Every Day Is a Winding Road

Have you ever heard the perfect song at the exact perfect moment? 

That's basically what this blog is about. Well, actually this blog is very specifically about nothing.

Every day is a winding road, 

I get a little bit closer,

Every day is a fading sign,

I get a little bit closer,

To feeling fine. 

Downtown Nashville. Broadway.

I don't know. It might have been because it was a such a gorgeous day, but I rolled down every window in my car and just blared Sheryl. I didn't even know I liked the damn song.

I couldn't agree more though. Every day is different, seems to be leading somewhere. 

Every day is a winding road,

I get a little bit closer,

To where? I don't know.

Uncertainly,

Liza  Jane

Lean On Me

There comes a time, if someone firmly believes in certain truths, when those beliefs will be tested. There is no skirtin' around the issue.

I say things like "everything happens for a reason," "let go and let God," "trust in the Divine plan of the  universe," "love is the only thing that matters," "how can I serve humanity for the Creator" and "break my heart open." 

courtesy of whimsical-heart.com

Someone who discusses and talks about these deep issues will get her own issues handed to her on a silver tray.

What happens when you pray to be opened is that something you didn't expect so soon comes out of the woodwork and says hey like that old boyfriend you never wanted to see again. That event or person is cloaked in scariness, makes you feel dark feelings lodged within, and it is only an agent for the power we like to call God. 

Yeah, bad times happen. No matter how good of a person I think I am, there is always some experience waiting to wake me up, whether I label it good or bad. Spiritual laziness will get me to some new, painful destination every time.

I can't believe in punishments anymore though. I have to believe in the divinity behind everything. I think it's loving, not angry. I certainly don't feel close to God when I am angry. 

It's definitely a love thing.

If you're going through something, when trillions of people have been through it, are going through it, will go through it, just let it. Feel it make you stronger.

Strength does not look like what you think it looks like either. It involves tears. Oh, and gentleness. Tears, check. Gentleness, come on where are you?

Strongly,

Liza Jane

Boston

To all those who can now breathe in Boston.

Courtesy of Washington Post

To a city that will not be terrorized. 

To a country that won't bow down to fear.

To liberty and justice for all.

Thoughts and prayers and light to all who are suffering because of this tragic event. 

Cheers, tonight to the city of Boston and to the great diversity of this country, our strength and courage.

It is so important in our everyday lives not to fear. They cannot be successful as terrorists if we are not terrorized. 

It's a very interesting time for this country and for the world.

I like speaking in static sentences like this.

God bless, and goodnight.

Freely,

Liza Jane

Traveling Light

Yeah right. I wish.

I've never traveled light in my life. My suitcase is always at least 10 lbs. over the weight limit. And man, it's annoying that they charge for bags now. They'll break your bank if your over the weight limit too.

I aspire to be a light traveler. My friend and co-traveling companion, Harper taught me her secret to packing light. She rolls all of her clothes and stuffs them into a carry-on size. I looked at her like she was doing a magic trick. Still, it's the fact that I bring more stuff. I believe it's what I pack, not how I pack that impedes me. 

Friends Jessie (left) and Harper (right) with me on a road trip last summer in California. That was during one of my blogging breaks last year. I didn't get to tell you about that one. No need to cry, I'll tell you some stories from that trip. Although, you really don't get a whole lot of stories from any trips. But it's like, who has time to blog when they're on the trip. And then who feels inspired afterwards when they're worn out from the trip? Nobody. Though if I did blog about them, I'm sure they'd be the best. 

Everyone's suitcase was huge. Except Harper's and it fit right in the back seat between the two people who happened to be sitting in the back. 

This is all just one of my tangents. This post is actually not about traveling or packing (although I am doing some hopefully light packing today--destination will be revealed this weekend). 

I'm reading this book by certified nutritionist and yoga teacher (dream jobs to me, yes) Kimberly Snyder. It's been awesome--Beauty Detox Solutions is the name of the game. Anyway, she says to eat the lightest foods first. Because health, energy, and beauty are all about digestion. When you free up the energy used in digestion, you get awesome skin and hair and apparently become this major badass. Cape and all, you start flying.

To me, it's the whole traveling light theory. So fruits, if you are going to have any, need to come first. In fact, fruit just needs to be eaten by itself. First thing in the morning. Wait 20 minutes before you ingest any other goods. Then it's greens and vegetables. That's why you get the salad first in a meal. It leads the way to fiberously (made it up) clean the intestines before the rest of the stuff gets in there (plus, has added enzymes that greatly help with digestion since a lot of enzymes are spent in that process). Then she says go with the grains, then the starches, and then animal protein if you want to clog your pipes for good. I'm just kidding. But really. So light to heavy. 

As I'm reading this, I'm thinking, "Okay, so I do need to hire a cook and a server for all my 3-course seasonal, organic, local meals."

But it's not about being perfect. Like with my packing, it takes baby steps. So tonight, while I cook my potatoes, I'll snack on a little cucumber. Wait, actually I think that's a zucchini. I had to type zucchini five times before I got the spelling right. One time, in seventh grade, I won a spelling bee on that word. Anyway, I'll be eating my zucchini and packing only one nightgown for my trip tomorrow (while dodging a tornado apparently). Baby steps. 

Imperfection is so perfect, isn't it?

Lightly,

Liza Jane

Green Onions

I've been conducting a little experiment. 

Before you read on, I would just like to emphasize that this is a little blog, and it is, in fact, about nothing. 

Someone told me that onions make you have weird dreams. And because I am an extremely light sleeper, I sometimes feel like I watch my dreams like I would watch a movie on the big screen.

Booker T. and the MG's is one of our favorite wannabe-hipster vinyls.

Since I am so into this psycho-analytical stuff that I've been reading about, I decided to conduct this experiment in a biuseful (made that word up--means to be useful in 2 ways) way. 1. I would figure out if onions really do make you have strange dreams or if they just make you more lucid during sleep. 2. I want to look at my dreams and see what the subconscious is trying to say. 3. Does my partner still want to get close after an onion manifesto?

All I've gotten so far is that yes, onions make you more lucid in sleep. And well, I've got some serious anxiety issues. My dreams all over the place. 

Though one night, I was having a hell of a time at this party at this house in the woods with almost everybody I know. I even remember thinking, "This is a nice little, fun dream." We were having such a good time until a tornado came through, and no one would listen to me that it was coming. So I had to go hide by myself with my old cat Cinco under a bed with barbed wire underneath it. 

So strange. One time I got a job or something somewhere. They took a picture of me with a polaroid camera. The people said they couldn't hire me because I had a ghost attached to me, and they have a very strict non-ghost policy. I looked at the picture and sure enough, there was a light coming out of the back of my neck. So weird. So naturally, I called to the ghost and asked it what it wanted. It formed in front of me, and that's when I reached out and grabbed Jackson's snout, nose and mouth. Jackson had mounted his head on my side of the bed in real life and had to go out to go to the bathroom. Or maybe he was aware somehow of the whole ghost situation.

So yes, I believe the onion-weird dream hypothesis. Strong and bizarre dreams, in deed. As for what they mean, I have no clue. I will not ever know. They are too crazy to begin to understand. All it says to me is that I have an overactive and complex mind. Something I, and every person in my life, could already attest to.

As for the leaking eyes, breath and onion odor in general, that part of the hypothesis has been confirmed. Cry it out, wash your hands and brush your stinking teeth. It's the sulfuric compounds.

Funny fact about onions: they were revered by the ancient Egyptians and seen as representing eternity because of their concentric shape. More than a cup of water is contained in a regular onion. Also it's an excellent source of Vitamin C, is thought to lower high blood pressure, reduce the risk of heart attack and cancer, due to the flavonoid quercetin and phytochemicals. 

Vegetables are so cool. At the risk of sounding like a 4th grade teacher. 

Odorously,

Liza Jane

Gypsy In My Soul

Makes me pack up my bags and go,

Looking out at that deep blue sea,

I guess it's just the gypsy in me.

I read a really interesting book recently. It's called The Hero Within by Dr. Carol S. Pearson. She talks about the main six archetypes of our psyches. Basically, by looking at the heroes of major legends, events, stories and literature of human history, we see that the psyche of the human mind is composed of these different prototypes, depending on where we are in life, what kind of family we were raised in, what kind of culture and family we live in now. 

There was one archetype that my mind identified with big time: that of the Wanderer. At least, right now that is where I am. I got to go. I don't know where, but I think it's everywhere. 

Cherry trees at the Tidal Basin last weekend. Washington Monument piercing the blue sky.

So if you are going through a Wanderer phase, you might be doing either some wandering or wondering. Both of are activities of the Wanderer part of your psyche.

President Obama, you in there? We got a lot to talk about, buddy. 

What I mean by that is that the Wanderer takes on many forms: that hippy stage you went through in college, your desire to get away on vacation, your desire to travel the world, the road trip you took last summer, the constant daydreaming at work, the need to learn about a different culture, to read different types of books, learn new stuff, or even the need to live somewhere else (you'll notice a lot of people go off to live somewhere else for a portion of their lives and then come home to stay in the place where they were raised eventually).

Stuart (my gracious hostess and psychology student) and I posing in front of the House.

This has Carl Jung written all over it--this archetype talk. Dreams, psychoanalysis, the whole deal. 

I love all this psychological, psycho-spiritual stuff. So fun to me.

A few cherry trees peaking right before my very eyes. 

The Wanderer in my psyche wanted to see the cherry trees in DC, and last weekend I made it happen for her. It was gorgeous. I felt blessed. I was with friends that love and know me. It was a glorious spring day last Saturday. 

It was cool to see both the blooming and the peaking. 

It is safe to say that the Wandering part of my psyche is greedy. She wants to go everywhere. I mean, everywhere. Except for Alaska, Antarctica, Greenland, and northern parts of Canada. She even wants to go to the moon!

Mary Brette and Stuart

I realize that talking about my own personality like this is somewhat schizophrenic. 

They are from Nashville too. Nothing like being with close friends who have been with you through a lot. Longevity is important. These girls knew me through some dark days. 

But it is the manifesting archetype in my mind, at this point. Maybe always. Who knows? A lot of people's whole lives are dominated by one archetype. The important thing is: don't repress it. Repressed  parts of the mind end up acting out in bad ways. People who repress the Wanderer part of the mind end up doing crazy stuff. Leaving, losing it, getting all out of balance, depression, a constantly daydreaming mind. 

Nothing wrong with daydreams but at some point, you've got to get on with it.  

At the Reflecting Pool, the Lincoln Memorial behind us. 

A lot of the times, your dominant and weaker archetypes are determined by your culture and family. If the Wanderer is not strong in your genes or encouraged in your family/culture, there is a good chance you don't really like to travel or don't want to live anywhere else. That's you, and that's okay. But my Wanderer was definitely encouraged, bolstered even. 

The old Post Office--beautiful building. 

The other archetypes are the Orphan, Warrior, Altruist, Innocent, and Magician.

Packed National Mall. So. Many. People. From the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. 

You got to respect where a person is on their journey. If you can't understand why someone you love wants to live in a different country, or wants to quit his job to write a book, or is constantly daydreaming, you have to respect they are at that stage. Their psyche wants to express that part. It will manifest, positively or negatively. 

Ole Abe made me homesick for Jackson. I don't know, they both seem so wise.  They both have beards. Is it so wrong to compare my dog to a revered president? 

Anyway, you might be going through a Warrior phase, and your gut is telling you start some kind of challenge or endeavor that you fear starting. So your Warrior might be coming out by arguing or fighting with someone you care about, or any stranger you meet. A repressed archetype is dangerous. Let it out. Let that part of you fly. 

Speaking of Warrior phases--Thomas Jefferson. America's first author. 

Jefferson was aware of the need to respect the changing tides of people, the different phases of people and, in consequence, the nations of those people. Check out the quote below:

If you can't read this that well, my bad. Basically, TJ says that governments need to change with the times, with the people. That old laws sometimes won't work for new times. No unnecessary changes, but changes that speak explicitly to the equal rights of all humans. Something we need to pay attention to right now, especially. 

We're talking about integrity, which means to be an integrated being. Ignoring parts of the psyche does not equal integrated. We've got to integrate every part of our minds, even the parts that want to do crazy things. What are those parts trying to say? Are we repressing something? 

Pull it together over there.

We're talking about balance too. We're talking about facing parts of personality that might have been screaming for years for attention. In what ways have they been repressed, ignored, and emerged like an angry teenager later in life? 

At the MLK Memorial, there were powerful quotes from his speeches. I loved this one, and the one that follows.

Respect and compassion for others, attention and alert awareness for ourselves. 

No repression, no depression, no oppression.

I believe in the soul, mind and body. I think the soul informs the mind which then informs the body. 

I've got to let that gypsy girl out! She talks way too much.

Wanderingly,

Liza Jane

Livin' La Vida Loca

I am crazy.

For those of you that know me, even a little bit, this is no flabbergasting shock.

Mary Brette, one of my closest. I'm the girl on the right, the one who looks glazed over and mildly insane. 

But they say there is a good crazy. Crazy people make things happen, apparently. 

If there is one compliment/insult I've heard over and over again since I could understand, it has been something along the wild/nuts/crazy line. 

So there is a very specific formula I use to get back to this deranged phenomenon. I'll break it down for you:

-not much sleep

-a pinch of selfishness

-travel during a certain time of the month

-no AC when it suddenly gets hot, all of a sudden, out of nowhere--like really hot

-some kind of virus that weakened the immune system in the beginning of a fun trip to a big city to see family and friends

-oh and allergies that almost drown one in one's own mucus

-drinking when you really don't drink that much anymore (I'm serious, not that much, that's not a joke)

This drink is called the Gettysburg Address: a botanical vodka, beet puree, ginger syrup, Veev Acai, fresh lemon.  Had it this past weekend in Washington DC. 

I was feeling fancy and fine, teetotalling on my barstool. FLASH OF INSPIRATION (this just happened as I typed that): I'm totally into tea. Tea Totaller: A Tea Bar. Oh my goodness. 

Anyway, there I was. Looking at the bar menu--looked delicious. And that drink was my first and last decision on that menu. I had one past my limit, which was one. I would have had about 17. Just for the pure taste of it. I tell you no lie: the best drink I've ever had. Then off the night goes. When a gal like me has more than one, I usually stop. But in celebration of happy life events for both of the close friends I was with and in ecstasy at being in a city with so many people (although at the same time a panic attack), we kept on joyously, and it was a fun night. 

The next morning was not the most fun. But look see, I had a delectable brunch. Kale and eggs on a polenta patty with truffle parmesan fries. At a place called Firefly.

This meal and my bloatedness created the effect of a premature, fast-moving pregnancy.  The pop belly came on strong. I can't say I didn't smile at the stares and hold the underside of my belly in a nurturing way. 

Walking back from brunch I saw this beauty. Golden retriever. This was not my first moment of homesickness for my both of my babies at home. 

So this little recipe for disaster did not serve me when I returned to my home. 

Apparently, this is the worst allergy season ever. EVER? They don't even have anything to compare it to. They are just saying ever. Not since 1995. Or 1917. Just plain ever. 

The worst place in the worst season ever? Oh yeah, the area that I'm in: Jackson, MS and the surrounding areas. Great. My husband is an asthmatic farmer. 

And I'm puffy like a marshmellow, coughing up colors of the rainbow, blowing my nose 17,177,117 times a day. Sometimes I can't talk. Sometimes I can't breathe. Sometimes it's both. Hell, sometimes I can't hear or talk or see. I'm like all three bad little monkies in one crazy woman with an immune system that seems to be off like a gypsy, on its own little trip. 

My holistic answer to this mess? ACV: Anti-Crazy Vaccine. 

Otherwise known as Apple Cider Vinegar, with the mother. Take a shot of a few tablespoons of the stuff in organic, unfiltered form (try to return to normal life after 5 minutes, don't spend too much time with your whole face scrunched up for aesthetic purposes--wrinkles, try to loosen up after your body stiffens like a board, hold back the temptation to spit it onto a person close by--just don't do it in front of other people actually) with a little bit of water and some local honey.

Local honey. Mississippi representing on the Mall.

When it comes to allergies, it's livin' la vida local. Get that local honey in your system. Eat it with peanut butter, put it in your tea you teatotaller, best be puttin' it in your ACV if you don't want to punch a wall out after you shoot it, spread it on top of your eyelids, stick it down into your ears, wipe down with it after a bath and get in a naked wrestling match with your partner. I'm just kidding. Or am I?

I just wanted to confirm for everyone that I was crazy.

We're all working on our craziness. Whether towards it or away from it, I don't know.

Locally,

Liza Jane

All You Need is Love

Remember how I told y'all that I was soooo good at April Fool's Day, yesterday?

I forgot to knock on wood. I forgot to remember that I am in fact not the mentally toughest person in the world. 

Girl (or boy), I got tricked. And it came from the most unexpected place. About 30 minutes after I told Will I was going to South America for the summer to get an Ayurveda certification (he believed and was shocked), I dropped my phone on the floor while I was carrying a pile of laundry so I couldn't pick it up. Will was walking behind me and picked it up for me.

"Your screen is shattered."

"Dang, really? I knew that was going to happen since I took my cover off! Dang! Man, I knew it!"

He set the phone down on the counter, and I walked over. It was perfectly fine.

"April Fools!"

He got me. In a perfect way: so easy and believable, built into the very fabric of our lives, not overly dramatic, but simple and sneaky. 

After all my bragging. The one I least expected to trick me. But at least I had just gotten him. 

Lately, I have been feeling guilty. This is not good. It's not that I've done anything overwhelmingly terrible; I think it's all the little things that aren't aligned with my values.

I was raised Catholic. We went into the scary little room to confess our sins face to face with a priest every week I believe. After high school, my conscience was no longer. Thank goodness, it has developed again. But now I'm like, "Dang, conscience. Get out of here. You make me feel like poop!"

So I thought, in light of the sacrificial manner of Easter and its events, I would go on and confess my unconsciousness, light up the darkness. To y'all, my wonderful blog audience. (By the way, I wonder about y'all all the time. Is it just my dad and some close friends from Nashville? Or are there more of you out there?)

So here goes nothing. 

I'm sorry for:

-being righteous (big one)

-being late

-judging

-driving over the speed limit 

-procrastinating

-forgetting gratitude

-being preachy and hypocritically forgetting to practice (most guilt there)

-not giving and loving as much as I want to

-inauthenticity

-being a judgmental hypocrite (oh, have I basically said that?)

-being jealous

-lacking self-discipline

-resisting the moment

-getting caught up in the tiny thoughts and things that won't be worth a darn in no time

-road rage (genetically inclined)

-the my-way-or-the-highway mentality I sometimes fall into

-perfectionism

-pizza and cookies

-ice cream too

-over-reacting rebellions

-being fearful and paralyzed in the face of my big dreams and goals

-believing in optimism and positive energy to nth degree, and then turning around with a cynical comment attached to negative energy

-the fact that I know better

These are just a few. I realize it looks like I'm being hard on myself. But somebody's got to do it! I've got to call myself out. Because if somebody like my husband does it, I'll be committing all of the above. 

I feel so much better, honestly. Now that you know most of the dark things about me. Now you can say to yourself, "Dang, this girl has some baggage." And you might not want to come here anymore to read this insane girl's comments on life.

Or we could start over? Now you know. Perhaps, you're suffering from some of these things too. No?  Come on, look deeper. You don't have to blog about it. Just bring it into the light. Transparency = Clarity. 

Anyway, I want to talk about the things I love. I'm sure you've gotten the gist of what they are: (in no specific order):

-yoga

-holistic nutrition and wellness

-spirituality

-travel

-people I love

-books and writing

-ideas and imagination/abundance/creativity

-my dog and/or my husband

-natural life on the farm

-sometimes fashion/design (mostly will continue complaining about that topic)

Shaving and trimming this blog into things that I love only. So that I can better serve/love you. When you got love, you really don't need anything else, do you? Got to have passion too. 

Maya Angelou said, "When you learn, teach." So I guess I enjoy both learning and teaching. And when I find something that enlightens me, I'd love to pass it on to you. This is a wellness blog on a very different level, incorporating all facets of your life into one whole, happy existence. 

There's nothing wrong with love, and there's nothing wrong with giving yourself some help. If you think there is, perhaps you should question the voice that tells you so.

Lovingly,

Liza Jane

Everybody Plays the Fool

No exception to the rule.

Aaron Neville's grammy-award-winning song. 

Happy April 1st! After all my griping and bitching, we have received a beautiful day, special-ordered, custom-made. This is the first day of spring to me. 

April Fool's Day. I'm not the gullible type. I was taught early on on to defend myself against foolhardiness on this holiday that honors tricksters, swindlers, and scoundrels. 

My mother is one such. One time, while I was on a wild spring break trip senior year of high school, she called me at the hotel to tell me she saw a naked picture of me on the Internet. Now that would never happen, duh. I told her that could not be possible, but in the back of my head, I was panicking. What in the world could have happened?

Then I realized that she didn't know how to get on the Internet. Then I realized I was a fool. Since then, I have hardened my protective shell. It would be extremely hard to trick me on this day. I wake up ready and waiting. It's April 1st, look out.

So I thought about tricking you with some crazy news. But I just couldn't find a happy medium--between something stupidly small that you would not care at all about or something insanely huge that would shock the daylights out of you.

Usually, I'm one of those April Foolers that goes a little overboard: The house is on fire! I'm pregnant! Someone is trying to kill me! I got arrested! All of the above! (What a crazy day that would be--like a Quentin Terantino movie).

Not funny. And somewhat inappropriate. Maybe a bit harmful to the parasympathetic nervous system of the person I'm tricking--against the yogic philosophy. 

I figure this much: there's plenty of laughing going on today. Let's hope you get tricked. So you toughen up. 

To be continued tomorrow: All the ways I have been a fool. And all the ways I have chosen to love, even though I am a fool. I am revamping the blog. Laughing at yourself, if you are in fact an April Fool, is about as holistic a medicine as you can get. 

Foolishly,

Liza Jane