So I know I said “im back!” in my last post and then…left you all hanging, again, but this time I’m back for real. Hope you all aren’t too mad at me, but somehow I think you’re surviving just fine without my weekly ramblings. And I’ll warn you, usually I try to post about things that relate to everyone’s life, just so this blog doesn’t turn into some egotistical dumping ground for uninteresting happenings in my life, but this one is pretty me-centered. I truly hope that you can relate or get something out of this other than knowledge of what’s going on with me.
So. Here’s the quick and dirty update on my life: I got hired as an intern for Solyoga trips (the coolest yoga/travel company EVER), and as a yoga instructor at Square One Yoga Collective (the coolest yoga studio in the East bay EVER). I’ve been writing a lot too, and have even gotten some articles published. Don’t read that one unless you’re okay with swearing and want to know the definition of luluWhore.
So yes, everything has been going swimmingly for me here. I spend my days teaching and practicing yoga, working and learning at Solyoga trips, rock climbing until my fingers bleed, and writing about whatever is on my mind. I’m not making a lot of money, well, actually, I’m really not making ANY money, but for right now, that’s okay.
And for all of you softies out there–yes, I am still really in love with Alex, more so than ever. Our relationship feels strong, fun, honest and supportive, despite the geographical distance between us. I love the shit out of that boy and he makes me happy all day.
My life these past few months has been exciting, creative, new, and always evolving. All has been well in the West.
And then, Colorado happened.
I went to visit my sister for a few days in Durango, and, as always, fell devastatingly in love with those mountains. Happens every damn time. The rock in Colorado is different: it’s dramatic, it stands out in the distance and taunts you with it’s perfection, sheer beauty, and unmistakable energy. It makes you feel different, wild somehow, and it just begs to be climbed. Climb me! It screams, loud enough to be heard all through the Aspen-dense valley.
God damnit. Just as soon as I start getting rooted down in the Bay Area, Colorado has to come along and be all, ohhh but wait George, look at me, I’m awesome and perfect for you and look at all these rocks I have.
Mother fucking Colorado.
As I hiked with my Dad and sister along the Animas river, I got that feeling like…yeah, this is where I want to be. And admittedly, I get that feeling from just about any place that’s beautiful and has rock, but Colorado has always been different. It’s on the top of my list of Places I’m Madly in Love With.
And yes, some of you know that when I was in Colorado I also visited Moab, Utah but I don’t want to talk about that because I’ll start crying about the fact that I’m sitting at a computer right now and I’m not there.
My heart has officially been broken by a Moabian boulder field. And I don’t wanna talk about it.
And so now, I’m faced with the same damn question I’ve had way too many times: should I move? Those of you who have read my blog from the beginning have seen that question come up for me more than once. If I go back and count it’s probably more like five times. And I’ve only been writing this blog for a little over a year.
Movement. Funny how that mindless, last-minute, slapped-on title has become nothing short of a perfect name for what I write about, for what I do, for what brings me the most blissful of joy and lands me in the most confusing of dilemmas.
I have come to realize that my passion (or should I call it a problem?) for geographical movement stems from fear. The fear of being rooted down, in any way, to a certain city or community. I’m afraid that if I settle, root, and grow in one place, that I’ll be missing out on some other experience (most likely involving the Rockies and being just a few hours drive away from Moab). Not having the option to hit the road running absolutely scares the shit out of me. But how am I ever going to get rooted into a yoga community, get a long term job in the future (that actually makes me money), or have a family (in the way distant future) if as soon as I start to settle down, I run for the hills (or the Rockies)?
The gypsy life is glamourous and all, but doesn’t lend well to getting this little thing called dolladolla billz, something that, even though the yoga culture doesn’t like to admit it, we all really need.
I almost wish I hadn’t discovered this about myself, just so I could keep on unknowingly being a broke dumbass who can’t stay put. God damn yoga and it’s self-realization powers.
What I need is a way to get rooted, because being rooted to certain extents is good, while still having the ability to adventure and be the movement-junkie that I am. I need balance. Well good, at least I know what I need. Or think I know.
The difference between this Holy Shit Should I Move or Not Moment and all of my other ones is that I’m actually having fun with it. I’m so grateful that I can even ask this question, that I’m at That Age, that dreaming about packing up the car and driving until I’m just a speck on the horizon is something that I can actually do.
It feels good to be where I am, confused as all hell about what I’m doing with my life and sometimes even my day, but I’m happy.
So beloved reader, if you made it this far through my me-centered post I congratulate you. I hope this post finds you happy and healthy, and I love all of your comments, messages, and emails. Keep them coming, especially if you’re just as confused as I am about what to do about all this Life bullshit.