Clarity

I'm getting clear on my book.

When I started writing it, I was focused on becoming an advocate for depression awareness and suicide prevention.  I knew that I wanted to share my story with the intention of helping others.  But as time went on, I kept getting “stuck." I’d take long breaks from my writing, and I would become frustrated and aggravated due to lack of progress.  I thought that I wasn't moving forward fast enough.  Feelings of guilt would flood in, and I couldn’t understand why it was taking me so long to finish. I set deadlines, and they'd pass by at lightning speed.

I now realize that I wasn’t progressing because the book wasn’t evolving the way it was supposed to.  I knew, in my heart, that this book would have the power to help people.  But the way I was writing it wasn’t accomplishing that goal.  And as humbling as this is to admit, my book would have been irresponsible and potentially destructive had I continued on the path that I was on.  I now realize that it was my perspective that was blocking me.  I had too much anger, resentment, fear and self-doubt inside of me.

Truth be told, I had work to do… work on myself.  While writing the book, I realized something profound:  I had to heal myself in order to truly help others.  So, I started working... soul searching, confronting my ego, diving deep into my stories and re-evaluating the belief systems that do not serve me or those around me.  I enrolled in an extensive transformational leadership program called "Gratitude Training."  Imagine... being grateful for everything (and I do mean EVERYTHING).  

Instead of approaching my book from a 'victim' perspective, I now see that I have the power to make positive change from the inside out.  And with this power, I have the ability to authentically help others.  

This is what my book is about:  I'm sharing my transformational story by standing in the light while evaluating my journal entries that were written years ago, from a place of darkness.  I am changing my outlook on life in order to live a more fulfilling existence and inspire others to do the same.

A friend recently invited me to look up the definition of forgiveness.  This is what I read:

(Wikipedia): Forgiveness is the renunciation or cessation of resentment, indignation or anger as a result of a perceived offense, disagreement, or mistake, or ceasing to demand punishment or restitution.

When we hold onto hurt, anger and resentment, we block ourselves from living an authentic life.  I continued my research and was excited to find this article: 

The Healing Power of Forgiveness

I believe that we must first forgive ourselves for holding onto ideas and beliefs that do not serve us or the world at large.

My perspective is shifting...  And with this shift, the end of my book became the beginning.  The road blocks have cleared.  Two months ago, I was invited to join the Board of Directors for the Tampa Bay Chapter of the National Foundation for Suicide Prevention.  I'm well on my way now...  I'm promoting a cause that I believe in and sharing a story that's written from a place of truth:  from my heart.

I'm setting an intention to have my book published with Louise Hay:  Hay House Publishing.  It's a big goal, and I WILL make it happen.

DREAM BIG.  LIVE to your fullest potential. SHINE on.  I love you.

Visiting the Dark

At the age of 13, I read "The Diary of Anne Frank."  I remember the book having an intense impact on me.  After all, my grandfather was a Jewish American of German descent who fought in World War II. It's part of my family's history.

Today, I saw the Holocaust devastation through another person's eyes and through another medium.  Oprah Winfrey interviewed Elie Wiesel (Jewish-American Holocaust survivor, writer, professor, humanitarian and political activist. He is the author of 57 books, including Night, a work based on his experiences as a prisoner in the Auschwitz, Buna, and Buchenwald concentration camps. In 1986, he was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for speaking out against violence, repression and racism).

Through his words, and by looking into the eyes of the photographs of Jewish prisoners who walked towards death, I visited the dark today.  So much emotion swept over me, and I was crying while I watched and listened to the interview unfold.  Before today, I knew Nazi Germany was terrible, but now I see that my brain can't possibly understand how devastating it really was.  Elie Wiesel referred to the concentration camps as death factories.

As Oprah and Elie walked arm and arm through Auschwitz (a network of death factories built and operated by Nazi Germany), I learned about the horrible medical experiments that were conducted on the Jewish prisoners; I learned that when friends and family members died at Auschwitz, crying wasn't an option - because if one cried, he might be killed or he might never stop crying.  I saw glass cases filled with human hair because Jewish prisoners were viewed as 'products, not people' (their heads were shaved before execution, in order to make fabric).

I saw miles and miles of empty suitcases that were once filled with valuables and family heirlooms.  Each one had been labeled with the owner's name and date of birth. Jewish civilians were asked to fill these suitcases and were told that they'd be relocating to a place of freedom.  They were tricked into thinking they had hope, when in actuality, their worldly possessions were confiscated and they relocated to death at Auschwitz.  Wiesel posed this question, "How many Nobel Peace prize winners died at the age of 1, 2, 3?"  He goes on to say, "Maybe one of these suitcases was once filled with the posessions of a child who might have someday grown up to find the cure for cancer or AIDS... we'll never know."

I learned about mothers who held their babies in front of their faces so soldiers would only have to use one bullet instead of two.

In that moment, I realized that up until now, I've been comfortable with my belief that "ignorance is bliss." This was my reason for turning a blind eye to what's happened in history; I simply didn't want to know because it was too hard to comprehend.

This has to change.  Ignorance is not bliss.  Ignorance is irresponsible.

At the end of the interview, these words appeared on the screen:

To the next generations... we must never forget.

We need to pay attention to history so we can avoid making the same mistakes.  I've heard the definition of insanity as "doing the same things over and over again, expecting different results."

Hate crimes are happening all over the world, in this moment, as I sit here typing.  History is repeating itself, and it will continue to repeat itself if we don't pay attention and make a change.

I believe that we all have a purpose.  I believe in Gandhi's words, "Be the change you want to see in the world."  I believe that just one person can make a major difference... maybe you're that person?

Maybe it's important for us to visit the dark sometimes so we can truly express gratitude when we see the light?  Maybe heaven isn't just a place up above, and maybe hell isn't only somewhere down below.  Maybe both exist right here, on planet Earth, right now. And maybe it's up to us to start paying attention, in an effort to make positive change?

I'm tired of claiming ignorance, and I'm ready to start making a difference.

Today, I honor Elie Wiesel... a man who lived much of his life in darkness so intense that most of us can't even imagine it.  A man who used his gifts to reach the masses.  He allowed himself to be vulnerable, in order to share a story that we need to hear.  A man whose existence matters, and because of him, there's hope for a brighter future.

The Future of Storytelling

I was fortunate to attend the TEDx Tampa Bay event yesterday and hear from a lineup of incredible speakers.  Motivational speakers.  The theme was, "The Future of Storytelling."  As you may know, TED is a not for profit organization dedicated to "ideas worth spreading." I cleared my schedule at the last minute and signed up for the event without expectations but with an open mind.

Speakers ranged from artists to writers, entrepreneurs to scientists, and explorers to professionals of play (like me).  The event schedule said 8 a.m. until 4 p.m.  I pulled into my parking spot at 8:05, and when I walked inside, I was thrilled to discover that there was a one-hour "meet and greet" factored in, with coffee.  Speakers didn't come on until 9.  So, I met a young woman named Kelly.  We talked about our reasons for being there, and I learned that she recently moved to St. Pete and wants to start her own not-for-profit someday.  I told her about my business and my writing, and we chatted up until the time doors opened. A few friends showed up too:  Vinny (who I knew would be there), Tracey (one of my hoop dance students who I ran into unexpectedly) and George (a former colleague who I haven't seen in 9 years!  Turns out, he's friends with Vinny, too).

The announcer was energetic and funny, and as the first speaker approached the stage, I had a feeling that it was going to be a powerful day.  I was right.  I don't remember the last time I've been this excited about learning.

All of the presenters were incredible, but I think I connected most with Kathleen Taylor, Nora Gaunt & Ryan Mitchell, Sharon Britton, Michael Kruse, Mark Gordon and Reuben Pressman & Hunter Payne.  You can read bios here.

Kathleen is a licensed mental health counselor who spoke about her years working for Hospice.  She said that people often ask her why she enjoys working with terminally ill patients.  I loved her response.  "It's because they are incapable of bullshit," she said.  She explained that when people approach death, they speak truth.  They make amends with family members who they haven't spoken to in years.  They reflect on their lives, and as they prepare for death, they wake up to the preciousness of time.

"Do you know the number one regret people have, when they look back on their lives?" she asked.  "It's wishing that they had lived their truth."

I learned from her talk that, in the end, it doesn't matter who's right or wrong.  And it doesn't matter if you follow the norms that society has set out for you.  What matters is living to your true, authentic potential.  There is only one you, and it's never too soon to take action and make positive change.  When we tap into our true, authentic beings, we increase understanding and decrease fear.  This results in joy.

There were more talks with the "happiness" theme.  I loved Nora and Ryan's take on it:  Wealth is not measured by possessions, they told us.  Wealth is measured by happiness.  After traveling halfway around the world, this duo had wise words to share about wealth in experiences.  They found themselves in far away countries, where language barriers were broken with smiles and hard work.  They choose to invest in experience and personal connections verses worldly possessions.

It was a talk that I really enjoyed.  I'll admit that I'm sometimes guilty of "retail therapy."  You know... shopping for the sake of shopping just because it makes you feel better, when really the root of the problem is something else.  Most of the things I buy when I feel this way are things that I don't really need.  But when I turn off the TV, put down the cell phone, and truly take the time to connect with people, I have the most amazing experiences.  For these reasons, I go to hoop dance & yoga retreats and spend time on the water with people I care about.  I make it a point to pick up the phone and call old friends, and I'm going to make a conscious effort to do an even better job of this moving forward.

Then there was Sharon Britton - a high powered New York City attorney who left it all to become a painter.  She practices yoga and talks about replacing fear with love.  She discussed higher vibrations and how we should move away from 'anti' campaigns and move towards 'love' campaigns.  Sharon calls herself a neurotic hippie.

Michael Kruse was one of my favorite speakers of the day.  There was no power point presentation, and he organized his speech much like I would imagine he organizes his columns for the Tampa Bay Times.  The man is an artist of words and stories.  He ended his discussion with a little nugget of inspiration that I especially loved, in relation to the event theme.  He said that the future of stories was stories, and I agree.  Throughout time, storytelling has been present.  We live in a fast-paced world, with technological advances happening at an alarming pace.  But we re-tell stories from those who came before us, and we can only imagine what stories are yet to come.

Mark Gordon was fascinated by the ocean for as long as he can remember.  He talked about walks on the beach and staring out into the water, as he daydreamed about treasures under the sea.  Today, Mark owns a company called Odyssey, and he's a professional treasure hunter.  His company uncovered more than 40 tons of silver from a World War II shipwreck, which was located 4,700 meters below sea level (this is deeper than the Titanic).

Next up... Reuben and Hunter.  I've been connected with these guys for a while now.  Our paths keep crossing (St. Pete becomes a small town when you surround yourself with like-minded people).  Our businesses are very similar, in the sense that we promote joy, laughter and personal connections through play.  Reuben and Hunter are the founders of Swings Tampa Bay - a spontaneous community building organization that hangs hand-painted swings (created by regular members of our community) all over Tampa.  We've run into each other at professional networking events, the Saturday Morning Market and through mutual friends.  These guys rock, and their energy on stage was contagious.

The day was filled with "delicious listening," as one of the presenters so creatively referred to it.  I left yesterday's event feeling thoroughly inspired and also eager to keep learning.  This morning, I watched more inspirational TED talks online, and I think that I'm officially a TED junkie now.  I'm going to make it to that national conference someday.  And who knows?  Maybe it will be me speaking on that stage.  The sky is the limit, baby!

Next week, I'm packing my bags for a Buddhist Retreat Center in Santa Cruz, CA.  I'm so honored to be teaching at Hoop Camp, the largest hoop dance gathering in the country.  I can't wait to share, learn, connect, re-connect and meditate in this beautiful, serene place.  I have a feeling that I'll be doing a lot of writing on my trip also.  More to stories to come...

Affirmations

Do you believe in affirmations?  There's purpose to our existence, and if we take the time to recognize Universal signs, then we wind up exactly where we are supposed to be.  It's not a new thought:  being in tune with the world around us, that is.  And recognizing when we're on the right path becomes an important part of the journey.

Writing this book is straight up freaking me out... for so many reasons.  Obviously, the content itself is scary.  I'm writing about the things that I've spent my entire life trying to hide.  I'm taking a big magnifying glass, and I'm looking closely at the scary stuff, in an effort to heal myself and to provide a message of inspiration for those who relate to my story and are open to change.

As I reflect on my old journals, sometimes the words don't even feel like my own.  Remember that scene in the "Neverending Story" where Bastian doesn't realize that he's the one the book is about, until the very end?  It's kind of like that dejavu feeling...   like my former self is a shadow of who I am today, and like I'm reading someone else's story.  Our experiences make us who we are, but we can transform our lives in ways that we never imagined were possible.

The affirmations... they come when you are connected to your soul's purpose.  I feel really good today.  I started my morning with yoga, and then I had a meeting with my business partner.  I know that big things are on the horizon for my company, and I feel mentally strong and capable. I need to feel like this when I tackle the hardest parts of my book.  So, I returned home after my meeting and worked on the "Rock Bottom" section of my book... the time in my life where the depression almost sucked me into a big, black hole.  Months ago, I placed paper clips in my journal so I would know exactly where to find the "rock bottom" journal entries.

Today, I flipped to a journal entry that was especially hard for me to read, much less re-write in book form.  I was 25 years old, depressed, and having trouble making sense of the world around me.  I had recently received a phone call in the middle of the night and learned that a dear friend, Aaron, had passed away unexpectedly in a car crash.  Aaron was Brad's best friend.

This is what I wrote in my journal:

This world is such a cruel place.  Sometimes, I feel like I've lost faith in everyone and everything.  I don’t know how God could have taken Aaron away from us too.  I don’t know anything anymore.  I think that God had it all wrong, and it should have been me who died – not Brad or Aaron.

These are some of the scariest emotions that I've ever dealt with.  Today, I wrote feverishly and bulldozed through the hardest pages.  And as I reflected on the words of my former self, I thought about how much I have changed and evolved.  I thought about my friends and family who are still here, on this Earth.  I thought about the people who love me and who I love in return.  I thought about beauty in nature and about the importance of doing the things we are most passionate about.  I thought about my dog and how she makes me smile every day.  And I thought about how much I've changed and how beautiful life can be.  Just as I prepared to close my hand-written book, I flipped back to the beginning of that journal entry and noticed the date:  September 20, 2004.  Today's date.

Sure, you could call it a coincidence.  I prefer to call it an affirmation.

Reflecting on 9/11...

I've never shared my journals publicly, but considering I'm writing a book based on them, I thought that now was as good a time as any...

Today is Tuesday, September 11, 2012.  Eleven years ago to the day, I was a young executive who had just landed her dream job in New York City.  I had competed with more than 300 applicants for a summer internship at a global PR firm on 42nd Ave.  When the internship came to an end, there was one full-time position available, and I was thrilled to receive the offer.  My start date was September 4, 2001.  I was a fresh-faced young executive who was adjusting to a new life in the big city.

I've been keeping journals since the age of 5.  This is my journal entry from September 11, 2001:

September 11, 2001
TERRORISM HITS AMERICA:  New York City

5:30 a.m. - Wake up and go to kickboxing class
8 a.m. - Walk to bus stop to catch bus to Port Authority
8:45 a.m. - Arrive at Port Authority.  While standing in line for the subway to Grand Central Station, a hysterical man ran by me.  He was yelling about the World Trade Center being on fire.  "A plane hit the tower," he said.  "It's on fire."  Some people seemed concerned.  Others, like me, just thought he was another crazy bum talking nonsense.
9 a.m. - Arrive at Grand Central Station and walk to work
9:05 a.m. - Arrive at my office building, 220 42nd Ave.  I thought it was strange that security people were guarding the building and checking ID.
9:10 a.m. - I make my way to the 8th floor.  I enter the office and this is when I realize that the World Trade Center is actually on fire.  My co-workers are watching the live broadcast, and I join them.
BREAKING NEWS:  Two commercial airplanes have crashed into the World Trade Center Twin Towers.  Terrorist attacks, they say.
9:25 a.m. - I go to my office and shut the door.  I check my email because I don't know what else to do.  At this point, I don't realize the seriousness of the situation.
9:45 a.m. - I go to a conference room where my co-workers were gathered with the TV on.  At 9:59 a.m., the South Tower collapsed and everyone was crying. 
10:15 a.m. - The human resources manager speaks to us.  She says that if we decide to leave the building, we must sign out so that everyone is accounted for.  I went back to my office and called dad.  Phone lines are working in the office.  No one can call in, but we can call out.  Dad is thankful to hear from me.  The news is being broadcast worldwide.
10:20 a.m. - I call mom.  She's hysterical.  She keeps saying that she's so glad to hear my voice.  We both cry on the phone.  She tells me the second tower is falling, after advising me to get water, food and a damp towel to cover my nose and mouth when I go outside.  I tell her I love her before hanging up the phone.
10:30 a.m. - I go back into the conference room.  I watch the TV screen as the North Tower crumbles. I see footage of the planes crashing into the buildings.  My co-worker's husband was in the North Tower.  She was standing near me when she fainted.  She was then rushed out of the room by executives from human resources.
10:45 a.m. - I go back to my office and call Vanessa.  I can't get a hold of her.  The girl sitting in the office next to me is crying hysterically.  Her boyfriend is supposed to be on a plane, and she hasn't heard from him.  All airports are closed throughout the country.
Somewhere between 10:45 and 11 a.m.:  News breaks about the Pentagon, and two more hijacked planes go down in Washington and in Pennsylvania.  
11:10 a.m. - Someone knocks on my office door.  He tells me to leave.  The office is being evacuated.
*My office is next to the United Nations building, and near the Chrysler Building.  All major monuments are under close watch and nearby offices must be evacuated, I learn.*
11:12 a.m. - I walk around aimlessly as people hurry out the door.  I moved to Hoboken earlier in the week, and I know that I can't get back to my apartment.  The subways are closed, and the city is in lock down.  My co-worker Clayton lives in Hoboken.  I see him and he tells me to come with him, and he'll help me get home later.
BREAKING NEWS: United Airlines & American Airlines planes were hijacked.  Boston plane hits Trade Center.  After plane hits, people jump from windows.
11:25 a.m. - I walk 20 blocks to safety.  I see clouds of smoke and people covered in ashes.
11:45 - Noon: We arrive at a private club for aspiring actors.  Clayton is a member, so we go inside and meet up with his wife and friends.  Everyone is shaken up.  I have a vodka and tonic to calm my nerves.  I feel like a sitting duck.  We can't leave the city.  What if they bomb Manhattan next?
TVs are on everywhere and they keep playing the crashes over and over again.
1 p.m. - The club closes, and we find an open restaurant.  I order a glass of wine.
2:30 p.m. - We try to make our way back to Hoboken.  We walk to the ferry but there are thousands of people who are waiting in line, trying to get home to their families and friends.  We are told that the wait could be up to 8 hours.  Subways and buses are closed.
3 p.m. - We arrive at Penn Station, and we've walked about 50 blocks.  Trains have finally started running, but the schedules are confusing.  We finally get on a train to Newark.  At Newark, we transfer to the Hoboken-bound train.  Cell phones have been down all day.
*There was an eerie feeling on the streets of New York.  Ambulances, police vehicles, fire trucks and helicopters occupied the city and were everywhere.  We see where the World Trade Center stood hours earlier.  A huge, dark cloud sweeps over the city of New York.*
6 p.m. - Finally!  I have cell phone service.  I get through to my mom and sister.  Mom is crying again.
6:15 p.m.  - Walking home, I see military officials and rescue squads.  Helicopters swarm overhead, right above my apartment.  The burning smell of debree, ashes and God-only knows what else, is powerful and scary.
6:45 p.m. - I was the last roommate home.  Now, we are all safe.  We go over the day's events, and there's more crying.
7 p.m. - I drink two beers and keep watching the news in disbelief.  My voice mailbox is full, and I can't make calls anymore.  At least my family knows I'm safe, and they can relay the information to everyone else.
8 p.m. - I'm huddled on the couch with all three of my roommates.  We need to get out of the apartment.  Down by the river, we see the huge, black smoke cloud over NYC.  On the shore of the Hudson River, military and emergency vehicles are lined up.
9:30 p.m. - We return home and watch more news.  President Bush says we will hunt down and attack those responsible for this tragedy.  More fear washes over me.  I think about John, Gavin, Nate, Steve and Nick... all of my friends who are in the military.  Are we at war now?
12 a.m. - I close my eyes for a few hours, but it's hard to sleep with the helicopters flying overhead.

I'm horrified.  I just keep thinking, "What's happening to our world?"  I watched as thousands of lives ended in a few, brief moments.  Right now, United States officials are trying to save lives and find answers.  A van was stopped at the George Washington Bridge armed with bombs.  In Boston, FBI officials are trying to find out about the flights.  There were four planes total - all headed West to California.  One hit the Pentagon, two hit the Twin Towers and the last went down in Pennsylvania.  Palestinian children and adults rejoice in the streets.  It's a fucked-up situation.  The government is most concerned with saving those still trapped in the World Trade Center.  There were no survivors from the Pentagon crash.  Reporters say there are more than 700 leads on the terrorist attacks but no concrete information.

In the days that followed, there were bomb scares all over Manhattan.  The first day that I attempted to go back to the city, my train stopped and military officials ran through the subway cars.  Apparently, someone had called in a bomb threat, and we waited underground for 20 minutes, in fear.  The smells and sounds of September 11 lasted for months following the attack.

I'll never forget the post 9/11 commute.  Those who lost loved ones had their photos all over the underground subway terminals, bus stations and community boards.  I would cry every day, as I stopped to look at the pictures and read the stories of those who were missing.  I prayed for those families every night.

What a tragic time for our country.

Earning Wings

When I tell people that I'm writing a book, this is the question that usually comes next:

"What's it about?"

I still trip over my words when I respond. And sometimes, I dance around the topic or change the subject entirely.  I need to get over this.

On once such occasion, during a dinner party at my boyfriend's mother's house, I explained...

My book is about transformation, and I aim to become an advocate for depression awareness and suicide prevention.  I want to share my family's story about a loved one who we lost to suicide.  In the book, I also include sections of my journals (I've been keeping diaries since the age of 5) that deal with my own battle with depression.  My goal is to help people.

That evening, a fellow dinner guest commented that it reminded her of the famous Christmas movie, "It's a Wonderful Life."  I had never put that connection together, but I liked it.

"It's a Wonderful Life" is about an angel-in-training who shows a suicidal man how the world would be if he had never been born.  It presents us with a deep philosophy about the paths we choose and shows that we each touch one another's lives more deeply than we realize.

I also love the idea of "doing good to earn wings," especially when it comes to confronting the things that scare and challenge us.  I was thinking about this idea today, as I settled into my comfy seat at Wings Bookstore, of all places, to work on my book.

Just yesterday, I completed one of the most challenging chapters... the part about Brad's death.  My method of writing isn't systematic or conventional.  I write when I feel inspired to do so, and my format is free-flowing. In other words, I didn't have an outline and I left a huge chunk in the middle of the book, with the idea that I'd tackle it when the time was right.  Yesterday, that time came.  And afterwards, I felt emotionally drained but also as though a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

Writing has always been therapeutic for me. I truly believe that the book is helping me to heal from the trauma of losing Brad.  By writing about the experience and diving head first into the things that scare me, I am able to move forward with the intention of helping others.

I feel like I'm earning my wings.

Rising Up, Towards the Sun

I remember the day Brad got his tattoo.  A big, beautiful sun on his arm.  I thought it was the coolest thing ever.  But then again, I admired most everything Brad did.  I asked a lot of questions... "Did it hurt?  How long did it take?  Where did the design come from?"

Brad loved the sun.  He spent so much time on the water - boating, wake boarding, swimming and just embracing the warm, natural rays shining down on him.  When I think of him, whether it's in a dream or in memory, I see a happy guy with curly blonde hair.  He's tan, wearing board shorts and always smiling in the sunlight.

He also loved sun imagery.  I remember a time in Cancun after we graduated from high school.  It was our big Senior Class trip... one last celebration before our group of friends set out for college, the military, etc.  Sipping on long island iced teas, we shopped in the local markets.  We came across sun-inspired sculptures, jewelry and trinkets.  He would spend lots of time admiring and critiquing the artwork.

The sun has, and always will be, a symbol for Brad.  During my freshman year of college, I got a blue sun tattoo on my hip, with purple accents.  Part of the reason I got it is because I admired Brad so much.  I figured that, by making the sun blue, it would be different enough from Brad's tattoo.  I didn't want him to think that I was copying him - but, in actuality, I was.  I never had a chance to show it to him.  He died soon after I got the tattoo.

Years later, after Brad passed away, Aaron and Jeff got the same tattoo that Brad had.  Uncle Rich did as well.  One by one, the rest of my family followed by honoring Brad with sun tattoos... my cousins, my aunt, my sister and even my mother.  Friends in our circle also got sun tattoos in Brad's memory.

Ironically, the sun is often used as a symbol for life and hope for tomorrow.  As the sun sets and rises everyday, it can also represent immortality.  It symbolizes the sacredness of life, as well as truth and light.

About a year ago, during an intense outdoor yoga class called "Heal Your Heart," I decided to get another tattoo.

The instructor (Seane Corn) asked us to dedicate our practice to something or someone who has touched our lives.  Brad immediately came to mind.  She spoke about the power of our thoughts and putting positive energy out into the world.  As I held a challenging yoga pose and began to shake, her words resonated.

In that moment, the sun peaked through the overcast sky and I felt Brad's presence.  I remember a tear sliding down my face as an image of a lotus flower appeared in my mind.  Considering I was at a yoga festival, I had seen the lotus flower often throughout the weekend retreat, but I didn't know what it meant.  This instructor continued to speak about growing stronger and learning from our past experiences.

Her words sank in, and it felt as though she was speaking to me directly.  She reminded me that we are all one, and she even spoke specifically about grief and depression.  I left that class feeling sweaty, inspired and whole.

I reflected on Sean Corn's words as I researched the meaning behind the lotus flower.  I was amazed to discover that the lotus represents the sun.

In Ancient Egypt, the lotus flower is associated with rebirth, considering the flower retracts into the water at night, and emerges fresh and beautiful in the Sun the next day. 


The Egyptians therefore associated the lotus flower with the sun which also disappeared in the night, only to re-emerge in the morning. Therefore the lotus came to symbolize the Sun and creation.  It is also said that the Sun God, Ra, was born from the Lotus flower.


In Buddhism, the lotus flower is known to be associated with purity, spiritual awakening and faithfulness. The flower is considered pure as it is able to emerge from murky waters in the morning and be perfectly clean. Therefore, in common with Egyptian mythology, the lotus is seen as a sign of rebirth, but additionally it is associated with purity. The breaking of the surface every morning is also suggestive of desire, this leads to it being associated with spiritual enlightenment.


Perhaps one of the strongest associations of the lotus flower with religion is that that is observed in Hinduism. In this religion the lotus flower meaning is associated with beauty, fertility, prosperity, spirituality, and eternity.

So, I decided to get a lotus tattoo with the sun rising up behind it.


Last Thursday,  I sat for three hours and remembered to breathe through the pain.  I thought of Brad (and Aaron too).

(it was raining outside so I couldn't take a photo in natural light... will change out with a better picture soon).

In Memory of Kat

It happened again. Another beautiful soul who left this Earth too soon. I don't know the specifics of her death, but I do know that it was suicide.

I first met Kat through my best friend, Kristin. It was soon after I moved to St. Pete five years ago. Kristin and I went out dancing, and we met up with Kat at a bar. I immediately noticed her physical beauty. And after seeing her rock out on the dance floor, I wasn't surprised to learn that she was both a model and a dancer. Kat was the first friend that Kristin made after relocating to Florida from Chicago.

There were a few girls' nights out that followed, and Kat started invited us to hoop dance at events she was involved with. She was heavy into the local music and dance scene. Considering I was just starting Hoola Monsters at the time, it was nice to connect with local DJs and begin to build my performance resume. One memorable performance was metal artist Frank Strunk's Wearable Art Fashion Show in Dunedin. Kat was one of his top models, and we hoop danced in the show's finale.

She always supported my vision for Hoola Monsters. The last time I saw her, she came out to the restaurant where I perform every Friday night just to take photos of me hooping, so she could promote my business. Kat had a big heart. When I close my eyes and think of her, I immediately see a smiling face, gracefully working her way around the dance floor.

I know that if my book had been finished, she would have been one of the first people to read it. I can't help but wonder if I had the book finished, maybe it would have helped her... Kat posted a message on my Facebook page two days before she died, saying that she was proud of me. She was an incredibly supportive friend.

Kristin now lives in San Francisco. We found out about Kat on the same day (after her memorial service), and I know that Kristin is having a hard time with the news (naturally). Kat was a good person, and she will be missed.

The MySpace Suicide: Megan Meier

This story breaks my heart...