Like a sweet sunset, let it go …

Like a sweet sunset, let it go …

“Keep your heart above your head and your eyes wide open …”

The seminal rule of good solid journalism is don’t start your story with a quote. OK, broken.

I’ve always bucked the rules, much to my parents’ chagrin, I am sure. But for some reason, I was driving home tonight and listening to this Zac Brown Band song (agh, country music and yoga?! … yes, it can be compatible, if it is for you!) and my heart simply broke open.

Ten minutes into my drive was all it took on this night, and replay … replay … replay …  of this tune and a true belting out of it on my part. A real rebel yell of it, in fact, to break open my ribs and let the emotion breathe. What is your song right now? Can you give yourself a break to yell it out? To dance. To really breathe it through you?

What was there for me today was the space that the radiant women in my life have embodied and created for me. Time and time again. Decade to decade. Despite all of my projections and all the other “stuff” over the years.

I knew in that moment I needed to thank those women NOW. Don’t wait for a death in your family to say how much I love you, or Mother’s Day to send a card. Do it now. Today. Right this moment. Let this yogic sentiment move beyond ideal to actualization. Translation: Do it.

As soon as my music and yelling cut off in my car and I walked into my house, and with the turning of the key I felt weird right away. I had a plan–radiant and vibrant–as I yelled into my car’s space. Yes! I will do this! But as soon as I turned the key, I felt myself shrink. The important point here, I suppose, is that I did actually feel it. I knew it was happening and, at least tonight, I chose to resist the shrinking into smallness. I chose to expand my being beyond the physical space that it occupies day to day.

I started by calling my radiant, vibrant, ebullient mom just to say “thank you. You are amazing and I hope to be more like you, one day.”

I had to start with small talk to warm myself up. Maybe you will too? But in the end–there shouldn’t have to be a catastrophic event in your life to tell those you adore, admire, rely upon, that you do. Do it NOW. It feels weird; I know. Still, do it. Isn’t this what we’re all waiting for? To know that we matter, to someone? That our efforts are not unseen?

To Tara, for your trust and patience; to Danielle, for your strength and perseverance; to Liz, for your grace; to Rachel, for your authenticity, to Amy, for your wisdom; to Cary, for your lessons about loyalty; to Jennifer, for your compassion; to Kate and Katie, for your wit and lightness; to Tataya, for teaching passion and how to be; to Stacy, for teaching me how to live; for Marsha, for teaching me how to LOVE and for all the things that are beyond words, that pass from heart to heart.

Thank you. You are my steadfast North Stars. And I’ll be calling you. Seeing you. It might be weird. Unfamiliar. But it’s what’s real and you deserve. Love. Love. Love.

Who are your North Stars? Tell them NOW. There is no other time.

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