Few places are quite as magical as the Hudson Valley in New York State. The photo above shows the Walkway Over the Hudson. The last time I was there, a gust of wind almost blew me away (thank God for my heavy camera that seemed to be anchoring me down as my wide brimmed hat seemed to not be helping the cause by making me slightly levitate off the walkway).
On that same occasion, my boyfriend and I walked across the Hudson River and into a neighboring small town. This little town had a florist that made arrangements with fake flowers, a hip coffee shop where a local totally cut us in line, an abandoned plaza that could be used as a set in a Wild West movie, and quiet homes that looked like they were frozen in time, in the 50s.
We typically go up to visit the Hudson Valley several times a year for adventurous day trips. This past year, with the pandemic, no one was able to go anywhere. I am looking forward to the Hudson Valley adventures 2021 hopefully holds. My mind is there, today.
In my mind exists the most intricate public restrooms map of New York City. I know the best ones. I would walk from the West Village up to Central Park and stop for bathroom breaks along the way. (If you had a bladder the size of a pea, you would do the same, or the alternative to this is to suffer).
This trusty memory map came in handy today, in freezing temperatures with a bursting bladder. The truth is we keep tabs on and keep in mental bank that which we need and that which we truly care about. It’s the rule of life.
It’s important to be strategic in life. What are you mapping and banking? Is it that which will help you in a time of need?
Today, I weirdly woke up in such a Cher mood. After drying my hair and seeing it fall into a middle part, I decided to paint my face in a 70s style. We all need days of fun and creative expression. What and who inspires you on your random colorful days?
I have this olive green dress from Target that I love. I’ve had it since 2009. It stands out because it’s sleeveless and has deep pockets. It’s made from comfortable light material. Perfect for a summer day. I took it to France with me the summer of 2009. In the process of traveling, I had several Paris metro tickets that I had stuffed in the right pocket. Over time, I scrapbooked some of the tickets and made others bookmarks, but I always kept one in the right pocket of that green dress. Even when I would wash the dress, I would take the ticket out and then put it right back in that right pocket. It was like an amulet.
Years later, one summer night while in law school, I was interning in the city that summer and wandering to my favorite hangout spot, Washington Square Park (the one with the arch and Piano Man). This park was only a couple blocks away from where I lived. I am not sure what had gone on that day, but I was feeling a bit down and drained. I remember that after listening to Piano Man, I had taken a stroll through the NYU dorm buildings. I was weaving through them aimlessly. My walks were how I cleared my head and prayed.
As I walked in the glow of the streetlights, I came to a corner, I looked down on the sidewalk, and there was a Paris metro ticket. I knelt down and grabbed it. It was ironic because I had my green dress on. When I reached into my right pocket, I had my own old Paris metro ticket in there. I then had two.
Listen, I still have the dress (it’s good as new), but the tickets are in a keepsake location (I don’t just walk around with tickets in my pocket anymore, even though I did for about 5 years). But that night, when I stumbled on the ticket, I was reminded of how life can surprise us and how we can’t stop dreaming. That ticket was a reminder that reality can be better than our dreams. I needed to find that second one on the floor to remind me of the one I had carried in my pocket for so long.
No matter how long it takes, keep dreaming and keep taking steps toward those dreams. Life is unexpected. It often doesn’t fulfill the most cliché dreams we harbor. But those are boring anyway.It does delight in fulfilling the ones we hold with trembling hands. There are dreams that only belong to you. There are things only you can offer this world. Don’t lose that ticket. Keep striving. You’ve got what it takes to take you there. Take a walk. Say a prayer. Your ticket is on you; in your pocket, matter a fact. Let this be the ticket you find on the sidewalk that reminds you of what you already have.
I am staring at my phone. I can see my Whole Foods delivery person on the map. They are supposedly here. Right here. And yet– no buzzer. No groceries. I think he/she is taking a break downstairs. As I wait, I continue to think of my cleaning list. I am trying to take a bit of the burden off of Fridays by cleaning on Thursdays, instead. I am thinking of what podcast I will play and the fact that I am proud of myself for taking down recycling yesterday.
My house has become a dust bowl. Am I shedding an abnormal amount of skin? What is normal? Or am I just home more to notice it everywhere? I find a strange satisfaction in cleaning the bathroom. It never sparkles though because the NY tile is so old and dull that nothing makes it shine. This plunges my inner Monica Geller into a slight depressive state. It’s never the 100% satisfaction, you know what I mean? The back of my entryway mirror is popping out (don’t ask) and my desk always feels small and cluttered. I am brainstorming to find a way to fix this.
Still no grocery delivery. They have until 6 PM. Not sure why now they appear to be by fast food tacos. I mean, can I blame him/her? No.
After I clean the front of the apartment, I will Swiffer the part of the floor sort of behind the headboard. An often forgotten spot. I will destroy the new spider webs on the blinds and tackle the kitchen whose cabinet cracks act like the wrinkles that reveal age.
Something finally off of my list: I ordered a shoe grid shelf that I have had my eye on for the longest– I wasn’t the only one, as it was sold out. I was on a waiting list. Not joking. I finally got in. I am determined to keep shaping my space into something uncluttered. (Last week, I did closets and certain corners). The list never ends, and yet, my inner Marie Kondo is delighted. Look who’s back on the map– my delivery.
Off I go, to tackle the ever evolving list. How do you clean?
May the symbols of this great nation and its ideals always mean something deep to us. May we feel their weight. Moreover, with that responsibility, may we always work to evolve into a better community, always moving toward the ideals that make this country unique and rich in opportunity. Let us love freedom and uphold truth.
“For there is always light, if only we are brave enough to see it, If only we are brave enough to be it.” Amanda Gorman, “The Hill We Climb“
“What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness.” John Steinbeck, Travels with Charley: In Search of America
By: Gabriela Yareliz
What we learned today:
It’s freezing outside.
My mailman is my friend now– he knows who I am and which packages are mine. This is status in a medium-sized building. (I told him to stay warm because that is what friends do. They care. We are like this *holds two fingers up together*).
I weirdly miss the cartoons on the school milk cartons. Where did the cartoons go?
Just because you call a bunch of times doesn’t mean they will actually pick up.
It is totally possible to be *deeply* annoyed with someone else banging on a door that is not yours.
I have decided to try to adopt a plush at a local business that is precariously abandoned on a shelf in the window (more on this later, if I am successful and they are willing to sell it into my custody).
We are never done cleaning. How does all this dust gather?
And this from Jeff Buckley: “The most audacious thing I could possibly state in this day and age is that life is worth living. It’s worth being bashed against. It’s worth getting scarred by. It’s worth pouring yourself over every one of its hot coals.”
Stay warm, friends. Never stop learning. The mystique of life is intense.
I miss getting dressed. I miss putting on clothes to have fun and not to be practical (long walks or doctors appts) or for a short excursion to the grocery store (because oat milk). I miss getting dressed for life. I can’t be the only one.
Image via Pinterest.fr (this is all of us, let’s all admit it and move on)
The New Yorker published a fun piece called A Year Without Clothes, last year. After recently sifting through my closet to separate what must be donated, I was excited to see my old friends, my clothes. My silver shimmer skirt (not sure what I was thinking when I bought that), my capes, my pretty pencil skirts for court… I can’t wait for the adventures we will have, someday soon. At this point, I am looking at all the clothes in my closet like they are the jeans from The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants (man, such a great series of books and movies). *sigh* The pants make us brave. The pants are part of important memories. They have a magic I need.
If you don’t know about the pants, enlighten yourselves:
Photo of Juny via Saywho.fr
This photo pretty much sums up the mood, these days. You know, sitting-with-my-cute-purse-on-my-couch vibes, because there is nowhere else to go and my back hurts from sitting for an entire year.
Image via Pinterest
I am ready to have a red boot moment like Emrata. I got red boots on sale from Macy’s last year because they were dirt cheap. I look forward to a dinner date in those. City lights and light traffic.
Image via abitofsass.com
2021 will also have a tulle skirt moment. It’s happening. I feel like this needs to be worn while on public transport. (Though there are no buses with my face on them).
If you have no idea what I am talking about:
Image via ShopKultivate
A tweed jacket or dress moment needs to happen this year while I argue a case. I already know which one.
Can’t wait for warmer weather and (I am gonna come out and say it–) less restrictions. It’s not about the clothes we haven’t worn. It’s about the adventures they accompany us on. We want to experience the art of living again, in full measure.
Image of Patricia Manfield via lavideeserendipity.com
What articles of clothing are you anticipating an adventure in? Dream with me…
“Life is unwritten, like a great big experiment.” Sophia Amoruso
I am currently leading a Bible study called A New Thing. It’s all about dreaming and learning to perceive that new thing that God wants to take you into. God is always doing something new in our lives. It’s customary at the beginning of a year to think about new things, but the truth is this should be something we ponder, all the time.
I loved Violette_FR’s email newsletter titled “In the mood for something new.” Violette writes, “I realized that I had been putting myself in a mental prison, and that I needed to allow myself the space to try new things. So from that moment on, I did. […] I know that I invite you to be creative all the time. But it’s not even about that. It’s about getting out of your comfort zone and being willing to be surprised by what you find there.”
Being the brilliant and creative artist she is, she left us with a “The Start of Something New Starter Kit.” She lists an eyeliner, a lipstick and some biodegradable glitter. This made me smile.
It made me think about our willingness to explore new things and continue to push the limits of our creativity. What would your Start of Something New Starter Kit include?
Inspired by Violette, I thought I would share mine:
Gabriela’s The Start of Something New Starter Kit
The Bible
Image via Tumblr
I mean, the Bible is the manual for life. It’s the very book that promises us something new and guides our steps. Definitely essential.
Movement
Image via Movement by NM
There is something about movement that always adds a new perspective. Some of our most creative ideas and thoughts come from movement. In fact, many of the great writers and philosophers walked every day and journaled their thoughts along the way. A great body, a centered mind and a flow of energy– this is all a conduit to something new.
Kindle (for many books)
“Not all readers are leaders, but all leaders are readers” Harry S. Truman
Books are important. And to me, it’s not about how many you read. I am personally not a fan of romance and a lot of recent fiction. Not my thing. More important than how much you read is what you read. It’s important to fill your mind with wisdom. I am talking books on life, entrepreneurship and biographies.
“If you only read the books that everyone else is reading, you can only think what everyone else is thinking.” Haruki Murakami
A Good Pen
Image via Tumblr
If life is unwritten, then you need a good pen to write the next chapter.
What would be in your starter kit for something new?
I have found a sprinkling of silver in my hair– this is a new thing. I feel like it’s the conversation du jour. I saw a friend post a poll on Instagram asking whether she should dye her new-found grays.
Today, it weirdly came up in a discussion with a friend, and she said something along the lines of, “Ugh, no. I don’t want to look old, and you shouldn’t either.” (She dyes her hair regularly. I do not.) We don’t like them. That is very clear. Grays scare most of us. They aggravate us. They are something to be done away with. An indicator of something we aren’t always ready to accept.
Now, this post is just about me. I don’t care what you do with your grays. Do you. I had a grandma who had jet black hair in her old age. I know people that the minute they see a sparkle of silver, they pull out that L’Oreal box from the stash in the drawer. Everyone is entitled to do what they want with their appearance. I think in my culture, hiding our age is the norm. It’s what we do. Women like getting their hair done; we like looking young (see JLo, Salma Hayek, etc.). It’s our thing. It is also our chemical slavery.
Why even talk about grays? Well, for one, I have noticed it’s something that makes a lot of women feel insecure (currently, me included). We hate the idea of being old. Who told us that grays mean we are old? Maybe they are age-appropriate, but we just don’t know or accept that because everyone covers them up the minute they emerge. Why do we cover them up? Do we genuinely hate the color or are we afraid of dying or being found unattractive? Why do men go silver, and it looks really hot (see George Clooney, Steve Carell, etc.)? Why are women who do the same sometimes seen as unkempt and disheveled? Why is it women who are faced with the mounting (societal) pressure to look ageless, manicured and unnatural?
There are these weird moments in life where we look or feel a bit different. Suddenly, we look in the mirror and maybe our face shape has changed a little, our skin is different, our body is different– and this has been one of those moments for me. One of those moments there is no turning back from. I am starting to change. Last year sucked, and I don’t have the time to have a whole months-long-process meltdown before turning 30. I am not wasting a moment, so I am writing out my thoughts instead.
I am writing about this because suddenly, after facing the reality that something about my appearance is shifting, I felt a wave of insecurity. I am not immune to it. (And I didn’t feel insecure about it because anyone said anything. It was me. I am lucky to have people around me who always make me feel beautiful and accepted, no matter what. Hell, I wore a long black dress with sneakers today, and my boyfriend just went with it. When I caught my reflection in the window of an empty abandoned furniture shop we were walking past, I realized I looked like a 90s conservative pentecostal– or like Dwight Schrute’s cousin [Office reference]). This lewk looked way cuter in my head. I digress…
When I started freaking out internally, I started asking myself all these questions. Women always say we get better with age and more confident. Is that true? Because most women are covering up any sign of aging or change. Are we really as confident as we think? Are we as secure in our bodies as we tout? Do we dislike grays because we don’t see a large representation of them out there? Do we all really want to look like a Southern California housewife from BRAVO?
There are two people who wear their grays very well, and we are pretty close in age (if not the same age).
Sophia Roe: Chef, food and wellness advocate
Image via @ sophiaroe
Louise Damas: Parisian jeweler, artisan
Image via @ louisedamas
With all these questions whirling in my head, I thought about these two women and the fact that they both have something in common, they are unique and natural. They are also boss women who have their own businesses, their own achievements and a life they have built on their own. Something I love about both of them is you get the sense that they are really really comfortable in their own skin.
I started to think about who I am. The start of figuring out where we are going, often means figuring out where we are and who we are right now. I am someone who is very much into endocrine health and clean beauty. I try to stay away from chemicals (once a year, when I do paint my nails, my nail polish is literally made of coconut oil, and it lasts a whole five minutes). I believe in less is more. I am super low maintenance.
I was drawn to these women embracing their natural changes in such a confident way. Listen, I don’t know what decision I will make in the end. I am thinking out loud. But I do see in them something that I want. I want that joie de vivre. A self-acceptance that runs deep. I want to exude a comfort with who I am in a really real way. I want to feel good in my simplicity, no matter what others perceive or think.
In a world full of baby botox injections, fillers and a standard of beauty that is mighty expensive (Erika Jayne accurately sang, “It’s xxpen$ive (expensive) to be me”), maybe one of the most courageous things we can be is ourselves, in the fullness of what that means. Perhaps what is behind heavy cosmetics and the procedures and stuff we subject ourselves to is a deep deep insecurity and dissatisfaction with what we have been given. We are listening to so many external voices that want to set a standard for worth and acceptance. That’s not to say high maintenance women aren’t confident, but often times, we don’t see these women in their natural state, ever. Because when you strip it all away (surgeries and all) there is often a person who doesn’t like what they see (this is why they made so many changes in the first place).
There is also a happy medium. Not everyone is high maintenance or low maintenance– some women are in between.
I don’t know. The women under 40 with their grays have given me a lot to think about. I’m thinking about life, death, aging and the meaning of true confidence. From whence does it come? Have you ever given true thought to why you do what you do or why you look the way you look?
I want that unadulterated confidence, where you can stand there laughing when all is stripped away. I am starting to realize that some of the truest confidence comes not from adding more to something but from wiping away all the covers. I’m working on my mindset, and don’t be surprised if you see some sparkle in my hair. These silver sparkles may be here to stay.
GABRIELA YARELIZ 