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Radical self-acceptance

radical self acceptance. the complete up and the complete down. accept the really wonderful and the really shameful. accept the bad, the good, the pretty, the sad, the lame, the unworthy, the been there done that, the poop face, the acne face, the annoying one the funnny one, the headache, the hungry, the cool, the awkward, the clumsy, the fake, the beginning, the shy, the intolerable. accept the dramatic, the bad dancer, the good dancer, the really over the top happy and the really over the top sad. What would it look like to completely accept the thoughts and feeling, the mood, the swing, the change in inner temperament. so everything happens. and you gotta flow with it like a current of water. i should start swimming again. flow flow flow water. accept and don't intellectualise. when you intellectualise you are at some level not accepting it and that makes you feel the need to understand it and intellectualise it and figure it out, and conquer it and own it and name it and con
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Dance like no one's watching.

What the hell man, whenever I am dancing when no one is watching, my moves are always so fire! Why is there no one watching? The conundrum of my life, or actually even more accurate, when I make music when no one's recording, my music is dope! Why is no one recording? This is my life over and over again on repeat! Why? When no one is watching, when there is no critic, no eye, no ear, no nose (?) to judge, to bear witness. It's like that snake that you like to pet but bites you at the same time. How can this be? Without the pressure to perform, I can perform like a professional, but then with the pressure to perform, I buckle like a gingerbread house. Is that what sets the pros apart from the proles? Most likely. But knowing me, I want to talk around in circles about it until I figure out a way to make myself feel better.  When we dance and no one is watching, what are we doing? We know we are not being scrutinized. We know we are liberated from the observer, the panopti
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Damn this girl ain't consistent

My older brother once told me, always be consistent. He gives really good advice normally, but that time wasn't so much my favorite. I am one of the lease consistent people ever, and I guess what I mean by that is that I cannot keep to a routine or stick to things very long. Whether it's waking up early, meditating, exercising, or even writing a blog (it's been almost one year since I wrote my last post) I suck at routines. I hate them so much that I would go out of my way to not have them. But now that I have been out of a traditional nine to five job for a couple of years now, I've been flirting with this desire for routine. I'd like to make a quick caveat here, that I prefer to use the term ritual, since for me the term routine implies a sense of dead repetitive movement, ritual for me implies an action with a living intention behind it. So this is a great topic to discuss in my (almost) one year anniversary, I initially thought to start out by recapping the
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Movement

I've decided to move back home, temporarily. The moving process has been amazing, it has been cleansing. I have been decluttering the house, selling off furniture, clothes and other stuff I've accumulated. It's a rebirth within a rebirthing moment in time for me. I hope to return home with a stronger sense of direction, a stronger passion and drive to manifest the life I want. I have been working on my art and working on myself. I ask myself what I desire, and I am beginning to see that I can and deserve it. Sometimes it's coming to me, straight to me. I am beginning this journey everyday with a better head on my shoulders and a stronger heart in my body. I need to remind myself that I am what I desire and that I am becoming it everyday. I can bring about the life I want if I believe in myself. If I follow my heart. My heart has been silenced for so long, I think it is hard to hear it over the chatter in my mind. But as I allow myself to flow and to move with the curren
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The Motions of Unemployment Part 2

Encroaching upon my one year anniversary of renewal of life I begin to declutter the remnants of the past. A job I've been putting off for, well almost a year now, I doused myself with some Kendrick Lamar to begin my purging mood. This has been something I've put off for quite a while since it is painful to return to memories of a life I've left behind me, or more so a chapter of my life. I cannot say it's been a process that's been easy, since getting to the point of reimagining my life in a positive way has taken me a long time. It's still a process. Everyday is a lesson for me. Somedays better than others. This post has taken me a couple of days to write specifically because of those hard days that keep me in bed, comparing myself to the life I wish I had, the person I wish I was. It's a process of accepting myself. To begin with, now out of full-time employment, and instead working towards establishing my art and independent source(s) of income, I ha
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The Motions of Unemployment Part 1

It's been almost exactly one year since I was fired from my comfortable yet high stress and mediocre paying job. It was the first job I had that made me feel like an adult, or what I imagined adult life was all about. Getting a career, having a salary, medical and retirement benefits, and the esteem that comes with feeling like you fit into the world. But things are never what they seem. And really that fitting into the stereotypical mold of adult life is not for me. I cannot conform for the sake of conformity. Nor can I blindly accept things as they are simple because that's how it's been done. In fact, quite contrary to it all I don't fit in. I am still a child inside that wants to play, create, and love with all my heart. Why must I supress that? Obviously growing up I've accumulated more responsibilities and that's okay. Responsibilities help me to get into character to perform as an "adult" or better yet a well adjusted member of society. However
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The day I lost everything (or so I thought)

November 11th 2016. It was a Friday. Donald Trump just got elected as the 45th president of the United States. My boyfriend and I had just broken up. A close friend of mine had just been hospitalized in the ICU after someone unloaded a gun on him attempting to end his life. It was not the best week of my life, and it was just about to get better. I was called into the principal's office for a "routine" coaching meeting. This meeting seemed unroutine since we never held these meetings in the presence of the principal, let alone in his office. Within minutes of sitting down across from my principal and adjacent to my coach, I knew something terrible was in the air. Their looks were very serious and in front of me on a table laid a document. They asked me how my day was and before I could answer I was told to review the document. Upon reading through it my blood began to race, my hands began to shake, and sweat poured over me. On the document were a list of three goals tha
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