I grew up in a trailer in the woods. It was not a luxurious double-wide but we did have an addition built on to it so there was an extra room. We grew meat birds and to keep the baby chicks warm in the spring we would keep them in the house under a heat lamp. I preferred them living in my bedroom so I would fall asleep every night to chirping of birds and the smell of tiny poos.
I remember waking up on Easter morning when I was around eight years old and feeling a heavy weight on my chest, torso and thighs. It was so heavy in fact, I couldn’t move. I could only look down towards my toes, over my comforter and to what was pinning me to the bed. I gasped. In awe, amazement, and most of all; thanks. Piled on top of me was a wheelbarrow load of bunny shit. I saw dried out round pellets spilling out over me that were still soft to touch but hard enough they didn’t make a mess. My bedroom smelled like a barn and as I squeeze myself out of bed and rolled onto the floor I saw a distinct trail of bunny poop dribbling off my bed, out my bedroom door and down the hall. I followed the trail. It took me all around the house, through the living room, under the kitchen table, down the length of the hall to the front door of our house. And there at the end of the trail of excrement was a big basket of Easter chocolate. I didn’t give a shit about the gifts and eggs and candy, instead I retraced my steps over and over again, following the trail that smelled faintly of a manger throughout our house back to my bed again where the pile ended. Here’s what I deduced from my investigation: The Easter bunny is NOT white, like most representations of him show. He is a chocolate brown, more the color of a deer. Standing at about 5 and a half feet tall, his hair is longer than you’d imagine it to be and o’ so soft. He has crust at the corners of his eyes from the dust on the road and he has…
I have hit the fucking wall.
One Saturday afternoon holding onto the end of my very frayed rope I finally just sat down and I asked. “Dear Lord almighty in heaven puhhhhllleasee just tell me where to step next. I neeeeeed a sign.”
And this is what I saw…
First off, if you call yourself a “spiritual teacher” you might not be one.
I was on the internet today and I came across a site I don’t care to endorse but let’s just say there was a article from a new-age “spiritual teacher” and from now on we are going to call her really pretty skinny lady. Really pretty skinny lady gave us a few “juicy tips” on how to get more publicity for our work and how to better brand ourselves and then offered up a “once in a lifetime” tele-seminar to give up the “full meal deal sesh” on how to really “amp up sales.”
Do you notice how many “quotations” I am using.
This is because everything she is saying is fucking bullshit.
Recap: This woman is telling me that because she is a “spiritual teacher” I should buy something from her and it will help me make more money and get more famous.
The emperor has no clothes.
I feel your pain.
I see how hard you work.
I understand your grief at fucking up again.
I feel your sadness that people you love will die.
I see your annoyance at what an asshole you can be.
I notice your overwhelming anxiety about your job…
BONUS POST for all my teachers out there!
My yoga teacher says we have to believe that there is an order to things- because there is…
It was a full moon and I was in Thailand. All by myself. I was hoping that Roger would come for a visit but he declined. Roger is my ex. Roger had stopped returning my texts a few weeks before so I was feeling even more alone. Then out of the blue one morning I get a text message…
Sometimes after all the shit rolls down the hill and I think it’s all too much to bear and I have finally ruined everything for good-I remember to try to breathe or I crawl into a ball and close my eyes. All that is left inside me is goodness and light and I cannot deny the kindness of the universe. Humbled to my knees. Softened and grateful. ______________________________________________________________________________________________________ [donateextra]
Sometimes I have to stop everything and lie down. I have to put my hands on my chest and take a moment to remind myself that in the end, in fact, everything is probably, actually going to be okay.