Gypsy Blood: Early knowing?

I've been fascinated with Gypsy culture since...well, as long as I can remember.

A clothes hamper full of dress up clothes in our basement held several crocheted ponchos, long flowy things, belts, scarves and a world full of glamour in the mind of this little girl.  Gauzy, lacey, and bold, rich colors.  Heaven!  I remember being whooped for stealing some giant costume pieces of jewelry from a lovely older lady who used to babysit for me (Sorry Mrs.P!)  I guess at age 5 I already knew I needed the bling to make the outfits complete.  Shiny.  Mmm...pretty.

Make-up, bangles and tassels.  Bliss!

Fast forward a few years. 

I grew up in a small town, the population was 222 when I lived in Middle River, MN.  I believe it's up to 303 now!  We had 17 total students in our class.  There were only a few of us 'city kids'.  Everyone else lived in the country, so we were pretty tight.  Kathy was one of those city kids, although it was always debatable, since she was about 1/4 mile out of town and it was quite a longer bike ride to her house.  Kid logic!  But, for the most part, even though her family had the biggest chicken farm EVER, we called her city kid.

Kathy's birthday fell on October 30th, and it was truth and fact that every year we celebrated her birthday on Halloween with trick or treating followed by a sleepover.  This was not just understood, it was an event.  This was true through junior high. (Don't judge...we were small town kids, and this was, as I stated before, an EVENT.)

Now, I can't remember all the details, but I know there was some small drama about just how many gypsies were acceptable at her parties.  And I was nervous.

When the talk of a potential gypsy quota arose, I recall a feeling of urgency, I HAD to be gypsy.  The fortune teller.  Thankfully, I did survive.  Whew.

Fast forward again.

After years of decorating and dressing as I had been taught was 'normal', my divorce and journey into self provided the opportunity to toss tradition out the window and spice up my wardrobe and dwelling.  I adorned long, flowy skirts, bangles and scarves.  Lacy, bejeweled shawls and table coverings donned the walls of my apartment.  Peacock feathers, sequins and rich, velvety fabric are NECESSARY for comfort in my current world.

Today, as I'm scrolling through some of the countless Facebook pages dedicated to all things Gypsy, I notice tears rolling down my cheeks. 

Aged pictures of women with long, layered skirts, vests, heavy makeup and jewelry - Remembering. 

Traveling wagons with beads, heavy drapes and lace - Homesick. 

Circles of women in celebration of self, uncaring of society's labels, free and alive - Loneliness.

It is in that moment, when I allow myself to feel the emotions come up and identify them, that I make (what might seem obvious, but hasn't been until now) a connection.  I've always known that I would do what I am doing today.  I would BE a Gypsy.  I am a fortune telling gypsy, and have been that fortune-telling gypsy since I was a little girl.  And yes, I have likely been a fortune telling gypsy in previous lifetimes before.

I was drawn to palm reading 20 years ago.  Never, when I was still working in the 'normal' world, did I see that I'd be doing it for a living.  When I was still in fear of my calling, and tried to fit in, life never felt good.  I suffered terrible bouts of depression and anxiety.  I walked the walk others wanted me to walk, and my heart wept the tears of a caged animal.  I sought drama and chaos, not intentionally, but subconsciously, because I was bored in a life that didn't *fit*.

 

Today, I am overwhelmingly, profoundly grateful for my unique life.  When I do not live my truth...I suffer.  When I do live my truth...I soar.

See...

I AM Gypsy.  Seer.  Healer.  WildWoman.  Goddess.  Bohemian.  Witch.  Non-Conformer.  Flower Child.  Roamer.  Seeker.  Priestess.  Free Spirit.  SHE is my calling, and I am SHE.

These fierce, strong women have been labeled, condemned and feared.  Their power and ownership of SELF is daunting and frightening to those who would have women tamed.  I will never be tamed.  I walk my life freely, authentically and unapologetically.  I AM Gypsy.



Yoga...with Curves and Fear.

 

A few weeks ago I had tea with a beautiful soul.  She is my friend, could sit easily in the palm of my hand, (well, not quite, but she's just cute and petite as can be) and she teaches yoga.  She also radiates.  I could finish that sentence as 'she radiates joy'...or 'she radiates peace'...or 'she radiates love',  but that would lessen her glow.  She radiates.  Period.
We were discussing a variety of things, and having a nice visit, when the words fell right out of my face, "Would you ever consider doing some private yoga lessons with me?  I can't make my big body move the way they tell me to in the videos."  (Who.  Just.  Said.  That.)

Once the words were released into the Universe, this lovely soul says to me, "Of course."

Uff Da.

I put on a good face, thanked her and we set up a few dates.  Grateful, yet kinda confused as to why I'd done it.  I really wanted her to teach me.  This was someone I loved and trusted.  She'd be the obvious person I'd ask, but I suddenly felt I'd been a little cocky in thinking I could just tackle this fear.

Days went by and I began watching the date of the first class grow closer and closer, and my apprehension grew stronger.

I consider myself a work in progress when it comes to body image.  I know where I have been.  I know where I am today.  I'm in great appreciation for the journey in between.  It's been alot of work.  I can honor the progress I've made to date.

It's taken me most of my adulthood, but I can finally look in the mirror and send love to my larger body.  I can appreciate the strength in my thick thighs.  I can gaze upon my wider hips and pendulous breasts and see motherhood.  I trace the scars on my abdomen and breast and remember I am a warrior goddess.  I see my aging, looser skin, and remind myself of the inner growth that came from each surgery, each childbirth.  I've done radical forgiveness work for years of harsh and unkind words to myself. 
As long as I can remember, I've had deep self judgment for not being thin and 'perfect'.
The extra weight is something that's been a part of me my entire life.  When I am ready to release it, it will happen.  I truly trust that now.  I understand there is a reason my body and my subconscious (the ego mind) still fears being without the weight.  Perhaps I won't know who I am without the weight.  Perhaps I will remember EXACTLY who I am, and that's even more terrifying. 

   
So, when old programming of cruel, self talk came streaming into my mind, I felt shocked and betrayed. 
Dammit, I love myself!  Go away!  I'm healing this!  Shut up and be nice to yourself! 
Just to offer some insight, check out this crazy train...
. 
"Ick!  You're going to wear stretchy pants, you're so flabby!?"  "Ugh, your big, giant belly will show when you stretch."  You're never going to be able to move the way you need to, you'll look like a slob."  She's going to think you're fat, lazy and worthless."  You'll look ridiculous."  "I hope we are done before the other 'normal' students come so they don't see you and make fun of you."

See what I'm talking about?  WTF.  That's all I can say...WTF.

Today was the day.  It was here.  As our 4:00 private class grew closer, I headed out the door and stopped as I passed the mirror in my yoga gear.  I turned to face it head on and tried, oh I really did try, to speak the kind words.  Instead, my shoulders slumped and I mumbled some very unbecoming stuff.  My Spirit cringed and I headed out the door.

My hands were sweating and I felt actual fear as I walked in to the location.  She greeted me with a hug and her Spirit was (I will give you one guess here...) radiating.  I had on my brave face, but felt close to vomiting.

I faced the fear.  I breathed through it.
And...
I did yoga.

In the past, I've rented video after video with various yoga instructors.  I put the DVD in, but never did it longer than a few minutes, because it felt embarrassing, discouraging and sometimes scary.  I tried to get my thick and bulky body to move like the thin, lithe instructors, but they didn't have the obstacles (bumps, curves and rolls) that I did.

But, today I did it with the help of a gentle, radiating being.  I stretched and strained and used blocks and straps.  I felt self conscious at first, then empowered, and finally graceful.  I can recognize it may not have looked graceful to others, but to me, I was a gazelle.  No, seriously, a flippin' gazelle! 
She helped me see that my body CAN twist, turn and bend into new positions.  Not the same poses as others would do, but poses for my body size. 

I left feeling bold, sweaty and renewed.  I spoke loving words of forgiveness to myself for being so tough on myself in the fear of the unknown.  I felt a deep pride for conquering a challenge.

I'm going back again.
I am going to be patient and loving with myself.
I am voluptuous.  I am graceful.  And now, I'm a yogi.

Broken Wings? Nah...tattered.

Tattered

 

 

We were headed to Lake Darling when a bird flew directly into the window of the van.  Rob and I both jumped, and then watched in amazement as the resilient little guy just bounced off and kept going.  I noted the lyrics in the song playing on the radio.  "Take these broken wings...and learn to fly again".  Nice.  Fly away little bird.

I didn't realize the true significance of those words until later in the day.

We had left the house at 7:30 am, exactly as planned.  Rob was scheduled to perform a wedding for a young, military couple in Minot at 12:00.  We would arrive in Minot by 11:00, no problem. 

7:45 we are still in town, watching the end of a 15 minute train.  Fist twang of time concern.
 
While waiting for said train to pass, Rob casually informed me he had an appointment back in Grand Forks at 5:30 that same evening.  Uhh...what?  We are going to drive all the way to Minot then immediately turn around and drive back with no break?  Why is the whole family going?  I'd certainly not have brought Kenz and the pooch with for a family outing!  It's hot, they're going to be miserable and that's a long time in the van!  Why didn't he schedule his meeting for a later time so we could have gone to the zoo or park while in Minot before heading back?  Why didn't I know this?  Poor communication.  Ugh.  I admit, I went to a bad place.

In my resulting pout, I started processing a boat load of recent business decisions.  Stinkin' thinkin' junk.
Are people upset about my decision with the store?  Was it fair to others?  Did I make a mistake going into the smaller location?  Did I encourage people to follow?  If the ones that did follow do not fare well in their own new business ventures, is that mine to worry about?  Why do I personalize others' choices?  Will I always feel "Mama Bird" guilt for pushing them out of the nest to test the strength of their own wings?  Wasn't it their own free will to fly and make choices?  Is this all ego making me feel responsible?  Heavy stuff. 

My focus comes back to the moment and the song on the radio?  "Time for Me to Fly".  Yes, I am listening.

We are following GPS and realize the destination of Lake Darling is much further from Minot than we realized.  Not right outside of town, as the couple stated.  More impact on time of arrival. 
After many twists and turns on dirt (not even gravel) roads, we ended up at a gated-off, ominous dead end sign. 

With nothing but some content cows on one side and a field of potatoes on the other, we looked at each other.  I was waiting for Rob to panic.  He didn't.  He called the couple.  They were lost too.  They all agreed to meet at Roosevelt Park right in Minot instead of hunting for this location any longer.  I looked at the clock, and immediately groaned with worry about Rob's meeting back in Grand Forks.  Rob's meeting, not mine.  Get that?  I felt stress and tension in my body about his meeting.  I caught myself, took a moment to breathe it in, and closed my eyes.  This was not mine.  Why was I taking on someone else's stuff...again? 

We arrived at Roosevelt Park in the zoo parking lot and called the couple.  They were at the other Roosevelt Park.  We were now 1.5 hours behind schedule.  Breathing.  DEEP Breathing.
Rob is still calm.  Oddly calm.  Maybe he could feel the tick tock of my time bomb?! (OooOOo)

While we waited for the couple to arrive, we walked around in the grassy area outside the van.  When they arrived, Rob went off with them to do their wedding in the park. 

Rob told us later that one of their witnesses was detoured and didn't arrive for yet another 20 minutes.  It really was laughable by now.

While Kenz, Zoe and I were waiting in the van with the AC, we started talking about elephants.  I shared a story I once read about a charging elephant.  She asked, "What would we do if an elephant charged out of the zoo right now, mom?"  We were reclined in the seat together, snuggling.  I said, "I'd just keep you wrapped in my arms and call in the angels."  She said, "Yeah, Ganesh (who she insists is a SHE and an ANGEL) is an elephant, mom, so we would be good."

Logic.

Just like that, she decided to get out and walk around outside again.  In the exact place she'd been before, she finds this:

A broken winged angel.

Ok, this is what you call one of those "You can't make this shit up!" moments.

Just laying right there in the grass, where she had just walked a few minutes earlier.
And I am once again reminded, full force...EVERYTHING always happens in the EXACT way, in the PERFECT time it's supposed to.
If we'd not had all the detours and delays and redirections, we'd not have been having a perfect moment of connection, heart to heart, in the air-conditioned van.  We'd never have found this angel and the delicate white feather right next to it.  I would not have been hit with the 2x4 of realization.
Everything about the day changed at that point.  I knew we were never 'off schedule'.

Rob contacted his couple back in Grand Forks and explained what had happened.  They rescheduled.  We had lunch at Spicy Pickle.  It was awesome.  On the road home, we took a random road behind Emerado to let Zoe run wild and free in a field, I snapped pictures of ND beauty, Rob conquered a fear and walked through a ditch filled with long grass where thousands of killer, man-eating snakes hid, and Kenz found enough rocks to fill two pockets to bulging capacity.  We were each filled with our own bliss.

Happy and parched, we stopped at the convenience store in Emerado to grab some water.  When we drove down the frontage road upon leaving, this beautiful creature awaited us:

We crept the van closer and closer as she sat on the side of the road, and she never once flinched.  Just watched us.  I opened the van door and still she trusted.  We knew she was delivering a message.

Totem meaning of hawk?
Higher perspective.  Thanks..I needed that.

I am open to higher perspective, beautiful hawk.  I am willing to let go of what I THINK something should look like, and to just appreciate all that IS.  Let go of mundane details and allow.

Great appreciation for a great day. 

Goddess of Imperfection?

Goddess of Imperfection!