bob marley, missing DC & eight whole weeks

Eight weeks ago, I packed my life up and hopped on a plane to SFO with my dreams and a light jacket (not really into cardigans these days, and I wasn’t heading to LAX, anyway). There are some things that have been particularly present during this time that I’m sure will remind me of my current here and now when I encounter them a few years down the road. You know when you hear a song and go, damn, that totally puts me back in senior year of college or whenever? That’s what I’m talking about. So here is my (partial) list:
- Bob Marley. It all started after Wanderlust, when I went to a Bob Marley-themed class. I’ve always listened to Marley, but now I listen on the daily. And I’m working on “Redemption Song” on the guitar. As a note to fellow Bob Marley fans, there’s an excellent documentary about his life on Netflix. Highly recommend.
- Moana. Mike and I watched this gem of an animated film while we ate one of our first home-cooked dinners at our new place. I was an emotional roller coaster at the time, having just moved here, and cried within the first five minutes. If you’ve seen it, think: baby Moana and the baby sea turtle. If you haven’t, put it on your watch list. Also, killer soundtrack.
- Gypsy. This Netflix show was a definite departure from my usual comedy television fix, but when we moved out here, I couldn’t stop watching it. In retrospect, as a psychological thriller, it probably didn’t help with my move-induced anxiety, but it hooked me and kept me entertained.
- La Boulangerie. Mike and I developed a morning croissant and coffee habit. Early into our time here, we began going to the San Francisco-based bakery down the street for some light work time and conversation. And we haven’t stopped. Definitely not trying to kick the habit, either.
- Boba tea. I live a block away from a tea bar, and if you come to visit, I’ll probably try to get you to go. Because it’s really good. And I finally took time today to figure out what tapioca is (cassava, anyone?). I’m extremely excited about this discovery. My go-to order? Thai tea with almond milk, super sweet.
For the first month I was out here, I was completely absorbed in the newness of the city and in prime “figure-it-out” mode. In sensory and discovery overload, I was too preoccupied to feel any aches of homesickness. But the second month here has been different. I’ve noticed myself sometimes slipping into comparisons of San Francisco and DC (not helpful; they’re completely different), and I’ve felt homesick. At first this worried me — and then I remembered my experience moving from Philadelphia to DC. While I was excited for the job that brought me to DC, I was less than thrilled to move back to the city where I had spent seven years of my childhood. It felt like too safe of a jump, and I had been craving excitement. For the first year, I dismissed most of what DC offered, turning my nose up to the burgeoning food scene, the uptight, speedwalk-to-work, work-obsessed culture and the “lack” of good running trails within 100 feet of my front door.
But one day, I woke up and loved DC. And I mean over-the-moon, head-over-heels loved it. It wasn’t a gradual shift, it was sudden. One day, in the spring/early summer of 2015, a year after I had leased an apartment and signed a contract for a consulting position, things fell into place. I no longer longed for Philly life or missed it at all. I walked into a yoga class taught by a woman who would eventually become instrumental in my truth-seeking journey and discovered something called Dharma Yoga. I found The Coffee Bar and The Wydown and Blagden Alley. I found my feet walking miles and miles all over the city, my spirit alive with the inspiration of destination-less exploration. I bonded with my work friends and looked forward to spending time with them outside of the office. And as time went on, my life in DC blossomed into something I never could have imagined when I first walked into my empty Logan Circle apartment in 2014.
Transitions like this take time. San Francisco may not feel like home for a while. But already, I’m seeing signs that I will get there. I have been met with such warmth and gracious welcoming from friends who live here. I have started to connect with others who are new to the city. I’ve begun a project with a good friend that is all about finding nourishment through togetherness. The natural world out here is unlike anything I’ve ever encountered, and I can’t get enough of it; those experiences in nature have been life-giving and abundant — hiking has become the new Friday date night. I’m networking like crazy for work and am beginning to get some traction. I haven’t found my yoga teacher yet, but I will. And San Francisco is not DC — but that’s precisely why I moved here.
Letting go is a process. It requires releasing expectations, which is always challenging, and acceptance of our experience. I’ve mentioned this before: I didn’t think this move would be a big deal. Honestly. I work for myself? No brainer; move the business. I have great friends; no biggie, we’ll stay in touch. Need to hire a moving company and pack my life into brown boxes? Been there, done that. Need to adjust to a new climate? I understand Ayurveda; I’ve got this. And so on. But I completely fell apart, and I didn’t see it coming because I expected the transition to be easy, seamless and above all, filled with happiness. It wasn’t. Far from it, in fact. It felt scary and dark. I felt insecure in some friendships that had once been anchors for me. I felt like I was unraveling uncontrollably. I felt like I was watching myself trying to be normal and just failing at really inopportune moments. And it didn’t start to feel better until I had two feet on the ground here in San Francisco for about a week, and I looked in the mirror one day and said I am not okay. But I will be. I accepted myself simply as I was. A little bit “off,” but certainly enough.
It’s interesting how easy it is to show up for those we love, and how difficult it is to show up for ourselves. What if we did for ourselves what we did for our friends and family in times of need and uneasiness: I love you. I’m here for you. It wasn’t that things got easier overnight. But in that simple act of releasing myself from tightly held expectations, and accepting my current state of existence, I could breathe more easily. I wasn’t hiding anything.
I realize I’ve touched on this before in my blog, and I don’t mean to take out the 2x4 and hit anyone over the head with my message. It’s all still fresh, and moved me quite deeply. I’m sharing because I know you’re out there having a similar experience in one way or another — and if you haven’t you will. I’m just here to say that you’re enough, just as you are right now. No act of becoming will make you “better” or “worse.” I love you.
In yoga, we have a saying along the lines of “the lotus blooms out of the mud.” The beautiful and fulfilling parts of life sometimes come from “un-glamorous” and often difficult parts. Life unfurls before us not in a straight line, but in ebbs and flows. It’s times like these when I remember why patience is a virtue.
It’s too early to tell whether or not San Francisco will be a long-term home for me. But I’m really excited to know her better and more deeply. While I am already missing the transition of summer to fall, I’m looking forward to the prolonged Bay Area summer that everyone raves about. I’m eager to nurture the friendships that have emerged here and to meet friends whose paths I haven’t even crossed yet. I’m enthusiastic about bringing my business to full life out here and helping people and other businesses to find their mission and operate accordingly. Sure, I’m a little homesick, but I’m optimistic. And really, when I think about it, DC was my homegirl; it’s almost good to miss her.
Om + shanti.
Heaps of gratitude to those who have shown their love and support by reaching out. Knowing that you care really means the world to me. You remind me that love is an action. I feel your love and your light. Sending mine right back.