The first time I learned about sex I cried. It’s safe to say a large portion of my reaction was likely due to my middle sister’s delivery of the new information – she made it sound so violent and invasive. We were on a family walk and when we were out of ear shot from everybody she leaned in and let it rip. I ran ahead scared and in tears. Hilarious / so typical. 

The same sister also told me I had hairy arms and so I shaved them. As soon as I got out of the shower she said, “Why did you shave your arms you _____!” My oldest sister pulled a similar stint when she asked me if I picked my nose and I said no. “Everyone picks their nose, Geli!”, she said convincingly. After being coerced into confession I finally said Yes only to be immediately faced with, “EEEWWWW I can’t believe you pick your nose!!!!” – Oh the joys of childhood sibling love :) To be fair, they’ve both apologized for any harm they’ve ever done :) Jajajaaaaa 

Firsts are a funny thing. They can rarely be planned, and they can never be re-done. There’s a delicate sweetness to them that you don’t even realize until it’s passed. I remember my first yoga class. I cried after that, too. It was so hard and all I wanted was to be as graceful and flowing and enlightened as I perceived my two best friends to be. They loved the practice and I felt clumsy and disconnected and so far from the spirituality I thirsted for. It sucked and I sat in the back seat on the way home frustrated and flailing. I love being a yoga teacher and telling people how much I struggled with my first class. It’s always helpful to see someone else’s journey and learn they were once where you were standing, too. A friend of mine recently got her yoga teaching certification and asked me for tips, talking to me about how she feels about planning her classes out and worrying about how it will all go. I told her that in the beginning of my teaching I would spend hours working on sequencing and putting together “the perfect class”. She was so comforted by knowing I was once in her shoes, too. It gives people Hope. (Hope always makes me think of Henry. His favorite word. Hope.) Hope. 

I can’t quite remember the first time I ever got behind a mic but I consider my time with Speak For Yourself – Boston University’s spoken word / slam poetry group – as a huge first in getting up on stage. Every single time I got off stage I could literally feel myself expand – this invisible bubble around me move up and out – a literal shift in vibration, Growing. It was amazing. I remember spending hours and hours sacrificing sleep to stay up and work on my writing. Oh the things we do for Love.