It’s been 6 years you’ve been gone.  Gone.  
 
I contemplate if that is the right word to use.  You haven’t really been gone, have you?  I saw you this morning in the ripple of the water.  I see you and dad as I watch this mama and papa bird who live under the sundeck you and dad built.  They work tirelessly day and night taking care of their children.  The mama caws and squeaks so loud at our presence the neighbors can hear her.  I want to tell her “Be quiet mama! We aren’t going to harm your babies!”  But she’s doing what she’s supposed to do, calling out and taking care of her family.  I see you in her loud, angry, protective, reassuring squeaks. 
 
You could be loud at times.  Yelling. Singing, Laughing.
 
I thought of you this morning as I tried to quietly get my coffee from the kitchen as to not wake Austin who sleeps in the bedroom below.  You weren’t quiet in the mornings.  In fact, you were so loud I would wake up angry.  You did it on purpose.  You wanted us ALL to wake up, so we could take you water skiing.  The flat water at Chelan doesn’t wait for those who want to sleep in.  You’d put up with our grumbling, because it was worth your ski.  We’d put up with your need to ski, because it made your day.
 
When I opened the cabinet to choose my coffee mug, there you were again.  Yellow and bright in your school bus glory.  You woke up early to shuttle kids to and from school, and you made the best of it.  Driving sports teams to their events.  Taking the excited sixth graders to Camp Waskowitz as we sang “Peanut, peanut butter. Jelly.”   You always stored your roller blades on the bus, so you could take loops around Greenlake while you waited for the kids to finish their field trip.   You’d come home in the middle of the day, and park that big yellow school bus across the street. I can still picture it my mind, and see you opening the door to step out of your bus.  It always amazed me this little person, like you, could handle a bus that big.
 
But you weren’t little at all, were you?  You were strong and your spirit was large.
 
I’ve thought of you many times this week, as one of your children has not been feeling well.  I call them every day to check in, because I love them. Also, because that is what you would do.  You’d call your babies, checking in, just like the mama bird who lives under your deck.
 
Sometimes I feel sorry for myself, because I want more.  I want more of you than what you can give.  I want the loud, larger than life, loving adoration of my mom…to call, to sing, to ski, to laugh and to love. 
 
But today all I have is the opportunity to reflect on the lessons you and the last several months have taught me. We may not have everything we want, but we must make the best of what we have. 
 
I will see you in the ripple of the lake.  Walk in the hills you loved.  Drink coffee from the yellow school bus. Be reminded of your love as I watch the birds who live under your deck.

Writing is similar to how I feel about running.  At night I will lie in bed and think about my next day.  The thought that fills me with the most positive anticipation, is the idea of going for a run.  Being outside, breathing the fresh air, contemplative and deep in personal discovery, overcoming the challenge of something difficult, to finally arrive at the celebration for accomplishing something hard. 
 
When the morning arrives, as I wipe the sleep from my eyes and think about the day ahead, the idea of running is less and less inviting. The other plans for my day start to feel bigger.  The idea of running feels more like a luxury of self care I can’t afford. I vacillate back and forth if I will or I won’t, until most days I finally force myself to lace up my tennis shoes.  I start slow.  My legs feel heavy, my breathing is choppy, and I contemplate several times of turning back home as I consider maybe today just isn’t my day.  
 
I focus on my breath, meditate with the rhythm of my my feet hitting the pavement.  I breath in for three strides and out for two.  
 
Eventually my breathing is less labored, I start to flush out the heaviness in my legs and my feet touch the pavement with more of rhythmic pattern.  
 
Running rarely feels easy.  It never starts out smooth, and usually requires challenges to overcome.  Whether the run felt challenging the entire time or just in the beginning, I always finish feeling renewed and grateful for the time well spent.
 
Writing feels the same.  The idea of a well written piece and the satisfaction upon completion is a lure that feels so inviting in the abstract. But as with running, when the time approaches to begin the adventure, the act feels less attractive.   It feels like a luxury of time I cannot afford to spend.  It feels squeezed with the priorities of other ways to spend my time.  I dread the feeling of heaviness and choppiness that are inevitable in the beginning.  I feel afraid of finding myself midway through, and wanting to quit.  
 
But just as I force my fingers to lace up my tennis shoes, I force my fingers to touch key after key with an initial choppy and awkward pace.   Until eventually, the words touch the screen with a fluidity and smoothness that only comes with perseverance, discipline and the knowledge we can only finish if we dare to start.

​A few days ago a friend posted on Facebook the question “If you could go back in time and give your 18-year-old self one piece of advice what would it be?”  My fingers hovered over the keyboard and I started to write “Go away to college.  More specifically, go to WSU.”  I have always said this is my biggest regret in life.  
 
I started to type and then hit backspace, backspace until the sentences disappeared.
 
If I were to have made the decision to go away to college, I, more than likely, would not have given birth to either of my children.  I found myself wondering, in this current climate of the pandemic and the heightened awareness of my children’s safety, if by writing this I was challenging the universe. Some may call it crazy, but I was not willing to tempt fate.
 
This is the thing with regret.  Regret exists because of something we wish we had done or didn’t do, but usually means something happened at the expense of another.  

Cheryl Strayed writes in Tiny Beautiful Things, "We'll only know that whatever that sister life was, it was important and beautiful and not ours.  It was the ghost ship that didn't carry us."
​ 
When my dad was in ICU, hooked up to a ventilator and ostensibly dying, he had requested we not allow any visitors in to see him.  He was a proud man. My mom once told me that although he grew up in the projects and his family had very little money, he always did his best to look sharp and put together.  The thought of friends, family and his grandchildren seeing him in such a vulnerable state was not something he wanted.  Yet, knowing that he may not have long to live, we decided to let a few of his grandkids, and a few family members and friends into see him.  After he passed away, I carried so much personal regret over our decision.
 
When, not but a short time later, our mother was dying of terminal cancer, we asked her every day if she wanted visitors.  Given the pain and discomfort she was living with, she repeatedly declined.  We honored what she wanted and kept visitors at bay.  After she passed away, I lived with the regret of that decision, to not let people close to her say their final goodbyes.
 
If I had not stood in front of the same choice, making different decisions each time, and experienced regret with both outcomes, I would not have learned a critical lesson on regret.  
 
It will give us the opportunity to reflect and to learn.  Held onto too long, it becomes a form of self punishment.  It has the power to rob us from living in the moment. 
 
I’ve learned to acknowledge that regret can be heavy and burdensome, or it can be timed and valuable.  
 
This moment, especially at this rare time in our life, as we feel regret or anger at what we cannot have, it is our opportunity to allow ourselves the gift of feeling grateful for what wasn’t, to create space for what is.  

This is Moose on our morning run this morning.  He’s two years old and still learning.  We’ve been working with Moose to not act like a complete fool when he sees other people and dogs.  This is now how he looks at me when we pass by people and he behaves well, as if to say “Did I do good mama?”  It reminds me of when Ryanne was little.  When she did something she was proud of and I complimented her, she would say in a high pitched, sweet voice “I’m so happy with myself right now.”  Even to this day when someone in our family does something good we will sometimes say in a sing song voice, “I’m so happy with myself right now.”

I’ve tried tons of tactics to get Moose to behave on walks.  I started by using my best alpha, intimidating voice by barking at him to say “LEAVE IT!”  When that didn’t work I tried what works for my other dog, who is highly food motivated, offer him treat after treat trying to get him to focus on me and behave.  Moose just chewed the treats as fast as he could to clear his vocal cords, so he could carry on.  It’s as if every time we faced a situation, he could sense me tensing up like “OH shit…here we go.”  

Whether we are motivated by treats ($), the corner office, recognition or making an impact, there is not one person who doesn’t get a little pep in their step and want to do better when they hear words of affirmation. You are doing good. You make me proud.  You inspire me to be better.  You are making an impact.  You make me happy.

Now when Moose and I go out for a walk or run, and I see someone approaching I gently and firmly hold his scruff and calmly say, “Good boy Moose.  You're okay.”  In dog language I believe this means ‘You got this.  You’re doing good.  I got you.’  When the situation passes he turns around and gives me this look.  I will gently bop him on the nose and tell him “You’re a good boy!"

Believing someone is capable.  Showing people you have confidence in them.  Empowering them to be better.  Telling them they did good.  The best investment you can make.

I remember growing up and hearing the childhood chant “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.”  I said it over and over again as if the chant would create this sheath to protect all the vulnerable and soft parts of me.
 
However, I cannot think of a bigger crock of shit than the devaluation on the power of words.  Words can hurt.  They can hurt a lot.  Words can also heal.  They can create trust and end trust.  Words can build you up and break you down.  They can create connections and laughter.  Words can teach, and they can offend.  Words can guide you and they can inspire.  
 
When I think back to the most profound times in my life, I can centralize those moments around words that were spoken.
 
I love you.
Peace be with you.
Amen. 
She’s thick.
​You’re not sorry.
You’re pregnant.
It’s a boy.
It’s a girl.
There is no heartbeat.
I love you, mama.
Namaste.
I’m sorry.
You are my best friend.
​You’ve not met my expectations.
You've made my life better.
Will you marry me?
I do.
I’m sorry, it’s cancer.
I’m proud of you.
It won’t be long now.
You are amazing.
I do love you, you know.
Yes.
 
Words carry an immeasurable amount of value.  They can create bookmarks for moments in time.  Sometimes they can place imprints on your heart so deep that when re-spoken your emotions are triggered as if they were being said for the first time.
 
Words hold power when said to someone else and they hold power when whispered to ourselves.
 
This past week I had the opportunity to attend a conference in Austin, Texas hosted by Ameriprise.  Its focus was based around the empowerment and value of women within our company.  It was a true honor to be surrounded by so many incredible women.
 
In one of the more valuable sessions I attended, they asked each participant to pick five words, words that were aligned to our specific mission and values. These words are meant to guide you so you can be sure you are spending your time and energy in alignment with your values.  In turn, where you spend your energy you inevitably move yourself closer towards achieving your goals.
 
I chose:
Connection
Health
Impact
Respect
Ownership
 
Connection:  I may not have a lot of relationships, but the ones I do have need to be meaningful.  My time and my focus is based around my connection with my kids, my husband, my family, my friends and my teammates.  Without connection, my life feels empty.
 
Health:  I place a lot of importance on a healthy mind, soul, heart and body.  My life is in better balance and I’m more effective if my health is at its best.
 
Impact:  In everything I do, professional or personal, it is important to me I am making a positive impact.  It does not need to be grandiose or massive, but it must exist.  I understand I can’t make an impact in everything I do or everyone I touch, but it is important to me that the majority of my life is aligned to where I can drive the most value.
 
Respect:  It is important to me I am respected as a person and a professional.  I want to be trusted as someone who will always put my best foot forward to deliver on what I promise. My morals and ethics guide me.  I believe in kindness first, and I always live with the best intentions. I will be firm and direct when needed and you will always know where you stand with me.  I give others the benefit of the doubt and treat people with the same kindness and respect I expect in return.
 
Ownership:  I work to understand what is mine in this life to own and what is not.  I believe I own my happiness, just as you own yours.  My life may not be perfect.  I have failed many, many times, but it is up to me to be accountable for my mistakes so I can learn and grow.  I believe it is up to me to own how successful I am at connection, personal health, the impact I make in this world and the respect I earn from those around me.
 
So yes, words mean something.  They are not without hurt, pain, joy and especially power. 
 
Take five minutes. Think of five words that align you to your values.  Let those words be your north star reminding you of what is important, and let them guide you in the decisions you make and the energy you give.
 
Sticks and stones may break our bones, but our words hold the power to create many incredible things.
 
 

One morning a few weeks ago I was driving in traffic on my way to work feeling sorry for myself.  I was listing off in my head all the things I needed to do that day, at work and at home.  I had not made it to the gym that morning as I had gone to bed too late and hit snooze one too many times.  I rolled out of bed feeling dejected and not at all excited to tackle what was ahead. The day, my responsibilities and my LONG task list had already taken ownership over me and I was reacting from a standpoint of ‘what’s next.’ I was feeling like a puppet at the whim of all the things that controlled me…. 
 
It’s funny because this is one quality that gets under my skin.  People who do not take accountability for their actions.  So here I am driving to work and listing off all the things that felt wrong at that moment in time....

• I have a long list of things I need to accomplish at work and at home, and there is no way I will get it all done.  
• Because of this there’s no way I can feel successful and I will continue to let down my team, leadership, my family and myself.
• I feel soft and out of shape.  I haven’t been working out as much as I would like and I’m not eating well.
• I haven’t practiced yoga as much as I would like.  I’m lucky if I get it in one day a week.
• I love writing, and yet I haven’t had time to write at all.   

 
Life is just demanding too much out of me.  In these moments I can feel life washing over me, angry and bitter at my surroundings, the people who are demanding things of me, the commitments I signed up for that I no longer want to do.
 
As I’m mulling over all of this and feeling a bit sullen, I started to do what I always do when something isn’t working for me.  I ask myself, what do I need to do to change the situation. What adjustments do I, Jill Perovich, need to make to modify how I’m feeling?  The answer came to me quite quickly.
 
OWN MY DAY.   I need to own my day. 
 
This starts first thing in the morning. How awesome will I feel if the first thing I do every day is for me?  Exercise. Practice Yoga.  Write.  
 
The initial thing I need to do is create a schedule, set an alarm for my day to start earlier than it would if I’m just going to work.  This must happen.  How amazing will I feel to walk into my office knowing I have a full day ahead of me, but I already accomplished something for myself?    
 
The second thing I need to do is create boundaries with my screen time.  My phone has become somewhat of an extra appendage.  To put it even more bluntly an addiction, a way to numb, a way to procrastinate, a way to escape and avoid.  
 
My husband I just watched a 60 Minute feature on screen time and the impact it has on kid’s brains. Jean Twenge a psychology professor from San Diego University conducted a study and found in four years from 2013-2017 “the percentage of teens who reported drinking and having sex fell.  But the percentage who said they were lonely or depressed spiked.”
 
“It's not just the loneliness and depression from these surveys. It's also that ER visits for self harm like cutting have tripled among girls age 10 to 14.”

Shit.  I know I feel more depressed the more time I am on my phone. But what can be done about this?  It’s like my relationship with food. It must be a part of my life and I want the best of it, but how do I eliminate this feeling of ownership it has over me?   

I decided to utilize the iPhone app that tracks how much time you spend on various applications and also allows you to create time restrictions.  I have been using this for the past couple weeks and so far it’s worked beautifully.

The third thing I needed to do was define what helps me to feel good.  What do I need in my life so the best version of me shows up every day?

• Exercise
• Yoga
• Writing
• Meditation/Prayer/Reading

 
So there you have it, my goal for 2019 is to own 30 minutes every day for 365 days this year.  Own my 30.   
Maybe it will be more than 30 minutes or a multiple of these options some days, but it will never be less than one of these or less than 30 minutes.  Each day I get to choose.  

I live a very blessed life with many, many wonderful opportunities surrounded by an incredible community of loved ones.  I can and will prioritize 2% of my day to ensure I can approach each day with a grateful, warrior mindset.  This is my life to own and it starts with….

30 minutes 365 Days a Year.
 
 
How will you own 2019?

Last year during this time I was sick to my stomach, full of instant regret for an impulse decision I had made two weeks prior.  I had just returned from a life changing yoga retreat in Costa Rica with a beautiful community of people whom I hardly knew going in.  Throughout the event I was inspired by the connections, the ability to impact change and a community that can be built with love, courage, vulnerability and the quest for personal growth.
 
Upon returning from the trip, I sent a text to one of my closest friends who was opening a yoga studio and who was also the connection point for me being on the yoga retreat in the first place.  I asked her if I could be put on the schedule one day per week to teach.  For some people this may not have been a big deal, but for me it most definitely was.
 
My feet are always firmly planted in my comfort zone.  I only approach situations with thoughtful consideration of the pros and cons and a 90% certainty I will succeed.   I do not engage in relationships or situations in which I may disappoint and/or not meet other’s expectations of me.  
 
The moment I took a step out of my box I instantly saw myself failing.  Students would exit my class, write Yelp reviews of the horrible experience they had in this brand new, beautiful studio, vowing never to return again. I would disappoint my dearest friend. Above all else, I would confirm I am not good enough and failure for me is inevitable.
 
Am I good enough?  That’s what it all boils down to, isn’t it?  
 
The moment I asked to teach yoga one day a week my stomach hurt.  I thought of all the reasons why I should back out.  My job was crazy.  My family needed me.  I did not have the quintessential yoga figure that inspires others to dig deep.   The bottom line was, I did not want to fail.
 
But what is failure and success, especially when teaching or practicing yoga?  
 
Here’s the beautiful thing I discovered over the past year, the definition of success for each person is different.  As a yoga student it might be physical transformation or a place to become mindful and present.  (Personally I practice yoga not to have a perfect ass, but to keep my head out of my ass.)  
 
As a teacher, I realized my measurement of success was different than what I had anticipated when I began this venture.  Do I love and look forward to teaching my Tuesday classes? Have a created a space for each person entering the room to honor why they need to be there?  Have I allowed for a safe place for people of all genders, religions, race, age, shapes and sizes to feel accepted, valued and capable?   I’m not sure if I have mastered success in all these areas, but I sure try…every week.
 
In addition, last night I realized I had achieved success in a completely unanticipated way.  I was sitting in the dining room creating vision boards with three people I did not know a year prior.  Three beautiful souls who I only met through teaching yoga one day a week in this incredible yoga community.  We cut and pasted pictures and words from magazines onto poster board to manifest goals and dreams we have for ourselves.  We ate, drank and shared stories you only share with your deepest friends.  
 
This past year I have met the most wonderful people and been a part of a community of amazing people. I’ve been a part of barbeques, dinners and vision board planning with students and teachers whom I did not know a year ago.  It has grounded me and given me a space to not only be unapologetic about who I am, it has helped me to love who I am.  It’s helped me to understand I do not hold the key to disappoint.  Some people may love me or leave my class vowing to never return, but my value is not dictated by someone else’s expectations.  I have learned sometimes you need to unplant your feet from the earth, leave your comfort zone and take a leap.  You never know what awaits you.
 
Love. Connection.  Growth.  Acceptance. Balance.  Friendship.  Community. 

Dad used to say “You guys are going to be best friends one day.”

He usually said this when attempting to settle one of our fights in which I may have allegedly hit you over the head with the rake or when I supposedly shoveled dog poop into your leaf pile and made you pick it up with your bare hands.

As I remember it, these things may or may not have happened because you were bugging the shit out of me.

Dad would also say “Your friends will come and go, but your family will be there forever.”
He was right… You, Debbie and Jeff are some of my biggest blessings.

And now…here we are. You are [cough] 40, and I’m still trying to find ways to level the playing field. Knowing full well, this will never happen. You are nothing short of incredible, and they just don’t come better than you.

You are one of my most prized treasures, and you deserve all the blessings in the world.

Today, and every day, I celebrate you. Happy 40th Birthday to my sister, my best friend.
I love you sissy.

​There have been moments since our parents passed away I feel their presence more than others.  Sixteen months ago, when my beautiful nephew, Blake, was born I felt their presence so profoundly I could almost see them holding and kissing him before they passed him onto us.  
 
Today there were several little and big moments in which I know they were walking along side my siblings and I.  
 
Growing up both my parents worked, but despite working all week long our weekends were full of adventures. We snow skied in the winters.  We went camping and boating in the summers. Now that I’m older I can appreciate how much effort and energy it must have taken.  I recognized this even more as I watched my sister and brother in law pack up the car with their kiddos, the cooler, the life jackets, the diaper bag and then hitch the same boat you see in this picture to the back of their car. 
 
As we exited their neighborhood and drove down a steep hill we went over a small speed bump.  We suddenly heard a large crash and terrible scraping sound. The speed bump had dislodged the boat off of the hitch.   We were on a steep hill with no shoulder, but we had to stop.  The only thing preventing the boat from rolling down the hill ahead of us was the back of our car bumper and a chain. We were sooo lucky as this could have turned out very, very bad.  After about 30 minutes of diverting traffic and jimmying the boat, we were able to get the boat hooked back up and be on our way.
 
We arrived at the boat launch, and waited in line for our turn.  Birdy launched the boat and Kimmy turned the key only to find the battery was dead. Imagine having four cars waiting their turn to pull into your parking spot at Trader Joes or Costco and your battery won’t start.  Not only that, you are blocking traffic the entire time.  I was entertaining the kids and pretending I didn’t know them, but it seemed pretty stressful.  
 
It felt like today just wasn’t meant to happen, until a wonderful gentleman ran over and said we could have his battery.  He wouldn’t accept payment, wouldn’t give us his number, but only told us to have a blessed day and pay it forward.  
 
Throughout the day, as we jumped off the side of the boat to swim, Avery practiced somersaults and Blake giggled as he splashed around in the water, I thought of my parents.  I saw my parents when I watched Blake and Avery blissed out and sunkissed in the back of the boat.  I saw my mom in Kimmy as she was distracted by the thought of her lost sunglasses and her determination to find them.  Only difference between Kimmy and my mom, is my mom would have been way less cool about the events of the day, and had three extra pairs of sunglasses in the boat, just in case.  
 
I know it was because of my parents we were out on the water having a blessed day.

I can't say they were with us the entire day.  I'm pretty sure they left us to be with my brother, probably right around the time Kimmy jumped into the water with her sunglasses on her head.  Today Jeff competed in his 22nd Ironman Triathlon in Whistler  B.C.  An Ironman is a 2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike ride and a 26.2 mile run.  (No big deal...)
 
I still remember Jeff’s very first triathlon. It was in California and was half of these distances. It also happened to be the weekend he was graduating college.  My parents were beside themselves, as they had no idea why anyone would want to do this, let alone the weekend you have a zillion other things happening.  I don’t remember the race in particular. However, I do remember how angry my mom was at Jeff because he got bike grease on the inside of our motorhome on the way to the race.  I was ten years old and I can still remember Diana’s fury.

My parents knew nothing of the sport, couldn’t understand why anyone would want to put their body through this, and yet they continued to cheer and support Jeff in his races over the years.  When Jeff qualified and competed in the Kona World Championship, my parents were there. My mom loved biking down to Dig Me Beach just so she could swim with all the triathletes.  My dad didn’t swim, bike or run.  Rather he let us laugh at him when he spilled brownies and frosting all down the front of his shirt at the athlete banquet.  I can still picture turning around seeing him walk next to all these fit athletes with a brownie stain the size of an apple on the front of his yellow polo shirt.  He also enjoyed embarrassing us all as he yelled “No Drafting” over and over again at a congested transition.  Drafting is when a biker will ride right behind another biker to save energy.  It’s illegal in the sport, but in this particular area it was unavoidable as the athletes were just mounting their bikes and had no choice.  My sister and I yelled at him….”Dad….stop!!”
 
Jeff not only competed in his 22nd Ironman today, he WON first place in his age group.  Some people will take 17 hours to finish, some won’t finish at all, but most of us never will attempt such a thing.  He finished in first place.  He was in 12th place exiting the swim, and through pure grit and determination took 1st place within one mile of the finish line. 
 
I know my parents were with Jeff cheering him on. 
 
I know they were with us on the water.  
 
I know we do what we do, and have what we have because of them.

Blessed day.  Blessed life.  Blessed family. Always present. 

Over the past week I have read many Facebook posts where someone has made claim to their ‘word’ for 2018.  It’s something to focus their intention on for the year to come, such as ‘courage’ or ‘strength’ or ‘balance’.  I’ve pondered over the last several days if I were to pick a word for this coming year what would it be. 

For 2017 my word would have been something along the lines of ‘up’ or ‘growth’ or ‘increase’.   To clarify, despite the frequent positive interpretation of those terms, just like with anything, too much of something isn’t always good.  Like, in my case, if it’s referring to the scale, my pant size or stress level they've all grown to levels beyond my satisfaction.  In the same breath, I can testify to some of the more positive aspects of how these words have applied to me over the past year.  My stress level is greater, because I'm earning more income working more hours.  Our vet bill has increased, because we've added a four legged member to our family.  Our home has grown by one with my daughter moving back in, thus my heart has expanded tenfold and my happiness has increased. 

Just as the pendulum swings, I’ve considered the word ‘down’ for 2018, but that has all kinds of negative connotation.  I’ve also tested ‘balance’.  As much as I let the words dance in my head, none of them stuck and I didn’t give it any more thought.  I decided maybe 2018 doesn’t need a word.

Today as I drifted off into a nap, the word ‘forgive’ appeared seemingly out of nowhere.  It floated around in my thoughts until I fell deep asleep.  My body has been tired.  I’ve been fighting the cold/flu going around.  I could have slept for hours, but awoke after 45 minutes as if shaken awake. I looked over at the clock and it said 2:19.  Earlier in the day I’d played with the idea of attending a yoga class that started at 3:00.  Half asleep I rolled out of bed, still not sure if this is what I wanted to do.  Got into my car and drove 25 minutes to the studio.   

The class was just what I needed, and it didn’t take me long to feel grateful I made it to practice.  As the class was nearing its end and I was laying on my mat, the song ‘Forgive’ by Trevor Hall played over the speakers.  I had forgotten about the word appearing in my semi- consciousness just hours before, until it once again made its presence.  Forgive. 

I don't believe I have any one transgression or person that needs to be forgiven.  But when I think about who I am, where I’ve come from and what I want, forgiveness speaks loudly.  The significance of this studio and this class was important,  and the intersection of that word at this point in time was incredible. 

I will be teaching in this studio this coming Tuesday.  I taught yoga for a couple years at a place I worked, but this will be the first time I am teaching at studio. A few weeks ago, in a moment of spontaneity and inspiration, I asked a dear friend if she could put me on the schedule to teach.  She graciously agreed and for weeks I have questioned if I have made the right decision.  The anxiety wakes me up in the morning.  The ache in my belly sits like a heavy weight as a reminder.  I am scared.  Fear leads to self-doubt.  Am I  good enough?  Am I worthy?

Early today I told myself I need to be forgiven for being imperfect   I must allow myself to make mistakes and it doesn't make me any less deserving.  I must forgive myself for not meeting other’s expectations of me.  

Having said all that, my word could also be permission.  I need to give myself permission to be me.  I am not perfect.  I do not have the quintessential yoga figure that inspires.  I am flawed. I am learning. I am me. 

I like the word forgive because it also implies letting go.  I need to let go of the transgressions I have held against myself.  I need to let go of the idea I need to be perfect at something before I should be allowed to explore my potential.  I need to let go of the idea I need to have a body type or years of experience to lead and inspire. 

Forgiveness.  Letting go.  Permission.   These words all vibrate within me. 
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I will move forward with these words paving my path and softening my falls when they happen.  I will lead with the knowledge that perfection is not inspiring.  It is vulnerability and love that connects us to one another.  
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So today, I will be vulnerable and say.  I am not perfect.  I will make mistakes.  I might disappoint.  But in the end, I will forgive.