Love is staying.
Femme de dimanche: le 7 mai
By: Gabriela Yareliz
It’s a gloomy day, not just because it’s French Election Day. The sky is dark. Issues with my (gas) stove and other matters have me stressed out. I will be fine.
I sat down, and I asked myself why I felt that tightness in my chest. I swear it all begins when I, for some reason, open my work email or calendar. I am not sure what is the philosophical source of my stress. Maybe, it is fear of missing something, fear of not being able to make a difference, fear of not living up to potential, fear of disappointing another– who knows. We all have weird fears that creep up on us. I certainly wish I could be more aloof.
My thoughts floated back to Thursday. It was a perfect day. I had a garden in my office (with glossy orange flowers and fluffy peonies), and one of the best dinners I have ever had, with exquisite company. (A special thanks to my family and boyfriend who went all out). It was an amazing French dinner, where I would take a bite and close my eyes and try to sort out the flavors in my mouth.
My French dinner reminded me of the French attitude toward life that I so much admired, while growing up. How did that not rub off on me more? I mean, I was immersed in it. I think over the years, as I continued to pressure myself (trying to be perfect), I lost it along the way (if I ever had it).
Having the gorgeous garden now in my apartment, reminds me to stop and smell the flowers, more often. This year, will be a year of recapturing the French way, for me. It’s time to take a step back and recharge. I have to keep reminding myself. Baby steps. That’s the new official goal of the year, and each week I am going to challenge myself. (It’s the only way we grow).
I need to roll up my sleeves and cook, while saying some last prayers that Macron gets elected president. I am leaving you with the following quote that inspired me:
“Seventy-five years. That’s how much time you get, if you’re lucky. Seventy-five years. Seventy-five winters. Seventy-five springtimes. Seventy-five summers. And seventy-five autumns. When you look at it like that, it’s not a lot of time, is it? Don’t waste them. Get your head out of the rat race and forget about the superficial things that pre-occupy your existence and get back to what’s important now. Right now. This very second. And I’m not saying, drop everything and let the world come to a grinding halt. I’m saying that you could become a seeker. You could be loving more. You could be taking some chances. You could be living more. You could be spending more time with your family. You could be getting in touch with the part of you that lives instead of fears; the part of you that loves instead of hates; the part of you that recognizes the humanity in all of us. And I tell you, that’s where you’re fortunate.” Eddie Murphy, as ‘G’, in Holy Man
I want to be more of a seeker. I want to get in touch with the amazing things in me and not my fears. And I certainly want more than 75 years, which means I need to learn how to live them right.
[Image from Tumblr]
Inspiration: May 4, 2017
This morning, I started the day with so much gratitude for a new day and life. My reading this morning was very appropriate and matched my feelings, exactly.
Search Me, O God, and Know My Heart
A Psalm of King David.
139 O Lord, you have searched me and known me!
2 You know when I sit down and when I rise up;
you discern my thoughts from afar.
3 You search out my path and my lying down
and are acquainted with all my ways.
4 Even before a word is on my tongue,
behold, O Lord, you know it altogether.
5 You hem me in, behind and before,
and lay your hand upon me.
6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;
it is high; I cannot attain it.
7 Where shall I go from your Spirit?
Or where shall I flee from your presence?
8 If I ascend to heaven, you are there!
If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there!
9 If I take the wings of the morning
and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
10 even there your hand shall lead me,
and your right hand shall hold me.
11 If I say, “Surely the darkness shall cover me,
and the light about me be night,”
12 even the darkness is not dark to you;
the night is bright as the day,
for darkness is as light with you.
13 For you formed my inward parts;
you knitted me together in my mother’s womb.
14 I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.[a]
Wonderful are your works;
my soul knows it very well.
15 My frame was not hidden from you,
when I was being made in secret,
intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
16 Your eyes saw my unformed substance;
in your book were written, every one of them,
the days that were formed for me,
when as yet there was none of them.
17 How precious to me are your thoughts, O God!
How vast is the sum of them!
18 If I would count them, they are more than the sand.
I awake, and I am still with you.
Thank you, God, for the opportunity to live in Your presence. Thank you because Your thoughts toward me are vast and precious. Thank you because You are with me.
Some Wednesday Inspiration: May 3, 2017
“I find beauty in all things authentic, pure, and eternal. And so I value honesty, I value holiness, and I value the soul.”
– Lauren Britt
“Here is my contention. Christ cannot fail. I may struggle, but He cannot fail. I may waver under the attack, but He cannot fail. If Christ is in me and I am in Him, then weak though I may feel, Christ cannot fail.”
– Ray Pritchard
Disrespected and Wholesome
By: Gabriela Yareliz
I wanted to share a random observation:
There can be two women. One is worldly. She dresses perhaps less modestly, curses, sometimes behaves irresponsibly, and may throw tantrums or be more high maintenance about certain things. Then, there can be an older woman who is modest, wholesome, and kind.
In this world, for some reason, the younger one who is dressed more provocatively or drinks irresponsibly is often treated more as an adult and given more respect, while the older, wholesome woman is sometimes treated with disrespect, as if she were a child or juvenile.
This world has it all backwards.
On My Way
By: Gabriela Yareliz
I like my peaceful homebody moments. I will be in my kitchen, chopping away and intrigued by all of my senses. I learn so much in those moments of edible chemistry. Last week, as I stirred a risotto to death, I learned that vegetable stock and vegetable broth are not the same things. Duly noted.
That said, my peaceful, homebody moments are few. I am always out and about. I have my bag on one shoulder, with The New Yorker poking out and an umbrella stuffed in (because I am paranoid and distrust every meteorologist). The other day, I was walking to the train, and my phone said zero chance of rain that day. I was walking through the rain to the train, mind you. Sigh. The train. I want to talk about the train for a minute.
Last week, it took me two hours to get to work. It usually takes me 30 minutes to get to work. I practically arrived at work to eat lunch. New York, what is wrong with you? It was hot. People were fanning themselves. A little old woman kept yelling at the man beside her, “Do you want me to hit you?!” The girl in front of me was dead asleep with her mouth open. The girl beside me was writing a novel in Korean on her phone or something.
The train was packed and stagnant. Horrible. When we reached a station, there was a train across the platform. People got off trying to escape to a functioning train; and then someone yelled something on the loud speaker, and people angrily marched back into my train.
The trains are as crazy as the people in them. Or maybe the people in the trains are crazy because of the trains–
Then, there was Good Friday. There was a train waiting at the station as I reached the platform. It started as one train and then changed routes three times, while I was on it. I had to get off at one point because I had no idea where it was going after a certain stop. And weirdly, I was completely alone in my car, and the two surrounding cars were empty.
Is train drama the bane of every New Yorker’s existence? New York, you are driving me nuts. What is this?!
Trains are unreliable and strange. There is nothing worse than the feeling of being trapped.
It was a good reminder that in life we shouldn’t be trapped in dark tunnels– not in New York or in our minds. We should be somewhere bright. We need to know where we are going.
Today, my neighborhood is isolated from the world because absolutely no trains are running to it, at all. New York, your stupidity won’t bring me down today.
This ride I am writing to you from is brought to me by Uber.
I am on my way.
Sunday Girl: April 23, 2017
[Image from Tumblr]
By: Gabriela Yareliz
A happy Sunday morning to you! French election, round one, kicks off. I need to find a minute today and whip out some stationery and write to Madame about our election concerns. I think I will wait until I see who dominated in this premier tour. Participation is at an all time low, in terms of voter turn out. The rest of us are praying today puts a halt on Marine Le Pen– but enough about politics. I will keep refreshing my Le Figaro app.
Spring in NYC is hesitant. It comes, and it goes. The other day, I was thinking about where I was at this time last year. So much has changed.
I was deeply disappointed with some professional aspects of my life (this year, I am disappointed with different aspects, ha!). Things have gotten better, though. This year, I was able to pull out of that funk that felt like post-bar exam depression. I felt like I had lost myself in the process of obtaining my license. But that is a different post, for another day. Today, I am certainly more seasoned at this point in the job– starting my third year in August. And I am becoming the attorney I wanted to be.
I was so giddy about my birthday, last year. This year, I am excited, but at some points, I feel like my birthday crept up on me. I keep forgetting I will be one year older, soon. This is very unlike my old countdown ways.
I am still working on the self-care aspect of life. I am getting back in shape and learning that ‘No’ is a complete sentence.
As weak as I may feel sometimes, I can still say that I have grown stronger. I deal with trauma every day and people who are unstable mentally, and this is not easy. I am learning I need to be less harsh with myself.
My style has changed, slightly. There are a lot less H&M $5 sweaters in my closet. The last ones got weird and the cheap fabric gave out, so I threw them out and never replaced them. This year, I stepped foot in stores I had never gone into.
I do celebrate my successful adulting, even if there is a tinge of lack of balance in some areas. Long work days are followed by nice walks and ice cream with my boyfriend. Soon, I will be hitting the pavement again (long runs on the promenade).
I stopped listening to my favorite radio show in the mornings. I don’t know when it happened. I just realized the other day that the show I never missed for 5 years no longer impressed me or made me laugh. I just realized I haven’t listened to it in two months. Strange.
I went to bed hungry last night, because I was flipping through recipes that I was going to make today. Food 52 is an amazing website for recipes. I can’t wait to start on that.
It’s early still. I am still in bed. The day is sunny and bright, unlike yesterday’s rain. I worked on a motion last night, so today is mine.
This is one of my favorite things about this year versus last year– Sundays are mine, and they are spent in my sunny kitchen.
Where were you, last year? What has changed? Some of you are stronger. Some of you are one step closer to graduation. Some of you are getting married. Celebrate the changes! Some of you may be in the middle of something that is awful and feels never ending. I am telling you, it won’t last forever. Stay focused; have vision and keep pushing forward. Someday, your Sundays will be yours, so to speak.
Lastly, I wanted to share some inspiration I collected from things I read recently:
“May God bless you with a restless discomfort about easy answers, half-truths, and superficial relationships, so that you may boldly apply the truth of Christ and love as he loved from deep within your heart.
May God bless you with holy anger at injustice, oppression, and exploitation of people, so that you may work for peace, justice and freedom and demonstrate that true peace comes only in Christ.
May God bless you with the gift of tears to shed for those who suffer from pain, rejection, starvation, or the loss of all that they cherish, so that you might comfort them and, in so doing, point them to the Great Comforter, Jesus Christ, the only One who truly transforms sorrow into joy.
May God bless you with enough faith to believe that you really can make a difference in this world, so that you are able, with God’s grace in Christ, to do what otherwise could not be done.”
– A Franciscan Blessing adapted by Dr. Lindsay Fikkert
“So long as you write what you wish to write, that is all that matters; and whether it matters for ages or only for hours, nobody can say.”
– Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own
“We all have different reasons for forgetting to breathe.”
– Andrea Gibson
“The pen is mightier than the sword, but only in retrospect. At the time of combat, those with the swords generally win.” Margaret Atwood, The Nation
The wise Margaret Atwood… I believe in the power of the pen, deeply. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t leave all of my scribbles for the world to read.
I hope you also learn to record the painful and the joyous things in life. Yours is a journey that should never be forgotten.
We Are Now On Bloglovin’
How Love Unfolds
Have you ever seen something that makes you recall and relive your own story or experience?
I think that as we get older we start seeing and accepting things for what they are. For example, ourselves.
When I saw the last season of New Girl, I realized I was not and would never be like the cool and collected, always gorgeous, slightly emotionally stunted Cece. I knew I was like the nerdy, responsible, PJ set wearing Jess.
Watching Jess’ story unfold with Nick, reminded me of how my own story unfolded with my “Nick.”
It’s always exciting when you start out as friends. I would tell him of my weekend adventures and the interesting people I had met. I would search for his face in a crowd.
He always made me feel better. He cheered me up with snacks and plants. He always believed in me, even when I didn’t.
And then, one day, he said he would potentially start a new adventure far away. I literally felt pain in my heart. Had I really met a friend I didn’t want to live without? I had good practice with goodbyes, but this was not one I wanted to say.
I knew my life had changed; and it would never be the same. We both had a choice to make. We chose to stay.
He held my hand through some of the most uncertain moments. He didn’t flinch. I knew he wasn’t letting go and neither was I. He is the best man I have ever met, and I have the privilege of calling him mine.
Life sometimes gets us off focus. We are overwhelmed and tired. But we all need those moments where we look back at our story, and we see the steps that have brought us here. Here, to this place. There is no place I’d rather be. He is here, and that is more than I ever knew to ask for.
Conversations On Being A Woman
By: Gabriela Yareliz
Lately, women who inspire me have opened up to start conversations on topics we women have shied away from, typically.
I can’t say enough how empowering and interesting it has been to listen and join these conversations on PMS, endometriosis, menstruation, relationships, and health. And I mean deep conversations, not the typical superficial stuff you see on a glossy magazine page.
Knowledge is power. It’s great to learn from others’ experiences and to know you aren’t the only one.
I hope these conversations continue, because we have suffered alone and in silence long enough.
Check out:
The Atelier Doré chats about PMS
Julianne Hough on living with endometriosis
GABRIELA YARELIZ 