The Fire Within

Hi, friends:

Greetings from New York! I was living here prior to COVID and didn’t know just how long I’d be gone for, so I kept my room here in Brooklyn. I’m finally back to say goodbye, lease out my room and gather my things. It’s bittersweet.

As some of you know, I spent the majority of quarantine in Utah, where I was welcomed by bountiful nature, a quietness, a home. I instantly felt how much I needed that type of peace and it was hard to ignore that New York no longer felt right.

Though my initial plans of staying in Salt Lake fell through, it opened up the opportunity to dust off dreams of long-term travel and execute this new life path as soon as possible

(& whenever the world allows).

If anything, COVID and the uncertainties it came with inspired me to lean towards bold choices. It made me long for many freedoms, including travel abroad. I don’t ever want to take that for granted again or miss another window of opportunity.

It’s not always easy to shift my direction based on feelings—these intuitions I receive like little nudges from my soul. But I try to obey, because by now I know the cost of not doing so is my happiness.

Sometimes I trip up and doubt myself. Specially when people I love question my path. Or when the journey is not easy to traverse. Recently, dealing with the logistics of renting out my room in New York has been stressful.

That, on top of the intensity of the world—plus the losses and redirections I’ve experienced in the last few months—have all left me feeling defeated from time to time.

I’ve cried, I’ve prayed, I’ve drank.

But this fire inside me burns.

There is something it yearns for. Always curious to see what’s around the bend, how the story unfolds, what miracles might arise. As much as we may sometimes think we’re afraid of the unknown, we keep walking right into it.

Even if the world turns on its head again tomorrow, and my plans no longer align with the Gods—I can’t imagine anything short of continuing to strive for happiness. Continuing to create, pray, and even laugh.

On the worst days, when I’m afraid of becoming attached to my dreams of the future, that is the simple hope that keeps the fire alive.

And on better days, when I’m able to find refuge in the present, and embrace simple joys and gifts—like bathing under the long awaited sunshine—I dream.

I manifest.

I visualize my feet in moistened sand, legs enveloped by warm water coming to and from shore. Laughing with strangers who are now friends. Planning adventures on a whim. All the things I love about travel.

Just up ahead. I trust in the timing of things. The embers inside release into the wind.

Love,

Gabriela

The Year of Door Closures

At first glance, 2020 has been the year of door closures. But you know what they say, “another opens.”

Plans and ideas of what life would look like have continually changed, some becoming completely irrelevant by now.

My friend Anna and I took a trip to southern Utah a few days ago to visit some parks. Finding ourselves both jobless and fed up with life indoors, we planned the trip out in a matter of days and quickly executed. It was something that wouldn’t have otherwise gone down with such haste.

Hiking and surrounded by the dramatic landscapes of earth-red cliffs at Zion Park, I asked her, “What would your life look like right now if COVID had never happened?”

I pondered the same. I would be in New York, at the same job, grinding, and probably still in my long-distance relationship. Maybe I would’ve stayed in New York for years to come. Or maybe I would’ve eventually moved back to Utah to be with my boyfriend. It was a decision I was always mulling over in the back of my mind. So much so that my existence in New York often felt threatened by a potential move. New York or Utah? I lived between two worlds.

Then COVID happened and I was laid-off overnight. This was my chance to leap into the other path — back to Utah where my partner patiently awaited me. “It’s like the world is bringing you back to me,” he said, after I excitedly told him I was returning for an undetermined amount of time. It was romantic, and finally, that nagging question of where I should live seemed to find an answer.

“I have a feeling my life is about to really change,” I predicted to my friend Jess as I packed a suitcase. It just felt so obvious at the time. Being back in Utah would bring my partner and I closer together, and I wouldn’t want to leave again. I was being led to build a permanent life out west. This was the easy path. So I thought.

Rewind to a couple weeks earlier.

I’m sitting at McCarren Park in Greenpoint after work, basking in the much-needed sunshine after a long New York winter. I’m talking to Jess on the phone and contemplating whether I should fully commit to the city or move back to Salt Lake to basically settle down and start a family. It was all being offered to me if I just returned. But New York was my dream, the place I’d longed to be in since I was a kid. And finally, I was there, in a job that I liked, finding my footing in that crazy city. “Salt Lake would be the easy choice,” I told her. “But I’m not usually an easy choice type of person.”

Maybe there never is an easy choice. Maybe each choice comes with as many blessings as it does predicaments. Maybe you think you’re choosing the easy path but really by doing so you create the pain of denying your potential. Or perhaps, all paths — temporary and shifting, eventually lead towards a deeper knowing of yourself and of life.

When I lost my job and decided to fly back to Salt Lake, I thought the universe was kindly throwing me a bone and letting me take the easy route — giving me a break from the incessant striving towards my full potential, the embodiment of New York.

Nah. It was yet another opportunity to grow. Salt Lake was not easy. COVID has not been easy. But it forced me to look at unhealed parts of myself and to bring tenderness to them. So in that respect, life was loving to me.

My relationship did not make it, and that felt like a door closing. A path no longer available.

I arrived back in the Bay Area yesterday — back at my mom’s, a square one that was always waiting for me.

Amidst all the fall outs, I can’t help but to come up with another plan, another idea of what life could be. Each redirection feels permanent as it happens, but I should know by now they never are.

This time the plan is so vague maybe it can’t really be called a plan. A hope, a desire that burns deep within my chest. The taste of freedom. Sun-drenched skin and sea-washed hair. Words and creativity.

Ties to places have come undone. The open road emerges past closed doors.

She cannot be contained.

xxGabriela

Life-Design

Hello again, friends!

I missed you last week but it was essential for me to pause and simply be. My grandmother recently passed away and I needed time to sit with the news, to reconnect with family, and finally — to rest.

With the news of my grandmother’s passing, everything was put on hold for a little, as feelings demanded to be felt and surrendered to. The grieving process is a strange one, with unpredictable waves of peace, then disbelief, mixed in with pangs of sorrow that hit you out of nowhere. I’m not sure that I can (or ever) will fully comprehend the totality of losing someone you love, or of the sureness of death. We fall for forever every time, despite knowing that death is natural and will happen to us all — and generally, to our grandparents sooner rather than later. Still, it catches you off guard.

I wasn’t planning on fully delving into grief today. I wanted more so to connect on the issue of time. But the process of losing someone reawakened something in me. This need to be the observer in my life again — to take a step back, to reassess, and rebuild.

I’m recognizing more and more how the feeling of being constantly rushed, along with my own expectations of productivity had a hold of me, even though there was no need for the acute intensity of it all. Sure, the energy of modern life is quick and easy to become submerged in — but I have more control of my experience with time and productivity than I initially thought.

Life-Design:

Something I’m deeply passionate about is what I like to call “life design.” To me, it means being boldly intentional about our goals and desires and creating our own individual blueprint for how we want our lives to look like. Each person’s values and personality are unique, and the way the different facets of our lives come together (our careers, relationships, and schedules to name a few) should reflect that as best as possible.

If we’re not consciously aware of our own desires and value systems, it’s easy to fall into societal conditioning and give into that gnawing pressure to do this or that on some sort of timeline — whether it be marrying by a certain age, or striving for a version of “success” you may not even agree upon.

The point of life design is to determine your own definition of success and of a good life. Not society’s. Not your family’s, nor your friends. It poses you to determine what is of most value to you, and to consider what you’re willing to do in order to reshape the way you structure your time and energy according to those values.

Part of my own journey has involved shedding what others expected of me — particularly the pressures I felt most strongly from my grandmother to succumb to a type of life I didn’t want to live.

In grandma’s ideal reality, I would’ve been a doctor, an accountant, or worked in any sort of office, honestly. Something conventional and easy to define. (She never understood what “life coaching” was, and I stopped trying to explain). I also would’ve been married to a handsome prince (literally, a prince) and stayed close to home, forever.

But my wild soul was stubborn and loud, and I answered its call, which took me around the globe, searching searching searching for my own version of a good life. Most of the time, that just meant freedom. Freedom to travel, to explore, and to be on a creative path. It then evolved to finding my purpose and turning my passions into a living, which is what I’m currently working on.

But the striving became too tiring. I demanded a lot of myself on a daily basis, struggled with comparison, and became worn out. Luckily, I didn’t fully burn-out, but I suspect I was headed there. This pace became my norm, my auto-pilot — until recently.

Every so often, life calls for a re-design.

These days, I am working on appreciating time. Not being so quick to spend it on accomplishing task after task, but really sulking in the moments. It looks like:

Giving myself the space to enjoy the process. Focusing on one thing at a time, and delving into one fraction of a project at once. Meditating for longer, allowing myself to do things for fun, or simply relishing in a cup of coffee or the way the sunshine feels on my skin after a long winter. It was a decision to redefine success as the enjoyment of the little moments that make up a day; a lifetime.

The days feel longer, with more profound focus, and there’s been a birthing of new ideas. Overall, it’s a better relationship with myself and with time. I can breathe, and remember that it was never a race to begin with, it was more like a road trip headed home.

xxGabriela

Adapting and Transitioning

Now that I’m a full blown New Yorker and here 100% of the time, I’ve noticed how much faster I’m moving on a day-to-day basis. Each minute feels like an opportunity to be productive, and sometimes it’s too much to try and keep up. Perhaps this is not just a New York thing, and no matter where you’re at, you may be facing similar feelings, too. Let’s pause and breathe for a minute.

I mentioned in my last newsletter that I’d left my job as a flight attendant and started working at a healing center in NY. I’ve been processing so many emotions about the transition — both happy and uncomfortable ones. Moving quickly and filling my days with tasks was a great way to distract myself from the self-doubting feelings that arose. I now realized how much I was imposing on myself to accomplish and that I have much more control in slowing down and setting the pace of my own life.

It’s rare for me to not be in some sort of transition, and in a sense, all of us are constantly needing to adapt. Whether it’s adapting to the season, to a new environment, or perhaps to a more subtle change, like a new perspective or revelation. It’s so important to be gentle with ourselves and allow the proper space to process it all, and there are many ways to do this.

I recently did two live streams on Youtube in regards to these topics. One is: How to Support Yourself Through a Transition, and the other is Slow Down and Reduce Stress and Overwhelm.

In both videos I offer some tips on how you can make small changes to create more space for mindfulness, self-care, and support.

What’s one thing you can do today to help you through whatever it is you’re processing?

For me, it’s participating in a positive and uplifting inner-dialogue. Nourishing myself with thoughts of gratitude, and of hope and excitement for the future. It really is the little things that can brighten our experience, help us feel taken care of, and make it easier to take it day by day.

You got this 🙂

New York Bound

The past few days I’ve been taking some space. Some space to feel through this transition, some space to enjoy Salt Lake City, and some space for self-care. I spent two days at the spa and I have no regrets. Though I could feel on a surface level how my move from Salt Lake to NYC was affecting me, I knew that I had to go deeper and allow myself to mourn and accept this change, as well as to offer myself the support and care I desired.

I noticed a few days ago that I started to get pain in different parts of my body, particularly in my hand. I looked up what emotions hand pain could be linked to, and found that it can indicate trouble letting go. That hit home.

It’s hard to admit that I am struggling with that, because I want to jump into life in New York City weightless, and with open arms. But it’s difficult to leave something you built, even if that was an emotional refuge of sorts.

I experienced so much growth, love, and companionship in Salt Lake, that despite the things the city lacked for me, I know I’ll look back at this chapter with gratitude and some nostalgia. I can now see the beauty in having had something wonderful enough to miss.

When we feel uprooted, we can remind ourselves that home is where the heart is — in you. Each time I move, I’m astounded at the ability to make a home within myself; how one can take refuge in their bodies and being.

Another quote comes to mind: “Everywhere you go, there you are.” It carried a negative connotation when it was first presented to me, like, “You can never run away from yourself.” But, isn’t that perfect, too?

You will always, always have yourself, your one true home. And when we move from chapter to chapter, we’re really just renovating our inner home, using new experiences, connections and energies as building blocks.

When I think of my transition in those terms, it makes it easier to let go of a physical place, and of an experience. Life in Salt Lake changed my inner world, and I take that with me, this time as I build.

I’m Back!

9 weeks later… I’m back!

First time writing in a while and I already feel like crying. The last two months of my life have been a whirlwind of emotions, late nights, stress, and beautiful moments of connection, leading up to the unmatched joy of new beginnings.

All of it begs to be expressed and released through me—writing is one of the ways I choose to do it.

In case you didn’t read my newsletter sent out roughly 9 weeks ago—I was in flight attendant training for 8 weeks, and announced I may not be writing for a while. Most moments were spent either in class, studying, or sleeping. I have never been so intently focused on, and immersed in one subject matter in my life.

Being the creative, and curious type that I am, it was extremely difficult not to have the time and freedom to explore hobbies and passions, let alone, to relax. I have a new sense of appreciation for MY LIFE, which is dynamic, and full of colorful past times and the ability to create.

Since I left training, my body has been attempting to recuperate through hours and hours of sleep, and to find its balance between the time zones. My mind busily absorbs all the endings and new beginnings. What just happened? What is happening?

What is happening is I’m now in LA, my new base and “home away from home.” I will be working trips from LA while still living in Salt Lake City and flying back home on my free time. It’s actually pretty common to “commute” from state to state in the airline industry, though the overwhelm of it is still palpable.

On top of that, most of my trips this month are red eyes and I am an early bird to a fault. Yikes! Talk about disoriented sleep schedule.

My intention here is not to complain —I prayed, and worked tirelessly to be where I am today, but still there is this very human thing in me to find fault at the result of each success. Can you relate?

So, this is where I must stop myself: Breathe, acknowledge where I am (somewhere I once desired badly to be), thank myself for getting here, and see the positive in the situation.

I am a freakin’ flight attendant! Which means I travel for a living. Wild. And I get to fly back home when I’m free. For free.

Writing those words fills me instantly with gratitude and the overwhelm slowly begins to dissipate. Because I know, everything is alright. Better than alright.

Reflection Moment:

What have you recently accomplished that you’re proud of?

What have you achieved that you once truly desired?

I’m going to change the name of this newsletter to Weekly Motivation and do my best to write one weekly, on whichever day I’m free.

It feels amazing to be here again, after all this time and I thank you for your patience and your readership. It means the world!

Love,

Gabriela