I Forgot To Do Cartwheels
I made myself laugh today because I realized that itís about time to lighten up! Between ranting about†how broken our health care system is, musing about†setting boundaries with people who say they love you but donít act like it, and writing about†coming out of the closet and how repressing the real you makes you sick, Iíve gotten so dang deep, serious, introspective, and ďspiritualĒ that I’ve literally forgotten to do cartwheels (a regular practice for me usually). I’ve also forgotten to take regular dance breaks with Lady Gaga (LOVE her!) or to laugh at my daughter’s knock knock jokes.
The Narrow Place
The truth is that†Iíve been in the narrow place again. Must be a spring thing.
Do you know what it feels like when youíre in the narrow place? Itís like being in the dark, bony pelvis, getting squished from all sides, as you feel stuck in that place that surely always leads to rebirth if youíre brave enough to be with what happens in the narrow place.
Itís always a good thing. Itís gestation.† Itís evolution.† Itís the opportunity to get more aligned with your truth. And you always pop out the other end into this beautiful, expansive place, as I did last April. Phew!
But when youíre there, itís easy to get really freakiní dark, brooding, and intense (not that thereís anything wrong with that!)
I See The Light
Iím just starting to squeeze through, and I now see the light. Itís close. Iím almost there. But I donít want to wait until I pop through to laugh, skip-to-my-lou, and kick up my heels.† I just had to giggle about how I sometimes forget to laugh at myself.
So I decided Iíd go do cartwheels on the beach. While wearing a clown nose (yes, I have one). And blowing on a kazoo. Because surely then, it would be impossible to be deep and introspective. Though the park rangers might arrest me.† And then Iíd be blowing a kazoo in a clown nose while trying to do cartwheels in the cramped quarters of National Park Service jail.
The cartwheels went well. With the exception of getting blown sideways by hurricane gusts of wind such that one hand sank into the wet sand, careening me off balance and toppling me over into the surf, where I was then pummeled with a fine mist of sand that stuck to the wet parts, all went well. My kazoo is now drying out nicely. No arrests. Which is fortunate because of that unfortunate Janet Jacksonesque wardrobe malfunction. Note to self – wear a bra when cartwheeling in public. It’s only fair to the 80 year old Buddhist monk and the 14 year old boy on the beach.
Sometimes you just need a release valve in your life. You need to blow bubbles, spray Silly String at your best friend, sing in the shower, or bop around the grocery store in a pink wig. You need to wrestle with your kids or swing on the swingset or†dance on a pole or belly laugh at Steve Martin movies.
Whatís your cartwheel?
What can you do to open the release valve in your life?
Brushing off the sand,
Lissa Rankin, MD: Founder of†OwningPink.com, author of Mind Over Medicine: Scientific Proof You Can Heal Yourself (Hay House, 2013),†TEDx speaker, and health care revolutionary.†Join her newsletter list for free guidance on healing yourself, and check her out on†Twitter and†Facebook.