Alexa Dayn

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Sink or Swim, I’m Diving In

Start Here

Okay.

I’m starting here.

I don’t know how this is going to work out… but I guess that’s the point?

I got this kind of epiphany recently where I realized that in a way, the not knowing is just as relevant to life as the knowing is. Not knowing, imperfection, fucking up — all important experiences! And that is why I am finally writing this.

I’ve been circling the idea of writing things in some sort of blog format for a while now, but I haven’t been able to quite get it going. I’ve made a bunch of attempts, so, you know, there’s that. Ayurveda, pharmaceutical drugs, personal sovereignty, the opportunity of crisis, not knowing what to write about — I have half-finished pieces of writing on all of these things and more, but I haven’t finished or done anything with any of them. Each time I tried to write about something I would get to a point where I felt like I was swimming upstream, forcing it, and it just wasn’t feeling right.

After every unfinished piece I would get super disappointed with myself but then just kind of go on with my life, not paying much attention to this repetitive nagging feeling that I need to write. Not in an obligatory way… It was more along the lines of feeling an untapped potential, this untapped gold mine of potential that I felt inexplicably excited about and connected with. Oddly, I almost felt as if I already had accessed this potential, like there was some future version of myself feeling all happy and fulfilled that I was connecting with in those moments. (Which I actually think was exactly what was happening, since time is an illusion after all!)

Basically though, even thought I kept going on about my life without really letting myself go there, deep down I knew there was something there — some pot of gold at the end of the rainbow that I couldn’t quite identify.

How My Perspective Shifted

Last night I was going through my typical routine of reading stuff on my iPad before going to sleep (with Night Shift turned on and the screen brightness turned all the way down), when I came across this article by Cory Katuna. The title caught my eye right away, “Just Fucking Start,” and it was exactly what I needed to hear.

Reading that post, I felt something activate in me. (Which ended up delaying sleep for a while, but it was totally worth it!)

She said a lot of great things that really resonated, but this was my main takeaway: We don’t have to have complete mastery of a given topic in order to write about it. I mean, if you’re going to write some definitive guide to something, then yeah, be an expert at that thing, but that’s not the only type of content that people find value in. I realized it’s just as valuable for people to read about the journey — the struggles, the successes, the failures, and the real raw vulnerable imperfections of other people who are “on the path” so to speak. Because that’s what people can relate to — real people who are out there doing their best, fucking up, finding success, and unabashedly sharing their experience with no shame or censorship. Brené Brown wrote the book on this by the way, literally, who Cory referenced in her post.

So that’s what I’m doing. This feels right, finally, and it’s what was missing from all of my previous attempts at starting this blog of sorts.

I was trying so desperately to come from a place of having enough of my shit together that I could feel valid in writing about said shit from a place of relative expertise and experience.

But enough of that.

I mean, let’s be real — I’m 29! Yeah, I’ve learned some shit, been through a lot, healed exponentially — but I am still very much a work in progress, and that’s okay. More than okay. It’s real.

So, this is me! 🤙

It feels a little terrifying to put my imperfect self “out there,” on the internet for anyone to see — but also oddly exhilarating. This feels like the breadcrumb trail of excitement that Bentinho Massaro refers to a lot. I don’t know where this trail is leading me, but I know it feels good and exciting and right. So I’m going for it.

Being Super Fucking Real

Now I want to mention my awesome friend Kali. She lives in Canada, which is obviously quite a distance from California, and in the 8 years that we’ve known each other we’ve taken to writing each other these epically long messages back and forth (which our iPhones started truncating a few operating systems ago). She’s a really great writer (she actually does copywriting professionally), and I’ve always enjoyed writing, so it works out.

I almost feel like I’ve been unknowingly preparing for writing in this blog throughout all these years of writing to Kali. I’m sure she would agree that I’ve gotten pretty comfortable being super fucking real and uncensored. With her I feel no compulsion to sound more together than I am — I mean, she’s one of my absolute best friends on this planet, so why would I? She’s never going to judge me or love me any less.

But random people on the internet very well may judge me, and they certainly don’t love me or even know me to begin with…

So this triggers some fear, and lack, and inadequacy. Definitely. But here’s the thing. I could either play small, play it safe, feigning all this expertise and enlightened otherworldly wisdom, placating any potential hypothetical person who may come across this blog in the future — or I can dive in and wave my colorful badass flag of weirdness and wildness and awkwardness and radiance.

I’m choosing the latter.

This reminds me of something that Brett Larkin says about being a successful yoga teacher. The really successful ones aren’t afraid to take a stance, be different, and share their unique voice — they totally embrace their individuality. And of course this philosophy applies to being successful at just about any remotely creative endeavor, including what I’m doing here. This is how she put it:

Would you rather be this sweet, well-liked teacher everyone basically kinda likes, but they can’t really put a finger on who you are and what you stand for. They see you name on the schedule and their mind is drawing a blank. Or be the kind of teacher who has 50% raving lunatic fans and 50% people who just don’t vibe with your style. But when people see your name on the schedule, they know exactly what they’re in for, to the extent that they can describe the experience to a friend.

Again, I’m choosing the latter.

I’m diving in.

I’m going to write these blog posts like I write to Kali. Well, almost — I probably won’t get into quite as much detail here about, you know, sex positions and dysfunctional family dynamics and all that — but who knows!

Once I made that decision last night and felt this shift activate in me, the floodgates opened and I kept thinking of topic after topic that I want to write about. As 11:30 rolled around and I was really trying to get to sleep, I would think of one, add it really quickly to my list app, get back to closing my eyes, and then I’d think of another one, and another one — this happened at least five times!

And that is the origin of this blog.

So sink or swim… I’m diving in. And you’re welcome to join me! The water’s warm. Or cold, depending on your level of Wim-Hof-ness.