Rosie Glow Wellness

Mind body health for the deeply fabulous

2:141 A Body at Rest



Just me on a tiger skin rug, nbd. By Rachel Levit

It’s all happening, Sweet Friend. There are signs of a thaw after this fall/winter/early spring of malcontent — we’ve got chirpy little wrens dangling fat and reeling worms from their bills as though fishing for their own babies… which is a better bird situation, in my book, then the frozen, knifelike crows with their RAVENOUS EYES (that want to eat my eyes, I’m telling you); all of Logan Square has adopted my daily uniform — crop top, high-waisted shorts, wedge sneakers what uppppppp; and opportunities are finally, finally starting to open up for me like so many emboldened roses.

And I feel… dubious? Lightly terrified? Spazzy beyond your wildest dreams?

Last night I went to an art opening (for Kate McQuillen!) and en route, our bus hit a cab. When we eventually arrived (all bones in their appropriate bone sockets: no one was hurt) at the space way out in a west, West Loop industrial corridor, we couldn’t find her studio. And when we eventually arrived at her studio, an editor who I’m interested in writing for asked me what I write… and I was hot and my upper lip was sweaty and I already knew I was going to be late TO MY THERAPY APPOINTMENT later that evening and I sh*t you not, I said “I don’t know? All the things? Girly stuff?” and promptly spilled some of my white wine on myself.

And I was… late to therapy.

The thing is, I don’t trust that these particular emboldened roses won’t shrivel up and clamp their petals closed like an oyster or the corpse of Tallulah Bankhead’s long-dead fingers crusted around a lowball bourbon glass. This year has presented me with so many almost opportunities that never came to fruition and I’m just trying to be and process and LIVE MY LIFE, you know? You do know. You read this blog. Good for you. So if you can stand another anecdotal something, I think I can make a connection to benefit us all.

I’ve been yoga-ing on the daily, of late. For titillation’s sake, you should know that I recently fell on my head while attempting to Salamba Sirsasana, and the practice does not come naturally to me in the slightest. But I am passable at shavasana: corpse pose… deceased Tallulah Bankhead pose, the pose where you don’t do anything because you’re meant to rest in shavasana and absorb the benefits of 90 minutes’ worth of focus and effort. And of course my mind meanders. Of course, my tailbone hovers above ground due to my having somewhat of an ass and I shift from cheek to cheek for 10 minutes, frowning all the while… it’s only natural. But I do very consciously attempt to slow down my breath and absorb the aforementioned benefits, which could very much translate to life and limbo-land if I would only let it… if I would only acknowledge the focus and effort I’ve been putting in as I attempt to pursue my (treacherous) path (of undisclosed geographical location), and absorb the benefits of learning all that I’ve learned about myself in the process.

So to mix metaphors for just a moment, which I never, ever do — I’m going to stop, sniff these roses, and be glad that my eyes aren’t being pecked out by beak-shivs at this very moment. Namaste.




Author: twitchysister

Hey you! is largely devoted to musings on what balance means to an urbane, artsy-fartsy twenty-something. It’s tough out here for us post-grad women: if you’re not homeless, you’re doing something right. But do you, too, worry that you spend too much time furrowing your brows over your future when you should be unwrapping and relishing your present? Do you, like me, sometimes feel like everyone expects you to be the type of person who spends the majority of her entry-level “arts” paycheck on fifteen dollar old-timey cocktails, four a.m. cab rides home and everything sequined on the Urban Outfitters sale rack when, perhaps, you are really the type of person who would rather drink cucumber mint kale juice while wearing yoga pants and Googling reiki techniques? Is it possible that such a person is one and the same, and she is fabulous in her own, very confused right? Sister girl, I hear you. I know you. I accept you. I also know in my happy gut, full heart and coffee-addled brain that you and I are gorgeous glow worms, just as we are! We are sparkle ponies of light and love and we are still in the process of teasing out our true, authentic selves with all of this… living. So if you don’t have it figured out, if you acknowledge that you never will and that is tremendously exciting, if you want to connect with other smart chicks and tap into that charming inner-self of yours, then come back real soon, ya hear? We’re family now!

5 thoughts on “2:141 A Body at Rest

  1. Really disappointed you had to knock crows (a member of the corvid family) to complete your bird metaphor… low blow

  2. I want to share something from a book that has been invaluable to me throughout grad school and in my few post-grad years so far, called “Beyond Talent: Creating a Successful Career in Music” (can really be a successful career in any arts field.) The author had a blog entry about this, but she took it down, so I just retyped it from her book. You can easily adapt it to fit your needs as a writer! (the “Jane’s letter” it refers to was from a previous section, so don’t worry about it):

    When meeting new people more casually, outside of any appointment, it’s very helpful to have a concise way to introduce yourself and convey what you do and what you are interested in. You need to be able to introduce yourself in person. The handy introductory statement is sometimes referred to as an “elevator speech.”

    Imagine this: you walk through an office building lobby and step onto an elevator. You look over and find you are standing next to a musician or arts administrator, someone you recognize but have never had the chance to meet. Now is your chance. As you watch the elevator floor numbers tick by, you need to figure out what to say!

    Instead of panicking and saying nothing, or saying something you later regret, it’s best to have something you have thought about and practiced. An elevator speech is not something formal or memorized. Instead, it should be a set of phrases and content you can use flexibly and comfortably to introduce yourself to others. If you have an elevator speech at the ready, it makes it much easier to meet people. It should be short: about 30 seconds and no more than four sentences. It should be conversational and personal, not a sales pitch. And it should give your conversation partner something to talk with you about — it should have conversation “openings.”

    To break it down, here is what you need to include:

    1. Your name and what you do (instrument/voice type, genre)
    2. A credential to establish your most relevant background. This might be a recent performance credit, an ensemble with which you perform, the recent degree you received, or your teaching or arts administration position.
    3. Next, briefly state your current project or topic area you are exploring. The person you meet must have a reason to connect with you. You want them to be able to give you an idea or a contact, so you create a conversation “volley” to which your partner can respond. You, in turn, need to be finding out from your companion what SHE or HE is interested in and what points of interest you may share. If the conversation is going well and your companion seems interested, you can carry on with:
    4. A specific request, such as to contact this person in the future to set up a meeting.

    Here’s an example of an elevator that I’ve used: “Hi, I’m Angela Beeching; I run the Career Services Center at New England Conservatory of Music [1 and 2 above]. I just wanted to introduce myself because I heard your performance last month at the X club and I’m a big admirer of your work!”
    [The other person responds favorably, so I go on with:]
    “I write on musicians’ career issues and am working on an article about music entrepreneurs for ABC publication. I’d love to do a short phone interview with you about your XYZ project. Do you think I could e-mail you and set up a time to talk? [3-4]”

    Look again at Jane’s letter above. Her second paragraph was a concise “elevator speech” in written form that she could easily adapt for an elevator meeting with Liz:

    Hi — I’m Jane Smith, an oboist, and I teach at the Brookline Music School. I wanted to introduce myself to you, Ms. Borg. I recognize you from the Young Audiences website — I’m so glad for this chance to meet you! I have a woodwind quintet and we’v performed for after-school programs in Jamaica Plain and West Roxbury, and we love this kind of work. We’re interested in learning how to improve our educational programs. Do you think I could arrange to meet with you in the coming weeks to hear your thoughts and advice?

    To put the elevator speech into everyday context, in networking conversations, when your’e asked, “So what are YOU up to these days?” you should be ready to concisely describe either a project you’re working on or an upcoming performance.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s


Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 81 other followers