a visit from my self.

While meditating today, I was visited by an old friend- my real self.

There isn't always 'time' to let her in.  Simply saying that, I wonder about all of the other menial things in life I do allow time for.  If not myself, who is important enough for my time? My friends, the guy in my life, my emails, my job, and lord knows, the lure of default discontent.
I've always struggled with commitment. Things always seem to bore me after a while. I want to do things i've never done, and keep searching, looking, shopping, discovering.  Commitment in romance is coming more naturally to me, and i've made such headway with sitting in something long enough to grow from it.  I've stuck with my last few jobs longer than I had wanted to, and I'm going on 3 1/2 years in L.A., as of this week, with my last escape attempt over two years ago.  I've learned the value of commitment, and i'm on my way to trusting it.  But how did I somehow forget my commitment to who realy needed me? myself.

In an attempt to have a more diligent meditative practice, I've found that a great time for me, that is easy to remember, is right after the shower.  It is a time, when given the luxury of silence, I can look at the bathroom floor as a safe haven for diving in.

Home alone today, the opportunity presented itself.

I don't know how much time passed before I realized she had arrived. But I knew my real self was there with me. She's a character, that self of mine- I love her so much. First things first, she reminded me not to take anything too seriously, and as my body relaxed with my breath, i awoke, really, in the stillness.  My hands woke up, too, and is of to say "hello, we're all yours! We're your own hands!"...rose up, one on top of the other, and placed themselves on my heart with an ease as if to also say "remember us?"
At the moment, my hands are typing away on my keypad, and reaching for my coffee cup every so often.  It's hard to believe that at that time they had so much to say.

So, as my hands gracefully showed me what they needed to, I showed up, too. I wasn't in prayer as I sometimes am- I was consoling someone I didn't know needed it.
This girl I found myself consoling has been aching and sore. She has been needy, lost, but most of all just very, very confused.
She had found herself in love again recently.  She loves being in love. With him. It's a place she loves to be. But as she found herself there, she couldn't avoid the darkness that also existed, looming there as it always has. waiting for her.
The pain is something she manages every day. Her pills she takes for her heart come in the form of other people, and other experiences, that she finds joy in loving and in finding gratitude for.  The pills come in the form of the things she does every so often to love herself, like yoga, or a massage, or a long, hot bath.
She's taken a few pills lately from a man, who says he loves her. A man she was beginning to believe. A man she was even thinking she might trust.

This girl has had a rocky road with trust. She never wanted it to create bitterness in her. She could see how much misery was in the eyes of all the people whose hearts were closed to trust. And she knew she never wanted that to happen.

This man that she has thought about trusting is a man who has earned it. Recently, however, something challenged the security she was building. The man did nothing wrong, but when she confronted him, he misunderstood her need, and dismissed it.

As she sat on this bathroom floor, with her hands on her heart, she knew what she had to do.  She sunk in, opened that heart of hers with her own love, and told herself that it was ok.  That she knew she was hurting, that she knew why, and that she would always be there to take care of her.

On the bathroom floor, the girl placed her past in front of herself and forgave it. With closed eyes and an open heart, she could finally let go of the need to be strong.  She felt her body, over the years grown from something small to something muscular and fierce.  She felt the stamina she had built to work hard and jump high, slowly but gently release. She saw the visions of her learnings; when she learned how to make money, how to stand tall, how to live alone, how to walk alone.  And she felt compassion for that girl who needed to do all of that, who had done it with an aching heart, and who had done it desperately.

Deep down, that girl who once counted on someone that let her down- knew that there was no need to keep looking for someone else who never would.  She was there, alone, on the bathroom floor, and it was she who had always been there, and who would always be.

Forgiving herself, she forgave all others. And the open heart that allowed her to do so, softened so that she could do more.  Her soft heart is now ready to love someone who would love to love her.  Ready to begin the commitment of a lifetime. Perhaps even the commitment to the man. There she was, readier than ever for the commitment to herself.

the baby in my life

I watched Baby Miss Mina today for a whole hour by myself.

This is big for any and all of the following reasons:
1. i haven't babysat in several years, and the responsibility one feels for someone else's child was a feeling I had kind of forgotten. It is intense.
2. Baby Miss Mina is only 10 months old, and is blessed to have a full time mom, my friend Darcy, so she hasn't been exposed so much yet to being on her own.
3. Baby Miss Mina is really cool, drop-dead gorgeous, and very well dressed.. making her a super-cool baby to hang out with.

Yes, she fully turned around and stared at me through the little window of the stroller top for a while as i walked her...but then obviously deciding i was cool, turned back around. (or just got tired.) After that, we went to get chai lattes, (latte) looked at roses and birds of paradise, then pointed at them, and then sat stationary for a whole 10-20 minutes (who's counting) because i locked the stroller and didn't know how to undo it.

No, i never took her out of the stroller. Why mess with perfection???
Mina, Me, and the Stroller are on the road to trust. I can just tell.

job searching

I am almost positively sure that i've come to the crossroads in 'career' more than about 98% of people on the planet. And i'm 28. All of you lucky ones knew a little bit more about what you wanted to study in school, or what you wanted to do to make a living, and a lot more about how to make it happen.  how'd you all know?

I've always been envious of people who have their paths clearly marked.  Of course, on a higher plane, I understand that we each have our own things to work through, find, and master. One of my biggest issues- the one that leaves me feeling lost and in tears at least once a year- is the path marked "career." First of all, it doesn't help that I'm as free-spirited as i am.  In other aspects of my life, my freeness and liberality is embraced; cheered on, even. It's America! In love, in art, in perception of life. My mind and heart are open.  But in America, the same place where freedom and openness are supported, one's career, credentials, finances, and achievements are honored, in a way, more than what they themselves are experiencing.

I like to think that If my time were up tomorrow, I'd feel accomplished in what i've learned on the human plane of love. (The subject I've incidentally found myself studying, in depth, throughout my 20's.)
Yes. So, I'd like to think that if credentials of such were respected, I'd have a Master's already. A doctorate.  The profoundness of what i've learned about relationships, about growth as oneself, about all there is to fathome of the divine...I'm proud of.

My focus and pride has never been on my own academia. I got good grades. if I wanted to. In college, I thought it was a shame to ace a test on a book I never read just because I owned the Cliff's notes. What had I really earned, had I not absorbed the story itself? An "A" did nothing for my growth. And neither did my agreement of importance of the books' words themselves, with he who wrote the exam.


Because of my view on this and other things, my contemporaries, for one thing, have believed me to be from another planet.  Especially since I was raised by a stock broker and a housewife.  in the midwest.
I can't explain why. Learning is bliss. I always enjoyed it. And because of this craving for newness and what I don't know- I've dappled in so many things.  I studied English for my degree. I took so many 'impractical' art courses that I got a minor. I was 3 credit hours shy of finishing a business minor, because I flunked Finance. daughter of a stock broker, i know..
I went on to find my first job as an "in the meantime." I got the job by wearing some cool shoes to a Chamber of Commerce breakfast with some suits.  A dude there commented on them and offered me a job at a sleek, high end hotel in St. Louis. So, ya, I got a job because of the shoes I walking in. And I respected the guy for his good taste in shoes and his generosity, more than the prestige of his title.
I worked the front desk, but got to wear anything I wanted. Parents: great that i have a job.  Me: i get to wear whatever i want, and not work a 9-5. score..
I then graduated to a real person job. A line developing assistant for a shoe company! Cool! This time, I could wear whatever I wanted, and I'd get high-fives for doing it. But when it came to designing the shoes, business wasn't being won with where my mind wanted to take it.
I left to experience nightlife. Working in restaurants and bars. That's how it started.. I had odd hours. could party when i cared to, had days off to roadtrip wherever i wanted. And found a whole new dimension to wearing whatever I wanted.
The rest is history.  Since then, I've answered phones at a beverly hills spa, waited tables at a French bakery, auditioned as an actor, taught pre-school, worked for a yoga company selling yogawear. I got certified to teach yoga dance classes, and got so close to opening my own yoga studio that i had a lease in front of me to sign.  And then the ultimate: I cocktailed.
I miss writing. Which is why i do this.
I've helped design rooms of friends' houses. I've created playlists for, and taught classes that have people tearfully thanked me more afterwords. I paint, I tinker, I design. I've started writing a children's book. I give good advice. I love it all. And more than anything, I love helping others find light in their lives. Someday, I know, it will click. And i'll know how to use my gifts the best way I can.
In the meantime, I found my first job as an "in the meantime" and have been "in the meantime ever since."

botox at 28

All of a sudden when I turned 25, my face started acting up. So, i had to figure out what blemishes were. I'm convinced that it had more to do with years upon years of birth control pills- (those trouble makers) but still- my body was now producing something that made me break out. So, i went to a dermatologist for the first time at 26, and there ya go, no more problems.

It was only natural to see one again recently, since I hadn't been in a while. i decided to find one out here in LA, mostly to have my Nordic skin looked at after working on a southern california rooftop in the sun all summer long.  I was expecting a scolding for not having worn 80 sunblock.

Instead, I was met with a few daunting questions, and fingers feeling around on my face.

"HAVE YOU EVER CONSIDERED BOTOX?"

Don't get me wrong- I wasn't overly phased, and I didn't go home and cry while staring at my reflection in the mirror. Of course, I had never considered Botox at 28.  Nor was I going to.

This is LA. And this is a doctor's office. And this doctor just so happens to have "cosmetic" somewhere in her dermatological title. So, no, i wasn't surprised.  This is her living, these are her techniques.

My heart did not break for myself. And for this, I'm thankful, and even a bit surprised. So, no- i didn't worry about it, or play myself a sad aging tune.  Instead, I thought of all the other 28 year olds that had sat in the same seat as I did, had come in for this or that, a zit here, a rash there, etc.. and had their faces prodded and poked by a doctor who then would tell them that she could "fix that" if they ever wanted to.

So, ya, my heart broke a little for those girls. They're out there somewhere, probably not looking at their faces like they used to. They may see an imperfection until they can't stand to see it anymore.

And so, those girls will go back to that doctor with cosmetic in her name, and have the procedure- not so that they can necessarily see perfection, but just so they can see something not imperfect.

It's these little lessons I learn along the way that reaffirm my gratitude for the work I do as an instructor.  I like to think that every time a student of mine leaves my class, they feel a bit more love of self than they did when they walked in.

And if they do, my job may not be grandiose and huge, but my job is pretty cool.

feelings- don't feel them so much

I am such a self-imploding, self-indulgent glutton, that i sometimes get lost in my feelings. I let my mind race, and the tornado whirl, and pretty soon, it's a miracle if I can find my way out.  The art of 'getting out' i now realize, is not as imressive as the art of 'not getting in.'
In childhood, getting upset was almost a cycle.  I would be disapointed by someone, and off i'd go into my room. painting, drawing, writing, listening to my collection of Beatles albums. It was the escape of what i didn't know i couldn't handle yet about life.
Now, it is the art of not having to go to 'my room' to paint or write...but it is most definitely the reason why I can.
And now, as I've built the harness to my emotions with the strength of heart, I can learn the lessons I need to, have the relationships I desire, and make headway with this grandiose world with which i was once at war.

help: life is funky

No one ever tells you that your 20's are just as gut-wrenching and torcherous as they are fun.

I could've sworn that growing up, the 20's seemed like ones' glory years. I always thought it was the 'prime' of life... it's when everyone looks their best, does the most, and...da.da.daaaaa....GETS MARRIED.

It was the predictability of life laid out for me that created my first rebellious move..a literal move.. to LA. Somehow, despite the underlying dream behind my departure to Hollywood, I figured i'd also conveniently escape the monotony of what, inevitably, my family was expecting from me.

After all, isn't it a little too coincidental that EVERYONE finds their spouse at that golden age of 20-something..and the natural course is kids at 30, family at 40, retirement by default after that..

I think that some of that actual trend is the biological clock's fault. We find what we need to procreate. when we can.

Contemporary society has a lot of exceptions. Exceptions, now, are not only acceptable, but prevalent. People are waiting. Women are choosing education, and following thier own paths. Men are off the hook a bit, with the blossoming concept of dual-income.

Women are having babies well into their 40's, and my friend D's favorite show, Cougar Town brilliantly argues 40 is the new 20.

So the 20's can be lived a bit less pressured, right?

Hard to say.

When you're in your 20's there's so much going on, and not an abundance of direction..which is what we're raised to expect. Suddenly, if you're going at a normal rate of speed, at the mere age of 23, you're out of an educational structure that has done the dancing for you. So..you're free, and it;s time to rush into the structure of a job. What happens when you free float...

i suppose something like what's happened to me.

Lots and Lots of loose ends!

But here we are, in our 20's, with the damn clock ticking, horomones gushing, (especially with girls on birth control) and hunger for money, success, and survival. The added dimension, which i'm not sure everyone can even see- is the unique threshold of enlightenment and spiritual awareness that people are finding whether they like it or not, can't avoid..

It's a collison of many things; this day in age. And this age .

So, ya, it's hard to say.

I have many friends who wonder why they're still single at 28, as the biological clock tick-tocks away.

On my 28th birthday, a guy at work congratulated me on the official commencement of my eggs shriveling.

And there are days, i'm afraid, I never escaped at all.

yard work in st. louis

love it. this girl blogging in chicago..

she nails it when talking about doing yard chores growing up.

http://www.myeverydayadventures.com/2009/09/09/childhood-chores/

I, too, grew up on a nice sized piece of land, but in a suburb of st. louis. In a relatively well-to-do neighborhood, there i was, at 7 years old, already driving the tractor around. That was my favorite. Getting to drive the tractor. Picking up sticks, i hated, just like her. But at least the yard felt cleaner after doing it. And i suppose leaf raking was relatively satisfying. but painful.

And leaves are a lot heavier than sticks. So when those big, blue tarps got full of sticks, no problem. But leaves? Sweat & tears while my weak little arms tried pulling those things up to the street or back to the creek. And then trying to manage the big piles, consolidating the smaller piles into bigger ones.. (god.)

Mowing the lawn was awesome. And bringing my walkman out there was always a thrill, until it would get taken away because i couldn't hear anyone yelling at me or hear any of the sticks getting eaten by the blades. I broke the mower a few times. Just about every time, actually.

The day wouldn't be complete without my dad being on the ground with tools, sweat pouring off his forehead as he tried to pull whatever obstruction from the blades i managed to suck up in there. Tarp lanyards, dog bones, but mostly logs and sticks. And i'd always be standing there, just waiting to get back on the tractor. With my walkman, of course, wondering what was taking so long.

Lessons in Love

I told a new friend recently, after she recognized that we must be soul mates, that indeed we are, because her first gift of life was love. I knew this because it was mine too.

See, I believe that we are all born with an inherently easy gift. It is the first thing we think of when we acknowledge ourselves, our beginnings, and the predominant trait in our hearts that we grew into the world with. What others’ are, I sometimes imagine must be different. But mine was love. And so was my friend’s. And if I’ve known you, even met you, I’ve wondered about yours too.

From the moment of my conception, I believe I was blessed with love. This means, that not only is it my favorite thing to do, (isn't it everyone's?) but it’s the easiest; and yet…it’s the greatest schasm of lessons on my path that I am here to learn., The most powerful, still, to cultivate, nurture, and grow. Loving and learning of love can be both my greatest bliss, and my most profound sorrow.

So, ultimately, I know that I am hardly the only student of Love, nor alone in awe of its' greatness, nor one of a few lucky love souls. I am one of many.

Love is not only my greatest blessing.

It is everyone's.

If my work on this earth helped other souls realize this too, perhaps the ease of the gift for me, in itself, would be honored.

When I was younger, I looked through eyes that saw everything as love. It was aging that reflected my growth out of the dangerously naïve nature of a girl spoiled in love, unprepared for the blossoming of mature, rough love I was to endure.

Each experience with love more painful, less guided than the last.

Now, accepting all of these hard earned rocky turns, I am better able to love out of my awake and conscious mind than I ever could have blindly. And what were once rose colored glasses, are now a seasoned and refined visual prescription into what more can be received from keeping a once closed heart open.

Love what's easy, love what's tough

The guilt i feel for the ease at which everything is happening reminds me of the blame for everything else I feel when the difficulties challenge me.

How i affect and treat others during times of bliss and crisis is a conscious art, just as the way I treat myself.

I am thankful for this time. And as I'm filled with gratitude for an obvious gift, I question where it was when the inobvious were present. in the same way, I've learned of love as something easy to do and enjoy when with a partner, friend, or pleasant soul. But how easy is it to forget the importance and strength of love when faced with someone or something that needs it most.

love, again.

What i've called forward, i've received. I am thankful and surprised. And I am in love.

My birthday (part III)

Carefree, there I was, bachelorette surrounded, never caring less. I was now in my swimsuit, and thinking my day couldn't really get better. If my birthday ended now, I'd still see it as the best one yet.

The carefree-ness affected my vision, too. I walked right past the sign that read "MINERAL TUB WILL TARNISH SILVER JEWELRY." No worries. I knew i had none. I wasn't a jewelry wearer anyway. Gosh, I'm pretty low maintenance, huh? Now, post-massage ecstacy delerium has me thrilled and proud to not be wearing jewelry. My wooden boat doesn't count, does it? Not the wooden boat i wear around my neck that has broken so many times, it's a conglomerate of something wooden that with a good facelift may again resemble something once pretty. And, no, those aren't extra sails on the boat- it's gorilla glue..

So there I am, perched in my very first hot spring, wooden sailboat happily afloat. And as I looked down at my body through the bubbling water, to my surprise, there it was. I saw my hand lifting out of the water, towards my face. There, on my pinky, was my gold friendship ring shining, and beneath it, my silver elephants black as coal. My love ring from Him. Tarnished, dulled, and left dark by the waters healing me. My new day of healing had begun.

My trip to the cafe shortly after was not the gluttoness indulgence I had anticipated. I easily passed the nachos and calzones and walked to a table in the sun with a salad, fresh, juicy berries, and, of course, a glass of champagne.

My black ring sits on my hand now, as I write, a dark reminder of all that's gone, and what now must die. As i toast myself with my champagne, I feel the sun shining down on me and this mountain i'm at the foot of, taking me back, taking me away, lifting the pain. I've waited patiently for my hope to return, and with my eyes squinting towards the mountain top, I can see it coming.

My birthday (part II)

Connie's waiting for me outside the room, and as I thank her, i feel a special glow from my eyes and heart. I hug her as if she is a dear friend, because she now is. As she's holding me, i muster "thank you." She pulls away and says "I knew as soon as I put my hands on you that you needed me. I prayed for you while you were on that table, and I know that everything is going to be ok."

I walked away, and to the hot springs, still in the dress I was wearing as I arrived.

Only a few hours earlier, I had answered the phone with my best friend on the other end. I told her how much I wanted to be excited about my birthday. Trying to think of what to do that I could get excited about doing. First, it was the wineries in Santa Barbara, but my head kept flashing to twilight, each sip of wine bittersweet with knowing I'd need to somehow drive home. "Maybe a massage," I told her. As we hung up, and I summoned the vitality it took to get out of bed, I searched "spas, LA.." Such and such Westwood, Beverly Hills, Santa Monica. No thanks..

Halfway down the page, I noticed the words "hot springs." In LA? Not possible..

60 miles outside, to be exact. And as I continued to scroll down the page, there were the words that got me dressed; "Free admission on your birthday."

I was in the car 10 minutes later, in a dress, with only my purse, and a swimsuit stuffed inside. Driving down the 10, I called to book a service. The man at the hot springs wished me a happy birthday, but, he said "the spa has been booked solid for weeks." Little did i know, this place was a secret to enough people that a Saturday in June was assuredly not the time to go. Bachelorrette parties, anniversaries..

But the car wouldn't turn around. It passed exit after exit, continuing on course. Ok. So i was still going. At least i could sit in the mineral hot springs. That would be cool. Never done it..

After half an hour on the 10, I realized the directions were leading me straight into the desert. I should've guessed at this point that the experience would be magical. In the past three years, the desert is where i've gone to heal. Never realizing that each trip would change me profoundly.

As I parked the car, and walked up, I heard the voices of the bachelorette party people and anniversary party people, all probably conversing with eachother. I wouldn't be fitting in here today, would i...

At the front desk, I got a high-five from the guy checking me in. "Happy Birthday!"

I told him that i was here to sit in the spring, and he explained that there were several for me to sit in. I pictured myself, gracefully spending the day going from one hot tub to the next, never getting bored of the hot water or the bachelorettes.

I saw a menu for the cafe, and knew a gluttoness lunch would be exciting. Maybe i'll even sip champagne in the hot spring, excuse me, hot spring(s).

I confirmed with the high-fiver that all services at the spa were booked solid, and he confirmed with a regretfull nod and an expression i can best describe as "angst." Then, as he double checked, I saw the blue glow of the screen illuminate the angst into ecstatic disbelief. "Can you be changed in 10 minutes?!!"

"Um. ok?"

A big, blank area in the massage schedule.

"This never happens.." I had heard something similar from the dude on the phone when i was driving. The cancellation policy was 24 hours, meaning appointments rarely got cancelled the same day, as the cancellee would be charged in full.

But, alas, someone had done it.

And in 10 minutes, there would be a massage therapist with an empty table. for me.

Turns out, it was Connie.

ANd after my time with her, as she claimed that it was a miracle that I was there when I was, I agreed with her.

birthday

I didn't quite realize the magic that unfolded for me today until the first few tears ran under the paper towel covering my eyes and Connie the massage thereapist was holding my left palm in hers.

Ah, the sun came down just for a moment now. Peeked around the side of the cloud cover that's been gently resting at the foot of this desert mountain hot springs with me. The lyrics to Going to California remind me that this is a place where i know my dreams are safe.

And, as Ruby Tuesday has always told me, "Lose your dreams and you will Lose your mind."

Right here, right now...no place i'd rather be. It was everything I wished for but didn't know I found.

As I woke up this morning alone, on my birthday, I knew that the day could be rough. I had made no plans and had no one to share it with. I took the day off work, just by default, because working on my birthday would be the only thing worse than spending it alone.

But i soon realized it wasn't up to me.

With my eyes open for only a few moments, and a million unfortunate, self-pitying thoughts already well on their way into my heart, I heard the phone ring.

There was my best friend, J, talking me awake, even when i didn't want to be. From 2000 miles away, she assured me I wasn't entirely alone. We talked about wine country. I thought about the feeling of wine, sun, and my "breeze." That was, after all, what I craved more than anything. My breeze.

Throughout the breakup, logical thought didn't take me where i needed to go. I avoided my practice, my realtionship with God, with myself. I avoided my "yoga" in every sense of the word, and I avoided all the paths of self nurturing I could have taken. I allowed myself to walk a rocky path of self pity, guilt, and contempt; all disguised as the processes of forgiveness and deep love.

As I lay on the massage table, eyes covered, Connie pressed gently on my chest, pulling it open and wider with the pulling apart of my shoulders. I felt the darkness sitting there, and I was ashamed of the strength in her hands it took to move it.

I realized, then, that the magic had shown up for me on my magic day.

Without knowing it, I had chosen to love myself. I had chosen to heal, and I had chosen to once again be new.

I had a choice today, and knew what I wanted it to look like. But on that massage table, I felt my breeze in the most unlikely of ways. In the darkest of rooms, from the slowest of movements, and in the stillest of air, I felt the strongest of breezes.

the gift of song

it funds. takes me away. it saves. tears apart the softness of the heart. it burns, and stings, as it takes me personally just as i take it,

it sweeps in like waves of tingling heat, wafting through the pieces of me only it can touch. and as it never hesitates to intoxicate the flesh, it makes love to me like nothing else can

living for breeze

i want to end up by the water- in the south pacific. with rope wrapped lamps and fresh fish, and mermaids and motorcycles.

iwant to end up not barefoot but with even parts strappy tropical sandals and boots. horses and boats. motors under my feet. land and water to ride and maybe a man. sun=kissed. breezy. 

laughter and easy breeze. yellows whites and greens. daffodils and orchids. ivy. and seeds.

what?

yesterday i woke up from a nap crying...and today i woke up humming zippadeedoo-da.

down town

standing alone

people are often not seen as individuals.

the outer dimensions, the people surrounding them, the partner at their side.

as i stand alone, i feel questions on the faces of others. there is so much unknown about a girl on her own in the world.

i feel the questions of the eyes burn. i feel judgement, curiosity, and ignorance even through layers of thickened skin.  skin i've earned as a warrior of how i've often stood.

eyes see, and eyes judge.  it is what a being is surrounded by that creates the picture. the only picture that human eyes are able to see.

at this juncture, i will stand ever strong by the side of those I love. 

But it's now that i choose to stand alone.

angles

at some angles, when i look at myself, i still see someone unrecognizable. unknown.

at the strangest of angles, i can still see the smallest of girls.

dead on, with a quick qlance, i sometimes see someone perhaps resembling a woman.

the first time i ever noticed it was..uncomfortable. i don't feel ready to see her yet.

i only hope that eventually, i'll be strong enough to hold all of my angles. that i learn to appreciate each one. and that none of them go away. so when i'd like to, i can see this being however she needs to be seen. 

2am mojave lost

6 rows towards mountains, facing pepper trees. lot 3. aisle across from lot 2/horse crossing sign. right past flags to left when walking towards big row of biggest palms

no origin

definitions, suffocation, aware and open eyes. look to me oh terror face. my my my. 

lover and laughter, grace and appeal. lift those others up i tell you. heaven's the deal.

waking up slowly

i'm no longer allowing myself to wake up slowly. 

it's the slowness of the transition from dream to reality that with such ease stirs up the gentle tornado of mind.

my mind is at times my worst enemy. the one i dislike, in particular, because i know i won't ever see it die.

as my mind awakes, i feel it gasp for its first breath, struggling to escape from the dreams it knows i wanted to stay nestled within.  as the battle continues, i realize the need to surrender. and each morning, i do. but each day shows its awkwardness to me. because it's in my dreams that i belong.

elapse

i used to write daily.  in school, it was an assignment. for my degree, torcher. but now, it is my freedom.

time has gone by. until my new printer comes. until my desk and chair are purchased. until i put my feet down somewhere, here i am with my screen, and the only outlet for this thing of mine. This thing which has, over this elapse of time i call my life- become quite infamous. 

it's transformed, grown, been killed, and rebirthed. so, until i find another way in to comfort it, to nurture it, to let it know it's all right..i allow myself this bit of time to let it speak. in doing so, i protect it with the umbrella of awareness.  i hold it up to the light for all to see.  i let it learn itself.  but most importantly, i let it run free.