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Reader discretion advised. The following contains very real subject matter and a couple f-bombs. I wrote this piece in 2012 when I was still in therapy. It’s a departure from recipes and holistic nutrition stuff, so…be warned…and enjoy! I hope it helps. xo

Fear, that stealthy bitch. Slutty little ninja squatting in the rafters, ready to pounce and cripple with a slice of her razor-quick sword. She slips out of the shadows when you’re making big decisions, when you feel the confidence to take your grand step, and when you dare to tiptoe on the boundary line of mediocre and magnificent. She’s a formidable illusion only you can see, self-constructed to keep you safe and comfortable. She is cunning, surreptitious, sharp as a fucking knife. Behold fear, that stealthy bitch. She is the assassin of your dreams.

 

In a particularly icky time of my life, not so long ago, I was not feeling qualified to be writing about peace and hotness, the topics of this blog. As a visionary, I had strong ideals around the subjects, and as a yoga teacher, meditator and crusader of good food, I could certainly play the part. But as much as I wanted it, the actual experience of peace was not a consistency in my life. For years, I would wake up feeling the need to change. Whether it was my body, my food, my work, or my tendency to want to change. I was just never fucking good enough.

I seriously considered waiting to start the Peace and Hotness project, and all my writing projects for that matter, until I was ‘more self-realized’, experiencing more internal peace, and had overcome my ongoing struggles with body, food, and self-love. I dabbled in some lightweight posts, safe and secure, because I didn’t want to be seen as a fraud. The way I saw it, if I was still experiencing so much angst around these subjects, how was I supposed to write authentically about them?! Fear, that slutty bitch, she had me by the throat.

My patterns around food and my body were pervasive, stifling. They caused so much self-doubt, and my incessant self-bludgeoning about not being disciplined, strong, or skinny enough constantly robbed me of precious time, energy and strength. It started to dawn on me that these issues were a serious road block to my progress as a writer, and were not to be taken lightly. If I didn’t have the guts to expose myself honestly from my present reality, I thought, perhaps I should consider a different direction with my career. This startling thought was my wake up call.

After realizing that it was me, and no one else, who bore the potential to de-rail my dreams, I decided to seek assistance in the form of therapy, sweet therapy.  Asking for the help of a professional, especially one in the field of disordered eating, was one of the  most humbling and scary decisions I’ve ever made, right up there with selling my yoga studio to pursue my writing career. But I was so freakin’ excited by the potential of being free of my crippling belief systems that the sharp fingernails of fear felt like they were slowly releasing their grip.

A few days later, I found myself sitting awkwardly on the comfortable beige couch of a Registered Clinical Counsellor named Michelle. Her office was based out of her home, fitting because she was so welcoming and devoid of any institutionally induced energetic boundaries, which had been my ‘beef’ with previous therapists. She was totally natural, pretty, long hair, no makeup. She had a warm face, gentle, accepting eyes, and the innocent presence of someone who had been through her own pain, dealt with it, and was genuinely dedicated to helping others deal with theirs. She was the real deal, an angel of sorts, and it took about four minutes of speaking with her for me to break down into wretching sobs on her couch. Nice to meet you, said her compassionate smile.

The world needs truth and authenticity. After that first session I decided wholeheartedly that the best place, in fact the only place, for me to write from is exactly where I am. As Natalia Rose said, “Who among us will dare speak truthfully about our personal suffering as an act of honest spiritual expression? People who speak honestly, who care more for the truth than for social acceptance, are rare birds indeed.” That day, I gave myself permission to be fucked up and vividly honest about this beautiful process of change and evolution. I took it upon myself to accept completely where I was. As a result, I instantly felt more committed than ever before to write from the most truthful and vulnerable place of my heart.

So here I am, wholeheartedly and passionately imbalanced, reporting live from the field. My healing and growth, a lifelong pursuit I’m sure, is not something I’m writing about from a holier-than-thou place that’s all perfect and fixed. I’m writing from the middle of a gutsy, messy and painful process that I have been gifted the ability and opportunity to share.

After five sessions with Michelle on the big beige couch, and a lot of internal homework, I’ve become familiar with a gentle place where I feel at a deeper level what I’ve always wanted. The name of this blog, Peace and Hotness, refers to much more than it may sound like up front. To me, Hotness means realizing my full potential as a human being, an artist and a student of life, and Peace means holding that space with the essential and ongoing ease of a yogi. I want it all baby. The Peace and the Hotness, the glamour and the calm, the external wonders of life with the internal balance of the Master.

My mission at this point, dear reader, is to write this blog, and my books to come, from the honest place of present experience, even if that place isn’t all shiny and infinitely wise. It’s this place where I can teach the most, love the most, and contribute the most to a world in desperate need of truth and self-realization.

So thank you, Fear, I can see now that you’re not so bad. You’re really just a little part of me that’s trying to protect me from failure, and you’re acting out in the only way you know how. We can still hang out, God knows I hang out with bitches all the time (wink), but be prepared to be kept in check. Alright? I’m on a mission here sweetheart. I’ve got a job to do.

This post publicly marks the beginning of a whole new path for me. Thank you for reading. I genuinely hope that my work can communicate and inspire the deep knowing that you owe it to yourself and the world to let your hotness shine and your peace grow strong in your heart. Yogis call it Self-Realization, and everything else is secondary.

In closing, I’d like to acknowledge that yes, Fear has the strong potential to be the assassin of your dreams. But given the chance, Faith in yourself can be stronger…much stronger. Just remember that Faith needs exercise like any other muscle: with repetition and appropriate gentleness.

Yours in progress,

Jennifer Lee

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