My Rise to 40

Rise, Fall, Repeat

In ten days, I'll be 40 and I'm just beginning to learn how to live! Slow learner? Maybe, maybe not. Most people breathe their entire lives in autopilot, alive, but not living. I can understand that because I was once that person. I was that girl you'd meet that would ignore your name. I'd avoid eye contact in case you saw my truth before I would. I'd recite the best quotes in hope that each word would land on my soul. I was ready to help you, because it helped me too. I encouraged you to stop avoiding, because I was avoiding. And while I inspired you to be happy, I was choosing the opposite. Maybe I helped strengthen your faith in the unknown, which gave me the courage to do the same.
A little over a week ago, I tapped into that courage as I embarked on the most important journey of my life: the journey of my own awakening. I was called to travel to an unknown place, sit with strangers and together, we'd fall apart and rebuild ourselves. Why would anyone want to do that, you wonder? In my case, a whisper was tugging at my curiosity and poking at my fear. And let's be honest, curiosity and fear are essential ingredients for personal transformation. So I registered for an uncomfortable weekend to sit with my suffering (my fears, attachments, frustrations, stress, anger, judgement, criticism, fatigue, blame, and the victim I created). All these years, I thought I was doing that work, but instead I discovered that it wasn't work that needed to be done, but rather release.
My experience transformed my way of thinking, of believing, of being. I sat inside my castle and began removing decades of dust off all my precious gifts. One by one, I made peace with every wound. I stood before 'my family' of strangers and listed everything I was letting go of. I released my illusion of 'who' I was that I attached to a career that made me feel validated and powerful. I let go of my fear of the unknown that held me back from living, and I let go of my past relationship that made me doubt my self-worth. In order to rise again, I had to make peace with my past.
Last year, at this time, I was optimistic that 2016 would bring more growth and self-reflection. It has been a wild year of uncertainty, truth, and awakening. I have no idea what the new year will bring, but what I do know is that I'm unafraid of the unknown. I dumped that fear in Lac Brome last week! I also know that great change is upon us. What has changed in me this year is my attitude towards myself and others. I'm not interested in the mundane anymore. I want soul-connecting conversation so when you walk away from me, you feel rather than forget.
I don't care where you work or what you do. Were you kind today? I don't care where you studied. What have you learned today? I don't care who you married. How great do you love? I don't care what cookies you baked for your kid's class. Did you hug them after school? I don't care how much money you have. Are you happy?
I may have met you once, but forgotten. Or perhaps we've brushed shoulders at a restaurant or sat a row apart on an airplane. I probably judged you or compared my patience to yours. Maybe you know me personally, in which case we've shared a hug. I probably didn't squeeze as tight as I would today. Now, I'd take the time to hear the quality of your breathing to know how you're feeling. I'd squeeze a little tighter to show you I'm present. And maybe that hug might soften your edge. No matter what relationship we may have, I hope I remember to smile and say hello.
This being my last post of 2016 - the end of the Aquarian Age and the end of my thirties, I want to thank life for all of it. For every single person that has crossed my path, unrolled their mat beside me in a yoga class, or smiled at me, thank you for your presence. I recognize myself in all of you. After my 'fall to rise' experience, I want to remind you to LIVE. You can continue life resisting and struggling against it, or you can shatter to set yourself free. I hope you fall, so you can put yourself back together, and rise to meet life in all its beauty. I hope you never lose faith in humanity, as we're all the same. I can only see in you what I'm able to recognize within myself. My message of hope for 2017 is that each individual can fall in love with themselves and accept every piece of who they are. The world needs your light in megawatts. Fall, shatter, rise to shine, and LIVE!

The Untold Truth of Failing the Entrance Exam

As many sixth graders are beginning to write high school entrance exams, I can feel their stress. I still get knots in my stomach thinking back to my time. There I was, sitting at a cafeteria table, feeling so small, struggling to get to the last question. Although I never opted for private school - especially an all-girls one, I had to follow in my sister's footsteps. 

The pressure was thick and even though I didn't want to spend the next five years there, my path was predetermined. Or at least it was, until that cold day when the "accepted or rejected" letter landed on my doorstep. My predetermined path just got hit with a road block! I was REJECTED! I know. You're shocked, right?! Well I can't say I was shocked since I didn't put the effort, but I knew this was bad. I was bad. I was bad for not making the cut. 

With my sister already an honour student at the school, my parents refused to accept my non-acceptance and rallied to get me in. From sending flowers and chocolates to letters of recommendation from my teacher, I was finally given the stamp of approval. But through the emotions of a twelve year old, this is how it played out in my head: "You're not good enough. You don't deserve to be there. You'll never survive. You better NEVER tell anyone you weren't accepted or you'll be labelled the outcast." Those were the words I mentally repeated for the next twelve months. Did my parents make a mistake to push so hard? Would my ego have been spared had I just been sent to public school? What did this experience really teach me?

My parents rallied to get me in because they knew I was good enough. Had they taken the rejection with ease and put me in a public school, I wouldn't have been spared the pain of rejection. That experience taught me valuable life lessons that marked me for life. For the first six months of school, I kept a low profile because I felt like an inadequate imposter. As my parents reinforced their belief in me, I came out of my shell. I broke through my self-judgement, vowing to make my years matter. 

I went on to be class president for three years and on class council the other two. I was winning public speaking and debating competitions. I trained hard to finish a 5 km race; despite thinking I lacked discipline and perseverance. My parents may have fought for my spot, but I made sure to leave my mark. I challenged the status quo and encouraged my peers to think outside the box. My fondest memory was dressing as a condom (inspired by Madonna) for Halloween....in a school run by nuns! It wasn't long before I stood out, wanting to be remembered as the girl who always spoke up, preferred to lead rather than follow, and never accepted defeat without even trying. 

To all the parents riding this roller coaster, you need to know that your children are still developing their self-esteem. The results of these exams matter. They matter to them, to you, and they matter because we all want to be good enough and accepted. The take away from all of this is that no matter the results, your children need to be reassured that they are loved no matter what and their results will not define their level of enough. Each child will pave their path their way. We're there to supply the encouragement that no matter how uneven or bumpy their path will be, we love it just the same. You can fight for your kids, like my parents did. You can reinforce that you believe in their abilities. You can be their loudest cheerleader. What happens now will mark them forever, but how YOU respond can scar them. So be gentle, speak with compassion. And for the parents with honour roll kids who'll be accepted in every school, your reaction matters just as much. Celebrate their accomplishments, but always bring the message back to love. If one day they do fail (because they will), they'll know you love them just the same. Because while accolades can define your intelligence, how you love and feel loved, holds the highest honour.

I didn't get accepted into private school, yet I was successful once I was there. To all the twelve year olds on this journey, including our inner child, remember that these results, "accepted or rejected" will not define who you are or who you'll become. The fact that you're showing up to even write these exams is huge! From my experience, I know this for sure: your toughest competition is yourself and always will be. Only you can really accept yourself before anyone else and you're loved just as you are. Keep shining your light!

For the Subbanator

Dear P.K.,
You've been in Montreal long enough to know that it's Canada's hockey capital. Playing hockey here is a prestigious honour, until you have a bad season. When that happens, everyone becomes a critic, and no player is spared. But I could care less about the game.
I'm writing today about your off-ice personality. As you know, you're by far the best marketed player on the team. You're young, talented, charismatic (still in debate), with a pretty substantial social media following. With that heightened awareness, paired with living in the Hollywood of hockey, you're clearly idolized!
So, when you were spotted out at a popular restaurant yesterday afternoon, you'd assume there'd be fans. Although no one was bothering you, we were happy to see you. After all, you're the guy that brings so much joy to kids and we've got kids! That being said, we had no intention of behaving like groupies. However when we saw you sitting casually, staring at your phone, we thought it'd be a good opportunity to approach you. My friend's eight year old son, who's a diehard fan, was anxiously waiting to see you through Facetime. When we came closer, asking you to simply say 'hi' to her son, you lifted your arm up, clearly disinterested. Needless to say, we were shocked. We understand you want your privacy and when the cameras are off, so are you. But perhaps you missed the fine print when you signed on to be part of this historical organization; you always have to be 'on' for kids.
The Habs are glorified in this city. Every player is admired and adored by fans, especially children. While you were staring at your phone, perhaps researching brand-building tactics, you failed to meet the expectations of a mom and her child. After she pleaded for you to simply greet her visibly eager son on Facetime, you just waved and turned away. Clearly, it was your day off! No media was present, your PR team was on break, and you were uninterested in giving ten seconds of joy to a huge fan.
Expectations are the root of all heartache, yet as fans, we can't deny our excitement when we see players. You're more than oversized skaters with a number on a jersey. To fans, especially children, you're heroes. You give them hope that any goal is achievable and that off the ice, you really do care. Needless to say, you left a mom bruised with disappointment in your reaction (or lack of) towards her son.
In my opinion, the PK Subban brand is overrated. The fact remains that a hockey player is also a public figure. Every smile, wave, autograph is equally as valuable as scoring a winning goal. I'm not sure what was going in your life that day, but if you were having a bad one, you still needed to show your game face. Acknowledging a kid with a smile, a wave and possibly echoing his name, was all we hoped for. Do you not see the worth in your branding power? To sustain your brand value, I suggest you pause your social media feed, look in the mirror, and reboot your human chip.
Perhaps we're at fault for investing financially and emotionally in your brand, losing sight of the inconvenient truth that you're simply that - a brand. Your social media content holds evidence that you're motivated to help sick children. Those very posts are what touch parents and children alike, making you a hero. Yet after our confrontation yesterday, I agree with the comment you made in your Valentine's Day video, "Too much love for one person." I'm not sure you're so deserving of all this love, given your weak return policy. Hoping that the next fan is spared the same disappointment, I leave you with this simple truth:

 



As a yoga practitioner, I can't end on this sour note. I believe there is light within all of us and yesterday, yours was dim. My intention in writing today isn't to piss you off, start shaming you, or open the platform to hate messages. My intention is to simply bring light to the fact that your actions hold much more significance than you may care to know. Be kind...that's what makes a true all-star.

Namaste,
Marisa