brooklyn — Blog — My Whisk and Mat

Gandules Guisado con Bollitas de Platano and quinoa

Located at the base of the spine, the pelvic floor, and the first three vertebrae, the root chakra is responsible for your sense of safety and security on this earthly journey. The word Muladhara breaks down into two Sanskrit words: Mula meaning “root” and Adhara, which means “support” or “base.”

The Chopra Center, The Root Chakra: Muladhara

Simply, the foundation.

To say I have been in survival mode for the past couple of months is dramatization of a strict routine ruled by weather and finances. Eat, sleep, and pay the rent. Every penny is counted (2.01 for a super small coffee), every minute is dedicated (can’t skimp on my 130 minutes of netflix a night), and I officially live by the bedtime feature on my phone (10:15pm reminder).

Writing this now, I even just realized that I cannot be alone on this. It’s the winter, none the less, we are cold and desperately trying not get sick. I mean, what if we actually had to take a SICK DAY? Nobody can afford those, anymore. Winter, you are something else. And New York too, goddamn, you’re tough.

During the last few weeks I’ve cried over a 9-5 survival job more than any grateful person should, counted just enough quarters to dry the last batch of laundry I could afford, learned how to set a mouse trap, and bring up the subways so effortlessly in everyday conversation with every other New Yorker. How quickly we get accustomed.

I’ve read books to go back. I go back to the days when Puerto Ricans fled to New York (Brooklyn to be exact) to have light, running water, and work. Go back when the Incas and Andeans who lost their land, but not their teachings. I also talk to my grandma. She tells me how easy it would be to make mofongo (after I buy a pilón, claro) and how she used to go to Prospect Park all the time, over 50 years ago….

That’s about the time, they were learning to survive to. From New Jersey, to New York, and back to New Jersey to raise a family and work their asses off. That’s where the foundation began. Merging Puerto Rico into an American way of life. My parents merging their Latin AND American values into our American Dream household. How I’ve been surviving? By trying to get to the root of where it all began.

I want the rice and beans to fill my protein deficient body, the bread to keep me full, the local squash and potatoes for that sweet nourishment I crave, sugar and coconut oil to for the cravings of my skin, classic salsa to keep my mind dancing when my body is too cold or tired to do so herself, and the New York spirit, because even when you have exhausted me, the reminder of fucking doing it, is still with there.

Rooting down with my culture and vegetables, surviving the winter months by keeping a roof over my head and my head out of the clouds, for once, I built my foundation. Lonely nights were filled with projects of dim lights and candles, perfect for cozy productivity in bed. Counting quarters taught me the value of accessible nourishing foods, not just for myself, but anyone who gets hungry. Subway rides gave me not space, but opportunity to go deeper, through the words of those before me.

This is how I root. Making my home in New York, with experiences I couldn’t have anywhere else, I dig my feet a little deeper, making sure I may extend my hunger, heart, arms, and mind ANYWHERE else, but with feet on the ground. In case you do need to go back to basics, the foundation will always be there.

A long time coming. Not necessarily the Brooklyn part, but my move away from home, out of Jersey.

For a while, I felt deeply out of place. If you asked me two years ago if I would consider even working in New York, my answer was “Hell. No.” I was a Jersey Girl. I had a car, I knew towns by their exits on the parkway, familiar with the east and west, laughed if you thought North and South Jersey were the same. I loved the dirty jersey beaches and was a frequent goer every summer with every car that I had. Until recently

Things were destined to change, with unexpected turns and losses, I slowly started to give it all up. I became a commuter. I was not sure if my sanity and money was worth it, but I continued. I continued to hustle, I sold my car, I started adding extra days and nights in the city, only to be home a few nights for dinner and on Sundays where I hated leaving the house. I felt displaced.

I fell in love with New York and everything it had to offer. Going to school for something I was passionate about, the Union Square Market at my finger tips a few days a week, the buildings, the freedom, the ultimate place to be single and not feel yourself being left out. You are always welcomed somewhere. That’s what I drew me into this city. I never felt so happy or fortunate to just be me, to be on my own.

With uncertainty, little sleep, and not enough money, I took the opportunity. Instead of my will to merge my two worlds, the one of suburban NJ and the city streets, I decided to make New York my home, and pretty lucky to say Brooklyn now.

With every decision I have made, comes concerns and opinions of others. And, I guess that is why I kept this decision to myself. With only family and couple of friends to talk to about it with, even still I got every side mentioned to. And I moved the fuck along. Because, I not only learned a few years ago, but recently accepted, that my path is unique. It has not been done. Not the way I could do it. I have taken much of what I learned in childhood and school, and pushed it away. I needed to create space to learn something new.

So I leave you with this. A sincere thank you and promise. Thank you for continuing to read this blog and follow My Whisk and Mat whether in New Jersey, Florida, or New York. For the unbelievable support. Believing in my mission and being part of the journey. And a promise, to not give up. Even when things got so emotionally and physically impossible, I found a way to make it happen again. Blogging, creating, and sharing is part of what I love, and I knew I had to find a way back to it.

I moved to Brooklyn. I moved to New York City.

Pictures by Michele Vignola. Photography badass and amazing friend.