My (not so) Shocking Chakra

My mind is blown. 

And I feel kinda embarrassed to say that this is the first time I’ve invested any energy into learning about chakras.

To start out my research, I read quickly about chakra meditation from a blogger online (this is a very serious study, obviously,) and then ran myself through a quick meditation to check activity levels & whatnot. 

This was all BEFORE learning what the different chakras mean.

Here's what I got:

Red - very steady & busy. 

Orange - slower, but steady energy. 

Yellow - steady, "happy" level of energy. 

Green - good, steady.


Blue - Hmmm . . . interesting.  

Blue . . .

Extremely unstable. It would start up, then sputter and die, kinda like a struggling car engine. It wanted to run, it just seemed to lack the sustaining power to really get revved up enough to steady itself to a flow.

Somehow, this was not alarming or surprising to me.

Moving on, moving up . . .

Indigo - good, running smoothly, perhaps a little cautiously.

Violet - exploding out the top, awesome.  I felt a little lightheaded in the moment, even a bit transcendiary.

Done.

So blue chakra, huh?

Back to the research.

Blue = Throat. 

Blue chakra governs voice.

Personal vocal expression. The ability to speak your truth, necessarily and kindly. 

Dangit. 

I already knew it.

When I was little, I would write letters to people and never send them. 

I would have full on conversations in my head with people who were literally right next to me, but never say a word to them.

I would sing because it gave voice to the emotions that I didn't know how to vocalize.

For about the past year or so I’ve been getting strong impressions and thoughts about finding, using, and exploring my voice. Writing, singing. Speaking. Communicating.  

A number of my daily affirmations center around communicating clearly, directly, and appropriately.  

I really believe in this stuff. 

That's why I started a blog about a year ago. 

And here I am, a year later with my sputtering, on-again, off-again chakra.

So what does this mean?

Well, those of us who've lived a lot of our lifetime inside our heads know that it's not very simple to take all that's in there and condense it to a few lines or words. And the reason we keep it in there is because to expose all that's in there to other people is one of the scariest risks we could ever take. 

What if I say it wrong? 

What if my emotions take over and I literally can't get the words out?

What if my emotions take over and I'm not taken seriously? 

What if I hurt someone when I'm only trying to express my own wants and needs? 

What if I speak my truth, and then I'm shot down by someone who can say the opposite more clearly, truthfully, and passionately?

What if I speak my truth and then I'm overshadowed by someone who can say the same thing more clearly, truthfully, and passionately? 

What if I'm not even heard?

It's scary.

Wait--are you telling me that to fully ignite my chakra I have to be brave? 

In order for my truth to be heard, do I have to say it? Do I have to verbally manifest something for it to be true?

Here's what I think.  So far:

To ignite my blue energy, I will start by saying that I don't know how to say the things I don't even want to want to try to say. 

And, since I still write letters that I don't send (mostly in forms of blog posts)--

Since I still have conversations with people that I never vocalize (mostly compliments)-- 

Since I still sing, but not nearly often enough (mostly, I need to find my own words and melodies)--

I will also say that this is going to take some time. And energy.

There's a lot I've written that I haven't shared.  There's a lot I've felt to say that I haven't said. There's a lot I feel like I don't know how to say.

Yet.

Blue Chakra, get ready to rock.


P.S. Here's the link to the website I was doing my research from today:

https://blog.mindvalley.com/7-chakras/

Marathon Cry

My 9-year-old told me that crying is a sign of weakness.  

I asked him if he thinks that God is weak.  

He said no.

Then I told him of Jesus when he wept at Lazarus' tomb, and then with the Nephite children.

I read about God weeping for the wickedness of his children.  

God has cried.  

And I believe God does cry.  

For us.  

And maybe sometimes because of us.

But mostly I think God cries with us.  

It is God's nature to "mourn with those that mourn" and to "succor those that stand in need of succor."  

I think we never cry alone.

Sometimes I get so overwhelmed with emotion that I cry until I can't see straight.

Last night was one of those nights.

I won't go into detail about what it was that sparked the tears, but mostly it was out of frustration.  The frustration of feeling like time has been lost.  Feeling regret for decisions I made when I was unaware of the consequences. 

Good solid crying. 

And a few hours of it.  

It was the kind of crying that makes you feel like you've been forced to run a marathon where you fell in the mud while the other runners kept running and then someone picked you up and dumped a bucket of ice water over you to help you snap out of it but the ice water just sent you into hypothermia insead, and and all you want to do is lay down for a year but you know if you do you'll just feel even worse about missing all the things you'll miss that year so you just stand there staring at the open road ahead until your eyelids can't possibly stay open anymore so you reluctantly let them droop shut while trying to remember whether you voluntarily signed up for the marathon in the first place or if you were doing it for a friend or whether you were there as a spectator and somehow got pulled in but it doesn't really matter at this point because here you are all muddy and bloody sweaty and and tired and what you wouldn't do for a shower and a doughnut right now.

That kind of crying.

In fact, it was such a good, solid cry that I slept for about 12 hours afterward.  

I can't say I like crying.  But I can't say that I don't like it either.

Crying just happens.  It's not good or bad.  It's not strong or weak.  It just is.  

Little kids are experts on crying.

Last week, we took my 2 small nieces to Zion National Park.  At the end of a long, fun day of hiking and playing in the water, I took the 4-year-old to the restroom to change into some dry clothes before we headed home.  Once we were in the stall she had a meltdown about having to change her clothes (she wanted to stay in her wet ones) and she started to bawl so loud that people could hear her outside. 

I tried to calm her down and after a few minutes of what I thought was enough time to let her get her emotions out I told her, "Ok, no more crying now."  

Her reply struck me.  "No, I CAN cry."

It was a declaration. 

I CAN cry.

She was right.  

She had every right to cry.  

Her crying wasn't hurting me or anyone else in the room or anyone outside other than irritating our nerves or giving us a helpless feeling of not being able to soothe they crying child.  

She was absolutely right.  She CAN cry.  She is allowed to cry.  It is her right.  It is her choice.

And her crying did not change the fact that we were changing her clothes or that it was time to go home.  She simply wanted to express how she felt about it all.  And she did.

After that I had the thought that I can cry (which I'm sure is no surprise to anyone who knows me at all.)  But the point is that my crying or frustration or expression of feelings about my situation does not change my situation or change what has happened or what still needs to happen.  It's simply a release that I have a right--and a choice--to let happen.  Or not.

I CAN cry. 

You can cry.

It won't solve anything.

It won't change anything.

The only potential damage is irritation or possible helplessness felt by others.  But then, how they handle those feelings and emotions is their choice.

And although having someone there to physically calm or soothe us is sometimes comforting, none of us needs anyone to tell us when it's time to be done crying.   

So go ahead and cry.  

The marathon cry might not always be the best.  

But it might not always be the worst either.

You are God's child, and you are blessed with the ability to cry.  It's in our nature.  It is our choice.  

What do you want to be when you grow up?

When I was little, and people would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up, my answer was always the same . . .

"I want to be a famous singer on a stage."

I know that probably sounds cute or ambitious coming from a 5-year-old.

But what if I gave you the same answer today?

What if my answer hasn't changed.  At all.

What if I'm a 36-year-old-mom-of-4 with a mortgage and a church calling and a career and husband and a cat?

Is it still "cute?"  Am I still "ambitious?"


At times I have been too fearful to share this desire, feeling that it was unworthy of my time and attention.

Those were the times when I listened to the outside voices.


But recently, I remembered that I also have a Voice.

And so, I asked that Voice what I want to be.

And then I listened.

And my answer was still the same.

And I don't feel bad about it.

In fact, I feel awesome about it.

Because every part of this answer is important.  To both of us.


I’ll explain . . .


"I want to be a famous..."

I have no problem stating that I want to be famous.  I want fame.  And fortune.

I don't want self-absorbed popularity.

I don't want to live a shallow life.

And I don't want to live in Beverly Hills.

I want to be famous because, ever since I was a tiny kid I have known that humans are made to influence eachother--deeply, largely, powerfully.

I want that.  I want to be connected, and moved, and changed by other people.  I want to connect with and move and change other people.

Many famous people are famous because of their ability to touch something inside the hearts of others.  They have interesting and inspiring stories to tell.

I know this because of Gloria Estefan.

Growing up, I idolized Gloria. Her voice; her story; her presence; her hair--all real and raw and powerful.

And, as an 11-year-old-Latina, daughter-of-an-immigrant, from a broken home, in lower-middle class America, it was important to me to see a Latina providing hope & inspiration to millions of people around the literal world.

With her voice.

"I want to be a famous singer..."

As a kid, it was important for me to sing because I LOVED--no I LIVED THROUGH--singing.

Singing seemed to be my natural expression of self.

I would make up songs and sing them to myself.  I remember one song I wrote about the sunshine when I was about 4, not because of the melody or the words, but because of the feeling.  In that moment, and through that song, I was open to the entire world and everything beyond.

I wanted to use my voice to express the emotion and intensity that I felt about living.

I experienced moments when singing became transcendent, when I felt that I was part of something higher and nobler than myself.

I wanted more of those moments.

So I looked for every opportunity to sing, to use my voice.

"I want to be a famous singer on a stage."

I've always wanted to be a singer on a stage.   

Even at a very young age, I realized that live performance is a unique medium that has the power to move people to action.  In real time.

The exchange that is shared between a performer and his or her immediate, physical audience becomes a power that flows in both directions.  The audience members and performers both become givers and receivers.  Both are given a voice.

I find unprecedented value in living out a moment.  My voice is meant to connect with others, to give them permission to use their voices.


But this post is not about stages. Or singing. Or becoming famous.

It's not about Gloria.

It's not even about me.


This post is about you. And your voice.

It's about connecting with the Voice that is inside every one of us.

The Voice that knows exactly how to answer when asked "What do you want to be?"  Not tomorrow, not next year, not when you grow up--but NOW.

This post is about listening to that Voice.

And not feeling bad about it.

In fact, feeling awesome about it.

It's about using your voice to share hope & inspiration.

It's about using your voice to share that part of you that is higher and nobler than yourself.

Using your voice to connect with others, to give them permission to use their voices, too.


Listen for your Voice.  And then listen to it.

And love every answer it gives you.

Because every part of the answer is important.  For both of us.

For all of us.


What do you still want to be?

What do you want to be next?

What do you want to be NOW?


Do it. Be it.

Embrace your fame.

Embrace your voice.

And give others permission to do the same.