I stand at the mirror examining my own unflawed body.
Unscared and smooth wondering where are my memories?
I have no proof to solidify my damage.
Running my fingers along my bare wrists to feel no scratch,
no subtle altercation.
I must be mad–
–I have no proof of the damage done.
Mentor/ Hierophant: 
The cat is a guide who is both cunning and wise. There are definite challenges ahead but be sure to use fundamental knowledge as a tool to overcome obstacles. Trust your innate wisdom when you draw the mentor. It may be tempting to just fall to status to avoid conflict; however, expressing your creative self will gain respect in your plans to move forward.
Judgment: Feelings of intense guilt in some way or some form may be coming forth. Don’t take responsibility for someone elses’ projection of unhappiness. Don’t allow others to project guilt onto you for their feelings of inadequacy. Remain objective in your conflict and trust your gut, not your feelings of guilt. Remain slow in decision making. Keep avoiding those hasty decisions.
Nine of Swords: Feelings of worry are also present. 
Without being consumed with fret take a look at what is triggering these bothering emotions. Why is this your reaction. What is the root? Don’t be haste when acting out this feeling. Instead reflect and ask yourself why you feel this way because of “x”. Don’t become so overwhelmed that you may become immobilized. Be logical. Trust that gut instinct of the mentor and acknowledge this internal nagging feeling.
A lot of guilt, obstacles, and desire to just shut down because of times being tough. There is no good in falling suit alongside the nine of swords. You’ll only end up in a worse off situation than prior. Don’t allow yourself to spiral. Be logical, cunning, respectful and take action . Don’t worry about judgment from others and don’t be paralyzed by your overwhelming emotions. Take logical, realistic baby steps and handle yourself in order to #healthyself.
That overstuffed couch
where my thighs ran miles wide.
That room with windows for walls,
plastered with documents of self-satisfaction
and that damned scale.
The transparent cat
lurking in the far corner,
reflecting the tears of sad snow.
Every session, my eyes pounding the floor,
every session his eyes pounding into my cracked skull-
searching for answers– “I don’t know”
His smug face
making money off of the starving.
The disordered brains and skeleton girls
float into his office skating along ice,
leaving no shavings in their wake
1 in 10 will get better.
I am that one, I thought I was
until the burning in the back of my brain
began whispering lies to my eyes-
deceiving the perceptions of my gut
in the pool of the mirror.
I am Eve, but I am afraid of the ever expanding waist line
and see no beauty in the pool of my murky reflection.
Working at a daycare center, I have come across and fed a lot of infants various jars of baby food. There are some SUPER WEIRD concoctions of baby jar food; but, every now and then you come across a combination that tempts you to reach into that small jar of mush and try a mouthful of YUM! 
Well carrot/ apple inspired me to make a warm bowl of oats that cater to Fall’s harvest. So, I give you …
Carrot & Apple Oatmeal!!! 🙂
Carrot & Apple Oatmeal: Serves 2
Ingredients:
Directions:
Serve and get creative with your toppings! May I suggest: Brown Sugar, Raw Honey, Chopped Walnuts.
Enjoy your nourishment and #healthyself
As a recent Pittsburgher, one of my biggest fears about moving here was not finding a community that I could fit in with. Simply speaking, I thought I’m a small, country girl moving to a big city by myself: “will there even be an opportunity to fit into a city scene?” I can’t speak for other cities, but as for Pittsburgh the answer will always be a loud and certain, “Yes!”
Pittsburgh nurtures a community scaling from professionals to artists. It’s small, but diverse enough that you never have to choose a night out at only one location. It would be very easy to dine the corners of 
Market Square and ponder over sparkling mists at Point Park all in one night. It’s a community offering social opportunities that are not only easily available to all, but are unlike anything I’ve ever witnessed. A perfect example of one of these social events is the most recent Gallery Crawl hosted in Downtown Pittsburgh on September 25th from 5:30-11:00pm.
Downtown transformed 
into a playground for adults of all ages, offering life size chess sets, various vendors, countless art exhibits, and wonderful, catchy soundtracks humming through the busy streets. What was wonderful to me, as a budgeting body, was money was not necessary to enjoy the festivities of the Gallery Crawl. The experience was priceless but ultimately fulfilling to a soul in need of inspiration.
A definite crowd pleaser had to of been the India in Focus concert. The streets simply sparkled with the inspired spirits of many dancing and expressing the memorable beats pumping the airwaves. It was warming to witness such a diverse crowd coming together to appreciate a specific culture.
Other gallery hotspots included Hetain Patel’s “Eva” series and “Jump” video installation at the Wood Street Galleries, the “Plus One” contemporary technology exhibit showcasing the importance of textures and patterns to the Indian culture, and the Humanae/ I am August photo gallery showcasing the human color palettes.
It just goes to show us that art has no definite definition. It can be unorthodox, contemporary; contradicting at times, but always serves as a means to collect witness of its surrounding community. There is beauty in simple mundane tasks; such as, folding laundry. There is a need to recognize the differences of individuals, while still understanding that we make up a larger community. All that can be expressed in a collective series of snapshots showcasing our very own Pittsburgh public. At a time when we are beginning to welcome Fall into our streets, it was beautiful to be reminded of the seasons changing through the tapestry laser point illustration at the SPACE “Plus One” exhibit.
Pittsburgh is a city you don’t want to fall asleep on, not when there are so many experiences to be had steps away from your neighborhood. There is history being made everywhere, even between the iconic landmarks that make this city so enchanting and inviting. Last night, I witnessed neighborhoods gathering at the Gallery Crawl for the name of art.
take the time to commit to your community and #healthyself
Being a vegan, means eating A LOT of beans. They are a nourishing staple to every wholesome diet. I’ve been recently trying to switch to buying bulk instead of canned beans 😳. What’s awesome is the shelf life, price, and pretty pantry you get from shopping bulk. What’s different for me is this new soaking process. It’s crucial to soak, rinse, and cook those beans. 🌟
About two days ago, I had some friends over for a homemade Indian dinner. I was thrilled to show off my new passion for the kitchen by cooking up some cuisine. I decided to soak some black beans and make a twist on vegetable curry. My friend who was going to bring lentil soup, forgot to soak her beans in time, an easy mistake when you switch to the dry, bulk foods. Those hours of soaking are so important but in this world where we want things immediately it’s easy to forget to prep this step.
We ended up just featuring this warm black bean bowl, which was a Mexican twist on vegetable curry. A sure success for any dinner night 😊. #enjoy
Ingredients:
Directions:
Black Bean:
Vegetable Cayenne
Rice:
To plate:
#healthyself
Scoliosis
To feel the burning cogs
of your twisted spine
as you fumble awkwardly
to slip on your tsunami of a sweater,
that has been twisted into cat’s nests.
Every snap and pop an eggshell
shattering against linoleum counters,
coated with enough Lysol
for a physician’s approving thumb.
The uprooted railroad
running down your shoulders
leads to splintered swing-sets.
Four of Pentacles: t
his archetype is stubborn, stagnant, possessive, limiting, controlling, and restrictive. In this world of materialism, possessiveness is at its worst. We must put less emphasis on our possessions. This card stands as a warning to stop trying to control everything in the world and your immediate surroundings. You simply can’t live your life fully while believing your course of action is the best or only one to follow.
Let go.
Ten of Pentacles: you are at a stable place when it comes to materialism. Admittedly, we all have more than we NEED; so, stop fretting over securing and hoarding your possessions and enjoy your time with the ones you have to share with instead. Truly, take the time to work on your emotional thriving, because in other regards you are fine. Don’t take fine to be “rich” and partying with the 1%, but rather as simply fine .
You can live well and love more with good company.
Six of Swords: recovery. Allow yourself to drift away from trouble and difficulties in hopes for a positive new beginning. This card is about willingness to communicate yourself with the ones around you. Go out, exchange ideas, inspire and be inspired by words and relationships. Get lost in recovering yourself, new perspectives, and commit to your physical or mental journey.
Pentacles keep this reading grounded. Be reminded to not get too mentally focused in a recent journey that you forget or fret about the physical world that is present. Take your journeys and heal, but tend to your loved ones. They care and cherish you. Remove from the self and link with others as a means to keep healing.
And just because mums are in season: here’s another shot… Just because
#healthyself
My bare feet stand rooted shoulder length apart, heels pressing all of my weight into the shallow pad of my yoga mat. My toes extend into tangled green roots burrowing and nesting deep into the earth. I feel my toes spread and dig deeper as my breath flows cyclically through my wooden lungs. My arms extend parallel to the ground, shooting out branches so far my shoulders pop out of their sockets and extend to catch the sun on the horizon. I feel my torso stiff and solid carrying the weight of my heavy branches, but I feel balanced because my roots are deep and connected. I feel my breath exhale shaking the leaves of my branches and as I open my oak brown eyes I reconnect with the physical world around me once again. I wiggle my toes and shake out my shoulders, feeling a connection with every pore draping my newly refreshed body. 
What I have found is that yoga means something very different to every individual person. To Mary-Ellen, my own instructor, it is a form of meditation, to Kathryn, the instructor I am observing today, it is a healing ritual, to my father, it is a waste of “Goddam’ time”, to me, yoga is mindfulness and exercising control of the body.
The large room where class will take place looks to be a repurposed dance studio. A wall-to-wall mirror reflects the floor-to-ceiling window opposite. On this sunny day, this room embodies the world. You could look in that vast mirror and touch the face of a biker on Market Street and race your fingers alongside his reflection until he disappeared and your fingers pedaled right into the brick wall adjacent to the mirror. A single African American mother walks with child on hip, holding desperately to the small hand of another young child around the age of 4. He seems to be crying in the upper corner of the mirror, but the mother has a destination on the opposite side of the mirror where the wall molds intersect at the door, and cannot listen to the resistant child’s wails. Bustles of women and men march past one another; poor passing wealthy, father passing child, privileged passing needy.
At the very center of the mirror you can spot Love Park. The pool is empty and a bed of granite backdrops the love statue. In pictures, I imagine the statue silhouetted with lovers and that sparkling fountain. The statue, void of sparkling water appears as empty as the dance studio where I wait for class to start. This room is one world within a larger world. Micro within macro.
Kathryn walks in frantically, hoarse from a cold she is trying to heal. She shakes my hand while stripping off her street clothes. Underneath her oversized jeans are skin tight leggings.
“So glad you could be with us today,” she says through her Temple University sweatshirt as she pulls it over her frizzy short cut hair.
“Thank you so much for having me. I’m really looking forward to this.”
She notices my own robin egg yoga matt and I spot awkwardness in her expression.
“Oh, um, actually…for liability reasons, I could lose my job if you join in. I thought this was just an observation. I feel bad, but I could lose my job and it seemed like you just wanted to watch.”
Who just watches a yoga class?
Not wanting to make her uncomfortable and seeing her distress, I assure her it’s no big deal and I would just observe, “I’m just grateful to be here.”
The classroom of eight fills with girls draped in oversized neon armor: soft woolen socks and cozy sweaters cover their frames as they lazily slouch over their array of rainbow yoga mats. Kathryn begins to teach a lesson on spacing ribs and pushing palms between shoulder blades in order to enforce ‘the breath’. The class inhales and exhales as the wind reflected in the mirror breathes life into Philadelphia streets, lumps of trash thrown about through city’s lungs, navigate through alleyways as blood coarses through arteries. Students nod along, bobbing disheveled buns carefully placed on top of their crowns. Girls in colorful crop-tops over skin tight leggings stretch out their fingertips-popping joints- waking up their bodies.
Kathryn strolls the classroom touching each student, repeating, “Find your base, your skeleton, and feel how it moves.” My morbid imagination begins to take hold, manifesting itself in every corner of this classroom. Suddenly, they are all sitting skeletons striking sharp poses- downward facing dog, warrior, and triangle. Their sliding shoulder blades slipping through scapulas entrance me. I stare at each skeleton, still adorned in colorful garments breathing through their ivory bones. In the mirror, I catch a glance at myself. I meet my mirrored stare and can’t shake my comparative gaze of solid meat and flesh aside these dancing, slender bones.
My right hand callused with Russell’s sign wanders to my chest and I start pushing down on the soft skin searching for the bones beneath. I feel wiry muscle intertwined underneath my goose-bump skin. I dig and scratch at my skin searching for the structure I know lay below the armor of this solid body.
The warm sun drapes my back like a hand stitched afghan, but I shiver, huddled frozen to this hardwood floor, thinking, “How can I make these swaying skeletons disappear?” I don’t know how to let go of these images and see meat filling out flesh once again. I cannot un-see the bones before me pressing heels-imprinting their mats with simple touches. The dangerous beauty of these bones makes me cry, but I’ve mastered the mask. I sit with my face still and unmoving, but tears roll down my cheeks and dribble past my chin. I try desperately to remember the strong tree that I had inhibited earlier. I remind myself that trees are sturdier than ivory bones and this strive for a skeletal frame is what has haunted my mind for 3 years now. I want the shadows of skeletons to stop appearing before my eyes every time I come close to not caring about the protrusion of my rib cage.
Yoga is supposed to be mindfulness, but my mind is wreaking havoc through this brick sanctuary. My mind is a distressed youth, out of control, screaming protest through cans of hissing spray paint, smashing mirrors begging for my attention. Like a disappointed mother, I don’t want to listen. I just want it to shut up and go away. I shut down and ignore the skeletons and my mind’s encrypted message meant for me and me alone. I don’t know how to deal with this, so I won’t.
I curl into a fetal ball against the hardwood floor and try to remember my breath. Through a clenched esophagus I swallow the iron ball of air that has puckered itself within my cheeks. I force the breath down and allow myself to release the breath. It sputters out like toxic sludge and I swear I can see shadows of my inky breath rejected on the hardwood panels. I take in another breath and it comes in more smoothly, like a spoonful of raw honey. The breath leaves my throat expunged and clean.
I feel my feet become solid and stony. My eyelids shut from a heavy force and my body sinks into the floor as every muscle both tightens and relaxes, allowing me to transform into a singular solid object. I am cool to the touch and my pores open up to become solid masses of granite. I bring my arms and legs into my chest to make myself as compact as possible.
I am not mountain, strong and stable standing tall looking over the world with clarity and perspective. I am neither strong nor healthy enough to be mountain. However, I am stronger than these bones dancing around me. I am rock, but one day I will grow by developing strength from overcoming my comparative gaze. I will be mountain.
This was a harder piece to share ; because it’s admitting a weakness with no resolve. thank you for taking the time to read it 💐🌸
#healthyself
Heal*Thy*Self 