and now i want to go to an ashram

With yet another installment of alternate grandparental types sleeping on my floor this weekend (we are nothing if not generous, welcoming hosts) I've had the opportunity to read an entire book in one day. In one day. This alone is akin to multiple orgasms and gigantic vats of guacamole.

I devoured eat, pray, love (you know the book, the one everyone else in the world read last year that I consistently ignored) and fell completely enchanted with Liz and her tale of self and spiritual discovery, one that took her around the world and back. Her story is remarkable, not only because of her travels but because of the spirituality she discovered simply by saying yes.

Yes. It's such a simple thought, isn't it. To realize we can choose something different, to turn defiantly and bravely away from the limits we've placed upon ourselves and decide that being happy, deeply, deeply happy is worth the pursuit.

And it made me think of my current stuckedness, my dreams of heading international and my desire to fall more deeply in love with myself and the world around me. And how I have the power to make that happen simply by saying yes.

A few years ago I practiced Kundalini yoga, something I found so powerful, so precipice-nudging that I ended up shying away from it's call, returning instead to the known, the predictable, the pieces I thought I could control. But as I read her journey I was reminded of how far I creeped out onto the edge before I turned back for the safety of the familiar, and as such shortchanged the energy I had just begun to discover. My teacher at the time told me to only focus on the door in front of me, opening that one door of possibility will allow for the next, but the next is a mystery, a delicious mystery and while unseen, trusting in it's obviousness was the most important thing I could do.

And so I opened one door, and then turned and came back the way I came. But after reading this book yesterday I became committed to returning. Because I, too, want to laugh in the face of divine. I don't expect it to be easy, but I do know how to get back to that first door. I've left it slightly ajar down the end of a dark and dusty hallway for far, far too long.