I made myself laugh today because I realized that it’s about time to lighten up! Between ranting about how broken our health care system is, musing about setting boundaries with people who say they love you but don’t act like it, and writing about coming out of the closet and how repressing the real you makes you sick, I’ve gotten so dang deep, serious, introspective, and “spiritual” that I've literally forgotten to do cartwheels (a regular practice for me usually). I've also forgotten to take regular dance breaks with Lady Gaga (LOVE her!) or to laugh at my daughter's knock knock jokes.

The Narrow Place

The truth is that I’ve been in the narrow place again. Must be a spring thing.

Do you know what it feels like when you’re in the narrow place? It’s like being in the dark, bony pelvis, getting squished from all sides, as you feel stuck in that place that surely always leads to rebirth if you’re brave enough to be with what happens in the narrow place.

It’s always a good thing. It’s gestation.  It’s evolution.  It’s the opportunity to get more aligned with your truth. And you always pop out the other end into this beautiful, expansive place, as I did last April. Phew!

But when you’re there, it’s easy to get really freakin’ dark, brooding, and intense (not that there’s anything wrong with that!)

I See The Light

I’m just starting to squeeze through, and I now see the light. It’s close. I’m almost there. But I don’t want to wait until I pop through to laugh, skip-to-my-lou, and kick up my heels.  I just had to giggle about how I sometimes forget to laugh at myself.

The Cartwheels

So I decided I’d go do cartwheels on the beach. While wearing a clown nose (yes, I have one). And blowing on a kazoo. Because surely then, it would be impossible to be deep and introspective. Though the park rangers might arrest me.  And then I’d be blowing a kazoo in a clown nose while trying to do cartwheels in the cramped quarters of National Park Service jail.

The cartwheels went well. With the exception of getting blown sideways by hurricane gusts of wind such that one hand sank into the wet sand, careening me off balance and toppling me over into the surf, where I was then pummeled with a fine mist of sand that stuck to the wet parts, all went well. My kazoo is now drying out nicely. No arrests. Which is fortunate because of that unfortunate Janet Jacksonesque wardrobe malfunction. Note to self - wear a bra when cartwheeling in public. It's only fair to the 80 year old Buddhist monk and the 14 year old boy on the beach.

Sometimes you just need a release valve in your life. You need to blow bubbles, spray Silly String at your best friend, sing in the shower, or bop around the grocery store in a pink wig. You need to wrestle with your kids or swing on the swingset or dance on a pole or belly laugh at Steve Martin movies.

What’s your cartwheel?

What can you do to open the release valve in your life?

Brushing off the sand,

Lissa

Lissa Rankin, MD: Founder of OwningPink.com, Pink Medicine Revolutionary, motivational speaker, and author of What’s Up Down There? Questions You’d Only Ask Your Gynecologist If She Was Your Best Friend and Encaustic Art: The Complete Guide To Creating Fine Art With Wax.