Things I Believe In This Week

Reaching out to people. Plans this week involved hanging out with two of my college friends who I haven't seen in years! Alicia took me hiking, where I took the photo above. We connected over spirituality and finding our dancing voices again. And tonight I'm going to Disney trivia! A quick text = fun plans with old friends. I believe in sending that text.

Not finishing the book. In my library binge, I picked up a book called "What's Gotten Into Us: Staying Healthy in a Toxic World", all about how there are toxic chemicals in basically everything in your life, every second of every day. It's terrifying and I've been forcing myself to read it even though it's fascinating (in the car crash, can't look away kind of way) there are other books I want to read MUCH more, and so I believe in not forcing myself to finish it.

Kombucha. The Raspberry Lemon by Kevita is a fav. Gimme all those probiotics.

Intuitive movement. Sometimes yoga doesn't feel right to me because it doesn't encompass all I want to do. This afternoon I put on music (Zoe Keating, the best) and just moved, stretched, and breathed exactly how my body was telling me to. Listen to your body, it's talking to you. I believe that this week.

Kitten growth spurts. Cosmo now appears to be a fully grown feline and I'm a basket case. My baby kitten is growing TOO FAST.

The moons' power. Whenever I read about where the moon is and what its' tidal shifts are doing to us mere mortals, I'm always shocked at how accurate it all seems. I don't really know what I'm talking about right now, but I'm getting much more into astrology and it's so interesting.

What do you believe in this week? 

When We Choose Joy.

What is it that most in this world brings you to life? You know the feeling. Time passes so quickly that you almost forget to take picture to Instagram it. And why do we make so many excuses to not schedule more of these things into our days?

 This is something I’ve been thinking a lot about.

 I love to dance, hike, and see new places. I love curling up with a book and writing in my journal.

 Then why haven’t I taken a dance class in over a year? How come this weekend was the first time I’ve been hiking in months? I don’t know where my next trip or vacation will be to.

 I just got a library card, so I’m doing way better at reading. But for a long (embarrassingly long) time, I was barely reading at all. I only write in my journal when something dramatic and upsetting happens.

 What is happening here?

 Why am I not taking the time or making the effort to delight my senses, to bring myself daily, weekly, yearly joys?

 It isn’t like I lead a joyless life. But it seems like sometimes less important, meaningless, menial things (ahem, social media) take center stage and I blackout on these magical, joy-filled ingredients in favor of the “fast food” version of self-entertainment. 

 How about I stop doing that???

 What happens when we choose joy? We open ourselves up to the wonders of our own personal enjoyment. What brings you joy may be vastly different than what brings me joy. That’s part of the magic. Everyone has slightly different ingredients here. We all make a different recipe. But when everyone makes a different recipe, we have a killer, joy-filled potluck and everyone is havin’ a good old time.

I’ll bring the sangria. You bring the pasta salad. When everyone is reveling in their joy, everyone wins. 

Setting My Soul On Fire.

The phrase "set your soul on fire" comes from one of my favorite big time bloggers, The Balanced Blonde. It's all about being in the flow and doing things that just make you feel damn alive. When you're in the flow, it's like time passes by and you don't even realize it because of how enveloped you are in what you're doing.

The past couple of days, I've been lucky enough to stumble upon two activities that always used to bring me into a state of happy, blissed out flow. One of them I was 100% aware of, and have been telling myself I need to do more of for the past couple of years now; DANCE. 

The second one I happened upon because I woke up this morning with an unlikely song stuck in my head; SINGING AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS. 

I'll start with dance, because it's the one that was always obvious to me.

I've been teaching dance almost non-stop since graduating from college in 2014. It's been amazing for keeping dance a part of my life. It's something I'll always be grateful to have the opportunity to have done.

But as anyone who teaches knows, teaching is vastly different from doing. 

They say (who are they? I don't know) that those who can't do, teach. I'm not sure if I agree with this because I do genuinely love teaching. But in all honesty, I was teaching because I physically couldn't do. There were no decent adult dance classes or companies where I was living in suburban Connecticut, and despite going into New Haven to take a class a few times in those three years, it still was nowhere near the same intensity that I'd experienced when I was one thousand percent in the flow while majoring in dance in college.

Since moving to the Cambridge/Boston area, I've told myself that I'm going to use this proximity to force myself to get back into dancing for myself. Re-developing this practice has become extremely important to me, to the process of re-discovering my creative self.

On Sunday I pushed myself to go to a movement slam, like an improv session except for movement. People of all walks of life were there. Dancers, non-dancers, friendly, beautiful, artistic, open, inviting people.

Oh my goodness.

I was welcomed with open arms. I moved, jumped, shook, shimmied, rolled, and sweated all over these magnificent strangers, sharing our stories and our bodies and our feelings with no words. There is magic in this practice, if you're not a dancer, you can still understand.

It's that feeling of when you look at someone, really look at them, and try to know them. Smiling with your eyes and with your body. Two hours went by in the blink of eye.

There is a 100% chance I will be back to the next one.

This morning I woke up with "La Vie Boheme" from Rent stuck in my head. It was like it had just been dropped there from outer space, as I had absolutely no reason to be thinking about this iconic musical either last night or this morning.

But there it was.

When I was in middle school, the Rent movie came out and it was our world. I was in a close knit group of show choir kids; we were dramatic, artistic, weirdos. We learned all of the Rent songs, knew our harmonies, and would burst into song anywhere we went.

It's 2017, and I can't remember the last time I listened to showtunes, or belted for that matter.

I'm not a great singer. But I love to sing.

So at 6:30am I found myself belting and sobbing along to the entire Rent soundtrack on my forty minute commute to work. Then again, on my forty minute commute home. Not minding the traffic for once, not noticing the time going by. Feeling the music and the lyrics and letting the long ago memorized words pour forth from my body.

Waves of nostalgia flowing over me, remembering when we used to be so carefree, a bunch of twelve year olds obsessed with a movie about fighting the power, love, loss, and AIDS of all things.

In the flow. Setting my soul on fire.

If there's anything in this life that ignites you in a way you can't quite explain, especially if it's something that brings you back to simpler times (like holding hands in a circle with your eccentric friends, ebbing and flowing as you sing the round in "Will I") then it's worth remembering and it's worth making time for in your busy days.

It's worth it to feel your soul on fire.

Welcoming Baby Cosmo!

My grandma's cats hated me. She raised them from babies, bottle feeding them, and nursing them back to health after being dumped on her doorstep when I was a kid. I used to pick them up and try to cuddle them, always resulting in them mewling for their lives, flailing their claws, and trying to gauge my eyes out. From then on, I was a dog person and I took it very seriously.

So tell me how, living in this new apartment (which is a no pet zone, hah, oops) and obviously we cannot own a dog because not only do we live in the city but having a dog is legitimately like having a small child... I was manipulated, finagled, duped... into getting a kitten. 

And I totally just let it happen.

Lucas and I went home this past weekend to relax with friends and family (and I went to The Big E, another post coming up soon!) and on our way home he slyly mentioned that he wanted to go to The Humane Society. Well, we'd been talking about getting a kitten for a little while since our apartment is just so lonely without a pet. Houses without animals are so weird. I think I feel that way because my family truly hasn't gone longer than three months without a dog residing there as king or queen of the house. Obviously I knew there was a very small chance that we'd be leaving the humane society empty-handed. 

We walked in and there were THREE - not one, not two, but THREE - tiny two-month old orange kittens. I was sobbing. Clutching Lucas's arm and screaming that we needed to take home all three. Making a scene, I had to be escorted out of the building, completely losing my head and trying to climb into the cage with the animals. 

Obviously I'm exaggerating.

We filled out an application and took out a little sucker named Carter. The kittens all looked the exact same so there was no way of telling them apart. I didn't really know what to expect because my parents passionately hate cats and I have never really interacted with one besides being clawed half to death by my grandmas' cats at the age of nine. 

Carter was set down in the room and immediately became possessed by a wild spirit. He clawed up our legs, tried to jump out the window, would not let us hold him, was running so fast around the room that all of us, the employee included, could not catch him. Wanting more cuddles (and absolutely terrified by Carter), we decided to meet another one of the kittens. 

They brought in Fluff Muffin. And it was love at first sight. 

The little fluffer dude cuddled up in our laps, seemed to love being held and cuddled, and was purring the entire time. He was playful in a manageable way (although since coming home he's attacked me in my sleep several times LOL, but I think I just need to get him some more interesting toys). We brought him home that day and for almost the entire ride back to Boston he sat in my lap, sleepy and adorable, curled up in a little kitty ball of fur.

Two days ago we still hadn't come up with a name for him (because I was not going to continue calling him Fluff Muffin, and until then he had just been Baby Cat). Lucas and I were sitting on an outdoor patio and it was the full moon. I was going on about how I could feel connected to the cosmos, and Lucas's eyes lit up as he said, "We should name him Cosmo!" And now my little galactic kitty babe has a name. 

I won't lie, he's a freaking handful. A little more than I was expecting from a cat. But I love how much attention he needs because he's my little babe. He makes me love staying in at home, and he makes me excited to come home from work every day. Seeing his little face light up is the warmest feeling after a long day. :) 

I Just Want To Feel Safe.

I was in 4th grade when 9/11 happened and even though it rocked the whole world, I was too young at the time for it to have an immediate impact on how I lived my daily life.

I was even too young for Columbine and Virginia Tech to have a real impact on me. My parents definitely did a fantastic job shielding me from the horrors on the news that day (and the weeks that followed).

Then the shooting in the Aurora movie theater happened. And I still go to movie theaters, but does it cross my mind that violence might occur there? Yes.

Then Newtown happened. In my own state. I cried as my dad told me more about it, driving me home from college for my winter break. It didn't seem real at all. But does it occur to me now that children might not be safe in schools without security guards and metal detectors at the entrances? Yes.

Then Pulse nightclub. The club isn't safe anymore. Somewhere to let loose and be carefree. You never know, you never know. Am I nervous to go to gay clubs now? Yes. Will I still? Yes.

A fireworks show in France. A shopping center. A music festival.

I'm writing because I don't know what else to do. I scrolled through Twitter and consumed hours of media today. It's heartwrenching. It's soul crushing. There's nothing to understand, or to make sense of because it's senseless. 

I just want to feel safe. My house is safe. My hometown neighborhood feels safe. That's where I still am right now. Boston doesn't feel quite as safe. Buying spontaneous plane tickets to an exciting destination doesn't feel safe. But how would my life be if I stayed in this kitchen for the rest of my life? Playing it safe. Not seeing the horrors of the world, but also missing all of the beauty, amazing people, breathtaking places.

There is darkness, there is horror, there is fear.
There is lightness, there is hope, there is living.

I want to be safe, but I want to live.

My thoughts are so with anyone effected by this tragedy. It's going to get harder as we start learning about the victims. The only way I can think to honor them is by continuing to spread their stories, and by living.