Tag: quarantine

This Etch in Time

Hi friends,

Happy May! We made it through April, and I know for many of us it wasn’t easy. The weather has significantly improved in Salt Lake, renewing me with more vitality and optimism than before (thank God). Spring is lush and almost fully actualized. Signs of forward movement are popping up here and there. Businesses in the city have started to re-open, and work in NY may start sooner than I anticipated…

While a lot still remains uncertain, I can’t help but feel that a potential ending to this chapter is near? Which makes me hesitate at the thought of returning to life as normal. Some of the hesitation regards anxieties about public health, some of it is about the flawed normalcy of our society, and some is about losing my personal freedom over time.

I feel extremely blessed for the outpouring of time I received through this quarantine. I know that everybody’s situation was different. Some might’ve been busier than normal, some continued to work, some had families to take care of, etc. But I am grateful to have received that which I was so deeply needing — rest, and renewal, time to be and play and go inwards, inwards, and more inwards. I excavated some old wounds, brought some healing upon them, spent time doodling, writing and making art for myself.

I felt a freedom similar to that of summers as a kid. Months that seemed to stretch on forever, days fading into one another with no sense of order. It’s ironic that within all the limits of this quarantine the word that keeps resonating with me is freedom.

How I was able to find that within the portals of the mind. By letting go of expectations, demands, and through lots of self-compassion.

And as terrifying as it sometimes was to be left with myself, to work through anxiety, and trauma from the past, I will hold what came out of this tenderly.

I just wanted to share a token of gratitude for this strange chapter and what it taught me. For allowing myself to melt into one day and the next, for being messy and untethered, for crying tears of joy, for marveling at the beauty of a tree on my walks around the neighborhood.

This etch in time has bound itself to me forever, like the scars on my legs; each with a story to tell.

xxGabriela

Facing Myself at This Time

Hi, friends:

How are we doing?

The last couple of weeks were challenging for me, and it made me wonder how we’re collectively coping with this new normal.

I’m well into week five of this socially-distanced lifestyle and there have truly been so many ups and downs like I mentioned in my previous newsletter. By the way, thanks to those of you that watched the video! I know it wasn’t the typical newsletter you were expecting, but writing has been particularly hard lately. I’ve been lacking some focus and attention, plus I was really called to go inwards in order to cope with anxiety.

It makes sense that it would arise. You strip away distractions, the general “busyness”we’re so accustomed to, and the ability to socialize in person, and we’re left with plenty of time to face ourselves. To face the thoughts or emotions that were previously easy to suppress. Fortunately, that comes with the gift of healing and moving through them as well.

I’m reminded of a previous time in my life, which coincidentally enough, took place in Utah before I ever thought I’d end up here one day.

When I was sixteen years old I got to go on Outward Bound, a program that takes youth on these long wilderness expeditions. I didn’t really want to do it, but it was a necessary component if I also wanted to go abroad the following summer through this program I was in. Little did I know, this experience would change my life.

I spent 26 days backpacking through the south of Utah and into Colorado alongside other high school students from all over the country. Three of those days were set aside for the “solo”portion, where we were individually split up into our own little camps. I was left with no one in sight — a tarp, water, eight nutritional crackers, some tangerines and trail mix, along with my journal. It was intense, scary, lonely and hugely transformative. This was the only time I’d ever been alone for this long.

I cried for the majority of those three days. Not because I was desperate to get out, but because I could finally feel this deep sadness that had been building up inside me all those years. I could finally stop long enough to give it a portal. I cried for all things, for my family, for my friends, my lover, everything I had painfully experienced in the past. I cried, I sang, and made a list of all the foods I’d eat once I was home again.

As I reflected on the experience, I realized, that time alone to feel and reflect was essential for my well being. I needed to face what I felt inside in order to heal and release it. I vowed to make more space for solitude in the future, to find the time to really sit with myself.

I have yet to return to the woods by myself (though I hope to one day), but I have managed to be alone, mostly in my travels, and while I spent a year in Vietnam. Though the experience of this pandemic is unique in many ways, there is a similarity in the essence of being stripped away of familiarities and comforts, of returning to oneself, in facing what has been suppressed.

Yesterday morning, I felt the peace I had been longing for again. I sat out on the porch, mindfully sipping my tea, teary eyed at having arrived in this moment that felt like bliss. I thought to myself,“I would never take any of it back.”I would never take back the challenges, the pain, the inner struggle, just to be here right now. To feel the lightness of surpassing something that once consumed you, to feel the beauty of your own experience, to love something you once couldn’t stand, particularly if at times that was yourself. I would never take back any of the transformations I’ve experienced and continue to face.

So, if you’re currently going through it my friend, remember this too shall pass. Life ebbs and flows, ebbs and flows — but my experience is that if you find the courage to really sit with whatever arises and to find the support you need, you might come to a place you’d never even imagined.

Sending you love,

Gabriela

Weekly Motivation in Video Form

Hi, friends!

As I sat down to write this week’s newsletter I came across a lot of resistance. I’m exploring intuition and creativity during this time, and practicing letting inspiration guide me on a daily basis. That brought me to recording a video (linked below) in lieu of the typical newsletter. I hope that you enjoy.

Recent Creations:

It’s National Poetry Month, so I’ve been reconnecting with writing poetry, a form I sort of abandoned a few years back. It’s been nurturing to explore different art forms and connect with my subconscious through that exploration. While the prose I write for this newsletter comes from the heart, it feels more analytical than when I write poetry. Sometimes poetry feels like a seperate form of communication, like it doesn’t necessarily have to make sense to the logical mind or have an ending that ties thoughts neatly together. It’s a collage of sentiments, more so an energy than a statement, if that makes sense.

This is a narration of my poem, “A Journey Calls,” along with a paper collage I made to go along with it.

Below, last week’s newsletter in video form. I was feeling nostalgic for outside, for the freedom that nature provides. This is a compilation of nature shots saved in my phone. ❤

Social Distancing Journal | Weekly Motivation #55

Hi, friends! This is a video I made, narrating my latest Weekly Motivation. This is a weekly newsletter I send which you can check out and subscribe to here: https://shoutout.wix.com/so/bbN4ijkMg. It documents what I’ve been experiencing during these times. I used all the nature shots I had in my phone and hope this soothes and comforts you.

Social Distancing. Wisdom & Creativity

Despite the social distancing happening right now, there have been moments I’ve felt a greater connection to all, as we collectively experience history in the making. There have also been moments where the isolation feels gloomy, and the desire to physically gather is palpable.

As we feel the world halt and change, we are all in some way, being pushed up against or totally outside of our comfort zones, forcing us to adapt, and thereby, to grow. This moment has taken us on a self-development journey whether we like it or not, as we face ourselves and face society in new ways. It’s powerful.

I pray that the lessons learned from this chapter will better our world in some way as we better ourselves. And as an eternal optimist, that is what I choose to believe. My personal coping mechanism to life, grief, and uncertainty is to mold the fuck out of it. To see a challenge as a way to practice what I’ve learned. Each experience can be alchemized into medicine if we let it.

My medicine lately has been learning to accept where I’m at each and every day; whether I want to be a sad (or happy) couch potato, or finally finish projects long overdue. I’ve been practicing listening to the desires of my body and intuition, the way I often listen to my mind without question.

There is a new gentleness in that, a new adventure. My body has been loving early bedtimes and daily exercise. I’ve never been a runner but I started jogging around the park regularly, and have fallen in love with it.

I relish the fresh air as it infiltrates my lungs, an accelerated heartbeat, and the sensation of my feet bouncing on the wood chips along the track as it brings me closer to the finish line.

And sometimes, it just wants unadulterated rest — sweatpants, snacks, and movies.

As for my intuition, I’ve been tuning into its guidance to decide what activities to partake in throughout the day. Lately it’s been a lot of cooking. I’m enjoying expressing my creativity within the boundaries of resourcefulness, using only what I have available to make beautiful meals.

And I suppose that’s a metaphor for this experience, and generally, for life. We use what we’re given. It’s through creativity, and the intention to make something beautiful, that we find the nurturing we need.

What are you cooking up?