Buck Naked

Buck Naked

We all start out knowing magic. We are born with whirlwinds, forest fires, and comets inside us. We are born able to sing to birds and read the clouds and see our destiny in grains of sand. But then we get the magic educated right out of our souls. We get it churched out, spanked out, washed out, and combed out. We get put on the straight and narrow and told to be responsible. Told to act our age. Told to grow up, for God’s sake. And you know why we were told that? Because the people doing the telling were afraid of our wildness and youth, and because the magic we knew made them ashamed and sad of what they’d allowed to wither in themselves.
— Robert McCammon

There I was buck naked.

Gyan mudra in hand, grounded by the cold wooden planks beneath me. I waited for the silence of the camera's last shot, cueing the end of yet another series of self-timed portraits.

It all started this morning with the thought, “I wonder what this pose would look like with no clothes at all?” And now I know...

Gorgeous. That’s what.

And so I continued on, finding new moments in new shapes, dawning nothing but 32-year-old skin and the scars I’ve collected along the way.


And just like that the words stopped. I was blocked.

With no ending in sight, frustrated and seriously considering plagiarism (only kidding)...

The thought hit me...

Maybe we never needed to be added to, maybe we're complete exactly as we are.

And so I trusted that voice as truth and I posted that badass yoga nudie on Instagram.

xo, Donielle

Shitty vibe tribe

Shitty vibe tribe

Shitty Vibe Tribe member?
(we’ll abbr. SVT for short.)

I’ve been there…

No-Knead Spelt, Sprouted-Grain, Hemp Heart Protein Bread

No-Knead Spelt, Sprouted-Grain, Hemp Heart Protein Bread

Can I just say...I love finding solutions to problems? Coaching, meet my food blogging days... (whew, it's been a while!)

Over the past week, I've been working intensively with a client who's been battling cancer for nearly a decade. She's a total rockstar and such a joy. With the addition of a new med, it's been hard to find food that she finds appetizing. We needed it to go down (and stay down) smoothly, be as alkaline as possible, and it needed to be packing a seriously nutrient-dense punch. Given that eating has now become a job and she's had to sacrifice so much of the enjoyment food once brought her, I thought I'd try and bring back the bread she once loved. For acidic reasons, bread is typically contraindicative of healing, and so reintroducing it in a non-inflammatory way was really important and a challenge I desperately wanted to take on for her. After all, she deserves to eat the food that brings her joy...especially right now.

I researched flour comparable to the white (no-so-great-for-you) flour I typically used when baking a loaf of no-knead bread and ran across spelt, which can be used in a one-to-one ratio with white flour. I also added in sprouted whole wheat and hemp hearts. OMG. This bread was to. die. for. and most importantly...she LOVED it.

#winning

Oh, also...I recently invested in something I've wanted for so long now, a Kangen water machine, and so I was able to use 8.5 pH micro-clustered, antioxidant-filled water for this bread and that was such a bonus in making it alkaline! (If you want one of these miracle machines for your home, my friend Armon Anderson can hook you up!)

 

If you followed my food blog years ago or you've read Jim Lahey's My Bread, you might recognize this process. And for those of you new to no-knead bread, get ready to have your mind blown. You're welcome.

It's SO easy.

 


Ingredients

2 1/3 cups spelt flour

2/3 cup sprouted wheat flour

1/2 cup hemp hearts

1 1/4 cup plus two tablespoons lukewarm water (preferably alkaline water)

3/4 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon rapid-rise yeast

 

Directions

1. In a large, non-reactive bowl, stir together the spelt flour, sprouted wheat, hemp hearts, salt, and rapid-rise yeast. 

2. Add the water and, using a wooden spoon or your hand, mix until you've formed a wet, sticky dough. (Note: if your dough is dry, feel free to use a more water a tablespoon or two at a time)

3. Tightly cover the bowl with plastic wrap and drape with a cloth. Place the bowl in a warm area of the room to rise for 12 to 18 hours. (Truth be told, I've gone 20+ hours with no knead bread dough before)

4. Once your dough has more than doubled in size and it  and the surface is dotted with bubbles, the first rise is complete. Use a spatula to scrape the dough out of the bowl in one piece onto a tea towel dusted with wheat flour. Fold the dough over itself a few times. Cover loosely with tea towel and let rise an additional 1 to 2 hours. The dough is ready when it's almost doubled. If you gently poke it with your finger, it should hold the impression. If it springs back, let it rise another 15 minutes.

5. 30 minutes before the end of the second rise, preheat the oven to 475 degrees, with a rack in the lower third, and place a heavy 4 1/2 to 5 1/2 quart pot and lid in the center of the rack.

6. Using pot holders, carefully remove the preheated pot for the oven and uncover. Unfold the tea towel and quickly but gently invert the dough into the pot, seam side up. Cover the pot and bake for 30 minutes.

7. Remove the lid and continue to bake an additional 15 minutes, until the bread is a deep chestnut color but not burnt. Use a heatproof spatula or pot holders to carefully lift the bread out of the pot and place it on a rack to cool thoroughly. 

8. Enjoy!


 

For inquiries about Transformative Mindset Coaching and Yoga Therapy as it applies to cancer and chronic illness:

 

 

If I'm solipsistic...

If I'm solipsistic...

My peeps, let me start by saying, I've been completely overwhelmed by the response to the launch of my website and blog...I have so much gratitude for each of you, and I'm definitely feeling the vast expanse of love and support. While most of the feedback was incredibly encouraging, there was one negative comment that rang loud. It's funny how heavy one bullshit remark can be, it could have carried more weight than all of the beauty that came out of the post if I let it. But I didn't. And so, of course, I deleted it...but in hindsight, maybe I should have let him fend for himself amongst your positivity...that would have at least been amusing to watch ;-)

Feed him to the wolves. Ha.

So what did he say? And why did it take me a whole 15 seconds to delete it?

Crazy, no...but solipsistic, yes. Geez.

For those unaware of the definition:

 

sol·ip·sism

ˈsäləpˌsizəm/

noun

  1. the view or theory that the self is all that can be known to exist.

 

In other words, it's all about...

...in a nutshell.

Hmm. My first response was "Fuck you, dude! You don't know me!" Quickly followed by my second response, "Okay more love, Donielle, not less...but seriously? Do you even know me at all?"

He didn't, he was one of the many people who has gotten the "Accept" button over the years merely by association of mutual friends. And so yes, the truth is, he definitely didn't know me...and now he probably never will....

DELETED.

(I win)

No, but seriously. Let's get into this; because I want it to be perfectly clear WHY I do what I do in the case that's ever been in question.

Why is it that I look for and rip off every single mask I've ever worn? Why do I allow myself to stand in front of all of you, completely naked, baring my soul...because it's not like this is particularly comfortable. If I'm being honest, most the time it's horrible AF. And in case you're wondering, yes, I do second-guess the decision every single time I begin a live broadcast on Facebook or get ready to send out a whole-hearted and brutally honest post into the dense chasm of the social media universe. But I've been living this way for so long now, that I've learned to embody the discomfort. Even in the moments when I doubt myself, it's knowing that my experiences and my words might mean everything to ONE person, and that makes the risk of misunderstanding and/or temporary humiliation more than worth it every. single. time. 

You see, I've practiced living this way so long that I know without a shadow of a doubt that it's NOT about me. It has never been about me. It's about anyone else BUT me...I do it for the people who are alone, invisible, and unseen who desperately need ANYONE to say, "Me too, friend. Me too." It's my calling to give a voice to the weary so they can set that heavy shit down, take a much-needed sigh of relief, and then a good, hard look at the darkness they've been hiding from the people around them. Most importantly, giving them permission to shine the light on it and ultimately free themselves.

As you can most likely imagine, that comment came as quite the shock. My intent was completely misunderstood...and even so, that's okay...I've said it before, I'm not for everybody. But my heart, that beautiful thing that beats in my chest, oh how I can assure you, it's the OPPOSITE of solipsistic.

Sorry, not sorry, random dude. 

There will never be a day when I sit idly by and watch people suffer in silence. I can't and I won't. And so I will never stop sharing, not because of one negative comment or a thousand of them. Bring it the fuck on. Because...

You need to know you are NOT alone. 

You will NEVER be alone.

And even if no one else on the planet has got you, I've got you.

You can always count on me. I will show up. I will choose Love over fear and I will ALWAYS be brave enough to be seen. 

xo, Donielle

 

 

 

Ladies, you are not crazy.

After nearly a decade of using personal pronouns like "us" or "we," it's no secret now that I find myself newly single in New York City at 32 years old. Ten whole years have passed since my last first date (or any other dating firsts for that matter...talk about awkward). I've also spent ten full years growing into the woman I am now, a woman who barely resembles the single 22-year-old girl who was completely unsure of who she was, what she was worth, or how she wanted to be treated, and to be perfectly clear before I get started, this is not an ex bash...I brought that shit in with me. And so, as you can imagine, a lot has changed in that time...and yet it comes as no surprise that the universe would like to test that theory...

My first date in the city a couple of months ago closely resembled the type of guy I would have dated in high school...the good-looking athletic type, a real charmer when it counted...and an entirely different person when no one else was watching.

Shoot me. 

After date one, a few red flags, and three too many margaritas, my internal firewall took over. I sent him a farewell text on my long walk alone to the Subway,

That was really sweet until it wasn’t. Please don’t ever call me again.

(Carrie Bradshaw would have been so proud)

But my gut instinct was second-guessed by the sober light of the next day as I quickly sent him a few follow-up texts. Texts that led to a very long, very confused conversation...and then to the dreaded C word...

Crazy.

If I'm being truthful, I used it first myself. I mean, I looked crazy all flip-flopping around like a fish, and without the margarita's I felt crazy too. Our text conversation soon spiraled into a full-on gravel-fest on my part...me apologizing as he milked the situation...if you'd of handed me a cheerleading uniform and an empty bucket proudly labeled: Donielle's Dignity & Self Respect, I would have been right back in high school with a big, fat F on my report card...

Test failed.

A few weeks passed, and because I practice instant forgiveness for my own sanity, I had all but forgotten about the guy until one night when I heard that familiar ding from my iPhone, with a "Hey crazy," popping up in my text messages. He was back. Wait, what? I didn't scare him off? 

Because I hadn't had a chance at an in-person redemption, I obliged the "crazy" greeting and let it slide. Cute. After all, my track record wasn't all that becoming of me. But it wasn't until our second-chance (completely sober) encounter that I remembered exactly why drunk Donielle fired off that text in the first place. It was because he earned it. And even after devouring too many of the worlds tastiest adult beverages, I knew exactly what I wanted, expected, and deserved...and he was simply not it. 

So ladies, why do we second-guess the gut? Because it's never wrong. And scientifically speaking, it's the only place within us that makes decisions with ease (just ask Simon Sinek, he's done far more research than I). Instead, we compromise, chase, and fight for people who we already instinctively know won't ever work in our lives. Doesn't that feel wonderful AF? God forbid it actually works out longterm. My friends, I'm going to call it like it is, that's fear...at it's finest.

And you know me and fear. 

You are not crazy. That bears repeating. You are NOT crazy. You have never been crazy. You simply forgot to trust yourself and the cosmic plan for your life. And now that you know...girlfriend, you don't have to make that mistake ever again. So there.

 

xo, Donielle

 

P.S. If you're unsure of what you want in a partner, start now by crafting a list and reading that shit to yourself on the daily. What you focus on you find, and in my limited experience back on the dating scene, it makes it much easier to let go of who you know doesn't make the cut when you've got it written down on paper.