Woo woo is now an actual word. Well, not actual enough that you can play it in Scrabble, but actual enough so that it is included in Merriam Webster.  

That “yoga lifestyle” isn’t for every one, and that’s okay.

It means dubiously or outlandishly mystical, supernatural, or unscientific.

I am not woo woo. And it shows.

But I was willing to keep my mind open the time that my friend Lori and I visited a salt cave. Even if, after breathing in the treated air, our stress didn’t dissipate and our skin didn’t glow, good snacks were promised. So we went.

The Salt Crystal room just didn’t do it for me.

Some sort of mystical woman was in attendance. The patchouli type. She wore robes and beads and her hair was wild. You know her. She focused on my friend, telling her all about her many chakras that she was able to see near her, and what each color symbolizes. Apparently, my friend was spewing energy. Had it coming out of her pores. I tried to catch the woman’s eye, but she ignored me. When I cornered her to ask her what she saw in my chakras she looked at me sheepishly and said that the light must be poor in the room. She left promptly.

So my lack of woo woo is evident even to the professional wooers.

Another time, I arranged for a woman to speak to a monthly women’s group that I lead. Some women in the group are more in tune with their spiritual side than I. The speaker began the session with a guided meditation; it went on for a while. As I sat there absorbed mentally in my food shopping list, I caught the eye of a friend in the room who was clearly planning her own dinner. A kindred spirit!

During the meditation exercise, I was planning my grocery shopping list.

I don’t want to insult all the wonderful people in my life who believe in the metaphysical more than I do. Like my oldest daughter. Recently, I received an invitation to an essential oil workshop at the home of a lovely woman I know, and I asked my daughter who was visiting from San Diego if she would like to go with me.. 

Although I was a tad dubious, she thought it sounded lovely, so we went. Again, the promise of mimosas and snacks may have made my decision a little easier.

The workshop was an exercise in finding our “power word.” Based on what word we chose, a curated essential oil blend would be made for us. 

We were led through an exercise that helped us identify sensations, emotions– our “inner state and inner world.” I played along.

Others in the group came up with words like peace, change, calm, healing, growth, practice, mindfulness, relaxation. These words did not speak to me.

My words leaned more to the pragmatic. My lack of woo-woo was again ostracizing me from the room.

It’s not that I hadn’t given it some thought. Earlier that day, I had gotten an email that asked me to come prepared, and to think about how I was celebrating my re-entry to a social society, and how it made me feel.. I thought my word would need to be a doozy. It had been a long pandemic. I compared it to a New Year’s resolution, and looked for something filled with good intentions that  I could adhere to.

The words that flowed from my pen were downsize, organize, release, purge, accomplish, streamline. You see where I was going with this.

My list of words were pragmatic and practical. Not exactly how the exercise was intended.

So I decided to clean house, literally and figuratively. My plan was to discard, donate, or recycle one item every single day. It doesn’t sound like much, but I figured that in a year from now I would have 365 fewer items in my house.

A few hours after the workshop, my daughter had to pack up to fly back to California. She had  acquired too much over her visit to fit back into the suitcases she brought, so I went into the attic to offer a selection to her from my ridiculous collection of luggage.

I decided that this was as good as time as any to begin my purge, and I started with the dozen or so backpacks that had accumulated there.

I brought down one for her to pack in, and another four to donate. 

The pile of backpacks in my attic made it look like an L.L. Bean warehouse.

This is where I started to play a little game with myself. Should I just put them all in the donation pile, or should I “save” them and dole them out over the next three days?

Day One of the new challenge, and I am already stumped.

While not a hoarder per se, I am of the belief that it is better to keep things “just in case.” What if someone needs to collect empty coffee cans? Ready. And what if someday my grandchildren want to read what their parents studied in third grade?  I have it covered! What if I go on to a party and it’s a 60s theme night? I have a choice of costumes.

If someone needs a costume from any era, I am ready!

The worst part is that I have another daughter who is a purger. So not only do I keep all of my stuff, but I somehow absorb everything that she gets rid of. She is in the process of moving from Maryland to New York, and will “save” all her discards for me to put in my “just-in-case” collections. 

Hmmm…would my getting rid of something in her discard pile count as my item for the day?

Perhaps it would just be easier to take up meditation!

#meditation #woowoo #saltcrystals #pragmatic #spiritual #yoga