How Your Life is Like A Riptide

April 9, 2012 By TheOrganicSister

You know that most riptide deaths are not caused by the riptide itself? They are actually caused by the swimmer’s exhaustion as they fight the tide trying to regain their control and sense of safety.

Da Moon and Da Sea

Last week, after a long day on the beach, I was connecting with a girlfriend online around the idea of surrender and allowing when it dawned on me…

This is life at times: A riptide in the ocean.

We dip our toes into Mama Ocean, playing with the idea of jumping in headlong, with the thought of independence and glory and Big Ass Dreams of the moves we’ll make and the way we’ll look. Then comes the time when we’re finally ready and we dive in (thinking we look like sexy mermaids, of course) feeling happy, excited…feeling the excitement of freedom and exploration as our Big Ass Dreams become Big Ass Plans.

But the ocean sometimes has another idea.

Sometimes it laughs at our mermaid-esque attempts and our Big Ass Plans and it wraps it’s arms around our waist and says “This will be more fun.”

And then it shows us what we really get to see.

And that loss of control, the pull in a deeper direction, feels dangerous. Our natural inclination is to fight against the current, swimming hard toward shore, toward what looks like safety. To regain our authority, our rightfulness, our power. To be the commander of our own direction. To push through the fear, fight the resistance, or force our way forward.

But that’s how deaths happen, you know.

Surrender Saves Lives

They say if you’re caught in a riptide you should do one of two things to save yourself from exhaustion and your ultimate demise.

:: Swim parallel to the shore: Don’t lose sight of your bearings, your safe ground, your desires. But don’t fight for them. Just move yourself out of the chaos by side-stepping it and getting yourself into a new place (a new frame of mind, a new environment, a new idea, a new rhythm). But sometimes that current has other plans and won’t relinquish you that easily, and so your safest bet is to….

:: Lay back and surrender to the flow: The riptide will move you, it will pull you beyond your comfort zone. It will show you things you’ve never had the courage to explore on your own and take you a bit farther than you thought possible. And then the calm will come, as you pass beyond the rush and you can find your way back to solid ground with a new understanding of the power that surrounds you, a new respect for the forces that envelop you and yes, more clarity on your path.

Yes, Life’s been teaching me a lot about surrender, about allowing, about dreaming and actualizing with an openness to Trust.

It’s been helping me to release the tension and the resistance and lay back with my arms spread open and surrender to the flow, or the sunshine, or the sweetness of rest.

It’s been showing me when to focus in, and when to let it all go. And it seems a disproportionate amount of it looks like surrender, especially when it comes to juggling three businesses and family connections and spiritual grounding. Surrender to what my heart really aches for, for what my mind really can’t focus on, to the idea of doing jack-shit all day, then staying up “too late” to get three solid, uninterrupted hours of work done.

And here are my frantic efforts to swim against the current: chastising myself for going to bed at 2am and waking up at 10, feeling guilty for too much time working, feeling guilty for too much time playing, stressing over the taxes due and tires that will need replacing soon, the needs of a daily changing son and the upcoming events on my calendar, and my deeper need to escape to the mountains with my nomadic mamas. Thoughts of rudeness as I just can’t find the time to catch up on emails, when I am instead writing in my journal at the beach. The old tapes that play out when I measure my own needs against the needs of others.

And all the while hearing The Ocean, as it allows me to fatigue myself, whispering to my spirit with the words,

“Release. Surrender. Let me take you deep and far beyond your comfort zone and show you what awaits out there. Lay back and let Me carry you. You are safe…but only if you let go.”

Filed Under: Organic Business, Organic Wisdom Tagged With: allowing, control, life, ocean, resistance, surrender, trust

Full Moon Gathering with the EcoWomb (Video)

January 23, 2012 By TheOrganicSister

We spent the first full moon of 2012 camping and eating, laughing and talking, playing music and connecting with the EcoWomb family and many new friends. It was also when I burned my dreads and the first week I had to play with my new phone and it’s many awesome apps.

It’s funny; I recently remembered I set the intention to create some fun home videos over two years ago.

It makes me smile to realize yet another forgotten intention came to fruition in its own timing. Mmm…the things I used to stress over I’ve learned to trust and allow. That feels good (now to learn how to apply it to other areas).

P.S. Apparently, YouTube censored my video because of the song I used to show our videos and pictures. Ironically, it was the song “One Love” by Bob Marley…you know, the guy all for love and gratitude, instead of greed. Apparently, the record company didn’t get the memo. I wish I had time to redo it but I don’t – and I’m leaving it up because I can still watch it. But I’ve included our photos of our time below as a lame alternative to an otherwise great video.

Filed Under: Life on the Road Tagged With: allowing, bonfire, community, ecowomb, florida, full moon, intentions, trust, videos

Part Three: On the Experience of Shaving My Head and Being Free (Before, During and After Photos!)

December 28, 2011 By TheOrganicSister 82 Comments

I’ve sat here looking at a blank screen grasping at inadequate words to describe the shaving of my head for way too long.

Incredible? Weak.

Empowering? Still weak.

Enlightening? Closer.

Let me start by backing up a little to the beginning of my weekend. We’ll see where it goes from there.

Tiffani, my badass freeplaylife photographer, arrived in Orlando on Friday evening.

Now let me just say something about Tiffani.

She’s flipping amazing. Colorful. Playful. Daring. Vibrant. Envelope-pushing.

But she also has this deeply sensitive side that you only get to see in her photos or videos or in long conversations about Life.

So I knew she was the perfect person to help me commemorate this powerful step. Because she totally “got it”. ♥

We had an amazing weekend that I know I’ll be talking more about later.

But the photos!

Oh wow, the photos.

We started with the before photos (for obvious reasons) and let me just say, one amazing photographer can make you fall in love with yourself.

She captured so much more than either of us felt was possible to convey without being there.

Because, oh being there was amazing!

We laughed, drank wine, ate and talked, shared epiphanies and dreams and laughed some more. I love that woman so much. Yes, I’ll definitely be writing more about that soon.

But back to the experience…

Capturing the “Before”

I wanted to capture it. My dreads. What they meant. I wasn’t sure if it would be possible but if anyone could do it, I knew it would be Tiffani.

And she did.

And I love them, each and every one of the “Before” shots. They so perfectly capture the depth and love I’ve had for my dreads. They leave me breathless. Speechless. In awe and honor of my own spiritual path, of where I’ve been and Who I Am because of them.

I’ll let my favorites do the talking…

I looked at them on her camera between Day One of photos and Day Two. And I had an ache. I saw the beauty and the story Tiffani had caught for me. And for the span of one deep breath, I loved them so much I couldn’t fathom letting them go.

But then that breath passed and I felt my whole body, my whole spirit say “Trust”. Mmm, yes I can do trust.

The During and After Experience

As much as the before photos LOOK amazing, it was (and is) the during and after process of shaving off my dreads that FEEL amazing.

And that feeling of “amazing” was something that the camera couldn’t capture.

The way it FELT to have my husband there, the man who spent 14 loving hours putting my dreadlocks in, handing me the empowerment, the strength to take this next step – on my own this time.

The way it FELT to acknowledge my fear as it turned my hands cold and made my heart pound and asked me to pause, to breath, to give it a just a moment to be heard so that it could willingly let go.

The way it FELT to call forward the faces of the beautiful women, my many sisters, who had emailed or texted or messaged me their love, to feel them circling around me.

And then the way it FELT to remove my dreads, one-by-one, to feel the world shift beneath me, while also shifting me forward, the rushing in of exhilaration, and of an emotion I still do not have a name for.

I’ve said it so many times but it bears repeating again: It was as if my dreads had, over the last 43 months (to the day, I just realized), systematically entangled all the energy of my past, the fears and challenges and limitations and all those things that were not serving me.

And towards the end of my three and a half year journey with dreadlocks, it was “heavy” with the past and the stories that were ready to be let go.

And so, with all the yuck carefully secured in my dreads, I began to snip it all away.

The past that didn’t belong in my present, the heaviness…

The weight of the world fell off my shoulders.

One at a time. Landing on the ground. With only a few feet between us but feeling as though it was the length of the world now separating me from it.

Distant. Done.

Old and gone and unattached.

And then the way it FELT to see “the past” lying on the ground, to hold it in my hands, to feel as though it was ancient history, detached from me – something to honor and smile upon, but not something to ache for or regret or miss.

(To miss them would’ve felt awkward, like going backward, like losing wisdom, slipping into clothes that had once been comfortable but that I had outgrown. It would’ve felt silly trying to wear the things of my past, like a grown women trying on her favorite childhood shirt. It was and is and always will be beloved, but it’s not comfortable anymore.)

I felt LIGHT…not weight-light, but energy-light.

I text my mom an After photo and she said it perfectly in just a few words:

You look beautiful. And FREE!!!

Free.

Yes, that’s what this feeling is.

It’s the feeling of being free. Open. Unencumbered. Spiritually showered.

A lot of people (my dad included) don’t get it. How was I not free before?

But I AM FREE now. I recognize the difference, in the way only a previously and ignorantly unfree person could recognize. I’m suddenly free of the past. I’m free of the expectations I’ve accepted in my life (from myself and others). I’m free of the facade, the props I would use to convey Who I Am.

I’m free of the NEED to convey Who I Am.

I am free.

I never expected to feel as free and as feminine and as sexy in my own skin as I do right now with no hair. I’m walking on clouds, in love with my raw self. Feeling as though I’ve settled into Who I am, dropping into my own essence, JUST my essence. Nothing trailing along behind me.

Calm and simple and joyful authenticity.

I can’t stop rubbing my head or reveling in that menthol-cool feeling of the air across my scalp or the warmth of the sun or swimming in the pool, holding my breath beneath the water, feeling the sensations moving around me, no more worry about “getting my hair wet”, nothing taking me out of the moment, out of the experience it.

Present-moment awareness. How does having no hair offer me that?

I don’t know but there it is.

The whole experience. Commemorating my dreadlocks. Preparing to send them off with love. Those two minutes of fear, where my hands went cold and shaky and I wasn’t sure I had the courage to take my next step forward.

Then the instantaneous and immense feeling of YesYesYes! as I snipped the first dread and it fell to the ground, the feeling that propelled me forward like a mad-woman, feeling the heaviness lift from my spirit, feeling the open space begin to fill with excitement and LIGHTness as each knot of hair was shed.

The JOY and smiles and that sense that my whole body was laughing that suddenly came rushing in, not from my mouth or my face or my words (I was pretty much beyond words), but from my belly, from my core. Bubbling up and spilling out of my eyes, my pores, my fingertips, the top of my head.

The way I suddenly felt lit up, nothing getting in the way of SHINING. Radiating. Reveling.

To feel so deeply connected to Who I Am, to the people in my life, to Spirit and Life itself…

It has been one of the most deeply spiritual (yet insanely, hysterically, joyful and downright silly) experiences of my thirty years.

It’s sounds silly to many.

I even have to laugh at how silly it sounds to me.

It’s just hair after at all.

But it’s not about the hair.

It’s about the experience of my hair. MY experience.

It’s about what this small, seemingly meaningless experience (in the grand scheme of life) had to offer me.

And it’s about me accepting that offer.

It’s about being open to a grandiose, breathtaking and awe-inspiring overture in what looks inconsequential, impermanent, and trivial.

This is life.

Mundane. Simple. Momentary. The details small and ultimately insignificant. A blip on the screen of the Universe. A monotonously repetitive story throughout the span of the centuries.

But still never duplicated in the narrative. Consistently renewed in our emotions. And regularly, excruciatingly and inconceivably mind-blowing to participate in.

It’s all “just hair”. Until we embrace the experience of it. And then it’s the whole Universe bursting alive within the space of one fleeting moment.

Click here for all the photos from our shoot!

All of these amazing photos are from Tiffani Bearup.

Check out her full set on Flickr.

Tell her how much you love her work here on Facebook or in the comments below!

Want to read more about my process from dreadlocks to a shaved head?

All dreadlock posts from start to finish are here.

Part One: My announcement video of my decision to shave my dreads

Part Two: A more in-depth, emotional and raw video on my decision

Part Three: Putting The Process of Shaving Them into Words (and lots of photos)

Part Four: A GORGEOUS Video and words from other women who’ve done the same

And lastly: Burning My Dreadlocks: The Final Goodbye

Filed Under: Organic Wisdom, Things To Remember Tagged With: Dreadlocks, fear, hair, life, organic beauty, organic wisdom, photography, shaving my head, spirituality, trust

Instability and the Great Stretch

September 28, 2011 By TheOrganicSister 2 Comments

This really crazy thing can happen when your 5th wheel tries to roll away without you. Twice.

It can really mess with your sense of stability. Go figure.

The first time it happened in Washington a few months ago while we were visiting the Burditt’s. We could see the slope that time, so we thought we understood it and learned from it.

(Side note: Just to illustrate the difference in my and my husband’s response time. When I saw Jazz moving backward without us, I froze, terrified. Justin? He jumped into action, reaching out and trying to stop it with his bare hands. Definitely the guy you want in a tight spot.)

But the second time it happened (about two months ago) there was no discernible slope. We were at a campground, in a level campsite and had just unhook the truck when it slid back off the two inch leveling blocks with a hard thud to the ground.

Oh, did I mention Zeb and our dog were inside when it happened? Nothing like a mama heart attack.

After that second time I sat outside the RV for hours, unable to go in, unable to unfix my gaze from the front jacks. As if my watchful vigilance was the only thing keeping us in one place.

But it was the dizziness that really messed me up.

Anytime we leveled the jacks, put the slides in or out, hooked up or unhooked, or… you know, made the slightest move, I’d get so dizzy as to almost fall over.

If you’ve been in a 5th wheel or any RV, you know there is always perceivable movement. Which means I was almost always dizzy.

And let me just say, it’s terrifying to feel every subtle movement. Every tiny wiggle, every creak, heaven forbid a freaking lurch…it’s heart-clenching and stomach-dropping and awful.

I knew when we made the choice to travel two years ago I would be confronting a sense of stability. A “sticks and bricks” house denotes at least a certain level of stability.

But I never experienced this ungrounded sense in Benny the Brave. Maybe it was having two axles to rest on instead of one, but I found it easier to lean into an inner sense of stability last year.

This year, though, you could call The Year of the Stretch.

I’ve been stretched and grown in ways that surpass all human comprehension and language. I feel as though I’ve been on a spiritual fast track as I experience the depths of the human condition and come out the other side in awe again and again.

But my inner stability has been the furthest stretch yet.

You see, I actually WANT this uncomfortable experience.

I want to learn how to deeper access my own sense of inner stability, to find a grounded peace within any storm, to walk on the steady ground of my own heart and Soul.

So since that horrific rolling away incident, I’ve leaned into grounding myself.

I’ve spent time barefoot in the grass and the sand, visualized my feet growing roots into the Earth, and I’ve considered piling rocks around Jazz’s wheels and jacks to reaffirm to the world that we are, in fact, grounded and not rolling anywhere.

I’ve also gently leaned into what I may start calling the Great Stretch.

I’ve done my own inner work, sought support from my own coaches, leaned into my own Source, and looked at and processed every element of my reaction and fear, from psychological to spiritual to physical and back again.

It’s as though I’m peeling back layers around this thing called stability, knowing it and its place in my life deeper and through the incident and my own response to it, understanding my own self deeper and with more compassion.

Thankfully the dizziness is rare now. And I’ve found there is a gift in sensing every small movement (lurkers don’t stand a chance).

But more than anything I’m thankfully to be finding my own rugged and unyielding sense of stability, not in my physical environment (although I now understand the importance of grounding our physical selves) but inside myself.

Because I know the world will always change outside of me. I know the unpredictable will continue to occur.

And I also know that it’s my own inner footing that keeps me truly unshakable.

Filed Under: Life on the Road Tagged With: personal growth, spirituality, stability, trust

Organic Wisdom: Understanding Through Compassion

August 26, 2011 By TheOrganicSister 4 Comments

True understanding is found through compassion. – my Yogi teabag

For some godawful reason, Northern Michigan has confused August with a season to get cold.

Coming from Nevada, it makes no sense to my body to wake up shivering, but I do love any excuse to make hot tea in the morning.

There’s just something about it, the routine maybe…filling the teapot, lighting the stove, warming my hands by the flame and then with my hot mug. Sipping until it’s cool enough to drink. Slowing down. Not jumping into my day.

I also love my Yogi tea nuggets of wisdom, just a tiny phrase to meditate on while I roll my hot mug between my cold hands. This morning’s wisdom was the one above.

Compassion.

It’s been a word on my tongue a lot lately.

Compassion.

And how often it’s lacking in our words, our thoughts (judgments), our reactions (especially the knee-jerk kind).

When I am connected to compassion I see deeper, feel deeper, connect to others and to Truth deeper.

When my focus is not on compassion I’m absorbed in my own thoughts (judgments), my own reactions, my own sense of victimhood, my own ego.

But compassion takes me out of those things.

Camera + Compassion + My Son

In case you didn’t notice I’m taking a lot of shoddy photos with my phone lately.

I haven’t mentioned it to anyone but my other camera isn’t in the best shape right now.

A couple weeks ago, I took it to the pool and in an effort to keep it dry wrapped it in a towel. Not knowing this and while I was back at the RV, Zeb picked up said towel and my camera fell several feet to the cement.

Thank goodness for an already residing sense of compassion.

I didn’t see the look on his face when it happened but I saw the look when he came up to tell me. It was a mixture of remorse and uncertainty. He knew how much I loved my camera, love to take photos, loved to capture expressions and moments from funny angles. And in my less-than-compassionate moments, he knew that my initial reaction could be the knee-jerk variety.

“Mom, I’m really sorry. I didn’t know your camera was there and I picked up the towel to dry off and…well, it fell and Dad has been trying but it’s not taking pictures now.”

But in that moment, I was fully connected to my own Truth, my own wisdom, my own Bigger Picture.

I was centered and felt content. And so my reaction was one of compassion.

“Really? You’re not upset? Because Spirit in the Sky was playing on the radio when it happened and I thought for sure it was an omen that you were gonna kill me,” he said with a grin. My son, he’s a funny one.

Don’t get me wrong…I felt my own disappointment and sadness over losing something I love.

But I felt a stronger sense of compassion for my son’s disappointment and concern for me.

But Compassion Isn’t Really The Answer

Okay, I really don’t believe compassion is the answer, even if the word is on my tongue a lot lately.

I didn’t take it in stride because I wanted to be compassionate. I didn’t keep my perspective because I focused on what would be the most compassionate.

I was compassionate because I already felt that deep sense of Connection within myself.

And by already being connected to my own Organic Wisdom, I could see with compassion. I could see that he cared deeply for me. I could see his worry. I could see that it was only a cheap lens that broke. And that it was just a camera anyway, a thing. I could see that I hadn’t even been taking many pictures lately. And I could even see my own accountability: I had wrapped it up in a towel and not told anyone after all.

Compassion didn’t allow me to see or understand those things. Being able to see those things without the fogginess of my emotions or knee-jerk reactions allowed me to respond with compassion.

And because hindsight is all a beautiful thing, I can see just how nice it is to only have my cell phone to take pictures – convenient, lightweight and good enough to capture the moment, save time in editing and get back to what really matters.