Kava Kava Cave In . . .

The root Kava Kava is said to relieve anxiety, cause a feeling of euphoria and taste like dirt.

All of the above, in my humble experience, is 100% true.

It also numbs your lips, which feels kind of like that "Lip Venom" lip gloss that was such a hit at Sephora however many moons ago that was.

For those of you new to Kava, it’s a root most commonly found in Vanuatu. It is commonly prepared by crushing the root into a powder, mixing it with water and serving it in a coconut shell.  (Visual: Imagine a ginger root and you are on the right track.)

You can find Kava Kava in Whole Foods and other holistic candy stores.  Go to the “Wellness" aisle in a sea of all the other wellness aisles and you’ll find it camped out with the other supplements.

The other day we visited the local KavaSutra in Fort Lauderdale to have a sip before we skipped down the road for a bite to eat.

Now, as someone who manages their Anxiety, Panic and Depression holistically (which means no meds) any time I introduce something, anything, to my system I’m a pretty cheap date.  In other words, I feel it really fast and really heavy.  Even too much tea sends me off and running.  The Kava Kava I had the other day, as it turns out, was a whole new realm for me. 

Hopefully I'm setting the tone of what's to come...

KavaSutra is a tiny little spot off Las Olas.  When you see the gorgeous mural (pictured above) you've found the spot.  The entrance is nestled under a great big oak tree decorated in twinkle lights.  

You’d think you walked into a tiny little dive bar….but there’s no alcohol for sale. Just Kava, Kombucha and some fruit bowls.

We grabbed a few stools and bellied up to the bar, ordered a few coconut cups and proceeded to sip away on our dirt drinks.

Here’s how everything unfolded for me from here:

A few sips in I could feel my lips getting numb, not dentist office numb where you are drooling or anything like that….just tingly "lip venom" numb.

Then, as I’m nearing the bottom of my coconut cup it’s like the weight of an elephant had stepped off my chest and a veil lifted up, up and away so I can see everything in it's crystalline clear beauty.

All of this sounds beautiful, right?

Right.

Because it is.

Until it isn’t.  

What I didn’t calculate after my cheeky smile and eyes wide open glow was the transition back to my own, personal version of “normal”.

For me, that’s where those mean motherfuckers, Anxiety, Panic and Depression settle back into their spots on my chest.

What I didn't anticipate, at all, was that little bit of relief from their mutinous rule opened a door to a room I had boarded up and closed a long, long time ago.

That room was where I didn’t live with these heavy assholes draped all over me in the capacity I do now.

Oomph.

So, as the evening passed and the Kava Kava euphoria exited stage left….the others stomped back in with ferocity.

I wasn’t prepared.

At all.

In fact, the process of letting them all back in and readjusting to “normal” sent me for a spin.

You see, the reality is, sometimes I forget how heavy my Anxiety is.

Sometimes I forget how sneaky my Depression is.

And sometimes I forget how agile my Panic is.

I’ve been living with them, managing them for so long…..a string of minutes without them felt so light I was almost crushed by the weight of them all when they returned.

It was a lesson for me.

Maybe I’m not managing them all as well as I think I am.

Maybe I’m not working my “Tool Box” (yoga, writing, running) as diligently as I promised myself I would. (Note: That’s my agreement with myself.  As long as I’m exhausting all of my options to the best of my ability to manage my “stuff” without meds, I’ll stay off meds.  But if I exhaust all my options and it’s not working, then I’ll consider the conversation of…well, something else.)  

It appears, I’ve been getting lazy, comfortable and complacent.

As Sweet Brown so eloquently said in her interview that went viral on the good ol’ web….”Ain’t nobody got time for that!”.

So here’s to that far away root supplement, Kava Kava, and the lesson in lightness it brought me.

Here’s to working our individual tool boxes to live the best lives each of us can.

Here’s to NOT BEING LAZY.

And here’s to good health…Physical, Mental and Spiritual (in the best ways we can all independently achieve this triumphant trilogy).

I’m going to continue on my yoga, writing, running path...but I’m promising myself I’m going to work it far more diligently so they next time I choose to sip a dirt drink I'm prepared for the reentry.

Onward!

:: Always from under the same sky ::

Tara

Penny For Your Thoughts

I have this special spot on Memory Lane.  It's at the crossroads of Truth, Chaos, Uncertainty & Hope Streets.  It's a hell of a 4-way intersection that could use some better lighting and certainly a cross walk.  But none-the-less, even though it's tricky and sometimes hazardous....it's still special to me.

During the launch of the most chaotic chapter in my life, I found myself a continent away from home and spinning my way through a wide range of lessons (also known as mistakes).

I'm no stranger to following my wanderlust and this night I did exactly that.  I had accidentally separated from my friends after claiming a dance floor in Dublin.  It was a beautiful night, crisp and cooling to my warm (post-dancing queen) skin, so I opted to make my way back to the hotel by foot.

My route brought me over the River Liffey by way of the Ha'Penny Bridge.  I made my way to the center and found a spot against the railing so I could take in the view of my fellow night owls against the backdrop of the illuminated city.

This is the exact spot where Time seemed to stand quietly still and I allowed the world to catch up to me.

All the spinning came to a halt.  I didn't have this overwhelming need to sprint to or from anyone or anything.  No twirls of avoidance or plots of destination hopping. Instead, I just stood there and allowed Presence to walk up to me, take my hand and simply enjoy the view alongside me.

It's a moment that is both haunting and heartwarming. A single and powerful moment that I needed then as a reminder to keep Hope and one that I still draw on now to reinforce how proud I am of how far I've come.

I can tell you from experience that getting lost to get found is an amazing adventure.

:: Always from under the same sky ::

Tara

Images courtesy of (from top to bottom):

http://www.ballsbridgehotel.com/upload/sequencer_images/attractions-3.jpg

Gemini Rising

The other night I found myself assigned to the middle seat on my flight from Boston to Fort Lauderdale.  Normally, I'm a window person but like The Stones say, you can't always get what you want.

So, without any huffing & puffing I squeezed myself into my cozy (which really means claustrophobic) seat and got myself situated for the trip.  For me that means the following ritual: text messages sent, phone off, scarf wrapped around me, bottled water nestled in the seat pouch in front of me and a brand new book in hand. My last step is always a "slow the heart rate, you made it" exhale (since I've missed a flight or two in my day).

You should know in advance that it's not unheard of for me to make long-time friends while flying.  In reality, it's commonplace (once a social butterfly, always a social butterfly).  However, there is no person on this fine planet who could have prepared me for the most unexpected contrast of conversations that were about to take place between myself and my row-mates.

And so it began...

As I was in the process of my pre-flight exhale the passenger to my left greeted me with a warm hello.  He was in the coveted window seat but I got over that as quickly as our conversation began.  He asked about the book I was reading (The Happiness Project) of which I explained I just purchased it so I couldn't speak to whether it was good or not quite yet.  I soon learned that he was in his early 20's, from Russia (Belarus), has been in the States for a year, works his ass off and plans to see as much of the US and Europe as he can before going back to Belarus to settle down. He was incredibly sweet (the un-jaded, early 20-something kind of sweet) and I instantly liked him.  

In the kickoff stage of our chat the person assigned to the aisle seat, to my right, made her entrance.  I was alerted to her arrival because her purse landed on my lap as if a personal trainer had tossed me one of those extra large weight balls without a heads up it was coming.   She plopped herself into her seat along with her Beyonce inspired faux eyelashes, anti-gravity hair and super-sized personality.  Once she was situated she apologized for the intimate introduction, I smiled, responded with a sincere "no worries" and continued my conversation with my Russian acquaintance.

Somewhere along the way, Lady Grace also asked me about the book I had in my hand.  The Happiness Project had proven itself to be quite the conversation starter and before you knew it we were off and running in conversation as well.

She asked if I had read a few other soulful books and soon we were talking about the making & breaking of habits (both take 21 days),  Zodiac signs and what type of music we listened to.  As soon as the rapper Eminem's name was muttered a light bulb went off for her.  She must have known she had an audience.  At this time she proceeded to excitedly excavate her purse.  She started digging through it with her crystal encrusted acrylics, found her iPhone and began click-clacking her way through her files.  It was clear she had something to show us and it appeared to be important.  Once she found what she was looking for, she handed us her phone and said "read this".

And so we did...

It took a moment to fully understand what I was reading but then it suddenly dawned on me...she was a lyrical poet in the form of a gangster rapper.  Her words were so gangster I wasn't even sure I knew exactly what she was trying to say.  All I know is that her "boo" meant a lot to her, she was really pissed off, she didn't want him to go anywhere with anyone (especially some other gangster girl rapper who had some colorful nicknames) and that she was willing to go the extra mile to keep her boo happy.

I looked up at my Russian acquaintance wondering what he might be thinking as he read along.  He was just looking at the screen with a blank stare as I did my best to follow the story this hardcore poet was so eager to share.

When we finished I handed the phone back to her and decided to focus on our shared love of writing, which seemed like a common denominator.  I asked if she ever went to Open Mic events to share her work.  She responded with a sincere and heartfelt "Oh, no girrlllll - I don't spit".  It took me a moment to break the trance her faux lashes had me under (I mean, I was only inches away from them and could feel the wind with every blink of her eye).  I found myself just nodding as I watched them flutter and did an inventory of the slang options for the word "spit".  She must have realized I was processing something so she just gave me a moment as she sipped her vodka drink.  It turns out Lady Grace was a unique mix of gangster and lady wrapped up in one aesthetically crafted bow.  

As the hours passed and with the elegance of a ballerina I switched from conversations about growing up modestly in Belarus to Lady Grace's time as a stripper.  Only to switch again from homesick thoughts of the sweetheart the Russian acquaintance had waiting for him in Russia to the racy boudoir photos and selfies that Lady Grace was eager to share from her iPad.  

Somewhere in the last hour of our flight, everyone quieted down.  My row-mates fell to sleep and I sat there with a huge smile on my face wondering how I was going to give this experience the voice it deserved.

As I sat pondering it all, I realized that not everyone has the interest or ability to follow, receive and respect such diversity in one sitting.  I mean, let's just accept the fact that my conversational pendulum had spent hours swinging from one extreme to the other.

It was in this moment it dawned on me that had I not been a Gemini (with the gifts of duality, flexibility and multitasking) it's possible, if not likely, my mind would have been blown somewhere over North Carolina.    

::  Always under the same sky ::

Tara

Image courtesy of:

Gemini Illustration Courtesy of Silver Ridge Studio

Miss Independent

Contrary to popular belief, Independence (mine in particular) was not a phase to be grown out of but instead a way of life to bloom into.

I have crystalline clear memories of fighting my mum tooth to nail on outfit selections when I was getting ready for my busy days in "Smile Class" (aka: preschool).  She would be red-faced and flustered by the end of the "time to get dressed" ordeal and I would either be puffed up & proud as a peacock for my victory or totally distraught because my creative freedom was being stifled. (It's no wonder my parents decided to put me in an elementary school that wore uniforms.  She saw the red flags and flashing lights and she yielded to them.  Her days of wrestling a 4 year old with the will of a rhino were over. Well played, Mum.)

As the wonder years progressed, so did my desire to stretch boundaries.  Let's keep in mind I didn't really grow up in an overly strict household, so the boundaries that I speak of were pretty reasonable.  However, my evolution to Miss Independent didn't really pay homage to the good old boys of R&R (Reason & Rationale).  Instead I was bursting at the seems to go-go-go and good luck to anyone that muttered "no", "not a good idea", "you probably shouldn't do that" or anything that resembled a warning to move ahead with caution.

(I should add that in addition to a burning flame of independence, I was also host (still am) to the fun, the daring, the always exciting Defiance and Curiosity!)

Now it's really time to party!!!!

Now that my motley crew of characteristics is out of the bag you can imagine what an exciting journey it's been.  High School hiccups and my Twenty-somethings filled to the brim with trip-ups segued beautifully into Mistake Mania and the Who Knew Hullabaloo.  But in the end, I wouldn't trade any of it.  None of the wrong turns, detours, the "are you kidding, how did you even get here?"s.  Not even the what-ifs (though I must admit that those make me pause on occasion).

So what's the bottom line?  Well, life has been far too juicy for me to trade any of it in. My independence lead the way along with my defiance and my curiosity.  Was it easy? No, it wasn't. Was it a direct route?  Absolutely not. In fact, it might have been the most indirect route possible to where I am today. Was I a nightmare for my parents, siblings, level-headed friends and my sweetheart of a fiancé?  You bet your ass I was.

But that's all part of what makes me, Me.  You have to give me the room, the space and sometimes the time to get there on my own.  Don't try to change me, don't try to talk me out of it (we all know that's code for talking me into it, anyway) don't try to dissuade me just because.  All I need is a little belief and I'm certain I'll make it to the point where your path crosses with mine (unless I took a detour, then we might have to rejig the plan...but you get what I'm saying, right?).

As a parting gift to all my friends who share their lives with my fellow Independent Spirits, take a deep, cleansing breath, smile and have a little faith. And when those moments appear when you might need a little more than faith, just remind yourselves that free spirits are not meant to be wrangled.

:: Always from under the same sky ::

Tara

Imagery courtesy of (from top to bottom):

"Miami Supreme" by Tara Mazzeo

"Little T" by Tara Mazzeo

"Do Not Enter" pin via Pinterest

"Curiosity" by Jon Bertelli

Little Dancer George W. Gardner Photography - Gallery - New Orleans, Louisiana. 1972

"A little bigger T" by Tara Mazzeo

Cecil Beaton quote via http://mrsamberapple.tumblr.com