In the twenty-eight years I've been roaming this insane world of ours, I can honestly say that this is the first big promise I've made to myself that I've actually kept. And it hit me like a ton of bricks, sitting in my yoga class last night, listening to our teacher choke up with emotion. Our thirty pairs of eyes were closed and the lights were turned off. She said, "Thank you for coming to this class. Without you, [our studio] is empty. Without you, the circle is broken." And she meant it.
Though I appreciated the great generosity of spirit she showed us (and always does,) I allowed myself to get super self-centered. Fuck, I thought. I've been coming to this class for fourteen months. Every week I've been in town. I've fallen on my face. I've sweated gallons. I've looked like shit. I've felt humiliated. And I'm still here. I did it. Holy fuck. I did it.
My promise for 2013 wasn't to improve at yoga - not really, anyway. After seeing that documentary I always blather about last Christmas, I made a decision that the coming year (i.e. this one) would be dedicated to living my life the way I wanted to live it. It would be about making my ideal self and my real self the same frizzy-haired person, even - and especially - when it scared me. No excuses. No self-sabotage. No crippling insecurities. I'd just fucking do it, whatever "it" happened to be at the time.
As a direct result of that "ah ha" moment, I can safely say I've had the strangest, most wonder-full (full of wonder), and most meaningful year of my life. (Sure, I'll be digging myself out of a pit of financial woe for a few months to come. Sure, I'll be the only one at my high school reunion without a significant other or graduate degree. But je m'en fous.) It feels weird to admit this and even weirder to type it, but I'm proud of that. I'm grateful, too.
I'm grateful:
- that Laura and I threw caution to the wind and spent five incredible weeks in Thailand and India, hanging out with elephants and eating curry. (I still don't quite believe it happened)
- I got to experience reiki there, and fix my right knee in the process
- for my new job, which gives me freedom to explore what I really want to do with myself
- AND lucky that I got to meet Vikram Gandhi / Sri Kumaré a week before my twenty-eighth birthday. His handshake still visits me in my dreams...
- (kinda? not sure?) that the very next day, I gave a public presentation on Istanbul that was filmed and (supposedly) broadcasted on Turkish TV
- that instead of sulking like the sad sack I usually am, I threw myself the world's smallest birthday party and made a crêpe cake
- that I got to see two of my best friends from high school marry guys they really, really love
- that I splurged on a ticket to London for my friend's thirtieth birthday party - which was neither small nor included a crêpe cake, but did include gorgeous South Americans, a lot of cider, and the most intense heart-to-heart talk I've ever had
- that I made it to my roommate's wedding in Istanbul
- that I went back to Istanbul
- that I am listening to my gut, and have made the decision to move back to Istanbul.
phew!
It feels good to own my decisions, whether they're good or bad. They're mine. They belong to me.
Reviewing all of these events, I realized something, though. 2013 isn't enough. I can't promise myself that one year will be "the year of no excuses," when I really need to promise myself that this year and every year after it will have to be the same. I can't go back. I just can't.
So. 2014. As my friend Marc says, "Make no small plans."
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