I first heard this song after I bought a Fleetwood Mac cassette for fifty cents from the thrift store. I was about 10 years old at the "ARC Thrift Store" next to that infamous pink building known as "Casa Bonita". At that age, I was a mere co-pilot on the thrifting adventures as I didn't have my own money nor a sense of style, yet (at this point, I was a hardcore tomboy who exclusively wore basketball shorts). So, instead of perusing aisles of colors, patterns, and outfit possibilities; I would spend my time sorting through stacks of CDs, cassettes, and records in that random aisle on the side of the store. On this particular Saturday, as I sifted through dusty piles of forgotten music, I was immediately struck by the cover art of a particular hard cassette case. It was a handsome man flagged by two women and I was struck by the lighting. It immediately reminded me of a painting that I had seen in the "Catholic Youth Center" of my childhood school. Here's a photo.  This painting, "Christ at the Column" by Caravaggio, hung humbly above the second-hand couches that lined the walls of the youth center. As I participated in the Bible Studies, I remember being drawn to that painting. Sure, my budding pubescent mind may have been initially drawn to the chiseled Christ (you don't really see that in Catholic school), but I was also enthralled by the lighting; how Christ is shown in full glow, while his persecutors are cast in shadow. Highly metaphorically, sure, but it is also hyper realistic. At that age, I wasn't aware of the names of artists nor the different eras, but I knew that I loved that painting.
So, as I came across the "Gypsy" cassette tape, I was immediately struck. The three characters on the cover were in a vivid battle of light and shadow, like that Caravaggio. I will admit that I bought that cassette merely for the cover art. And since it was only fifty cents, I figured it might be an easy sell to my parents. And I was right, I left that ARC thrift store with a new treasure. I went home, popped that cassette into my "boombox" and I've been enarmored ever since. As a child, I did not digest the lyrics...I mostly just loved the airy harmonies and then Stevie's raspy voice. The song made me feel good and I particularly loved the guitar solo at the very end of the song. It was a song that accompanied me while I danced alone in my bedroom, sang in the shower, and jumped on my trampoline (I used to prop my boombox in my bedroom window so that I could hear it as I played outside). But as an adult, the song is more than just a "feel-good" song, but instead I experience my own revelations and secrets in this song. I've been called a "gypsy" more than once in my life. Other synonyms include: "the free-spirit", "the life of the party", and "the girl who lives on a cloud of fun". I've always been delighted in this aspect of my personality, the ability to see the fun and magic around me. However, there have also been times where this gift has been diminished as being "delusional" or "illogical". I have felt that pressure to squash that freedom, that playfulness, that delight and at times I have succumbed to it. I've tried to button up my act, "grow up", and minimize my delight, but I have found that route of logic to be fruitless, boring, and counterintuitive. I found that living in a perpetual fear of "what ifs” and "worst case scenarios" is merely a desire for control and living doesn't happen in control. Control is fear incarnate and living in fear is both an addiction and a sanctuary for those who pride themselves on being "sensible". Instead of living in fear, I choose to live in flow; to dance and play in the flow of life. Because my existence, my miraculous existence, was meant to delight in the day and to play in this precise moment. I mean, think about it, our miraculous existence came to be from generations and generations of ancestors falling in love at a precise moment, then making love at a precise moment, and then that precise sperm and egg meeting....it's flabbergasting. We have one the lottery of all lotteries.....and you want me to be enslaved by logic and fear. No, thank you. I think my ancestors would be delighted in my playfulness and delight, especially those who have passed on and realized that they took their own lifes too seriously. Fleetwood Mac's song "Gypsy" may be an anthem for all those who are naturally "free-spirited", but I also think it encourages us to get back to "gypsy" that existed in you when you were free...maybe when you were a child. You hear this invitation when Stevie sings, "You see your gypsy" as the "lightning only strikes once, maybe twice". Life is precious. Delight in it. Smile. Dance. Play. And realize that it all ain't that important....all of it, seriously. In a couple generations you will fail to be remembered. And, I know that for some, that is nihilistic and depressing, but I find it freeing. This is your life. This is your story. This is your song to sing and dance to. I hope "you see your gypsy" and smile because "I still see your bright eyes". P.S. Stevie wrote this about herself...feeling that she was losing that gyspy side of her especially after losing her best friend to cancer. In the song, you can hear her grief and longing. And this is something I resonate with more as an adult. That is the beauty of music, it seems to grow with you and open up to you as life continues to flow on. P.S.S. Carvaggio is still one of my favorite painters. And, when I was in the convent, I printed out a copy of "Christ on the Column". The chiseled Christ rested in the folds of my "Divine Office" book. Yes, Nuns love a hot Jesus too.
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Adrenaline and an attack position; spontaneity and "sending it"; fearlessness and flow meets Brianna on her mountain bike.
This past weekend, I made the rather spontaneous decision to rent a mountain bike and try my luck "Downhilling '' at Winter Park. Downhilling (also referred to as DH) "is a form of gravity-fed mountain biking where there is little to no uphill riding involved". In fact, a true downhill doesn't even require you to trek up a mountain, instead you ride a lift/gondola. I first heard about downhilling from a high schooler who was taking a driving lesson from me when I was a driving instructor (yes, I've had a variety of jobs: CDL licensed bus driver, saleswoman at those kiosks you see at the mall, driving instructor, basketball referee, teacher, dj, burlesque dancer, etc). As we drove around town I asked him what one of his hobbies was or a sport that he enjoyed and he told me about downhilling. He talked about the thrill of flashing down a mountain while dodging "baby heads” (small round rocks on the trail) and leaning into a banked turn while hearing your fellow racers inch up behind you. He spoke so eloquently and poetically about this extreme sport and I was enthralled. In between my blurbs of, "When safe, go ahead and make a left lane change" I inundated him with questions about this scarcely practiced hobby for a mere teenager. He was amused by my enthusiasm and he said "You have to try it., especially since you are not afraid of getting into a high speed car with a new driver. You are obviously pretty brave...or crazy!". We laughed and completed our drive and told him that one day I would be downhilling. And, that day came. I invested in some fun by renting a mountain bike for the day. For a humble $250, I was given a $7,000 dollar mountain bike, a lift ticket, a full face helmet, chest protector, elbow pads, knee pads, and gloves. I walked out of that bike shop looking like Robocop, but aesthetics were on the backburner that day. My focus instead was on challenging myself at a new sport and facing my own fears and insecurities about my abilities. Sure, I've always been athletic, but this felt a bit outside my wheelhouse. As I rode the gondola up the mountain, I felt the nerves kick in, but I kept repeating to myself, "You can f*^*ing do this, Brianna!" As I departed the gondola and saw the maze that was the map, I knew that I would be sticking to the "greens" (the easiest trail) to start. So, I hopped on "Green World'' and began my downhilling adventure. Admittedly, I began my downhilling career too timidly and with too much brake. I was intimidated by the steepness of the hills, the obstacles that seemed to come too quickly, and the sharpness of the switchbacks on an already narrow trail. I felt myself fishtailing and skidding, which may look cool on video, but is known to be the precursor to "biffing" it. About mid-trail, I took a break and caught my breath. I felt my heart pumping, I felt the quick rise and fall of my chest, and I felt my body heat skyrocket. It was during this rest that I decided to strip down and cool my body. I took off the gloves, knee pads, and elbow pads which felt like they were constricting me and causing me more anxiety than I actually felt. I stuffed them in my little backpack and felt relieved. I felt stable and strong and by taking off that "armor", I felt the fear leave. That "armor" had made me feel like I was preparing to fall at some point, but when I took it off I felt that surge of trust that I feel for my body and my own athletic abilities. But, keep in mind, I kept my full face helmet and chest protector on...gotta protect the goods, as they say. As I inched back to the trail I heard, "Aren't you cold?". I smiled and turned around to find a fellow mountain biker decked head to toe in gear/warmth. I said, "No, I run hot. Plus, I'm from here. This is still summer weather" (it was about 50 degrees on that early morning). He looked me up and down and said, "You're crazy"; probably alluding to my wardrobe of a sports bra barely covered by a chest protector, and my black yoga pants with minimal protective gear. I smiled and shrugged and said, "I know". Feeling light, cool, and free I blasted down the remainder of the trail. I felt my confidence swell, my grip loosen and my reach for the break lessen. I began to hit and curve corners with ease and even got in some little bunny hops off those darling baby heads. I smiled the whole way down as I repeated, "You can f*^*ing do this, Brianna", "You're a hurricane", and "You're in total control, just control the mind". I hit a flow going down that mountain. I zeroed in on the moment and began to banish thoughts of "what if...", and "I can't do this''. Instead, I leaned into trusting myself and realizing that my worst enemy wasn't the "baby head", the "face slappers'' (tree branches), or gaps/jumps; but instead, the worst enemy was my mind's ability to fear and catastrophize. As I blazed down that mountain I began to hit a zone of meditation where I actively pondered what this was re-teaching me. It reminded me that the "obstacle is the way"; this is the idea that taking the seemingly safest route can actually be the route to demise. You witness this on the trail as you approach a part of the trail that is littered with rocks/boulders and overgrown roots. When you approach these obstacles, at a fast speed, your first impulse is to dodge them, but by dodging you actually put yourself at a much greater danger of wiping out. Instead, it is best to charge head first into that which seems terrifying and to trust your own ability to adapt and ultimately survive. I was also reminded of the importance of embracing the flow...to go into the chaos...to loosen your grip; because braking and gripping will not gain you any more control, instead, it is the number one reason why people eat it and leave that mountain battered and bruised. And, I think you can apply that same thinking to life. No good comes from trying to stop or slow down something that is inevitable and gripping onto something is also denying the nature of a gift (freely given and freely taken). My meditation then bounced to the common metaphor of the mountain and the ups and downs that come with it. Typically, the up is referring to the mountain peaks, the "ultima" of the trip. But, upon reflection, no one stays at the top. In fact, that "top" always seems somewhat unfullfilling as we look for that next peak after a long slog up the mountain. It then reminded me of that story from the New Testament, when three of the apostles go up the mountain and witness the "Transfiguration of Christ". They see Jesus lifted into the air and his clothes turn to a dazzling white and the apostles are both awe-struck and thrilled as their Messiah is flagged by Moses and Elijah. Then, Peter (the rock, who had a way about putting his foot in his mouth) said, "Lord, it is good that we are here" and then offered to pitch three tents for Jesus and the ghostly figures. And what does Jesus say, "Nah, this isn't where we are supposed to stay....now we downhill".....or something like that ;). What I am trying to articulate is that that mountain peak, that instagram photo at the top, that picture perfect life that comes at the end of safely tip-toeing through life is not the goal. I think, what is the "better part", is to embrace the free-fall of the downhill. To embrace the rush of sudden changes and obstacles; because it is by this route that we learn self-trust, self-love, and self-vindication. Plus, sitting on top of a mountain drinking your beer at the lodge is a lot less satisfying than flowing into and conquering your own fears on the downhill. My meditations continued as I made three more passes down the mountain. I did my first pass in 55 mins, my second in 35 mins, and my last two runs were a mix of "blues" and "blacks". I am grateful that I completed my first day of downhilling without a crash, but I know that will not always be promised in the future. I will not let that stop me. No, I plan to downhill very soon (before Winter Park turns back into a ski resort) because I want the downhills in my life. And, even if I do crash and burn....well at least I'll be burning with a passion and zest for life.
One of my favorite games to play, when visiting my local dive bar, is to curate my jukebox selections based on who is in the bar. I will pinpoint my target and guess the song that will get their body moving. It is a test of my own musical knowledge as well as my ability to read the room. Proudly, I am pretty darn good at getting my victims to shimmy and shake, even if it seems out of their control. However, taking control of the jukebox is no light matter and the DJ for the next couple of quarters should try and please the whole room. And, this song right here, "Neon Moon '' will get absolutely everyone grooving. It does not matter your age, sex, ethnicity, or musical background....everyone loves this song. I think it's because of its easy melody that is both haunting and calming. The man bemoans his loneliness and heartbreak while singing under the neon moon (which can either be interpreted as the neon lights of the bar or the actual moon that lets off its neon light under the magic of full moon). This sadness is a universal reality we all share, but instead of leaving us downcast, this song seems to comfort us and unite us in that all too common feeling of the loneliness of lost love. This song is lovely and it is even more lovely to dance to. It is a song you dance to with your eyes closed as someone whisks you around the horn of the dancefloor; but, it is also a fun song to line dance to. I first learned this line dance at the Grizzly’s Rose’s lessons on Wednesday night. The first time I took a lesson, I learned how to do the “solo line dance”. This is one of the most popular line dances that exists and it is not only because of the popularity of the song, but also because of how beautiful and graceful the step pattern is. It took me several weeks to nail this step pattern, but now dancing the line dance to “Neon Moon” is almost meditative as I am able to enter into the flow of my body and the emotions that rise from this song. Being one of my favorite songs to dance to, I decided it was time to take the “Partner LIne Dance” lesson. This lesson also happens on Wednesday nights at “The Rose” and you do not need to come with a partner to be included. So, last night I rolled up to the lesson and was paired up with an alternating roster of cowboys and we attempted to learn the dizzying steps of the line dance. I danced with about five different cowboys and I'd say that about two of them had it down. And I, towards the end, felt that same meditative flow begin as my body memorized the pattern. The difficult part about partner dancing is that it is often difficult to dip into that meditative flow unless you and that partner are in perfect sync. But, when you are in sync...it's magical. It is magical because you are seeing two people enter into that flow state together while such a profound song plays. And when this happens, it almost seems as if a vortex opens around them. It's glorious....and again, it's magic. If you wanna see that magic, come to the Grizzly Rose on Wednesdays. There are so many couples that you can tell have been dancing and loving together for years. You see it in their flow, in the way they hold, and in the way they dip into that magic. Below is a video of the partner line dance and the magic between two dance partners. P.S. Take this as an open invitation to dance today. I promise, it always makes you feel better, even when you're lonely under the "Neon Moon". P.S.S. Can you guess what my favorite part of the dance is? If you guessed the partnered "body roll" while they both face forward...you know me too well! :)
  She spoke to me in Arabic,
I smiled because I didn't understand. She said my cheekbones and dark features Remind her of her people's land. She handed me the Bic lighter As she assessed the angles of my face. She showered me with compliments like a writer, Slowly and then with pace. Her hazel eyes matched my brown As compliments danced across the counter. As two women delighted in ethnic beauty That visits in the white world that surrounds her.  The beauty of poetry is the spaces inbetween. That which is left unsaid. And the words that are set to spread in different directions. That is the main reason I love it. It is easy to flood out emotions in prose and to let your brain scatter and trail, but a poem requires the artist to strip, dissect, and redress. However, when I love a poem, and I’ve practiced my own literary criticism, my curious mind will long for an explanation. What was the inspiration? Was that double meaning intentional or did it reveal my own subconscious? Why did they use that word? I also, in my own poetry, find myself longing to reveal the gaps. To crack open the door of my inspiration while maintaining the beauty of the mystery. For, “Can I call you Rose?” I had few sources of inspiration. The first being a song from “Thee Sacred Souls” which is also titled, “Can I Call you Rose?”. This rising band is soulfully sweet and reminiscent of the music of the 60s. In my culture, we call this “cruising music”. No, not the cruising of the Bahamas, but instead the cruising that you do in your car down a busy boulevard. It’s music that you listen to when you’ve got nowhere to go. Their whole album is wonderful, but “Can I Call you Rose?” is lyrically romantic and touching. So much so, that I desired to imitate his stanza style and comparative nature. Another source of inspiration for the piece is rooted in the fact that “Rose” is a family name on my mother’s side of the family. My great-great grandmother’s name was Rose (Yes, I have that right. For the first 13 years of my life we had five generations living). She was an incredible woman who raised nine children in a dirt floored pueblo in Southern Colorado. And later in life, battled Alzhiemiers until her death at ninety-three. I remember visiting her daily after school with my mother and sisters. She wouldn’t always remember who we were, but she’d grace us with her stories and her quick sense of humor. I’d listen attentively while my mother painted her nails. She had such graceful fingers, long and strong yet fragile looking from her aging skin. Even today, I see her hands in the hands of my mother, the woman who once painted Rose’s. I am grateful for my time with her at the end of her life during the beginning of mine. It was through this experience, that I believe, I've never feared aging nor dying because it is all a part of this journey. And Rose did what Roses do, she bloomed for a moment in time, and then she bent her head and folded into the mystery. I do not know if she was the “first Rose” of the family, but her name continues as several of my family members now don that name as a middle name. Her legacy continues, not only in name, but in her nature. Her great-grandchildren, my aunts and mother, are Roses that grace this world. They are gorgeous, shapely, reserved and closed yet in full bloom. They have flourished despite the harsh conditions they were raised in following the early death of their mother at the age of 24 (my mother, the oldest, was just 9). They are symbols of love and perseverance by spreading the fragrance of love by never adopting the bitterness of victimhood nor comparison. They are Roses who stand tall and are sweet like a flower in bloom. My poem, “Can I call you Rose?”, has other sources of inspiration from my own story, but these two are the crack in the door. That is one of the reasons I love to write poetry…you can still hide while exposing yourself and only those who have the key can unlock it's full meaning. I encourage all of you to write your own poetry to capture the multidimensionality of your own heart and story. Notes: 1. "Thee Sacred Souls" are coming to Denver this Friday, August 25th. If you end up loving them, feel free to join me at the concert. 2. Here are the lyrics to "Can I Call You Rose?" by the Sacred Souls. Verse Two is probably my favorite. 3. The music video nods to its chicano influences with the lowriders, chicano style, and a cookout and dance floor. Check it out below and catch a groove or, better yet, go cruising. 4. Below is a photo of my Great-Great Grandma Rose with her husband Salomon and their nine children. This photo was taken in the 70s...gotta love Aunt V and Aunt Connie's fabulous frames and Uncle Ray's mustache.  Tyler Childers has had my heart since "Feathered Indians" and this new single, "In Your Love" from his upcoming project has been on repeat since its drop yesterday, July 27th.
The song and video is profound and gorgeous. Tyler's raspy voice carries his lyrics and heart while the visuals are heart wrenching. I will continue to le this song batter my heart as I await his next project. Listen, watch, and soak in its depths. Song: Dear Sahana
Artist: Sid Sriram Release Date: June 2nd I've always wanted to hear my own name in a song...and in this song I do not hear it, but I feel it. The song eases in slowly tieing to his lines, "just as quiet as dawn, you crept up on me". His voice and minimal musical accompaniments carry his heart's message and pierce forward. It is ethereal and comforting. But then, the song picks up in pace and rhythm after he says, "Oh, how I've tried to go on my own / every path seems to lead me back to you". The strong back beats convey his passion, his desire, his heartbeat. It is a quickening and an undeniability. A power, like a when the river gushes into the waterfall. It pours and overflows as he repeats the simple (not so simple) lyrics. Listen. Add it to your playlist and share it with your friends. This song has a mere 14k views on Youtube, but it is deserving of so many more. This song is on repeat in my life. Even now, I have it playing as I sit on my patio in the setting sun. I hope you're listening somewhere beautiful too. P.S. I love that the video is a "one take". No rehearsals, no retakes, no acting. You can see his genuinity and feel his heart.
Reading a book at a bar is one of my favorite indulgences. The moments of indulging in warm plates, cool drinks, and compiled words are the simple pleasures that I love to soak in as the summer unfolds. Today's location: A consistent favorite - Agave Taco Bar in Wash Park. My order: "The Traditional" with a Tajin rim & the Steak Nachos. The book: The Power of Myth Author: Joseph Campbell (1904-1987) was an American mythologist, writer, and lecturer. He is best known for his work in comparative mythology and the study of the human experience of myth across different cultures and time periods. Today's quotes and ponderings:
This book has been a beautiful read so far. Campbell is brilliant and the topic of the book combines two of my loves: literature and spirituality. The quotes above are not all that struck me as I tipsily read with my margarita in hand. No, there are so many more quotes and ideas...but I'll save those indulgences for another post...particularly the idea of the loss of ritual in our world. This is something I think about often because I feel that we have lost the sacred and instead are far too concerned with the base demands of the world: money, property, investments, appearances, etc. When we should be living in consciousness that everyday is a sacrament, everyday is a ritual, and everyday is an opportunity to unite with the divine; we just have to open and participate.
For the past 50ish days I have done a "soft launch" of the "75 Hard Challenge". This challenge includes the following each day for 75 days.
I started this challenge right after Thanksgiving and it has been a refreshing approach to my redundant fitness routine. I love to be active and I find myself at the gym daily, but I love how the challenge is not only concerned with physical health. This challenge nudges the participant to get outdoors, to stay hydrated, to grow in self awareness, and practice some much needed discipline in our instant gratification world.
This is an extremely hard challenge and I only made it twenty-two days before I broke my streak by having a tequila and ginger beer. Now, technically, I am supposed to start all the way over with my "streak"....meaning, I have to go back to day one. However, that is not really my focus with this challenge. Instead, I am taking a softer approach to the "75 Hard Challenge". Each day, I have the full intention of hitting each mark for the day, but I am also practicing moderation and temperance by allowing myself to indulge in a drink ever so often. Some people would argue that this defeats the purpose of doing the challenge in itself, but I disagree. I think an important part of fitness and health in general is being in tune with your mind and body even if it falls outside of the protocols of the "rule book". The "75 Hard Challenge" has been a great gaurd rail in my daily practices and I have seen many positives. I have built muslce, my skin feels more soft and hydrated, I have read some beautiful words from beautiful authors, and I feel like my clothes are fitting better. I would ecourage anyone to give this challenge a try and to pracitce patience and mercy with oneself. There is no need to be perfect, but there is a need to step outside of ones comfort zone and practice full body self care. Furthermore, I love this approach because it pulls away from diet culture, which I abhore. There is no need to starve oneself or to make oneself smaller....instead, this challenge is concerned with strength, in all capacities. Dancing has always been an outlet that I have loved. Actually, one of my earliest memories is of me dancing on the top of a vacuum cleaner that I had laid down to create a micro-stage. I remember dancing and shaking my tiny body to the Michael Jackson music video that played on the television. It was shortly after this that my parents enrolled me in my first dance classes at "First Step" dance studio off of Sheridan and Alameda. At this tiny little studio I learned how to tap dance, jazz step, and walk a balance beam with Ms. Juanita. This was my first exposure to organized dance and it was my first "sport", but it quickly took a back seat as I turned my tap shoes in for basketball shoes.  Baby Brianna headed to dance class. Now, almost 30 years later, I am back in a dance class....but this time, I am a mature adult enrolled in a mature form of dance...burlesque.
Last Sunday was the first class of my nine week course. I bought the course a couple months ago and I found myself getting more and more nervous as the first day of class approached. Yes, I love to dance. Yes, I have rhythm. Yes, I have the confidence. But, still....I was nervous to embark on something that I am completely new at...to be the "new girl" at something that is a niche of its own. But, the date came and I opened that dance studio door and walked into a new chapter of my athletic and performative hobbies. The class began with some basic intros, some stretching, and then we jumped into our group choreography which consisted of a lot of eight counts, hip sways, and sexy self touching between counts. The whole class felt comfortable, fun, and liberating. I truly did feel like I was stepping into myself further and allowing myself to express myself in a way that feels extremely natural. Even my cousin (I am taking the class with her) said, “You already walk with a hip sway…even if you’re just at the grocery store”. At the end of class we were told that at the end of the nine week course we will do a debut performance at a local club. We were also informed that we will not only be performing as a group, but we have the option to perform a solo. My cousin then asked me, “Are you going to do a solo?”. And I enthusiastically responded, “Of course! I am already thinking about my costuming, my music selection, and stage name!”. Obviously, my nervousness has dissipated and instead I am excited about all the learning and creating that I will be doing these next several weeks.
High schoolers are known for being apathetic and unconcerned in regards to their teachers. They see you, they hear you, but their interest in you dies off there. It is not that they dislike you, it's just that they have much more important things going on in their lives: dating, social ladders, keeping up with their Snapchats, Netflix, and who is driving for off-campus lunch. Teachers and their school work does not even make their top ten list of concerns. This is something you learn not to take personally as a teacher. I come prepared, do my best, and try to make each day fun even if they respond in their most blase blank stares.
But, do you know where apathy finds no home in a high school building....in the Special Education classroom. This past week, I had the opportunity to enter my high school's Special Education classroom to interview a student for some testing. Before entering the classroom I could see a room of ten students that were focused and engaged on their teacher as she pointed to some images on the board. The room was calm and the students seemed tranquil while some had faint smiles on their faces. Not wanting to disturb the calm atmosphere, I slowly cracked the door and inched my way in. My plan was quickly foiled as I heard a voice from the back of the room say, "Woah, you're sooooo beautiful". I smiled at the student and then I immediately heard, "I love your red lipstick". I smiled again and said thank you to their compliments and then I heard from the other side of the room, "I love your long black hair. It reminds me of Wonder Woman". It was quite the spectacle as the room quickly flashed from tranquil to feeling like I had stepped onto a red carpet with my own paparazzi. Ms. Emily, the head Special Education teacher, said, "Class, this is Ms. Montoya. She is here to take one of our friends for testing.". She then went over to the student's desk and told him personally that he would be going with me into the next room to complete an assessment to evaluate the proficiency of his English skills. He stood up, gathered his items, and made his way over to me. As he left his desk, his desk-mate whispered to him, "Man, you're so lucky!". I smiled again and as we left I told the class that it was so nice to meet them and that they made my day. One of the girls in the front row said, "Come back to visit us again!". I made my promise to visit as I took the student for his testing. We went next door and sat down to complete our assessment, but this administration of the test was different from others because this student has limitations in his hearing and seeing capabilities. Therefore, I was much more hands on in the administration; versus, other adminstations when I simply set the student up to test and leave them to complete it autonomously. I worked intimately with the student and ensured that he felt comfortable and able to complete the work to the best of his ability. It was gratifying and it felt as if I was truly serving...and it reminded me of my "why?"...."my purpose". I chose to enter education because I wanted to be of service. I wanted to pass on skills and knowledge that will be useful in the real world. I wanted to empower children to believe in themselves and to trust their own abilities and intuition. It was an honor to serve this student and it was an honor to be in the presence of such sweet and innocent souls. I have always said that those students who are in Special Ed., whether they have down syndrome or autism or some other type of limitation, that they are higher souls. They understand the core meaning of life. They are quick to feel, they are quick to love, and they are joyful even if they are lacking in the accolades and praises of this world. They know that none of that matters. They are relational and they seek love at every opportunity….and that's beautiful and that’s what I aspire to be.  Angelo's Taverna has been dishing out delicious Italian food and their signature oysters in central Denver for close to fifty years. Luckily, Littleton has experienced an upgrade to their rather bland palate by welcoming Angelo's Taverna into the fold. Angelo's Taverna is located on a beautiful piece of property that feels secluded and romantic. The building itself is simple, yet elegant and it is housed in a 10,000 foot space. There are high ceilings, wood beams, brick walls, unique stone decals, classic stained glass, and candles on each table. It is a great place for a date night, but it also is casual enough where families can feel comfortable bringing their small children. It has accomplished setting the mood for all occasions and to all walks of life. At Angelo's Taverna in Littleton, you can pull up to their round bar to watch Monday Night Football or you can make a reservation to celebrate a special anniversary.  Ambience: clean, simple yet elegant, and spacious. The mood was right at Angelo's, but the food was the star of the show. We began our dinner with one of their signature cocktails, "The Italian 75". This is a drink made of "House-made limoncello, Woody Creek Gin, lemon juice, sparkling wine". It came in a martini glass with a maraschino cherry sitting at the pinch of the glass (plus, they leave the stems on so you and your table mate can participate in the age-old challenge of tying a cherry stem with your tongue). The drink was the perfect mix of citrus and sweet; therefore, you should not be surprised that our tab recorded us as both having more than one. During our cocktail hour, we ordered their “Balsamic Glazed Ribs” for an appetizer to share. Angelo’s graciously provided six short ribs that were perfectly tender and glazed without being drowned in too much sauce. The ribs had a crunchy and sweet bark that reminded me of the “world renowned” barbeque that I have had in Texas. To think of it, I think that these ribs were better. Sorry Texas, I think this little Italian joint in Littleton, Colorado does it better.  Best Ribs in Denver Then came our main course (and another round of drinks). I ordered the “Gorgonzola Steak Fettuccine”. It was a hearty portion of homemade fettuccine noodles that were dressed in buttery cream sauce which was accompanied by mushrooms, red onion, roasted peppers, and arugula. It was flawlessly fatty and filling. We ate dinner slowly, talked about various topics, and appreciated all the different walks and eras of life that were around us. Our waitress was attentive, but not overly vigilant. She was cheery and friendly, but also respected the privacy of each table. Let’s just say she got a big tip from us. We eventually finished up our plates and contemplated dessert even though we were both full. Ultimately, we couldn’t pass up the experience of the “ Caramel Chocolate Brownie”. It was decadent and indulgent…as all desserts should be. Our spoons sang sweet songs as they scraped the bottom of the dessert bowl. I surely would come back to Angelo’s just for this dessert.  This fettuccine had me saying, "ohhhh, mama mia!" :)  Imagine: Chile's "Molten Lava Cake"...then multiple that by 1,000. Then, it still wouldn't even be close to this perfection. Angelo’s Taverna in Littleton was appetizing and ambient. The prices were agreeable, especially for the quality of food. It is a great restaurant for any occasion, whether it is to watch sports at the bar or to share a meal with someone you love. Please go and enjoy!
Here is their website and their location.
 Mimosas and Marquez = Bliss 100 Years of Solitude by Garbriel Garcia Marquez is routinely listed on the "Greatest Books of All Time". Actually, on this particular list it was listed as number four. It is a literary classic and if you were not forced to read it as a literature major, then I would encourage you to pick it up and dive into the magical realism that is Gabriel Garcia Marquez's Columbia. However, this book review is not about 100 Years of Solitude; instead, this review is about that book's younger and more sultry younger sister, Love in the Time of Cholera.
Love in the Time of Cholera is in fact about love. Marquez plunges the reader into a stream of consciousness narrative that addresses young love, unrequited love, triangulated love, fated love, lost love, and forbidden love. All these loves are witnessed through the experiences of Florentino and Fermina, our main characters of this story. They are destined to meet in the courtyard of a Columbian villa and their journeys carry them all the way to old age on a quarantined boat in the age of Cholera. It is a love story, but not a fairy tale; therefore, it is supremely beautiful. Gabriel Garcia Marquez is a romantic writer who intoxicates you with his words and vivid descriptions. He is a master of the written word and his latin flair drips off each syllable. Here are some of my favorite quotes from the novel: 1. “It was the year they fell into devastating love. Neither one could do anything except think about the other, dream about the other, and wait for letters with the same impatience they felt when they answered them.” 2. “The weak would never enter the kingdom of love.” 3. “In the plenitude of their relationship, Florentina Ariza asked himself which of the two was love: the turbulent bed or the peaceful Sunday afternoons, and Sara Noriega calmed him with the simple argument that love was everything they did naked. She said, 'Spiritual love from the waist up and physical love from the waist down.” 4. “..the heart's memory eliminates the bad and magnifies the good, and [that] thanks to this artifice we manage to endure the burden of the past” 5. “Courage did not come from the need to survive, or from a brute indifference inherited from someone else, but from a driving need for love which no obstacle in this world or the next world will break.” 6. “nothing one does in bed is immoral if it helps perpetuate love” 7. “I’ll have plenty of time to rest when I die, but this eventuality is not yet part of my plans.” 8. “Love becomes greater and nobler in calamity.” 9. “By virtue of marrying a man she does not love for money. That’s the lowest kind of whore.” 10. “It had to teach her to think of love as a state of grace: not the means to anything but the alpha and omega, an end it itself. ” ___________________________________________________________________ Love in the Time of Cholera is glorious, romantic, comedic, and lovely. I would recommend this book 100 times over, after of course Marquez's first novel 100 Years of Solitude. Buy the book here!
The last time I was in high school, I was the jock in a letterman jacket. This time around, I am a woman clicking-clacking down the hall in my heels with a faculty badge swaying and syncing with my walk.
I am back in high school again and I have finally graduated middle school. For my eighth year as an educator, I am now a high school ELL Specialist. This position was a godsend for several reasons. Let me fire some off for you:
I am grateful for my current position. I am three months in and it is starting to feel like home. Things feel stable here and I see myself growing into the system. However, I am aware that I can only express my gratitude so deeply because of where I have been and all that I have learned…and for that, I am grateful for the entire journey that has led me here.
Being from Colorado, I am a sucker for a Hot Spring experience. I have been to several across the state, and I would argue that SunWater Spa has been my best experience yet.
I booked a 90 minute private tub for the meager price of forty dollars per person. These beautiful cedar tubs are filled with Manitou Springs's infamous "7 minute Spring" water which traveled through deep underground cracks, crevasses, and rock faults which caused the water to be infused with holistic healing minerals. These waters, according to Native American tradition, are a source of healing and rejuvenation of body and soul. Along with our 90 minute private tub, we were also granted access to several other spa features. These included: the infrared sauna, the classic steam room sauna, the cold plunge, and the saline pool. We bounced from feature to feature and thoroughly enjoyed every aspect of SunWater Spa. Along with having incredible resources and expeirences for their guests, they also had the friendliest staff. We were greeted kindly and encouraged to treat the space as our own while maintaining the spirit of relaxation and retreat. This spirit was harnessed by the spa's cleanliness and it required "whisper zones". SunWater Spa was tranquil, pristine, and affordable. It is a spa, but it felt more like a retreat house. I fully intend to return back to SunWater Spa and to hopefully indulge in their other services which included a yoga studio and a massage therapist. P.S.: I highly recommend that you book a soak-time here after conquering the Manitou Incline. That is what we did and our tired bones and muscles thanked us! Here is their website for further reference: https://www.sunwaterspa.com/ “When your mind is telling you that you’re done, that you’re exhausted, that you cannot possible go any further, you’re actually 40% done.” – David Goggins
The "Incline'' in Manitou Springs is one hell of a beast. She may only be a mile long, but along that one mile you gain 2,000 feet of elevation. She is steep. She is rough. And, she is relentless.
The "Incline'' wasn't always a haven for athletic punishment; instead, it was originally a cable car system that was used to transport goods and supplies to the top of Pikes Peak. Once its first use was complete, the "Incline'' experienced a second birth when the avid hikers of Colorado decided to make use of its steep grade to test endurance and mental stamina. In 2013, the "Incline '' was formally opened to the public and since then she has welcomed thousands of brave (see insane) souls to climb her staircase. This is an extreme trail and it is not intended to be graced by casual hikers. No, this is a serious endeavor. You will sweat, you will feel your heart pound, and you will question your own sanity. Yes, it is only a mile...but the average attempt-er of this climb will take an hour to do it. As you climb those stairs you will see supremely athletic people doubled over, panting, and the body pulsing from their racing heart rate. I recently met the "Incline" again after an almost four year departure. She was just as beautiful as when I left her, but she was just as heartless. Like I said, she is relentless. And as I climbed my first 1,000 steps I felt my heart pulsing in my throat. I told myself, "Okay, you only got 2,000 more steps to go. You can do these two more times.". I put my head down and turned my music up. However, instead of blasting my upbeat stripper anthems to get me through the workout like I do at the gym, I opted for my mellow 80s jams to help keep my calm as I slowly climbed each railroad tie. Then, the next milestone....2,000 steps. Here, I was utterly gassed and had to rest in the residual shade. Here is where the mental battle really began. My body felt spent. I was pouring sweat even though I had taken off my shirt and was only climbing in my sports bra. I was feeling dehydrated even though I had drank a gallon of water during the one hour drive from Denver. I could feel the lactic acid building in my legs which caused me to worry because the longer I stayed idle then it was more likely that my tree trunk legs would lock up on me. I gasped and panted and could feel the rawness of blood in the back of my throat. I could see my climbing partner shortly ahead of me and I wanted to catch him. It was here, in those three minutes of shade that I gave myself that final pep-talk and remembered good ole David Gogggins who said, "When your mind is telling you that you’re done, that you’re exhausted, that you cannot possible go any further, you’re actually 40% done.”. So, I pressed on. Only 1,000 more steps to go. And, I'd like to say they were blissful and that the “Rocky” movie anthem played in the background....but no, that last ascent utterly sucked and the only anthem I heard was the quick patter of my heartbeat and my rapid panting. But baby, when you jump that last railroad tie you feel the adrenaline and pride greet you in your soul and body. Plus, it is seriously one of the best views in all of Colorado. The “Incline” is a must for all athletes. It is inspiring to see people out there on an early morning challenging themselves. It is by these acts that we prompt growth in ourselves through the medium of suffering. We step out of our comfort zone and into the arena of pain which teaches so much. It teaches us that we are strong, physically and mentally. And, it reminds us that once again, we only have this one wild life and “in the end, you won’t remember the time you spent working in the office or mowing your lawn. [So,] Climb that goddamn mountain.” (Jack Kerouac). |
AuthorBrianna is a proud native of West Denver and she is an avid admirer of the arts. Her admiration of the arts is centered around her draw toward the beautiful and good of everyday life. Brianna finds beauty in a well-worn book, in the eclectic colors and textures of a thrift store find, and in the sound of a killer guitar solo whether it be live or through a well thought out Spotify playlist. Her passions are varied and many, but they all center on appreciating the fullness of life. Archives
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