At the last new moon, I wrote a list of intentions. Taken together they mean, vibrate higher.
Boost energy, joy, hope.
Be more powerful, and lighter at the same damn time.
Float, fly, soar,
on your own terms.
From the inside.
In your cells.
Spirit. Breath. Light.
High vibration is goddess energy. It is magic stirring.
When I neglect pleasure and beauty rituals,
when I consume nonfood instead of divine nourishment,
when I am not salt bathing or sunbathing, or
any of the things I know to do,
I look around and there I am: stuck, stagnant, heavy.
I feel weak. Powerless.
Even laughs are smaller and too far apart.
I swivel my hips.
With music and with silence.
To the mirror and the wall.
In front of my husband and in empty rooms.
It’s just something I do.
In moments of low vibration, I forget.
Today, in the shower, feeling the music, I swiveled.
Random things are feeding my spirit today. Namely, Lloimonicia’s #bossy floor routine (2014) and Carter G. Woodson’s The Mis-Education of the Negro (1933).
In completely different, yet parallel ways, they are radical performances. They are unapologetic. They are in your face. They demand you pay attention.
Whether you agree or disagree with Dr. Woodson’s stance or Ms. Hall’s choreography, you can’t help but notice. They are energized and focused on conveying a message. That freedom, across time and space, inspires me today.
The audaciousness makes me smile.
Just as I was finishing this post, I noticed this from ForHarriet. It features the tap dancers Syncopated Ladies, led by Chloe Arnold. I followed them to YouTube and discovered joy. Maybe you will, too.
Wishing you audacity, creativity and inspiration.
It’s here. The last day of 2013. Can you believe it?
I awoke to find an email from WordPress, detailing the milestones and stats for the year. My top posts included a brief remembrance of my mother, Marla’s narrative on living with lupus, and the introduction of the Joy Jar – a beautiful idea I may revisit in the coming year.
I also began writing about sexual violence and I spent a good deal of time pondering a theory of love, something I plan to do a great deal more of in 2014. My thinking and writing are always evolving and it’s enlightening to see what resonates from month to month and year to year. I hope you’ll continue to join me on the journey.
Wherever you are in space and time, I hope you are winding down the year with an abundance of peace and joy. I pray the dawning year is full of beauty, love, and good cheer. And if you should wish it, a standing ovation…
“Bravo!” I heard Dad yelling through his hands.
“Why is everyone getting up?” I said.
“It’s a standing ovation,” said Mom, getting up.
So I got up and clapped and clapped. I clapped until my hands hurt. For a second, I imagined how cool it would be to be Via and Justin right then, having all these people standing up and cheering for them.
I think there should be a rule that everyone in the world should get a standing ovation at least once in their lives.
I’ve come across a lot of things worth sharing as of late. Long ago I used this space, not only for musing, but also for sharing news articles or other things of interest. Sometimes a video catches my eye. Other times, it could be a picture. Today, it’s a word. Something to ponder:
There is no one lonelier or more unhappy than a person who does not know the pure joy of creating a life for himself or herself. To be human is not merely to stand erect and manifest intelligence or knowledge. To be human in the full sense of the word is to lead a creative life. ~Daisaku Ikeda
Today I wore a turquoise wrap. Peacock blue, to be precise. Smug and perky, a bright splash of joy draped across my shoulders, I took in the scene on the airport tram. Shook my head at the stoic wall of black-navy-gray. Oh, what a spot of color wouldn’t do to add a dose of cheer…
Walking through the security line, my eyes spotted a fellow smug and perky. The slight smile on his face framed by a bright red sweater. He strolled, weaving through the stanchions with an air of confidence and a hint of fun. It was the red. I know it.
My window seat afforded me a perfect view of the bay set against the pink-orange dusk. Smug and perky overcome by the sinking realization my time near salted waters and humid air is rapidly coming to a close.