On closures and work-in-progress
Mercury in retrograde can be a bitch. Don’t even get me started on the first Saturn return. But they can also be very enlightening processes. And that’s the key word in here. Process. And processes take time, courage and patience. Call it Mercury, mourning, growth or challenge. It’s all about the process.
Getting a RFE for your visa application, finding out your mom agreed to proceed with brain surgery, not getting paid for your past work -6 months overdue-, not knowing what’s gonna happen tomorrow, where will you be in the next 2 weeks, or what are you gonna do in the upcoming months is as nerve-wracking as not knowing whether or not you’ll have your period, or better yet, why your period has not come yet. These have been my exhausting past months. More than 120 days stranded in the unknown. Uncertainty. 1080 hours under the (Mercury) shadows. Waiting. Knowing that regardless of your dedication, obsession and perfection, these outcomes do not and will not depend on yourself. Completely powerless and impotent.
I am always at my worst when it comes to waiting and not knowing, and I tend to perform way better at dealing with serendipity results. I’ve been here before — finding out more about astrology doesn’t make this the first time for this to ever happen, but it does make it the first time I bring it to my forefront conscious self with a name and a last name. I’ve been faced with scary decisions and heart-breaking events: deaths, breast cancer notifications, period delays or lack of them, broken condoms, love deceptions and triangles, love losts, professional challenges and obstacles, dealing with draining, demanding and rude people on daily basis, job failures and school applications denials. You name it, I’ve been there before.
But the power of everything happening all at once, obviously became a stronger pill to swallow and a harder hit to take — even while knowing that life had prepared you for this before. My dad always tells me “Life is conflict”. And it’s true. Conflict as in a story. Conflict as in the intriguing, interesting and twisting part of the plot. The part worth telling. The part worth living.
“If you’re still breathing, you’re still living” — Maki, Body Combat Class
And, as battling these moments of uncertainty, I came to the realization that the best way to deal with them is to create. Because to create something out of the blue is to believe in that something. Is to be convinced that, that little endeavor will turn out just fine, and that gives you a little bit of control over it, and over the whole situation. A recipe, a drink, a comfy dish, a daily plan, an exercise routine, a blog post or a walk around the park. The commitment put towards these activities makes all the difference while trying to put the uncertainly puzzle together. It fuels the faith container that has been so empty lately. It is to be(a)live(d). And that’s how I cope.
Sometimes I’m lazy, others, I’m just so down into the darkness vortex it’s even hard to do something else but to sleep. That’s when the figure of the helper, the wizard or the encouraging source of will comes to light. In my case, they are usually my family and friends. And I’m so grateful for them.
Within that hectic phase, is when I realize I need to create the most. That’s when the story needs another chapter to keep the conflict unveiling, and finally, resolving itself. The creative process is just as funky, non-linear and scary as life itself. And to face all those challenges — and somehow to gain some pseudo-control placebo over this almighty, uncontrollable situations — one needs to be brave. If there’s nothing worth telling, then, as the saying goes, live and experience something worth writing about. Something that excites you. Staying still is, usually, a recipe for creative disaster. The muse must be chased, looked for and hunted. Do. Prototype. Even if you fail — it will give you a rush of excitement that most certainly will make you stand up and leave your miserable, self pity bed.
“Courage is grace under pressure” — Ernest Hemingway
I consider myself a brave person. Not because I’m not scared… who am I kidding, I’m completely and absolutely terrified, but because I manage to go through fear and do, choose, and say things anyways. Even if sometimes that means doing “that” thing, or taking “that” decision or facing “that” truth crying, with your crushed heart still beating and bleeding on your very own bare hands. A lot of that courage comes from being comfortable on your own skin, being confident on your abilities and having a support and loving network that cheers and roots for you, even when you aren't a biggest fan of yourself. I’m thankful to my parents, friends and mentors, who always managed to shine some light during these moments, making those decisions somehow easier and less frightening.
Making that decision, assuming that choice, mumbling those words, taking full responsibility of it, with its goods and bads, that’s courageous. That’s badass. There’s this quote that says: “Nobody is afraid of heights, people are always afraid of the fall.” And that’s true. Once again, not knowing the outcome, not having control of the “what ifs”, not knowing how far is the floor or how much the hit will hurt is what’s triggering.
During the moments of struggle it is exactly the struggle we must not focus on. My friend Suse compares emotions to waves. You just have to surf them through. Go with the flow, be the motion of the ocean. If you stay still, resisting it, they will surely hit you down. Feel the sandy and salty taste of water, and then let it go. Don’t be attached to a wave.
The process wont always be clear or easy, but it will become brighter and worth it. Take time and celebrate the journey. Even if the journey looks like a mother fucking tunnel of stinky and disgusting shit (Belu always has the best analogies). Sometimes it happens. But there’s always a light at the end of the tunnel, even if we don’t see it. It’s the point of no return, the realization that, even if everything is dark around you, you just keep moving forward because there’s no way back. Keep your objective clear, reach out for help, keep the virtuous and not vicious circle going. Create something else. Focus on your story plot, think about which challenge you are facing and look for inspiration on people who went through that journey before you. As Booker writes, are you overcoming the monster? Is this chapter of your life story a one of quest, is it of voyage and return or a rebirth one? Are you thriving on a comedy or are you weeping out on a tragedy, and if so, when is the rebirth chapter happening?
“Everything you’re going through right now is preparing you for what you asked for” — Mici Magazine
Slowly but surely I am coming to terms with the narrative arch of our daily life. Campbell’s Hero Journey or Clarissa Pinkola Estés Wolf archetypes …
On top of everything, I’m now faced with a new, unexpected challenge: I need to switch apartments. My current apartment, we call it Franklin, is far from perfect: a pre-war building in Brooklyn, with uneven wood floors, on a noisy corner, with uncontrollable central heating that makes you fell like in your own private sauna, even if it’s snowy outside. The toilet gets clog if you throw paper in it and the smoke detector goes on scaring the shit out of you while preparing your morning toast. It’s owned by a terrible, and I mean, TERRIBLE landlord which treats you badly at will and charges you a demential rent amount. It’s not nice. Franklin, you are actually a pain in the ass. But I deeply, insanely and fucking love this place. With all these imperfections, I made it my home. I just felt it. After visiting 27 apartments in two cold mornings during January 2018, I found it. I entered and felt a vibe. The place talked to me. It had a soul. Its 6 beautiful windows shed light to my winter and I just knew it. I asked the agent “what’s wrong with this place, why is it still on the market?”, while noticing the bumpy floor and the shitty door knob. Yet, it was love at first sight. And slowly but surely, I made a home. My parents came and helped me moving. A few visits to Ikea later, it had already the necessary amount of furniture. It took me months to find the perfect table. I finally hanged the frames I was dying to put on the walls for the past 5 years during my gypsy life between Scandinavia and Asia. And then people start coming. I remember I wasn’t ready for the first mingling, we all enjoyed it on the floor. Then dinners happened, dates and hook ups, snowy views from my window, 4th of July on my balcony with crazy Manhattan views. 14 people at times, hosting more dinners, thanksgivings and parties. Even a stripper came over! And I’m so sad to let all these go. This was the place that welcomed me to America, to the Dani I became leaving all my past lives, loves and pains behind. The land of the free, home of the brave, isnt it? Franklin Street was, still is, and would always be, exactly that for me.
“There is a time when it is necessary to abandon the used clothes, which already have the shape of our body and to forget our paths, which takes us always to the same places. This is the time to cross the river: and if we don’t dare to do it, we will have stayed, forever beneath ourselves” — Fernando Pessoa
So yes, I’m sad. Sometimes overwhelmed with all these things going on. I’m mourning. This chapter is coming to an end, and just because there’s a new one coming, an amazing and full-of-mysteries one, doesn’t mean is not hard letting this one go. Somehow, while being busy traveling, working, having fun, meeting people, enjoying NYC and its perk, 2 years passed by and now I happened to outgrown this place. I happened to outgrown myself. While sometimes it feels I have nothing going on, like no job, no apartment, no love, I understood it’s a hard yet beautiful exercise that I force myself to think and believe, that actually this is a good thing. It actually means that everything is possible, everything is in potentia. The best is yet to come. I can literally do, go, choose, and love everything, anything and everyone. Nothing is holding me back but myself. I’m saying goodbye to 30-year-old Dani and welcoming the upcoming next 3.0 version. This is why I need to mourn. All this is what I’m mourning. I need to fall apart to recreate myself even more beautifully, braver and stronger. So there you go Joseph, here I am becoming the hero of my own story. Here’s my rebirth, here’s the closure needed to be ready for the new start, mastering the knowledge and wisdom of the two worlds.
Last but not least, not only one must dare to fill those creative outlets on your life, but also one needs to fill them in with kindness. It is important that during this WIP process of (self)creation, one must be gently. It happens to me more often than not, that I’m very picky, extremely anxious and highly demanding while pursuing excellence. You need to cut yourself some slack, and be gentler with yourself. Lower your pressure-meter since you already have a lot on your plate which outcome don’t depend on you. I repeat, their outcome don’t depend on you. So, even if you are a control-freak like me, try to relax. Hug yourself. Be kind and self-pampering. You need it. Your mental health, your body and your creative endeavor that fuels you through this uncertain time will thank you.
And suddenly, before you ever realize it, that particular process will be over. Between you and me, I’m exhausted and can’t wait for it to be done. But, as the saying goes, we should just do it one day at a time. And you and me, after soaking it in, we’ll be able to see: we’ll be standing almost on the other side.
