Questioning

My posts have gotten gradually fewer and farther between lately, but it’s not for lack of ideas or effort. I’ve been writing and rewriting, saving drafts and rethinking. I only started this blog under four months ago, and I started strong and with excitement. I still get really excited about what I can write and make for this space, it’s truly a just-for-fun project and creative outlet for me. I don’t really mind if almost no one is reading. But that initial “yay I started a new blog, I need to fill it with posts!” stage has worn off and I’m starting to question if I should be hitting “publish” at all.

What do I know, y’know? I try to write about my honest and relevant experiences, but I’m also becoming more careful. I don’t want to write and publish something that I later realize was worded in a way that doesn’t properly convey my values or my purpose. I’m only human though, and I realize anything can be misconstrued. The comfort of having a private blog or journal is that I can look back on what I wrote and shake my head if it was something silly or that I no longer agree with, or I can flat-out type “I don’t know if this makes sense, I’m just getting it out” and it doesn’t matter. I mean, I’m pretty sure mostly the only people that read this are a few friends and family, so I know I don’t have to be press-release perfect.

But that’s the thing about our social media era. Everyone can have a voice on the internet. Anyone can be an influencer. I have enjoyed reading blogs, watching youtube videos, and following people on instagram for years. I have my own few favorite “influencers” that I’ve honestly come to trust for opinions like a close friend. If I’m looking for a good recipe, I’ll often check a blog that I’ve followed for eight years before I would ask a family member I’ve known my whole life. So you see, having a voice on the internet is a responsibility. It’s easy to think yours doesn’t matter, but I’m a firm believer that no matter how small, your voice had better be intentional, well thought-out, and true to your values if you’re going to hit “publish,” and in fact, hitting publish is probably a bad idea nine times out of ten.

As a high school senior, somehow I was voted “most likely to be famous” along with another old friend. I joke about it sometimes, because I have to wonder if it will ever come true, or may even be a self-fulfilling prophecy. Because of that little thing in the back of my mind, will I seek out opportunities to put myself out there, like writing this blog? Or did the few classmates that voted for me in that category recognize that I already always tended to put myself out there creatively? I do keep telling people that my dream is to be a children’s book author/illustrator, because it honestly is, and I intend to pursue that dream. In fact, starting this blog was sort of step one in that process, to practice building a style and brand identity. But, unlike my high school superlative twin who was the more deserving of the “most likely to be famous” title, I have honestly never truly desired fame.

I’m not afraid to attach my name here, as I know I am being authentic and always will. But I think that aversion to fame is why I’m hesitant to post a picture of my face on Luna Moth Life. (although for anyone reading that doesn’t know me, my face is probably not hard to find from here if you snoop around a bit) I understand that nowadays, anyone not showing their face on the internet is hard to trust and relate to, and I try to make up for that by writing as personally as possible.  I love to create and share, but I don’t want it to be all about me. I don’t feel entitled to recognition. It’s just, a byproduct of a creative life, and potentially a creative career, is that you have to have yourself in it somehow. Creativity is personal.

If you noticed in my playlist a couple posts back, I included a few Taylor Swift songs. I think she’s talented and I enjoy her music more than most chart-topping pop of this era. When I first became a fan of her a little under a decade ago, she was probably the least controversial person in the music business…a cutesy teenage rising star writing country-pop hits about love, friendship and heartbreak. Now, because of her exponential fame, she’s about the most controversial artist to be a fan of. Everybody knows who she is, and everybody has an opinion of her, usually love or hate. She was able to write a whole album centered on her crazy reputation and living with the consequences of being famous. A perfect example of what the modern media and fame in the 21st century can do to a creative person (as in, anyone doing anything).

So I guess my whole point in this rant is that this is truly an experimental platform for me, one that I might have to continually question, rethink and reorient. It’s personal, it’s real, and it’s intentional. I try to be consistent for the sake of it, but I really don’t want this to be tainted by any goal of fame or about being an influencer, just about sharing my life, and for those few who might stumble on this and not know me personally, to just connect with you across the interwebz. I’m not trying to influence you, just to sort of give you a virtual wave, a smile, a handshake, or a hug as we cross paths in this life. I write here mostly to influence myself, really. In a way, it’s just one big accountability project to get me creating more, connecting the dots more, doing more. I may decide I want to grow this blog and put it out there more in the future, but if I do that, I would probably shift the focus to be more about illustration or short stories or something not so personal. Anyway, if you got this far, thanks for reading, truly. 🙂

Trust

I think the root of so many problems lies in trust, or lack of it.

In our monthly Sunday session of yoga teacher training last week, after the morning yin yoga class, we began with a brief meditation. It involved sitting and breathing in and out for equal counts of your own timing while blocking one nostril, alternating and repeating, and then after a series of that, breathing through one nostril at a time without physically holding the other closed with your finger. I can’t remember how many breaths but it was probably around 10 minutes of this meditation.

The first thought I had when our teacher told us to begin was already to doubt myself. Not that I could do it, because we had already done this sort of active breathing meditation in the past, but just various silly things, like: “oh no, I think I already forgot the instructions–how many breaths am I supposed to take? when do I switch sides? am I doing this right?” etc. I kept opening my eyes for the first few breaths to check that I was doing the “right” thing. Luckily, after a minute I remembered that lesson that keeps tapping me on the shoulder and whispering in my ear lately: “there isn’t necessarily a ‘right’ way. just do it.”

I could’ve spent the ten or so minutes wondering whether I was doing the meditation “right,” or I could relax into it and focus on the breathing on my own pace. Which was the whole point, anyway. But sometimes we forget that we don’t always have to follow instructions to a T. Sometimes we forget that we know what we’re doing. We forget to trust ourselves.

Later in the day, we were given instructions to pair up and study the muscles of the hip, upper leg, and abdomen. We were given a list of muscles, a total of 16 groupings, told to grab an anatomy book, and figure out their attachments and origins, and subsequently what kind of movement the muscle controls. Now, I loved the one anatomy class I took my senior year of high school and I tend to retain that kind of highly applicable information pretty well, but this kind of assignment (using medical illustrations and not, like, google and youtube, mind you) seemed like a pretty big jump outside of my scope of expertise. However, since I’ve known this teacher for the majority of my life, I’m pretty used to her tendency to assign challenges by now.

After an hour, I’m pretty sure we were all going a little brain dead from the mental work, but it was surprisingly not as out of reach as it seemed when assigned. We were all used to using these muscles, we just never had to think about them that technically until that point. But we figured it out, mostly, and then it was time for lunch. Again…a small part of me didn’t want to trust myself at first, but I proved that I had no reason not to.

Later, the final thing we did was build little tensegrity structures out of popsicle sticks and rubber bands. These were confusing at first. Once we got them started, we helped each other hold them together to finish connecting the parts. As I was pulling all my rubber bands into place, I started to get that doubt again. I was sure it wouldn’t work out, saying I had probably done something wrong, it wasn’t looking quite right. Yet, as I pulled the last band into the notch of one of the sticks and we let go, it sprung into place and held its shape.

Lately, I’ve been losing faith in myself. I’ve suffered a few major failures in the past few years and I’m still suffering from the residual ego-bruises. Now, when I fall behind, I start to doubt my ability to succeed. The thing about working as part of a group, such as in yoga teacher training, is that ego is often pushed aside. We’re all helping each other, we’re open, we’re vulnerable, we’re in it together. It’s good to push aside your ego as much as possible, especially where success and failure is involved. Your failures do not define you, and neither do your successes. They just help you learn and grow. These are all temporary experiences, and you will have plenty of them in a lifetime.

Often, I need to write my experiences out to connect the dots. I didn’t really know where I was going with this when I started to write this post, I usually don’t. But I think I’m convinced now; I’m not helpless, or aimless. Maybe I should trust myself a little more…but more importantly, realize that trusting myself isn’t really about me. It’s about trusting all the lessons I’ve been taught. Abandon that ego and you find that you’re never really alone. You’re not God. You didn’t get where you are by yourself. You’ve had a lifetime of lessons: hard lessons, small lessons, shaping you and nudging you into where you are. It’s not all on me, and I would be pretty silly to think it is…trusting myself is really just trusting in something more.