Friendly Mantras
If I’m having a bad day I usually call up one of my girlfriends to remind me that my life is actually a bright and sunny place. They’re remarkable, good friends, because they know exactly how to snap you out of it. Truth be told, our friends are usually a heck of a lot nicer to us than we are to ourselves. If we asked our friends to describe us they would make us blush. We might be told that we’re compassionate, strong, beautiful and inspirational. If we asked ourselves we would probably just go on and on about how we’re not good enough and it would be as if we were talking about a completely different person.
Linda Rodin
Linda Rodin is my long-lost soul sister. We both adore shelling, scouring flea markets for treasure, and red lipstick. I met Linda when I discovered her luxurious oil, Olio Lusso, which has been a savior to my sensitive skin. The elixir is made up of 11 essential oils and smells divine. I’m eternally devoted. I had the pleasure of spending the afternoon with Linda in her eclectic and loving home for a glass of vino (screw top Pinot Grigio served in small vintage glasses) to chat about home, passion, and (of course) Olio Lusso.
Pied Piper
I just took the hardest yoga class of my life. Part of me feels speechless because it’s difficult to come up with the words to describe my experience…to paint a picture that would take the reader into my world on my mat in that moment. Let me start by saying this; tonight I trekked along an arduous new path and found myself surprised by the results. My personal work was not to master one of the dozen or so different arm balances taught in class, but to force myself not to leave the room and waltz up to the front desk demanding a refund.
Free Time
I ran into a fellow teacher on the streets of New York a few weeks ago (I just love that about New York) and, as serendipitous meetings go, she walked into my day at exactly the right moment. Knee-deep in my own melodrama, I was desperately trying to dig myself out of that black hole of negativity. When it comes to our baggage, it’s hard to let go. Even if our negative narrative creates suffering, there’s a strange satisfaction in just letting the whole thing snowball into a self-fulfilling prophecy. Somewhere deep inside we know there’s a switch we can flip, but we can’t help ourselves. On some level, the pain of our drama is more pleasurable than our desire to move beyond it.