Liz Esquirol

Keepin’ It Clean

Don’t put on your new shirt until after you’ve brushed your teeth.

That’s it. Simple but valid advice.

It may not seem important in the big scheme of things, but sometimes it’s the little things that count. Like keeping your new shirt clean.

I got dressed for work this morning, as I’ve done thousands of times before, and I put on a new (brightly colored) blouse that I recently purchased and never worn. Today was its debut. One of the last things I do in my daily routine is brush my teeth (2 times – I know it’s a little OCD of me) – and then finish my makeup and head for the door.

Because this new shirt is “silky” in nature, I bent even further over the sink than normal, hoping to alleviate the water splash that can come with tooth brushing/rinsing. I finished, grabbed my bag and hit the road. Ah, success.

Until. Until I gazed down during my bus commute and noticed little white spots on my blouse in the morning sun. DAMN, I thought. Come on Liz, really? I thought you escaped the immediate dirt attraction that usually accompanies a new outfit. I proceeded to attempt to “scrape” the little dots off the shiny ruffles, but to no avail. Oh well, I thought. Whatever. I decided to pretend it wasn’t happening and looked out the window.

Ok, yes it’s a little obsessive, but when you buy new things (clothes, furniture, rugs) you would like them to stay pristine for awhile. I’m not saying forever – but maybe at least through just ONE wearing….is that too much to ask?

I have a running joke with a friend of mine about white clothing. Although I love all things white (including sheets, furniture, teeth), white clothes produce fear in my veins. I just KNOW that the second I put on white pants or a white shirt, a speck of dirt magnetically attaches itself to me. I could be in a vacuum sealed room and somehow a piece of determined dirt will find me. You thought you could escape me, but haha, I will hunt you down wherever you hide. White pants – not for me. Perhaps when I get to heaven (if I’m so fortunate and there is such a place) the dress code afforded to me will be a fabulous pair of white jeans, a white top made of only the finest silk, and a pair of Louboutin white leather stilettos, without a scuff mark in sight. Ah yes, heaven will be spotless.

Don’t worry, I’m over it already. After all, I do understand that there is the thing called a washing machine or the dry cleaners that can erase my fears by days end. It’s not like I need to go to the river and beat my blouse with a rock until sundown (which would pretty much ruin this blouse altogether….so mental note, no rock beating of clothing…check.)

I guess the moral of this story is to let it go. Life is messy. New shirts get toothpaste on them. Shirt sleeves get stained. Pants get torn. Shoes get scuffed. Things get dirty.

Down and dirty. Very Buddha Balboa, no? – BB

Buddha Balboa

One Size Fits…

All? Is that right?

In the world of clothing, the label OS or One Size, means it’s supposed to fit us all. All of us. You, me, your neighbor, your co-worker, your mother. I’ve also seen the fence-riding, One Size Fits Most tag, which is a politically correct way of saying don’t hold us accountable if it doesn’t fit – we said MOST, remember?

The principle behind one size fits all is that the object or procedure or program is flexible. That all of us can partake of this particular product…that it’s universal.

While some of this idea is true, just like our fingerprints, we are all unique. The way we see the world, the dreams we have, the foods we like, the worries we embrace. Yes, we are one size fits all under the “human being” umbrella – yes, we are all living creatures walking the earth. Yes, we have unique human traits that separate us from other species. We are the same, and yet different.

Many of us dislike the generalizations that volley about like balls on a tennis court, yet our society is riddled with them. As a woman, I’ve often felt the sense of internal panic when faced with the OS tag. Will I fit in this? And if I don’t, what does that say about me? Will I be ostracized by the global community? Yes, I’m being dramatic but we’ve all been there.

Makes me think of the Cinderella story. As Cinderella rushes hastily from the ball, she loses her glass slipper. Since the prince has fallen in love with the secret Cinderella, he searches the kingdom to find the woman who will fit this abandoned shoe. At the home of Cinderella, each wicked step-sister desperately attempts to squeeze her foot into the magical slipper, but to no avail. However, Cinderella’s identity is revealed when her slender foot effortlessly glides into the fantasy footwear, proving the perfect fit both poetically and literally.

Now, if Cinderella’s foot was a size 7 for example (a relatively common size) and Prince Charming had stopped by a house prior to Cinderella’s with a female who wore a size 7, would she have become the Princess? Would not that glass slipper have fit many a woman in the castle community? Should they all have claimed rights to the kingdom and the happily ever after ending?

My point is this – we are not a one size fits all world. We are a conglomeration of sizes, of fits, of needs, wants, fears, ideas, principles, morals and everything else in between. It is up to each one of us, to tailor fit our world to the best of our abilities. We can’t squeeze everyone into some preconceived notion of our own.

Sometimes the fit will be tight – sometimes it will be loose. Sometimes we will just have to take it off the rack and make do with irregular seams.

I’m a spandex kind of gal…keeps me flexible. – BB

Buddha Balboa

Ya Can’t Have It All

I’m not a fan of the word “can’t.”

It’s harsh, it’s bitter, it’s final. But sometimes – it’s true.

What do I mean by that? To me, it’s a description of a state of being, a mindset. “You can’t have it all!”…or “You can’t do that”…or “I just can’t.” All of these declarations are a buzz kill. The feeling that “can’t” exudes….that moment of hitting the end of the road.

I don’t believe that can’t should stop us. I must’ve said, both aloud and in my head, “Who says I can’t?” a million times in my life. Maybe two million. I don’t appreciate when someone tells me I can’t DO something. I hear them but I dismiss it. I figure let me find out for myself if I “can’t” achieve this or that….if I “can’t” get that job I covet. Let me try. Then if I reach that “can’t” moment, I will be ok with it. I will have found my own road block – and not ingested the barriers of others.

The can’t that can be true is this – I can’t do everything. And the truth is, I can’t. We all can’t. We can be in one place at a time…we can’t be everywhere. We will have to miss some events. We will have to decline some invitations. We will have to accept the times when can’t is just a way of life.

Ayers Rock – Uluru, Australia (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

This all came to me when watching a nature show on Earth (programs which never cease to amaze me) – and in it, they were highlighting Australia’s ancient land and the fossils found there that were billions of years old. There is a red mountain range called Uluru/Ayers Rock – which I had never heard of, or seen pictures of, until that moment. I was awed naturally, at its beauty and existence. And a bit shocked. How come I’ve never heard of this before? Or seen it in pictures in a book or online? How could this wonder of nature escape me all these years?

Perhaps I had seen it before and paid no attention. I don’t know. But like anything new that crosses our paths, I took notice. Mostly because my immediate response was “I want to see that!” Ok, it’s in Australia, I thought. I’ve always wanted to go there. It’s on my bucket list of places to visit. Wow, it’s really far away. And expensive to travel there. (My mind continued.) Hmmm….I do hope I get there someday to see that. I would hate to miss such a geological gem.

And that’s where the can’t kicked in.

The truth is, I won’t be able to travel to every destination I’ve dreamed of. Due to resources, or lack thereof, I may have to file some travel longings under, I just can’t. Not because of the limiting belief that can’t produces, but because of the protruding practicality of it all. Travel takes time and money…both of which we could all use a little more of.

While the thought of not being able to partake in all of the world’s magnificence makes me a tad bit jealous and sad, I also understand how ludicrous these feelings are in perspective.

Before modern times, the world was not available for the taking. As transportation options expanded, so did our ability to move outside our insular worlds. From boats, to trains to airplanes, the opportunity to experience all the riches that our planet offered was finally at our fingertips. When you think about it – how mind-boggling is that? Someone can literally wake up in one city and be at the top of the Eiffel Tower by midday. One can go from a snowstorm to a tropical paradise in a matter of hours. We have the capability of physical and emotional transformation with just the luck of being born during a time when world travel is not a pipe dream.

So, for me to think, Wow – I may not get there or ever experience that in my lifetime, is both a fortunate thing to say and a reality. How lucky have I been to have traveled at all! How fortunate have I been that I HAVE been to the top of the Eiffel Tower, cruised tropical waters, eaten al fresco in a piazza in Italy. What blessings I have been afforded.

If I get to see that beautiful Australian rock formation glowing red in the sunset, I will take it all in. And if I don’t, I will look at pictures and be happy knowing of its existence.

Ya can’t have it all….but you have everything. – BB

Buddha Balboa

What’s the point?

As I was traveling home last night from Queens, I was looking out the window (I wasn’t driving so I was being safe), I saw at the top of a building, crudely painted, the words, What’s the point. There wasn’t a question mark – more of a statement, I felt. Simply someone asking – what’s the point.

A damn good question.

As I was feeling a little melancholy at that moment, it struck me. What was the point? Of what you ask? Of anything. Of life.

We all ask ourselves that at one time or another. Whether out of frustration with a situation, or anger, or confusion…or out of true wondering – what the heck is all this for? Why am I here? Why am I going through this? Why is this or that so difficult? What’s the point of doing anything or caring about anything….it’s just a waste of time, isn’t it?

My inner pessimist was getting the better of me. But it is a legitimate question. Sometimes the battle seems daunting, the outcome uncertain. Sometimes we are tired of the struggle and wonder why we must go through all of this “drama” when in the end, so much of what we fret and worry about, doesn’t matter in the long scheme. We are born, we live, and we die. Isn’t that the gist of it?

The answer is (in true Buddha Balboa fashion) yes AND no. Yes – we are born, we live and we die. That is true. That is the nature of things. And along the way, we ride up and down the mountain, at various speeds and skill levels, trying to hold on tight for fear we may fly off. We don’t have a darned clue what’s around the bend – we just don’t know.

What struck me about the “graffitied” scrawl, what’s the point, was that although it made me a wee bit sad, it also unshackled me. It reminded me that so much of the “hell” I go through in life is of my own doing. That I didn’t have to fight for this or that cause, or continue on a journey that had no purpose. That in asking myself, what’s the point, about any task, I could become more clear and then release the things I found “pointless.”

Sometimes I find doing laundry pointless. My clothes are just going need washing again in the near future, so what’s the point? Well, I do it because I want to feel clean and look good. That’s all. Yes, I’m trivializing, but I think you get my point.

Although what’s the point could be seen as a sort of diminishing of something worthwhile, it’s also a forthright way of asking the internal question out loud – Hey Self – What’s the point of all this? Why are you doing this? Think about it. Get to the point.

A simple question can sometimes be the most profound answer. – BB