Track. Back On It.

Recently, I started taking a hot yoga class. I love all things beach and sauna and hot and sweaty like that, so this is so up my alley. The poses are challenging for me at times, but I love the spirit of the room. Everything about it feels encouraging. The space. The music. The too adorable yogi instructor. Even if I can’t hold my pigeon or tree pose, I still feel motivated to keep trying.

Every now and then I check my reflection in the mirror and I’m kind of surprised. I feel like I look much different than I actually do. In my mind, I’m all lean and tall and willowy and flowy, because that’s how yoga seems to make me feel. But my reflection gives off a different vibe. It looks short and full and stiff and struggle-y. So, I choose not to look at the mirror very often…because I love the way I feel in my mind’s eye yoga.

The times that I do look in the mirror, I am always drawn to a woman near the front of the room. She wears a purple headband and she is always smiling. Smiling. Like her resting face expression is just this simple pleasant little grin. I don’t know how she does that through the pigeon but she does. Smiling. Like she knows a secret but she’s not telling. And I think I love her and her face. I’ve decided. I want to be like the purple hot yoga lady when I grow up.

Once upon a time, I started my own blog. It was a simple thing. Full of verbs and action stories, documenting my simple life with its big stories and reflections. It was a big leap of vulnerability but I was embraced by a community of other writers doing their thing, with their words, on their pages. And it was a good thing.

Somewhere along the way, I got distracted. And the blog became something else and I got lured in by numbers and awards and thoughts of hey, maybe this can be something else, something bigger. And maybe it could have been, but along that path, it got complicated. And I found myself in a land of overthinking and trying to understand hosting and domain registrations. Words like Google ads and monetizing would keep me up at night, make my stomach hurt and kept me from the verbs and the nouns that I had come to love so much. And more importantly, I lost the connection to the one thing that had drawn me in here: connection.

So. Thanks to one of my wanna be BFFs, Danielle LaPorte, I recently made my way back to her Desire Map book and reconnected with my core desired feelings: Connection. Purpose. Presence. (Thanks Danielle–anytime you want to meet for some coffee or tea, I’m so there for you, babe.)

And I realized that I just miss writing. I miss stringing words together and seeing how they land on the page. I miss reading other people’s writing and being able to comment and say Hello and connect with their stories and lives. I miss writing for the sheer act of writing. To tell a story. To document a fleeting thought. To question. To reflect. I lost my purpose for MommyVerbs, which is so silly, because it was always right there in the tagline. Engage each day with action words, to make good things happen. Purpose.

So, I’m trying to make my way back. Back to MommyVerbs. Back to writing. Back to Connection. Purpose. And being Present in the act of putting words to paper/screen.

The other site still lives over at MommyVerbs.com because I do seem to own that internet real estate space until 2019. Even though it overwhelms me and has never really felt like home. There are words stored there and I can’t quite pack them up just yet. But for now, I’m going to dust off these shelves and pull in a chair and a comfy fuzzy blanket and settle in for a bit. See what happens. See who still lives in the neighborhood. Invite them over for some cookies and a glass of wine. And Reconnect. Repurpose. Re-presence. (That’s not a word, I used to do that all the time in this space…play and make up new words. It’s what I do here, clearly.)

756 words to say very little other than to make a declaration of sorts. I’m going to be the equivalent of the purple hot yoga lady on a blog. I’m just going to smile through it all. I don’t even remember completely how this all works. So, I will apologize if some of you receive an email or your readers ding you to check in. Just imagine me smiling though my pigeon pose, which they tell me opens up my hips–I’ll take their word for it.

Just over here smiling, seeking connection. Writing for a more authentic purpose. And trying to be present, here, now, to make good things happen.

Let’s all Go, Do that.

 

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