sometimes it’s a saturday night

sometimes it's a saturday night

Sometimes it’s Saturday night.

To take that long hot shower.
To shave those legs.
To soak the hair in some strength-inducing formula.
To put that face mask on.

Sometimes it’s a Saturday night.

To drink chaga mushroom tea.
To take a luxurious walk with the dog with no destination or clock ticking.
To have soft 90s music soothing in the background.
To steam up some bone broth.

Sometimes it’s a Saturday night.

To give yourself the luxury of space…
To think, to reflect, to process, to dream.
Oh, what’s to be next!
Wait, savor this moment.

Sometimes it’s a Saturday night.

And suddenly, 10:30pm feels like 1am.
Where does the time go?!
The overwhelm of being alone
Swiftly turns to holding on to this me-time for dear life.

December Supermoon

December Supermoon

I usually focus on new moons but today’s full moon is extra special.

The December Full Moon is often referred to as the Full Cold Moon or Moon of the Long Nights Moon. The Zuni Indians referred to this time of the year as “sun has traveled home to rest”. Today’s Full Moon is extra big and bright as it is the last SUPERMOON of 2017. A Supermoon is when the Full Moon happens at the same time as the Moon’s perigee (moon’s closest position to earth in the moons orbit) This combination results in the Moon being a bit bigger and brighter than other times.

Ok, Supermoon, here goes:

I let go of staying small.

I let go of excuses.

I let go of insignificance.

I cultivate taking up room. 

I cultivate celebrating my super powers.

I cultivate abundance, like a boss. 

Your turn.
Liza Fernandez

November Beaver Moon

november beaver moon

November’s full Moon was called the Beaver Moon by both the colonists and the Algonquin tribes because this was the time to set beaver traps before the swamps froze, to ensure a supply of warm winter furs.

Ok, here goes:

I let go of fatty waste. 

I let go of stagnant voices.

I let go of emotional traps.

I cultivate smart hibernation.

I cultivate bone-broth-for-the-soul love.

I cultivate this moment, right now.  

Your turn.
Liza Fernandez

tuesday and butterballs

butterballs

Tuesday morning.
I’m thinking on the humdrum of it all…
There’s a song that blew my socks off a few years ago; where suddenly the world contracted into a small butterball in my hand.
The stark realization that we’re all connected, in some way or another.

The song is Everybody’s Free to Wear Sunscreen.
A music video by Baz Luhrmann, one of my all-time filmmaker heroes.
The lyrics are taken from a famous essay — written by Mary Schmich, my yoga teacher and a columnist for the Chicago Tribune.

The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that
never crossed your worried mind
the kind that blindsides you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday.

Continue reading “tuesday and butterballs”

drip-drop

drip-drops

A drip-drop of sweat.
Suspended
And then — crash!
Like a coin in water, the ripples explode and then — stop.

I look at it.

A flash —
All the healthy eats
Yoga drips
Facial cleansers/toners/creams
Naps
Sun rays and tree shades from Jackie walks
Arguments with lover (not fights, don’t call them that)
Fears
Dreams
Anxieties
Hopes
Gluten-free organic ice cream
7am wakes and late night meetings
Freeway-traffic-pondering’s and —
Hold up!
Shazaam’ing music that glitters the soul.

This drip-drop comes loaded.
It leaves the body, rich with substance and prana
only to die, stained here on this cycling bike.

Don’t you know? —
This drip comes from a machine of a woman.
A warrior, with super-sonic strength;
metal armor to shield her from doubt,
and a heavy burdened crown, a reward of perseverance.

This drip-drop is evidence of
elbow grease soaked in thick, raw passion.
Well, now you know.

a month since

Liza Fernandez

A month since my birthday.
The birth of this body, this time, this heart, this mind.
A time to celebrate.
A time to reflect.
A time for silliness.

Fingers, toes, legs, arms, all in place.
Skin taut and elastic (for now).
Heart wide open.
Mind even more expansive than yesterday.
Curiosity killed the cat, not quite yet.

Here’s to failing.
And failing again.
And failing one more time.

Continue reading “a month since”