Like the Wind {…}
Have you ever noticed how the wind moves? It soars through the trees and they move; dancing as it glides through. While at times, it’s bold and everything trembles, and others, it’s tender and gently strides with care. Not a soul can see the wind itself, and yet we can’t deny its presence when we feel the push and pull; a supernatural energy moving through us that is undeniably alive. It brings a cooling chill in the heat of Summer, and provides direction when we are in need of refuge. It remains invisible yet invincible; the relief in a time of standstill. Nothing on Earth can stop it. The choice is yours to step outside and feel it; do you have the will to face it? There’s no need to find it when we can see how it moves everything around us. When it passes and we begin to lose faith, the fact remains that it’s always there and always comes back.
Psalm 139:7-12
New King James Version
7 Where can I go from Your Spirit?
Or where can I flee from Your presence?
8 If I ascend into heaven, You are there;
If I make my bed in hell, behold, You are there.
9 If I take the wings of the morning,
And dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
10 Even there Your hand shall lead me,
And Your right hand shall hold me.
11 If I say, “Surely the darkness shall fall on me,”
Even the night shall be light about me;
12 Indeed, the darkness shall not hide from You,
But the night shines as the day;
The darkness and the light are both alike to You.
![dialects of love [ … ]](https://www.jessicafaithmarshall.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/08/IMG_4038-1080x675.jpeg)
dialects of love [ … ]
From the moment I wake up { other times in the dead of night like in this very moment } I spend my time thinking about people. They all have their own quirks and individual experiences that shape them exactly to be the person they are today. Every intricate detail about their past brought them up to be the person they are today. They all have their own dialect of a universal language we all know, & the different ways we experience love remains a mystery to some.
The question is : what is my love language? How does this person feel or express love? What does love mean to you … what meaning does this word carry? Does it hurt you because you miss someone; does the memory of it make you feel more alone? Do you ever feel love from something/someone you don’t expect, the time someone texted you that you haven’t messaged in years, or maybe another time someone gave you something { like a small gift of food } that made you feel significant in times of trials? Especially when you don’t expect it, do you wonder where it comes from?
There’s the one person that resonates with words of affirmation. They want to hear that they are doing well, they are loved, that they look good. They like to be reminded they are amazing, and be recognized when they do something good. Until the times of isolation arise in society, people around them don’t see them enough and the lack of affirmation can hurt and dig up roots of pain from years back. They miss it from someone they love, and now they seek it out again, desperate to hear those words but never get it. Until a stranger is walking down the street smiling and watching them, yells out to recognize the beauty in their laughter. Words of affirmation, where did this come from?
Others identify with engaging in activities together. They want to do something productive, accomplish something. They feel loved when you want to play games with them, maybe read together, “let’s cook something new”… “what do you want to do?” When you sit and engage in an activity with them, they feel understood. They want to work towards a common goal with you. Until everyone becomes burnt out and tired from work the days dragging on, so they much prefer to do these things on their own to regain strength. Days pass by, they haven’t done that activity with anyone yet. This game is missing something… why isn’t this the same as before, I always like this game alone? Until someone online messages them { an old friend }, wants to link up a game again like old times. Where did this come from?
There’s the one that needs hugs everyday. They want to be touched, even coworkers are people they would hug on a regular basis. They love meeting new people, seeing how they shake hands, how tender / gentle or expansive / expressive different hugs can be. They collect kind gestures of touch like rare coins. Measuring the beauty in others by how often each person offers genuine forms of affection, and the closeness in a relationship by how vulnerable the other can be. Until the pandemic hits, they start to miss that one friends’ hug. Its been so long since they had a hug from someone they truly care for. The loneliness grows and the starvation for this skin craving intensifies. The pandemic brings on a universal social distancing law that makes this loneliness hurt more than usual. Until you go to work, wearing masks, and old friend you always visit at the store down the street { carrying innocent intentions } has a conversation with them, kindly exiting the conversation with a gentle hug. Where did this come from?
There’s the one that needs a gift, or an act of service. They like to receive cups of warm tea at work, or surprise presents at home that show the other person was thinking specifically of them. They like to see people be aware of what they like, who they are, what makes them feel important. Gifts that verify their identity and assert their individuality. These gifts and acts of service carry sentimental value that they will treasure for years in a box on their desk, a valid reminder of each person they treasure in their heart. Until money becomes desperately tight as the economy falls apart, the job market crashes. Unemployment reaches an all-time-high. The gifts don’t come anymore. Until one day, they go to work but forgot to buy their favorite bottle of iced tea for their afternoon snack { as per usual routine } until they look over. Their coworker leaves a fresh bottle on the counter and smiles. Refusing to believe it’s for them, the coworker says that it’s a gift just for them. Their favorite flavor. Where did this come from?
I know there are many more ways that people feel loved, too many for me to count with my fingers. During these trials, our love languages are misunderstood. The dialects become scarce in fluency and love gets lost in translation. The “social” distance between lovers and families, unable to travel to visit each other, are forced to live from only a percentage of love from their partner or family. Everyone becomes terribly busy, and the percentage of their love becomes less that the other person experiences. The percentage goes from 100% to 70% to 30% within a matter of months the more that the world suffers and experiences these trials from the distance. But if you look closely, somehow you see your love language is still being recognized. Never in the ways you expect or even from the ones you thought, but all along there’s a person that knows you. They know you so intimately, there will always be those moments so small but somehow so powerful that if you didn’t pay enough attention, you would miss the opportunity to grasp onto a moment of love that will keep you going for years after, making you question how the intricacy and detail of the kind act could’ve been real and somehow personalized just for you … He’s been watching all along, and speaks your dialect perfectly.
But you, O Lord, know me; you see me, and test my heart toward you. [ Jeremiah 12:3 ]
the quiet season {…}
today, another fulfilling day indulging in the creative pursuits of life. i used to hate the end of a ringing phone, a dead line, a missed connection. why did they leave, they’re too busy to talk? why didn’t we connect? why am I alone when I am surrounded by noise, people, chaos :: they call this “skin craving” the need for a hug. in this season, I explore the one relationship that you can’t physically feel or touch.
the music flowing out of me, a cathartic release rather than a necessity to simply pass time. my greek teacher astonished at the focus on my studies, my performance and confidence in myself growing slowly as The Spirit fills me. The quiet that rings, hearing AC quietly hum … I fill the air with a song. a passion that lingers in the air. I push myself, my fingers blistering. I push my body beyond limits, stretching my legs to the ceiling, a new feeling of self-discovery in my athletics. I slip on the ballet shoes, reconnecting with my youth seeing through young Jessie’s eyes. I twirl and suspend my legs above surfaces, control the movement with discipline and experiencing freedom all the same. somehow, learning the rules makes breaking them easier. a liberation found only in being alone, experiencing a presence I haven’t felt often times amongst the noise and voices of others. the quiet magnifies this presence, I’m hearing a comforting voice. I discover within the kind of feeling you get from waking up from that one dream, the one you can’t tell anyone { you wouldn’t know how } but deep down you feel it and it’s as real as the touch of another human. a friend that is always present.
Like a wise man once said, there’s a season for everything. After months of time in close proximity to love and comfort, a season replaces this previous one: to prepare my heart for another change that needed this quiet time of independence in order to get my heart ready for the new one.
yesterday, I revisited the person I once was {…} from eight weeks prior. the beginning of this change, the quiet season. I hardly recognized her – she had this concern {striving} for an unsustainable perfection, only feeling fulfilled according to the status of her relationships with others, job, etc. and now a more relaxing simple life before me. a confidence + identity that relies solely on the never-changing consistent friend that is always there for me. He hears me, even in this time of silence. when the phone line is silent and hear the voicemail, He is already waiting.
åsmund.
{ a gentle reminder // kind disclaimer … semi – fiction …}
My partner has left for the season. The approaching weeks alone in the city are too distant to count and chasing after our time difference at such a far distance is proving to be difficult. At this point in time, I have been translating my inexplicable medical concerns and sudden pains as an awakening in my body alarming me of its need; a simple need for friendly touch.
I often evaluate my mental well-being by the number of days from the last form of physical contact I have received from someone. Every day blends into the next as I begin to lose sight of this instinctual craving. Words and digital connectivity no longer fill my spirit, and visual simulation tire my senses the more I exhaust my imagination. Professional relationships that once fulfilled a single purpose feel less significant at the realization that they wouldn’t be able to break down any walls even if for the sake of necessity.
& today was another work day in SoHo, not far from my neighborhood nearly hanging off the edge of Brooklyn that pined after the Manhattan skyline. I completed my routine metro commute while pursuing my various language studies. I had recently reached fluency in Greek which inspired my next pursuit to learn German. I frequent the foreign film section on streaming platforms and memorize pages from various linguistic dictionaries. Most all of my connections require some form of foreign language, as I often speak with coworkers in Greek and friends online in a variety of other languages.
This brought to my attention that the one universal language I can’t seem to indulge in is physical affection. Society’s new standard social distancing restrictions have halted this language of touch. I have no opposition to it, given that it is a necessity to protect humanity from fatal illness. Nearly five months in, I am now desensitized to hiding my identity behind a symbol of conformity otherwise known as a face mask. Isolation has simply become an expectation.
Upon arrival of my work place, I spotted a familiar face nearing towards me. Åsmund? could it be, or was I hallucinating? it couldn’t not be him, his warm presence was nearly undeniable. how could it be? From what I understood, he was acquiring his degree at a university far from NYC. His destination was always changing, could’ve been Denmark, Amsterdam, Cyprus… I could never keep track. Regardless, I was sure it was one of the many irresistible vacation spots surely his wealthy father was able to fund. Åsmund inched towards me, almost as if he intended to find me. I hadn’t seen him in person since last summer in Cyprus, but I hadn’t forgotten his distinctive features. His minimalist wardrobe, denim and pastel knit tee, effortless hair cleanly shaped to frame his face. I couldn’t identify him with any specific culture as he was not particularly muscular and dark-haired enough to appear Cypriot, could’ve been a dash of Scandinavian, but even when he spoke I could also sense a familiarity that felt close, almost intimate as if he were from NY. I envied this internationalism about him, yet appreciated it all the same.
I approached him slowly, hardly believing my eyes. Calling out his name, he stopped to greet me. We exchanged formalities, given that we were only acquaintances from our time in Cyprus and had met through mutual friends. There was a tension in the air, as our attempt at small talk quickly awakened the laughs and shared moments from the past. This fazed me, as I felt another sharp ping in my body. I interrupted his sentence, he may have had been speaking about his many expeditions, studies, or internships… but I simply couldn’t help but politely request a hug. There was a shy tone in my voice, hesitation nearly muting the request all together. In the end, he leaned in offering a friendly embrace. It felt so foreign. This touch that I had prayed for at last in my arms.
He was taller than me and his body so lean I could wrap his entire torso without strain. His bones felt so fragile, his heart nearly beating out of his chest. His head rested gently on my shoulder as I embraced the moment absorbing his scent of fresh linen; modest yet memorable. Åsmund wasn’t flashy or boastful despite his family’s origin of power, money, and education. I will never forget his eccentric stories, our late night talks, and being the subject of his photography under the stars in a Cypriot field. He was authentic, and even upon first meeting him, he centered many of his questions towards me drawing attention to my existence. Filling my spirit tenderly, the moment immediately transported me to similar gentle hugs from my little brother, James. Similar lean torso, gentle touch, a humble voice.
Åsmund disconnected, pulling me back into the moment as he kindly explained that he had to be on his way. I, of course, didn’t object… wishing him well as I watched as he escaped from my peripheral vision.
I wished this brotherly act could’ve been real enough to end the painful sensations in my body, but every time I revisited it in my memory I was reminded that my subconscious often attempts to aid my needs with these projections in my head that have a short lifespan, fading with the passing time that coldly drags me further from my awakening.
featured image credit :: Abigail Oswald (https://abigailwashere.com)
faith {?}
The serenity of my sleep was abruptly interrupted by water slipping under the door and seeping through my window. My bed began to soak and the shock of my sudden awakening caused me to jump out of bed slipping on the water filling the room. I began hyperventilating which made it difficult to react to the catastrophe as the water began to pool and gather, pushing me out of the door. I grabbed my shoes and noticed the rest of the building vastly flooding, my roommates and neighbors rushing out of the front door. In horror, I waited behind them pushing through the crowd. At last I was outdoors, hovering under a tree for protection from the rain that was crashing so hard I could feel it claw into my skin. The burning sensation on my skin and confusion from the foggy daze of my fading sleep state left me terrified and shivering in the cold with little to no protection from nature. The flooding crashed through the windows and glass shattered at my feet. Immediately I fell to my knees hovering my arms over my head to protect from any shards passing over my body. I had nowhere to go and no one to call, alone in this storm waiting for an escape.
A car honked three times. I quickly looked up, noticing a young man sitting in the drivers seat of a red car. He hardly appeared old enough to drive but his curly hair, innocent glowing eyes, and freckled skin was too welcoming to turn down. He motioned for me to jump in the car screaming, “Get in! Trust me – Hurry!”
Another window flooded and shattered, as I escaped the damage running towards the passenger seat making it just in time to hide behind the door as the glass shattered on the pavement. The young man drove – certainly above speed limit – rushing through the storm. The droplets formed into hail and the top of the car caved in, I screamed in reaction to the shock.
“Hey, it’s okay. It’s not going to break.” He looked into my eyes glancing back at the road, somehow comforting me despite the danger of being in a stranger’s car.
“Who are you?” I asked him, questioning his motives.
“I’ve seen you around the neighborhood. You’re… Gaille, right? You typically get an iced cold brew at the coffee shop on Knickerbocker light ice… classic from Pitanga by the way. Can’t go wrong.” He was somehow so calm despite driving through a storm that was crashing at the windows. He didn’t seem affected by my shaking limbs and hyperventilation. His presence was warm and friendly, but I couldn’t pull myself away from the fear. The storm continued to worsen and buildings began crashing into each other as he just sat next to me driving with confidence not a doubt in his actions dodging all of the destruction.
“How did you know that? Might I add it’s incredibly weird you know all of that about me, and why should I trust you?” I considered jumping out, but the storm outside was far more dangerous than whatever this teenager could do to me. I was big enough to take him out if he tried anything, however despite my doubts I didn’t suspect any malicious intents. He spoke with such kindness and so far had only saved me from insidious harm.
He began driving faster as I grasped onto the car begging for him to slow down. He told me he knew what he was doing and for me to trust him.
“Do you trust me?” He quietly muttered, almost under his breath.
“How should I trust you? I don’t know you!”
“Did I not just save you? Are you not safe inside this car, right now?”
I sat breathing heavily, tears streaming down my face as I heard the crashing hail above my head, only centimeters away from my skull.
In a soothing voice, he ordered me to close my eyes.
“I can’t! Please, don’t ask me to do that right now!”
“Please, close your eyes. Trust me.”
I looked into his eyes and he looked back. His gaze was so calm, I could almost see eternity looking into his dark brown eyes as he held my gaze. His fresh young face was magnetically attractive and his facial structure impeccable. I somehow almost felt I had met him before or maybe even passed by him a couple of times at that coffee shop on knickerbocker. He made me feel like his old friend, and somehow I trusted him enough to fulfill his bizarre request and I finally closed my eyes.
The crashing rain and hail began to sound melodic. I could hear him humming words in another language that complimented the sounds of the horror outside the car. In my eyelids, a vision of light and peaceful surroundings filled my mind and I felt as if I no longer had any fear or control of my own thoughts. The feeling of the car rushing down the streets and into the void I could no longer see somehow felt like a swing in the forest, cold wind blowing into my face and droplets dripping down my skin. I stopped shaking as I felt his hand on my shoulder for a moment, and even when he removed it I could still feel it lingering on my shoulder.
I must have drifted into a deep sleep, realizing my surroundings as I opened my eyes. I was sitting on a bed in an unrecognizable room. It was warm and there was an open window with sun bleeding through and birds singing outside. I rushed out of the room, catching a girl walking past my door.
“Where am I?” I grabbed her attention as she glanced back at me.
“The Resurrection Inn in New Jersey.”
“Have you seen a young man with freckles and curly hair? Maybe 17 or 18-years-old?”
“Oh him? He must’ve left hours ago. I saw him carrying you somewhere downstairs.”
I thanked her as she went back to her own business. I sat by the window wondering where he could’ve gone, until I saw a note on the bedside table.
“‘Gaille,
If you ever need another ride, text me. I’m free to talk anytime.
212-555–8964′”
2 Corinthians 5:7
“For we live by faith, not by sight”
when they walk away & { why }
Read the Original Post on Thought Catalog
They walked away.
Perhaps they gave you a last kiss in front of your favorite restaurant, or left your gaze to close your front door for the last time. They may have simply left you on read and vanished from your social media feeds. The last bottle of their favorite drink still sits in the fridge as you wonder if one day they will come back to share it with you. Time passing since the last memories you shared is like water in the bath emptying down the drain as you slowly feel the heaviness of gravity pulling you down to the cold empty tub. You want to cry or maybe even talk everything through with someone, but the tears don’t come and you can’t find the words to express the loss. The present passes fast as you lose yourself in the past, drowning yourself in thoughts about what you did, or maybe it was what you said, or perhaps just who you are. You try to find a tangible reason as to why what was once perfect is now gone. Every blog article you read and friend’s word of advice tells you there’s a new start waiting for you elsewhere, but you can’t bring yourself to start from scratch when you can’t make sense of the heartbreak.
Beyond the feeling of missing them, you begin to doubt your own identity and thoughts. Perhaps even if they told you why it was over, you doubt that you could ever recreate that kind of love with anyone else. The truth is, you’re hurt right now and there is no doubt you will feel pain. However, they didn’t walk away because of the reasons you think.
God hears us every time we cry. He knows when we shed a tear and when our heart is broken, even if nobody else in the world does. When you are rejected time and time again by people in your life, he is there every time to pick you up and listen to how you feel. Even if you have no words to say, he understands your feelings even before you do. You may even argue that perhaps he caused this pain. If he is the one in charge of everything, why did you have to go through this? If he loves you so much, why did he do this to you?
God is a painter. He crafted your life from start to finish and memorized every detail. He can see your entire life story as if it were a completed masterpiece, from the mistakes you will make to the beautiful moments of blessings and surrender. For us, the past and present is all we know. As much as we try to convince ourselves that we can predict the future, nobody around us has all the answers because we are humans with flaws and biases struggling through different things.
Imagine you’re in a film. Right now, you’re living through the closeup on a detail that makes no sense in the moment. Filmmakers call this the “plant”. Currently, that closeup makes no sense and all you can understand is the pain and immediate outcome. Before you know it, the future becomes the present and it pays off. You realize all along, God was setting you up for a much better future. He was protecting you from pain and destruction that would’ve been much more severe than what you went through. In some cases, he may have used that experience or person to shape you into the person he needed you to be or in the right place to meet someone better. There are endless possibilities as to why he does what he does. Even though we may never understand the reasons, he only does what’s best for us.
Even though you’re experiencing pain you can’t explain, call on him and he will be there to help you through all of it. He knows what’s best for you, so have faith and share your burdens with him.
A List of Fundamental Quarantine Experiences
Dear Quarantine,
You & I have this very (shall I say) unique relationship. There are those joyous moments of cooking feta mushroom crepes while dancing in the living and singing to Bruce Springsteen, and there are others of me vividly dreaming about being stuck with the lead singer of Tokio Hotel for 28 hours and making soup out of cajun powder, water, exactly 2 raw carrots, and crusty ramen noodles. My work emails consist of typos that sound like Elvish, my dead-ends & bangs are starting to house birds, and my current playlist mainly consists of German emo-punk and pretty much only The Goo Goo Dolls.
Here’s an homage to our most special moments together.
…
“I can finally pursue my artistic visions!”
Not
We all dreamt about the opportunity to have endless free time to pursue our dreams of painting and writing. Until we realized this was not that time. Every painting turns out to be slightly demented or just not good. The motivation slips away as days drift further and further away from the last time you renewed your inspiration with a trip to a cafe nearby or spoke to someone interesting. It’s totally okay though. Perhaps our current works won’t turn into a career, however we can use these mediums as escapes to pass the time.
…
“Okay guys let’s begin the session *ding* awe dude did we just lose Mark again?”
Art: Original (Me) JFM 2020
I spend a few hours a week doing Dungeons & Dragons sessions with a group of friends via Discord (video call). Every 20 minutes, someone’s internet glitches and the call drops. Sometimes, my webcam shows a bit too much dirty laundry in the background, and the sound goes in and out throughout the whole call. Regardless, I love this group and am grateful to be able to see them even if it’s the glitchiest online experience. I recreated our Discord call in one of my recent works of art.
…
“I went from selling luxury in SoHo to sending emails in a pair of snoopy socks”
This homemade meme pretty much sums up my entire quarantine work life right now.
…
“Hey (insert quarantine partner’s name here) does Amazon Prime ship Hairstylists? One-Day shipping perhaps?”
Let’s all be real – the box dye isn’t working and those eyebrow scissors simply won’t do the job.
…
“What’s for lunch?”
“We have one raw carrot, lentils, and some sprouting garlic.”
-and in case you forgot, the wait list for Amazon Fresh is two years.
…
Quarantine, thanks for the good times… but I hope you agree we should start seeing other people. I hope you understand. I don’t really feel like this is going to last.
Sincerely,
The Entire Planet.
golden hour daydreams.
A Fictionalized Story.
Golden hour was the indication that everything was fine despite the inevitable drama that came in and out of my life. I was running out of old journals to reread and messages that ended with the dreaded read receipts. I pined after the past as if it were that one boy with the name I couldn’t pronounce in middle school that moved back to Bolivia. There was no way to go back and redo the moments I could’ve made so much better being the person I have become. I convinced myself I’ve lived my life out of chronological order. I was meant to live through some moments that already happened with the brain I have now. My mom’s repeated phrase, “everything happens for a reason” rung in my ears as I turned my music up a bit louder.
I walked down the halls sweeping bangs out of my eyes. I always wore sound cancelling headphones in between classes. It communicated to my peers that I had no interest in small talk about the Kardashians and also to set a realistic exception for myself that nobody would ever try to talk to me for any reason other than necessity. Opening my sketchbook, I realized I wouldn’t have enough pages to last me through the day and would have to experiment with drawing over old notes again. Page after page was filled with portraits of boys with luscious hair and body modifications. They occasionally brought me back to the memory of my art teacher strangely watching over my shoulder in class, questioning my taste in boys. The authority figures that typically hit me with judgmental comments were either hitting on girls with sterling grades and creepy stares or braless transparent-shirt blondies having affairs with other teachers. It was entertaining enough to get me through the hours of catching up for credits that didn’t transfer from the last five schools I attended.
I dreamt about a rose gold sky, listening to ethereal songs thinking about a boy named Max that I knew would ultimately break my heart. The simplicity of a ride to the local Starbucks to get a late night dark roast was enough to keep me going through my adolescence. I had no obligations to money, responsibilities, relationships, or identity. I could be anything I wanted to be. I knew one day, I would live the dream life in New York City, but inevitably face bills at my doorstep and a job that would keep me on my toes. The only person I had a responsibility to today was my younger sister waiting at home after school to grab our regular canned cold brew at the local Target. We had this thing about capturing the last hour of sun in the parking lot.
In the middle of that thought on my way to my next class, I shared a passing moment with that one boy. The mysterious boy that occasionally spared an evening with me at the lake away from his girlfriend to show me the view. I held his gaze, and it shattered me feeling the “could’ve been”. He looked at me without the slightest bit of distress and caught me in a moment of vulnerability. I don’t miss them – our drives together – it just brings me comfort knowing that it happened. Being held by the unknown; a forbidden unknown entity. There was always danger around the corner when I was with him. I remember hearing whispered commands under his breath and capturing glances of his hungry eyes.
Adjusting my headphones, I looked up and smiled at him only he didn’t smile back. The other boy – the one that lived on the corner of my block with that beautiful flower garden and stone porch that reflected the sun in the morning. I remember the dewy air of the sunset walks with him before we both grew out of our friendship. His hair grew long enough to curl around his soft neck, sweatshirts a bit oversized and pants a bit too fitted. He always showed up at my doorstep asking Mom if I was around for a walk, and interrupted my afternoon naps for video games downstairs in my Parents’ room. We talked about laughable moments at school and made fun of everyone that didn’t appreciate the outcasts. I couldn’t keep track of how many years we went to parties and played games together, only for me to shove you away when the other boy drove his car in my driveway. I should’ve known at that time he was something important to me and years later I would be seeking out his online profile to message him, only to run into another dead end wondering what would’ve happened if I went on that last walk with him. He texted me that evening, telling me he had something to tell me. All this time, I always knew what he was going to say, I was just too afraid to face him.
I turned up my music walking past the glass walls of the office and into the next building. I repeated that one song that always brought me back to my old house in Austin, waking up to the sight of birds in my window. I heard his voice over the song transition, glancing over and noticing him leaning against the wall. I remembered all the simple talks with him and late night talks in bed. He was hung up on that other girl with the fake lashes and singing career, so we could never really go further than a talk over coffee at the bookstore downtown. I sent him that voice message in Mom’s car, trying to hide my tears and denying the support and advice of my older sister right before she left home to study in Boston. Then that girl turned him down and he turned back to me, but I had already moved on. He had his band and everyone else; groupies and girlfriends with stars in their eyes as he flaunted his talent and vanity. He never spoke to me at school, and later I would lie in bed waiting for his 2 AM phone calls where he would admit nobody could watch him play at his shows the way I did.
That night after school, sipping my coffee and sitting in the car with my sister, she told me that relationships are like elastic bands. Sometimes you are close, and other times you either break apart or just simply don’t need each other. She began a story about one of her many heartbreaks, reminding me to view these people as if they were moments we can appreciate even if something happened to split us apart. You don’t have to view them as the status of your relationship, but as a character-shaping period of your life that was meant to happen to make you who you are. We can still look back on those beautiful moments and treasure them, even if the only thing we share in the present is a glance in the hallway and quiet moment grieving the moments we once shared.
Sunset in Connecticut.
A Lightly Fictionalized Memory;
Grand Central was always a comforting place to me. The possibility of grabbing a coffee before the train ride was intriguing and the $35 ticket was all it took to leave the claustrophobia of the city. Occasionally, I would walk around without any particular destination just to feel the comfort of the early days in New York when I would go to my sisters’. She was newly married, settling in a new apartment. I had been savoring my trips to see her knowing we would stay up late to play the mystery games we both treasured playing together as kids. I glanced at my phone to recall the number of the train; always 24. The ability to take a train on my own and travel with independence was always a wake-up call that I had finally left home. I no longer needed mom to sit in the passenger seat for me to escape, from now on I could decide the future for myself.
The train was fairly empty at this time of day. The sun was starting to set, and people weren’t quite finished with work to return home. Sometimes I envied those that had the ability to live in a quiet place and benefit from the NYC salary. I knew that the benefit of having another home to visit in CT was enough to survive the chaos. The train escaped the station and my ticket sat on the corner of the seat. For the sake of nostalgia, I played the same song I would always listen to on the way to my sisters; peaceful and melodic. Buildings became scarce as the trees began to fill the window view. The sun was warm, filling the car through smudged windows reflecting on passengers’ glasses and glossy book covers. I typically captured a picture when I saw this bleeding sun vision, but this ride was sacred. It was one of two days off in a work week that I had to appreciate in the moment. There wasn’t a camera on Earth that could capture this moment and make me relive it better than the memory itself.
The sun felt so familiar. I closed my eyes to find myself next to my sister three years back. She rolled down the window shamelessly singing out the lyrics to her favorite Matt Nathanson song. Cotton candy colored skies surrounded us in the small car as I fed her a grape interrupting her singing session. Our destination was another 24 hours away, but I always liked the hotel room excursions in between long days of drive thru food and nostalgic mix tapes. She reminisced about her high school days, recalling her memories with boys in Texas from flippy-haired Starbucks baristas to bearded hipster book store clerks. As she adjusted her engagement ring, she smiled at me listing the things she will miss from her old apartment.
I opened my eyes again, the sun beginning to fade into a deep orange glow. Every 20 minutes, a lake would pass by, peaceful without disruptions or a person in sight. Upon arrival I gathered my things and escaped the car. My sister always waited in the same spot and I always knew where to find her. She was playing a song by the Goo Goo Dolls and would ask me in her enthusiastic high voice how life has been treating me in the big city. Remembering this day now, I’m sure I briefly updated her on the boys I had dated that week and the work drama I barely escaped. She always shared precious stories about smashing bizarre bugs and birds in the window view attempting to fly against the wind.
It was always routine to brew a cup of coffee upon arrival at her apartment. The bulbs lights on the walls brought me back to backyard coffee shops in Austin and her large color-coded bookshelves were filled with memories of our trips to the Half-Priced Books next to Starbucks near our house. She typically commented on my inked skin, pointing out the tattoos that used to be bare skin. My dark roast brewed in the instant coffee maker, the first sip rejuvenating me. She sat next to her kitchen window surrounded by shelves with philodendrons commenting on her brewing tea, “for this Tazo brand – black tea – always 4 minutes. Not a minute more.” I always laughed at her tea talk. She would question my doubts in her tea rituals, reminding me of her tenure at the tea shop paying off school with her days serving hipsters blends of dessert-flavored teas. We sat and discussed the typical topics, delinquent boys in New York (I liked to think my dating stories supplied her with great characters for her short stories), A24 films, life updates from the lead singer of the Goo Goo Dolls, and the latest from Nancy Drew PC games. Occasionally, her husband would intersperse hilarious commentary and kindly refill my coffee. I avoided the dreading memory of the mysterious boy I kept from her, predicting her disappointment in his criminal history and hideous tattoos. I liked to think when I left the city, New York didn’t exist for two days. My return meant a new start every time.
We slowly transitioned to the living room, booting up Life is Strange on the console. She laughed, calling out how fast we moved through the dialogue having played it so many times together. Everybody who knew me knew I couldn’t live without the repetition of my favorite songs and games in life. I had some sort of addiction to familiarity.
Hours passed as the room slowly turned dark from the setting sun. Her garlic pasta was always fresh with ripe tomatoes and a light drizzle of olive oil. We swirled noodles on our forks, predicting each scene in episodes of Felicity. She and I grew up watching the warmly lit 90’s tv shows with college and high school drama, knowing even as adults we could ever watch Felicity or Gilmore Girls enough times. There were always soundtracks replaying the hits from the Cranberries and Howie Day that would bring us back to our last road trip before we both started independent lives away from home in Austin.
Wishing time would stop, the hours passed by and I fell asleep on the couch as I usually did, only to wake up by that same familiar sun. The dewy air from outside bleeding through the cracked window, the ambience of birds chirping, and reality that this trip would have to end. Knowing I would have to return back to the polluted air and grey skies blocked by buildings and wait until I could see another sunset in Connecticut.
the missed moments. {the quiet walk}
I was the strangest kid in high school.
I wore rose henna tattoos all over my arms and nearly got banned from my conservative Texan high school for shaving the sides of my head while growing long bangs hang over my eyes. I stayed up countless nights for the sake of my art and even my art teacher didn’t get my work or what I was trying to say.
School was the worst part of my life. I didn’t connect with my peers & all I looked forward to was hiding away in my bedroom away from the world to draw artsy boys with curly hair. Because I was so disconnected from reality, I decided to create my own world. The movies I watched and music I listened to helped me create my own universe amongst circumstances I hated. In the process, I created a world I now look back on to appreciate. My bedroom was a little haven with bulb lights, tapestries, and fashion magazines. My speakers blasted ethereal 90’s shoegazey bands and set an atmosphere I could never find in any metro city or dream job.
Now I look back at the moments I created for myself, and I dream of going back in this time of reflection. It gives me a sense of peace knowing we have control over our minds and thoughts during times of disaster. There is so much beauty and inspiration to access with all the artists releasing their visions onto the internet. There’s serenity in every corner, we just have to notice it and choose to appreciate it.
Isolation is an opportunity to not only reflect on time passing, but also to look back on these precious memories we never accessed before when our schedule was occupying our brains with new events and exciting activities. We constantly fill our minds with entertainment (music, social media, TV) we rarely have a chance to breathe and acknowledge the beauty that lies in the simplicity of life.
I am always on the hunt for moments of serenity, personally I call this “Holocene”. It initially began when I was in middle school watching the Bon Iver music video for this song, and it captured the essence of these moments for me.
{my board of these moments} :: https://www.pinterest.com/jessicafaithnyc/holocene/
These are moments you can’t plan or repeat. The simplicity of these moments are so beautiful, it makes you realize that you don’t need to spend a ton of money or make big plans to appreciate life. Now instead of hours of reading and endless entertainment, sometimes I just let time lead me into the simple moments that I didn’t appreciate before I moved to the busiest, craziest city in the world.
Here are some of those moments of serenity to capture (or remember) in time of isolation:
A drive at sunset riding home from school. Thinking about the people in your life, not as who they are to you but just as individuals with unique identities all doing something at this moment even if you are not with them. Becoming aware of how the present is something we all have in common. Looking up at the sky knowing that everyone is under the same sky and someone out there you don’t know is sharing this moment with you.
Waking up from a nap after school / work. Seeing the sun peek through the windows, bleeding onto the walls through the blinds. Shadows being casted, feeling a bit hungry ready for dinner & maybe smelling the banana bread mom made earlier. Feeling rested & in a bit of a daze, but satisfied as hell. Everyone is quiet, in their rooms or in the living room all separate but together in the same house.
A bike ride with dad on Saturday morning on your way downtown. Realizing that once he was your age too, naive & young seeking out meaning for his own life. Seeking out love & confused about his future. He looked up to his mom but still got angry at her just like you do with him at times. The sun is warm and you both share a quiet ride together, seeing the berries on the pavement that fell from the trees earlier in the season.
The train ride to your sisters’. Alone but looking around at all the quiet moment being experienced by others, knowing they are thinking to themselves awaiting arrival to the same destination. The sun is soft and bleeding through the trees beside you, quickly passing and slowly shedding leaves readying themselves for fall. You await the comfort of her small apartment and your favorite game with that gentle theme song that plays even after you fall asleep on the couch and she tucks you in goodnight.
To me, these moments are God’s gift to us. I was once told He loves the quiet moments with us rather than the intensity that comes up in our talks with Him from time to time. He adores these moments of serenity with us. It’s His way of blessing us with His presence. In these moments – despite the darkness and drama of life that is indeed inevitable – He is saying He’s there watching us. The Spirit fills the air and envelopes us in the beauty of His love and blessings. When we experience God, it’s not always about life changing events and deep long dramatic moments, sometimes the walk with Him is simply about sharing a simple moment with Him and quietly acknowledging Him.
I lay down and slept; I awoke, for the LORD sustains me.
The Art of Being Alone
As much as books are for entertainment & in some cases, cautionary “what not to do” tales, I recently read Call Me By Your Name and walked away with a very unique perspective on relationships. I enjoyed the experience and consider it a cautionary tale from the perspective of a young and curious Elio. However, from his open heart and curious spirit, I learned some things from his choices. His internal monologue is an example of how some people view their relationship as an “all or nothing” thing in life. They open their diaries to their significant other and tell them about every dream they have at night. Elio views Oliver as his outlet of freedom with whom he desires to open his heart to without any boundaries or inhibited actions. When Oliver left Italy to return to The States, Elio’s expression of his freedom became fragmented because he invested so much of himself into their relationship. It’s natural to want another person to be an outlet for us to feel safe or express the love we have to offer. Seeing the same face everyday over time creates a sense of home we seek in life to find rhythm and routine. However, only Elio can hear his own thoughts and only Oliver can interpret his own emotions. We are designed as separate beings to support each other and be interdependent with one another. The differences between us allow us to be able to support others in ways they can’t support themselves. If we put so much of our identity into another person, we can no longer offer anything new to the relationship and our personality becomes unoriginal. However, this is different than codependence which means we can’t live out our full purpose without someone else. In addition, I myself have a reputation for the all or nothing state of mind, so I also tend to want to be too independent that I won’t accept that I need people. People are in my life for a very intentional reason, and that is for me to have a healthy, balanced reliance with them! With those I trust, this beautiful dynamic is mutual, which fills my spirit with love.
After all of this, I realized how important it is to take care of yourself. I now schedule weekly dates with myself at Laduree to drink apricot juice before work. I turn off my phone while I do yoga each night and indulge in personal projects and diaries only I will ever see. I turn off Instagram more often to keep my experiences to myself knowing that some things are meant for only my memory rather than plastering it all over the internet and into my friends’ feeds. I set boundaries in all of my relationships to stay confident in my own identity so I never rely too heavily on anyone else to feel fulfilled. Most of all, I discovered treating yourself to a glass of wine at The Osprey does not always have to be a ritual shared with someone else. Now when I see my boyfriend every week and call my family, it feels indulgent and unique. I appreciate each moment we share ten fold because of how scarce they are. So here’s my advice: Find your rhythm, and take some time each week to enjoy it on your own.
Integrating Mindfulness
I just recently started a new job in Soho and have been transitioning into a new apartment with new people everywhere and new expectations. I noticed I am always thinking three steps ahead:
What will I eat for dinner?
Who am I seeing after work?
Where will I be in five years?
I find it difficult to pull myself into each moment in the present because there is so much newness surrounding me. The unfamiliarity of life makes me feel out of control which then leads to overthinking everything I say and do. Time seems to slip by so fast because I am so preoccupied by the future that I don’t even notice what is happening in the moment. This is common with perfectionists and those who always have to have everything just so. Let me tell you, this is the most exhausting way to live. Now that I work for a company that endorses the philosophy of wellness and optimal living, I’ve noticed I tend to overlook these habits everyday.
I’ve accumulated a list of things I do on a daily basis to become mindful of the present and make time slow down a bit. This board on Pinterest will soothe your mind and pull you back down to Earth.
Immerse Yourself in Literature
Lately, I’ve been reading through books so quickly I’ve lost track of how many I’ve been reading. From travel essays to Andrè Aciman novels, I’ve determined that getting lost in another world is sometimes the best way to meditate in the moment and forget about all the things you have to do that day. Choose quality literature with intense visuals and immersive character dialogue. I’m currently reading:
Enigma Variations by Andrè Aciman
The Wild Things by Dave Eggers
Lose Yourself in Conversation
We tend to overlook opportunities to ask someone about their day or the necklace they’re wearing. Everyday, we can reach out to someone and start a conversation that will pull us into the present. Don’t ask someone how they are doing and then start thinking in your head, “What should I order? What message did I just get? Is my phone buzzing?” as we do when we have conversations sometimes. This time, pay attention. Listen. Engage. Lose yourself in this connection with someone and use it as an opportunity to pull away from the chaos.
To be completely transparent, most of my friends are people that I randomly reached out to at a coffee shop or online. I’ve found that looking around and paying attention to others rather than being preoccupied by my own life opens my mind up to the possibility of new relationships.
Create Something
Whether you’re a musician, artist, or overall creative, pay attention to a project for a couple of hours and engage in an activity that pulls you away from all of the busyness and productivity. When you create something, you fully engage the right side of your brain as you improvise on the project. After you complete it, it will offer a new perspective on the day and offer and sense of accomplishment that will make you feel rejuvenated. Turn off your phone for a couple of hours and let your mind run free in the creative process.
In my own experience, drawing is the most mindful form of art. Drawing from life makes you observe every detail of someone’s face and essence in order to replicate it in the drawing. This is the highest form of mindfulness and a great way to embrace your creative side while observing and thinking outside of yourself.
Study Something Challenging
Learning is something that occurs on the left side of your brain and fully engages your mind. In order to take in new information and retain it, you must meditate away from the chaos of your life to focus on the information you are studying. This also humbles us, knowing we can always learn something new. It will give you a new appreciation for the present moment as you expand your horizons and allow your mind to work. Personally, I study Greek everyday. I use the conversation tip above and the study tip by engaging in conversation with teachers in Athens and Cyprus as they also educate me on the language. This pulls me out of my perfectionistic way of life. The key to success in learning something challenging is to embrace your mistakes and allow yourself to grow at your own pace.
The overall conclusion of this article is to realize that the most beautiful way to live is to notice and observe the present. Take a picture of the light through your window in the evening, notice how nice your coworker looks today, and point out some things that you love about life not in the past but right now, in the present.
The Psychotic Stages of the New York Love Affair
My story begins where I was too young to recognize the things New York would do to me. The stories range from the months of black mold I would endure and the countless toxic men I would fall for. There are endless stories I could tell you about how New York is the kind of city that changes you. The stages I went through in two years was utter chaos, so here’s a taste of what every New Yorker has been through at one point or another.
“I will be famous.”
I drove across the country at age 18, fresh out of my parents’ home designing jackets expecting to become famous in a matter of months. All I needed was a few more collaborations and to pass on my business cards at Fashion Week to finally be noticed by Anna Wintour as the next up-and-coming-artist in the fashion industry. Every subway ride was a runway show and I had a playlist called “MANIC” that I would blast as I pushed past people on the streets feeling invincible. My hair was red, eye makeup heavy, and all I wanted was to be seen. I expected everyone in my life could see I was killing it, since I was working… at a fabric store in the Garment District cutting elastic for “designer” skater boys from Parsons.
It’s the stage we all start in while transitioning to life in New York. I was staying up all night designing and working my day job talking about how famous I could be. I followed Overheard NY on instagram thinking, “Yes, I get this because I am a New Yorker now.” It felt like a clique in High School I always wanted to be apart of. I had to dress in all black. Every. Single. Day. ONLY black.
“Reality Bites.”
After being screamed at by my boss at work after asking to switch my position and looking at my bank account after recklessly purchasing edgy fashion/tattoos for months, I became burnt out very quickly. Soon enough, I realized my jackets weren’t enough to fulfill my “get rich + famous quick” plan and New York was kicking my ass. I was tired, the blizzards were making it hard to dress “edgy”, and my job was barely paying the bills. I needed a reality check. The collaborations and fashion week shows would have to wait so I could catch up to the speed of this psychotic city.
“I am so alone.”
Yes, you’ve heard the stories about girls on Tinder in NYC. You’ve probably heard even more about girls that ask out every hot guy they spot at work because the city is huge and you are small. I started to miss home (given I had never left home until a few months prior). Every train ride home after work, you could find me in the corner crying listening to SYML swiping through old pictures of my family. I needed someone, so I started searching. Let’s just say, I experienced my fair share of bizarre dates and strange dudes.
“Is that… black MOLD?!”
Imagine every single possible apartment nightmare story you’ve ever heard for a minute. Yeah, I lived with all of them for two years. I experienced it all: black mold, a poisonous caterpillar infestation, (believe it or not) a pile of literal poop smeared all over my window and AC unit, rats, mice, roaches… the list goes on. I was paying so much given the circumstances my wholesome little Brooklyn apartment put me through. Every New Yorker goes through this at one point or another and the best part is, it’s very unlikely you can get out of it until the year lease is up.
“I got promoted!”
I was killing myself working at my job at the Flagship Victoria’s Secret. After many trials, I finally got the promotion from Sales Associate to Visual Merchandiser. I was ready for the upgrade. Everyday, all I could think about was impressing my bosses. I dressed in lingerie as outerwear in the Winter and talked to thousands of customers everyday to even be considered for the promotion. My job became my life and it was all I lived or breathed. I worked from 10 PM to 9 AM to dress mannequins and hang product on the walls. I started suffering from exhaustion and had to pull back to realize, work is not all there is to life.
“Mom, I met someone.”
I had it all. I was living comfortably, working hard at my promotion at work, making money, getting bonuses, and hanging out with amazing people in the city. I felt like Carrie Bradshaw. You could say at this point, I was pretty established and ready to move on to something new in my life. At this point, I took a leap of faith and went on a date with someone I had never met prior. Before I knew it, 10 months of nights drinking wine at The Osprey in Brooklyn Heights and exchanging “I love you” back and forth passed and I was in love in NYC. I started to think outside myself and lose myself in this feeling. I quit my job, started to travel, and forgot about my career for a short period to grow as a person. The rush of New York fell behind me as I explored who I was and what I wanted in my life. I became serious about my future and started learning Greek and traveled outside of the city to accommodate the relationship and expand my horizons.
“Time to get my shit together.”
I was over the “I am a New Yorker. Look at my new tattoo. I want to be famous.” Stage. I moved into a new beautiful apartment, landed a job with an incredible home interior showroom in Soho based out of Athens, Greece, and am about to celebrate a one-year anniversary with my boyfriend. I speak to incredible Greek teachers over Skype three times a week and study hard everyday. I read books, and love to decorate my brand new, beautiful mold-free apartment. I wear color! (My biggest accomplishment, honestly.) You could say my aspiration is to finally be an adult.
Oh New York, what a love story we have.
Paying Homage to Nostalgia
You know the feeling. The one that induces either comfort or longing as you look at old photos on Facebook or hear that song from high school you used to love. Photos and songs bring back these feelings we can’t really explain because the feeling of nostalgia is different for everyone. It’s such a broad concept, it’s hard to share the comfort with someone else because we all experience it differently. Life has these passing phases, almost like a playlist we have on repeat for a month until times change and you move on to the next one. Sometimes people are like this for us. One minute, you’re spending every moment with that one friend and after a few years you drift apart and things just aren’t the same.
Lately, I’ve been trapped in this cycle of nostalgia. During times of transition, I tend to get stuck listening to old songs I’m tired of and looking at photos from years ago simply because there isn’t enough happening in my new stage of life to replace these memories I’m fond of. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, but now that the weather is colder and I’m in a different stage of life I feel like nostalgia is actually holding me back from experiencing the new people, songs, and experiences that are out there. I can’t help but love the comfort of my favorite Summer songs and watching videos of my family and I laughing at memes on the internet. Here’s an ode to some nostalgic things for me and might help you be exposed to some new inspiration for your Fall mood board or Spotify Playlist.
For starters, here’s a lovely little mood board to set the tone for this post. In high school, I was obsessed with bizarre artsy films and ad campaigns from British designers. The photos resemble feelings or times over the past few years that I love to think about. The #24HrChurch tag on Instagram will help you feel this emotion. In addition, I compiled this playlist of songs that bring me comfort.
I remember watching a movie alone in my parents’ room after applying to an art school in my hometown and this song played through the credits. After doing art the whole day and waiting for the letter in the mail, I knew whatever was going to happen in the future everything was going to be okay. This song played as I replayed the day in my head, but I never would have expected in a year I would be in New York living my dream life.
Exactly a year ago, I was in Cafe Grumpy in Manhattan at night awaiting my shift to start at the flagship Victoria’s Secret. I was drinking a drip coffee and wearing a blazer trying to recover from the cold outside. I was thinking about a boy I had recently met online trying to escape the thoughts of another guy from my past. Little did I know I was about to be promoted to Visual Merchandiser at my job and meet a guy I would spend the next year of my life with.
I remember sitting in my closet (that also happened to house my collection of 200 fashion magazines and my bed) with starry lights covering the walls and a small window next to me while listening to this song as the sun set next to me. I was thinking about the cute boy sitting next to me in art class earlier that day, dreaming about the art I would create the next day while listening to this song.
At the time, I was a barista in Dallas. This song was playing one night I was driving on the highway practicing for my driver’s test. My mom was so proud of me, we stopped at Starbucks and I rewarded my first highway drive with a cup of dark roast. On the way home, my mom and I talked about the dreams we had for our futures and all the things we wanted to do.
Growing up, if school was kicking my ass or if I was heartbroken by a boy, I would shop at the Domain in Austin. I would go into department stores like Saks and Neiman Marcus and gaze at the gorgeous overpriced gowns in the wedding and formal wear department and dream about the fashion industry. One day, after school I stopped by Neiman’s to shop the Rag + Bone collection with my best friend after getting coffee with him at Nespresso. We had this weekly tradition of going together and acting as if we had money for espresso machines and fancy toilets. We would go into the high-end home stores and shop Japanese toilets as if we were 35 + shopping for our condos. I was 16 and loving life.
Sometimes, we need to grieve the past because times change. The key is to not get stuck in it and to learn how to love the present. Like Walt Disney said, “Keep moving forward”.
A Guide to Serenity
I like to talk about adrenaline and rushing from place to place, but some days, like today, I like to appreciate the serene moments. Being a designer in New York, I’m usually going through some drastic change or special occasion so I don’t come across these moments often. The times that inspired my brand the most are the quiet moments I’ve walked by the terrace in Brooklyn Heights while watching the sun set or waking up when everyone else was asleep. My jackets are mostly inspired by people I’ve come across in New York that had such an aggressively cool presence, it pushed me to start purchasing spray paints and coating my jackets in metallic colors and designs. Brick + Clover was established after I traveled to Cyprus and it suddenly became very hard to get back into the swing of the New York rush after living the serene lifestyle by the beach. Now I use both as separate outlets to appreciate how we all love the adrenaline rush in the morning before work (loud music and a shot of espresso) and at night all we need is a book and a cup of tea to appreciate the end of a full day. It’s an expression of lifestyle. How we all need balance to fully express who we are as people being complex beings with a past, present, and future. My art and design is a study in psychology, really. Even my portraits (being as straight forward as they are) are simplistic in the fact I just want to capture someone’s essence in the subtleties.
I thought it was time I compiled a compilation of things to summarize the feeling of serenity. I have a board on my Pinterest called “Holocene” I’ve been using to curate a collective of images to capture this feeling. It’s the feeling of contentment and balance. For some of us this feeling is as simple as our drive home from work, listening to that one song that we listened to on the second date with our love, or maybe waking up in the morning with your cat and eating cereal by the window. It’s simple really, just the feeling of quietness in the chaos that is our life.
Free People: Roshambo feat. Christopher Abbott
This is a fashion film I reviewed for Fashion Mingle a few years back and it’s still my favorite video on the internet. There’s something so unexplainably nice about running into someone by surprise and reuniting with them. Catching up with someone after a long time and remembering the good times you’ve had with them in the past makes us aware of how time passes. With no real plot points or objective, this short is simple and balanced leaving us with a feeling of peacefulness.
Foals – Out Of The Woods
And here it is: Foals. Everyone who knows me knows I am completely and utterly obsessed with this band and it’s simply because they capture every emotion in every song. This song is not loud or quiet, it’s just nice. It makes me think of a weekend in Connecticut with my boyfriend, sister, and brother-in-law.
The Met
Going to a museum by yourself is the most serene experience. Watching people just stand in front of a work of art and process their own interpretation of its beauty forces me to become mindful and detach myself from the chaos in every other area of my life.
Find balance today by becoming aware of the cool air in the morning or watching the sunset before work. Text someone you haven’t spoken to in awhile, and keep in touch with the past by listening to a song you used to love.
While in Cyprus
After three months of waking up at 4 am to make a flagship store in Midtown Manhattan look visually appealing, I quit my job and escaped to Cyprus for a month to experience the Mediterranean summer. I went from attending corporate meetings and fashion blueprints to watching the sun set by the pool while drinking Greek coffee. I had to get used to transitioning my blazer staple to a bikini.
Life in New York can be summarized into one word: adrenaline. Everyone walks down the streets with a cigarette and a coffee while running to work and checking their emails – all at once. According to the New York standard, if you’re not booked solid with brunches and meetings, you are not fulfilling your life purpose. I was starting to question why I was always running on empty, seeking real meaning in the consistent state of chaos and sleep deprivation. Was it for money? Was it for passion? Whatever possible answers raced through my head, it wasn’t enough to keep me going.
My boyfriend was in Cyprus (also known as home for him) all Summer so I booked a plane ticket after quitting my job. Cyprus taught me a new mindset that really challenged my desire for the New York rush. I learned how to savor each moment and become mindful. I sat outside and observed life around me. Sometimes, nothing would happen for hours and I would just breathe deep and become aware of the cool breeze and palm trees. Suddenly, my New York bubble bursted being surrounded by buildings entitled with the Greek alphabet and hearing emphatic and enthusiastic friends drinking cocktails by the pool. The culture there is all about enjoying the company of those you love and allowing life to just happen. You don’t have to book 8 reservations and spend $100 to enjoy an evening like in New York. You could simply stay in and talk to friends over a drink or a coffee. This way of life was far more enjoyable that taking Ubers all over the city to try to find a place to get drunk after a hard day of work. Life was balanced and serene. No adrenaline in sight.
My most vivid memory in Cyprus was on the back of a quad bike at sunset. I was riding on the edge of the island watching people on their balconies just living life. It wasn’t only the bike ride and experience of holding onto the love of my life; it was such a wholesome experience just witnessing dads and their daughters play games outside and seeing single women enjoy a coffee with their cat and a book. Life was being lived as if everything was exactly how it was supposed to be.
Now that I am back in New York moving, job seeking, and embracing an era of change, I am looking forward to creating those serene moments and living life not for the adrenaline rush, but for the balance and beauty of the serene moments. Θα είναι ωραία.
Home
Most of us wake up everyday to a soft light and the sight of a place you’ve seen many times. Perhaps you’re typically alone when you wake up and have comfort in the feeling of having the bed to yourself and waking up to make coffee and watch some videos or read a few pages from your favorite book. Others may wake up to the sight of someone familiar. Their embrace makes you feel safe. The familiarity feels like home and creates a feeling of stability, security, and comfort. Once you arise from bed, it’s time for the routine of breakfast, coffee, and work. Whether you grab your coffee at the same place down the street or you make it with someone you love in the kitchen, this is just another part of your routine that makes you feel safe. On your way to work, you take the same route of trains or car ride while playing that one song that reminds you of all the memories you had while hearing it. At work, that first “hello, good morning” you exchange with fellow coworkers everyday brings a sense of comfort. Once we are back home and return to that familiar environment, we catch up on a few pages of that book or tv show catching up with the same story we’ve been following for some time.
These are the feelings that help us to know what to expect. However, my home is not one person or one place. Similarly to many in the world, it’s spread all over the planet and split amongst so many people. You could say I live in New York but according to the Summer I had, I would say I haven’t properly lived here in awhile. I have a home in Bushwick where people are covered in tattoos and dress like it’s fashion week as they pick up their morning coffee. I have a home in Cyprus that has palm trees in the back yard and open windows with a view of white buildings covering the streets. I have a home in Brooklyn Heights with families everywhere and a beautiful skyline view that lights up at night. I have a home in Connecticut with grass and trees everywhere and bunnies that jump around during the day. I have a home in Michigan with two gentle dogs I grew up with and a live piano typically playing in the background. Each of these places house people that are so significant in my life, it only increases that feeling of home when I wake up to the same sight of the sun through a different window.
Each home has countless memories of board game nights, hours of deep conversation over tea, making pancakes on Sunday mornings with Miles Davis playing in the background, afternoons drinking on greek coffee in the backyard while drawing pictures of the people around me, and evenings laughing in front of the tv sharing commentary with people I love. We long for the consistency and seek this feeling of comfort, but for most of us, the feeling of home changes everyday. Each person and memory creates this general feeling of home that changes over time and creates and general feeling of comfort. Knowing the sun will always rise in the morning and someone I love will share morning coffee with me is enough to make me feel okay. Home is not always where we sleep. Home remains in memories and feelings that come and go and changes consistently in our lives regardless of our “billing address.” But most of all, my true home is the most anticipated that I haven’t seen yet, because it’s still being prepared for the right move-in date that awaits each and every one of us, and that is the true feeling of home that we have yet to experience.
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