A starting place, a celebration
It begins with waking up.
This morning in my inbox I received a certificate proclaiming me an “Ayurvedic Wellness Coach.” In 2019 I completed a beautiful year-long program through Shakti School, studying the ancient health system of Ayurveda from a feminist perspective, and after a month of waiting, the official certificate is here. Seeing my name on the certificate brings me mixed emotions: excitement, pride, doubt, fear. I have not shared this part of my life with many people. I feel humbled to take on this role. It is a role that still feels foreign, but that I will learn to step into. I know that today I want to take one small action to celebrate this achievement and to start down this path. I can see the road ahead of me but I don’t know where it leads. Writing this first blog post is my small act of rebellion against the doubt that says: the world doesn’t need you, you are not a healer, you are not a leader, no one cares.
It begins with waking up.
Maybe the best way to tell you something about myself, and about this blog, is to describe the first couple hours of my day. I wake up at 6am (with no alarm, because it’s my day off). I start with what I lovingly call my “good ayurveda girl” habits: scraping my tongue, brushing my teeth, and drinking a large glass of warm water with lemon. I make my morning beverage of almond milk heated on the stove with ashwagandha, shatavari, licorice, and a serving of coconut collagen protein powder. I say this not to rattle off some perfect checklist, but in acknowledgement that I struggle with anxiety and depression that can grip me in the mornings, and it helps me to have some loving routines that I can go through without having to think about it. This is what’s working for me this season, this week, this day. It changes over time and there is certainly no one perfect morning routine, let’s get that clear.
Next, I go into my music studio, light a candle, and do a short meditation to the goddess Saraswati. She is the goddess of song, speech and creativity, so I like the idea of invoking her before creative work. Sometimes I start my mornings with a longer meditation or yoga practice, but today songwriting will be my practice. I watch a pre-recorded workshop with a teacher of mine, who offers awesome guides for writing a complete song in one hour. I love writing in the morning when I can; in those predawn hours my critical mind can be less on board and I can let the ideas come with less judgment. This morning things go well. I am able to stay in the flow and uncover some truth in my song. The melody pours out easily. I am always grateful when that happens.
I finish the class and post my rough recording of the song in a group forum – even though it’s not perfect, it’s not complete, it’s not everything I want to say. I put on Up Up Up Up Up Up by Ani Difranco and dance in the kitchen while making some oatmeal with stewed apples and dates. (Yes, this is still all a part of my spiritual practice.) I read the email with my Ayurveda certification, and decide to take this uncomfortable step to start writing a blog.
This is probably where I should end things, because people have short attention spans and blog posts aren’t supposed to be over 600 words, right? But I still want to tell you something else.
It begins with waking up.
When I wake up today, I’m 55 days sober. 55 consecutive days waking up hangover free. This, like my study of Ayurveda, is something I haven’t talked about with many people. My husband, my mom, and some lovely ladies at Holly Whitaker’s Quit Like a Woman book signing event last week, who whispered about it like a dirty little secret – “I haven’t told any of my friends I stopped drinking” – when actually it’s a big, beautiful, clean secret. It’s blossoming into something unknown. I’m giving it more time.
Last night was Valentine’s day and that would usually be a happily taken excuse to get a bit drunk with my husband and eat too much dessert. Instead we went to a used bookshop where I bought a heavy pile of hardcover books – Drink by Ann Dowsett Johnston, The Wellness Mama Cookbook, and a memoir by Judy Collins – and spent an hour at a coffee shop waiting for our dinner reservation, sharing a pot of tea. Does it sound picture-perfect? Does it sound boring? Maybe it was a little of both.
I was feeling a twinge of regret that we weren’t sitting out on the street at one of the nearby restaurants drinking fancy cocktails. When I told that to my husband he was surprised. “You’ve been so interested in sobriety and reading all these books and listening to all these podcasts, I’m surprised you still feel like having a drink.” To which I replied, “If I didn’t care about alcohol, I wouldn’t care about sobriety. I read all this stuff to remind myself why I don’t want to drink, that doesn’t mean I don’t think about it.” Same goes for Ayurveda – I don’t study it because I’m this perfect model of health who has always loved nothing more than rubbing warm oil on her body every morning and eating bowls of vegetables in silence (although I kind of do love those things now). I study it because I struggle with cravings and imbalances and annoying habits and even when I know what’s best for me, I need constant, consistent, ongoing reminders.
My greatest fear around removing alcohol is probably that life will be, I guess… boring? That certain things aren’t as enjoyable, that celebrations aren’t celebratory, that the highs won’t be as high. But there were some moments last night when I let myself breathe into the small pleasures around me, that felt so simple yet profound. The way the red and blue lights inside the coffee shop reflected in the smooth silver surface of the teapot. After dinner at the restaurant when my husband went to the bathroom, and instead of pulling out my phone, I just sat at the table and looked up at high ceilings and listened to the echo of everyone talking around me, and felt a spaciousness in my brain. Thinking – I just feel good right now. Not riding high on anything, not craving more of anything, not hungry, not too full. Just a simple state of balance.
Ayurveda is all about finding this state of balance. Over the past year in my training I learned to listen to my body. Or to start listening. It’s not perfect, it’s so far from perfect, it’s an ongoing process that will last my whole life. I am working right now on finding pleasure in everyday things. I am working on noticing my cravings and sitting with them, and seeing what they might have to tell me. I am working on creating some music, which is my first art form, every day, and trusting the process over the product. I am working on finding balance as an artist, so that I can create from a place of health and inspiration.
It begins with waking up.
Waking up to a small voice inside of us. Maybe she says, “stop this, please,” or “follow this,” or “more of this.” Maybe she whispers a dream you feel silly even saying out loud. Try saying it just to yourself. Try writing it down. Or tell me – I can keep a secret.
This is not perfect. This is not complete. This is not everything I wanted to say. How could it ever be? This a starting place.