Quote of the Day

Over brunch with Brad and Nina (after a full morning of cheering on NY City marathoners) Nina asked, "When do the braces come off?" I answered with a casual, "Who knows?" Her reply, an indignant, "Forget Occupy Wall Street, it's time for Occupy Orthodontist!" was the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me.

Hidden Treasure

26 months.

I've been to the orthodontist three times in the last two weeks. Let's just say I had to go back twice to have him fix his errors, and that the subsequent pain was so intense, I went back and made him figure out how to fix THAT. He has now introduced me into the world of "orthodontic elastics" aka rubber bands, connecting my upper left molar to my lower left canine in an effort to move my whole lower jaw over to the left to properly align the teeth. The great irony here is that the pulling has actually made my teeth feel better.

Time Out New York's Joke of the Week is this:

Lil Wayne told the women on The View that his diamond and platinum grill was actually "his form of braces." I'd love to meet the orthodontist who looked in his mouth and thought, Hey you know what might fix this overbite? Treasure.

Though Robbie Collier meant this to be funny, I can't stop thinking about it. I love the idea of slightly hidden treasure--when the mouth is closed, no one can see it, and the mouth is open, Abracadabra! Jewels! I'm starting to view my own mouth in this way, as I can finally start seeing the fruit of all of this 26 months of labor.

In yoga class yesterday, our teacher introduced the concept of santosha which is broadly defined as contentment, but in the context of not needing more than you have to achieve contentment. He challenged us to find the ways that one can feel content moving within and in harmony with one's circumstances, even if they are difficult, whether it be a complicated yoga pose or life situation. I feel like I'm moving into a new phase of all of this, a certain santosha, that no matter what gets thrown at me (including rubber bands moving my jaw diagonally across my face) it doesn't seem to cow me the way it used to. I am simply looking it in the eye a and letting it look back. As Joseph Campbell said, "It is by going down into the abyss that we recover the treasures of life. Where you stumble, there lies your treasure."

Lil Wayne and I may disagree on exactly the nature of that treasure, but for now, I've made my peace. I'm in a state of santosha. Whenever anyone asks me how much longer the braces will stay on, I answer with "Who knows?" I told a friend I'm getting very AA about it, just "letting go, and letting God." It's up to the universe to decide, and I'm not fighting it anymore. I'm looking it in the eye. I'm inviting it to tea, and offering scones.

(And adding perhaps a bit of rum to that tea is treasure indeed.)

Perspective

"Be patient with the process, and with yourself, okay?
It’s going to take some time.
That’s not a problem; it’s the point."

~Bernadette Birney's insightful blog on the Anusara Yoga certification process

25

25 months. We are officially over two years.

Dang.

The ortho was once again frustrated at how slowly that back molar is moving (as am I). I imagine he thought he was being reassuring when he said that "Cosmetically your teeth are straightened and done. It's just your bite that needs work." The only problem is that I never went into this process wanting cosmetic changes. They were a nice side effect, but it's the correctness of the bite that was always my first priority. He put a stronger wire on my bottom teeth this time in an effort to "move your molars in and underneath your top teeth." Do they hurt? Um, yeah.

He said that the outermost limit that these braces will still be on will be six months, but I'm not counting my chickens before they hatch. I suppose I should pluck up courage at the fact that he has never been definitive about time before, and that he has given me a true timeframe. But it's little consolation when I cannot feel true faith in his estimations. I still feel just as shackled by these braces as I did over two years ago.

And yet. I was getting off an elevator today, and as I left the man in the elevator said, "Thank you for your big smile, " and then as he left, he turned and cut me a look, and in a surprisingly flirty way exclaimed, "Showoff!"

Universe, you make me laugh!

20/20

It was my 20th high school reunion this weekend.

I will admit, that I did not want to go. There were over 600 people in my graduating class, and I didn't know half of them in high school, let alone trying to remember them 20 years later. I recognized few of the 175 names on the RSVP list. My friend Natalie was anxious to go, but I tarried sending in my check. I was curious, and I thought I might regret it if I didn't go. I'm trying to say more yeses than no's these days.

Natalie looked gorgeous, as she always does, but I was full of apprehension as we approached the door of the venue. The first person we ran into was our class president, who took one look at me and said, "My god, you look exactly the same...but better." That, my friends, was the right answer.

Now, there were plenty of people there I didn't know, and a few awkward moments. There were conversations that petered out almost as quickly as they started, but the ones that lasted were tangibly warm, as though I could literally see the lines of connection strong between us. We all marveled at how good everyone looked. There were no stereotypical paunchy, bald men, and the women were svelte and pretty. Indeed, for the most part, we all looked the same...but better. We reminisced, we cooed at baby pictures of children, we grieved for those of us who are ill, or no longer with us.

Afterwards, there was an outpouring on Facebook from attendees who were so delighted, moved, and fulfilled by the evening. I am loath to admit that this had me confused. I had a nice time, but my heart was not filled or emptied, my soul was not aroused or impassioned. I enjoyed the evening as I would enjoy a nice meal or a good day at work. Fine, but not life changing. I couldn't help but wonder if I had a hardened heart, or why my normally sentimental self was feeling anything but.

And then it hit me--during the course of the evening, I was told more than once how happy I seemed. If I am to be honest, I truly am happy. I didn't need a nostalgic trip to make me feel something palpable when my life right now is already wholly lived. This 20 year reunion coincided with a reunion with friends met in Morocco who happened to be in New York, and that evening was more full, alive, vibrant and soul touching to me. The past can stay in the past, my peace is with it and I wish it, as well as my 18 year old self, well. My 38 year old self, on the other hand, is proudly, proudly living out loud.

They say that hindsight is 20/20, but I am amazed and rather tickled to realize that my eyes see everything in this moment, crystal clear. Anais Nin said, "We don't see things as they are, we see things as we are." Yes, oh yes, we do.

Time Machines

It's a sad day.

I have been trying to avoid any TV news reports today--it's just too much to deal with all of this nonstop coverage of 9/11. That day is still very much a part of me, as it has been whether we celebrate a one, two or ten year anniversary. Most of my friends here in NYC feel much the same way--that this arbitrary date doesn't make it any more important or any less awful. I cannot look at footage of that day without tearing up, and have spent the better portion of today getting irrationally weepy at movies like Becoming Jane, Original Sin and Miss Congeniality (yes, I've had TBS on all day), as well as getting insanely furious at IKEA when they didn't have the items that I had come to purchase. I decided to get industrious and clean out my closet, and finding my father's sweater in there put me over the edge once again. The sadness seems to be in the air, easily plucked and accessible, and the cold air and gloomy clouds fit the somber mood of the day.

I had spent the night before at a secret party in some warehouse space somewhere in Brooklyn, themed to 1930s Morocco. There were elegant flapper dresses paired with bobbed hair, djellabas, kaftans and turbans galore. (I wore the hot pink and silver djellaba I purchased in Tangier in June.) There were belly dancers and live musicians, tarot readers and henna tattoo artists. We danced and danced and it was so delightful to be truly transported to another date and time, far away from this time, and this place. I realize that only the best, the prettiest and the most exciting and delightful parts of the 30s were celebrated last night, but all history is in some way revisionist, and it is those who triumph who decide which parts endure.

I want to honor my friend Melanie who volunteered at the medical examiner's office 10 years ago. I want to honor my brother and sister-in-law who housed me for a full week after the towers fell. I want to honor all of us who fled to the hospitals to give blood. I want to send love to all the souls that were scared and lost on that day. I want to remember that my father was still alive 10 years ago. I want to thank whoever designed the Towers of Light that stand each year where the towers used to be, and how comforting I always find this tribute.

I love this quote by Albert Einstein. I'll leave you with it:

"Strange is our situation here upon earth. Each of us comes for a short visit, not knowing why, yet sometimes seeming to a divine purpose. From the standpoint of daily life, however, there is one thing we do know: That we are here for the sake of others...for the countless unknown souls with whose fate we are connected by a bond of sympathy. Many times a day, I realize how much my outer and inner life is built upon the labors of people, both living and dead, and how earnestly I must exert myself in order to give in return as much as I have received."

Come on Irene

I'm hunkered down and waiting for Irene with a full fridge, buckets and pots filled with water and a glass of low country lemonade in my hand. (I owe that recipe to a South Carolinian friend--lemonade, peach schnapps and mint. Yum!)This sums up my morning:

I found this on the Be Better Blog, and it is SO true. Liquor was purchased earlier today. Witty complaining took place. Hurricane party with urban crew started at Thistle Hill Tavern and moved on to the 12th Street bar. Discussions of french press coffee were serious. We compared shopping lists for all the necessary provisions--Roquefort cheese, prosciutto, figs, Lambrusco, and yeast for bread baking.

I love my life. I even love this hurricane.

So Come on Irene! To quote Dexy's Midnight Runners:

These people round here wear beaten down eyes
Sunk in smoke dried faces they're so resigned to what their fate is,
But not us, no not us we are far too young and clever.

Hee!