I love yoga.
And most of the time my mat is the most peaceful and comforting place in the universe.
I treasure that.
I believe in the power of gratitude, surrender and acceptance. No question.
But I also love myself.
And sometimes I think what I really need is a place to scream bloody murder, and a big ass pile of gym mats to beat the living crap out of.
Sometimes the thing that makes me feel the most miserable - is judging that I have no right to feel miserable. That I am creating my own misery. That any and all misery I experience is just a reflection of the miserable state of my inner life which is of course a product of my own choosing because I'm not zen enough to wake up in the morning and simply say "I choose happy!"
You know what that makes me want to wake up in the morning and say?
I'm guessing you do. So (just this once) I'll skip the profanity.
Because then, not only am I miserable, I'm guilt ridden, ashamed AND miserable. And confused. Because I DO want to be happy. And I want to be 'in the flow of the universe'. Of course I do! I want to fulfill my lifes purpose and be a source of light or comfort or love or something positive for the world around me - while being who I was born to be.
That is my f**&ing dream of f**&ing dreams! (I'm trying.)
I am an artist. I am an actor. And although there may be less evidence to support this claim - I believe I am a writer as well. The way I see it - I am a truth teller.
(The current truth being that last sentence alone may disqualify me as a writer, but it's nearly two am and it has been a helluva...year).
I believe that perhaps my most important gift - IS FEELING. And not just GOOD. Not just HAPPY.
I don't want to live in a world where all movies have happy endings and Slam poets are all competing to see who can express the most gratitude. I don't want to live in a world where country singers croon about losing their girl and their truck and their dog but that's cool because BIG SPIRIT says just let go man.
Nor do I want to live in a world where all yoga is taught by Henry Rollins clones.
But there is a time and a place. Dark AND light.
Some days I can choose happy. Some days happy even chooses me.
But some days my heart is fucking breaking and I don't know what to do. Somedays I don't want to see another living soul because I feel like a walking wound and I am ASHAMED that I can't just buck the fuck up and choose HAPPY! Sometimes those days turn into weeks. Weeks of me waiting, trying, hoping, meditating, hoping some more, trying AGAIN to find happy. So that I might once again be fit for public consumption.
Too often the message I receive is that failing to be happy is essentially failing at life.
But you know what I think failing at life is? Being so fucking desperate for happiness that I'll take it any way I can get it. Being so afraid to feel my actual feelings that I bury them with food or booze or drugs or shopping or porn or botox or whatever the fuck I can get my hands on just so long as I can convince the world, and maybe even myself, that I am HAPPY.
I would rather cry through shavasana.
Or better yet, scream bloody murder and beat the bejeebus out of some mats.
Or I guess, when it's way past bedtime and there are no mats to beat - write a blog post and fill it with F-bombs and all caps.
I chose to write here rather than my other blog because I've decided to go on my 90 day challenge again. Hopefully I will write more about that soon. For now I'll just say that it's been a rough year and I believe I need my whole and best self (INCLUDING BITCHY MISERABLE ME) to rise up and take the reigns.
It's too bumpy a ride for IamLite.
I'm much too tired to edit this now, and if I wait until tomorrow I may get self conscious and editing could suddenly become "shaping" which could ultimately result in FAKING and the next thing you know - it's a fucking google image collage of kittens wearing t-shirts that say things like:
"Don't FURRget to smile!!"
So this post may be first draft-tastic - but it's what I got.
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