Last and First

On what would have been Dawnielle Ross's 22nd Birthday, Christian, myself, and Dawnielle's father Tim, ate and drank at a pub near the Rockland Cemetery, after a few of us had gathered for her at her grave. Dawnielle was Tim's daughter, and Tim is like a brother to Christian. Dawnielle and Christian were also very close, she had worked for his company for a few years. I had known Dawnielle for one year before she died, a month after Christian and I broke up.
Dawnielle was everything that is great about this life. She was young, smart, fun, and loved everyone unless they gave her a reason not to. She didn't sit on the sidelines about anything. This girl played full out on the court in every game of her life. She was adored literally by thousands of people.

In one 24 hour period, I mourned and celebrated the life of a young woman taken too soon, the loss of a relationship, and the complexities of love, time, and energy. I had too much to drink with people I love under some extraordinary circumstances. Dawnielle is dead. And there is nothing we can do about that, even on her birthday. But I spent it with two of the closest people to her. I drank with her dad, and laughed with him, and listened to his stories. I sat next to Christian in a bar like I had countless times before, but today was different. Today I wasn't his girl counting how many he had, I wasn't concerned about him being able to drive, I didn't think about what this meant for my future. Today, I was just a woman sitting at a table with two men, drinking, laughing, and crying over the tragedies and truths of a great fucking life.

There was no bullshit at this table. Not with the three of us. There was no denying the anguish Tim was in, no denying the bitter sweetness Christian and I were feeling spending time together, no denying that these were extraordinary circumstances, and even more extraordinary relationships between real people. There were moments between Christian and I that felt like jabs to the jaw, and others that gave me a sense of safety. Stories Tim told that made the hair on my arms stand up straight. His sincerity, his realness, his raw emotion delivered with such a sense of responsibility. Tim is a man that knows that no one knows how to be around him. No one knows what to say, or how to act. There is no handbook for making nice with the man that buried his daughter. The truth is, Tim is still Tim. And I didn't know him very well before Dawnielle died. And I probably wont get to know him any better now. But I am so grateful for this night. Because I got to say the things I wanted to say, and be the person I wanted to be. And it didn't matter that it took four beers and a shot of Jameson to do it, and it still didn't matter when I spent the next four days crying for a breakup I thought I had buried.

I thought somehow I would stop loving Christian. I thought that the conversation would magically dissolve, ensuring that I wouldn’t suffer a single day longer than the duration of the relationship. I thought that I could walk away gallantly, like a soldier returning from battle, proud, and victorious, because yet another break up hadn’t left me crying, and puking, plastered to a fucking tile floor. I really thought it didn’t have to hurt. There was kindness, and love and compassion between he and I on the day we decided to part ways, and that really helped to lessen the blow. I honestly thought I wouldn’t ever need to write about it again.
But now I caught my breath and I’m grabbing my gut, and I’m feeling the emptiness of a relationship lost. Feeling the absence of a human being, that for a time was everything to me, and now, is only a memory, a part of my past. I have no plans that include him in the distant or near future, and it makes me kind of sad. The lessons of this relationship from beginning to end, continue to unfold slowly, everyday. The latest one is realizing that it is possible to love someone as much as I love him, and still leave them.
I think its possible that some people close to Christian and I thought maybe there would be a reconciliation between us after Dawnielle died. On the contrary, it only validated the choice we had made. Life is too short to spend a second of it unhappy. If I learned anything from Dawnielle's early passing its that my life, in the end, belongs to me and only me. And my happiness is my responsibility, no one else's. I was born alone, and I really will leave this earth alone too. What matters most, is what I do with the time I have in between. The difference I make in the lives of the people I care most about. I have loved and will continue to love, and I have lost big, because I've had the balls to risk big.

Later that night after the pub, Christian took me to the bridge to get a bus across back to The Heights. We told each other how much fun we had together, and it was emotional for both of us. The alcohol, the Day, the love, all came down on us in the front seat of the GTI, that I so miss. I got out of the car sobbing. I got on the bus waiting directly behind Christian's car, searched for cash with blury eyes, tears pouring down my face. I paid and sat all the way in the back of the bus. And then I heard a voice say "Eva...Eva..." The voice sat next to me. It was Gardner Rivera, my first love.

I hadn't seen him in almost five or six years, and we share a lengthy history that has impacted me in ways I think I still have yet to see. We have long moved on from our 3 time relationship, and don't ever speak. And there he was, magically, really. It felt like something very big was at work. Something that you can't hold in your hand, but only in your heart. I was transported to a time in my life when love was simple. When it was only about what felt good and not about making a life together. When it was safe to love like a kid and not think about the future, and marriage and babies, and careers. There was a part of me that couldn't believe this night was real. I felt the pulse of the universe when I saw Gardner's face a few minutes after seeing Christian's.
My last love and my first, separated only by ten feet and 90 seconds. And connected by one very lucky girl.

Child Wise

If I am still, where I stand, the moment can move me. I dont have to bend time to be with myself, or rewrite history to find some peace. In stillness there is redemption. I don't need to be forgiven for all the past I cant undo. In the warmth of my tears, I find freedom. I find salvation for a child's soul in an adult body. I muffle the cries of a daughter asking to be relieved of something she cant change, because it was never hers to begin with. There is a reason in Yoga, why Child's pose is also known as Wisdom pose. And I am learning it slowly, fumbling like the adult I am. As I bend forward and arch back, I tell a story that doesn't belong to me. The tears pour out and down my face for a lifetime I haven't lived, and a love I haven't fully known and never will. I don't own this. I only come from it, and I must find a way to make it mine.
So I bind and twist, and wring it all out, because if its all on the mat when I'm finished then Ive done my job. I practice Asana like I write. I dont hold on to anything, I leave it all there on the mat and the page. People say I'm brave for being able to bear my soul with the pen. Say that its a gift to have this way with words. And with the gift, comes the fear of letting go so much of myself, that there wont be any me left, for me.

One Eight Seven

I am floating in a dream of an urban childhood.
Dancing around memories of a youth that has rooted me
even when I didn't want to be rooted in anything.
A fifteen year reunion is rare.
But the love that filled that house, is not.
I am better for having loved,
the ones I loved,
when I was young.

NYC, October 2009

"Feelin It"

I've been trying to write this for days. Looking for the words to paint the picture of my weekend that still has me smiling and gigling to myself. The truth is I can't describe what happened. All I know is how it felt.

How it felt to be Armenian standing next to other young Armenians with our red, blue and orange flags and our signs saying that we will not settle for bullshit protocols that allow Turkey to continue their lies. How, no matter how hard they try they can not rewrite their bloody history.

No, there are no do-overs for 1.5 million Armenians massacred and there wont be any for you.

How it felt to be a part of something that so many had traveled so far to be present for. Chicago, Philly, Boston, Providence, Florida, Racine, Jersey, and NY, we were all there. How it felt knowing that my Grandfather had literally spent his whole life doing exactly what I was doing, and how I feel like I will never be able to do enough, starting this late in the game. Pride, hope, and a bit of shame, since my face at these things over the years has been a rarity. And I left promising myself that I would do more, though I feel like I have already failed.

And then, there was.....that face...the familiar one. The smart one, the Queens one, the one I saw first, many years ago when it was only 17...

And now it's 25, fresh out of law school, and it felt like no time had passed since I saw him last in 06'. It felt like we were an old school hip hop song being played for the first time in a decade. Like two neighborhood kids being reunited under the trees. It felt like a great fight, like the ones in 02'. It felt like crispy September flattery, with young hands and smart words. Too smart for his own good, and too cute for mine...felt like I could get into a whole lot of trouble....

That's what Saturday felt like.

Sunday felt like the whole world was Abbey Lawn. Felt like the whole world was Washington Heights. Felt like the whole world was a Patchwork of Young Leaders Society. It felt like we were the chosen ones, because on that day, we all chose each other. For 108 sun salutations, we were the ones. It felt like for the first time I had something to show for my great idea. I had bodies ready, willing, and able, to do something they had never done before in the name of peace, simply because they were asked to. The Global Mala for Peace happened all over the world on Sunday, but we, made it happen here, in our world, in our home, in our hood, on our turf, with our hearts.
I was the proudest I have ever been on Sunday. Of myself for organizing something from creation to completion, and for everyone that came, contributed, and trusted me enough.

I have been giddy since I left those kids in the park. Left their smiling faces, their warm sincere thank yous, and the love light in their eyes that can only come from learning something new, and doing something that they understood to be bigger than themselves. New relationships were formed on Sunday. Relationships that will change peoples lives, and make a difference in our community. One day, for all time.

It felt like I came out of myself. Like the me I know is in there is the girl who had this weekend.

My weekend wasn't great because I wore a great outfit. Or because I went out every night to a different place, and not because I partied until 4am.

But because I stood up for something,
many things, I believe in.
Because, I felt like it.

It's Good it Should be That Way

Its like I have a million histories sitting in the crease, where my neck and shoulders meet.

You know, that perfect spot to kiss, yes, that one.

That's where it hurts.

Or at least that is where the pain is, it probably hurts in places I don't even know, I don't know. All this, and I still feel as if there is nothing to write about.

I sat down to write this last night and was pleasantly distracted by a text message that led to about an hour of facebook chatting. "I should be blogging." I said to myself. Two seconds later I remembered my blog was about happiness, and decided "in this moment, this conversation, is making me happy." And threw the "should" out the window.

I've never like that word much, though it is necessary to describe ideal duties that have been proven to be appropriate. You "should" love your mother. You "should" parent your children. You "should" pay taxes. You "should-not" drink and drive. You "should" be happy
It is also a great way to describe universal events that "should" or "should-not" occur. For example, a parent "should-not" bury their child. A father "should" walk his daughter down the isle. You get the picture.

So how do we account for all the ways we think it should be, that just cant be? How do we cope when our circumstances, and the people we love, are not the way we think they "should" be. When your mother unfortunately kicked you out young and you lived in your car or you were homeless, and you just don't have it in you to love her. Or when a man fathers a child, he never even wanted to begin with, and doesn't choose to have anything to do with raising his baby. How about, in the most tragic of circumstances, when a 21 year old daughter falls off the back of a speeding bike and dies, before her parents. How do humans cope when things that shouldn't happen, do?

We say it's wrong. It's unfair. We say it shouldn't be this way, even though, clearly, it is. We get angry, and mourn, and grieve, and we look for someone to blame. We say "My mother never loved me." and "Her father is a piece of shit." We cry "She went before her time, too soon, too young." We speak as if some horrible universal mistake has been made, because we think its easier than finding acceptance for the way that it really is. But the suffering is really in the resistance of it all. The peace lies in the acceptance. Once again it is in the letting go. There is freedom in giving up the way we think it should be, it creates possibilities for us that before, were in our blind-spots.

So maybe life is just a series of should and should-nots, and we get to choose ours. To have and to hold, to love and let go. You should and should not. These days, I prefer to speak on what I want rather than what I think I should want. What makes me happy as oppose to what should make me happy. Giving up the shoulds, and shouldnts allow us to be in the moment in a way that is not possible while we're taking inventory of our happiness and unhappiness. It gives us the space to be with what is, whatever it is, and maybe even say "Its good, it should be that way."

Yoga before coffee turned out to be a good thing.

I woke up at 9:15 am. "Shit..class in 45 minutes."

I have not practiced since the week following my break up when I did 3 hours of yoga with a half hour meditation in between, in one day. My neck is tight, my shoulders are high, and one of my favorite teachers has been in town for a few short days and this was my last chance to practice with her for maybe forever. Unless of course I find myself in Vero Beach, Florida one day soon. Shelley Adelle was my manager once upon a time at my beloved yoga studio in Hell's Kitchen. She became my friend one Saturday morning about two years ago when I lost the keys to the studio and could not open the door. I called her frantic at 6 am and left a message pleading for help and forgiveness. She returned my call with both.
Later that day, at the studio, when doors were opened, and yogis were on their mats, she enlightened me on a subject that has become a favorite of mine. The astrological phenomenon called the Saturn Return. I had expressed to her that I was feeling like I was losing my mind (along with the studio keys) and couldn't get a handle on anything. I felt like I was headed for a nervous breakdown (I actually did wind up having one of those at a later date.) After telling her my age she replied with a very casual "Oh! its your Saturn!" I've been studying astrology since I was 12, and this I had never heard of. Saturn is the planet of lessons, karma, and father figure. It also happens to be the slowest moving planet. It takes Saturn 29 years to fully orbit one time. Which means that the year you turn 29, Saturn is back in the zodiac position it was in when you were born, since you were born. And depending on what sign it was in, there is a specific area of life that Saturn is returning to teach you about. Now, I was 27 and a little under two years away from my actual Saturn Return, but when I started reading about the subject I found that one can feel the affects of the return as early as 26, lasting past the 30th birthday. I have become well versed in the subject of Saturn since Shelley's first mentioning of it. I know what to expect of it, how to deal with it, and how NOT to piss this planet off. I am currently awaiting Saturn to return to my sign of Libra on October 29 of this year. And I owe the existence of this conversation in my life all to Shelley.
But I got something else out of my cosmic conversation with Shelley. Our relationship was no longer only about clients and Karmi* stuff, it was about my life, my heart, and my sanity. I jumped at the chance to talk to Shelley when we were at the studio together, about whatever was going on in my life at the moment, a new great guy (the ex), quitting my stuffy desk job, a new poem, a bad fight with the new great guy (I think we know who this is now yes?) Until she left New York in the Spring of 09'. Needless to say, I was bummed when Shelley left, but I was also completely inspired, and totally happy for her. I knew that she would one day return to visit. And the day had come..

And here I was lazy, laying in my bed 45 minutes before the start of her last class in NY for God knew how long. I tossed and turned. Told myself, you don't have to go, she will totally forgive you. But dragging my ass out of my bed had nothing to do with Shelley. I knew that if I didn't go, I would be the one missing out. Up I went, out the door, no time for coffee.

On my way there I thought about how my life had changed from the way it was the last time I saw her. I reminisced over the lessons I have learned, the battles I have fought, won, and lost. The growing I have done. My relationship with that great guy, that I use to seek her advice about had since come to an end, I had completed the same teacher training certification program she had done years ago at our studio, and somehow, someway I had become an adult, just like her.

I had new skin walking into her class today, and I was proud of the life I am living. I cried many tears to Shelley, and she wiped them all away always. "Keep doing yoga." she would say. This glorious woman only two years my senior, that somehow always seemed to know so much more about me than I did. It was great to be with her as always, but what was even better, was to be with myself, in her presence.

After class, I walked across the street to the market and got myself the coffee I had done without first thing in the morning... It never tasted so good.

Karmi*-one who is of service to a yoga studio/community.

Letting Go

Testing...testing...is this thing on. Ok, here I go. This is the spot, the place, to be. To learn life's lessons, to set yourself free. Corny rhymes, and cheesy lines and hard words learned. I'm gonna blog it all people...this space, I've earned.

I've been writing since I was seven. Poems, memoir you name it I've written it. Its been an outlet for me over the years to get what was inside--OUT...in 11 weeks I will turn 29...saturn is creepin' up doing his work growing me and shoving that fabulous mirror in my face all the time reminding me who I am, and who I be...living back at home with the two previous generations before me of crazy Greek women...no formal job, and The Man and I just walked our seperate ways after 14 months of almost-sort-of-not-so-much-bliss...

Happiness, and our plight for it, really really hurts sometimes.

It was a crispy Labor day when marina said "You should blog." in Bevin's kitchen in Staten Island. Now Marina, who's been my evil twin sister since I was five has had some pretty great ideas for my life in the past twenty four years...sending me a craigslist posting for bartenders needed in a club on a Greek island that lead to me actually spending the summer of 04' neatly tucked away in the middle of the Agean..lets see what else..well.... that actually may be it but that was good enough for her to get me to listen to her for the rest of my life. So, here I am. A little scared, a little excited, a little "will they really like me..?" And then I had this life altering thought..."It doesn't really matter if they like me." All that matters is that I am honest, and I do what makes me happy. And writing, has always made me happy. So if the truth, even in its ugliest form at times..is your cup of tea, I am indeed the girl for you.

Lessons in happiness. The words crept into my head this weekend. Sort of a title track for the life I'm living right now. Not good or bad, right or wrong. Only "Does it make me happy? Do I WANT this?" Its kinda of a sick joke how we learn what we really want and love by learning all the shit we hate and can do without first. Its like a rite of passage to be incredibly disappointed repeatedly only to have your tears and broken heart steer you in the right path that you never would have found if your feelings were still intact.

I am a better woman for having been with my ex.

(God I hate that pre-fix..ex...but its much easier to type than "former boyfriend". So lets make it clear, there is no negative connotation when I refer to him as "ex" its just shorthand.)

Ending a relationship is hard. It's hard to walk away from someone you love, even when you know that the both of you have come to a point where you are better off seperate than together. When no matter how desperately you both want to make a difference, there is no longer any contribution to be made in the context of a romantic partnership. Hard to pack your bag and hand in your key, and walk away from not just a person, but a life. A life you are saying out loud that you dont want to live anymore. Love, is a great thing, it is capable of overcoming extraordinary things, however, no amount of love, can replace happiness. And until a single human figures out precisely what it is that brings them happiness, it will be impossible for them to find it in a partnership. We could have stayed together..sure...but for what? the sake of staying together. That wasn't are style. We kept it real for 14 months, and going our seperate ways was our way of going out, honestly, in integrity, and with love. It was probably the most mature adult thing we both did in the 14 months we were together. Amazing how that works huh?
I had a fleeting moment in the hours following the break-up, where I felt guilty for leaving him. Felt like I had failed as a woman, as a girlfriend, as a human. I actually thought for split second that I had abandoned him, despite that fact that he didn't protest when I suggested we part ways. And then, it occurred to me, maybe I did him a giant fucking favor. Maybe, most likely, he wanted this, but couldn't let it come out of his mouth..my grasp was so tight he was choking on "Please I love you, now leave me alone...". The peace came after that, knowing that I had given another great human the gift of freedom. I handed his heart back to him with a little something extra that said "Go..go find the life you want, the love you want, the things you need. Go, I will love you always, and never ever regret. I thought the happiness was in the holding on. The staying and sticking it out. I was wrong. The happiness I was missing, was in the letting go. First lesson in happiness, done.