here.

to send warmth: epilogue

2011-01-15T14:07:00.009-05:00

agency, awareness, courage, love, expression, liberation, exuberance, faith, fight, insight, intuition, warmth, dance, ardor, pith, purpose, and personal discovery.

seeking balance of mind, body, and heart-- the journey of becoming the woman of whom i dream must share equally in all of these

and has
and will

{all my love}

always.

i am my father's daughter

2010-08-19T00:37:00.029-04:00

softly silhouetted in the warm yellow hall light
contrasting the carpet of deep green shag
his frame bends in through the doorway
and brings my cup of milk

i've an idea,
he said
placed in your mind
to be a better man
i've made a crown
for you
and put it in your room

the glory of god is intelligence, he begins
light and truth
which truth shineth
which light proceedeth forth from the presence of god
to fill the immensity of space

he reaches his long arms, outstretched
holds them high above his head
palms facing out
fingers spread wide

as he speaks, i picture my long body
the trunks of my legs
the branches of my arms
outstretched, glowing and strong
like his
like the tree of life in the painting
like an electric neon nervous system
no dark silhouette
because i am filled with light

the light which is in all things
gently he lowers his hand over my heart
i feel his palm rising and falling with my breath
which giveth life to all things
and feel his aging wrinkled skin pressing up against mine
which is the law by which all things are governed--
even
the power of god
we whisper in unison

years later
standing to his left around the altar
i take his right hand in mine
filling his palm

with this divine embrace, he tells me
when you wear your clothes
i wear them too
i wear your shoes
and the jacket too--

through all generations of time
and throughout all eternity

promise? i ask
with mysterious urgent emotion
pulling the covers up over my shoulders
he kisses my wide open forehead
pauses in the doorway
switches off the light
and vanishes into the darkness

and the darkness comprehendeth it not.

but this is enlightenment

2010-06-05T01:09:00.024-04:00

surely your turning of things upside down shall be esteemed as the potter's clay, but the less room you give me the more space i've got.

and all things which were created would have remained in the same state in which they were after they were created, but i am breaking down that wall-- brick by brick, in the marrow of my bones.

the light is breaking through, in the loins and in the sinews. as the dews from heaven distilling upon my soul, there is more love yet, more more and more.

so this i believe: that the free exploring mind of the individual human is the most valuable thing in the world. and this i would fight for: the freedom of the mind to take any direction it wishes, undirected.

for shall the work say of him that made it, he made me not? or shall the thing framed say of him that framed it, he had no understanding?

[your light overwhelmed me
when i lay beside you sleepless in the night
and when you dreamed my guardian spirits appeared
and the moon stretched out across your little bed
they said they'd started to get worried about me
they were happy we had finally met
we had finally met]

you can't say no to hope, you can't say no to happiness--
this is what i am and what i am about.

if the glory can be killed, we are lost.
but today has never happened, and so it doesn't frighten me.

skeleton of trust

2010-05-03T18:14:00.010-04:00

right beneath me

i am flanked with
empowered by
embraced, armed, buoyed and held--

carry my joy on the left
carry my pain on the right

one by one
i can feel it
gathering, joining, building--

bone by bone
stone by stone

fierce body
filled with light
that growing light which hath no end--

patiently, and carefully

someone great

2010-04-20T19:13:00.007-04:00

i look badAss. i leave the purse because it is too girly. i flirt. i smile, so much. swing my arms and rejoice. rejoice in who i am, this glorious me.

i feel like i'm standing alone in a quiet empty canyon. where am i? i think. i feel the crisp air wrap around me, dipping in and out of my lungs with welcome. this breathtaking epic space cannot be told, only listened. let me teach you, now:

how it starts

2010-03-31T21:56:00.005-04:00

it's amazing how much being sick in bed makes me want to do

even when i'm not sick
even when i'm feeling totally fine, just sleepy-- the end of the day
just when i'm about to or supposed to
fall asleep
limbs grow heavy
and numb but all i can think of are
all the things i want to do
of course it's worse when i'm sick
when i know that even if or when i get up i
definitely won't have the energy do
it all, to look the day in the face, meet it
on the horizon running
gold spilling over
the city, picking it up i splash it
in my face
life life life life life life life
all around me, and i
want it. i want it but i
can't have it

all i can do is stay in bed

no sunlight

2010-02-07T21:32:00.009-05:00

who knew how much emotion a thing could have. this thing, this thing we have to do, we because i cannot do it alone- who can withstand that kind of sadness?

but damn the we. cut it in half, put the thing between us.
damn the us. draw a line and close the door.

sure, i'd weighed on things before. every time i move, i weigh them again. this card, that cloth... a ticket stub? a candy wrapper? you kept those things?? smudged all over with emotion-- is anything clean anymore?!? things...these things.

i draw the curtain and exhale.

exactly you

2010-02-02T00:06:00.004-05:00

"Eternal progression toward godhood was the goal of Mormon life and ritual. The demands might be heavy, but the prospect was exhilarating beyond all measure."

--Sarah Barringer Gordon

perfect human day

2010-01-19T12:11:00.004-05:00

the snow falls softly, gently covering a bleak-colored city in milky white.

layer after layer, we cover.

i don't care, she says, it's not possible. always the same sentiment, but always with the same sad undercurrent, the layer unacknowledged-- the little girl disappointed.

layer after layer, we cover.

she asks, is it just a beautiful tradition, or is it real? but i ask, what is the difference?

she asks, is life possible, or is it impossible? but i say, is that the point--

see the paradox. live the paradox. embrace the paradox.

real or unreal, unforgettable.

Cover

2010-01-19T12:06:00.008-05:00

See not my skin
Hide this my flesh
Veil my nakedness
Cling to my leg
Shade my breast
Shield this imperfection

Suit my every motion
Spread white threads
That bend as I kneel
Stretched over my arched back
Separating in and out

Thou art under me
Over me
Surrounding me
On my right hand and on my left
Encircled about
In Thee
I AM

jdh '06

right where you fell

2010-01-08T17:55:00.005-05:00

falling down, falling out, falling in love, falling away-- always, so much falling.

but what if it's all relative, what if it's just a story-- what if down is forward, and up is like reaching back, what if we could just let go of all the prepositions, a grammatical hindrance that favors gravity anyway-- a completely relative thing-- and entertain something like free falling. free verse, or zero gravity-- walking on the moon, cruising through space, total vertigo--

there is no down, there is no up, only the wind in my hair as i go.

let go.

that incorruptible linger

2009-12-27T03:29:00.011-05:00

flesh and blood can be ignored or destroyed, he says, but a symbol, a symbol is incorruptible, everlasting.

and so, i realize that there might be a discrepancy at play, namely, that there might be a difference between who you are talking to and what you want her to be/mean/etc. though both are intoxicating, and what follows is only fear, fear that when we someday shed all this skin, escape the narrative, and i lie here bare before you, who am i going to be? what will you see then?

there was one day, i met a man who seemed to understand. our dance may not have been the same, but in that moment, we both understood-- it is all just a dance. we could both see, and know, behind the carefully coiffed characters we had assumed, that we were both, in fact, not bullshitters.

i find this one chance encounter still resonating, rippling through the hollow untouched corners of my soul. because, god knows, i love to dance-- dance, when i'm broken open; dance, if i've torn the bandage off; dance in the middle of the fighting; dance in my blood; dance, when i'm perfectly free--

i just see now: not everyone realizes that's all we're doing here.

i'll have to look for that again, i guess.

vespers

2009-10-27T02:15:00.008-04:00

i feel a compassion stirring in my blood. soaking through my skin, and wanting to wrap its wet cloth around every palm; i wonder at the universe held beneath each heavy brow. can i light a candle, can i sing a silent prayer, a chorus vigil, to stay the sorrowed night, and mark as sacred, each hallowed plight. can i be some angel warmth, to light a path. can i gather all my good will to go before and spread a petal carpet. can i share the wholeness that is now, in this present, this eternal moment.

t’would be a lengthy procession, to honor, with ceremony, every soul.

i know we just met, but when i look in your eyes, in my heart i light a candle just for you.

to not be alone

2009-10-10T23:40:00.003-04:00

and she took the cup, and gave thanks, saying

god help us to change. to change ourselves and to change our world. to know the need for it. to deal with the pain of it. to feel the joy of it. to undertake the journey without understanding the destination. the art of gentle revolution. amen.

we look to art as the glue, the filler, the go-between, that fluid substance, of transition, of change, of transformation. the art of life-- the lighting, the staging, the set, the roles, the costumes, the lines-- in other words, "the real ceremony begins where the formal one ends."

and so you know your struggle is not unknown, will not go unacknowledged, we drink to you tonight.

god give us strength. strength to hold on, and strength to let go.

amen.

changer to changer

2009-08-01T03:02:00.005-04:00

out in the waking world nobody understands
exactly how light it is, exactly how free i am
i finally found my balanced happy place,
suspended--holding time--if only just for now

one big, giant summer-long tender mercy

family tree

2009-06-09T11:09:00.008-04:00

they will move back, she said
because they know family is the most important thing.

but what if family cannot gather
because family is the barattas, and the whitesides, a shupe and a gibson, a peffer, a miller, a larsen, a white and a wickman, and on and on and on
and the longer i live, the larger and more inclusive it gets--

i can't find a way to make them all one anymore.

i can't gather them all in a circle around the altar.
i can't hold them all in my long and completely inadequate arm span,
i can't, i'm told, make binding covenants with as many whomevers i choose.

but i can't suppress this love i can't save it all for one person one clan i can't i can't

and i won't.

secret smile

2009-05-15T09:14:00.013-04:00

with child-like curiosity and wonder i wander out with my quiver of senses. fiercely optimistic, a warrior of love, ready to take a risk, make a choice, eat the fruit, and fall-- where woman equals strong, takes the world in her own hands, and never never gives up on love.

like an abstract juxtaposition in a pale empty gallery, just me before the art-- all the parts of me, and them-- suspended in that infinitely unique combination of relationships.

i don't change my pose, or move my head or alter my gaze, but somehow, it's different now. i can feel a growing presence next to me, melting down cavern walls.

i know what i see now; let's you and me together this time.

restless daughter

2009-05-03T21:45:00.008-04:00

i washed my feet tonight, the first warm sands of pending summer. lathered hands gently smoothing away the black and brown, swirling down the drain through foam, away. like a precious cue to my senses, i can feel it coming.

lord have mercy on my mind, mercy on my memory.

the intentions were pure

2009-03-30T17:41:00.022-04:00

five minutes a week we sit in silence, break bread, recite prayer, sip water. we bow our heads, gaze forward, look inward, and try to clense the intent of our devotions. this week in my meditation she rose up over my spine, floated about my neck, whisped between my ears, and suddenly i could see her, at the head of the chapel, captivating all of us, tied with her sacred ribbon, fixated and completely immersed, by the sound of her voice, her story, pure emotion-- her delicate sacred song

down the corridor
I send warmth, I send warmth
down the staircase
I send warmth, I send warmth

thank you for again
to get to be able
to send warmth, to send warmth
perhaps I set you too free, too fast, too young

but the intentions were pure
but the intentions were pure

of those that i love, who have, do, and will hurt me-- who i have, do, and will, rather inevitably, hurt: but the intentions were pure. sinking deeper, deeper, seeping through my flesh, and into my bones. cells dancing their ritual praise to eternal truth, they whisper

[this, this thing, she teaches, this lesson, this feeble, uncertain wisdom, full of doubt and misgiving, this is going to be threaded, powerfully, transforming the rest of my life--]

there are reasons most of us aren't aware of, unknown silent influences that find life in us, that we behave and speak and think the way we do. and to understand this [the intentions were pure] is compassion.

may i look on myself, all others, and god with this compassion. perhaps more accurately, may i approach my life, this life, all life with greater compassion.

when my stars touch the ground

2009-03-18T00:32:00.017-04:00

what am i lately, thick and fragmented, claustrophobic-like--
all my stars are unanimously tired. i feel the stirring of some thick metallic composition, in a hefty boiling pot of swirling, indistinguishable colors, un-formed matter, pre-creation. craving deeply, a space, a light, and a mirror with which to perceive myself. such murky contrast to all that brilliant clarity!

i am beginning to wonder if unrestrained love exists, is possible, in this life. in ironic tone i remember she wrote, "the most important thing to know about love, when you’re in church, is that it is a choice, not an emotion." but my experience tells me there is no agency in love, that it is likely that what i choose to love will not or can not receive it, or will tell me regretfully it would be better spent elsewhere; that love is the gift of the universe, of unusual happenstance, that hits and moves and overwhelms without warning.

like a bell, ringing paradox in refrain,
love was never meant to be contained.

safe again

2009-02-22T23:18:00.013-05:00

i'm sitting on top of a mountain, overlooking a perfect sunrise, as if it's rising just for me. i'm back at my cliff, exactly where i've been so many times like these before.

"the purpose of ceremony is to restore the individual to their place within all the rest."

the sun, that constant marker, gleams brilliantly over the horizon, in daily devotion. spilling simply, purely, like some magic golden lacquer, it transforms everything it touches.

"let a bird lean in the hole and sing, a simple song like a tiny bell, and let it ring."

the knowing stillness of this sacred process is penetrating. in awe i watch as the trees smile and softly shutter, shaking off the night; the mist sighs to release its purple haze from off the rolling grass; the dew turns over, opening its glimmering eye to new light; and the stream, adding breath, clean and new.

"all my relations."

what's that say about you?

2009-02-17T00:15:00.014-05:00

like a heavy rag, saturated with filth, laying heavily, coldly, murkily on my breast, over my mourning lungs. for the first time in my rose-colored life, i think i'm beginning to understand, to experience the meaning of melancholy's most ambiguous cliché.

but don't you know, i don't know who i am without you. everything i've ever wanted, dreamed of, pushed myself to become, all exists because of you. the good and the bad, the clear and the downright foolish. you taught me how to dream. more than anyone.

so here i stand, looking down at the broken pieces of the identity i unwittingly shattered: family, religion, profession, passion, culture, action, projection, intention, whether by love or contempt, they're all in jagged shards, strewn violently across the floor now. and when i try to gather them up again i bleed. i can't make sense of it anymore.

leaving this harbour

2009-01-28T23:13:00.008-05:00

what an interesting thing to say to the world: when one buys a sweater, a home, a chair, a pair of shoes-- anything! lust for comfort. i've imagined myself up there dozens of times, under the bright lights, entering regularly that stage door; as i walk down gainsborough, home from school every day, looking in the windows at the dinner parties in sparkly black kitchens with the one friendly deco-brick wall. settle settle, echoing, taunting. you'll be happy once you're settled, the inerasable refrain. all the way down that quaintly-lit street. daily. but what are you buying into!? she asks, almost furiously, her voice reverberating, storming in from those tiny buds of joy (they save my life!) until you get to the core--

i stomp my feet in rhythm.

eye of the tiger

2009-01-21T17:33:00.005-05:00

one thing i've learned in the past six years of violent wrestling with old selves, it's that they are inescapably and irrevocably the purest forms of me. that no matter how far away i travel, no matter how much i learn, or how often i resolve, or decide i've figured it all out now, i've still got nothing on that girl. and she's still there, still giggling at me, at all my effort, wondering how i ever came to believe that any of those things were anything more than cosmetic, exterior embellishments of the tiny powerful core she holds, and has always held, simply, safely, in the palm of her hand. like that single grain of sand at the end of the neverending story.

so i guess you could say i enjoy and value a good dose of intellectual/emotional adolescence now and then. the search, the need, the dependency woefully thwarting all attempts at independence, the hunger, the passion. spiritually speaking, that's what i'm here for.

i do not despair, not yet. no matter how you cut it, belief or disbelief, it takes faith to be in this profession, much less do anything in life [the fact that anything happens at all is miraculous]. faith in the goodness of ourselves and others, as much it comes down, for me, to having faith in the guiding wisdom of my inner youth, all the visions, knowledge and revelations she's always held with such confidence.

it's good to remember that now.

what if

2009-01-14T12:46:00.007-05:00

what do you do when the possibilities are endless? well, not endless. what do you do when the possibilities are endlessly out of your hands? endlessly encompassing any and every geographical boundary? endlessly screaming at you, you can go anywhere! do anything! love anyone! what do you do when it feels like you can make yourself want anything, when you're endlessly open to anything and everything? how do you narrow it down? how do you say, this is what i want! without making yourself unforgivably sorry you were so determined when it doesn't or won't or can't work out. how do you decide on a path for yourself without getting so deep in you can't pull yourself out? where will i go? what will i do? how can i make myself try again? how can i "live the questions"? at the end of the day can i still say, i believe in a loving, merciful, purposeful god? yes. [ok, then.] you can.

what became of you

2008-12-08T14:45:00.016-05:00

i often find myself pushing against walls,

of my heart, of my own perceived story, or lack of vision;

fighting to break down boundaries,

of fear, of mediocrity, of apathy, of hate.

my worst nightmare to see myself living in someone else's dream.

i recently caught up with a childhood friend, a girl who never fit in no matter how hard she tried. years later she fits in seamlessly, her look, her smile, her accomplishments; and though i love her, and i'm happy for her, though i have no doubt she feels a strong and resounding sense of "finally!" after all those lonely awkward years, somewhere inside me was screaming out, echoing at length against my bones and pushing at my throat, even days later.

where did i find the courage to leave? where did i get the nerve to decide otherwise, to say no, or maybe, or not now, or later, when i can come at it from this or that angle? is it too cliche to say i came that way? always too big for this body, even at 6'2"?

and when she asks if i'm happy?

happy just isn't a big enough word.

all is full of love

2008-11-24T15:45:00.040-05:00

walking through the cold, i watch as my breath curls out from inside of me, so naked, so exposed, into a world swiftly greying and bare.

sitting cross-legged in the front pew. face burning with tears; heart tearing open, gushing over; love spilling out my eyes, and pain at every joint, as i feel it-- love rushing rapidly, love through every vein, pulling at every pore, pushing, burrowing, searching: there must be another outlet!

lying on a bed of sand, wind as a great rushing ocean rippling up and down my body. each grain of sand meeting each cell of skin, wild billowing clouds rolling over a dark wet sky, pausing only for each tiny star, poking through the depth of space to smile at me.

and questions.
questions in the infinite heart of unanswered questions.

rapid panicked breathing, heaving, sobbing. alone in the corner of the floor in my mind, surrounded by emptiness, filled with nothingness, crying out, where is the love?

lying flat on my back, looking up, inviting in. only one rule here: give. no taking, only receiving. giving
here we are equals, equally vulnerable, equally needing, and as equally giving vessels, pulsing-- two worlds, one smile,
touching.

love.
love you. love god. love body. body love. love self. god love. love from, in love, love in. love, love without restraint.

the music is insistent, sounds unabashed, playful at times, wondering, strong, resolute, necessary. as she sings my throat tingles, i feel a lifting, in my chest rising, pushing--- up! up! up!
epic waving motions alive
taking forms, melting from, moving: filling, crushing, spilling, riding, crashing, caressing, being.

you'll be given love
you'll be taken care of
you'll be given love
you have to trust it

maybe not from the sources
you have poured yours

maybe not from the directions
you are staring at

trust your head around
it's all around you
all is full of love
all around you

like the tide

2008-09-18T19:34:00.004-04:00

i've always loved the glow of kitchen lights at night, cool breeze and midnight blue whispering in through the window sills. a shift in light-source. bare feet pressed against the tile, and careful hands organizing some concoction of late-night satisfaction. thoughts under the kitchen light are deeper then than any other time of day, pouring into said concoction, with some kind of mindless love. and a song playing behind me, one i used to understand so differently. so many things i used to understand so differently, to feel so differently. there is a quietly kept patience in these hours, a pondering deposited deeply within. if you knew how much i thought of you, how much i wondered, and worried and cared, would you ever feel so alone? if any of us ever knew. and then i turn out the light, and the light-source shifts again, out there, behind the glass, as if to exhale and say, the universe has a way of working these things out.

moving forward

2008-09-05T01:01:00.003-04:00

the deep parts of my life pour onward,
as if the river shores were opening out.
it seems that things are more like me now,
that i can see farther into paintings.
i feel closer to what language can't reach.
with my senses, as with birds, i climb
into the windy heaven, out of the oak,
and in the ponds broken off from the sky
my feeling sinks, as if standing on fishes.
::rainer maria rilke::

before you wake up

2008-08-09T20:15:00.007-04:00

i'm getting ready. my muscles are alert. my eyes wide. on my mark. ready. set to go. i can already feel the gust to my gut, the groan i'll let out, as i tug at that old trunk, and lift the giant lid, staring into that black hole once again. the black hole where i throw out all my old selves, held and contained under lock and key, then shove back under the bed. i'm going to bed in exactly 26 minutes, and when i wake up i'll be a new woman. a woman who is getting ready, muscles alert, eyes wide, on her mark, ready, set to go. no more standing on the edge of a cliff with car parts and cutlery. no more swimming naked in deep waters. no more feeling for the sake of feeling. because when i wake up, i'll be a new woman. a woman who is getting ready, muscles alert, eyes wide, on her mark, ready, set to go.

just like the first time she passed through the veil.

profession, calling, or habit

2008-08-03T21:25:00.005-04:00

it's not every day, he said, you meet someone like that--
live, he said, as if it's your last
chance

and when i ask myself questions
i feel his (a different he) energy pulsing through me
asking for more-- there's more to life than this
he called that "difficult truth"
some mutual goal to evade complacency,
to fight the hard fights
dream the big dreams
love

i will not
and i will

it's not every day-- but can it be? is that a challenge?

the words were true

2008-07-14T17:28:00.006-04:00

passing through unconscious states, feeling my way through the mists of darkness-- the pacifying, the lulling-- fighting to remember, to see myself. the headlights are beacons on the highway. i see their bright, shiny faces-- reflections. and i am not alone.

it is everything they said it would be. both frightening and exhilarating; a fight, to be sure, a fight to love. their poetry washes over me-- baptizes my mind-- language that transcends this skin and bones, that knows the soul, the life of the soul, that lives and breathes in me.

this is what i'm here for.

with me

2008-06-13T07:36:00.005-04:00

i've been a lot of places lately, in a lot of states of mind. i've seen them all pass over me, in awe i've felt them take hold of me, and change me. the calmness that pervades this morning is not my own. there is something sublime in it, like the way a low setting sun's light is scattered into a million pieces of glimmer across a great secluded lake, pleased to take in the magic music of this day's dusk-time ritual. it's been a slow process, shutting the lid on this. though i walk through the valley of death and dying i will not fear. surely goodness will follow me here.

homogenic

2008-06-06T01:55:00.008-04:00

i've felt the deepest creative surges lately
[treading the glacier head] to paint some giant canvas, an enormous sculpture, something to embody [the need is great] that i could walk in and out of, under, encircle, dance around. if only my artistic anxiety weren't so high [stacked up dusty against the wall] the circuitry to my hands so stunted, weakened from neglect. it's like a lot of me feels that way [sparkle, shoot me beyond] anxious to inhabit the stage light, where i am most free [speak] where joy spills out like some uncontainable vapor: it's in the air, in, on, around, upon, where thoughts flow in colors, and energy mingles, rubs and soothes [i have a recurrent dream] i've always loved the warm oiled wood of that hall.
sometimes when i feel love, all i can do is create.

but this is enlightenment

2008-06-03T00:53:00.008-04:00

today has never happened, and it doesn't frighten me. not, tomorrow has never happened, and it doesn't frighten me. no, tomorrow often frightens me, all of tomorrow: next week, next month, next year.
but today, i can do today.

and when i visualize tomorrow, the part that often does frighten me, i see myself suspended, frantically flailing about, searching for what could possibly be holding me up. most of the time i worry about the "holding" part, that there's nothing under me, no floor, no ground, no pillars, no hands, no arms, nothing. i am all alone. but why shouldn't i focus more on the "up" part? that there is something keeping me suspended, and it's that invisible thing, that which is not seen, which is true. and i can choose to see the better part.

look no further

2008-05-27T00:34:00.015-04:00

somehow, throughout the whole weekend, i've started to feel my emotional legs strengthening, to feel the ground beneath my feet again, and the cloud over my mind and heart slowly lifting, as i, like some panting traumatized child clenching his shirt in sobbing frightened tremor, begin to feel the darkness of this nightmare dissolving into dawn, and the warm sun peeking in to whisper to my heart, it's alright, it's going to be alright. slowly, i begin to release my hand . . . my grief, in some small and twisted way has found a purpose.

motivated by my own miracle, i ran up to my corner room, whipped out the nail clippers and started cutting away at the only thing remaining between me and my next step, and then, finally, wrapped my stiff cold hands around the smooth neck of the comfortably familiar fingerboard, drew the slick hair across the burnt-out strings, and just played. what a comfort, even, to find my fiddle in a similarly shanty state, my imagination smiling once again to picture a glowing return to the beautiful björkshires, endless music-making, and peaceful solitude and rejuvenation.

a love supreme

2008-05-19T06:24:00.008-04:00

what is justice anyway? some swift sword to numb or dull the pain? no lasting fix-- all the whiny, self-appeased justifications i'd forever loathed in others, now the undercurrent of my easiest reaction. i never said it would be easy, i only said it would be worth it. worth it to open my heart a little wider, flush out all the selfish hurt-- {purify the inner vessel, full of love and mercy} --there is no room for that in this inn. and the longer i sit with this, the more i realize that the greatest love actually hurts quite deeply. duh. why did it take me so long to figure that out? thank god, he's showing me how to love like that-- how to suffer, bleed, and die.

the time, energy, and motivation

2008-05-17T02:17:00.005-04:00

i finally fixed my left eyebrow today. it’s been bugging me for months, especially lately. on the end, where it thins out. from a distance it always looked fuzzy, not a crisp line, like on the end of the right one. but there are so few hairs that contribute to that line, you have to be careful which ones you choose to prune, otherwise you may get it wrong and then have to wait for them to grow back in and try again.

ever since i started plucking my junior year of high school it’s been a constant journey to find exactly the way my eyebrows are naturally meant to be plucked, to find that natural shape, that they have all on their own, and that i’m just helping to reveal and maintain. and today i found it. the right one was easier. it’s been in-line for years now. the left one was a lot trickier (maybe because i’m right-handed?), and i finally got the body of the brow right, and just had that delicate tail-end to figure out.

and so i stare back at myself in the long, high vanity i put up above my dresser, the natural light from my windows reflecting back into my eyes and onto my freckled skin. damn. those are some perfect eyebrows. they almost (almost) make eye make-up unnecessary. stunning eyebrows are, after all, the keystone to a stunning face. think of all the most beautiful models and actresses-- they all have great eyebrows. and i used to think i didn’t really have much to work with. they’re not dark and shapely, but kinda light, and weak. and i’m telling you, it’s taken some serious work and patience-- plucking the wrong ones, too thin, too bushy, lopsided, uneven, and waiting for it to grow back, and trying again, and again and again-- since junior year! but now, here i stand, beholding the fruits of all my hard work and diligence: what beauties.

damn. i am a supermodel.

awkward silence

2008-05-15T23:49:00.010-04:00

facing a strange and unrelenting circumstance; i feel as though i'm walking all alone along a dimly-lit street with an empty can tied to my foot by a shoe string. surely my bewilderment can be heard echoing against this tree- and brick-lined corridor, all the way back to brooklyn. my heart sunk down to my ankles, trapped inside a body, low and awkwardly misplaced. learning to walk that street alone, or into the darkness a few steps, as they say, holding on to the hope of that one-day-glorious-returning light. and meanwhile, bumping into shadowy objects, finding myself lost in some kind of emotional vertigo, as if furrowing my brow and lowering my head to butt them out of the way in my defense would do any good. a silence that can't be broken by more speech-- i've already said too much.

receiving energy

2008-05-05T18:14:00.014-04:00

execution is not aways as exact as it should be. after a particularly thrilling southern voice, passion-filled, with zeal, and an equally amorous carribean accent, both saying you think you do, you think therefore you are, thoughts reap actions-- the outlying ambition to go about doing good.

one small flag flaps gently in the breeze, blocks away, high above the streets and housetops. a symbol, an anthem, a cause. like the lines across my face. [what's your cause?] my sister once commented, in a well-blended tone of sympathy and concern, on the already well-stated line in my skin extending from the corner of my nostril down around my mouth, a smile crease. half-way into her twenties she had already invested a lot of money and concern in slowing the aging process, an attempt to appease her own concerns. i remember looking back mystified. i'm proud of that line, my face replied. it's worth every smile i've busted unconsciously in the effort to show, that's my default expression. and what of that gesture, how expressive, how open, how telling. instant warmth, sent out into the universe, whether someone sees it or not.

i have learned a lot about myself lately. the complex, constantly adjusting, nuanced ebb and flow of emotion, intelligence, consciousness, and influence. i can't yet decide how to be an independent energy without borders. what a great journey, though, this last year. and more to come, i'm sure.

where is the line

2008-03-23T21:19:00.006-04:00

i've discovered an oh-so-elusive line, that dances between words, through eyes, and slips quickly in and out of my consciousness. where i am caught, somewhere, between acknowledging a strength over weakness and embodying the biting undercurrent. between upholding a hopeful buoyancy and accepting a pitiful assumption. between being a friend and becoming an enemy. i want to draw this line out firm, to create a great divide of illuminating distinctions, to see my toes poking through my weathered shoes placed well behind the line of enmity. and yet, the only means i see in taking myself out of this corruption, the only change i know i can count on, comes when i see the walls of this firm heart torn down, and love bleeding through the pages, over the sterile lines, into one great, soft, wet heart.

learning how to die

2008-03-20T09:03:00.014-04:00

oh the softness of the surface that i tread. constantly shifting, moving, requiring my unending adjustment for balance. it moves, grows, and sags, bends, twists, and then, once in a while, she stands still. sometimes in a low place where the view is dim--a crowded wood--all i see is the spot of sky directly above my head. at other times she stands still, the glowing mountaintop where the view is exquisite, endlessly telling of possibility. in each place the fear is different. on my mountain: what if i fall? in my valley: what if i shall never rise above this? to live with fear, always, to feel the earthquake trembling the stubborn trunks of these legs of mine- it pushes me to love the thrill, to open my heart up to both, scared or brave without them: to have compassion on the earth and the sky, whichever i am closest to, whenever i may steady there and say, we are one.

so you're disappointed, you worry, you doubt, you're broken, your wound stretched to it's outermost limit--

listen to this love: let it be, stand still, and know.

to send warmth

2008-03-03T18:48:00.007-05:00

in every pain, in every condition, when found in strength, or at great fault, when i am known, and when i am all alone,
there are a few basics in life. a smile. a hand. and the worshipfulness of good action carried out in powerful palms, filled, as a cup, with love. there is power in this articulation, specificity--more than implication--a heart that is strong and soft, laying a foundation, planted firmly in love.

"may you use those gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you."

i am buoyed up by love, whether it is mine or ours, and now have cause to lift and stand with others. i will put my faith in the living and the dead, in this great family of hopeful possibility.

please, stand with me, and abide.

serendipity

2008-02-22T22:35:00.004-05:00

it's strange for me to realize recently that the one thing i should know perfectly in life i still so often misjudge, misrepresent, and misunderstand. the constant act of holding on to the vision of the woman of whom i dream requires me to think deeper, to have more integrity with myself-- to be honest about my pains, my weaknesses, my heartaches; honest about my dreams, my passions, and all my secret wishes. i realize, now, that every single pocket of joy that is to be found in life must be thoroughly hashed out, lived and loved. there will be some who, in their ignorance, will misjudge, misrepresent, and misunderstand, but in the end it is my heart, and my joy.

from now on, there is no holding back.

shimmering signals

2008-02-13T00:06:00.009-05:00

in one week the thrill of my existence is up 150%.

yes we can.
sometimes there arises from within some good and necessary unbridled surge to share.
i want to go on a mountaintop, with a radio and good batteries, and play a joyous tune and free the human race from suffering.
your light overwhelms me.
it is contagious and it fills me with a delightful burning to live and to act and to feel and create.
this is about me being able to be the best, fullest, purest me, without any dumbing down or cooling off-- stifled, misunderstood, questioned, unappreciated, unnecessary, unwanted.
it takes constant effort from day to day to reevaluate our circumstances and dreams and put them together into some sparkling, curious, meaningful existence.
fear is a powerful drug-- overcome it and you think that you can do anything.
nothing can stand in the way of the power of millions of voices calling for change.
nature has fixed no limits on our hope.
i guess i'll have to give it birth.
spread joy incessantly.
for love was never meant to be contained.

the falling snow is more like glitter tonight than i've ever seen in my whole life.

gird

2008-02-06T00:29:00.000-05:00

hooray for wellies and umbrellas. what wonderful things, that have the power to transform a soggy, grey affair into such inner warmth and delight. that having them, i can look out and see the mist trickling down across my view as an opportunity to defy those puddles, which have so often taunted me on other days in my weathered and torn checkered vans-- your deep and saturating muck stand no chance against me today: my feet shod in great anchor-printed rubber dominance. now you scatter and hide at my unwavering stride. and the sky, with it's great hovering blackness streaming icy silver bullets at my back-- you cannot threaten me. i take my giant dual-occupancy striped sword and shield, and cut through your cold, push back against your winds, great and rushing that thrust and tug at my stance, hidden safely under my pavilion, that which shelters me from all your attempts to drench my warmth in chilly wetness, wherever i go. hooray for wellies and umbrellas, hooray!

i'm the hunter

2008-02-01T23:33:00.000-05:00

how inarticulate can you be? someone asks you a simple question, and you can't give them a straight answer.

in a time of life that is unavoidably clouded by confusion, indecision, and crisis, thank god for mk. i've said it before, and i'll say it again: god gave her to me this year. to help calm me amidst the storm; to translate masuko's bits of wisdom from broken english into concrete revelation. "i don't care you how many pieces you learn, i care your thinking change." to show me how much, in five months, a person's thinking can change. how to accept support, and return it to the world. how to grow into a discipline and an art that calls to me-- "i don't know, all i know is, when i'm playing the violin-- my life just makes sense."

"now that's something to hold on to."

every morning this week, i wake up and the clouds are crowding my window panes. exhausted over all this, a ticking clock, and feeling like i have so many people, and groups, and causes to answer to, getting out of bed is the last thing i want to do. the sky cries, and so do i. i've never felt so one with the color of this city.

alarm call

2008-01-23T22:48:00.001-05:00

it is a common belief, and one i personally hold, that the person you're meant to be with is the person you're most easily yourself around. conversations flow, you can be your best self, easy. well what i've discovered recently is that the same is true of my relationship with myself. that it's actually work to be someone i'm not. seems pretty cut and dry, given that the latter implies some kind of facade or heavy dose of insincerity. but, being one who has very recently and very vividly seen myself divided, i can testify that this is not always the case. i guess what i'm trying to say is that the woman of whom i dream is the easiest woman for me to be. not that she doesn't require any work or strain, any brain-busting, pondering, reevaluation, real commitment or angst to be realized, but that all of these efforts are mere drops in the bucket when compared with the everest that is my alter-ego, my doppleganger, my hyde. she is not so easy: high-maintenance, always requiring constant rationalization, frustration, ignoring, avoiding, stifling of good conscience, pretending-- what a poser. it is true that i am in fact two women--i've sat on a wall for some time now--but the real center of this story's plot is in putting these pieces back together again.

a free spirit

2008-01-19T02:52:00.001-05:00

i've just framed and hung the final piece of my basic room decor. i feel like this is a sign, of something, i'm not exactly sure what. in my last apartment, i never hung a single thing on my wall in two years living there. now, finally, i'm filling my space. as i look around, i feel a deep and settled sense of contentment.

and that is all i can say, as i commence my 24th year on this planet. sure, anxiety and uncertainty are all around me still, but it's like that's part of it now. i've often viewed those things as the antithesis, the enemy to my progress. but as i learn to have faith, not fear, i find a new abundance at every turn. with each sunrise i'm learning to embrace the power i have within myself to create a life i love. not that my parents love, or my friends, my teachers, peers, or my religious community, but the life I love-- and it will encompass all of these, inasmuch as they are a part of me.

so even though there is little chance i will be in this space for more than a few more months, and this city for little more than a year, i know now i can take this contentment with me wherever i go, filling each space i enter, with love.

I'm gonna do something big; something bold as love.

down the corridor

2008-01-09T23:23:00.000-05:00

the view from where i sit is filled with uncommon objects, oddly juxtaposed textures, and strange rhythms of stories unknown to me. it's just a point of view, really. she wrote about having perspective. to me, being able to say when you meet someone, when you visit a culture, read something, at the end of the day to say, it's just a point of view, really. more and more i feel my view becoming like a painting by braque-- a million points of view superimposed, collaged together on the world in front of me. the more i experience, the more i feel my heart cropping out of that second dimension to something i can hold and know, and then a fourth, and a fifth. i think that's what love is. it's another dimension. being able to understand something with compassion from multiple points of view simultaneously. and how it feels so infinite! not knowing more than what i see in this view from where i sit, i will decide to love. to know the space i'm in, and in a minute, stand up and know it again. then take a step, and another, and another, again and again, breathe in and out, and know it again-- with love.

to get to be

2008-01-02T01:14:00.001-05:00

sometimes, it seems like change can take forever. forever for me to get off the couch. forever for me to start over, stop thinking that way, be the sister she needs me to be, the daughter he means me to be, the woman of action i so desperately want to be. and since new years is all about change, a resolution, it's no wonder my mind has been a buzz of late with new tasks and ambitions for this little heart. sometimes i feel like i spend so much time not changing, people must've given up on me by now. and where's the balance between exuberant spontaneity and clean and fulfilling discipline anyway? that slow, slinking, invisible line between i will, i wish, i can, i promise, i aim to, and, i am.

in 2007: i obtained a degree (i groan in memory of the effort she required); obtained a dream (lovetanglelovewoodlove), or two, and therein decided to love orchestra playing; found the perfect artistic mentor (i love her so much!); began a new academic journey (a transition more violent than i anticipated); miraculously found the perfect roommate (god is good); saw a favorite friendship flower (22!); fell in love with björk (thanks to hiromi and hyperballad) and saw her with my own eyes! (all is full of love!); started a blogg, and another very important record; gained the trust of someone i have long admired (sacred ribbons reinforced); started brahms concerto; purchased my first pair of designer jeans, therein finally embracing skinny pants (welcome TR:julie to my life :); finally got my favorite haircut (thankyou 3am brownies and jody's kitchen scissor confidence); saw jusen reunited (congrats again to lee&cassie); began my yoga practice (with the generous aid of mk); paid my own rent; finally became friends with leah, and met fran.

i always wonder if there's some major point in your life when you sit back, sigh, and say with time-stopping awe and fulfillment, finally. and if so, how long does it last? maybe it'll happen when i land my first orchestra job, meet the perfect guy, get married, or have my first baby. but in a way, it already has: when i got that phone call from michael nock, or took the diploma from and shook mr. lesser's hand; when i saw her reply in my inbox, or the rising sun shine through the window onto the futon; when i felt out that first line of octaves, sounded my first om, or very first saw the apartment; the first time i saw those short red pixie locks smiling back triumphantly in the mirror, i thought: finally.

may this be a year when i finally stop waiting.

the pleasure in me

2007-12-22T23:45:00.002-05:00

my heart is full of secrets. every time i think of those i love, she swells. secret wishes, secret designs, secret pleasures. i love to think of these. to feel the tumescent motions and wonder at each, little pearls threaded carefully through the tightly organized crate and concrete storehouse of my mind; these delights, plush and velveteen contrasts to the cold and dimly-lit cerebral corridors built and maintained of every-day necessity, are the shimmering signals sent to the corners of my mouth, the iris of my eyes, the palms of my hands-- the undercurrents of the love i understand and give. as i know each of them i know myself, my capacity deepened, as the breath that fills my lungs expands my ribs and rushes through now open pathways, giving life to all-- for in each return, in only a thought, she opens up and makes room for more. and so i will not say it is too much for me to think of you, to delight in each moment that is forever mine, given to soften these interior walls, and make for some one a home.

my love isobel

2007-12-14T14:23:00.002-05:00

pause. fast forward. be still. go crazy--explode! masuko asked me if i ever yell, scream, go crazy. "you can't be a performer if you don't."
something about the snow always makes me calm and soft. to be inside, smiling at it through the window with tea--but not today.

i want to explode this body off me. i want to interact. physical, verbal, emotional; confrontation, thrill, fervor. (in a heart full of dust) no passive screen. i want something thick, breakable, vibrant. i want to make a scene, push up against the floor, the sky, tear down the walls of these empty rooms (lives a creature called) bite, move. i want to get things done, but i don't want to do anything at all! thrash these lists. i want new ones, with neon yellow flashing lights. every cell is pulsating (it surprises and scares) pushing against my skin-- look at the speed out there, it magnetizes me to it ((and i am full of fear)). i want to exhaust my strength, not just from being awake, but thoroughly; run- push- out a wall- collide- into something (like me: like me) overtaken, in, someone else--

this energy wants company.

underneath all currents

2007-12-05T22:54:00.001-05:00

i feel a stillness, a gentle winding down. the end of the day, the end of the week, the end of the semester, the end of the year, approaching. my mind is a dark, quiet, thoughtful ocean. i feel the harmony of the elements in me, trickling down, approaching home.

what a stranger, that word. we all feel it: sitting in classrooms of bright, stylized, determined youth, all searching. where is my home? is it my dorm? my two bed-room split and microwave? or that damp 9'X5' we devote our hours to in practice-- that was always the closest to home, for me. "i don't want these roots," i remember sobbing to my sister, rushing along the creek through aspen meadows. i only now realize i cannot embrace all my parts unless i know my purpose. i only now am beginning to smile on that girl; without her, i cannot be this woman.

pneumonia

2007-11-27T22:18:00.002-05:00

when the rain flows, thick inside of me, unrelenting, saturating all, until i am cold and all the warmth is gone. despite all the pain, all around us, how are so many others, dry and warm, unlike me?
i have started to feel for them, my heart turning, the first time in so long. they say apathy is worse than hate. but it is all i could do to move on-- get over the sorrow, girl. it was the strangest holiday for me. surrounded by love, by hope--such hope! so empty without them, and yet, standing at the edge, looking out over the vast gulf that still exists impenetrably between us; my small light dwindling, despairing, burdened with a heavy mind, paralyzed with lack and misunderstanding:

all the stillborn love that could have happened
all the moments you should have embraced
all the moments you should have not locked up

ci says it's going to take a lot of love, a lot of love :: to shut yourself up would be the hugest crime of them all :: i am surprised at how much i have to fight for this hope.

innocence

2007-11-14T22:20:00.001-05:00

i keep trying to tell myself that part of growing up is learning to create and assert an identity independent of others. makes it easier to come home at the end of the day to a messy apartment, single bed, and my last clean mug and bag of tea. but i can't understand myself, only that every thought, every part of me comes of a relationship, is born of a shared existence, that somehow mirrors that child-like dependency i attempt, in vain, to escape: i am ju, student of masuko; i am ju, roommate of mk; i am ju, bf of ci, sister of tw, daughter of god. even, i am ju, player of violin; or, i am ju, fan of björk. my identity, my strength, is wrapped up in who and what i love. and i am in constant need of support-- whether from the floor, the bed, ci's warmth, the audience's ears or applause, god's spirit, björk's beat, mk's calm and gentle tone, masuko's nurturing confidence, or the yet unsevered invisible strings extending from my heart, through my arms and out to the body of the fiddle, as the sacred ribbons that bind me to tw --i am built up of all of these. when one is broken i feel strength gone out of me. in that moment i question my existence.

at times i am overwhelmed by the dense, unsortable pile of who and what make me. i stand at the bottom, gazing up helplessly. i become particularly and poignantly aware of my fear at the thought of allowing anyone to know me --running frantically to and fro, thin and small, arms wide, desperately trying to guard and hide my esoteric treasure-- or, at the thought of attempting to know another-- not possible, not practical!
but oh, how desirable :: to share :: and by giving, building, pathways, a network, veins of support--

fight the fear, that locks up your chest, shuts down your heart.
should i save myself for later, or generously give?

can i exist if i don't?

raise the flag

2007-11-10T01:28:00.001-05:00

thick tension, hovering over us. what could we do? who would break the silence? our morale is low. every droopy complexion lets out a murky grey sigh, "this is bad. we're so bad. why is this bad? this shouldn't be this bad." a few are firm in their lowered state, eyes pointing fingers, projecting blame, with crushing tone. i could feel myself getting sucked down, slowly, past hope and drowning into apathy. but then, in my heart pounding, i heard it--a low, pulsating, electronic beat:

what can they do? their pessimism has no power over me [declare independence] we are all brilliant players--not bad [don't let them do that to you] i will smile when i play [raise your flag] and never give up on this music [higher, higher] and when they hiss and moan [damn colonists] i will rebut with joy [make your own stamp] i have a voice [protect your language] not more or less valuable [ignore their patronizing] and will not fear them anymore [don't let them do that to you!]

i am a blazing fire, wherever i go: overflowing with warmth, illuminated, anxious, contagious, and filled with seemingly inexhaustible joy.

[higher, higher]

unison

2007-11-08T21:15:00.000-05:00

my hands were cold and clammy as usual. i felt a tingling rush through my veins, each passageway uncertain. which part of me will remember? which part will forget? for every moment i question, how much less will they? how magnified, how skewed, exactly, is my experience? i push down the insecurity with each new bow, each slide, each confident-looking sound.

lately we've just grown into each other somehow. it's this strangely familiar feeling i get when my arms start moving, and my breath gets heavy-- i don't tell my lungs to breathe on cadence, i don't tell my feet how to stand, or my knees when to bend. they just do. in practice today, a passage of bach went by so quickly. how do my fingers know where to go so fast, and at exactly the right moment with the bow? is it my brain? my ear? my eyes? my proverbial heart? that which makes me increasingly aware of the distinction and coalescence of me: me that moves the body and me that is the body. me that worries and loves, and me that acts out of worry, out of love. with or without the fiddle, it becomes the same-- my own private branch.

push back

2007-11-07T16:42:00.000-05:00

it's the little things. that build up in the corners. in my elbow, under each rib, on the arch of my foot, behind my ear, beneath my heart. they grow, and live, and thrive with every compromise, every pregnant silence. each one weakening my character, my resolve, my pith. it is not fast, like quicksand. but steady. inevitable. like reaching into the refrigerator for a once happy meal, only to find smelly, discolored remnants. what was that? we often wonder. i forget. too long unattended. this living thing will one day be overtaken and die. no wonder he promises to preserve.

let this wilderness be my home

2007-11-04T01:12:00.000-04:00

a bit untimely, but i took a break from all things me me me today. not that i didn't have plenty of me me me to keep busy for days, let alone the few hours of today. but for some reason with each new choice i said, yes! and by the end of the day was lost in some unknown overgrown wilderness-- the business others.

i usually steer clear of the school on saturdays, when what small precious space we have is overtaken by a tidal wave of small, impertinent people, accompanied by strict and stern-faced task-masters. their world, though superimposed on my own, always seems to me so mystifying, so incomprehensible. today, as i strolled the thickly-lined hallways i saw a man crouched down on the floor, a child in each arm and a book in between; a circle of little girls singing to themselves as they velcroed their tiny brightly-colored shoes. i felt a hand in mine, as i led it along through the storm, notwithstanding all the wriggling, determined not to let go. i paused as piercing young eyes followed my every move onto an elevator, and felt suddenly the mystifying veil between us dissolve into a small mound of silver dust on the floor: i've always been on your side of things, the receiver, the cared for, the led, the promoted. and slowly i shed this skin--

i wanted everything to be perfect for her. not, i realize, just because i would have wanted the same for myself, but because she is a gift, to my life and everything she touches. my love for her compels me to give to her with all of me me me.

love was never meant to be contained

2007-10-31T23:09:00.000-04:00

i sit alone in my apartment. it is not a big space. my room is larger than in my last place, but you can view the whole flat from the small triangle-shaped hall that connects the entrance and the rooms. i like it that way. i like small living spaces, to see my things contained, to know thoroughly the space i and all extensions of me occupy. i've been in this space most of the day, putting my arms to work, sipping echinacea tea, and clicking away mindlessly at izzie. i am content here, contemplative, managing my tasks in the quiet of my space, without chaos. when my arms begin to ache, i start to feel it, a small twinge inside for company. i can't give any more today, they tell me. go find other ways of making music now.

i finally went back to symphony hall last night, heard a seamless performance of bruckner. i hadn't heard the orchestra since tanglewood. i looked up at their faces. people say they look grim, unhappy. i wonder if there is a code they must abide: no smiling! no swaying to and fro! no physical sign of emotion! i am your master now, and you must learn to bridle your passions, bind them up and push them into your sound, your fingers, your ears! the blood from your heart pumps through new avenues now! you are one collective heart: one! i can't remember the last performance i gave where i didn't smile.

i happened to be sitting next to a new friend. i like to see him at school. he has a hearty smile. i smile back when i am with him, i don't want it to stop. i want to send back to him the sparkling light i feel when he smiles at me. it is almost a game: how long can i keep him smiling at me? i like it so much!

i sit alone in my apartment. let it not be for long.

om

2007-10-28T22:57:00.000-04:00

another one of my dream journeys begun. i feel so much peace--of mind, body and spirit--tonight, at the close of the day. after yoga, meditation, and breathe work, all stress is removed and i feel in myself a greater capacity to love, listen, care, and see the world around me. i've felt these things before in life, but never as a product of a physical experience. but i've been waiting and wanting to do this since i very first heard of yoga, six years ago. i want to know my body, better than anything.

as we wound up to our warrior pose, facing the mirror i saw myself, in one of mk's hot pink tanks, face dripping and glistening, filled with fire and determination to see every pose to the end, to follow every inhale, every exhale, all in line, as best i could. there was no room for doubt--i can do this! as i looked at that face and that body, i've never seen so much beauty in myself. all the gowns, make-up, airbrush and up-dos in the world could never compete with that.

in the meditation at the end of the class, our teacher spoke of removing our masks, giving ourselves over to support and love. i was feeling so much emotion, for myself and someone else i love, and slowly bowed my head to let the tears spill onto the floor. as i did i felt mk reach over and warmly place her hand on my knee. say nothing, only be known and loved. in breathe work i was filled with joy to laughter, liberated, calmed, and inspired by the fullness of my life. this whole weekend has been like that: an overwhelming celebration of so many dreams fulfilled. so many things i've wanted in my life for so long and now have or see in view. even the painful things mark a progress long awaited.

sacred ribbons

2007-10-24T21:47:00.000-04:00

yearning for unity. sometimes it hits me in the face, quick and hard like a brick wall. the cellist in my quintet says his siblings are his best friends. he goes home to newton for dinner on weeknights. what would that be like, i wonder. to have your family all around you, to call them your best friends, to have them as an integrated part of your college experience. for me, i've always had best friends, and i've had family, but they are two different things. i once commented to my mother about how much i loved and admired a neighbor family of ours. she got sad. seemed hurt. twice, i've been into guys and then realized that i wanted to marry their families much more than i really wanted to be with them. in both cases their families were large, they were all best friends, they were a team. i saw a picture of one of those families today, tried to picture myself in it. then i blinked, shook my head and realized, i am part of a family. most of the time i'm too wrapped up in auditions, rehearsals, finding the right character, grocery money and tomorrow's schedule to remember that. i so rarely picture myself in or with my own family. i never really miss them, in the sense that it hurts to be away from them. occasionally this makes me sad, i resolve to change. i'll call each of them every week, i say. sometimes my relationship to them feels so emotional, so essential, others so arbitrary. and yet there's something about it that pricks me, right through the heart. i feel them, immutable, extensions of my heart, far beyond me, sacred ribbons, stretched out, too often threadbare, but somehow, with purpose, still there.

wanderlust

2007-10-23T10:49:00.001-04:00

i feel the waves today: of time, of spirit, of renewal, sweeping over me. at times the tide is out, and the sand is dry. other times it's crashing down, pulling me under. for each of these and all in between, an astounding amount of faith seems necessary for me to sustain myself. where will i go? what will i do? but even, like today, when i feel like i might be able to answer these questions--with only indications of void forms seen darkly, sometimes colorless, and nondescript before me--i need faith, always more. faith in myself, faith in my years of hard work now planted firmly in my fragile hands, faith in these gifts, faith in love and in promises. as i breathe, i can feel the waves pushing, in and out. in, and out. i hear the sounds of swishing and flowing in my ears, as in almost every track of volta. today i see those forms with color, in light. it takes courage to enjoy it, to allow myself this freedom. there are times when we should fight the current, steer a straight path and not be moved. but there are times when we should not try so hard to fight it: let this current clense and move me. today. that immovable quality of the former-- it's still here, but in different places.

facepaint

2007-10-21T22:00:00.001-04:00

i look at pictures of björk adorned in her electro-pagan persona and i feel power, fierceness, and determination. fight. declare independence. i like to see the photos of myself in that mask. what we all adorn to face the battles in front of us. what mottos, what anthems, what colors, what flags. i have this distinct memory of my brother once asking me in the most whiny, sardonic tone, "do you like to paint your face?" i hear him, every time i design a new look; i heard him, shouting it at me when i put on my volta face. and in quiet reply, i tell myself, "clearly you don't understand what it is to paint your face." what we all can do, more of, or better because we have our game face on. our tribal colors; like, we know what we're fighting for. there are times for a naked complexion, and there are times for . . . like, i used to consistently wear the darkest, boldest eye make-up i could find in the face of change, when i was feeling resilient, when i needed to face a hard reality, head-on. that was before i knew björk. little wonder i confessed after finishing my own electro-pagan look that part of me wishes i could paint my face like that on any day i felt, that it was a socially acceptable form of expression. to say as i walk outside into the boston street: these colors are today. this line is compassion. this form is joy. this pigment is pain. and where they intersect is my inner strength. for today.

to send warmth: preface

2007-10-20T10:20:00.002-04:00

agency, awareness, courage, love, expression, liberation, exuberance, faith, insight, intuition, warmth, covenant, ardor, pith, purpose, and personal discovery.

seeking balance of mind, body, and spirit-- the process of becoming the woman of whom i dream must share equally in all of these. and has. and will-- always.

ci says, "i got to fall in love,
but you got to see björk."