checking in with the heart : how life has it all

how does quiet stir a heart so much? i give myself some down time,

and quickly i can't decide if life is incredibly wonderful, or if i am 

ready to cry because of that eternal constant sadness that gives life beauty.

i want to shout hallelujah's of joy because, yes, my life is full of joyful gifts:

i live by the mountains, in an honest desert, i have someone to share my life with,

i've traveled all around this world and experienced new geographies and cultures,

my afternoon breaks consist of listening to this and this, 

i get to teach music {life's true pulse} to little kids, i spend my summers with

great minds at beautiful campuses, we ride bikes along lovely country roads,

i get to play the piano and i'm learning how to play the violin,

i'm starting a band, like-minded women will be meeting at my home to

discuss women in ancient and sacred texts {texts of all kinds}, when i can't sleep

i knit and listen to therapeutic music, there are fresh raspberries in my fridge,

...so why this underlying sadness that seems to be built into my dna?

i don't think i'm asking to be rid of the sadness...it's this sadness that makes

me appreciate all the beauty around me--i couldn't see it without this heartache.

what is my heart aching over? i'm not quite sure. it's just there. 

and it is here this morning. i woke early this morning, despite my excitement last night

to finally be able to sleep in...turns out my heart had to talk to me this morning.

have you ever had a heart-to-heart with your heart?

still dark outside, i got myself a glass of milk,

plugged my headphones into the laptop so i could listen

to music without waking ceej. 

i bundled up in a down blanket, and gathered my knitting project to my lap.

all i can think about these days is sitting by a mountain lake,

or, even better, rowing a canoe in a mountain lake

in foggy weather, wearing a hand-knit sweater and my wellies,

reading john keats out loud...why does this thought simultaneously

bring me so much joy yet so much heartache? why such sadness

attached to such beautiful images?

i actually think keats has already answered this for me:

"ay, in the very temple of delight

veiled melancholy has her sovran shrine,

though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue

can burst joy's grape against his palate fine;

his soul shall taste the sadness of her might,

and be among her cloudy trophies hung."

this is my experience exactly...that in those very moments of joy

is melancholy...they truly are inseparable. this is why when i

have the most bliss-filled dreams and experiences i am also filled

with sorrow for all of the unfulfilled dreams and for all of the hurt

that i and my loved ones have ever been through. this is life.

all of it.

29 : into grounding fog

today i turn 29-years-old.
i love the sound of 29.
i love thinking about the changes i've made
over a year...


as you, dear reader, are already aware of
i ache for foggy weather,
for mornings misty and glimpses of the moon through
clouds moving deliberately slow.

i often wonder why it is that the fog is so enlightening, so soothing
to me when it seems that the opposite would be the case...
but i awoke this morning at 5 o'clock knowing why it is that i
need the fog.

i am an easily distracted woman,
wanting to try everything, do everything, be everything.
this leads to exhaustion...literally burn-out.

then the fog moves in, full of grace.
it covers the eyes of my soul enough so that
i can only see what is right in front of me,
what matters most.
it cuddles me up in its moisture,
and tells me to sit down on dewy grass
to see what breathing feels like:
it feels like warm pearl tea on a dark winter's night;
it feels like laughing with a sister;
it feels like hearing soft notes on an out-of-tune piano;
it feels like poetic words dripping from a tongue;
it feels like a universe full of stars being born, living, and dying;
it feels like...breathing.

somehow fog makes everything so drastically clear to me.
it tells me what i must do, and hides everything else away.

over the past year i have met fear with new hope & trust;
i have met anger with awe & wonder;
i have met frustration with deliberate action;
i have met speechlessness with one word at a time.
i have met anxiety with a smaller world, a more simple world.

so here's to anther year of striving to be
honest, simple, solid, true.

oh heavenly day...

.as i dropped ceej off at the airport this morning i felt deeply how lucky i am.

.i still believe that in heaven i'll be riding a white horse through a beautiful meadow.

.i'm going to work all my life doing the incredibly difficult things that i deeply love.

.am in love with calling dear friends with good hearts who know.

.my library is growing healthy. and hopefully so is my brain.

.four years ago i dreamed about going to north carolina. i'm going there tomorrow.

.i've always feared being a poet...next week i begin to face my fears.

.my biggest fears are my biggest joys.

.idealism is difficult, but worthwhile.

.i wonder if my mom knows that she is a poet from another realm.

.ceej brought me roses that brought me courage.

.i will always be a girl with dreams.

.i am in love with an honest heart.

.life is so clear when i am vulnerable...i see how good it is to fail, to be wrong, to learn.

.i still love the song of a violin.

.i am shaking with possibility. it is all so very vast indeed.

.i am breathing the ebb and flow of life deeply.

where the soul never dies...

this was my kind of morning.
oh, this foggy shroud stirred my soul.
it wrapped me up,
whispered to my heart that this is it.
this is what makes everything worth it.
still. gray. calm.
this is what makes you see the world
in colors you never noticed before.
this is what pricks your senses,
allowing you to hear every bird song
and ripple on the water.
this is it.

at what age do you officially become a woman?

it's here.
today is my 28th birthday.

so have i technically graduated from "girl" to "woman?"
i hardly feel like a grown-up,
yet in many ways i feel so very old.
28 doesn't seem to fit these days.

most of my days i still feel like an adolescent,
trying to figure out who i am, what my dreams are,
what my strengths and weaknesses are.
i am quite moody, shifting from crying to giggling
within seconds.

other days i feel like i've been here for decades.
i have a terrible memory, forgetting most of my life,
i hate loud and noisy concerts,
i'm constantly saying "kids these days...",
and i ache to travel back to the "good ol' days"
{even if those days are myth}

though most days i am quite confused about my age
i have days every now and then that i cherish.
these are the days when i feel i truly am
an "age-old tree"...

a feeling that i have existed long before the earth
and that i will continue on long after the earth
has disappeared.
these are my "enlightened" days.
no fears enter my heart.
only peace and gratitude and awe.
isn't it amazing to be alive?
to watch birds fly,
to feel the earth move
and to see good people all around.
i like this "ageless" age the most.

so here i am.
28 years old.
a woman...almost.

{self-portraits. october 2009}

ten items or less...or more

the lovely nadia over at la porte rouge invited her readers to list their ten happy items...more or less. i think it is a brilliant idea. especially because i could use a little reminder today of how sweet life is. so here's my ten:

{one}
days with a shroud of clouds, dark heavy clouds
{two}
lying in svasana listening to arvo part
{three}
dancing when no one is watching
{four}
my loyal wellies, green and quite functional
{five}
the smell of homemade doughnuts mingled with
the smell of a fire on an autumn evening
{six}
spending every day and every moment with ceej.
i. am. so. lucky.
{seven}
singing old folk songs with mo.
{eight}
letting words flow from my pen onto a blank sheet of paper
{nine}
reading keats, whitman, dickinson, and eliot aloud
{ten}
visiting new england when october comes..seeing all the
cozy homes, fruitful farms, and beautifully haunting graveyards.


now. it's your turn.

{photo by me. poem from auden.}

my thoughts on a week

it's been a week i am grateful for:
orchards, falling leaves, change.
before you assume so,
my perfect week has not been void of difficulty.
it's been both breezy and frustrating.

this week i've been loved, challenged, served, hurt, permitted,
stretched, molded, liberated, validated, ignored, and awakened.

thoughts that have come to heart and mind:

sometimes good people do bad things.
sometimes bad people do good things.
you never know who is what.
so love them all the same.

i wished a political opponent good luck.
and i meant it.
strange because i desperately want my side to win.
strange because i want him to be happy as well.

i sing best when i'm in the kitchen.
alone. with no other instrument but my voice.
i'm getting better at singing when my husband
drums along...getting over fears of being "watched"
because when i sing i like to dance around a bit,
and close my eyes to hit the higher notes.

sacrifice is hard. that's why it's a sacrifice.
i'm starting to like the idea of waiting for something better...
better things that i can't even imagine.

cheap is never good.
well-made things and thrift are my new rules.
buy things that are carefully crafted and will last.
this means i hardly buy anything at all,
only when necessary - i do it deliberately.
and i love it.

pushing through walls is hard,
but rewarding.
my wall has been made of insecurities.
i talk more.
i allow myself to be cheesy, mistaken, vulnerable.

this is my week.
it has been perfect indeed.

photos by me. apple hill october 2009.

the trees that are oh so wise...

i dream of dancing on a lake
beneath stars that hum;
of standing still amidst a gathering storm.

i watch the aged trees
older than i.
the trees that are oh so wise.

i think how similar you and i are,
and how fragile.
i break and you get cut.

i wish for pretty days, and strangely
for horrid days too.
both reveal my strength.

i try to be good and kind,
as well as fight the good fights--
even when alone or seems so.

i remember that i have all of you
who love, who give, who live;
your spirit gives me life.

i watch my grandparents age,
the world has changed too much.
they grow tired and ready.

i hear all sounds at once coming together,
making sounds of life;
going on and on and on.

i forget much of my childhood and adolescence
but i know the good and the bad.
my past made me.

i do what i can.
it's more than enough.
i am always blessed.

i dream of dancing on a lake
beneath stars that hum;
of standing through it all.

photo and poem by me. october 2009.

i wait for storms...then let them move through me...

are you sick of me talking of rainy days and gathering clouds? hopefully not. i could never tire of emotional weather. it wakes my soul. sunny days are quite mundane if you ask me. they ask nothing of you. it's too easy, don't you think? storms ask something of you. they make you stop to look up. they demand your listening attention with booms and rumbles. you must either slow down and stay in doors taking care of a stressed-out soul, or taking care of your abode because you've put that off too. if you decide to go out, you must prepare yourself: wellies, scarves, slickers, umbrellas. you must be deliberate when it storms. you either slow down to watch the sky and its rain hit the earth or you brave the storm and place yourself right in the middle of it all...feeling every bit of watery nourishment and every whip of the wind. this last weekend we had an unusual bit of cool weather and rain. i'm sad to see it end...we're headed back to 95+ degrees here. so mundane. so easy. nothing to watch, nothing to prepare for. i came across this verse written in the 18th century, and thought i'd share:

O, fearful people, fresh courage take

the clouds you so much dread

are big with mercy and shall break

in blessings on your head.

so lovely indeed. those clouds and storms always end with nourishment and harvest. wonderful things are storms.

this is a photo of me on a cloudy afternoon at our cabin up the weber.