Time to Blossom.

Saturday's mini blessings...

How

did the rose

ever open its heart

and give to this world all of its beauty?

It felt the encouragement of light against its being,

otherwise we all remain too

frightened.

-Hafiz

Seeing Beauty.

"I want to see beauty. In the ugly, in the sink, in the suffering, in the daily, in all the days before I die, the moments before I sleep."

-Ann Voskamp, One Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are

As I closed this book, my heart begged, "Lord, give me the eyes to see."

The War of Art.

"Are you a born writer? Were you put on earth to be a painter, a scientist, an apostle of peace? In the end the question can only be answered by action.

Do or don't do it.

It may help to think of it this way. If you were meant to cure cancer or write a symphony or crack cold fusion and you don't do it, you not only hurt yourself, even destroy yourself. You hurt your children. You hurt me. You hurt the planet.

You shame the angels who watch over you and you spite the Almighty, who created you and only you with your unique gifts, for the sole purpose of nudging the human race one millimeter farther along its path back to God.

Creative work is not a selfish act or a bid for attention on the part of the actor. It's a gift to the world and every being in it. Don't cheat us of your contribution. Give us what you've got."

-Steven Pressfield, The War of Art: Break Through the Blocks & Win Your Inner Creative Battles

This has been added to my Top 5 books list.

This entire weekend I've been submersed in amazing musical and artistic talent.  After watching the incredible actors performing Fiddler On the Roof on Friday and the mesmerizing performance of Mona Golabek in The Pianist of Willesden Lane, it is clear that the world is more beautifully expressed when everyone follows their own creative call.

Right now I'm loving Pressfield's book…get yourself a copy and armor up.

I can't wait to see what you've got.

Beyond What I Know.

First hike up Castle Rock 

Last night's beautiful sunset at Point Isabel

"I love going out of my way, beyond what I know, and finding my way back a few extra miles, by another trail, with a compass that argues with the map…nights alone in motels in remote western towns where I know no one and no one I know knows where I am, nights with strange paintings and floral spreads and cable television that furnish a reprieve from my own biography, when in Benjamin's terms, I have lost myself though I know where I am. Moments when I say to myself as feet or car clear a crest or round a bend, I have never seen this place before. Times when some architectural detail or vista that has escaped me these many years says to me that I never did know where I was, even when I was home." 

-Rebecca Solnit, A Field Guide to Getting Lost

Decadently Delightful.

As much as I love words, some of the best art contains none of them.

Someone described this as "decadently delightful," and I couldn't agree more.

I Am Thinking...

Photo cred: S. Sairam

I am thinking about love.

I am thinking about Valentine's Day and how it's strange to choose a random day to think about love because in reality, we are surrounded by it, every minute, every hour, every day.

I am thinking about how I watched The Notebook with a grown man and saw him cry for the first time and realized then how we all have experienced the simultaneous beauty and sadness of complicated loving- the kind of love that glues you together and rips you apart and never quite fades but never quite blossoms, no matter how many years or miles pass.

I am thinking of the beauty of how easy it is to connect with a new friend, and how I stare at her sad blue eyes and listen to her story and just offer space for her, and how I recognize her pain and sorrow and anger and regret, and yet in the very same breath, with the very same eyes, see her relief and her reason and her knowingness that things played out just as they should have.

I am thinking how I have known her heartbreak all too well, and how love and loss thread us together, even though we are different ages and have different hair colors and grew up in different states.

I am thinking about the drunk dials I've answered, listening to honest words, unfiltered and openly gushing the kindest of compliments, only to be forgotten the next day, and how that both stung and saddened me for secretly cherishing those moments of alcohol-induced flattery.

I am thinking about riding my bike with the sun warming my back, my ponytail dancing in the wind, my exhilarated heart pounding as I descend down Calaveras Road. And how that feels like love.

I am thinking about the power of random text messages and how words carry electricity- they can light up your whole day, shift your energy, cause you to smile wide, change your outlook.

I am thinking of my late grandmother, and how I would hold her soft, smooth hands, and how she radiated so much strength in adversity, as well as softness and grace, and how that dichotomy always fascinated me.

I am thinking about Praveena, and how she has cultivated in me a deep awareness of the present moment, of gratitude and mindfulness, and how it is beautiful that a single person can change your world so profoundly. She is steady, like the breath, and I love that about her.

I am thinking about how I still feel love for J, who now is happily married and holds his beautiful wife's belly, with a baby on the way, and how love can change shapes and shift forms and textures, yet buried beneath those decade-old bricks is a timeless love that is genuinely happy for his path and wishes only the best for him and his family. And how I cannot express or communicate that directly to him, but I know that kind of love transcends the miles and time and still arrives at its destination, full of intention.

I am thinking how heartbreak and sorrow were my most beautiful gifts because they caused compassion and tenderness to spew forth from my heart once it was cracked wide open- and how love was always present in those dark spaces, but it was camouflaged in different forms that took me awhile to recognize.

I am thinking how electrifying it feels to be in love, to jump in fully, to drop the umbrella and kiss in the rain, tasting sweet passion mixed with raindrops and feeling the heat of another's breath on your face- and how it feels to be on the same street witnessing that exchange, walking alone, yet soaked in all the grace that I've been given, and how that kind of Love is enough.

I am thinking how much more liberating it is to be love- unguarded, unpretentious, giving freely and openly because it will never, ever run out.

And how I would definitely want more than February 14th to be that.

Colors.

I am sitting in my hairdresser's chair, hair freshly washed, and hold the book in my lap. I flip through it, examining the various colors and my split-second associations. So many colors, so many options. Blond=Playboy Bunny. Dark black=goth. Metallic red=Asian music video dancer. I settle for an in-between color that is both subtle enough for the workplace yet shines lighter in the sunshine. I'm happy with it.

I pull out my snack, and it is a glorious burgundy color. Just chewing it makes me feel love. If I was a fruit, I'd want to be this brilliant color. Its rich hue puts white bread and white pasta to shame.

Dried dragonfruit. Exotic. Colorful. Delicious.

I drive and notice the pastel colors of the sunset, and how it is both soft and magnificent at the same time- strong blues, subtle oranges and pinks spread across the sky. I realize how much of my world, my mood, my pleasures- are dictated by the colors that surround me. I've worn red when I've felt confident, as well as black when I've just wanted to blend in and not be seen. Guilty as charged.

And in thinking about this, it challenged me to ask myself, as well as you-
In a world with no color, only black and white, how would you stand out?

Fresh Air.

"Sometimes, I need only to stand wherever I am to be blessed."

-Mary Oliver

#aftertherain #poetryinmotion

Trailblazer.

"Here's the truth that you have to wrestle with: the reason that art (writing, engaging, leading, all of it) is valuable is precisely why I can't tell you how to do it. If there were a map, there'd be no art, because art is the act of navigating without a map. Don't you hate that? I love that there's no map."

-Seth Godin, Linchpin: Are You Indispensable?

When I saw this at Point Reyes, I went the opposite way. #trailblazer

The Type-A part of me that secretly loves structure and to-do lists and schedules to follow is constantly at odds with the artist/creator side of myself that loves the words freedom and flow and feels stifled by timelines and objective goals.

It's all about balance, I suppose. I'm learning this on a daily basis- that there is always more than one way to approach a problem, to find another solution, to course-correct and overcome the inevitable obstacles that present themselves on the path. I'm learning to let go of what I've trusted (structure), and navigate without a map. 

It's hard. But here's the honest truth- I was never good at reading maps anyways.

Trudging Along.

Spotted on the stairs of Berkeley Bowl West.
Advice for both life and writing.

"So when we write and begin with an empty page and a heart unsure, a famine of thoughts, a fear of no feeling- just begin from there, from that electricity. This kind of writing is uncontrolled, is not sure where the outcome is, and it begins in ignorance and darkness. But facing those things, writing from that place, will eventually break us and open us to the world as it is. Out of this tornado of fear will come a genuine writing voice." 

-Natalie Goldberg, Writing Down the Bones: Freeing the Writer Within

Arranging the Pieces.

"Arrange whatever pieces come your way." -Virginia Woolf

Diving into the steamy pool as the clock hits 6am means only one thing- my writing time (morning pages) and meditation have been shifted even earlier, to an ungodly hour that starts with a 4. But I've been consistently doing both of these long enough in the morning to understand their inherent value, and skipping any one of the two, or even both (gasp!) is unthinkable. I'm thankful I've developed them into my morning routine that they are now as habitual as brushing my teeth and lotioning up after a shower.

I'm listening, a lot. Propped up with my pillow behind my back, legs crossed, with sleepy eyes and the covers shrouding my open palms, I'll just breathe. In. Out. In. Out. I find it interesting how ideas will just drop into me, stay for awhile. And I'll notice them, tuck them away, and focus again on my breath. In. Out. In. Out.

From a bird's eye view of the past few months, I am fascinated how people, situations, and opportunities have emerged in the most exciting and creative of ways. Lots of pieces, different shapes and colors and textures, and here I am taking whatever it is that shows up in my life, and arranging it in such a way that best fulfills my dharma in this big and beautiful world.

It would be just as easy to take those same pieces and say, "It's impossible," or "I can't do that," or blame the economy, other people, or come up with a million different excuses to keep myself from fulfilling my destiny. But perhaps it's the inner artist in me that sees these independent pieces and wants to fit them together in a creative and meaningful way- one that will ultimately be of service to those around me.

This same approach applies in the kitchen. Yesterday I looked at the kabocha squash resting on the counter, noticed the kale in the fridge staring me straight in the eyes, the $3 organic red bell pepper begging me not to go to waste, and the forbidden black rice greeting me as I opened my top cupboard door. So I took those pieces and arranged them together in one of the most delicious meals.

Roasted kabocha squash stuffed with forbidden black rice, wild rice, kale, onions,
red bell peppers and shiitake mushrooms.

How are you arranging the pieces in your life?

Second Chances.

Enjoying the view...

…and the 808s

This weekend I've been thinking a lot about second chances, do-overs, and the mystery of grace. During yesterday's ride along the coast, aside from enjoying the view and the miles, I had one other goal in mind- to revisit a painful site down near Davenport. I wanted to go over the railroad tracks again- those same metal lines that caused me to crash, flip sideways along the road, bruising my ego and my body. I needed to prove to myself that I could pass over them again, this time unscathed.

As I saw them appear, this time I tactfully and carefully positioned my wheels at a perpendicular angle, and as my tires passed over them, I breathed a sigh of relief. There's something about that experience- knowing that second chances exist- but we must have the courage to approach those areas now with caution and care and compassion.

Beauty from Pigeon Point.

All of life is like the single bike lane down the coast… miles filled with lessons of loving and letting go and learning and listening and leading and living in each moment. Noticing the way the sun hits the water at a certain time of day, how the fog collects in certain places and then lifts gently and blends back into the sky, how the wind shifts throughout the day, but also the reality of humanity- the shredded tire pieces strewn along the highway, shattered glass shards glistening in the afternoon sun, a random tennis shoe lying in the center of the road, all alone.

Luckily, there is a thing called grace, and this allows us to get up after we've crashed, wipe the blood off, and later return to the same spot a year later to conquer the thing that initially took us out- yet this time we are moving confidently, with awareness and gratitude, and staying upright.

I heard this song for the first time this morning, and it encapsulated everything I've been feeling this weekend. As I jogged the perimeter of the lake tonight and felt my breath in my lungs and my heart beating, it made me so grateful for the larger second chances we all have in life.

Because those are the ones that really matter.

Chasing the sunset tonight...

You give life, You are love
You bring light to the darkness
You give hope, You restore
Every heart that is broken

Great are You, Lord

It's Your breath in our lungs
So we pour out our praise
We pour out our praise
It's Your breath in our lungs
So we pour out our praise
To You only

You give life, You are love
You bring light to the darkness
You give hope, You restore
Every heart that is broken

Great are You, Lord

It's Your breath in our lungs
So we pour out our praise
We pour out our praise
It's Your breath in our lungs
So we pour out our praise
To You only

-from "Great Are You Lord" by All Sons and Daughters