I raise my margarita glass to you

Dearest Rajiv,

I could write something very deep and serious about you here, but in many ways you were very much a private person to the outside world, choosing to share that private side with only a select few. Honoring you and celebrating your life isn't about a eulogy of meaningless facts or even sappy sentimentality. No, when I think of how I want to remember you it's in the mundane and unique details that are "you," the weird, random, and funny shit I will always carry with me just as much as the qualities about you I most admired and cherished. So here goes.

I always loved how you'd get passionately angry like a mama bear and throw around the best of foul language when someone (especially someone you cared about) was being screwed over or hurt in some way. That kind of loyalty is hard to come by and always made me laugh a little inside.

I will never forget when you were dogsitting years ago for a guy you didn't like...you didn't have kind words for him but told him "I wish Doolie (the dog) the best." I laugh every time I think of that, just as I laugh every time I think of the night you showed me a very cheesy porn scene with the woman who propositioned a man for a sexual conquest because "Would you be so kind as to.....? I don't want to be a rookie for my husband."

Your distinct and infectious laugh as you'd clap your hands excitedly, usually followed by "Oh my god, that's hilarious!" How your dance moves got crazier the more alcohol you drank, especially the time we had a dance party in your living room one night and your knees hurt so bad the next day because you were busting out dance moves all over the hardwood floor.

Your love of Mexican food, especially avocados and Garcia's margaritas. You always got Eddie and I in trouble with insisting on ordering that 2nd pitcher we most certainly did NOT need. There was something magical in those Garcia's margaritas, an elixir of sorts that brought out all the best conversational worlds of wit, weirdness, silliness, waxing philosophical, and even sweetly sentimental. I will always think of you when I drink a margarita, especially from Garcia's.

For years you would absentmindedly and accidentally address me as Eddie or Eddie as Katie, then catch yourself. "Hey Eddie....I mean, Katie." And though I can't remember any at the moment, there were the Rajiv quotes....things you'd say that were unintentionally funny, perhaps because the way you unknowingly worded things and they only sounded funny to Eddie and I because we're not from your country.

Then there was the time we almost got kicked out of the casino on our Michigan trip, not only because we were taking pictures inside but because for whatever reason you gave security the impression that you looked suspicious or a potential "threat" with your man bag and they briefly put out an APB on you.We were the youngest people in that senior citizen-ish casino. They had probably never encountered a stylishly dressed 30something year old with a man bag before that cold December night.

Far more mundane but no less memorable....listening to music in the Lakeview apartment (Peaches!) and trying on a bunch of your old silly Halloween wigs, watching indie movies together and talking about/analyzing them afterwards, eating Thai food at your favorite Thai place at the top of the Bloomingdale's building on Michigan Ave, you bluntly and honestly telling me at times things I didn't want to hear but always helped me in the end, your comments over the years about "the girls" or our occasional "TMI" stories.

Of course, I will always cherish your softer and kinder side....but it is your playfulness, quirkiness, laugh, and sense of humor that will provide me endless laughter and smiles for the rest of my life, far surpassing any tears I am now shedding right now in this time of raw emotional grief. I love you, my weird and sweet best friend in this world. You better be greeting me on the other side with a margarita when it's my time.

Love,
Katie

Organically intimate

Opening up. Letting go. Surrendering. To oneself. The moment. To opportunities for organic intimacy with the self and with friends or lovers. How often do we allow ourselves this in the age of iPhones, iPads, texts, social networking, cyber chats, busy lifestyles and instant gratification? How often do we pick up the phone to share something of depth and meaning with another? Share laughter, spark intellectually stimulating conversation, swap life stories, or otherwise hidden secrets?

We fidget, we resist, we avoid ourselves and each other, we escape into machines and addictions. The humanity that can be found in connecting is fading in the dwindling creative process that takes place when people interact and relate in organic ways....face to face, heart to heart, verbal conversations, eye contact, touch, body language, expression of visceral uncensored emotion, vulnerability (being emotionally "naked," open, honest, and transparent with nothing to hide behind/from).

I could be in the minority that finds these experiences few and far between, but I highly doubt it. Having recently experienced a significant number of these experiences more than the usual (ie, rare), I got to thinking how much different I feel with them vs. without them. Connected. Alive. Joyful. Hopeful. Seen, wanted, desired, understood, known. Real experiences evoke real emotion. Virtual is an illusion that numbs and leaves one extremely wanting. It's no wonder why we as an American society are more depressed, disconnected, empty, unhealthy (physically and emotionally), and overly medicated now more than ever. But it doesn't have to be that way.

It will likely feel very uncomfortable to relax and completely surrender to your physical environment when you've been tethered to the ease of virtual living for so long. But you will feel alive. Earlier this week I had one (of many) such moments. I've recently discovered a new interest and appreciation for relaxation yoga and meditation, something that never struck my fancy until I was at my wit's end with a painful rib injury that left me desperate to try just about anything to heal that much quicker. Sadly, this was my only motivation for going. I'm oddly grateful for that injury though because it gave me the priceless gift of yoga. It's done wonders for my soul. I'm able to relax and let go completely, which speaks volumes since I can rarely turn myself completely to "off" mode. Since I've been practicing this yoga once a week, it's becoming a little more natural and likely I can do so when I'm not in the class.

Then there's meditation. I've never been one to meditate. I never thought I could do it the "right" way, even thought it to be boring, futile, and even a little pretentious. The other night, however, proved me wrong. Within minutes of being asked to think about and visualize those in my life who have been my greatest teachers, mentors, and loving supporters....my eyes (which were shut) filled with tears as I found myself surprisingly overcome with emotion, triggered by memories of people dear to my heart. I was filled with such joy to be reminded of this love and gratitude that could have gone unnoticed otherwise.

As I have been challenging myself, I challenge you to seek out opportunities to live in the organic....that which kindles intimacy and self-discovery, sparks genuine self-expression.

Real is slow, organic, random, messy, risky, at times even ecstacy. A puzzle to be put together. Layers of an onion to be peeled. A gift to be unwrapped and savored.