I am in a daze. Today was full of extra courage, and extra shaky hands. We made the decision to walk away from our gigs… something that 99% of people say, “you did WHAT?!”… Our security, income, everything we worked “hard" for, to make a living playing music on MAUI… something people dream of doing… just to walk away? Mhmm. Yup. I’ll never forget this conversation with a guy we met a year or so ago; he asked us what we do & we said we are musicians. He told us that we could make some money busking on Front Street. I told him that we’ve done that, but we are happily employed and perform at The Four Seasons every weekend along with many other snazzy venues. He immediately apologized and all it took was a namedrop for him to take us seriously. My ego liked that. From that moment on, The 4 Seasons and other similar venues we performed at became my safety blanket. Drop that name = instant respect. I became attached to the status, an external vocation to validate my existence as a viable human being. Only recently did i realize i have fallen into the same trap that I moved to Hawaii to free myself from. I walked away from my BMW, my job, and everything I used to define myself as “worthy”, and moved here with nothing. Who would I be when I removed everything defined myself with? Would I be “enough”? I never sang, I never played guitar. Two years later I made a living doing those things. I could’ve never predicted it. It was so much FUN!… until it wasn’t. We began overworking ourselves, & slowly our passion for music was being sucked out of our creative hearts as we emptied our lungs to tinkering plates and loud rooms. Once in awhile there was a passionate open heart that validated us for expending so much energy in that environment. We tried to remain positive and saw this as "paying our dues". When things stop flowing, thats a warning sign- its time to make a change, its time to grow. I didn’t listen. We became the most beautiful wallflowers. We’d come home feeling utterly drained, and cry in each other's arms. Then beat ourselves up for being “ungrateful”. I was gritting my teeth in my real life while I was preaching “Ease” on my super "real" Insta account,
What makes your anger any less sacred than your joy? What makes your anger any less sacred than your grief? The answer is nothing. Nothing. All emotions are EQUALLY sacred. 'This emotion is okay, but that emotion is ugly and inappropriate.' Fuck that shit!!! This is how emotions get suppressed and even more charged. Every. single. emotion is worthy of unconditional acknowledgment and presence. On this note of sacred Anger, which I am allowing myself to process for the first time and discover on this public platform, I want to share this quote. "So often, children are punished for being human. Children are not allowed to have grumpy moods, bad days, disrespectful tones, or bad attitudes. Yet we adults have them all the time! We think if we don't nip it in the bud, it will escalate and we will lose control. Let go of that unfounded fear and give your child permission to be human. We all have days like that. None of us are perfect. And we must stop holding our children to a higher standard of perfection than we can attain ourselves. All of the punishments you could throw at them will not stamp our their humanity, for to err is human and we all do it sometimes." -Rebecca Eanes. I love this quote so much, about creating space for the humanity in our children, and most important the humanity in ourselves. Every emotion is part of having a human experience… And to teach our children, (and our inner child) that these emotions are human and natural is to teach the basis of emotional intelligence and self honoring without exception. So on that note… say hello to my Anger. I feel as though I am just allowing myself to feel and discover this emotion for the first time. It makes me uncomfortable how edgy and sharp the emotion feels. I have labelled angry people in my mind as the crazy drunks, or someone who is uncivilized or overtaken by their ego. But this anger is also making me feel empowered from a solar plexus point of view, and I feel this intensity and charged-ness, which to me is a step up from the numb feeling that used to reside there. It may not be the "highest level" of "detachment" and "enlightenment", but it is a part of my process that I call my HUMANITY and
I was just scrolling thru my Instagram feed and then my own page; and I was just like, this shit all seems so dang perfect, filtered, staged... why? Why really? For the sake of art? To catch someone's eye? To make my life seem more amazing than it is? To be 'inspiring?'... wtf. Lol! What a mind trap. So I thought, What if I just took a pic of myself right now, just one pic. No camera roll of 50 pics of a similar pose trying to get the perfect angle and lighting... and I just posted it. No regrets. What if? ::feels pang of anxiety in belly:: No filter, no fixing the raw, real me in this moment. I don't wana be inspiring, visually stimulating, click baity, touched up. I just wana be me damnit. Is that not good enough? Interesting enough? Shiny enough? Powerful enough? What's so scary about just sharing a candid photo of me? What if I'm just posting that for engagement too? Who da fuck am I? Wellp I guess if that doesn't sound like an invitation I don't know what does. So here's me, laying in my bed at 2:15pm, with a cool hairdo that reminds me of when I'd pretend to be George Washington in the pool as a kid #hairflipanyone?. My shirt is inside out and I haven't brushed my teeth or meditated or done anything 'spiritual' today. I've got nothing inspiring to share and enlighten anyone with. I don't have any dramatic stories about my mom to write. It's just an average day in the life. It's nice to just share me, without feeling the need to be a certain way, share a certain thing, be engaging enough for an audience, this or that. Just hangin in ma sweatpants like George Washington and sheeyit. And dang, I'm kinda sorta feelin maself just as I am. #justbeinme#yolo#imreal#jennyfromdablock#amistillrealifisayimreal#wheresgeorge#dollabillyall#weouthere
"We don't need to talk about all that feminine rising stuff", he said…
"It just creates more separation, another agenda to perpetuate mass segregation… don't let it get to your head"
That's valid. No one likes a victim, it's true.
But does that discount the validity of my pain? Does it bother you?
I don't want to create more separation either, but what doesn't get acknowledged tends to brew.
I mean, you say that want *equality*.
But you're watching porn that objectifies women, fueling another cog in the machine called the ::dare I say it:: Patriarchy.
Or how about abuse of the sacred yin energy by overindulging in weed?
Look, this isn't all about pointing fingers and telling you to save your damn seed.
This is about taking responsibility.
For the way we've mistreated the sacred feminine energy, imbalance and injustice at the highest degree.
And, as much as I want to kick and scream and say that you're the problem, I know that this isn't your fault, okay?
The sexualization of women is the product of a scared little boy who's been led dangerously astray
A little boy who was never taught by elders how to commune with the feminine within in a sacred way.
Who's sexuality and portal to the divine was long ago shamed away.
Anyone with a basic understanding of psychology knows that whatever gets suppressed, gets expressed, in unhealthy ways.
I can go to women's circles all day,
but eventually I'm going to have to come home.
And you'll be here waiting… because i can't do it alone.
So we sit down together, and I ask you if you know what it feels like to take up too much space.
You look at me with a perplexed look on your face.
You don't know what that means.
This is something I've been afraid of for a long time.
Even now I am wondering if I've over shared to many lines
I take up space in a different way, though- the space is in the silence
Like when in a circle of men and women there's a pause and I feel safe enough to chime in
It doesn't feel natural to compete with the noise
To jump in the ring with the rowdy boys
Just for the sake of being heard.
Because I speak like mother nature herself
But if no one is dropping in, I'll get lost on the shelf
I could easily start a #relationshipchronicles or #twinflamechronicles and share all of the intense emotions and situations that arise in my relationship with B, but I've been hesitant because well you know, it's intimate stuff. Today's post has been wanting to be expressed for awhile but I never knew how I'd possibly word it. It's a recurring pattern that comes up in many ways, but most strongly while we are performing at gigs. Brian is a Leo with an intense stage presence. His exuberant talent and magnetic light is what attracted me to him in the first place. It became CLEAR to me that he was naturally a leader and a solo musician when I'd notice the dynamic that arised during jam circles early on in our relationship where he'd instantly take the lead and creating space for others didn't come naturally. He also joked to me that he hated team sports and gravitated towards solo activities. He was born to SHINE and I loved his confidence. I wanted that in my life. When we moved to Maui and he invited me to harmonize with him I felt honored that he saw a gift in me for music. Actually, from that moment on he'd never let me forget it. His enthusiasm and endless support for my musical gifts is the reason why I'm singing or playing guitar today. I knew it was a rarity for him to allow anyone to share the stage with him. And in the beginning, it was new and intimidating for me. I revered to his knowledge and skill, and I chimed in little harmonies here and there. But as my confidence and skill level improved, I noticed myself wanting to shine a little bit more. I began wanting to take up more space. I began craving to be seen up there during our performances as more of an equal, rather than "just a harmonizer". But I didn't feel I'd earned it yet. He'd been working so hard his whole life with music- and I'd just began. I didn't "deserve" it yet. This energetic dynamic didn't serve me, or the audience. Women would yell out from the audience, "Let the girl sing!" "We want to hear the girl!" Etc... of course Brian wanted to see me shine, but was he ready to start creating more space in his act, now *our* act- for me? So I began feeling little pangs of resentment towards
There are so many important nanotopics I could share relating to #themomchronicles, but as you can see they didn't continue. I felt insecure about sharing more. One thing I really crave is someone I can relate to on here who shares more than just concepts, advice, inspiration. Someone who is beyond raw&real. Who shares personal stories&experiences without a perfectly executed, sugarcoated new age persona attached. So I tried to be that person I wish to see. And amazing things happened; yet I saw the impact of my sharings on those who were written about firsthand. The anxiety it gave me was unreal. As a woman who is learning boundaries, oversharing personal matters to a platform of people I don't "know" can surely feel like an overstep, but it can feel equally freeing. I saw an article about how people will buy written-in journals on eBay for large sums of money. I feel this is because we are deeply fascinated by the deepest, most unfiltered inner workings of other minds. I also feel the larger reason for this is because we wonder if we are alone in our thoughts. I reflect on the concept of family secrets, and those stories we only share with close friends. We ALL have these "secrets", that ultimately can make us feel isolated because we are sworn to secrecy. But why? We all have the same shit. So why not share? Why not connect and relate at the depths so we can heal? This is the paradox that challenges me. What if I can be that person who shares the inner workings? Who makes others feel less alone? Who feels less alone when sharing with you? I notice that in general the more afraid I feel to click "post", the more impact the post makes. #vulnerability. Where's the fine line? Am I opening the door to psychic attacks? Is it disrespectful to share stories involving others? I did get comments about my recent posts from multiple people when I walked into town the other day. Some were gratitude based, and others judgmental. I desire to connect in a space where I can simply be me- honored where I am along my journey. I'll keep sharing; I'm just exploring the edges of my boundaries and safe space in real time through this expression. Thank you for being here
#Repost@balancedhuman - God I fucking love her. Speaking my heart exactly
I struggle on whether to share
or to hide.
My mind always torn from my heart.
To be so exposed.
To be the one who’s exposing.
Feeling the anxiety.
Created by my hands.
To get constant feedback.
This is my fucking life!
I don’t need to be fixed.
Stop trying to fix me.
Stop trying to fix everyone other than you.
Work on yourself.
Like I’m doing.
Like I’m here doing.
Fixing me won’t fix you.
There’s nothing to be fixed.
That’s what you want.
And it’s what I want too.
Space to be yourself.
Space to be myself.
Space to be who we are.
My life isn’t a show.
And so are my feelings.
I’m on display now.
A distraction for me.
A distraction for you.
An addiction for us all.
Maybe my story
helps you feel
Maybe my story
helps you feel better
about your own.
Poor any of us.
I’m not doing this for attention.
I’m doing this for myself.
What am I?
Other than a projection
of who you think I am.
What am I?
Other than an idea
to be accepted or rejected.
What am I?
Other than a reference
to compare yourself to.
What am I?
Other than a voice
to wake you up to your pain.
A voice you sometimes hate.
A voice you sometimes judge.
A voice you sometimes hear
as your own.
The same voice that comes to you in quiet moments,
and asks you to stop wasting your life as a mindless shell.
Don’t confuse my story with yours.
Don’t confuse me with you.
We are all the same.
This is not a dream.
This is a revolution.
You are at war with your own mind.
Have the courage to fight your own fight.
This is mine.
And give it Hell.
☼ Healing ▵ Artist ☾
Work with her: firstname.lastname@example.org
Speak my truth. Speak my truth. Speak my truth. That's all I need to do. Be heard. Be understood. That's been the theme of my journey lately. It's been wildly pushing me out of my comfort zone and making me feel like a totally empowered person and then a total crazy person at times- sometimes within minutes of each other! 1-2 years ago I was in the path of silence being the greatest wisdom. I still believe that. I've also accepted I'm not at Buddha level, and taking on the philosophy prematurely enabled me to bypass my innate human need for self expression. I was deeply afraid of sharing my authentic feelings with people. Opening the door to all that potential judgment, conflict, confrontation, drama, it just felt so egotistical and unnecessary to me at the time. Why be heard? Do I want to be right? Why bother? So I stayed stifled and masked it with the illusion that I was reaching enlightenment by staying silent. It took a lot of humbling to say, maybe I'm not evolved enough yet for that. Maybe I have to be heard by the world as a necessary step in my evolution because there's lessons for me here. There's a level of freedom and peace of mind that could somehow be reached from allowing myself to go against my Buddha philosophy for the sake of my humanness. I'm starting to get it. Now that I've allowed myself to "resist" and "speak up", all of that "acceptance", and "silence" I used to bypass my inner needs and voice for are starting to ACTUALLY make sense. I'm beginning to understand and integrate these profound concepts at a deeper level through experiencing their necessary polarity. It's like I'm coming back full circle. In the quest to be radically heard I am beginning to *truly* conceptualize that I always am by my source- rather than just saying that to make myself feel better. No one can hear and understand me like my source can, and it's no ones responsibility to. I am not nearly done speaking up, speaking my Truth. #notbuddhayet... but I am beginning to speak from a less desperate place, a more empowered place. A place of knowing I am intrinsically heard, rather than from a place of needing to be heard, needing to get something.
On day two we invite the moms over to see our new place. They're so joyous to see it, yet within 5 minutes I'm triggered. I walk out of the bathroom and all of the sudden I'm overwhelmed with double reactions of "OH MY GAWD YOU LOOK SO SKINNY! LOOK AT YOU! OH HONEY!" I feel attacked. I feel judged. I feel ashamed. Ugly. Like I'm being looked at. This is a sore subject for me. Since being diagnosed with Crohns it takes a lot of effort for me to keep weight on and I've had my fair share of insecurities around it. The old me would laugh awkwardly and change the subject or defend myself. I instead took a deep breath and attempted to be courageous. I stood in my power and said, "I don't appreciate comments being made about my weight because it-" and immediately I'm cut off by the "gobbling turkey effect"- "OH HONEY WE DIDNT MEAN IT LIKE THAT WE MEANT WE ARE JEALOUS WE WISH WE COULD BE THAT SKINNY OH OH DUWKCBAIEKEHXIJX!!" I'm cut off, shut down, unheard, they're in a freak reaction, and all the sudden I'm now in a position to have to remedy them. I'm watching a show unfold right before my eyes and I can't breathe. They continued to tell me I'd understand when I'm a mother. I told them I will never comment on my daughters weight in that way. Ever. They begged to differ. I fumed and the subject changed. Again, yesterday I brought this back up to my mom. I explained to her that we are so busy reacting and defending that none of us get heard. I began to cry. It's becoming so clear to me why so many of us don't feel truly understood in our pain. I wished for them to simply drop in and hear me when I expressed myself (which took every ounce of courage to do- maybe because I knew they would react that way and it never seemed worth it to express my true feelings in the past because the anticipated shutdown reaction was imminent). To instead slow down, be objective, and say, "we hear you- we understand why you are sensitive to that"... without taking the energy away and making it a dramatic show and turning the table.
Can you see my pain? Can you hear me without jumping down my throat? I want to hear you too. I want to hear what's underneath that
Double moms are here. My posts for the next weeks or so may or may not revolve around the vast emotions that come up around that. Deeply karmic. First conversation at dinner the moment they arrive and we reconnect for the first time in months, my mom asks me if if I'd like for her to grammatically correct my Instagram posts. I say no with a sharp tone and we move on. Resentment is brooding. Yesterday morning I bring it back up- and tell her that I am hurt that she brings up typos about my deepest heart sharings and never makes a single positive comment about them. I consider blocking her on social media. Truth comes out- she has felt insecure about my posts since day 1, because I express so much pain that she is worried what people will think about HER- that she raised a sad and fucked up child with poor grammar. She is sad because she didn't know that I was in 'so much pain' and she feels helpless. I begin to cry. She doesn't understand the plane of consciousness that I am expressing from. It's healing. It's real. I'm expressing everything that most people have been taught to suppress. She starts remedying me by telling me not to cry. Subtly, I'm being shamed out of my pain and I realize this is why I go express it on Instagram. I pause and drop in. I feel her pain. I feel everyone's pain. I share to heal my pain, to invite others into a safe space to heal theirs. I express this to my mom. She relaxes into herself and begins to get it. I ask her to allow me to feel so it can pass- she holds me as I cry in her arms. She feels safe to begin expressing her pain. She was on a spiritual path in her 20's and her boyfriend shamed her out of it. She shut down that part of herself. She stopped feeling. We get real. We connect more deeply than ever in history. In this moment we become best friends. We go for a walk and everything is so vibrant. I've never seen so much beauty. A veil lifts. I can breathe deeply. I give her reiki. She remembers. I was brave for the first time. I expressed exactly how I felt. I allowed myself to cry and taught her how to accept me in my sadness. She in return learned how to accept herself. This is progress. #themomchronicles#momsonmaui
You know that feeling when you have been in your head regarding the way you feel bout certain subtle energies, situations, vibes, concepts, people, places, etc... thinking maybe you're going crazy and then you spend time wit someone who completely reminds you dat you ain't crazy at all and that actually your intuition is completely spot on and you're beyond sane and valid? It feels so good to be validated in our Truths from time to time. (Yes, healthy opposing points of views expand our consciousness as well, but that's not what I'm touching on here.) If you've got someone like this in your life, who hears you out, who shines your sanity back onto you, show them some love. These are special and rare souls. #validation#truth#sanity#reflection#reassurance#therealhomies
The other night at that women's music gathering I told you about.. I fumbled the most yet in front of a crowd. I got up there and my hands felt all sticky and frozen and my voice wasn't opened up cuz I needed a good cry and felt all tensed up and I had to pee and I somehow legit forgot how to play the guitar. I felt like the same disconnect you feel when you try to write with your opposite hand, or pick up a penny with frostbite or something. I noticed feelings of wanting to prove myself (and failing) to these people who haven't heard me come up as my voice was cracking and heart racing- mid song, mid fumble, eyes on me, nowhere to run.
But something interesting happened that gave me a glimpse of the soul work I've been putting in finally making a slight impact..
Through the keen and familiar awareness of the old "not good enough", "I'm fucking up", feelings arising, I was able to shift my view of myself through the eyes of self-compassion. Mid fumble. In the moment. I viewed my innocence, the truth of my intention- to convey my heart and not my skills. And I felt a sensation that surprised me upon sitting back down after...
I was proud of myself.
For allowing myself to be human in front of a group of people. Not just any group- but the biggest group I've ever performed in front of solo. I gave every single person in that room permission to be *human*. To make mistakes. I honored where I was at. And then I giggled to myself, acknowledging this as a sort of right of passage for every beginner, budding artist. We can't get through any meaningful life endeavor without fumbling and being seen at some point. It's inevitable, especially when embarking into something new and uncomfortable. To acknowledge my fumble and be like "FUCK YA! THIS MEANS IM DOIN DA THANG AND IM GROWING!" To myself rather than "FUCK YOU MERYL YOURE SUCH A DISGRACE FOR MAKING A MISTAKE HOW COULD YOU"! Is a huge milestone. So I just sat back and laughed. I let it go. I released the pressure for others to approve of me and I approved of myself. I acknowledged where I am along my journey, and it felt so good to accept my process. What relief. This. is. progress.