Looking Up

This morning, I woke up at 6:30am, brushed my teeth and scooped my hair back into a ponytail, grabbed the tupperware container of shrimp I crammed in the mini-fridge last night for lunch, and hopped in my car to go teach yoga. I cranked up some John West (whom I discovered last summer in Santa Monica with Sebastien, and who still speaks to me every time I play his song "Gravity"). I relished the ferosity of the sunshine, fully pouring into my little Honda Civic before 7am, and I smiled.

Yoga with Mario, the CEO of the restaurant distribution company, was, as always, much more rewarding when we finished sweating and balancing at 8:30am than it had been when I slumped out of my bed two hours earlier. There is something about Mario's unassuming nature, his ability to tune into detail and to work in small steps towards shifts in his practice, which intrigues and humbles me. Each week after yoga, we chat for a bit about what shenanigans his teenage son has gotten up to, or how his shoulder is doing on a particular day, or about an interesting experiment or thought we've been ruminating over. This week, as we were pulling on our hoodies and rolling up our mats, Mario having reached a turning point in his practice this morning during the balancing asanas, we started discussing achieving goals. I asked him about how he had achieved his goal, of running a company where his employees - who have worked here for years - truly would do anything for this man. Mario sat down on a weight bench, and calmly explained to me how he has been able to do this great thing.

"There is very, very little difference between success and failure. Success has to do with accepting reality. Most people overvalue what they have, instead of looking realistically at the small steps they can take or opportunities which exist outside of themselves. It all has to do with your intention, and with taking the opportunities. Yes, there is maybe a bit of luck, but no one just 'gets lucky'; you have to put yourself in a position to get lucky. Your profession is a perfect example, an example of quantum mechanics. You show up and say, 'what can I do? I'll do it for free.' And then, somebody notices you, this glow, because of your intention, and in their head, they're already envisioning their next project, and when it comes along, they're thinking, 'I want to use that girl.' Take my wife, for example. If we want to be real about the situation, she could look at the fact that I do yoga with you each week and have red flags go up, could say, 'who is this blond chick you work out with?' But you know what? Because you have such a strong intention, I want to share that with her. And after meeting you only once, and giving us the opportunity to practice yoga together, she even commented, 'wow, she really has such a great energy about her.' Having an intention of purpose which is good can be draining, because you want to create a good environment for people, where they will feel proud to come to, in good times and in bad, but you are also trying to balance that with partners or individuals who may have a negative intention, who may be narcissistic or what have you. So you find ways to re-tune into that intention. Even if it's four minutes of really focusing in during a balancing pose, or being with my dog and talking to an old fisherman, you tap into what makes you human. You reconnect with that place, and you try to let the inbetweens go. Because everybody who is successful is just like me and you, they have all had their heartbreaks, their ups and downs, their trials and tribulations. The difference in those that find success is that, whereas most people spend their lives looking down, afraid to lose what they have, those who find success spend their lives looking up."

As much as I enjoy teaching yoga, I have to admit that I sometimes feel guilty that perhaps I gain more from teaching than I give. I learn infinitely more through teaching than I ever thought I would, be it through correcting alignment, through speaking about the importance of simply breathing, or through these deeply important conversations with those whom I am so very privileged and honored to teach. It is an amazing thing.

***

In other news in my life, little things are beginning to shift here and there, beyond being recently single. As I learned during my yoga teacher training, "shifts happen." So, so true. And so, so important.

What are the benefits of being single? Well, to tell you the truth, I'm still discovering them. On Monday, January 14th, also known as Valentine's Day, I wanted to vomit when, at 7am, every radio station seemed to have been invaded by little pink unicorn farts and sappy love letters. I was miserable as I drove down Santa Monica Boulevard and saw, at almost every street corner, a vendor selling fresh bouquets, little white teddy bears, and boxes of gourmet chocolates. That evening, I showed up to sub the 7:30pm yoga class (at a studio I am trying to distance myself from). I had only seen one girl go upstairs, so I asked the owner what his policy was on a requisite number of students per class. "I say, just teach the class," was the nasal response I got. And then, slightly more quiet, and as though he was gossiping to me about someone with cooties, he continued, "I mean, the girls who show up tonight are single anyways, they don't have anywhere to be. It's teaching as an act of good will." I could feel my eyebrows raise as I seethed with indignation at his supposing all single women were miserable charity cases. But as a result - and perhaps a little out of spite - I proceeded to lead four beautiful women in a very powerful class.

So being single. This is the first time I have been single, truly, since a brief, four-month hiatus before I started college. Before that, who knows. Now this is not a commentary on my vanity or on my perception of myself because, as most of my close friends can attest to, it has only been within the last few years that I have started having a positive sense of self. This fact is, however, a chance for me to reinspect who I am as an individual, and how I have grown since I was eighteen, and how I am growing now. I am taking a four-month sabbatical on my own behalf. It began on February 16th. And on June 16th, when my little sister is in Los Angeles and I have had four wonderful months all to myself, I am going to go on the most delicious, delightful date imaginable. Until then, I am focusing on the work of becoming myself, of growing into the woman ahead of me. As I read last night whilst perusing Thoreau's writing, “If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost. There is where they should be. Now put foundations under them.”

Don't get me wrong, it's only been twelve days so far. It's not easy. There are still little moments throughout the day when I suddenly feel melancholy for no particular reason other than the thought of some romantic memory, or when I catch myself wondering if I will one day end up where and with whom I'm supposed to be. But I return to my present, and I rejoice in the fact that I have always come out better than I thought I would initially, that the end result is always sweeter somehow. I am beyond grateful for the support of my friends and family, who have done everything from sending me a 24-pack of Kombucha to calling me late at night, from listening to me philosophize at Whole Foods to sending me [incredibly touching] original song lyrics. These simple, yet by no means small, acts of kindness have elevated my spirit to new heights. And beyond that, some of the things I have to look forward to over the next couple of months include:

*getting a copy of the footage from the newly-released Hulu commercials I am in, which people have been so kind about! If you haven't seen the commercials and want to, feel free to check out "The Morning After" on Hulu, and watch "The Contest" (clips 1-5). Short but sweet. http://www.hulu.com/search?query=The+Morning+After&st=1&fs=

*running through Griffith Park and getting hit by a car - that's right, I'm the only person in the world who gets excited about that - for a stunt gig, this Thursday and Friday.

*teaching weekly community yoga classes on the Malibu Pier, beginning this Saturday.

*doing a fun beach photoshoot with a good friend and his nifty new camera next week.

*taking an unbelievable road trip along California's Pacific Coast Highway in just two short weeks, which will include spending time with six of my most cherished friends in the entire world. These are the people who have seen me laugh, who have seen me cry, who have seen me fall, and who have seen me get back up again. We will be hiking, dancing, singing, partying, picnicking, swimming, and more in what is sure to be a week we will all remember for the rest of our lives.

*potentially learning how to surf and taking dance classes at Debbie Reynold's Dance Studio.

*seeing John West play a gig at the Hollywood Key Club on April 8th, and enjoying seeing him live as much as I did the first time.

*seeing my little sister and multiple friends graduate from college this May, as well as my little brother graduate from high school and enter the fall freshman class at the University of Texas!

*watching myself fighting as a Zombie on "Deadliest Warrior" in June (season three, episode ten).

*having my cousin visit Los Angeles on his way back from a wedding in New Zealand.

*getting a whole month to live with my little sister and best friend in Los Angeles.

*....who knows? :)

And then, I will get to have my four-month anniversary party. Sometimes, life sure does have a lot to savor, a lot of sweetness. It just takes time and patience to get past the thorns. But I'm getting there.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8dGHx4X0PkY

"I have to keep reminding myself
I’m not like anyone else
That’s my face on my ID
That makes me V.I.P.
No one exactly like this
No one with my fingerprints
No one can touch you like me
No I can’t fake what you see

They told me: “Girl, to get you’re way, you’ve got to be a bitch!”
They say that: “A guy won’t get the girl, if he’s not filthy rich!”
You stop with little changes,
‘Til you don’t know who you are
Surround yourself with friends
Who only call you a superstar
Oh yeah, oh yeah
(Ready, set, baby let’s go)

The sky is the limit
And I just wanna flow
Free as a spirit on a journey of hope
Cut the strings and let me go
I’m weightless, I’m weightless
Millions of balloons heading to the ground
Weight of the world tries to hold us down
Cut the strings and let me go
I’m weightless, I’m weightless,
I’m weightless, I’m weightless…

All the things I held in my fist
If I don’t let go, I don’t exist
They’ve become the things that define me
How I look and the things to buy me
That’s not important anymore
I feel me rising off the floor
Light as a feather, I’m carefree
I’m weightless…"

-Natasha Bedingfield, "Weightless" (Less is More version)

Breathing

My manager has a brother who is a classically trained violinist. He studied at Julliard, one of the most respected music schools in the world, and his father was also a musician. When the brother was twenty-three years old, he was diagnosed with a brain tumor, and the doctors estimated that the cancer would give him only a few months to live. He is now forty-six years old and is the longest-surviving person on earth not to have gone into remission with that type of cancer.

As a result of the cancer, this brother lost all sensation in his fingertips, which meant he could no longer play violin when he had finished treatment. The brother was devastated, as playing the violin had been his passion, his talent, and his plan for his life since he was a little boy. He moved to Taiwan, where he got a degree in Chinese. Not long after, as a result of the radioactive chemotherapy the brother had undergone during his cancer treatment, he went deaf, meaning he could no longer read tones on lips, which is an essential element in understanding Chinese. Over the next twenty years, the brother has tried small pursuits here and there, but it always seems that the rug is pulled out from under him, that his goal is stolen away. Now, at forty-six, he is still a bachelor, and still trying to deal with the rage he feels. My manager feels so deeply for her brother, and for the fact that he is still grieving, but she cannot change his situation. All she can do is pick up the phone or sit at a bar with a couple of beers and say, "I'm here."

Sometimes, no matter what degree of empathy we feel we can access, or what degree of hopefulness we wish to bestow out of our own personal optimism for those we deeply love, all we can do - and perhaps all that is needed in the moment - is to just be there, to be a human being, not a human doing, or a human fixing, as I try to be. There comes a moment when we have to be willing to just sit and listen. For some people, time is the only elixir strong enough to numb or alter their pain. For some others, even time is not a potent enough balm. There is a literal 'mourning' period after a piece of someone's identity is disestablished, and it is impossible to glean whether that period will last a few months or the rest of a lifetime.

I am learning a painful lesson in unselfishness. If you truly care about someone, you have to find a way to put your desires and your wants on the shelf and to step away from the situation, if that's what is needed. It may hurt like hell to stare at the ceiling for hours on end in the dead of night, to reach for the phone and then delicately return it to the same spot, but it is the necessary. I discovered a photograph of a prayer tablet from an Asian temple, and it reads, "I wish that the happiness of other will always be enough to outweigh the miseries of my own life." I aspire to live this as my credo. It is agonizing on some days, and it bears many sleepless nights and silent tears, yet I also tend to believe that love is the embodiment of unselfishness, and that love, in the end, reigns supreme.

I found myself sitting on the edge of a pier yesterday morning, early enough so that the only other person around was the odd fisherman, patiently combing the deep. I leaned against an iron railing, staring at orange and magenta starfish below, watching the sun dancing on the lapping waves, and I cried. I sank down to the deck and called my mother, who listened to my story. She then said, "Chelsea, you're at an age and a time in your life when everything is just so.. intense. Life is intense, everything is a great high or a great low. That's just the way it feels when you're young, you feel so so much. But as you get older, and as you get older with someone, you learn to know each other's little quirks and ways, and life smooths out somehow. You learn to be comfortable with each other, to laugh with each other over the things you fought about when you were in your twenties. If it is not meant to be, you will grow as a person and move toward the right direction. If it is meant to be, then time will make it so. And when it does come together, it will be even stronger."

As I listened to my mother's words, I saw two whales jumping in the surf, as a pair, something which I had never seen before, and I actually gasped into the phone. Then I saw a flock of birds soar across the ocean crest, following each other in solidarity. As cheesy as even I realize it sounds in the retelling, it was stunning. Even in moments of extreme pain, the world does not stop living, does not stop breathing. And that is what I will do, for now. I will breathe.

The storm is coming but I don't mind.
People are dying, I close my blinds.

All that i know is I'm breathing now.

I want to change the world...instead I sleep.
I want to believe in more than you and me.

But all that I know is I'm breathing

All i can do is keep breathing

All we can do is keep breathing now.

-"Keep Breathing", by Ingrid Michaelson