Decade in Review 2009-2019: Being Gabriela

By: Gabriela Yareliz

I thought it would be fun to briefly take a short walk through this past decade to highlight some memories that helped make me, me.

I started this blog at the Marston Science Library at the University of Florida. I was probably wearing corduroy pants and a shirt someone passed down to me. I graduated high school in 2009, at the top of my class. It was an incredible decade, filled with so much. I found my love, tried learning three more languages, obtained two degrees and a diploma, lived as an independent woman for 4/5 of the decade, and learned so much about myself and life along the way.

Below are some memories and also things you may have heard about here, years ago, depending on how long you have been following along. In this past decade, this blog has been read by more than 120,000 readers from around the world. I am so grateful for your trust, your time and your support. Thank you for letting me be a part of your decade. 

Before we get to the memories, I figured we would do a review of each year’s top post(s), and following that, there are some little photos, and then my songs of the decade that bring all the feels.

Let’s do this! 

2009

I started this blog at the end of the year, so my top post was The Things that Don’t Change at Christmas Time, a gem detailing regifting the Origin of Species copy we got for free on campus and Puerto Rican traditions.

2010

Jeux d’enfants was my top post. That movie is one that really f’s with your head. Leave it to my favorite people, the French. “Cap ou pas cap?” Oh my gosh. I haven’t thought of this in YEARS. This was back in the days when love, in my head, was still very much a game we had to win against fate.

2506525625_1_7_yvetxdmo

This also began my Marion Cotillard hair phase. In 2010, people were also very into the “About Me” section, which I take as a compliment.

2011

Continuing on the theme of love, my top post for 2011 was Valentine’s Day. It’s a blast from the past account of what Valentine’s Day was like growing up in suburb Midwest America. Sweet as chocolates.

2012

My now private Chronicles of a Law Student got more than 300 views, and then there was the post on Providence. My love for A.R. Rahman shines through in this one.

#nostalgia

The song of the year:

My exploring NYC posts also got some love (Queens and Jackson Heights and Little Italy’s San Gennaro). I also couldn’t help posting poetry by Javed Akhtar.

2013

My post on Love Without Limits and Nick Vujicic scored the most attention.

2014

My thoughts on Ravi Zacharias’ Cultural Relativism and the Emasculation of Truth garnered the most attention, that year. I was thinking deep, and so many of those thoughts are still relevant today.

2015

So many people found my Letter for a Confused, Frustrated, Sad Soul. This post has brought the most people to my page. Thank you Google and SEO. 

I also wrote this character analysis on the protagonist of Yash Chopra’s last film.

2016

My repost of T.B. Laberge and this Autumn Thoughts (a set of quotes) were the most popular of the year. I was very into quotes.

2017

Short thoughts on Schopenhauer made people smile. I was also holding onto Tony Evans’ Faith in a Dead Situation message.

2018

Quotes from my namesake Gabriela Mistral were the most popular.

2019

A post I wrote on A Walk to Remember in 2015 was the most popular this year. Looks like we were all looking for a sign pointing toward our miracle.

Here are some of the things I did this decade, in no particular order (captions have the details):

These are the cheesy photos they make you take before your senior year of high school. Long hair, flare jeans– do I look Floridian enough?
Science lab; probably about to get yelled at. This is my nerdy joy. Look at that smile. It’s called the joy of learning, guys.
Photos before graduation, 2009. On the high school campus with my friends Akash and Jack.
Felicia and me with our cords, looking so cute and graduated.
Meet Bunny.
I won a stage in France at the French competitions. My cousin Pipo made me this dress, therefore, you will see it again.
I was a camp counselor summer of 2009.
2009 when we found out we were going to be Gators.
A cinimini high school moment. I am holding Felicia’s drink.
Liz came to visit.
In France, being hosted by the city hall.
Enjoying France with some amazing friends.
On one of the Gainesville buses on campus. We in college now. (ft. Felicia and her bangs).
More nerdy moments. Magazine launch party. I was a French and Spanish staff writer for The Anole, a multi-lingual publication on campus.
Design class homework. Guys, our cameras at the beginning of the decade were not what we have now. I repeat.
I am not totally convinced by our cover-up job.
Who didn’t take group photos on the laptop instead of studying? High school reunion at the college campus.
When the cramps hit hard. Fall of 2009. Me trying to be an influencer for Advil, before it was a thing. Advil, I am still available. My liver hasn’t failed me, yet.
And this is why we should have been kicked out of the science library…. This is the place where I started this blog. And it was always at that one computer. I should buy it a plaque and a corduroy seat cover for the chair.
Grey’s was on somewhere in the background, I guarantee.
I became a cricket reporter, where I met some amazing brothers.
This was pretty much always me with them. They were so funny and awesome.
Here we are taking a break from cricket and doing bowling at the campus lanes. I AM STILL UPSET TACO BELL IS GONE.
Always a child at heart. Not sure what is going on with the metal chairs….
Felicia capturing my fashionista moments.
My dear Meriem.
This is my friend who was fighting cancer, and I would take her around Gainesville. Here we are with her sister at the Museum of Art.
My friend Ali. I was looking for gators swimming in Lake Alice.
4th of July at St. Augustine with the grad students from the engineering dept.
Protesting in Flagler college. Kidding. It was hot and the cool tile felt very nice.
I am graduating, momma! I am a journalist!
Graduation with Dilip and Prateek.
Saw Harshul in DC when I was interning.
Interning in DC.
Proof I attended class in law school. That is my head with the headband, and that is our professor trying to figure out how smart we were.
Lizzie visited me in Gainesville.
Celebrated Holi in NYC.
Puerto Rican Bar Association Gala with my friend Luz.
Law school BFF, Ren. Celebrating Chinese New Year.
One of our many adventures. Went with Ren to see the adjustments on his tailored custom suit.
Met Sarko. (President Nicolas Sarkozy)
My 21st birthday on the wall– a surprise from my family.
Lizzie came to celebrate with me (birthday and graduation)
Cricket friends in NYC.
Visited PR.
Law school graduation. It was also the day of my first taxi ride, and I almost had a panic attack bc the taxi driver was determined to kill us.
A doctor mood.
Brothers graduated from high school.

And here we are. There are too many adventures and things to post. I focused mostly on older stuff and people– you know, a blast from the past.

It was an era of all of us being convinced we were gonna be together forever with all the wrong people (we thought they were right, but boy were they wrong….), stupid crushes, hard work, books, cricket fields, Florida star-lit nights, boba tea, NYC walks, true love, laughter and so much hope.

Not featured, but so important is the fact that I met my love in the latter third of this decade. (Not posting photos to protect that privacy). These years were filled with a lot of laughs, magic, love and incredible friendships. God has certainly blessed.

Seeing all of this reminded me of how much magic was there, even in the most mundane moments, and how much can come to us when we live life with an open heart that is ready to receive joy.

Despite hardships and pain that are not featured in this photo scroll session (wouldn’t that be a fun album), there was still so much goodness. I smile at the fact that I lived every year of this decade with incredible resilience, discipline and joy in the simple. No matter what happened, I found joy in that moment. I used to wonder how I could live out that verse that says, “The joy of the Lord is our strength.” I realized that I know what that means because it is the only thing that has carried me through.

I am praying I can continue cultivating the joy I have experienced. These past few years (not exactly featured here) have held so many changes but also so many triumphs and profound, life-changing joys. Also, so many new friends. I am fully convinced that the best is yet to come. I can’t wait to continue walking it together.

Lastly, music is something that can take us back. The best music that does this is the music that took us forward, in the moment we found it. Here are the songs that make my heart flutter.

SONGS OF THE DECADE:

Dear past decade,

In you, I was a latina high school graduate. I was a cricket reporter. I watched so many Bollywood movies I could understand them without subtitles. I followed every Cannes Film Festival. I graduated with a degree in journalism. I went to La Rochelle, France. Got over a man I thought I was going to marry. Stayed focused. Had my first kiss. Moved to NYC. Went to law school. Learned to love Manhattan (and walked all of it). Interned. Got a JD. Got a job. Rejected some pretty awful love prospects. Fell in love. Wrote two book manuscripts. Started saving money. Started investing money. Learned so much about my body and became my own endocrinologist. Started Modern Witnesses (my own version of apologetics). Went on so many adventures. Went apple picking several times. Saw two childhood friends get married. Saw my mom get remarried. Learned to stand up for myself. Spent time with a young girl whose life I really want to influence for good. Decided I can do anything.

Thank you for everything and everyone you brought my way.

Despite all of these changes– that girl is still me.

France 2009. C’est moi.

Bring it 2020– and everything beyond.

Merry Christmas

“The Christian story is precisely the story of one grand miracle, the Christian assertion being that what is beyond all space and time, what is uncreated, eternal, came into nature, into human nature, descended into His own universe, and rose again, bringing nature up with Him. It is precisely one great miracle. If you take that away there is nothing specifically Christian left.” The Grand Miracle, God in the Dock by C.S. Lewis

I was watching “The Holiday”, which has quickly become one of my favorite seasonal films, along with classics like “Christmas with the Kranks” (N-reeky, anyone?). I love the theme of the wind in The Holiday, which one sees in the background, during the scenes with Iris in LA. It comes in and out of focus. The Santa Ana winds mean anything can happen.

And then, there is the zany Amanda, which I completely identify with. I always cry with her.

It’s a film that reminds us of the beauty of life, the power of human connection, and the beautiful inconvenience of love– how it appears out of nowhere and changes our world. How it gives us that which we did not know we needed.

I was reading the Christmas story from the book of Luke. Luke’s world was so shaken by who Christ is that he felt compelled to research and write a whole book about who Christ was and this experience (Luke 1:3). Not many of us are moved by much of anything to feel so compelled to write an entire book about it and risk our lives while doing it. It takes a specific type of passion and certainty.

The Christmas story is filled with a much more profound illustration of the themes in some of our favorite Christmas films. It’s a story about how truly anything can happen. Miracles shape our lives, every day. It’s a story that reminds us that healing and restoration are here. That love is inconvenient but God picked up the tab. That Love came down, despite the inconvenience, and it rescued us. It gave us everything we didn’t know we needed.

I can’t imagine how shaken Mary and Joseph must have been when this was happening in real time. Or how shocked the shepherds in the fields were when they heard the “good news for all people.” Or how intrigued the wise men of the East were when they saw the star. I can’t imagine how the disciples minds were racing when they heard Jesus declare who He was or their anguish when they later saw Him crucified. Sometimes, we just treat these texts like stories– but they were real. These people were shaken. The world was shaken. And tonight, we remember an incarnation that changed history. It changed our world. And as a Christian, it changes how I see my past, my present and my future. Everything.

I am so grateful for the people who were shaken to their core. I am grateful for a God who isn’t afraid of inconvenience. I am honored to serve a God who loved me enough that He decided to infiltrate my world. There is no greater love than this.

The equivalent to the Santa Ana winds probably blew that night of His birth, as the angels sang to the shepherds in the fields. A promise had been fulfilled. A miracle performed. Anything can happen. It happened then, and it serves as a reminder that miracles happen now.

Merry Christmas.

xx

GY

Being Human: Look Ugly in a Photograph

IMG_9641

“The more you see the less you know
The less you find out as you go
I knew much more then than I do now”

City of Blinding Lights, U2

tumblr_ml1hcxfiqa1ro7fx5o1_500

By: Gabriela Yareliz

GREAT EXPECTATIONS

Expectations can be a funny thing. This week, I experienced this, first-hand. I was going to exchange letters with someone who had quite literally brought me a letter from another continent. I had a letter to be delivered, too. We will call this The Great Exchange.

I was given the address of a hotel with a name that is incredibly close to another famous hotel, just up the street. In my mind, I was going to the well-known hotel, the one up the street. The one that rests every fashion week influencer’s head.

I was lucky enough that I put the correct address into my phone map. (Does anyone remember the large atlas maps that we would store in our cars for long road trips?). The map took me to the correct place, but it was not the place I expected. When I got there, I squinted and looked at the street number on the building. The building was not at all what I was expecting. I was expecting the 5-star luxury hotel, and what I was standing in front of was a 1-star hostel that could double as a brothel. I laughed. Expectations can disorient us.

Expectations have gotten trickier in this age, as so many of us grew up in such a different world from where we sit now. The internet was only for email, and the dial-up thing was set up through a disk (this was much later in my adolescence). God forbid someone tried to use the phone when you were trying to check your email. We had paper maps. I had long distance calling cards. I would record songs straight off of the radio with cassettes and get angry when the DJ talked too much into the intro of the song (or if he cut off the end–). It was a different world– and because of this, those of us who lived then feel a little nuts if we don’t keep up with the now. Or we feel others are a little nuts. No matter what, someone is nuts.

We find ourselves standing in front of something, a circumstance, or someone, expecting one thing, only to find that it’s not what we thought. The unrewound VHS tape is now 3,000 streaming services– where no one can humanly sign up for all of them.

We look for promise, and what we find is Ms. Havisham’s basement, sometimes. Maybe part of the problem is we have developed expectations, or society has raised expectations with which we aren’t familiar. Suddenly, we are measured against the door frame, not to see if we are taller but to see if we measure up to a line someone else drew.

what-a-girl-wants-theme-song-1

WHAT THE DIARIES REVEAL

As I have stated in past entries, I was a journaler. I waxed poetic in my diaries. I remember being totally boy crazy, and writing about my little crushes, and whether someone looked at me at all or if I had a one-sentence conversation with some guy. A lot of young women in my generation get it. I was reading Kelly Oxford’s book where she talks about how many of us were borderline stalkers– but I feel that’s what our world was. We were boy crazy, turtleneck wearing, gel pen adoring geeks.

We crushed on guys. Hard. We stood at our lockers a little longer, we passed notes, and curled our hair and smiled despite our crooked little teeth and acne prone faces. Despite the fact that we were avid magazine readers, I still think my generation and those before it were relatively confident compared to a young pre-teen today. I was wildly confident, though I didn’t see it. One of the things I saw as a great achievement in my game was having someone laugh at something I said.

I knew I wasn’t one of those girls with the logo purses and ribbons in their hair, with the gorgeous rain boots. Nope. I would never be that girl. They had a bit of makeup, shaved their legs (I wasn’t allowed to do either– despite me having the family take a vote), and they looked perfect even after we had done a presidential fitness award test in PE. So while I knew I would never look perfect, I was determined to be interesting. I felt that made up for anything I was lacking in my acne speckled forehead and bangs that were growing out (I shudder, even now). So, being witty, or being chosen to do an extra-special writing assignment on Shakespeare because my English teacher saw potential in me– that was my anchor.

A kid today would look at me sideways. Instead of playing games on a phone, I was doing Clue Finders, where I had to solve math problems to get to the treasure chest. (The fractions were the hardest).

Tumblr_mla2fmTiNE1r0ix14o4_r1_500

Glow up and life required a certain patience from us.

Kids these days don’t understand that back-in-the-day, we took photos with a camera, and we couldn’t exactly see the photo until we developed the film, and it came back. And even the cutest photo could be wild when the flash caught our eyes and made us look demon-possessed. Me, every time. There was a patience, and lack of caring for perfection, back in that time. We were part of a process.

While we were boy crazy– thank you Mary-Kate and Ashley– we also knew what mattered most. (Most of us did). One of my best friends and I were reminiscing about a movie we were obsessed with: What A Girl Wants. There is that scene, you know, where the guy tells her, “Why are you trying so hard to fit in when you are born to stand out.” I mean– we all wanted Oliver James to marry us, but beside the point– inner beauty was a huge focus. Stories were a huge focus.

what-a-girl-wants

When you watch a movie from back in the day, at least the ones I watched, the movie was never so centered on what the character was wearing– people didn’t do things to take pictures. It was the story that counted. People took a photo to commemorate doing something; they didn’t go out for the sole purpose to get a photo. Living in NYC, all you see are people literally biking into each other because they are taking a selfie or trying to take a photo of someone else. We have become so ridiculous.

Since when did the story and who we are inside become less important than what we look like? Not that I am pro-obsessions, but people are more obsessed with themselves than they are with other things or people in their lives. Maybe, this is the source of a lot of anxiety. People can’t seem to see beyond themselves.

so-little-time

“I’ve seen you walk unafraid
I’ve seen you in the clothes you’ve made
Can you see the beauty inside of me?
What happened to the beauty I had inside of me?”

City of Blinding Lights, U2

 

WAKING TO SINCERITY

Don’t get me wrong, there were people who were extra. Walter Mercado, the famous Latin astrologer who would tell us if our stars were aligned after the five o’clock news who just passed away was EXTRA. Long tunics, always surrounded by a set that looked like a gaudy antique shop in Brooklyn– borderline hoarder. He had like twenty rings on each finger. (May he rest in peace.) My point is there were people who were extra. They stood out for being extra. His extra-ness was what made him unique and original. There was no one like him.

Today, we strive so much for the lewk, and we forget it’s about the story. Friends, for example, is an iconic show. It was never about the clothes and hair. Those elements were what helped make the character. But what we remember the most, are the stories those characters told us. Their funny lines. Their stupid mistakes.

I always hear that Friends would never work today. Our society is so different.

Here is a reminder to all of us: This life is about the stories we tell in how we live it. We have one shot. Make sure you make your day-to-day story about the right thing. 

It’s ok to take the photo and not look at it. It’s more than ok to “look ugly in a photograph.” The least perfect photos often document the best moments.

“Don’t look before you laugh
Look ugly in a photograph
Flash bulbs, purple irises the camera can’t see”

City of Blinding Lights, U2

And for those of you who know–

*ALL THE FEELS*

Being Human: Emotion In Our Veins

IMG_9641

“What is most striking to me today about the diary I kept in the camp, seventy-five years ago, is what I left out.”

Zuzana Justman

By: Gabriela Yareliz

Emo 4

WHAT IS LEFT UNSAID

I was struck by a piece I read in The New Yorker, called My Terezin Diary, about a holocaust survivor, Zuzana Justman, looking back at a diary she wrote while imprisoned in a Nazi camp.

It wasn’t just the historical context of when she wrote that fascinated me, but more the fact that she admitted that there was so much that had been on her mind 24/7, which she never dared write about.

She never really wrote about her brother’s illness, how she was watching her parents’ marriage disintegrate, or how she felt about her mother’s affair. She wrote about none of that, even though it preoccupied her mind. She is the first person I have heard talk about this, and it struck me because the same happened to me.

I was an avid diary writer. There must be boxes in the shed filled with the little books I wrote. I would average about 8-14 pages a day. I often poured my heart into these little spiral-bound notebooks. Interestingly enough, I started diary writing around the years just before my parents separated. I had my little gel pens and tape ready, each afternoon. Sometimes, I would carry it in my book bag. I was a candid writer. (Maybe, I still am?) But as I got older, I found that I wrote less and less. I wrote cryptically as well, even though I literally had nothing to hide.

One of my last diaries was in college, and this was after a long gap of no writing. I had already started writing here. I wrote about stupid failed crushes and my hopes to return to France again. The very last one was one of heartbreak. It is filled with poems and deep sadness. The diary marked the end of a relationship that I hoped would lead to marriage, and a weird beginning to a period of transition into the person I am today.

I stopped journaling. And long before I stopped journaling, I realize I stopped seeing the world a certain way. There would be no more monologues about soulmates and Shakespearean fate. There would be none of that because I didn’t believe in that anymore.

Emo 5

BROKEN

I don’t think I ever wrote candidly about much of anything serious after my little world fell apart at 12-13 years old. I was really confused and trapped in my own head, trying to figure out what was going on in an adult world that was suffering but keeping quiet about most things.

I don’t think I ever wrote about how angry I was at my father. I don’t think I ever wrote about what it was like to be homeless. I didn’t write about hope or dreams. I was just sort of living life and surviving it. Trying to be the best daughter I could and trying to not make things harder than they already were.

In college, on the other end, I was alone a lot. I had my friends from the cricket team I reported for, who were like brothers to me. And my notebooks were filled with tiny witty stories and moments, Bollywood songs, and sports diagrams and little lists of names and practice dates. When my heart was broken, I wallowed for a bit. Argued with God, A LOT, and I spent a lot of time in observation of the world.

audrey-tautou-in-le-battement-d-ailes-du-papillon-audrey-tautou-25331577-1280-720

(Clip from the film Le Battement D’Ailes du Papillon)

I was into observing how even the batting of a butterfly wing could send a ripple effect into the universe. The very French battement d’ailes du papillon. 

“You see, every detail, every gesture, as slight as it may be, reveals an infinity of truths and thus has an endless repercussion and grandiose effects.”

Le Battement D’ailes du Papillon

As I grew into my own, I was determined that I would use every single thing as a lesson, and that I would be most efficient by learning from other’s mistakes, and the world around me. I became a bit of a perfectionist in some aspects and adopting the too-French-to-care attitude in others. I became quite the observer, but while I observed and I grew, I learned to push past the hurts and loneliness. It became my goal not to feel things but to push past them. I just needed to be strong. GET. IT. TOGETHER. was my motto.

What gets me about Ms. Justman’s writing is that those of us who have had this experience where we do not write or talk about that which is on our mind or that which hurts us is because we do not feel safe about something.

Maybe, it’s different for all of us. Perhaps, we just simply aren’t afraid or threatened by anything external but by ourselves.

Could it be that we as humans are slightly afraid to feel? We are afraid of the emotions that rage inside of us like a tempest because we aren’t sure we can ride the wave? We are afraid our emotions mean we have failed at something? Ms. Justman certainly experienced more trauma than the average person today. The holocaust was a horrific dark period of history.

That said, one person’s experience doesn’t nullify our own. I walk around in a city where I see so much brokenness. So much hurt. So much injustice. So much loneliness.

So much fear.

Emo2

EPIPHANY

As I read the piece in my magazine while sitting on the train, I sort of wanted to burst into tears and cry for the suffering of the world. I can’t imagine how God feels. I wanted to hug Ms. Justman’s child self. I wanted to hug my child self.

I am a big believer in vulnerability and speaking truth. I think it is because of this that I was so surprised to spot in myself this undeniable tiptoeing around my very real thoughts and emotions. There was so much in my own life that I have left unsaid, even though I feel like a person who can fill any silence offered. Me, Ms. Vulnerability, who tells others they should be more open, was the same person who hesitated to write out my own emotions for myself. I let the gel pens dry up.

I am convinced I am not alone. We have all dealt with heartbreak or loneliness, trauma or shame. What happens when we allow ourselves to feel?

Are we afraid to be human? We like to frame things nicely, and dot our ‘i’s, and we tie things up in bows.

What if we sat in the mess of our feelings and thoughts, as if they were a pile of laundry dumped from a basket after drying, just for a minute– just long enough to give ourselves permission to feel?

Emo

FEELING IN THE RAW

Every single person is different. So there is never a recipe.

But, I just want to end by saying that just because we don’t acknowledge something doesn’t mean it’s not there. If I am standing beside you in a room, and you ignore me, that doesn’t mean I am not there. If you are walking by too quickly and miss me, that doesn’t mean I was not there.

I am uncomfortable. I am talking about things I don’t usually discuss. I certainly don’t remember writing about them. But, here we are. Ms. Justman’s brave acknowledgement reminded me that I don’t want to wait until 75 years from now to see all that I dared not say.

“I don’t want to wait until 75 years from now to see all that I dared not say.”

If we could only slow down. If we could face ourselves. Ask yourself if there is something you never dared to voice. It could be anger, it could be joy, it could be worry or sadness.

Let’s stop pretending that just because we didn’t “write it”, it didn’t happen. Respecting our memories and our emotions can be one of the most powerful things we can do for ourselves.

Feel it. Feeling doesn’t equate being overtaken by anything. Just allow yourself to feel. When we acknowledge reality, we end up acknowledging our place in all of it. 

Strength is not in what is left unsaid, but it’s in the person still standing after all is said and done. 

Emo 3

I hope that in the end we find that we were brave enough to love ourselves, not just in word but in deed. 

Thank you to Ms. Justman for bravely writing her story, and thank you to my friend Martha, who is always daring me to be my most authentic self.

Gabriela and the Awful, Rainy, Bad-News-Filled Day

* [Yes, this title is a play on: Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day, published in 1972, written by Judith Viorst.]

paper-573095_960_720

By: Gabriela Yareliz

What a day it has been.

It was a combination of stress, bad news and having to hold in emotions. I had to walk through the rain like I was walking through a sad movie, walked home with my eyes practically shut, and then got home, where I decompressed and took what felt like my first breath in hours.

9780689711732

As I lived the day, and it’s not over, I may get more bad news, regarding my pet– I don’t know (please pray), I felt like I was blocked for air. My brain, my thoughts, my heart. I seriously wasn’t sure at one point if I was going to make it home. I thought I might blackout. Blacking out on the MTA subway is probably up there on the top 5 things I consider a nightmare. I sat down at my desk, and while I waited for text messages from my mom at the animal hospital to come in, I started reading. I read scripture, and I read words of faith.

I am sharing this, not because I think my day is worth sharing– believe me, I wish I could get a do-over with alternative facts, but because I feel different now than I did when I got home, locked the door and threw myself on my yoga mat to cry.

The difference was made by words of truth. Words I had read, which I am paraphrasing, kept ringing in my ear: What would happen if I believed God? What if I took Him at His word? And by this, I don’t mean everything will be magically ok or loved ones will be magically healed.

No. This game called life doesn’t work like that. What I mean is, what if I truly believed God was with me as He promises to be, always. (Isaiah 43:2) The God of the universe is standing beside me. What if I believed that no weapon against me shall prosper? (Isaiah 54:17) Or that even when life literally throws sh*t and demoralizing injustices in our face, that while God can’t control people, He can still use all of this mess and make something beautiful out of it? (Romans 8:28) He has promised to work EVERYTHING out for my highest good. (The verse says ALL THINGS). Even when I can’t see it. If I remembered that this whole thing is about Him, and He is love, how would that change things?

And the truth is, the reason why I felt different after reading words of truth is because this truth changes everything. It changes everything.

Truth sets us free. (John 8:32). I want to live free every single day.

I write this simply to say that no matter what is happening, you can choose to seek truth. Find it. Cling to it. Cry on it. Be held by it. That’s the one choice we certainly have, always.

“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore, we shall not fear…” (Psalm 46:1-2)

That’s all I can say, right now.

Being Human: Being Art

IMG_9641

“To create is to reflect the image of God. To create is an act of worship.”

Erwin Raphael McManus, The Artisan Soul: Crafting Your Life into a Work of Art

By: Gabriela Yareliz

26fc4d2e00000578-3011473-image-a-2_1427306149296

I want us to talk about the way we show ourselves to the world.

Recently at church, we were discussing how humans are constantly seeking acceptance, belonging and love. The person was saying that one could say that fashion is one of those aspects in which we try to do this. Fashion is a form of expression. The way we present ourselves to the world says volumes about what we believe, how we feel about ourselves, and what we think about others.

Each era has had a look, popular haircuts and things people strive to emulate. A part of how we look is influenced by societal/cultural trends.

the-rachel_

We live in a day and age where we are all about branding and image. Most social media platforms serve as marketing platforms (if we are being honest).

While it may seem shallow to discuss how we project and adorn ourselves— as with everything, what is on the outside hints at what holds true inside.

“While it may seem shallow to discuss how we project and adorn ourselves— as with everything, what is on the outside hints at what holds true inside.”

It’s natural to gravitate toward trends– we don’t always have a choice. Not many of us make our own clothes. It’s not about the clothes but about how we wear the clothes and how we use everything else. What is the message we are sending into the world?

Today, there is so much that is cookie-cutter. Fashion rules, entire channels that teach you how to dress like a certain brand’s catalog (essentially— everything is an ad), makeup tutorials that mask each face in the same way, fillers that have made a whole generation of women look a certain way— that’s where we are.

IMG_9703

Ironically, I think some of the people we see as the most iconic are people who don’t look like the rest. They tend to be the people who make the trends and don’t follow. Whether it’s Amal Clooney, Kate Moss, Jane Birkin, Brigitte Bardot, the fictional Carrie Bradshaw or the mysterious Olsen Twins— I think the quality that makes their style so iconic is that it’s not very imitable— the reason being that their image is made up of the uniqueness and authenticity of who they are.

The clothes, hair and makeup aren’t there to cover who they are, but to truly accentuate who they are.

Mary-Kate Olsen said: “There are just some really beautiful people in the world. When you’re walking down the street, or you’re at a restaurant, someone catches your eye because they have their own look. It goes way beyond what they’re wearing – into their mannerisms, the way they smile, or just the way they hold themselves.”

IMG_9701

“Whether we realize it or not, everything we do is an expression of either how alive our souls are or how much we have allowed ourselves to be deadened over time.”

Erwin Raphael McManus, The Artisan Soul: Crafting Your Life into a Work of Art

This may seem simple and so common sense, but I really don’t think it is, anymore. It’s a fit-in culture when it comes to everything, including beliefs. If you aren’t on the same page as the person next to you (who may be totally clueless, by the way), then you might as well have a target on your back.

These days, there are “acceptable” ways to do everything, including a designated style for not fitting into the promoted categories— but my point here is we should be breaking categories. There should be a higher and more difficult standard.

We should be seeking to be our most authentic selves, but not in the way society and social media dictate and normalize.

Sure, clothing and societal trends, plus TV and general media have influenced every era — but I never felt like it was so cookie-cutter like this. Our faces, lips, eyes– everything. We are physically changing ourselves.

I can scroll through social and find thousands of girls who all look the same. And they didn’t look the same before. They have altered themselves to look the same. And yet– we admire the ones who dared to be different. Why is that?

Do we as a general population lack courage? Do we lack creativity? Do we lack acceptance? Do we lack vision? Do we lack connection with the source of all truth?

Why are we, as a society of individuals, so unaccepting of who we were made to be?

IMG_9704

There is a reason why we admire Carrie Bradshaw wearing two different colors of the same sandal with a dress (above), or why Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen look like queens while breaking every fashion rule known to man for petite women. They are comfortable. They look like themselves no matter what trend is captivating the general masses. They set trends just by being themselves.

“They look like themselves no matter what trend is captivating the general masses. They set trends just by being themselves.”

So, here is a simple call— why don’t we stop hiding behind brands and logos, sponsorships and image, and why don’t we look like ourselves? That may even mean looking more like our smaller, younger selves. The little beings who were unpolluted (relatively speaking) by societal agendas and advertising. All we cared about were toy commercials.

Pick the little pieces that make you, you. The point is we need to be happy with ourselves. If we aren’t, it will show. When we look around, we see a world that is deeply unhappy with itself and with others. It bleeds into everything.

Choosing to be our own person is profound and one of the most daring things we can be.

It’s impossible for God to work uniquely through us, if we can’t handle being ourselves.

God is the ultimate Creator. The greatest example of creativity.

Let’s pause and look around us. Observe each person and their visible intricacies. Then, think about who you are inside. Who does God want you to be? And then, your job is to show the world art. You are the creation that mirrors the Creator. That will look different in all of us, so let’s resolve to be that. If we fail, no one else will be able to be moved and changed by who God is creating us to be.

Ultimately, God doesn’t care about the details of what we wear. This only matters because it’s a hint as to what we feel and value inside of our hearts and minds.

And truth be told– the rest of us, we aren’t God. We don’t have soul x-ray vision, so we will definitely just go off of what we see. God made us externally unique and beautiful. If God made us this way, that must mean a part of this, as simple as it may sound, matters.

“What is your idea of you? Who is it that you have decided to become? If your greatest work of art is the life you live, and ultimately life is a creative act, what life will you choose to leave behind as your masterpiece?”

Erwin Raphael McManus, The Artisan Soul: Crafting Your Life into a Work of Art

Being Human: Here Comes Autumn

IMG_9641

FALL TRANSITION

By: Gabriela Yareliz

And here we are. Inside of my little studio, French jazz playing, little amber candles burning and the drawers of my dresser only half closed. That’s the way it goes on a Friday where I don’t want to leave my house anymore, and I just want to start my sentence of self-imposed solitary.

Soon, the bridge will be glittering at a distance, and the sky will be amber, too. The world glows in autumn. It’s moody, it’s crisp, it’s romantic and it’s cozy. Every season invites us to something different.

Man Repeller had a piece on whether people still read personal blogs. If you are reading this, the answer is yes, and I thank you. I wasn’t even so much as interested in the article as I was in the comments section. It’s a relic of the “past” that people have nostalgia for– the non-influencer blog space. You know– where we just talk about life and feelings and thoughts, and we don’t try to sell you anything. We still exist. It’s real, and simple and only sponsored by our mothers who remain our number 1 fans. This golden age of blogging isn’t over– and to prove it, I want to launch a little section I am calling Being Human.

We live in an age of reboots. We believe we have advanced so much in so many areas of life, yet we still long for simpler times. I’d like us to explore what that simplicity was and what that reveals about us. This is just simple, today. Nothing new here, but it’s a seasonal reminder. The leaves may be falling, but this blog (and our humanity, for that matter) is here to stay.

IMG_9622
Image by Julianna Swaney, via Tumblr

CLEANING

With the seasonal shift, nothing gets me more clear-headed than a good cleaning session. It’s not just literal; it’s symbolic, guys. When I clean the corners I don’t normally sit in; When I tell the little spiders to pack their bags and relocate; When I empty the pantry and take a look at the random jar of jam I got in the TJ Maxx basement three months ago, life sort of takes a little pause. It feels as good as wiping a dry erase board with an alcohol wipe.

IMG_9637
via Tumblr

Cleaning is a pastime for me. It’s something I romanticize into a workout session, but with all natural exertion. (If you’ve read Mireille Guiliano, then you know). Nothing beats the satisfaction of an evening ending with your hands smelling like those cleaning wipes. I made a little list of each section of my house (because sometimes a room is too much after a day of court). And little by little (as life should be), the place begins to sparkle.

A clean space is an invitation to rest.

IMG_9631
Image by Julia Stotz

HEALTH

I take the new season to take inventory, you know, this isn’t just about wiping down the cabinets. I think about the things that make me feel good, and if they are missing, it’s time to make a little list and get them.

That includes:

  • Seasonal foods;
  • Supplements (are you running low on collagen? has it been a while since you took an iron or vitamin D3 supplement?);
  • Probiotics (game changer);
  • Workout equipment that needs replacing (resistance bands get stretched out, maybe it’s time to invest in a tool or leggings you have had your eye on);
  • Something that makes you feel beautiful on the outside (maybe it’s time to whiten your teeth or invest in a good serum to amp up your skincare routine).

I believe in investing in yourself, especially in your mind (books, podcasts) and wellness. Let’s just say the time and money you spend and invest in wellness, you avoid spending on the illness and repercussions of not caring for yourself.

We only live once. I always believe in optimizing that one life.

IMG_9626
via Tumblr

REST

While everything dies outside, as far as nature is concerned, as the skies get darker sooner, I believe it’s a personal invitation to rest. We’ve talked about preparing our space and our bodies for rest. Some other things that are absolutely divine for a season of rest are:

  • A good candle or two. Make sure it smells yummy, seasonal and cute packaging that makes the glow cozy– it’s perfect.
  • I have a light in my entrance that is different from all the others in the apartment. it glows a soft yellow. Sometimes, everything in my apartment is off except for this one light because it makes the place feel more relaxing.
  • A physical book. There is nothing like a dog-eared book on a late evening, with nothing else on.
  • A good journal to scribble down the little scenes that pop into our minds.
  • Good socks. Good fuzzy socks are a very underrated gift. I love them. I use them. Socks. Forever socks.
  • A Bible study tool. Yep. More time indoors should mean we use that time wisely to dive deeper into timeless books, like scripture.

No better investment. Soul health.

IMG_9639

EXPERIENCE

I was restless on a Saturday morning, not long ago. I woke up at 4 am. I made myself some tea, and I sat at my dining area window. I watched as the sky turned orange and purple. Something about the sunrise moved me deeply.

I am often up when the sun is rising. But I am running around my studio getting dressed, pulling on a shoe while hopping on one foot, or hooking up my straightener to heat while I make some oatmeal. I don’t even look outside and stop to stare.

Stop and stare. Be intentional. Stop.

Some of our most “inefficient” moments are the ones that change us the most.

It may be in that moment that we make it quiet enough for an idea, which has been trying to catch our attention, to break through to us.

Pause to see the sunrise. Pause to observe the sunset.

When you are cooking, pause and breathe it all in. When you wake up, don’t hop out of bed flying like something is on fire (I am guilty of this, at times). Linger. Look at the shadows. Catch the light. Stretch. Take the moments to feel. Let the light that pours in touch you, too.

IMG_9627
Image by Samuel Zeller

NATURE

Just because temperatures start dropping doesn’t mean we shouldn’t go outside. There is something about NYC when it’s cold. It’s like the streets belong only to those brave enough to linger under the gray skies.

I, for one, will be taking more walks. It’s time to unpack the jackets, scarves and hats. Nature offers us so much beauty, and we often miss it by looking down at some screen or by racing to the next indoor location.

Remember when phones were landlines, and you left your house knowing that if someone called, they could just leave a message? Shall we landline our cell phones? #landlinecellphones

Now, I am not suggesting you leave it home, simply because emergencies happen. But what if we kept our phones out of sight, let voicemail do its job, and we lived in a world where no one was looking for us constantly.

We can put away the perfection, the expectations, the ideal aesthetics, and we can simply be joyfully tousled human beings.

If you let it, the wind will do its job.

IMG_9630
via Tumblr

Be Human

Take a minute to feel the last rays of sunshine. Get yourself a warm drink and get one for someone not as fortunate. Write a letter. Make eye contact. Take time to listen. Connect with a stranger. Keep your hands free of anything that lights up, and instead, keep them busy turning the pages of a book, kneading some dough, with a pen, or holding someone you love.

“If you want to get warm

you must stand near the fire;

if you want to be wet

you must get into water.

If you want joy, power, peace, eternal

life, you must get close to,

or even into,

the thing that has them.”

C.S. Lewis

IMG_9625
via Tumblr @fleurisque

Sufficient

By: Gabriela Yareliz

Society, it fights capitalism and the patriarchy. We censor and then uncensor— we keep searching for something we can break through or break from that will liberate us from all oppressions and oppressors.

I am not quite sure what made us decide that the problem is another person or an outside system. Systems are set in place and made up of broken people. And while these externals certainly affect our lives– they can not reach or change the deepest of places, our hearts.

What if the problem is each individual person’s heart? What if we could somehow master our darkest shades and worst demons? The battlefield is the heart.

If the battle isn’t won there, then we find ourselves dismantling one oppressor to replace it with another, which will never suffice.

This Past Season

arts-graphics-film_1190784a
Image via Telegraph UK, Film Volver by Pedro Almodovar

“And after you have suffered for a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to His eternal glory in Christ, will Himself restore, support, strengthen and establish you.” 1 Peter 5:10

By: Gabriela Yareliz

I always do enjoy putting my thoughts out into letters. It sort of shifts things in time for me.

It has been a year of serious introspection. A year of sitting down and facing brokenness, pain, loss, and changes. It has also been a year of marvelous things and moments, and mostly a year of growth, where I have been looking at myself, and thinking, why did I react that way? What is behind this fear? Or this sadness? Or this physical manifestation and symptom?

It has caused me to pause and think. It has been a year where I have wrestled with expectations, disappointment (with that knot in my throat that frustratingly (to my annoyance) forms when I want to cry), hurt and my pride.

I heard not so long ago that you can’t rush healing. And while at first, when I was facing my anguish I thought, I thought I had healed past all this. Why am I here again? I have now realized that I probably couldn’t have made it through this round without rounds one and two. It fills me with hope because that must mean someone is guiding all of this and watching over me. That must mean something has been gained.

“That must mean something has been gained.”

Lysa TerKeurst wrote, God never says He won’t allow us to face more than what we can handle. The scripture is often misquoted, but what He promises is to not allow us to be tempted more than we can handle. This means that in life, we will certainly face things that feel like and probably most certainly are more than we can handle.

It’s a journey, for sure.

Today, I received a phone call from someone I hadn’t spoken to in months. Someone who used to be close to me. I’ll say that I didn’t pick up. The thought of answering that call felt draining. So much has happened in the past two years, I wouldn’t even know where to begin to catch this person up with my life. And to be honest, I don’t have the energy. If you missed it, you missed it.

I have had some time to sit down and grieve certain things. Things like relationships, people in my life who can’t be who they are supposed to be, broken trust, and the list is long. Things that have been beyond messed up. Again, as Lysa TerKeurst says, sometimes life breaks you, and sometimes it turns you to dust.

It has been hard to sit with that pain because it has often meant I don’t get to be the person I want to be around people who surround me, who have no role or fault in any of this. When grief hits us, it hits us hard.

I have gone from deep sadness, to disbelief, to tremendous emptiness, to questioning sometimes just about everything– except God. God is someone that I can never question, in this point in my life. I realized that so much of what had me being so reactive to these circumstances and everyone else (we are being honest, right?) was my own fear that somehow, the way those who hurt me saw me or what they thought of me was somehow true. (This is aside from all the other craziness happening simultaneously, but I can’t control the rest, just me; so I will talk about me and what I can control in the equation). There is something that sort of shatters your soul when someone who has hurt you justifies how and why they hurt you. Sometimes, those lies seep deep into our souls and haunt us for years. But they are exactly that: lies.

Something dramatically shifts in us when we can recognize lies for what they truly are. When we recognize who God says we are and what He offers us, we can begin to truly believe the truth that surrounds us that we may have missed while blinded by hurt, fear and untruths.

800_la-casa-de-bernarda-alba
A classic that depicts how we mourn, by Lorca. A play you will not soon forget. 

In my culture, when someone dies, people are known to be in mourning and grieve for a time. They even change their wardrobe to reflect this state of mourning.

I feel like this past month has been a re-emerging out of that grief period. A time to recalibrate, recollect, and gather pieces.

The circumstances that brought on this grief are far from over. In fact, as it is in real life, unlike in the American movies, there may be no denouement. (Maybe this is a French or Spanish film). Definitely not American. Yet, despite this being something that has yet to have a resolution for better or for worse, what has changed is me.

This post is not meant to be some dark twisted set of paragraphs before I go to wash my hair. I had a different purpose.

I needed to go to this dark place where I have been sitting because I need to share with you why I am no longer there.

Lysa TerKeurst writes in her book It’s Not Supposed To Be This Way, that when life turns us into dust, we have to remember that God formed man out of dust. In scripture, He healed a blind man’s sight by spitting into dust. The key is that God can do a lot with dust. When He infuses Himself into it, He creates life. He creates something new.

“The key is that God can do a lot with dust.”

God set a series of books in my path this month. He also made it so that Psalm 40 popped up in every single book, devotional, and sign I read– just everything. It popped up everywhere. It only recently clicked.

This Psalm means so much to me now. It has been an anchor, throughout this time. Here, we see a King David who is worshipping despite his circumstances and despair.

In the middle of His storm, he states:

“Happy are those who make the Lord their trust, who do not turn to the proud, to those who go astray after a lie.” (v. 4)

He continues by stating: “I have not hidden your saving help within my heart, I have spoken of your faithfulness and your salvation; I have not concealed your steadfast love and your faithfulness from the great congregation.” (v. 10)

Today, I am trying to share with you His saving help, His faithfulness and His salvation. I know that the things I have discovered about myself, the lies that have been torn down in my mind, the identity I can find in Him, the joy I can feel in this moment, despite my circumstances– all of this is because of His steadfast love and His faithfulness.

Even in the midst of pain and a lot of dysfunction, I can still experience deep joy, profound love, and truth. I am so grateful for that. I know that He is with me. He is with me now and in the future, in whatever I will face. If it’s illness, He will provide. Financially, He will provide. If He makes me a spouse, He will provide. If He makes me a parent, He will provide. No matter what, He will provide. And we must remember that God is not just “sufficient”, He is GOD. He goes beyond all we can think, expect or desire.

I was listening to Bobby Bones the other day, and he was talking about things he does because of growing up in poverty or because he has no family (many members of his family passed away from drug use). He said he often keeps himself busy because it gives him less time to feel lonely. And I remember listening to that and stopping in my tracks. That was something I identified with a lot, and not so much out of loneliness (though I have experienced loneliness– I have lived alone for about 8 years and the silence gets to me, at certain times), but I know that I do that a lot when I am feeling hurt or going through something. For me, it’s easier to stay busy than to really sit there and face the music, so to speak. These past few months and weeks have been different, though.

Through the quiet moments of reading, reflection, prayer and time alone, ironically, I have found peace. Maybe not perfection or resolution, but true peace. I am a work in progress.

I was someone who could do a whole workout on adrenaline and still feel completely disconnected from my body. Even the way I exercise has changed. Connecting with our true selves and facing pain can be one of the hardest things we do. Surrendering and letting go of the hurt, all we can’t control and the zaniness of it all can seem foolish, in the moment.

As we spend more time in His presence and frankly seeing ourselves clearly, we can see, like in a mirror, what is actually hurting, instead of masking our symptoms, which we do all to well, in this society.

“No amount of falls will really undo us if we keep on picking ourselves up each time. We shall of course be very muddy and tattered children by the time we reach home. But the bathrooms are all ready, the towels put out, & the clean clothes are in the airing cupboard. The only fatal thing is to lose one’s temper and give up. It is when we notice the dirt that God is most present to us: it is the very sign of His presence,” C.S. Lewis wrote on January 20, 1942 to Mary Neylan in a letter.

“It is when we notice the dirt that God is most present to us: it is the very sign of His presence.” C.S. Lewis

One thing I have been so aware of is His promises. One in particular:

“And after you have suffered for a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to His eternal glory in Christ, will Himself restore, support, strengthen and establish you.” 1 Peter 5:10

While I may not see a tidy bow or happy ending now in some aspects of my life, I know He has promised to RESTORE, SUPPORT, STRENGTHEN and ESTABLISH me. He says He will do this HIMSELF. This promise, my friend, is for you, too.

I am carrying His joy, and I am excited of all life has to come. I am, every day, placing my fears, the brokenness and my pain in His able hands.

I don’t have a recipe or secret for you. No 12-step plan. In fact, things in my life could spiral circumstantially. Illness could fall upon me or some other unpredictable event could occur. I am part of the human family that lives on this strange planet called Earth. But here is the thing–

Our joy, sanity and peace– it simply comes down to something that is accessible and promised to all who will seek it:

His presence.

It is there where I have found a renewal that has changed everything. It has been slow, painful, and uncomfortable, but He keeps telling me:

“Behold, I am doing a new thing! […] Do you not perceive it?” (Isaiah 43:19)

A lot of the details for the future are blurry, uncertain and unclear, but I perceive it. I hope you will, too.

We are all tattered children, muddied up, as Lewis describes. But the bathrooms are ready, the towels have been put out and the clean clothes are airing.

I’ll keep walking home, no matter what mire the world throws my way. I am determined to make it home. I’ll take a towel, a mirror and the clean clothes.

I’m glad it’s ready because I am coming home.