Singing With Self-Love: Open Mic With Jordan Serra

My good ol’ only-ever jam partner Jordan Serra and I performed our third ever singing open mic concert series back in Rhode Island last week. We’ve messed around holding “band practice” in his basement studio for about an hour or so before each performance, and more than anything we’re just having fun– Jordan more so than myself in our first few performances, where I held way too much pressure on myself to even enjoy in the slightest something that my soul deeply loves.

It’s about the one year anniversary of facing my open mic singing-in-public fears, and the evolution of my voice, confidence, intuition and ability to open and exercise my throat chakra is due solely to my newfound self-loving practices. My active self-healing and loving journey this year has transformed my life in every single way, and I believe that was evident beneath the spotlight at Perks and Corks that evening.

Our blast of an experience and the renouncing of my perfectionist standards was only exemplified by my excellent support team of friends who came to watch and my stage partner, who always emphasizes the fun factor behind a solid jam sesh.

Thank you all who have continued to support my feeling, healing and revealing, and I can only hope that these videos inspire you to get after something that makes your soul sing, too. Also, go give yourself a huge love-hug. Because you are magnificent. XO

 

The Jordan and Olivia Experience’s cover of ‘Valerie,’ by Amy Winehouse last week (August 2017).

 

The Jordan and Olivia Experience’s cover of ‘Alaska,’ by Maggie Rogers last year (December 2016).

 

A Jordan and Olivia Experience’s cover of Aaliyah’s ‘Are You That Somebody,’ last year (November 2016).

 

For more giggles and listening (including me trying to multi-task singing Beyoncé and tapping a tambourine, check out the YouTube channel. More than anything though, smile and have a little fun 🙂

How To Love One’s Demons

Demons. Monkey chatter, the ego, fears, self-doubt, that voice inside your head that tells you you’re not good enough– we all have them.

It wasn’t until an honest conversation with a best-friend-mirror last night in which I realized my demons were paralyzing me from writing.

I am well-versed in embracing the light. In loving it, channeling it and sharing it. I am much less comfortable and fluent in loving the dark. I knew deep down that an error in a recently published article of mine was instilling such fear in my mind that I had been avoiding Good & Grateful and neglecting the addressing of these deep-rooted emotions, and everything I had been trying to write in recent weeks felt inauthentic because of it.

It felt inauthentic because it wasn’t the piece that needed to surface; they weren’t the words of love and acceptance that my very demons needed more than anything, and anything else was neglect. And healing holds no space for neglect.

This morning, I embraced a healing first: I have journaled my demons in tangible written form for my eyes to see. I acknowledged them instead of neglecting them. And I went through each demon-fear and without judging it or trying to change it, I thanked it for being present, and I told it that I love it. Holding my heart, I went through each fear and thanked it for being here, because each of them have taught me exactly what I need to heal. I spent generous time with each demon until the flutter in my heart ceased upon reading it and instead transformed into hosted contentment, and I thanked them again.

I share this with you all because it was a powerful experience for me in working alongside my demons in the process of healing. It was an expression of love and light to the places that need them the most; the icky, messy, uncomfortable places to reach and hold onto. I also chose to embrace a further layer of vulnerability by sharing my particular demons, the ones preventing me from writing.

We are not strong, admirable or beautiful for the light we give alone. We are magic because of the way we light-work alongside our darknesses. The mind is incredibly powerful, and often times we forget that we are our toughest critics. Thank you to an inspirational, talented best-friend-mirror who helped me see this by sharing her own demons with me.  I encourage us all to explore the heart space in offering love and gratitude instead of avoidance next time our demons surface, for they will– and I know that my heart and I will be waiting.

My demons:

  • I’m terribly insecure about the title error in my elephant journal article
  • I’m embarrassed
  • It makes me feel like:
    • I’m really not a good writer
    • I shouldn’t have been and don’t deserve to be published
    • My writing is emotional fluff and I have nothing substantial to write about
    • All I do is share my feelings like an over-emotional little girl who’s trying to make up for 24 years of silence, misunderstanding and repressed expression 
    • My followers, the editors at the journal, and I think I’m not credible and that I have lost my credibility as a writer
    • My blog and Good & Grateful Instagram are now tainted with the error and they are no longer “clean” and attaining to be perfect 
    • I have nothing to write and I know nothing worth sharing that brings value to other people

And after it all, with love for the darkness and the light that makes it so,

XO, my Good’s & Grateful’s

FullSizeRender (6).jpg
@Goodgrateful: Journaling + making vision boards with a soul sister = a solid Friday.

Edit: Why I’m the Last Millennial to Not Use Tinder

When it comes to mistakes, I’m turning away from self-blaming and toward self-loving.

Sometimes, we make mistakes. We aren’t perfect. We aren’t without flaw. We are human. How often do we allow ourselves to work through those mistakes with love?

I rarely ever have. I’ve most recently shared with you all my second published article. Unbeknownst to me, there was a typo in the title. I am not of Generation X, and while the title of the piece was first published as, “Why I’m the Last Non-Tinder User of Generation X,” it now accurately reads ‘millennial.’ On behalf of elephant journal and for my own credibility, learning and self-forgiveness, it required an accurate change.

Am I going to beat myself up over it? For a minute, I wanted to. I thought about all of the times I reread my article, all of the anal fact-checking I do and how this one slipped, and all of the people who proof-read or heard me speak the title who didn’t catch the error either.

Alas, a lesson in self-love and letting go of harsh, unhealthy tendencies. The edit is now published, and I thank you all for reading it anyway!

This holiday weekend, I sit deeply in my self-love and I hug myself just a little bit tighter.

Why I’m the Last Millennial to Not Use Tinder,” in full force. Check it out, but regardless, I encourage a squeeze of self-TLC. When was the last time you gave yourself a hug?

Screenshot 2017-07-05 08.34.22.png

 

 

Why I’m the Last Millennial to Not Use Tinder

tinderpic

Previously published by elephant journal at https://www.elephantjournal.com/. The original article can be found here.


 

I have often entertained a fantasy of what love and companion searching might be like in the future.

Perhaps in 20 years or so, what my future children will experience, if they’re anything like me (good luck, kids), will be seeking companionship deeply and truly among a sea full of seemingly screen-preoccupied, out-of-tune-with-their-emotions, robot humans who fuel-fix via a glowing display where likes replace love, followers succeed friendships, and hashtags take the place of life-guiding principles.

I envision this a future where the screen plague is even more prominent, pervasive, and culturally normative than today—so much so that all my future, love-seeking children will have to do is have the courage to look up. And one day, somewhere, they’ll find themselves shockingly locked eyes with another brave, peeking soul, and boom. Cue Drake’s, “Now you’re talking my language, now you’re talking my language.”

In a future where most have nurtured and catered their addiction to this liquid-crystal-display hole, it will be easy to seek out the minority—those choosing the alternative, interpersonal path; those seeking that deeply nourishing off-screen soul connection.

But alas, the LCD-addiction that consumes so much of my generation has not reached this peak yet. (Or has it?) I am living in a sea of screens, yes—but technology, while sprouting and advancing like invasive bamboo, is still a young adolescent figuring out its place in our world while we millennials search for our place in it.

Technology offers advantages we’ve never known before—I would be lying if I said I didn’t value it, didn’t depend on it daily for directions, use it to fulfill my blog-writing dreams, or to stay connected with my family across the country. Not to mention posting hilariously punny, four-part Snapchats of my cooking and the occasional try-hard video of me singing. (Hope you all enjoy those.)

But as far as dating goes—can’t it just be this organic, beautiful thing where we meet and know from the instance of a great, intellectual, and passionate conversation that we are in alignment and want to taste all of life together? Not in like a forever way, per se, but in a way that there are so many amazing things to try and see and experience, and why shouldn’t we be trying, seeing, and experiencing all that deliciousness with someone we’re vibrating high beside?

Okay, maybe I’m romanticizing things again. Guilty. Also, maybe I’m just an old soul, not tech-savvy Taurus who sees inexplicable purpose in partnership and loyalty. Guilty, again. Arrest me, love police.

I’m also a little flighty, I don’t like commitment right away, and am not a gal for the one-night fling. So how to navigate this dating and love-mating world for someone like me?

There exists a three-part rationale against my joining Tinder (or Bumble or something of the sort):

1. It’s inorganic. Call me close-minded and stubborn—I’ve got it in my head that the person for me is also one of the last people not on Tinder and trying to meet someone the old-fashioned way too.

2. Signing up feels like committing or setting an intention to “find” someone. I’m leading a single life right now, full of all the self-loving I’ve missed out on, and I don’t want to actively try to find a partner to fill some void of loneliness. If I’m meant to find someone, the two of us will find each other without trying too hard…right? And if not to find a romantic companion per se, but to find something a bit more carefree and less emotionally intimate—well, I’m just not the one fulfilled by pure physicality.

3. The information on these platforms can oftentimes be skewed. If I were to sign up, my online profile, with carefully chosen pictures of myself, would 100 percent say something like, “Lover of love, poems, and being naked in nature; looking for a spiritual, passionate, conversational, and romantic partner to explore life with.” And while all true things, my profile would saying nothing about how some days I don’t shave, wear makeup, or brush my hair, am cranky AF, am going to want to be alone, will forget why/that I even like you, am not great at speaking my mind, stare into space a lot, and will forget much of what you say at first.

Yet here we are, in a day and age where we all know someone who has happily met their significant other on one of these online dating platforms. (We’ve all heard the horror stories, too, but let’s swipe them aside for the moment.)

Technology is an inevitable part of our present culture and world—and the dating, meeting people, and courting process is undeniably evolving with its influence. This technology world makes it easier to meet people now more than ever, so long as you’re participating in it.

So what is one tech-challenged, sapiosexual, deep-connection-yearning millennial to do? How do we connect with someone organically, in a world of people always staring down, working remotely from laptops, Uber-ing to destinations instead of taking public transport, and taking pictures in place of taking time to get to know someone?

I don’t have the answer. Maybe it’s time for me to get with the times and participate on a platform specifically for conscious dating, after all. Or maybe I just need to keep looking up.

But until that pair of eyes locks mine, I’ll see you all on Snapchat, my blog, and Instagram.

Xo,

Single girl in a cell phone world.
~

~

~

Author: Olivia Morrissey
Image: Deveney Williams  
Editor: Taia Butler
Copy Editor: Yoli Ramazzina
Social Editor: Callie Rushton