GABRIELA YARELIZ

Light Chaser

“We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light.” Plato

By: Gabriela Yareliz

As you may have read, yesterday I had a fun field trip outing. What you did not read was that it was complete with me not realizing there was a “press to exit” button in the office I visited, which led to me tapping and pushing on the glass wall like a mime. The receptionist will not soon forget me.

It was a day that reminded me how important it is to take our little pauses. Whether it’s to look for the “press to exit” no touch button on the side wall or to see how the sun falls in between the clouds. My mind went back to a spring day at the Elizabeth Street Garden, one of my favorite spots in the city. The light always comes through the trees just right.

My blurry photo of a sunny day at Elizabeth Street Garden

The light at Elizabeth Street Garden (my photo)

My pauses, whether it’s from reading or working, often include chasing the light. What does this mean? I love seeing how the light falls on objects and on the wall. Sometimes, when the rain collects outside, I see squiggly reflections of the puddles lit on the wall; the tiny waves making my own soothing ocean of light inside. I call it chasing the light because light moves, fast. A pocket of glitter that you spot in one instance can quickly fade and disappear or move onto another surface. Shadows change color, moods soften, darkness settles. Darkness creeps, while light is too fast for us. It’s always in a hurry to its next kiss.

When I take a pause, the light I am chasing reminds me of all of our previous and familiar rendezvous. The times on the warm bench where I would roast horizontally before my next class in college; the light combing the blades of grass as I ran across the university lawn barefoot with smeared henna on my feet; the light on mismatched blankets; the light over a rolling green field; the light that shoots out of the top of the metallic buildings; and the soft light that divides tree friends like gossip. (Yes, trees become friends. If you don’t believe me, read The Hidden Life of Trees).

Light is stunning. I mean, the fact that it can paint the sky many different colors, all at once– it’s a breathtaking friend. Make sure to take your pauses. Chase the light. Live in the light. Be light.

Here you have a soundtrack for your next light-chasing adventure. Some of my favorites.

Paper Doll

By: Gabriela Yareliz

Today, I ventured out of my house and had hit 8k steps before 4 pm. I was exhausted. (I am so out of shape). Mind you, many of those steps were literal steps on a staircase. I felt weirdly human being out there in the wild earth. I felt the sunshine on my face as I walked past Jamaican fish sandwich shops and wig stores (one in particular caught my eye– it had a banner that said ‘Jesus Saves’ which I found to be odd and not exactly what I would expect for a wig shop. But I’m here for it, you know?). I was on the train with a woman who was unwell (that seems to be the most fitting word to describe many New Yorkers). She proceeded to open every window in the R train car where I was sitting. I can’t say I felt safe on that ride.

To distract myself from the woman and all the noise from the train tunnel, I silently laughed at some of the clever New Yorker cartoons I had brought along. I remembered the ‘Giggle Gang’ section in the American Girl magazines (late 90s and early 2000s). My friend Jackie and I decided we were just as hilarious, and we would be comedians. We called ourselves the Giggle Gang. No joke, at the age of 10, if you would have asked me what I was going to grow up to be, I would have told you a writer, photographer, comedian (SNL type) or Shakira. And I would have a wardrobe like the Olsen twins (and in the back of my wardrobe, I would walk into Narnia). Epic.

I smile when I think back at all the things that made my world go ’round. It sometimes makes me sad when I think of kids today. What memories will they have other than screen-related ones? I hope many.

I had this issue. And I played with paper dolls.

If/when I have a child, I want them to read and spend time in nature and not be obsessed with consuming. No screens except for special family time (like a movie night) or a fun old old PBS show (like Arthur). I trust none of this new stuff. Ha. Side note: Did you hear Caillou got canceled from PBS? It’s about time that annoying cartoon child that teaches children to whine was banned. Only took them two decades. *sigh of despair*

I’m reading this book about etiquette, and it discusses the importance of families eating together and learning the art of conversation. I want that for my child.

As a child, I spent so many hours writing in journals. I probably averaged eight pages a day. I spent time making collages from magazines, writing short stories and trying to copy lewks from the pages of Teen People. It was a golden age.

Mandy Moore in her iconic Teen People spread

Feeling some major nostalgia. Who knew feeling human would bring on so many memories? Being at home alone for such long stretches of time is making me feel like a paper doll. Any reminder that I am still very much alive– I’ll take it, even if it includes a mad woman and some open windows.

Almost Thirty

By: Gabriela Yareliz

One of my goals this year is to get closer to being able to do a headstand. This morning, after doing my fitness practice, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Can’t believe I am almost thirty. It has been an evolution. And there’s still so much to create.

It’s a slow, gradual build. Just like a headstand.

“Goosebumps Walkaway”

By: Gabriela Yareliz

Urban Dictionary defined it after the show New Girl coined the term (thank you, Nick Miller). “Goosebumps walkaway” is the line a guy says to the girl before he walks away forever that leaves her with goosebumps and haunts her forever, in a movie. The show’s episode named “Goosebumps Walkaway” is the one where Nick is trying to figure out what one line to leave with Reagan before she catches her flight.

Have you ever left someone with one line? Has someone given you last words that give you goosebumps to this day?

Words are powerful. They aren’t just letters arranged on a page or in a sentence. Words can haunt us. That may be one of my favorite things about words– not that they haunt us but that they can make us feel something. They drench us with the emotion they carry. Words can give us goosebumps, and they can last and stay with us forever. And if the bad ones can stay with us and haunt us, the good ones can last and elevate us, too.

Today, say some vibrant words to someone. Leave someone with goosebumps. In all reality, we never know which words may be our last. Arrange the letters with care.

Sunday Girl: How to Know You Are Dangerous

“All men dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds, wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act on their dreams with open eyes, to make them possible.” T. E. Lawrence

May we always seek to be fully alive and dreaming with open eyes. There are times when our souls and imaginations feel completely blocked or murky like a stagnant pond. These moments where we sink in the mire are often the alarms sounding on us, letting us know we have succumbed to a lesser version of ourselves. We are following instead of leading. We are copying instead of kneading a new version of ourselves. We are drifting instead of deciding.

Gabrielle Caunesil photographed by @nicholas.fols

“When imagination returns, it means we are back in our body,” Tess Guinery writes in The Apricot Memoirs. When imagination returns, we return to the surface and float. We are dreaming; we are scheming; we are breathing. We are dangerous in a world that wants us dead because we are fully alive.

[My anthem below and the favorite dreamy Sunday Girl posts are returning to grace this page. Jam out with me, friends.]

Sunbathing

“O, Sunlight! The most precious gold to be found on Earth.” Roman Payne

By: Gabriela Yareliz

Feeling golden. I spent about 30 minutes just lying in the sunshine that was streaming in through the windows, this morning. It was 20F outside but toasty and sunny in my apartment. This week’s sunbathing reminded me of how lovely it is to just sit and do nothing. You know, like a woman in a Jane Austen novel (the rich ones, who sat and wrote letters by rainy windows and had tea). Doing nothing is something I am bad at, and I am aiming to improve this art (see, I always have to be doing something).

Today, I just let the sun hit me, and it was yummy. Thirty minutes may not seem like a lot (or it may– for me, it was)– but even if you just take ten minutes and stop and do nothing and just sit with yourself, you’ll find some magic.

This week, another thing that was great for the mind and body were these two practices from my yoga/pilates challenge (I really don’t know the difference between yoga and pilates since the movements are the exact same and called the same, in my personal experience). Just as with sunbathing, taking even just ten minutes to move makes a huge difference in how you feel. This morning, a simple stretch that seemed stupid to me ended up being something I desperately needed.

So shed the pride (in my case), pressure, busyness and some articles of clothing. Do nothing. Then, get moving (I am leaving my favs here for you, in case you want a little mindful movement after some sunbathing). Stay golden.

Hope Against Hope

“Does the acorn dream of the oak? And if it doesn’t, from where is the whisper of spring?” Sophie Ward (From The Love River)

By: Gabriela Yareliz

It’s a quiet morning, with the exception of the gurgling of the radiator and my screaming neighbors (they are positively unwell ~~or just typical New Yorkers~~). We go through moments of icy floor chill, and then moments of bursting heat break forth (and I sit here fanning myself like a rural Alabama churchgoer). I feel a bit drowsy after my intense cleaning session yesterday evening (took down five bags of recycling). The kitchen is next. I have noticed an old empty cabinet, where the wall has cracks and little cockroaches have made an exclusive amusement park out of the black bait boxes. (#annoyed) This Six Flags is shutting down.

This morning, I woke up with a longing for spring. Maybe, it’s because there is no bright sunshine today or it’s my Amaryllis bulbs that are in full bloom, pomp and display on my little window-side table. I love the brightness and renewal spring brings. Maybe it’s the symbolic hope that fills me with longing after a new year start that has felt very much like a part II of the same chapter book that commenced with 2020. Perhaps it’s naive to think spring will be any different, but I hope against hope.

My mind goes to the Easter service we typically have at Central Park that I am always late to because the NYC train system decides to be full-on possessed on Easter Sunday. Sunshine, green grass, ambitious picnickers with their baguettes– gahh. My mind is there. I am there with the trees loaded with pink flowers and tulips and daffodils gracing our lives with their little stretches, showing us a new morning.

But for now, we curl up in winter’s slow slumber. While the season invites us to rest, life has our minds spinning. Life has, for better or worse, turned us into little insomniacs.

As we wait for spring,

prepare to bloom.

Into the Pool

The Pool and the Stream image via 99% Invisible.

By: Gabriela Yareliz

Today, I am sharing one of those anecdotes one simply does not forget from Born Standing Up, the bio by Steve Martin on his (brilliant) career in comedy. (I am a big fan). The book has a monochrome cover image with the title and his name in bright, sans serif yellow letters.

In the chapter “The Road”, he recalls when he performed at Vanderbilt University in Nashville. After he was done with his act, the packed room didn’t budge. He was confused and knew he needed to pack up his props and things– and the only way out was past the students. He looked at them and let them know, “It’s over.” Nobody moved. He started making little humorous comments and walking by students, and he wandered into the hallway. The students followed him into the hallway. Martin then walked outside, and the students continued to follow him. Finally, he came across an empty pool, and he told the student audience, “Everybody into the pool!” and they went into the pool.

Martin tells us, “Then I said I was going to swim across the top of them, and the crowd knew exactly what to do: I was passed hand over hand as I did the crawl.” (pg 140) He says his comedy entered new territory that night, and it felt free and unpredictable.

As I was reading this, I was laughing at the mental picture– this visual of Steve Martin essentially crowd surfing in an empty pool with students. Epic. It was a colorful story on a white page filled with black ink words and black and white photos. This story was bold yellow, like the letters on the cover.

Perhaps monochrome is elegant, classic; maybe at times it can be lifeless, and at other times it holds a needed place in the middle of color. Life can be very much monochrome. I know so many of us have felt that in lockdown after lockdown. But here is a reminder that even within the circumstances, it’s up to us to add the dashes of freedom and streaks of color to the page. If we dare, we may find ourselves in new territory.

“Everybody into the pool!” Steve Martin, Born Standing Up, pg 140

Stitches

“Fabrics don’t make exquisite dresses, it is the stitches.” Treasure Stitches

By: Gabriela Yareliz

I haven’t sat down to sew in a long time. Sewing was a part of my childhood. My mom sewed and hemmed her pants and such. My grandmother would come and take over the dining room table with our sewing machine and make me beautiful dresses that easily rivaled anything in any store. (My favorite was a white dress with a square neck and a navy ribbon that lined the collar– it made me look like a mariner).

I took Home Economics (Home Ec) in the 7th grade. We learned to cook, sew and carry around a fake baby. We heard horror stories of kids that had accidentally sewn their own fingers with the machine and had wandered off into the hallway in a state of shock. I made a pillow case (it was a white fabric with green little shamrocks– don’t ask why I chose this. Maybe it was the cheapest fabric, maybe I was feeling lucky, or maybe it was just the funkiest thing I could find); I made a couple of other random things I am sure I treasured, and we made the parent breakfast. Then, the next semester we took Industrial Arts, where I made a wooden shelf and toaster tongs, all on my own. (I kept the absurd goggles from this class– still have them. For some reason they are among my treasured possessions). This was the class I was taking around my birthday, and my mom sent me balloons (it was magical to get balloons delivered in class), and I nervously kept eyeing them to make sure they didn’t get close to any of our saws during that period. Kids can be vicious. I kept them close. I was glowing.

I remember a good amount of time in Home Ec was spent ripping the stitches out with our little blue handle seam rippers. The seams needed to be straight. I wasn’t at home making my American Girl doll a skirt or patching a purse I refused to throw away. Nope. This needed to be right. I was being graded. We would sit together in little clumps and seam rip. There was a comfort in knowing we were in this torture together. Even though we were being graded on our pillow case stitches, it wasn’t perfection that was expected but good faith effort. They knew we were only like 12.

Good faith effort– the kind of effort we should put into life. We don’t need perfection, but hey, maybe we should take a pause and evaluate the stitches. Are they straight? And if not, we should know there is no shame in stopping to rip some stitches to start again. We can sit together and seam rip. The shamrock pillow case is worth it. You are worth it. Don’t be afraid to start the stitch line again.

The Presence of Greatness

By: Gabriela Yareliz

It’s not uncommon to desire and strive for greatness.

*Cue Kanye West’s song “Stronger” /Bow in the presence of greatness/*

One of the Battle Ready podcast conversations discussed how we often fail to recognize greatness and scoff at people who have accomplished things we can’t even dream of. We can be so judgy and noncelebratory with other’s achievements. Why not recognize greatness? Why not strive for true greatness? What is true greatness?

“We should never confuse fame with greatness. The former is about what you do for yourself; the latter is about what you do for others,” Erwin McManus wrote in his book Wide Awake.

True greatness in life is about what we do for others. If we are a part of Jesus’ revolution of love on the move here on earth, then people will be our greatest priority and serving them will be our greatest joy and accomplishment.