let it be something. let it be you. let it be me.

Let it be for something. Even nothing is something. Let it make a story-teller out of you. Let it make a photographer out of you. Let it make an artist out of you. Let it make a drama queen/king out of you. Let it make a coach, warrior, student, life-enthusiast out of you. Let it make for something, even if it feels like nothing. Nothingness is something. You get to decide what you make out of it.

People are always pushing, prodding, poking you to be one way or another. Often it’s subtle, maybe subconscious, a projection. Sure.
“Be happy,” they say followed by, “but not too happy. You’ll make others uncomfortable by being too happy, life is hard for others, you know.”
“You’re sad? Oh, let me fix your sad. Don’t stay sad for too long, you’ll be a burden.”
“Angry, Steph! Watch out, you’ll scare people with flared nostrils. You shouldn’t get mad, it’s not yogic of you.”

PS - I’m over the yogic-speak. Maybe it’s just me. I annoy myself when I catch my words swallowed in that play of share and shine, sometimes it’s drowning in such speak. I’m knifing parts of me every time I lessen my speech or dumb myself or give in to another and their “shoulds” of life. It’s not me and yet I’m tethered to its generalizations because I practice and teach yoga. The yoga-police, sometimes the harshest critic. How do we learn from sameness? We don’t. It’s like repeating patterns, expecting different results. We know the definition of insanity. Another quote-nod to the dead.
Let it be for something. Let it be you. Let it be me. Let it speak from your roaring belly all the way up to the beat of your heart and out your throat. Let it be for whatever you make it.
Share what’s real, say what’s real, let it be real. With lipstick or not, hair a mess of perfectly coifed, blurred, filtered, unfiltered, cursed, or politely preached. For something and for nothing, not for popular, for you, from you.
It’s all for something.
I’ll keep checking myself like two fingers to a pulse. It’s me. This is me. My voice. My words. And it's something, maybe nothing, but still - that is something. Not that of another, their words or shoulds. And I’ll listen to my vocab-check-point from my 4-year old, “mom, don’t say the fuck-word.” As for anyone else, not so much. Because that’s what’s real.

Just because someone says it's not for them does not mean it is not for you, or that you need to justify or challenge yourself out of yourself. This is what's real.