Wednesday, January 16, 2013

Buenos Dias


It’s a rainy winter day in Washington, D.C. I'm grateful to hop on the slice-of-life 42 Metro bus, with people from all over, to my freelance gig this morning. The 42 wends its way from Mt. Pleasant, a neighborhood one-third white, one third-black and one-third Hispanic (predominately from Central America), to Metro Center.

Two tall successful looking Spaniards, their Castilian accents reveal, are catching up in the aisle. An elderly white woman prepares to get off the bus. She rises and says with agitation, "I'm getting off the bus. Excuse me." 

The couple doesn't seem to hear her. The woman is so tiny only I can hear from my eye-level-to-her-face seat. The international visitors do not move.
 

Exasperated, the woman exclaims, "Nobody speaks English anymore! Ugh, such a shame."

"It's a beautiful thing, amiga," I tell her as I work on one of my goals for 2013 — to master conversational Spanish.

Tuesday, January 8, 2013

Rose et Rouge


My daily wardrobe staples of black-on-black have yielded gradually to a glimmer of pink (as in the year of). And red. Perhaps a fundamental theme has emerged? 

Summer 2012, pink + red ombre wrap.

Fall 2012, pink faux pearl + red crystal mala.

Winter 2013, highlights of pink + red (along with my first French red).

Red is the color of the muladhara (root) chakra, located at the base of the spine. As Anodea Judith writes in Eastern Body, Western Mind, Psychology and the Chakra System as a Path to the Self:
For most of us, our roots are unconscious influences on our behavior, linked to elements of our past. To bring muladhara to consciousness is to bring awareness to our roots, to uncover the past, to examine the past, to delve into it. Everything that grows above branches out into infinity, growing more complex. Going down to our roots brings us into a singular simplicity, and anchors us into the commonality of the collective unconscious. It brings us home to the earth.
The related healing practice, per Anodea: hatha yoga and look at earliest childhood relationship to mother. My intention, exactly.

Tuesday, January 1, 2013

Bienvenue a 2013



Welcome to a new year, at long last. These last 12 months have been wildly exhilarating and simply brutal. I’ll spare you the details that I’ve been processing during my year-end ritual

Let’s look ahead. 

This year I celebrate ... pink. Many of my women friends have long adored shades ranging from blush to fuchsia. I remember it absent from my youth. Having been raised in large part by my father, and with three older brothers in the household, pink’s cousins red and orange surfaced periodically. But nothing as divine as rose. 

L’annee du rose is a year {to paraphrase Valentino} of strength, sophistication and femininity. 

Red was my beloved mother’s favorite color, she once confessed; and her mother’s name was Rose. In their honor, I plan to explore the deeper connections between and among us. 

Bonne annee et bonne sante!