Thrift-Store Gem

Found these brand new, Kate Spade, patent leather flats at My Sister's Closet in Encinitas, marked down to $30 from $60. Perfect for work... and for reading in fabulous footwear.

Thrift-Store Gem

Betsey Johnson knee-length satin Dress, 80% off original price, found in Newport Beach thrift store. Like-new condition, minus a little mending in the top (wire sticking out).

So this one is several years old in my closet. I am posting a pic now because I forgot to sooner and because inspiration struck last night to wear it to the theater, but since I didn't get any photos, I'll resort back to Lauren's wedding here:

Hawaii, Yoga, and The Other Side

Vacations are meant to restore, rejuvenate, and reinvigorate. And perhaps I’ve never needed a vacation more than I did this one. A few weeks ago, I ventured forth to the north shore of Oahu to attend a yoga retreat hosted by my yoga studio in San Diego, Mosaic, which I have mentioned on countless occasions in these writings.

I needed this vacation more than ever because 2014 has so far been one hell of a year for me. A marriage ending after one year or perhaps ten years of turmoil, a relocating of home, a season of studying for major exams, a goodbye to one of my pups, another relocating of home, and a new job. Through these obstacles, I’ve really tried to stay centered, to stay focused on the processing of it all. I’ve tried to face it honestly, bravely, and many times I’ve failed. But now that all the chaos seems to be settled down, that most of the trials are behind me, I sense a new beginning after all the hard work and stress and even pain of it all. I remember in April packing up the boxes for the first move and imagining what it would be like the day I unpacked them again. In my mind, I marked that day as the goal—that if I could just get to that point, most of the struggle would be over. And though that day came sooner than I expected (a month and a half ago), I felt ready for it.

Though the ending of a marriage is never easy, I realize it could have been much harder, much more complicated. I am grateful that it wasn't. Though moving is physically and emotionally challenging, I am grateful to finally be settled in my new home, with my sister, near my school, near a city I love. And though I miss Delilah very much, I take comfort knowing that she is happy in her home, and I am thankful that I have Samson and can now devote my love and attention solely to him. Though my major exams nearly broke me, I passed my German exam, I passed my written literature exams (after writing for ten hours), and I passed my oral literature examination with my professors. And it feels great to come out the other side of something that required so much of me… such a portion of me that I sincerely doubted whether I could do it.

In the midst of feeling depleted, exhausted, and empty from months of being shut away with my books, a turn of fate happened, and I say fate because I couldn’t have planned something so perfect as this. Months and months ago, I signed up to attend a yoga retreat for a week. The timing of it all happened serendipitously, as I left for Oahu five days after my last exam. Everything seemed to be falling into place. I would be able to go to Hawaii and actually turn it all off for seven days.

Our retreat was at the Ke Iki Beach Bungalows, which are situated right on the water.

Every morning, our little group met at 7:30 for a yoga workshop, where I was able to learn more about the philosophy behind the asana practice and some of the other components (or limbs) of yoga. For example, we had a workshop dedicated to pranayama (breathing) and another on how to hold the asanas (poses) with integrity while making them more or less challenging. In other words, the workshops gave me a chance to understand more fully the things I had known on a more surface level about yoga. In the afternoons, we met again for a vinyasa flow, which was like doing a naturally hot yoga because of the lingering heat from the day. 

Another aspect of the retreat focused on the spiritual component of yoga, which included meditation, Yin yoga, and receiving attunement for Reiki level one (which was the most inspiring of my experiences in Oahu). For example, one of the first evenings, we did a meditation at sunset that focused on the metaphor of the sun and earth coming together. Our leader explained the symbolism behind it all, which I’ll do my best to summarize below:

So the system of the seven chakras begins with the root chakra of Shakti, the god of feminine energy, and ends at the top with the crown chakra, represented by Shiva, the god of masculine energy. The goal of breathing in meditation is to bring breath in and down toward the root chakra and then to breathe breath out and up toward the crown chakra, thus symbolizing a merging of the two energies. The sunset also symbolizes a merging of the two energies, since ancient Polynesians saw the sun and the ocean as two powerful forces that affected the islands in every way. The ocean is often feminized, as in the French la mer, or the mother, and given its place on earth, represents the root chakra. Contrarily, the sun is often masculinized and thus represents the crown chakra of light and elevation. So at sunset, these two energies come back together.

During the meditation, our leader had us envision our breath as a liquid or fluid, which helped me to visualize the movement to/from the chakras. What came to me as I focused intently on the metaphors of the breath and the sunset was an understanding of the power that comes when masculine and feminine energies come together—life.

While I was in Oahu, I formed the habit of waking early (sunrise) to sit down by the waves to practice what I had learned, to center myself for the day, to take in everything around me. It was easy to feel inspired and make time for this morning ritual while on vacation, especially since the rooster’s crow was standing in as an alarm clock of sorts. Since I am not typically an early morning riser, waking at this hour allowed me to see things from a new perspective. It was quiet, still, dawning. And being part of earth’s morning ritual made me understand how valuable following her lead every morning could be, if I would only make the time.

I vowed to stay focused upon returning home, and though I haven’t been as disciplined as I would have liked, I am continuing to make the effort, knowing it will take time, and I am granting myself the grace I need to keep working at it. I also joined a yoga studio near my new place called Claremont Yoga in the village. There are no mirrors (one of my criteria for selecting a yoga home), and I feel in my heart that I found the right place in this new city.

Reflecting back to the beginning of my year, I see that I was afraid of what I saw coming. I see that I had to muster up the courage to do what I knew was right. During that time of simultaneous fear and courage, I trusted that at some point I would make my way out of the tunnel that was ahead of me. I saw the light shining at a distance. And though I was absolutely entrenched in darkness for what felt like an eternity, I feel myself standing now in the light, on that other side. And I don’t think it is at all coincidence that a week away in Oahu, guided by the leaders at Mosaic (a place that has often felt like a lifeline), gently brought me back to a place of peace, where I feel the power of love all around me, and where I can trust in the future that awaits me.

Boston

Boston

When I stepped out of the T (Boston’s version of a metro) and onto the streets surrounding Copley Square, I tried to locate the direction in which I should march toward my hotel. In doing this, I spotted some kind of memorial to the left and walked toward it, as if drawn. It reminded me immediately of the post-9/11 scene—hand-written notes, personal tokens of affection, photos, flags, crosses, candles. The only difference is that the finish line at Copley Square has a fence partially enclosing the space, and this fence is draped with running shoes and marathon bibs.

Thursday morning, I awoke, grabbed a quick breakfast and tea, and then walked directly across the street from my hotel to the Westin, where the ALA is hosting its 22^nd annual Conference on American Literature. My panel, “Aesthetics and Sentiment, Early and Late” ran from 10:30 to noon. I presented first and managed to finish just under my 20-minute mark. The two other presenters on my panel wrote papers that intersected with my own and with one another’s, a circumstance that easily lent itself to dynamic conversation. I received some helpful feedback, and one participant suggested that I incorporate another of Bishop’s poems, “In the Waiting Room,” which will be a pertinent addition to this chapter of what will become my dissertation.

From there, I listened to a panel on Melville, followed by two others on Emily Dickinson (both of which sessions included in the audience Paula Bennett, author of Emily Dickinson, Woman Poet…pretty incredible). I then indulged in a bowl of clam chowder and glass of Malbec, letting my brain process for a bit.

After some grading, I ventured out to a wine bar in Brookline called Barcelona where my dear friend Jason is the General Manager. Jason and I met while I was working for RA. He was my GM in Corona, and then we worked together again when we both transferred to RA’s Tustin location. Barcelona is gorgeous. After a short ride on the T, I stepped off the train and walked less than a block to Barcelona, the exterior of which is decorated with reclaimed wood and iron, giving it an industrial feel, but not cold in the way it might sound, but instead, warm, candle-lit, inviting. On the walls were black and white photos of couples kissing… well, at least these were the prints I noticed. The wine and food was incredible, and much of it is imported from Italy and Spain. The place further endeared itself to me when I heard a song I’ve never heard before: Wyclef Jean’s “Maybe.” I also ate and fell in love with a vegetable I’ve never had before—fiddlehead ferns. From there, Jason, his girlfriend, Shira, Shira’s best friend, Anna, and I all headed over to a local bar called The Abbey, which also had great décor and impeccable service. In fact, less than two seconds passed from the time a glass emptied to the time our attentive bartender offered the drinkless member a refill.

http://www.barcelonawinebar.com/brookline.htm

http://www.abbeyrestaurant.com/

The next morning, Friday, started again with tea and breakfast, and I then wandered over to Boston Common to start on the Freedom Trail. Though it was raining, and though it took me nearly all morning and part of the afternoon to complete the 2.5-mile trail, the sites brought with them some of the most valuable learning experiences of my life. Seeing the oldest parts of our nation—the bricks, the stories, the purpose—instilled in me a renewed sense of patriotism and pride. Suffice it so say that it was incredibly moving. And I am grateful that I recently read Benjamin Franklin’s Autobiography, as well as some “hell-fire and brimstone” sermons from Cotton and Increase Mather. Helps put it all into perspective.

From the trail’s end at the Bunker Hill Monument in Charlestown (which showed some of the most beautiful housing I’ve ever seen, including brick homes with black shudders), I wandered over to Cambridge to see the campus of Harvard, where I was ecstatic to see some rowers on the Charles River. It seemed to be the quintessence of Harvard… at least from my very limited knowledge. Walking back from Harvard, I came upon The Raven, a used bookstore on JFK Street, where I happily bought Robert Lowell’s Selected Poems for the bargain price of $7.50. Per the recommendation of Jason’s head chef, I visited Upstairs on the Square, a strangley decorated restaurant that hosts a tea hour on Saturdays. I sat at the bar for a glass of wine (the tender poured me a Pinot Noir, which happened to be Talbott, my favorite wine of all time). The light fixtures in this restaurant are stunning and eccentric. I have never seen anything like them. Just go to their website; see the colors, the chandeliers, the booths. It was sort of like being in Alice’s Wonderland, meaning, a place I never wanted to leave. See for yourself:

http://www.upstairsonthesquare.com/ 

Once back at my hotel, I changed outfits and ventured out again, this time in the pouring, relentless rain, to an art exhibit called “Above the Standard” in Waterfront, per the recommendation of Clark Hahne. The artist, Ari Hauben, was sadly not there, but I did have the pleasure of getting a personal hour-long tour with the exhibit-space owners, and this was easily one of the best hours of my life. Will, one of Ari’s friends from college at RIT, explained Hauben’s techniques in such fascinating detail that my appreciation for art and the process of making it doubled. My favorites are “Stop Staring at My Tusks” and “Buckminster Fuller.” Certainly worth checking out the website:

http://www.arihauben.com/above-the-standard/ 

From there, and again, per the recommendation of Mr. Hahne (a recommendation confirmed by Jason’s chef), I went to Drink, the swanky bar that lives up to its name. There are no tables in this place. Instead, there are three sections that appear to be bars. Much like Benihana’s seating arrangement, Drink creates sections that make up ¾ of a square for seating, centering the bartenders. Actually, they are more like mixologists of the highest caliber. I, the lone diner, soared past the others in line for the 30-minute wait, took my single seat at the middle bar, and perused the short but alienating menu (I didn’t recognize over half of the items listed). As my mixologist approached, I said, “I like vodka and Saint Germaine.” He nodded, got to work in his lab, and poured for me a drink so appetizing that I nearly downed it in one gulp. I ordered the house-made, pan-fried sausage and the artisanal cheese board for dinner. When the time approached for a refill, meaning in five minutes, I switched over to wine to compliment my dinner. I had the choice between a red wine and a sherry. Since I’ve never had sherry, and since I wanted to be able to walk out of the place, I selected the wine. But I wrote down the name of the sherry: Lustau Almacenista. It is certainly a sipping beverage, to say the least. Though higher in alcohol content, you can’t put them down as fast as wine. Seems like an even trade. My mixologist kept me quite entertained during my meal. Watching him maneuver around his product was fascinating. I saw the authentic way to make an Old Fashion and Gin Fizz, and I saw a few other extraordinary cocktails come into being. He ended our time together by making me one last drink, a Southside, which was gin, mint, sugar and fresh-squeezed lemon. It was delicious. And I typically do not enjoy gin. But it was delicious.

On my ride back to Copley, I thought about the day I had just had and how memorable and wonderful it had been. Even though it is tough to navigate a new city alone, and even though it takes much more courage than I knew I had to sit alone at a restaurant on a Friday night for dinner, this trip challenged me in a good way. I always enjoy solitude because of the struggle and thus growth that it brings, but Boston seems like the appropriate city in which to forge such a battle. I remembered things about myself that I forgot. I learned that I actually like gin, at least when served properly.

On Saturday, my last full day, I devoted myself to the conference. The line-up was beyond enticing, so I’ll recap the best two. The first session was on Elizabeth Bishop, my favorite poet other than Keats, and the second was entitled “Robert Lowell as Friend and Guide: Bishop, Plath, Rich, Sexton” (four of my favorite female poets, needless to say). Thomas Travisano, a leading Bishop scholar whose work I have included much of my own writing on Bishop and who published the complete correspondence of Lowell and Bishop, was in the audience at the first panel and then presented at the second, along with Kathleen Spivack, poet, scholar, and writer of her experiences with poets such as Lowell, Plath, Sexton, Rich, and Kunitz. Very inspiring to be in the presence of these giants. Here's a sketch of Lowell and Bishop:

After that, I set out for my last dinner in Boston. Once again, I took the advice of Mr. Hahne (and a recommendation again confirmed by Jason’s chef) and went to The Butcher Shop, which was the perfect way to prepare me for my transition to Paris. It is set up like a local butcher shop, where you can buy meat other such accoutrements.

http://thebutchershopboston.com/

At the Butcher Shop, I met another lone diner and a couple. They advised that I try the Oak Bar in Copley Place. When I arrived and waited for service, the wine display had me in awe. I saw bottles of Frog’s Leap Cabernet Sauvignon of Stag’s Leap Cabernet Sauvignon. For context, I am brining two collections of poems with me to Europe: Lowell and Sharon Olds’ latest collection called Stag’s Leap, named after said winery. Everything intersects.

Boston certainly won me over. The cold, the rain, the solitude, the history… it all created for me a moment in my life that no amount of schooling could teach. The time alone was bountiful. Though painful at times, I enjoyed each minute in this city.