Gina Molinari yoga, wellness, travel and coaching
I just signed up for an Ayurvedic Spring Cleanse. As in, I just did it like 5 minutes ago. I’d been considering it, talking about it, and procrastinating actually doing it, but then I looked at my calendar and said “I’m going to start tomorrow”. So without having any ceremonious last cup of coffee or glass of wine, I just agreed to cut them both from my life for 3 weeks. Without reviewing my calendar to determine if there were any special events coming up, I decided I would eat as directed for 21 days.
Honestly, I’m pretty freaked out and terrified, and also surreally shocked by my unplanned commitment. It’s really unlike me to jump without having a fully researched background on what I’m jumping towards (not to be confused with having solid expectations of how things will turn out, which I don’t do). I’m reminded of the poem She Let Go by Rev. Safire Rose. This is exciting. It’s even sort of fulfilling my perpetually present wanderlust, as though I’m taking a leap of faith into something new. Chills run up my spine as I consider the growth that sits patiently waiting on the other side of the challenge. That’s what it’s about after all – the quick growth that comes from diving feet first into my boundaries. Wish me luck. The catalyst for this was realizing that my coffee habit has once again slipped into addiction behavior and I don’t feel good about it anymore. I’ve been here before and I know the struggle, but I know I can get back to the point where coffee is a treat or ritual rather than a necessity. Coffee and I will take some much needed space to reconsider and redefine our relationship, and in 21 days we can hopefully come to meet each other in a healthier way. If you're interested in joining me for this cleanse, I’d love some accountability/misery partners. She Let Go She let go. Without a thought or a word, she let go. She let go of the fear. She let go of the judgments. She let go of the confluence of opinions swarming around her head. She let go of the committee of indecision within her. She let go of all the ‘right’ reasons. Wholly and completely, without hesitation or worry, she just let go. She didn’t ask anyone for advice. She didn’t read a book on how to let go. She didn’t search the scriptures. She just let go. She let go of all of the memories that held her back. She let go of all of the anxiety that kept her from moving forward. She let go of the planning and all of the calculations about how to do it just right. She didn’t promise to let go. She didn’t journal about it. She didn’t write the projected date in her Day-Timer. She made no public announcement and put no ad in the paper. She didn’t check the weather report or read her daily horoscope. She just let go. She didn’t analyze whether she should let go. She didn’t call her friends to discuss the matter. She didn’t do a five-step Spiritual Mind Treatment. She didn’t call the prayer line. She didn’t utter one word. She just let go. No one was around when it happened. There was no applause or congratulations. No one thanked her or praised her. No one noticed a thing. Like a leaf falling from a tree, she just let go. There was no effort. There was no struggle. It wasn’t good and it wasn’t bad. It was what it was, and it is just that. In the space of letting go, she let it all be. A small smile came over her face. A light breeze blew through her. And the sun and the moon shone forevermore.
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I've always been a big fan of "fake it 'til you make it" mentality. To me, it's the epitome of putting fear aside, even for a little while, and allowing the Universe to swoop in and work her magic. It's acting as though you already have that thing you want, like you are already excelling at that new skill, or embracing the glowing qualities of the person you want to be. Maybe I've already quoted Paolo Coehlo's The Alchemist 87 times on this blog, but it's for good reason: "When you want something, all the Universe conspires to help you achieve it." Back when I started to allow myself to get lost in my dreams of traveling, quitting my office job, and leading a life of meaningful service, I would write and talk about it as though that's where I already was. I have old journal entries about how "I never once regretted my decision to quit my job". I've written out descriptions of my Prince Charming (he's still on his way). Right before I left Bali, I was drawing up my new home, work schedule, and collaborations with people who inspire me. One of my biggest fears of traveling solo, and one I've heard from many others, is feeling lonely due to social anxiety. It's stopping ourselves from trying to connect due to a false belief that we are unworthy or incapable and will be turned down. This fear pops up with public speaking, dating, interviews, and in so many other places. We allow our anxiety to present itself and steer us, while we watch from behind, small and scared. What if in these moments we put on a show of being big, empowered, and capable? Terrifying, right? But I bet you'd start to feel bigger, empowered, and capable... So often, we limit ourselves by standing behind our fear. Our deepest aspirations are held off by the excuses our anxiety provides. We let our self-doubt and criticism dictate how far ahead we can move, how close we can come to our dreams and goals. What if you just pretended? If you allowed yourself 30 minutes to dream without limitations? Try it...then from that place, start acting as though you were already there. Put yourself where you want to be, even if it's only mentally/emotionally at first, and then let the world around you shift to support you. (Disclaimer: please don't not show up for work because you "fake quit" or buy a Porsche because you "won the lottery", etc). If you want a tangible example of how this works, try a Laughter Yoga class. The theory behind Laughter Yoga is that the body is positively changed by the effects of fake laughter just as much as by real laughter. Ultimately, you actually have those benefits like increased energy, released endorphins, less stress. You've faked it and made it! Fear is the mask that's holding you back, but beneath that you are capable, confident, enough, and ready. Even if it feels unnatural for now, go ahead and try that mask on for a while. One month has flown by! The first week stateside was quite an adjustment, especially getting over the fact that a lunch out cost my entire day's budget in Bali or India, but things have gone surprisingly smooth. I've had the luxury of time, seeing as there was no job waiting for me and no real obligations to rush back to. In fact, I hadn't even made the commitment to stay in Philly until the day I was boarding a plane from Bali.
Within a week and a half of being back, I'd been offered six steady yoga classes (organized in a totally awesome dreamworld schedule nonetheless). Feeling welcomed, I began my search for a place to live in Philly. While I slept on friends' couches and in spare rooms, I was scouring craigslist and Zillow for my new home. Despite the diligent research and extending a very flexible schedule to prospective landlords, nothing was sticking. I spun my wheels and had to wonder "Am I really supposed to stay here?". It wasn't until I basically threw my hands up in the air in surrender that opportunity came knocking - and I mean it came to me within hours and by no effort of my own. A lovely room in a perfect house in the neighborhood I love with passionate housemates. After I visited, I completely stopped looking into other places. I neatly tucked all my eggs into that basket and sat back. You'd think I'd learned my lesson about asking the Universe for signs, but I put it out there that if this room didn't pan out, I'd take that as a message to pack my bags and leave again. Coming back to Philly and postponing more travel was a hard decision. I have a community I love, connections I want to nurture, and a diverse neighborhood actively fighting for the most pressing issues of the recent times. I opted to stay put because I want to grow my roots. I want to feel grounded, stable, and like I have a strong foundation from which I can build up all my biggest dreams. I want a homebase that I can serve from. In the first few days of my return I was so desperately seeking those things that it was like jamming a shovel into concrete and expecting it to give way to my force. Until I surrendered, asked the Universe and Grace to assist me, I was fighting so much that I couldn't receive. There's certainly times where proactive grounding are necessary, but I'd venture to say that just as often we can simply open ourselves to the support and stability this Earth naturally provides for us. We can push our feet into the ground, but she will unwaveringly rise up to hold us anyway. Unless you've learned to levitate (teach me?), you're foundation will always be there. Our practice both on and off the mat is to find that delicate balance between proactivity and receptivity. To embody the difference between rooting our hands and feet in Downward Facing Dog and receiving the holding of the ground as we melt into Savasana. By the way, after nearly 3 weeks of waiting, I got the room. Philly, looks like you're stuck with me for at least a bit longer :) Where you can you soften and receive a bit more? Can you distinguish the times when it will best serve you to release control and surrender to the support of the Universe, the Earth, and Grace? Here's to you taking a well deserved break and allowing yourself to receive all the beautiful things you've got coming for you. In less than 48 hours I'll be on a plane heading back to Philadelphia. Every plane ride I've ever been on is bittersweet: the ending of something creating space for the beginning of something else. I bounce between envisioning a specific future and trying to remain open to whatever happens when the bird touches the ground.
I recall my excitement from five months ago having tossed aside my comfortable and stable life in order to experience adventure like I had always dreamt of. Everything felt surreal. As I'm returning home, it feels the similar. This form of traveling has become natural and the thrill of going back and starting life fresh is some kind of intimidatingly blank slate open to dreams and opportunity beyond my control or imagination. I can't seem to envision myself getting on that plane and wrapping up this journey, let alone what my life will look like when I return home, wherever I decide to make Home, that is. Today was my last day in Ubud (Bali, Indonesia). There's a festival going on just outside of town, but I opted to stay local and let things settle instead of reaching for more new connections. Looking back on the past 5 months I've been blessed with friendships and passing interactions with so many amazing people who crafted this journey into what it was. People who have explored Love with me, offered a compassionate ear or shoulder, been dance partners, invited me on excursions after 10 minutes of conversation... People from Israel, Spain, Argentina, Singapore, Germany, Australia, Brazil, Canada, England, Switzerland, Indonesia, Peru, Thailand, India, Sri Lanka, and the USA... People that have been to America and people who say the word dreamily because they will never make it there. I've come to LOVE people from all walks of life and they have loved me back. While I've been away, our country elected Donald Trump as leader, a real-life plot twist I never expected. From the distant sidelines, I've watched a revolution begin as democracy is challenged and hate/fear threatens to tear the United States apart. Each time someone asks where I am from (and that is always part of any conversation), and I tell them I'm from America, they light up as though I am from the promised land while I try to swallow my recent shame. To many, the USA is a symbol of freedom and possibility, cleanliness and safety, to name a few of the adjectives I've been given. I've taken the responsibility to become a diplomat for my country, aiming to show the compassion, humanity, and intelligence that our new leader is lacking. It's become my duty to set an image of MY America. I don't know where I'm going from here. I'm mostly clueless about what I'll be doing a week from now, much like I've been for the past 5 months. What I do know is that I am going to continue to do the work that I am proud of. I will lead by example. I will embrace all the qualities of the amazing foreign people I have met, showing Love, compassion, patience, and inclusion as a daily practice of living. Every day is a new beginning, a chance to live better than the day before. I'll see y'all soon, landing hot with Love and hugs. Some days are filled with hikes, hot springs, picnics, and motorbike rides, and those days are amazing. But other days call for reading, writing, people watching and a whole lot of doing nothing productive. Those days are good, too.
The last time I was in Thailand in 2014, we had a 2 night stop in the big city of Bangkok. It was near the end of the trip and i was sick (something I'm quite good at while traveling) and I gave myself permission to spend an entire day walking through the mega malls and seeing Interstellar at the super posh movie theatre. A totally unexotic and unproductive day. It felt right and it felt good. Now I'm a month away from going back to the USA, where I get to start my life over from scratch, and I'm feeling the familiar pangs of anxiety start to set in. All of the sudden I've regressed into a state of mind where sitting with books and aimlessly walking have become a waste of time due to their lack of results. It's as though someone will judge me when I'm questioned "What did you do?" at the end of the day. But it's only me, I'm the only critic. Being gone for 5 months is a vacation, no matter how I spin it. Sure, there were challenges and I did do some work, but in general I've had no responsibilities and have had total control over how my days will look. Now that I need to figure out what to do when I get home (and where home will be), I've started putting the pressure on myself to prove that this time hasn't been all luxury and relaxation. My inner critic is a relentlessly harsh tyrant. So, here's to a little more kindness, patience and acceptance. Here's to being grateful for what I've done (and haven't done) and being convinced that I deserved every moment of it. Here's to saying I can live the good life and not owe anyone for it. I am going to sit here in this cafe in the park and read some Jack Kerouac. Then I will go to the dentist, and after that I have no idea what will happen. Whatever it is, it's perfectly alright. There was a specific sunset on a specific day at Belmar Beach about 15 years ago that I felt myself melt for the first time. Ever since then I've searched for the WORD to describe the feeling, because it became a familiar sensation from there on. Some language must have it.
It's the feeling of a fiery sunset as it quickly moves from an explosion of orange through a slow fade of pink to eventual dusk that gives way to night's first stars. It's autumn with her earthy yellows, reds, and oranges hanging on to branches before they fall to the ground for winter. Conversely, the soft and colourful buds and blooms of spring that must, absolutely must, wither to allow the newest green growth. Fleeting. That's part of the enigmatic word/feeling. These things are all fleeting and temporary. This WORD approaches these things we admire so much and borders an obsessed desire to want to have them forever, nearly be them. We see a magic so divine that every part of our being becomes enthralled and we can't help but to want to possess it. Yet we know this is no more possible than prolonging these moments. It's entirely impossible no matter how you spin it. These moments will always be fleeting, temporary and never yours to have for keeps. This appreciation, this deeply seeing something for all that it is, without the need to make it mine, that is what this WORD means. The release of any desperate need to try making it last for even a second longer than the moment it was meant to be, THAT is the understanding. So I think to myself, "There must be a word for this, and when I find it the word probably means the same thing as Love..." Love, that's what it is. The feeling of a sunset, of changing seasons, of beautiful moments of seeing and being seen. Life is no more permanent than the collection of fleeting moments it's made up of. The practice is to drink in all the beauty, grace and pure magic of those moments/people/experiences without grasping them. Allowing them to pass along so we don't tear and ruin their gentle and sacred beauty. The recent magic of my world has been a long battled embracing of this, an acceptance of the fact that all things are temporary, from the most beautiful to the most terrible. This doesn't mean we live in a cold what's-the-point world. Quite the opposite-it's a world of constant magic. Unbelievable and unexpected happenings over and over in brand new forms. So why cling to one variation or manifestation? Would you even try to cling to one sunset? Look and see it, the unpredictable change of colours that eventually moves along for sunrise to gracefully peak through. Why cling? If you could hold a single sunset forever, would you? Could you live knowing you missed the opportunity to witness a million more? I'm not saying love something and then toss it away. Rather love those moments fully and completely, but without trying to keep it, so when the moments inevitably grow into new ones, you can allow it as painlessly as the night sky is filled with day. ...and this is Love. If I’m in India and I don’t practice yoga, meditate, or spend time in an ashram, am I really a yogi? Even further, can I call myself a yoga teacher when I get back to the USA?
My self-judgments have been running rampant this past week. I wake up around 7 or 8 each morning and tell myself I can show up to any yoga school and there will be a class going on. Or I look up the location of am ashram I am interested in. Yet, when I actually walk out for the day, I find myself never even coming close to any of those things. Instead I find a café with a view of the street where I can watch people as they begin their day. I walk to the Ganga and sit on my favorite rock, a smooth orange seat close to the sacred river herself. I read one of the books gifted to me or write. I pause at shops to look at ornately sparkly tapestries of Siva and bronze statues of Ganesha. I drink a lot of ginger/honey/lemon tea and eat dosas. Most days, by the time I get to bed I feel like I’ve seen a lot. I’ve certainly walked a lot, but I haven’t done any actual yoga, be it asana, pranayama or meditation. So, as I reflect, I find that nasty little voice in my head imposing her strong opinions on who I am and am not. Am I adequate and fit to guide others in their path of yoga if I am in the yoga capital of the world and not even practicing? I’d like to say yes, or at least as fit enough. We impose judgments on other people because we are analyzing them based on our own prejudices. Someone who doesn’t measure up to our personal standards is really just reflecting back our own fears of being inadequate in those particular ways. That’s why it’s easy to love nature: we can’t possibly compare ourselves to mountains and birds, so they don’t threaten our sense of personal adequacy. Maybe I could say that my yoga has been to examine these parts of myself: the highly critical and judgmental self. It’s not to say that asana wouldn’t serve me here, but there’s other work to be done. Amidst this being a “vacation”, I have a lot of time with myself – time to consider and feel things I’ve historically avoided because there’s no time for self-work. My first order is business is to stop judging my day by what I didn’t do and instead reflect on what I did do, all the things I did learn about myself and the world around me. I need to bust out that List of Things I Think I Should Do! Hola from Peru! Much of this trip is about space: creating space, intentionally filling space, accepting blank space. It took a huge leap of faith to leave a steady paycheck and amazing yoga community in order to create the space needed to travel long-term, but that was only the beginning of the journey. In the past 3 weeks, I've completed the 6 day Salkantay Trail hike through the Andes with a peak of 15,092 feet, experienced the mindblowing architecture and energy of Machu Picchu, indulged in a ton of amazing vegan cuisine in Cusco, and explored the many markets of the towns I've visited. Yet these were all planned experiences. Although my expectations were often blown out of the water by my actual experiences, I had some framework in my mind for how I anticipated these things to go. So when we set off on another trek around Ausangate Mountain/Glacier with only about 1 hour of preparation, I was met with an entirely different experience. The snow covered mountain itself is over 19,000 feet high and the circuit around it is fairly untraveled due to the high altitude, extreme weather, and unmarked trails. From Cusco we traveled to he small town of Tinki, which doesn't see many foreigners. The night before our trek we stayed in a tiny 3 room hostel and had an intention setting ceremony with two other travelers who had set similar plans (albeit with a lot more preparation). We asked for things like being WOWed by the magnificence of Mother Nature, remembering to breath in moments of panic, getting back to out wild roots, and honoring our limitations without bowing out of challenges. It's true, we all had the expectation of hiking for 5-7 days, seeing the snow covered goliath and the many colored lakes that sit around its base, and ultimately completing the circuit with a dip in the hot springs at its end. Yet, there is something different about setting intentions to bolster the expectations. Asking the Universe for guidance rather than results feels like such an ultimate act of creating space and just allowing it to be filled as Grace finds necessary. When I typed "definition of intention" into Google, the second response after "an aim or plan" is "the healing process of a wound". After hiking up to the gleaming white face of Ausangate and dipping in the hot springs during a hail storm, for an array of reasons, Orion and I made the difficult decision to turn back and not complete the Ausangate Circuit. If you know he or I, then you know that "turning back" is really not in our vocabularies. Having an expectation and then making a conscious decision to turn away from seeing it through is quite foreign. The first day in we were at an elevation of about 14,430 feet. We had hiked for almost 4 hours and went from warm, dry desert air to mushy plains to a snow/hail storm and below freezing temperatures within that time. After setting up camp around 2:00pm we dipped into the natural thermal baths to warm our frigid bodies and then attempted to cook dinner (note: split peas do NOT cook at high elevation). I was unprepared for the extreme cold and wind and my socks, gloves and hat had all gotten wet during the snowy rain. Orion's ankle was aching. Our food wasn't cooking. Overall, things just weren't working with us. Yet, our bodies and the part of our Conscious that has our better interest in mind made the call for us. Our egos certainly wanted to check another trek off our list, but when we truly tuned in and asked what is best for our healing and well-being, the answer was a resounding "Listen. Turn back". We had set many intentions, including the overarching intention of creating space for the absolutely unknown possibilities that could present themselves during our trip. While abandoning our plans of hiking multiple brilliant mountains of Peru, we were also accepting our response from the Universe and Pacha Mama as we had been asking for the most healing experiences. Our moments of most profound healing come when we look to the Universe and say, "Here's the space. I'm open to your guidance!" When you set expectations, are you also allowing yourself to set space for intentions? In light of being a transparent and real human being, I'm sharing this "journal" about the mental process of debilitating anxiety that creeps up on me fairly often. I share these pieces of myself to remind you that life isn't always rainbows, but that there is always Light even when everything feels dark.
Any time there is more than one option, and sometimes even when there is undoubtedly only one option, I become paralyzed by the burden of picking the right one. It’s as though my life literally depends on making the right choice and I can’t move a muscle until I do. If I’m wrong I’ll spend eternity paying for my mistake. Every day there will be a reminder. As I’m broke, starving and begging on the sidewalk outside of a NYC McDonalds, I’ll be able to trace it back to the day I irrationally ordered that merino wool shirt online for 83% off even though I may not have necessarily needed it but it was a really good sale. When I’ve broken my hip and I’m stranded helpless on the dirty floor of my studio apartment kitchen filled with single place settings and ramen, I’ll remember the time I turned down that guy at the bar who said he’d marry me and take care of me. Sure, it’s a little drastic and doomsday-esque, but it’s all totally possible. It all boils down to the same thing. If I make the wrong choice, I will die. Death: the Great Motivator. At the absolute minimum, a mistake will result in severe discomfort and a mental loop of regrets, shame and judgment, but that will eventually lead to madness and death anyway. How can such simple decisions be so dramatic? Seriously. Am I to assume that I have made all of the right decisions up until this point, but this is going to be the straw that breaks the camel’s back? I’m currently alive and therefore my track record of not completely fucking everything up is still in my favor. Isn’t that enough? My entire life has proven that I can make just about any decision in any arena and I, in fact, will not die. Yet, I find myself thrown into a loop of beliefs that the blunders are all just piling up and I’ll eventually be kicking myself for not acting with more scrutiny, for not looking at the mountain of errors early enough to start cleaning things up. The panic usually results in: 1) avoiding all forms of action and falling asleep only to wake up and find the decision still unmade, the thing still undone; or 2) trying to “feel something” with a hit of coffee (often drank quickly and in secret) that I don’t even want to drink anyway. One thing to avoid the other to avoid the other and all of it to avoid death. If you came to me and told me all of this I’d tell you to just make a decision, any decision. Do anything at all and I’d bet my life on it that things will turn out okay. I trust Grace for everyone else, but struggle to furnish my own unerring faith. Truth is that to date, each shuffle, step, and leap I’ve taken has landed me in a wonderful place. It’s the sidesteps and indignant toddler-like sitting down that have resulted in suffering. Gina, make any decision. It really, truly does not matter that much. You’ll be fine, maybe even better than fine. So tell me, when you have anxiety, panic, fear, or depression that stops you in your tracks, what is your tip to recall that "This too shall pass?" I can't believe I've never done this before: Today I made a "List of Things I Think I SHOULD Do". Making To-Do lists is a daily occurrence for me, but this one is unique. It has all the same things on it, but after each item is the self-talk that immediately popped into my head as I wrote down the task. Today I've felt really rundown, like the way I feel when I'm sick and my body has put me on bedrest so I physically can't operate like a functional adult. Maybe it's a pre-emptive suggestion as I'm teaching 8 classes over the next 3 days, but the involuntary shutdown left me with the anxiety that usually crops up in times like this. I become frustrated that my capacity to take care of things is diminished because I "just don't have time for it". I need to be productive. So I make a To-Do list, a big ol' braindump in order to lay out all the things I feel like I need to accomplish before I can take the time to rest. The list itself is a pretty useful tool, but the mindset with which I make it determines whether it will serve me or bring on my monkey mind anxiety. My "Should" List had all the things I really would like to get done [eventually] accompanied by the "shoulding" that I react to and become stressed out by. With it all laid out it really looks pretty ridiculous. Really, Gina, people are judging you as a bad yoga teacher if you skip practice? You'll never have another chance to take a walk in the sun if you don't go now? .....probably not. Shift perspective and add some mindfulness to your To-Do List, or even to the unwritten list in your head. "I should own a house by now." "I need to find a new job because I should have more money". "I should hang out with Soandso or I may not be invited out again". Listen to the negative self-talk and then tune in to really ask yourself if it's realistic. Take some time to identify your anxiety causing judgments and quit letting them bully you around! In short, my anxiety isn't stemming from the length of my To-Do list or even the things on it. It comes from the dialogue I create in my head by judging myself, the strict rules I've set, the perceived lack of worth if I don't accomplish everything! I'm sharing this because I'd bet it's the same for you. Try making a Should list. Practice being kind to yourself. Turns out that when I release the negative self-talk, I actually did want to update my blog here. Not because I should, but because in this moment it actually brings me more Joy rather than just avoiding anxiety. <3 |
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