The Fallacy of Two Categories

Hey there!

I have rediscovered my Blogger account after years of neglect.  I'm thinking I want to share my new video blog series called "The HoopWoman Diaries" with the Blogger world.  If you would like to see some previous entries, please visit my YouTube page.  Otherwise, I will do my best to post these when I record 'em.

I have found that the medium of video is something I am more readily able to incorporate into my world, so I hope you find it to be enjoyable.  I am working on my next book, so I'll def have something to say about that when it's done.  Until then, please enjoy and make it a momentous day.

Blessings,

Mojo Mama aka HoopWoman

Grateful for the Gunk

Thanksgiving Day 2011 is two days away, and gratitude is on the minds and in the hearts of many. Yes, it's easy to be grateful for our loved ones, home, job, and yummy, fattening food. (Can I get a witness on stuffing?!) But, this time also offers us an opportunity to show gratitude for the crappy things in our lives, for they are often our greatest teachers. On this Thanksgiving holiday, I am grateful for the following yuckies:

* My super-fugly, pumpkin-colored stretch pants from Chadwick's of Boston, which remind me that one should never compare oneself to another (or buy pants from a discount catalog)

* Mom's passing, which reminds me to fully appreciate each day that I have been given

* Snowstorms in Minnesota, which remind me how friggin' incredible the summers can be

* Sprouting pimples at 42 years of age, which remind me when I have had more Starbucks than a human should possibly consume

* Struggling with paying bills, which reminds me how fortunate I am to even have bills; there are people on this planet who don't have food to eat much less an overdue Wells Fargo credit card statement

* My alcoholic ex-f@#$buddy that treated me like shit, who reminds me that I deserved a whole lot better (and got it)

* So-called personality conflicts with insecure ninnies, which reminds me that I don't have to take on other people's drama

* Computer crashes and broken routers, which remind me that life isn't about typing on a keyboard or staring at a screen

* Not being able to do the 'crane' pose in yoga (yet), which reminds me that I have come a long way from not being able to do any pose but Savasana

* My daughter's perpetually-dirty room, which reminds me of her creativity and individuality (and ingenious ways to hide candy wrappers)

* My smallness, which reminds me of what I still need to work on

Happy Thanksgiving, and celebrate your gunk, everybody!! It's what helped create the Beauty That Is You.

Downsizing My Hoop

Today was a momentous occasion: I hooped with my ten year-old daughter's hula hoop.

For those of you who aren't hoopers, you may say, "Big Whoop!". But, trust me. It IS a big friggin' whoop. I started out hula hooping over two years ago with a ginormous, heavy-as-hell hoop that was almost as tall as I was. When I first began, I couldn't keep that thing rotating around my larger-than-average girth to save my life. However, after swaying, shimmying, swearing, circling, and slamming for two long years, I am now able to hoop for an hour with a teeny, tiny, light-as-a-feather dance hoop that is suitable for a petite elementary schooler.

I LOVE LOVE LOVE it!!! The lighter hoop makes it easier to do crazy tricks like over-the-head tosses, around-the-body spins, and fun finger-hooping. (Yes, finger hooping.) I can't wait to practice it again tomorrow, as I know it will only get easier (as everything does when we just keep at it.)

I am eternally grateful to my darling daughter for lending me her sparkly dance hoop, and if she wants to get it back, she'll have to pry it from my cold, dead hoopy hands.

Kardashian-Free Living

Below are things I don't give a damn about:

* Kim Kardashian's wedding
* Kim Kardashian's wedding guests
* Kim Kardashian's wedding dress
* Kim Kardashian's tropical honeymoon
* Kim Kardashian's 72-day marriage
* Kim Kardashian's husband
* Kim Kardashian's divorce
* Kim Kardashian's pre-nup
* Kim Kardashian's wedding ring
* Kim Kardashian's reality show
* Kim Kardashian's recording career
* Kim Kardashian's handbag collection
* Kim Kardashian's bubble butt
* Kim Kardashian's sisters
* Kim Kardashian's dancing brother
* Kim Kardashian's mother
* Kim Kardashian's father
* Kim Kardashian's father-in-law
* Kim Kardashian's tweets
* Kim Kardashian's teets
* KIM KARDASHIAN

I hope for this woman's sake that she unplugs from the ridiculous media machine that has created her. Maybe then she'll have a fighting chance at true happiness.

I certainly will be happier when I see less of her.

Visions of Reese's

Today is Halloween, and I have not eaten ANY sugar in six weeks. It hasn't been too terribly difficult, except when I was at the ATL airport yesterday. Terminal C posed particular challenges as I could literally smell the various chocolate balls of heaven from The Grove shop located seven gates away. I don't know if I'll break into my ten year-old's plastic pumpkin when she is looking the other way, but if I do, here are the Top Ten yummies that I will seek out:

10. 3 Musketeers (soft, nougat-y goodness)
9. Snickers (frozen Snickers was my mom's favorite naughty treat - makes me think of her)
8. Skittles (can't get enough of the rainbow, plus it's made with Real Fruit!)
7. Milk Duds (kick it old school while flipping off my dentist)
6. Pixie Stix (colorful straws of sugar!)
5. M&Ms Plain (if only I could have some ice cream to go with them)
4. Twizzlers (diet candy for when the guilt becomes too great)
3. Butterfinger (didn't think I'd love it, but I do. Oh, how I do.)
2. Snyder's pretzels (salty treat is a nice change; cleanses the palate for more sugar to come)
1. Reese's Peanut Butter Cups (Halloween candy the way God meant it to be.)

My mouth is watering at the thought of all of these delectable ditties. Maybe it's enough to just imagine what they would taste like.

Maybe.

What's your favorite Halloween treat? Have I left something off the list that should not be ignored?

Drum Circle Hooping

Hey there!

It's HoopWoman here. I just finished a whirlwind trip to Sarasota for a combo of keynote work and friend play. Last night I went to the Nokomis Beach Drum Circle with my buddy Vanessa and carried Betsy, my badass hoop, along with me. When the powerful rhythms started, my booty started to shake without any conscious decision-making on my part. After just a few minutes, Betsy and I nervously stepped into the circle and started to groove.

While I'm certainly no Spiral or Brecken, I'm still pretty damn proud of not only being able to hoop, but I also have the stones enough to get up in front of a crowd of strangers and hoop like no one is watching. In a bikini top. At 42 years of age. We should everything in our lives like no one is watching. That's where the juice is.

How Do I Start Up Again?

Hi. This is Theresa Rose. Remember me? This is a big shout-out for you 13 beautiful souls who actually subscribed to my blog a thousand years ago. Now, let's get on to business.

I am going through some major changes in my life, and I am acutely aware of my need for journaling as a form of therapy and healing. Resuming a regular writing practice has been dancing around the periphery, but LogicGirl kicks in and says, "No! You're too busy! You gotta make those calls, send those emails, blah blah blah!" Yet, writing finds its way back into my heart. I have been living vicariously through Jason Mraz's blog. The man is a certifiable genius. I caught up on several of his blogs (since I hadn't given myself time to enjoy them - Enjoy life?! What, are you crazy?) and felt pangs of jealousy swoop into my noggin as I watched him take opening the kimono to a whole different place. (Insert tired-ass, type-A need to edit what I've written so far but am plowing through anyway because it's a blog, dammit, and I can be messy if I wanna.)

Folks, this is what happens when a writer doesn't give herself permission to write. She goes insane on the very first paragraph. Well, you can count yourself lucky that you (if you are even reading this and haven't thrown me into Junk by now) are one of a baker's dozen of like-minded individuals enjoying the bits-and-bytes bonding with a raving ninny.

Because that is what this blog is about to turn into.

I want to write about our struggles and the fears, but I also want to write about the victories and moments of Grace. I hope I can look beyond my fear of "what will they say about me?" and "will this negatively impact my chances for new business?" and just plow ahead. Is this the moment where I finally step into the 'integrity' I talk so much about? Can I finally accept that I am a spiritual teacher, and TRUST? Is it OK to talk about Spirit?

I'm sorry if this is rambling. Many of my posts may be. But here is what I'm thinking...if I just go into my heart and type my truth, then everything will work out the way it needs to. I do trust that I can share what I need to, and there will be no judgment - from God, from strangers, from friends and family, from clients and prospects, from me. Well, at least I can control the last one.

I will not judge myself.

I will not judge myself.

I will not judge myself.

I will not judge myself.

Maybe if I continue to write it a la Bart that it will get in there. It's getting better.

That's it for now. I'm glad I returned, and thank you. May your day be filled with tons of love.