't express everything I want.

I like blogging in that you can connect with people, you can write whatever you want without having to target to the market, or slant for publication -- you just write, whatever. I have blogged elsewhere before, and I found it to be a most liberating experience. To be able to say what I wanted, and to feel free to talk about the things that eat at my heart at night.

Then... someone who I didn't want to find my blog found it. People told me not to worry about, one person said to me, "So what? You're going to let this person control you for the rest of your life? Write anyway!"

Well, that is easy for them to say.

What I liked about blogging was the freedom to write about whatever topic I wanted, without being worried that someone I know is going to read it (someone I know that I do not *want* to be reading, obviously). Once I know someone I know is reading (and in this past situation, someone I was talking about!), I can't write freely anymore. I get stuck, I start to double question my words and thoughts. And then, there is no point to blogging anymore.

These are my thoughts today. I do not think, though, that this blog has been discovered. I also think the topics I'm blogging on here are pretty vanilla, and shouldn't be a problem. I still, however, don't like the paranoia of being stalked. And at this blog, it probably is just paranoia.

###

If blogging was the only place that ghosts from the past hold me back, that would be alright. But it's not like that. When I write in the privacy of my office, and I'm writing poetry or short story or essay, often, a little voice in my head says, "Ah, ah... you can't write that. No, no, no.." And up goes the block.

I read in Anne Lammot's wonderful book (Bird by Bird) that you should "write as if your parents are dead." What excellent advice. I'm not sure I can do it. However, after reading her words on the topics, I realized that I am not the only writer that deals with ghosts holding them back from putting the words down on the page. Knowing I'm not the only one gave me more courage to attempt to break free from the craziness.

Here's to writing bravely and with courage, to writing as if those who threaten me in my mind are dead, and to writing what needs to be written and read -- no matter how difficult it may be...

~ Rachel

So quiet out here....

I have not blogged forever here! I really want to, though, so I hope to begin again. :)I also think it'd help if I stop defining this blog as "only" about this or that... I think my best bet is to say -- Here is a blog that is about... everything I feel like talking about!

How's that?

I think I'm an occasional blogger. I must accept my reality on that. I never keep blogging week after week, like some admirable souls out there. I blog when I have something to say *and* time to say it. Of course, this week is not a week when I have time to say much. (Which is why I'm blogging... procrastination at work, my friends!)

I always wonder -- is this the right topic for my blog? Should I save this for an essay or some formal writing? Should I not blog on this because people might read and figure out who I am, when I'd rather they not know? Am I the only one who blogs and fears that their family (read, parents) will read their blog, and be sticking their noses in topics that were never meant for their eyes?

Anyway... I'm back. :) I hope to get talking with all of you again.

Thanks for reading, as always,

Rachel

The Thursday Thirteen... my first, and last!

I just discovered this meme, and now, I find out this is the last week of it! Sniff, sniff... ah well.

So here is my first, and last, Thursday Thirteen... I decided to list the top 13 "most played" songs in my iTunes... Ah, you know, what the heck... I'll list two Thursday Thirteens... the top 13, and the next 13 after that... LOL

Even I'm surprised! ;-)

[Note: I discovered my iTunes gave me the top 26 songs, but not in order... but only noticed after I typed it all in! So, this isn't the exact order of my top 13+13 songs, but these are the top 26 played... Hope that made sense!]

Thirteen Things about Rachel(Top 13 played songs in my iTunes) 1. Hotel California, The Eagles 2. Lullabye (Goodnight, My Angel), Billy Joel 3. Airplane, Indigo Girls 4. Love Will Come to You, Indigo Girls 5. She's Like the Shadow, Cara Dillon 6. Ohureo, Baka Beyond 7. Leave Me Alone, Natalie Imbruglia 8. Linger, The Cranberries 9. No Need to Argue, The Cranberries 10. Shir Lama'alot, Yosef Karduner 11. Fair, Ben Folds Five 12. Selfless, Cold, and Composed, Ben Folds Five 13. Brick, Ben Folds Five Links to other Thursday Thirteens! 1. (leave your link in comments, I’ll add you here!)

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Thirteen (More) Things about Rachel (The NEXT top 13 songs after the above ones) 1. Verdi Cries, 10,000 Maniacs 2. I'll Cover You (Reprise), RENT 3. Seasons of Love, RENT 4. Walk on the Ocean (acoustic), Toad the Wet Sprocket 5. Carbon, Tori Amos 6. Christofori's Dream, David Lanz 7. Parting Glass, Emer Kenny 8. Echoes, Dar Williams 9. Wake Me Up Inside, Evanescense 10. I Could Have Danced All Night 11. Deliver Me, Sarah Brightmen 12. Life in Mono, Mono 13. Unwritten, Natasha Bedingfield Links to other Thursday Thirteens! (leave your link in comments, I’ll add you here!) 1. http://chickadeesmusings.blogspot.com/ 2. http://crossandquill.com/journey/?p=143

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The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things.

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Sunday Scribbling: Crush

(This post is inspired by the prompt, from Sunday Scribbling. Special note: I usualy don't post poetry I write online. Because I write for a living, I always think of "first rights"... But now, honestly, I wonder... Am I worried if I write my first thoughts online, a draft poem like this, I will run out? As if this is the only version of this idea that could form? Perhaps I'd feel less nervous about posting my poetry online if I try to remember there is a vast universe out there, with who knows how many poems waiting to be born. This is just one... one of so many. Do I really need to worry there won't be more?)

crush


i like the way ice
tingles on the back of your throat,
quenching
and
cooling
on it's way down.


you were like that,
my ice crush.


you were
sweet and rich,
better than cola with cherry,
better than blueberries
or lemon.


then, one day, that sweet crush melted,
and what was sweet became tasteless
watered down sugar water
lacking sugar
lacking flavor


that tingle, that refresh,
it fell down the wrong way.
down the side, behind the jaw,
via that hidden track besides the inner ear,
leaving only an ache
a sting

(c) Rachel, 2007

A little friend...

[E]very time a child says, "I don't believe in fairies," there is a fairy somewhere that falls down dead. ~James Matthew Barrie, Peter Pan

(The above illustration belongs to The Estate of Cicely Mary Barker.)

I was browsing in a bookstore just two days ago, when I came across these bookmarks. Now, I usually don't spend my money on these like this. If I go to a bookstore, I aim to buy books, as much as I might see something pretty, but "unneeded", from another section of the store.

But -- these bookmarks -- there was something special about them. I stood there looking at them, going through them, trying to read the Hebrew text carefully and slowly so I understood what they said. I just fell in love with the words and the pictures. I had to buy them, and decided I would buy some to send to a friend. I figured, if I'm buying them for someone else, I can justify the expense. Not that they are expensive, but... you know, it's not something I need.

However, I'm looking at them... and, you know, I think I need to go back and buy another just for myself.

Sometimes, a picture or a color -- it just speaks to you. These bookmarks speak to me. They are beautiful illustrations of fairies, different colors with different themes. The one I can't stop staring at is this pretty, pink one, the Wild Cherry Fairy. I found her online, too. I hope to take a picture later of the ones I bought, and while I'm sure you can't really enjoy them through just a photo, they are special to me.

I like the way the Wild Cherry Fairy sits up high in the branches, and how her figure reminds me of when I was very, very young -- kind of fragile and small. I like the way she crosses her ankles, and on my bookmark, I like the way the glitter sparkles.

Perhaps the bookmark speaks to my inside...

the little child that hides in my heart.
the one who wishes
she could climb up high,
and sit on a cherry tree branch,
dangling her feet below,

while the white,
delicate petals
bloom by her side.