Friggin' Hippie

Well hippies, I’m packing up my bags and moving on again. Something tells me that this year, that’s going to happen more and more frequently as time rolls on. 2012 is going to be the year of the vagabond, and I couldn’t be more excited.

I’m on my way out to Denver to become even more of a damn hippie. I’ll be nestled in the mountain while I get in the cocoon that is Forrest Yoga teacher training for the month of March.

In that cocoon, I will spend 200 hours morphing into a lovely yoga teaching butterfly. I’m pre-tty ja-zz-ed. I’ll be reuniting with one of the besties for the month and crashing with him and a bunch of dudes in a house. There’s nothing a hippie chick loves more than living in a house full of fellas. They’ll be so entranced by my yoga ass, that they won’t even know that they’re eating raw vegan meatless meatballs and learning how to braid my hair. It will be glorious.

But I’m spending my last week in Illinois jetting to and from Chicago, so I can cherish every single moment of my time in this state. Be warned guys, central Illinois is hippie hell.

So I’m escaping hell every day, and hanging out in this city. I’m chillin’ at one of the best coffee shops in Chicago as we speak. It’s super mellow and is filled with childhood nostalgia. I can’t help but look around and think… I’m sure there are more hippies in Denver. But I’m trying to stay in the moment. In order to do that, I’m focusing on the sexy bearded men that make Chicago so great. This city was built on blood, sweat and beards. Beards, beards, everywhere, so many beards that I just don’t care.

Okay, I’m not sure how this turned into Ode To Beards, but it happened. It happened so hard that I’m going to change the title of this post from “On The Road Again” to “Ode To Beards.” Done and done.

I bet the beards are going to be great in Denver too. I’m pretty sure that mountain men kind of have their bearded domain on lock down. I’ll bet that in Denver, they’d even let a police officer grow a beard to rival Jerry Garcia.

Maybe this year will be a year of finding the most beard-friendly city in the states. That might be my Mecca.

Do you know where the best beards frolic and play?

Winter means that spring is just around the corner. It means that soon enough we’ll get the chance to come alive all over again. It means crossing your fingers at the groundhog. It means opening your heart as soon as those first flowers begin to bloom. Winter means cracked hands, dry skin and staying on the inside. It means soft white snow and crisp wind that makes your eyes bright and watery. It means baked grapefruit with brown sugar. It means bundling up, trapping the heat next to your skin, and piling up in all of the softest clothes you own. It means hibernating, reflecting and slowing down.

I used to hate winter. I would dread its onset. I would abhor the first day I noticed the sun setting at seven. I would fight it, pretend it wasn’t happening. Every year, winter meant the same thing to me. It meant the onset of a sadness that wasn’t characteristic of my nature. It meant pain and tears and cold. It meant overeating, drinking too much, listlessness, and laziness. But mostly, it meant that the crushing sadness would return and stay for months. In the spring, I would come to life again and the contrast would be so stark that I would tumble into a whirlwind of excited energy. It was beautiful, but it wasn’t stable.

This winter, many things have changed. I’m not sure what made it so much easier to cope this year. The vitamin D supplements helped, no doubt. The attitude and awareness adjustments probably made a good deal of difference. But I can’t help but wonder if it’s because I’m alone. I can’t help but think that it’s easier to let sadness be fleeting when nobody’s watching. Were someone here, would it test my ego? Would I justify being depressed so I wouldn’t feel stupid for letting it get the best of me for a moment? Would I allow it to take over me so as to show that I’m not making it up? Would I be able to let it go?

Winter means seeing yourself in the slowness. It means looking within’ for a few months before you force your wild hand into the world. It means settling to see beyond the darkness, into the light that resides within, when it can’t be found elsewhere.

What happened to this stuff?

It’s hard to be a hippie in the winter. That’s just a fact. Your dreadlocks get all blech. Your flowy skirts blow up and let in crazy cold drafts.  Nobody wants to join you in an outdoor hula hoop sesh. Plus, you just look out of place.

Thank goodness for hippies this year that it’s crazy warm all over the place. I’m in Chicago and it’s been an unreal kind of warm for the past month. Last week, I took a walk to a Chicago yoga studio wearing yoga pants and a sweater… in January, man. A buddy of mine is in Canada and she’s like a meteorologist of sorts. I use the term loosly. She’s like a meteorologist in the way that she can go outside and know if it’s warm, cold, raining, snowing, etc. She reports the same. She’s saying the outlook is Crazy Warm with a 100 percent chance of polar bear habitat destruction.

And it seems that with all of that going on, people don’t even talk about global warming anymore. It seems that we’ve all just given up. It’s really weird. You think that this would make us all, like, want to change our ways, and do things differently, and try to stop it. Yeah, that’s not what’s going on at all. Instead of taking on a vegan meal a week or something (like it would kill you), it seems like everyone is saying “Ahhh eff it. Hey it’s nice out! We must be on the right track!”

It’s like some marketing coordinator got everyone together and had them spread the message that we should all be enjoying this blessing of great weather. So we’re all smiling and throwing high fives on the street. We might as well throw a huge party for ourselves. Why not celebrate the fact that we used to have this thing called winter, and now thanks to all of the human-y things we’re really into doing, we’re not going to have it anymore? We should probably have it on some of those islands that wont be around for very much longer. I mean, we should probably take some pictures of them that we can show our grandki…. well, let’s not look that far into the future. Let’s just enjoy this great weather we’re having!

Even your computer is telling you what you should do.

As I sit in this hip and cool coffee shop looking out at the hip and cool people walking by, I think, “I should get my hair done. I should get my feet bound so I can fit in boots like that. I should finish this coffee and get a refill. I should stop taking on more work or I won’t get anything done. I should work faster. I should probably take a break but I should write five things before I do.”

Earlier today at yoga, I thought, “I should push a little further. I should relax into this more. I should stop thinking. I should… sh*t, I’m still thinking. I really should stop that. Why can’t I stop? I know I should! Maybe I should do more yoga.”

Should: it’s one of those counterproductive words that doesn’t really do what it’s supposed to. Should is supposed to motivate you. It’s what your parent’s used to motivate you. It’s what your teachers and bosses use to motivate you. And it’s what you use to motivate yourself. But how motivated are you when someone tells you what you ‘should’ do? How motivated do you get when you start ‘shoulding’ yourself around?

I got a great newsletter from the owners of my favorite Chicago yoga studio today that had a piece in it about ‘should’.

When I tell myself that I should post for my vegan recipe blog, I find myself dreading it and everything I write feels forced. But when I just do it, it’s lighter, brighter and waaay more fun. Why? Because when I tell myself I should do something, I start resisting by saying, “I can’t” or “I donwanna” or “I’m sleepy now”. Then I have to get over the resistance before I can get down to business. By the time I get past it, I realize that I’ve ultimately just wasted a ton of energy because I felt the need to tell myself what I should be doing.

Allow yourself to fully feel your resistance by asking yourself the following Sedona Method question: “Could I give myself permission to feel my resistance [to going to yoga]?” Don’t push the feeling away, be with it, owning the truth of the moment: “I am in resistance and don’t feel like going to yoga.” Pretty soon the knot in your belly should ease, as the energy has nothing to push against and begins to dissipate, and the what-to-do-next will present itself. And then you may find yourself wanting to go to yoga. If the feeling doesn’t change at all you might come at the resistance from the opposite angle and ask yourself “Could I allow myself to let go of resisting not going to yoga?” That should give you some space and acceptance around where you’re at, which will make the energy move. You may wind up deciding to skip yoga that day, but you won’t give up yoga completely, which might very well be the result if you attempt to continue forcing yourself to go. [Talya Ring]

How do you keep from shoulding yourself?

Every time I think I’m ready to settle down, and stop blowing wherever the wind blows me, the wind seems to pick up and blow even harder. Right now, I’m in the blustery city of Chicago doing a house sit. I thought all of the signs were pointing for me to stay here. I found a yoga studio that I love. They have teacher training in October. I also started taking writing classes at The Second City comedy school.

Those things are awesome and I was trying to figure out a plan to make them work. I needed to find a place to live, meet a cool group of new buds, and figure out how to get around this town.

But there was something wrong. Well, I guess there was nothing “wrong” per say, it just didn’t feel like it was all fitting together. As much as I’ve always wanted to live in this city, something didn’t feel right about it. I mean, everything seems perfect, so what’s the deal? Part of me feels like I want to settle down and set some roots, and part of me doesn’t know if this is really the place to do that right now. I like the people I’ve met here and Chicago is cool, but I don’t really have anything keeping me around.
Then today an old friend who’s living in Denver send me a message saying that we should move to Boston. I laughed it off and we bantered about it for a minute before I realized that he was serious.’

One of our most awesomest friends lives there at the moment. He’s going to Harvard. His first book will be published soon and he’s in talks with MTV about a reality TV show. Like I said, he’s awesome. Well, he invited us both to move out to Boston in the spring.
I started making excuses in my mind. I thought about yoga training and comedy writing and… well, that’s all I really had. Then I remembered something. I read somewhere that the same yoga training was taking place in Denver in March. Yeah. What a coincidence, right? This house sit will be done in the middle of February. My comedy writing class is over at the end of February. And then I have nothing tying me to this city.
Maybe I could go to Denver and stay with Joey and do my teacher training sooner. Maybe as soon as I get my certification, I can actually start teaching this spring. Then maybe me and Joey can move to Boston together. Then maybe I could teach in Boston. Maybe I could… Oh damn… See. That’s where it got me. I started thinking in maybes, and now I think it actually might be a great opportunity.
So maybe it’s not time to settle down. Maybe Chicago just isn’t the place right now. Maybe I’m supposed to do this other thing for awhile. Maybe I’m supposed to keep blowing in the wind. Isn’t this why I ditched my corporate gig as an executive administrative assistant? It certainly wasn’t because I was sick of wearing high waist skirts… I love those things.
What do you think? Are you blowing in the wind? Have you found a cool place to settle?

Since that last post was all like, really pointless, and pretty much just me trying to figure out what I was doing whilst I wrote, we’re going to work on changing gears this week. Yeah, that whole thing was shitty and weird and rude of ex-master-flex (way more fun than saying it any other way), but like I said, he’s not around anymore and I have to shake it off.

To tell you the truth, winter makes it tough just to shake things off. There are no sunny walks, hula hoops, parks, festies, besties, or any of the things that make it so easy to get out and enjoy life. It’s cold. It’s grey. And the weather and color scheme are pretty conducive to just chill in and wait for time to pass by. But that is lame.’Tis extremely lame! So instead, you have to brave the weather and force your wild hand out into the world (wearing mittens).

I tried to do that. This week, I’ve been working on getting out and meeting people. I’ve been having drinks and dating. I’ve been going to comedy class and yoga class. I’ve been busy as sin with work. And you think that all of that would be enough for me to keep my mind of my egoic wound. Alas, no. Perhaps there’s something else that I need to do.

I’ve been thinking that maybe I need to take a day of healing. That I need to really focus on figuring out how to repair my spirit and let go of all of the stupid pride. I’d really like to explore this wound to see where I need to be next. And I can’t do any of that by telling myself that I should be fine, taking a step forward and realizing that I’m not, in fact, fine, and taking a step back.

So maybe that’s what I’ll do one day this week. Perhaps, during the black out day, I’ll write a letter to my congressman protesting SOPA and spend the rest of the day sans internet, sans distractions and begin to really focus on healing.

What do you do to fix a wound?

Getting over stuff by pretending you're a duck is super healthy and not the least bit crazay.

I have so many things to say, you know, that’s why I blog. I gots to let it all out. But I’m not looking for a virtual shoulder to cry on. I’m here to share the things I dig! I appreciate my existence, my gig, my family, my puppy (T.T. Woofabaums), the food I eat, the places I see, the folks I meet, hair wraps, colors, breathing, morning tea, muzak, men, yoga mats, the key chain my mom got me that beeps when I whistle so I can always find my keys, and… well, the list could go on and on. I’m all about awe, forgiveness, consciousness, being present, connections, and good energy. The other stuff is worthless, and the world has enough of it hanging about to get caught up in it.

It wasn’t always this way. I underwent a radical shift many moons ago when me and the ex-master-flex went to splitsville. That’s how hippies say “me and my boyfriend broke up.” I speak the language and I’m a freelance translator. Let me get you my card.

Since then, I’ve been taking this uphill battle on to be happier, healthier and to find my path in life so that hopefully I could be a better part in a serious relationship. Since then, he started dating my nephew’s mother. We obviously went in different directions.

But, I was good. I didn’t lose my shit. I didn’t piss and moan. I maybe vented a little bit on some of the other blogs that I write, but I quickly left the pity party for one. I’m all about forgiveness and I truly did forgive both of them when I found out things were pretty serious. I wished them happiness. More power to them and all of that. I started to really, finally, fully move on. I started taking the steps as to do so at the end of December.

So, imagine my surprise when he contacts me a few days ago, talking about how he forgives me. I figured, okay, I didn’t really do anything that awful, but okay. I left, you forgive me. You did that, I forgive you. Cool. We forgive each other. We’re good. There’s a long story in here somewhere, but there’s no time for it now that I’ve blathered on and on. Let’s just say that it ends with a nasty text from him this morning. Something about how selfish I am, about how I’ll never find anyone as good as him, about how I need to be single because I suck, or something. He was as judgmental as a police officer at a music festival.

What’s the deal, man?

I never once said a bad word in his direction, and will continue not to, even though it gets pretty tough at times.

As I was writing this, I started laughing. I just realized something… I’m not dating this dude anymore. I don’t have to figure him out. I don’t have to take his judgments. He’s with someone else now. I’ll let her care about what he thinks.

Shake it off.

NVM. Love you hippies!

A woman. An Australian. A shoemaker and sailor. A piece of confetti. The worlds tallest man. A piece of pie. The first vegan that ever existed. The person who invented confetti. A bush with those poisonous berries on them that looked so harmless.

Wow. That ended in a kinda dark spot. Darker than I intended. Oh well, who knows what I was back then? I wish I did. Although it wouldn’t make a gosh darn difference, would it? Unless I have a task to complete. What if it’s like a relay race and my past life is just chillin’ back there wavin the baton and I’m not in position because I’ve never done one of these things before. So I’m all wandering around and doin’ my thing and I’m totally off mission.

Mission: Past Life Regression.

I did five minutes of research and found an awesome past life analyst that uses your birthday to tell you what your were up to centuries ago. Mine said:

I don’t know how you feel about it, but you were female in your last earthly incarnation.You were born somewhere in the territory of modern West Australia around the year 1750. Your profession was that of a sailor or shoemaker.

---

Your brief psychological profile in your past life:
Inquisitive, inventive, you liked to get to the very bottom of things and to rummage in books. Talent for drama, natural born actor.

---

The lesson that your last past life brought to your present incarnation:
There is an invisible connection between the material and the spiritual world. Your lesson is to search, find and use this magical bridge.

---

Do you remember now?

I was a bad a** b*tch b*ck in the d*y. A female sailor? It does explain my penchant for cussing in a fake Austrailian accent and using the phrase “port hole.”

But if time is just a construct, then wouldn’t you have future lives that you’ve already lived? What if I am just as much of a future human as a past human? Have I lost you completely yet? Shoot. I’ll reign it in. Or you can head over to my vegan recipe blog, which is a blog sans hippie rambling. I’ve been wondering about lots of things lately. Like the nature of time and past lives and if my spirit animal growls or squacks. So I just wanted to share this rant with my past future and present hippies. Love you guys! Happy new year!

What have you been wondering about lately?

As I mentioned in my last post, I’m embarking on a journey. Well, I’ve already embarked on a metaphorical journey and it’s taken me to this very moment. But I’m embarking on another journey. This one’s a little more literal. I’m headed to Panama City, Panama and I’ll be leaving in a few short weeks. It’s the first time I’ve taken to the road by myself outside of the country and I’m wildly excited about it. I’m trying to stay calm, because for this hippie, excited can quickly turn to nervous and then to terrified.

So, I’ve put it out of my mind really until this very moment. I only have a few weeks and I’ve got to figure out what to pack, where I’m staying and what the heck I want to do when I get there. I also have to learn enough Spanish to get by, and what I’m going to do money-wise. Panama’s dollar is the same as the american dollar. So does that mean I just bring cash? Do they take Visa? These are things I don’t know.

I should be writing for NaNoWriMo or planning travels to Panama, but what am I doing? Playing with my baby dread lock. Friggin hippie.

But thank goodness for blogs. Even though most of them are filled with nonsense (who are you looking at?), sometimes they can get you really jazzed about shit you wouldn’t have even thought about. For instance, this blog about Panama let me know that I’m going to be able to get my hair did for five bucks and get a manicure for around eight. Score! I’ve never had a manicure, because spending even $25 on something like that seems crazy. But Panama City is crazy cheap. You can literally live like a king on a software developer salary.

I’m pretty sure I’m going to stay at Luna’s castle. The price is right ($13 per night) and it’s the oldest and most popular hostel. I’ll start out there and see where I end up. Yay for adventure!

Oh and did I mention that in all of this planning, I’m starting National Novel Writing Month? Oh man, November is going to be a doozy.

Love and light to you all!

-The Friggin’ Hippie

This map of Panama made me laugh out loud. "Can you hear me now?" "Bueno!"

It’s almost time hippies! I’m going to embark on my first vagabond journey, and soon! I’m off to another land in less than two weeks!!! ZOMG! I know I mentioned that I’m trying not to get too excited, because I fear it will turn into anxiety about the journey, but I just can’t help but get super jazzed about the adventure ahead.

I know you’re looking to this blog for expert advice about travelling and stuff. I know you have a goal. And I know that goal is to have people shake their head at you and think, “damn hippie.” It’s what we all want in life. Well I’m here to help! You want to know how free spirits get ready for international travel… Well I got the goods for you.

You want to know what I’ve done to prepare for this journey into a faraway place, where they speak a different language and have things like cartels and malaria? Well, I’ve been preparing… And HARD!

“Prepare, prepare, prepare.” -The Friggin’ Hippie

You see? That’s my motto. I love preparing. It’s fun to prepare in all sorts of ways. First, you pre-pare. Then you can just pare. And when you’re done with that, you won’t have to post-pare. But it’s always best to do the prepare part first. I’m thinking that if I say the word prepare enough you guys wont realize that I have nothing prepared. Is that a good technique, or what?! I just mind schooled ya’ll.

Check out what I’ve been doing to get ready:

• I put in a new hair wrap and am planning a few more.
• I’ve been flossing daily and palm rolling my baby dred.
• I’m going to an Occupy event tomorrow.
• I’ve been practicing the harmonica.
• I wrote 3,000 words for NaNoWriMo.
• I’ve researched other trips that I might want to take next year. Istanbul looks beautiful in the spring. There’s this little hostel that looks amazing and has an awesome view of some dome thing.
• I listened to fifteen minutes of a Spanish learning CD. But I already know my colors, so I figured I was good to go.
• I thought about what my work schedule will look like when I get there. That one’s pretty legit, you have to admit.
• I found a movie theater in a hostel to crash in for my first night in Panama City (also pretty legit-it counts as finding lodging).
• No, I wasn’t kidding about that last one.

So, have I told you what I’m doing down there, yet? Oh man, it must have slipped my mind. Well, have you ever heard of a little thing called Housecarers? It’s pretty friggin amazing! You apply to hang out in people’s houses for free. It’s a you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours kind of thing. You get a place to stay. They get a warm body in their beds and a piece of mind.

So I’m going down there to see a chick about a housesit… in the jungle… on the ocean… in Panama. Right? I know. There will be three toed sloths in my back yard. They are my favorite friggin’ animal, dontcha’ ya know? There will be gorillas and guerrillas. As long as I make it out alive, I will be certifiably bad a**. If not, this blog is going to get a bunch of hits. Pretty white woman disappears in central America? That shiz is 24 hour news network gold. Have fun with this one Rachel Maddow. Is that even a person? I don’t have Cable.

I’m used to living without TV, deodorant and shoes so I’m pretty well suited for some jungle living. As long as there’s a hammock and some WiFi so I can work and check out some online nursing programs, I’m set. Anywho, I’m off for the evening! I have a lot of “preparing” to do.

Love & Light,

-The Friggin’ Hippie