Yesterday was the summer solstice: allegedly the longest day of the year. Yet in Chicago, at 5:45 in the afternoon, it was as dark as a cold winter day. Grey clouds hung heavy in the sky above us, announcing the storm that was about to break through their thick fluffy skin, and onto our heads before falling on the ground beneath us.
Earlier that morning, my heart had felt as heavy as those clouds and as the moist humid air that enveloped the quiet streets as I headed to work.
My mother in law likes to jokingly say that I have a friend everywhere in the world. When I first moved to the States, my new gringo friends used to jokingly ask me how many "best friends" I had, because I was always telling a story about someone or other, referring to them as "one of my best friends" (mind you, these same jokers, are now often referred to as such themselves). And since we have been together, for a little over eight years, my husband and I have never traveled anywhere just the two of us, because whenever we have time off, we always go visit someone we know. As he always says, it's quite a good problem to have, to have so many people you love that no matter where you go, someone is always there to welcome you.
The drawback is, that when you have people you love all over the world, there is always someone far away. And in turn, there is always someone you miss.
For that reason, sometimes my love hangs heavy, wringing my heart out like you would a wet towel after soaking up the rain from a summer thunderstorm. And when it does, I always wonder if love is a blessing, or if it's a curse.
J and I just got back from a wonderful holiday in San Francisco. Our beloved home; our ongoing affair; the one that got away; the City by the Bay. It was one of those perfect vacations, when everything flows and falls into place without you even trying. We saw friends and family, we ate at our favorite restaurants, we visited our old city spots, and walked our old walks. All without the stresses of daily life. We experienced our home through the eyes of a tourist, while at the same time, knowing every crevice of the city just as well as some of its oldest residents do. Of course we couldn't do everything, and we couldn't see everyone, but we were able to spend quality time with most of our loved ones, immediately falling back into our comfortable old dynamics as if we had never left. And then we came back to Chicago wonderfully recharged from our encounters. Or so I thought....
Sometimes, when I visit with my grandma, she tells me that she wishes she had not seen me, for after seeing me she misses me more. There is a saying back home, that is just as popular as the well known "distance makes the heart grow fonder". It states that "eyes that don't see, heart that doesn't feel".
That one rings as true to me as the first one does to most people.
For as time goes by away from a loved one, I tend to forget how essential their smile is to my happiness, or how healing their embrace can be, or how cooking and eating with them is one of the most joyful experiences of my life.
I forget how even though they are more than twenty years younger than me, we share a bond that no one can touch but us. I forget that they get me like no one else does; I forget that they are always there, for good and bad, even though after all these years, I still have no idea how old they are, or when their birthday is; I forget that we can sit together and not talk for hours, and still know everything the other person is saying; I forget that they giggle more than anyone I've ever met; I forget how amazing they are, and that when I am around them, I am one of the better versions of myself I have ever met.
As time passes without seeing them, although I think of them often and fondly, I forget how connected I feel when we are together.
And then I see them, and it all comes back to me. And I once again feel whole even though I had no idea I was halved. But then we say goodbye, and they drive away. And as I gather my belongings to get on the road myself, my heart slowly breaks again, into a million little pieces, that it will take me days, or weeks, or sometimes months to mend together again.
Sometimes I feel that my heart is like a child's favorite jigsaw puzzle, the one they keep breaking apart just so they can put it back together again.
Yesterday morning, as I headed to work, still foggy and a bit jet lagged, I got the news that uncle L, one of my grandparents best friend, and one of my best friends grandfather, had just passed away.
As the news settled into my brain, I understood what was about to happen.
During the next few days, not only would I get to keep rebuilding my heart from the rubble that the earthquake of having parted with my beloved San Franciscans has been. I would now also simultaneously navigate through the full on hurricane that is the all too familiar heartbreak of being far from the island, while my beloved Dominicans grief the passing of an amazing soul, and I am yet again, not there to share it with them.
Way to add insult to injury inner teacher!
As the tears slowly rolled down my cheeks, I focused on my breath and on being present, as I intently went through the motions of opening the studio for the first class of the day. While I swept the small studio, I felt a surge of gratitude for my job. The first job I've ever had that I have actually looked forward to going back to after returning from a vacation. I felt gratitude for how supportive and compassionate everyone is at Bloom (owners, employees and clients alike, a real community), and for the fact that even though I was sad, and it was going to be a long day, I knew that by the time I left, I would feel better than I did now instead of worse (as the case usually was at most of my previous work places).
A few minutes later, my friend Z handed me a treat he had brought in for me (peppermint, lavender and coriander tea, he had carefully prepared himself, following the tenants of ayurveda). As I thankfully received it, it dawned on me that I was currently actively involved in the process of developing new relationships, and gathering another set of loved ones, that I would inevitably someday miss, in the same way I ache for so many today. It seems that as I age, my heart's puzzle evolves from one of those that toddlers play with, made out of just a few giant pieces, to one with a few thousand tiny little ones, destined to end up at a puzzle aficionado's table.
Many years ago, my friend P told me that maybe my purpose in life was to move around from one place to the next, meeting new people, and touching their lives as they touched mine. I remember telling her that as romantic as her idea sounded, it seemed rather exhausting, not to mention like a whole lot of BS to me.
As I sipped my tea, in a profound and bright moment of love, I wondered if she might have been right after all.
in a land far, far away). Ten and a half hours later, as I closed up shop, the heavy clouds had burst into heavy tears, falling on the pavement at the rhythm of the loud thunder, conducted by the lightning strikes. Yet the storm no longer mirrored my soul. For I was right, and a day at Bloom had made everything better. Plus, storms have always made me feel serene, calm, and at peace.
I ran across the street to the train station, and as I watched the rain drops hit the ground, I couldn't help but notice the bubbles they formed on the puddles of water. My lips curled into a smile, as I thought of my friend T (the one whose grandpa just passed away) and I watching the rain and the bubbles, almost twenty years ago back in the island. Ever since I can remember, rain bubbles on the ground make me think of him. I might not be able to be with him (or his family, or mine) to share our grief and comfort each other right now. But he is always with me. And I remember that every time it rains, anywhere I am in the world.
And so I was awaken by the light of what I have always known: that love is the very essence of our self. For the love we feel for others, for nature, for life itself, is the stuff that makes us us. When we speak of energy, of spirit, of source and connection, we speak of love. When we can't stop thinking about how good those apricots tasted fresh of the tree, it's love. When we are blissed out in savasana after a great yoga class, it's also love. It is all love. It is always, love.
Sure, sometimes it hurts so much that we want to dig our fist into our chest and just rip our heart out and be done with it once and for all. But the fact of the matter is, those who don't love, are angry, sad, lonely and annoying motherfuckers (sorry mom but they are...). And those of us who do, are much happier, more peaceful, and way more fun to be around.
Do as you might, but I'll stick to the latter.
My mom once told me that for those of us who walk the path of love, the road is usually a rocky one. I guess it's a good thing I collect rocks.
And in the end, I can vouch that the saying that " it's better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all" is definitely true.
Salud!
With love,
Now and always,
Ana.
Heartbroken Kumquat Syrup
Ingredients:
1 cup Kumquats (preferably picked from a tree in one of your favorite people's farm or yard)
1/2 cup Sugar
3/4 cup Water
Method:
Slice and seed the kumquats. Inhale deeply and rejoice as you experience their unique and delicious aroma.
Pat yourself in the back for deciding to preserve them instead of eating them all at once like you did with the apricots.
Save the last one and eat it whole as you savor through its flesh the moment when you picked it. Get a little sad. Then be happy you were there. In a saucepan, combine the kumquats, water and sugar, and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat and simmer until the liquid is a syrupy consistency.
Use as a base for kumquat soda or cocktails, and cheer to everyone you love who is far away, in this world or another.
Alternatively you may also use it as a garnish for cake, custard, or ice cream, when you feel the need to throw yourself into sugar's evil arms for comfort.
I will be enjoying mine atop chocolate pudding tonight, accompanied by a crunchy black olive whole wheat sable, as I think of each and every one of you, with a smile (and maybe a tear) on my face.
