Riding the Gnarly Wave of Life

she speaks

2010-08-09T21:46:00.000-07:00

the quiet came down like a thick blanket, cool and heavy against the prickling of my skin. the fragrant flowers left traces in my clean, wet hair. i heard the eastern screech owl, who trilled a deep cooing sound not at all like her name belied. i couldn't sleep. it wasn't unusual, for since the time of my childhood i had become aroused after the final breath of day whooshed out, and night glided in on her indigo wings. i had no expectations of my family to understand, and through the years my peaking energy left friends and lovers alike completely confounded. they might sleep or struggle while i ran my feverish hands through colors, through pages of stories, poetry, or my own insatiable needs.

i asked my mother if i have always been this way. she responded slowly, trying not to damn me in the answer. but morning has always brought me suffering. the low grey lights bleeding to pinks and fiery salmon. the wisps of the nocturnal fairies receding to the days of duty and heat. she speaks to me, calling me to dance in her splendid twinkling robes and i cannot refuse her. it is when things are most effortless, somehow more poignant, and when my spirit calls out to the creatures in the forests and in the swamps. the gentle song floods me now, pulsing in small rhythms, thousand-fold symphonies of insects and amphibians alike calling the sacred name of the mother. our mother. my mother. my name.

The Passing of a Great Man

2010-03-23T13:55:00.001-07:00

It's taken me some time to process his death. I felt almost like I was in shock, only it was no great surprise for Pop to die. After all, he lived a long life and was almost ninety-two. It made logical sense to me, because he had been suffering with Alzheimer's for almost a decade and had completely forgotten me about five years ago. Watching his memorial slideshow today has left me feeling so emotional, so sad, and so full of gratitude. I come from amazing stock and it was all the more evident as every photo morphed into the next. It's hard leaving the nest, moving across the country and telling your young self you can always turn back; you can always go home. Now I am finding how time passes and how entrenched in our own lives we become. I see how hard it is to go back, and sometimes when you get there they don't know who you are.

Pop and I never had a chance to really say goodbye. Our relatives reminded him of who I was when I'd come to visit every year, but after a few years he'd just smile and say, "Hello, Sweet Girl." Soon thereafter he went silent and began sleeping a lot, so in that way I felt his death even before the physical one. Looking back through the memories, I can honestly say I've been one of the most blessed individuals. Pop always took his time making wonderful things for us. I still have my dollhouses, my toy chest, my special lockbox, my cutting board, my bookshelves, and my Frank Lloyd Wright light. He showered all of his grandchildren with handmade wooden crafts, and it is really something to be appreciated. In a world full of plastic junk, I have something of value to pass to my children.

When I think about who Pop was there are a few immediate qualities that come to mind. He was a kind, thoughtful, gentle person. He was always impeccably groomed and extremely well educated. I remember how much he loved nature, taking walks, reading something interesting, singing, making things in his woodshop. He had a love of animals and children. He was a faithful and loyal husband and father. He made each grandchild feel like they were his favorite. He appreciated music and the arts and continued taking classes into his late years. Most of all I miss his subtle and genuinely happy presence. There is a certain loneliness I have for him and it will never be filled. Because of Pop I became someone who loves children and animals, loves to go on walks, make homemade goodies, craft things by hand, sing, and read interesting things. I hope I can follow his example of generosity of spirit and giving my full attention to the person I am spending time with. I hope I can support others and inspire them to achieve wildly romantic dreams like Pop has inspired me.

I don't know if I'll ever be half as classy or successful as my Pop, but he has left his mark on me and I feel so grateful for it.

2010-03-21T17:53:00.000-07:00

There was a time where my world was my friends. Everything felt hinged on their opinion of me and I felt guided by my need to create a sort of "family". I remember feeling this way as an awkward teenager and I felt such certainty when I proclaimed to my father, "These girls are amazing. We will be friends for life!" I guess we all feel that way about friendship at one time or another. It's just impossible to see your life without that particular place to belong, the inside jokes, the secrets, the trials and make-ups that most friendships chalk up. My highschool crew was like that. They gave way to a new group in college. They gave way to a restaurant culture, which moved around as I moved around. Then I moved to California and started fresh, scared and lonely as shit. But I remember Papa saying this to me in my early teen years, when I was as close to being in love with my friends as I have ever allowed myself to be.

My father looked down at me and shook his head slowly. He said something I've never been able to believe and certainly never forgotten. "All these people will be strangers to you in less than five years. You'll be able to count your true friends on one hand by the time you are my age." I looked at him with disgust and couldn't imagine ever being so cynical. "Yeah, right."

Not long ago I reached the pivotal age of 30. This didn't seem like such a milestone until recently, when I discovered I no longer felt the same way about friendship. Now I have my own family, and it has eradicated this void I always searched to fill. Maybe I opened up too much or gave myself too passionatley to people that didn't really want to know or have that much. Or maybe the saying is true, you have friends for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. You never know how long someone will be in your life. I guess I just always wanted to belong somewhere, to be accepted and loved like a family member without all the DNA and messy history. In my little imaginary world, everyone got along without incident and had a great time. (Let's be real, family and friendships can be messy at times. We are humans after all.)

I have always defined myself through my relationships and felt almost like a puppet on a string, trying desperately to please each and every person. To be perfect, accepting, loving, funny, nurturing...TRY being the point. And I have failed miserably at some points, and succeeded at others. I look around and I see that it didn't take reaching 50 to have a handful of true friends, ones who have been there for half my life. I see the seasons, the reasons, the illusions I create around myself and people. For what?

I ask myself why I continue to suffer with attachment. Why do I feel this urge to be everyone's friend and to make everyone I meet like me? It feels gross just admitting it, but I feel like it was somehow bred into my very bones. The women in my family all do it, and suffer the consequences.

So now I am left with a new taste in my mouth. I feel the rise and fall of the ocean, the everchanging landscape of my life and feel almost at peace. I feel like I could pull up and move anywhere with my little family. I feel alright that I make mistakes or fuck up and friendships evolve. I see now that old saying is quite true, when one door closes another one opens. It feels surreal to even feel this way, but I see now that accepting change is the only way I can gracefully navigate through life.

Sets of Three

2010-01-19T14:29:00.001-08:00

The single paned windows are rattling and the trees look like someone with their head out the car window. I'm drinking cream soda and eating pretzels, wondering just how much wind it would take to bust in the glass. It'd be nice to have a fire, but it's a fake fireplace with a ceramic log and the ignition seems to be broken. I've spent the day wondering where to go from here. I am not so much worried about the destination, but there seems to be a three pronged fork in the road. I am going to an open house tomorrow for a two year horticulture program focusing on enology and viticulture. I think making wine would be a marriage of so many things that I love. Spending time outdoors, moving to the country, getting my hands dirty, making liquid art. I've met a lot of winemakers over the years and most of them are drunks. This part is unappealing, as I am trying to remain in balance. I've thought about the spiritual psychology program up in Santa Monica too. A few of my favorite authors graduated from their master's program and I have a few friends currently enrolled there as well. I've always thought about writing fiction. I've wanted to be an author since fourth grade. I am inspired by break out authors like J.K. Rowling who almost topped Forbes list a few years back and started telling Harry Potter stories to her kids when they were homeless. I have been paralyzed by the magnitude of motherhood this past year. Now I feel rested enough and stable enough to DO something. I just can't decide what to do first. Then again, I can do all of it and more! One day I'll have my art on my wine labels, have a small vineyard with horses and a bed and breakfast/sex therapy retreat center. Ha! And I'll have a big garden with lots of cucumbers for making sweet pickles!

I'll tell you what, though. Being a mother is the single most challenging job I have ever had. It is the most thorough education on selflessness, sleeplessness, and taking the time for honoring yourself. I often feel tethered to the house and going back to school part time would be a wonderful outlet. We'll see what the openhouse reveals.

A few weeks ago I was watching a youtube vid on Burning Man last year. I want to go so badly, and started crying because I felt so far from that reality. I have a very tame life presently and I realized I have to be more active in the community-fire spinning, monkey chanting, yoga, volunteering, horseback riding, school, art shows. Winter is shaking her feathers and spring is just around the corner. I feel the green shoots pushing through my shell, springing toward the light! I know the path, it's patiently waiting inside my heart. I just have to follow what feels right.

the ugly truth

2010-01-07T14:22:00.001-08:00

i have been wrong and acted out of fear.
i have been unkind and judgmental.
i often fail to follow through on things.
sometimes i seek the easy way, even if i know it won't get me to the right place.
i stumble and fall, finding it hard to get out of my own way.
i can be meanest of all to myself.

this year my intention is to be more honest about how i feel, let go of things that hurt, ask forgiveness for wrongs i've committed, focus on coming from a heart centered and conscious place, and find the magic i've been missing. the other night i was sleepless, tossing around on the fact that i'm not lost, i've just forced myself not to listen. i thought i could bury my heart and "get through" this part...but instead i have been stuck in a place that doesn't feel right. i went to "sleep" again, and laying in bed suddenly couldn't sleep. i know the vibrational toxicity that comes with red meat, alcohol, television, sedentary living, refined foods, cigarettes, sleeping friendships. i found a bracelet that says, "your life won't change until you change your life."

i agree.
so i choose to change.
my intention is to stay awake this time.
the "other way" doesn't work, and having explored that to every possible end, i feel ready to enter this new year, new decade, and new age with an open and kind heart.

Keeping My Name, Not circumcising my boy, and other thoughts from a strongly opinionated woman

2009-12-19T12:12:00.001-08:00

I'm not ever changing my name, unless it's for witness protection. Don't worry folks, I am not close to being engaged so it's not really an issue. But I am a mother of an 8 month old boy. Glorious little gem of a human, born at home and unvaccinated by the western hands of fear and greed. I plan on fighting the system and anyone else who doesn't stop to educate themselves before making judgements and following blindly along the path. I'm no genius, but I do consider myself a smart woman and a strong one. Where are the rest of my ilk, I wonder? Where are the women who dare to change the standard and stand up to generations of men chopping off their sons' foreskins? It's considered criminal to do that to a woman, yet it is practiced all over Africa and the Middle East. I know we Americans do so much to remain hairless, odorless, and foreskinless...for what? To be cleaner? Closer to some judgey puritanical God? I took one look at my baby and knew he was created perfect and whole. I knew hurting him was not an option, even if my family and his own father fought me tooth and nail. I fight for the freedom to choose, the idea that we are wonderful creatures as nature intended.
I feel misplaced in time. I feel my religion is being present and taking care of the earth and her creatures. I am a juicy, sometimes musky and hairy, often curvaceous and wild sister, mother, daughter. I don't understand how so many Christians took a Jew, bleached him out, added a couple of Pagan holiday rituals from the Sun God, threw in a magical gift bearing Elf and flying reindeer, and condemned the very wine they drink in sacred communion on the wrong day. Candlemas became Christmas, and though I don't subscribe to either religion, it still makes me mad. I feel bad that the very land covered in cement used to breathe and be a part of the humans who lived with it, not killing and conquering it. OWNING IT. I will not take part in some ritualized agreement to Obey and give away my identity! I might sound angry to you, but it is really just venting my passion so that others may hear one voice not afraid to speak out. So many women died for me to have the right to vote, to wear pants, to own property! Who are these imitation women with plastic EVERYTHING shopping and consuming and trying to bust through glass ceilings without a nod to the past? Without the respect for our elders and women who died fighting for our rights to be educated, strong, free? I look around at the sleepwalking society, puppeteered by consumerism and a lack of identity and I VOW not to become one of them. I VOW to give my son a fighting chance to be a human being full of life, wonder, excitement, reverence for life and nature, and respect for himself and his mother.

A Day of Rain

2009-09-28T08:40:00.000-07:00

I sat perched on the toilet, watching the grey morning moving the trees around. The window pane gave a little rattle as silent tears of joy ran down the outside. A small oval of moisture clung to the inside, a telling of old seals giving way around the windowsill. The tree branches are still heavy with green and yellow leaves and they bow their arms gracefully, like ballerina dancers watching the audience of the waves on the lake. I keep thinking how grateful the earth feels for the rain, how it's soaking in the water to prepare for a long winter ahead. Walking about the property yesterday, I felt the immensity of my life growing up here. The land speaks to me of so many memories and I can hear the thump of my horses hoofbeats from twenty years ago. I see her chestnut flaxen tail held high like a banner, the wind remembering her snorts and whinnies. In September, there is a feeling of space opening up between the ground and the sky, where for months a heavy blanket of humidity has lain unmoving. The clouds like to fly high and change shapes often, sometimes spreading out like the sand on the bottom of Lake Michigan. I feel so thirsty for this place, so full of gratitude for the many secrets we share. Tracing my childhood around the land, I come upon a patch of clover still growing it's bounty of four and five leaf clovers. I never did tell my sister how I always got so lucky. I look forward to showing Little Son these secrets. I went back into the small fairy forest near my old fort in the cedar grove. To my amazement there stood a ring of rocks I had placed around a wild rose plant more than twentysome years before. The moss I had brought there to line my cathedral had grown as well, creating a blanket to sit on. I looked up to the top of the forest, where a lone sassafrass tree was turning brilliant shades of vermillion amidst the pine. Everywhere scents came to me, the slow decomposition of apples in the orchard, the wetness of fallen leaves, the crush of the grass beneath my tread. The many insects and creatures stirring the air, squirrels chattering like wind-up toys high in the branches. As I walked slowly throgh the forest, I felt something ease inside of me, something made of struggle, worry, fear, and cement. It felt like the weight of the city vanished right then and a few warm tears sprang up. Blinking, I looked up to see the ropey vines climbing the cedars in my fort. They had made an incredible sort of chair with a footrest near the root, and another crowsnest far up in the trees. I thought how small I must've been when I played here and climbed up for a lookout. We had a language then made of whistles. My father once taught us to put each thumb carefully over an acorn top leaving just a small triangle between the tops of our thumbs. If you blow in the triangle spot out comes this piercing whistle. Bending down I pick one up and put it in my pocket for later. Maybe I'll send it to my sister. Maybe I'll get it dipped in silver and make her a present for Christmas.
My own Mom is watching Little Son, so this is the first time in almost six months that I have been alone in nature. Our dog Zorra decided to follow me along my way and looks at me expectantly. I am glad of her company and call her to come lay with me in the field. Smoothing my poncho into a blanket, we lay together under a tall blue sky. She affectionately drops a heavy clawed paw over my arm, saying in her dog way "isn't this great? I'm so glad we are spending a little time together." It feels like a long time since I could hear the dog language. Even longer since I could hear what the wind was saying, lifting my hair and whispering secrets for all who cared to listen. My body feels stiff, so I stretch up to the clouds, over to the grass, in to the earth. Small ants have now invaded my poncho and I think to myself I probably invaded their home. I am probably sitting right on top of it. So instead of crushing their bodies or flicking them away, I let them run onto my fingers and I deposit them on the other side of my poncho in the grass. I look deeper into the grass to find a thatch of roots and small leaves, each spinkled with drops of dew. This is what I came for. This is why I needed to stay awhile longer and drink in the dew. To remember who I am.

i am not lost

2009-07-21T02:58:00.000-07:00

it was about 2 in the morning when i awoke. not from sleep, per se, just awoke.
it's been so long since i felt like "me". i took my long green dress out to the garage and debated about the safety of my little excursion, but pressed forth nonetheless. there was only about 2 inches left in the less than airtight glass bottle, but certainly enough fuel for at least two burns. i took my virgin staff, the red and black taped one i got for last year's birthday, and soaked each wick for a minute. that should do it. i walked out past the ridiculously brown hedge separating our duplex from the neighbor, and flicked my bic. the wicked roared to life, nearly singing my hands and i grabbed for the center of the tape. the staff is about 5 feet long but has 2 inch wicks that burn like a motha, so away we went! i can smell the charred flesh and burning bushes still! i walked quietly to the center of my suburban street and started to firedance for the first time in a year. it felt rusty, slow, awkward at first. then my grooves returned, easily in a rush. the fuel roared in my ears, i squatted and fought the night with flames, jumping and striking out for a good 5 minutes before they gave their last light and i was covered in a long forgotten sweat. it was a joining of worlds, a bridge between the old life and the new. i welcomed this with a glad heart, and remembered that i am not lost.

youporn and the porn in my mind

2009-07-02T23:02:00.001-07:00

i went online tonight, looking for a little something exciting to wack off to. i flicked through a few videos. most of this was spurred by a conversation i had with a close friend whose fiancee has become addicted to porn and it made me think about my own relationship with it. there really isn't an addictive bone in my body, come to think of it. i've always been able to drop whatever i want-whether it be smoking, drinking, meat, sleep, a person, etc. then, i thought more deeply on the subject and realized my own brand of porn is something i've experienced in real life. it doesn't come with pixels and slutty chicks with fake boobs. my porn is a movie reel in my head. is it so wrong to still feel connected to these memories? perhaps this is my addiction-holding onto the past. there have been amazingly powerful moments for me; in the forest, under the moon, on alpaca furs with orange candles, on my kitchen counter, in the morning looking up at the sky through the redwood trees, secretly in sleeping bags, standing behind a tree at my parents, in lake michigan with the sun setting and red wine in my veins, in a snowy cabin...many magical sexual moments! it is more or less my connection with my lover in these moments that i look back upon and get turned on by. synchronized breathing, deep moments of base human experience...it seems like the most divine moments of my life. these gritty, sweaty, primal moments are what i am missing. the ethereal aftermath, the quietude of being met on the spirit plane while our bodies writhe in an ancient dance. it is my most basic need, one i feel unwilling to live without. yet here i am, finding myself craving something that feels out of reach. so, youtube it is. blek.

your sweet face

2009-06-01T00:57:00.000-07:00

i look at you and cannot believe, for the life of me, that you are mine. it floors me that i created something so beautiful...my MASTERPIECE. i thought i was losing myself when i got pregnant...turns out i only found myself in your eyes. there are neverending pools of liquid GOD in them.
i am so humbled and grateful...a little baby has shown me everything i seached for in vain for almost 30 years. i am more motivated to find myself now then ever. funny how that works.

the time has come

2009-05-22T14:38:00.000-07:00

i stood naked in the belly of my being
stakes riveted the skin to the bone
and i howled, stretching, bearing down
like a churning primal ocean.
each wave returning me to a distant shore
far from the one i left
one i never thought i'd meet.
he glimmered there, like sunlight on waves
reaching out to me as i writhed,
wanting so much to meet him.
his eyes drew me in, telling me silent secrets
the center of my world imploded,
back arching, soul soaring up on the plateau of my voice,
every fiber of the physical birthing the intangible into place,
and suddenly everything was still.
i reached into the water between my legs and swept him to my breast.
he raised his head, looked at me and howled!
the time has come to turn the page,
the time has come to bathe in the freedom of love.
the time has come to murder the ego, drown the fear.
just a spark from the universal fire grew into this little raging aries child.
the timeless cycle continues
i am honored.

The Art of Pregnant Sex

2008-11-27T02:03:00.000-08:00

i was inspired by a story a close friend once told me about his pregnant girlfriend. the image has haunted me since, making a deep impression on my already sex saturated brain. the picture is this: a beautiful brazilian woman astride her man, his head thrown back toward the viewer, her neck arched, and two perfect streams of milk erupting from her engorged breasts as she comes. i have savored this image, finding myself wanting to paint it but not being able to draw the body as i imagine the scene. it was after i became pregnant and felt an absence of sexual energy (the first trimester) that i started researching online, trying to come up with videos of men and pregnant women having sex. none seemed as beautiful as i conjured up, so i turned to searching ANYTHING that might turn me on. it was a strange absence of a very familiar feeling..this lack of horniness...so i gave up. i am sure steve found me cold and distant, our schedules perfectly mismatched and out of sync. the image of squirting milk or anything else for that mattered died after a long four months of near celibacy. no one prepared me for the change in my drive, my altered feelings about having sex while incubating a little child, nor the insatiable need for sex now in my sixth month. i have remastered the shower head, the vibrator, the left handed manual drive. nothing seems to do the trick, because in a few minutes after i orgasm, there it is again. persistent, weird, and totally normal. it is a relief to feel somewhat like my old self, yet the quaking of a baby inside of me makes this a more private affair. my man hasn't wanted to have sex while we are staying at his dad's house, but it's hard when the weeks roll into months. i have no privacy whatsoever, so i find it in my commute to work or in the shower. that's all i get these days. even then, there is a presence inside, flipping on her little bungee cord and reminding me that i am NEVER ALONE. god, this can be a scary feeling.
i remember masturbating as a child, undoing my diapers. i think i've had an advanced sex drive since i was very young, and upon reflection it has been the one thing that captured my full attention-when it presented itself- for most of my life. this need to explore and discover new layers of sexuality has developed into a study of the human body, a genuine openness about talking about sexual things, and my desire to go back to school and achieve a doctorate in human relations and sexuality. i think it'll be great. not for some way to perv out on other people, but to get paid to do what i already do. talk about sex. give advice. study cultures and influences. answer questions about taboo topics. i am a sexual anthropologist, psychologist, and couples counselor. i envision tantric workshops and spiritual sex talks. i look around and i can't escape it...the "girls gone wild" videos sicken me, yet at the same time it is fascinating to witness people so disconnected from their souls. we sell everything with sex and not intimacy, shaved pussies but not real people. the sight of plastic globes moving uniformly in waves under the skin sickens me, but these are the "answers" most kids find in porn. i STILL can't understand why americans are so funny about the very thing that has kept our species rolling in for centuries. like death, we avoid talking and viewing sex as a part of life. instead, we sneak around looking for something exciting to touch or watch in private. or we deny it. or worse, we are ashamed. embarrassment over our very creation is absurd. making something normal into something forbidden and unexplained just doesn't resonate with me. how many preacher's kids end up rebelling? i wanted to know everything i could and yet the information didn't hurt me. in fact, i was one of the only girls to graduate from highschool as a virgin. (yeah, i'm serious). thanks to a forthcoming mother and a lot of good reading, i found myself educating my friends who had no one to turn to. sex ed in school was a joke, and the kids who needed it the most got notes from their parents excusing them from vital information.

did i need to get pregnant to realize i am a natural earthmami-educator? no. but seeing the way people react to me as a pregnant and unmarried bartender helps spur on my desire to go back to school. "do you know who the father is?" "is the father still around?" "you shouldn't be working" or "no ring?". i get these comments, along with strangers stretching the necks and extending their hands to touch my belly. fuck off and don't touch me. the whole traditionalist puritanical bullshit surfaces again, even in a new age funky town like encinitas. doesn't anyone appreciate a good old fashioned love child anymore? with divorce rates at an alarming rate, i would sometimes like to ask these people if things turned out so hot once the "big party" was over. i am a realist, recovering from being a lifelong romantic. almost every young person i know regrets getting married except for my sister. i'm not rushing into things because society wants a ring on my finger to make it ok. i'm pregnant and in a committed place in my relationship. i love steve and see a family man when i look at his goals. i'm in the now, and now is good.

anyways, the point i started with is just this: our cycle of life is an aweinspiring mosaic of images. i hope to capture some of them on canvas, some on paper, and others in the imaginations of people everywhere.

diary of a pregnant goddess

2008-11-08T02:26:00.000-08:00

i start in slow circles, letting the half ton block of cacao butter do it's magic. please let me remain unscathed, i silently pray to the stretch mark gods. they certainly didn't listen in puberty, but i am taking them on with certified organic shit these days. it's edible, in fact. i wear compression stockings most of the time so i won't fall prey to those nasty spider veins running in my family, and try to drink as much water as my increasingly tiny bladder can take. i look over my options today. it's getting cooler outside, so the long tank dresses are too skimpy but the only thing that feels comfortable. i bought my first maternity pants at target...comfortable and hideous. those only come out to play for alone time. i have heard i won't be having any of this in the coming months, so i soak up each precious fifteen minute swatch of time like i'll be forced to live with this baby attached to my breast for the next ten years. it may not be far from the truth.

the cacao melts into a wonderfully chocolatey grease and reflects the light in the bathroom mirror. i stare for a moment at my swollen breasts now three times their size. my stomach is starting to bulge and i am soft from walking and not kicking ass up mountains. i guess the mountains will me waiting after i give birth. still, i don't recognize my shell, formerly carved with deep curves and thick muscles. i feel like a jellybean with sticks for arms and legs. this too will only continue to expand for the next four months until KABLAMM! well, all the hypnobirthing and yogic techniques tell me it won't be like that, but i am waiting for the red button to come popping up out of my navel: turkey's done! being homeless and pregnant has been alright for a spell, mostly because i have loving friends who leave their beds open while they stay at their boyfriends' houses. thus tonight i have a silent house and my own bed for once. i have a borrowed computer and some leftover midnight oil to burn. gratitude for this, but i can't wait to have my own space back. it's been over a month of couch surfing and i am ready to settle in to a new place.

i'd say that i have six solid days for every shaky one. it's not a bad ratio, but i feel things on a level that i thought lost to my youth. today i went back in time when the radio blared "fools rush in" by UB40 and i was swept back to a time when i was torn between two boys in highschool. i felt the moist saliva cooling in the darkness, the vinegar smell of a red darkroom, the flavor of turning into a wintergreen mouth and the guilt of liking someone new. a senior. i trembled when his fingers raked through my hair and stood my flesh at attention. i remember the tears and salt stained face of the boy i loved but somehow couldn't kiss anymore, knowing the delights awaiting my eager lips in down in the yearbook room. it was a vile thing to do, exploring my own sexual prowess as a young woman. but i couldn't help it.

i drove along the back road to work, thinking about how far i have gotten from that song, that flashbulb moment half a life ago. i was almost fifteen, so precisely that. will i feel the same nostalgia in another fifteen years, thinking of this pregnancy and knowing this person...this person who is growing inside of me right now? some kind of flashbulb moment when the next rite of passage burns bright through the history of growing up, this abruptly punctuated new phase in life?

i cling selfishly to ideas of independence, when i know i will be submissive. i just have so much more to do in life than merely procreate. i didn't plan this, so certainly it comes like a mixed bag of nuts. i'm told this is normal, and that upon seeing my child for the first time i will fall head over heels into technicolored love and forever changed for the better. when will i have time for art? to go back to school? to be alone? to travel the world? to stay up late and do all the selfish things defining me until this point? these are the questions that rise in me. i feel guilty for admitting them. but then, it's just a blog after a long shift. it's just being misplaced and unable to nest. it's the desire to have my energy, my body, and my diet back. i have a list of "don'ts" far outweighing the "do's" and it's hard to reign it all in. it doesn't seem real because i have been running from reality. i guess the upside is that i can come in an instant and i have some new buttons on my body now.

i thought i would be proud of my mothering bloom, stripping off my clothes at any given chance and brazenly taking my pregnancy photoshoot in stride. now it seems i just feel like a razorburned greasy chocolate manatee and want to hide in big baggy sweats and empire waist dresses. the joke is on me today!!

ok, it's late and i am truly rambling. let's spin the wheel of fortune and see what blogging mood i'm in next time i have a spare moment. blessings, love, and understanding.

*

2008-08-03T01:33:00.000-07:00

i have nearly reached my emotional capacity this year. at least that is the limit (lie) i choose to believe this moment. i'm sure right around the bend there'll be a whole new breed of living, but tonight i feel the grandeur of being human. the humility follows suit, realizing i'm a speck in the ocean of what is. yet the what is, the oneness, the ocean is inside me. infinite. circles. cycles.
i can no longer wallow in the selfcentered emptiness of my ego.
i have no choice, as fate has chosen me to create something fresh, new, scary, raw, and completely beautiful.

photos from the fourth (for you mom)

2008-07-11T13:03:00.001-07:00

the day before the big day

2008-07-03T12:17:00.000-07:00

the fourth of july...it has always been my most favorite holiday. when i was little, i'd wake up early to the smell of the pig roasting over a charcoal flamed spit. papa would be out there at seven a.m. with a beer and mom would be yelling, "jim, isn't it a little early for that?!" he'd reply through a cigar clenched in his teeth, "it's the fourth of july, kate, and i'm cooking the pig." it seemed reasonable to me, since he was working hard and always asked me to find him the coldest one when we worked together in the barn. it was my job to decorate the place with american flags and we had about two hundred of them to use. i would take the golf cart down the driveway and line the half mile to the house on each side. mom would then enlist us kids to help set the thirty picnic tables with red and white checkered cloth and special clips to keep them from blowing off. somewhere around ten in the morning a truck would arrive with a dunk tank, lowering the thing down with a fork life and making us nervous for the hours to come. papa would fill the tank with cold water from the hose and practice hitting the lever with a baseball. the field was set up with all sorts of games. we had an egg toss, baseball field, frisbees, volleyball net, tetherball pole, zimzam, bean bag toss, bocce ball, and water balloon fights all set up. we always had a few hundred people come to the part and there were plenty of doritos and hotdogs and icecream to make us all feel sick. my grandpa and grams would always come to the party dressed us in full red white and blue outfits, bringing lemon merangue pie and baked beans. grandma fox would then watch granny wall and count how many glasses of white zinfandel she drank. ahhh, in laws. as a kid i just wanted to play in the lake and jump in the hot tub. we spent the entire party wet, going off the slide into the water and playing rock the boat on innertubes. i loved the end of the party when we'd play with sparklers and the group had mellowed down to watch firworks over the lake. my mom taught us to write our names with light. growing up in michigan with a very patriotic family has left me with a deep appreciation for not only the holiday but what it stands for. as a woman in america today, i am endlessly grateful to have the opportunities and freedoms i enjoy. i know there are many things to be critical about and even more information about our country i'll never know. i do know this: tomorrow is a big day for us. it is a day to recognize the things we do love and the freedoms we fight for. i celebrate life, the ability to make choices, to express myself, to explore my spirituality and sexuality without being killed for it, for being able to drive and move about the country alone and unaccompanied, to wear whatever i want and be whatever i want to be. i might not agree with this war or wars of the past. i might not know a lot about politics, nor care. but i feel like tomorrow isn't just a big party and an excuse for everyone to get drunk and eat pigs. it is a day to reflect on what's most important to us and to give thanks for having the freedom to enjoy that. much love to you!=

it's hot in foxland

2008-06-22T19:44:00.000-07:00

even the bottoms of her feet were sweating this morning. the air hung thick, like a wet wool blanket and not a single leaf stirred on the branches outside. "ughhhhhh," she moaned, wiping strands of hair away from her face. they reminded her of linguine or those rubber tongues inside an automatic carwash. a knock sounded at the door and she closed her indecently splayed legs. immediately beads of sweat began to gather where they met. "yuuuuup! c'mon in!" she yelled, stationary on the couch. ashley came slowly up the stairs with her boxers rolled down at the waist and up on her thighs. "dude. let's go in the sauna." she personally thought this sounded terrible. why would you subject yourself to 115 degree heat in a dark sweatbox when you could lay in 102 degree heat on the couch. "hey, it'll make it seem cooler outside. let's go." she grabbed her water bottle and headed for the door with ashley.

once inside she smelled last nights adventures seeping out of her pores. it had been so hot and the wine had been so cold. fuck. she had slipped into a summer mood the minute the solstice moon lit up the sky. she thought about enduring the heat in silent meditation but ashley broke the silence. "how was last night?" "soooo groovy." it had been jessica's 30th groovy birthday bash and everyone came dressed in their 70's gear. she thought about the end of the night when the wine went to her head and the melted chocolate on the stove was discovered. friends became chocolate covered body parts and that's when steve had had enough.. she wanted to stay but didn't trust herself to be left with sexy friends, more wine and all that chocolate at four in the morning. "i feel restless, like a mustang being broke to ride." ashley nodded and rivulets of sweat poured off her nose. both girls had grown up with horses. "i'm just in a mood, but i think it's just pms. i feel totally bitchy right now." ashley laughed in accordance and they opened the door out to the pool. she was right, it did make it seem much cooler outside. the pool felt even better. foxland was exciting and hot, for sure. she reflected on the clothing line, the fire spinning, the energy working, the sex, the romance novel she just finished reading. shit, her own life was hotter than that stupid four hundred page cocktease. "hmmm, maybe i'll start writing erotica again," she said aloud. ashley looked up. "good idea."

new hug

2008-06-20T23:41:00.000-07:00

the new new hug is bullshit.

fleas and natural remedies

2008-06-19T10:20:00.000-07:00

it started just after steve brough kali over for the night. the next day violet began scratching and the week ensuing left no doubt. we have fleas. i say "we" because violet is my little shadow and i have to watch her suffer. a week or so has gone by and the natural flea powder i got from environgentle was not so gentle. it didn't kill her fleas but it made quite a dent in her hair and now clumps are falling out all over the house. i researched advantix and other poisonous (yet effective) flea medications and came up feeling guilty. i will not poison my dog and endanger her organs over this. however, the old adage : "lay down with dogs, rise with fleas" comes to mind and makes my whole body convulse in anticipation. i got to work online yesterday and asked my green pet owners what to do. they all suggested garlic in the food and salt or borax sprinkled all over the house. what i found out was that fleas are mostly water and will dry up if enough salt is covering your carpets. i am testing the theory as we speak and tracking salt all over the house. rachel asked me if i has been to the beach lately because the house is all "sandy". unfortunately not the case. i also read that dawn/palmolive dishsoap will kill the fleas and the eggs so bathed her in some of that yesterday and found a ton of dead fleas afterwards. people even tell me to put a dish of soapy water out at night with a candle in the middle and see how many i catch. ew! i've heard everything from stashing crabapples under your couch to strategically placing walnut branches around doorways and behind furniture. all i know is in my quest for a safe and quick solution i am getting itchy waiting for it to work.

beautiful friends

2008-06-18T09:14:00.000-07:00

painted, we crawl out into the night,
a world deconstructed and free.
we swim our separate ways into the stars, the trees, the pulsating lights.
i finally feel like me.

finding balance

2008-06-16T14:53:00.000-07:00

somewhere between up and down and in and out
therein lies a song, warbling delicately on the tail of an electric weekend.
the rv's pull out of the campground like a bathtub draining slowly and the sun has dipped below the mountains.
we sit, sharing chocolate and wine, various offerings from the festival,
and unwind in the embers of a final sunset.
laughter, fear, joy, tears, excitement....so many emotions and colors swirling through our minds and hearts.
we are forever changed, somewhere in the balance.

stephi and steveo

2008-06-13T14:08:00.001-07:00

just another night on the town?

2008-06-13T13:32:00.000-07:00

his eyes sparkled across the table and he raised his glass. "cheers, honey." *clink* i stared at this man with the green eyes and the raised glass, my thoughts turning slowly around the idea of being with him for a long time. his eyes were gathering a light dusting of wrinkles and he spoke about losing his hair. "see? right here my hairline is changing. i've got a good melon though, so maybe i'll just shave it anyways. will you still love me when i'm bald?" "i think we should dab a little rogaine on that shit right now babe, let's not take any chances!" i wink at him and take a sip of the wine he chose. it's delicious...the high terrace Beaux Freres pinot, an '01. we both laugh and he makes room for our brie and asparagus brioche. "i always have such a good time with you whenever we're out...you make me want to go big everytime." earlier we had a light debate over wine and i had urged him to be reasonable. there was a nice syrah made by the same winemaker as Seasmoke (one of our faves) and it was only thirty bucks. "you choose," he insisted as he headed for the walk-in cooler where they keep the best wine chilled.

i was somewhere between going big and being frugal. he was, on the other hand, in his normal mode of "go big or go home". "yeah, we could just do preventative medicine on your noggin and see where that takes you...," i smiled as i said it. "i have sensitive skin though." his mind was wandering into a land of rashes and skin reactions. our appetizer arrived and we became consumed with the flavors of melted brie and mixed greens between sips of the pinot. "this is soooo amazing!" we both looked up at the same time. "i don't think i should tell you...maybe i will....err, no. i shouldn't. well, maybe i should. hmmm." i turned my full attention on him and away from the feast. he laughed nervously, then told me he had something he needed to ask my father when we went back to michigan this summer. i put my fork down. "dude." "i don't want to take away from your sister's day, so i wasn't sure but i want to ask in person."

my mind started spinning and i felt myself smiling. life is so strange. beautiful yes, but strange. it's as if time had no patience for the clock and decided to skip ahead to an unrecognizable new life. i never thought in a couple of months that the landscape of my life would change so fast. here i am designing a clothing line, doing my art, working for a new company, sharing an amazing bottle of red with a man who loves me the way i've always wanted to be loved. insane...i might be close to this feeling called happiness. all these years he has been so patient everytime i came close and ran away. "do you want to skip the firespinning and the reggae band and go home...*winks*...maybe take a little dip in the 'cuzzi afterwards?" i like the idea but i really want to go dance. we decide to go see the band and meet up with our friends. then the impact of what he's just said starts hitting me. i feel a mixture of fear and an uprising of old reactions taking hold, but i can't tell any of my girlfriends over the reggae. we just dance and i tell myself to relax. doing it my way all these years hasn't proved very successful in the happiness department. i watch the sixty something rasta man sway in the spotlight with his long dreads. "dude, look at him. he's so happy," steve says in my ear. i think to myself, "me, too."

my teacher

2008-06-10T00:04:00.000-07:00

the air was still tonight and the clouds hung low. they reflected the light and it was easy to see the shoreline and his face. the longest waves we'd ever seen before extended in a white line for miles. one unbroken crest meeting the shore followed dozens of waves behind them. i sat next to him in silence, wondering at the bright images i was receiving through our energy. i closed my eyes, seeing a moving scene of intense butterfly kaleidoscopic waves, quadrants forming and peeling back, folding into themselves to reveal thumbprints, skeletons, caves with fires, the texture of a throat, animal energy, canine, cave lion, beckoning, old energy, a deep sense of home. gratitude flooded me when he looked at me. we both knew, but then he said it out loud. i am ready to teach the class in english. my heart began to open and i listened intently as he continued. it will change your life. you will see my world and energy the way i see it. then you can pass it on and use it to help heal others. it is time.

the sands of time

2008-06-02T18:02:00.000-07:00

i seem stripped of all my former mythology. like a forest clearcut and starting anew, my lifescape is emerging into a very different scene. i feel so grateful for the changes and challenges scraping away the fluff and exposing me to new things. it is scary and unpredictable, yet i feel a sense of surrender and peace trying a new way. i've read the years of blogs, the hopes and loves, the trips and trappings of a searching spirit. i finally feel able to stand still and breathe, which yoga has taught me a lot about lately. the ever twisting path is really very simple...sleep, eat, breathe in and out, and carry the light. radiance! love! inspiration! michael fatali's work captures this simple and grand scope of it all...the words failing me as my heart catches in my chest when i gaze at his photos.

wooop wooop

2008-05-19T18:40:00.000-07:00

speaking in flames to the night

emblazened

2008-05-12T04:14:00.000-07:00

scorched deep into the essence of me and you
is a seed
a core
a thread of fire from our story before
i weave in and out
so familiar and so easy
you called and i came to thee
oh mother
you and your story
your colors and the faded glory leads to now
i walk upon the foundation of your conviction
your birth
a tribute to survival you are...
glowing warm and luminous.
i let down my guard and flow...an ocean pours out to meet the sun...
boiling, writhing, evaporation
and we are one.
you give so much to me
bringing me into this world
you name is forever emblazened on my heart.

can't sleep

2008-05-09T06:14:00.000-07:00

intro: (softly, with tenderness)

morning light
comes through my window
spent the night
on the phone with you.
we say goodnight
turn into your pillow
i wish i was sleeping
next to you.
sweet dreams
angel baby
may all your dreams come true.
sweet dreams
angel baby,
all my love
to you.

interlude: (builds, with feeling, increase tempo and strumming)

where do i put
all the push and shove
where do i put all my love
if not with you?
it doesn't make sense
with him.
i can't sleep
the food i eat turns to dust
i feel i must get this off my chest
all the rest
of my dreams of me and you.

bridge:

he's so lovely
he's so loving
he is so lovely
he says he loves me, oh no!

chorus:

it'd be easy
to believe this life
could be filled inbetween the lines
it's just a lie
i tell myself.

something went wrong
i'm not as strong as i would like
to appear
i need you tonight
to share this life
but you're not here.

bridge:

he's so lovely
he's so loving
he is so lovely
he says he loves me, oh no!

interlude:

where do i put
all the push and shove
where do i put all my love
if not with you
it doesn't make sense
with
him.

i can't sleep.
the food i eat turns to dust
i feel i must get this off my chest
all of the rest
of my dreams of me...and you.

it'd be easy
to believe this life
could be filled inbetween the lines
it's just a lie
i tell
to you.

i have not spoken
these simple words to you
i am not broken i'm stronger than
either one of us ever knew.
and one day
i'll come
for you.

yes and one day,
i'll come to you.

do not think
don't try to sink this hopeful dream
you probably never know until this moment
i'm here for you.
you're not too far.

just miles away
i cannot stray from this moment
babe...please here me out,
i am not broken even far from you.

i can't sleep
i can't sleep
i can't sleep
without you here with me.

yes.

2008-05-03T03:38:00.000-07:00

many blessings

2008-05-02T14:03:00.000-07:00

patchwork quilt

2008-05-01T14:03:00.000-07:00

i sigh, rolling over in my warm bed as it groans slightly on the spings. the sheets are soft white with blue leaves and the walls are wood. i count the faces made out of the knots, each set looking at me like eyes. my screened window lets in a slight breeze from the lake and a stream of sunlight spills on the floor through a piece of missing chinking. it is late morning, and the excitement of last night still fills the house. i had been reading late at night under my comforter, flashlight in hand when i heard the squeaking. it was highpitched and i wondered if it was a mouse. peeking out of my bedroom door i caught sight of something flapping wildly around the cabin and i yelled for my parents. "there's a bird in the house!", i called out over the living room, becoming alarmed. my papa lumbered out of bed with a butterfly net in hand. in those days he slept with a gun under the bed and a net propped against the wall. i heard the floorboards creak as he swatted and swished the net around trying to catch the bird. the bird, in fact, was really a huge bat that had wriggled in through the ceiling and was trying to get out.

once captured in the net all thoughts of rabies subsided and his compassion for the poor thing overcame him. i watched his hands, thick and capable with a scar wrapping around two fingers. "poor little guy," he said softly, looking down at the twisted netting. "out we go." he always let the bats go outside where they belonged. inevitably they got back into the attic and then into the house, but he justified it by teaching us about how many mosquitoes they ate and how amazing their sonar hearing was. i took one to show and tell once, marveling at it's soft brown fur and doglike features. the teacher thought our family was crazy. maybe we were a little misplaced in those days.

my mom was in the kitchen, which shared a thin wall with my room. i heard her making breakast and then the knock on the wall to wake me up. "one more minute mom!" my nose was pressed deep into the final pages of a racy jean m. auel book. i had graduated to five hundred page novels at a tender age and gobbled up my mom's anthropological porn like a hungry beast. i loved thoses books that mixed up history, romance, sustainable living practices and shamanistic rituals with adventures. "stephiiiiie, come on we're ready!" i shoved the book back under my pillows and reluctantly swung out of bed.

our family made a big deal out of eating together and breakfast on sundays was no exception. outside my dad had the eggs on the griddle and the smell of bacon was drifting around. i carried the pitcher of orange juice out to the picnic table on the deck and helped mom with making toast. "how do you want you eggs, stephi? one or two?" i looked up at papa against the backdrop of pine trees and birds singing. i thought about the way he always told me to remember this time of life because it was the best. it goes so fast, kiddo, you'll blink and you'll be all grown up. this is precious time, you have no idea how easy life is for you right now.

"one or two, stephi?" i look up out of my thoughts and think about how much i hate the yolk and about wanting more egg whites. "two, if you'll eat my yolks papa." we agree and everyone sits down at the red and white checkered table. breakfast outside on sundays included peanut butter toast, well done bacon, eggs, oj, and the five of us. sometimes i had to go out to the chicken coop and get the eggs before we started, but this sunday i was off the hook. it always grossed me out to feel the eggs still warm from the hens and see the small poop smears on the shells. i would think about my novels and how the heroine tracked animals and raided quail nests for eggs. i was sure there were poop smears back then too.

after breakfast we always took a family walk "around the horn". we lived in the country and the land surrounding us was mostly farmland. my dad lit his cigar and put on a light flannel button up as we cleared the table and suited up. the five of us headed out down the tunnel of trees and into the field. i silently dreamed of horses as most little girls do, and decided to voice my wish again. "pleeeease can i have a horse?" my mom shot my papa a look from behind her big sunglasses. she had a horse growing up and i knew she wanted me to have one too. "well, honey, you've been wanting one for a long time. are you ready to have all that repsonsibility?" i felt the welling of possibility rise in my heart. "ohh, yes!" "well then, if you save all your money this summer we'll match you dollar to dollar." i squealed and jumped up and down.

the next few weeks i was consumed with the greensheet, pouring over the classified section. i mowed the lawn and babysat and cleaned people's houses. i did whatever i could to make five or ten bucks all summer and finally amassed a whopping $300. i had become a professional horse-ad reader, now equipped with a spending power of $600 and an insatiable need for equus. we went to check out quite a few horses, landing on a chestnut mare named misty. her owners gave me a break on the price and because we didn't have a trailer mom rode her home to our house. they arrived eight miles and five hours later, exhausted and covered in horse flies. mom was walking and misty's tongue was lolling out of her mouth sideways.

i couldn't sleep that night, creeping out through my screened window with little amanda in tow. we tiptoed barefoot in our nightgowns to the barn feeling every soft pineneedle underfoot. there she was, barely snoozing in the straw. i was in love for the first time.

bamboo candles

2008-04-24T12:03:00.000-07:00

"they're so beautiful i just never felt i could burn them," he said offhandedly as i placed them in the corners of my new apartment. i looked at his face, wondering why someone so free wouldn't enjoy these amazing candles. "i am too attached, i guess, so i want you to have 'em," he said with a sly grin. i knew then that we were over. he went downstairs and i sat up in the empty living room with a few other gifts he gave me. gifts which symbolized me staying here and him going far away. i choked on the tears that bubbled up from a deep well inside me and silently shook back and forth trying to digest the pain. i felt so torn then between the wandering lifestyle and the amazing feeling of home i just found. it was a turning point for me last year..choosing between two distinct longings. i stared at those bamboo candles and thought i'd never be able to separate the feelings of loss from their beauty. cursed candles. blessed candles.

i sit here now a year later and the man is far away, but i know he's right where he wants to be. i burn them on nights when my friends come over for potlucks. my door is open and the house is full of smells and sounds...emily brings amazing vegan dishes and new friends with her. her eyes are shining like a child and we hug in a room full of loving people. everyone's been here so many times i hardly point out where things are and i relax in a puddle of comfort. easy laughter floats around and i take a few moments to appreciate how this life has grown into a garden. the music that used to rip me open is just a gentle reminder of how things evolve. i look at those bamboo candles and think about the fresh wound in my heart. just when i thought i couldn't love more deeply, i was introduced to a new heartache that makes the last one look like a headcold. i look up at the paintings on my wall and i know that they will one day be a source of comfort and sheer beauty...i'll be able to put some time inbetween them and the attachment. ironically, they match those asian bamboo candles perfectly.

procrastination nation

2008-03-12T15:32:00.001-07:00

that's right, i have a list of "shoulds" that i am putting to the side. instead i'll eat a veggie burger, pay bills online, and nap. ahhh, napping. my arms are so sore from the workouts lately and my car is almost ready to go up north. i am going on an adventure tomorrow up to the redwoods! i have never been on a retreat...i've been on plenty of trips but this feels different. i'm gonna go frolic with the fairies and yogis....YAY! music, a huge redwood hot tub...fires, hiking, circles for talking and sharing and....and....i don't know what else! i almsot bailed on the whole thing, feeling especially vulnerable and shaky the past week or so. i have been doing a lot of inner-play/work and it has left me able to laugh and cry and emote more than ever. i cried my brains out at a meeting last night listening to a man tell his story about why he was in a wheel chair. then i came home and clicked on the rest of my payment for the retreat. done. life is too short. why spend our lives procrastinating...putting off our joy of the now? all the lessons flew in to the space usually reserved for excuses and fear. ahhhh, let's do this. we have a nation waiting for someone to do something...we have a youth putting of growing up and becoming leaders...we have ourselves. it starts there, with the only thing i can change...how i choose to be. and i choose to BE!!!! active! loving! excited! peaceful! exuberant! adventurous! open! hopeful! strong! present in this moment...i won't be part of the procrastination nation right now.

wind through the trees...

2008-03-11T20:47:00.000-07:00

i've grown tired and disinterested in holding onto the past. it's almost as if i spent the last ten years rehashing a buch of crap instead of being present in the now. wow! that's exactly what i did. i guess we all come to our conclusions and revelations differently, but one thing is for sure. i have an arsenal of books aimed at presence. i've been cracking eckhart tolle, caroline myss m.d., deepak, and other authors regularly these days. they're my little buddies, nestled in my bag to be pulled out when i need a little hit. a little reminder to stay in the now when old habits start resurfacing. i've managed to deplane from the ssfoxpartybusinthesky2000, and now find entertainment and social sustenance in the old fashioned stuff. the stuff i loved as a kid and in brief moments as a sober adult. yes, like climbing trees in the canyon after breakfast, cartwheels on the beach and snuggling with my friends after gong ceremonies. drums and vegan muffins for birthdays instead of five gallons of booze and a bunch of regrets. it was never so bad living on the pendulum, just confusing at times when distractions melted away and i felt torn between two lifestyles.

i read a friend's blog today and had to turn away, seeing my own reflection in her words. GET OVER IT!!! it fucking happened twenty years ago and you live there instead of here now. your "self" is a ghost...how about dropping the bullshit and breathing. this seems to help a lot. i remember a time when a friend told me i didn't breathe. i'd hold my breath during massage work, take shallow inhales in everyday circumstance, and trip out on stress. it's physiologically impossible to hold onto stress while doing deep breathing. amazing...and true. one more trick to staying present when i am stuck in a life situation, while remaining in my beingness of living a little farther out of the perspective. watching the thinker has become a favorite passtime, and then silencing it like a dog. GO HOME! i commanded my thinker, and she jumped into her cage and fell promptly asleep. AHHHHH, now i can meditate in peace. sometimes the static of thinking drifts over the beingness like oil ontop of water. i imagine myself floating inward, deeper into the cool sparkling depths of the ocean and letting them slide by with acknowledgement and no attachment. it wasn't so long ago in psychological time i felt i was the thinker and that was it. i was controlled by my mind, like a robot ordered around by a super computer. suddenly it seems i have a new sense of living and being altogether, and i am taming the mind. after intense sessions i sometimes find myself rusty in the thinking department and fluid in the loving and being department. the language of the wind sliding effortlessly through the trees delights me, and the feel of sunshine touching my skin warms me. the silence of a mango thrills me to no end, offering up it's unbelievable sweetness to tastebuds...and i burst out in tears. there are no words for this gratitude, there is only gratitude that there is a beingness that needs no such thing.

Heartspace:)

2008-03-02T19:03:00.000-08:00

i am more love than matter. i am more light than ever. the universe conspires for the highest good of all concerned, and i've learned to align. gratitude. sweetness. i offer my prayer to the sky, to you, to allthatis, to heartspace.

scars with wounds still inside

2008-02-06T17:47:00.000-08:00

i've carried this heaviness in my heart since i moved to san diego. maybe longer than that, seeing as a bad break up usually takes more than just one catastrophic incident to end everything. it's been about three years since we went our separate ways and i landed an hour south. more like a continent away from eachother, to be perfectly honest. i've spent my life doing my fair share of chasing men and chasing away demons. lately i have been doing a lot of looking within at the motivations that have lead me here right now. i had dinner with joey a few nights back and it was like getting a piece of my heart back. in three years we have never faced eachother and talked. a few tattered phone calls and emails, but this was huge for both of us. i see now i am responsible for so much more than i ever knew. i was the lazy emotional clingy slob who moved there and was too scared to be out on my own. i became so dependent i didn't even know who i was anymore. i didn't recognize myself in the mirror. even worse, as time went by i didn't like myself anymore either. after awhile, we became so dysfunctional that we lost the one thing we had always shared....our amazing friendship that spanned ten years. i look back now and i know i was fortunate to come to san diego and work it out on my own, even though it was unimaginably painful and i felt abandoned. i also respected myself again, and began building the foundations of the life i live now. talking to joey, i realized i put the weight of the world on him and shouldered very little of it myself. i was young, scared, and a fish out of water. taking responsibility for it and apologizing to him felt right. i felt the old scars aching a little as the last of my old wounds healed. this time there aren't any parts left festering. what a blessing to have him back in my life again and to be friends. i feel freed, somehow, and like a piece of history is restored. he was a member of my family and my best friend before we did the HB experiment. he looked at me over the garlic shrimp and smiled a familiar old smile. "i am so happy for you, steph. you have everything i ever wanted you to have. a great circle of friends, an amazing life." i realized we both have grown up a lot. what a trip!

a rainy night spent in kneepads

2008-01-27T15:35:00.000-08:00

i crouched on the floor, wood covered with a bright green tarp. spread out all around me was a vast array of things i have saved for just this kind of rainy night. the clock on the stove glowed a defiant red number, and i looked away quickly. numbers mean nothing tonight. i had spent the better part of the evening speaking with a friend of mine who just happens to understand this. the insane need for toothbrushing, the three a.m. outbursts of creative energy, the dawn light creeping in and stealing the magic. like a vampire, i feed off of the heavy raindrops and the slight creaking of the walls, the inaudible rhythm of my neighbors making love. i hung up the phone and took stock of the room. drums, guitars, an accordion, pastels, paints, an old suitcase, a few wooden wine boxes, a drawing of a goddess on a scrap of old foam board, a big piece of canvas for a mural piece, toolbox, spray adhesive, markers, jimi hendrix playing, little dog trying to get into everything, and me.crouching in kneepads wondering where to start. i have been working on breaking the mold...turning to subjects and mediums unfamiliar and challenging. the night swayed, pregnant with water and storm and emotion. i decided i needed to stand in it a little while, hoping to stave off this craving for a cigarette. i know it is unwise, but once in a great while it feels good to smoke outside in the rain. i had heard keef on the phone earlier take a drag and exhale. i admit, i held my breath and then exhaled when he did. strange things, those little cancer sticks.

next door ashley agreed to have a cig with me, and we all shared some wine and some words. i watched them like they were a movie, parker holding her on his lap under the big umbrella. the rain came down and we sat there in our little island, smoking and speaking our minds. it is such an inspriation to me to see her and parker in love the way they are. a perfect fit. i found my next project.

a different story, part one

2008-01-14T02:51:00.000-08:00

ahh, it had been awhile. it had been so long since i felt primal. i walked carefully now on the damp carpet, smelling the renewed scent of dog piss from tenants past. fuck, i thought. i just spent fifty bucks on cleaning carpets than now smell disgustingly fresh. fresh with piss from untrained dogs of the past. fishing aroundin my pocket my fingers met with the object of my desire, a lighter. the incense wasn't gonna cure the problem, but it sure was gonna hide it for a minute. i peeled off the wet socks soaked with carpet cleaner and ancient dog piss. damn, i said. time to make something of myself.

the thought has been brewing for years now, almost a decade. i turned twenty eight and realized i have a gerbil wheel life. now, i don't discount living in the moment, going on adventures, being where i need to be, but jesus man. i am in a rut. the waitressing has kicked it, the bills have amassed in a proportion i can't even begin to handle, and the lessons of the past recklessness have surfaced with a venegance.

suddenly the smell of dog piss and nag champa doesn't matter. suddenly the fact that i want to create again makes me euphoric. without the former crutches of paint and brush, i am writing my art. i have been writing all night, and i can't seem to stop. all these scenes are spilling forth. i feel like writing a script...i feel like writing a distortion of my life, i feel like watching some more horrible soft porn and turning it off again. really hbo? man, you waste my time.

i turn to the sacredspace of the mind, the fertile soil of the untouched libido, the crossed boundaries of intimacy, the fragile sense of control. tonight i pioneer into my purpose, my past, my future, and into art. for art's sake, and for all of our sakes.

the insolence of abstinence, part trois

2008-01-14T01:33:00.000-08:00

the small blue vw purred to life in the parking lot, and the three of them sped off into the night with a bottle of whiskey, cranberry juice, and a very expensive guitar. it would prove to be a costly night on many levels.

the girls sat in front while the pirate occupied the backseat next to his precious guitar. she felt a probing secretive hand moving between the console and front seat. in her mind, she knew it was a dangerous situation, but she couldn't help herself. all the words in the world couldn't justify the betrayal of her friend, and yet her lust consumed her. his fingers secretly twined in hers as her friend drove on toward her house. a small twist of a hand and he had replaced her silver turquoise ring with his skull ring. sly move, she thought. the ring he took had been her grandmother's ring and there was no way she'd let it out of her possession. not for long, anyways. as long as long as we exchange rings, we'll see one another again, they thought. and next time it will be alone.

the car slowed and she pulled her hand away, feeling the warmth recede as they parted. he handed her the goodies and grabbed his guitar as they made their way up to the house. her footsteps slowed as she took in the clear desert sky. oh, you guys, look. the three then stopped and turned skyward. a slight glow from the stars cast shadows outside. i've never seen so many stars, she said. years of living under the marine layer had clouded her. years of being single might have clouded her even more. she felt his eyes on her back as they walked into the house and she headed straight for the kitchen. him music is amazing, her friend said. her guilt battled her self righteousness. as if on cue, he magically produced a cd of his latest work. happy birthday, he said quietly. she took it from his hand, well aware of her friend's eyes burning into her skull. fuck.

i'm gonna make some bloody pirates, who wants one? she asked gaily. at this juncture it was redundant. three strong cocktails appeared swiftly, and they sat to watch his performance. not knowing what to expect, she was immediately impressed with his talent. this wasn't some amateur wannabe. this was infact, a true flamenco artist celebrity. he looked at her quickly before concentrating on the fluid extraction of sound coming from his coupling with the guitar. the women held their breath and tried to remain strong. both wanted him in the worst way. to complicate things further, the women had been lovers once in a drunken rendezvous years before. the tiny room was empty but for a table and three chairs. how appropriate, she thought. he had one under his foot as he played, and she watched his body arch and move with each tone, each stroke. the guitar had becme a woman. it had become her. it had embodied her friend. it encompassed all of making love through music. damn, he was good. the icecubes in her glass danced in the candlelight, making soft amber reflections and she thought to herself, i am in a dream.

the serenade dimmed and finished after a hour or so, and suddenly the room shifted again into an uncomfortable space. would the pirate take her? take her friend upstairs? take them both?

the insolence of abstinence, part deux

2008-01-14T00:51:00.000-08:00

recounting the evening now, it seemed so far away. indeed, it had been nearly half a year ago. the details surfaced with each sip of wine, and she worried it would stain her teeth. i wish i had white in the house, she lamented silently. infortunately it was too late to get anything else, and she bent down to the laptop. these were her favorite moments. it might even be better recounting the memories than actually making them, she thought. the screen glowed a comfortable android bluish glow. the stereo pulsed with guitar, and she thought back to that night. thingshad been awkward as soon as she made the joke about the "bloody princess". suddenly the shift in attention made everyone precarious, but it was her birthday and she hardly noticed. i'm sure the story is different from the other perspectives, but who really gives a fuck? it's her story to tell, she told herself. she still hadn't talked to her friend, and it had proven to be an incredible night on many levels. what her friend had failed to mention was that she was still interested in the musician/pirate. she told her they had smooched a few times long ago, but it was all old history. she was on to another lover. game on, then, right?

one look at the situation and she knew it wasn't over in her friend's mind. his sharp nails dug into her back as she leaned in for a forbidden kiss. the liquor and music and his musk ran through her head. he reminded her of a vampire. the kiss was warm and soft, just a slight bite on her bottom lip as he pulled away. she breathed in quickly as they parted, looking at him. i must have you, he said. suddenly it was last call and decisions had to be made. i want to play for you girls tonight, he said. she ran her tongue over her swollen lower lip and tasted a bit of his kiss. she wanted him to come in the worst way but feared the alcohol and jealousy from her friend would complicate things. besides, she was staying at her friends house overnight. they had no place to go to be alone if anything were to happen anyways, as it was a two level loft studio.

her friend pulled him into the car, telling him to come over in a velvety voice. oh fuck, she thought. what do i do now? the buzz started to kick in heavy, and she got inside the car. carpe diem....here we go!

the insolence of abstinence, part one

2008-01-13T23:45:00.000-08:00

it was a quiet sunday evening and she laid on the couch wearing a brown nightgown. there were more than enough cheesey movies on the tube, and she was better off writing her own drivel than watching more if it. one swift click and the room fell dark and silent. her freshly whitened teeth ached and she ran her tongue over each one. she remembered how her ex had stressed the importance of whitening her teeth. it may have been one of his fetishes, come to think of it now. but that was years ago. somehow, certain aspects of fallen relationships stick with you, and this was no exception. the surround sound roared to life and she pushed the play button without picking a track. the house echoed suddenly with flamenco guitar, and she thought back to the man who had played the music for her on her birthday. oh, fuck. i might need a glass of red with this, she thought. she recalled his foot resting on the seat of a chair, his long nails scratching and plucking the strings of a beautifully inlaid guitar. from under a leather brimmed hat he looked at her cautiously, playing the most incredible music she'd never before heard. someone in town had told her he was a friend of yanni's...and later she began to realize that a private in home concerto was nothing to discount. but we are getting ahead of ourselves.

it was hard for her to feel truly impressed. fame, fortune, beauty,immense wealth...all the key ingredients did not phase her. it would be nice, but it was the poets and writers and composers and artists and entrepreneurs...it was the real person who caught her attention. like attracts like, they say. in this case, he saw her before she even knew what was coming. his music spoke to her before she had heard it.

ironically, it was her birthday and he was a part of her present. her friend had wanted to introduce them and after a fine dinner the three of them met at the most fascinating bar in all of old sedona. (wink). he bore an uncanny resemblance to johnny depp, and this pleased her more than she cared to admit at the time. it certainly pleased him, for he played it up with pirate quips and a pinky ring emblazened with a bone skull. what a character, she thought. it's been done already, dude. her imperviousness melted after he brought her a shot of jagermeister and ordered himself a "bloody pirate". inwardly rolling her eyes, she later laughed aloud when his drink arrived in a foofy glass and was alarmingly "pink". it's more like a "bloody princess", wouldn't you agree 'mate'? they immediately roared with uncontrollable laughter and the wall of pretention fell without notice.

in fact, the only one who noticed was the third wheel who had before their meeting considered herself the copilot. suddenly there was an awkward silence coming from her friend, and then a further shock when she started singing opera in the middle of the bar patio. the pirate looked from woman to woman and then quickly decided to order another drink. the singing was indeed beautiful, but it was a ploy for attention and she listened carefully as she picked up her purse. i'm gonna get another drink, she said softly. the pirate watched her go and turned to the songstress. as she left the patio she didn't hear what he told her, but she gathered her friend was uncomfortable. now is the perfect time to leave them alone, she thought somewhat discontentedly. after all, he was supposed to be her birthday present.

she plunked down inside the bar and ordered a shot and a beer. the old man sitting next to her looked at her with interest, but so did all old men in bars. the band playing was actually quite good, as she was surprised sedona had so much musical talent. it was a perfect place to reflect on what was important. before she was consumed in her thoughts the old man extended his hand and offered a name. they struck up a conversation and she mentioned the fact that her town was burning down. all the freeways are shutting down and the fires are expected to burn to the coast. they are close to my home and all of my loved ones are there...she started to get teary eyed. the old man signaled the barkeep with a wiggle of his finger and more shots appeared. the familiar licorice flavor rushed to her head and the slight burn delighted her senses afterwards. thank you, sir. now what is it that you do?

he paused as if to drunkenly appropriate his thoughts, and then resigned to the truth. i make ears, he said. what? yes, i make prosthetic ears. and limbs. so you're a prosthetist? he blinked uncertainly. how did a drunken artist thirty years his junior know his profession? don't worry, she assured him. i went on a blind date with a doctor who made fake feet. that's as far as we went, but halloween will be fun for his next date! they both laughed, and she took a long swig of the brown ale in her hand. it was an old standby, and it was doing the trick. what a birthday, she thought. i am all alone in a bar with an old man who makes fake ears and i am drinking....just as her thoughts turned south a hand slid around her waist. mon amour, a voice said low. lips pressed deep into her neck and left with a slight nibble. shivers ran down her core and he pulled away and she looked at the pirate. uh,oh, she said.

part deux to follow

sober interpretation of the truth

2008-01-11T14:02:00.000-08:00

we all do our fair share of making what some call "mistakes". i prefer to think of them as lessons, but to each their own. i have been brewing with ideas lately, most of which include shaking off being so scared of...everything. what a realization to wake up one day and see that you are the only one holding you back from your wildest dreams! i am so comfortable here in san diego, my little routines in places and community nestled close. so comfortable, in fact, that i channel all this bullshit into behaviors of distraction. the truth of the matter is that i am not happy. i am afraid of love, even though that is what i crave the most. i can be irresponsible, defensive, manic, and depressed all in one day. the human condition is just that...spirit housed in an individual body. i feel so optimistic and focused on life, then weeks pass and i just want to give up. i ask myself if it were up to me right now, where would i be and what would i be doing? then after pondering those thoughts, how does one get there?

i have an amazing network of friends here, and the weather is oh so comfortable. maybe that is the problem. cost of living is insane, i work just to survive, and i float here in the sea of dreams with not much wind. i have been considering moving north and going back to school. my brain feels mushy from underexposure to new ideas. am i running away from home again?

there are so many things i'd like to do with my life, yet i am falling short and stagnating. it is hard to really face myself and not stick my ostrich head in the sand for another year. i caught up on bills today and realized that i have a lot of growing up to do. i've been offered advice from a hundred people but it really boils down to knowing what i want and going inward and outward to get it.

drunken interpretation of truth

2008-01-10T00:30:00.000-08:00

forgive all the misspells////
i have found the truth.

viloletta divot

2008-01-05T03:26:00.000-08:00

the club face dug deep into the fairway when he swung. just a practice swing, but still a large swath of grass flew up and away. a patch of exposed earth remained like a fresh wound even after the second swing connected with the ball. like a rocketship, the tiny white ball exploded in an exponential curve out of sight and then reappeared some three hundred yards away. her eyes were trained to follow the path and she waited expectantly for it to land. far away from where they stood, it made an inaudible thump on the green, rolling closer to the hole than either of them imagined it would. "hmmm, nice shot there." the very feel of grass under her feet reminded her of twenty five years prior. dressed in black slacks and a yellow collared shirt, she strode to the tee. every male eye followed her steps, wondering if they might see something different today. it was a crisp afternoon, about 60 degrees and lightly breezy. the club felt light in her hand and she held the ball in her hand with the tee protruding betewwen her gloved fingers. head down, eye on the ball, easy swing, let the club do the work. her grandmother's voice melded with her father's in her head. the group behind held their breath like little children on christmas.

as if in slow motion, her left arm stiffened and drove downward in an arch. her grip was comprised of two hands intermeshed perfectly at the pinkies. the titleist number 3 swam into the sky, flying like a crescendo until it took a downward toll. thump. it landed not far from the green and the spectators exploded in appreciation. not bad, even for a woman. a smile graced her lips as she deftly grabbed the broken remnants of her tee. i guess i still got it, she thought. in a swift motion she returned the club to her bag and held the top of the golfcart, swinging into the seat. it had been a few years since she'd played, and yet it came flying back. the cart lurched and they took off for the green. seconds later, nine iron in hand, she recounted the taste of reward. flashing back to age nine, she grasped the nine iron and looked around at the semi circle of students surrounding her. with an inward knowingness, her joints staid loose and she choked up on the club. the motion was swift, with a short backswing and a quick follow through. it felt almost like a hatchet, she thought. the ball sailed dead on toward it's target, knocking over the tin can in the center. astonished, the pro came over and congratulated her. the wooden spoon was shaped like a spade and she dug into the tiny cup of strawberry and vanilla swirled icecream. the willows on the course swayed in the lakewinds, and she felt so proud. approaching the green, she could almost taste that icecream again. this time there was only her colleagues, but it felt the same. choking up on the club, she debated using a pitching wedge. what i didn't know then won't hurt me now, she thought silently. creating a mental space, she sent the ball in a gentle arch and it fell a foot from the hole, rolling in and sputtering against the plastic.

they howled in approval, and she felt crowds cheering from a different strain of reality. the fork in the road reappeared in her head, sending her into an old place of decision. "you could go pro," they said. "keep at it and you could be on tour by the time you're eighteen." as a nine yeart old girl, the pro tour seemed farfetched. and even so, it seemed far less glamorous tha being an author, a poet, an artist, an actress, an anchor on channel four.

the chemical smell of fertilizer brought her back out of deep thought. she just birdied the hole and it was the first time she's done that in years. fuck, man. it got her to recounting the favorite sounds in her life. the clarinet, first heard on the disney channel. the colors of the cartoon were still etched in her memory. what was that cartoon movie about hunting the wolf, anyways? all she knew was she had to capture that sound.

*********************************************************************************

the stage lights burned down on her heavy black concert dress. god this thing is fucking horrendous, she said to herself. her armpits dripped with pubescent sweat. the lights swelled and the audience disappeared. her legs reacted before her mind, conditioned to his appearance onstage. "good evening, ladies and gentlemen. it is my priveledge to present to you this year's final concert." with that, he motioned for them to sit and stood facing them next to his podium. a flitter of amusement creased his lips, and he inhaled sharply. she knew what that meant. a thin cool ribbon of precision moved through the air, tuning the ensemble to concert c. he stomped his foot in approval as he mounted the podium, raised his baton and looked at her. inhale. the tip of the baton cut down like a knife and she began...
the music flowed like a river of feelings out of a lovestruck bard and the bottom of her clarinet moved in slow circles as if to coerce it out further. eyes closed, he spun the air into a fevered pitch, horns protesting as cymbals crashed. timpanies moved like thunderclouds as the orchestra groaned, much like sailboat at storm. lost now were the feelings of being chucked into her locker by the jocks. gone now were the sneers of passing cheerleaders as she made her way with clarinet case in hand. tears started warm and thick as lights poured down and he stroked the air and brought such beauty from the band. evoked such beauty from her, just a child.
******************************************************************************

"and how is everything," she asked. her pseudo tuxedo had a few butter stains and her smile was wearing thin at eleven p.m. the restaurant had closed an hour prior, but they still managed to squeeze every last drop out of her patience. "oh, it is wonderfull," her guests babbled. "and you were so right about the blue cheese crust!" she inwardly rolled her eyes and choked back the bile rising in her throat. she had been vegetarian for years now. " i knew you'd enjoy it," she forced the words out of her mouth with a wanton smile. turning away, her arms felt numb from the eighteen holes of golf the day before. she had only been able to play fifteen, as the carpal tunnel had been setting in from years of waitressing. she walked despondently toward the kitchen, wondering where life was really going. one hand grasped her opposing wrist firmly and alleviated the pain. suddenly the restaurant was filled with a familiar sound and she slowed her pace. glenn miller's orchestra was playing one of her all time favorite songs....moonlight serenade. in her mind her fingers danced on a bed of keys long forgotten and she sighed. what a journey, she thought. maybe i'll buy a clarinet on ebay tonight.

************************************************************************

the trees moved languidly in a shadowy semi-tropical gust of wind. they looked like a painting, she thought. i should paint. instead, she brought her wine glass to her lips and inhaled the aromas. a deep bouquet for a white, she thought. my, how things have changed. long gone were the nights of scotch and cigarettes. now she was watching the rain and drinking white wine (alone). the top of her sweater rested on her lips and she brushed them against it. how i'd like to share any of this with someone who would get it. the thought made her rethink her choices in men. in women. her mother had apologized years ago, telling her she might just be ruined. i've loved you as no partner ever can, nor will. i've given you everything i could give, she said. the top of the fleece felt rough and warm. if i exist, then there must be someone out there who will undertstand me, too. the rain drove lightly into her leg at an angle. it feels good to be alive.

my christmas gift

2007-12-26T14:09:00.000-08:00

there was little snow on the ground this year when my plane landed. i wasn't so concerned about it...more of a relief to be able to land safely this year. i stood in detroit metro waiting for my bags to circulate on the belt and i held violet close in one arm. my feet hurt from a days travel in heels, but i refuse to travel looking like a schlump. the one time i did break my rule, i ran into my arch nemesis from highschool. needless to say, she looked amazing in her powersuit and heels as i stumbled half asleep into the luggage claim wearing the largest sweatshirt and pants you've ever seen. incredulously, she strained closer as i walked by without a stick of makeup on and a greasy pony tail. she said loudly, "STEPHAN-IE F-OX?!?!" the glee in her voice was the cherry on top. i couldn't get away fast enough, and since that moment i have never run into anyone i knew ever again at the airport. hahaha. however, it makes me feel good to present myself the way the older generations would when they traveled...you know, like you are really going somewhere. i think of my grams with her dark stained lips and red little suitcase, stockings with a line running up the back and trim little suit on. when she was young we looked a lot alike.
the thing about the airport i like most is the loud airy sound whooshing around in the background. planes roaring, escalators mindlessly moving at the same pace nomatter how late you may be, people of all description moving and flowing with different stories. i realized that in the past five years i have become very comfortable being alone and navigating through the terminals. this time i met a scientist on my flight who showed me his latest workshop online about neurotransmitters and the way in which the synapses work in the brain. basal lamina, protein links, microscopic art within our bodies and brains. it took me back to a time when i studied the brain and spoke the lingo. we both laughed at how we saw the world in such different frames. i told him i thought that science only affirmed how much we'll never know...and how faith in the moment is all i really have to offer. we are all learning pieces of the picture, never fully developing our brains long enought to see the mosaic stretching into infinity. needless, he stood from afar while my mom and sister surprised me from behind.

"OOOH!," they squealed. "let's see your hair...and the baby dog...and ooooh! it's so good to see you! my, you look so different! we hardly knew it was you!!!"

i stood there with the sounds of the airport swirling around me, the petrie dish of my life unfolding, the synapses in my brain making a thought become a movement.

we create our realities by our thoughts. science tells us our muscles move due to a chain reaction starting from a trigger thought in the brain and making us act, feel, say, do. i think it's all the same thing, my philosophy and that scientist's.

the cold air smacked my body like a cold sharp hand of death, and i screamed, "hol-y crap!" when we walked throught the double doorways out to my dad. pulling up my jacket and burying my face deeper into violet's fur, i thought about last christmas when i was home.

things have changed so much in a year.

yet a core element has staid the same. we spoke again, this time wearing slightly different masks. a part of me remains the same, and i feel i received the most wonderful gift of all. i have all of my loved ones back in my life. and the part of my heart that was missing has found it's way home.

Perception

2007-12-20T13:24:00.000-08:00

owl came to me in a dream two nights ago. he silenced me with his foot, speaking in a language without words. a language of light and color. listen, he said. the holographic colors sprayed out like a sunburst, then he merged with me and exploded inside of my heart. i awoke immediately, flooded with an energy and knowingness i find indescribable. these words fail me now, but i still jab away at it. yesterday after the dream very powerful lessons resounded in my corner of the universe. like a prism refracting the same rainbow, the lesson echoed in every single interaction i held. listen. each person holds their own truth. each version of reality can filter the same words, events, light in such different directions. when you talk so much you don't listen. if you were to listen to their independent language, you might be able to appeciate something more than the static in your own head. i am finding people that talk too much annoy me. it is really because i see myself in them and it is part of me i don't like. kriss calls it my professor mode. she tolerates it because she says i am worth listening to most of the time. haha. i have been working on listening instead of talking, and yesterday i felt owl holding my tongue. i sat back and heard so many things. people told me very heavy news, very big news, very hurtful news, and very loving news. i am more aware. i feel so humbled, delighted, bewildered, and calm at the same time. it is like i found a new lense that untangled everything in my life. a new set of super sexy binoculars.

rings of blue light

2007-12-13T12:21:00.000-08:00

hurtling through the space between my eyes,
gently travelling at warp speed through blue rings of light.
not unlike a silent vacuum of time,
everything unravelling and moving in a direction forward,
into the nothingness,
the unknown everything,
cosmic soup and even the ideas i have become dust,
vanishing in the vastness.
it is here i am known,
the luminous oneness enveloping me like honey,
stripping my senses of the world,
only existing in a plane of love.
all questions answered.
all limits dissolved.
i am free.

hide and seek

2007-11-25T12:00:00.000-08:00

the fire blazed against a crystalline indigo sky. salty air rolled up, pushed into my nose with each cresting wave and i pulled the covers over my cold face. you laid a few inches away, incredibly close, and i couldn't believe how my heart was hammering. i pulled the blanket down and peeked at you, finding you looking directly at me. you didn't smile, your eyes were huge and luminous and saw straight into me shifting back and forth. i felt anxiety rising in my body as the gongs sang to us from the top of the sand bluff. everyone took their own poses in the meditation, some facing the full moon with upturned faces and palms. others huddled close to their friends under blankets. i wondered just how it was that you came to me tonight. my hands turned my nautilus shell in the firelight and i noticed the spiral relecting the opal sheen underneath. so old. so beautifully powerful. i tried to give it to you to hold but you held my hand instead. i wondered why i felt to gentle, so vulnerable, so loving. i wanted to hide but i knew that the truth was it is just a reflex. what i really want most is to be seen. we walked down the beach after drumming and looked at the water. the moonlight lit the place in shadows of light blue and purple but your eyes were full of green light. i saw my hands on your arms and there was a light coming around us from within. i asked for you, you said. i asked for you, too. i'll probably hide, you said. i asked if you wanted to remain hidden or you wanted to play hide and seek. you smiled, and i knew what to do without having to do anything.

why grams does the dishes

2007-11-22T19:28:00.000-08:00

he used to come up behind her at the sink, kiss her neck and surprise her with a grab of the ass. she'd jump, grey bubble cut bobbing around and reaching for a kiss. i watched from the table as a kid, wondering if i'd find that kind of love one day. it seemed my parents missed the point, so when i saw other couples still in love i took notes. he used to slip love notes in her pockets and she'd find them later on that day. when we moved her to my uncle's house last year, i watched her cry as she reread every love note saved in a drawer. many other things went to the estate sale and garage sale and good will. but her reminders of their love staid. he passed away five years ago now, and we wondered how she continued to live, to breathe, to manange without him. she does the dishes.

tonight during thanksgiving in the midst of all my friends, i stood in the kitchen and wondered about grams. i felt so many mixed emotions...i touched my longing for a partner and sighed, rolling up my sleeves. it has been a long time since i had someone to share the holidays with like that. and i have yet to be eighty years old getting goosed in the kitchen. i felt sad, so i made myself useful and cleaned the dished and pots and pans. with each one completed, a part of me realized why grams still does the dishes on every holiday instead of lounging around. a small smile turned my lips up in the corners. happy thanksgiving! i love you grams.

unconditional love

2007-11-21T00:05:00.000-08:00

baby fox....i manifested unconditional love and ended up with a baby fox. holy crap!

time to say it: 2 years of procrastination and fear

2007-11-12T16:30:00.001-08:00

i read a blog today that moved me. it contained the message: start living or start dying. the essence of it all was beauty...do we sit here and dwell in fear or do we tell someone we love them? hate them? forgive them? stop beating around the proverbial bush and put it out there. so i promptly called someone very special to me and left the true nature of my feelings on their voicemail. no games, no shield, no nothing. it felt so good to tell him...er, his voicemail...things i have longed to say for years but i never had the guts. today i have the guts..and the inspiration. nothing risked, nothing gained. release is the emotion presently...two years is a long time to NOT tell someone how you feel. i want to apologize to the author of the blog and make some peace...thanks for the inspirational gift.

heart reaction

2007-09-30T22:14:00.000-07:00

transported through rings of blue light
swimming through the porthole, climbing out of my vessel and flying free
there is a place there
inside and out of me,
and this is the space where i long to reside all of the time.
i see glimmers of it in the sunshine, the feeling of uncontained laughter,
a long embrace, a baby staring me down, a joyous weling of spirit and sound and delight of simply being alive.
i have never sustained the state of divine bliss in the arms of a lover. i am curious if such a lover exists, or if the divine is my lover itself.

it's that time again...

2007-09-17T11:13:00.000-07:00

i can feel it shifting from down here in the southwest farthest point of the mainland. she rustles her wings, raspy and starting to flush with ochre and vermillion. a long smokey exhalation brings me almost to tears. i am homesick. my people are restless, i can hear the drums and the laughter and the attention from the altar of the sky. it is michigan, autumnal grace and red vines creeping over the yellow corn fields. it is family, a new baby dog, my mother's birthday tomorrow. it is butternut squash, apple cider,fires, guitars, heavy sweaters at night, cruises around the glassy lake at twilight, my papa smoking a cigar and the relief from summer's humidity and mosquitos finally arriving.

i caught a whiff on the wind last night after work. i tried to tell myself to be patient, but instead i think i will grab some things and go home for a surprise trip. there are enough people along the way i want to visit...sedona to see paula and yosh, utah, montana, my sister...ahhh. now if only five grand would fall out of the sky into my checking account! haha.

stripped down

2007-09-04T03:42:00.000-07:00

your walls are not so steep,
my walls are not so steep,
child, be at peace...
you are safe and loved and deeply..
ever radiant flowing love
from soul and spirit comes bone and blood,
touch the expression of divine connection,
all of us reaching out for the four directions,
naked and laughing in the sea and the wind,
the night and sky and the lights of our grins,
we are god's children...
the oneness is all within.
out and in like breath and song
flung to the universe
and bound to our hearts.
i am god and the string being strummed,
the hum of our throats and the song that is sung.

running out of gas..literally

2007-09-03T01:04:00.000-07:00

today was a first. i thought i could make it to work on empty, but i was wrong by half a mile or less. haha! i had to buy a little red canister of gas for a whopping 15 dollars..someone had stolen the gas station's last one and they gave up on helping out. it stated that is was spill proof, but that didn't stop a direct stream of gas from running up my arm and soaking my hand and forearm. ahhh! i cursed, then started laughing at my good fortune. i ran out of gas in front of a gas station. i am blessed...it surprisingly didn't soak into my work clothes, and i still made it there with plenty of time to make a crazy amount of money. i sent intentions out of abundance yesterday and today was great...i made more money waiting tables tonight then on most big holidays! just in time to pay my rent. phew. the fifteen dollar gas can doesn't seem like a big deal after tonight. sometimes when i make half my rent in one night, i feel relieved. sometimes it harnesses me back into the system. other times, i think it is the universe helping me get out of the industry.

for now, i am giving myself until christmas. then it is over. for good. i am ready to launch my art and go for bigger more delicious dreams.

tonight i saw the most radiant sunset i have ever seen in my life. it was like a painting...i think i will thank the universe and try and capture a bit on canvas. ohhh, the hue of the clouds tinged in lavendar light and lit on one side by a delicate crimson..it made me pause, and point it out to my guests.

it has been a sweltering day...turning into a muggy night. i am drinking a glass of sauv blanc with a slice of perfectly ripe mango and a strawberry floating inside. i wish i was floating inside. i am waiting with baited breath for my soul brother alec to show up. he just played a show in laguna and decided to head south to play at my house...namely my pool. so we will quietly float after hours in the water..i pray it is cooler than the air. i am sweating just from typing! haha! i have been sending out love and energy to my loved ones and sending out recognition to those around me who are wonderful humans. i forget to tell people how much i appreciate them sometimes. then when i get out of my haze i feel like i am struck with the urge to shout it to the sky...my life is full of the most wonderful beings!!! it makes me tear up and laugh at the same time.

i am also feeling better about having a direction. my anxiety and lethargy seem to be on vacation for the moment, so it feels freeing to move through this transitional time with a little more grace. i am recovering from the hip injury of last month, and more than anything i feel positive vibrations coming in and flowing out like a circuit has been connected again. i think talking to brian has really been a helpful tool and it is helping me get focused on the moment as well as actively pursuing my best self. i am looking forward to our session on thursday. i have always felt like when you are working toward alignment with the highest good of all concerned, the universe responds and makes it possible. i needed to make extra big cash tonight so i could pay for my session in a few days. now it is in the bag. sigh.

daniel (one of my managers) said to me last night,"stephie, i wish you didn't have any of this mucking up your life so you could just make your art...it would be amazing to see what would happen." i am not sure about what parts of life he thinks muck up my art...but i think it is the life part that makes expression so meaningful. it makes sharing it so personal. i feel so exposed and so naked with my paintings up, yet it makes sense. they are not for me and me alone. they are through me and a gift for humans to enjoy. to feel. to stop for a moment and recognize themselves a little bit inside some part of the picture. or just create a reaction. i am learning how it feels to be me in the moment, stephie the artist who waits tables to pay for canvas. hehe.

pink balls

2007-09-02T00:20:00.000-07:00

yeah, that's right. because i am a girl, that's why. and i like coordinating my balls with my outfit. on the golfcourse! but of course! haha! man i had a great day today. i can say i fully touched a state of bliss...fueled by a night of fun, meeting a wonderful and hilarious man, being out on the town with teresa, playing a killer round of golf with pink balls and beating a cute boy, having the most exquisite blue cheese burger and onion rings on the face of the planet...i have been on top of the world today! i also got my period, which flooded me with estrogen so i feel semi-sane again. oh and today the coolest thing happened when i was cardancing. here i am, just jamming out to michael jackson driving along the coast and hand dancing out the window. up ahead i see an arm snake out of the suv and start dancing too! we were following eachother's hand dance and it turned out to be a little girl. her dad rolled down the window when we came to a four way stop and said "you are SO cute!" and smiled! they drove off before i could respond, but i just love love loved seeing that little person infected by bliss. yeah, so today felt good. ever since my paintings went up in the restaurant i have felt a lot more energy. my boss highfived me in front of the staff tonight and it felt really nice to have some support. the ball is rolling, and a few guests have already asked me to talk turkey. i really feel good about moving in this direction, and very grateful to have such an opportunity to get it out there in a high end venue. my business cards arrive shortly! yes! and i met another artist tonight who was just radiant. she gave me her card and i'm going to check out her jewelry. she has made the transition from a j.o.b. job to being successfully self employed and living her dream. it's as if a switch has been flipped after talking with my soul coach. teachers are dropping out of the woodwork and into my arms. my brain, my heart, my soul. it's a very energizing feeling, the cocoon slowly melting off. i have a few friends that dj and i have been thinking of doing another art show. this time there will be cocktail hour with wine and cheese and mellow music, followed up with some dance music...you better believe michael jackson will be in the mix...a little jurassic five...a little flaming lips...whoah! watch out!

i aim to sustain my energy and momentum. good things are happening, and i am amazed at how quickly the universe responds to you when you make clear intentions. i think i feel a certain freedom as well from some of the distractions of my heart. i have come to realize right now is a time for me to get my art on. and while i am still wild about chest hair and flirting and all that fun stuff, i don't want a boyfriend. not even a little bit. mostly because it's too serious for me to handle right now. i am much more relaxed keeping my self to myself. when i lived in scripps ranch for 9 months i became very lonely...and celibate. yowzers! does masturbation count? haha. all i know is that i met k online and no one else will ever be him. he changed my perspective on love, and we never once met face to face. we met soul to soul, lifetimes ago. it was shocking and powerful and confusing. in the end, it broke my heart in places i never knew i had, and it was because we had created them together over many lives. i still believe he is real, i want to believe he is who he says he is, and i miss him every day. so in a way, my heart can't be broken by anyone else because it isn't even close to healed. when i met someone new directly after k and i stopped communicating, i still had my wall down. i think i may have transposed some of my deep feelings onto the next man because he was tangible. and we had such exotic adventures and fun together...but then it shifted shortly after he went to south america. i felt a double blow on that one, thinking maybe i need to give up on being so loving and open. but that goes against my grain. so now i think i want to spread my love inward and outward to the world. make some infinity love. touch people through my art and find more blissful days of car dancing with a grin on my face. i know everything happens for a reason. it is a journey not a destination, and no one knows when the next phase begins. i could die tomorrow or in sixty seven years. i do know that i want to go big. i want to finish my leg of this journey knowing i grew and loved and learned as much as possible..stretch marks on my soul. blessings, stephie

late twenties crisis

2007-08-31T14:21:00.000-07:00

if i am not in school then i need to make something happen. on my own. the approach has been soft, until now. lots of talking and minimal bursts of intense action. so i went out and found a life coach. it's like having a holistic cousellor. man, i need one. i am falling into a state of what he defined as "self centered emptiness". bingo. i wondered if many other people feel this way, and then retracted that thought because it doesn't really matter right now. what matters is becoming aligned in my purpose as given to me by the source. the oneness knows. i am part of this oneness, so a part of me knows too. that is what is creating this dissonance. i know i am not truly doing everything i can to be a successful artist. there is this quote, "if you want to hunt tigers, you must go where the tigers are." yep.

i know the feeling i get when i am operating on the "right" frequency. it is night and day...the static falls off, i am energized, i feel powerful, graceful, generous, optimistic, and creative. i feel like i am on fire with passion for life! i become a magnet for magical beings and wonderful things start to happen! and then somehow the dial gets turned a little bit and i fall out into this lethargic fearful place. i feel that by having a steady hand to hold, i can keep my dial where i need it to be and become the butterfly i long to be. i need help, and admitting it is the first step. finding that help was easy...it was right there. i spoke with my life artist soul coach today for an hour. it changed my perspective on my life. yesterday i felt bored for the first time that i can remember. BORED! what is that? i realized i was ready for change, and far worse is boredom than fear of the unknown. the unknown is what is exciting about life, right? not just scary. brian said that people would rather stay miserable and comfortable than to reach out and leap into the unknown. that is where he comes in...when you know that your time is now! he made me think about who i am THIS MOMENT not last year or in the future. i am an artist now. we talked about intentions and goal achievement. i scribbled notes on a big pad of paper with a black permanent marker. normally i write in purple extra fine ink. this bold permanent marker leapt from my drawer and asked me to say it loud. and stick to it. so...i am.

my intentions are as follows:
i will quit waitressing this year.
i will go to thailand this winter.
i will teach art classes instead of relying on the gerbil wheel.
i will make a brochure for my classes and my art bio by the end of this month.
i will find a photographer to shoot my artwork and put those images on file at printmaker.net so i can order prints for clients.
i will live a comfortable and disciplined lifestyle centered around making the world a more beautiful and creative place.
i will help others touch their fears and let them go through making art.
i will believe in myself, and when i falter, i will rely on my support systems i am creating right now.

well, that about sums it up for now!!! blessings, friends. may we all find connection through our separate journeys. :)

my weakness

2007-08-27T12:52:00.001-07:00

my weakness
it arrived shortly after the mango martini disappeared. plump, charred slightly medium rare and perched next to a fluffy pile of mashed potatoes accented with angles of roasted asparagus. the port demiglace orbited the filet, and flanking it was something that blew my mind and taste buds right off...a gorgonzola creme brulee! upon trying the combination, i started laughing uncontrollably...it's my weakness. simple food done with a dash of flair and such exquisite perfection...i wish i could transport myself back to prado right now. our waiter paul was nervous when he talked to us, stuttering a little bit and flashing a small uncomfortable smile. i noticed he had a bit of an underbite, giving him the appearance of a cute little bulldog. we tried to get out of the restaurant without dessert, running a little late for the dance performance up the street. paul refused to let us depart without a bite of tahitian vanilla flan cheesecake, however. teresa signed her half of the bill and i thought about staying there and rubbing it all over my face. so delicious i couldn't bear it...almost. i have to admit, it's been awhile since i went out downtown. sitting there in balboa park, strings of white lights and red and purple umbrellas below...it made me feel like i was inside of a painting. the open air orchestra was playing amidst the colorful fountains, lush plantings and quiet old spanish buildings. it made me feel far away...it made me think about why i haven't left san diego yet. teresa and i dashed out the door, a flutter of brown and blonde manes and black and white dresses. my heels made funny little clicking noises as we hurried to the centro cultural del plaza to see her dance company perform.

we arrived a little late into the the performance and turned off our cell phones. the stage was set in the middle of the room, seating boxing it in like four walls. the dancers were all wearing strange white costumes and body paint, giving them the appearance of being coated in flour. one character was an old woman with a shaved head...her manner and appearance made me think she has cancer. the stage was actually a box filled two feet deep with styrofoam packing peanuts. a woman narrated the journey, and started speaking of all matters pertaining to the green movement. the air, the water, the trickle on down effects of pollution, asthma, cancer, babies, the future. she touched on going backward in our lifestyle to move forward as a species and save the planet. i watched the dancers making strange movements and coughing and huffing and acting like beasts. it made my already full stomach feel sick...full of meat and cheese and alcohol and excess. it made me want to rip off my pretty party dress and kick off my heels and live on a remote island somewhere...no cell phones, no dui's, no credit cards, no pollution..or less pollution. hiding from the issues at hand is a weakness too.

after the two hour performance, i felt stunned. it was such a juxtapostion. teresa wanted to show me this new autralian bar down on fifth, so we went for a martini and i sipped on it without tasting it. my mind was weaving in and out of my excuses. excuses for not traveling this summer, for eating meat, for sleeping in, for not being as diligent about recycling everything...not just the easy stuff. my excuses based around fear, around laziness, around comfort, around everything. reasons and excuses are different creatures, to be sure. i feel such a pull inside of me...tearing me in two directions. the part of me molded by society and consumerism...the one that loves a good steak and expensive pair of heels...versus the one that cries out for nature, wants to run away to the forest, drum, hunt, sit around the fire, swim naked in the stream. today i have had a lot of thoughts and no real answers...who am i? why am i so afraid?

the truth: you were my reason

2007-08-27T01:42:00.000-07:00

i didn't have the courage to unveil even more of my feelings. i don't even have the courage to send you this letter. why do you deserve more of my feelings when you have so little for me? those feelings that i put out for you to step on and callously sweep on by while you remained so safe in the moment. your moment changes faster than a butterfly changes flowers. i am not angry because you are an animal in nature, but i am hurt that you disguised yourself with words and energies that withered away as soon as a new flower crossed your path. with a scrap left of my heart, i shielded myself from yet another blow and handed you a list of excuses why i couldn't come to peru. it wasn't that i couldn't come...it was that i chose to protect myself from you. when i opened up and told you how i felt, i meant it...in a resonating timeless sense. not just a fleeting thought or glance. so i backed up, careful to patch up my aching heart and humbly accepted that you and i are different creatures. i want to nest and long to roam. you nest while roaming, making everything home. you told me i was the companion and woman you had looked for all of your life. then in less than two weeks you were enamored by someone else. did you expect me to come down and share a one room apartment with her in your bed? i try to allow divine flow to take it's course, but that was just too much for me to handle. will i ever go to peru? yes. i needed some recovery time to build up the kind of strength it will take me to see you again. every story and lover you take helps seal the wall around those feelings..tighter, stronger...helping me distance myself from the pain i felt and the shift in our relationship. you poke fun at my reasons for not coming to peru...you are my reason for NOT coming, because you were my reason for going there in the first place. i'll go for me, when i am ready. i'll go for PERU. it was wrong of me to hold such expectations and attachment to you in the first place...i know better now. blessings, friend. you have taught me a lot.

you are right where you need to be

2007-08-25T12:19:00.000-07:00

she said it. manda can be so wise sometimes. i told her about a few things this morning before she got busy at work and she left me with those parting words. you are right where you need to be. there is no sense in worrying about the upcoming events next week, because it is really out of my hands. i just have to show up and see what happens next. then deal with the next step the best way i can. seems simple. there is no forcasting the future. i know i am learning the lessons for me right here right now. i feel so drained and i don't even have the energy to be anxious or depressed. i am hanging some of my art today in the restaurant so that is cool. it would be nice to sell it and buy a plane ticket to thailand. i am drinking some kombucha tea and going to finish up wiring the paintings to be hung. one step in front of the other today.

lessons of life

2007-08-24T16:07:00.001-07:00

relief floods me as my world shifts back into place. my guest from the past is on his way home. i have had a week to learn some new lessons and the course was intense. it is interesting to see how different people handle their obstacles and pain through life. everyone has struggle...some seem to get more tragedy then others however. it is difficult to put myself in a certain someone's shoes, but it seemed the whole visit revolved around talking about the trials and tribulations of his world. the terrible things that happened and keep happening. the unburdening of all these dark memories and the constant reliving of the past left me with a few deep feelings. one was that i don't want to dwell in the past. another was that life is too short to bring the vibrations down. i have a few friends that consider themselves happy-go-lucky individuals. i'd like to know when the smiling begins? i'd like to know when their world doesn't revolve around wounds and saddle sores? i'd like to see them lift up and fly...taste the food in front of them, kiss the sunset with their eyes closed and hearts open. i want to make an effort to be a positive light in the world and touch others so they feel more uplifted by sharing time and space together.

sometimes it is strange what you'll find by opening a time capsule. just one more step toward being in the now...living in the moment. there have been such extremes in this department and now i just want peace. alone time. yoga. silence. music. painting.

the trials of love, or something close....

2007-08-16T02:59:00.000-07:00

here we go again...hands in the air, voice held back in my throat, vertigo and cresting and then the drop...whoosh...my body is weightless and i am filled with ecstasy! gravity driving me down while the ride pulls me up...up...rising and turning at warp speed. my ability to love is a lot like standing in line for a rollercoaster ride sometimes. i might be inching along in a sweltering hot line...but eventually i get on and ride. i always ride, or wait in line. but there is a motion, always, toward loving and being loved. and this time the line was short...unforseen this ride opened...it used to be closed for years...used to make me wistful to see the tracks empty and the gate locked down.

he's coming tomorrow...i feel so calm about it...like a deep moving body of water flooding me with refreshing power. when all the smoke and mirrors have been shattered or have blown away...i wonder if it was him all along, weaving his way back into my world. have all these other fleeting romances grazed the surface to allow me the insight into this next relationship?

it seems so. not to trivialize anything, but i've been told a lot of beautiful words that ring hollow. promises or just emotions that dried up and left barely a trace. mystery men who never appear. mysterious men who disappear. simple and complicated men who tire me, stalk me, or push me away. i have a cetain numbness at this point...like it's gonna take something white hot and powerful to cut through it.

then seven hours have passed and we are still talking. my phone is hot in my ear with his voice, so familiar and low. i think about the first time i laid eyes on him, my knees buckling and body turning hot and cold and dizzy. he was the most handsome thing i'd ever seen...and turned out to be more beautiful on the inside. we both recall a deep knowingness...i wonder if it will still be there tomorrow? i feel like a little kid on christmas...! five years have faded into nothing...
i know it is still there, like embers coming to life after being stoked for a long time.

blast from the past

2007-08-03T17:28:00.000-07:00

i remember the day perfectly. his blue almond shaped eyes squinted at the sun. then looked back at me. we had spent the day out on the coast of michigan, taking in the sparkling blue waters and white powdery sands. our feet dangled over the pier and we watched the sunset leaning into eachother. back then we weren't allowed such things. there was a restrained tenderness and affection for one another. everyone assumed the worst, but i looked at the ring on his finger and told myself i knew better. and i did.
we spoke from the heart that day, finally a piece of time to call our own and speak our hearts...three hours from home. a part of me felt guilty for even being there. another part listened to the wanting. he spoke with deliberation, asking me to run away with him to italy. my heart sank, knowing until he made further actions toward divorcing his wife i could never do that. and i didn't want to be the reason. i tearfully told him i was following through with my move to california, and to the man who was waiting for me. he was sad, and a little sullen on the way back. the drive home was three hours and felt much longer than the first leg of the little jaunt. dusk closed in and the trees became indigo and then black silouettes along the highway. we looked at eachother, putting the walls up and heading toward our separate destinies with a certain heaviness.

four years later i received an email from my old friend, and it seems he is divorced and moving to california. san diego to be exact. interesting...very interesting. i wonder what our meeting will bring.

Mirror mirror....

2007-08-01T04:08:00.000-07:00

we are all mirrors for the people and lessons we bring to our existence. i applaud that, actually. thank my lucky stars for a sounding board. and then tonight...lovely, lost, alone. i touched the cheeks of a baby girl, i touched the wanting for a child, i touched the barrier i hold against all suitors, lovers, friends. the dare...the quest, the life. i feel so detached from emotion and from others. my sister and i discussed our lack of "caring" today. it is not that we don't care so much...it is that we don't feel anymore. i feel fine the way it is. i have no desire to be married with a child. i thought i was alone in this until she brought it up today. i am having anxiety from not feeling. she's having anxiety from thinking she "should" feel more than she does. we talked, communed, took notes. we are both quite happy, satisfied, balanced. and this feels weird. we both agreed that the absence of stress leaves us with a lot of blank space. and we hate blank space. wanna fill it. rearrange it. feng sui it. fuck. impregnate it. just kidding. however, as scary as this may be, i smelled her tonight. the crown of her perfect baby head. sweet and heady....lilac wine a la jeff buckley with lilac boughs swaying in a pefect midwestern breeze. my friends' child brought new things to the table...i once thought i had it figured out. pepperoni and pineapple. now everything is different. i am older. i am lost. then found, alone.

No car, no phone, soon no toogie!

2007-07-29T19:45:00.001-07:00

Whoah...it sounds like the beginning of a bad country song! I left my phone in my friend's car after the beach today...I was trying to make an escape as her drunk boyfriend tried to exchange pleasantries with me and yet they both were fuming at eachother. It was awkward...it made me think over and over in my head that I am so glad not to be in that situation. Yuck!! She seems trapped and unhappy...and I was trapped and unhappy in the back seat of her car. It made me realize I need to get on it! I need to find the spirit van, and I need my phone back. So now I am forced to spend my Sunday carless and phoneless...I guess I will try to be productive and make some progress on my paintings. They are slowly evolving into pieces I don't recognize...nothing like what I have done in the past. Ahhh, good. I am thinking about getting a cargo van and making it into my little travelling cave. The man at the used car place in Leucadia gave me a brilliant idea...persian rugs and a hammock...whoah! So I have been combing Craig's List in search of the right one. And trying to save my money for Thailand and other expenses coming up. Amanda got accepted into the yoga teacher training program, so after my annual snowboarding trip with the chicks it is off to Thailand for a time. I am very excited to finally make it down there...a place for which I have been yearning for years. ;) Woohoo!
The ocean was gorgeous today...aqua and clear and warm. I spent the better part of the afternoon bodysurfing and sunning. I am so blessed to live this life, here in this moment. In other news, I found a possible new home for Toogie! There are four other tortoises there and a half acre grass pasture for him to frolic inside and eat grass. And hump!!! Come on, who doens't like to hump...especially with three other african spur thighed ladies! I am going to scope it out, and get ready to send him on his way to a better life. That is the final lesson he will teach me...letting go of our loved ones when it will be in their best interest to let go. I have had a lot of that attachment lesson since my accident. It is beautiful, and I am so thankful to find him a place that includes everything I wished to manifest. It's working!!! The universe really does listen...

respect

2007-07-23T05:31:00.000-07:00

someone has given me a free tour...a guided tour into their heart. i am not worthy of such tours...as my heart is taken by another. what an oxymoron...to be given such a gift and yet not able to receive it. i want to, don't get me wrong. i am just completely not inclined. i feel this is stupid. i can't let go. i can't get comfortable with the comfortable. we walked through the grocery store two days ago and the song "love the one you're with" came on. i squeezed his hand in mine and thought about running madly in the other direction...toward brocolini, toward honesty. shiiiiiit. at this point it is about respect, and honestly i must give it. honesty is giving it. it just feels weird. i hate letting someone beautiful down. they deserve more. damn it.

ahhh, i live at a spa....

2007-07-20T01:50:00.000-07:00

serenity courses through my soul as the house lays quiet. i am trying to reach a place of sleepytime, but the 3 hour nap earlier is not helping. our house is a home, clean, quiet, pantry full of healthy food, plants, animals, fresh flowers, clean towels. i thought about it being kind of my own personal spa...to run back home to after a busy day. we discovered the amazing wet sauna tonight, and had a sweat session before a midnight swim. the pool looks like the color of the ocean in the bahamas, and it moves like liquid jello at night...undulating seductively. i love floating on my back and looking up at the stars and this beautiful round tree. my personal goal is to sneak in without a splash. don't want the neighbors waking up...especially the nasty old woman living directly above the jacuzzi. (of course she does...) hehe. i feel so blessed to have this space right now. i live with such a kind and funny person, i feel at home for the first time in forever. living at my cousin's inland was a lot harder on me than i felt able to express. throughout everything that has unfolded in the last few years, i feel grateful for it all. the rollercoaster is taking a break right now and i relish it.
i feel happy just being.

a few days ago i cleaned the house, finished painting, rearranged the upstairs, did a energy clearing ceremony on the place, and created a space for yoga in the front room. there is nothing but clean wood floors, yoga tools, drums, and candles. glorious! all of my artwork is finally hung..the body of work i have created started to register with me once hanging it everywhere. i love seeing the parts of my spirit and life at different angles captured. i know that this is what i am meant to do. not surprisingly, i met a publisher who wants to look at my work. i am in the process of sending her a sample. yay! i have been setting intentions and things have been moving along in divine flow. it feels good to be in a place of restfullness and contentment after feeling so strung out during the transition back to the coast and out of the situation i was living in. all things were by my choice, but the learning curve was set at an intense rate. the universe provides us with challenges and things we can handle. i don't carry any regrets about a single step. once it was a struggle to be present at all, let alone present in the moment. sigh...my contacts are burning, so i must crawl into bed now. namaste.

a night to breathe

2007-07-16T00:06:00.000-07:00

my face is hot and somehow sunburned from who knows what. it was a humid grey day on the coast today and i couldn't muster the desire to do more than walk in the waves. it felt nice, walking with a belly full of acai and ginger brew, warm water lapping at my ankles, new elf threads on all comfy and sweet. the house is mellow tonight, and i relish the quietude. the past few weeks have been nonstop celebration and fun. i flipped the hermit switch to the off position and embraced my inner social animal. whew....i am ready for a rest. i have had a house full of people since before my mom came to visit. i have been meeting the most incredible souls lately...i feel so blessed to be surrounded with such lovely spirits. now it is quiet and calm, no music on, just nighttime filling up the space. sigh. time for tea and bed. goodnight!

the bisexual curveball

2007-07-13T02:24:00.000-07:00

i loved her, so much that it burned inside of me brighter than my fear.
her humor, her presence, her smell, the way she stroked my hair and let me wear her turquoise ring at a party. i looked at it on my finger, took a long drink, and looked up to find a familiar pair of eyes catching me. damn him...he knew. my friend kevin picked up on stuff faster than anyone else. mostly because he was an observant and perverse little mutherfucker, but also because he loved to play cupid. especially lesbian cupid in this case. looking back on it i had been with women before, but never like this. never in the sense that i felt the room move and shift into focus around her laugh, her gaze...every man in the place wanted her. and she knew it, because it was normal. a toss of blonde mane and quick glance in my direction now and again...i can't forget it. kevin drew me aside and told me how she loved to play and wanted me. i shivered a bit with anticipation and nervousness..with every man in the room how could she pick me? then again, how could she not?
looking back on it now it is a bit foreign. it has been years since we spent sweet drunken hours on the beach, in our tent, long manes tossing and lithe bodies snaking in firelight. i still dream now and again of the time she surprised me in the showers, lavender soap and quarters...her small hands caressing my body in wonderment and celebration. i think of this now, because my friend told the neighbor that i am a bisexual artist. i have only fallen in love with one woman, been with many, but to be introduced to new neighbors as the "bisexual artist" is something unexpected. i feel so exposed, so i write it here tonight to take control of that exposure.
i am comfortable with my openness in regards to love and sexuality. i have always shared when asked. i don't typically wear it like a badge,because it is not my identity. i do not feel ready to wave a rainbow banner at some gay pride march. i just feel open to feeling love and seduction when i do.
i wonder about her now, year later, and hope she has found contentment. i have found i am my own best lover. so where does that put things?
it is so rare for me to find a woman attractive on this level, and equally rare to find a man. such a bisexual curveball, huh?

meetings of inexplicable design

2007-07-13T02:07:00.000-07:00

when something tells me to stay,
i pause in the knowingness,
and the greater picture is unclear at the time,
but gut instinct tells me to huddle close to the ground.
the buffalo vibrations move me,
the bones in my ribcage respond to an ancient drumming,
my ear pressed firm to the ground.
i taste the sweet tang of fresh heart blood,
i sing the warbling tremolo of a song not lost,
for it lives in me.
so i do,
my mouth forming words my new mind doesn't understand.
my spirit soars and that is enough.
for now.
i string colors, strands, beads, feathers.
i burn sage, wood, incense, fire, wax.
i dream deep, quiet recesses unfolding with answers.
i breathe deep, knowng the answers already there and smiling.
it is, and was, and will be.
we are one.

it came as no surprise tonight to meet a publisher of art and gifts and books.
it made me smile inwardly that part of the sales are donated to charitable works.
it pleased me further to know am ready to share my art and words with the world.
if nothing else, the universe pushed me toward some of my attainable goals...within these is a greater capacity for sharing, loving, teaching, humility, and freedom to travel.
a push, after the new moon...

inside the fortress

2007-07-12T01:29:00.000-07:00

the storm blows in, pregnant air tinged with anticipation, rain.
the night inhales and holds her breath, waiting for the slap of his rage,
his passion, his gift, his absence.
she beckons, thirsty for change, for more than the easy soaksoaked days,
and he comes with fury,
whipping her palmtree hair and rearranging the face of this small town.
she sighs, giving way as her bridges and dykes fall into the rising water,
melting borders,
small voices drowning,
stronger ones remaining.
drenched and disheveled, she watches her world change,
wondering at the silence after it's departure,
letting her breath out in a long cool sigh.
the face of her town looks different, by invitation.
as a small part of her whispers "i'm sorry".
another part of her isn't sorry at all.

anti yuppie soap and my fall from grace

2007-07-04T02:26:00.000-07:00

hehe. just kidding. no fall from grace. but i DID make soap today and flavored it with nutmeg, patchouli, rose petals, cinnamon, tea tree and mint. it is all a little concoction to ensure yuppies will remain at an arms-length distance. i am kidding! it just smells really pretty in a "day off work" kinda way. damn. i just got back from a little encinitas sesh...a few drinks at the local watering hole. yet another reminder (besides the soap) that i have no desire to spend my nights like this. dressing up is fun. mingling is fun. bar fights and drunken retard surf rats...where's my soap??? i should know better...just needed a little distraction. all it proved was that i am over it. i already knew that, but it is true. at least i ran into an old artist friend and we caught up. i love hearing about dreamers becoming doers. beautiful. i still can't believe i used to spend my nights in the dive bars wasting my whiskey breath on that scene. what a difference a year makes.

my heart

2007-07-03T11:13:00.000-07:00

i beat
drumming strong,
when you sing, when you weep.
you forget me sometimes,
then you fill me with song.
so much love has been lost when i held it too long...
too hard, packing it into a void that would never be filled,
outside in.
beautiful dream, you never came to me.
you gave me words, gave me strength, but fell away on the day we would meet.
sometimes you come visit me,
dreaming of us in my sleep.
i beat
humming songs,
some sung in a minor key,
husky and low for only me,
to hear,
painting pictures for only me to see.
the changing road was once so dark,
twisting sharply and unexpectedly.
the loves come and gone have left my heart,
and staid there too,
in the pause between beats.
i credit them not for the beat,
only me.
i thank them for the beauty
though fleeting it may be.

these moments,
strung together once tore my soul,
when i wasn't whole or loving inside-out,
just craving the outside in.
i recover quickly and love deeply, but there have been so many loves and so many moments.
so much blessing, so many kisses, so many tones and shades of beating this drum in the name of love.
i beat,
still feeling,
but strangely altered into a safe space.
holding none but my self,
which used to feel painful but now feels so grand!

treasure

2007-06-29T01:28:00.000-07:00

sometime in 2004

it was morning and i had a long way to drive. i started up the 350z and it purred, ready to grab the curves of the road ahead. what a fricken fantastic day to be alone, driving a brand new black convertible down the coast from san francisco. the air was crisp and i put on my white poncho. i put down the top just for kicks and tied back my hair.

the grandeur of the coastline crept in, growing in beauty as i drove south from santa cruz. a cop told me to slow down and i couldn't believe he didn't give me a ticket. "it's a long way to huntington beach," he said sternly. "make sure you take it easy with your new car." i heaved a sigh of relief and continued cautiously for a few miles. then the scenery blended away everything else and i was taken. i fell in love at first sight, drinking in each whitecap and crest of shoreline. it grew in my heart, resounding with more and more clarity until my eyes welled and spilled over.

i made it to carmel before i started full on weeping....the beauty seized me and i doubled over, swerving a little before pulling off into a vista overlook. those images have haunted me since, and i have done many paintings trying to recapture the piece of my spirit i left there. it claimed me then, and i gave it willingly. the sea sparkled endlessly and before long i was in big sur.

something told me to stop. so i did.

i walked into a little shop by the side of the road. art, hats, scarves, jewelry, beautiful paintings, and delightful beanies. i walked around the shop and the woman inside greeted me from the corner.

i pulled the hat down over my ears, marvelling in it's perfection. the hand crocheted patterns dazzled me, and the softness of the materials were unmatched. this was no ordinary beanie. little did i know the woman who made the beanie sat behind the counter, staring intently with deep brown eyes. we both took sidelong glances at eachother, noticing how much we looked alike. she came over and helped me choose, and told me about how she puts prayers into them while she works. sacred hats. i smiled at her and we looked into eachother for a moment. it was very much like looking in a mirror. a sister soul.

as she rang me up for the earrings, willow art, and beanie, i glanced down at the cd's on display. and there he was, a familiar face on the front of a very familiar album. "oh, i know this one!" i murmured. "you do?" said the brown eyed goddess. "yes, he was my first friend in huntington beach!" "oh," said the goddess. "you're stephie from the beach, aren't you?" "you're dena!"
we both looked at eachother and smiled. she was his fiancee. the stop in big sur proved to extend throughout the afternoon, with laughter and hikes and talks and the sniffing of oils and exchanging of smells and taking pictures. after a warm hug, i left her there, and headed down the coastline wearing my fluffy.

later on that year...

paula came to town and got a job in irvine at ruth's. the staff recoiled, and i saw the whites of her eyes when she came to sit down for "family meal". i too had been the new one, and i knew the drill. it was worse than being the new kid in the lunchroom in gradeschool, so i motioned for her to sit next to me. she was soft, graceful, powerful, raw. her deep red hair was pulled in a flawlessly sideparted hairdo, and her lips were stained scarlett. creatures like this were more than rare in orange county. i was curious, and we sparked up some conversation. i told her i had recently gone to big sur and we spoke of the wonders there. it wasn't until a few weeks later when paula invited me over that she pulled out one of the magical hats. i showed her mine, and we squealed in delight! the universe is so humorous and wonderful! she had a few of dena's beanies. we became close friends instantaneously. :)

2004, 05, 06, 07

there are few pictures of me without that beanie on, in retrospect. i wore my fluffy everywhere and through every season. snowboarding, festivals, drumcircles, sleeping on beaches, going on trips, cozying up for a walk at night, a cool bicycle ride to the sugar shack for breakfast, plane ride to michigan. you name it, the fluffy was there. it sparked conversations, it was coveted by men i dated, it was never shared. i just couldn't do it. i'll give you anything else, but not my fluffy. it was a small physical connection with a larger magical plot and i loved it. i still do, poor worn out thing. and i treasured that lovely afternoon with the beautiful woman who made the hat, singing her prayers into the stiches and rubbing essential oils into them.

june 27, 07

we pulled into big sur around mid afternoon and needed some rest. i had told my mom all about the place and the last time i stopped through for a few hours. the trees and waterfalls alone were enough to call me, but there was more to my agenda to be sure. i wanted to find dena. i had a funny little tickle in my heart and i hoped she would remember me. people around town told me i could find her hats at local color, near the spirit gardens. after a long morning hike in the redwoods, featherhunting, and lunch we made it to the little shop. it was closed. the dreadlocked girl running the shop came over and opened up for us and i silently moved to the basket of hats. i wondered if one would call me. we tried them all on and my mom was talking about how wonderful it is to wear skirts and....there was this beautiful incredulous face. there was my friend, looking beautiul and brown and smiling at me. we had a wonderful reunion and i knew that i had held onto that hat for so long because of this moment. my sisterfriend. i have such joy knowing i will be sharing in the dance with her, and doing some journeying with an amazing human. (yes, she remembered...heehee!) and it is spooky how many things we have in common. this was the friend i have been missing, and i feel so very blessed to have found her again. yay!!!! oh, and i love my groovy new hat too, but i am more excited to go back to big sur and spend some time. what treasured moments are these!

the eclipse

2007-06-23T01:32:00.000-07:00

you sit in the same corner, coiled and ready to spring.
the dark familiar mantle about your shoulders,
the routinely ominous air getting heavy.
yeah, yeah, yeah.
i've seen you before.
you, the one that escapes from my journals,
you, the one that was given to me like a disease from birth.
your corner isn't comfortable anymore,
so you try for the bed.
closer, closer.
i used to invite you in,
i used to let you watch,
impaling myself on your sword of doubt,
letting you win again and again.
you come and breathe on my face,
hovering over me like a dream.
and this time i don't move or moan or even scream...
i just take you in.
and in that moment we are one,
and you don't slay me and i don't struggle.
we lay as one,
and the eclipse is done.

my new bikini

2007-06-20T02:28:00.000-07:00

so i have had this master plan lately but it has involved a little bit of restraint on my part. restraint from shaving, that is. a friend got waxed head to toe and she looks so great in her swimsuit that i decided to grow it out so i could rip it off. the countdown is getting closer...and grosser..and strangely i have found being a wooly mammoth is a lot of fun. it's been years since i rocked the hippy hair. teresa and i went to target today to buy a new bikini and as i went to grab something she gasped in horror..."ew, stephie, what's THAT?" that, my dear, is dumbass dude repellent. well, i didn't have to say it aloud, but we both broke out in laughter. i showed my leg hair to a dude at work (whose attention is getting a bit much) and it worked like magic! poof! gone! he even visibly shuddered. haha. my roomate gently rocked my leg to wake me up this morning. "hey, sasky, let's get going..." my nickname, short for sasquatch. it's temporary amusement for me, for the next few days anyways.

The Weight of ME

2007-06-15T03:01:00.001-07:00

Ah, so free
the barometer of wind and time,
coursing through me like an old friend.
I have been misplaced, those books and sages tell me differently,
the time is now, the journey here.
I am merely a piece of sand, a speck of electron dust whirling off trying to magnetize myself before this body sloughs off and dies.
All the weight of me is an idea.
It is just gravitational pull at a bunch of cells.
Ah, but the wait of me has been so much longer...so much stronger than that.
And it's here. And I am not dead. Never will be, really. Ahh, so free. So free to never be free of some sort of existence, in my ideology. I have always hovered near the wish to erase. Give me a glass of wine and I can taste it. I think therefore I should not drink.

fricken manifest

2007-06-12T12:07:00.000-07:00

this one's for my sis. "fricken manifest" has been our slogan of late. hehe. it has been said in beavis and butthead voices, my throwback to the nineties. made her a groovy new tanktop to wear with our saying on it. shiiiit. i got an invitation sent to my parents and forwarded to me...to attend my ten year class reunion. weird. not sure if i will make it...hehe. i do want to swing in for the family reunion/wedding this summer on lake michigan. those of you who have never seen that body of water cannot imagine it's majesty. in only minutes it can prove deadly with riptides that grip you like the hand of zeus. then it releases, becoming it's tranquil self and sparkling with endlessly gorgeous hues of blue and green. petoskey stones are our treasure there in the clear sparkling depths, if you can brave the frigid water long enough to search around with a mask. here's to hoping the lake is at least 60 degrees by august! i haven't been there..the small town of onekama...(uh-neck-ah-mah) since i was around 13 years old. michigan...barbeques in the summer, the damp hush of pine forests, the surprise rainstorms and beautiful sunsets. i hope to see my people there and reconnect with some sacred places before i leave for thailand. my sis is going to ireland with fat boy and then heading to thailand and thinking of doing a yoga teacher training course. she told me this yesterday without me telling her i was planning to be there in octoberish doing something along those lines. we squealed outloud thinking of meeting up for awhile in the islands. i am looking forward to introducing her to ashton. i am looking forward to so much...while still enjoying the journey along the way. life has a way of changing course when you "plan" like i do. i am trying to be conscious of this vocabulary and use the word idea instead. hehe. life is good. i am waiting to hear from ashton today about his "ideas" on when we'll next see eachother. the situation in peru seems unstable and i really hope he gets out of there. south america...so alluring and unpredictable.
my madre arrives in town in 9 days. i am super stoked to have the "flying fruit bat" in my physical presence once again. the energy and love shared between us is such a special thing to me. i love it that she enjoys her funny nicknames...the list lengthens. moomals. moomalots, moomies, moo, moobear, moob..(one of my favorite things to say...) and now the flying fruit bat. it did take her a little time to warm up to the fruit bat. hehe.
well, i am off to read in the sunshine out at the pool. it is a glorious day and i have gloriously hairy legs. getting waxed tomorrow. i hope no one is out at the pool to witness the nastiness!!! hehe. ciao ciao! don't forget..."fricken manifest!"

things in order

2007-06-09T16:30:00.001-07:00

creating a path
setting intentions
rearranging my belongings to reflect that intention...
letting go of attachments to the physical, the tapestry weaving around my fingers,
drawing new colors,
patterns of deepseeded old passions, exploration, naming my truest wants and following them instead of putting them on a leash.
going....
going...
out in the world after going within.

The Unfurling of the Fern

2007-05-24T11:34:00.000-07:00

closing my eyes
i shifted
feather appearing to tickle my crown
reminding me to open
dipping into another level.
my intention for the journey was to identify
to illuminate
to learn more about the tearing sensation i have been experiencing.
it is hard to remove the idea of the twofold path
the fork in the road split by choice.
i came to realize it is not a fork at all
there is no choice of left or right
or staying here
or leaving with him.
it is a fern, spiralling out
roots deep in the soil
and gently unfurling toward the light.
all things have, are, and will unfold
as guided by the divine and my own intention.
there are no victims
i have been delving into my labels for myself
of walking wounded
deep seeded desire to be close to others and the blockage
that keeps my head and my core from communicating freely.
i have been critical of my people and turn that same criticism
upon myself
they are all my mirrors anyways.

i travelled to the place of my pain
learning to breathe again
as if for the first time.
i felt fear
the overwhelming clarity
and significance of her betrayal to me as a child.
we called eachother twin souls.
we were as one
and i learned after letting go completely that i was open to the worst pain any friend could inflict.
we loved eachother on such a deep level and yet she harbored a dark seed of jealousy and ill will toward me in our last days.
i remember telling eachother that if i could only have one friend it would be her.
i see now that i have myself.

the place i went was underground
a hibernation of things i put away to deal with later.
i have used my emotions and adventures
my art, music, people, and entire life
to avoid the confrontaion
silly me
it is in all i do.
i have repeatedly chosen people to surround myself with who don't fully connect with me
a safety net
each one signifying a piece of the loneliness i have felt since she and i parted.
that was the last time i let anyone in completely
besides my mother.
my first chakra
red
grounding cord sent down to the center
sending light and energy down and then up through the spine and out of the crown
learning how to breathe
to move air in and out without the fear of doing something correctly.
approval from my father has influenced my relationships with men and with my own relationship of being a woman.
i have been craving red
painting various shades of red oxide
my first chakra reaching out for more focus,
more honor,
more release.
having lived for so long with an escape route from intimacy
the journey is breathing into those tight places,
focussing on them and then releasing the stored lessons
melting into the knowingness
feeling the tension recede with each exhale.
he came to me then
dressed in black tangles of machine and vines
his forehead bore four large insectlike eyes
smaller on the outside and equally large on the inside.
he moved like he was floating
coming closer and closer
i stared at my demon and felt my fear grow as he came up to my face
within reach
i let go of all expectation and pain
breathed
and the image disappeared.
today i feel a satiated feeling
a place of calm.
i am here to learn.
i am the fern.

thoughts about may 30th, 2007

2007-05-19T00:03:00.000-07:00

it sits gently behind each moment, legs folded serenely and waiting.
it's the elephant in my room, my world, my head.
i shake it off and bend over my jewelry and continue threading the beads.
it smiles, disappearing from view to give me a little respite.
i sigh quietly and ponder the past few weeks as i search for matching beads.
hematite, glass, wood, tiger iron.
i feel the heat of his eyes on me and look up to catch a sidelong glance and flash of bearded smile. unguarded.
my hands get hot, my soul starts to tremble
i feel shy so i look in his eyes and then look away too fast.
i want to stare,
i want to be the only two in the cafe,
i want to scatter my beads and make love to him on the chair with the world fading away and the reminders thrown to the wind and the white flag of surrender brandished high.
hematite, wood, glass. white raw silk waving fervently.
it decides to give me a little relief and i can banish it from my mind for the rest of the night.
i distract myself with new connections and friends,
i sip on my tea and think of the mornings spent in the tent,
waking up with the morning light and thinking about coffee, chai, friends, dancing.
his eyes give me sips of exotic worlds and a glimpse of a white hot soul,
so pure it is cool to the touch.
my mother's voice winds off a deep spool of inbred fear and curiosity.
you can't have everything you want, said she.
i balked at that and retorted, "no mother, you make it so. you create your reality and it is that which does not allow you to have what you want. you do not allow the possibility to exist. so then it does not."
he comes from a mother with severe gut issues. so do i.
i called her yesterday to tell her that "it" does exist, surely as i do.
all my life i kept my secret ember glowing, recessed deep inside.
so far that no amount of pain could leech it's gossamer sheen,
no amount of plunder could take away it's treasure of hope,
and no amount of self delusion, distraction, destruction, evolution...
none of it could extinguish the sureness of one thing:
if i exist then he exists.
i have felt like the only one of my kind since birth.
i have become a chameleon for survival, and when the sheath falls away i feel naked.
i am different.
i feel everything.
i seek, i weep, i laugh, i let it in and out in each breath.
i am in the in and out, the all around, the everything.
i wish to unfold and be free.
i thought freedom was being alone and not lonely.
sitting in comfort with my self and growing wonder at the eliminations of boundaries and the eradication of the self critic.
going within.
boys always distract me from this... i choose people which pull me farther from my art, music, meditation, exercise, sleep, sobriety, balance. boys, not men.
ego, not spirit.
so in this delightful mess of transformation, my white owl calls me.
you have not listened to the deep intuition and so the lessons have been highlighted.
you have not chosen to release the fears that bind you captive to the unhappiness.
you have not run as hard as you can because you are afraid of the responsibility of winning and being the best.
does it take all this to make the point?
my friend, my totem, flying inbetween worlds, reawakening my spirit and intercepting my spirit so i might journey more...in this time, land, body, vehicle.
how appropriate that ashton arrives when fear wants to leave.
when i was clearly not looking for him.
when i have begun to run hard, hard, harder, flying, releasing, not looking, just feeling, allowing the angles of all emotions to be felt without judgement.

yin and yang.
we listen to music later on in the evening and i reflect on a day spent with one who enjoys so much of what i do.
i hold back my sadness and press on for the moment.
after all the moment is my safety net, but i don't want or need one.
but i feel the tide pulling out around my heart, loosening the protection of being a hermit,
casting off the ability to dwell in sheer ego and lust,
gently swaying and reminding me that in only a few more weeks i will be on my own again. but not really alone, just missing him. as i have always missed him.
a couple tears slide out from time to time, paying the toll for freeing my heart.
it makes me feel wonderful, in the end.
as brave as i try to be, as aloof as he tried to be...
the universe saw it fit for our meeting to be now.
not on my timeline, nor his agenda.
no time to steady myself and raise my baton to the symphony and say "NOW!"
so to may 30th, i say thank you.
thank you for being present and making me think about savoring this time.
allowing me an escape that i won't take.
breaking away from old myths and writing a beautiful new truth.

double trouble....so much goodness.

2007-05-08T16:19:00.000-07:00

the guardian of eyes
released his hold
falling somewhat off course and yet relishing it.
the delicate balance of aloneness
suddenly shifted and it was frightening.
beautifully so.
ray lamontagne crooned across cooling pavement,
catching my ear as the sun dipped below magical silouettes.
am i ready to let go?
is there really any control to be had? (no, duh.)
there is no allowance here,
just acceptance of the moment.
and whether i admit it or not,
i already let go a long time ago.
the universe has been a virtual batting cage lately,
spitting every curve ball possible within my safe little bubble.
and then intrusion of sorts, invited of course,
a lively sparkle and colorful warmth.
i pull the alpaca fur closer,
i close my eyes for a minute and soak in the touch,
sunflower oils and fans and a beautiful gypsy man.

the places i've lived

2007-04-26T15:50:00.000-07:00

our house
open windows face the glittering sea, letting the air move through the place.
sunbeams bounce off of the shiny wood floors, a light scent of nag champa drifts in from the garden.
it burns outside near the hammock,
big plants tower like green feathers.
a perfect place to read a book and sway on a lazy afternoon such as this.
behind the place stretches emerald cliffs and beyond that mountain peaks shrouded in a mantle of clouds.
a strain of reggae leaks out from the kitchen window, humming, laughter accompanied by the percussion of palm trees rattling softly.
the smell of homemade paella simmering on the stove,
roasted corn on the cob grilling,
beads of sweat drip down my forgotten margarita glass.
barefeet in the sweet grass,
dancing.
*********************
i pull up the stakes and bundle them together, wrapping the rawhide ties securely to the travois.
she nickers at me, turning a dark face with a white blaze.
it reminds me of the stars at night near winter camp.
the weather has turned, and so we move too.
only a small trail of us left,
brown faces in the sun,
dust hanging over the plain.
i look for miles to see nothing but an ocean of tall grass and a small trail as we move south.
my home is the world,
owning nothing,
owing nothing but gratitude.
i use everything, and when i die i will give it back.
flying into the sky as my tears become rain, my body earth, my laughter wind.

on the move again

2007-04-26T13:54:00.000-07:00

snowflakes come down on the log cabin in my head.
it's seventy seven degrees and sunny outside in real life.
another beautiful california afternoon.
i am tired.
i want to curl up on my big log bed and hibernate.
my hands are tan and strong.
my body is lithe and wound up for climbing mountains.
my heart is somewhere between hawaii and montana,
not sure where my fantasy ranch begins.
my companions are my sister and the brown and white paint gelding.
it seems so far away today.
at least my sister is visiting.

it's been awhile...

2007-04-25T23:41:00.000-07:00

since i could surface.
longer since i could see.
eyes clouded by water, dreams, pain, shards of glass.
this crystal ball once held the future,
once kept the bugs out of my car,
once laid strewn on black's beach.
now i linger in the aftermath,
the tide retreating,
the small connections recoiling like burnt fingers,
once holding eachother completely but without ever touching in the physical.
you taught me faith in something i couldn't see,
but felt completely.
you elevated my soul, my spirit, my dreams, my desire.
i felt perfectly and wholly known by you,
untainted by the libido which keeps this process far from my reach.
instead, my mind tingled, my soul soared, my laughter pealed out, my guard fell and i was home.
i kept waiting for you to appear but instead you evaporated.
you left watermarks on everything,
you left salt trails on one set of footsteps eaten by the tide.

so now after one month i feel a little bit more steady.
so steady i tried to forget how sad i was, concentrating on the loveliness i felt for three months.
i saw two sets of tracks though everyone else saw one.
i felt the warm breath of everything i have ever wanted on my neck before it vanished.
friends think i will find love when i am supposed to find it.
i did find it when i was supposed to.
and if that was all i get, then i am grateful.
but it is a hard thing to put down after waiting to finally hold your face in my hands.
my eyes take in the world differently,
almost dying,
making mistakes,
humbling myself,
scraping bottom and hoping i would want to push off to the surface again.
the gnarly wave of life has thrashed me again,
and there i am sputtering in the waves of my own making.
choking on the saltwater that is a sea of tears,
not a victim in the least,
only an evolution of my self.

Valentine's Day

2007-02-14T13:59:00.000-08:00

I don't get it. Why do people get so crazy-bitter around this holiday? Sure, sure, you have a few disappointments over the years, but what if you just release ego and expectation...and see it as a day the country actually celebrates love? I have been the Bitter Betty on this day before, grumbling around while waiting on ooey-gooey couples at the restaurant. But hey, why NOT be ooey and gooey? Why NOT go out for a nice meal with someone you groove on?
Today I originally requested the night off of work. I thought I might feel lonely today...but I don't. I feel happy. And I am not just saying that...after my five mile run and stair session at Swami's, I feel pretty optimistic about this whole love thing. I got called in to work because a friend's dad died today. I guess the ocean and my friends and knowing a man like K exists is enough. And this whole Valentine's Day thing is good for the wallet, if nothing else. I am thinking of going to Tahoe soon to go boarding. Sweet! So anyways, hope everyone has a good day and takes it for what it is...an opportunity to be grateful and loving.

Rivulets of Black Salt

2007-02-11T02:09:00.000-08:00

She lost her composure today, while kneeling in Circuit City.
Instead of the soundtrack originally motivating the excursion, she found herself in the oldies section. Maybe all this reflection and nostalgia made her do it. Maybe the music itself was just a way to unleash all the tears building this week. She hadn't felt so high in years...riding the crest of magical belief in someone. Ka'eo was the one person who had changed her cynicism into blind love. He had filled her with a desire and energy she had never before felt. And though she felt she should've been more reluctant, she listened to his heartfelt words and threw herself passionately into the unknown.

This music would understand all of this, she thought.
Telling her story, her childhood, her reflection on life...it reminded her of the music from the 1950's. It was the music that reverberated thought the speakers in the bottom of the boat, whe she was a shivering cold nine year old. There they would be, wrapped in wet towels, Papa smoking a cigar, the air cool, Mom wrapped in a blankey and all of them headed toward home in the old Viking speedboat. Papa loved this music and they would all equate it with his lost summer childhood memories. It was bittersweet and romantic then and it remained so today.

"I want a sunday kind of love....." croons now through her headphones. It was the title of a story Ka'eo wrote her a few weeks ago. Listening to this old song she feels the heartstrings pull tight, and more tears squeeze out down her already soiled cheeks. The worst track on the whole Doo Wop cd was the one entitled "Where or When". Music starts: "It seems we stood and talked liked this before...We looked at eachother in the same way then, but I can't remember where or when...? AhhhhaAhhhhh." Everything in her mind is tinged in rose colored sentimentality, and until recently was shared with him. Now she sits on the perforated metal shelf next to discounted cd's no one wants to buy and che cries. She doesn't want to give up, but she cries anyways. Why has it been a whole week since she's heard from him? Why has it been this escalation of love and expectation and now nothing?

Is he okay? Is his grandmother dying? Why would someone evaporate for a week and turn off their phone? She picks up the cd, and takes it to the counter. She also clutches as few reggae cd's to cheer her up. Tomorrow she'll sleep in as long as she can. Sleep hasn't come easily this week. She has become used to her morning wake up call at 7:30 a.m. with his voice so comfortable and warm in her ear.

The voice in her head wonders why he would say so much and then disappear, unless something awful happened to him. Unless she was taken by a con artist. Either prospect makes her cry more, until rivulets of black salt coat her cheeks. She comes up for air, and pays for her purchase long enough to make it to work. The songs play, and she changes into her penguin suit. She pulls her shiny dark hair back into a ponytail. She puts a piece of kiwi-citrus gum in her stale mouth, she drips visine into her red eyes, and she strains to make it through Valentine's.

A red Armani dress hangs in her closet, wondering if it will be worn in four more days.

Her better judgement tells her not to count on it. And the cynicism creeps back in, and the sunset of dreams starts to dip beneath the horizon.

Round and round we go.

2007-02-07T00:50:00.000-08:00

Round and round we go
Current mood: artistic
Category: Writing and Poetry

Her nipples floated just above the churning white water, and appeared to my naked seven year old eye to look just like red raspberries. The purple and pink rubber seaponies bobbed in the currents, spinning them in an orbit around us and getting stuck in the filter of the jacuzzi. It scared me to reach my arm into the filter and pull them out. Would something bite my arm in there? Would I get sucked in? As the steam rolled up toward the dark tree tops, I thought about the fact that not long ago I nursed from those nipples. I silently wished I could remember the taste. I looked up at Mom, and the thought evaporated. My baby brother was asleep in the house, and it was just the three of us girls out on the deck. We played all sorts of games and it was an innocent time. A time where we could play naked in the hot tub and we didn't think it was weird. A time when the neighbors were so far away we could scream and laugh and no one could hear our trills and splashes. I looked down at my chest, seeing a sheer flat wall with two dime sized nipples. I wished for nothing else than to have breasts like my mom, with beautiful raspberries perched on top.

**********************************

I held her arm, and helped her slowly into the elevator. Cousin Laurie guided her dad inside and I pushed the greasy metal button with a knuckle. Internally, I shuddered at the thought of what might be growing on the buttons, and decided to have faith in my immune system and concentrate on the task at hand. I was a part of the elderly family member support team. Gram's greenish brown eyes looked up at me, shining. "Thank you for coming, Stephie", she whispered, clearing her throat. I squeezed her arm, smiled down at her and thought about her cough. She was trying hard not to think about herself today. She was struggling to be strong for her younger brother, who was having the procedure. Her cough worsened, and she pulled out a tiny bottle of codeine-laced syrup. I watched her take a small swig and tuck it back into her purse. "The Doc says I should have one or two teaspoons of this stuff when my cough gets bad," she said. "ONE OR TWO TEASPOONS!" She thinks no one is paying attention. "I'd pass out on the floor, little old me," she jokes, and we all look down at her tiny frame and smile. She's only 100 pounds now, and shrinking. The congestive heart failure is wearing on her, and I feel like it is precious to have her next to me.

The bell sounds and Uncle Kenny waits for us to exit before he does. Even in pain, he is still the gentleman. He seems optimistic as we head down the hall, but the air is heavy with dread and we all know what the tests are going to prove. I think of doing this alone, and how scared I would be in another sixty years. He goes into his appointment and we watch the hands on the clock travel around and around and around.....

Jerry Springer blares from a small television anchored in the corner of the waiting room. I look around and ask if anyone minds if I change it...the noise is hurting my soul. No one does. I think of better days. I think of times when cancer wasn't in the forecast.

*****************************************************

His pink nose quivers with emotion and tears roll down into his silver goatee. It is always this way when I leave Michigan and it always makes me sad. I wave a final salut as we head down the driveway and he stands in the snow, shoulders drawn together and steam trailing from his mouth. We've grown emotionally closer since I live geographically farther away. My Papa, standing in the snow, regretting being a workaholic.

******************************************************

The phone rings twice, and I hear him pick up in surprise. "Well, hello there Rootie Kazootie!" I can see the corners of his mouth turning upwards. I am looking out on a shining silver sea, driving to work down the coast. "I just wanted to thank you, Papa, for being the best you could be." So cheesey, I know. But we both need to clear things up and say the things we haven't been able to say for so many years. "Thank you for being strict, caring, loyal, monogamous, hardworking, and generous!"

All of this drove me nuts, between the time I was a dime and a raspberry. Now I feel lucky to have had parents that cared enough to set rules. To give it their all, and to create a life so different than most children experience.

*******************************************************

"Get up, kiddo, it's the fourth of July!" I hear his voice through the screen. It's 7:30 a.m. and it's my favorite day of the year. My nine year old hairy legs swing over my trundle bed and my feet hit the floor. Purple nightgown off. Shorts and tshirt on. Barefeet padding around the corner on oriental rugs to the kitchen. "Hi Stephie," mom smiles. "Have some breakfast and I have a job for you." I already know what it is, and I wolf my cereal down as fast as possible. Outside there is a bundle of fifty small American flags on little wood sticks. I am in charge of decorating the yard and lining our driveway-a half mile long-with flags. Soon my feet are soaked with dew and shards of wet grass, and I can smell the charcoal burning in the spit. The day before I witnessed the horror of a kiddie pool filled with ice...and under the ice was a huge dead pig. My dad always went big. Big party, big house, big land, big pig. I screamed when he pulled back the tarp and made a growling noise...the pig laid quiet and clammy in it's icebath. He laughed, and I ran from the little house. Gross.

The fourth of July came with golf carts to zip around in, dunk tanks, egg tosses, big tents with blue and white stripes, a live band, three hundred adults, thirty kids jammed in a slightly yellowed jacuzzi, kegs, and of course the pig roasting all day. My dad's friend Al ate the ear off the pig one year when he got too drunk, and I was absolutely horrified. Such a display of machismo for a man with two gay sons.

Grams and Poppi always wore matching red, white, and blue outfits and he wore his "Uncle Sam" top hat. They were such a pair, joking and squeezing eachother.

********************************************************

I looked at my phone, and pressed the voicemail button. Ka'eo's voice wavered, full of emotion. The message wasn't good, and my heart felt pained as his voice filled me in on his grandmother's condition. I wondered how our hearts could feel so much joy and with the flip of a switch could feel so much pain. I wished I could fly in and put my arms around him.

********************************************************

"I'm ready," she said to me. The air in the hallway was stale. I looked out at the sunset from the hospital windows. "I want you to know I have had a happy life, and I have done all I need to do." Her white head bobbed emphatically, and I saw her veins standing out like blue spaghetti noodles through her paper thin skin. "Grams, if you are ready to go, then when you do I will be happy for you."

We hug, and I think to myself that I am really glad I came out to the hospital with them. She opens her purse and pulls out my Poppie's memorial program. It's dated Nov. 30, 2002. Five years she's gone on without him. We would never have expected it. A young twenty something picture of Poppie stares back at me, dimples etched in his smiling face. "How I miss him,"she murmured. Then coughed. Then the little bottle. I looked down at her, and realized we were both ready. Round and round, round and round. I am ready to begin with Ka'eo...again... as she is ready to end and be with her Tom ....again. Round and round.

It's a beautiful thing, this life and death.

Finding the tear in the universe

2007-02-04T22:57:00.000-08:00

a wormhole,
a shuddering tunnel of stars and time
compressing me, rocketing me forward.
the vacuous black noise stops,
and all is silent
and i can breathe throught the gills in my soul.
all is anwered here, after finding the tear, the tear.
it tasted salty, and just as it rolled from my humble heart to my lips,
i fell.
head over heels over head again.
and i lost my boundaries,
my static, my logic.
i slipped through security and got a preview of the nightscape,
the dream is real.

Ripcord

2007-02-04T00:22:00.000-08:00

tiny bubbles rise to the top of my veins
i am breaching too fast,
heart hammering,
unable to breathe,
consumed.
my fantasy seems to unravel a bit
is this the end?
is it intuition or is it fear?
selfish, selfish,
perhaps i should try slowing down.
i asked for uncertainty, did i not?
my mind races in the same fucking gerbil wheel.
my eyes glued to the phone to see if there is a missed call.
no.
two days.
fuck.

can you become dyslexic?

2007-01-31T15:02:00.000-08:00

i think i am starting to flip letters around when i type by accident. can this happen at 27?

Running in the rain

2007-01-31T14:20:00.000-08:00

grey hoodie pulled tight, who killed kenny comes to mind.
dog leash in one hand, water botter clutched in the other,
guiding the pup with a series of small taps like i would a horse,
quickly picking my path through the wet rocks,
everything is damp, air cold, breath steaming,
my t-shirt is soaking wet, my face like a furnace, the rain evaporating like droplets on a stovetop.
tssss.tsss.tsssss.
my legs are the ones running, my lungs don't burn,
i have never been more proud of being a nonsmoker.
i realize i am enjoying this rainy day run down the mountain.
silently, it feels like i am 12 after a soccer game,
relaxed, happy, pink cheeked.
burton looks up from his leash, wanting more.
ok, boy, let's kick it up.
i wish i could let him off the leash.
we fly down the path, rust color sand and brunt sienna rocks,
his blonde ears getting curly from the rain,
we catch up with amber at the car.
what a good day, we say in unison.
yes.

In love with love

2007-01-26T22:25:00.000-08:00

Tracy and I sat looking at the ocean today, sipping a glass of chilled sauvignon blanc from New Zealand. I palmed the bottom of the glass, allowing the heat from my hand to open the bouquet of the wine a bit further. Impatient, I know. The ocean smelled salty and cool, so unlike the summertime. We were out on the deck at Charlie's, and she was giving me her take on my situation.
I listened to her words silently, smiling a bit, and inside of my head I was dually listing all of the wine's characteristics. "Steph, I think you are a wonderful human being, but you are in love with love....." Nose: lemon zest, herbaceousness, forest moss, pine sap. "I think you may be more romantic than most in your thinking, and you are young..this is the time for risks...." Body: lean, high alcohol, low viscosity, low residual sugar, high extraction. "Remember the so-called boyfriend you had for nineteen days and you never even saw him naked?" We both laugh aloud, and my eyes squeeze shut with embarrassment. Yep, I may have jumped the gun on commitment just a tad on that one. Hilarious. Fuck it, I thought it would be fun to try the reverse of what the norm is...try taking it slow or something. Profile: tropical backbone, mango, lime, red grapefruit, wet tree bark, no grass, complex, balanced, medium finish, excellent paired with chilled seafood in a lemon-basil dressing...ooh...maybe a bit of sage on the finish as well.
Tracy's voice tunes back into my internal wine analysis...."Yes, Steph, I think you are in love with love."
That made me think all day. Then I read back on this blog and wondered silently...am I really that easily captured into love? I have certainly been inspired, aroused and curious about certain men, but never felt "in love" with any of them. I have not said "I love you" to anyone in two years. No one has said it to me, either. I pressed rewind on my lovelife and scanned for importance...I found close to nothing. And the feelings I have today for Ka'eo...they are in a new category. It doesn't even compare. And I am not saying this for anyone's benefit or to create insult. I just haven't really cared this deeply for anyone...dare I say it? Ever. How can that be, when I have yet to meet him in person....but I feel as though I JUST KNOW.
Tracy looked at me. "Well Steph, if anyone's gonna defy convention and find the love of her life surfing on myspace...it would be you!" She smiled, and belted out her characteristicly hearty laugh. "I know, Trace, it sounds pretty crazy. But in one week I am gonna get him from the airport, and we'll both just know. The moment we meet, we'll know. And either way, we will either be a perfect match or best of friends. So I realllly hope he doesn't have snaggle teeth...." We both howl. She sees I had to break the seriousness with some stupid humor..and I love it that I need not explain further. "So,how's the wine?" I ask. She likes it, and it is that simple. Not so simple for me. Perhaps that is why I haven't fallen in love like this before. "It's good" is not enough in life for me...all the details are left out in that critique. I need more...I am more, and he is more than my wildest dreams allowed me to forsee. Whoah! Pretty fucking sweet, man.

So am I in love with love...no,I don't see it that way. Am I inspired by love or the craving for it? Definitely. Have I always dreamt of finding Ka'eo...well, yes. And all the little pieces of the former lovers have made a bridge to this moment.

Comfort In Uncertainty

2007-01-22T16:03:00.000-08:00

I read a book two years ago or so, called "Comfortable With Uncertainty" by Pema Chodron. It was the kind of book that you keep by your bed during strange times, and randomly open to any given page to find the message intended for you by the universe. Well, that is what my friend Paula said. And I used her advice, doing the equivalent of a "bible dip" as mentioned in the book "Running With Scissors". If you have no idea what I am talking about it is ok. I just don't watch TV a whole lot.
Well, this theme of change has been evident in my life's entirety as of late. I feel like a different person now, as if I unzipped the little red jumpsuit clothing my heart and now it's streaking in the woods. So that is a good thing. I just wanted to express that taking small steps and allowing oneself to be in the present moment is the only way I got through those times of craziness. Being ok not knowing. Being able to appreciate simple beauty and learn to live again. To allow pain to sit with me quietly and not fight it, just allow it to be acknowledged and understood. Seeing the space, cleansing, and the lesson it carves into one's heart, mind, life. And not to be resentful, but thankful for the lesson. How are we to grow if not through trial and tribulation? (cliche, I know)

The kind of life I want to live is one of freedom, creativity, and essentially always containing the presence of uncertainty. Not in a natural disaster type of way, but in a "let's keep things interesting" type of outlook. I have worked on reviving the person I was as a child...with certain perks of being a woman, of course. Heehee.
Forgiveness has surfaced as a theme in many ways...mostly inner forgiveness begets external forgiveness, in terms of self and others. I have to admit, I have been through some wild times in 2005-2006. But it boiled off, leaving me with a list of things I understand better, never wish to do again, a sense of confidence, a sense of accomplishment, and readiness to move into a new phase and not look back wistfully. The crush of a noisy drunk bar doesn't entice me like it used to...the hangover from the end of 2005 has finally subsided. I never wish to smoke a cigarette again. I don't want to have a one night stand ever again. I want to spend my time on people, endeavors, thoughts, and activities that count. I want to make something of this life that isn't ordinary, isn't selling short, isn't a pipe dream. I thought of these things while climbing Iron Mountain today with Rachel, as we discussed where we are both at in life. I recommended the book my Chodron. Like passing the torch. Now it is her turn to whoop it up and shake things off.

Things I have learned that served me well through this time:
Learn to take risks, even if you are scared.
Learn to trust your guts, and follow them. It is your primal instinct and internal compass.
Don't lie, cheat, or steal. And let people in when there is heavy traffic...Jeez.
Be patient with yourself during a time of intense change, because you didn't make it there in one night and it will take some time to create a new you, a new body, a sharper mind, a more organized life...whatever. Just set your mind to it and don't give up.
Put out what you wish to receive. Simple karma.
And lastly, live a life of love.

The Wallpaper and Forever

2007-01-11T15:29:00.000-08:00

I close them.
There, like an old movie playing on a brick wall...
flickering images haunt me.
Familiar.
Open them.
The surround sound of my imagination blares louder.
NOW!
The bass resonates deep inside my ribcage.
NOW?
Now...it comes slowly, softly whispering itself in the breeze.
The same breeze that carries me to Louisiana.
The same steam that lifts off the last piece of paella,
the same breath that brushes my lips before we kiss.
As if my soul finally recognizes the time....
as if my body can't control the shaking inside,
as if my heart keeps repeating...again, it's happening again.

Slake my thirst

2007-01-04T15:20:00.000-08:00

a bead of blood
pushed up from the crack in my lower lip.
i covered it with my top lip, and tasted the metallic salt.
fell asleep.
i awoke
feeling tired, feeling weird.
we flew in our tin can, me crushed to the window by the obese man from indiana,
and i thought about water.
and i thought about the plastic bag holding my dangerous lipgloss,
recessed too far out of reach.
in a differetn zipcode, behind obese dude and over two rows in the overhead compartment.
surprised to find i had the window seat...preplanning is so great sometimes.
hot, cold, forced air ladened with germs.
too tired to be grossed out.
bunched my furry vest under my head and dove into a dream.
when my body is moving through space faster than it should at rest, the dreams come in sideways, with the movie reel set crooked.
a distant baby screams, and i remember being unable to speak, unable to comprehend the reason behind the stabbing pain in my ears.
in my dream my ears pop, and i can rest, and the baby can rest.
we all sleep like sweaty sardines, flying away from morning.
the cloak of excitement has become heavy and warm.
the stale air makes me drowsy with too much carbon dioxide.
then, i feel it.
the obese man settling into his seat, oozing his flesh and warmth over my arm.
i turn into a ball, tucking my feet in and burying my head into my makeshift pillow.
and then a voice says, "wehwcome two san diewgo."
and i rub the sleep out of my eyes, because i might see someone i am not ready to meet.
not yet, with four hours of sleep, bad breath, and bloodshot eyes.

PMS and the Holidays

2006-12-28T01:18:00.000-08:00

My breasts are heavy and swollen, like two overripe melons sitting on what used to be a flat stomach.
It hurts to be a woman, sometimes. It hurts to have the voice in my head tell me I am ugly when I know I am not.
I just feel ugly and bloated. My body hurts. The hormones recede and all of me is left to dry out in the blistering sun of self-degradation. Why? Waiting for estrogen.
I can walk myself slowly out of this feeling, depending on what else is under the surface.
But the holidays spin big webs of confusion at times, cocoons of sentimentality burst forth and spread colorful wings. They land on the Christmas trees and turn into little third grade angels. Baby's first Christmases. Old brown couches and ancient history spools out from the photoalbums in my head. Yellowed. Echoing...
And I move slowly, burdened by my body, the heavy grey air, the lack of snow, the rich food, the cramps telling me not to worry...you are just PMS-ing.
I cried during the family viewing of "The Family Stone". And it wasn't a little bit of crying either. It was full blown holiday tears.
Tears I have hidden away and locked up.
Aches I have powered through, and dulled with whisky and adventure.
Fear and broken promises from the last time I really fell in love and got hurt.
So I made a resolution...not for the new year, but for today.
Just to be. And in that moment, to release things I have been dragging around.
And talk myself through what hurts, what is irrational, what is real, and then let it go.
I want to let down my guard. I would like to love again, starting from the inside out.

Well, well. Sweeeet Cola!

2006-12-23T02:00:00.000-08:00

So I leave for Michigan soon...like 48 hours soon. And I am excited to be going there and chillin' in the mitten state. YEAH! I have so much to do until I leave, but oh well. I should not be procrastinating on this damn blog but ...here I am. Drinkin' a beer, typing to no one. And everyone. Sheesh.
So I did it. Went back to black hair and feel soooo much better. They call it Sweet Cola on the box. (too poor to go get it done in a salon, and I do it better anyways....) I love it. Mom's gonna bitch, but I love it. Twenty seven years old and mom cares about my hair color. Oh well. It was black when I was born....
Anyways, all I want for xmas is a new snowboard. And step ins. And boots. Shit! Throw in a new boarding jacket too. We'll see how this goes.

A bit of what's on my other side of the brain:

You.
Shift your eyes.
I walk out into the morning sun and blink as the night unravels.
It's gone, the magic is gone, we're gone.
All that is left is hollow, ringing with regret.
Not from me, but from you.
Look at me!
Just remind me why I chose to seek you,
to reveal myself, to be the fool.
How do you do this, like an amputation.
From reality.
Maybe just my reality.
I'm so fucking stupid.
I shoulda listened, but chose to believe.
The honeyed words of deep knowingness.
Why did I throw you the key?
So silly now, as you move onto the desert,
as you dry up and pull back to your mother.
As you choose to flourish under different rains.
And I didn't wholeheartedly want to be your fire...
raging until your pinecone shell tossed the seeds out.
I merely wanted to be a tear drop,
running down your face as you said goodbye.

The Return Of The Black Haired Bandita

2006-12-18T01:06:00.000-08:00

Yes, I have been told to go back to black.
Too many friends have told me it is better than the brown.
They gave me the "intervention" today during the football game. And wings.
Shallow and trivial in the world news of today, but nevertheless....
this is my life sometimes.
So I am going to be raven haired once again. Ciao for now, babies!!!

Window To Her World

2006-12-18T00:38:00.000-08:00

Luminescence, glowing candles of ochre and vermillion, everything clustered and dense.
Rich fabric, copious pillows, layers of smells creeping from the kitchen and making me drool.
No need for verbs, for grammar. Just poetry. Because that is what she is... living poetry.
Beautiful...too pretty for words. Graceful and down to earth and polished and real. A mixture of rustic refinement I have never seen.
And I admire her. And love her. And want to hang out in her space.
So that's all....just having fun at my big sister's house tonight. :)