I had never been one to call myself a "spiritual" person. In fact, I didn't even see spirituality as something attainable for someone like me. In my mind, that was a word used to describe shamans, gurus and priests -- none of whom I identified with. I was of the fast-moving, career-driven, shoebox-dwelling, all-black-wearing city folk tribe -- like most people in Manhattan. For the past several years, I had lived what must have looked like quite a glamorous life. I bounced back and forth between homes in Manhattan and South Beach and frequented all the hot spots in town with my collection of suitors to wine and dine me. I was routinely invited on tropical island getaways to jet off and forget my cares for the weekend. This began in my early 20s, when a modeling contract had transported me from the purity and simplicity of Oregon to the concrete land of opportunity and chaos that is New York. Within a week of my big city arrival, the velvet ropes parted and I was on the arm of a promoter. He was paid to adorn the chicest venues with lovely little model ornaments, like myself. I met a new circle of friends, and I commenced with my fast-paced lifestyle.
It took me a few years to completely burn out. I was ill-equipped to handle this new life with any sort of balance. Anxiety and major emotional ups and downs were common for me. I put myself on a starvation to squeeze into sample sizes. When that finally put me in the hospital, I had a wake-up call from my body, slowed down a little and was advised to take classes in holistic health. My teachers preached that not only proper nutrition, but also a spiritual practice were necessary for a healthy life. I absorbed the nutritional information on my quest for greater health and well being, but I couldn't imagine what spiritual practice would ring true for me. Church bored me, the Deepak Chopra book collected dust on my shelf and my one vain attempt at meditation proved futile -- all I could think about while trying to clear my mind and find inner peace was how much my ankles hurt as I sat cross legged on the hard, wooden floor. As a final attempt at enlightenment, I decided to give yoga a try. I enjoyed the effects it had on my physical body, but I didn't feel I gained the same mental calmness from the om'ing and chanting that my Lululemon-clad cohorts did. Was I doing something wrong? I was too embarrassed to ask and felt hopeless, so I gave up on my search. Spirituality was clearly for a crowd separate from myself.
More...
0 comments
Post a Comment