Yep, so that happened again.

My amazing web guru (the one who is in charge of this site) sends me awesome music links, knowing I love new finds but that I’m not always that great at, well, finding them lately. He sent me this and I’ve been listening to it while writing all week long:

First Listen: Nothing, ‘Guilty Of Everything.’ Click here to experience on NPR’s First Listen.

Because I was a total 80’s child who grew up and lived a gorgeously rebellious teenage youth in the 90’s—in short, I loved raging guitars and Shoegazing: My Bloody Valentine, Ride and Slowdive to name a few.

And since I was a kid of this subgenre, I experimented with a lot of off-trend looks.

I’ve tried not shaving my armpits (that didn’t last long), flannel (duh), any pants with bellbottoms, green mascara, braless tanktop days and a myriad of other things that will shame my husband for admitting in print (we dated as teenagers).

But, oh God, does this musical distortion and the sound of layered guitars set my soul on fire like I was still 15 years old.

Sigh.

Another thing that’s been setting me on fire this week is my daughter’s latest obsession with coloring on her easel.

She woke up this morning and before she wanted even a drink, she sought out her crayons—and I was one proud and happy mama.

And the same auntie that got her this awesome easel sent me this via text last week:

Since it’s absolutely, without a doubt, The Year of the Unicorn, this also lit me up from the inside out.

My mantra for the last few months has been I believe in magic and, let me tell you, it’s been a magical few months.

And I’m randomly throwing this in my blog because I love you and believe that all humans deserve good music:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zhxXn60Z0yk

I’m also tossing it out there that I get super excited about some of my articles and that I can’t wait to see reader responses after they’ve been published.

My latest piece that brought on this type of sensation was one that went up last night while I was asleep. The Healing Power of Tears: 5 Poignant Quotes to Move Us Beyond Regret was shared on elephant journal, where I write as an extremely joyful featured columnist.  Anyways, it already had two stellar responses by the time that I woke up at 5:30 this morning.

Here they are, copied and pasted:

From Facebook: “This is the best article I have ever read on EJ. Thank you!”

(Um, wow, thanks to you!)

And from a comment beneath the actual piece: “this is really fucking good. and i’m highly critical. i’m going to read more of your stuff now.”

(Although that one made me a little bit nervous, heh heh.)

And here—just because—is another random Shoegaze moment for you:

Aaaaand, another major goosebump share (this one is a complete classic):

You know, what, I’m ending here today—I cannot top this last video.

Enjoy! And happy Monday! Erm, Wednesday!

Photo credits: Author’s own; imgur; Suzanne LaGasa/Flickr.

The post Monday Morning Dirty Secret Spill (Wednesday Shoegazing Edition). first appeared on Jennifer S. White.

 Part Six: This I Believe (Chapters 18 & 19).

Chapter 18.

Essentially, practicing yoga is getting in touch with that constantly smooth stream of fluid water that runs like a hidden channel beneath the quaky, shaky surfaces of life.

Although emotions and human suffering and fragility are arguably tangible things, there’s undeniably a piece of us that lies at the core of our being that isn’t tangible in the least; that remains unweathered by a lifetime of tumultuous storms and seasons.

The practicing of yoga—the physical practice that we most closely associate with “yoga”—is merely an attempted tool that’s used to help better access this authentic, still space.

Breathing has factual effects on the body—bringing us out of fight-or-flight reactions and back into our sane, logical, reasoning minds. However, there’s something about the yoga practitioner that cannot truly be placed into words (for those who don’t hop on a mat and experience it for themselves).

Inhale, arms reach high over head.

My distracted mind peers over my right shoulder, out the window, to flurries of snow whispering by.

Exhale, arms drift down slowly, not unlike these miniature white puffs, landing at my heart with palms touching.

I stand and breathe—I stand in the strength and dignity of my presence.

Inhale, I open my eyes and recite these words out loud: today I will believe in magic.

And as I move and breathe and flow through the rest of my practice, I realize that the only true yoga that happened on my mat was that one instance, with hands in prayer position in front of my heart when I acknowledged that, in life, anything is possible—even magic and my dreams.

Chapter 19.

I’m not sure what magic is, but I know what I want it to be.

I want it to mean that I don’t always get my way—I want to experience the gutter of emotional shades that I would never choose, being at least partially sane.

I want my daughter to outlive me and I want to be old and happy and well.

I want to believe in God and heaven and a life everlasting—I want to believe in the power of prayer.

I want my husband to get everything he wants, and I want to be the one who gives it to him if I can.

I want my parents to be fully rewarded for their boundless gifts of love and support and friendship.

I want my daughter to not feel the pain of life, even though I want her to live deeply enough to earn it.

Mostly, I want to believe that I’m a good person who brings light and love and wellness into this world, despite my occasionally wicked temper, horrid words and selfish acts.

So, what is magic?

I scan my aforementioned list and I realize that magic is me believing in me. That’s it. No fancy bow-tied packages with cuddly kitten cards taped to the top.

And I do believe in me—most of the time.

Photo credits: Carol Alejandra Hernández/Flickr.

The post The Caged Girls: This I Believe. first appeared on Jennifer S. White.

This week was an especially intense one for me.

Astrologically speaking there was a (super) new moon in Aquarius (and new moons have always affected me more greatly than full); additionally, Venus went direct and Mercury went into the sign of Pisces.

Yet, even for those who don’t follow the planets (or look up at the night sky to see our gorgeous, beckoning moon), these weren’t the only special things that happened.

My husband mentioned to me last night, as we cooked dinner in the kitchen, that Friday was the Chinese New Year—and we both got to wondering if this ancient celebration is more impacting than we consciously recognize.

And this year is the year of the horse.

A little background: the Chinese zodiac, or Shēngxiào, is a calendar system that originated in the Han dynasty (206-220BC). The years within its 12-year cycle are named after an animal: the rat, ox, tiger, rabbit, dragon, snake, horse, goat, monkey, rooster, dog and pig, in that order. According to this system, the universe is made up of five elements—earth, water, fire, wood and metal—which interact with these 12 animals, resulting in the specific character of the year ahead.

So, last night as I stood in my leopard-print apron in the kitchen, I decided that this year would be not only be the year of the horse—it would also be my year of the unicorn.

The year of the unicorn, to me, looks something like this:

1. I will take tiny steps towards my larger goals and see them as productive rather than taking ginormous leaps in the wrong direction because it’s easier, faster and comes with instant gratification.

2. I will honor those around me by listening, and I will remember that listening and hearing are not the same thing.

3. I will believe in magic. While I don’t have to believe in witches or wizards or get on the pop-zombie train, I will believe that life can be sparkly and filled with awe, even when I hit a rough patch.

4. I will remember that I’m wonderful. I don’t always have to look for areas of myself to improve upon or blame myself for not being a perfect mom, wife or friend. Instead, I’ll spend more time recognizing the ways in which I bring beauty into our world, so that I might bring more.

5. I will make wishes. I don’t necessarily believe in the power of prayer for asking, but I do believe in saying thank you for what I have. That said, I’ll spend more time during this year of the unicorn planting seeds of hope, and then I’ll nourish them with a touch of dreaming.

6. I’ll remember how much my small actions matter by practicing tiny, helpful gestures every day. These little gestures can be as simple as a smile, holding a door, or being kind in the face of someone with a severe case of the grumpy grouchies.

7. Unicorns symbolize purity and so do I. I’ve written many times about how letting go isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. However, the white body of the unicorn symbolizes purity and grace—and I’ll envision the unicorn when I have a moment of human imperfection that leaves me feeling nothing like this—because who I am today is not who I was yesterday and who I am right now as I sit here typing is not who typed the previous sentence. Each day is a new opportunity to be a unicorn.

8. I’ll have fun. The new year is a celebration, of those who lived before us (aka our ancestors) and for those we celebrate with now. Obviously, life isn’t always a bouquet of daisies and, personally, I believe in hard work, but life is also supposed to be enjoyed. So here’s to doing just that.

Eight is supposedly a lucky number in China, hence the eight things on this unicorn list.

Hmmm, in that case, maybe we should end this article by making a wish.

Photo: Rob Boudon/Flickr.

This article was first published by elephant journal.

The post The Year of the Unicorn: 8 Magical Ways to Celebrate. first appeared on Jennifer S. White.