This Sunday is my 34th birthday
Big Vortex Energy in Sedona last weekend 🏜
Slow the eff down. I’m a fast walker, talker, and thoughts and ideas strike at me like lightning. I love the feeling of getting shit done. And the message written on my heart is always: Rebecca, honey, slow down. This theme is not new, and I’ve gotten much better at respecting it. Slowing down is sometimes uncomfortable for me. It’s where my emotions surface, where I feel the feels, good and bad. It’s where I pay attention and soak up deep, productive rest. It’s the speed at which I most experience a deep connection with myself and others. When I slow down, I can embody the values that matter most to me. Perhaps this is why I love yoga, meditation, solitude, and even doing absolutely nothing so much. There are a time and place for hustle, and I’m falling in love with slow.
Make space for grief. The time directly following my dad’s death is hazy and difficult to remember. However, I recall, at one point, checking out a book on the “grieving process.” I felt so confused and desperate to be done with my grief, and I wondered, “what the hell stage am I in?” it felt like every single stage was raging inside me at once. And my soft, humbling truth on the matter is that grief has no end; it only transforms. Loss is human, there is no avoiding it, and I wish we talked about it more. Acknowledging and allowing space for my grief has been life-changing. Sometimes it looks like a snotty tear fest alone. Other days it’s connective, joyful remembrance. And while I talk here about losing a parent, other forms are just as potent; heartbreak, loss of friendship, even ideas I used to have about myself that are no longer true — all grief. As I get older, I want to remain friends with my emotions. I want to notice the quality and texture as we mature together.
Mess up. I’ve botched yoga sequencing, communications, and cleaning up my coffee grounds from the sink. And that’s just this week. Practicing self-compassion and trading the word “failure” for “learning” help me move away from the false illusion and seduction of perfection. While I once chased this mythic beast, I now bask like a pig in mud with my imperfection. I’m stumbling my way through difficult conversations, stuff I don’t feel ready for, growth and my own messy emotions. It’s exhilarating, awkward and glorious. I’m not giving it up any time soon.
Things I’m into right now:
Compiling this winter playlist
Slathering my face with coconut oil + Weleda Skin Food at night
The work of Sophie King
The best birthday I can remember was turning 11 in 1997. It was the year Titanic hit theaters, and I had a sleepover with my best friends (and yes, we went to see the movie for the however-many-eth time). I got my best gift in memory, leather horseback riding chaps from my dad. I loved them so much I slept with them over my pajamas on my birthday night. I guess I had ride or die friendships because nobody questioned this move.
Skip to now: I’ve forgotten a few times that it’s my birthday week, and still, I’m welcoming it. How does 34 feel? I’ll let you know when I figure it out. For now, here are three themes on my heart before turning 34.
