What I learned about the Universe by Practicing my Model Walk

A story of desire, 5″ heels and striding out in your fullness.

Stuck to the growing pages of my sacred black hardbound journals and so often posted on my blog, vision boards are common parlance in the visual life of my outer dreamscapes. Like Carl Jung, I too believe that the soul speaks in image. While surveying the scenes inlaid like a terrazzo of magazine fragments spanning 3 little black books, images of modeling came up consistently, specifically in the spirit of being an eco-model and spokesperson for Patagonia (my favorite company). Some images trended towards the runway – towards towering heels, beautiful lines and textures, and sparkles blinging bright as complexions. Not only did I want to celebrate the depths of ecology and eco-spun company philosophies, but clearly I wanted cute shoes, cute dresses and that strut of overall hotness on the 35 feet of show and tell and paparazzi flashes.

Under April’s waxing moon and the westerly light of the Pleiades, in a spontaneous pagan ritual of letting go in front of a patio fire pit at a friend’s old house in Boulder, I offered up a block of wood to the inferno with a solid intention for just that: ‘I want to be a model’ it read.

“I’m not sure what you wrote on that one,” my fellow pyro-conspirator noted, “but it made a HUGE flame.”

I smiled, trusting that the message was carried to the intuitions keen on receiving it west-side, in the neighborhoods of haute LA and Ventura, and beyond, to Paris and Milan.

Maybe life as a galavanting globe trotter in the name of fashion and spokesmodel-dom is part of the future that’s calling me into it but Boulder called first. My fashionably savvy friend and I were among the beautiful Boulder women modeling for The Boulder in Bloom fashion show at the St. Julien on May 7 put on by Rags Consignment as a benefit for the Growe Foundation. We were so giddy about the opportunity; our smiler was working overtime with glee as we practiced our model walks around town, while making breakfast in the morning and on the trails.

Contrary to the fact that my closet is stocked with Patagucci top to bottom and all layers in between, and my I was concerned that maybe my inner fashionista was buried in cashmere and organic cotton. Would I need to get lacy undergarments? Admittedly, the whole idea of walking a runway – as tantalizingly glamorous as it seemed – was really pushing me up against one of my edges like a heavily laced corset. I started to momentarily question my muchness.

The pre-show fitting was a flit of tulle, accessories and racks of possibilities. I was dressed in a frock that came close to my alter-ego—a badass Alice in Wonderland from 5″ stiletto boots to the top hat—and learned the finer points of the model walk. The stride leads with the knees, one foot in front of the other, shoulders back, arms hang down and hands in the subtle runway mudra don’t move far from the hip, head and neck natural and upright as if supported by an imaginary wall. What happens then is a stance you can relax into as you move boldly forward: a heart-opened stride of clarity and grace, exuding nothing but confidence and inner radiance with a steady momentum.

It felt good. I felt good. It felt like an apt metaphor for striding out into life. The following morning on my walk to the trailhead, I put these elements to practice for blocks at a time with my bed-head-Helena-Bohnam-Carter-hair, PJ’s and running shoes, I felt a change I’d been wanting to embody for a long while. It started in my shoulders, those blades of glory that carried to so much imagined weight, and in my levators that tightened and tenderized my pecs and closed off my heart space; soon it all began to let go. Moving was easy, breezy, covergirl-like. I felt open and opening ever more to the future that was calling me into it.

I felt like my motto “cute is the new glam” was weighted and ready with a presence to match. Because in the co-creative universe not only are you seen, but you are the scene – creating your experience. Posture holds that element captive at times and limits not only our physical movement, but the full range of our emotional and spiritual movement as well. How you hold your body (and what you hold in body) reflects the beliefs that hold up your life. Shifting those images and storylines can create the space you need to thrive.

What are you embodying?