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5 Reliable Anchors to Sanity

I am in the middle of a creative explosion.

I could call it challenging, trail blazing, obsessive, divinely inspired, mad, exhausting, blissful, meaningful. High. Fast. Vast. Ferocious (and many more words if I was more fluent in the English language.)

Lets just call it intense.

It is in times like this I get to experience the fruits of the feminine embodiment practices. My practice keeps me sane, and frankly these days, it keeps me alive.

Here are five of my anchors to sanity:

:: I drink Green Smoothie every day. It keeps me healthy, strong, radiant and even though I fly over the Atlantic ocean in bacteria-oozing airplanes every three months, I have not had a cold or flu in more than two years.

:: I pray. I hand it over. I get out of the way, and hand it over to the intelligence that grows the leafs on the three, the hair on my head. For me That takes form of the Goddess. Every morning, I offer it all at her feet. My hopes and devotion, my fears and doubt, my love and gratitude. It all becomes rose petals at her feet. Please use me.

:: I walk in nature. Most often with a sister. We talk and complain and reflect and compost. With wise, compassionate, fun, and truthful sisters + trees, all things fall into place.

:: I celebrate. Whenever I have finished a task, I stop, take a deep breath, and say my YAYYYYY, before moving on. When money comes into the bank, YAYYYYY. Mission accomplished BIG YAYYYY. When we set out to do a task the body mobilizes all it got of hormones, in order to finish the race. If we move straight on to the next task, the body never gets the message that it can release and let go, and as a result we have stress hormones on no-stop alert. Not healthy. So I celebrate, as a practice.

:: I play. When I got out of my self absorbed little unworthiness-movie the whole universe was there ready. To play. When I fully realized that this body is earth, earth is awake consciousness, and that no matter what happens I will not be thrown off the planet, I started to play the game for real. Who cares if I fail? It. Does. Not. Matter.

With love, always with love

Photo: Bibbi Friman