Manic Monday

Today I feel a little like this lady. She's pensive and serious and wrapped up in her hair and her head . . . I wonder what the expression recalling a certain stoicism reflected on her face alludes to? Is she proud? Is she distraught? Or maybe, she's just real blue?


This is a close up of her face, the rest of the canvas showcases my novel attempts at using spray paint.

Lion's Gate

We each need to make our lion's roar -
to persevere with unshakable courage when faced with all manner of doubts and sorrows and fears -
to declare our right to awaken.

This is a Native American proverb, metaphor, truth, adage, dictum, truism, word, moral, repartee, saying, byword, epigram, axiom . . . you choose.

This folk wisdom is so revolutionary to me. It is liberating and empowering. In my eyes, the suggested strength is not required to combat an existence constantly painted by vivid streams of agony, hardship, heartache and catastrophe - but instead it speaks to finding our unique internal delirium so that if and when hardships do approach, we roar and usher them away from our blessed pride.

It's funny how things and people and space and time can, and do change in subtle yet profound blinks of an eye. Oh, dynamic life . . . little sigh. I felt a bit the fool just yesterday, providing so much for another person, showcasing my gratitude in edible incarnations and with my time; some premeditated thoughtfulness and some simply hours. The reception and unfolding of our day, proved an askew view ending in an illegible scenario. The resulting fears that crept upon me were and are somewhat overwhelming me today. I cannot know what another person is thinking without words, or an invitation to do so, and hence am stranded with a searing question mark branded on my brain. Although instead of dwelling on the successful sanity of someone else, for now I will persevere with unshakable courage with the intention of waking myself up.

Peace of Mind

Scott, Scott the teacher, formerly known as "hot for teacher," asked me to dinner the other night via text message technology. Dylan emailed and then called me with high hopes I'd be provide momentary distraction to his much needed packing schedule and join him for a glass of wine. Then on Wednesday, Ryan gifted me with two CDs, one a computer friendly version, the other minorly edited for immediate car or stereo appreciation. And yet, it's the boy who bought a light and lock for my bike who I envision as the safest bet. Why, I wonder, are cliches often too true? Love/intense like finds us when we least expect or imagine it to, and when it rains (men), it pours? Argh, true story, confusions abound. And while I'm at it, with these questions I pose to us all - why is it, that once we think we may have found our match, the other, more unstable yet hopeful mirages of former truths surface? Hmmmmm, I simply do not know. Yes, big old sigh. I know only this, I am one girl who does indeed appreciate the attention, but am also a gal learning the importance and relevance of timing - it seems to be everything, at least at this hour. Timing, with the stars and moon and planetary alignment is imperative, nevertheless, many of us, myself included, often feel as though timing is a mere coincidence. I think now, right now, that it is no coincidence, but rather divine intervention that leads us to the longitudes and latitudes of where we should be and with whom.

My new rendezvous are not squeaky clean, they too are muddled with humanity and baggage and fraught with emotions in need of much fragile unraveling. Nevertheless, it seems as though where I am, where he is, is exactly where we are supposed to be. But in finding this out, apparently the universe must test our collective will and discern whether or not we fit, in the here and now. I sure hope we do. But why then, is it that once we are fastening the safety belts of lust and love and trust, is it that we are presented with such dubious inducing obstacles? I wonder still and will continue to until the day I can peer and gaze into my own kin's eyes with certainty that I chose the right one, and he me. Until then, I suppose it's a gamble, and we are all living in a state that shares no concrete truths, Vegas style.

So, with this vague information, I seek only to inform and remind myself and perhaps my few readers that we have guts for a reason and our intuition is no joke. So listen to that little internal voice but don't let it forcefully become the soundtrack to the days you're living in, marked and made memorable with sounds all their own. Ryan has provided me with a beautifully streamlined soliloquy to our courtship, brief union and drawn out days. And while I read far too into the lyrics coming from other people's mouths and lips and diaphragms that he choreographed, I must not abandon the idea that maybe he did mean to tell me that he missed the boat? And if he did intend such a message, where does that put me now? But, as I continue to sail on . . . and while it often takes another encounter to mend the wounds of those previous, sometimes time doesn't heal, nor studio produced rhymes. Sometimes time simply becomes the past. And yes, there's so very much past inside our presents, but don't we owe it to our presents to be present? I think yes.

Happiest of days to you, give them thanks for me.

right . . . now

Tonight I did two lovely things for myself and for others. I baked an apple pie and watched an Eckhart Tolle DVD. Seemingly unrelated actions, these two delights are however, inextricably linked. Not because the person who will (hopefully) be savoring the pie is also the one who gifted me with the enlightenment flick, but instead because each event existed in the present, the now. From the peeling of the crisp, green granny smiths to the breath and aural attention paid to Mr. Tolle, I felt what it was he spoke of . . . existing in the present moment and embracing all the emotions that accompany it. While I only managed to peel 5 of the 7 apples in one fell swoop with my new carrot peeler, instead of feeling defeated I thought it to be a success, since the last time I made a pie from scratch, I was time shy of sipping the ever important glass of Cabernet while I did so. Yay for me! The way this gentle man talked about living in the moment made life seem thoroughly approachable again. I will not worry about my day at work tomorrow because it hasn't happened yet, and also because I may be surprised at it's unique qualities compared to today's rather mundane characteristics. Often times I try to remind myself to appreciate each moment I have, be it reading a friend's brilliant blog or enjoying the biting acidity of fresh cut Maui pineapple. Nevertheless, it has become far to easy for us all to dismiss the lovleliness found in the small treats and trivias and trials and tribulations that populate our days. Usually, my reminders come in the form of telling myself that if I got hit by a bus tomorrow, what would I have hoped to have been doing in the days, moments and even seconds beforehand. That scenario, however, seems so morbid. I'd like to change my mantras to extend farther, and to realize that each moment is dictated by my environment and how I choose to interpret it. Same goes for us all. Instead of feeling trapped in traffic and literally stuck in grid lock, perhaps we could view the inconvenience as time granted for us to pause and listen to our favorite anthem on repeat, or an opportunity to look out the window and survey the usual route we traverse and consider normal, and witness the details of a landscape we don't really ever get the chance to notice. (The traffic example is loosely based on Tolle's words, fyi - but the interpretation is my own). It's not enlightenment, but rather a pure sentiment of being content that I feel tonight. I can only hope that it lasts and that my new little outlooks and attitudes and emotions and simple appreciations will rub off on those I'm lucky enough to be surrounded by, and vise versa. Magnetically captivating and can't quite put your finger on it feelings are what I aim to express . . . by not even trying at all.

Does that make sense? It's beginning to for me, but for now I'll just take it one sigh at a time.

PS: the above photo was taken en route to The German Tourist Club, a favorite getaway for me and a special plus one. And since Mr. Tolle is of German decent, what better way to say "Danka?" And, if you look closely, you'll notice Sutro Tower smack dab in the middle of the valley . . . a landmark I now notice as home.

heART

Wow . . . so long. I miss you, I miss this . . . lots. I will say, however, that the time in between has been full of living. Living riding bicycles in high heels, living eating sushi paid for by one hefty gift certificate (thanks Jen!), living lost in tempo driven guitar riffs and cutting crudites for a Tuesday night's salad. My life has been lovely and rich. It's been chalk full of days that drag at work and evenings that stray too quickly. Hours populated by stares and sights and sounds and senses. Do you use yours enough? Do you taste everything that touches taste buds and hear the guttural sounds of genuine laughter, do you feel the touch not of your hands scratching an itchy neck's nape, but of an embrace, do you smell on primal levels? Hmmm. If not, I say do it - try, it, love it and yes, quite simply; live it.

Last Friday was an evening spent with two of my favorite people in San Francisco. My "uncles" Roy and Harlen took me to bare witness to the beauty of old world Jade at the Asian Art Museum's unveiling of such a dynamic stone. After a thorough perusal through glass enclosed cases containing little fragments of history, it was off to the present. My dear friend Rex had an opening that truly took the house down. We attended, the three of us to join in appraisal, awe and celebration. Wow, do yourself a favor and see some of his work here, please. I ventured to the gallery with the knowledge that my Saturday night's date may too be present (at my suggestion and his returned enthusiasm). Eager to have my old and new worlds collide, unfortunately it was a matter of time, a reservation to be exact, that our ships instead passed in the night. Nevertheless, as we pulled away on paved streets, I saw my new friend pull up, denim clad, on his bike and park in front of the sprawling art seeking masses. He entered and surveyed. I knew before he, that I was gone, but hoped he'd a appreciate the art for a second time around that eve. He saw and he liked, lots. Which proved beneficial for our Saturday together. A night spent admiring half assembled art at Rex's studio and then draped effort-fully over a slanted a ping pong table. I never knew I had such cat like reflexes . . . game on! And for me, Saturday was yet another option to combine my old and my new worlds of love and life. A success I think, and a true delight to boot.

It's funny how our presents, our day to days, can be brimming with mundane livelihoods like work and time cards and chores, and yet still manage to breathe real, vivid, tasty life into our often routine, more sedate versions of it. My thanks go out tonight to three people whose names all boast only 3 letters . . . Roy, Rex and you.

Vive la Vida, eh?
xoxoxo