Current mood board from Pinterest. ✨













Expect miracles.
Current mood board from Pinterest. ✨













“Most people don’t know what they want or even who they are. And we still let them tell us who to be.” Rainier Wylde
Friday (and life) attitude: Don’t let them. Let’s gooooo.
By: Gabriela Yareliz
There we were, J and me, memorizing Super Bass by Nicki Minaj for our law school clinic’s talent show/ karaoke night in this tiny basement establishment in Greenwich Village. I can still rap parts of it.
This week, I was heartened to see the greatest female rapper of our time address the international community on the targeting and murdering of Christians in Nigeria and the world at large.

So, Nicki was speaking truth to power, and Rep. Thomas Massie was keeping it #sassywithMassie in D.C. (iykyk) Massie is a figure I admire along with Rand Paul. Men who piss off both parties. That’s what makes them iconic. Bless these independent figures with a passion for truth.

I was also happy to see Emilie Hagen and Denise Bovee in D.C. being #sassywithMassie.

I finished Margaret Atwood‘s fab course on writing. I am almost done with Aaron Sorkin’s. The wheels in my brain have been churning for days, at faster speeds. Don’t you just love the feeling of learning?
Thank God the nightmares have stopped. (Been laying off the melatonin).
As I write, I score a seat on the train, barreling toward Times Square, but before I got a seat, a little Asian girl was hugging the pole I was trying to grip. Aside from all of us being annoyed because anytime we grabbed the pole, we also inevitably grabbed a good handful of her staticky hair, her weird pole hug made me think.
As she hugged the cold metal rod, resting her face on it, I couldn’t help but wonder about how differently this girl sees this metal rod. The rest of us barely want to touch it and only grab onto it to avoid injury, meanwhile, she is resting her entire face on it. Kids believe anything. They disregard certain things that make us more apprehensive as adults. Now, I am not saying rub your face on every metal pole that at one point was enveloped by people’s nastiest parts on a NYC subway, but I am asking, what adult stiffness can we let go of and how can we adopt a more childlike carefree spirit where appropriate?
In my headphones, Candace Owens is reading off license plates and speaking like a car rental catalog (we are truly gripped— her latest phase of investigation is giving us life). And November feels like it’s officially winter. It has been a bucket hat week for me.
Ok, last thing… our Seven Days of Gratitude start tomorrow on Modern Witnesses. I love taking a pause to embrace gratitude. It’s a part of my daily routine, but to reflect on the entire last year is always special. What a year it has been. Crazily, it’s almost over.
The common theme in everything I see and listen to is— what are you doing that is life-giving? The world needs more people who are truly alive.
“And I don’t negotiate with my gut (she’s a tough bitch who is never afraid to teach me a lesson or ten).” Cara Alwill
“Above all, do not lose your desire to walk: Every day I walk myself into a state of well-being and walk away from every illness; I have walked myself into my best thoughts, and I know of no thought so burdensome that one cannot walk away from it.” Søren Kierkegaard

By: Gabriela Yareliz
The wind has been jogging my memory, lately.
Have you ever been on a walk and been pushed by the wind? I guess what is worse is when you end up walking against a gust that makes you levitate.
Everyone who has been in NYC knows these streets turn into wind tunnels. Poor design. I read somewhere that somewhere in Europe someone designed a city based on geometric perfection and harmony. (This affected the architecture and placement of buildings). If that is true, it’s equally true that whoever designed NYC did it to induce panic and mayhem. A big Gotham fan, I am sure.
Even despite the fact that we live in a wind tunnel that blasts us without hesitation, the wind has been even stranger and stronger lately.
I thought it was just here— but a woman I follow in Montana said the other day that she was surprised there was no snow yet— but what they have had are hurricane force winds.
This adds up, I thought to myself. Must be some massive weather phenomenon.
Now, what I will say below is not said for biblical interpretation, but I am simply sharing some thoughts that crossed my mind. I was sitting in the car feeling the wind push the car into a slight swerve, seeing the yellow leaves get blown off of the trees and swept in rolling waves down the highway ramp, when my thoughts turned to Revelation 7.
Revelation 7 paints us a picture of the end of time, where God’s angels “hold back” the “four winds of the earth” while standing on the “four corners of the earth” in a time of grace, while God’s people are sealed.
The holding back of wind is a symbol of grace and divine protection. An avid reader of Scripture knows that wind is also a symbol of the Holy Spirit, who allows us our breath and life. It is the same spirit that rose Christ from the grave that dwells in us. (Romans 8:11) God, Himself.
We know wind can be an agent of destruction. It can cause insane damage, even outside of a hurricane. It breaks what is weak and without foundation. It can also move things quite quickly. It can make a tree bare in a matter of minutes. It can make things change shape. The other day, I saw a black mesh used for scaffolding projects ripple like it had waves in the wind against a building. The building looked like it had another shape.
The wild winds remind me of that scene in The Holiday— Santa Ana winds mean anything can happen. It can blow something in your eye, and it can also be the magic that changes everything. Just last January, we prayed for the winds to stop in LA, as the wind seemed like the most powerful agent of spread for the fires. Winds can change everything.
As I watched the wind howl through the trees, I thought of how the Holy Spirit barrels through the streets, seeking any heart that will allow it to make its home there. It seeks to move us forward and propel us in faith. And in its force, it reminds us to be ready for what is to come. For the winds will be held back a while longer— in grace. But are we ready for the time when nothing will be held back? When the wind’s judgment comes to cleanse and sweep aside what is not solid? Will we recognize the signs and see it move among us?
Will something stir our hearts with certainty when we see it? Will we feel comforted like a person warm and dry inside of a home in a storm? Will we feel fear and hear its final scream like a person chasing a storm?
When I observe the wind, I am reminded of all that can come from it; all we must be transformed to be.
A phenomenon is coming, and it won’t just be reflected in the natural world we can see. It will force us to grapple with our hearts and the world, once the fragile and unrooted debris is blown away. It will be less about what has blown away like ash and more about what is left standing.

By; Gabriela Yareliz
My new hobby is reading cookbooks. I saw this particularly old one, and it reminded me of the community and church cookbooks of the 70s, 80s and 90s. You know what I am talking about— the spiral bound ones that look like they were typed up on a typewriter. The books compiled by the ladies of the church. It gave me nostalgia.

In efforts to show my husband, I found a bunch on eBay that I am about to start collecting. There was something about those days. We used to sell some of these at the bookstore/ country store where I worked in college.
Long live the community recipes shared for posterity. The OGs of self-publishing were the women in the churches wearing aprons preparing a good potluck.

By: Gabriela Yareliz
I ripped off my eye mask, heart racing. I am almost sure the smart tracker with a heart monitor on my wrist was about to go off. I hear ambulance sirens at a distance— it is NYC after all. I repeat to myself, inaudible, that none of that was real to bring my body back to reality.
The week has been filled with nightmares. I think it’s stress. But if you ask Gaia— it’s a regression to my past life (whatever the hell that means)— however, the likely answer is they are just nonsense.

But that is the thing with dreams— they are peculiar. Sometimes, yes, they reveal subconscious things, and sometimes, they carry the absurdity of an Almodóvar film. (This week, ironically, I met a woman who worked on wardrobe for Almodovar’s Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown).

But sometimes, dreams are revelations of what is real. I mean, hear me out— I have found out of the existence of things and things have been revealed to me through dreams. That may sound strange, but it’s undeniably true. Scripture is replete with people who dreamed things that would come to pass or revelations. Sometimes, dreams connects us to divine revelation and hidden truth.

So, I was already having insane and memorable dreams this week (which is rare because I don’t dream often), and then, I added my stupidity from yesterday evening, and I ended up with a nightmare on steroids. Why, you may ask? I drank an evening hot chocolate. Yes, the kind that has melatonin in it. I didn’t even think I about it. I just like it because it helps you feel calm and cozy before bed— but boy was that a mistake. The nightmare was probably one of the worst of my life. I felt like I didn’t sleep a wink, but the night was spent in anguish and nightmare sobs.

What does it all mean? I guess we’ll find out if it means anything at all. I find that the thing we are terrible at, these days, is connecting with our own intuition. We are disconnected and distrustful. We realize things in hindsight. But what if we started to tune into our foresight and gut warning? I feel I was more in tune with it at a younger age. The older we get, the more we try and train ourselves to ignore ourselves. We think that is where peace is found, when it’s the opposite. We spend more time talking, and less time listening.

Maybe it’s all subconscious stress and nonsense. Maybe, some day in the near future, I will experience dejavú and realize I had known.
Whatever the case may be, there is one thing I will be doing— I will be staying away from the nightcap from hell. That experience was something else.


“Every person’s life is lived as a series of conversations.” Deborah Tanen
By: Gabriela Yareliz
Aaron Sorkin says that the way he writes is that he hears the dialogue. This makes me wonder how we live life. What makes up our memories? I think it is similar to a screenplay— it’s the dialogue. It’s the conversations we have and the ones we skirt around. This is why literature impacts generations. Why creation started with a word. The power of a word is everything. The collection of them makes up a life.

By: Gabriela Yareliz
I was saddened to hear that Larry Brooks passed away. He is known for having covered Gretzky’s career from start to finish. He covered the NY Rangers for about 40 years! (And covered them brutally last season, as they deserved). He didn’t sugarcoat it. He fought with coaches (the YouTube videos of Brooks fighting with John Tortorella are hysterical). An iconic figure in sports reporting and a hockey hall of famer.
Rest in peace, Brooksie.