Yoga

DISCLAIMER:

If anyone actually decides to read posts prior to this one, please know that I purposely decided not to create a brand new blog, but instead to rename my old one, leaving all the old posts up, because that is where I came from and it has made me into who I am.  I mostly, if not entirely, do not agree with the philosophy behind my old thoughts anymore but I do believe in myself and I have no shame in having come from there.  The end.  Hope you my new mind frame:

Yoga came into my life in 2007 as a first-year baby in college.
I signed up for a single-unit class at CSULB to meet the required full-time student class load.
I was a judgmental bitch (I didn't say that yet) in 2007 so I instantly began picking apart everything:
Stupid teacher.
Stupid concepts.
Stupid people.
Just plain stupid.
(How I got into college with a twelve year old's emotional level, I know not.)
Anyways, two years passed and the "let's drop out of college and move to Portland" thing happened... Followed by me, well, not... and then living on the couch at Eleanor and then with my parents...
Yeah...

By the end of 2010, I found myself re-living at Eleanor and re-enrolled at CSULB.
I grew up a lot during my unexpected year off of college.
But even with all that growing, I was terrified shitless as I moved back to Long Beach;
Back to something I so vehemently ran from.
Ran. Ran. and Ran.
Until I couldn't run any longer.

2011: A new year.  A newly declared History major. A newly-diagnosed depressed me.
So I signed up for yoga again because I heard they hired a new instructor.
Sure, why not.
Yoga and I were not friends at first.
My yoga instructor asked the class to write down our feelings as an assignment.
Feelings?!  How dare she say that word.  Doesn't she know it's a dirty word?!
Apparently not...
I still did what she asked... Because I'm one of those kids and it was an assignment.
During our next class, she said the strangest thing while we were in a really difficult pose:
"When the pose reaches discomfort, instead of getting out of it, breathe into what you are feeling."
I fell out of my pose; my mouth agape - half scoffing, half intrigued.
As I resumed my position, she continued:
"Wherever there is tightness or discomfort in your pose, direct your breath there."
Okay...
When I finally stopped scoffing at the idea and actually did it, I immediately stopped.
A memory I distinctly remembered burying years ago came and scared the shit out of me.
Instead of falling out again, I shut my eyes and directed my breath (whatever the fuck that meant) towards the discomfort because the song I'm Not Afraid (yes, I like Eminem) started playing in my head and I'm relatively stubborn (shocking) so I sang that song to the scary memory because that just made sense and it wasn't so scary anymore.
Needless to say, I stopped scoffing and have been doing yoga ever since.

Flash forward to the past five months of my life:
I've been going to yoga on Sundays in place of church since March (long story).
Sometimes I'll tell people what I think about while doing yoga and they say I should write about it.
I don't really know why...  I think everyone can do it.
But I desperately need to write again and this may very well be a good vehicle to do so.
So I'm going to start doing that.
You're welcome to join.
Cheers.

Present:

Right foot cold.
Yawn.
Shiver as I react.
Ear catches buzz from light above.
Air conditioner starts.
Body shakes.
Hands numb.
Tear wells right eye.
Face flushes to attack.
Feet step not mine.
Wake up.
Read work.
Continue on.

Story?

Scenario One:
I accept a loan I was given that covers just enough so that I can go to school in the Spring.  I move back to Long Beach without having any money to live or a job for that matter.  I get an apartment with my girls even though I am most likely going to study abroad for 2011-2012 school year meaning I'd have to find a roommate for them.

Scenario Two:
I deny the loan, take a leave of absence from CSULB for Spring with the intention returning in the Fall, stay at home with my parents in Riverside for one more semester to save money and prepare.

Which one sounds for a more exciting story to tell?
Which one gives more chances for God to be big?
Which one takes power away from Money and gives it back to God Almighty?

I'm stunned that I'm even asking myself this question.
So why am I hesitant to take the loan and dive in?
Every time I log into the page to accept the loan, I log out.
Why?
I don't think I'm going to find out unless I take the loan.
I know that God wants to bless me and give me exactly what I desire so I need to trust Him.
How can He bless me if I don't give him ways to do so?
He has so much to give me that He needs help disbursing all of it.
I don't think He is always going to just hand over the goods.
If He did that, He'd be smothering me.
So He waits, I think, to give me things.
He created everything and uses everything, even loans that I have to pay back.
I've given Money too much power in my life and I'm going to take it back and put it with God.
Is this right?
I need guidance.
Or do I need to listen to my own voice?
I do.
I want to go to school and I want God to get me there.
He hasn't given me some earth shattering new vision to replace schooling.
Fine.
I'm accepting the loan and going to school.
ahh...

Bird:

A broken wing has left Bird flightless.
Bird is a bird, broken wing or broken beak.
But with what purpose is it to be a bird save not the wing?
Wing'd flight brings the unsurpassed feeling of living.
To live is to feel.
It is not life when living on a feeling.
A feeling of once flying before, shot.
Now grounded.
Now broken.
But not dead.
Recovery is torture.
Why not just die!
Birds don't speak the same language as their healer.
Or do they?
They might, just not yet.
One day, Bird will fly.
He just doesn't know it.
He just doesn't know.

Odd thought:

I was driving home this afternoon and had my music on shuffle.
3OH!3 came on and I started thinking
Liking this stuff is probably a sin (jokingly said) but their beats are sick!!
Then I continued down this trail of thought:
I think artists and musicians that are "secular" produce and create with more talent because there are no rules for them to break. Everywhere is accessible to them. "Christian" music generally is of lesser quality, I feel, because we are so fearful of breaking some unknown law we may or may not have ever heard of or maybe offending someone, God forbid we face opposition.  We've been told to be good, to be morally upright, whatever that means, but sometimes I think we've really just been scared into being scared of what we don't know.  Instead of exploring boundaries, we hide inside of our glass box of morality and say that we are free.  Just because we can't see the bars does not mean we are free.  I wonder if God doesn't want His creation to be so scared.  He doesn't have limits. Huh... 
I wonder how different it would be if people saw life through the perspective that God made everything. Everything means nothing is excluded.  It is the Devil that has corrupted what God created in perfection. With that said, there are in fact some rules. As Christian men and women, there are the 10 Words, 10 Guidelines aka the 10 Commandments, that need to be honored. But I think we should learn the rules of the game and then play. And hard. I know that I walk around the field screaming if the ball comes towards me. I'm learning to not to that and actually play. Playing means I will get hurt but I will win, eventually. I don't know, just a thought.
Meanwhile, don't trust a ho, never trust a trust a ho...

Why.

Why is it that I am considered a spaz, an unfocused lunatic, for wanting to expand my knowledge in all the major concentrations? Science, math, history, literature, both classic and current, the arts, dance, music, painting. Why am I told that in order to succeed, I must concentrate on one very specific avenue! There are so many possible avenues, why should I care about just one until I have a wide and firm knowledge base? It's frustrating. I don't have the money to stay in college forever nor do I want to get pushed along with the crowd, going from test to test, assuming that I know what I just learned well enough to create something from it. I'd prefer to be taught by a tutor. I actually want to be educated in all things and I can't be. I suppose that is what high school is for/was for. We are told we can take a wide selection of subjects but then only topically review them in class and then we're told to pick a career based off of what our puny teenage minds enjoyed in those 4 years. My brain now at 21 doesn't like any of the same things it liked at 14. But that is what I'm supposed to want still.  I do not agree with our present educational system and I'd like to know how to fix it.
That's all.
Just a rant.

I got in:

As of yesterday, I am officially a CSULB student...again.

It's been a year since Portland came and went.

Now, as I get ready to head back to LB, I could not be more relieved. 

Thank you GOD. 

I don't know how to use words to express this moment in my life.

I want a hug.