Hello, kittens. I thought very seriously about shutting this little operation down for a couple (six) months, but then I remembered I have entirely too much to say. Instead, I’ve decided to curb my Facebook/Twitter/email/phone usage. This seems to have had an immediate positive impact on my life. Onward and upward.

This is my second yoga teacher training weekend, and you know what that means: NEW AGE WEIRDO RANTS.

So grab your kabbalah bracelet and a nice hot mug of… water. Shit’s about to get weird.

Have you seen my spirulina?

Anyway. I’m actually not even delving into teacher training tonight because THIS has been consuming my life:

I have no idea why I’m reading this book. That’s not true. I do. It’s a tangled web, a slippery slope, a long story… if you will. I believe the way this book weaseled its way into my life went something like this:

Someone posted a blog written by Gabrielle Bernstein, which I found relevant to my life. I then proceeded to stalk Bernstein and figure out her deal. Turns out she’s a drug addict turned spiritual guru often described as the “Carrie Bradshaw of spirituality.” It took me less than 30 seconds to purchase her two most recent books, Spirit Junkie and Adding More ~ing to Your Life. I regret to inform you that both books are horrendous and I read no more than 15 pages of each. HOWEVER, what I picked up on immediately was that everything Bernstein wrote about was prefaced with: “When I read A Course in Miracles…” And for some unknown reason I had to know what this book was about.

The first thing I did not see coming with this book is that is super Christian–like, written from the voice of Jesus, I gather thus far–and I am not. Not at all. Nor is Bernstein who was raised Jewish/Buddhist or “Jewbu” as she calls it. No big deal. I’m an “explorer of all faiths,” I suppose. Just didn’t see it coming.

So “Jesus” is talking to me (what?) through Helen Schucman who actually wrote it and I’m finding myself suddenly very motivated to read it all. All 1,400 pages. Because things like this keep popping up:

“Fear is always a sign of strain, arising whenever what you want conflicts with what you do. This situation arises in two ways: simultaneously or successively. This produces conflicted behavior, which is intolerable to you because the part of the mind that wants to do something else is outraged. Second, you can behave as you think you should, but without entirely wanting to do so. This produces consistent behavior, but entails great strain. In both cases, the mind and the behavior are out of accord, resulting in a situation in which you are doing what you do not wholly want to do. This arouses a sense of coercion that usually produces rage, and projection is likely to follow. Whenever there is fear, it is because you have not made up your mind. Your mind is therefore split, and your behavior inevitably becomes erratic… When you are fearful, you have chosen wrongly. That is why you feel responsible for it. You must change your mind, not your behavior, and this is a matter of willingness.”

Whew. This is the story of my life as of late. I kid you not.

Erratic behavior like, perhaps, trying to quit my job(s)? Trying to shut down the blog? Going to the Bahamas? Royally destroying relationships? Yep. Yep. Yep. Yep.

The problem, I think, is that what I want conflicts with what I do because who I am conflicts with who I tell people I am. Shwaa?? It’s a defense mechanism. Think about that.

There’s a difference between being alone and being lonely, I realize. It’s a fine line, blurry but razor sharp, and easily crossed if you’re not careful.

Sitting in a coffee shop reading and blogging and people watching: Blissfully alone.

Standing under a scalding hot shower at 3 o’clock in the morning, just standing there, until the water runs cold: Pretty damn lonely.

It’s all about perspective, of course. Is it a pen, or is it something else? I know the drill.

I feel like I’ve been going through this evolution this year from “Where am I going?” to “What am I doing?” to “Why can’t I do it right?”

At first I just wanted to run. I had this “anywhere but here” kind of mentality. I’ll find work anywhere but here. I’ll feel settled anywhere but here. I’ll be happy anywhere but here. It took a lot of growing up to let myself settle down, to just live somewhere without plotting my next move. So then it became not where you are but what you’re doing.

My mom always says “Bloom where you’re planted.” The point being that where you are (on the planet or in your life) shouldn’t dictate whether or not you thrive. Fair enough. So I started focusing instead on what I wanted to do with myself, independent of where I was. I thought I’d nailed it with the whole grad school thing, but we know I’ve been questioning that for a while now.

So then it becomes this question of: What am I doing wrong? Why can’t I get this right?

Today in microbiology (what the hell am I doing in microbiology?) we were talking about the growth of flagella on bacteria. (It’s the tail.)

The curious thing about flagella growth (that could be a book title… dibs!) is that it doesn’t move from the base outward like a plant rising up from the ground. Rather, it comes from the top down. Basically (I’m going to butcher this), a little cap attaches to where the tail should grow. But rather than the tail sprouting from the body and pushing the cap outward, the cap creates all these little layers that pile up on top of the base slowly pushing it up and away.

Shwaa? I know. In the end it’s the exact same growth in the exact same trajectory. But it leapt out at me today as I was sitting there just aching in class and my professor saying in her delightful British accent, “It’s such a strange way to grow.”

Ain’t that the truth.

That’s the only thing I wrote in my notes today: Strange way to grow.

I think maybe that’s my problem. I’m fixing things slowly but surely, yes, but maybe I’m going backwards. I’m starting with the little details.

Where will I live? What will I do? Who will I be with?

And inching outward to bigger, scarier questions.

What am I doing wrong? What do I want? (Who do I want, perhaps?) Ultimately… Who am I?

I think that all of those questions are really, really difficult to answer. But I feel like the work I’m doing in yoga is getting me there. Like the whole practice has plopped down on top of my life like a little cap and it’s creating all these new thoughts, all this new possibility. Letting life build, layer upon layer of old stuff, to slowly push me upward.

Anyway. I watched the coolest documentary last night. Everyone in the world needs to see it.