Everything I thought about in May

Including: purposeless pain. And, sundresses!

Announcements Announcements!

My new book comes out in a month on July 15! I just finished recording the audiobook, if you’re a book-listener (which, yes, counts as reading!!).

I will have two book release events, one in NYC and one in DC, and my water might break at either one—you’ll just have to come to find out!

OR, DC has a virtual option if you don’t happen to live in either of these two specific cities :)

Washington DC + Virtual

Tuesday, July 15 at 7pm
Sixth and I
600 I Street NW, Washington DC 20001
RSVP HERE!

New York City

Friday, July 18 at 7pm
The Strand Book Store
828 Broadway, New York 10003
RSVP HERE!

The post below took me about an hour and a half to make so…I hope it compels you!?

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Some Thoughts During May

Since I’m past schedule AGAIN, I feel like writing a hybrid post of thought exploration and some silly stuff I enjoyed and recommend from last month.

How does that sound to you?

A lot of thoughts in May twirled around the same idea, which came up during this interaction at a hotel:

Me, seeing a fellow pregnant lady, attempts to connect with the ol’ When are you due?

(Side note: Not once have I heard this question correctly the first time; I always hear “What do you do?” and wonder for a minute why this stranger in a grocery store is curious about my job.)

Pregnant lady smiles, says September, I say, Oh I’m August! and we do the pregnant lady thing of telling each other we look good which I’m realizing is an essential part of pregnant-lady-to-pregnant-lady interaction. I’m still learning the rules.

Anyway, then we start complaining, which is another requirement of this interaction, and I’m all for it because I love complaining!

I say that I’m being tortured by all this free alcohol around the hotel but that my heartburn wouldn’t even allow me to enjoy it if I could, and she says she feels ugly all the time and her back has started to hurt, and we jibber-jabber about all that for a minute or two.

Then, she fulfills the final requirement of the conversation:

But it’s all worth it, right?

I feel something in me deflate. I was all hyped up by this communal complaining (which is so much more satisfying than my usual solo complaining!), and then all of a sudden I’m totally shifting emotional gears as I dutifully agree with a forced smile,

Oh, yeah.

I’m brought back to early months of pregnancy where the nausea was so bad I actually thought I would die of nausea. Like somehow the constant carsickness would just become more than I could bear, and my body would throw in the towel.

“But I’m sure you’re grateful because that means it’s healthy,” people around me and disembodied voices on the internet said.

You know what that felt like? It felt like getting together with a friend who you can be 200% yourself with, and you’re fully in the mode of being a sloppy mess and just letting it all hang out…and then your friend invites their friend, who is a much more sophisticated fancy person who gets uncomfortable around admissions of sloppy messiness.

And the mood just completely changes, and now you have to be on and think of some pleasant things to say and apologize for having lipstick on your teeth!

Or, when you’re a kid in school and have one of those cool teachers, but it’s teacher observation day so the teacher has to reign in their coolness and be formal, and the whole vibe is off for a day.

It’s like some authoritative voice steps in, the Mother Superior of this makeshift instant sisterhood, and reminds us to talk about our gratitude and the worth-it-ness of all this.

Those feelings are real too and they certainly come up in other moments, but I don’t know why they have to barge in on a conversation about nausea and heartburn.

One of the loveliest human feelings is the surprise of gratitude, when it sneaks up during a sunset or that Lilo & Stitch children’s choir song about surfing, and get that unexpected shower of serenity and full aliveness for a few moments as you’re body-washed in thanksgiving.

Those moments are sacred and special, and I don’t like to force special/sacred things into places where they didn’t naturally show up of their own accord.

So I’ve been revisiting a major theme of The Mari Life, which is… “Must pain be purposeful all the time? Do we have to ‘learn a lesson’ from hard things? Will I forever be forced to bring gratitude in at a time when I would rather just sulk? Can a gal have nausea in peace!?”

This is all a mirror for my own discomfort around painful situations without a pretty bow to tidily tie them up.

Of course I, too, want to tell friends in pain, “It will be better soon” or “Thank goodness for [some paltry redeeming coincidence that actually makes no difference]” or “At least…”

It takes a lot of effort for me not to drop the painted background of sunshine into a scene that takes place in a storm. “And look, it’s better now!”

Letting pain be pain is one of my greatest lessons of this life.

Ready to co-complain!

Which brings me to Santo Domingo.

Early in May, my mom and I visited the Dominican Republic, after I frantically emailed her that I wanted to squeeze in one more trip to a Spanish-speaking country before Mari Jr. comes along.

We chose to go to the capital Santo Domingo in lieu of beachy areas so we could presumably speak more Spanish and see more of the local culture.

And I’m so glad we went there. Everything about it was memorable, from the continuous construction outside of our hotel which greeted us every morning with the reminder that we were in a real-deal functioning city and not a movie set, to the gigantic heat that pressed down on every street and in every shop no matter how many fans were going at a time.

I do mean memorable in a good way!!

“This is an intensely urban city,” says the Lonely Planet guidebook, and “intense” was the first word that came to mind when we got there and kept coming into mind throughout every day.

I used to say the word “intense” as a euphemism for cuckoo-crazy or dominant-in-conversation or just annoying to be around.

But a while back I was listening to an interview with a musician who was asked to describe his wife in one word. “Intense,” he answered, and I knew he said that adoringly.

His description led me to appreciate my own intensity—which I heretofore regarded as a personality flaw—and the intensity of other beings and things.

After all, so many things I love are intense: New York City, green curry paste, the smell of agarwood, and getting my gums cleaned.

Santo Domingo no exception. The heat, the chaos, the accent, the confusion, and the beauty cutting through it all were so intense. My senses were on sky-high alert at every moment.

There was also a lot of exposure to urban poverty. I say “exposure” specifically here because being exposed doesn’t allow for space to connect and bear witness; it’s sudden and has no time for processing. (Think: disturbing images on social media!)

There were also a lot of really unpleasant situations, like being stuck in a sweltering car during a rush hour that spoke to a truly impressive misstep in urban planning—the sense that someone went out of their way to make this drive as difficult as it could possibly be!

And, in those situations, there were a lot of really life-ful moments. I say “life-ful” because “beautiful” feels patronizing to both my experience and the Dominicans’, and they were more like little bubbles of vibrancy floating through an otherwise bleak scene rather than something awe-inspiring.

For instance, in that beat-up sweltering car, sitting on a road that defied every rule of orderliness, the driver—who couldn’t have been any more pleased about the circumstances than we were—belted out the entire time to every single word of the bachata and merengue music from the stereo.

HE KNEW EVERY WORD! And he would also dance in his seat as much as the tight space would allow.

That’s not…the kind of thing you see in New York.

And by no means do I want to make anything resembling a point that people living in poorer cities (although the DR as a whole is an upper-middle-income country) are happier than those of us in more privileged parts of the world and how much we could learn from them and yada yada ick…

But, having lived in places where nothing goes according to plan, and definitely having visited many of them, I’ll easily put on record that people are a lot more present when life is a lot less predictable. And presence and joy are close cousins, though they don’t always act related.

Every few months it seems like, the New York Times runs yet another lifestyle headline:

Are you happy yet?

Americans are obsessed with finding (hyper-individualized) happiness, but I think we’d do a lot better with cultivating a communal joy that seems to stem from the collective assumption that things won’t always go according to plan.

Pretty much absolutely nothing went according to plan in Santo Domingo, and after a couple days I found that to be quite relaxing. Or, at least, I was far more present. If you can’t really plan past the next 5 minutes, it becomes easy to not think about it—for better or worse.

I had to chuckle that there are plenty of people who PAY MONEY FOR RETREATS to learn how to live in the moment from influencers who claim the key, and even fork over large sums of cash for a dark-night-of-the-soul on demand (ayahuasca, anyone? :).

Wisdom grows from the sludgy mud of not getting your way all the time, and a lot of parts of the world have it. It’s life-ful to be around. And it’s not forced gratitude, but something much more organic and integrative.

Which brings me to another thought that’s been bubbling up this spring.

The phrase: I wish I could do that.

It’s a sentiment that passed through my wilting brain during the bachata-soundtracked cab ride of humidity nightmares. “I wish I could be like this guy who dances through traffic.”

And one that has come up in every single dance class I’ve ever taken: “I wish I could dance like her.”

I hear myself constantly say it, and I hear others too—particularly when it comes to talking about languages.

“I wish I could speak a foreign language.” “I should really know Spanish.”

As though…learning Spanish were akin to wishing you had been born an armadillo.

It’s actually something you can do!

Take it from me: I never took Spanish in school, wasn’t interested. French/Arabic/Russian seemed far more exhilirating!

I started learning Spanish as an adult, with sporadic classes here and there. Then, a few years ago, I realized that one day—somewhat soon—I’d turn 40.

“I can’t believe I’m 35 and don’t speak good Spanish yet,” I thought. “And now it’s too late; if I start now, I won’t be fluent til I’m 40.”

Then it dawned on me that I would turn 40 whether or not I had been studying Spanish the entire time!?

And then I got obsessed with becoming fluent and now I have no cares in the world when it comes to age vs. language; they have no relation to each other.

After all, MANY non-English-speaking immigrants come to the U.S. as adults and have to learn the language quickly…and not all of them just have a knack for languages. It’s a skill, like anything else, that can be learned! Not a “you have it or you don’t” kind of thing—though I suspect this is a distinctly North American mindset for the most part.

So now I no longer mournfully long to understand telenovelas, but I still catch myself in this “I wish I could…[thing that is entirely within my ability to learn]” and I’m always curious about it.

Often, what I realize, is that I don’t actually wish I could do that thing. Not really. The truth is: I don’t want to!

And that’s fine!!!!

I’ve tried learning a whole orchestra of instruments and it does not bring me any delight, as much as in theory I’d love to be able to pick up the fiddle and jam during a bonfire or whatever.

So, I’ve resolved to be an engaged and devout listener of music.

I always tell my retreat-goers that I’ll never ask them to share any of their work unless they want to, and that listening/reading/looking is just as important as writing or making art in the creative ecosystem! It’s a very sacred role, being an audience member.

(Given that the #1 career aspiration for kids around the country is “influencer,” I think they might need a refresher that sometimes it’s okay not to say anything, and we need both talkers and listeners all the time!)

So, now when I find myself wistfully thinking, I wish I could…, I try to get in the habit of redirecting that yearning to:
a) Is there something I can do about that?
or
b) Do I actually want to?

And, if it’s Option B, then I wonder how I can participate without doing the wished-for activity itself.

My greatest desire in life is to become a surfer, but I have too many hang-ups about sharks to actually realize this dream. Instead, I watch tons of surfing documentaries and read a lot of surfing books. I feel like I get all that I want from the sport, without the possibility of being chomped on by sealife.

Which brings me to my final two retreats I taught the past two months.

I got to teach two retreats, one in May and one in June, and both were just the sweetest, life-ful experiences that I reflect so fondly on! I loved both groups immensely and think about every attendee often.

Those two almost made me want to commit to more of them next year, but in the spirit of rewilding and pruning my jobs so that other seedlings may grow, I want to focus on an idea that’s been bouncing around my head this past year:

The Creativity Gym.

What do we think?? This would be a series of local workshops and maybe day-long retreats, possibly with virtual options? I’m not sure yet!

But I haven’t been this inspired in a while and it feels so good, and I could make it good if I resist the siren song of having a couple reliable gigs on the calendar so I don’t feel panicked all the time!

Creativity on display in Santo Domingo

And a few other things I loved in May:

I loved rolling around on these recovery balls.

I’ve been under attack by a vicious backache with a dash of sciatica, and lying down with a recovery ball beneath my sacrum is all I ever want to do. I’d do it all day long! It also feels so good to sit on one during a flight or drive and really get into your piriformis. It’s like unlocking every muscle in your body in one move.

Oh, and stepping on the ball and moving it around my foot has become my favorite end-of-day routine!

This is my favorite one I’ve tried—the Goldilocks ideal of not-too-firm not-too-soft.

I loved anticipating the Tony Awards.

In May I saw Just in Time with Jonathan Groff as himself, who must be our greatest male Broadway star of this era—he is made of magic. He won the Tony of my heart.

I also watched a lot of Cole Escola interviews in anticipation of their win for Oh, Mary! which is my new favorite example of what an artist can do when they follow the weird.

Nobody is a bigger fan of Oh, Mary! than my mom, and she sends me lots of Cole content that makes my day. I love love looove watching artists be rewarded for work that most people will not appreciate or understand…but the ones who do become ardent fans for life.

I loved easy breezy dresses.

Sometimes I feel like Murphy’s Law in human form, so I gotta give myself credit where it is absolutely not due: I timed this pregnancy very well, season-wise.

I got through the worst of it during the dead of winter when everyone else was glued to their couch anyway; it was a perfect time to hibernate and cuddle with a bottle of nausea medication and Saltines.

Then, as the weather turned toward the light, so did my energy and spirits. I started showing just in time for overalls and cardigans season, which made me feel like a Movie Pregnant Person and not an Actual Pregnant Person (the movie version is cuter and more comfortable).

And now, as I expand more and more every day, I can throw on a sack of a dress without having to fiddle with zippers and coat buttons. This is a moment when I feel very, very grateful!!

Here are a few superstar rentals from May:

*Farm Rio remains the GOAT of easy colorful dresses. I got this one in a small (it runs big!!) and it accommodated the tum-tum!

*This beauty is a maternity dress but I don’t see why it wouldn’t work for non-maternity bodies? It’s really soft like a gentle nightgown and hit the elusive sweet spot of a summery dress that is still somehow cozy:

*Another non-maternity dress that worked for prenatal purposes! I LOVED this one—such a fresh, crisp feel!

*The easy-breeziest dress I’ve ever put on my person…more swimsuit-cover-up than gown, but suitable for hot hot days when all you want is to wear a breeze!

*Another maternity dress that doesn’t have to be, in the form of a mini babydoll frock:

I don’t like that selfie any more than you do, but I do like looking like a human tennis ball.

Chartreuse is one of my favorite colors to wear (I have LIVED in this dress for years, from photo shoots to lounge days at home!). In my first ever photo taken with Mr. Mari, I am looking very tennis-ball-like so I have happy associations with the color!

I borrowed this get-up for an event but it’s Alice and Olivia, and scrumptious!

I loved celebrating my cat’s quinceañera.

My sweet girl turned 15 so I made her a meow-garita that I was quite proud of, with crushed treats around the rim secured with Churus and a chew stick for the straw!

I loved SolidCore.

I really, really, really appreciated having SolidCore nearby the past few months. Like dance, it was one of the few times during pregnancy when I felt like myself.

It’s the hardest workout I’ve ever done so it felt good reaching goals that had nothing to do with incubating a child! As a bonus, once I started showing, it was always fun to get high fives from the beefy guys with a celebratory “You’re a f’ing beast!!”

Got to 100 classes in May!

I loved making my apartment less irritating.

I went on an organization spree in May, during which I looked at every corner of my apartment and assessed the things that have been silently driving me insane: a tangle of cords, a drawer from hell, the most inefficient way I could possibly store cleaning supplies, and the bathroom that always brings down my mood when I go in (small, cramped, cluttered, annoying!).

I ordered a bunch of cheap organizing tools (and my new secret to happiness—an over-the-toilet shelf unit) and completely went to town. I changed lightbulbs that were too harsh, configured ways to avoid stuffing things into cabinets that actively depress me, and implemented little solutions to daily horrors (eureka! a small shoe rack to avoid the shoe colony growing around the front door!).

I feel EASEFUL now where I used to feel STRESSED OUT. It’s a wonderful feeling to be able to sashay through my living space with a sense of lightness, rather than climb over the many obstacles in order to get what I need out of some kitchen abyss and thus dishearten myself for the rest of the day.

Looking at this organized cabinet is the same as gazing upon the ocean for me:

P.S. You can order my new book HERE and join my book events HERE!

Happy June!