re:bash

It's not easy to move forward when it looks like there's nothing underneath us. The floor that was the floor is gone. In its place is something, it's not nothing, but it's no floor we've ever known. It's no ground, no rock, no earth we'd choose to stand up on.

When we're born, we have no choice. We are just, suddenly, alive. We don't know how to accept the air we need, but we do. We take a breath and then we cry. It was hard not knowing! The lights shine too brightly and the people are large, looming and dry. Everything around us has gravity attached to it, and it wants to get us down on that floor and get us going. We've got to learn to crawl. And then? We've got to learn to walk.

A year ago, aloft Chesapeake was born. Aloft landed here in Chesapeake, VA with it's eyes opened wide and wondering. The town seemed a strange fit. Any reminder of the womb we'd come from seemed a million miles away, some rubix cubed reminder that we once really did know how to shift, spin and roll. We didn't want to, but we took a breath. And occasionally, we even cried out! What. Is. Happening!

But, like all the things that grow and crow and go, we began to crawl. And then? We found our legs.

The floor wasn't the floor we thought it'd be, but it held us, all the same. It continues to change and shift but we do what we were meant to do, we go with the flow, ride the wave of the vibe and keep bringing new, beautiful things to life. The people around us? Somehow, they just look more like us. And anyway, I'm fairly certain we were never meant to stay all snuggled up inside someone else's bubble, just some other person's creation.

The floor, you see, is not just a floor. Sometimes, it's only a door and all we've got to do is slide through, take a breath and accept the life we've been given.

We hardly walk anymore, anyway. Not since we learned to dance. And dance? We've got to do...

Please join us as we celebrate one life on one gorgeous night because we're alive and-that's right-we love it! It's our One Year Birthday bash: re:bash, and we're pumped, primed, ready and revved up to remember.

check the deets on our re:bash, one year birthday celebration:
http://www.facebook.com/home.php#/event.php?eid=162547571364#wall_posts

Thanks to all of our supporters. We feel, well, basically fabulous. And you're partly to blame.

C'mon!

Juggling

I know a guy named Joel who is a mean juggler. I've seen him juggle a variety of different objects and it's always the same. Balls, plates and the random block-shaped object all go whirling around in space and Joel? He never flinches. He keeps his gaze fixated. Dead center, straight ahead. I don't even know if he sees those balls, at all, anyway.

The days, the activities and the onslaught of new obstacles, they keep coming and they keep going. A few days ago, I had a schedule packed full and fit for any dynamo of a Queen, and I set out, determined. I got about 1/6th of the way through my day when the universe conspired against my mobility and stopped me in my tracks. I made a jerky movement, jacked up my foot, sliced it open and bam. Woman down. Literally. I had a moment, paralyzed in motion, some juggled ball, hung up in the air and I thought: What do I do now? Then, I remembered I'm a juggler. I keep looking forward.

At aloft, there are any number of things happening at any given moment. We're happy hour-ing while a book club is holding their monthly meeting in our conference room. A family reunion descends upon us early, the rooms aren't ready and we've scheduled live music on the patio, but it's raining. Suddenly, the power goes out and the chihuaua in room 504, deathly afraid of thunder, begins to bark. Without pause. The balls are spinning, sure, but who knows? It's not easy to see that center, that centrifugal force.

Then, I remember Joel the Juggler.

Right smack in the middle of all of that "happening," there is a truth. Beauty and order can be found in letting go. When we accept chaos, we find control. It just doesn't look like what we thought. The peace, the order and the ease we need aren't always found by holding tightly to the balls we've got. We have to put them out there and let them fly, trusting the flow, trusting the sky. Actually, this life? Is fun.

It only gets crazier, kittens. It only gets woolier. We only have to fly higher and get further and further from the ground. We're jugglers, we can handle it. We keep our eyes on the center, on the truth, on that ever-glowing prize.

Ramp it up and channel Joel, this week. Remember, you're still alive.