Over the last two years, I have slowly journeyed to a phrase I use for an idea that, until now, felt difficult to capture simply: my essence.

Essence is more than just a look or an aesthetic or a brand or a style. Essence involves what I wear, yes, but it’s much more than that. Essence looks backward and forward, combining my past teenage self and my future senior self to bring me the vibe of my present moment.

I often ask myself, How would 66 year-old Rachael react to this situation? What would she say matters most? How would she measure beauty? How can we honor her now?

But also, What did we love most about 16 year-old Rachael’s style and attitude? What made her try out for musicals, or choose to dance across the stage year after year? How can we get back there?

Essence is what I come back to. Essence is what makes me feel settled. Essence is swagger and confidence and risk, but it’s also comfort and home and safety. Essence is when I feel comfortable in my skin, because it matches what I know to be true in my bones.

Two candles are lit at the beginning of the meal as a reminder that we are the light of the world. Shabbat shalom.

Something old, something new… things I’m currently listening to.

Malibu, Anderson .Paak / Consumed, Aja Barber

The body keeps the score.

Many painful events have transpired around this little town over the last several weeks. At the risk of sounding trite, it’s amazing how preciously short life truly is. Each of our existences and journeys and relationships, miraculous blips on the map of this great universe. Lives lost, marriages upside-down, careers sideways, plans askew. And still, the world turns for those who show up for it.

My husband and I watch the Hornets play, convinced we’d make excellent coaches or commentators despite our amateur couch status thousands of miles away. We laugh a lot and groan a little, counting the years we have left before we’re allowed to complain about the aches and pains associated with living and working and playing and loving and parenting during a pandemic. Today is Papa’s 95th birthday. We wonder if he complains as much as we do. Probably not.

We may be running out of TV to watch and picking at each other and forgetting our Vitamin D some days, but we are also re-potting plants and apologizing and drinking lots of water. We’ve been smushing our lives together for seventeen years this winter – bodies, minds, souls. Onward.