Miranda loves to tell a story about Lorrie.While the two of the were visiting me in Lexington, we went to Zumba. Miranda and I kept up with the choreography, focused on the instructor, got into the collective vibe of the class.
But then there was Lorrie. And she was doing whatever the hell she wanted. We were doing jumping jacks? She was spinning in a circle. She was moving. She was joyful. And she was listening to her own drum.
And that's what I miss about her. Lorrie always did Lorrie. And I don't know how many times I was told, "Guuurl, you do you!"
At the beginning of the yoga retreat last weekend, we were given permission slips to fill out for ourselves. What did I need to give myself permission to do? What was I having resistance to?
I gave myself permission to Be Lorrie.
That weekend, Being Lorrie meant following directions for the most part, but doing what I wanted to do when the directions took me to an uncomfortable physical place. Being Lorrie meant that I took a nap instead of a hike because I thought about what would bring me joy. On the mat. At the retreat. I wanted to bring Lorrie's spirit to my practice.
Since I returned home, I am starting to look for ways to carry Being Lorrie into how I could approach other parts of my life. With work. With business. With my clothing and jewelry. Where can I dance? Where can I add a joyful flourish to an area I don't particularly enjoy? Where can I say, "I will do things a different way" and still have the same experience and outcome?
I miss this girl so much. So often, I find myself wanting her feedback. Needing her pep talk. Wanting a 3-way ModCloth window-shopping Skype-date with Mir. Craving antiquing, wine, truffles, and pizza delivery to a hotel room that looks right into someone's office.
But I carry her with me. In a token she made me that hangs out in my purse. In the pink scarf that I wear on days I'm especially tender. And now, thoughts of her are infused in my mat.
I'm learning to do Krissie. By Being Lorrie. On the mat and off.