"it is what it is---its an 'is-ism.'" This was the phrase of the season at my last restaurant job, the English version of one of the many German phrases I learned while working there: sha-be-don (that's how it sounds, not how it is spelled...though it looks like shaw-be-done (and sounds like it too), which I think many of us can relate to, and also quite perfectly fits its general meaning...)--which roughly translates as "same shit different pile" or "im tired of it, and know exactly how to fix it, but am too tired to do anything about it" or "im tired of it, and know exactly how to fix it but I would rather have a whiskey" or "FML"...the latter is my current phrase-of-the-moment (switching from "well that's neat"-- the transition of which is quite indicative of my current state.) and is translated as the universe has more control over me than I do, Fuck.
I swore a lot at my last kitchen job. I still swear a lot in my own kitchen. Sometimes I swear while teaching yoga, just to get the uplifting and inspirational point across. Right? FML.
So here is my point: there has been ALOT in the last couple of weeks. ALOT. I taught/took 54 yoga classes (47 of which were at a hot yoga temperature of 90+ degrees) in 14 days. I moved from my dream bachelorette suite to my dream bachelorette suite with dreams of my dream bachelorette suite in another country. I had the most significant, grounding, assuring visit of my life with my ma while we visited by sista and my brostar-in law over easter (and watched just enough hockey to transform me into an uber-competitive, fist-pumping, superfreak), only to end up super sick before immersing myself in a 40 day yoga commitment. Then I drove M to the airport for Mexico, for 55-100 days...or so. And so it is.
And so it is that I am left with some space. A physical space currently filled with boxes of mostly cookbooks because once upon a time they held some significance in my chefing abilities. And intimately physical space that is still fighting off the congested, fatigued cold that hit me when I finally slowed down a bit to cheer on (egg on/threaten to fight...) my brother in laws hockey team's tournament, while recovering from way too much yoga sweat. A mental space currently immersed for the next 30 ish days in analyzing who I am/want to be as a single unit, and who I am/want to be as someone very much in love with someone who is gone for 55-100 days ish.
And so it is that I am very much in love. Perhaps more so than I thought. FML.
Or perhaps more so than I was allowing myself the space to think. Absence makes the heart go fonder? Sure. But it has been three days. Perhaps absence kicks the heart...hard. Forces it to connect to something greater than itself. Greater than self love. Greater than accepting what is for what it is, and opening itself to something that is quite a bit more than the same shit, a pile of something quite new, and quite real, and quite vulnerable for a whole lot of observation with so much clear space.
Well that's neat. I feel my phrase changing again. Because I know my life is rad. That I have much to be thankful for: friends who will read this and get it, readers who will read this and find a friend because they get it, things that make me check in (like discovering a number of memberships continually charging my visa while I continue to ignorantly not take advantage of such renewals--ie Netflix which, side note, I am going to watch the movie that the quoted and attached song is a part of the soundtrack before my card expires and memberships ceases--p.s if anyone needs shoes, FML I have been paying into Just Fab for 5 too many months...I now have store credit. neat....), and things that help me check out of all that I try to control; things that keep me present with what is. Things like love. And whiskey...