'& (Then)'... Change

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. 

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.

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 for any season, sure, but I hibernate and avoid it. It is my way. 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.) 

So, yeah, Easter, renewal, spring, right on time. 

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 no longer resonate! 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. 

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. 

Because I have learned that every winter has a spring, and that every threshold, every milestone deserves to be honored. 

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. 

'& (Then)'... Sold

So. I sold my house. You know, the one from my very first blog post? The first time I thought I had achieved balance between the roots and the wings?

I was prepared to write a rambly post about how bittersweet it was to have sold, but really, it's not.

It's just really sweet. Yes, I'm letting go of what was once a very hopeful concept of my future, on that perfect lot with the shady backyard in almost-East-Marquette, walkable to the downtown and the lake, less than 5 miles from my parents' house, and a hop-skip-jump from one of my best friends.

But in my truest form, I'd done most of the letting go already. A dozen signatures just made it final.

I feel free. It's kind of scary, but in a very thrilling and intoxicating kind of way.

I asked the universe for wings, and now I have them.

'& (Then)'... Chicago

It's funny, the title of this blog, my little space on the internet, is kind of serendipitous. I liked 'roots and wings' because I had long noticed a theme in my life: I wavered between desiring adventure and needing security. A fiercely independent and ambitious girl who also happened to be extremely sentimental and somewhat practical.

After years of struggling to be one or the other, I thought I had achieved a good balance, even if I was still pulled in different directions at times.

www.rootsandwings.blogspot.com was taken. To be honest, I threw a 'then' in there so I could get writing, not giving it much thought, and never even considering www.wingsandroots.blogspot.com. Roots & (then) wings just made sense to me, innately.

You know how when you rent a car, you see that car everywhere? You're like, how is everyone driving a black Impala? Well, after I chose the title, I noticed a new theme: comfort, then adventure. In that order. As if the only way I could truly explore was by first being anchored in a place of familiarity. I think this is true of a majority of people, but for me, it is a lesson that I am learning over and over about myself. And it always surprises me how fundamental it is to my happiness.

This is why it's pretty fitting that almost exactly two years after I bought my house in Marquette, I landed an exciting new job in Chicago. Yes, I am headed for city living. I will always call Marquette home (the 28 remaining years on my mortgage cinch that deal). But now that I've tended to the roots, it's time for some wings. Chicago, here I come.

Source

I'm acutely aware that I am leaving most of my best friends, my family, and what grounds me. But I am wildly excited to discover what's waiting for me and Henley Boo on the other side.

Roots, check. And then...

Home.

Well, it's official! I bought a house.

But it's more than just that. It's beginning to feel like my new home.

Having moved 11 times in the last 6 years, the idea of home has long been subjective to me. College, graduate school and those shaky, indecisive years thereafter saw me moving from apartment to apartment--as well as in and out of my parents' house on Erie Street more often than any of us care to recall (four times, precisely!).

No matter where I lived (from the fifth-floor walk-up in New York City to the college dump that I shared with three boys) Erie Street was home. Everywhere else was just temporary, while Erie Street had become part of my DNA: Where my history dated back to dozens of days running through the sprinkler, hundreds of slumber parties and thousands of PB&Js. Where my soul could be bared and I could exhale. Where life made sense. Where I felt my most creative and comfortable. I never set down roots elsewhere.

Buying your first home is a journey, no question. I once heard it described as "deepening your roots and spreading your wings"--a striking metaphor. At first I thought, but how can you do both? But I knew: It's what I've been struggling with for the past few years, waffling back and forth between big city dreams (a burning desire to spread my wings) and the vague yet insistent pull of my Midwestern roots (a sense of stability I knew I'd miss if I simply threw a dart at the map and took off). I never really set down roots (11 times in 6 years!!) but I never really spread my wings, either. I was stuck. I was skittish in every sense of the word--restless yet wary. Craving roots and freedom all at once.

By buying this house, I have managed to attain both--roots and wings. I am 2.26 miles from Erie Street--but I have 1546 square feet to make my own. Thank you for being a part of this journey.