Why I Don’t Love Fathers Day – And it’s Ok with Me if You Do

Why I Don’t Love Fathers Day – And it’s Ok with Me if You Do

For the past few years, I have dreaded Father’s Day. My father died in May of 2016. My daughter’s father died in January of 2017. I miss them both terribly. My biological father died in 2018, and though we weren’t that close, I have found myself missing him much more than I expected.
My daughter and I pretty much ignore this day. There are lots of fathers in our life that we should probably reach out to, and I’m hoping by the end of writing this post, I’ll be ready to. Am I being selfish, wanting to ignore Father’s Day? Am I making it all about me? Should I celebrate and honor this day, even though I don’t want to?
I know there are others who feel the same. There are those who have lost fathers, there are those who are estranged from their fathers, there are fathers who don’t have relationships with their kids. There are fathers who have lost children. There are moms who are divorced and alone today, because their kids are with their dads. It sometimes seems like there are more reasons to ignore Father’s Day, than celebrate it.
So, if we have negative associations with this day, what can we do to turn that around, or to at least make it a moment for reflection and growth?
I am starting with gratitude. For the father who gave me life. For the father who raised me. For the father of my daughter.  Even though none of them walk this earth anymore, their influence does. And for my daughter’s paternal grandfather, who, after many years of estrangement, is making an effort to have a relationship with her. My dad was the kindest, most generous, most loving man I’ve ever met. Those who know my sister, can see how he passed those genes along to her. I am darker, by nature, but being raised by him gave me any of the kindness and sweetness I might possess. He taught me what it was like to be loved unconditionally, and to be supported an encouraged in all my endeavors. He was full of laughter and joy, and taught my sister and me to look for those qualities, as we grew up and started to have our own relationships with men.
Stella got the same from her dad. Though Brian and I divorced, she never doubted his love for her. He never said an unkind word to her. He loved her unconditionally. He made her laugh.
From gratitude, I move to respect. I have the utmost respect for so many of the fathers I know, especially the single dads, who put their kids above everything else. The Petes, the Erics, the Jans of the world. They are doing it alone. Raising their kids without a partner, which I suspect, is in many ways, harder than being a single mother. I know that’s a broad generalization, but I think there’s truth in it. Society wants to help the single mom. Not so much the single dad.
I extend this respect to men who are raising other people’s kids. Taking on that responsibility is one of the largest acts of love imaginable. My dad did it for me and for my mom. That is big, big love.
Then, there’s forgiveness. Sometimes it’s hard for me to forgive Brian. For allowing his addiction to take precedence over his parenting. For seeing little of Stella in the last few years of his life. How could her dad not make every effort to see her as much as possible? Looking back, I think he thought he was doing us a favor. He let me call all the shots and make all the decisions in Stella’s life. I think, in a strange way, he thought she had a better life without him. In a way, I wanted him to fight me. To fight for more time with her, to clean up his act so he could be more present with her. I saw other single dads doing everything to be with their kids. Brian wasn’t that dad. I couldn’t make him the dad I wanted him to be while we were married, so why would I expect him to magically become a great dad after we divorced?
I have forgiven him though. And I know that there are lots of fathers out there, both alive and not, who should probably be forgiven. Not because their actions (past or present) were ok, but because holding onto anger and grudges hurts the holder more than the one to whom the anger is directed. If you have a father who has wronged you or hurt you, see if you can try a little bit of forgiveness, not for his sake, but for yours. If you are a father who has screwed up, it is not to late to change things. It is only too late when someone dies. It is too late for Brian. If you and your kids are alive, it is never too late.
The last emotion that comes with this day for many, is grief. If you have lost a father or your children have lost their father or you are a father who has lost a child, this day will give you an extra shot of grief. But, really, it’s just another day, isn’t it? It doesn’t remind me that Brian is gone and that my dad is gone. I can’t be reminded of something I never forget. But it does turn up the intensity.
So, those are my emotions for the day. Gratitude. Respect. Forgiveness, Grief. Kind of a heavy load. Yes. And. (I’m trying to replace “yes, but” with “yes, and” in all my interactions).
Yes, those are heavy emotions. And, feeling, speaking and expressing my emotions is a much better choice than shoving them down somewhere and then being moody and snappy with people because I haven’t dealt with my emotions.
So if you have, or are an awesome dad, I don’t begrudge you this day. You don’t have to tiptoe around the subject with me. I am happy for you. I might not have been, if I didn’t get this all out on paper. And if you don’t have, or are not a great father, I send you my love and healing thoughts. Whether you are the one who needs to forgive or the one who needs to be forgiven, the need for healing is the same. Maybe some of my practices will help you to feel better. Maybe something different will.
Today is Sunday, June 16. Make it what you choose.
When Life Goes Awry

When Life Goes Awry

This isn’t the post I had scheduled for this weekend. I generally plan my posts several weeks in advance and schedule them out. This one started in my head this morning and continued to grow, so here it is. Raw and uncensored.
Today marks the day that would have been my 22nd wedding anniversary. When I married Brian, I expected to live and grow with him until a very old age. I got married for all the right reasons; I was 32 and had been dating him for 4 years – not too young, didn’t rush into it. I wasn’t pregnant, broke or desperate. I had plenty of married friends, but plenty of single ones too, so I didn’t feel any pressure to get married.
If I had been able to look into a crystal ball and see my life today, my response would have been, “Wow, WTF happened?” I certainly didn’t expect to get divorced. I didn’t expect Brian to die. I didn’t expect to raise our daughter by myself. In Wisconsin (of all places!).
I’m seeing friends who’ve been married for 20 years watch their kids graduate and go off to college, and prepare for empty-nesting and their next phase of life together. And I realize that I’ll never have that. Even if I were to meet my soulmate tomorrow (I use the term “soulmate” loosely; I have many soulmates, both male and female and am grateful for all of them!), I will not have the experience of growing from young to old with someone, or to raise children with someone. I missed that boat. Sometimes that’s a hard pill to swallow.
Sometimes I’m amazed at how my life didn’t go the way I had expected it to; the way I thought it should have. Sometimes it bums me out. A lot.
And then I look around me and see how few people are living the life they thought they would when they were young. I have plenty of divorced friends. I have friends who are in shitty marriages – worse that being divorced, IMO. I have friends who have lost partners, who have lost children, who are struggling with addictions, who’ve been abused, raped, wrongly accused of crimes. Nobody expects any of that.
How do we detach from the ideal of what life should have been and be ok with what life is?
We can look for the good. Not the good in what happened, but the good that can come out of it.  I have never been a believer in “everything happens for a reason,” but I am a believer that out of any bad, can come good. That we can learn and grow from all the ways we screw up our lives. If I hadn’t been through the experience I’ve been through, I wouldn’t be who I am today. We can all become stronger and more resilient, and possibly even happier, from our tragedies.
I can honestly say that I am happier today than when I was married to Brian. I tend to put him on a pedestal because he died. But the fact is, I divorced him for very good reasons. Today, I live a pretty contented life. I’m proud of the job I’m doing with my daughter. She’s growing into a kind, thoughtful, independent young woman. We have an incredibly close relationship that I wouldn’t trade for anything. I love my little house on the corner by the park. I love the fact that I don’t have to check with anyone on big decisions. I am the boss of me! When it comes time for me to empty-nest, I can do whatever I want. And I plan on living life to the fullest. Yes, I sometimes miss having a partner, but honestly, there’s no shortage of men in my life. I’ve dated a lot and it’s mostly entertaining. Most of the men I’ve met, though none have been serious romances, remain great friends who’s company I continue to enjoy. We all tend to grow up with the thought that the ultimate goal in life is to be one-half of a couple. I realized a few years back, that that may not be my dharma. I was that for a long time. While I am not opposed to the idea, should the right man come along, he would have to blow me away. Honestly, why would I settle for anything less?
I am happy with my life that I never expected or planned. I live near my family, I am have a ton of love in my life. I’ve done a pretty freaking good job at parenting by myself. So why lament that it wasn’t exactly what I thought it would be?
Of course I wish that Brian hadn’t died. I wish my daughter had a father. I am often sad that her story will always be, “my dad died when I was 13.” But, that is only part of her story. She has so much more and will continue to have so much more. She will grow up to be who she is because of and in spite of her experiences.
I could get caught up in “what if’s” and “if only’s”. We all could. Is your life what you expected? If not, are you embracing the life you have, or wishing for the life that might have been? We can’t change the past, but we can embrace the present. We can’t know what the future will hold, but we can do our best to create the life we want. If we can keep loving and laughing, keep continually striving to be our best selves, enjoy life and treat others well, we can love our lives, even when they’ve turned out very differently than expected.
A wise yoga teacher once said, “It is better to do your dharma poorly, than to do somebody else’s well.” I’m living my dharma. Sometimes gracefully, other times like a train-wreck. But, it is mine.
Just Say Maybe to Drugs

Just Say Maybe to Drugs

This post is going to be controversial. So, I am going to start by giving you my intent. My intent is to incite thought. I am not attempting to change anyone’s opinion, nor, as you will find, do I have a particularly strong opinion one way or another on some of the topics I’ll be discussing.
I think that we can all agree that drugs can be good and drugs can be bad. Drugs can save your life or kill you. We’re talking about drugs a lot more these days than we have in the past. From opioid addiction to legalization of cannabis to the debate over vaccinations, there is so much to know and so much information and misinformation.
We have such ingrained beliefs about certain subjects, that we can’t see them for what they are – beliefs. Let’s use dairy milk as an example to express how strongly we hold our beliefs. I know that more and more people are not drinking dairy milk for a variety of reasons, but I’m sure at sometime in your life you drank it or at least there are people in your life that drink it. It is universally accepted as something that humans consume. Let’s just accept that for the point of this exercise. OK, so, now, lets say I hand you a glass of dog milk. Or rat milk. Or even human milk (probably the best milk for us, if we’re going to drink milk at all!) Do you want to drink any of those? Or does the thought repulse you? Why? Because it’s culturally ingrained. There’s nothing more or less gross about dog milk than cow’s. It’s just a belief. We have similarly ingrained beliefs about drugs.
I’m going to start with vaccinations, because this seems to be the most heated debate lately. I’ll start by saying that I am neither pro nor anti vax. My daughter got all of her childhood vaccinations. With the resurgence of measles, I think it’s probably a really good idea to have had a measles shot. We don’t get flu shots. I haven’t had the flu since I was 22 (I’m 54) and my 15-year-old has never had the flu. I have also opted to not have her get the hpv vaccination. I’m not arguing that you should do what I did, or justify my choices. I’m simply encouraging everyone to do the research and make informed choices. Don’t accept or decline all vaccinations, just because. Do your research. I know people on both sides of the debate, who I respect. They’ve done their homework. They’ve come to differing conclusions. As long as the pharmaceutical industry is a for-profit industry, I know that their number one priority is their bottom line. Not my health. So, I will continue to be skeptical.  I’d recommend researching and talking to your doctor about every vaccine that comes along.
Now let’s talk illegal drugs. My daughter came home last week and told me that they are learning about recreational drugs in health class. They had learned about LSD that day. That it is highly addictive, that people who take it more than a handful of times go insane, that people who take it never make anything of their lives and many die from it. The problem with this lesson is IT IS NOT TRUE. Now, before you unsubscribe because you think I am advocating teens taking LSD, I am not. But, I am also not advocating telling them falsehoods to scare them from drugs. And what I find particularly disturbing is that I’m sure the teachers who teach this, believe it is true.
The fact is, LSD was researched extensively in the 1950s and found to have many positive applications for treating anxiety, depression and addiction. It was legally distributed by the Sandoz company until it was made illegal and classified as a Schedule 1 drug in 1962. LSD is also anti-addictive, meaning that after someone takes it, they don’t have the desire to take it again, for a long time. Another fact is, there has never been a death attributed to LSD. Not one. Ever. Compare that to legal opioids, that kill almost 17,000 people every year, and destroys the lives of many, many more.
It wasn’t until the 1960s, when Timothy Leary and Ken Kesey and their ilk started telling kids to
“Turn on, Tune in, Drop out,” that the establishment community got freaked out and took it off the market and demonized it. If you’re interested in reading more on the subject, Michael Pollan, well-known author to foodies for his books, The Omnivore’s Dilemma, In Defense of Food, and Cooked, among others, recently deviated from his usual subject and wrote a comprehensive book on psychedelics called How to Change Your Mind. There has been a resurgence of the study of psychedelics for psychiatric use, since the 1990s. But, don’t expect to be able to go to your doctor and get a prescription for acid anytime soon!
After tackling those two heavy subjects, bringing up marijuana seems a little anti-climactic. I will say that since I lived in Colorado when it became one of the first two states in the country to legalize it, I got a front row seat to its effects. I can’t say that I saw any negatives. It brought a bunch of revenue into the state, the taxes collected helped local communities. It brought in more tourism, for sure. The dispensary in my tiny town of 250 people, had visitors from all 50 states in its first year. For people who needed it medically, but lived in states where it wasn’t available, it became easier to come to a state and obtain it recreationally, rather than to try to get it medically, across state lines.
I’ve intentionally left out links to any drug research, because there’s just so much, on both sides of every argument. Any link I could add, would take you to an article with an opinion, and as I said in the beginning of my post, I am not arguing one side or the other. I am only arguing that we think and question.  Always question. Question what you read, what you are told and even what you believe. Question your doctors, teachers, political & religious leaders. Never accept anything “just because.” And never say that to your kids!
Filling My Cup in New Orleans

Filling My Cup in New Orleans

How do you fill your cup? What fills your soul? We all need to take time to fill ourselves up.
There are so many ways we can do this. Standing on top of a mountain seeing views for miles, listening to the ocean waves crashing, holding a child’s hand, lying in the arms of a lover until your heartbeats synchronize, sitting in church or temple and feeling the glory of God, camping in the desert or the woods and taking in the wonder of nature, taking a break from the day-to-day and spending time with people you adore.
It’s not so much how we do it, but that we take the time to do it.
What fills my cup might drain yours and vice versa. We all need to figure out what fills us up.
I spent last week filling my cup with music and great friends in an amazing city. I danced, I sang, I ate a million oysters, I strolled the French Quarter, I drank a Sazerac (or three), I had beignets and cafe au lait at Cafe DuMonde. I stood on the bank of the Mississippi River and marveled at it’s beauty, I wandered a couple of Voodoo shops.
As a single mom without another parent to share the responsibility, I don’t get breaks from parenting. I am blessed to have an incredibly easy, loving kid. And, I love to get away occasionally for an all-adult, weekend. I get to do this once or twice a year. These weekends pretty much always involve people I love to spend time with. Sometimes they are decadent concert weekends. Sometimes they are quiet, spiritual, contemplative yoga and meditation weekends. Both recharge me and top off my cup.
It took me a while to realize that self-care doesn’t have to equate to austerity. While some of my yoga/Ayurveda/health coach friends might look askance at my wild weekend in New Orleans, I know that I am being my authentic self (see my last post) and loving my life. I am an Enneagram type 7. A pleasure-seeker, a hedonist. No wonder I never felt quite right following a traditional Ayurvedic lifestyle. Don’t get me wrong – I love Ayurveda. And I love the fact that it’s not dogmatic and gives me a lot of wiggle room. I’ve had some Ayurvedic teachers who were more dogmatic than Ayurveda itself. Every time I heard the term, “non-negotiable,” from one of them, I immediately started looking for ways to negotiate.
If I come away from a weekend of Sex & Drugs & Rock and Roll (figuratively, of course!), feeling insanely happy and full of memories that last a lifetime, I feel no guilt about the fact that I ate dinner at 10 pm, day-drank and didn’t meditate. I’m home and I’m back to my healthy habits. One of the great things about living a life with healthy, Ayurvedic habits, is they stay with you, even when you go off. I had no concerns that I’d come back and continue to overindulge and stay up late or blow off my exercise routine. My good habits are well-enough ingrained in me, that I can go off, with little ill-effect and come right back to them.
Now for my Don’t Try This at Home, Kids lecture. 
I’ve been working on health, Ayurveda, yoga and putting good habits in place for years. So, I can go off the proverbial wagon without losing everything I’ve worked towards. If you are new to trying to become the healthiest, happiest version of yourself, you might need to be stricter with things in the beginning. But the way I look at it, is the goal is not to give up things that are “bad for you,” forever, but to be grounded enough in your healthy habits that you can have the freedom to do whatever you want. On occasion.
It’s also important to find things to fill your cup, that are aligned with your habits. Yoga, meditation, being in nature, skiing – all fill my cup, in a much healthier fashion. And, as I mentioned earlier, what fills my cup may not fill yours. Maybe you love crafting. For me, just the thought of walking into Joanne’s makes me queasy. Maybe you are dying to go to Disney World; I’d rather put a sharp stick in my eye.
In my Whole Life Coaching program, we delve into all of these things. First we focus on physical health and getting healthy habits ingrained. We work on organizing our time, space, and finances. Then we move on to the really juicy stuff. What’s makes your heart sing? What fills your cup? How can you shape your life into exactly what you want it to be? I’ll show you how you can make the time to make your life work for you, instead of you working your life away.  Email alexbiondoyoga@gmail.com for more information.
I’m Sorry, Did I Make You Uncomfortable? On Living An Authentic Life.

I’m Sorry, Did I Make You Uncomfortable? On Living An Authentic Life.

I don’t care if you like me.
I’d like you to like me. I’d prefer you to like me. I enjoy being liked, and loved, as much as anyone. But, in the end, it is more important to me to to live and speak my truth, than to be liked. And that means not everyone will like me. And I can’t care about that.
Years ago, when my daughter was in Brownies, I made the audacious (you’d think blasphemous, from the reaction I got!) suggestion that an organization such as the Girl Scouts, that prides itself on empowering young women, should not be having girls selling crappy junk food for its fundraiser.
I need to add a disclaimer here. I am not against cookies per se. I do even occasionally buy Girl Scout cookies, because I want to support the girl scouts that I know and this is currently the only way to do so. My thought was that an organization as large and powerful as Girl Scouts shouldn’t be pushing young kids to sell crap. It shouldn’t be the institutionalized directive.  How great would it be if their fundraiser was also something that taught the importance of health and wellness? In this age of rampant childhood obesity, why would such a group continue to do this?
I got all excited and fired up. I went to the other moms with the brilliant idea that we, as a troop, take a stand. That we come up with our own fundraiser, that truly empowered girls. We would have the girls understand how important health is. We’d let the Girl Scouts organization know what we’re doing and why. We’d be starting a paradigm shift –  a revolution! Maybe there would even be a movie made about us, like Erin Brokovitch!
Guess how that went over. 
They looked at me like I had just suggested we put swastikas on the Brownie uniforms. One, who I don’t think disagreed with me completely, said that we were just one small group and there’s no way we could make a difference. To which I responded with my favorite quote from the amazing Margaret Meade.
“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it’s the only thing that ever has.”
She was unimpressed. The Cookie Mom (yes, that’s a thing) actually yelled at me, told me I should take my kid out of Girl Scouts, a few other choice words, and finished it up by telling me that I was a rotten yoga teacher. Needless to say, Stella didn’t continue with Girl Scouts (her choice). She learned an important lesson in standing up for what’s right. I was proud of her and she was proud of me.
I got myself into a similar situation this past week. I somehow ended up in a Facebook group that was supposedly a support group for women going through menopause. I’ve always been bothered when women denigrate themselves, even in jokes. Memes with women inadvertently putting themselves down are all over Facebook. You know the kind, “I used to be hot, now I’m hot flashes,” jokes about needing alcohol to deal with children/partners, jokes about weight gain, stretch pants etc., blah blah blah. I always gently call out my friends who post these things, asking them to consider why they participate in this kind of negative self-talk. You see, our brains don’t know the difference between joking and not. We internalize the negative.
It’s not news that humor can be great and it can be hurtful. These days, racist jokes are unacceptable. Most people agree that sexist jokes, when delivered by men, are not cool. So, why do we jokingly allow our sisters to do it to themselves? My theory is that over millennia of patriarchy, women are so used to being put down, that we don’t even realize we are doing it to ourselves.
So, I brought this up in the menopause group, after somebody posted an awful cartoon of a fat, sweaty old lady with saggy boobs and a caption that read something like, “why must we be punished with menopause?” I’m sure you can guess where this is going. I was told to “Get a fucking sense of humor,” to “Get over myself,” to go away and that I was a drama queen. Funny, that I was suggesting that we build each other up, rather than tear ourselves down and for that, I got attacked.
I have heard some people say (mostly men), that that’s just how women are. They’re catty, they tear each other down to make themselves feel better. To that I call BULLSHIT. The women I hang out with, both in person and online support me and hold me up every single day. They are badass Goddesses and I could not live without them. They are are supportive, awesome and funny AF.
I think I’m fortunate, in that standing up for myself comes pretty naturally to me. I’m fiery, I’m opinionated, and I don’t back down from arguments. (My Pitta personality. Always have to throw in a smidge of Ayurveda!) I’ve been told I’m a know-it-all, that I can be too forceful and that I’m argumentative. I have softened some. Deliberately. I have worked hard at being able to listen to opinions that differ from mine, without immediately interjecting. I’ve worked on taking constructive criticism. I understand that I can’t just be a train wreck of forcing my beliefs on everyone all the time. And when I do argue, I do my best to do it respectfully. I don’t always succeed. I’m still working on it.
My point is, that we all sometimes have to take a stand. We need to stand up for what is right and just. In order to live an authentic life, we have to examine ourselves and our beliefs and behaviors. Sometimes our beliefs are self-limiting, sometimes we act out of our limiting beliefs. In my work as a coach, I push my clients out of their comfort zones and encourage them to change their self-limiting patterns. (Sometimes I do this in my personal relationships too, which goes over less well!) I encourage them to move out of their self-created status quo and step into their personal power. Their authentic selves. This doesn’t mean you’ve got to jump into an argument with everyone who has a differing opinion. We do have to pick our battles. But if we find that we’re constantly living in a way that is out of integrity with our true desires for our lives, it’s time to make some changes.
So, how did it end with the Facebook group? I left a Peace Out final message and left the group. I invited anyone who wanted to be part of a truly supportive group to private message me. And guess what happened. They started messaging me. They’ve joined my group. And I’m going to support the hell out of every single one of them.
I recently heard someone say, “I’m not everyone’s cup of tea.” I love that. I’m not either.
The Music’s in Me – Discovering a Lost Part of Myself

The Music’s in Me – Discovering a Lost Part of Myself

Disclaimer: This post contains nothing directly related to yoga, Ayurveda or health. But, if you’re willing to look under the surface, you’ll see that it’s about something that is part of my yoga. And maybe you’ll be prompted to look more deeply into what is your yoga. On & Off the Mat. 
I’ve always had good taste in music (if I may be so bold as to make that proclamation.) The first three albums I ever bought (at the same time) were Some Girls by the Rolling Stones, 52nd Street by Billy Joel and Night Moves by Bob Seger. Ok, you might not think those are the the greatest albums ever, but for a 13-year-old in 1978, it was pretty damn progressive. Consider that most of my friends were listening to Sean Cassidy and the Partridge Family.
Music has always been a part of who I am. I’ve always had a bit of an obsession with it. I started subscribing to Rolling Stone in 8th grade. My album collection (yes, vinyl. I’m that old!) numbered in the hundreds by the time I got to high school. While my friends walls were plastered with posters of Andy Gibb and Donny Osmond, mine featured Mick & Keith and the boys, as well as Led Zeppelin, Neil Young and Jackson Browne. While my girlfriends were emulating Olivia Newton-John, I wanted to be a witch, like Stevie Nicks.
I was lucky enough to grow up less than an hour from New York City, so I had the opportunity to see some amazing concerts. My first was Rod Stewart, at Madison Square Garden. My uncle Jonny (my idol) and his third wife took me. I’ll never forget the person next to me passing me a joint and slyly taking a puff. My uncle never said a thing about it, so I assumed he didn’t see. (20+ years later, we talked about it. In his memory he had given me a lecture about drug use. I guess that what he wished he had done!) By the time I got to college, I had quite a list of shows under my belt – The Stones, the Kinks, Bruce Springsteen, the Police (3 times), the Cars, Devo, Pat Benetar (ok, it was the 80s people!), Joan Jett, John Cougar (not yet Mellencamp), Siouxie & the Banshees (in Scotland), Eric Clapton and more. I even got hit on by John Michael Stipe of REM, when they were the opening band for Siouxie at a dive bar in Bronxville.  It was before cell phones and GPS, so it was easy to tell our parents that we were going to the movies and hop on a train to the City and catch a concert. (Sorry Mom!)
I spent my college years in Burlington, Vermont and got turned on to a few different types of music. Reggae was big there, as was the Grateful Dead. Oh, and did I mention that I went to college with and was in the same year as all the guys from Phish? They’d put their hand-drawn flyers on all our dorm doors inviting us to watch them play on weekends. And I remember seeing a little-known band called Widespread Panic open for Blues Traveler.
Music remained part of my life when I moved to Colorado. My first show at Red Rocks (the best concert venue on the planet, IMHO) was Reggae on the Rocks in 1993. I saw Merle Saunders at Turquoise Lake (literally, in the middle of the woods), at 12,000 feet, above Leadville.
But, then something happened. I got married, and my husband wasn’t into music or concerts. And I just kind of stopped going. It wasn’t that Brian didn’t want me to go or would have tried to stop me, but you know how it is when you’re married. You hang out with your spouse. And you make compromises. Sometimes without realizing it. So, for almost 20 years, music was back-burnered. I did drag him to see a few legends – The Stones a few times, The Who. Can you imagine having to be dragged to see the Rolling Stones?! He also had the TV on a lot, so I didn’t listen to much music at home either. I honestly didn’t even realize this was happening. My friends did. They invited me to go to Panic or the Dead or Phish every year. I didn’t go.
Then, a funny thing happened after my divorce. I started to embrace my musical self again. I started going to concerts and playing music in my kitchen and boogying while cooking and doing dishes. It was like meeting a part of myself that I had lost for two decades. I’d drop my daughter off at her Dad’s and head off to Red Rocks for a weekend of shows, and he’d say, “Aren’t you a little old for this?” Too old? Too old to feel my spirit soar? To old to dance until my legs hurt? To old to commune with people who feel the same as I do about music? Never.
What brought on this musical reflection? Next week, I am getting to check a huge box on my bucket list. New Orleans Jazz Fest. So much great music in such an amazing city. My bucket might actually overflow! Such diverse music too. Jazz Fest is a bit of a misnomer, because there’s everything from jazz to blues, to rock, country, creole, reggae, disco (yes, Chaka Kahn will be there this year!) From huge stages to tiny bars, there will be music everywhere! And I’m going with a bestie from high school, who shared some of those great concerts with me back in the 80s, and another of my favorite peeps, who knows more about jazz than anyone I know and can croon the old standards like he’s freaking Frank Sinatra! (He needs to be plied with a lot of adult beverages to do that, but in NOLA, I don’t think that’ll be a problem!)
Well, if there is a yogic lesson in this post (I know, you expect one), it’s this – Do what makes your heart sing. If there is a part of you that is full of passion and brings you joy that has been buried in the busyness of adulthood, if you’ve suppressed some part of you because you think it’s not useful, or mature or doesn’t fit into your life as a grown up, unearth it. Live it. Live your bliss and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.