Wednesday, December 26, 2012

Waiting.


waiting.  waiting takes energy, time, practice and confidence.  I am not very good at waiting. 

Saturday, December 22, 2012

write shitty first drafts.

I have just started reading an inspiring book by Anna Lamott, entitled Bird by Bird, some instructions on writing and life.  It is genuine writing that often causes me to reread passages, because they just resonate so close. Here is her advice about first drafts:

She says, write the shitty first draft, no one has to read it and most authors, if not all, start by writing a shitty first draft.  She goes on to say, "Just get it all down on paper, because there may be something great in those six crazy pages that you would never have gotten to by more rational, grown-up means.  There may be something in the very last line of the very last paragraph on page six that you just love, that is so beautiful or wild that you now know what you're supposed to be writing about, more or less, or in what direction you might go--but there was no way to get this without first getting through the first five and a half pages."

How true is this about life?  It seem  sometimes we have to go through five and a half pages of craziness just to get to the last sentence of the sixth page and find something that is so beautiful and wild that it gives just enough clarity, inspiration and direction to try again, to keep going.  It seems sometimes we just have to write, start, experience - that shitty first draft.  Life really is a journey, a process, a series of starts and craziness.  And like Anna said - maybe, just maybe, in the six pages of craziness there will be a simple sentence, a moment, that makes the craziness all worth while or maybe it is in the process of creating the six pages of craziness where we find beauty itself.

All I know is we have to start somewhere and for most it seems that start is in the shitty first draft.  Anne says you have to start and then refine.  I find so much truth, promise and hope in a process that allows for unperfected starting and calls for, requires, refinement, growth and development.  Life is tricky - but it seems sometimes you just have to put it all out there and go through the craziness to find your own beauty, wildness and direction.  To find what "you would never have gotten to by more rational, grown-up means." This, this gives me hope.

Monday, December 10, 2012

Saturday, December 8, 2012

Wednesday, December 5, 2012

John Steinbeck.

I just got the most wonderful book in the mail "Steinbeck: A Life in Letters."  I really should not be reading it for I have a pile of work, homework and studying I should focus my attention on.  But - I am taking a break and indulging in the letters of Steinbeck.  I adore writing and receiving letters - there is just something so perfect about having to write your thoughts down on paper.  This is the first letter in this book and I find it just perfect - it feels cozy and comfortable.

Steinbeck is writing to a friend from Stanford University, he is 24, broke, working a survival job to pursue his passion, writing.  The book says he is a caretaker for a house that is snowed in eight months out of the year.

"
Dear Toby:

     Do you know, one of the things that made me come here, was, as you guessed, that I am frightfully afraid of being alone.  The fear of the dark is only part of it.  I wanted to break that fear in the middle, because I am afraid much of me existence is going to be more or less alone, and I might as well go into training for it.  It comes on me at night mostly, in little waves of panic, that constrict something in my stomach.  But don't you think it is good to fight these things?   Last night, some quite large animal came and sniffed under the door.  I presume it was a coyote, thought I do not know.  The moon had not come up, and when I ran outside there was nothing to be seen.  But the main thing was that I was frightened, even though I know it could be nothing but a coyote.  Don't tell anyone I am afraid.  I do not like to be suspected of being afraid.
     As soon as you can, get to work on the Little Lady [A Green Lady, a play Street was writing].  Keep your eye on cost of production, small and inexpensive scenes, few in the cast and lots of wise cracks, as racy as you think the populace will stand.  Always crowd the limit.  And also if you have time, try your hand on a melo drahmar, something wild, and mysterious and unexpected with characters turning out to be other people and some of them turing out to be nobody at all.
     And if you can find a small but complete dictionary lying about anywhere send it to me.  I have none, and apparently the Brighams [his employers] are so perfect in their mother tongue that they do not need one.
     I shall send you some mss pretty soon if you wish.  I have been working slowly but deliciously on one thing.  There is something so nice about being able to put down a sentence and then look over and then change it, sometimes taking half an hour over two lines.  And it is possible here because there seems to be no reason for rush.
   If, on going through Salinas, you have the time, you might look in on my folks and tell them there is little possibility of me either starving or freezing.  Be as honest as you can, but picture me in a land flowing with ham and eggs, and one wherein woolen underdrawers grow on the fir trees.  Tell them that I am living on the inside of a fiery furnace, or something.
     It's time for me to go to the post office now, I will cease without the usual candle-like spluttering. Write me when and as often as you get a chance.  I shall depend on the mail quite a lot.

love
John

"

I relate to Steinbeck's fear of being alone - but not wanting anyone to know his fear.  I love how he is "working slowly but deliciously on one thing."  I love the advise of " always crowd the limit."  I envy his "being able to put down a sentence and then look over and then change it, sometimes taking half an hour over two lines.  And it is possible here because there seems to be no reason for rush."

I love the personality that can be conveyed in a letter.  The way it allows me to peak into his personal life and not just read his crafted works, but glimpse his soul.  I think thats what we all really want - to not just hear someones crafted words, but to understand, to glimpse their unprotected soul.


Monday, December 3, 2012

enjoyable

I have realized my most enjoyable evening is good conversation about meaningful things - expanding, learning, sharing, gathering.  Currently I am sitting in the Patisserie and the table to the right of me is filled with a group of people I aspire to copy.  The kind man wears a hat and jokes with me about our last meeting.  They are in their late 40's, charmingly dress, sipping their coffee, kind brimming hearts and engaged in the art of conversation.  They converse about books, articles, plays, acting, politics, education and community.  They are intelligent, articulate, kind, artistic and inspiring.  No cell phones, texting, computers - just sharing, discussing and laughing.  

Sunday, December 2, 2012


I'm excited for when my life consists of a little more "naughty nineties."  How great are these graphics?  




P.S.  I want this book and these graphics are from brainpickings.org



tidy.


I seem to like things neat and tidy - I mean unless it is my room or car, those are always a bit of a disaster.  But in life - my career, relationships, school - I like things neat and tidy.  I like to know what is expected, the outcome, the goal, it just all seems easier that way.  Lately I have been learning that somethings, no matter how hard I try, will never be tidy. Many things will just always be uncertain - until they are not.

I don't like uncertainty.  I don't like waking up in the morning and not knowing what to expect, what to feel, what to work towards - it ties me all up - makes me confused - makes me want to shut the door and run.  I obsess about the uncertainty, try to fix it, secure it, make it safe and certain.  I try to control the situation and protect myself, over analyze.  I function much better in terms of certainty, with clear cut rules, boundaries, expectations.  

But with everyday that passes I realize how unrealistic this thinking is - life is messy, uncertain and confusing.  So instead of shutting a door, running to something more certain, I have decided to let my heart just feel what it feels.  Life has this uncanny ability to work things out - maybe once I stop trying to fix, secure, make certain - things will fall into place just as they should be.  Maybe I just need a little thicker skin, a few more heaps of patience, and a whole lot more faith in the world that is so much bigger then me.


Wild Geese
You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting–
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.


Saturday, December 1, 2012

Prestige


"What you should not do, I think, is worry about the opinion of anyone beyond your friends. You shouldn't worry about prestige. Prestige is the opinion of the rest of the world.
. . . 

Prestige is like a powerful magnet that warps even your beliefs about what you enjoy. It causes you to work not on what you like, but what you'd like to like.

. . .

Prestige is just fossilized inspiration. If you do anything well enough, you'll make it prestigious. Plenty of things we now consider prestigious were anything but at first. Jazz comes to mind—though almost any established art form would do. So just do what you like, and let prestige take care of itself."
-Paul Graham via http://www.paulgraham.com/love.html

write.read.expand.

"Writing and reading decrease our sense of isolation. They deepen and widen and expand our sense of life: they feed the soul. When writers make us shake our heads with the exactness of their prose and their truths, and even make us laugh about ourselves or life, our buoyancy is restored. We are given a shot at dancing with, or at least clapping along with, the absurdity of life, instead of being squashed by it over and over again. It’s like singing on a boat during a terrible storm at sea. You can’t stop the raging storm, but singing can change the hearts and spirits of the people who are together on that ship.”

-Anne Lamott

"Are you paralyzed with fear? That’s a good sign. Fear is good. Like self-doubt, fear is an indicator. Fear tells us what we have to do. Remember our rule of thumb: The more scared we are of a work or calling, the more sure we can be that we have to do it.
Resistance is experienced as fear; the degree of fear equates the strength of Resistance. Therefore, the more fear we feel about a specific enterprise, the more certain we can be that that enterprise is important to us and to the growth of our soul.”
-Steven Pressfield


“All good books are alike in that they are truer than if they had really happened and after you are finished reading one you will feel that all that happened to you and afterwards it all belongs to you: the good and the bad, the ecstasy, the remorse and sorrow, the people and the places and how the weather was. If you can get so that you can give that to people, then you are a writer.”
-Ernest Hemingway 




























































































*brainpickings.org

Thursday, November 29, 2012




Chocolate Cake


Last night it all piled up - the stress of the day, loneliness, worry, future, fears - simply overwhelmed.  You know that feeling when everything just seems wrong - heavy - sad?  Well my roommate and I both felt it - so we escaped - just for an hour, but it was wonderful.  We set off in search of truffle fries and chocolate cake.  We found the truffle fries, and after much searching, my roommate decided to just make chocolate cake.  Tired, I didn't wait up.  I stripped off all my clothes, climbed in bed with my hot water bottle and chased sleep.  I woke-up suddenly around 2am - tiptoed naked to my kitchen and there it was - a delicious unfrosted chocolate cake.  I cut myself a tiny sliver, dipped my finger in the bowl of buttercream frosting and licked my fingers clean.  Another sliver later and I was back in bed, feeling content - satisfied - cozy.  I guess sometimes it just takes a little chocolate cake and a hot water bottle to remind this girl it will all be okay.  

Wednesday, November 28, 2012

future



Lately, I have been thinking quite a bit about my future.  Where I will go - what career I will have - the life that I will start to build for me.  The future is so vast, open, consuming -.  I look around and see so many people about to be married, head to grad programs, step into really big life decisions.  I am just not at that point, and today, today that feels okay. 

Monday, November 26, 2012

Sister I Love You:



I found this in a past blog:

“As the tears came uncontrollably I thought to myself, 'I am crazy.' I crawled out of my bed and went up the stairs. As I jumped in bed with my little sister and snuggled so close to her - I thought she would push me away. But she didn't.  She simply grasped my shaking hand - so tight.  And we lay there, talking about how we were ever going to get through this, I could feel love, pulsing through her hand.”

Thank-you sister for always being the one to grasp my hand with such unconditional love. You are my best friend and I love that we share the worst and the best.

xo

"Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life."

Today I met this girl, she told me a story - and I could hear her heart in her words - I could feel my heart cringe as I absorbed all she said.  Putting her heart into words is impossible, but I told her I would try:

And there she stood, waiting - hoping - holding.  Her knees locked firm, her smooth jaw clinched, her pleading hands stained blood red.  Her dreams are piled to her left, her hopes to the right, her fears weighted heavy on her back.  Her dreams rustle in the wind, she fears if she waits much longer they all might flutter off.  Even though there is snow, her hopes have somehow melted into the thirty below. And her fears - they bear down - threatening to make themselves part of her being, eking though the thin skin she now wears.  She thinks if she could just wait a bit longer, the door might open, her dreams could be carried in, her hopes found and her fears pried free.  She forces her trembling body to still, for she simply cannot tame her spinning mind.  Atop the cold concrete steps she quietly waits.  The past clawing, banging, prying only thickened the door and left her trying fingers splintered and raw.  The brass doorknob is biting ice, frozen in place.  She used to have a key.  She once never even needed a key.  A cold rush of loneliness rips through her transparent skin right to her unprotected soul.  She long dropped her guards, walls and defenses - traded them for safe passage to this heart.  She held her own bleeding heart in her own hands offering it to a door that just wouldn't budge.

The thump, thump, thump, of her once pounding heart grows faint as the moments tick to memories.  She stood and waited.  She waited till she realized she could wait there forever.  That she would wait till she was a faint shadow of her vibrant self.  That she would waste away waiting for a door that just wouldn't open.  She knew she had to stop waiting, to pick up what she could, stuff her heart back into her chest and move.  She couldn't carry everything she had brought.  So her raw fingers began to salvage.  Gather the dreams still piled, scoop the hope still pooled, and pry the fears from her tired back.  She stacked the fears neatly outside the door, left her hopes she couldn't scoop and her dreams that no longer belonged to her.  Unlocked her knees, tucked her unruly hair behind her burning ears, took a deep breathe and stepped down.  Her eyes stung from tears cried, her limbs ached from gathering, tearing, leaving -- but her heart.  Her heart starts to find its place back in her chest, her skin a bit thicker and her hands cling to all she knew as good.

And there she stood, when I saw her, breathing deep, solitary - hoping - holding.  I never would have guessed where she had moved from.  She has a silent strength that she says only comes from a heart that has been stripped and rebuilt.  

Friday, November 23, 2012

"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, and comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat."

Theodore Roosevelt, Citizenship in a Republic, Speech at the Sorbonne Paris, April 23, 1910

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

Tuesday, November 6, 2012

The Little Prince, by Antoine de Saint-Exupery

The Prince to the Fox:

"What does tamed mean?"

"It's something that's been too often neglected.  It means, 'to create ties'..."

"'To create ties'?"

"That's right," the fox said.  "For me you're only a little boy just like a hundred thousand other little boys.  And I have no need of you.  And you have no need of me, either.  For you I'm only a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes.  But if you tame me, we'll need each other.  You'll be the only boy in the world for me.  I'll be the only fox in the world for you..."

"I'm beginning to understand," the little prince said.  "There's a flower . . . I think she's tamed me . . . "

"Possibly," the fox said.  "On Earth, one sees all kinds of things."

"Oh, this isn't on Earth," the little prince said.

The fox seemed quite intrigued.  "On another planet?"

"Yes." 

Fahrenheit 451, by Ray Bradbury



" 'Listen,' said Granger, taking his arm, and walking with him, holding aside the bushes to let him pass.  "When I was a boy my grandfather died, and he was a sculptor.  He was also a very kind man who had a lot of love to give the world, and he helped clean up the slum in our town; and he made toys for us and he did a million things in his lifetime; he was always busy with his hands.  And when he died, I suddenly realized I wasn't crying for him at all, but for all the things he did.  I cried because he would never do them again, he would never carve another piece of wood of help us raise doves and pigeons in the back yard or play the violin the way he did, or tell us jokes the way he did.  He was part of us and when he died, all the actions stopped dead and there was no one to do them just the way he did.  He was individual.  He was an important man.  I've never got to over his death.  Often I think, what wonderful carvings never came to birth because he died.  How many jokes are missing form the world, and how many homing pigeons untouched by his hands.  He shaped the world.  He did things to the world.  The world was bankrupted of ten million fine actions the night he passed on.' "

. . . .


"Granger stood looking back with Montage. 'Everyone must leave something behind when he dies, my grandfather said.  A child or a book or a painting or a house or a wall built or a pair of shoes made.  Or a garden planted.  Something your hand touched some way so your soul has somewhere to go when you die, and when people look at that tree or that flower you planted, you're there.  It doesn't matter what you do, he said, so long as you change something from the way it was before you touched it into something that's like you after you take your hands away.  The difference between the man who just cuts lawns and a real gardener is in the touching, he said.  The lawn-cutter might just as well not have been there at all; the gardener will be there a lifetime."

Thursday, November 1, 2012

Pumpkins

The truth about carving pumpkins is very simple, I enjoyed it much more when I was a child, carving with my dad.  You see, he did all the hard stuff.  He cut the top open, scrapped the inside and did any of the hard carving.  I got to simply reach my hands into the gooey pumpkin guts, draw the face and watch as "my" pumpkin was carved.

Tonight I carved my own pumpkin, all by myself - and it really wasn't as fun or magical as I remembered.

I wonder how many things in life will be this way - so much fun in theory, but just not that good in reality.  It was a bit of a let down, but also reminded me how much I appreciate my father and the people who help make my life full.  It reminded me that things are not magical, it is the people, the interactions that create magic.  It made me appreciate the people who take time to care for me, to check on me, to make me smile, laugh.  Life really isn't always that wonderful - people are often mean, selfish, sometimes things don't work out.  But every once in a while there are people who are wonderful - who stay when they shouldn't, who care when no one else does, who make you laugh when everything seems to be falling apart and remind you to see the good. There are people who look at you when you are sick, tired, ugly or worn and see you as beautiful - who see past your face and to your soul.  They lift you up when you can't even see anything good, especially in yourself.  These people are worth more then pure gold, the people who love you when they shouldn't and see the good in you even when it is hard to find - these people, these people are one in a million.  I am so thankful for the people who love me even when I don't deserve it.

I guess sometimes it takes a disappointment to remind you to appreciate the good times, the good people and the good you have.

And you know what - carving that pumpkin wasn't magical, I didn't create a masterpiece and it didn't measure up to my memory -- but finishing it, was fulfilling.  I did it.  Life isn't always wonderful, isn't always easy, but I am realizing I can do the hard stuff.  I don't have to always like where I am or the way things turn out - but getting through the hard stuff - is possible - and maybe, just maybe the hard stuff is just a step to the next good thing - who really knows.

Trying.


I honestly have been trying.  Trying very hard to hold things together - today I came across this video and it made me laugh out loud - because in that moment I realized this little girl is the perfect example of how I have been feeling.  She is trying so hard, so sincere in her endeavors, but it is just comical. It is SO obvious she needs some help, is such a beginner and simply needs more time to master this skill.  I am sure she will - I mean it is the first position - so basic.  ha. "basic" is all relative! 

Trust.

“Trust in the people I love. Not trusting in them to be perfect, never mess up or always be around, but to trust in their character and the intentions they have. I am learning to trust in other people’s choices and accept that I have no control over some things. Trusting with the risk of being hurt, forgotten, or replaced. Learning that trust is a tricky thing to give, but it’s a compliment to receive.”

(taken from a past blog I wrote - sometimes we just need to remember what we already know)

Wednesday, October 10, 2012


Tuesday, October 2, 2012



Some days there are no words.  
You get up, do your list and crawl back into bed.  
Maybe somedays that is enough? 

Thursday, September 27, 2012

If

I don't understand all of this - I don't think it all true - but some of this is pure truth.



If
by Rudyard kipling
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

My hope.

This quarter I am taking an acting class.  I have always been told I should be on the stage, I love performing.  The full weight of my body settles, bearing down on the pads of my feet, fully supported fully centered, fully aware - I take a deep breath originating in the pit of my stomach and I start to sing.  I am comfortable with that...most of the time.  But acting.  Acting is different.  For me, acting is totally new.  Acting forces me to try things and fail, be vulnerable, raw - exposed to every judgment, from every angle.  Some days, most days lately - I feel like I do acting class every day, all day - I try things and fail, be vulnerable, raw - exposed to everyones judgements.

I don't know anything about acting and I am learning I know a whole lot less about life then I thought.  I have a text book for acting - "16 Simple Steps to Understanding the Art of Acting," sometimes I wish I had a similar text for life.  Yet - once I read it I really won't know much more about acting.  Just like anything - I understand it by doing, experiencing, trying, and failing.  Understanding by failing is a new concept for me - but it seems lately I have been failing quite a bit in life, and acting class...

My acting textbook says this:

"Here is the secret that will make miracles happen for you as an actor:  Acting is mostly a matter of letting go -- letting go of too much effort, letting go of chronic physical tension, letting go of a false voice, letting go of your preconceptions about the work, letting go of fear, and most of all, letting go of who you already are in order to become someone new."

I kinda think the secret to making miracles happen for me, as a person, is letting go.  Letting go of my fear of being inadequate, failing, ending up alone, losing exactly what I am convinced I need. Letting go of expectations, fear of the future, the incessant need to please everyone, the obsession to fix what might just need time.

Because I think the truth really is this: I will be inadequate to some, I will fail, I will not please everyone, and I will not be able to fix somethings - but I am not letting go of hope.  And I maybe, just maybe, by letting go we create space for things to rebuild or grow or change or become something new entirely - well, at least, that is my hope.

Hold Me.

“But in the night he woke and held her tight as though she were all of life and it was being taken from him. He held her feeling she was all of life there was and it was true.”
― Ernest Hemingway

Friday, July 13, 2012

"She"

She hails from Boston
She hates the sound that goodbyes make
She loves Sundays and champagne
She can't stand the winter, she can't stand anything she can't change, she can't change
She is whatever she wants to be, she is a little of everything, mixed up, so tough in a beautiful way

She's got the world at her fingertips, she makes beauty look effortless
And I want everything she is she is she is
Oh I want everything she is
Well we talk for hours but she wrote the book on hard to get
No it don't matter what I say
I could buy her flowers but that's just too cliché to impress a girl like her but you know I kinda like it that way
She is whatever she wants to be, she is a little of everything, mixed up, so tough in a beautiful way
She's got the world at her fingertips, she makes beauty look effortless
And I want everything she is, she is, she is, she is oh she is
And all I think about and I can't do without the good, the bad, the somewhere in between
Oh because I want everything she is..
Whatever she wants to be she's a little everything, mixed up so tough, in a beautiful way
She is whatever she wants to be, she is a little of everything, mixed up, so tough in a beautiful way
She's got the world at her fingertips, she makes beauty look effortless
And I want everything she is she is she is
Cause I want everything she is she is she is cause I want everything she is she is
Oh yeah


-"She Is" by Ben Rector

Thursday, July 5, 2012

Just started reading a great book, Gift From the Sea by Anne Morrow Lindbergh.  I can already tell I am going to love it.  The following passage completely resonates with me this morning:

"But I want first of all -- in fact, as an end to these other desires -- to be at peace with myself.  I want a singleness of eye, a purity of intention, a central core to my life that will enable me to carry out these obligations and activities as well as I can.  I want, in fact--to barrow for the language of the saints--to live "in grace" as much of the time as possible.  I am not using this term in a strictly theological sense.  By grace I mean an inner harmony, essentially spiritual, which can be translated into outward harmony."

It is just good stuff.

  

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

Between the shadow and the soul

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.



-Pablo Neruda



p ie ce s.


Three pieces of past posts that spoke to me this morning:

“Trust in the people I love. Not trusting in them to be perfect, never mess up or always be around, but to trust in their character and the intentions they have. I am learning to trust in other people’s choices and accept that I have no control over some things. Trusting with the risk of being hurt, forgotten, or replaced. Learning that trust is a tricky thing to give, but it’s a compliment to receive.”

“Not dwelling on or missing the past, instead being thankful I was fortunate enough to be blessed with the opportunity to experience all that I have. Not worrying about the future, but placing my future in Gods hands and living the best I can each moment.”

“As the tears came uncontrollably I thought to myself, "I am crazy" I crawled out of my bed and went up the stairs. I jumped in bed with my little sister and snuggled so close to her - I thought she would push me away. But she didn't.  She simply grasped my shaking hand so tight.  And we lay there, talking about how we were ever going to get through this, I could feel love pulsing through her hand.”

Monday, June 4, 2012

One more long day of studying - and then it's time to watch the Bachelorette tonight! xo

Wednesday, May 30, 2012


Heart Healer.


Some days my heart is meaty and thick
Its the very things that makes me tick. 
It thuds and pumps
Twirls and jumps.

Gives life to this soul 
It helps me live whole. 

But today it felt flayed and raw 
Like someone had hacked away with a dull cold saw
The blade cut deep
I swear the heavens could hear me weep.  

The song of sorrow 
Is something that doesn't pass by 'marrow
He festers and lingers 
and clutches with his boney, ice cold fingers.

His grasp leaves marks blue and black
Plea, beg, just stop this attack.
My heart strings are exhausted.  
The icy hand has cast them stone, cold, frosted.

Sometimes this world feels grim
Like I can do nothing but struggle to simply swim
But my Savior, my Savior
Promises to be the expert healer

He gives lives life to this soul 
He enables me to live whole. 
He melts the stone cold ice
And gives love to fully suffice.

Tuesday, May 29, 2012



This morning the sun pierced through my window.  The white plastic blinds I have do nothing to block out the bright light.

I find freedom in the morning - space to think, dream, breathe, be quiet.  I don't have to talk, perform or fill any shoes.  I don't have to look a certain way or complete a certain task from the to-do-list.  I can just be.  I can be whatever I want to be - sleepy, tired, scared, wishing, confused, disheveled, dreaming: me.  No pressure.  Whoever I am, in that moment.

This morning I lit my new mango candle, put on my favorite tunes and danced. around. my. room. in. my. underwear.  No fear.  No embarrassment.  No inhibition.  Only that piercing-morning-light could see, and that light, that light never judges.



Watch This: 

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

Blast IT!


Love this song.  It is food to my aspiring soul. 

Wednesday, May 9, 2012

thoughts in picture


Advise:

Perfect Study Outfit: 



Truth:


Dream House:

Tuesday, May 8, 2012
















I love playing dress-up--
I love putting on glossy lipstick
and smooth body butters--
I love coloring my eye lids with hues of glow
and polishing up from head-to-toe.
I love the feeling of looking in the mirror and truly thinking--"I look beautiful"

But I never want to be simply Pretty.
I want to be pretty and more--
I want to be inspiring, intelligent, real.

I want to wear pure, uninhibited joy
and smooth away my wrinkles with love.
I want to gloss my lips with kindness
and frost my eyes with forgiveness
I want to look in the mirror and truly think--"I feel beautiful--from the inside out"

For I have realized that joy, kindness, and forgiveness
are accessories essential to any outfit.
They are worth more then a pretty face--
and can cover any unseemly marks

I love to play dress-up--
I love the feeling of glossy lips
and shiny shoes--
But I have realized that dressing up on the outside
is never fully as beautiful without
love, passion, and compassion completely filling the inside.

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

Thanks Emily:

I am stealing this from a friends blog - it is just that good. 

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, 
high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
Wild Geese by Mary Oliver

Thursday, February 16, 2012




Some people say the mind is less efficient when multi-tasking. They say it is better to focus on one thing, to pour yourself into your one passion, one life mission, one focus.

I have a question to ask.

What if your a person who does not want just one. What if you want 5, 6, or 7? What if when you walk out the door you can see so much beauty and possibilities, you can never imagine just picking just one? What if you are a person who lives organization and chaos? What if you know how to throw caution to the wind, but walk on the straight and narrow? What if you want to soar but keep your feet on the ground? What if you want security, but non-stop adventure? What if you choose to see beauty in the ordinary and reason in the unreasonable? Is it possible? Is it craziness? Is it something others even understand?

What if we threw appearances, expectations, and titles aside? What would I look like? What would you look like.

I am seeing how easy it is to get caught up in "what-I-am," "what-I-am-becoming," "what-I-am-experiencing," "what am I achieving."

What if I do not want to live by the accepted things I am supposed to do?

What if I do not want to worry about I - but associate my I with, "we," "you," and "us."

What if I am person who does not want just one. What if I want 5, 6, or 7? What if when I walk out the door I can see so much beauty and possibilities, I can never imagine just picking just one? What if I am a person who lives organization and chaos? What if I know how to throw caution to the wind, but walk on the straight and narrow? What if I want to soar but keep my feet on the ground? What if I want security, but non-stop adventure? What if I choose to see beauty in the ordinary and reason in the unreasonable? Is it possible? Is it craziness? Is it something others even understand? Is it?




The calm before the storm

Today I woke up with the distinct feeling of anxiety. It was subtle, it was subdued, but it was there. I could feel her eking her way in, winding her thin silk thread into the patterns of my mind. I hate her. I hate how easily she can grab hold and distract me from the everlasting peace my God gives me.

Today marks the last day of our fashion week coverage, which means the first day of "vacation." But today is also the first day I have been able to slow down enough to remember all of the things I left behind. Today I woke up and realized I will be headed back to 5 jobs/projects, two large tests, a research project I am way behind on, a long list of "to-do's" and heaps of people I am craving some quality time with.

Sitting over here in New York I am surrounded by so many options - the last one I want to pick is studying or work. I want to live where I am, soak up the experience. Today I feel a bit detached, like I am sitting in a boat, on the ocean, fully knowing I am in "the calm before the storm." There I am, sitting in that boat, biting my nails, conjuring up how terrible the storm will be, nervously awaiting - forgetting to enjoy the calm.

Today I read the most amazing devotion by Sarah Young, in "Jesus Calling." It said, " Thank me for the conditions that are requiring you to be still. Do not spoil these quite hours by wishing them away, waiting impatiently to be active again." It goes on to say, "Quietness and trust enhance your awareness of My presence with you. Do not despise these simple ways of serving me. Although you feel cut off from the activity of the world, your quiet trust makes a powerful statement in spiritual realms. My strength and power show themselves most effective in weakness."

Before I came to New York I was running so crazy, all I could think of was it will be so SO nice to get away: to do nothing. Well this trip has sure been full of somethings, but it has reminded me how much I dislike busyness. How much I dislike feeling pulled in 100 directions. This trip has reminded me that I need quite hours. This trip has forced some parts of my life to be still and I can feel God telling me not to spoil these hours by worrying about the ones to come.

So, today I have decided to bask in my calm before the storm. I will do my best to prepare, but I will also take time to soak up the sunshine. I will enjoy the quite and not rush to become active. I choose to trust that my God will get me through the storm and has put me right where he wants me to be today.

I love that we all have a God who is just longing to give us peace wherever we are. Who has promised to be with us in the storms, this lets me worry less about the storms.

Saturday, February 11, 2012

fit.

Today, right now, I am sitting in NY. I am sitting in a Starbucks on 29th and Madison, smooth jazz is playing and I am unwinding after a long few days in the city. I have not had much time to think. Just putting on these heels, slipping on that dress, hopping on that subway and attending that that show - it has been wonderful thats for sure - but a lot unreal.

It seems I have stepped into a different life. I mean I usually do not even wear make-up and yesterday I put on heels, curled my hair, and put on a full face of make-up. It was fun to get dressed up. I wore the most amazing Ruby pants, got mistaken for a model and got to spend time with my bestie. I am here helping in anyway I can with her dream of becoming a beauty editor. I have to say she is amazing, SO much skill.

But anyways, here I am - sitting in a NY Starbucks and real life is still happening. I am sitting across from a couple who are having a tough talk. I can see the pain on his face and I suspect tears brimming in her eyes, I cannot tell she keeps moving her hair to hide her face. I can tell he wants her, but something isn't working. I heard snippets of the conversation, "I don't know if I can wait - I mean what if we start hanging out and you decide you still don't want to get back together with me," and "I can love every minute of us hanging out together, but if we are really not together..."

Im sitting here having a NY dream day - and they are sitting there just one table away - yet in a whole different reality.

I am realizing more and more how easy it is to get out-of-touch with reality. How easy it is to loose your grounding. How easy it is to forget the pain that others are feeling, to forget the man sleeping on the street, or the lady struggling to keep food on her table. Its easy to become so dressed up that you forget you reach down.

I am having a wonderful experience and learning so much. Learning so much about a new industry - and so much about the life I want to live. I never want to forget. I never want be so done-up that I cannot let it all down. Life is one big puzzle and I am just looking to find right where God wants me to fit.