Coming to You from Albuquerque Monday Morning Check-In Post
How Are YOU??!!
My phone dinged as we got into our car to leave Susan and Michael’s house for the last time yesterday. It was Liz Gaylor, owner of Tiny Grocer ABQ and Old Town Herbal responding to the text I had sent her the night before. I have been an online customer of hers for many years (her hemp salve is the best), and I messaged her a while back to let her know we’d be swinging through Albuquerque in early May. She immediately extended an offer to get together.
Her text let me know she’d been out of town teaching and would be back in her shop today and tomorrow all day long. The timing could not have been more perfect as I was starting to wonder if we needed to be in Albuquerque at all. Spoiler alert: it seems as if we do.
I booked us at a house in a downtown neighborhood. Although half the size, it’s reminiscent of the apartment we’ll be moving into in Chicago at the end of this week. I did some internet sleuthing to discover this house was built in 1926 (the Chicago apt was also built in the 1920s). The floors are wood and some of them are a bit slanty. It’s homey and warm with yellow walls, a turquoise picket fence, and roses in the front, and although we are downtown, this block is very quiet.
I opened the door to let the pack out into the front yard, spied the stop sign right in front of me (pictured above), and started laughing at the magic. “Don’t Stop Believing”, by Journey immediately began playing in my head. Okay, got it, an anthem for this journey. While I am not a fan of most graffiti, this one is delightful. Plus, you all know my feelings about signs.
If you’re just joining me, you can catch up with this one here
Across the street the neighbors are flying a “Ceasefire Now” banner on their building, around the corner there is a “No War” sign visible in the front window of one of the houses, and around the other corner is “El Cuervo”, an LGBTQ owned and operated B&B hanging their pride flag in front for all of the world to see. We noticed this as we took the dogs for their very first full-on city walk. They aced it.
For dinner last night I found Itality, a Native woman-owned and plant-based New Mexican and Indigenous restaurant. It was delicious and the food was mostly gone before I realized I had not taken any photos. Even though there are many wonderful places to eat in ABQ, I would not be surprised if Jon and I ate there again.
While in Santa Fe on Saturday afternoon, Jon and I left the doggies with Susan and Michael, and we took a stroll through the downtown plaza. We wound our way through an elaborate maze of a shop called The Rainbow Man which started outdoors and then took us into room after room filled with Native artifacts and jewelry for sale ultimately bringing us to the back area which was filled with photographs taken by Edward S. Curtis, featuring Native and Indigenous people and their lives and landscapes all from the late 1800s and early 1900s.
I stood there in this room captivated by all of these beings and their lives, feeling into all that had been stolen from them as my heart broke and I began to cry. The history in Santa Fe of colonization and appropriation was loud to my senses, and I could see the physical remnants of it in the faces and bodies of the Native people selling their wares along the square.
Jon and I made our way back to the car, to a spot that had opened up for us just as I was about to give up on the plaza on a busy Saturday afternoon knowing that we had gotten what we had gone there to find without knowing in advance what that would be. I’ve never loved the desert and have always known these feelings had something to do with a past life as a Native of this land. Standing in that room with those photos, looking into their eyes and feeling them as if they were there with me, let me know that I was standing in a place I had once stood before.
ABQ feels a bit different to me. It’s still early, as in we just got here yesterday in the late afternoon, and yet, I feel lighter and have had delightful interactions the two times I went out for supplies, one at the restaurant already mentioned and later at a giant corporate-owned grocery store (I tried to go to the co-op but it was closed on Sunday). Although still at a high elevation of 5312 feet, I feel more grounded and connected to my body here than I did in Santa Fe. This could also be due to all of the rest and care we received in Santa Fe finally settling in.
I wrote this piece last night, and as I moved my laptop from the desk to the kitchen table and set it down I noticed a feeling I had not felt in a while, full-on happiness. I am digging the ABQ vibe right now. This does not change our plan to head to Chicago on Wednesday, and yet, I am ready for surprises and excitement.
How are You? Please drop me a comment below and let me know.
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Oh wow Nora, it’s so cool to see how you and Jon are flowing through your journey. I appreciate the continuous listening, taking in the signs, and allowing yourself to be guided along each step of the journey. It makes the whole process feel very held and collaborative, at least looking in from over here.
It’s honestly good medicine for me as I journey in my own ways. I remember 2-3 weeks ago processing big feelings around everything falling apart. It was so strange at the time because everything in my external reality was more or less normal. Little did I know that it was preparing me.
I went to a local grassroots festival this weekend and I swear it was a fucking portal. Chris ended things between us Saturday morning. It’s wild because literally last Sunday a week ago we had one of the most connective nights together and it felt like everything had finally smoothed out. We were talking about my birthday in July and me coming to visit him in a Colorado in August. Then, all week the energy kept getting weirder and weirder between us and there was nothing I could do to change it. He ended up having a connection with someone Friday night, ended things with me Saturday morning, and then they were all over each other by Saturday night. Seeing that was fucking brutal.
Then, Sunday, my one job let me go. We’d had a rupture last week when I hadn’t shown up well for a project I’d been given. I was pissed off at the team/my higher ups about stuff and instead of using my voice and just naming it and what my boundaries actually were, I mostly ignored the project all week. Anyway, I owned it, took responsibility, knew there would be repercussions, but given our history and a lack of other issues, had no idea they’d straight up fire me. It was a total surprise. That said, I actually feel pretty neutral about it, even relieved, so I guess it’s not all bad.
Anyway, definitely feeling really raw and tender and heartachy today. Chris and I weren’t together long, but my emotions around it have been super painful. I can feel some past life intertwinings at play as well. It definitely stirs my deeper self-worth stuff too, wondering if it’s even possible for me to have a healthy relationship and if anyone will ever choose me. Oh the powerlessness.
Thank you for reading and for your care and this community. Getting to share my stuff each week and be seen has become a real support and something I look forward to each Monday. Sending you big hugs of gratitude 🙏🏼💜
I do not know much about Native Americans but this sentence “ I could see the physical remnants of it in the faces and bodies of the Native people” hit me home. As you know, I am from India which was colonised for hundreds of years. Amongst all the remnants of colonialism here, one of the major one is “colourism”. I am brown and people in India have varied shades of skintone. Some people here think a paler skin tone is the only beautiful skintone to have(even though most people who say this aren’t pale themselves) and any woman who does not have a whiter skintone is a burden since she will have limited proposals of marriage. I’ve heard from my relatives from childhood ask me questions like “ why your skintone is not as pale as your mom’s” with a face of pity or “you are so unlucky you did not get your mother’s colour” etc (My parents never made me feel like this but my relatives did). When I was younger, I was so desperate to make my skin look paler because I thought that is how I am gonna be loved by everyone. And then, one day I realised that the belief about skintone in my life was never mine! It was ingrained in me by others. I have the power to let go of it and I did! I love my skintone now even when people try to make me believe otherwise because I know that it is not something that they truly believe, it is passed on through generations by using shame to hate themselves during colonialism. Even after all this, my heart still skips a beat when I talk to a white person! A feeling of inferiority creeps in! And then it goes away in a few seconds. It may be because my body is recognising the pattern!
I don’t know why I am sharing this and I am very iffy about sharing this even while writing! But since last month, I feel the most secure in being my authentic self here in this comment section. It may be a start to my authentic journey and I’m grateful for you for creating this space💖