Let it sing...

Sometimes you just need to be sung to. And tonight I remembered how to make it sing.  It's the simple things that make the biggest difference.  

Finding Marbles

When I was little, I used to visit my cousin's house a lot.  We could walk to the 5 and dime at the corner...and I really do believe it was called that, or something very similar (and you really could buy a piece of candy for a dime...but let me not date myself too much).  We felt pretty cool walking to the store on our own.

Then we would take walks around the block and look for "treasures".  Coins, bottle caps...whatever.  But the biggest treasure of all...always...was finding a marble.  We'd go home and shine it all up like we struck gold.  And then we'd show it off.  So proud and accomplished.  One time, we found the BIG marble...an inch in diameter...wow, what a day! It didn't have any color, but it was a glass marble, and it was huge.  The jackpot of marbles!  On that day, it felt better than Christmas.

There were so many things that were magical in my childhood.

I sat thinking of this one day several years ago and wondered why I never find marbles anymore.  I shared this with my brother, and I swear it wasn't a week later that he handed me a marble that he found in my grandmother's back yard.  I almost cried I was so happy.  In fact, I think I did. 

And it was at that moment I realized...I don't find marbles anymore because I stopped looking.

I could go into a full on essay about the meaning of this as a metaphor for adulthood, but I think it's clear enough on its own.

If you want to keep finding marbles...never stop looking.

They are there, covered in dirt with one tiny edge peeking out.   

And you know how I know this for sure today?  Because yesterday my brother sent me a picture of two marbles that washed out of the dirt in my grandmother's yard...now his yard (the picture here).  He remembered, and he still looks.  And he still finds them.

And now, I should go....there are marbles to be discovered!

~keep looking, there are magical hidden treasures just waiting to be found

Feeling good is good enough for me

I have been carrying the same purse for at least 5 years...it could be 8.  I love it.  It's from target, and it's a functional cloth purse.  I know exactly where my phone is and where my keys are.  It's falling apart a little, but I haven't found one to replace it.

I don't wear a lot of makeup.

I am allergic to hair dye now, so I have let my grey streak shine.

I don't go out a lot, but I just don't believe it when I'm told that being happy in my solitude is a problem.

My soul smiles when my dogs are happy and there is good music on the radio.

I realize being too "still" was an issue.  I now go to the gym, and am happy to be on the path to a more healthy lifestyle.

Still...there are people at the gym who match head to toe. I don't have the time, money, or the inclination to dress up for the gym.  I just want to get there.  I am going to be healthy. This is not a fashion show for me.  

I wear bobby pins to keep my hair out of my face. and my workout clothes are from walmart and target...because I don't need to spend $50 on a pair of shorts to wear to the gym.

Half of the anxiety in my life is because people are trying to tell me I need to fit into something that I was not born to fit into.

I will probably never be part of a social club.

I will never carry a purse bigger than my ass.

I will not wear earrings bigger than my head.

I will not dress to impress.  I like my cargo shorts and flip flops.  Any man that doesn't appreciate that is not the man for me.

And there is absolutely no judgement here on anyone who does things I cannot do.  These things are perfectly acceptable and even great for those whose personalities fit them.  I'm just tired of feeling like I'm not enough because it's not me to do them.

I will get healthy,but I will not become someone I am not.

I am a hippie chick.  Love me or leave me alone, because feeling good is good enough for me.

~peace

4 am revisited

One of my dearest friends once told me that 4am is a powerful time to speak to the universe.  And almost every weeknight, I am up at .... 4am. 

I'm happy, I'm blessed...but is there something subconciously that I need to speak to the universe about? Or does it need to speak to me, and I just don't listen during the waking hours?

The night is still at this hour..even the bugs are asleep.  and yet the wind chimes next to me are clanging...until I look a them.  Then they stop.

What is the message?  I'm open and ready to receive it or grant it. 

I just wish I knew what it was...

~peace

Facebook Requiem

I will write, I say

And then you call out.

I try to ignore you, but your notifications are so deliciously tempting as they sit unanswered...waiting for me.  Calling for me, unrequited.

It’s so effortless, joining you and oversharing everything I want to do…

instead of doing it.

These words of mine fight tooth and nail not to be written.  But you, you are always there waiting and ready with an open status.

Oh facebook, you are an evil distraction. So alluring, so decadent and wasteful.  So easy to love. 

But you are no good for me.  You make me forget my needs, my goals, my life in any meaningful way.  I must end our monogamous relationship and return my heart to my muse, even though he is a fickle lover.

I long for you, even now, but I must take care of me first.  Me.  Not this shell of a person you’ve left me with. 

Me.  The writer.

Yeah, that’s right.

I'm back.

An Experiment

Once again, I am looking at the hands of the clock shouting 4am at me and mocking me with it's incessant ticking away of my sleepless hours...work inching closer and closer with every tock.

While lying in bed a few moments ago, I realized I was fretting about how I am going to handle the office coldness tomorrow.  I have to say this to that person, be dismissed by this one, ignored by another...and generally acquiesce to demands upon me that hinder my self worth and can even bring me dangerously close to the edge of self loathing.

And then I realized.  No, I don't!

I just have to get my job done to the best of my ability.  If I didn't let them steal my soul while I was there, maybe I wouldn't have panic attacks at 4am on almost every weekday.

I've lost myself somewhere.  I give it all away and leave nothing of me for me. 

So, I'm going to try an experiment.  Since I am only truly me when I am consistently writing, I have decided that every time I start to get anxious at work and lose my way, I am going to stop and spend 5 minutes writing something...anything that does not have to do with work. 

I am going to start a "Me" diary.

And I'm going to take it even a step further.  After work and before I am allowed to start playing around on Facebook, I am going to write something.  Blog, poem, paragraph...something. 

I can put my self worth back into my own hands.

I'll let you know how it goes.

~peace

I miss my friends

I'm watching the sun come up (a very rare occurrence these days), and I'm wondering why I don't do this more often.  The sun yawning and stretching its rays into the treetops to the harmony of the doves' serenade is one of the most peacefully enlightening moments.  I could write every day at this time if I would (i.e., could) just get myself out of bed.  I tend to sleep it all away.  What a mistake.

And last night I realized that I sometimes "sleep away" my most precious friendships.  Different state, different city, different job....and somehow all those special bonds end up lost in the past somewhere.  I move on and almost forget.  I tuck them away somewhere inside where they are safe...almost too safe of a place to ever be found again.  Like a trunk in the attic that you always think you'll revisit someday but that gets pushed into a lonely forgotten corner getting dusty and old on the outside, while inside the photographs and memories stay vivid and alive...waiting.

And then once in a while, my heart just decides it's had enough.  It misses them. I miss them. I yearn for every one of them.  Every smile, every heartbreak....all of it.

And then the miracle happens. 

I reach out to them...and they reach back. I open the trunk, and there they are as colorful and true as the day I tucked them away.  Forgivingly embracing me.  Despite my careless absence, they love me still.

True friends.

I am so thankful for their gift of endless love.

What goes on at 4am

Ok, it's now 5:30am, but I woke up at 4.  Usually, I toss and turn and try to convince (or beg) myself to fall back to sleep, but tonight I got up, turned on some music, warmed up my corn pillow to put on my aching shoulder, and wrote out my thoughts. As tired as I am going to be in 6 hours, at this moment I feel peace. I've gotten it off my chest and out into the universe.  This is much better than the panic I normally feel as I count down the minutes of sleep I am losing.

And then I read some old poetry of mine and came across this from shortly after I moved to Nashville years ago.  More years than I can believe.  It's funny how we think we've changed so much, but then again, not really.

3:17 a.m.

it's 3:17 a.m.
sleep was here
but left early.

too much to think about.
too much to feel.

so i turn on the light,
pick up a pen,
and pretend
to ignore the ache in my neck
caused by the ache
at the center of my chest.

there is a sound to the silence around me.
the refrigerator bellows,
floor creaks,
lightswitch snaps,
pen clicks and hums against the page.
but there are no voices.
no need for conversation
at this early hour,
or when you're alone.

my tiny apartment is chilly
at 3:17 a.m.
so i turn up the heat

but the wood beneath my feet
stays cold.

~peace

Honesty is such a lonely word

Honesty is such a lonely word. (~Billy Joel)

I realized today how often I say something that is not entirely true…or hold myself back from saying something that is true.  I do this to a) not be criticized or b) not hurt someone’s feelings.

Now, I certainly never want to hurt anyone’s feelings.  But there are times when someone is saying or doing something so hurtful to me that I can feel my heart splitting in two. I can feel every blood vessel in my body screaming to burst with tears or punches.  I want to spew fire and hurt back.  I will even draw the bow and pull back the arrow of retaliation with full intent to shoot and kill, but

Bite your tongue.

Bite your tongue

Bite your tongue.

And I do.  Even when inside I want to scream “how could you, how could you, how could you?!”

I have issues.  We all do.  But the people I respect the most are those that stand up and say “Yes, I am fucked up…but this is ME…accept it or move on.”  To my dismay, I am not yet one of those people.

However, I am wholly aware of my shortcomings, as, I suspect, are most people of their own. 

So why judge, try to reign over or to make changes that are not yours to make?

Look in the mirror.  Look hard and honestly.  Imagine hurtful words strewn across your brow by someone who does not know you and has not walked in your shoes.  Turn your critical eye on yourself.

If you don’t see it…look a little longer.  And when you finally recognize the bloodied and bruised fossils of those who have unjustly judged you, maybe then you’ll realize.  Maybe we all will.

Don’t allow it…and don’t do it.

This is as much a message to my own self as it is to anyone reading this.

Peace.

You may look like a celebrity, but you're no Picasso

I watched "Midnight in Paris" the other night, and it lifted my creative spirit high, high, high.  The days of unfettered karmic kinship must have been so fulfilling, so enlightening, so free and trusting...the reason that Paris in the 20's changed the world of creativity...and to me, the world in general.  They took in everything and everyone because they FELT it.  There was no considering whether this person or that was someone weird or not like the others or not to be trusted.  They were FREE of that baggage.  They just loved and felt, and laughed, and created, and created, and created. Or at least that's my ideal take on it.

Today, instead of seeing the lonely artist sitting next to us...or on the curb or walking alone...we see someone that could be a stalker, a killer, or at the very least, a weird person of whom we must beware.

What has happened?

I know I am not the most outwardly social person, but I still recognize the priceless value of interacting with the person sitting next to me. 

Yes, the world can be scary, but if we lose touch with each other personally, what do we have left? A computer screen?

People still mistake kindness to be weakness...or even worse, weirdness.  If someone talks to you in line at lunch does your skin crawl or does your soul see another human  being?

I've had stalkers...the world can be scary.  But let's not let the minority of our personal experiences become the majority of how we interact with the world.  We all need each other.

love.

Listen

Listen closely.

Are you listening now? Really listening?

And I don’t mean to me; I mean to each other. Are you hearing and feeling what is being shared with you, or are you waiting for the appropriate pause to interject your opinion…or change the subject to yourself?

If you’re thinking of your next comment and how witty or inspirational it might be…you’re not listening. If you’ve just spent the last 30 minutes talking about yourself, your kids, your job, your world, and then you are asked to do the same for someone else…only to suddenly realize you’ve got a phone call, a visitor, a task that must completed right now…you probably have not been listening. Truly listening.

Please stop and think about this. Because someday you’re going to need somebody to listen. Really listen.

"I like to listen. I have learned a great deal from listening carefully. Most people never listen." ~Ernest Hemingway

My very first blog

so here i am...my very first blog.  and just like my first word, first step, first fall, first everything, it's awkward and unknown...and i'll probably suck at first.  yes, i'm scared shitless about sending my insides out, but we don't get anywhere by staying in our comfort zone, so...welcome to me!

since this is my first blog <blush> i will write about something easy...the things i love about my new city, austin (and there are a lot, but like the first time doing anything <blush again...ok, maybe not>....it'll be brief)

first and foremost of what i love about austin is family.  my brother is here.  <sigh of complete relief>  there's nothing like being with family.  nothing.  and my sister-in-law and even BETTER is the most awesome kid on the face of the earth, my nephew. having him in my life renews my youth. and i'm getting up in the years now, so youth is tres importante.

but aside from all the personal stuff...to me, austin rocks because:

--i'd rather have 90+ days of  over 100 degrees than 30 days of below freezing.
--we got leslie.  austin is weird for real.  these are my people.
--at HEB in south austin while grocery shopping, they were giving away samples of sangria...can you say heaven?  and hell yes, i took one!
--freddies.
--mexican martinis.
--the coolest places allow dogs and only hire people with tattoos.
--sxsw.  only a city as cool as austin could handle this.
--the sun shines most of the time.
--willie.
--the random guy that sang "some days are diamonds" to me just when i really needed it.
--the punk band rehearsing two doors down from me the other day.
--people are NICE.  i forgot to take my garbage out, and one of my neighbors did it for me.
--texas music.  texas music is embraced here...no pop shit...real bands with real fans. 

ok, i think i'll stop here...don't yet know what i'm doing!  hopefully more to come.

cheers!