Expect miracles.
“The city waits and aches. The little grasses Crack through stone, and they are green with life.” Sylvia Plath, from my readings of Winter Trees
Spring is coming. You can just feel it in your bones. I feel the desire to clean, organize and prepare for a time of renewed energy and life! The cold is not the same. The sun feels different. The plants are waking up. Spring.
By: Gabriela Yareliz
Have you noticed that people use other’s desire to be perceived as “good” as a manipulation tactic? People choose groupthink, their likes and dislikes (and sometimes their vaccinations and medical procedures) based on optics, oftentimes. ‘What will people think?’ is often the undercurrent. The craving for acceptance can be so exploited.
People manipulate others in politics and especially religion with this idea of “Don’t you want to be good? Don’t you want to be a good Democrat/Conservative/Christian/Muslim/Jew/wife/employee?”
And listen, there is a concept of righteousness that exists, but it’s not what people try to manipulate you with.
I once had a pastor who wanted to meet with me, alone. I said no. He said he would not listen to my ideas unless I met alone with him. I continued to refuse. Out of revenge, he gave my personal number (which the church had because I was actively serving in a Bible class), and gave it to every undocumented person in the church saying I was a free attorney for them. The whole church was undocumented so you can imagine how that played out. He said that my refusal to be manipulated made me a “bad Christian.” I was hot with anger and my hands were shaking when he accused me. I knew this guy was out of his damn mind, and he was an abuser. Few things piss me off more than someone weak and disgusting in power.
When I look at the concerted attacks right now against many Christians, whether it’s on their views on politics, world/foreign policy— there is this undercurrent of “Don’t you want to be good? Fall in line.” (Also, I have to go on record to say I was disappointed to see Jordan B. Peterson partake in this because I am a fan of his work). JBP should know, people do anything for acceptance and a quick buck.
We all saw this manipulation spectacularly during the pandemic. We quickly decided what made people “good” and what made people “grandma killers.” Medical professionals threw judgment out the window. People were so ok falling in line with something that had no basis, and people were fine and almost thrilled to other and exclude others (proven to be pointless).
This is why there is so much abuse in communities— we allow abuse and manipulation to spread when we don’t stand up to it. We prefer our temporary gain versus assessing the damage and consequences.
Slander and lies hold no weight. People are crazy out there, and liars destroy themselves.
Take it from someone who has been seen as a “bad Christian” and bad many things— it doesn’t matter. Put people in their place. If being “good” means being manipulated and falling in line— I don’t want to be “good.” I would rather be true and love and just.
By: Gabriela Yareliz
A woman rammed her stroller into me like four times. Then, she ran over my foot, and then, hit my heel. I was irritated and as I shook my head clenching my jaw, I spotted some guy’s hat that said “stay kind.” Deep breaths. Sometimes, we need a break from the daily injuries you know? I am tired of New York City. Trains never run on time and on top of that, I have a psycho trying to mow me down.
It’s my personal philosophy that adults should get spring break. It’s not like I had OC-Tijuana spring breaks as a teen, in fact, usually, something disastrous would happen to us during that week— call it the Spring Break Curse— but despite the aforementioned curse, I have fond memories of spring break. It was a time to reset and step away from the books.
We need breaks. I don’t know what our resistance to breaks is, but we have it.
Sunshine, green grass, maybe some ocean air— we deserve a break.
“A lot of things broke my heart but fixed my vision.” Freddie Gibbs
By: Gabriela Yareliz
That’s the way it is. Often, through suffering, we find salvation and clarity. Clarity requires humility.
When we don’t learn through suffering, it’s often because we are clinging to our own hopes, delusions and sometimes, ego. A lot of things can cloud vision. We humans love to invent things and call them reality.
When we release these things and let go, that is when the clarity comes. It’s like being plunged in a deep or murky body of water. Let’s be real, suffering and heartache makes us feel like we are drowning sometimes. We can’t breathe.
A friend of mine recently showed me that she helped design classroom decorations for “sea week.” It consisted of a deep blue plasticky cloth draped over the fluorescent lights and cutouts of silhouettes of fish and sharks. From below, the kids feel like they are underwater. The light shines dark blue on them. They see the shadows of the creatures “swimming” above. Wildly creative.
Imagine— being plunged into the East River. God help us. Disgusting. I can see it from the bridge as I write this. Once submerged, you only start to see as you emerge and near the surface of the water. That is where the light is. When we let go of the anchors and come to the bubbling surface, we can see.
Submerged, we see shadows, threats, lurking creatures, things that appear to be one way and may be something else. Vision, clarity and light require us to let go. It requires us to float back to the surface after we have dealt with what is in the deep. We belong in the light.
By: Gabriela Yareliz
Rumors of a recession swirl. Our economy has been in a bubble for far too long. Is it time for the long awaited pop and self-correction? Let’s be real, in many ways this has been inevitable. What we chose in the last election was who we want to lead us out of it. It’s time to buckle up. The bubble does have to burst. It’s an inevitable consequence of reckless spending and decisions.
Mahmoud Khalil is fighting deportation. People have been deported for a lot less. People do realize that people with visas can be turned away at the border or point of entry for any reason. Immigration can be an arbitrary thing. Now, it’s a free speech issue. Or is it? It will be interesting to see this play out.
Investigative journalism is back. I have been deep into the Candace Owens Harvey Weinstein series. As I follow different wild timelines and cases, a few things become apparent… things are never what they seem. Take that to the bank with you.
Another common thread is that absent parents mark people in wild ways. For example, so many women who end up seeking older men and exchanging their bodies for things (jobs, security, validation)— most had no fathers. Many of these women become abusers and “victims.” In many ways, people learn to victimize themselves through choices. We do the best we can with what we have, but sometimes our best really fails. Many men who become abusers also have an absent parent. An absent parent wreaks havoc on the universe— often times when the child grows up to be an adult who has not processed or coped with that absence. It shapes our society and certainly the focus of our legal system in many ways. The chain reaction of lives altered by this simple fact becomes WILD. And none of it is justified. It just is. A simple observation. Life after life often destroyed or deeply shaped and so much suffering because someone who should have been there wasn’t.
I keep thinking back to that movie, The Swan Princess, where the villain, Rothbart, flips his cape and he tells the naive, shallow, dumb prince (our hero) that not everything is what it seems. A profound lesson to learn in childhood. Even more life-altering as an adult. It’s truer than true.
By: Gabriela Yareliz
I keep hearing about the idea of balance. Does it exist? Is it real? Most entrepreneurs say no. Most parents of young children say no. Some people who work 9-5 say yes. I guess balance (if it exists) rides the waves. I guess, though, if it comes in seasons that are sprinkled sporadically, it isn’t the definition of balance. Balance is about proportionality and all things being equal.
I think the more intertwined your life is with others (even if they are clients or family), the less balance you are likely to have. People inevitably hijack your time, sometimes, even unintentionally. Like when your kid is vomiting at 4 am, making your day look very different than what you initially planned.
Is balance worth it? If it does exist, what are we sacrificing for it?
Time is the one thing we don’t ever get back. To me, it makes sense we would go after things like a hungry dog because the next breath isn’t promised. The idea of living to the hilt probably throws balance off a cliff. But then there is the argument that the balanced person who has time for a coffee and staring off in space is really the one living.
Then, there is the argument that only those who go through seasons of high acceleration (unbalanced stretches) are the only ones who truly relax in that coffee-stare-off moment.
We talk a lot about balance, but sometimes, the way people describe it sounds very pie-in-the-sky— in other words, not real.
Is balance aspirational? Does it prejudice us to aspire to it?
Does anyone know? Probably not.
“All I wanted to do with my life was fill the pages.” Jhumpa Lahiri
Same, Jhumpa, same.
Words have the power to do that to you. They sort of take over and fill your mind with swollen dreams. Pages flying into every corner of the heart.
By: Gabriela Yareliz
Goalies— their job is to go against any human instinct to duck or avoid a hit— their job is to block and take the hits. It goes against all human instincts to avoid pain or direct impact.
Sometimes in life, to get the job done right, we have to go against all of our natural instincts and what is familiar. At times, it won’t be about avoiding the hits, but we have to block and take things on. Don’t allow the other team to score. Victory is found in taking the hits.
“But what WE CANNOT AFFORD TO is to NOT have an edge. A unique set of skills a lá Liam Neeson that sets ourselves apart from the rest.” Jesus Enrique Rosas
I was a fan of The TIG, when Meghan Markle wasn’t completely insufferable (years and years ago). I have zero desire to see her new show or follow her in any way now. Why? Because Rosas is right in his latest newsletter The Lesson I Learned From Watching Meghan’s Snoozefest— she has no edge (unless her narcissism counts). People who present like Markle are, well, boring.
People who want to be perceived as perfect are boring. Rosas is right, we all need edge. Real edge. We need to be real. Otherwise– are we alive?
What gives you edge? How have you lost edge? How can you cultivate what sets you apart from the rest?
By: Gabriela Yareliz
Stories are everywhere. There are layers and layers of them that we have to chew through. In some places, they are easy to see. In others, you have to work a bit harder. You have to wait a bit longer. It’s like chewing through those gummy bears that are (I swear) made of rubber. Some stories take longer to come apart. Sometimes, they leave you full, and other times, they leave you empty and buzzing like an afternoon crash followed by caffeine jitters.
No matter where you are, the stories will bubble to the surface if you are patient. If you keep scratching like a matcha whisk, the bubbles will rise.
I was standing there gripping the poll, all sorts of tired. I knew I had adjusted something on my boot, and I was reminding myself to not touch my face after that. I desperately needed to wash my hands. Underground on a crowded train, that opportunity doesn’t exist. I was reminding myself because I was unfocused and tired. Not just tired, but almost-sticks-a-flosser-pick-in-my-ear-thinking-it’s-a-Q-tip tired. I feel the clasp on my skirt digging into my side. Am I breathing? I wonder. I decide that I am breathing.
Finally, a seat opens up. I sit down and look at the bench across the way. There is a man, a strong man who looks like he works as a contractor or something. He is wearing a denim jacket with an American flag stitched to the left arm sleeve. He glances up at me from whatever he is making. He is knitting. I notice he is wearing a thick knit sweater. The man probably knit that too, I think. He has big green eyes and curly hair. His eyes fall back to his knitting needles. I stare because I have never seen this before. Suddenly, the wrong doors to the train car open. I quickly turn to see who is subway surfing while we are speeding down the underground tunnel. I expect to see youths with a death wish. A tall man with white hair and a thick leather jacket walks by. He has definitely killed someone, I think to myself. He walks down the middle of the subway car glancing at all of us, like he is studying us. He only sways to move past the polls in the middle of the car. He never stops. He keeps walking. Onto the next car. We exhale.
“Good evening,” a black man in a hat croons to us via microphone. He sets down his speaker. “You don’t have to give me money, just a smile,” he says. I feel the collective cringe of the car as we wait to see what this performance will be like. “Stay blessed,” he says reminding me of that one New Girl episode.
He starts singing, and he is incredibly good. The man should have a record deal. An elderly Russian lady looks up from a crossword and starts swaying and smiling at the music from her seat. A man sits next to me in a gray coat and continues to slide off of the blue seat. Eventually, he splats his hands on both sides of him as stops from the sliding. He holds himself up, weirdly, while trying to hide he is doing so. His feet touch the ground, so I am not exactly sure what is going on with this sliding man. He is probably on drugs.
A young couple stands near the door holding pale wooden chairs. They look around embarassed, as if they are taking up too much space. It’s rush hour. They are. Most of us ignore them. An asian girl grips a large poster board that shrieks school project. The music stops, and the singer moves his speaker. A woman flutters her hands around to dry the nail polish she just applied. It’s not her color. An older Chinese woman is smacking a younger woman and yelling at her loudly in Chinese. We assume that is her daughter, crying. “What the f*** was that?” a middle eastern man says brushing past them in his puffy coat, shaking his head. The man next to me is gripping the seat like his life depends on it.
When you look closely, you can see things like the glance of contempt, the pursing of the lips, the word mumbled under the breath, the giggle in the inappropriate place. The stories around us require us to be awake to the details. Life requires us to be awake. When we are, we notice the stories everywhere. Faces and faces come bubbling up to the surface. Little mysteries expand and pop when the time is right.
Stay blessed.
GABRIELA YARELIZ 