Bobbi Lately

August is like Sunday. That's right, stay with me.

June is Friday. You're teeming with excitement. It's time for fun, you don't pay too much attention to time going by, you're just glad to crack a beer, let your hair down, and glide into relaxation mode.

July is Saturday. You're in it to win it. You're spending all your hard earned dough. Rock on, let's eat Mexican food and cheese fries at 3am and sit on all the patios. No time for yoga, there is fun to be had!

That's where you misstep, because you pay for it a little in August.

So...August is Sunday. You're tired, bloated, inexplicably sore, a little hung over, and you're slightly terrified to look at your bank statement. Yet you're also determined to make the most of the rest of your free time.

August, man, I did my best with you, but I have to say, I'm dragging.

I'm left with a very strong desire for a peaceful fall. Not only in the sense of slowing down significantly socially, but also emotionally and physically.

I've been thinking about how to manifest that feeling of ease and here's what I've come up with:

• Back on the gluten- and dairy-free wagon. Digestive struggle is the worst of all struggles.
• Lots and lots of yoga. Find the ease through a little bit of effort.
• Baths with tea and candles. Routine to create comfort.
• Cut myself and others a lot of slack. Space where it is needed, connection where it is not. 
• Long walks with Henley. See the world through her gentle eyes.
• Nights in on the weekends. Money and energy in the bank.
• Cultivating positive thoughts. Recalibrating my default outlook.

Brain Crush: Marry Yo'self

I am obsessed with this Ted Talk by Tracy McMillian, who bares her flaws to bring you her life's message: You need to marry yourself before you can marry anyone else.

The best bits:

"You commit to yourself, fully. And then you build a relationship with yourself to the point where you realize you're whole, right now. That there is no man, woman, job, circumstance that can happen to you that's gonna make you more whole. Because you already are."

"What I've learned is, and what my experience is, is that the places where you have your biggest challenges in your life become the place where you have the most to give--if you do your inner work."

"A mistake isn't actually a failure unless you don't learn from it, and unless you don't grow."

"There's a saying: you ask for patience, and what you get is a line at the bank. What that means is that life does not give you what you ask for. It gives you the people, places, and situations that allow you to develop what you ask for."
 
"What I learned was how to sit by my own bedside, and how to hold my own hand, and how to nurse myself,  how to comfort myself. What I learned is that I am a person that I can count on."

"People always ask me about my love life. I mean, they wanna know. And the answer is: 'I'm working on it. Aren't we all?'"

"I'm more interested in how I feel about me, than how he feels about me. Not because I'm selfish, but because the only relationship I'm ever going to have with another person is the one I'm already having with myself."

"The way I see it, it's like I took myself to the top of a mountain--and maybe the bottom of the ocean--and I got down on one knee, and I said to myself, 'I'll never leave you'."


I love funny, articulate, flawed, freaking smart women. Tracy, you're my girl. Because you're your own girl first.

Letting Go

There is a line in a Dave Matthew's Band song that has been in my head for weeks:

That's not a star; that's a satellite

It repeats at the end of a nine-minute song that is otherwise about how to live a good life.  Most of the other lyrics are instructive (be kind always and shine your light while you've got one), so the line feels especially out of place.

In an interview with MSN Music, Dave said this about the song:

"My father used to say to me, "Find your bliss, and that's what you should spend your life on" ... I was kind of trying to say the same thing to my kids but with more words, which I'm apt to do*. I have this image of a beaten-up soldier at a bar, sort of thinking about telling his kids this, more than actually being able to. And the war or whatever experience is the music in between... At the end, there's this image of surrender, lying on your back, whether on a battlefield or not, staring at the stars. There's a line my wife has said to me: "That's not a star; that's a satellite." I like that idea, I like that phrase, that's why I repeat it five or six times. I think it's a nice way to say goodbye."

*Me too, Dave. Me too.

A satellite, not a star. A decoy, not the real thing. Something forced, man-made, not something natural. A realization, a vehicle for letting go.

I'm going to say something obvious: It really hurts when something isn't what you think it is. It's the very worst kind of hurt, when you wanted something to be real and it turns out it was just a fabrication.  When you hoped for the magic of a shooting star, only to realize it was just a satellite with its own trajectory.

Sometimes. But not always.

Hope becomes dangerous when it hovers too long. You eventually find you're in the wrong orbit, and the feeling that it's better than no orbit at all only lasts so long.

I'm gonna steer clear

I burn up in your atmosphere

--John Mayer, In Your Atmosphere

Quoteworthy: Savor

My friend Rachel recently remarked that summer is about savoring and enjoying the good, while winter is about reflecting and contemplating change.

 

Out loud, or rather via Gchat, I responded, "Yes! Exactly." But something deep down in the murkiness of my heart-of-hearts responded differently, silently, over the past few days: Then why are they so hard for me to do separately? 

 

I thought I'd gotten better at the balance, at not defaulting to comparison, at not needing to hold both good and bad in my hands at once. Why do I always have to feel all the feelings? 

 

So when an email from my friend Alicia offered the word 'savor' as well, I knew there was something to it. What does it mean to savor, truly?

Savor is sort of like my old friends resolve and sufficiency in that it has so many meanings that it becomes more beautiful the more you study it. To savor is to be as aware as possible, to honor life's complexities, to feel all the feelings and know how to express them. It's a noun and a verb: a thing you can be or appreciate and a thing you can do, actively.  My very favorite type of word.

Savor: (n) a distinctive quality; the particular feature or trait that makes something or someone interesting or enjoyable; the power to excite
Savor: (v) to enjoy something for as long as possible; to experience with pleasure

Synonyms: relish, taste, enjoy, revel

It's interesting that savor has the connotation of doing something slowly because as much as I want to soak up what's left of the exceedingly fleeting Chicago summer, I also have an intense urge to slow down. Conflicting feelings, always.

 

But I suppose that's what I love so much about this word. Savor literally means to realize the good (the wonder! the taste! the sound! the feeling! the aliveness!) and the bad (the fleeting, the fading, the passing, the transient) both at once. It's the quintessence of being in the moment; it reaches equally in both directions. It's a bittersweet word, just in time for a bittersweet season.

"The root of joy is gratefulness. It is not joy that makes us grateful. It is gratefulness that makes us joyful."
 --Brother David Steindl-Rast

"The aim of life is to live, and to live means to be aware. Joyously, drunkenly, serenely, divinely aware."
 --Henry Miller

"Let me live, love, and say it well in good sentences."
--Sylvia Plath

Keep your head up / try and listen to your heart
Be kind always / no matter
We all grow up / and someday we'll say goodbye
So shine your light while you've got one

Make the most of what you've got
Don't waste time trying to be something you're not
Fill up your head and fill up your heart
and take your shot
 --Dave Matthews Band, Drunken Soldier

"So, this is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad, and I'm still trying to figure out how that can be."
 --The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky

For each new morning with its light,
for rest, and the shelter of the night.
for health and food, for love and friends,
for everything thy goodness sends.
 --Ralph Waldo Emerson, We Thank Thee

For words that become more beautiful the more you study them, for words that arrive in your inbox or chat session at just the right moment, for words that capture the exact feeling that your heart aches to communicate, I thank thee.

Over-joyed, Over-loved

The last week has been a whirlwind. A concert road-trip, afternoon patio-ing with my Chicago girls, bar-hopping with a stranger, celebrating a dear friend's 30th birthday, exploring Chicago with another dear friend and her awesome boyfriend, and to wrap it all up a hilariously wonderful night of celebrating a 28th birthday that brought together friends old, new, and brand new and ended with an intense game of Rummy 500.

Life is good. Exactly how it should be. Exactly what I asked the universe for.

Every time this happens I'm reminded of an old Jason Mraz song and my heart just bursts from all the love in my life:

And I'm, I'm over-joyed
And I'm, I'm over-loved
And I'm feeling lucky like a little boy, who's just...
Who's hiding under cover
And looking to discover
Every way to play the part inside this darkened cave
The meaning of life, well it starts at the nightlight
Close your eyes and I hope you see mine -Jason Mraz, 1000 Things

In particular, being around my friend Alicia, who passed through Chicago this weekend, inspires me to look for the good in life. Her presence made me feel confident about my life trajectory and my capabilities as a friend, lover, writer, human. That feeling of confidence makes me thirsty for what's to come--and more ambitious about creating a life that I love.

The trouble is, with me, for every yin, there must be a yang, and I've spent the rest of the week in an overtired, emotional funk. A love hangover? I'm not sure, but I've been curled up in bed a lot, relying on my comfort regimen of tea and clean sheets, perusing Pinterest for inspiration.

Here are a few gems I found, in case you're craving inspiration, too.

 Source

 

 

 A gorgeous reminder--this was my favorite poem in 7th grade.

 

This made me smile so much that I printed it out for my fridge.

 

Embrace it.

 

 

 

 

Extended Optimism

I've had a draft in my blogger account for a few months entitled "What I've Learned from Dating...So Far". Sometimes drafts sit for a really long time, fully written, just because I'm not ready to press "publish". I know what I want to say, I'm just not ready to say it.

This one just sat empty.

That's misleading, though. I have learned a lot from the year-plus that I've been dating in Chicago. You can find the lessons all over this blog.

But I kept that draft for a reason.

Because, until now, I haven't been able to articulate the most important lesson I've been learning, in dating...and in yoga. (You can roll your eyes. This life/yoga thing is annoying for me, too. Sometimes I'd really just like to go get my stretch on and keep my back healthy without finding a lesson waiting for me. But, alas, I keep finding them in the same spot.)

The Most Important Lesson is something I talk about continuously on Gchat with my friend Ellen. It's the grueling work of continually staying open. Cultivating endless optimism that the next guy might be different or that, despite a string of lackluster second dates or premature arguments, it's not me. I'm not too stubborn, too liberal, too emotional, too affectionate, too complicated. That is, I won't be, for the right person. Because I am the right person for someone.

But that's difficult. To not get hardened. To not get frustrated. To not throw my hands up dramatically and proclaim that I'll only ever love chocolate labs and that's okay with me! To not get in my head. To not avoid, deflate, construct theories. To stay open, stay vulnerable, stay me. To cultivate what I like to call extended optimism.

--

I've been doing a six-week Bikram yoga run with my friend Rachel. Bikram is some serious business, people. 60 or 90 minutes in 105 degree heat, 26 poses, 2 breathing exercises that make you feel like your head might float away. You need to eat the right amount of food, at the right time, and drink ridiculous amounts of water, and that's only just to feel normal in the room--not panicky, fainty, or just plain weak.

(When you start Bikram, they tell you that your only goal is to stay in the room. That should tell you everything you need to know right there. Just staying in the room is considered success, because many people panic and think they can't do it.)

The next 60 or 90 minutes is spent in poses that are not unlike those you'd find in a regular class. As in, I can do them in a regular class. Not perfectly, but I can do them. Not so much with the sweat and the heat. It makes ordinary things challenging and challenging things impossible. I can't tell you how many times I've looked at myself in the mirror during the last six weeks and thought, Really, Bobbi? What the fuck are you trying to prove? I've nearly had some grade-A meltdowns.

The worst is extended side angle, because in regular classes this is pie for me. But in Bikram, it falls after a grueling "warm up" that gets your heart beating like you've just run a mile and literally covers your body in sweat. It takes everything I have just to stay in the pose. Everything. I. have, and sometimes I can't even manage it. That's the worst part. Sometimes you just have to lie down.

This is the perfect image for Bikram.

Because you're basically that close to the sun.

But, despite all the alarms in my head as I enter the studio, Rachel and I have been doing so with pretty impressive regularity. Back to the mat. Back to the sweat. Mustering as much optimism as I can that this time will be better.

--

Yoga teaches you that it's okay to fall, over and over again. That there is strength in trying new things, honor in not shying away. Yoga teaches you to be deliberate, to show up, day after day, even when you're sore or it didn't go so hot (ha. ha. I can't even laugh at heat puns.) the last time.

And so it is with dating. So-and-So never texted back? Not a soul in sight on Match.com that piques your interest? So what. It didn't line up today. Try again tomorrow. Give that cute boy at the bar your number and love up on life in the meantime. Just stay open. Just stay in the room.


I don't know what you smoke / or what countries you've been to
if you speak any other languages other than your own
I'd like to meet you
I don't know if you can drive / if you love the ground beneath you
I don't know if you write letters or panic on the phone
I'd like to call you, all the same
I would want to / I am game

I don't know if you can swim / if the sea has any draw for you
if you're better in the morning or when the sun goes down
I'd like to call you
I don't know if you can dance / if the thought ever occurs to you
if you eat what you've been given or push it 'round your plate
I'd like to cook for you, all the same
if you want to, I am game

if you walk my way / if I could keep my head
we will feel our way / through the dark
or maybe now we could shoot it down anyway

I don't know if you read novels or the magazines
if you love the hand that feeds you
I assume that your heart's been bruised
I'd like to know you

You don't know if I can draw at all / or what records I am into
if I sleep like a spoon or really at all
oh maybe you would do
oh maybe you would do

Lisa Hannigan, I Don't Know

Bobbi Lately

I caution anyone who might click on the "lately" tag below and offer the following: Seasons. They make me moody.

But, bitches, its summer. So don't worry, this is the upswing!

That means:

and:

 

and lots and lots of:

 

Truly, SAD jokes aside, I feel like I am riding the wave of summer, letting it take me wherever it goes, for as long as it goes--sleep and wallet be damned. 

 

My calendar is packed with early morning yoga in the park,  noon-time yoga in a somewhat sketchy empty suite on the 19th floor of my office building with a "brogi" that makes himself giggle, sunset yoga on the beach, and yoga in a 105 degree studio that, as my fellow yogi Rachel noted, makes you feel like you're in a pizza oven.

 

Add to that early-release summer Fridays with my esteemed colleagues on patios around the city, enthusiastic park strolls with my best pal Hen, concerts and ballgames and a trip home and parades and visitors and a seriously ambitious street festival calendar and... well, this is just to say that if you don't hear from me in a while, it's because I'm spending a whole lot of time doing and very, very little time over-thinking.

 

#aboutdamntime, I know.