I’m writing a mid-week love note. To you all, and to life.
Today was experienced in full flow. I woke up and had time for my entire morning ritual before a call with an amazing new client. I spent the afternoon pouring over photos from the last few years of my life, feeling love and gratitude vibrate through every molecule of my being. Not because my life has been a fairytale of glamour. In fact, many of my favorite moments have been some of the most unassuming: eating pizza on the floor of our senior house the night of my college graduation, drinking literally the cheapest beer in the world in Hanoi, Vietnam, sitting on a bench in Tompkins Square Park with my two oldest friends on a winter day, checking the waves in Lombok with a face covered in zinc, eating pizza on the floor of my new apartment in Philly the night before I moved in (I love pizza).
And how many of these photos, immediately after they were taken, did I look at and think “oh my god my arm looks fat” or “ I have a double chin” or “I hate the wrinkles around my eyes.” It breaks my heart to think about how hard I’ve been on myself all these years.
No, these photos don’t represent moments of pure joy. On the contrary, if I travel back to the moment, many of these photos bring me to a time of uncertainty, discomfort, and fear. (Starting to finally understand that this might just be what our 20s are about).
Standing under the Singapore Airlines sign with my friend Sam in November 2017, about to fly halfway around the world for a yoga teacher training thinking what in the actual fuck am I doing I don’t even know anything about yoga!! A windy ferry ride in Sydney with my friend Alec shortly after said yoga training, trying to explain to him how everything we know about the world is a lie, and feeling so helplessly alone and scared that I wouldn’t be able to relate to the people in my life the way I once had. Holding Tree Pose in the pouring rain on an island in Vietnam with my Aussie students wondering if I’d ever be able to pull off starting my own business. A selfie at a bar in Philly with coworkers from the restaurant after my last shift… still wondering if I’ll ever be able to pull off starting my own business.
Underneath the gratitude, there’s grief because these moments are gone, and a lot of my relationships have changed. Hell, I’ve changed.
I’ve never been one to get caught up in the past. For me, it’s allll about the future. What’s my life going to look like? How am I going to pull off this shit off? Looking at these photos was such a humbling experience. I could almost hear the voice whisper: Margo, you’re doing it, it’s happening… right now.
Dancing around my room to reggaeton this afternoon, I pulled up Instagram to see what was poppin’. The music stopped. A yoga teacher here in Philly has passed away. Motorcycle accident. I’d taken a few of her classes after meeting her in my favorite witch shop in South Philly. I remember leaving our first conversation thinking ok, I can find my people here.
How fucking poetic is that? I mean this overwhelming gratitude followed by the dark reminder that it can and will all be taken away. Life just blows my MIND!! It’s so amazing!!!
This isn’t a call to action to quit your job, run around the world, end your relationship… whatever. It’s a call to be kinder to yourself.
I’ve read enough Brene Brown to know that kindness doesn’t always look like dancing to reggaeton on a Wednesday afternoon. For me recently, kindness has been accepting that I have a lot of my own pain and holding the space for myself to feel it instead of running around trying to heal others.
I love the fact that I’m a dreamer, that I live in a world of possibilities, and that I wake up excited about the world I’m helping to create. Too often though, it pulls me out of the present. Chasing the next milestone. The day I’ll be able to say I have X number of clients, or own a house, or take this trip.
What if I was already everything I ever wanted to be? What if we all were?
Because the truth is when I look at the pictures I think — wow, that chick is incredible. Sometimes I just — I don’t know — forget or something.
I love you all so much, thank you for being part of this adventure with me.