Los Angeles, CA
Today, there were 4 men and 4 women in my yoga class. I really love it when men come to class because I feel that the practice is not defined by gender, race, ethnicity, or religion. Of course there is some religious influence because its roots stem from the Hindu religion, but overall, the practice is what you personally make of it. There is this notion in America that yoga is feminine. It’s in magazines, movies, and on TV. I feel it is up to all us yogis to change minds and hearts, so that everyone (whether they practice or not) knows that yoga is universal.
My yoga is feminine, masculine, and the unifying knowledge of both.
My yoga is the earth, the atmosphere, and the oneness of the universe.
My yoga is within me, and respects and admires the yoga within you.
We’re bringing it back! Here is today’s new Meditation Monday by Madison Adams!
1. a thing intended; an aim or plan.
“she was full of good intentions”
2. the healing process of a wound.
1. Today, my intention is to let go of worry; to allow my thoughts and energies to flow through my fingers, and into this keyboard.
2. Today, my intention is to love myself so that I may love others just as deeply.
Start small. Set an intention every day. Today, I will wear two different socks, and be o.k. with it. Today, I will find a new recipe that revolves around vegetables so I have more in my diet. Today, I will bring a warm beverage to a Salvation Army bell ringer. Today, instead of retaliating when I have been hurt, I will remove myself from the situation, and talk about it later.
You may be surprised to find that intentions that seem grand to most, become second nature to you.
Dahlias and Daisies. Fire pits. Running fingers through my hair. Wiggling toes. Warm strawberry rhubarb pie with a scoop of vanilla bean ice cream. Springtime sunrise on my back porch. Dissipating fog. Sunsets in Sedona. Baby animal noses and noises. Bubbles. The smell of fresh baked cookies. Rainbows. Best friends. Dancing. Bees. Naps on the sunny side of my couch. Hula hoops. Singing as loud as I can in my car. Farmer’s markets. Dogs. When little kids tell stories. Deaf culture. Yoga. Science. Music that gives me goosebumps. Coloring. Coconut. Vermont. My Adventure Time blanket. Nature documentaries. Birthdays. Laser tag. Siblings. Things that light up. Freckles. Craft beer. When you make me dinner. When you do things I want to do, even when you’d rather not, and still keep an open mind. The way you smile when you’re uncomfortable. The way you manage to make every anxious moment silly. The way you look at me. How you are a part of everything I love; every moment; every day.
I thought I was doing the right thing, you know. In a weird way, it felt like something I had to do. I had to cut myself off – for both of our sakes, because there was nothing more I could do for you. We played the same game, fought the same fights round after round and both of us seemed to lose every time. I couldn’t bear to watch us destroy ourselves anymore. I was done, played out. Confused, exhausted, angry, hurt and everything in-between.
I’d always assumed that we’d carry on the way we were forever, you know. We were Monica and Rachel, Blair and Serena. A team. We’d walked the same paths together, lived the same things, carried each other and stood side by side and hand in hand for most of our lives.
But we began to fade. Slowly at first, but then we spiralled deeper and deeper out of control and out of love.
Maybe it was your fault.
Maybe it was mine.
I’m sure we’d blame each other.
You spoke a different language that I was tired of having to translate. Somewhere in the labyrinth of your mind, I lost my way. You changed the route – the one I was always so sure of- and I was left alone. That’s when I decided that I couldn’t fix you, and that part of me didn’t want to.
In each other’s eyes we saw different things, and I wasn’t sure I liked my own reflection.
So I gave up: on you, on us. On everything we had and hadn’t yet become. It seemed easier that way, like ripping off a plaster in one go, to just get it over with. They do say a clean cut heals faster. But ours was far from clean.
We had everything, and yet nothing to say to each other. Always hidden behind screens, terrified by the bruises we might leave. I wanted you to hear me, but the words caught in my throat and left a bitter taste on my tongue. Like disappointment. Cutting myself off from you, I thought, would stop me from getting hurt, but those same cuts ran deeper and frustration spilled from them and stained my clothes.
For the first time in my life you made me vulnerable. I was scared of myself and the things I was thinking, the way I was feeling. But most of all, I resented you. Because you didn’t do the thing I thought you would. You didn’t act the way I wanted you to,
I pushed you away because I expected you not to let me. I wanted you to choose me, to choose us.
But you didn’t.
So I stopped trying, and tried to stop caring. My wires were exposed and your hands were made of knives. It was too risky for me to take another chance and I didn’t think you were worth it anymore. You weren’t the same person, but what I failed to realise is that neither was I.
Do you know what made me come back to you? You were just as surprised as I was to see me, so suddenly and out of the blue, holding a white flag in the midst of no mans land, carefully treading over the growing cracks in our relationship and trying to build a bridge.
I remembered New Years Day, waking up alone in the bed we were supposed to share because I thought you were going to throw up from all the vodka jelly and jager you promised my mother you wouldn’t have. How you read the message from the boy I’d told I loved him the night before because I couldn’t bear to do it. The sadness in your eyes when you said it’s lovely, but I don’t think it’s what you wanted to hear. You hugged me and we drank tea and chatted over hazy memories of laughter and buttered toast on my kitchen floor. I remembered that and thought, you were the person that was there for me in one of my weakest moments. When the illusion I’d created for myself came crashing down, it was you stood with the dustpan and brush offering to sweep me up. And it made me wonder why I could do the same for you just one more time.
I’m sorry I put you on pedestal and then punished you when you couldn’t reach.
I’m sorry that I expected too much of you and I’m sorry that I left you when you needed me the most.
When we’re young, everything is so clear cut, so definite. Good and bad. Right and wrong.
But as we grow older, that line merges. The sea of morality becomes murkier, dirtier, and we can no longer see our toes in the sand underneath. We become uprooted, unstable, swept away by a tidal wave of emotion. Because we’re human. We make mistakes. It’s what we do best.
We were a tropical storm, you and I. But we passed.
I promise you that, slowly, I’ll try and fix us, but only if you promise to let me.
To read more of Amy’s writing, visit her blog The Girl and the Words.
Light refracted and infused with life. Intricate colors pour out onto the canvas of my sleeve-worn heart. There is nothing that doesn’t touch me. Things that seemingly have nothing to do with me grab at my soul and demand my attention. I am the man who just lost his wife. I am the girl who cries because the guy she loves doesn’t love her back. I am the giver and the taker alike. There is nothing that doesn’t touch me. I am found in the quiet solitude of a just-ended summer rain. I am found in the noisy roar of a city that’s wide awake. Every time someone dies, I lose. Every time someone is born, I rejoice. There is nothing that doesn’t touch me. I am woven into the fabric of every life that has come and gone and yet to be. You and I…we’re the same person. There is nothing that doesn’t touch us.
Chilling under the stars
Picnics under the Morula tree
Road trips with no maps
Hand-picked wild flowers
Mud races (hahahaaa)
Walks to the park
Running into each other’s arms
No make-up, track pants on days
Make-up, home cooked dinner dates
Passing out moments on the sofa
Honesty in the toughest times
Deepest secrets told
With the world at our feet
And you beside me
Missed mirror dates
Untamed diary entries
Reluctant talks about it all
I love you.
I remember the first day I see you. You were the only person I saw in the crowded place. The sparkle in your eyes was equivalent to a million stars. Then we met. I was taken back by your smile & the words you spoke. If I could I would take that smile and inject it directly into my blood stream. Maybe it takes time for people to fall in love but with you it was inevitable for me. My hands were shaking. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat. I guess the irony about this situation is that we were only ever friends, sometimes maybe more. We look at each other like we’re about to kiss. And those lips seemed too good to be true. How you kissed me at that night. I miss the way we sleep. Like there’s no sunrise. Like the taste of your smile. I miss the way we breathe. You receive your collage confirmation when we’re together. You were going 6905.87 miles away from me. I just remember holding your hand realizing how much it was going to hurt when I would have to let it go. You are a drug I’ve become addicted to and it hurts that I can’t be with you. The only thing that satiates the craving is your laugh, your smile and your words. I want to scratch at my skin when you’re not around. I’m coming down from high, that’s exactly what it feels like. Not being allowed to touch you is complete torture. It’s funny how I through I was good at hiding my feelings, but then strangers started asking me why I looked so tired and that’s when I realized you didn’t care enough to notice. A lot of me was lost in you. And now the dreams about you make me want to stay asleep forever. You said “keep me in your dreams until you see me.” I keep you every night. Because you’re mine in nights. At night I always imagine you laying here with me, with your arms around me and your body pressed up against me, it helps me sleep. You said, “You’re beautiful.” I looked up at you like you’re the world and you just think I’m beautiful. Miles away. I really can’t believe I’m here and how I still care about you. And every day I think of all the words I never said. I don’t care if I drown in all the feelings I have for you because I swear you’re made flowers grow in my lungs although they are beautiful I can’t breathe without you here anyway. You said you’ve been to the shadows I hope one day we’ll go beyond that. And now we don’t even talking. I though you would miss me like you used to. But in the end I’m the one who is missing you more than ever. You’re not here. It’s hard to look at other faces when I only want to see yours. I never told you but I fell in love with you like the stars fell in love with the sky, without you I’m empty and bare. I love you too much to let you think I can live without you. And if I don’t meet you no more in this world, then I’ll meet you in the next one. Don’t be late A…
My dear friend,
Thank you very much for accepting me as your friend. I can’t find words to tell you about my gratefulness. May our friendship grow day by day more and more. I have not met you before but, you are in my heart forever. Please reply me with an email and I am expecting too..
Always with Love.
You held me when I cried, held me together – put me back together. I got your nice blue shirt all wet as a summer storm with a year’s worth of sadness. But, didn’t I just meet you in the yard full of crying people and her baby that asked, since she didn’t have a daddy or mommy any more, if you could be her daddy now? You swept her up and said, “Of course,” while you hugged and held her together, and you looked over her sobbing shoulder at me, sitting on the steps. And, suddenly it was like we’d always known each other, somehow. You say we have. I couldn’t remember. Everything immediate, happening and unhappening. Life so messy, it won’t compartmentalize. You so undaunted, always found something to talk to me about. And, I liked it so much. Even though I wasn’t supposed to…we had other lives we brought in with us with other people inside them, messy and won’t compartmentalize. But, was it any consequence? But, once they crossed, our paths kept entwining. You, so insistent. And, soon enough, I didn’t want you to leave me alone, ever…I wondered if the future would save you for me. I can never see that far. And, I wondered if it mattered.
There’s supposed to be a breathing space between lives…clean finish, start the next fresh. Good for everyone, so messy not minding their places. You kept getting up into mine, and I didn’t want it to end. And, they were foretelling the future, saying you wanted one with me. I can never see that far…and in trying invite hopes so high that fall so hard. So much happening and unhappening. For as long as I could stand, I held it back to make a space, imaginary and fleeting as a line in the sand. But you deserve a space, you who held me together when nobody else could. Do you even know what you did for me?
And, finally I let you in, not planned or neatly, but as messy and unplanned as when we met. I felt unlocked and set free to be swept up, put back together. But, I don’t know if the future saved you for me. I can never see that far…but I will watch until I can see you no more. One of us moving away from the happening unhappening. And, I wondered if it mattered. Who will hold me together now? Me, so messy and not minding my places…
In my 25 years of existence, I never imagined myself falling in love with you..maybe this letter can’t explain how much I love you, teds, loving you is the most beautiful thing that happened to me, I love the way you make me smile in your very silly moments, the way you care for me, i love the way you love your family, and your creative ideas, your cooking and photography skills.
I love the way you make me smile,How I wish I could turn back time.. when the time that you’re in love with me.. how I wish that you could love me the way that I love you now.. how i wish that you could just let me love you the way you deserve to be love.. how I wish that all my wishes will be come true someday.. but, I know that’s impossible.. you asked me once who is my “best I ever had”.. it was you and it is still you…I want you in my life not as my best friends, but as my partner in life.. should I wait for you? or should I just let you go.. should I give it a fight? Or just accept the fact that we’re not really meant for each other? I have a lot of things that I wanted to tell you but I know that when I do it again, our friendship will be ruin and I don’t want to risk it again.. as I write this letter right now, repeatedly listening a Christina Peri song with a title of “Arms” … I hope that you will see right through my walls, I hope that you’ll catch me cause I’m already falling.. I tried my best to never let you in to see the truth.. I love you a lot and it hurts me big time, knowing that we can never be anything more than a best friend..
I have collected all our letters, notes and diaries, which were written by ourselves, since high school. It has been 9 years. It’s more than one month since she leaves. She’s holding those papers, wishing she will forgive my stupid things. Leaving my hometown just for her. Now in this huge city, it’s strange that I am so lonely, but true. She will make up my days, enjoy street foods with me, hug me… hopefully you can do something magical.
Send us your love letters! Send us your writing! Send us your ramblings!
Disregard my tangled breaths
Quieten down my beating drums
Don’t listen to my skin vibrating
Ignore the haste,
The rush, that’s bursting out of every pore
Don’t look back
As I come apart
And please be sure
That I will rise again.
To read more by Miriam, please check out her book of poems, Pomegranate Heart.
This website has seen some ups and downs, some good and bad, but all in all, the past 7 years of You Are Remarkable have helped me realize how remarkable each and every one of us is. Thanks for making this a great place and we hope to be around for another 7 years.
Hello, hello! It’s Stacey here. We’re so sorry to have kept you guys in the dark for the past few months. Life catches up sometimes and its hard to juggle everything especially the good things like this website. We want you to know that we didn’t forget about you and we certainly hope you didn’t forget about us.
You Are Remarkable will always be here for you, just not as frequent as we would like. Kelly, the mother of YAR, doesn’t want the feel good revolution to die, so with my help and hopefully yours, we can keep things going! Working multiple jobs and running a website is not an easy feat, so stay tuned for YAR in the future. We are going to do our best to update you with good feelings, positive declarations and all around wonder. We just need to plan a better way to still stay strong at the end of every day for you guys because when things get tough, YAR will be there to pick you up and make you see how remarkable you truly are!
Currently Kelly is traveling back from a glorious retreat in Jamaica among other things. She is working hard teaching young kids to appreciate literature, learning and setting up the process of keeping bees, exploring and traveling (soon to Portugal!), writing and planning to publish, disconnecting from the matrix to connect with the real people around her, and of course, always learning to love herself more. To follow along on her adventures, follow her on Instagram.
As for myself, I’m not living the dream like Kelly while traveling around (I wish!). I’m staying close to home to work my butt off. I’m currently working two jobs as an English professor and a tutor for young students. Struggling with the day to day pressure of trying to encourage people to appreciate learning is both beautiful and disheartening. This is why I think the world needs You Are Remarkable now more than ever! I’m also currently working on photography, art, and writing again. To see some of my work, you can visit my website Pale Beans.
Once again, we’re so very sorry to have disappeared. Kelly and I, along with the help of our other contributors, and of course, any new ones who want to join our team, will do our best to make the feel good revolution alive again. If you have any ideas or thoughts, please send them our way. You may comment below or email us at firstname.lastname@example.org.
We love you and miss you and hope to hear from you soon!
What is in a word, in this word, in any word for that matter? We speak and think and consume these words, this endless being of expression, but they always seem to fail us. We can’t even trust the dictionary. It gives us conflicting ideologies of “Well… the word means this, yet it also means this, depending on the context, of course.” One is truth, honor, goodness even, while the other leads us to negativity, to falsity, to that dark place we are all trying to escape with too much medicine.
So I am proposing a new idea: no longer shall we express ourselves and the world around us with words. Let’s sit in silence and speak with colors, with music, with weather and seasons. Let’s finally take advantage of the commodities around us and eliminate the noise. No longer should we accept the archaic acts of words when there is so much more out there to utilize our emotions.
Cry in color, write in harmonies, speak with the sun.
It’s happening again. It’s happening again. IT IS HAPPENING AGAIN.
I am twenty-seven years old and after retracing old steps today, I realized that I have not progressed, matured, or moved on from anything that has ever happened to me.
I am five years old and alone in my neighbor’s backyard. I am surrounded by green trees and tangerines. I speak to the coy fish and my imagination leads me to the fear of Santa Claus, spiders, and sunny days.
I am still twelve, crying and alone in the school bathroom, upset that no one asked me to be in their picture. I have no friends and I spend gloomy June afternoons waiting for school to be over so I can daydream while the summer burns alive outside.
I am still fourteen, crying and surrounded by over-sexualized philistines who see me as weak, as the enemy. I run off only making things worse and wishing I were dead.
I am still seventeen, crying and sick on the phone with the boy who broke my heart. He’s trying to convince me he made the right decision, trying to convince himself he isn’t what he really is, trying to—bringing me over burritos and memories that were already dead.
I am still twenty-one, crying and screaming at my mother, threatening to jump out of the window. Words are flying out of my mouth, but they aren’t making any sense. I am pacing down the street, looking for a familiar vehicle, looking for sanity, looking for a reason not to end it all like Ben did.
I am still twenty-five, crying and mentally alone while a body sits inches from me, sitting silently and making the pain last far longer than it ever should have. The ideas run deeper this time: oven, pills, razors, overpass. I cannot stop.
I am twenty-seven, lethargic and alone, surrounded by sunny walls and cloudy thoughts. I keep returning to the same dark place. Different people pass through one door, two doors, but then you enter. You stay quiet to allow my jittery fingers to release their fears. You give me a kiss and ask if I’m all right. You tell me I’m beautiful. I take a deep breath and even though tense lips and the black wave returns, at least I was able to float on the surface for a moment.