Laura Cordon

🎧30-days of daily practice to guide those who struggle with their relationship to themselves
who want to compassionately journey inward and know themselves deeply
so they can make intuitive, self-supporting decisions.

😌A journey of knowing your breath.
Of knowing yourself.
Of making change one day, one moment, one small step at at a time.

💖A journey of learning what matters most to you and moving in that direction starting with this moment.

🌬️ A journey of letting go of what you’ve been taught to believe about breathing,
letting go of what you’ve been told about how different breathing techniques “should” make you feel
and purely exploring and learning your own breath, body, mind and being.

🤷🏼‍♀️A journey of me strangely and honestly showing up exactly as I am, creating something that’s kind of live voice messages from a friend, meets practical information about the breath, meets deep reflection, meets guided meditation, breathing and journaling practices, meets the soundscapes of life and living.

🔗Follow the link in bio to know more about how to sign-up.

🌬️✨💖 Share if you know anyone who might benefit from this

I look at this picture and think it’s a nice picture.

I think,
I look pretty,

but I question,
what is pretty?

my mind flips through images of magazines, ads and instagram posts telling me, “this is pretty,”
no, I’m not pretty then,

I’m not beautiful.

But then I think of all the naked bodies I saw walking around the european spas,

I didn’t think any less of any of them, actually
I saw so much beauty,

the diversity of beauty,
in bodies, in faces, in beings,

I too must be beautiful.

I look at the colours of the image and think, these are beautiful colours,
I like the way my eyes stand out,

that is beautiful,

but as I look at the face, the eyes, I wonder
who is this? who is that? who am I?

who is this body, this face I’m looking at?

who is this changing hair, clothes, skin I call Laura, they call Laura?

and why does she want to present herself as pretty?
for who?
for what?

what would it mean
to fall into that category?

the way each outfit I wear puts me into a category
and somedays I think, I wore the wrong outfit,
somedays I think, I represented wrong,

and anyway, isn’t this all trivial
when there’s great suffering and sadness

but is this not important too?
not the question, or the answer,
but the trivial humanness,
the mind that gives weight and importance to this,

that somehow, with shame looped in, my existence tells me
this matters right now,

but something deeper wonders,
who am I?

who is this?

who is that?

who is she
beyond this image,
beyond the mind that wonders about trivial things,
and the body that feels the weight of those trivialities?

does this matter?

but what matters more
than feeling it

and being present for it all?

than connecting with you
through this feeling, these questions, these words,
who I wonder, maybe, feels something like this too,

who questions something like this too,

who is trivial and vain and judgmental and full-hearted
too?

that feeling when you’re at the end of a journal
and you learned so much about yourself
filling in each page

and you didn’t know you were transforming
but when you look back
the person who wrote those earlier pages
seems so far away

though there’s some thread of you
carried throughout,

handwriting you will always recognize as your own,

and somehow the journal feels so much heavier in its fullness than when you first opened it’s blank pages,

that feeling of letting it all go
carrying forward only what is essential