still seaside in my mind

"i get by with a little help from my friends." -the beatles

just got back from a long weekend in Watercolor, Florida with my fav pilot and his beautiful wife- ed & micha- and one of my favorite sorority sisters- K.Kirby! i'll post pics (the pictures on this post are from my birthday in march, just wanted to put faces with names) and stories soon. it was one of the most adventure filled and rejuvenating trips ever. here's one a fun one for now...

scene--- riding beachcruiser bikes at midnight in watercolor. we're driving over a bridge.
me (gazing out over the water): guys, isn't it beautiful here at night?
ed: do you see those people ahead?
me: gosh, it's just gorgeous
kait: ashley, do you see those people right THERE?
(i suddenly fly past a couple on the bridge, missing them by an inch or two)
me (yelling back at them): oops! so sorry! so very sorry
(my friends fall off their bikes dying of laughter)
kait: you almost took out those people! they were plastered to the railing.
ed: i think the girl considered jumping off the bridge...and they thought they were going for a romantic stroll...
moral of the story: watch where you are going.
and don't drink bourbon while behind the handlebars of a beach cruiser bicycle.
or you could end up behind bars- in jail!
eeeeekkkkkkkk

"The best thing you've ever done for me is to help me take my life less seriously." -the indigo girls

be still...

"If I'm losing balance , I stretch higher and God reaches down to steady me. It works every time, and not just in yoga." - Terri Guillemets
I realized last night that I hadn't taken the time to reflect on a great recent experience.
Two weeks ago I went to a workshop at Sanctuary for Yoga in Nashville. The studio is located in the green hills area and let me just say that this place lives up to its name. It really is a sanctuary (see pictures)! The owners are the kindest human beings. I've been going to yoga workshops for two years. I go to learn. I go to practice with people that I don't usually practice with. I go to learn from an instructor that I've never taken a class with before.

So before it began, I ate at Whole Foods with my friend David. He and I attend the same workshops in Nashville and we practice at the same studio in Bowling Green. He is a great mentor to me. He's one of the kindest, most centered human beings on earth. We are quite opposite especially since I tend to be high strung and he's the picture of calmness. We really balance each other out. It's really cool for us to reflect back on all of our workshop experiences over the past 2 years. We have practiced with men and women from Boston, Miami, Australia...the list goes on and on. We learn something new and exciting each time that we take back and try to incorporate in our daily practice. The workshops are pricey, but the experiences are priceless.

I get very intimidated when I go to these workshops for many reasons. First of all, in Bowling Green I am a big fish in a small pond. Not a large number of people practice on a regular basis compared to bigger cities like Nashville. I have been practicing for 3 years, which is a small number compared to people I meet that have practiced for decades.

More than wondering what the poses we'll go into or what the music will be like, I wonder about the personality of the guest instructor. I wonder about their background, upbringing, views on faith. It is fascinating to me to meet someone for the first time because before they start speaking, I try to guess what they will be like and the possibilities are endless.

These two instructors were no less appealing than the others. They held my attention from the minute I walked into the studio. They were a young couple- Krista & Brock Cahill (shown in the pictures). They are from lala land (Los Angeles). Krista had a confidence that was contagious. She wasn't cocky or arrogant though. You just knew the moment she started speaking that she had a strong sense of self. Brock screamed adventure. He was very animated and had an unbelievable amount of energy. He was such an encourager throughout the workshop. It was my favorite workshop I've ever attended.

Yoga is a daily reminder to me to be still and know that he is God. The instructor of my very first yoga workshop I attended kept repeating "be still and know" during final savasana. At first it bothered me that he didn't add the last part "that he is God." But gradually I have discovered that the instructor simply guides us into stillness. It is up to us as individuals to apply our faith into our practice. As a Christian, it is an instinctive impulse to incorporate prayer into the meditation.

I'll leave you with a picture from when I initially started practicing yoga. I often look at this picture when I am feeling overwhelmed or frustrated with life. It is a reminder to me that it is quite easy to be still and find peace, even in a world of chaos. In yoga we say namaste at the end of class. It means "the light within me reaches out to the light within you." So namaste my loyal reader(s). Namaste and Godspeed.


"Vogue and Self are putting out the message of yoginis as buff and perfect. If you start doing yoga for those reasons, fine. Most people get beyond that and see that it's much, much more." -Patricia Walden

her cup runneth over...

As in the case of wines that improve with age, the oldest friendships ought to be the most delightful. --Cicero
I don't remember a time when Laurel was not in my life. I am two and a half years older than her, but we might as well have been born the same day because my earliest memory contains Laurel. There's something to be said for that...for that person that has been there as long as your memory goes back.

Laurel's mom and my mom have been best friends since they were in 5th grade. Pam, Laurel's mom, served as maid of honor in my mom's wedding. My mom served as matron of honor in Pam's wedding. If I was Catholic then I'm sure at some point a ceremony would have taken place making Pam and her husband my godparents. They are family.

The Laurel I know now can be described sweet spirited, elegant, intelligent, and displined with both work and school. The Laurel of my youth? Hell on wheels. She sang country songs at the top of her lungs. Drank a gallon of milk a day. Drug a dog named scooter around like it was a cabbage patch doll. Insisted on opening my birthday presents along with me at my birthday parties. Picture all that behavior combined with her also being the most adorable little girl you have ever seen. Her mom dressed her in the cutest children's clothing. She was the definition of the expression "awwww." Behind that though was guts and glory. She knew right out of the womb that it was just a matter of minutes before she was going to hit the stage and so therefore spent her young years preparing for that debut. I just knew she'd eventually have a tattoo. And a boyfriend name Zeke. Think Gretchen Wilson and that's what I thought Laurel would become. I would have taken her as a country music star, probably would have begged to have been her personal assistant. I am pleasantly surprised though to have seen her grow to be one of the most eloquent, mild mannered, and graceful women I know. A person of faith who wants to be a teacher. Little Laurel? Rambunctious. Adult Laurel? Classy.

When Laurel was little, she thought I hung the moon. No exaggeration. She acted as if I was literally the coolest person on planet earth. I remember going out to eat and if the waiter asked her what she wanted before they asked me, she'd say "Ashley, what are YOU getting?" This ran all over me! One time I think I even ordered something I knew she wouldn't like, to test her allegiance. Didn't phase her. She ordered the exact same meal. I should have been flattered because Lord knows I was NOT the coolest person on earth. I should have been delighted that she put me up on a pedestol. But it irritated me to no end. Then I remember the day that we went to dinner and she didn't ask what I was ordering. It broke my heart. That day I wished for was here and now I didn't want it anymore. I never envisioned a day that she would assert her independence and not strive to be just like me. If you are not convinced yet how much she loved me, let me tell you this: I nicknamed her Wart when she was younger. I don't remember why I started calling her wart but I did. I think I said it was because she never went away. She didn't even mind that nickname. Pretty sure she liked it. She would even write Wart underneath her signature when she sent me a card. Anybody else would have said, by the age of 16 at least, "pick another nickname, that's cruel!" But Laurel embraced it and kept the tradition alive up until a few years ago. And actually, while I'm thinking of it, I'd like to remind her that she's slacking on using that term of endearment when she sends me a card. Bring that tradition back.

Make no mistake though: deepdown I have always seen myself as Laurel's security guard. I will defend her to the death. Even though I don't fight, I will admit that when I've heard a story about anyone being mean to Laurel or hurting her feelings, I've actually considered hauling my hiney to the culprit's house and showing them who's boss. Laurel is so nice that I have never been able to understand how anyone could be anything but kind back to her. Very few people are completely free of mean bones. Laurel is one of those people. She is incapable of being rude or mean.

When people talk about having a sister, I've never felt like I missed out on having one. I never felt envious or jealous. I always felt like Laurel and I were sisters. We are both only children, so we kind of have the best of both worlds. We are sisters in every definition of the word, except we are not blood related. We each have a wonderful set of parents though too that have showered each of us with as much love and affection as any children in the world have received. We have been through countless experiences together: each of us has moved more than once to a different city, we've lost family members, experienced the joy of successes and the disappointment of failures. We've even watched a cow give birth. Nothing has been off limits in this friendship. What connects and roots us most deeply though is not supporting each other through experiences. It's not even that our moms are best friends. It's our bond in Christ. We pray, serve, and worship the same God. I can't imagine a better thing to share with a friend than a common love for the Lord.

Last night I get a text from Laurel that represents another experience in her life that I'll be there for: her upcoming marriage to her fiance Wes!
Last night I got this text from Laurel:
"Shut up! Wes just proposed! I am speechless."
I started to type back: "What?! But you're just a baby?!"
But instead I wrote back: "Did you say yes? ;) "
and she replied: "I don't let a good opportunity pass me by."
The funny thing is that while we were at The Frist on Saturday, I said to Laurel's boyfriend Wes "hey Wes, I hope you're ok with Laurel hyphenating her last name when you all get married, which I'm assuming you all will because we decided in Chicago she may need to hyphenate her last name. " I can't imagine what he was feeling inside knowing that he was about to propose.

So, I'm writing this to the loveliest girl I know. I hope she realizes I'm filled to the brim with excitement over this news. Her living out her dreams brings me as much joy, maybe more, as when my very own dreams are fulfilled. I am writing this also as my plea to her to not decide to elope. I know she is humble and doesn't like receiving a ton of attention, but I hope she'll let me be there. Whether it's a huge event with a gazillion people or a small affair with a few guests, I hope she'll let me be there. Because, with a few exceptions where I've failed to be there, I've been present for all the other big events of her life. This should be no exception. So please let me be first on the invite list. And when you send it, in the return address section, leave off the return address label. Just simply write Wart... and know that I'm thrilled you've never gone away.

Said Mrs. Browning, the poet, to Charles Kingsley, the novelist, "What is the secret of your life? Tell me, that I may make mine beautiful also." Thinking a moment, the beloved author replied, "I had a friend."

the journey to the view.

Yesterday I went with two of my favorite guys to Climb Nashville. It's a gym where you can climb walls. I kept saying to one of them leading up to going "I don't think I'm going to like this. I don't understand the point? Why do you climb if you're not climbing outside for a beautiful view at the top?" He just kept saying "you'll like it, I promise you you'll like it." Being combative me, I went on to say "I just don't get it. I mean I get climbing to see a sunset, but climbing to see concrete on the floor of a building? Whatever floats your boat though. I mean I'll go, but don't expect me to like it."

So I climbed. And I didn't just like it. I loveloveLOVEDit! And this is what I discovered. You don't climb solely for the view. You climb for the journey to the top. It's the journey that counts.

How many of us have received some recognition, award, diploma and were flooded with memories the moment we received it? That's because everything that led up to that moment was just as important, if not more important than that moment. When I ran a marathon a year and a half ago, I didn't go on and on about what the finish line looked like. Of course to finish was the goal. But I talked about the journey. I talked about the people I ran with along the way, the pain I felt, the monuments I saw in DC, the pain I experienced, what ran through my mind, the pain that lingered, what people said to me as I ran by, have I mentioned the pain yet? :)

Now don't get me wrong, of course I was thrilled to finish. Finishing anything in life is a beautiful thing. Following through on commitments is so underrated. I'm learning that slowly but surely. You start anything with the anticipation of finishing. But what I'm saying is, it was the pictures I took along the way I treasured, not the medal I got at the end.

My mom read me a poem a long long long time ago about how people view life. The poem was about this person on a train ride, with a lot of stops before the final one. It was basically about how we are always anticipating the next stop, thinking that the next stop will surely bring us bliss, happiness, contentment. Examples of these stops are getting to college, starting a career, starting a family, becoming a grandparent. Instead of enjoying the scenery, we strain to get to the next phase in life, attain the next materialistic thing, or achieve level a higher level of social or professional status. Then we get to that, and we are disappointed. Yes, it's good for awhile, but then we start straining for the next stop. So the cycle starts all over again. The final stop is of course the point when life ends. Her point wasn't that I shouldn't look forward to things or want things, but not to be so consumed with those desires that I miss the ride entirely. As a child listening to her, I kind of furrowed my brow, nodded, and smiled when she read the poem to me. Now I get it. I get the poem. I want to enjoy the ride.

And can I add that I actually did have a view yesterday? My friends smiling up at me. Honestly that's the best view I can think of. Seeing your friends proud of you trumps all other views. Even a sunset.

"When you set out on your journey to Ithaca, pray that the road is long, full of adventure, full of knowledge." -Constantine Peter Cavafy

stop the violence

Please go to womeninwarzones.org and look at my friend Melanie's photography that has captured the injustice going on in Africa. Melanie and I were in journalism school together and I continue to be amazed at HER commitment to using her talent to serve others. Also, if you get a moment watch the trailer for Women in War Zones: Sexual Violence in the Congo. I am passionate about creating awareness for this cause.

Compassion is the basis of morality. -Arnold Schopenhauer