I did not attend the women’s march this weekend.
And I’m really kicking myself now that I didn’t go.
The thing is, while apparently I give off this impression that I’m happy go lucky and laid back AF, I’m really an anxiety-ridden mess on the inside. And lately I’ve been working so hard at getting some shit off the ground that it’s taking basically all of my courage and my wits to keep me from vomiting out of complete terror every other minute.
Seriously, this morning I sent an email (that I drafted over a year ago, mind you) that has my insides completely jumbling. I know that walking into this fear is what I’m supposed to be doing, but dammit Durga, make a little easier won’t you?
I also have this big thing looming in my personal life right now that has my insides turned to shit too, but that’s a story for another time.
All of this to say that: my emotional capacity is not at march level. I’m barely surviving over here, looking like I’ve got it all together, and marching was not available to me. I would have bawled every second, screamed, shouted, let it all out. I don’t know if I would have been welcome there.
(In complete honesty, I’m being a little dramatic. I am much more than surviving – I just have boatloads of anxiety and an uncertain future. Don’t we all, really? Also, if this isn’t a testament for you to know that your yoga teacher doesn’t have it all together – here it is. We’re all like this. This is why we teach yoga, guys. …Okay, maybe not everybody is like this. But still. We were drawn to yoga for a reason, and that reason is likely not because we were perfect yogis to begin with.)
Anyway, I am hugely grateful to all of those who marched. I got teary seeing some of the coverage.
Never before did I consider myself a feminist (I had my first inkling during this trip in Portland), but as I’ve grown older I’ve seen that feminism isn’t just all about burning bras and being angry. Feminism is about calling up a new order. Feminism is celebrating the special and unique qualities that both genders have inherent in them, and calling forth the need for more of it. In the gods and goddesses of yoga, it’s the goddesses who represent the most power, the most energy, and the capacity for bliss.
And I want to get me some of that.
So know that, while I did not march, I celebrated. I wept. I meditated and sent love. And I’m fighting my own battle with courage and stepping into my power and mitigating a life of fear for a life of divine presence.
To those of you who marched: thank you, I love you.
To those of you who didn’t march but wanted to: thank you, I love you too.
To those of you who didn’t march because you don’t believe in some of the issues presented: I understand, and thank you for being respectable humans and allowing a peaceful demonstration to happen.
To Donald Trump: thank you for bringing such important issues to the surface.
The future is rising, and the future is divine. And hopefully we all embrace the qualities of the divine feminine this week, this year, the next four years: may we find our authentic truth, our power, our bliss, our comfort, our energy to rise and shape the world around us. Let’s go get it.