rockin' and rollin'

This past week I was a wee bit of a rockstar. Eons ago, in college, I was known to be the last girl to leave the party and the first one in ballet class the next morning. I’ve had a couple of doozys in the last few years, and some stellar nightlife periods in the city, but as of late, the connection I have to my body and the world on an ongoing basis is more important to me than “chasing” any surface fun. It’s seldom that I drink two evenings in a row these days, and so to go out every single night in a week is as rare a venture as Courtney Love remaining sober for a year.

I usually do 11 backbends at the end of my yoga practice. As my yoga teacher came to assist this afternoon, she said, “only halfway today, right?” When I nodded yes, she threw out a knowing, “I thought so.” The week was apparently emanating from my cells: spelling out: proceed with caution, Mags in recovery mode.

Needless, to say, I am drinking green juice as I type this, and that will remain my menu until I am back at a sparkly 108%.

What I’d like to say, however, is that I have no guilt or remorse associated with this week whatsoever, due to the spectacular company I kept. It’s not that I wanted to go out every night, it’s just that there were a string of time sensitive events, each at high levels of priority for me: openings, best friends moving to foreign lands, congratulatory cocktails, private excitements and developments…

And as I spent time with these people, over Belvederes, Blue Moons, Bushmills, blessings, bike rides, concerts, dinners, workshops, parties, sunsets that turned to sunrises, I grew more and more overjoyed with the beauty that my life has become; filled with a beaming pride in the incredibly ambitious and creative outputs of peeps close to me, and that those surrounding me are some of the sexiest folks around inside and out.

There’s a sense that we are all on the verge of something huge, both collectively and individually. I witness my friends’ successes unfold as we each hold the levels of sincerity and connection between us as the dearest prize. The success is secondary; it’s always been about being true to ourselves, consistently and blindingly, many times arduously, following that fire of restlessness that doesn’t allow one to settle.

Success is, of course, a matter of opinion and perception. I see my friends as successful because they hold themselves to their own truth and highest integrity. Even in their failures or falling short, there is an overarching idea of wanting to do/be better. In any and every aspect of life. Mediocrity and/or complacency does not exist for these few. And these people range from those in the baby steps of organically and nurturingly growing a private practice, to stars whose fame is such that they are asked for autographs when we are out in the world. And certainly, some have success in one huge pie slice of life, but not others, so that balance may be elusive, but in the areas where they are not content, there's an acceptance, but not a resignation, to something less than.

I think the important thing for us to remember, other than (of course) the idea to live in the present moment and lovingly appreciate where we are right now, is that no one ever sees the end result (of whatever success means to you) at the first step. Almost without exception, these people would have told you that five or ten years ago they could not imagine that it would look the way it did. And also almost without exception, they knew something was coming.

This is the most difficult walnut to crack, isn’t it? Particularly when one is immersed in any sort of spiritual or philosophical discourse about what we want out of life and how to get it: That constant ebb and flow of desire vs. attachment.

And although they were around, I’m not interested here in peeking at the rockstars, CEO’s, insanely talented artists or corporate managing directors... I want to speak about my friend Sean. Many of you know last week I was involved with a global affair to bring awareness regarding the issue of human trafficking in India. Sean spearheaded this entire effort, whose main soiree centered with over 200 people in Mysore, India, and was followed in 20 different countries and 50 different cities worldwide. What he accomplished, and the awareness brought to this cause, is nothing short of extraordinary, and my point is: he never had a plan.

Sean was one of my India besties. There was a quartet of us that caused major hub-bub. We loved humor, debating philosophy and each other, so we always seemed to the most vivacious group anywhere. This was not always perceived to be a positive thing, by those who held a soft-spoken devotion to ascetic yogic practices. Toward the end of my time there, I heard that someone called us the party group, and I was never really sure why—no one “partied.” (I drank more liquor in one night last week than I drank during half a year there.) Being wild was having a glass of wine on your day off. The only time I drank vodka during those six months was on my 30th birthday (although, that day was, indeed a party). At the end of the night Sean held my giggly head in his lap and somehow got my body (doused with vodka, and for the first time in its life, unaccustomed to it) back home, dangling off the end of his scooter, my sari skimming the road.

Sean didn’t arrive in India to practice yoga, but ended up in Mysore and decided to hang out there, casually setting up shop in his apartment offering acupuncture to the traveling yogis. He has an incredibly gentle, easy-going touch and a warmly affable demeanor. There is not an inauthentic bone in his body, so naturally people were drawn to him. Getting involved with Odanadi, the anti-trafficking organization that rescues and rehabilitates women and children, was what kept him interested in hanging about.

Honestly? They weren’t really that psyched about it at first. Lots of yogis travel to Mysore (it made #4 on this year’s NY TIMES list of where to head this year)— hundreds, if not thousands a year, all with altruistic visions of seva (service.) And just as abruptly, many leave—herein lies the rub… no one sticks it out long enough to make any kind of lasting change, or just as soon as they become involved to the point of being helpful, they need to return to lives, on pause, back home.

Sean had infinite levels of patience that I could not fathom. He followed that intuition inside of him to take it slowly, build trust, and show them he wasn’t going anywhere. And slowly, slowly, one child, one hour, one afternoon, one day at a time, they let him in. Three years later, he is spearheading a global effort that will absolutely change the course of these children’s lives. We throw the word ‘amazing’ around so casually these days; I believe this is an instance where its full meaning is well warranted.

Sean did not go to India to change the world. In fact, by most New Yorkers perception, his docile, unassuming ways could be thought of as unambitious, unmotivated. Before I learned the very valuable lesson of never trying to coerce a person out of what they wanted to do, I grew increasingly petulant on many occasions when Sean politely declined joining in any sort of gathering I had set up in India. I was going to the trouble of being a social butterfly, and g*$ d^*# it, my friends would join me if I had anything to say about it.

Sean was zen. And at the time I REALLY didn’t like zen. I mean, how could one possibly be zen when there was so much to DO in the world?! But he had the serenity to not listen to his loud, overdramatic, whiny, New York friend, but instead to some quiet voice within him that continued to whisper: stay—be here one day at a time, trust that it will unfold, or let go and embrace the idea it might not, but at the very least, be here and be real. Three years later, he changes the world. Little ol’ funny sweetie British acupuncturist Sean.

So, I’m speaking to myself as much as I’m speaking to you, because I know the majority of the people reading this are friends who have that same wellspring of enthusiasm for something inside of them that may not, as of yet, be tangible.

Although this time I won’t overdo it, I will raise my glass to you, my inspirations. Here’s cheers to unimpeded faith and choosing to build that bridge where one has yet to exist, rather than trodding the path so seemingly clear to the rest. Na zdrowie. To your health, on every extrordinary level.