10 days

Hands up.

To tell a tale

In all seasons, but especially fall, I enjoy a good story to sweep me away. Currently I am tangled up with two tribes in the Amazon, a 73-year woman who is pregnant, and a heroine who has pretty serious father issues. State of Wonder by Ann Patchett is doing the trick for my its-cold-outside-and-I-want-to-curl-up-and-read-all-day feelings. 

Some other lovely things for a rainy Sunday:

Alice and Wonderland Illustrations

Design Blogs that make me salivate at the gorgeousness created

 Sipping tea and sharing views

Getting to see this while driving home

"I wonder if I've been changed in the night? Let me think. Was I the same when I got up this morning? I almost think I can remember feeling a little different. But if I'm not the same, the next question is 'Who in the world am I?' Ah, that's the great puzzle!"   -Alice

 

 There is something about the surrounding fog that causes the evening light to radiate. 
 It is one of the most breathtaking things I have seen in my life.

Love, logically.

I recently started my Masters in Counseling Psychology, my program is rooted in Systems theory and transpersonal in its focus. There are many definitions for the word transpersonal, and because the field is young (35 years old) it is constantly expanding and transforming itself. I am constantly reflecting on how lucky I am to have found this place, it feels like home. Spirit and Soul are at the core of what I think about on a daily basis, and the first topic we were introduced to in this program was death. Experiential exercises including Psychosynthesis and Mindfulness thrust us into the depths of this dark topic, but while there I found something unexpectedly light, Love. 

Death and Life are rooted together so deeply. I have spent much of my first quarter reflecting on the loved ones I have lost, and I don't simply remember the grief I felt at their loss, I also remember the life they lived. More specifically I feel the love that they gave. In doing so, I think about the life I am living, the love I am giving. It is reflecting on death, that I see new life. 

As a child I felt very closed off to love. Wary of trusting the solidity of others, much of my poetry and prose is an exploration of those feelings. It is strange, I write from a place that is so guarded in order to transcend those feelings. And transcend I have. In these few short weeks, writing and reflecting on past work, I have unfolded in new ways. I am excited in new ways for life, and the experiences I will share with my loved ones. 


As a previously defensive and cynical lover of love, I need to see the logic here. Emotionally powerful states of mind have logic to them. I have come to see that the purpose of love is to come to know another deeply, and contribute to their wellness and dreams. In order to do this, you must question yourself how you may I come to know this person, how can I contribute. It must be consciously considered. Listening to this person, intuitively taking in this information is not something that happens on it own, you must care. In order to truly care, you must transcend your own selfishness and egocentricity. In my experience, this is tough work, our ego is more pervasive than we know. Ego roots itself, deep. But transcending this sense of “I” to share a piece of yourself with another gives life a vibrancy that is untouched by any other emotion.  

You are irreplaceable. 


May all beings be happy.

Reunification

She went to the attic, up so high as she dove into shadows
jumping into them, as if they were crisp leaves.
Rejoicing over the fullness 

So dim the light- she grasps the walls
hearing all the while,
 You are held.

Fire 
Illuminate
Grows higher.

Covering the walls, the ceiling, the floor
pages and pages of our stories

Sit with me, lets breathe them in. 

See
and be seen. 

Once these days pass, I will still feel your love
because you are standing on your own two feet, seeing me
letting me see you.


My heart deserves to be loved back.

Onward

I wish I could sit here mindlessly 
and catch up with you. 
But misery, I have some moving on to do.

"Among them are killers"


A corrupted form of an American Indian word, Yosemite translates into "among them are killers." So how can a place rooted in violence, defined by such wild darkness, bring me peace? 


It is a summer tradition to plan a vacation, our destination this year: Yosemite. A close friend from college is from Mariposa, which is a mere 30 minutes from one of the most breathtaking national parks our country has to offer. When I told her of our plans to travel to her backyard, she promptly asked for my address. A week later I received a fat priority mail envelope covered in mountain sketches with this quote: "The clearest way into the universe is through a forest wilderness" -John Muir. Inside that package was every possible piece of information on the park and handwritten tabs of all of the must see spots. An insiders guide to Yosemite, in other words: Gold. Few people have the ability to make me feel completely seen- and Amy is one of them. I could feel her thoughtfulness before even opening her package. From the start I knew this was going to be an amazing trip. 


My mom has taught me how to travel, and we have become quite good at doing it together. Sure, sharing a bathroom is not the top of my morning (she feels the same way, of this I am SURE), but our system has not failed us once. We know how to get the most out of an experience, and armed with Amy's package we began our three day trip to Yosemite. 


Few things bring me the peace that hiking does. But this time, it was different. This was not the familiar dirt of Sonoma or Mt. Tam, this felt massive, like it was telling me from the moment I stepped into the valley that it was going to own me for the next few days. Willingly, I allowed it to. From our first evening taking in the history and falling asleep to the sound of running water outside our window, to rolling through the valley on cruisers, to our day hike to Vernal and Nevada Falls, it owned me. 


Fall in love with your surroundings, it will not fail in putting things into perspective. It seems that every now and then we all need to be reminded of the wisdom that comes from the darkness, from the wilderness. 


no smile compares to
a smile in love; no feeling
is justly expressed 

No Traction

Upstairs an attic,

     upstairs an addict. 

Outside she swings, 

to and fro, to and fro.

Suspended love, is still love in her eyes. 

The heart who had no bones

We fall in
each time cursing our ignorance.


Roll up your sleeves, perseverance comes invited or not.
It just depends on how long you would like to suffer.


Crippling doubt aside- acceptance. 

The seconds before the fall

Paralyzed I stand
and stare, you, once soothing, are suspended towards my afternoon sky.


Coming down to rain on me. 
But will you? 
It seems you have yet to decide. 


Collecting thoughts (or are they things?)
I wonder as I race through the cabin.
What is it that could be more important than my life?


A mostly empty suitcase?
I leave things behind as your lullaby stops, 
replacing it is a chilling silence. 


Filling with complete admiration and respect, 
I will wake before you come crashing down.


But not before I have heard you, felt you, loved you. 

Look up

How can I be moved when I am in pieces?

My eyes remain unchanged as you weigh your odds. 

"I see you" I say

and we kiss goodbye. 

"The risk it took to blossom" for Maria

Through the light of intuition lie
a voice soft and sure.
Just like the moon, comforting and sweet,
showing me the way I may shine.
Guiding my  heart to the center of this world.
Expressing my gratitude is meaningless, 
unless I do it dancing under your soft glow.


We are all home.
We are all love,
You whisper, "All good things."

tunnels underground

You came to me in a dream
allowing me to shoulder the weight of your soul.
To feel what leaving means
To smell the sweetness that holds your favorite memory,
                                                                   one last time.


What a gift it is to know you,
    even in death. 

untitled

The miles blend to one as I walk beside you
There is nothing past this.


I crave a finale, the twists of this story, the climax
Awareness of beginning, always


My craving dissolves into the simplicity of
                                                             your lips 
                                                              and mine.

olsen overlook

open your heart to a city
      and it will engulf you
balancing on greens and seas I feel you in the air, on my skin

It is in the stillness that I find ease,
listening to the chords that balance my core.

watching you play in your new world
      taking steps backward, no regard for forward momentum
      you trust that it is within you
      with clarity I am envious of


We create walls that keep us from ourselves
only to spend our lives learning that the key to freedom is experience.

forgiveness

I am of you
I take nothing from you
Your void has been the plot for overgrown happiness
I dream of sorrow overtaking yours
              even after all of this, I can still say I love you to the stillness. And mean it, father.

Pacific Grove

I was saved by the sea. Shifting through the rock that surrounds me, rooted deeply. A tree.

It is no longer a dream
    come home Janet, come home.

moved.

                your words, a voice
          inspired free flow of honesty


                 Perfect static energy, you hold my heart.
                  How can you move the universe while standing still?
                   I want to swim in your eyes and hold you in my arms.

doubt will sicken the mind
and arrest the soul

dream catcher, who are you?

I went to see the dark owl who spins my symbols into being
You can have anything you want, he tells me
Silent friend, who are you? You're so intimately woven into my childs fog
One circular bullseye marking, making, leaving itself inside my consciousness 


From a place within something screams, "Relieve me!"
and so I do and while I watch it fall I smile
Rotating, expecting the ever present memory of gravity
yet, I have to grasp towards the sky for my soul


Now I am here
My feet leaving their impression in the earth, I dance to the vibration of your slow drum

wholeness is: finding the peace awakened when doing work to better humanity


                         if you are peacefully unconcerned, then there is no hope.

feelings right now

"cause i built you a home in my heart, 


            with rotten wood, it decayed from the start"


-ben gibbard

...

listen

unstiffen your young bones
                                 move.

challange yourself to move through

    any blocks you may image are there.

silvi

a special poem written for me by a favorite poet of mine. take a second to look at her work: thepoetrystore.net








looking


to go forth and continue
finding, you must know
that who you are is
who you have always been because
like the light
over this horizon
you are always
changing,
staying the same,
making your way
toward the infinite.

share

your soul with those who remind you of the goodness within it

glue stick

the strangest thing i have ever found in a panty drawer, you?

what beauty love brings

uplift me

Recent events have left me, at times, feeling like an indescribable weight has pounded my spine down to nothing but bone to bone. No space. Rigidity and heaviness loomed in the months that passed. 
I started searching for ways to remedy this state I was beginning to worry was permanent. What I found along the way was that no state is fixed, if you allow yourself to explore the varied nature of your experience. I had pushed so hard against the pain, that I had allowed it to build up, becoming an all encompassing force in my life. 
I began writing everyday. 
I found a theme throughout my growing collection of writings-- they were more often than not reflection on lyrics that resonated with me or pictures/descriptions of live music experiences that had left me feeling something. I noticed that when I became most at ease was when I was writing about my experiences and connections to music. 
This is not unique, I am fully aware. But because I loathed the idea of a diary I had never had a place that held my writings neatly together. I was beginning to notice how all encompassing music had become in my life. 
Something as simple as a black bound notebook brought to light what I needed. 
The lyrics of Zach Rogue come to mind, "The music that I want, is cheaper than therapy" 
I have been to many shows in the past year, all have left me with a high untouchable by any substance. 
The last show I attended was particularly inspiring. I left unable to stop contemplating UP. The catchy opening song of the GIVERS rang through my head non stop over the next few days. Uplift. That was the perfect word to describe the sensation I feel while being in the presence of keys, strings, melodies, and particularly mesmerising percussion--it was as though my vertebrae had been infused with milky way goodness that expanded to allow for all the space their little bones hearts could ever desire. 

vibrancy

you were bright, but brief
  singing me to sleep with your lyrical, ignorant 
                                                 bliss.

mud

palms grip moss. 
I balance atop a jagged rock. my feet slosh through the mud making a sound that I make note to remember because it puts a strangely euphoric smile on my face, like its promising to leave its muddy residue all day long.


Its mucky, but I like it. Its a residue that says, "I have been some place beautiful." 


I take a seat on the bench that holds many memories. Not in a sentimental mood, I focus on anything but those memories. I stare at the dry branches of the trees overlooking the city. These branches resemble disfigured arms- they are strangely beautiful to me. They make me think of the dozens of aspects of our being, some are not pretty, some are smooth and inviting, some are strong and welcome support, some snap off when they are no longer useful- if we let them. But nonetheless these aspects are rooted, over years and years, not going anywhere-- unless you let someone cut them down


but that choice is yours.