tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78612633826781361502024-03-13T04:07:33.717-07:00Roots and (then) WingsRoot (n): The source or origin.
Wing (n): A means of flight, travel or progress.Roots & Wingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162744280140303590noreply@blogger.comBlogger142125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7861263382678136150.post-51230101827804652422019-03-20T19:16:00.000-07:002019-03-20T20:45:39.462-07:00'& (Then)'... Change<div style="color: #454545; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I went to yoga tonight for the first time in, oh, many moons. Fellow yogis or former brides might infer that I stopped avoiding the good hurt because of where I am in the wedding count down (one-day-post-final-dress-fitting) and the fact that nothing melts your mind or belly fat like Bikram would all but confirm that. But alas. I had a Groupon for the studio around the corner that expires tomorrow and tomorrow’s class is 90 minutes and tonight’s was 60, so there you go. </span><br />
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And there I went, to a sunny twig of a girl named Jenny’s class, 26 poses and 2 AP-level breathing exercises punctuated by Jenny’s sweet encouragement. You know you’re done with each of the 26 brutal poses when Jenny cheerfully exclaims, “and change!” and there is something magic about that phrase, the repetition of it, the renewal. Acknowledging every threshold, every milestone.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So anyway I went to yoga tonight and it occurred to me that it’s right and proper that I would come home to myself on the vernal equinox, the very first day of spring. Yoga is appropriate <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/2015/12/the-shortest-day.html">for</a> <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/2014/05/savasana-fetal-pose.html">any</a> <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/2014/06/extended-optimism.html">season</a>, sure, but I hibernate and avoid it. It is <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/2013/03/overflow.html">my way</a>. Then something breaks (or a Groupon looms) and I scamper in, cranky and stiff, and I gobble up Jenny’s positivity like a kid on Easter morning. (Jenny was the perfect teacher BTW. Ellen and Rachel, none of this archetypal shit. She is the ideal. And god Rach, I miss you and our complementary masochism. Full download: my Padangusthasana was shoddy, my tree had two trunks, I skipped camel because I am not a martyr, and my standing bow was freaking on point.) </span><br />
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So, yeah, Easter, renewal, spring, right on time. </span></div>
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So, I ended up here, my old stomping grounds, and as per ushe, I feel the need to tell you that my life is changing. Seemingly rapidly, but then this is also years in the making, isn’t it? My hair is naturally curly! Like, all of it! I am an actual fundraiser! John Mayer songs <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/2013/08/a-heart-wide-open-or-10-love-lessons-i.html">no longer resonate</a>! 1460 Erie is still my north star, but now 43 South takes me home. We’re adding two new people to our little Nease foursome! And, well, MY NAME IS GOING TO BE BOBBI BANKS. </span><br />
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A pair of 20-somethings were chatting pre-yoga about online dating, and I did not relate. There were three guys in my class and I did not eye up a single one. It’s not even because my fiance (fiance!) will read this (hey babe!) but because I am not lonely. I'm not lonely, not only because I found my sushi- and dog-loving blue-eyed plaidie but because I found myself along the way. Because I am right with myself, and strong. Because life has come full circle and because I have exactly the tools I need to proceed, no matter what my name is. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Because I have learned that every winter has a spring, and that every threshold, every milestone deserves to be honored. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Full circle. I see what you did there, Equinox. Happy spring, all. ‘Tis my New Year’s Day. To all the late bloomers, to all my soulfriends who agree that Q1 is for the birds and the real new-year-new-you begins today, namaste. We are blooming. Right on time. </span></div>
Roots & Wingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162744280140303590noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7861263382678136150.post-32552304752497545002018-06-20T10:20:00.000-07:002018-06-21T06:46:56.991-07:00CollisionA few weeks ago, I rear-ended someone on the freeway.<br />
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I was drowsy, dragging, having jumped in the car 10 minutes after waking, after performing the bare requirements to get the dog squared away and get myself on the road, en route to the grind.<br />
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The traffic was annoyingly--ingratiatingly--stop-and-go, and it took me a second too long to realize it was more stop than go. My commuter sneaker slipped slightly on the brake, and I knew I was in for it. My seat belt triggered, compressing my chest, forcing my cringing face forward as I crashed into the tail end of a Honda Odyssey.<br />
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Time elapsed as I stared down my red front hood, colliding, colliding, colliding into the white wall of a hinged van door. Protracted smashing, and then it was over.<br />
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<i>Fucking fuck. </i>A voice I didn't recognize from my own driver's seat.<br />
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I pulled over, foggily rummaging through my glove compartment, stunned, shamed, despondent. Resigned.<br />
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"Are you okay?" I asked the visibly irritated blonde women whose day, week, maybe month I'd just soured.<i> I'm sorry,</i> I wanted to say, <i>I'm acquainted with ruined days. It was only a matter of time before I transgressed a perfect stranger.</i><br />
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We stood on the shoulder as the cars whizzed by. Clearly the bottleneck had resolved itself. We examined the damage, exchanged information, and coldly laid out next steps.<br />
<br />
--<br />
<br />
Is this what falling out of love feels like, I wonder? Operating in a haze, going through the motions of maintenance, and then the abrupt stun of impact and the paralyzing recognition of your culpability? The weight of anxiety as your reflexes kick in a moment too late. Surveying the wreckage with the only person in the world who knows just how egregious your offense. <br />
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Never mind the environment, never mind the stress. You didn't stop in time. <i>At fault</i>, the record will say. <i>Would you like to document more details about the incident? </i><br />
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Maybe this is why we don't have insurance for our romantic lives. We could never afford the premiums.<br />
<br />Roots & Wingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162744280140303590noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7861263382678136150.post-46162468379412605062017-05-05T09:46:00.002-07:002017-05-08T11:37:56.382-07:00A eulogy for doubt<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"I'm not perfect," he said on our sixth date, on our second do-over. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"You don't have to be perfect," I said. "You just have to be trying."</span><br />
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<!-- Usage of azlyrics.com content by any third-party lyrics provider is prohibited by our licensing agreement. Sorry about that. --><i><span style="color: orange; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">What if we stop having a ball?<br /> What if the paint chips from the wall?<br /> What if there's always cups in the sink?<br /> What if I'm not what you think I am?</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: orange; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Don't give up on me," he said, after pushing me away didn't work. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: orange; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Where there is love, there is no question," says the Yogi Tea tag taped to my desk. </span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: orange; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /><i>What if I fall further than you?<br /> What if you dream of somebody new?<br /> What if I never let you win, chase you with a rolling pin?<br /> Well, what if I do?</i><br />
<span style="color: black;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: orange; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Is he worth it?" she asked, after a weekend of wondering. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"All I know," I whispered, "is it's not time to give up yet."</span><br />
<span style="color: orange; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span> <br />
<i>I am giving up on making passes and<br /> I am giving up on half empty glasses and<br /> I am giving up on greener grasses<br /> I am giving up</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: orange; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: orange; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Why would I jeopardize everything we've built?" he asked, after my mind played tricks. </span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: orange; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: orange; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">An answer, as quick as it was stunning: "You wouldn't." </span> </span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: orange; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>What if our baby comes home after nine?<br /> What it your eyes close before mine?<br /> What if you lose yourself sometimes?<br /> Then I'll be the one to find you<br /> Safe in my heart</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Am I cut out for this?" I asked myself, after one of the hard conversations.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: orange; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: orange; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"We will get through this," he said, after pushing him away didn't work. "Together."</span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-family: "arial";"><i>'Cause I am giving up</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-family: "arial";"><i>on greener grasses</i></span></span><span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-family: "arial";"><i> </i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-family: "arial";"><i>I am giving up for you, oh</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-family: "arial";"><i>I am giving up for you, oh</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-family: "arial";"><i>I am giving up </i></span></span><br />
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<i><span style="color: orange; font-family: "arial";">--Ingrid Michaelson, <b><span style="color: magenta;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o_27y74pw1g">Giving Up</a></span></b></span></i></div>
Roots & Wingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162744280140303590noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7861263382678136150.post-25717027275376283482017-01-13T15:35:00.000-08:002018-07-25T11:11:21.908-07:00Be Water, My FriendNew Year's Eve has always seemed to me to fall during the wrong part of the year. <br />
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Sure, I <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/2014/01/resolving-revisited.html">usually feel a deep need</a> to repent and renew at the end of the calendar year, <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/2015/02/forward-fold.html">but I never quite feel ready</a> to resolve to do better. I always feel a bit frozen, like I'm still making amends with the year before. If there is anything true of me, it is that <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/2013/05/an-ocean.html">I require time to process</a>.<br />
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In fact, for my first three years in Chicago, I spent the evening in the bathtub. <br />
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z3sXVxqDbFk"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Auld Lang Syne</i></span></a><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i> has been used as the equivalent for "once upon on time" in Scottish fairytales. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i> Perhaps I'm not so alone in my slowness to move on to the next.</i></span></div>
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I turned down invitations, turned off my phone, turned up the music, and sat, stewing in my feelings. Later, in the spring, when things were greener, <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/2013/05/spring.html">I inevitably defrosted</a> and felt that uptick of inspiration and renewal. In college, my girlfriends and I called this 'the spring thaw,' a celebration involving a fifth of vodka at the first sign of sunshine. In yoga, we call this 'flow'.<br />
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This year is not much different. Thirteen days in, and I'm still somewhat frozen in my tracks. 2016 was an uphill year. I am weary after 12 months climbing the steps, like I was digging myself out of a hole but not ever completely sure how deep it was. I guess while others suffer their traditional hangovers, I require a recovery of the emotional kind. <br />
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--<br />
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For the past four winters, I have taken a bus to work that lets me off along the Chicago River. Sometimes it smells like chocolate, sometimes it smells like garbage. <br />
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Each morning, I glance over the railing at the river and over time I have noticed that I can, with impressive accuracy, take an emotional inventory based on the physical state of the river. The colder and harsher the weather, the more janky the ice, the more ragged my heart. <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/2014/02/bobbi-lately.html">During the worst of it</a>, the polar vortex of 2014, I felt near paralyzed. This is when the infamous #ormyfuckingsoul was born. It's become an inside joke with myself. <br />
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Throughout the season, the river freezes and refreezes, and it took me a few years to realize that the result is actually quite beautiful. <br />
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Some time during the expanse of time between Christmas and New Year's, I was doing some research on meditation, and came across, of all things, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=APx2yFA0-B4">a Bruce Lee quote</a> that has stuck with me.<br />
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“Empty your mind! Be formless, shapeless, <i>like water</i>. If you put water into a cup, it becomes the cup. Put it into a bottle, it becomes the bottle. You put into a teapot, it becomes the teapot. Now, water can flow or it can crash. <i>Be water, my friend!</i>”</blockquote>
I aspire to be that nimble, that flexible, that accepting. But the truth is, water is also at the mercy of its environment. Sorry, Mr. Lee. You put it in heat, it boils and steams. You leave it out in the cold, it freezes and cracks. <br />
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--<br />
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One of the greatest lessons about writing is that good communication has context. What I've learned in 2016 is that good living has context too. You can need other people. A good life <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/2013/11/quoteworthy-vulnerability.html">requires vulnerability</a> and the best people help you grow in unexpected ways. And, to depart for a second from the water metaphor and <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/search/label/wings">into more familiar territory</a>, the struggle out of the cocoon strengthens the butterfly's wings. <br />
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<span style="color: orange;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="color: #20124d;">Context:</span> <span style="color: orange;">(n) the environment or setting in which something (whether words or events) exists.</span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: orange;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="color: orange;">Synonyms: background, situation, connection</span></span></span></span></blockquote>
You know how they say you ask for patience and what you get is a line at the bank? I have been looking for proof this year that the vulnerability will pay off, and I've received the same lesson over and over again: you never have a guarantee, at least not externally. The only thing you can control is that you are right within yourself. The panic of that realization was sobering. It burnt a little going down and felt uncomfortably warm in my belly. <br />
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That's the thing about context. You can consider it; it helps tell the story. But you must be able to distill down to the heart of the matter. Or there is no story at all. <br />
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--<br />
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I've been thinking a lot about distillation lately. Scientifically, it's the process by which you purify a liquid by applying heat and cold. Essentially, you find out what the liquid is made of--it results either in a complete separation of the parts or a partial separation that increases the concentration of the individual parts of the mixture.<br />
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When making alcohol, for instance, you distill out the impurities and what's left is your proof, which is how we measure strength. A 100 proof spirit is 50% alcohol. Two parts of a whole, each in its purest form, each doing its part. <br />
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Hello, 2017. I'm ready for you. It wasn't a perfect transition, but then none of the important ones are. I resolve to hang in there until I feel the flow. Until the spring thaw, striving to be water in whatever form I take. <br />
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Roots & Wingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162744280140303590noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7861263382678136150.post-45056422027011112252016-05-05T12:43:00.000-07:002017-05-08T09:25:25.449-07:00Summer 2016 Bucket ListIt's that time again! You know, the time where I make <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/2015/05/summer-bucket-list.html">an exhaustive list</a> of what's in my calendar this summer so I can look back when I am in the depths of winter and remember that all of life is not darkness and hibernation. <br />
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So far my summer bucket list includes:<br />
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<li>A Cubs game Ferris Bueller Day X</li>
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<li><a href="http://wanderlust.com/events/about-wanderlust-108/">Wanderlust 108</a>, a mindful triathlon X</li>
<li>A Chicago bike ride scavenger hunt with the Marquette crew X</li>
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<ul>
<li>Four words: <a href="http://www.pyrotechniq.org/fullmoonjam/">Full Moon Fire Jam!!!!</a> X</li>
</ul>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-f44x-32wrfE/V0WzzClLEuI/AAAAAAAABU8/0CQqgoS49tI1-mgn7kxX4JxfHMhsZcYpwCLcB/s1600/6.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-f44x-32wrfE/V0WzzClLEuI/AAAAAAAABU8/0CQqgoS49tI1-mgn7kxX4JxfHMhsZcYpwCLcB/s400/6.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<ul>
<li>Yoga in the Sky at the Navy Pier Rooftop Terrace #yogainweirdplaces X</li>
</ul>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ul8WW3TYXyY/V0Wz4-nBnLI/AAAAAAAABVA/TYTQg2q7OC07T8Xflneqkkc9PqjBsI29wCLcB/s1600/3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ul8WW3TYXyY/V0Wz4-nBnLI/AAAAAAAABVA/TYTQg2q7OC07T8Xflneqkkc9PqjBsI29wCLcB/s400/3.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<ul>
<li>The <a href="http://www.greatgalenaballoonrace.com/">Galena Balloon Festival</a> #makingdreamscometrue #wineandballoons X</li>
</ul>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fF_l8BemiTk/V2g8m4ZSBgI/AAAAAAAABWs/f0R9AYW3OkY1VvYskZTnBPo12qYS-LqbACLcB/s1600/IMG_0990.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fF_l8BemiTk/V2g8m4ZSBgI/AAAAAAAABWs/f0R9AYW3OkY1VvYskZTnBPo12qYS-LqbACLcB/s400/IMG_0990.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
So instagrammable. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NKkDNQfY8qU/V2g8mkmw9xI/AAAAAAAABWw/GDIVzuHdSFcZfKJj2yJJIz2X52bQ5GgMwCLcB/s1600/IMG_1005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NKkDNQfY8qU/V2g8mkmw9xI/AAAAAAAABWw/GDIVzuHdSFcZfKJj2yJJIz2X52bQ5GgMwCLcB/s400/IMG_1005.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-S4mLoYEio-g/V2g8mpLYA_I/AAAAAAAABWo/nIQiyDIaL9UhPGGRFKRvWoNjl4e3xZW1ACLcB/s1600/IMG_1024.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-S4mLoYEio-g/V2g8mpLYA_I/AAAAAAAABWo/nIQiyDIaL9UhPGGRFKRvWoNjl4e3xZW1ACLcB/s400/IMG_1024.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And a bonus horseback ride to boot!</div>
<ul>
<li>Dave Matthews cover band at a street fest</li>
<li>Ferris Bueller's Day Off in Millennium Park</li>
<li>Citizen Cope at House of Blues</li>
<li>Brett Dennen at Thalia Hall X (Received Casey's nod of approval: XX)</li>
</ul>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ItOaA_z05u8/V1mZfN6JptI/AAAAAAAABWE/mMzLjSg_dtoVvfW76xOaypYpG39PLTM_gCLcB/s1600/IMG_0931.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="382" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ItOaA_z05u8/V1mZfN6JptI/AAAAAAAABWE/mMzLjSg_dtoVvfW76xOaypYpG39PLTM_gCLcB/s400/IMG_0931.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<ul>
<li>Camping in the U.P.</li>
<li>Kayaking in the U.P. </li>
<li>Watching Henley swim in the U.P. X</li>
<li>Making S'mores with my mom on the back deck around the fire pit X</li>
<li>The Roots at Taste of Chicago X</li>
<li>An amazing Seattle and Portland road trip with not one but TWO of my soul sisters! X</li>
<li>Yoga at the Red Rocks Amphitheatre and other Denver adventures! X</li>
<li>Seeing my bestie get married to an awesome Yooper transplant X</li>
<li>Dixie Chicks at the Resch Center with my family X</li>
<li>Watching <a href="http://www.grandipants.com/">grandipants</a> dance like a moron to <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p5RobDomh5U">this song</a> every chance we get X</li>
</ul>
Roots & Wingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162744280140303590noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7861263382678136150.post-9561649860419570782016-05-04T13:07:00.000-07:002016-05-05T12:20:00.425-07:00Dear You Every time I've sat down to write over the past four months, nothing...came. That's the best way I can describe what happens when writing goes well: If I am ready, the words come. They arrive, and they march out in order and then I do a once-over with a comb in hand and say, <em>hey you, you're the tallest, you belong in the back row</em>, <em>break a leg out there, guys</em> and then we're ready to hit the stage. <br />
<br />
Not so much when <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/2013/05/an-ocean.html">I'm not ready</a>. When I'm still sorting it out or fumbling around in the dark back stage. When I'm still learning. And so it is right now, and so it has been for four months. Right now I have a giant stew (I cannot even be bothered to align my mixed metaphors) of feelings, and feelings about feelings, and the real Easter miracle: the second coming of <em>hope</em>. But at least my stew is regret-free. And everyone knows that regret is the gluten of feelings. <br />
<br />
I'm still running over the events and the lessons of the last few months in my mind, memorizing my lines so that when I'm in the spotlight, they come like second nature. I am rehearsing, for who--I don't know, but I have stage fright. There is just so much that is new to me. <br />
<br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-N7_s5GRciZg/VypM8PN0JWI/AAAAAAAABUY/3lsPe62Qc2YgqryfK6W9jwA-0jPxqV4mwCLcB/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="393" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-N7_s5GRciZg/VypM8PN0JWI/AAAAAAAABUY/3lsPe62Qc2YgqryfK6W9jwA-0jPxqV4mwCLcB/s400/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Sometimes I trick myself into writing by asking: what would you write to your former self to talk yourself through what you went through? Apparently I am a writing diva, all very meta and high-maintenance, but in the spirit of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Dear-Mr-Mary-Louise-Parker/dp/1501107836">Mary Louise Parker</a> and getting back to regularly scheduled programming, I present to you:<br />
<br />
Dear You, <br />
<br />
You can't carry someone else's pain, and you can't force someone to face themselves. You can turn yourself inside out trying to avoid the truth, but at a certain point, unraveling fabric becomes a really long thread. <br />
<br />
You really do have instincts, just like your mom said. Anxiety is born when your thoughts about what is going on do not match your instincts. Trust your instincts and not the thoughts. Also: you should Google <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/No_Exit">Jean Paul Sartre</a> and really meditate on his assertion that <em>hell is other people</em>. Your strength has always come from within. Do not underestimate that. <br />
<br />
You are a fucking resilient human. We are all so remarkable and awful, all of us, every single one. All we have is the good that we give to each other, and you will be pleasantly surprised--blown away, really--at how much good you can give, at how much good you have packed away in your closet, at how you will always know where that door is, even when it feels like someone turned the lights off and spun you around five times before letting you go. <br />
<br />
But you could have a symphony of good to give and it will fall on deaf ears if the person isn't ready to receive it (Dude, what is with your metaphors today). I hope you can look back and realize just how many emotionally deaf men you have loved in your life; it was their handicap--and not some imagined one of yours--that was the problem. You were not too needy, or too emotional, or too complicated. You weren't asking too much (if you were even asking at all). You still aren't, and you never will be. <br />
<br />
What they say about <em>letting go instead of being dragged</em> is true, and this will be the time you finally loosen your grasp. (Your hands were never really that strong anyways.) Cheryl Strayed's belief that <em>what might have been</em> is just a <a href="http://therumpus.net/2011/04/dear-sugar-the-rumpus-advice-column-71-the-ghost-ship-that-didnt-carry-us/">ghost ship that didn't carry us</a> will become your belief, too. Wave from the shore, yes, but do not answer the SOS call, especially when they don't even make one. <br />
<br />
And finally: the earth is crawling with good humans, who are flawed and loveable and willing to <em>go there</em> with you. And by <em>go there</em>, I mean to yoga, <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/">to your core</a>, to what worries you, to the place where in order to see and experience you, they need to see and share themselves. There is no reason you can't make a life with one of those humans. There is every reason you should hold out for one of those humans and smother them with kisses when they make you happy. <br />
<br />
But don't take my word for it. Listen to Tom Petty when you forget:<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><em><span style="color: orange;">You belong among the wildflowers<br /> You belong in a boat out at sea<br /> You belong with your love on your arm<br /> You belong somewhere you feel free</span></em></span><br />
<br />
Love, <br />
<br />
Bobbi MarieRoots & Wingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162744280140303590noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7861263382678136150.post-27382686487010024332015-12-22T16:26:00.001-08:002016-03-27T09:59:30.702-07:00The Shortest Day<span style="font-family: inherit;">Today is the shortest day of the year, yet it stretched on like it had one hundred shadows. </span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><em>A shadow is an area of darkness where light is obstructed. A</em><em> shadow is a </em><em>silhouette</em><em> or a reverse </em><em>projection</em><em> of the object blocking the light.</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Maybe it's because I spent today brain-deep in cancer biology, but that sounds like poetry to me. A shadow is just an obstruction, a blockage. A shadow is a mere outline of whatever is blocking the light. And really, a shadow is the opposite of whatever appears in front of you, the opposite of whatever is between you and the light. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><em></em></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
It sounds a lot like fear.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Today, I did 108 sun salutations to celebrate the winter solstice. Fitting, because </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">I am thinking about <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/2013/07/quoteworthy-centeredness.html">balance and centeredness</a> in a completely different way than I have before.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I am wondering how long my heart will have shadows, how long it takes to see yourself clearly again when circumstances have changed so drastically. I already know the answer, but I can't recall it easily in the midst of change, so it waits for me, lurking. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Did you know that on the winter solstice, the sun does not rise at the North Pole—so you would have no shadow? And at the South Pole, the sun is up all day on December 21—so you would cast a shadow all day. So the size and very existence of your shadow depends on where you are, and when, and, presumably, with whom. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">But tonight I was reminded that it depends quite a bit on the source of your light, too.</span><br />
<br />
The number 108 has many symbolic meanings. Tonight's teacher shared one: the Buddhist belief that humans suffer and move through 108 human delusions in their lives. Buddhists believe that if you bow (or, in Chicago CorePower style, salute the sun) 108 times, you purify these delusions and as a result, find infinite capability and vitality of mind.<br />
<br />
Delusions, I have many. <br />
<br />
I am hoping my shadow might be one of them. Roots & Wingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162744280140303590noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7861263382678136150.post-59317738657175734072015-12-16T14:20:00.003-08:002015-12-16T14:20:35.873-08:00This.<br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P5tgOwQee2o">This</a> is the cutest thing I have seen in a while: <em>"Ooh, that's filthy. I can't do dat."</em><br />
<em></em><br />
Except for maybe <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CQN7dSTBuIk">this</a>. Roots & Wingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162744280140303590noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7861263382678136150.post-53050423790128393062015-09-09T11:10:00.000-07:002015-09-09T14:23:06.487-07:00When Things Are GoodI don't know how to write about joy, and it's hard to pinpoint why. What does it say about me, I wonder, that I am more skilled at describing struggle and loneliness than I am at security and bliss? <br />
<br />
To be fair, I know the words for <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/2014/11/how-to-acceptance.html">struggle</a> and <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/2014/06/extended-optimism.html">loneliness </a>didn't come right away either. I wrestled with them and birthed them. I sat with them while they appeared, like old drawings on a foggy mirror. <br />
<br />
I just know joy feels like a warm hand between my shoulder blades, in the exact spot that makes me lose my train of thought (but who needs thoughts anyways). I only know that "I can't wait to see you" sounds a lot like a melody, one that is loud enough to drown out doubt. <br />
<br />
When things are good the choice is easier. Light over heavy, forgiveness over resentment, optimism over worry. When things are good I don't mind that I'm too tired to pop up into crow pose. I don't bristle when Henley is jumpy, because Henley needs love too. When things are good I am only mildly annoyed when I run out of yogurt mid-week. <br />
<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mruYtrAhusM/VfBwa2scVnI/AAAAAAAABQU/3tuuJKnach8/s1600/sunrise.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mruYtrAhusM/VfBwa2scVnI/AAAAAAAABQU/3tuuJKnach8/s400/sunrise.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em>Sunrise on Lake Michigan</em></div>
<br />
Byron Katie, knower of all things, has said that pleasure is an attempt to fill yourself, and joy is what you already are. <br />
<br />
Maybe that's why I can't articulate it. I just know I feel more like myself than I have in a long time. <br />
<br />Roots & Wingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162744280140303590noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7861263382678136150.post-28321777059583071312015-08-13T09:31:00.003-07:002015-08-13T09:31:53.512-07:005 Things Making Me Happy Right NowLife is pretty great right now. Here's a few things that are making me smile. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kyfoja0IPl4">A close serenade</a> with Reba and Jimmy.<br />
<br />
Two of <a href="https://www.jossandmain.com/EC%3A-Accent-Chairs-Lerentee-Arm-Chair-in-Espresso~NFN3247~E20737.html?class_id_list%5B0%5D=54&sort=f">these beauties</a> are on their way to my living room right now.<br />
<br />
And so is <a href="http://www.urbanoutfitters.com/urban/catalog/productdetail.jsp?id=30815096&category=A_BED_D">my long-time duvet crush</a>. #thanksAirbnb<br />
<br />
A co-worker shared <a href="http://damndelicious.net/2014/07/19/zucchini-corn-pancakes/">this recipe</a> and I am so pumped to try it. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.newyorker.com/humor/daily-shouts/things-that-will-happen-if-i-dont-take-my-phone-out-right-now">What Will Happen If I Don't Take My Phone Out Right Now</a>. Number 5 is extremely likely in my office.<br />
<br />
Roots & Wingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162744280140303590noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7861263382678136150.post-50145894477155426222015-07-30T11:11:00.000-07:002015-07-30T13:33:13.229-07:00WindowsI avoid writing about work here, mostly because that tends to put people in hot water (<a href="http://dooce.com/about/">dooce</a> is rare bird who can bounce back from that--but then again she is the exception to most rules about writing about yourself on the internet). But not writing about the good things, when they are good, seems a waste. And I worry, ironically enough, that people who read this blog think that all I do is worry, when that is not true. There is a lot of light in my life, and I want to share more of it here, with you. <br />
<br />
A scientist-turned-strategist colleague shared <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2015/07/26/opinion/my-periodic-table.html?smpro">a New York Times article</a> by Oliver Sacks, an NYU School of Medicine professor and author, with me and another writer over the weekend. He often forwards articles about genes, cancer costs, new discoveries--whatever might be useful for communicating with prospective donors. <br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As death nears, I <em>am surrounding myself, as I did when I was a boy, with metals and minerals, little emblems of eternity.</em></span></span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-C9BRpYWbrXA/Vbph40ytzhI/AAAAAAAABOU/DII1RQVhERU/s1600/ptable.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="242" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-C9BRpYWbrXA/Vbph40ytzhI/AAAAAAAABOU/DII1RQVhERU/s400/ptable.jpg" width="400" /></a><a href="http://mediciclub.blogspot.com/2013/09/periodic-table-prints-and-posters.html"></a></div>
</blockquote>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://mediciclub.blogspot.com/2013/09/periodic-table-prints-and-posters.html">Source</a></div>
<br />
His message simply said: <em>Wow.</em> <br />
<br />
You should read the article--we all should, every year, every birthday--but to summarize: Sacks is grappling with his mortality, having recently been given a metastatic cancer diagnosis, and he turns to the concrete, enduring nature of the physical sciences for comfort. <br />
<div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At one end of my writing table, I have element 81 in a charming box, sent to me by element-friends in England. It says, "Happy Thallium Birthday," a souvenir of my 81st birthday last July. </span></span></blockquote>
<span style="color: orange;">
</span></div>
The other writer--whom I deeply admire, not least for her keen strategic eye, but also because she is a fabulous and kind person--wrote back and said: <em>Certainly as we age we become more unstable (at least in our corporeal body), as do the higher atomic number elements. In our youth, we have been the airily confident <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oxygen">oxygen</a> (8) and the intolerably caustic <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sulfur">sulfur</a> (16). Now it's time for me to embrace my fissionable future, I guess. </em><br />
<div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span> </div>
Have I mentioned I work with really smart, amazing people?<br />
<br />
I wrote back: <em>All of this beautiful talk has put me down an internet rabbit hole researching <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gallium">Gallium</a>. Looking for meaning on Wikipedia for my 31st year--this is what this job is doing to me! </em><br />
<em></em><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6tDbDNa35fU/VbpiJO7OaXI/AAAAAAAABOc/UGW57DYY31w/s1600/p%2Btable%2B2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6tDbDNa35fU/VbpiJO7OaXI/AAAAAAAABOc/UGW57DYY31w/s400/p%2Btable%2B2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div align="center">
<a href="http://rationaldiscoveryblog.com/post/23399580422/period-table-of-elements-from-the-archives-of-life-magaz">Source</a></div>
<br />
Of course, neither of them know about this blog, where I have been searching for meaning since I was <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Iron">Iron</a> (26)... which (I'm sorry, it's too perfect, it cannot be helped) is "in the first transition series." I refrained from making a Breaking Bad reference before I hit send. <br />
<em></em><br />
Fabulous-and-Kind wrote back: <em>Soft and silvery and not naturally occurring in nature? That does sound a little like you. And next year you'll be a semi-conductor!</em> <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1CDb0NeOoas/Vbpknq3hHQI/AAAAAAAABOs/JDWcaIjyX1U/s1600/ptable%2B3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1CDb0NeOoas/Vbpknq3hHQI/AAAAAAAABOs/JDWcaIjyX1U/s400/ptable%2B3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://fineartamerica.com/featured/periodic-table-of-the-elements-grace-pullen.html">Source</a></div>
<br />
I have carried a Joseph Campbell quote with me since I graduated college: <em>If you follow your bliss, you put yourself on a kind of track that has been there all the while, waiting for you, and the life that you ought to be living is the one you are living. When you can see that, you begin to meet people who are in your field of bliss, and they open doors to you. I say, follow your bliss and don't be afraid and doors will open where you didn't know they were going to be. </em>(Fittingly, Campbell studied biology and math but found he preferred the humanities.)<br />
<br />
I had the last sentence of that quote on my graduation cake, and I have always clung to it: I thought of the "doors" as opportunities, and if I just believed they would appear, they would. <br />
<br />
And they have, my goodness, they have. <br />
<br />
But this email chain also made me glad for the people these opportunities brought to me, and the ideas they have introduced: different ways of seeing myself, and my surroundings, and the world at large. The people that make me stop in my tracks with gratitude, who make me think via their thoughtfulness, whose belief in me makes me believe, too. <br />
<br />
Windows, if you will. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
P.S. <a href="http://maximiliankiener.com/digitalprojects/time/">Why Time Flies</a> -- you'll want to check this out as well. Roots & Wingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162744280140303590noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7861263382678136150.post-58461120076336163602015-07-13T15:11:00.000-07:002015-07-14T08:50:16.646-07:00With Arms OutstretchedMy palms had been turned inward in the yoga classes I'd dragged myself to. There is a belief in some yoga circles that the direction your palms face is the direction your energy will go, outward or inward, and I'd needed to retain my own energy lately, so I'd needed to believe that, too. <br />
<br />
I used to "dedicate" my practice and send energy to my mom, the guy of the moment, or the person I cannot reach with my words. But not lately. Lately I'd been greedy, self preserving, hoarding the love and the light for myself. <br />
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<br />
The city had been closing in on me. Elbows in my ribs on the bus, someone around seemingly every corner, <em>oops,</em> <em>sorry, </em><em>excuse me, goddamnit I exist! </em>We were in our umpteenth month of renovation in my lobby at work, temporary walls blocking the light and filtering us through changing mazes like cattle.<br />
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Our office was coming apart at the seams, all of us desperate to come out on top of the fiscal year, a hill we weren't sure we could mount. My hands were clenched every time I looked down, my anxiety tell, and I felt like any moment I might start beating my chest with them like a caged animal.<br />
<br />
The #firstworld #whitegirlsbelike #millennial problems were piling up, and then I was pushed off the edge by a wolf in sheep's clothing, this time in an array of perfectly pressed Ralph Lauren button-downs. The kind with the collars I can't help but fuss with, that make flirting, and apparently letting your guard down, so easy.<br />
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<em><span style="color: orange; font-family: Arial;"></span></em><br />
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<em><span style="color: orange; font-family: Arial;"></span></em> </div>
I kept telling people "I need to go home. I'll be so refreshed after Michigan" but I lost track of whether I was promising them, or myself. <br />
<br />
I read paperbacks on the porch instead of blogs on the bus, had conversations about French fries instead of fiscal years, muddied my hiking boots instead of searching Match.com. I was seeking higher ground.<br />
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<br />
I didn't find it, not the peace I was after, or the momentum. Not the rest, or the meaning. I wish I could say that because this post is written in past tense, that I let go any, that I shrugged off any of the worry, or felt like I was over the hill in any regard other than just feeling plain old. <br />
<br />
I filled my tank a bit, stretched my legs, fed my soul in the way that only best friends and back roads can, but I am really no better prepared to climb than I was a week and a half ago. <br />
<br />
But I can say this. I've turned my palms toward the sky, in a very <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BUdFmYTNfd0">I-Know-What-You-Did-Last-Summer</a> kind of way. <br />
<br />
Your move, Universe. I've given you all I've got. <br />
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<em><span style="color: orange; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's sixteen miles to the promised land</span></em><br />
<div>
<em><span style="color: orange; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and I promise you, I'm doing the best I can</span></em><br />
<br />
<em><span style="color: orange; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I visit these mountains with frequency</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="color: orange; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and I stand here with arms up</span></em></div>
</div>
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<em><span style="color: orange; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now some days they last longer than others</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="color: orange; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">but this day by the lake went too fast</span></em></div>
<br />
<em><span style="color: orange; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And if you want me, you better speak up, I won't wait</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="color: orange; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">so you better move fast</span></em></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">--Rilo Kiley, </span><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AbsC2odm1Dk"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">With Arms Outstretched</span> </a></blockquote>
Roots & Wingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162744280140303590noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7861263382678136150.post-50220246672321835112015-05-26T06:55:00.002-07:002016-05-05T12:27:47.205-07:00Summer 2015 Bucket List I have officially shifted modes from <em>WHY IS IT SO COLD AND WHY DOES IT MAKE MY SOUL SO SAD?</em> to <em>IT'S LIGHT OUTSIDE, MY HEART IS BURSTING, LET'S DO ALL THE THINGS</em>. <br />
<br />
So, let's. <br />
<br />
So far my summer bucket list includes:<br />
<ul>
<li><a href="http://www.lpzoo.org/events/calendar/yoga-zoo/adult-yoga">Yoga in the Lincoln Park Zoo</a></li>
<li>Yoga on the beach x</li>
<li>Yoga in Millennium Park x</li>
<li><a href="http://www.naturemuseum.org/plan-a-visit/calendar/adult?date=6/22/2015&mode=month">Yoga in a butterfly haven</a> X</li>
<li><a href="http://ioimprov.com/chicago/">Improvised Shakespeare</a> x</li>
<li>Drinking cider out of cans (no glass allowed!) with my esteemed colleagues after work on our super swanky 11th floor outdoor lounge space, overlooking Lake Michigan and Millennium Park x</li>
<li>Dave Matthews cover band at a street fest</li>
<li>Tacos at a street fest x</li>
<li>Dirty sandal group photo at a street fest x</li>
<li>Tacos at a food truck x</li>
<li>Live taping of <a href="http://themoth.org/">The Moth</a>, a story-telling podcast x</li>
<li><a href="http://wanderlust.com/events/about-wanderlust-108/">Wanderlust 108</a>, a mindful triathlon x</li>
<li>Revisiting college, aka <a href="https://www.ravinia.org/ShowDetails/Index?id=1015">OAR at Ravinia</a> X</li>
<li><a href="http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/tribnation/chi-june-17-judy-blume-printers-row-chicago-humanities-festival-story.html">Judy Blume</a> (!) talking about her new book at the Chicago Humanities Festival x</li>
<li>The Revivalists at Taste of Randolph x</li>
<li>Niagara Falls/Canadian road trip with my family x</li>
<li>A really solid beach day on Lake Superior x</li>
<li>Camping in the U.P.</li>
<li>Antiquing in the U.P. or in Chicago</li>
<li>Watching Henley swim in the U.P. x</li>
<li>Grilling with my parents on their deck x</li>
<li><em>Dirty Dancing</em> (!) in Millennium Park X</li>
<li>Cheap seats at the Sox X</li>
<li>Country bar in Chicago x</li>
<li><a href="https://www.cityofchicago.org/city/en/depts/dca/supp_info/millennium_park1.html">Downtown Sounds</a> concert...in, you guessed it, Millennium Park</li>
<li>Lincoln Park picnic X</li>
<li>Lincoln Park reading on a blanket; getting Henley to chill with me x</li>
<li><a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Northman/842444609102232">The Northman</a>, a new all-cider bar opening soon</li>
<li>Read the remaining 18.5 books on Huff Post's List of <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2015/05/19/recent-books-women-should-read_n_7314166.html">21 Books From The Last 5 Years That Every Woman Should Read</a></li>
<li>Re-reading The Great Gatsby</li>
<li>A Ferris Bueller Day, doing something completely non-work during work hours</li>
</ul>
Roots & Wingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162744280140303590noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7861263382678136150.post-12431047675927369482015-05-19T09:18:00.001-07:002015-05-19T09:19:31.226-07:00Epiphanies, Volume V<ul>
<li><strong>"Stop listening to yourself, and <a href="http://www.designformankind.com/2014/08/thirty-one/#more-35462">start</a> talking to yourself."</strong> Boom. </li>
</ul>
<br />
<ul><strong>
</strong>
<li><strong>There is a difference between complicated and difficult.</strong> You can be the girl in the country song who is <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=upqqoSv-LCk">complicated</a> and maybe even a <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o1C3mVUkAt8">little crazy</a>, whom the boy loves for just <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UHgbjQYBoko">being herself</a>, without being the girl in the country song who gives way more than she gets and loves <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=seqSTBDjDb8">difficult</a> and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3HsYNUUl9MM">stubborn</a> men. </li>
</ul>
<br />
<ul>
<li><strong>Nailing it and not looking back ></strong> nailing and needing a little feedback that you did, indeed, nail it. > <em>nailingggg?</em> it? I think. I'm pretty sure. > not fucking doing anything</li>
</ul>
<br />
<ul>
<li><strong>Honey is magic.</strong> Seriously, make <a href="http://www.acedarspoon.com/summer-orzo-pasta-salad/">this</a> greek orzo salad and do. not. omit. the. honey. (You can, however, omit the basil and mint, and the tomatoes. Just as good.)</li>
</ul>
<br />
<ul>
<li><strong>In Sanskrit, chair pose (utkatasana) roughly translates to "fierce pose."</strong> Also known as "hazardous pose" or "awkward pose." That's basically your elders saying, <em>"Yep, we know this sucks."</em></li>
</ul>
<br />
<em>More flashes of genius <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/search/label/epiphanies">here</a>.</em> <br />
<ul>
</ul>
Roots & Wingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162744280140303590noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7861263382678136150.post-27814534787976836392015-05-08T14:53:00.001-07:002015-05-08T14:53:28.119-07:00A Cure-All TonicIt must be something about my connection with my friend Alicia, because after my trip to Hawaii, I experienced another <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/2014/07/over-joyed-over-loved.html">love hangover</a>. <br />
<br />
Exactly like what followed her visit to Chicago this summer, in the wake of my vacation I felt unusually thirsty for creativity, for influence, for progress. For love. <br />
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<br />
The love part was quenched when my friend Allison made a trip down for a belated birthday celebration with my Chicago girlfriends. Sushi, a dive bar, and late-night pizza punctuated by sweet toasts, loud laughs, and too many vodka sodas to count. My friend Whitney shared a touching tradition from her college friends: Each person went around the table to say how I came into their lives and why they love me. I think my exact drunk words were: "You guys, words are my <em>love language</em>!" <br />
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<br />
As if they didn't know. <br />
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Allison brought me a kombucha SCOBY so that I could brew my own tea, the supplies for which I finally moved to Chicago from my parents' basement a few months ago. I'd been reluctant to bring them prior for the same reason I have yet to buy a coffee table or a real bedside table: Why acquire more things if I don't know how long I'll be in Chicago? <br />
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I missed making my own, and I cringed (as one does) when shelling out $4 every time I bought one in the grocery store. But still, it took me two years to bust out my supplies. </div>
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You guys, I do these things. This is my way. I drag some things out unnecessarily, and I will not listen to anyone who tries to impart wisdom or offer alternatives. Sometimes it's as if I need to make myself completely miserable in one facet of my life before something breaks, and I change courses. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0oZv7wzpJv0/VU0pUXbnApI/AAAAAAAABJI/c59WUCORtrM/s1600/photo%2B1.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="397" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0oZv7wzpJv0/VU0pUXbnApI/AAAAAAAABJI/c59WUCORtrM/s400/photo%2B1.PNG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Today I bottled my first batch of kombucha in over 2 years, my first since selling my house and moving to Chicago. That was five hours ago. I listened to podcasts with Henley at my feet, and I am still smiling.<br />
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I won't wait so long next time to do something I know makes me this happy. <br />
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The hangover is inevitable, whether it be love or otherwise. I'm going to do the living anyways.</div>
Roots & Wingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162744280140303590noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7861263382678136150.post-38106386426771149412015-04-21T09:09:00.000-07:002015-04-22T14:05:28.219-07:003131 is crumbs in your keyboard and the perfect black heels that you hope will make it through another season. 31 is raising your hand and saying "Yes, I can get that done for you" while thinking "That's not fucking possible" and then doing it anyways. 31 is delivering, over and over, until they do it your way. <br />
<br />
31 is laughing out loud in the way that made your grandfather beam. 31 is silver and gold, and keeping an open heart with the bronze. 31 is polishing what's worthy of elbow grease. <br />
<br />
31 is rigidly straight enemy grey hairs. 31 is eye cream and a prayer that you inherited your mom's agelessness. 31 is junk in the trunk and the familiar ache in your right knee. 31 is owning it. <br />
<br />
31 is coordinating pet sitters and filling up the water bowl. 31 is smooshy-face kisses and belly rubs and "hello my little plum, what did you do all day?" 31 is savoring the tail wag.<br />
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31 is vinyasa after yinyasa, well past when your arms tire. 31 is knowing that someday, out of the blue, you'll pop up into side crow. 31 is practice. 31 is showing up.<br />
<br />
31 is cracking rental car deal codes. 31 is forgetting your car charger and knowing all the right shortcuts to get home before the battery dies. 31 is watering your roots.<br />
<br />
31 is loving people, well past when your heart hurts. 31 is knowing that someday, out of the blue, you'll master the balance between vulnerability and boundaries. 31 is mustering grace. 31 is letting go instead of being dragged.<br />
<br />
31 is well-laid plans and "oh, shit" moments. 31 is remembering that nobody really knows what they're doing anyways. 31 is winging it.<br />
<br />
31 is being free, defined your way. 31 is truth, even when it hurts. 31 is being grounded, only by things of your choosing. 31 is thriving, in spite of it all. <br />
<br />Roots & Wingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162744280140303590noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7861263382678136150.post-70690302657364175132015-03-18T11:25:00.000-07:002015-03-18T14:25:33.797-07:00Because this is where you are.It's no secret that I've tired of city life. <br />
<br />
The freedom and newness and possibility that enveloped me upon my arrival has, over the past two years, given way to inconveniences, grind, and cramp.<br />
<br />
It culminated a few months back, when I came down with the flu just as Henley picked up a bug from, one can only guess, the back alley. Days of diarrhea and vomiting on her part gave way to a very scary reality: It was Sunday, a day when all normal vets are closed, she was refusing food for the third day and couldn't keep water down, I had a fever and no car, and the nearest emergency vet--bound to cost hundreds if not thousands of dollars--was 2 miles away. And it was freezing and snowing, because of course.<br />
<br />
As the saying goes, FML. <br />
<br />
--<br />
<br />
I spend a lot of time going back and forth between two camps: <br />
<ul>
<li><em>This city doesn't suit your ideal lifestyle and you need to take care of that ASAP</em></li>
<li><em>You are really lucky and you need to recognize that and not take it for granted</em></li>
</ul>
So basically I've spent a lot of time beating myself up. <br />
<br />
"Why do I live here?" has become a pretty constant refrain, both in the "why the fuck do I live somewhere where it hurts my face to walk down the street??!!" kind of immediate way and also in the "but no really, why? What's keeping me here?" It gets existential pretty quickly.<br />
<br />
Answers range from "because it's 6 hours from your family" and "because you have a great job and why would you risk leaving" and "because it would cost a couple grand to relocate" and "because I'm scared that I don't have it in me to start all over once again".<br />
<br />
The other day on the bus home, I found myself silently asking that familiar question. I looked out at the lake, a daily commute ritual that calms me and reminds me of home, and a new answer appeared: You live here because this is where you are. <br />
<br />
<strong>You are here because this is where you are.</strong><br />
<br />
It's as simple as that. This is where I am in life. It's not where I'll always be, and the mysteries behind that will unveil themselves in good time. But for right now I live here because this is where I am. <br />
<br />
And that's...satisfactory. It doesn't feel like a question anymore. It hasn't crossed my mind since.<br />
<br />
I live here because this is where I am. <br />
<br />
You guys, I am nowhere close to being a Zen Buddhist Priest, but I am so much closer than I ever thought I'd be. Roots & Wingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162744280140303590noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7861263382678136150.post-89697135408866166832015-03-18T11:18:00.001-07:002015-03-18T14:28:14.558-07:00Um.This<a href="http://www.first-names-meanings.com/names/name-BOBBI.html"> personality test</a> is eerily on point. <br />
<br />
<em>"...isn't always prepared to share her grievances"</em> might be the understatement of my lifetime. <br />
<br />
That is all.Roots & Wingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162744280140303590noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7861263382678136150.post-77366366330169264142015-03-06T08:29:00.000-08:002015-03-06T08:56:10.694-08:00Let's.Let's fall in love quickly and let's let it dissolve the callouses we've collected from other lovers. <br />
<br />
Let's not be late for things because it makes me anxious and because it's rude. Let's try to be early. Let's claim the worm. <br />
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Let's drive modest cars so we can travel to places our grandparents never heard about. Let's have the craziest adventures. Let's be the ones about whom people say, "Where are they off to now?" Let's eat like the locals and let's hike as high as we can. <br />
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Let's have sex. A lot of it, and not just on vacation. <br />
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Let's not worry until there is something to worry about, and when that proves impossible for me, despite all the yoga and tea in the world, let's pitch a tent in the living room and sing old country songs at the top of our lungs. Let's drink vodka and light candles and watch our worries go up in smoke. <br />
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Let's share secrets, and scars, and scary dreams. Let's go dizzy with desire, feel special, feel sacred, feel safe. <br />
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Let's strive, baby. Let's be the people that always tried and sometimes achieved. Let's let go of things that aren't meant for us, be they babies or houses or frequent diner credits that went unpunched. <br />
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Let's fight. Just enough to feel alive and be heard. Let's go to bed angry, and pass the toothpaste without talking, and wake up regretful. Let's know we're in it together but be willing to stand firm in our convictions. Let's move on.<br />
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Let's have a dog, always, and let's ignore the tumbleweeds of hair and vet bills and chewed up electronics, and let's just appreciate the tail wag. And when the inevitable happens, let's pet their sweet faces while they go. Let's say, "He was a good boy, a really good boy" as we tearfully pull onto the highway from the vet's office, holding hands. <br />
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Let's talk a lot. That's why we fell in love, right? Because I thought you were cute and you thought I was cute and we liked to talk to each other. Let's discuss philosophy and morality, at 3am, eating spoonfuls of almond butter on the kitchen counter. Let's discuss football, if you want to. After all, I fell in love with you because you make everything interesting. Let's never stop talking. <br />
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Let's never stop <em>kissing</em>. <br />
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Let's hang out and for the love of god let's never call it 'date night'. Let's hang out because we make each other laugh and we think one another is super cool. Let's schedule it if life gets busy and let's spice it up if we get in a rut, but let's never make it <em>just-one-more-thing</em>. <br />
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Let's hang out with other people. Let's have boy-friends and girl-friends and old-friends and new-friends. My-friends and your-friends and our-friends and those-friends. Let's go to yoga and to boxing or basketball or taxidermy or whatever the hell you're into, separately. Let's you go your way, I go mine, and meet up over sushi to tell the tales. Let's listen and hear and leave with our arms entangled. <br />
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Let's live as if life is long, and let's not do things just because we're supposed to have done them by now. Let's choose good people and let's make plans.<br />
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Let's live as if life is short, and let's call our parents to tell them we love them. Let's hug people goodbye and let's use the special dishes until they show their wear. <br />
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Let's be a united front against anyone who dares utter the words "geriatric pregnancy" or "finally" or "it's about time" about any of our milestones. Let's live as if everything is right on time, because it is. <br />
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Let's teach our kids to play cards and talk about their feelings and make conversation with strangers. Let's watch them become who they are. Let's catch them being kind and tell them how good they are at growing up. Let's be a landing pad, and a lamp, and a ladder. <br />
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Let's be stricken when our parents die, and let's know that there is never the right thing to say. Let's let it make us gentler, kinder, and more in love. <br />
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Let's be super fucking cute old people. Let's be the people who swim laps and stay trim and dress up nicely for each other. Let's take up underwater basketweaving at 60 or jujitsu at 75 and let's laugh our heads off at how horrible we are. Let's swear and tell jokes and make our grandkids blush. <br />
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Let's never stop dancing.<br />
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Let's have a really good life.<br />
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Let's. Roots & Wingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162744280140303590noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7861263382678136150.post-81476198262791667402015-02-03T21:10:00.006-08:002015-02-04T09:43:56.161-08:00Forward FoldOh, January. <br />
<br />
Sorry to you Capricorns and Aquariuses (Aquariai?) out there, but for me, January is a throw-away month. <br />
<br />
One reason is that I live in Chicago and, well:<br />
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<em>Yep, I changed my social media names, you smarties. </em></div>
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<em>Big changes to come once my soul unfreezes.</em></div>
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But there are other factors, too. The holidays knock me off kilter: I stop exercising, I binge on gluten. I've also had a few blows to my system in the last few months; this Aries saw the words "tension between two planets" in her monthly horoscope email and knowingly deleted it without needing to read the rest. So I was feeling pretty low by the time the New Years Eve countdown started. There was no <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/2013/12/resolution.html">resolution</a> this year, unless you count just hanging in there. <br />
<br />
But I've been <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/2014/02/bobbi-lately.html">here before</a>. Last winter when the skies went grey and the city got pounded with sleet and wind, I experienced the same quiet panic, the same dimness in spirit. <br />
<br />
So I knew just what to do. Lots of <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/2014/03/childs-pose.html">quiet time</a>. Ginger tea with honey before bed, lots of exercise for a happy Henley, clean sheets, and...you know where this is going.<br />
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Back to <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/search/label/yoga">yoga</a> I went. <br />
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I can always tell how long it's been since I've been on the mat by how tight my hamstrings are in forward fold. <br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.westsideyogaandpilates.co.uk/blog/">Source</a> </div>
<br />
And you guys, it was bad. Really bad. Basically like I was starting from scratch, <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/2012/01/nurturing-strength-of-spirit.html">post-back injury</a>. <br />
<br />
In a vinyasa class, where you "flow" or move quickly and repetitively from pose to pose, you come to forward fold over and over again. I normally love the vinyasa style because it both challenges your endurance and creates a rhythm that's easy to lose yourself in. Vinyasa yoga usually helps you <em>forget</em>, but coming to forward fold 20 or 30 times in an hour was reminder after reminder of how far I'd let myself slip. <br />
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At first I tried to force it by making my legs poker straight and lunging my chest at the floor. Ouch, no bueno. When that didn't work, I bent my knees a lot and touched the floor...but missed out on the hammy stretch. I just didn't feel right, no matter how I contorted myself or how much I strained. <br />
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--</div>
<br />
This weekend, I was one of two people who showed up for a hot vinyasa class during the blizzard and the Super Bowl. Without dozens of other people in the room (enjoy your guacamole, <em>people</em>), I was more aware of my body--I wanted to have good form so the teacher wouldn't correct me too much--and also hyper-aware of my thoughts. And a funny thing happened. I got sick of myself. The repetition eventually became my friend, because every time I found myself in forward fold, I couldn't bear any more contorting or flinging. I couldn't bear any more wallowing or disappointment. I choose, instead, to look at it as an opportunity to be looser, to let go, to quite literally hang in there.<em> </em>Each time I found myself in forward fold, I thought, <em>I've been here before. I know just what to do.</em><br />
<br />
"Hanging in there" became my intention during each class this week, and tonight I touched the floor with both hands firmly planted on the mat. The hamstring gods sung a sweet hymn.<br />
<br />
I don't know if it's the happy hammies or if maybe mercury is going into retrograde (ha), but tonight I feel light. Like maybe it's going to be alright after all. Like maybe I believe spring is actually coming. Like maybe I can remember what it's like on the other side of heartbreak.<br />
<br />
I still have February to go, yes, but I've been here before. <br />
<br />
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P.S. <a href="http://happyplace.someecards.com/the-thaw/the-tide-is-turning-even-this-little-girl-is-sick-of-frozen/">This</a> is exactly how I feel about winter. Roots & Wingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162744280140303590noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7861263382678136150.post-85743797292880902922014-12-30T19:27:00.003-08:002014-12-30T19:27:45.071-08:00Just Be<a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/2013/01/9-things-english-teachers-taught-me_3596.html">In middle school</a>, you wanted to be the girl with blond curls and slender hips. You wanted to be the girl to whom Ross Liberty wrote notes, who had a doctor father and lived in the cool subdivision. <br />
<br />
Instead, you became the girl who learned empathy by way of being teased for something you couldn't control, you learned to be thoughtful by way of tripping over words you already said, and you earned "class gossip" with not your first and not your last male best friend. You paved your own trail, and you were better for it, brunette locks and all.<br />
<br />
In high school, you wanted to be the girl who already knew everything, who couldn't possibly mess up, who was in control of her life. <br />
<br />
Instead, you became the girl who learned about friendship by making monumental mistakes and being forgiven. You learned how to fail and how to gift yourself grace. You learned that the trick was not in the <em>not fucking up</em>, it was in the damage control, the crow eating, the picking up the phone. That the flare was not in the wobble but in the dismount. <br />
<br />
By college, you had wisened up a bit. You wanted to be the girl who said hi first, the girl who rose her hand in class, and you became her. You wanted to be a writer, and you wanted to be respected for your point of view, and you found <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/2013/01/9-things-english-teachers-taught-me.html">the right people</a>, and you did and you were. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/2012/06/why-i-loved-ny.html">In New York</a>, you wanted to be the girl who looked fear in the face, who didn't take no for an answer, who discovered every possible thing that was out there. And you did. You stared it down and you found your 'yes'. <br />
<br />
When you left your hometown, you wanted to be the girl with a firm handshake, who showed up on first dates with the perfect balance of <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/2013/11/quoteworthy-vulnerability.html">humility</a> and <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/2014/06/extended-optimism.html">optimism</a>. You wanted to be the girl who listened <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/2014/04/marichi-pose.html">more than she talked</a>, who learned from whoever would teach her, and you did. <br />
<br />
You perfected the first date tightrope. You mastered the dismount and you <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/2014/05/then-sold.html">sold</a> your house. You were thoughtful and you found <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/2013/09/silver-gold.html">friends</a> who made you a better writer, a better thinker, with a more evolved point of view. You sought out more yesses, and you learned <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/2014/12/brain-crush-dear-sugar.html">the lessons waiting for you</a>, however ugly, however hard. <br />
<br />
Now you want to be the girl who doesn't stop even when she feels like she's asked for and received too many blessings. Who <em>leans in</em>, <a href="http://leanin.org/">so to speak</a>. You want to be the girl who gives and gives but doesn't take any "guff", as your dad would say. You want to be the girl who <a href="http://shop.theeverygirl.com/products/keep-not-settling-gold-print">keeps not settling</a>. You want to be the girl who knows a secret: that life is at once really, really beautiful and really, really painful, and it doesn't take the perfect job or the perfect husband or the perfect ________ to enjoy and survive it; it just takes <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/2013/08/a-heart-wide-open-or-10-love-lessons-i.html">an open heart</a>. <br />
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You want to be the girl who does not curate her life, but lives it. <br />
<br />
But you'll soon wisen up. You'll realize you already are her.Roots & Wingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162744280140303590noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7861263382678136150.post-3481850892291042852014-12-17T07:40:00.002-08:002014-12-19T12:28:29.558-08:00Brain Crush: Dear SugarWhen I read <em><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Wild-Found-Pacific-Crest-Trail/dp/0307476073/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1418828294&sr=8-1&keywords=wild">Wild</a></em>, I was annoyed. I now know this says more about me than it does about Cheryl Strayed, but I was mad at her for being so...lost. I wanted her to get her act together, to know things that would prevent her from making so many damn mistakes.<br />
<br />
I came across a quote on Facebook this morning that perfectly summarizes why I was so wrong, care of another teller-of-lost-and-found-stories, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Eat-Pray-Love-Everything-Indonesia/dp/0143038419/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1418828311&sr=8-1&keywords=eat+pray+love">Elizabeth Gilbert</a>:<br />
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I wanted Cheryl to know things before she learned them. Does that sound <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/2013/10/quoteworthy-detours.html">familiar</a> at all? If not, please pause and take a gander to your right at the "themes" section of this blog. Do you see the biggest word there? <strong>Lessons</strong>. More lessons than not. That's my life. <br />
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But I learned from <em>Wild</em> something I should have already known (#irony): It's your life, too. <br />
<br />
It's my boss's life, and my boss's boss's life, and Barack Obama's life. It's Cheryl's life, and Elizabeth's life, and thank god that they are writers who can and are willing to share their story. Who put themselves out there and make us feel not so alone, not so damaged. <br />
<br />
Something in me wanted to give Cheryl another try, even before I realized this. Or, maybe, more likely, I was drawn to the title of another book of hers that I found on Amazon:<em> Tiny Beautiful Things: Advice on Love and Life from Dear Sugar</em>. That sounded like what I needed in my life, yep. <em>Add to cart.</em><br />
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And, you guys, it was so, so good. Like, read-it-in-one-afternoon, didn't-look-at-my-phone, devoured-it good. <br />
<br />
Some <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/18330294-tiny-beautiful-things-advice-on-love-and-life-from-dear-sugar">samples</a>:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"There are so many things to be tortured about, sweet pea. So many torturous things in this life. Don't let the man who doesn't love you be one of them."</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
“Don't surrender all your joy for an idea you used to have about yourself that isn't true anymore.” </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
“I'll never know, and neither will you, of the life you don't choose. We'll only know that whatever that sister life was, it was important and beautiful and not ours. It was the ghost ship that didn't carry us. There's nothing to do but salute it from the shore.” </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
“So release yourself from that. Don't be strategic or coy. Strategic and coy are for jackasses. Be brave. Be authentic. Practice saying the word 'love' to the people you love so when it matters the most to say it, you will.” </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
“You have to say I am forgiven again and again until it becomes the story you believe about yourself.” </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
“It’s hard to go. It’s scary and lonely…and half the time you’ll be wondering why the hell you’re in Cincinnati or Austin or North Dakota or Mongolia or wherever your melodious little finger-plucking heinie takes you. There will be boondoggles and discombobulated days, freaked-out nights and metaphorical flat tires.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
But it will be soul-smashingly beautiful… It will open up your life.” </blockquote>
Guys, I could copy and paste for days. I want to drink up all the wisdom, the things she learned when it was the right time for her to learn them. She makes me want to learn all my things at the right time, too.<br />
<br />
I admit that part of my interest in the book was of the 9th-grade-snark variety: How did she go from drugs and dysfunction to writing an advice column? The answer was clear by the time I read her first answer: She did that by making all the mistakes and learning all the lessons. She did that by being imperfect and then forgiving herself, and then she went a step further and she bared her story to whoever needed a little bit of love. She did that by telling the truth.<br />
<br />
What I love about the columns is that Cheryl doesn't just nurture. She doesn't say, "There, there, darling, all will be right with the world." No. She says, "The world is terrifying and hurtful, people are flawed and selfish, you're imperfect and you always will be. But. Tomorrow is another day, and life can be more beautiful than you can ever imagine. But. You'll need to pick yourself up, you'll need to dust yourself off, and you'll need to do the hard work. But. It will be worth it."<br />
<br />
So the really wonderful news that I bring you is that Cheryl is partnering up with another former Dear Sugar columnist, Steve Almond, to create a podcast called... Dear Sugar. The <a href="http://www.wbur.org/series/dear-sugar">first episode</a> is up, and it is so, so good. Cheryl says the show is about "what's really on the inside." Um, <em>subscribe</em>. <br />
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"We could boil down all the questions I received as Sugar down to one: <em>Is it okay for me to be me?</em> And I think people are shocked to find out that other people feel that way."</div>
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Hearing her on the podcast made me realize that the real reason I was mad at Cheryl while reading <em>Wild</em> is that I saw myself in her. And the real lesson I learned from her is that by forgiving others, it's a lot easier to forgive myself, and vice versa. She just says it a lot more eloquently than I ever will:</div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Forgiveness is not one act at one time. It's not one decision. It's not one day where you have an epiphany... It's years. It's decades. Of saying, "Here I am, and you might have been a dark teacher, but you were a teacher. And thank you."</blockquote>
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P.S. My second favorite advice columnist received a letter that reference Cheryl and I love the sentiments behind <a href="http://nymag.com/thecut/2014/12/ask-polly-are-you-sure.html">her answer</a>. She's a future <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/search/label/brain%20crush">brain crush</a>, to be sure. <br />
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Roots & Wingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162744280140303590noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7861263382678136150.post-51614342769713893182014-11-19T07:46:00.001-08:002014-11-19T12:59:55.271-08:00How To: AcceptanceDon't wear eyeliner, and for Heaven's sake, don't try to eat a banana. You'll gag. Wearing long sleeves helps in case you need to mop up tears. <br />
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Don't look "knowers" in the eye, the type that will wonder if something is wrong and ask. Give kind but shy smiles, but pass people quickly. Keep your head down. Leave right at 5.<br />
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Walk down the street and feel numb to the cold. Feel numb in general. It won't last but cling to it while you can. Puff out your chest a little and pretend nothing fazes you. Not the wind, not the cold, not the little burning in your stomach, not the wide open future, nothing. Walk faster. <br />
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When the bus comes, sit next to a man that reminds you of your grandpa. Hope that he talks, but in the next moment hope that he doesn't, because an unfamiliar voice would crush you. Check to see if you still have his voicemail from your birthday in 2012. Blink back tears. "Bobbi Baby" was such a great nickname. <br />
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Go to yoga. Cry a little in child's pose. Do the most beautiful dancer's pose you've ever done and forget for a second that you have ever doubted anything. Feel capable, brazen, strong, until you try it on the other leg and wobble. Feel surprisingly calm; your outsides match your insides. <br />
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Back at your apartment, try to treat yourself in little ways. A bubble bath, a hot apple cider with honey. Spend a lot of time sitting uncomfortably on the floor petting your dog, wondering what to do next. <br />
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Cry. Cry so hard you cough. Cry so hard you hiccup and scare your dog. Cry some more. Cry while stretching, because if your mind can't be limber, your body may as well be. <br />
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Observe your dog. Notice how she loves without expectation, without hesitation, without fear. Feel sad. Observe that humans will never be capable of such love. Watch as she accepts any kind of love she gets. Feel more human than ever. <br />
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Get into bed. Sink into the mound of pillows. Be soft, be malleable. Think about vastness. Think about possibility. Make your mind a string of inspirational posters, a montage of beautiful, if foreign, futures. <br />
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Count your blessings. Be grateful, even when your mind goes blank. Even when your mind goes where you don't want it to go. Flip over. Feel empty. Feel more you than ever. Roots & Wingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162744280140303590noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7861263382678136150.post-8304903568430887362014-11-17T08:58:00.003-08:002014-11-17T13:06:57.225-08:00Unknown knownsI took an impromptu trip home this weekend to see Henley's vet, and while the rental car fee and extra 12+ hours in a car with an incontinent and therefore restless puppy were not ideal, I chose to look at the bright side: Extra time with my family and extra time outside. An unexpected but welcome <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/2014/11/a-toast-to-emptiness.html">pit stop</a>, if you will. <br />
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We watched old home movies that I haven't seen in more than a decade, and I still haven't shaken the experience of seeing my memories come to life on the screen. It was exactly how I remembered my family and my childhood, and it was also, at once, so very, very different. <br />
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On screen, my mom was nurturing and selfless, my dad was doting and funny, my baby brother was curious and sweet--I expected all of that. I was joyful and moody and sassy and shy, depending on the moment--no surprise there. All of that I know, all of that I carry with me as part of my <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/2013/05/quoteworthy-to-love-and-be-loved.html">roots</a>. That was the home and family I <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/2014/03/what-having-brother-taught-me.html">know</a> and <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/2014/02/the-sweet-little-white-flag-of-surrender.html">cherish</a>. <br />
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I can't really put a finger on how it was different than I expected. Maybe the word I'm looking for is surreal. Maybe it was just the mind-warp that my mom was three years younger than I am now in some of the tapes. Maybe it was recognizing some of the ways, even then, she was shaping me to be a confident, caring, curious person--the way she was bringing out the Bobbi in me even then--and the ways my life has turned out different from and similar to hers so far. Maybe it was seeing my dad back when lifting my brother above his head was no big thing. Maybe it was seeing loved ones we've <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/2013/02/bittersweet.html">lost</a> come back to life with a bear-hug you can almost feel or a familiar laugh that moves you to tears. Maybe it was recognizing a neediness in myself on screen that I still carry with me, even though I've worked so hard to outgrow and shake it. <br />
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Maybe what's most surprising is that what was on the screen--the truth--brings into focus my memories, which are subjective, fuzzy, molded by other realities, tainted by ego and hope and growth and...life. Seeing the <em>then</em> right next to the <em>now</em> makes it all so clear that it's almost jarring. And it's disorienting because that's not how life is, all linear and sense-making and clear.<br />
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It's funny, but on the drive home all I could think about was the Iraq briefing that Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld gave the year I graduated high school:<br />
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<em>Reports that say that something hasn't happened are always interesting to me, because as we know, there are <strong>known knowns</strong>; there are things we know we know. We also know there are <strong>known unknowns</strong>; that is to say we know there are some things we do not know. But there are also <strong>unknown unknowns</strong>--the ones we don't know we don't know. And if one looks throughout the history of our country and other free countries, it is the latter category that tend to be the difficult ones.</em></blockquote>
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While I was home, I had two conversations, one with family, one with friends, in which the people I was talking to gently pointed out that what I was feeling wasn't necessarily the truth. Or the whole truth, really. That perhaps I had decided that something was true without considering the other true things that affected or even contradicted it. Both conversations eventually led to this: We do the best with what we know right now, and we learn, and eventually we'll know what the right choice is.<br />
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I realize this is very vague and abstract and probably hard to follow, but what I am trying to say is that <strong>known knowns</strong>--when what we feel matches up perfectly with what is actually happening--are very rare. It happens usually in <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/2014/03/30-things-ive-learned-in-30-years.html">retrospect</a> and after a lot of <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/2014/03/childs-pose.html">reflection</a>. More often we live in a state of <strong>known unknowns</strong> (the state of <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/2014/05/savasana-fetal-pose.html">acceptance</a> I've been <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/2014/04/face-value-whats-in-cards.html">cultivating</a> and <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/2014/06/extended-optimism.html">sharing</a> on this blog for <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/2014/04/on-turning-thirty.html">years</a>--knowing that there are some <a href="http://rootsandthenwings.blogspot.com/2014/04/marichi-pose.html">things</a> we don't yet know), and <strong>unknown unknowns</strong>--things we can't see about ourselves or our lives when they are happening, things we can only see when we watch them, on video or in our mind, twenty years later. Things we might never know.<br />
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But what I think Secretary Rumsfeld forgot, because maybe it can only be true of people and not of an entire country, is that we very often have <strong>unknown knowns</strong>, things that we feel and don't need to verify with facts, things that don't need validation or context because they make intuitive sense, things that are a reality simply because we feel them so intensely. I think <em>those</em> are the most difficult, because they are hard to articulate, hard to communicate, hard to convince others of. <br />
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But even if they don't last, even if they are only part of the picture, even if they are eventually debunked by other truths, unknown knowns have their place, their worth, their weight in our lives. Sometimes unknown knowns are enough. <br />
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I'm sure of it. At least for right now.Roots & Wingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162744280140303590noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7861263382678136150.post-60791451024337015572014-11-07T08:56:00.003-08:002014-11-17T09:24:20.360-08:00A Toast to EmptinessI've had the kind of week that leaves you scraping the bottom of your barrel. I'm out of creativity. I'm out of capacity to deal with complex emotions. I'm quite literally out of space in my inbox. I'm out of patience for other people's shit. I'm out of laundry soap (and therefore dangerously close to being out of underwear). I'm out of oatmeal. I'm out of time. I'm out of <em>me</em>. <br />
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I've spent it all. <br />
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And it occurred to me this morning while binging on cinnamon rolls and cracking overtired jokes with my coworkers that maybe what follows is the sweet spot. <br />
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Knowing that tonight--after seriously kicking butt at work and contributing to something bigger than I ever thought possible, after a four-hour jam session co-writing something inspiring with three brilliant people, and the subsequent panic that ensues to get every. detail. just. right.--I get to exhale. After managing to fit in a few work outs I still feel in my tush, a few pep talks for others, a lot of cuddles for a needy puppy who just wants to be near her mama--after managing all that, I get to dissolve into the quiet space of my cozy apartment, cook myself whatever meal I dream up, and toast a well-earned cider to myself. <strong>A toast to emptiness.</strong> <br />
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Because emptiness affords you the chance to fill up again. Tonight brings 8 (or, really, let's be real, more like 11) hours of sleep. Tonight brings affection from the aforementioned love monster, who will greet me with a wagging tail and an entire day's worth of anticipation and kisses. Tonight brings clean sheets and tea and a brand new book (<em>thanks, me, good looking out</em>). Tonight brings solitude and centeredness and grace.<br />
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Tomorrow brings friendship and shopping for tights and a phenomenon heretofore known as Crockpot Crafternoon. Tomorrow brings laughter and spirit and probably a fair amount of snark. Tomorrow brings gratitude, and encouraging words, and <a href="http://www.buzzfeed.com/regajha/joys-of-having-a-work-bff">community</a>. <br />
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Next week promises more opportunity to use an intricate balance of words and psychology to engage people to give money to shut down a horrible, horrible disease. It brings more opportunity to honor my aunt and my grandpas and everyone else whose suffering amounts to a lot more than just the emotional fatigue resulting from having used all your words. Next week promises drinks with an old coworker and the opportunity to interview an 80-something man who has made substantial contributions to science. <br />
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Next weekend promises a little bit of home right in the middle of Chicago. The weekend after that promises comfort on a direct flight in from Colorado. Thanksgiving promises dates with so many of my people, chilly hikes in the Peninsula, and warm soul food cooked by my mama and my crazy aunts. Home promises jokes and hugs from my dad and arm-punches-turned-bearhugs from my brotherbear. <br />
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Being empty isn't so bad when you know what will fill you. Cheers, to pit stops and knowing that the inhale is always sweeter after a long, slow exhale.<br />
<br />Roots & Wingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162744280140303590noreply@blogger.com0