No mud, no lotus.

 Photo credit: @leolophotography

‘Shame unravels connection’. -Brene Brown

Coming off a week surrounded by powerfully inspiring Yogis, with amazingly strong bodies, full of moving stories, I feel more vulnerable than I have in years. I feel stripped to my bones, completely naked, like one of those nightmares where we’re in our birthday suit, in front of a large group of people,  the crowd bursting from the seams in laughter. Like. That. Naked.

Throughout the week I persisted on doubting my practice and my body, flashes of not being good enough floated in and out of me, as persistent as the oceans waves that surrounded.  I felt an insane amount of pressure to perform, bust out my coolest Yoga pose, in front of the sunset, or beach, while getting 200+ likes from that same photo I put on Instagram, write the most witty and inspiring of prose, press up into handstand, eat bowls full of guacamole and chips, while balancing a block on my head, and keeping my six-pack of abs. (That last bit was a slight exaggeration) Did anyone tell me that this was expected of me? No, no one. If anything, everyone was beyond welcoming, encouraging, accepting, and FULL of love. This was/is my own shit. Murky, dirty, ugly shit.

No mud, no lotus, right? Well, I’m about to bloom the most beautiful fucking flower you’ve ever seen.

From day one, I felt an immense sense of regret and shame for my body not falling within the standard concept of what’s visually beautiful. My body, far from the typical ‘yoga body’ you see displayed on magazines and Instagram, makes me wince when I see a photo or catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror with a bikini on, or any sort of flesh exposed. My bathing suit bottoms pinching into the sides of my hips, like their life depended on it, mixed with my weakness for chips, guac, and flour-less chocolate cake; I found myself completely wrapped up in my own mind, and self-deprecating thoughts. Comparing myself to the flexible, strong, and slender bodies around me, or even those woman, who have come to love their curves and the bodies they were born with, in a way that I envy. Chatter, loud chatter.

This is the challenge with internal dialogue, it truly makes no sense, yet it weighs us down like the gravitational pull of the Earth. And brings us deep, deep down, until we cannot pull ourselves out, and are completely sucked into the dark pit of shame. Which is beyond hard to pull yourself out of. To those outside of our mind, it will definitely make no sense, it will most likely seem 'crazy', or unwarranted to you. But to those of us suffering, it is everything, it's all we know at this moment.

Theodore Roosevelt said, 'Comparison is the thief of joy'. I can't help but feel like a little bit of joy was pulled from me and that some of the most beautiful moments were missed, because of my dialogue, the story I've come to tell myself is true. It’s because of this shame, that I was unable to connect, to truly offer a piece of myself to the beautiful souls around me. Instead, I stood at a slight distance, reflecting on the murk in front of me, and working through what I was feeling, through the art of story-telling, with the glittery blue backdrop of Cabo's turquoise waters, and thick white sand.

I’m vulnerable, I’m raw, and this past retreat made me feel very uncomfortable, and away outside my comfort zone, to the point where I didn't feel like me. I think that’s ok. Because with this exposure we shared stories, and stories are what tie us together, not our 'meat suits'. I learned I have a story to tell and that people want to listen, because they can relate. That sitting in this shit makes us better people. No mud, no lotus. No mud, no lotus.

Brene Brown says, 'the only way to get rid of shame is to share’, so I am sharing with you all. In hopes that acknowledging this gives me permission to work through my demons, to know there are others that feel the same way I do, therefore knowing, that I am not alone in this. And through the solidarity, we get stronger, and can move further away from feelings of not being worthy. That we are able to embrace our own glory, our bodies, our minds, and our souls, and the people we choose to fill those spaces with.

Every day is a journey in itself and I am so excited to take it with you all. The more we acknowledge these feelings that we all have, the less tangibility we give them, and they no longer own our story, we just allow it to be a part of ours, and move on. No mud, no lotus.

Thank you.