Category Archives: change

Mutual Admiration Society

I’m a member of MAS: the Mutual Admiration Society, and I wish everyone could feel this way. (Wouldn’t that be a game-changer for our planet?!)

I wrote to a friend and colleague last night and shared a few simple truths as I see it, or my two cents. Nothing earth-shattering, in my opinion, no eloquent words or faux-flatterings… just truth from my observations. She woke up to that email. Then I woke up to this:


And now we have both felt WOW upon starting our days. See? Mutual Admiration Society. And all because we shared the simplest of truths: our experience of each other’s loving presence… which is our true nature, of course.

It doesn’t take special glasses to see it in others. It’s not a “gift” – it’s natural. Everyone can do it. The reason we don’t, I think, is because we’re too busy looking for everything else in what we’re seeing, and preparing ourselves to respond to what we think might be there that we don’t like. We’re always on guard. Or, we’re so focused on maintaining our own facades, that we haven’t reconnected with our own loving nature, so we no longer recognize it in others. Neither one of these scenarios make for a very loving society. Alas.

But I know that can change. How? Because I did it myself, and I’m a stubborn reluctant learner. Or I was. I used to look externally for everything, and I was miserable inside as a result. It took me a while and a lot of hard work to come out the other end of the tunnel, but I did. And frankly, if I can – then I know that anyone else can, too.

So, Mutual Admiration Society — who’s with me?? 😁

Let Your Blessings Be Your Healing

I have conversations in my head. All.The.Time. Seriously. And I know I’m not the only one. I suppose the conversations are both a form of writing, and of re-hashing or sorting out various events from life. These are not the sort of conversations that I do when I’m doing intuitive/psychic work, though. Those are definitely one-sided, in that I am not speaking for both parties.

The conversations in my head are different – in those I’m speaking for both parties, and I’m usually trying to resolve something that remains unsettled for me and is taking up too much mental real estate in my brain.

Recently, I had one of these fictional conversations, because I found myself rehashing one example over and over again.

Complaining.

It was a conversation with a friend that brought it to the forefront, in which she told me about how her office was like a revolving door of people complaining. Ugh. Yuk. I couldn’t imagine spending my days that way. How draining. I reflected for a moment and shared with her something a former boss once did that turned out to be an incredible gift of empowerment. He said, “Don’t come into my office with a complaint, unless you also have a suggestion for a reasonable solution.”

In other words, he shifted the focus.

After chatting with my friend, I thought about the numerous examples I had recently heard of people complaining. Friends, clients, colleagues, passersby – everyone seemed to have someone in their life who consistently complained, or was doing the complaining themselves.

Now, I’m no stranger to complaining. I’ve definitely done my fair share, but somewhere along the way I learned that it serves little purpose in my life other than to lower my energy and keep me stuck. I still do it now and then (I’m human), but it’s not even close to a regular part of my life.

But how did I do it? Well, I took a page out of my former boss’ book and focused on the solution, not the problem. Slowly, but surely, I became adverse to complaining. It felt icky.

Enter the recent fictional conversation in my noggin in which I imagined I was talking to someone I know who complains often about her life. In my imagination, I saw myself responding with:

“Please stop. Just stop. You have a beautiful family, a successful career, a wonderful home, food on your table, laughter in your life. You have your health, and you have friends and family who love you…”

To which, my fictional version of her interrupted with, “But…. but there was this (fill in the blank/awful event) in my life…”

And I replied, “Then let your blessings be your healing.”

Ahhhhh….. *light bulb*

This is why I have fictional conversations in my head. This is why I am writing ALL.THE.TIME, even if I’m not sitting at a screen typing. As I move through the scenario… the answer comes. The answer always comes.

My boss wasn’t so far off the mark so many years ago, his was just a more practical application of a simple truth. (Mainly because he didn’t want to spend his days dealing with incessant complaints by employees.)

Let your blessings be your healing. 

Trauma and pain come in many shapes and sizes. I’ve known a fair amount of it in my life, myself. I’ve seen others experience horrific things. But thankfully, blessings come in all shapes and sizes too, which means that we often forget to identify them as such.

By refocusing our attention, we change our habits. Then we allow for the possibility of healing… of peace, health, and happiness to be our predominant way of being.

A gentle, but beautiful, reminder from one of my many blessings: re-blooming orchids in my kitchen. 🙂

#metoo … but “boys will be boys,” right?! Wrong.

I’m frustrated… as you can see by something I just shared on FB. Why would anyone think it’s ok to throw things at animals, let alone goad them into coming closer?!? I know if you ask *most* humans, they would find this behavior wrong and even alarming.

It’s this type of behavior, where many might say “boys will be boys” in response. But what if it’s EXACTLY this behavior that later leads to assault. I don’t see a difference in assaulting a defenseless animal at 8, and assaulting a woman years later. Maybe, in fact, they’re inextricably linked.

Maybe if we didn’t allow this behavior in our “boys” we wouldn’t have an epidemic of it in our men. Maybe if we held our kids accountable for their actions and instilled in them a sense of compassion, respect, and kindness, we could turn this thing around in a single generation. Maybe. I did my part today. I held them accountable. I hope it redirects their ship. It takes a village… together, we can change this.

#metoo #boyswillbeboys #nolonger #accountability #responsibility #respect #compassion #kindness #change #inspired #writerslife

Call It What It Is: Murder

Yet another tragedy has hit the United States. The problem with that sentence is not the word “tragedy” – it’s the word “another.”

Another tragedy.

Last night, in Las Vegas, blood was shed as innocent people’s lives were ended and changed forever. But it wasn’t a “shooting” or a “killing” or even a “violent attack” – those phrases are all too passive and have become far too acceptable in our society. It was murder. Mass murder. And the man who was responsible was not a “lone wolf” or a “shooter” or a “gunman” – he was a murderer.

Any human who takes another human’s life, knowingly and willingly (with few exceptions such as war), is a murderer. Death from an accident is not labeled murder, it’s called manslaughter.

Murder is murder.

It’s not “shootings” or “killings” or any other word we have come to use to somehow make it feel better. It’s murder.

Murder is the taking of another person’s life, for any reason – yes, even mental illness. (When a person with mental illness commits murder, we have different laws for that, but we still have laws. It’s not an excuse for the behavior, it’s a parameter by which their consequences are decided. The action was still murder.)

Yet, today I see people fighting over labels, because of the possibility of mental illness, instead of calling him what he is. People are arguing over the disparity in the media’s use of the words “terrorist” vs. “lone wolf” or “gunman” based on the man’s skin color. These are valid points, and ones that clearly need to be addressed by the one’s using the terminology, but they are also points that distract us from the issue at hand: How do we prevent mass murder? Whether by a terrorist, a person with mental illness, a gang member, or anybody else.

We’re distracted from the core issue, because it’s almost too much to deal with in our current emotional state. So, we fight. We fight about what’s most accessible: the words.

Why do we do this? Because our emotions are on overwhelm and we have too much energy coursing through our bodies, so we are fighting over anything we can wrap our heads around, anything tangible. Murder is not tangible, senseless murder even less so. We can’t wrap our heads around it, so instead we fight over the words used to describe the person who committed murder, as we try desperately to gain some foothold in an otherwise chaotic moment.

We are fried, and we don’t want to be. We don’t want to get to a point where this type of event is acceptable or even expected. So, we fight for our lives, our society, by focusing on the things that are closest to the surface, where we feel we can take a stand.

So, let’s make this easier: whether mentally ill or a terrorist, if you knowingly take another’s life (again, with few exceptions like war), the word to use is “murderer.” “Murderer” carries no association with religion, gender, or skin color, and takes the focus off the surface-level issues, which frees up our time and emotions to address what really matters: preventing murders and mass murders, by focusing on the causes.

I realize that our frustrated, angry, broken-hearted energy needs to go somewhere. So…

  • Let it go to fixing the problem, not blaming the result or the labels used to describe the event.
  • Let the energy running through you be channeled into something greater than anger and fear.
  • Let it go to change.

Change carries more power than anger and fear ever will, because it’s a focused energy, which means it will help you feel better as you work with it. And when it doesn’t, when it feels overwhelming, then I’ve found that walking in the woods helps. For some it’s running or yoga, for others it’s boxing or cross-fit or meditation. Whatever it is, the important thing is to create a focused use of the tidal wave of emotional energy we are all experiencing in the aftermath of another tragedy.

Then, there are steps we can take to regain a feeling of empowerment after tragedy and grief:

The first step out of overwhelm is always to speak truth to it: This was murder. Mass murder.  Name it, and take it out of the shadows where fear and anger reside.

The second step is to create change: What can we do to prevent it ever happening again? Brainstorm ideas with friends and colleagues. Start talking and discussing, not fighting.

The third step, possibly the most important step, is to live an empowered life embodying love and hope: What can I do myself, to create change, personally, locally, regionally, or globally? Empowered action starts from within, always.

Everyone’s answer to that last step is different. Mutual respect, communication, and understanding will make it all possible. Where there is overlap, we create community. But no single solution to create positive change is wrong, even if it’s not right for you.

This is where the fourth step comes in: Embrace each other with respect and curiosity. Listen, listen, listen.

Then take action.

Don’t Fix, Listen.

Recently I had to go shopping for some new boots. Hiking boots, to be exact. Now, I wasn’t looking for boots in order to go on some big trek, or, indeed, even to be hiking. I was looking for good hiking boots that I could wear on a regular (almost daily) basis, in order to try to support the possible healing of an injury in my foot. After trying numerous other solutions, and practically exhausting our options, my doctor came up with this idea: If we really stabilize the foot and ankle and give it the space and support to rest, even when in use, it might begin to heal on its own. This is perfectly aligned with what I believe: Space and time create possibility for healing.

So, one afternoon I found myself in the outdoors store, feeling somewhat out of my depth, looking for a new pair of hiking boots that would meet this need. Luckily, the footwear sales associate was a young woman who was pretty knowledgeable about their selection of footwear, which was vast. I say luckily, because what I learned during my 2 hours of experimenting with different boots was that she was the only associate who listened to me and tried to meet my needs. Everyone else wanted to simply fix it.

When I arrived in the shoe section, she was helping a male customer, who upon listening to my conversation with her decided that for the next 30 minutes, he should chime in and tell me ALL the things I should be doing for my foot, as he has had a similar (but not the same), problem for nearly 15 years. I listened, patiently, and repeatedly explained to him that I had, in fact, already tried most of what he was suggesting, without success. He didn’t believe me – because he didn’t hear me. As I continued to try on boots with my sales associate, he continued to offer unsolicited advice based on his experience, without ever actually listening to mine.

If it had stopped there, I probably wouldn’t be writing this post. But it didn’t.

Over the course of the next 90 minutes (and at least 25 pairs of hiking boots!), about 5 other sales associates all decided to come and “help,” without actually helping. Here’s why: not one of them listened. They were all experts in knowing footwear, but they weren’t experts in knowing my foot. Currently, where my foot is concerned, I’m an outlier. I don’t even fall on the spectrum of normal, and so I need to search for solutions that match my needs, not solutions that match a statistic of information.

For some reason, Zoe, the sales associate who helped me throughout, seemed to understand this, and the only reason she did was because she listened.

Toward the end of my shopping experience, after 2 hours and narrowing it down to two pairs, I felt relieved and simultaneously frustrated. I looked at Zoe in appreciation and said, “Thank you.” She replied simply, “You’re welcome.” And I took a deep breath, but then I paused. What was I thanking her for? Obviously, I was thanking her for her help, but it was more than that. I felt grateful to her for listening, for trouble-shooting with me, and for massaging a solution. So, I told her that. And without ceremony, she turned to me and said, “Well, I’m glad. Because that was a lot of mansplaining going on.”

I admit to being shocked and surprised at her response. But as soon as she said it, I agreed. I realized that each additional sales associate (all of them male) as well as the original customer who thought himself helpful had all tried to fix my problem, but none had actually listened to it. Instead, they took the approach that they probably knew better, and offered their solutions, ideas, and unsolicited advice without once asking me a question. I’m not saying their intentions were wrong. I actually think they were trying to be helpful, even though they were anything but. It wasn’t until Zoe confidently and casually named it (she wasn’t being derogatory in her words) that I realized what had truly happened. There was a clear gender divide in the approach to the problem and the solution. There was even a female customer who had been looking for boots at the same time as I was, and upon reflection I can say that her words and actions reinforced my statement about this divide.

Personally, I have never used the phrase “mansplaining,” though I can certainly look back at my life and find ample examples of it. Zoe’s introduction of the word so effortlessly in conversation shows me just how much things are shifting. How much the old paradigms are falling away (often while putting up a fight). And I’m glad. I’m glad for many reasons, but in this instance, I’m glad for one:

If we are to come together more as a society, we need to communicate better.

The first step to communicating is listening. We can’t fix a problem if we haven’t actually listened to what’s wrong. Only then can we tease out the best and most appropriate solution, often through a period of trial and error. Trust me, I didn’t want to try on 25+ pairs of hiking boots (my poor fingers were rubbed raw from the lacing), but I did because I needed to find the best solution available to me. And the only way to do that was to listen. I needed Zoe to listen to me, and then I needed to listen to my body – my feet – as I zeroed in on what felt best.

So, while I wish it weren’t true (I’m ever the optimist), I accept that I was mansplained during my hiking boots excursion. What this means for me is that I will double-down on my listening, in the hopes that I can share, embody, and teach a different way. Or at the very least, I can offer a respite from a society focused on “fixing” as Zoe did for me.

xoxo,
Martina

My NEW boots!

My NEW boots!

The Duality (and my reality) of Bodily Love

It’s a funny thing to be able to feel intense love and gratitude for something, while also feeling a measure of disappointment, sadness and even a little disgust. I’ve only recently stepped into this quagmire of emotion, and I’m finding it rather difficult terrain to navigate.

Over the past few years (well, a lot longer, actually, but let’s just focus on recent history)… over the past few years I have been steadily plodding along on my journey, day after day. A reader who is very dear to me refers to it as my Hero’s Journey, a la Joseph Campbell. I would have to agree. Because on many days, it has taken a hero’s strength to wake up and keep going, especially of late.

You see, I am at what feels like a landmark in my life. It’s one of those markers on the side of the road denoting an event in history. Only time will tell if it’s a giant bronze statue or a simple plaque. From where I stand today, it feels more like the 10-foot metal kind.

If you read my last blog about triggers being gifts, you will know that I have recently been triggered into addressing some unseen, unacknowledged places within me that I have yet to adequately deal with. In some ways I thought I had, but the truth is, I was only ready to read about them on the menu, not dive in with fork in hand and really consume them. But it seems I must be ready now, because… Voilà! Here they are!

I’m talking about my body.

If you haven’t met me in person, you might not be aware that I am overweight. Actually, I hate that phrase, because I’m not “over” anything. I’m simply in a state where my outsides don’t match my insides. But I get it. I get that we have standards and statistics that we use as information to help us adjust our sails and change direction. So, my body is bigger than the standardized version of someone my height. I actually prefer to say that I am fat. Or, rather, that I have more fat than I would like to have. I think that’s the most accurate statement for me: I have more fat than I would like to have.

But it’s more complicated than that.

I was never a thin child. I always carried a little extra “baby fat” on my body and was always a very curvy girl. I was athletic, too, but curvy. I had a classic “figure 8” body – and I still do, actually. My body was voluptuous, strong, flexible, and round in all the right places. In retrospect, my body was something to be proud of. Of course, I didn’t know that at 16, but time does a wonderful thing for us: it allows us to know and see truth.

Anyhow, sometimes I look back at that younger version of me with wistful longing and wish for that body again. Not because it was smaller, but because it was stronger (though the smaller did make life easier). Instead, I look in the mirror and see a body that is less strong, less flexible, and larger than it used to be. And that’s where the quagmire begins… because I love my body, but it’s not a body that I actually recognize.

My body had changed, and I never noticed it.

Over the course of my marriage, I steadily gained in excess of 60-70 pounds. I actually stopped using the scale so I’m not even sure what I topped out at, but I know it was at least 60. It could have been 70, or even 75. I’m writing about all of this now for an upcoming book, so I won’t go into all of the details. The bottom line is that I was married to an addict, I became a quintessential codependent, and our relationship was stressful and strained for the vast majority of our time together. As a result, I lost myself. I lost who I was, and in many ways stopped living. That’s not to say that it didn’t have some happy and good times. It is to say that it took a toll on my emotional, spiritual, mental, and physical health.

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I left that relationship six years ago. Since then, I have worked diligently on restoring and repairing the damage that was done – the damage that I unconsciously allowed and contributed to. I have come out stronger, happier, more aligned and authentic than I could have ever imagined. I have become the woman that I am, that I always was, that I had lost sight of. I have reclaimed myself in every way… but one. And (even though I have already lost about 10-15 pounds) I have the physical evidence to remind me daily.

This is what’s truly fascinating to me, why I wrote that I think “it’s a funny thing to be able to feel intense love and gratitude for something, while also feeling a measure of disappointment, sadness and even a little disgust.” It’s the duality of emotion that I feel for my body that has me wandering through the foggy bogs.

I can honestly say that I love myself. My body is strong, resilient, and cherished. Why? Because it survived. A couple of years ago I spontaneously referred to my extra fat as “emotional scar tissue” from my marriage. I couldn’t have been more accurate. My fat is proof that I survived. It’s proof that I am resilient and strong, and I cherish my body because of that.

At the same time, my body is not as strong as it once was. The extra fat has put a strain on my joints and made it more difficult to exercise. My stamina is not what it once was. Everything is just a little bit harder. It doesn’t help that I injured my foot, too, which makes even walking a challenge. But I keep trying. I keep fighting, and I will continue to fight until my outsides match my insides in a way that I recognize. (And, thankfully, I have a heck of a good team of wellness professionals helping me along the way.)

I’m writing about all this now, because I’ve been triggered from conversations with a friend. I’ve been triggered to explore how I truly feel about my body. As a result, what I realized this past weekend was that I hadn’t yet grieved. I hadn’t fully grieved for the loss of health that I experienced during my marriage, nor have I grieved for my self. Because… I did this. I did this to myself. I couldn’t tell you how, as I was not eating excessively or even poorly during that time, but I can tell you that I did it. Some of my doctors have blamed cortisol from the chronic stress I experienced for over a decade. It’s possible. I don’t know.

What I do know is that I can stand in front of a mirror and know in my heart that I am a total rock star who is strong and capable, while also looking at myself with sadness and hurt. I know that I am sexy, vibrant, and beautiful, while also knowing that I am unhappy with and would like to change what I see. I can hold space for both to be true. Until the day in which the grief has transitioned into greater love, the grief is part of my daily experience. The sadness and hurt – the disappointment – is part of my daily experience, just as the celebration, love and acceptance is. The process by which things change is only known after they have, and so I can only do my best to show up each day and allow for whatever comes… knowing that it’s okay to love my body, while also working to change it.

xoxo,
Martina

The Surprising Gift of Triggers

I’ve recently been having conversations with a friend that are proving triggersome. (Is that even a word? Ah well, it is now.) Basically, the sharing and exploration of ideas, dreams, and desires is bringing up a decent amount of triggers for me – triggers that I didn’t necessarily expect, though probably knew were there, lurking behind some vision board somewhere. In other words, though delightful, they are also somewhat challenging at times.

What is a trigger? Well, it’s something that can blind-side you and almost always causes a reaction much greater than the stimulus itself. I liken it to poking the bear. One poke in just the right spot might awaken it and turn it into a crazy raving animal. The reaction outweighs the stimulus.

In all my years of traveling on this journey of mine, I can safely say that I’ve never welcomed the pokes… until now. Now, something has shifted, and I see the triggers as little gifts. I see them as opportunities to address and release (or properly catalog) something that needed attention, something that was unknowingly holding me back from being my whole self more consistently.

It’s a different approach that I am enjoying discovering and playing with. On the one hand, rather than just being triggered, I am also aware of the triggers, which actually makes the trigger less powerful. It also splits my attention between that of witness and main character, which is intriguing and leads to a tiny bit of a fog sometimes as I navigate the new terrain, but is pretty cool to walk through. And on the other hand, I find myself feeling excited for the shift and the change that I know is in progress, and so I am more tolerant of the ebbs and flows of thought, emotion, and questions that are arising. In short, I am finding that I am more peaceful and compassionate with myself, while also feeling curious about what’s going on.

The result is that it’s allowing me to engage in these discussions with my friend from a different place. A healthier, stronger, more curious place, because I don’t have any specific attachment to anything. I don’t have an agenda other than to be open to the change in me that these interactions – these triggers – are manifesting.

There is an old saying that people come into our lives for a reason, a season, or a lifetime, and I believe that to be mostly true. (I think everyone is in our life for a reason). I think some folks move in and out of our lives seasonally, like stitches in clothing; while others run alongside us for lifetimes like sidewalks across a road. Both are worthwhile, and both can trigger us at different points – hence, both have their reasons. We just don’t always know what the reason is.

For me, these conversations are a gift, because they’re allowing me to create awareness to things that needed my attention. So, I don’t mind being triggered. It means I’ve been given an opportunity to let go of something that no longer serves me. It also means I’m creating an opportunity to live more fully, deeply, and with greater joy, passion, and meaning. The definition of ‘win-win.’

xoxo,
Martina

The Gift of Triggers

Do Something… Anything.

Who here has seen the Harry Potter films? There’s this one scene early in the series when Harry, Ron and Hermione are trapped in the bathroom with a mountain troll. The troll has Harry dangling by the legs and Harry yells to Ron, “Do something!”

Ron replies, “What?!?”

Harry, even louder, “… ANYTHING!”

As I sat to write this week’s blog, that scene and those voices – those words – kept repeating in my head, like an album of old with a stuck needle.

Do something… Anything.

It’s really simple, isn’t it? And yet – sometimes it can be so hard to just get going with the “anything.”

As I continue to lay the groundwork and pull together all the pieces for the follow-up book to What if..?, I believe more and more that “anything” is exactly the answer to most of life’s quandaries. Why? Because “anything” creates movement, and movement leads to flow. Every time.

I’m living a perfect example of this right now. If you follow my blog, you know I’ve been trying to navigate whether or not to change it. It’s been a weekly endeavor for over 7 years now (with one hiatus during grad school), and I have lost a bit of the spark with writing it. I don’t think it’s that I don’t want to do it – quite the opposite. I love writing it. I think it’s that I’m in a bit of a resetting and restoring period in my life, and so sometimes writing isn’t a priority. In fact, it’s rarely been a priority of late, because it feels like effort.

I am grateful that I can say that everything I have published up until this current period has been effortless. It’s been all part of the flow. I sit down, I feel inspired, and I type. Rarely has it been a struggle. But lately, I’ve been missing that sort of creative flow in my life, and yet I knew that writing wouldn’t restore it. So, what did I do?

I listened to Harry and did “anything.”

My “anything” actually looked like art. I picked up my pen and my sketch pad, and I began to draw. I allowed myself 5 minutes a day of just sketching or drawing whatever came out. And it’s been marvelous. Plus, it hasn’t always remained at 5 minutes, which is evidence that the flow is returning. I can also say that I’ve taken an interest in cooking again and experimenting with combinations and flavors.

This is what it means to “get in the flow.” The flow is non-goal-oriented, non-specific, and non-judgmental. It simply is. And when it’s moving, it encourages more movement. This is exactly why “anything” works to restore flow. And it doesn’t have to be something “big” or “important” either. 5 minutes a day of just sketching is certainly not life-changing.

And yet….

And yet it is. It is because it’s a path back to a flow state, in small increments made with deliberate intent to simply get something – anything – moving. Which is actually what change is all about: small deliberate steps, taken incrementally, over time.

So, the next time you’re feeling stuck just remember Harry, Ron and Hermione in the bathroom, and do anything. “Anything” will always lead you forward.

xoxo,
Martina

P.S. Here are two of my recent sketches. I have posted a few on Instagram, if you want to see more. 🙂

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I’m sorry… Thank you. (a love letter to my body)

For those of you who know me, you know that I have spent the better part of the last 15 years working on my health and wellness. It’s a journey, a journey that never ends, so we might as well settle in and enjoy it along the way, right? It’s taken me the better part of a decade to realize that truth. And, it’s also taken me longer than a decade to shift my focus from the mental, emotional, and spiritual aspects of health to the physical.

For me, the physical is the “final frontier,” so to speak, of my wellness boot camp. I’ve gone head first into the other three, but always kept the physical at bay. Why? Oh, I could give you so many reasons, but the bottom line is: it wasn’t time – I wasn’t ready. I certainly did many things along the way to improve my physical health, but few of them took hold, or worked, or mattered enough, actually, to make lasting change. Plus, the spiritual, emotional, and mental frontiers were simply easier for me to understand and apply successfully. And, truth be told, I somewhat assumed that if I focused on those, the physical would just fall into place.

Alas, it’s not that easy. Not for me, at least.

So, here I am, finally in a place where I have been deliberately and diligently addressing the physical aspects of my health for the better part of  the last 1-2 years. I have an amazing team of wellness professionals helping me meander through the various bits of information, and it’s been a lot of trial and error, the results of which have been, at times, discouraging. There have been days when I have literally decided to “resign myself to my fate” of not being as physically healthy as I would wish. Of course, I know this isn’t true, but I’m human and vulnerable to the array of emotions that arise from feeling the struggle.

And then, a couple of weeks ago my dear wise friend, Kate (@wisdomofone), posted this quote on her social media:

14114770_10153736997641466_5172646785627773202_o-2It’s a quote from starting, by Nayyirah Waheed.

It gave me pause – as all good things do. It was a new approach that I hadn’t heard before. What I knew previously was echoed in one of the first few comments, which suggested that instead of saying sorry, we should say thank you. We *should* align with the energy of gratitude when dealing with our physical health. It’s a common message these days, touted by every spiritual thought leader, guru, author, and teacher: Gratitude, gratitude, gratitude… the cure all.

Yes, but… But there was something about this quote that tugged at my emotions and made me sit a little taller.

Frankly, I don’t think it’s an either/or proposition… why can’t we do both? Say “sorry” and “thank you?” And what happens if we do?

If our physical health has been suffering (at our own hand, or otherwise), it seems to me that it would make sense to BOTH apologize AND say thank you. It seems to me that the most powerful approach to wellness includes an acknowledgment of our responsibility as well as an opening up to possibility. The minute I read this exchange on social media, I knew that was what I, myself, needed. I needed to humbly kneel before my own vessel and apologize, asking for forgiveness while also embracing it with genuine gratitude and joy for all it has done for me throughout my transgressions, whether conscious or unconscious.

And with that, I wrote this note to my body:

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I’m sorry for the way I treated you when I didn’t know better.
I’m sorry for the way I treated you when I knew better.
I’m sorry for when I didn’t make you a priority.
I’m sorry for when I let others treat you poorly.
I’m sorry for when I ignored your messages.
I’m sorry for taking you for granted.
I’m sorry for not loving you enough.
I’m sorry for not loving you more.
I’m sorry for not loving you.

Thank you for taking care of me when…

… I treated you poorly.
… I allowed others to treat you poorly.
… I didn’t make you a priority.
… I didn’t listen to your messages.
… I took you for granted.
… I didn’t love you.

And perhaps that’s how we should look at all the aspects of our health: By taking ownership for our role in the patterns we have created (consciously or not) and apologizing, then expressing gratitude for what’s worked. And maybe, hopefully, this can be a model that we can take out into the world with our other meaningful relationships.

xoxo,
Martina

Permission to Let Go

I missed writing a blog last week – did you notice? Several of you did and reached out to check that everything is ok (thank you). And if you didn’t notice, that’s totally ok, because I didn’t notice either.

Sometime during the afternoon on Tuesday I had the realization that it WAS Tuesday, and I had totally missed writing for the week. I think it had entered my mind sometime over the weekend prior, but I wasn’t in the mood or in a place to sit down and write, so I didn’t. Then Tuesday morning came and went, and I had no notice of it. I actually thought it was Monday.

When I finally realized that I had missed the weekly blog, I responded rather differently than I would have expected. I said to myself, “Oops. Oh well…” and that was it.

Let me back up though. The reason I would have expected more of a reaction is because many years ago I made a commitment to myself to always write every week, and to do so in a way that would benefit others. This weekly ritual was designed to be both an offering (it is always free), and a habit to reinforce my creative process. There have been very few occasions in which I stopped writing weekly – the main one being my time in graduate school. For the most part, however, I haven’t missed a week in over seven years (barring that graduate school period). So, why didn’t it bother me?

Not only did it not bother me, I saw it as an opportunity to reflect on the reasons for writing and the plan for the future. I started asking whether it was realistic for me to write a weekly blog when I am working on 3-4 books at the same time? Do people really read it or want it? Is it adding value?

All of these things, and more, came streaming in and out of my mind. In the end, however, I returned to the original premise of the blog, which is:

  • To make an offering
  • To maintain a creative flow

Those two things still hold true today, and are more important to me than ever. And yet, I also realized the importance of letting go of any judgment or self-criticism that would have had me reacting a differently than I did. I’m very happy with my response, because it shows that I have developed a level of self-compassion and patience that I didn’t have previously. It’s evidence of the fact that I am living more form a flow-state than a struggle-state (even though it often feels like struggle on the outside). My response shows me that my inner seas are calm and smooth sailing, and that is worth more than anything.

So, I have made the decision to continue to write weekly – though I will allow myself the flexibility of posting on a different day, sometime between Monday and Friday in any given week. Flexibility is a key component of flow, and will allow me to adjust my sails a bit and see what happens.

And I think that’s the most important thing we can learn in life, isn’t it? How to respond to ourselves with kindness, compassion and flexibility, so that we can raise our awareness and assess whether changes need to be made from a place of inner calm. Well, at least that’s where it is for me, today. And for that, I am grateful that I missed writing last week. it gave me the perfect opportunity to pause, take a step back, and move forward with more compassion, awareness, and alignment.

xoxo,
Martina