places

Out on the freeway as the dust of night stretches her lonely palms across the Los Angeles horizon.

 The windows in my VW wagon are wide open and my left hand, placed slightly ajar out the window, moves up and down in the racing wind along the highway as my right hand steers.  As much as this urban expanse is at times a disruptive blight on a once pristine desert, my heart swells with love for this place I call home.  It is a jumbled chaotic mix of heat and humanity: of palm trees, racing cars and soaring aspirations.  I breath in the cooling night air, tasting the plumes of passing diesel engines and the song of sweaty broken hearts. 

 It makes no sense to love this place, no logic at all, but somehow, I do. 

hope you are well my friends. xo

tuesday's notes | december thirty-first

It is very, very early here on the West Coast of the United States. I am sitting on my couch with my middle, he is up with a nasty bout of croup, and I am up, sitting next to him, waiting for the dawn and letting my mind meander to far flung places, to the ocean so near and of crossing the prime meridian where it is very likely already a new year. 

Fourteen years ago, my husband and I, expecting our first born, watched, waited and toasted the new millineum. We watched the telecasts from all across the world, watched as the sun rose on another side of the globe long before it set its rays upon the shadows of our window panes. Less than two weeks later our lives would be turned upside down when we welcomed our oldest into the world. I like to think that I was a practical dreamer back then. Practical in every sort of way with unrealistic expectations of how my life would be made. Now here I am, practicality thrown out the window, with very little expectations of how things will be on any given day. 

I am quite ready for the New Year. I am ready for things to start anew, for new plans, for new adventures; however, I am also ready for the adventures that are already here: raising my boys, living this life, running alongside a world full of hope and wonder. 

So as the sun goes down on the ocean today, as it rising somewhere else, I will be toasting all the good, all the unexpected, all the hard work. I will be toasting you, and you; I will toast to your family and mine; to the lost and wandering, the found and discovered; I will toast to all things hidden and unknown, to all the open hearts and to all the many open doors. 

cheers to a very happy and abundant New Year. xxoo

we say goodbye, with smiles and tears,

to this passing of years.

we lie in anticipation of what the new day will bring,

unknown abundance in sown fields

hope and resolution

clearing away the noise to find what rests in our hearts.

the quiet voice that nourishes our soul.

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december writing | shadows

In the days after Christmas, long shadows stretch over the house. Life is lived in rewind. We play over and over again the happenings of days past, we remember loved ones no longer with us and heave collective sighs as we watch our children unwrap their days, their gifts, their dreams.

Let us rest in these shadows. Let us find a small spring of renewal that gurgles up from the darkest part of the night, to fill our cups, to fill our hearts again with hope.

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love to you all in these long shadowed days of Christmas tide. a small response to the prompt "shadow" from Amanda and write alm. xo

three | november writes :: first thing I see

It is early morning and I have yet to open my eyes. I know it is dark outside as the light has not yet knocked on the doors of my eyelids. I keep my eyes shut tight so that I can better listen to the world slowly waking up. I listen to the deep sighs of those sharing the tent with me and as I listen to the wind blow through the trees, whistling slowly through the flaps of my ears, I can tell that each one of my companions are still asleep. For that I am grateful. I slowly open my eyes and the first thing I see is nothing. Just darkness. The sun has not peaked over the tops of the glaciered mountains around me. Though I can feel the sharp sting of the cold air around my face, I know that the earth remains slowly circling the sun as I can feel the heat of our star rising through the ground, torrents of sunbeams that will  cast everything in its golden glow in just a little while. My eyes slowly adjust to the dark, and as they do, I see the faint blue-gray light that first hints of the day to come. I quietly get out out of my sleeping bag and pull on my sweater. While grabbing my boots and other woolens, I ever so softly unzip the tent's door. I wince as the sound of the zipper seems to resound off the walls of our tent, as deep as a loud "hello!"echoes and bounces off a canyon wall. I turn my head to cast a furtive glance at my tent mates. Not one of them stirs. I sigh with relief as I climb out into the dark campsite, with the wind quickly biting at my cheeks and my mouth steaming out plumes of steam.

My feet tentatively feel the cold sharp needles and frosted dirt, and despite the frigid air, there is a part of me that longs to walk barefoot over to the cold campfire. I am briefly frozen in the indecision, then chose to throw logic to the wind that tickles my cheeks. I walk, feet stinging on the cold ground, my arms clumsily filled with my boots and layers of clothes to the fire pit. I sit on one of the logs as I pull on my boots, my hands shaking from the thrill of acting like a child as well as from the bitter cold.  Once dressed, I look up at the sky that will slowly turn a bright blue in just a bit. I can still see Orion's belt, and though the sky is still a deep navy, the last bits of the Milk Way have been swallowed up by the soon to be seen sun. It is her way of whispering that she is almost here, dancing just behind the mountain range.  I don't want more light just yet, I don't want the sun to come up and wake the others. I just want to be here, in the quiet, here sitting, here, with the ache of the cold wood finding its way into my skin.

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a bit of fiction. excuse the rambling.
 joining in with amanda and write alm for november-prompt-a-day. 
tomorrow's prompt is: happiness is.....  won't you join in?

monday messiness and mothering

It is almost full circle. The first year of my mother's passing. Yesterday would have been her 73rd birthday. It seems like a rather old number when I write the number 73 down, but my mother was never an old lady. Her spirit was very young, her face always youthful, despite her years. 

Life moves on and now the end of this first year without her is coming to a close.  I find myself taking deep breaths and exhaling slowly.  And, despite my desire somedays to do otherwise, I find myself moving forward anyway, without her, and yet very much with her. 

Moving forward in that great upward spiral of life. xxoo

clickety-clack call of the week's end (& a poem too)

It is a grey, foggy morning here, and though I know some folk don't love grey days, especially when you live in a place that is more grey than sunny; yet here in Souther California, I long for them. There is a certain amount of sameness on the day in and day out of living in such a temperate climate, that at times, the eternal sunshine can feel quite overwhelming. You really have to look for the subtle changes in the seasons to really see the seasons.

It does make one more observant I find. There is a quiet lessening of daylight here. The days have a stretched, softer golden hue to them. Some leaves do change. Many others are perennially green.  One doesn't have the same stark emptiness in winter; which sometimes in those long January and February days is marvelous! However there are times I find myself wishing for a real cold snap that would force snow from the sky.

So perhaps you can see why I am so glad to get these mornings of grey.

As most of you know, we spent last weekend in the San Diego Mountains. I keep going back over the many photos I took there as a way to find out about a life that I am not living, and perhaps, even from time to time, a life I long for: Hens clucking, morning sun skipping out across vast fields of trees, the wilderness and a deeper sense of the wild, fiefdoms of nature, pigs snorting, joyous boys running, and a deeper sense of calm and closeness to my soul. 

For now the photographs will do... and the writing. Oh the writing! I love when I am able to be fully present when I write, letting other things fall away. 

There is a poem I wrote, inspired by the weekend, over on Anchor & Plume Press. I would love for  you to check it out and let me know what you think.

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I am so glad that we carved out a little space and time to go down there and just be.

xxoo

to thine own self. be true

Of objects left behind.
Remnants of the aged;
abandoned under blackened bridges,
lone encampments lost under the soot of covered archways.
Fleeing from the dying gasps of dreams.

Forgotten by children,
Cast aside by lovers.

We gather them up,
tripping through the junkyard of base plans.

We take apart, with hammer,
             with nail, with pen,
                                  and brush,
 the dilapidated, the makeshift, the weak,
the worm-worn wood, gray-eyed with age.

We gather them then,
sliding them back
into our frayed jackets,
our threadbare pockets,
the holes knotted closed,

and hearts shut tight.

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I suspect that no-one finds this assembled army of animals as beautiful as I do. It is silly really, but I stepped outside the other day, and I found my heart tugged upon by their stillness. So I grabbed my camera and took photos of them. To me, I saw something there in their forgotten-ness, in their loneliness. They seemed to be of some sort of forgotten plan. So I took the photos for me, my own stillness, for those moments when I see something that strikes my heart.

I was also so moved to take a course recently, called Write Now.

I have to say I loved it.

Perhaps because I took it indulgently (just for me) or perhaps because I have some unrequited deep desire to write more, I found it incredibly helpful and engaging.  It also gave me something more important: the affirmation of the soul's longing to tell one's own story, to sing one's own song. The beauty of the Write Now course is/was that I didn't ever have to ever aspire to be more than just who I am; never more than who any of us are called to be.

So I am thinking of these things this Tuesday. Of things I do, that are just for me, that end up being fruitful, engaging and soul-filled..such as linking up with bedsidesign for foliophoto.  xxoo

(Here is the link if you are interested in finding out more about Write Now.  The next course starts September 30th.)  xxoo

summer happiness, undefined

backpacks litter the floor. 

forgotten and shirked off for the summer. they smell of forgotten lunches 

and the smooshed sugared crumbs of lost snacks hidden inside the creases of their pockets. 

notes and papers are crammed hidden under the leftover books. 

laced shoes are all but forgotten.

reflecting on love

hello monday!....

you have me thinking about love dear monday: the love that it takes when it is hard, the love that it takes when it is new, the love that it takes to pull your self up and wipe yourself when you have messed up, the love that it takes to make something work. it is not always pretty. sacrifice and compromise are often the name of the game in a well sorted partnership. you have me thinking about this all dear monday.

a pause :: eyes

:: in the early morning light, i walk past your pasture.  seeing me out of the corner of your eye, you trot across the dew to come and greet me. "oh, hello" you say, nudging me for a treat. i have none. i wait for an apple to appear in my hand so i have an excuse to linger with you a bit longer, to feel your squishy, bristly heated nose in the soft cool air as you nibble something out of my flat handed palm. oh how i wish I was magic, just for a moment, so i could conjure up something to give to you. i see you, looking at me with deep hope and affection; a desire, a wish, that i would have something to offer you. but all i have is my hand to scratch you behind your ear. i do just that. it will have to do for now, this quick hello. i want to linger, but i have a hurried busy day ahead, so i walk on, leaving you behind with a bit of want in your eyes::

on raising boys.

Trying to raise tender yet hearty men is as easy as learning to be a concert violinist overnight; it feels absolutely impossible somedays. Oh I know they are all tender hearted souls. I witness it in different ways on an almost daily basis. Last week when my youngest was home sick, I let him watch a movie, "Honey I Shrunk The Kids." One aspect of the plot is this: the children in the story are shrunk to the size of ants, then they befriend an ant. Then the ant dies. As a result of this plot twist, I found my little man weeping into his pillow over  the untimely death of the little baby ant. My heart swelled with achey love and I wanted to scoop him up, hold him and wipe away his tears...however, he wanted none of it. He knew that he was vulnerable in his weeping and my show of affection made him more so. It was hard to let that moment go.

making yourself incredibly happy...or not

I wonder about all sorts of happiness. I wonder what brings me joy & what brings others bliss. I wonder what makes me happy now & what will make me happy tomorrow. I am sure that when I was younger, I knew happiness: pure light filled happiness that just fed my soul and grew my ego.

Now that I am older, I have certainly not put away my childish things but I understand better, from a constructive, adult-ish point of view, that there are layers of happiness out there.

Layers as lovely as an iced cake for your birthday & layers of joy from the rotting compost of sorrow, decomposing, nurturing and fertilizing a better tomorrow.

My children are mixed into those layers. The layers of icing on the cake and the composting pile in the backyard. They mix into my own happiness. They mix into my soul and shake all those clearly defined borders of who I am and where I am going.  I know for certain they have a list of what would make them happy.
It is long, especially when you

midweek messiness & flowers to boot

life is often the dance of the stitch in between the thread of the needle and the cloth that binds it. that small space that closes down on the looping string and the scrubbed patch of cotton. the hollow embroidery & the test of the needle against your skin. 

life fills me up messy some days. even when the stitch is tight and the the day is all mended. life means messy. & beautiful. acrid. unclear. sweet. gooey. loving. unkind. passionate. dull. I keep searching for all the ways that I am supposed to make myself work a bit better. make life a bit neater. fix wounds and tie shoelaces and unlock the secrets shelved in

sunday forward into the week :: stills

sunday. morning. 

fog slowly peeling back the blue in the sky letting dapples of sun adorn the mountains across the bay. 

heart. longing.

lazy holiday and star smattered nights. inside tents. watching our cheeks blow our breathe across the remnants of the winter air. uncurling toes tight in covers. 

we are tumbling headlong into the spring holiday. TWO whole weeks of luxiurious freedom that will seem shorter than a baby sneeze; then it will be over with & the boys back into the last round of school before summer. I know it is just three months into the year, but with the mention of the holidays ahead & summer somehow in sight, we seem to have already had such. a very. full year.  

for that i feel blessed & so grateful.  

here are some stills from the past week & this weekend. we live with some wild & unfettered boys at times, so i am glad to capture a growl or two (ahem the youngest in this first photo on the right), but i also love all sweetness of moments caught with some of their younger friends. 

Have you been very mindful this March? I have been trying to make myself ever so more mindful of my taking in and putting out. but mindfulness is a day to day experience, so naturally i falter, almost all the time.  however, i hope when i am able to look back on today, i will actually see that i was able to sketch out a wee bit of meaning in these days of now. 

hope you had loveliest of weekends. 

xxoo

spring organizing & editing & creating....

Spring! is almost here and with it comes so many ways in which we unfurl our winter coats, shake the grey skies from our souls and listen more to our earth and the brown in our gardens calling to be greened. 

I need to spring clean. organize. edit. re-arrange.  Really. I do. However, more importantly these days, is not only the cleaning and the scraping and the editing that needs to happen, but I often need to remember what comes out in moments of creativity. Not all of it needs to be thrown out with the bathwater in this busy time of change.  Sometimes, what we say, or perhaps what we write or create, is all crap, which does need to be disregarded; yet other times, we have insight that is well, actually insightful, & perhaps most insightful for our very own self.
         For example:

I wrote a post, which was actually a series of posts, almost two weeks ago, called "the best blogging bootcamp advice for beginners." I thought it was genius. well not pure genius, but it was something I needed to write & then I added pictures to the words to engage the reader a bit more, you can click on the links above to see the actual posts. However, almost two weeks later, and just days before the equinox, which is true spring, I urgently need to remember these words again. SO I write them here, again mostly for me, with a few added words of advice, probably just for me, but perhaps you may like it as well...

the best blogging bootcamp advice for beginners is...

small reflection to start the week

Sunday is always a nice day to slow down. wear jammies, slouch around a bit. let your cup of coffee get cold, then make some more, just so you can let it get cold again. play board games with the kids and then start the whole thing over again. all over again: jammies. slouch. coffee. make more. play with kids. repeat.
if you can scratch out a few moments to just listen to all the sounds outside, the birds, the rushing sound of a car splashing through puddles, dogs barking off in the distance, all the while finding a second to gulp your coffee up while it is still hot, well, I think that would make it just so.

This week I am hoping to be a bit more mindful of the quiet and the loud. mindful of our family and the way we can create a bit more space for being together, even when we are at our separate corners of our (very tiny) house. I will try to be mindful of the quiet amidst all this chaos around me -some days it is just so hard to do. Though there are times I am not quite as present as I would like to be, I AM hoping to be a bit more mindful...maybe even mindful enough to: listen in on the quiet, gulp down some coffee while its still hot, all the while enjoying every second the boys are very loud, and very inside the house.

Stylin' Saturdays

I have one of my nearest and dearest friends here with me this week. We have done a lot of lovely lunches and visiting touristy places, but we also indulged a little and went shopping. Mostly just window shopping in and out of boutique-y type clothing stores. It felt indulging just to try on clothes that you wish you could actually buy. Indulging in that little girl inner self that says I WANT therefore I am. I am also a person who loves the small art of finding beautiful things, and then placing them side by side so they enhance each other's beauty. So I love when you walk into a store and things are visually pleasing to the eye. I can't really compare and contrast "indulgent shopping adventures" with my trip last week to Yosemite; but it does make me wonder. It makes me wonder, why it feels so awesome to have exerted one's self physically to make it to the top of the mountain; and at the same time feel the awesome-ness when you have put together the right outfit, or found the perfect gift for someone.

It makes me wonder if our love for outfits and things, and the want to have a sense of pretty-ness and gorgeousness, is not somehow interconnected to the incredible beauty of nature;  a strong wanton desire to take the out of the doors IN.

 It makes me wonder, if the drive in this incredibly consumeristic society we live in, is actually an innate sense, an innate drive to place a small piece of humanity in our hand and hold it just for a second.

Then I wonder if I think too much. So enjoy your little selfish moments, whether you are street stylin' this saturday or you are kicking some serious booty on top of some glorious rock. Enjoy your awesomeness. 

XXOO