The Truth is all there is...

My last blog post as a twenty-three year old...

I chose this image because, as we all know, buds represent growth and something new. A natural evolution, progression and beauty. I admit, I get sentimental around birthdays, anniversaries, graduations, celebrations...basically, everything. This past week I took some time here and there, walking to work, lying in the park, etc., to reflect upon this past year. It's been a big one. Perhaps the biggest yet. I got my first job out of college, moved to New York City, got laid off, got another job, met some amazing people, lost some, discovered incredible places, opened my eyes to the magic around me. I've felt the best and worst I've ever felt during the past year. I think I hit every mark on the emotional spectrum.


This was a huge year of, cheesy as it may sound, self-exploration and discovery. Being out of school for the first time in my life, it was a journey to move somewhere new, without an instant built-in community. To move to a place where nobody knew who I was. Where even I had to re-discover, examine, and embrace my own identity; who I really am. And there have been challenges, but in the end I am grateful. Everything is a lesson and as much as it may not make sense, as much as it may hurt or frustrate you [me], it's meant to be there. It serves a purpose.


Spiritual, soulful, and emotional evolution.....


Within the past year I've been surrounded by exceptional love. Primarily from my parents and a few resilient, incredible friends. I am grateful everyday for whole support, honesty, and ceaseless love I feel from these people.


I've made some of the biggest decisions of my life....learned what it means to truly listen to yourself, even when everything external is telling you otherwise. And when to take the external into account. Finding the fine balance between body and mind....heart and logic.


I've also experienced a type of betrayal I hope to never comes across again. From a person I least expected it from, came a fountain of lies. Having such an open heart, I suppose, makes me especially vulnerable. But this experience, as awful as it was, has revealed things about myself I never took the time to appreciate...and seeing the lack of those traits in another person highlighted them in myself.


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Along this vein, I usually approach birthdays thinking "ok, what are my goals for this year? How can I better myself? What do I want to achieve?". And while these are absolutely flowing through my mind, I also think that birthdays should be a time of self-celebration and appreciation. So first let me begin with a list of things I appreciate about myself. Things I am grateful for and have come to recognize within the past year.


-I am honest. This is, by far, the number one trait I admire and cherish in a person. I don't see why anyone would be any other way. I was raised in a family and town that always emphasized the importance of honesty in friendships and beyond.


-I am not judgmental. I never really noticed it until I moved to the city, but I can genuinely say that while I am human and innately, gently judge situations through my own contextual lens, I am a very open human being. I love the diversity this city presents and I truly appreciate the differences I come across everyday. I like that I can hang with the hippies, the preppies, the skater boys, the goths, the punks, the corporate crowd, the artists, etc. I find that if you're grounded and secure within yourself, you're able to naturally connect with nearly everyone


...I guess those are the two main things.


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What I see for the next year:


I decided several days ago that this is going to be a "no bullshit" year. Good plan, huh? At least a "minimal BS" year! What do I mean by this? For one, I think it's accurate to say that we all have negative people in our life who we keep around for one reason or another. Well, time to eliminate the people whose "con" list greatly outweighs the "pro".


"No BS" also means that if I want to do something, create something, go somewhere, take a risk: DO IT.


I feel myself on the brink of something great. For the first time, my massive pool of seemingly unrelated thoughts and ideas is beginning to come together and make sense. My goal? To do something with it. Become my dream.


I'd also like to continue building my roots within the city. Expanding horizons and friendships.


...Cheers! To being 24...


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Narrative's "poem of the week"...I like:






From The Dream We Carry

by Olav H. Hauge



When All Is Said and Done
Year in, year out, you’ve bent over books.
You’ve gathered more knowledge
than you’d need for nine lives.
When all is said and done,
so little is needed, and that much
the heart has always known.
In Egypt the god of knowledge
had the head of an ape.



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Today, right at the moment I needed it, one of my wonderful friend sent me this song. I almost forgot how in love with Max Richter I am. Listen with shut lids...






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Edmonton names hip-hop artist latest poet Laureate...sweet!






http://www.cbc.ca/arts/books/story/2009/05/26/edmonton-pemberton-poet-laureate.html

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There is much more, but for now, sending my love to all <3>

Smile, breathe, and go slowly

All the things that truly matter — beauty, love, creativity, joy, inner peace — arise from beyond the mind

Reach Out in the Darkness

Back in the city after a wonderful weekend in Vermont.  Really, I am just so full of gratitude to have such authentic and loving people in my life and a green, clean, clear, mountainous land to visit.

In the midst of my trip I came across various bits of memorabilia that made me laugh.  One such item was found in the top drawer of my old dresser.  Now, this is a dresser I had had from ages 8-15.  My mom and I decided that it'd be a good idea to go through all of the crap in my old room and give a bunch of it away, since I don't use it anymore.  I made my way through the closet...tossing leotards and mini-tanks aside, hanging onto the t-shirts I had won at elementary school jog-a-thons past...

Anyway, I get to the underwear drawer of the bureau.  I used to stash all of my secret little trinkets and journals in there.  I found about 5 old journals.  A lot of the stuff I wrote about I can laugh at now...6th grade crushes, qualms with friends, etc.  But I was actually somewhat stunned by the maturity in my writing when it addressed the more important things.  For example, why I danced and how my universe shifted when I walked through the studio doors.  Or the voice my writing took on when I described my love for my brothers and parents.  It was nice to sift through these and re-ground myself in a very different way.

The best part though: I'm making my way through the drawer and in the very back right-hand corner, I find some transparent paper.  I pull it out and see that it has writing all over it.  An unsent love letter!  Oh man, this was such a find.  It's from when I was fifteen and had recently broken up with my first boyfriend (shall remain nameless...but for those of you who know, the i and the tt...eek!).  We started dating when we were 14 and we were so in love, we thought.  We didn't have any classes together during the day, so he would always send me little notes or drawings through friends.  I remember one day my friend Katie delivered a drawing from him that was one huge flower and he had colored each petal differently and written some sweet thing next to it.  Anyway, I was, and still am, a sucker for anything romantic, so I was pretty much head over heels for this guy.  We talked about getting married, being together forever, etc. etc.  Classic 14 yr old love.  Trouble in paradise started to rumble when I moved away at age 15 to go to school in Boston.  The first few months were ok, but I was really busy with school and had taken a liking to a new "man" (aka: 16 yr old boy) at school.  So, the time came...I called _____ and broke up with him.  The drama!  I think we were on the phone for about 2 hours, crying, laughing, the whole deal.

So this note I found in my bureau over the weekend (that was a roundabout way of getting to the point) was written after the break-up...clearly never went to him.  It was four full pages.  It was addressed "Dear_____, my first love,".  It went on about how I was sorry I broke his heart (this guy still won't talk to me) and how sometimes thing don't make sense but they're right and how i'll always have a section of my heart dedicated to him (false), etc etc.  Anyway, it was just interesting/entertaining to read this almost nine years later...and re-assuring in a way, too.  There was even a line in it that literally made me laugh aloud: "Even when I am 27 and totally in love with someone else, I will still love you".  Um...no.  Anyway, don't really know where I'm going with this.  I guess it was not only fun to re-visit that 'drama' of my past, but also a reminder that things that seem huge right now, or all-consuming, will pass.  Obviously I've had more serious loves/break-ups since then and I thought the ache would never cease.  But it does.  And that's the beauty in human resilience.  And I needed that reminder.

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On another note, I was driving along and this song came on!  Whatever happened to simple, feel-good lyrics and melody?  My mom used to sing this song while frolicking around the house (and still does) and it's such a good one!  When it came on the stereo, I realized that I had  never actually heard the song, but knew every word.  So, here it is [could only embed a version that goes along with a MASH montage...at least it was kind of a cool show, I guess.  The point here is the song though]:

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I also found some great video footage when I was home and converted it from 8mm vid to DVD...currently working on editing it on my computer.  I'll eventually get some clips on here.

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Interesting piece on the magic and mystery of Shakespeare's sonnets:

http://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/books/features/400-years-young-the-magic-and-mystery-of-shakespeares-sonnets-1687684.html

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One week until my birthday!  23 has been great, but I feel ready for 24...a natural progression, the shifts are accelerating ... and it's a good thing

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What?! Robert Frost's family farm is for sale (buy a piece for a mere $25,000...hmm):

http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/nationworld/chi-talk-frost-farmmay22,0,2518411.story

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Sad:  

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1185988/Ode-dear--recite-single-poem.html

This is where my new ideas will come into play...make it more accessible/physically engaging...[more to come]

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Good reason to be in BarTHelona this week:

http://www.e-poetry2009.com/schedule.php

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As always, I have so much more to share, but I don't even know where to start and I have one of my favorite people in the world coming to see me in 2 hours, so I better get started with my day.  I'll leave you on this feel good note (another in my mom's musical compilation):

Green Light

...And we speak

in our own

clear

language.

Who knows

if things don't

know in themselves

that we're called

something else.

Everyone forgets that Icarus also flew.

It's the same when love comes to an end,
or the marriage fails and people say
they knew it was a mistake, that everybody
said it would never work. That she was
old enough to know better. But anything
worth doing is worth doing badly...

I believe Icarus was not failing as he fell,
but just coming to the end of his triumph.

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Testing out various sets of wings now.  I think I like them all because they all show me I can fly.

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Why is pistachio so good?  And more importantly, why are avocados so freakishly delicious in countless recipes, forms, arrangements, and settings?  Perhaps they are the best just peeled and eaten with a spoon

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I have many things going on in this head of mine...but for now, I have some reading to do and some sleep to wrap up in.  It's been a near-sleepless weekend.  Fun, but time to remedy that situation

bisous a tous

Discover Magic

It lives inside you, it lies on the street, it's in the breeze and on the tip of your tongue.  No matter how hard some people try, it's brilliance and resilience will never go dim.  It's magic!

...and it's everywhere...

Don't you see the wonder at your feet?

Music is the memory of what never happened

I was thinking of beautiful music today and called to mind C. Dreyer's 1928 "Jean D'Arc".  An incredibly moving, black and white, silent (initially), French film that I was first introduced to in a film class in college.  It's composed of almost 100% close-up shots, which I love and I think that it is perfect for the narrative. The film details the last hours of the life of Joan of Arc and takes place after she was captured by the English. It depicts her trial, imprisonment, torture, and execution much as a passion play would.  I was thinking about this film as I was walking home.  What about this film touches me? Why, when everybody else in my class declared it was their least favorite film of the semester, did I tear up, get a lump in my throat and wear it for hours after exposure?

The answer?  I don't know, exactly.  But for one, the woman who plays Jean (Joan), Renee Falconetti, is stunning.  Her facial expressions are perfection and she is absolutely the woman for the role.  Her facial expressions, her movements, everything...derives from the heart.  And that's what makes her so believable. 

Also, the music is almost unbearably moving.  The musical score is called "Voices of Light" and...wow.  

While the components of the film are enough to touch anyone (or at least anyone beyond film 101), I have always felt a connection with Joan of Arc's tale.  Who knows why, the possible reasons are countless.  But something about being deeply misunderstood, unable to effectively pass on the truth, suffering severe, undeserved consequences...maybe it's something we can all relate to on some level.  Whatever the case is though, I have always had an innate, almost secretive reverence for Joan and this film brings that to the surface.

Anyway, you definitely have to be in the right mood for it.  It's not a "hey, let's all veg out on a friday night and watch C. Dreyer's Jean D'Arc".  I almost prefer watching it in solitude, for one.  But also, it is fairly long and requires a certain state of mind/being in order to be fully received.  Below is one small segment.  I recommend, if you ever feel it's the right time, one day sitting down and watching the entire film (I think that now, through finding little segments on youtube, you can actually see the whole thing online.  Or Netflix it).  Feast your eyes, ears, and hearts:

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I have so much more I want to write about, but now I don't have time!  This weekend I will write a nice long post :)

biz

Who can blame me for this heart of mine?

What we feel most has no name but amber, archers, cinnamon, horses and birds.

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There is not enough time left to use it for dissatisfaction.

Often it is hard to know when the middle game 

is over, and the end game beginning, the pure part

that is made more of craft than it is of magic.

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Thinking of Ecstasy 

Maman, Je t'aime

Happy Mother's Day to all moms!  I was searching for today's image...keeping an eye out for something along the lines of a beautiful pillow of flowers, spring colors, cheesy ribbons, but then I came across this and realized that for me, this is the perfect Mother's Day message.

Hands down, the greatest thing my mom (and dad) has instilled in me is that dreams become reality.  I was always one of those kids (and still am) who tended to slip into the alpha state continuously throughout the day: creating elaborate narratives of my future, envisioning adventures, new people, etc.  Now we know that this is actually a good thing...to allow your mind to relax and create scenarios you'd like to see become reality.  But with no weight on the outcome.  Anyway, I was always told that as challenging as something may seem, there is a way to make it happen.  And I have to say, this mindset/openness to the truth has served me well so far and I look forward to realizing many dreams to come.  So, thanks mama (can you feel my hug in France?)...

Click below to read Julia W. Howe's original 1870 Mother's Day Proclamation (Yes, same name.  whoa.  also, she was born May 27...a mere 5 days off!):

http://womenshistory.about.com/od/howejwriting/a/mothers_day.htm

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Listening to NPR this morning, the most beautiful voices seeped out of my radio.  Newly in love with Idan Raichel, an Israeli music producer who not only has an amazing voice and spirit, but is also intelligent, beautiful, and the bearer of some wonderful dreadlocks.  I always wanted to date a guy with wonderful dreads ... but the cool ones, not the ones where they are basically the result of a bird's nest gone awry (aka: 2 big disgusting dreads as opposed to many smaller ones)...and they couldn't smell bad either.  Ok, yes.  Check him out:

NPR Article [listen to the two songs from "within my walls"...so beautiful]:

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=103953328

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Alright, the Jones man wants a long walk, then I have to see some people before I head back to the city tonight!  What a wonderful weekend this has been...really needed to take a step back, reconnect, etc.

Busy, busy week coming up!

big SMOOCH pour tous

Where there is love, there are no questions

[title is from my yogi tea bag]

A post from Vermont!  In the act of finally sitting down to get some work done, I decided to blog instead.  

...sometimes I forget just how wonderful Vermont is.  Until I wake up to the warmth seeping onto my back, the smell of sweet grass, and the choir of birds outside my window.  And I seriously forgot about dandelions until I ventured outside and they were everywhere!  I couldn't help but lie in a heap of bright yellow and look up at the sky with a big smile.  It reminded me of a passage in Maud Martha (by Gwendolyn Brooks) where the metaphor of dandelion as Martha comes around full circle:

But the sun was shining, and some of the people in the world had been left alive, and it was doubtful whether the ridiculousness of man would ever completely succeed in destroying the world- or, in fact, the basic equanimity of the least and the commonest flower: for would its kind not come up again in the spring?

If you haven't read this [very short] novel, I highly recommend it.  It's astonishingly poetic and the voice is guided by Maud Martha's (protagonist) interiority rather than exciting/noteworthy exterior events.  Like Martha, the dandelions are common and while they undergo various phases-- from sprouting, to blooming, to dying off, to lying latently for months-- they always re-emerge with strength in the spring.  This passage, I think, can be seen both as a metaphor for Maud Martha and human kind alike.  Life ebbs and flows, there is joy and pain, but the resilience of humanity always prevails.  Clearly I like the use of dandelions as a literary trope...

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Laughing and dancing free in the pouring rain

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There's so much more to come and it's so exciting!

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Do you ever toil over something for months and then it hits you at the most random time: OH!  That's what I need to do!

And it is all so clear and you wonder why there was ever a question in the first place?  Yes...

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Proud of Joe for getting his poem published in Boston Literary Magazine!  I was there people, when he crafted the poem.  Ah, yes.  Anyway, read it("Tossing the Argument")

http://www.bostonliterarymagazine.com/win09poetry.html#win09argument.html

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One day I'll get around to submitting my writing to places...my real stuff, not this "hey, look what I wrote at 4am" deliciousness that I post to my blog.  I have been quite prolific lately though and editing a lot of my older works.  I'd say sometime around July I'll be ready to get some of it out there...and then I'll really know how people respond to it.  And, to be honest, I don't really care all that much if people love or hate it.  What matters to me as a writer is that I have emotionally processed what it is that I've set to the page and that I respond to it. 

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I ran into one of my favorites in the middle of Church St. today!  I LOVE VERMONTERS.  That is all.

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Check out a 6-page preview of Jason's new graphic novel, Low Moon:

http://www.icv2.com/articles/news/14885.html

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HAHA:

Here is my synopsis of every Doug Coupland book, ever.

Character A: You remember that Thing*? I remember that Thing.

Character B: I remember that Thing also.

Character A: Our shared rememberance of that Thing constitutes a lasting and real human connection!

Character C: And hey, you know what’s fucking hard? Growing as a person and finding out who I am. Because, who I am is like, well, do you remember that very special Christmas episode of Three’s Company, where Jack puts a plant on his head? It was like, you know, the shitty season, after Suzanne Sommers was replaced by Priscilla Barnes? Anyways, that’s what it’s like to hate my job so much? Did I mention I hate my job?

Character A (aside to B): I never watched after Suzanne Sommers left. It's just like, when she left, my childhood seemed to evaporate. You know? How stuff was better? In the past?

Character B: I have contempt for and reverence for the same bits of cultural bric-a-brac that you do. This means love. Do you remember when Things meant things?

Reader, along with Characters A&B&C: Yes, we remember when Things meant things! Boy, did I ever have a lot of feelings, once upon a time!

A&B: Let us go forth and use our memories of feelings we once had about Things as a lazy shorthand for actual meaningful connection. That way, neither of us has to grow. The past was really neat, don’t you think? Let’s live there, because our shitty jobs make it too hard to live in the present, and thinking of a way out is just like, totes a bummer.

Character C: Wait! I have a confession: I am fearful of nuclear weapons. Also, cancer makes me sad.

Narrator: Aren’t we all a little sad about cancer? And nuclear bombs? I mean, those are sad things. Sad like when they got rid of the pirate from the McDonald’s Happy Meal Gang because he was too scary.

New York Times Magazine: Trend piece!

All: We always liked the pirate the best! McDonalds does not understand our generation!

Narrator: You should probably be feeling things right now. If not, maybe try downloading an Amish person into your iPhone?

THE END

* Wherein THING= Hiroshima, limited edition Joy Division record, episode of the Smurfs, short-lived pseudo-obscure sitcom from the ’80s, 8-track tapes.

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Ok, ok, I really do need to get some work done before I go frolic outside again

Hugs to all

Thoughts become things!

Hello, hello!  No time to write right now (yay, homophones), but wanted to share this wonderful image.  I hope to one day be able to

a. jump that high

b. jump that high on a beautiful beach

c. have giraffe friends

Busy, busy week, but I'll have some at the end of the week to pour my thoughts/queries/discoveries and Julia-ness onto the blog.

Have a magical day!

The sky's as blue as the coffee's strong, it's true

Goooooood morning.  It's interesting [cannot decide if I see it as a good or bad thing], no matter what time I go to bed, 11, 1am, or 4am, I almost always wake up before 9.  In a way I appreciate it because I don't feel like I have wasted a portion of my day...but, at the same time, I know I probably need more sleep.  And speaking of sleep and not having it, I had intense insomnia a few nights ago.  It was muggy, hot, gross, in my bedroom.  Opening the windows did nothing.  I don't own a fan [yet] and it just wasn't happening.  Anyway, for some reason my grandma popped into my mind and wouldn't leave.  My mother's mother...Irma (such an adorable, classic grandma name, right?).  I am not close to her at all, as she lives in WI and rarely get to see her.  But there she was, in my head that night.  She has Alzheimer's now.  I am finally at an age where I would love to visit her and rack her brain about life in the early 20th century (she's almost 90), how she fell in love with my grandpa, what it was like being pregnant nine times, how she was as a young adult, etc., but it's all gone.  Anyway, at 3am I was thinking about all of that and this is what came out:

Hush, Memory

speaks

in the palpable  heaviness

of my bedroom tonight.  This heat

is something I had forgotten

until now.  How it calls

out to the secret crevasses

of my subconscious.  No breeze

to sweep away what

I had planned on saving

for next season.

[and then the next].

And somehow she's here,

stagnant in my mind, as if

the sap-like air cushions not

only my history, but now

the questions marks

of my grandmother's.

I roll to my my side

and she says, hush.

I'm listening now

to the memories I've fabricated

of her youth.  Unraveling

a sweater 

that never was. Composing

elaborate stories

in a lazy effort to understand the

narratives that course

through my being.  My blood

whispers tales of ancestors

I know too well.

In the stickiness 

of this sleepless night 

[this sudden, impossible, pool of thought]

my throat locks, I see

my tiny grandmother, a woman

whom I never truly knew, the woman

whom my mother calls mom,

and I reach my arm out--

toward center of this

all too quiet room.  

But things fall

apart, and

maybe

I am hoping

that her memories

can be lassoed, retrieved,

re-membered.  Years, decades

of a life washed away

and replaced with blank 

expressions and white waiting

rooms.  X in the appropriate squares.  

I'm going to tell you 

five things,

now,

when I return, repeat

them back to me

in the same

order.

Cactus, mouse, hammer, spring, and pen.

Did you take your pills?

Have you had breakfast?

Do you want to go for a car ride?

Maybe this will work...

Don't strip away her dignity, please.

She was there

when I was born.  Rosebud lips,

she said.  What we share.  These lips

are possibly all that we'll ever know

we share.  But even those

are fading into the marks

of events past.  Her voice now rests

within the severe parentheses 

of shelved laughter, evaporating

frowns.

It's too much, this

heat wrapping around me.

Nothing moves.  Thoughts come

and loiter, hovering in the molasses

of the night.  Oozing, each waiting

for its turn.

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I would write more, but the morning wants me to be outside.  Will write more tomorrow. Have lots to share.

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Etymology for the day:

hug
1567, hugge "to embrace," perhaps from O.N. hugga "to comfort," from hugr "courage, mood," from P.Gmc. *hugjan, related to O.E. hycgan "to think, consider," Goth. hugs "mind, soul, thought." Other have noted the similarity in some senses to Ger. hegen "to foster, cherish," originally "to enclose with a hedge." The noun was originally (1617) a hold in wrestling.