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Life Imitates Yoga Class

posted 7th February 2012    Written by: Kat    CATEGORY: All Posts, Kat, Quarterlife Crisis, Season 5, Travel, Travel/Adventure, What I've Learned

I remember the day my hamstrings loosened. I have kind of a terrible memory, so naturally I don’t recall the exact date. But oh, the feeling. I was in a yoga class last summer, about five or six months after my teacher training began. As I moved into parsvottanasana – a forward bend that makes me want to punch things challenges me – I noticed that something felt different. That day, my hamstrings didn’t scream quite so much as they had been for months prior. That day, there was space to go a little deeper. I inhaled, straightening and lengthening my spine. I exhaled, folding forward just a little more than I ever had before. It might only have been one-quarter or one-half of an inch, but there it was. Something had shifted, and I was present, breathing, noticing.

Now I have a confession: I didn’t accomplish any of the goals I set for myself way back when in my third post.

In my first few drafts of this post, I wrote an explanation here about why I didn’t complete them. But you know what?

It doesn’t matter.

I wasn’t ready.

Am I now? I think so.

Five months after the beginning of my Stratejoy journey, I’m getting that same feeling in my life as I did with my hamstrings last summer. There’s space now. Things are shifting.

* * * * *

Five months. 15 countries (including the United States and Canada). 37 beds, couches, futons, armchairs, air mattresses, and uncomfortable, questionably clean train seats. Thousands of photographs.

Have I changed? Good lord, yes.

How have I changed? That’s…more involved.

There are the obvious things, of course. I’m no longer working a 9-5 job. I no longer live in Brooklyn; my residence is still transient. I’ve put on weight. I drink coffee now, and I don’t spend as much time on the internet. I no longer hit snooze ten times when Joan Jett yells, “I don’t give a damn ’bout my bad reputation!” in my ear.

The more subtle stuff is harder to nail. Some days, I still feel stuck in the same patterns in which I’ve found myself for years. Other days, I feel like a new person. I frequently find myself feeling so fucking grateful for people, places, and moments that I want to explode with joy. I’m more at peace; I’ve shaken that stressed-out-hurry-hurry-frequently-annoyed attitude that I picked up during my six years in NYC. And overall, I’m feeling truly empowered and happy. I’m sure that there are other things, but those are the ones that I’ve figured out how to verbalize so far.

It seems that the nomadic lifestyle mostly works for me.

* * * * *

While preparing to write this, I took a look at my values from The Joy Equation, which I mentioned in my second post.

Connection. Bliss. Abundance. Trust. Adventure. Courage. Magic. Strength. Without even planning it, I’ve ended up posting about each of those over the past five months. I love when it’s suddenly clear that I’m on the right track, even when I hadn’t been planning every detail.

Seeing in concrete terms that I’m now living my core values feels really fucking amazing.

* * * * *

Though my time writing in this space ends with this post, my journey will continue. Today I’m on a flight back to New York. That was definitely not part of the original plan – but then again, neither was staying in Europe until February. I wanted time for yoga, tattoos, my favorite foods, and friends and family.

And then: Australia. I’m sad to leave Europe, and at the same time, I’m ready to develop a routine again. I’m excited to meet Kate and other new friends, and pumped to start teaching yoga again. I’m gearing up for summer, kickboxing classes, and maybe learning how to surf!

I hope you’ll continue following my adventure:

twitter: shinyredtype
facebook: pierced hearts and true love
blog: piercedheartsandtruelove.com
yoga teaching schedule: katselvocki.com

Thank you all for being a part of my QLC! And as Edward Abbey wrote, “May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view.”

[photo credit: my friend and travel buddy, Jenni]

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Chocolate, Yoga, and 13 Countries: The Past Five Months in Interview Form

posted 29th January 2012    Written by: Kat    CATEGORY: All Posts, Kat, Quarterlife Crisis, Season 5, Travel, Travel/Adventure

The past five months have gone by entirely too quickly! It’s still a little mind-blowing to me that I’ve been on the road for nearly four of those five. A lot has happened during that time, and while the big things are obvious, I think the smaller changes are going to take another five months to process. And that’s okay! I want to keep growing and transforming as I continue working through my QLC and settling into my new life. I’m still so honored that I’ve been able to share this journey with all of you!

What are you obsessed with at this exact moment?

Zotter chocolate, yoga, mochas, getting my etsy shop up and running, visiting my OddDaughter in England, my impending gluten detox. (I’m gluten-intolerant, and I have not been careful during my travels.)

You can time travel but only to the past! What time period/ historical event do you go and experience?

This is an easy one! Every time I talk about Coney Island, I tell people that I want to go there during the early 1900s, when it was “America’s Playground”. Coney Island is literally one of my favorite places on the entire planet, and I’d love the opportunity to experience Luna Park, Steeplechase Park, and Dreamland in their heyday.

If you could be any animal, which animal would you be and why?

A tiger. I find them mesmerizing; they’re so strong, and yet still graceful.

Any person dead or alive, who would you have dinner with?

David Lynch. I think he’d be an utterly fascinating dinner companion, and boy, do I have some questions for him!

What is on your life’s soundtrack?

I planned my final yoga class at my old studio around the theme of overcoming fear. This was the playlist for the class, and I think it’s a pretty accurate soundtrack for my life as well:

In addition to that playlist, I’d add these songs that I can’t live without:

I’ve linked to as many of the songs as I could, so hopefully you’ll go forth and enjoy some new music – and if you like it, support the artists!

If you could be anywhere in the world right now, where would you be?

If I could clone myself and simultaneously be with my friends in NYC, Seattle, Minneapolis, Raleigh, St. Augustine, San Francisco, Vancouver, Edmonton, Oxford, Graz, Vienna, Rabat, Melbourne, Sydney, and Okinawa – well, I’d do that. Since that’s not going to happen, I think I’ll stick with wanting to be where I as I’m writing this: Barcelona!

Who has been your biggest inspiration throughout your QLC?

My yoga kula (community): the ladies who completed teacher training with me and several other friends/mentors. They inspire me every day with their passion, bravery, and love.

If money, education, time, or location were not an issue, what would you be doing for work in life?

It feels pretty awesome to say this: I’d be doing exactly what I’m doing now/about to be doing (teaching yoga, writing, taking photographs, traveling)! I just wouldn’t need to worry about my bank account so much in the process. :)

What was the biggest mental shift you’ve made from 5 months ago to now?

Over the course of my last few weeks in New York, I was seriously doubting my decision to leave and my ability to keep myself afloat financially and emotionally without a 9-to-5 job. Now I feel certain that I did the right thing, and that I can make this all work.

What’s changed? List 10 little sweet things.

  1. I gave up my cozy Brooklyn apartment for a transient lifestyle.
  2. I don’t really mind wearing the same clothes four months in a row.
  3. I’ve developed and renewed so many amazing friendships.
  4. I miss good tacos and bbq.
  5. I’ve learned, once and for all, that my yoga practice – the reading, the āsana, the meditation – is crucial to my well-being.
  6. I drink coffee!
  7. I’ve visited 13 countries (six new ones and seven return trips).
  8. I’m learning to be less afraid of making mistakes.
  9. I’m a pro at navigating new European cities where I don’t speak the language.
  10. I don’t think I ever want to go back to the 9-5 world.

What’s one thing that you’ve learned – in general or about yourself – over the past five months?

I’ve (re)learned just how important it is for me to have a community. I am fortunate to have amazing friends scattered around the globe, but what makes a place feel like home for me is having some of my people nearby.

What would you have done differently on your Stratejoy journey if you were starting today?

I wish I’d put more time into soul-searching (writing morning pages, completing The Joy Equation, etc.) at the beginning. I feel like I’m only now beginning to tackle some of the really big, deep stuff! At the same time, I think that I needed space to get there, so maybe it’s all worked out for the best.

What song(s) will remind you of the past five months?

What is your favorite thing about YOU?

I am so proud of myself for doing things – from minor items to major life changes – even when they absolutely terrify me.

Name 3 things you absolutely love about yourself.

  1. I love that I’m my quirky self; I rock diverse interests that range from the badass to the absurd, and everything in between.
  2. I love that I’m not afraid to cry.
  3. I love that I don’t need a lot of stuff to survive and thrive.

How are you living life on your own terms?

I quit a steady job to travel the world and move to a new country to start a less traditional career path. Despite the concerns of my family and my slowly dwindling bank account – which will be pleased when I arrive in Sydney and also begin selling my photos – I am overall the happiest I’ve been in my life. Even when I get scared (and it definitely happens), I feel like I made exactly the right choice for me, and I love that I’m listening deeply and following my heart.

[photo credit: me!]

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Sex and the Zerbert Test

posted 19th January 2012    Written by: Kat    CATEGORY: All Posts, Kat, Love/Relationships, Quarterlife Crisis, Season 5, Travel, Travel/Adventure

My friend Rebecca* and I decided that we’re going to implement a new test to determine whether we should be dating someone. The name of the test is still in the works, but that doesn’t matter. The point is that we think it’s going to be really useful.

It’s a simple test, really. All you have to do is give someone a zerbert (or raspberry – you know, where you put your mouth against their arm or belly and blow, and it makes a funny sound) and see how they react. Because let’s be honest: if someone can’t handle a zerbert, they’re not cut out for a long-term relationship, at least not one with Rebecca or me.

I haven’t decided at what point I will perform the test, though I suppose I’ll know when the situation arises. It doesn’t seem like first date material; however, I can’t remember the last time I had a typical first date, so maybe it could be. I could ask the basic questions – job (He should have one, and possibly like it.), last book he read (It needs to be something more recent than The Very Hungry Caterpillar, unless he spends a lot of time around two-year-olds.), favorite place he’s traveled (If he doesn’t travel, he gets the boot.), how often he calls his mom (Three times a day is not an acceptable answer.) – and follow them up with a zerbert.

…okay, maybe I should come up with an alternate plan.

I think the most practical application for me will be in bed. Now, naturally, I don’t want to have sex with someone before performing the zerbert test. If they can’t handle a zerbert, why would I want to go all the way with them? I’m thinking that perhaps the first time we find ourselves moving in that direction, I’ll lift up my date’s shirt and attack his belly. If he laughs, we can get it on. If he stares at me like I have three heads, I’ll have to hightail it out of that situation. Because if he thinks that’s weird, he probably won’t be able to cope with my penchant for having Spice Girls dance parties while I cook.

You see what I mean? It’s the perfect test.

This whole conversation started because over the course of my travels, I slept with someone new. Now, I tend to keep this sort of thing to myself – or at least a limited group of close friends, because let’s be honest, we all love talking about sex. I wanted to talk about this hookup in particular because, over the course of analyzing every detail, I realized something: I hadn’t enjoyed myself in bed that much since…2005? 2006?

Over years of worrying whether I look good enough naked, or being pushed away by my ex, or hooking up with inappropriate men, I forgot how much fun sex could be. I forgot what it was like to spend the day in bed wrapped up in each other. I forgot the electricity that can happen when a guy runs his fingers up my arms with fingertips barely grazing my skin. I forgot how good it can feel to get into a tickle war and shriek and laugh. I forgot that we can be silly in bed and that it doesn’t have to be so serious.

I think this guy would have passed the zerbert test.

Now, I do see one flaw with this new plan: someone could pass and still not be a good long-term partner for me. I’ll still have to ask those first (and second and third) date questions, think about whether he’d be a good father to our potential future children, know that he doesn’t hate my tattoos, and so on.

Chemistry and silliness – and the ability to appreciate the unexpected – are good steps in the right direction, though.

*Name has been changed!

[photo credit: me!]

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I Am Strong, Capable, and Beautiful

posted 15th January 2012    Written by: Kat    CATEGORY: All Posts, Kat, Life Lesson, Quarterlife Crisis, Season 5, Travel, Travel/Adventure, What I've Learned

There are a few things that I wish I’d known before I started traveling. The first, of course, is about the disconnect that I wrote about recently; apparently, that’s not an uncommon phenomenon. The second is that I wish someone had told me that I was going to put on weight.

Six months ago, I was probably in the best shape of my life. I was doing yoga regularly, drinking plenty of water and rarely consuming alcohol, and eating foods in response to my body’s needs (plenty of fruits and vegetables, protein as I craved it, no dairy or gluten). I’d finally dropped weight that hadn’t wanted to go, and I felt good in my own skin for the first time in years.

Once I got on the road, though, it was hard to maintain this routine. I haven’t been able to find (m)any yoga classes that I like as much as the ones at my old studio in New York, and it’s been hard to practice at home since I’ve been sharing a room. Though I’ve done my best to eat reasonably healthy food, I also tend to stick with the diets in the places I’m staying – and especially at the farms, that’s meant a lot of bread. (And when it’s not at the farms, it’s meant a lot of meat, especially in Central Europe. My love for that region knows no bounds, but cucumber and tomato – out of season, no less – do not a salad make.) I often haven’t been drinking enough water; I don’t relish using the bathrooms on overnight trains, for one.

The point of all of this is that when I recently saw myself in a full-length mirror for the first time in a few months, it was HARD. It’s tough to write that, because I feel absurd for even thinking it. The fact of the matter is, though, that I have a challenging time seeing myself as attractive.

I’m able to look at things rationally and see that my body is strong and capable. I can do yoga. I ran a 5K in June without training for it, and I was really happy with my time. I walk all over the damn place, including to the top of clock towers and such – even though I’m afraid of heights. I’m learning to play lacrosse because I might be competing in a tournament in Budapest – just because I can. I don’t think I’ve ever been able to look at myself and say that I’m beautiful, though, and putting back on weight that I lost a year ago doesn’t help.

In yoga, we talk about saṃskāras, or mental and emotions patterns. I like to picture them as the squiggly ridges on my brain, each groove representing a thought pattern that I developed over time. This one about beauty is very much present and accounted for, though I have no idea where it began. All I know is that it’s been reinforced over years of ex-boyfriends pointing out “flaws” in my body, of seemingly not being noticed by the men I find attractive, of constantly telling myself over and over that I’m not pretty enough.

It’s an awful way to exist.

I realized something important as I looked into the full-length mirror a few weeks ago. As I saw myself standing there, extra pounds and all, I finally understood the yogic practice of ahimsa. It’s often translated as non-violence, and it’s the reason why many yogis don’t eat meat. I’ve also heard it translated as compassion, though, and that day, something clicked. I’d always thought about compassion being directed externally – be kind to others, etc. – and then it hit me: practicing compassion needs to be internal, too. It seems like a simple thing, and yet, it’s really not, at least for me. How can I be a compassionate person when every day, I tell myself that I’m unattractive or not enough? How is it okay to look at my body and think horrible thoughts about my appearance?

So, here it goes: I am strong, capable, and beautiful.

Writing that feels difficult and vulnerable. It’s hard to read, and even tougher to believe. But you know what? I can’t keep telling myself awful things and expecting others to see me differently, though. Changing this thought pattern needs to start with me, right now.

How can you treat yourself with greater compassion?

[photo credit: me!]

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I Left My Heart in Prague

posted 11th December 2011    Written by: Kat    CATEGORY: All Posts, Kat, Quarterlife Crisis, Season 5, Travel, Travel/Adventure

Nine years ago, I stepped off a train in Prague and proceeded to get scammed by a taxi driver. He charged me over three times what I should have paid – and I knew it – but there was nothing I could do at the time. I was a 21-year-old girl who didn’t speak a word of Czech, and I was trying to bargain with burly men who knew that. The alternative, though, was attempting to maneuver my large, unwieldy suitcase on an unfamiliar tram system, though, and that didn’t feel like much of an option.

I was already regretting my decision to spend four months living in this city. When I chose to go there, I didn’t really know anything about the city or the country. I only knew that it was in Eastern Europe, close to my family’s homeland of Poland. (And when I arrived, I found out that it was actually in Central Europe, so I hadn’t really known anything.) Colleagues from my internship who had been to Prague told me that it was incredibly beautiful, and that I would love my time there.

I arrived in Central Europe two weeks after devastating floods. I flew into Berlin with my ex-boyfriend, who was studying there for the semester, and then I took the train to Prague. After hours of riding in silence, the man sitting next to me told me that we were nearly there. I looked out the window and I wanted to cry. It was ugly. All I saw were tall, concrete apartment buildings – panelaks, built when the former Czechoslovakia was under Soviet rule – and I couldn’t believe it. Where was the beautiful architecture? Where were the charming cobblestone streets? What the fuck had I gotten myself into?

I don’t remember the drive through the city to my dormitory, which was up on top of the hill past the castle. Later, I would notice all of the incredible details on the buildings, the orange tile rooftops, the stunning towers and churches, and the cobblestone streets – things that would become fixtures of my daily commute to my university. Later, I would see all of the damage caused by the floods: the crumbled walls of buildings near the Vltava River, the piles of garbage by metro stations, the closed streets and trams running irregular routes. That afternoon, though, I didn’t process any of that. I arrived at Kolej Komenského, my home for the next four months, and wondered what I was going to do.

That night, I met all of my fellow students as we went to dinner a few blocks away at a Czech pub. I ate smažený sýr (fried cheese) and palačinky (Czech pancakes, which are like crepes) while having introductory conversations with the people I’d grow to know well over the next four months. When things started winding down, I left the restaurant with my roommate and two of our classmates. We walked to the top of the hill – a route we would grow to know well over the coming months – and when we got to the top, something caught our attention.

There was chanting. After a minute, we realized that it was coming from the monastery. It was entrancing. We walked around the building, trying to see where it was coming from, but we couldn’t see anyone inside. While we stood there, listening, I turned around and looked down the hill.

Prague was the most beautiful place I’d ever seen.

As I gazed over the glowing city – especially the domes and spires of churches lit up at night – I was certain that by the end of the semester, I’d take that view for granted. I figured that once things became routine, the city wouldn’t feel so incredible anymore. That never happened. Prague’s beauty and magic stayed with me that semester, and my creativity soared during that time. Something about being there feels electric to me, inspiring and powerful. If you can fall in love with a city, I did so with Prague that night near the monastery.

* * * * * * * * * *

Three weeks ago, I stepped off a plane at Ruzyně airport in Prague, and I bought a transit pass. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and hopped on a bus to the metro. I listened to the announcements in Czech, catching a few words and phrases that I remembered. When I exited the metro, I easily navigated familiar streets and headed to a favorite cafe to meet some friends.

This was my fourth visit back, and it still – always – feels like home. Each time I’ve visited, I’ve returned with my roommate from that semester abroad, and we have a list of old favorites that we try to be sure to see. This time, we spent a day walking through Petřín Park, a place where I spent many hours wandering, reading, and writing nine years ago. As we exited the park near the top of the hill, we passed that same monastery that gave us pause our first night there. Dusk was settling over the city, and looking out over the church tops and orange tile roofs, I fell in love all over again. As my friends and I walked down the hill toward the restaurant where I spent my first night in Prague nine years ago, I knew that the magic of the city will stay with me.

Though this last visit was entirely too brief, I’m not worried; I know that I’ll keep going back. We may have started off on the wrong foot, but Prague and I, we’re connected.

Have you ever fallen in love with a city, or visited a place that took your breath away?

[photo credit: me!]

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