Sunday - Put that dream back on the shelf
|Right after voting... love, love, love the feeling of hopefulness post-vote.|
Since then, I've cut my hair and gone to a gentle yoga class. Both these things seem small, but here lately I started living in this very...hmmm... what's the word for that feeling... you know the "don't want to do too much for myself, because then it takes away from my boys, work, or Mike and I feel like it's going to bite me in the butt later (i.e. a late assignment, a late pick up, a fast food dinner, a late night of work)"... yeah, that word.
But, the pastor's words coupled with all the recent gun violence (and some of the electoral stuff )- forces me to realize that I need to pour into myself so that I can dream again and so that I can pour into my loved ones (and those that I serve) from a place of abundance. I've been pouring from a half-full cup, which means everyone gets drops and I get nothing. What was my dream?
This is not about to turn into a cute self-care post. But it is a reminder to myself to make sure that I am taking care of me in an authentic way.
For me, this does not include a fancy studio, no special food from the Wanka Wanka tree, no $35 drink from the fountain of youth, nor a standing head meditation. It's simply going to the YMCA for gentle yoga class - where my teacher is north of 70 and her students span the ages of 25 - 85, where the room is filled with an array of shades, bodies of all different sizes, every walk of life represented. A place to practice with the cafe owner, the artist, the "Stacy Abrams" sign holder, and the Women's Studies professor. A place where I can go in a t-shirt, joggers and a new haircut. A haircut that isn't social media worthy nor hip - simply a beautiful way to release the hair that is full and new and untouched by chemicals. A haircut that allows my hair to be unruly, wild, and free.