Your Gym, Our Gym...My Gym

How lucky I am, to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard -A.A. Milne (Winnie the Pooh)

Dear Parents,

As we prepare to pack up our gym, and empty the space where incredible memories were made, I realize there are some things I'd like you to know...

I want you to know I don't need to dismantle brightly colored equipment or pack up toys and swings to remind me of my work. I don't need to write farewell emails, change our voicemail greeting, or give last stamps and last hugs in order to solidify my role as a My Gym teacher. I don't need to lose access to our online database, or cry in front of students and parents, to realize my whole heart has been here for a very long time. Bottom line, I don't need to lose this gym in order to know what a gift, pleasure, honor and privilege it has been to watch your children grow, because I've always known how rare and unique this work is.

Over these next few days, we will be burning and shredding the contracts you signed; proof that you are every bit as committed to your child as we are. We will be packing up the equipment we encouraged your children to balance, tumble, walk, climb, rock, flip, swing and hang on. We will, one last time, fold the mats where we taught your children to land on their own two feet. The swings your children couldn't wait to ride will be put into storage and sensory objects--referred to as "Surprises"-- traced by tiny fingers, balanced on precious heads, observed with inquisitive minds will end up somewhere, other than here. These are the elements that kept your children coming back. These are the ingredients, that gave you faith in our program and inspired me to be a lot more here and a lot less there.

And of course, the most important ingredient...Circle Time.

Circle Time really is the best time. Each time I called your children to join me around the Big Red Circle, a little voice whispered to me, pay attention. Hold onto this. Remember. It urged me to listen, with my whole body, to the experiences of being a My Gym teacher. As my students practically fly full speed ahead to plop themselves in a spot that speaks loudly to them, the voice encouraged me to not go through the motions, but to fully absorb children saying their name, sometimes for the first time, mirror my movements and laugh unabashedly. This voice asked me to separate myself from what is irrelevant and unite with what's happening in real-time. It wanted me to acknowledge that every Circle Time could very well be my last and that it ought to be cherished. Circle Time speaks the universal language of connection. It knows there are voices to be heard, songs to be sung, questions to be asked and ideas to be shared. Circle Time solidifies my place in the world as a teacher, and assures me that I'm not the only one who knows how special it is.

To the children, parents, nannies, Grandmothers, Grandfathers, cousins, siblings, Aunts and Uncles who've come into my life, I thank you. I thank you for allowing me to connect with you and your family, for allowing me to witness first steps, first words and bursts of confidence. Thank you for your willingness to engage with me and for allowing me to be so easy with my love. Thank you for seeing my passion for My Gym and for allowing me to show how proud, moved and softened I often felt, seeing your children step out of their comfort zone and move through their wild and carefree lives.

Most of all, I thank you for joining me around the Big Red Circle; for building community, creating intimacy, and for knowing you and your children are very much seen and heard.

How lucky I am...to have had something that makes saying goodbye so hard.

All my love, Teacher

Evergreen: My First Tattoo

"Yes, I'll take a shot", I answer. The creamy taste of coffee and liquor run down my throat, eager to numb me enough to make it through the next hour. But numb I am not. I am all here; nerve endings, proprioceptors and brain cells alert, and surprisingly willing. I think about my Dad, then I don't. I think about going to India in four weeks, then I don't. I think about tattoos and my Jewish heritage, then I very quickly don't. My thoughts are drowned as I hear the first buzzing of the needle. It's coming for me. Erica, relax your jaw and for God's sake, open your eyes all the way...you look like Gilbert Gottfried. It swipes my fair skin for the first time, then a thousand more times, this is no joke. Erica, breathe. Yellow, green, teal, brown, I can see my tree coming together. If anything, it tickles. If anything, it tickles. If anything, it tickles. If anything, it tickles.               That's what I keep telling myself...

Though I never planned on having a tattoo, I figured if I did, it would be because I'd finally had it all figured out; that life and the ecosystem in which I live made perfect sense and I was so sure that what I was about to put on my body was the only thing that could soulfully represent who I am and why I am here. I suppose by the time that happens, I'd be on my death bed and no matter what design I settled on, it would just look like Madonna eating corn through a picket fence. (No offense, Madonna). So now, at the age of twenty-eight, creamy white-girl skin still pulled taught, breasts still relatively perky and I've still got most of my brain cells, this feels like a great time.

I know I've permanently marked my body with a needle being dragged across my skin, filling it with ink and yet I didn't give it multitudes of thought. I have not been thinking about this design for five years or even five months. But I realize this Evergreen Tree on the inside of my ankle will forever represent this time and space in my life; twenty-eight years old, about to embark on a trip to India with my best friend, who reminded me that tattoos are just another way of documenting where you are at a certain point in life. So there, I'm just starting a new journal. Right?

Without further ado, this is the meaning of my tattoo. It is based on the ancient Druid Horoscope, which is represented in trees. I am an Evergreen...

In the dead of winter, when the countryside was dull, grey and blanketed with snow, the Evergreen brought color and life to the landscape with its cold and austere beauty. The Evergreen is symbolic of friendship, resilience, perceptiveness, longevity and honesty.

Evergreen people are very sensory-oriented and are drawn to dim lights and the aroma of perfumes.

Evergreen people love antique jewelry and other old things and they enjoy being a part of majestic celebrations. Despite this last attraction, and because they are capricious and not easy to live with, they often experience a strong sense of isolation, even among large groups of people. Those born under this proud and resolute sign do not give up until they've achieved their goal and they are not likely to fall under anyone's influence.

Evergreens can be very demanding and hard to negotiate with. Knowing and understanding their true value, they always try to get the most out of life and usually they manage to achieve it.

If an Evergreen ever falls in love, the experience shakes her/him to their core. Their love can be truly unconditional.

When Evergreen people have to choose between different options, they usually pick the most difficult path. That's because deep down they believe it is their destiny to create difficult situations for themselves. But whatever happens, Evergreens are very noble and one can fully rely on them. They remain optimistic through every endeavor and never lose their faith. However, Evergreen people usually neglect the small things because they prefer to focus on the big picture instead.

an open letter to twenty-eight

 

Dearest Twenty-Eight,

In the deep, dark quite of my living room, I hear the clock in the kitchen. It counts down the remaining fifty-eight minutes of being twenty-seven.

I'm hardly ready for you; my phone has 20% life, clothes are unnecessarily scattered everywhere. Dishes are piled in the sink, DVDs of Seinfeld, Girl Interrupted and The L Word, are just...on the floor. Things are not where they're supposed to be, twenty-eight. I'm not married, I don't have children. I'm a writer and I'm not even wearing the right outfit to type this letter; it doesn't scream Carrie Bradshaw at all!

The thing is, Twenty-Eight, I was conceived mid afternoon, on the bedroom floor, after a huge marriage-threatening fight. (I do love drama). And forty-two blissful weeks later, on a Tuesday in 1987, my 7-pound ass was hauled via emergency C-Section into a culture driven by numbers, data, facts, conclusions, deadlines and fear. In many ways, Twenty-Eight, you're a ticking time bomb; not yet thirty, but dangerously close. Most 28's in my culture are expected to have it figured out. We are to be financially stable and independent, settled in our sexuality and secure in who we are. We ought to know our purpose and our passions and the difference between the two, because there is a difference.

Since the human body has its own rhythm--which we audaciously deny on the daily--so much information can be gathered every 365 days in a human's life. On a physiological level, predictions can be made about the condition of the body as we age; metabolism, bone health, reproductive ability, etc. If I die tomorrow, a skilled professional would be able to tell I am around twenty-eight, more or less by the stern end of my fourth rib, the length of my bones and my teeth. That's a beautiful and often helpful thing, but it would be hard to determine how I felt as a human being. Was I happy? Did I feel complete and secure in my purpose? Did I show and receive enough love? Did I pay my own rent? I mean, I was twenty-eight, after all. Interesting how age can only predict, depict and determine so much and yet we allow it to define who we are, by setting so many deadlines. This isn't a bad thing, it's just what is, for today.

Twenty-Eight, getting older hasn't been the hard part for me, growing up is. As a grownup, I've had to make very hard decisions and judgements. I've told the truth when I really didn't want to, and I've lied when it was my only option. I have to constantly be humble and realize things about myself that aren't favorable, but helpful to know. I've walked through shame, grief, fear, heartbreak and hopelessness. It's not all bad though, Twenty-Eight. Concurrently, I've really surprised myself, as a grownup. I've shown myself grace and a willingness to be here in a way I didn't and couldn't as a child. I have friends who seek me out and think of me all the time. I have a loving, smart and very strong family. My Mother has become my favorite person, thank God. I've cried so many tears of joy and I have much to celebrate, each and every day.

Twenty-Eight, I just really want you to know you are NOT a deadline. You are just a point of reference, like a mall directory, and I'm glad you're here. Of all the numbers so far, you feel the most fun, strong, powerful and enlightening already. You don't scare me...but let's be honest, you haven't demanded anything of me today, other than to receive and really taste all the love available to me. I know things only taste as good as the time I take to absorb them, so I promise to stay present for the next 16 hours. Yikes.

So maybe I am ready for you, sweet Twenty-Eight. For you are proof that I've kept air in my lungs, food in my belly and more than enough love in my heart to sustain me thus far. My dishes might be piled high, I might be single and I don't make 60K a year. My clothes may not make it back neatly where they belong anytime soon and the scattered DVD's won't get re-racked today. But that will come with age...right?

Love,

The Red Circle Philosophy

If I marked 2014 with an emblem or logo, I’d choose a Big Red Circle.  As a shape, circles represent wholeness, protection, initiation, mobility, all-inclusive unity, everything. Circles characterize revolutions around the sun as we waltz through rhythms of time. With not-so-primitive understanding, we saw our first circles; our Mother’s eyes, the moon, the sun, the dots in the skies as stars, and realized even beauty can be spoken in a circular language. As for Red, Red is high energy. It excites our senses and motivates us to take action. Red is the color of physical movement, and it awakens our life force.

Clearly, I’ve had quite a year.

As the Director of My Gym, a children’s fitness center, I have the incredible pleasure of connecting with over two hundred children and their families. And I mean the WHOLE family; parents, grandparents, uncles, aunts, nannies and distant cousins, twice removed. I also know and remember all their names, as if I've known them for years. I witness first steps and hear first words. I smile as parents sing “I'm a Little Teapot” with a sweet hint of nostalgia. I encourage my students to wonder about the world around them. I inquire about favorite sea animals, biggest fears and silliest memories. I hearten imagination, patience and kindness. All of this happens within the Big Red Circle in the middle of the room. From this circle, I am consistently challenged and inspired to see the world through a different lens. Its heart work, but someone has to do it.

If you've been following my blog for the past year, it should come as no surprise to you I'd die to speak at a TED conference. TED is a non-profit global set of conferences, welcoming people from all walks of life to give short, powerful talks. TED operates under the slogan: "Ideas Worth Spreading", and it’s no surprise TED’s logo is indeed a Big Red Circle. Ironically, if all I need is a Big Red Circle, something powerful to say and a willing audience, it appears I've in fact given about 1,152 TED talks this year. (I wish you could have been in my head during the 15 minutes it took me to calculate that.)

Cool story, Erica. What's your point?

For 2015, I challenge you to find YOUR Big Red Circle; that place where you are forever changed and enlightened. Find the spot of genuine intimacy and memory-making where you feel most comforted, tested, inspired and needed. In so many ways, I have found my circle and I wholeheartedly invite you to find yours. And to me, THAT is an “Idea Worth Spreading”.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

she writes poetry, too??

"Talent, Borrowed" By, Erica Jacobs

My elusive, creative Genius tiptoes through the walls of my writing room

She places her disarming hand on my furrowed, worried brow

Assures me creativity and suffering are indeed not linked

I tell her I am afraid of the work I have been put on this earth to do

I am fearful of the day my best success is behind me

I’m terrified to discover I am forgettable

She reminds me that brilliance, authority, notoriety, fortune, are all on loan

They are not born in me, but at me, with me, for me

Successes are fluid and unpredictable, it is better this way

This creates space for more talent to surface in the face of others

Perhaps my elusive, creative Genius protects me from the results of the work,

Shields me from narcissism, spares me ultimate disappointment

I’d rather swallow the sun, than be solely responsible for my success and failure

I now take comfort in the knowing, I am not a genius. I have a genius.