breathe in, breathe out

I've returned to Breath. And, what a difference it's making.

Yoga is amazing. I do it for the breathing exercise, because I always forget how much it does for my body. I don't know why, but I don't think "body" when I think "yoga". Holding those poses while concentrating on breath...whew! My shoulders start to hurt just thinking about it. But, it's good pain. Very good pain.

March has been a month of purging for me. I've been tidying my home (except, apparently, the one table next to my computer) and tidying my mind. I've relinquished relationships that weren't serving me in order to make space for the ones that will. I wholeheartedly believe in the abundance of the Universe, so I logically feel that I don't have to release in order to accept. However, I also believe in the laws of attraction and so I release what's wasteful of my energy in order to attract that which I prefer.

As long as I remember to breathe, it doesn't feel like work.

2008 was a year of selfishness for me. I allowed myself to do things I would have never done in the past because I needed to experience those things and push them aside. I had a list of "Don't"s and "Shouldn't"s and I had to get rid of it. The best way I knew for doing that was to do just about everything on the list. If I couldn't find an inherently logical reason for not doing it, it got done.

I flew my Freak Flag like you wouldn't believe.

But, now, it's a new year. The Year of the Ox. A year of prosperity through hard work. And, I'm prepared to participate in that work. I'm prepared to walk into that prosperity.

The time for petty indulgences is over. I feel purposeful, meaningful, Divine. I feel like breathing for the first time in a long time.

And, so I do.

modesty revisited

I grew up covering my hair. As a Muslim teen, my mother forced me to wear hijab and so I did. I hated it until my senior year in high school, when my mother gave me the choice to stop wearing it. I didn't stop. I figured it would be more trouble than it was worth at that point, so I made some sort of peace with covering my hair that year. My mother had forced me to do it as a way of instilling self-respect into me. She never accepted that I had enough self-respect for the both of us.

In the years since I've moved out of my mother's house and into my Womanhood, I've occasionally covered my hair. I didn't have religious motivations; I just didn't feel like doing my hair. But, for the last couple of years, I've found myself drawn to the idea of covering my hair for spiritual reasons, again. I've struggled with this desire.

Modesty, as a concept, resonates with me. I like the idea of covering. I also like the idea of doing it because one wants to, not because one feels it's necessary as part of one's Fear of God. I don't have a problem with shorts and miniskirts. As a woman, I do have issues with females who walk around in bikinis all the time. Mostly because I feel the reasons people do so have more to do with misogyny than freedom of self-expression. Bikinis when going to the pool or beach? Of course. Context matters.

I truly believe that women should be able to wear whatever they want without negative judgment being foisted upon them. And, even though we don't live in that world, I like to believe it's possible. I suppose I think the discussion becomes a little murky when we get into the reasons some feminine articles of clothing exist in the first place. In the end, clothing is an inherent political statement.

So, back to my romantic notions of modest dress. My main issue with it is that the accepted term for it is "modest dress". It implies that if a woman isn't wearing a long skirt and covering her hair, she's immodest. In my gut, I want to rail against such a notion. In my mind, I think it's not completely off the mark.

But, why does modesty even matter? What does modest dress, outside the confines of religion, mean? Why would a feminist like me involve herself in such an obvious display of social pandering? The questions seem endless.

To end my struggle with the desire to cover my hair, I've begun covering my hair in public. I find that I am hyper-sensitive to the reactions of other black people, because it was black people who shunned me first and most back in junior high and high school. I recognize that fear and console myself. I use the opportunity to practice my affirmations. I use the opportunity to practice forgiveness.

I've been studying Rastafarian thoughts on hair and they're impacting me greatly. I love the idea of hair as spiritual process and spiritual connection to that Higher Energy, that Oneness. I'm finally able to wrap my mind and heart around why I've struggled with the concept of having locs upon my own head, even though I love them and they are my favorite hairstyle.

I struggle with commitment and this struggle sometimes wreaks havoc upon every important area of my life. When it comes to modesty, I've always been the sort of person who keeps her body to herself. Showing belly and thighs was never my thing. But, can I commit to more of a Life Calling when it comes to modesty? Can I be more modest than I already am? Is it a sign of humility for me to do so?

I'm immodest with my tongue. I know that. I proudly wear the Badge of Irreverence. I can be ruthless, disparaging, downright horrible when it comes to showering the world with my opinions and thoughts. Is that the legacy I want to leave behind?

This is where my desire for modesty comes from: the need to grow, evolve, and prosper. Maybe my mother was right. Maybe covering and respect have more to do with each other than I've understood. I wouldn't say that I've lacked self-respect, but I would concede that modest dress helps others keep their more negative energies to themselves.

And, that's really what I'm striving for, in the end. I need to let my light shine while keeping the darkness of others at bay.

I'll call it modesty if I must.