the gathering kind: new friends + brunch @ buvette

In Sanskrit there is a term, “kula,” which loosely translates to kin or community. When I first heard the term I was at a yoga retreat deep in the woods of Maine, where I found myself trusting people whom I just met, barely knew, because they didn’t let me fall. Frightened of inversions, I would plead with my partners to hold my hips, tight during my handstand practice, because the idea of falling backward was unimaginable. During a two-hour class, strangers held my hips and whispered, just breathe. In that rare stretch of time I felt my hands pressing deep into the grass and I closed my eyes. Knowing my kula would never let me go.

Fast forward the tape to now where I’ve done some heavy editing. A few weeks ago I talked about getting surgical with the barnacles. You know the type: people who drain every inch of life out of you, people determined to claw, wheedle and ruin. People who preach fear like sermon.

People who are not on my bus.

Over the past two years I’ve excised all the people who made me feel like a lesser version of myself. Whether they expressed doubt about my life choices {my being single is highly comic and tragic to the motley married few} or imbued every inch of light with darkness {Good luck with that French class! I dropped out after the third week. What a waste!}, or prattled on endlessly about their connections and how I could achieve a higher state of microfamery {You should meet that person; she’s ‘good to know’}, they had become a coat worth shedding.

I’m wholly selective of whom I allow trespass into my small, strange world. I do this because my relationships have depth and meaning. I invest, I get involved, I care. I don’t care who they are or what they’ve done, rather I consider how present they are in my life. How they add light and energy rather than deplete it. If they’re the sort of person who would hold my hips tight, never let me go.

From now on my first experience at Buvette, an extraordinary spot with simple, extraordinary eats, will be marked by spending time with a new friend. Jamie’s the sort of person you want to be around because her energy is infectious, and there’s something pure and honest in the way that she draws you in, and warm about how she keeps you there. For two hours we were never short on conversation, there weren’t any of those ubiquitous pauses, and I came away feeling invigorated.

Because now there’s time to let all the right ones in. To open up the kula and let in all the light.