a little nostalgia {from the archives} : missing ceej, my red hair, christmas tree hunting, and decorating a big tree...

ceej is traveling through europe for business {lucky}, and i'm missing his entire person:
his jokes, random texts, hearing him come home through the door, talking face to face.
but feeling lucky i got to talk with him via skype twice today. that's pretty good.

since we downsized there isn't room for a full-size christmas tree in our little place...
so we simply picked up a table-top tree from our grocery store and strung up some twinkly lights.
it's beautiful in our little room, but i sure am missing last year's tree hunt and decorating festivities.

and, finally, i'm missing my red hair...i used to go to the best hair stylist. truly. but it cost me a pretty penny for sure. so now i have a new stylist who simply trims my hair straight across the bottom:
thank you, ceej, for being willing to cut my hair so we can save a good chunk of cash.

grateful for all the saving that's going on in our lives. grateful for all the opportunities that have
miraculously popped up in our lives this past year. it's tough to sacrifice for big dreams,
but i can already feel how worth it it all will be.

this is vermont : how i realized yet another dream | "o me, o life!"

every friday night when i was in high school i would return home late after hanging out with friends,
and i would pop in my favorite movie into the vcr: dead poets' society.
i didn't always stay awake for the entire movie, but there was a comfort in falling asleep to my dreams.
all my teenage heart wanted was to go to a school in beautiful new england
where professors would let poetry drip off their tongues, and ask us to contribute a verse.

so here i am. in new england. listening to professors talk about words, about narrative, about poetry.
yes, dreams come true indeed...

however, it seems that dreams always come with a price.
my cost: homesickness for ceej. i find myself here in a dream, without ceej by my side to share it.
i find that the stress of actually performing academically is difficult for this heart
when i don't have arms to hold me when i doubt my abilities to articulate discoveries and epiphanies
on paper for experts.

dreams are funny that way, yes? it seems they come in piecemeal...
one day i might end up at school with ceej by my side.
but until then i will attempt to get through the loneliness, the stress, and the work
while enjoying the beauties and this dream a bit on my own.

it's beautiful. it's what this 17-year-old girl thought would never happen.
i remind myself that somehow dreams sneak up on you
after years of hoping and working.

hope you had a lovely weekend.
i spent mine swimming in a mountain lake,
and dancing in the barn with friends late into the night...
now the academic storm begins.

:: this is my quiet easter sunday ::

this earthy holiday of rebirth certainly lifts a heart, and freshens up a stale soul.

things are moving. lots is happening. it's a bit terrifying, but mostly exhilarating.

this spring air, without a doubt, makes magic happen--mostly within this heart of mine.

i'm embarking on scary things. big things. wonderful things. i'm all too aware that

the higher i aim the more dramatic the fall...but, mostly, i'm over it. sort of.

the path? well, we'll see how all the details work themselves out.

but the goal is clear: start my own school. give me ten, twenty years. 

i'll have a school. i've finally given myself a heart-to-heart about real dreams,

not "back-up" dreams when the real dreams seem too crazy.

spring has given me the guts to do hard things. it's given me the will-power

to put my pride aside, to study harder than i've ever studied, to work harder

than i've ever worked--and i'm enjoying every minute of it.

this earth is moving me. is it moving you?

{ceej has arrived safely in china. miss him terribly. one week. here we go.} 

this morning i forgave my yesterday self

i usually hide behind photos, not wanting to expose my words so bare.

but today marks a new day of love and courage.

as many of you know, i can give myself a good beating, languishing in mistakes and shortcomings.

however, i am on the approach of trust and determination, releasing analytical judgments.

part of my heart has melted away...the part that was false and full of lies,

leaving my age-old heart to beat deliberately, full of wisdom and pure joy.

i see both heartache and rejoicing ahead,

and i am willing.

more than ever to try.

because i may.

thou mayest*.

i have a song, an ancient choir of voices, strings, and booming drums,

pulsing through my being.

it began in the space around me here on this earth,

and it first pricked the hairs of my skin when my mother

labored my existence,

and it has been sinking slowly, but deeply,

through my pores, into my blood, into my cells,

into my soul

where i dance with beauty

and i dance with terror.

this morning i forgave my yesterday self,

and welcomed possibilities

both challenging and perfect.

i opened up the doors, the windows, the entire roof

to all that dreams can do.

*a reference to steinbeck's east of eden : "I feel that a man [or woman] is a very important thing--maybe more important than a star. This is not theology. I have no bent towards gods. But I have new love for that glittering instrument, the human soul. It is a lovely and unique thing in the universe. It is always attacked and never destroyed--because 'Thou mayest.'"

manifesto monday : growing and strange advice

last year i graduated. finally. after nine years of going to school on and off. after three universities. after six jobs. after hundreds of hours of wonderful, blissful, difficult courses. it was about time i graduated. in history. loved it. and hated it.

the things we love most are heavy with paradox. love-hate. natural-difficult.

during my last semester of school i approached a few of my professors with questions about my future in academia. i explained: it's taken me nine years to do my undergraduate studies. i don't know many professors very well, and they don't know me. i want desperately to pursue an academic life, but am worried that my sporadic schooling will not produce sufficient references, and, well, let's face it: academia is hard. very. very. hard. at least for me it is. but i love it. i swoon for it and in it. is this the masochist in me? perhaps. the point is, is that i love the most the thing that is the most difficult.

professor number one's advice: since my academic record and existence isn't all that substantial, perhaps i should go with something more within my reach and ability (aka : something easy). she suggests i pursue option b : ayurvedic practitioner (no references needed, no grades needed, no tests needed...i just pay my money, and voila! i'm certified). option b is safe. it's easy. why not?

professor number two's advice: (while trying not to give me the "you're out of your mind" look) you just don't have the right credentials. it would take more work than you could ever imagine for you to even think about applying for more school. just get your undergrad degree and be happy with it. move on.

professor number three's advice: yes! go for it. you might have to take a few extra courses. but you can do it. don't let tests intimidate you. don't let time intimidate you. if this is what you want then do it. by the way, i had a dream last night that i picked up the newspaper and there was a substantial article written by you. go for it. do what you need to do. it might take time. your path might not be conventional, but who needs convention?

over the past year, i've taken the advice of the first two. until now. finally i realized that all those catchy phrases ("never, never, never give up; do one thing every day that scares you; success is standing up one more time than you've fallen; the easy way isn't necessarily the best way; etc) really do have some heavy truths. i wonder why so many people were telling me to do the easy thing. to quit. thank goodness for one wise and kind professor. (and, of course, ceej was always telling me i could do anything).

i'm resolved. to do the hard thing. to do the thing that will bring me the most growth. to do the thing that i will both love and hate the most. to do the thing that will teach me more about myself and others more than any other endeavor. i'm going to do the thing that will take time, sweat, and dedication. i'm going to do the thing that might bring lots of frustration, but lots of joy. since when did we start to think that the easy and quick way was the right way? no thank you. i'm doing life the old-fashioned way: slow, deliberate, and truthfully. no more coming up with quick-fixes. i've tried that for a year, and can see it is taking me nowhere but disappointment.

i'm moving forward no matter how long it takes. no matter how hard. no matter what everyone else tells me. i think i'm finally growing up. i'm loving the things that stretch me most.

this i believe.

dream-catching : voice

i have dreams. i'm talking about little visions. sometimes big visions.

they come when i'm sleeping, when i'm awake, during yoga, while cooking, while looking out the window. i've never spoken of them. to anyone. never even wrote them down. until i had one a few days ago and i finally told cj about these dreams {thoughts, ideas, visions, whatever you want to call them}, and so ceej suggested i begin to keep track of them and write them down. i've started to do that.

today, while napping, i had a very real dream indeed:

i was on some kind of stage. i had my guitar, and there was a small crowd. i began to play angel from montgomery, an old john prine song made popular by many different artists. i started to play the chords. it was sloppy. i was nervous. but everyone got the idea. they knew what i was about to sing, and everyone smiled and lightly clapped their hands in approval. we were outside. so i felt comfortable, for the first time, belting out the words and giving the melody my own flair. something i've always wanted to do. let go. completely. i've never felt something so powerful...and i really felt it. i could feel it in my entire waking body. that was my real voice. the one i've always hoped to awake. as soon as i woke from my dream i remembered a comment cj made a few weeks back when we were at the davis farmers' market. we threw a couple dollars into the guitar case of a local musician as he sang his heart out. it was beautiful. cj commented on how scary and out of control it probably feels to really let go in order to let your voice come out so wonderfully. and that made sense to me. it takes courage to let go. so much courage. so much trust that it will come out perfect. your own perfect. not someone else's.

i've always doubted my own voice. but i've always desperately wanted to open up and let it fly out at its own will and desire. yes, i am talking about my literal voice, but i am also talking about my voice: my words, my heart, my thoughts, my intentions. i tend to block them. to put them aside because it's just me. i don't sing loud because you sing just so beautifully and there's no need for me to take up more time. i don't contribute to the big conversations as much as i'd like because my ideas and visions just seems either too simple or too outrageous, and what you said was just fine anyway. my voice is stuck. and i've known it for years.

that dream woke me up. it felt so good to put aside inhibition and to let my heart come out. it's time. i'm taking the first step to letting my voice go, and i'm trusting that it will all come out fine.

i'll be playing my guitar for the rest of the afternoon, trying to let my voice go while trying not to disturb the neighbors upstairs...or maybe i shouldn't worry about disturbing them? maybe they'd like to hear a little angel from montgomery.

{this is the beginning of a new little series: dream-catching. i'll try to share some of my dreams with you, but i'll keep most of them in my personal journal as they are precious indeed}

manifesto monday: fire

trees by the river, originally uploaded by Ann Marie Whittaker.

i've been wondering when i will finally get mad. i want to know how a person says "forget everything that's ever happened, or hasn't happened for that matter...i'm going to do whatever i want to no matter how poor i am, no matter what other people say." where does that fire come from? when will i get so angry at this world that tells me i have to score certain points, know certain facts, or find a nice clean-cut label for myself? i think i'm getting close to something on the brink of anger. but i need something more than a chip on my shoulder. i need that fire that is seen deep inside the eyes, and felt with every breath. i need to throw away books that tell me what and how to write to get published here or there. i need to get rid of my attitude that people only want what so-and-so does. i think i'm getting quite tired indeed of worrying about being labeled "emotional" or "too nice"--plus, there's actually quite a dark and mysterious side to me that i don't think i've even allowed to come out because i've been too worried about the oh so typical responses i have assumed will come my way. and maybe they will. who cares? i'm beginning not to care.

i am feeling that i am getting tired of coming up with "plan b's" and following them rather than pursuing "plan a" which is what i want to do in the first place. if i puruse plan b of course that's where i'll end up rather than doing what i always wanted to do. so here's the hard part: what is it exactly that i want to do?

write. write what? short stories. children's books. poems. essays about life, about politics, about what i think about the world and its beauties and ugliness.

i want to take pictures. i want to create images that are both beautiful and terrible at once. i want to tell stories of people and the earth. i want people to see what is so beautiful and to see the beauty in something that is frightening.

i want to sing songs. songs that have that fire in them. a fire that makes you want to hit the "repeat" button over and over again. songs that are that wonderful balance of simple but grand.

i want to travel and meet people. meeting people. that's a hard one. i'm quite awkward and prefer to watch and listen. i wouldn't ever be good at that interviewing thing. i'd call you up and say "may i please come stay with you for a week and just sit by you and watch what details make up your beautiful, yet simple life?" "may i listen to the conversations you have with your neighbors, with your sister on the phone, or those conversations you have with your heart?" i don't want to ask one question. i just want to write it all down and take lots and lots of photos. because i think you're a fascinating person for one reason: you do what you love even on the days that you hate it, and wish you would have done something else until you have that moment again where you realize how lucky you are to do what you love.

so how do i do it? how do i throw myself into the fire? let go. let go. let go and fly into the failure and the success full speed ahead with eyes that show a heart and see it all. i can't get this well-known quote out of my head:

"i set myself on fire and people come to watch me burn" -john wesley

so here i set myself on fire--which can be a painful thing that people call you crazy for doing, but they watch you anyway in awe. i've been watching all of you do what you love--watching your fire and i'm going to do that for myself--even though i'm sure to cry, yell, sulk, doubt along the way. here's to setting myself on fire. here's to doing it all: writing, photography, song writing and performing (did i say that out loud?! yes i want to perform for small little groups now and then). i set myself on fire, and i'm going to run in the direction of my dreams rather than away from them.

{please remind me of this post when i begin to sulk and pout. please.}

{and, happy winter solstice!}

it's all pretty now

is it wise to admit to being a dreamer?
of course, you already know i love to dream.
but that hasn't always been the case...

once upon a time dreams were scary,
because they were so pretty and wondrous...
how could a little girl like me ever expect
it all to come true?

certainly there is disappointment in this life,
and the possibility of failure scared me even more than
the beauty and wonder.

then one day i woke.
isn't it all so beautiful?
the dreams and the failure...

you can't lose.

dream big dreams, and dream them little too...
because the little dreams are just as big,
and the failure is just as pretty as the dream.

{photo by me. november 2009}

my dream come true!

oh, heart! heart! heart!

please go here {a beautiful blog by a beautiful woman} to read about something oh so beautiful...

now, how do i join and move in?

{sorry, i rarely post something like this...but i couldn't resist!}

Who told you that you could?

last night i talked to a dear friend. i've known her for 12 years now. it was good to laugh with her and to talk about life with her. it got me thinking of how many wonderful friends i have and all the wonderful things they are doing:

doctors

writers

activists

artists

scientists

mothers

fathers

singers

editors

designers

i started thinking "who told them they could do that?" "who told them that they could do whatever they wanted to do?" "who encouraged them?" "who told them to go for it?"

and that's what i'm asking you, dear readers. i'm interested to know who told you that you could live your dream?

{i really do want to know who has inspired you. i know that we are here for each other, and that many of us have been motivated and inspired by others. i think this is a wonderful thing that we have. so, please, give a shout out to those who have helped you along the way}

photo, yet again, by cig harvey...i'm feeling lazy today and went for an easy image. but it sure is lovely, don't you think?

manifesto monday: heaven, horses, & hogwarts

one of the first memories i have is about what i used to think heaven was like: heaven was a beautiful mountain meadow filled with beautiful white horses for me to ride (as i wore an elegant gown, and my waist-long hair braided in a crown around my head). i still think heaven is probably like this. at least, i hope it is.

about two months ago i confidently and quite nonchalantly told one of my older sisters that i intend to open up a hogwarts school of my own someday. i was serious. dead. but she laughed because a school of magic is certainly absurd. but that's not truly what i meant. what i meant to say is i want a school in a beautiful place in a beautiful estate for kids to learn in a hands-on sort of fashion...where teachers are both playful and serious. i want to wear robes, and have "house" competitions. rugby matches would be nice (odd that i say such a thing, as i despise most sporting events).

perhaps what i'm saying today is that i have never grown up, never faced "reality." but, on the other hand, maybe what i most desire is truly real. i started reading a book today written by a man who is now dead. he writes books about myth, ritual, the sacred and the profane. he writes that sacred experience, which has often been labeled as irrational, is in all actuality, the only reality. this is something many other cultures would agree on: that much of what we concern ourselves with on this earth is all an illusion.

so what i'm trying to say here is that i am beginning to believe more in my dreams. isn't that what they tell you to do when you are young? then, as you all know, things get hard...especially our hearts. i'm trying to soften my heart a little. the more it softens the more my life will become real and meaningful. this i believe.

source of images unknown. very sorry.

monday manifesto: becoming like a child

i remember asking for art kits when i was very young...the nice rows of colored pencil, pastels, and chalk within a black book were oh so pretty to my 7-year-old eyes. those art kits were always on my birthday and christmas lists (along with a puppy and a pony, of course). i remember getting one. maybe i got more than one. but i would have liked to get even more than that, i'm sure.
my older sisters were artists. good ones too. they won awards, and i remember going to see them on display. i wanted more than anything to have them show me how to use color on a canvas...how to paint pretty things (probably a pony). but, they were soon busy with college and marriage. though i desparately wanted art lessons i tried to understand that my sisters were very busy women, carving out their futures and their own beautiful lives independent of family.
with my chance for free art lessons out of the house, i stopped drawing. i had forgotten all of this until yesterday.
yesterday cj gave me my first painting lesson. my first strokes like colors on a playground: blue, red, yellow, green. very simple. then i started mixing paint...not knowing what colors i would get. then i just started painting. why was i so shocked when i painted what i did?
it was a tree. with birds in the sky and grass on the ground. at first i thought i was drawing a tree because i love them more than anything. but as i continued painting and i realized exactly what i had done i was overcome with tears. i used to draw this scene all the time when i was young and hoping for art lessons: tree to the left side of the paper, m-shaped birds in the sky, blades of grass at the foot of the tree. i went right back to my 7-year-old self. i unkowingly picked up right where i had left off.
i cleaned out my brushes, watching the colors wash down the drain. cj showed me where everything goes when painting is over for the day. i stepped back into our "studio" and looked at my painting. i slowly walked over to ceej, gave him a hug, while still looking at my reddish tree against a greenish sky. its spirit brought my heart's tears through my eyes. i had to tell him. "i love my painting. i think it's really good." and i do. i am well aware that it is no great work of art, but i love it because i'm still painting my childhood beauty. trees. grass. birds. i'm going to frame it and hang it in my bedroom where i will awake each day to its simple beauty, and a reminder that i can do whatever my good dreams have shown me.
we often hear that we should become as little children because they are humble and meek. but i think that to become like a child also means to let go of fears, let go of judgement (especially of ourselves), and to put your heart out there. this i believe.

i'm pretty sure that rockin' out is in my future too. i started my weekend with this...and it's been the most amazing, heart-lifting weekend i've had

seriously.

best

weekend

ever.

{i'll tell you all about it tomorrow}

p.s.

who wants to be in my band?

I Couldn't Ask For More...

Yesterday Ceej and I spent the entire day together. We went for a drive down south...through Spanish Fork Canyon, over through Fairview and Mount Pleasant...then through Spring City, and to the Birch Creek Ranch, a beautiful place that all of you should visit and support, where friends Zina and Chris are dreamily living...
Then C and I went to an amazing art exhibit of paintings of the southwest. Afterwards we met up with friends, Chris and Amanda, for a little birthday celebration over some authentic Italian. It was all oh so perfect.

enjoy the photos.