impatienttransition

impatient. there's no other word for it. I can clearly differentiate between how I normally feel and how I feel right now. everything seems to take longer than it should. that six minutes til the local-stops train arrives on my way to my friend's house tonight? seems like at least 24 minutes. that additional four weeks til my blackmilk and Roxie's legs arrive from Australia? seems like two years.

I want to feel settled. hell. I want to BE settled. but I have this nagging sense that the feeling of settledness comes with a bed. you know. that bed that's still on the boat.

and so I wait. and wait. but not quite as patiently as I'm used to. talking with a friend as I leave yoga: "look, I don't know. just decide already!" him: "you're just... leaving yoga?" yeah. that's me as I'm leaving my happy place. can you imagine how I am as I walk into class?

luckily for my friends, it's mostly in my head. unluckily for me, it's mostly in my head. in yoga class yesterday, I taught about being present in a transition phase, rather than continually waiting for what was next. I taught that theme because I have been hearing over and over "I can't wait til spring is ACTUALLY here!" (btw, me too.) but this continual forward focus distracts from the now. ...and only today did I realize that I was really trying to teach that theme to myself.

so we are in seasonal transition. and I'm definitely in transition. but we are all in transition.

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impatient
transition

*more patience
*now

germinating

"if you've ever experienced
the mountains in the springtime:
snow is melting into rivulets
of crystal clear water
trickling from underneath
and coarsing ever downward
into widening streams
birds singing; the air sweet and clean
new buds and greenery sprouting forth
everything fresh and new
... that's spring"

legend goes that when they were naming me, my dad uttered those words. my mom scribbled them down, wanting to cement the reasoning behind my name. she then wrote it in calligraphy, and it has been hanging in my room ever since.

i get a lot of jokes about my name. ESPECIALLY this time of year. ESPECIALLY as new yorkers are getting sick and tired of snow. each person i meet says "oh, can you do something about this weather?" or "you're bringing the warm weather with you, right?"

but it's ok: i secretly like it. i roll my eyes playfully and tell them that i'll do what i can. or i joke back, saying "you know, i've NEVER had ANYone tell me that before!" ...which usually gets a blushed chuckle.

but the truth of why i like my name is because of what is written above. the word "spring" has many meanings. but the connotation of the seasonal change is the one that resonates with me and has guided my life in so many ways.

everyone has to live up to their name in one way or another. me, i feel a little pressure to be bouncy. a little urge to keep the smile on my face. a bit of desire to make everyone's life a little brighter. but honestly... that's something i can deal with. i want to live my life with responsibility like that.

almost every yoga class i've been to in the past week has talked about germination; sprouting; blossoming... all of the metaphors you could think of for spring. and every single one seems to speak directly to me. (just like when the person on the corner goes "ohmigoodness i think spring is coming!" and i turn my head to respond, but then realize they might NOT be speaking to me.)

germinating it totally me right now: figuring out how to blossom in this new place.

but even more, it's my sister. my beautiful baby sister is about to have her first baby blossom. and she has been germinating with all her strength and beauty for the past nine months. i'm so proud of her. so excited for her. so excited for us.

and this blog is dedicated to her, and to her and andy's choice for their baby's name. shayna: your baby will grow into his name. he will find the meaning he wants behind it. he will blossom into it and learn to joke back with whatever anyone says to him. he will find his strength and beauty in it. i promise.

we all germinate.
we all blossom when we are ready to.
learning to be in the germination phase is sometimes hard,
but we always know that spring is coming.
xoxo