On living a life of abundance….

Last night, for the first time, I cried during yoga.

I’ve been fighting a nasty cold for nearly a week and haven’t been able to run in way too long. I hadn’t been to a yoga class in two weeks. My whole body just ached. I felt weak and powerless, but like I really needed to be there that night. I figured I do the best that I could and if that meant being in a resting pose for an hour, then that’s what that meant.

My instructor was at Wanderlust in Copper Mountain over the weekend (in the gorgeous, refreshing mountain air while I was sweltering on the east coast, learning how to be a military beach bum) and she told the class she had a special message from one of her favorite yogis. Shelly always has something special or fun or insightful to say and everything she says always just makes me feel good so I was looking forward to whatever gem she was going to offer.

Shelly’s end-of-class mantra always includes the words, “Keep smiling!” She lives in a world of smiles and joy and abundance. I don’t know her that well, but what I do know is that she finds the good in things. When Boston and Newtown happened, she took it as an opportunity to encourage us to put light and love into the world. That’s just the kind of person she is.

But last night’s little nugget of happiness hit me like a ton of bricks.

BE UNAPOLOGETIC ABOUT BEING ABUNDANTLY JOYFUL. (Shiva Rae)

I immediately started crying and dammit if my ujjayi breath didn’t force more and more tears out. Suffice it to say, I had a hard time breathing in and out my nose last night. Between the tears and the headcold muck, I mostly just schnucked and sniffed and huffed through my whole practice. I sang along with songs. I didn’t really give a rip about breathing or focus or intention. Or maybe I did. I just kept thinking about the last few months of my life and the next few to come and how, for some reason, I’ve felt a need to be “sorry” or secretive about how happy I really am.

So here’s my reality.

I’m getting married in FIFTY DAYS! FIFTY! That’s completely bonkers to me! Most of the planning is done. It’s not all the hard because of how small the wedding is. The boy I’m marrying is fantastic and amazing and there’s not a way for me to be more excited about what our future holds. We chose to have a small wedding for a couple reasons. 1 – it’s #2 for each of us so the bill is entirely on us and we’re moving AGAIN in less than six months. 2 – we wanted a small wedding. That’s it. We just wanted something intimate and easy. I’m excited to share the day with our parents, siblings, and my best friends (I’m lucky enough to have three…and I’m certainly not apologizing for that). If we’re lucky, Jeff’s best friend will be able to join us too. I’m excited about all the people and vendors that have helped me be able to do certain things (photography, my flowers, etc) either inexpensively or free. I’m grateful for the generosity of creativity that has been lavished on me. I thought about getting a cheap and/or second-hand wedding dress, but instead I just went for it. I got a real wedding dress. A designer dress. And then, with a little more luck, a co-worker offered me an off-the-rack designer reception dress for next to nothing.

I’m friggin’ excited! I am not sorry about that. It shouldn’t have to be a secret. I get to embark on a new life with a wonderful man and there’s no reason not to feel anything less than thrilled about it! And I have every intention of celebrating the awesomeness of this marriage to its fullest, whatever that means. I don’t always know what that looks like, but I know I’m going to celebrate in whatever big and small ways I feel like it.

But here’s the thing: I’m also a little terrified. Not of getting married. I’m a little scared of moving. I’m nervous about leaving the only home I’ve ever really known. All my friends are here. My church is here…the place I’ve been a part of for almost 20 years. That’s a really long time to belong somewhere. My running trails are here. Short story: my history is here. It’s hard to leave that. I’m a Colorado girl, through and through. Maybe a little part of me thought I always would be and here I am jaunting off to new territory, new running terrain (and altitude), and new adventures. I’m afraid of forgetting and being forgotten. I’m afraid of moving away from the familiar.

And yet, none of that makes me NOT want to do this.

I’m excited!
I’m unapologetic!
And I’m outta here!


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