There’s no other way to start this post than to say that shit got real in yoga teacher training this weekend. We are in the throes of practice teaching a class and on Sunday, I stood up in front of a group of fellow teachers in training, with a well-prepared Sun Salutation B and flow, complete with a few well-timed phrases of encouragement.

I taught it well. And then my teacher called me on the carpet about the way I present myself to the world — about authenticity, and living from a place that’s real and not just “nice” or the way I think I should behave. She had everyone drop to child’s pose, and asked me to teach from within, without the things I’d planned to say. To really go there with what was happening in the room and to “cut the shit.”

I stood in front of my peers like feeling unprepared and shy as a small child. I hadn’t planned this. I was without words or the “perfect” thing to say. I couldn’t make a joke. I bawled like a baby in silence.

It broke me open.

There were several conversations during the weekend where I was challenged in this area, as well as one of the most emotional practices of my entire life, not because it was hard, per se, but because I was challenged to come into my body and be present in a way I haven’t in a long time.

But the more painful realization this weekend was how far away I’ve gotten from my soul, or my true self. Typing that makes my skin crawl, because it’s how I feel, and yet I’ve been so harsh and judgmental of others who write flowery posts about their soul. I used to think it was because I thought it was a silly waste of time; now, I think it’s because when I’m honest with myself, I realize how far away from my own self I’ve gotten.

Growing up, I was a really, really good kid. I got good grades. I never got in trouble at school — I made it through my entire academic career without as much as a tardy or a detention. I was a good Christian girl, and while I wasn’t perfect, I really didn’t stray from rules or what was expected of me until I was 22 years old, stuck in a miserable marriage and more depressed than I’ve ever been in my life. I blew up my whole life: divorce, lost my job, lost tons of friends, and did every “wrong” thing I could think of.

I’ve said for a long time that I missed that time in my life. I was so raw, and yet, I did so many things to find myself. I made art. I read and wrote. I cried a lot. I tried new things. I lived alone, and I ate what I wanted and did what I wanted. For maybe the first time in my whole life, I was myself. I wasn’t sure who that was, but I was bound and determined to find it.

I was also a hot mess financially, an emotional liability to the people around me and totally irresponsible with my heart. But as I’ve put my life back together over the past seven years and stopped being a total wreck, I’ve lost some of that spunk and spirit I had at 23. I’m proud of my ability to be financially responsible and to not be the drunk and sobbing girl at social gatherings, but I miss the joy I felt in taking time for things I’ve deemed silly, like art journaling and walking by the river.

My teacher observed that I’m prolific with words — I’m funny and witty and well-spoken, but it’s a deflection. She’s not wrong. This blog is a perfect example. I used to write just for me, about what was really going on and what I was feeling and over the past few years, I’ve worked to sterilize it as not to offend or upset or overshare. It’s embarrassing to admit just how much I depend on Facebook/Twitter/Instagram to bolster my sense of self, because it seems that people really like “Online Amy” and I worry about what people might think if they really knew me. I know I’m not alone in this. One glance at Pinterest reveals how many people are tying their lives and thoughts in pretty bows and posting them for all to see.

I think that the thing that makes me saddest is that when I was 23, coming through a divorce and leaving the church I grew up in and disappointing people I loved in a significant way for the first time, I swore up and down that I would never lose contact with what I felt inside ever again.

And while some of the things I fell in love with then have remained in tact, I’ve allowed the criticism and opinions of others to determine how I spend my time and what I share. A friend’s criticism about some art I’d made, an outburst about how what I write is ridiculous, some judgy looks about my choices have all been allowed space in my brain and caused me to change the way I spend my time. Someone I barely know disliking something I’ve said on Twitter can derail me for hours. A harsh word from someone I love can literally make me question everything I put into the world. While I’m no longer the little girl or broken young adult I once was, there is a huge part of me who is so terrified of letting my actual self out. I fear criticism, being disliked, saying anything controversial or upsetting others, whether they’re strangers or friends.

I’ve spent a long time pondering where to go from here. At first, I wanted a list of rules and things to do to prove that I was “getting back to my real self.” I wrestled with the idea of deleting my social media presence and changing a lot of things about the way I live. Obviously, those old habits die hard — I literally thought about how I could “win” the game of being present and real and living from my soul.

Andrew, who is the most real person I’ve ever known (and also a way better yogi than I am when it comes to yoga off the mat) suggested small changes and just feeling things out day by day as opposed to grand sweeping changes — after all, writing this blog makes me happy, as do a number of other things I was eager to cut right away. I was reminded of a phrase one of my teachers used repeatedly in a practice on Friday night: breathe and feel.

Breathe and feel. It’s that simple.

For me, that looks like putting away my phone every time there is a human being in front of me, and just enjoying the moment. It means worrying less about making sure all my posts look pretty and perfect. It means giving up things I hate but do because I think it makes me look “good” (namely: RUNNING. I hate that shit. Never again.) and filling it with things I love (like swimming and walking by the river). It means being a little bit quieter when I’m around other people. It means feeling my feelings instead of cracking a joke to detract from them, or trying to be the funniest person in the room. It means getting out my art stuff again and making things with my hands, even when that feels pointless or silly. It means really embracing the things I genuinely love, like green juice and healthy food, but refusing to beat myself up when I eat a burger. It means yoga and meditation, every single day. It means challenging myself to enjoy things I want to be better at, like photography, and to be less afraid of doing hard things. It means dressing my self in the way I feel like dressing, as opposed to a contrived sense of style. It means doing some things I’ve always wanted to do, but felt silly doing, like Zumba. It means crying when I feel like it, as opposed to trying to be so strong and stoic. It means embracing my hippie self, fully.

It means apologizing less and taking things less seriously. It means making time for the things that fill me up and leaving the rest alone.

It means listening to me. Again. And then acting from that place.

I realize that this post is stupid long already (thanks for reading, if you’re hanging in there) but I wanted to close with this quote I found yesterday. I love it. It’s exactly the place I want to live my life from.

“It’s extremely painful and incredibly humbling when we finally turn and face our soul. Because we immediately become face to face with the subtle and not so subtle ways we have consciously and unconsciously abandoned her. Like that time we kept quiet when we knew we should speak. Like that time we said yes, when we knew we should have said no. Like that time we took on that project despite the devastating toll it took on our body. Like that time we stayed in that relationship despite how unhealthy it was. Like that time we followed the crowd, instead of our inner guidance.

Entry into the life of the soul demands a steep price. What’s that price? Falsity. Everything that is not authentic. You see our souls don’t pay attention to the opinions, ideas, beliefs, trends, rules given to us by external authorities, such as the media, politicians, fashion magazines, doctors, spiritual gurus. They don’t seek approval, validation or acceptance from external sources. They know that true power does not come from anything outside of us. True power comes from surrendering to the divine authority within us. Embodying your soul is about living from the inside out. And requires that we ask ourselves on a daily, even an hourly, even a minute to minute basis…‘Does this person, place project, group, teacher, class, book, TV show…does this feel authentic to my soul?’ And then we have to bravely act on that answer.

Here’s to acting bravely, on my own behalf. This post is step one. It’s been so long since I’ve been afraid to hit publish.

When I was 13, I had a mullet, glasses and a case of acne that just wouldn’t quit. To add to this awesome, I also played the clarinet in a youth symphony. I took myself prettttty seriously, guys: practicing every day, taking private lessons and obsessing over being the best I could.

And the thing was? I was really, really good. I worked really hard, and it paid off in the form of honor bands and playing in ensembles and being “the best” in lots of situations.

Then came youth symphony.

Our clarinet section was small (just two of us!) and as we started our season, we had to face the dreaded audition process for who would be first chair (the lead) and who would be second chair. I dreamt of being first chair: I practiced my pieces over and over, probably annoying the hell out of my parents with my constant repetition of Mozart and Beethoven. Clarinets aren’t exactly the most melodic instrument on their own.

I practiced my audition piece for the first chair in youth symphony harder than I’d ever practiced in my life. I knew the piece up and down and back and forth. I secretly assumed I’d blow my fellow musician out of the water, because while her piece was beautiful, she was always missing notes or getting off time, and technically, I was perfect.

On audition day, I killed it. I played my piece perfectly timed. I felt smug as I heard my fellow clarinetist waver from the time signature, and I excitedly assumed that I would be made first chair.

As our conductor, a man I adored, approached us to tell us the results of our audition, I felt sure that my hours of practice had would pay off in this moment.

“Ladies, I’ve made my decision. Amy, you are my Princess of Technique, but Liz, you are my Princess of Tone. It was a tough decision, but Liz, you’re first chair. Your piece was beautiful.”

I was so angry in that moment. I had been so perfect. Didn’t he hear how good I was?

I snuck off to the bathroom to cry and rage. It seemed so terribly unfair that after all my work and doing everything right, it wasn’t enough.

Later that night, my conductor approached me:

“Amy, you’re one of the most gifted musicians I’ve ever worked with. But you need to let go. Play from your heart.”

This weekend, 13-year-old Amy showed up at yoga teacher training. I spent hours preparing for my weekend: I made flashcards and listened to the podcast I was assigned. I read the book I was to read and prepped outfits and food. I was ready. I was doing it right.

I began with the intention of “winning” teacher training.

As I nervously taught my first Sun Salutation A’s to a small group, I felt as if I was nailing it. I got the poses right. I gave clear instruction. Technically speaking, I did really well.

Then it came time for feedback. One friend kindly shared that she felt that I knew the sequence in and out: I could explain a Sun A, and coach anyone through it. Technically, it was good…but it lacked passion, heart and connection.

Suddenly, I was 13 years old again and trying to survive on technique and doing it right, instead of doing it from my heart.

The cheesy sayings about life lessons coming up again and again are true. Over and over again, I’ve been complimented on my ability to “do it right” and “stick to the plan.” In some ways, it serves me incredibly well: I’m punctual, I’m effective in the classroom, I am pretty disciplined and my proverbial shit is together 99% of the time.

On the other hand, my fear of screwing up is paralyzing. I agonize over the way my words/actions/Facebook status/diet/yoga practice/blog posts/text messages/outfits will be perceived. I am an emotional person, but instead of letting those emotions and feelings guide my actions, I choose to stuff them down and cover them up, never wanting to be perceived as unable to handle myself, or out of control. I want a spreadsheet, a list of rules to follow and a star chart when I do it the “right” way. My desire to be right often cripples my ability to just be and do and love, genuinely.

And yet, as I started to teach the very beginning of a yoga class, I realized there was no “winning” but rather, there was learning, growing and opening. There is no end goal. There is no perfection. There is only participating in the experience in the best way I can: from an open heart, instead of one that’s constantly trying to do it right.

Perhaps even more than learning to teach a killer Sun Salutation, I need to learn this lesson: to show up, to engage, to be Amy, to open my heart and to stop clinging to my perfectly composed texts and gold stars and to just live in who I am and what’s inside me, trusting that it will be enough.

When I look back on 2012, I can almost guarantee that it will always remain one of the most important and amazing years of my life. I did so many things, you guys! I went to Paris and New York City, after having dreamt about both of those things for almost my entire life. I lost a lot of weight after writing that on my list for years and years. I visited Los Angeles, Monterey, San Francisco, New Orleans and Florida. And in what I consider maybe the best gift of all, I found a yoga practice that is changing my life.

It was amazing in all the best ways, not just in what I accomplished but also how I changed and grew as a human being. There’s something to be said for doing things you’ve always wanted to do — yes, they are accomplishments and items checked off a list, but they also change you dramatically.

The good news is that while I don’t get/have to lose 70 more pounds and I doubt I’ll make it to Paris again this year, I learned a lot about changing my life and who I am, and I get to take those things with me into 2013.

I’ve spent a lot of time pondering what exactly I want to do during this new year, besides you know, surviving my second term of graduate school and enjoying yoga teacher training and finishing my sixth year of teaching. And honestly, I’m not sure.

It probably sounds ridiculous, but when I’m in yoga, and we’re meditating or sitting quietly, my mind is definitely not still enough to just sit and be and so I’ve taken to saying “I am enough” and “I have enough” silently to myself. It’s a good reminder and it’s definitely better than just thinking about what I’m going to eat when yoga is done, although to be fair, I still think I about that quite a bit.

I’ve decided to let this sentiment inform my theme or “one little word” for 2013: enough. As in, whatever I accomplish is enough. Whatever I write or read is enough. However many miles I run is enough. And wherever I am fortunate enough to travel is enough. More importantly, that despite what I accomplish or don’t, I am enough.

Sure, I have a few goals — I’m starting Whole30 tomorrow (OMG NO CARBS) and I have definite things I want to do. But this year, I want to focus less on checking things off an invisible checklist and more on letting whatever I decide I want to do be just the right thing, because it is, you know.

Of course I can’t resist a good project, but I’m limiting myself to just one: doing yoga every single day of 2013. Instead of bombarding this blog with photos and deep thoughts about yoga and bitching about how hard it is to sit quietly, I’ve started a separate place for all of those things over here. You can follow along if you’d like.

On that note, happiest of new years, my friends. I’ll close with one of my favorite quotes, one of my favorite things I’ve ever read:

“May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you’re wonderful, and don’t forget to make some art — write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can. And I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself.”

Happy 2013!

Going to the beach in November was definitely a highlight! So warm!

Oh man, November was a good month. I go through my calendar, posts and Instagram to figure out what to post for these, and I couldn’t stop smiling.

Here are the best things I did this month:

1. Cheryl Strayed in San Francisco — I bought tickets months ago to go see Cheryl Strayed, author of Wild and Tiny Beautiful Things, speak in San Francisco. I drove down right after work, had time for a little solo date at La Boulange for their amazing chai and a macron, and some time to wander around the Hayes Valley area and play with my new camera. It was fabulous! I met up with Jen, someone I’ve read/admired forever, and we had Thai food. I also happened to get to see Holly and Evany, which was a fun surprise! Cheryl Strayed was AMAZING, and so inspiring. I love it when I get my act together enough to go on random adventures like this. It was worth being super tired the next day!

2. The Blathering — I already wrote about this, but oh man, that weekend was SO MUCH FUN. I had the best time.

3. Florida — Andrew and I flew to Florida for Thanksgiving with his family, and it was SO RELAXING. I read four books, slept, ate delicious food, hung out at the beach and didn’t think about work or grad school or anything. It was non-traditional, but wonderful.

4. SF for Orphan Thanksgiving — Every year, Drea, her brother and her brother’s awesome girlfriend throw Orphan Thanksgiving, where they make the most delicious food and hang out. I love Drea’s family and it was such a lovely night.

5. Detox Flow — After spending a week laying by a pool, eating whatever I darn well please and then going to Orphan Thanksgiving, I did a 2.5 hour detox flow yoga class at my studio. It was my first time back after a week away, and while it kind of kicked my ass, it was also a fantastic class. I cannot say enough good things about my yoga studio and practice.

6. Christmas tree decorating — Every year since I was a kid, my family has put up the Christmas tree at my parents house the weekend after Thanksgiving. We listen to the same CDs and order pizza for dinner. It’s a highlight of my holiday season. I love it so much.

7. Drinks with Lisa — Lisa was in town for work and we met up for a cocktail. I love meeting other bloggers and she was just lovely. It was a wonderful Wednesday night!

8. Playing with my camera. — Taking photos that look good-ish has been a blast, and it’s made my cooking that much more fun. I am having fun learning how to make food look pretty, how to write about food and just playing with my camera.

9. New recipes — I’ve been really enjoying cooking meals and playing with food lately. The best thing I made all month, by far, was Shutterbean’s Curried Chicken With Coconut Rice. One of the best meals I’ve ever had, ever. MAKE IT.

10. Looking forward — I feel like 2012 was one of the best years ever. EVER. I am excited about all the awesome and fun things I’ve got planned in December, and super excited for 2013. It’s gonna be amazing. I just know it.

What did you love in November?