Day 19. It’s the simple things.

It’s day 7 of voluntary social distancing here in New York and staying at home has been a challenge and a blessing. Now we have all the time in the world to focus on the things that we could never catch up on before. Time has become a loose and fluid entity these past few days. Hence why I’ve taken a couple of days off the daily challenge to just reflect and connect with my breath and my thoughts and write something different.

I’ve slowed down so much from my previous rhythms, that I’ve had so much more time to reflect on what really matters here and what doesn’t. There are opportunities in this global health crisis we can’t afford to miss. We’ve been either forced to stop what we were doing before but also take stalk of what the hell we’ve been doing to our planet to each other and ultimately our own health. We’re nothing next to this enemy within.

We’ve been told to stay home, help the collective good for once instead of the personal gain. We’re going stir crazy in our forced solitude, and all of a sudden it’s become a reflection on the little things. That is all that truly is on my mind these days. The grind has stopped and sharing a cherished moment talking to a loved one has taken ultimate priority over anything else.

I ( hope) know this too shall pass but we’re at a pivotal point in our existence and the space we inhabit and no amount of analysis will change it. Here’s a few things I’ve taken from the past

In the past week, I’ve cooked a home made meal for me and my housemate every night. I’ve listen to music and read a book with so much attention I forgot to stop at 2 am. I’ve stretched and moved with my friends in Athens who are also cooped up in their homes without any clear idea of when this will end. And all that I am craving is the little things that make life worth living.

The delicate and personal, the memories and the things we share with those we most cherish. The beauty of this planet and the connections we build. The smell of a home cooked meal and the clink of a glass of wine with friends in a shared tavern table just at the foot of the Agean sea. The crisp folding of a page from a book I can’t put down and the feeling of clean air against my face. Quiet mornings sipping a cup of coffee with my family before the day unfolds. No amount of technology can replace it although taking to friends and family daily is of utmost importance. The list of little things is like a treasure trove that we nibble at when all the supplies have been depleted. And here we are cherishing all that we took for granted. Living what we thought was a given and saying all we thought was understood.

Let’s hope we share on those small joys more often.

Onwards to day 20.

Gotham’s Magic- A love learned.

How to Seek for Novelty in the Familiar.

Grand Central 8:00 am

Living in one place long enough, you forget to see it with curious fresh eyes. You walk up the same train station, drive the same route to work, take the same street to your yoga practice, gym, dance class; go to the same cafe or bar for a drink with friends. None of this is bad per se. There is something beautiful, comforting even, about the familiar faces and places you encounter every day. Yet shaking up the pot ignites renewed curiosity in a place that has become part of your everyday life.

Prospect Park Winter Sun

I challenge myself to the newness of things in order to avoid getting into a much dreaded rut. Daily life is not often full of wonder, unless we make a concentrated effort. Practice, go to work, teach, give massages, come home, cook, write. Rinse and Repeat. I try to stay true to my commitment to novelty, curiosity and keeping a fresh eye on things I see everyday. The reason? I have to gaze at things with absence of predictive air, feeding my need to stay present so I don’t get lost in the same story line. So I don’t get lost in myself.

sunburst sunday rush

Routines, set schedules, predictable outcomes can be equal part comforting and a trap. Looking up at that special moment when all you want to do is bury yourself in the same thing over and over again requires a little extra effort. I say this because falling in love with a place you don’t consider your home requires effort, presence and a sense of wonder. Falling in love with it when it’s all you know is twice as challenging.

Brooklyn- Manhattan Q Train

New York is not an easy broad ( and for me she IS a broad— not a lady, or a missus, or a woman she’s a broad with whatever images you care to understand reflect that characteristic).

East Side light.

She is harsh, unromantic and somewhat uglypretty. ( a Greek word not really translatable “ασχημόρμοφη” ) a trait she shares with my hometown Athens, who’s femininity is always cast over with a shadow of the unkempt or wild. Taking her for granted and ignoring her nuanced beauty is easy to miss. She’s not glamorous or sexy like Paris or Rome but she’s enchanting, and when you take a moment to notice; she will make you fall in love with her. Unlike my love for Athens, which is in my blood, my love for New York has been peppered with anger, loneliness, pure joy, grittiness and forgiveness. New York is a cinematic love, Athens is a poetic one.

Astor Place – Cooper Union
The witching hour- Soho

Living and learning to love a city that is not my place of birth is about a deeper kind of love. It’s about understanding the hustle, the grind, and the soul of this metal giant, as the facade of its deep felt inherent kindness and humanity. Some days it takes effort and patience not reserved for your average New Yorker …. but just like I’m not your average Athenian, I’m certainly not your average New Yorker.

Belonging to this city is a work in progress, and like most die heard New Yorkers will never miss a chance to state that: you don’t deserve to be called one unless you’ve spit blood, sweat and tears for it. Noticing it’s magic, however belongs to everyone regardless of socioeconomic status, birthplace, or location. Ive learned to love New York as I hade learned to love myself. She has become a part of me and I a part of her, and every now and then she enchants me, this gal of mine.

Brooklyn- home ( away from Home)

Wandering Child- The Journey

Somber mornings, built in longings, and the sea awaits. Crossings, passages, journeys of time, sublime aromas of a land that is my sacred place. Intoxicating smells of the past coming back to me at last. Long lost destiny starts with just one step, but I’ve been walking for miles and miles and I’m growing tired.

What do you do for yourself they ask. I have a task, herculean at best. There is no rest for my body tonight.

Frightful faces look at me as I smile, they must not have seen joy in a while. Staring in disbelief that someone can break the spell of misery, it’s not a mystery. Listen to my liturgy. Amen

Strange men pause their eyes one me.

Breaking the sanctity of my solidarity.

What the fuck are you looking at…My tongue gets caught in a reaction but I bite it hard.

I close my joy in a box to share with those who give it back.

It’s a rarity in these strange times. To find the sublime in the ordinary and mundane.

The rain keeps falling on the streets of familiarity, my old haunts. They fault me, chase me away.

Yet I return changed.

Memories streaming like the rivers formed by the first fall rain.

Athena is washed clean after a summer of debauchery and tourist delights.

They will soon go as they always do, to leave our land for us to clean up.

Fast forward to a quiet space. Against the race of time. It’s all mine now, this moment. Atonement for my sins. Quietly knocking down my resignation to this abomination this greed. I plant the seed to a new life, walking away from the past like a lion roaming the earth in search for a place to call home.

And then… silence awaits.

Her Eyes — Poem

Mural by artist SimpleG – Athens, Greece

her eyes

still alive

despite her fight to survive.

Her defiance her drive.

Alive.

Her smile.

She

thrives.

I hope she defies the odds that deny her supposed circumstance her lost chance her “fate”.

You can’t deny her fire.

Her desire.

In spite,

of

it

all.

Her Eyes

She’s not too late to turn her life around.

Rebound.

Fly

Dribble through the rubble of her life.

The strife

She Thrives

Destiny drives…. her fire despite her current situation

Pay attention to the spark in her

her eyes.

They are still alive despite her fight to survive.

Her defiance

her drive.

Her eyes

Still alive

Despite her fight to survive

She’s on fire.

She’s on fire.


Please visit the artist’s page for more info at :

https://simpleg.net/

Day. 13 &14- Monetizing Passion.

How can we reconcile our desire to explore all our passions, with the philosophy that only mastery leads to success.

One thing I’ve always wanted to be when writing on this platform is honest. There is no point in writing about anything without honesty, so on today’s post I’ll be a little less curated.

I’ve always been a woman of many loves and inspirations. This has been equal parts hindrance and blessing. There is no pretense in thinking I’m the master of anything that I practice, but after 20 years I can safely say, I’m a pretty decent yoga instructor/massage therapist and “working on it” writer. Photography, Cooking and Dance are my long term lovers. We don’t commit to each other fully but we can’t live without each other either.

Anything else in life comes and goes, but the passions seem to stand out. Unfortunately many of the people I’ve met and spoken to about this predicament share the same conundrum. Many of them title themselves under doing or being what they make money at, instead of what they are passionate about. If I were to follow that paradigm, I can’t hold any claim to the above mentioned passions. Yet better monetizing what we are passionate about pursuing, leaves us with a slight handicap. The ever mind numbing idea that when you make money off of what you love, you’re a sell out, and if you don’t make money on what you love, you’re not good enough or dedicated enough or with it enough, to be a success. Catch 22.

In the end for me. The passions win. If money catches up to them, I consider it a bonus. After all my observations about practicing what you love despite the rewards. I’ve come to this conclusion:

Keep the fire going even if you have only 10 people who love what you do, because in the end; what you love and strive to do well, shows. What you do for pure income alone, looses its luster and authenticity.

What are you passionate about and want to share with others?

The Art of Not Giving A Fuck


Photo by: R. Valenzuela

A small manifesto on truthfulness.

Looking back at the inception of this online writing platform 6 years ago; there was no predicting where it would take me. While reflecting upon the sixth consecutive year of writing online, I was reminded of my sixth anniversary living in New York. One absolutely undeniable thing I’ve realized about this city is :

New York doesn’t give a fuck what you think of her. (Sorry Sex and the City- New York is no boyfriend) Shes a badass, loudmouthed, Italian, Latino, black, Jewish, Irish, Dominican, African, Indian, Pakistani, Greek, Mexican, Chinese, Japanese, Lebanese, Dominican, Puerto Rican, Jamaican, Korean, Russian, Romanian, Chilean, Israeli, Palestinian, Ukrainian, Brazilian, Armenian, Syrian (I could go on and on) and every other American Woman.

I realized early last year; January 2018 to be exact, that speaking my truth, expressing my writing and poetry honestly and conveying my point of view without reservations, is my greatest challenge and biggest goal for the years to come. (Yes I stole a little attitude from one of my writing heroes and badass traveler, advocate, explorer and all around truth teller Mr. Anthony Bourdain). For the first time after starting this writing project; I don’t give a fuck with people think. I’ve spent countless years, (as many women do) side stepping, avoiding, cleaning up, self editing in order to fit a particular mold or idea of how I should express myself publicly or privately. I’m not trying to grab or hold anyone’s attention. If you follow my writing and care to share your point of view with me, It is welcome. If you don’t care for what I’m writing about, and think its shit, make a valid point, and give your point of view.

On January 1st 2018, at about 6 am, on a very cold bright morning; It hit me: Nothing of who I am and what I’ve done so far with my life fits any ,constructs or ideas of what a woman my age living, loving creating, and writing in 2018 should be like, look like or act like. I was never one to submit to conformity. Whenever I tried to fit in, my life would always swerve away from it, one way or another. Should have been, should have had, should have accomplished, often slaps me around from time to time.

We all go through moments where we are faced with the stories other people like to tell about us. Inevitably as we get older (not necessarily wiser as I’ve come to discover), some of us find our own true voice, allowing us to be exactly who we want and can be. Others predictably, stay stuck within the confines of an identity formed by others, society, parents, or heritage; forming an idea of themselves with personas or masks that really don’t quite fit. More still never really take the risk to flourish into something far more beautiful and unique that may not quite fit the narrative we’ve been fed.

Time has shown me that spending more time alone, with myself has given me ample opportunities to really know who I am, shed any prét a porter personalities and embrace how I want to live my life. Yet every year that closes, I spend a few moments wondering what would have been if I took a different path.

The shoulds- A list

On the eve of a new year, I narrow down the list of shoulds that apply to where someone like me should be according to society, my own made up standards, and how very famously stated in Greece, according to what “people say”.

Here’s my top 5 so I don’t go to crazy down the rabbit hole.

1. I should have had kids by now. Well to be fair I almost did, and although I do think about that possibility often, I’m thankful everyday I decided against it. It’s been a strange feeling to know I came close.

2. I should have my own business by now. I did at some point and for a good 10 years, I did run my own business as a yoga teacher and massage therapist. I’ve taken a detour so the possibility is still there.

3. I should be settled somewhere and have a beautiful home. I also had that at one point in my life, but the Greek crisis forced many of us to leave the life we knew and the home we had along with all its comforts; and find new paths in new counties. Now and for however it lasts, New York is home.

4. I should be more successful in my career and make more money. Well this is only up to my efforts so stay tuned 😉

5. I should drop everything I’m doing here in New York and move back to Greece… Well this one I left for last because it’s as complicated and simple as all the others on the list. For the simple reason that I’m not someone who likes to drop something in the middle before I’ve seen in through; staying in New York although a difficult journey, has and still does inspire me. My writing and poetry has developed over the years here, and the same would not have occurred in Athens. So I take the inspiration and wherever it takes me I’m willing to go. All the risks we take lead us somewhere magical.

On to the next chapter.

Happy New Year to all.

The courage to live life

Street art in Athens, Greece

we live in this endless dystopia… we’ve been groomed again and again to endure crisis after crisis after crisis and with that; have forgotten the joy of life.

We live in strife

And we never pause to enjoy life

It’s little hidden beauties it’s endless flirtation it’s burning desire.

Το μεδούλι we say.

we let others dictate… our inspiration our connections our determination. Yet after all that, we find courage to live life, fall in love, write beautiful music, build incredible buildings, carve beautiful statues, build incredible grand ships that take us from sea to sea, and discover our limits anew each time becoming better versions of ourselves.

we delve deep into beauty and reap the benefits of true joy.

Each boy and girl each female and male becoming, growing, revealing their most true selves.

It’s no mystery we are all made of stars….

Yet we bicker and fight and cause strife. Spending lifetimes hating each other.

Demeaning each other

what a waste….

To not want to taste life’s bounties.

To not want to share in its boundless beauty.

Our curiosity for self destruction is a unique human trait, but so is survival.

And faith.

No not religious kind, but true faith, in ourselves in each other. No no we’re not the only ones but were unique, no we’re not one of a kind but we have been given infinite possibilities…

To be

Unbound

Unencumbered

Unleashed

Released

Free

without fear of reciprocity…

We’ve suffered enough atrocities

So next time you’ve let your spirit fade

talk

scream

dream

run till you can’t breathe.

Find joy in the simplicity of life.

Let me say This… Revisited

I wrote a poem about 3 years ago, and It’s the first one I ever performed live at an event called First Time Out, in New York at a cool performance/bar space called Pete’s Candy Store.

I was a very nervous, and shaky first time performer back in November 2016, but I took a chance with an art form and a stage that I had never even dreamed I would ever approach, let alone at the “ripe” age of 38.

This piece is close to my heart because I wrote it for someone I deeply care about, who I can now call a dear friend. We went through our ups and downs in life and we ended up floating instead of sinking so I’m dedicating this to my dear friend P. Life has a very strange way of colliding people together who may on the surface seem incongruous.

The more I travel, the more people I collide with. Old friends remain true friends, others fade away, some remain there for a lifetime, through thick and thin, some betray you, some you betray. It’s a never ending cycle of attraction, connection, and sometimes a rare blossoming.

Enjoy.

LET ME SAY THIS

Let me tell you a story about leaving home, about struggling to find a place of your own, Let me tell you about walking miles every day in this crazy city, and asking yourself over and over again is this all there is?

Let me tell you about loving and heartbreak, about standing on your own two feet, about flirtation about opening your heart again about loneliness about doubt and fear, let me tell you about sitting alone at night thinking…

There must be more than life to this.

Let me tell you about rejoicing in knowing you have friends who love you and you love them. Let me tell you about poetry and listening to father analyse over and over the importance of poetry…. because talking about your motherland falling apart isn’t that pleasant.

Let me tell you about mother and how she is my best friend.  Let me tell you about laughter in the middle of the street, till your guts hurt and not caring how loud you are cause that shit was so damn funny!  Let me tell you about sex, and passion, lack of intimacy or truth, let me tell you about excuses and mistreatment and unfulfilled embraces, let me tell you about pain. Let me tell you about not wanting to live again.

“let me tell you about sitting alone at night thinking, there must be more than life to this…”

Let me tell you about falling in love and going out of your mind, let me show you loss and tears. Let me tell you about walking alone, and sleeping alone and crying alone and feeling alone even though your not. Let me tell you about countless early mornings sitting in silence breathing and hoping it will all get better.

Let me tell you about waking up with sun in your eyes and smelling the island breeze and wishing you were here with me, diving deeper and deeper into the deep blue sea.


Let me tell you about missing my home, my people, my sun kissed balcony, the aromas of fresh baked bread from the village bakery

salt on my skin

the sound of hundreds of cicadas

drowning the air with their numbing rhythm. Let me tell you about music and dancing, and embracing friends who are far away, and letting your hair down cause…

that’s what life is all about.

Let me show you what I see, what I hear let me share with you my story, and I want you to tell me yours.

Tell me about you, tell me about your dreams and struggles your life and goals, your fears.

are you sitting up at night thinking is this all there is?

Eat with me, drink with me, laugh with me, cry with me, look into my eyes and see there is nothing more beautiful than sitting in silence and knowing, understanding one another and realizing….

Yes that this is ALL there is.

IMG_5864

To what comes next-

Picture by Robert Valenzuela ( @3rd.night)

I have had a recent lull to my writing, in stark contrast to the frenzy of past months. My spring feverish ideas and thoughts left freely from my brain onto the page. I truly enjoyed my every day post commitment I set out to complete back in March (birthday challenge) . Truly nothing has kept me more on my toes, than my yoga/ exercise practice and my writing.

As of late I’ve had what many would call a freeze of my creative flow. I don’t know if this is a set back or a regroup, but for what its worth, I would not be a particularly good blogger, if I didn’t share this stagnancy with my small yet powerful and encouraging audience (share my posts with your friends!).

I’m feeling a little stuck.

There are a plethora of things I want to share my thoughts on, but in this growing cacophony of opinions and thoughts my mind is becoming overwhelmed with the opinions of everybody else, to really be able to be a valid voice in the mix. The reminder that depression, and suicide is so openly discussed, took me back to my days of battling depression, and how I was able through very lucky circumstances and good people to get out of bed, put one foot in front of the other, pull myself out of dark cavernous thoughts, and figure shit out.

I battle with self doubt, body image issues, self esteem issues, and the list goes on. Yet here I am writing about it, even though I’m still stuck. I often promise I will share as much of myself as possible it’s the only way to write.

There is definitely a chaotic order to the way I convey my thoughts on this blog, and I appreciate those who’ve followed and continue to follow my musings, poetry, analysis and reflections.

For now I will leave you with a small gratitude list. When you get stuck, make one too, it helps.

  1. I’m grateful for my health. Two dear friends who I deeply care for are battling cancer. They are warriors, who absolutely give me courage to be even better and more resilient.
  2. I’m extremely grateful for my home here in New York. It’s a sanctuary and a quiet space, in this overwhelming city.  Every night I sit on my balcony; on these warm summer nights, and smile at how blessed I am to be here. I miss Greece and my home there every waking moment, but having the opportunity to travel and live here isn’t available to many of my fellow country men and women. Thousands of refugees are still in limbo on many Greek islands bordering Turkey. Children and their families are being torn apart as we speak at US borders. As we all battle internal crisis, so much turmoil is occurring on a daily basis. That forces me to think twice before I forget where I’ve come from.
  3. I’m grateful for rekindled and real friendships, from the embers of dead affairs. And I’m grateful I recently escaped a toxic affair before it created further damage.
  4. I’m grateful for Art. As I’ve mentioned in past posts and I’ll say it again, Art is the only thing that can and has created meaningful change. Art touches and effects everyone in small and big ways and is and will continue to be a huge vehicle for truth, change, and progress.

I’m still stuck with my writing, but I’m grateful I can share that too. When overwhelmed with life’s rocky path, be grateful for what you have to overcome it.

May all beings be Happy and Free.

Lokah Samastah Sukhino Bhavantu-

Recipe for Disaster-

img_e3292
Mural by SimpleG @simpleg1 – Athens, Greece

How does it taste?

My desire for you….

Is my flavor too much for your stomach to take?

I cooked it slowly with the age old recipe.

Spent all night blending the spices just right.

I put slices of passion in between each promise and lustful embrace.

I let the juices bubble and hiss.

  *     *     *

Is it too salty?

Did you leave in haste due to heartburn?

Too many cooks spoil the broth I guess.

I must confess this was a recipe for disaster.

I’m a master in the kitchen and a servant of my heart.

I’ll have to start over with this prep, follow each step to the letter

I should have known better

You can’t serve creme brulee in a plastic cup.