My Feet. My Moleskine. My Body.
Every morning in Costa Rica I walked for hours along the shore. I pushed Phoenix in the stroller and told myself that I could totally start a new work-out trend!
I found out that you can't push a stroller up a mound of sand--you have to pull it with all your might.
And you know that sand that your feet so romantically sinks into? It's absolute murder getting a stroller through it.
But each morning I was determined to walk further than the last.
So I pushed. I pulled. I sweated. I strolled. I moved my body. And I did it all barefoot.
Skin to Earth.
With Mama Ocean cleansing my toes from time to time, I made my way back and forth along the coast line.
But what I haven't mentioned yet is that something strange happened right after Phoenix was born. My feet gave out on me. Just all of a sudden they became painful to walk on. So painful that sometimes I literally had to crawl around the house--and carrying a big baby, or a big baby in a car seat?
But what else I haven't mentioned is that right when my feet gave out--my life started to also fall apart. Hansel started to get really sick. I mean really sick.
And I started to carry all of us. By myself.
I went to a foot doctor. And another foot doctor. I did stretches, ice packs, wore a brace, got orthopedics, had x-rays, tried this shoe and that, had massage, had acupuncture and acupressure, visualized, FEARLESS Painted, took aspirin, journaled, prayed, and cried.
Nothing seemed to help. So I just decided to ignore it--and try to keep the rest of my life from falling apart.
So back to Costa Rica, please.
Back to the ocean, and my amazing stroller workout.
You see, something happened on those morning walks along the beach.
My feet started to get better. The pain started to fade. My legs started to connect with my ankles--my ankles weren't so afraid of my feet.
And it was incredible. Because listen...those first few days I walked that sandy beach in long yoga pants and a t-shirt.
Yep! Here comes the lady with the stroller dressed like it's Autumn in Ohio--passing all the surfers and chic-e-babes in bikinis.
But as my feet got better--I started to feel my body again. And as I felt my body again--I started to strip my close away.
That last stroll along the beach I did it in a tank top and shorts.
Me. A tank top and shorts!!
Hansel took a photo of me that day--and I couldn't believe how big I looked. Because for once, in such a long time--I didn't feel so big. I felt in my body again.
And you know what that feels like to me? It feels like an overwhelming feeling to dance and do yoga.
It's been so long. Too long. Way, way, way too long since I've felt this way.
And there I was, on the beach, stroller pushing--when I for some reason thought of Charlie--a dear friend and FEARLESS Painter of mine. I all of a sudden wondered about these classes she told me about that she was putting together. Just out of nowhere I got really curious about what she was offering.
So, I signed up. And last night, I sat listening to her talk about how important it is to feel in our bodies--and the tears started coming.
I doodled in my Moleskine as she spoke--and later I overlooked the syllabus she gave us and I literally fell to pieces when I read the words "Body Scan".
It's so amazing to me how supported and absolutely loved we are by this big, incredible Universe. How there I was in the jungle of Costa Rica receiving messages to sign up for Charlie's class...because there waited the message my body has been aching to communicate with me--but I've been ignoring it instead.