Good & Bad News

The good news is, I have tapped into my life's purpose, and it is the most rewarding work I have ever done. It is exhilarating and eternal, and it can leave me feeling vibrant and powerful.

The bad news is, I have tapped into my life's purpose, and it is the most challenging work I have ever done. It is difficult and eternal, and it can leave me feeling raw and vulnerable.

I am a teacher. More specifically, I am a yoga instructor and a writer. My work involves a great amount of sharing. I share my practice, my stories, and my heart with my students and readers. It is my most cherished work. I offer euphoric little "thank you's" to the universe everyday for allowing me to be of service in this way.

But.

Here's the whole truth: it takes a nearly super-human amount of diligence to maintain a healthy balance between being "Jamie Alcorn Yoga," and Jamie, a woman in the real world, still learning and juggling life-stuff like bills, marriage, friendship, grocery shopping, birthdays, etc.

And I am not a super-human. I am just me, human.

This post isn't about me, trying to "have it all," though. I'm only trying to give you some context for when I say:

I was having a hard day.

It was just one of those days when you want to hide under the covers. And maybe you should. But you don't. Instead you try to snap yourself out of it by keeping yourself super busy. That's what I was doing: keeping myself super busy, running around and running away from the uncomfortable feeling that things just didn't feel good. I washed dishes, did laundry, ran errands (meaning: walked around Target), and spent over an hour trying to craft an Instagram post, only to delete it 3 minutes after posting it because I felt self-conscious about how personal it was.

At this point, "Jamie Alcorn Yoga" might have advised stillness, mindful breathing, perhaps a gentle meditation. The only person present, however was Jamie; me, in all my panicked, uncomfortable vulnerability. 

So I didn't try stillness. I just kept on circling around, until I ended up at my mailbox, checking to see if there was "anything important."

My mailbox was crammed with mostly unwanted paper--the Trader Joe's Fearless Flyer mailer, coupons for Domino's, a brochure for the dental office a few streets over--but there was also an envelope, addressed to me, from New York City, in familiar handwriting.

Stillness

My curiosity was the first thing all day to break through my funk: I wanted to sit down and open this envelope. But I was a very busy girl, with a lot of important things to do, and I'd been planning on hopping in my car after checking my mailbox and heading down to the beach to go for a run on the boardwalk, etc. So I sat down in my car, and opened the envelope while the engine warmed up. (I simultaneously gave myself an imaginary but smug high-five for my impressive multitasking skills).

Anyway, I opened the envelope, and my busyness evaporated. My mind went still and my body softened, but my heart began to pulse. It was a handwritten note from a friend across the continent, saying she was thinking of me, she was proud of me, and encouraging me in my work.

Simple. A few sentences. But they hit me like an ocean wave and cracked me right open.

And then came the flood: I cried. I cried with gratitude to my friend for sending me the exact words I most needed to hear. I cried with sadness for myself and my relentless self-judgement and expecations to always be doing more. I cried with hope for the little things--these little, human, real-life things that we can do to create powerful change in a person's day, in a life, in the world.

keep it real

What I realized in that moment, sitting in my parked car, holding a note from a friend up to my heart, and crying, was that, in terms of impact and soul-significance, none of the "important" business on my to-do list that day held a candle to this one kind and heart-felt note my friend had given me. The unease I'd been trying to soothe by doing a lot was really stemming from a desperate need for genuine, straight-from-the-heart, made-by-hand contact with another human being.

The lesson I learned was that less is more. We mustn't underestimate the power of genuine thoughtfulness. Sometimes we get so caught up in the whirlwind of "more"--more work, more money, more goals, more health, more do-gooding--that we actually accomplish less good.

Try this today: in a way that is genuine and authentic to your heart, offer kindness and encouragement to another person. Wash your roommate's dishes to show her you appreciate how hard she's working in school. Bake cookies for your co-worker to let her know you're there for her if she ever needs to talk. Wash your husband's car to show him you understand how many hours he's been putting in at the office.

Keep it simple. Keep it handmade. Keep it authentic. Allow it to be enough.

Let's see what big waves we can create with these little things.

Share your story

Do you have a story about the little things? Has someone touched your life by showing you thoughtful kindness? Or have you created the opportunity to share kindness of your own with someone else?

I'd love to hear your stories. Comment below, or message me directly on my Contact page.

Love.

Jamie