Just what I needed today

"Go now and live.

Experience.  Dream.  Risk.  Close your eyes and jump.  Enjoy the free-fall.  Choose exhilaration over comfort.  Choose magic over predictability.  Choose potential over safety.  Wake up to the magic of everyday life.  Make friends with your intuition.  Trust your gut.  Discover the beauty of uncertainty.  Know yourself fully before you make promises to another.  Make millions of mistakes so that you will know hoe to choose what you really need.  Know when to hold on and when to let go.  Love hard and often and without reservation.  Seek knowledge.  Open yourself to possibility.  Keep your heart open, your head high, and your spirit free.  Embrace your darkness along with your light.  Be wrong every once in a while, and don't be afraid to admit it.  Awaken to the brilliance in ordinary moments.  Tell the truth about yourself no matter what the cost.  Own your reality without apology.  See goodness in the world.  Be bold. Be fierce.  Be grateful.  Be wild, crazy and gloriously free.  Be YOU."
                                                                                                                                   —Courtesy of the one and only Carleigh.

(Photo taken by Sabrina in Costa Rica during one of the best weeks of my life.)

Mother Mother Ocean

You know when a song enters your life at the most perfect moment and it becomes permanently stuck in your memory?  Well, this one did just that.  While I was running along a hiking trail by the Oregon coast, weaving in and out of trees with a view of the great Pacific to my right.  Sigh.

Jack—we're on a first name basis by now— has held a special place in my heart since that late September concert at the Gorge nearly five years ago.  So it's no surprise that I've fallen in love with him all over again (it happens about once a year—at least).  And although this song isn't technically his (Jimmy Buffet performed the original), Jack brings his genius to the stage and doesn't fail to impress.  So sit back, close your eyes, and listen for yourself.  You won't be disappointed.

17. Tell your truth not the world's

Since being afflicted by a severe case of writer's block in the past couple weeks (I blame all the cover letter and résumé writing for sucking the creative life out of me), I have tried free writing to get my thoughts flowing, reading to get inspired, and locking myself down at my computer with great intentions only to find myself lost in the world of other blogs and facebook photos (I bet you have no idea what I'm talking about).  I thought I was a hopeless case until I came across an old notebook filled with thesis notes and ideas that had consumed me exactly a year ago.  

Amidst all the poems and quotes I had scattered throughout those pages, I found some notes about an interview with Erica Jong, author of the book Fear of Flying.  Have you perhaps heard of the scholarly term "the zipless fuck"?  Yeah, Erica doesn't mess around—one of the many reasons why I love her.  And if you haven't read this book, do yourself a favor: buy it, read it, and maybe even swallow it whole.  

But anyway, in that notebook, I had copied down the following, as if I knew that I would need to read it again and again in future "ahhhh-I'm-in-the-middle-of-a-writing-crisis" moments.  So then, here you have it:

ERICA'S 20 "RULES" for WRITERS 

1. Have faith—not cynicism

2. Dare to dream

3. Take your mind off publication

4. Write for joy

5. Get the reader to turn the page

6. Forget politics (let your real politics shine through)

7. Forget intellect

8. Forget ego

9. Be a beginner

10. Accept change

11. Don't think your mind needs altering

12. Don't expect approval for telling the truth

13. Use everything

14. Remember that writing is heroism

15. Let sex (the body, the physical world) in!

16. Forget critics

17. Tell your truth not the world's

18. Remember to be earth-bound

19. Remember to be wild!

20. Write for the child (in yourself and others)

                –And most of all, remember that there are NO RULES.

I could go on and on and dissect each point to death, especially those that leave me nodding enthusiastically in agreement, but I think that would defeat their overall purpose.  Ultimately, writing should be whatever you want it to be.  Organizing words on a page (or on a screen) can become your own personal ceremony to honor your thoughts, your dreams, and your beliefs.  Writing for the love of writing.  And for the love of yourself.  That's where the beauty in it lies, and ironically, what I had forgotten.   

Sometimes a healthy reminder of what's important to me is just what I need to kick myself back into motion again.  Hmmm. . . Maybe I'll make my new mantra: do it (or write it) if it feels good.  My brother did always say that I had a lot of hippie in me.

"It helps me remember, I need to remember. . ."

Balancing on one leg, my right foot comes to meet the inside of my left inner thigh, finding comfort and stability there.  From heart center, my hands grow together, pressing into each other.  I sway softly, my arms like the branches of a tree reaching high up to the sky to soak up every ray of sunlight while it remains.


My gaze settles forward, on a bench in front of the old brick elementary school that this park belongs to.  And even on this sunny Saturday afternoon when the park is crowded with little kids running all over the place, competitive wall ball players, and families picnicing on the grass, I find a stillness there and settle into it, letting the noise and chaos, laughing and screaming fall to the wind that sweeps up and around me.  And when the wind drifts away, it takes with it a mass of white cherry blossom petals, swirling them up and down and around in the open space ahead of me.  With the wind as their conductor, petals upon petals twirl and flirt with one another, together performing an intimate dance only for those eyes lucky enough to witness.


And as I release my foot down to the grass, I relish in the beauty of that scene on the stage of this loud and crowded park in the city.  I can't help but think about the plastic bag scene from American Beauty.  Those of you who have seen it know exactly what I'm talking about, and for those of you that haven't, I suggest a) immediately placing the movie at the top of your must-see list, and b) watching the following clip to see what I mean.





Sometimes it is the stumbled upon, otherwise ordinary scenes in your day that add an entirely new and breathless beauty to the world.  The most insignificant thing suddenly comes forth bursting with life and possibility and beauty and everything else around you feels more alive under the same spell.  And after your moment of awe and wonder, you're left with a heavy heart, even a sense of loss, as if mourning the beauty of the moment that has passed.  Or perhaps knowing that so many moments like this take place in our everyday lives, but we're too busy or too focused on what we think we need that we don't let ourselves see them.  


People like to say that beauty is fleeting, which, I suppose in certain circumstances, it is.  But what if we just can't handle all that beauty or the possibility of it?  What if it's so consuming and so powerful that we can't help but protect ourselves from it?  Maybe just knowing that such beauty exists in the world, in our friends, family, and in ourselves is enough.  Learning how to honor it, however, that's the tricky part.  


For me, it may be doing sun salutations in the park or walking around with a curious eye and my camera.  For you, it could be anything.  But finding, witnessing, and realizing that beauty, the life and enormity of it, is what matters—at least in my opinion.  And hopefully the world will jump in and surprise us in the most unexpected ways.  Just take a look at that plastic bag.  Beautiful, isn't it?

Flower child

Yeah, that's me.  I was (and still am) that little kid you see skipping around the park, moving from one brightly colored flower to the next like a little hummingbird, pausing to admire the myriad of colors and buttery, wispy petals that the sunshine so thoughtfully pulled out of hiding, even if only for a short time.  And today, my five-year old self came out to play in Washington Park—ironically, still located in Portland.  I needed a little blossoming love in my life, and thankfully, spring has delivered!

                             

        And because I'm a sucker for poetry. . .

        7.

        Even Now
        I remember something

        the way a flower
        in a jar of water

        remembers its life
        in the perfect garden

        the way a flower
        in a jar of water

        steadies itself
        remembering itself

        long ago
        the plunging roots

        the gravel the rain
        the glossy stem

        the wings of the leaves
        the swords of the leaves

        rising and clashing
        for the rose of the sun

        the salt of the stars
        the crown of the wine

        the beds of the clouds
        the blue dream

        the unbreakable circle.


        8.

        The poem is not the world.
        It isn't even the first page of the world.

        But the poem wants to flower, like a flower
        It knows that much.

        It wants to open itself,
        like the door of a little temple,
        so that you might step inside and be cooled and refreshed,
        and less yourself than part of everything.

—from Mary Oliver's collection of poems titled The Leaf And the Cloud

Sprinkles

Some of the best advice I've ever received came in this note (pictured below) from Austin.  Just in case you can't read his chicken scratch, allow me to translate my favorite part:

"Forget following your dreams.  Just ask where they're going and meet up with them later."

And at a time when I spend every day scanning search engine after search engine for potential jobs in this city or that city and writing cover letters until my eyes start twitching from staring at my computer screen for too long, it's a healthy reminder to keep my dreams close and personal.  Okay, so maybe it sounds corny—alright, really corny, but sometimes a little corniness is a good thing.  Especially when it pulls you out of that monotonous, seemingly hopeless job search slump that sucks every ounce of positive energy right out of you—not that I know anything about what that feels like.  No way—at least not today.  Nope.  For now, I'm choosing to trust the universe, and hope that it has a spare sprinkling of magic in store for me and the rest of you.  (Oh pretty pretty pretty please!)

Just Because

Sometimes little things come across your path just when you need them the most.  And yesterday, this left my whole body smiling.  Hopefully, it will make your heart flutter a little as well.  Enjoy!

(From Positively Green.  Check 'em out here.

Saturday Morning

I've recently come to the conclusion that Saturday morning is my favorite part of the week, and I think it's been that way for a while.  I linger with my coffee a little bit longer, mentally review the happenings of that week, and revel in knowing that I have two full days of unattached, non-commital bliss.  Ah, the freedom!  In San Diego, that lovely Saturday morning routine usually involved a pounding headache with a side of multi-grain pancakes and a rehashing session with my partners in crime--a little different from my mornings here in Portland to say the least.  But with a dash of sunshine and a river walk to wake up the body and mind, I have to admit that Portland definitely doesn't suck.  It may even rival the weekend ritual I came to love so much in SD. (But please, don't share that with anyone.  I don't want any feelings getting hurt.)

Oh, and did I mention that the path running alongside the river in Portland is also lined with trees alive with spring fever?  And I'm not just talking about those little green buds that hold so much life and promise in their tiny creases and folds, though they are perfectly delightful in their own right.  But the cherry blossoms!  Ooooo, cherry blossoms the color of cotton candy!  So light and fragile that you fear the slightest wind could come and carry them all away in one swift motion.  

Thankfully (for now), the blossoms and their loveliness still grace the river's edge, coaxing runners and walkers and tourists to come play in their presence.  And even when the pale pink petals are replaced by big green leaves, I have a feeling that friendly charm will stay.  Hmm. . . Saturday morning river walks in Portland?  I sense a new tradition planting itself in my weekend.  It may not be the same as walking with my toes in the wet sand, but I suppose it'll do just fine.

Oh, and if you haven't listened to the song titled "Cherry Blossom Girl" by AIR, I seriously suggest that you check it out.  Trust me, I know you'll love it!

Notes 27.02.10

The movers just drove away and left us with an apartment so full that we can barely walk around without hopping, tripping, or cartwheeling over boxes.  I walk into my new room and expertly maneuver around displaced furniture, storage containers, and boxes that are filled to the brim with who knows what.  Surveying the battle ground, I wonder. . . Where do I begin?

Leaning up against my window are all my picture boards and framed posters.  Okay, easy enough.  I pull them out, making sure not to bend any photos still pinned behind ribbons, and I think about every room that these frames have decorated.  From Coeur d'Alene to my first dorm room, all throughout college and even abroad.  They've lied dormant for a while, but now they're back again, breathing life into the walls of this new place that has yet to create memories of its own.

I rearrange photos and notes and cards, keepsakes that I've held onto for a variety of reasons.  And as I lean my first picture board up against the wall, I breathe a deep sigh of relief.  I know it sounds weird, but I suddenly feel like me again.  And its not that I let these photos and memories define who I am.  But instead, they help me remember those moments when I was the best version of myself, something I seemed to have lost in recent weeks.

Since moving back from Switzerland, I've been stuck in this "in between" time that leaves me feeling frustrated and annoyed at myself for not moving forward (which also coincides with my extreme lack of blog posts this month).  I know that I just got here and that I don't have to have everything figured out, but I've been living out this detailed mental picture I painted for myself years ago, and suddenly all the colors are swirling around into some abstract design that leaves me guessing as to what comes next.  After having a plan for so long, this not having one is throwing me into mental chaos.  What should I do today?  Apply for jobs here? There? Look for apartments?  What am I doing?!

And I know that I'm not the only one in this boat.  I know that like most of us in the just graduated club who are still searching for jobs (thank you economic crisis), I'm struggling with being thrown into a world where no aced test or ten-page paper will win me the grand prize.  I have to start living the questions that don't have right answers.  And instead of expecting some validation to show that the choices I made were the right ones, I have to figure it out for myself.

And it's funny sometimes when I look at the old things that I've written, papers and blog posts and the like.  I start laughing to myself.  I had no idea what I was talking about.  It's easy to be the optimist and write and think about life when you're in such a positive place.  I, of course, fall victim to the rose-colored glasses fairly often if you haven't already noticed.  Not to say that looking at the world that way is a bad thing.  But sometimes a little reality check is good to knock your perception back into focus.

I turn to look at the new and improved photo board pinned up on the wall next to my bed.  I am so incredibly lucky.  All those details and questions that seem to muddle up my thoughts are temporarily silenced, and I see myself clearly again.  I know that many of these moments caught on camera were not perfect.  I was stressed, sleep-deprived, and exhausted physically and emotionally.  But I was happy.  Really, genuinely, and honestly happy.  And I know that that happiness hasn't gone anywhere.  I just have to learn how to feel it again, especially when I'm alone.  Because as much as I would kill to live in the same place with all the people I love, to be overflowing with that indescribable spirit and energy that comes from being surrounded by those people, I know that won't realistically happen.

As I've heard my wise friend Sam say, just knowing that those people and memories and places exist is enough.  And I guess it has to be, at least for now.  That is until I can build my very own dream house by the ocean and all my loved ones can come live with me.  There will be hammocks and an infinite supply of wine and we can all live happily ever after with the sound of waves lulling us to sleep every early morning. 


Any takers?

"Happy.  Just in my swim shorts, barefooted, wild-haired, in the red fire dark, singing, swigging wine, spitting, jumping, running--that's the way to live." --from the Dharma Bums by JACK KEROUAC 

I miss this.  And those very special people.  You know who you are.