what's a captain without a crew?

I'm pretty good at giving; I learned that from my mom. one thing that I am not so good at is receiving; I think I learned that from my dad. I left home at 18. I remember the first time I got the flu away from home, never had having a mother seemed so valuable as when I was puking alone. being on your own hardens you, it makes you tough. growing up, my father held the aura of a man who had survived alone in the woods for years--I wanted to be that man. so when it was time, I went out into my own woods, I fed and clothed and sheltered myself. I kept myself company many lonely nights, trying to ignore the scary sounds that hide in the dark.

and here I am, over a decade since I had my mom to feed and comfort me or my dad to keep me safe. I have taken care of myself, for that I am proud. but I am starting to think I may have over-corrected. tonight it struck me how alone I still feel, even though I have a loving boyfriend and family and many incredible friends. while making my bed tonight I was overwhelmed with how many times I have completed that act in the silence of an empty apartment. something about it saddened me so deeply. something made me long for another person to help me fluff the comforter like I know my mother would have.

there is tremendous strength in giving. I enjoy giving to others. I like knowing that in my own way I can help others with the unavoidable difficulty of life. but then, when I am in need of such comfort, I find I don't ask for it, or allow for it to enter into my space. in all my desire to be tough, I have forgotten the incredible grace that lies in softening. to be self-reliant is commendable, but to be open to other's care takes even more strength. there is a vulnerability to letting yourself depend on someone that takes a lot of courage. I think I have proven that if I had to, I could survive on my own. it's good to know that. I needed to know that. but, I am not on my own, and it's nice to have someone help you when you're tired of helping yourself.

mad dancers

be willing to risk that the world may not hear the music to which you dance--you may appear as a crazy person, but that's no reason to stop dancing. as long as you hear music, dance.

how to pack for a mystery

it is raining outside and my heater is broken and I am happy as can be. I am camping out on my bed. I am wearing a warm hat, wool socks, sweatpants and a big sweater my boyfriend gave me. with me on this quilted island I have everything I could possibly need: books, a journal, my guitar and a cup of tea. I'm not leaving until I have a story to tell.

lately I have been craving adventure. the other day I ran into my friend john, he was wearing a marvelous new hat. he said "hello" and then warned that he might smell weird - he had literally just returned from an 8 day journey and was as yet unshowered. he smelled fine. when I asked the nature of his trip, he told me a wonderful tale. a friend of his had told him to be at the airport at 7am and to bring a passport, no other details were given. so when john's alarm went off at 5:15am, he gathered his things completely unaware of what laid ahead.

how does one pack for a mystery?

he settled on the clothes he was wearing, a pair of pants, a pair of shorts, two t-shirts, two pairs of underwear, flip flops, echinacea, toothpaste, a toothbrush, chapstick, a murakami novel, a journal, sunglasses, and one packet of space ice cream (just in case). upon arriving at the airport, he was told by his friend that they would be flying to buenos aires. and so they did, and they had an awe-inspiring time ripe with rooftop sunsets and intoxicated bus rides and hot norwegian girls.

while listening to him, I couldn't help but notice the pulling in my gut for such an experience. why didn't I have a friend buying me a ticket to buenos aires? why didn't I just arrive from an exciting place with these stories to tell? and then it hit me, running into john that day was my adventure. I don't have to go somewhere to experience life. yes, traveling can pry open otherwise sleepy eyes, but I can just as easily force them open with my awareness. I can board a plane or stay in bed, it doesn't matter, as long as I give whatever I am doing my full attention. my life, wherever I am, is the adventure, all I need do is live it.

without you, there'd be no sundae

he left again this morning. you would think that it had little effect on me anymore, but no matter how many times (and oh there have been many) that I have kissed him goodbye and said "come home soon", the soon feels so far away, like some impossible goal. he is going to japan this time, and australia. I am going to be here, like usual, keeping our apartment anchored to the earth. while he flies, I will do my best to stay grounded. yesterday he was telling a friend on the phone how lately life for him has felt like one cherry after another is falling on top of his sundae. it's scary almost, just when you think it couldn't get better, a fatter and juicier cherry flops on the sundae. I told him this morning when the alarm went off, myself already awake in the dark, that I felt like I was once the biggest cherry on that sundae, but it was hard now to compete with all the excitement that was swirling around like caramel in his sweet life. he got still and I could feel him thinking, and then he wrapped me in his arms and said, "no, you're the bowl, without you, there'd be no sundae."

he(art)

don't use art to get love. don't use your tits or your pouty wet lips either. don't use your eyes and their slow blinking lashes. don't use tired eyes for that matter. don't use lies or excuses, or half-arsed proclamations you may mean at one moment but won't in another. don't use anything but your red banging drum of a heart. let that be the one and only thing you use to get love. then you can use art to talk about that love or the loss of that love or the longing for that love or the crippling strangling fear of that love. only then can you call it art.

dear future me

yesterday I wrote my future self an email. it ended with "I am proud of you in advance. love, b"

my hope is that when future me receives this email sent by present me, she is happy. that is really all. whatever that means-- rich, poor, famous, forgotten, I just hope she's happy. in the email I talked about her obnoxious laugh, how it's really too loud for most people, and how I hope she still has it. I hope that if nothing else, I go down as the girl who laughed a little too loudly for other people's comfort. I am not here to make things comfortable. I am here to make things better. there is a difference. I hope I am doing the latter. I could always be doing more. but I think I am doing a pretty good job.

it's such a struggle, to stay here, with present me, to not fall for future me and all that she has finally figured out. but under the strain of learning, I hope my face scrunched up would appear as a smile to a passerby. I am trying to find the joy in the toiling. sometimes I even manage to forget how difficult that can be.

outside my window

outside my window, someone is beating an egg. I brush my teeth and wonder if they will be eating their breakfast alone. we live in solitary stacks. late at night I hear the clicking of typewriter keys. I am impressed. it pushes me to stay a little longer at my piano keys. we live side by side alone. who are these people sharing my water pipes? who is hiding behind these walls? perhaps I will go knocking...

and again the question forms in my quiet thoughts, are we supposed to go it alone? the valor of a solo flight vs. the pleasure of a party boat. I suppose as with everything, there is a point somewhere in the middle worth finding. I can't blame anyone else for my failings, but I can thank many for their help along the way. sometimes it's as simple as knowing they are there to make you a sandwich on the days things don't go so great. but ultimately, I need to take comfort in knowing I am the only fan I need. the only co-pilot on this flight is my faith in myself, everything else is just cocktails and peanuts. oh I know I've said these things before, but just as soon as I've forgotten them.

*originally written 7/26/2010

we are here!

I'm glad I don't know what I'm doing. I mean, I really believe that once I "figure it out" I will turn to star dust and return to the endless sky. I'm here to wonder. to not know what the f word is going on half the time. to get frustrated and sad and confused and angry, and then, to stick it out because I know what it feels like to laugh.

oh what a joy, to feel! and what is a feeling but a friendly reminder that we are here. WE ARE HERE! wha?!

I'm just gonna keep on feeling, and you know what else? I'm gonna talk about all those feelings! I'm gonna spell it out for anyone willing to listen. I'm going to put on a show on the street corner. I'm gonna say what's really going on when asked, "how ya doin?"

I love you world. I want to be close to you. I want to give you a key to my secret garden, who am I to keep it hidden?

throw down your heart, pick up a banjo

this makes me want to live harder and play more. watch it and smile.

I look up squinting

it seems lately that my posts (few that they may be) all start with some quip about how I haven't been writing enough. but that my friends, is a lie. I am constantly writing. what I am not writing is blog posts, what I am writing is songs. so many of them dancing about, bouncing off my skull, snuggling in the squishy bits of my brain. I am loving it. I am so deeply caught up in what I really want, that I have forgotten to think of any of the things I might be lacking. there are always things lacking. my fridge is lacking in vegetables, my bed is lacking in companionship, my bank is lacking in funds, blah blah blah.

my heart is so darn full.

my head is bursting with ideas. I am dwelling in possibility. I am too busy playing with the idea of what it is that truly makes me happy, to find time to be sad. oh I know how fragile this state is, how temperamental, how quickly it can turn into an inability to get out of bed. but I hold on to it like an angel hair tied to a big bright balloon backlit by the sun. and I just stand there, holding on, and I look up squinting.

white rhodes is the new black

I don't believe I have ever wanted (needed) anything so badly. oh you gorgeous white rhodes mark 7 73, you hold all the songs I haven't yet written. come to me. my apartment is waiting for you and me to fill its silence.

last night

it is 4:04am and I am still awake. calmly I sit in a state of longing. I do not judge it or will it away. I let it tap gently at the gates. a flood awaits.

eventually my lids will tire, but my mind will not--I will let sleep work through the tangles. in the morning I will awake to the gift of one more day. I am better today than the day before and tomorrow I will be better still--but I was enough yesterday. and today? today I have already succeeded--I am here.

I like this

18 rules for living by the dalai lama

1. Take into account that great love and great achievements involve great risk.
2. When you lose, don’t lose the lesson.
3. Follow the three Rs:
   1. Respect for self
   2. Respect for others
   3. Responsibility for all your actions.
4. Remember that not getting what you want is sometimes a wonderful stroke of luck.
5. Learn the rules so you know how to break them properly.
6. Don’t let a little dispute injure a great friendship.
7. When you realize you’ve made a mistake, take immediate steps to correct it.
8. Spend some time alone every day.
9. Open your arms to change, but don’t let go of your values.
10. Remember that silence is sometimes the best answer.
11. Live a good, honourable life. Then when you get older and think back, you’ll be able to enjoy it a second time.
12. A loving atmosphere in your home is the foundation for your life.
13. In disagreements with loved ones, deal only with the current situation. Don’t bring up the past.
14. Share your knowledge. It’s a way to achieve immortality.
15. Be gentle with the earth.
16. Once a year, go someplace you’ve never been before.
17. Remember that the best relationship is one in which your love for each other exceeds your need for each other.
18. Judge your success by what you had to give up in order to get it.

our planetary hearts

my super hero heart
your kryptonite eyes
let's create a world together and save it
let's fly away from what we've known
let's pull our minds from the burning buildings of doubt
fall into me as I fall into you and physics will keep us afloat
take off your pants and show me your tights
let's use our powers to return to the stars
we forget too much in the blaze of these city lights
let's remember that night
let's remember that night
I believe in that night
your laser beam gaze
my super human strength
I know we can make a world worth saving
no distance is too great for the speed of light
let's fly away from what we've known
let's pull our minds from the burning buildings of doubt
fall into me as I fall into you and faith will keep us afloat
I will believe in you like the earth believes in its orbit
I won't fight the pull of our planetary hearts

well ok then

There is a vitality, a life force, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and there is only one of you in all time. This expression is unique, and if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium; and be lost. The world will not have it.

It is not your business to determine how good it is, not how it compares with other expression. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. You have to keep open and aware directly to the urges that motivate you. Keep the channel open.

No artist is pleased. There is no satisfaction whatever at any time. There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others.

~Martha Graham

a cookie once told me

a cookie once told me I have the makings of a winner. I believe the cookie.

I started a tumblr, why not follow me? fun times ahead...

love is the only sane response

I was sitting in a cafe in brooklyn when I looked up to see my love in the new york times. I had been missing him, and there he was, in the cafe with me. strange and wonderful.

life is strange and wonderful and exhausting and exhilarating - much like the trip I just returned from. hotel beds and poorly made sandwiches. melting ice cream cakes and cheering fans. long overdue kisses and sitting in traffic. adventure has its toll. I pay it with little complaint (most of the time). I love its blank pages, my pockets full of magic markers. I fed a stray kitten one night on a cold new york city street. I heard david byrne thank local natives for their "amazing" performance. I took a plane to dc and a van to philly and a train from boston and another plane home again. I walked a lot and slept too little. I had a hand to hold for a few days. I had new experiences with old friends and I grew closer with new friends. love was exchanged, on the streets, in the crowd, in a smelly van.

why on earth would we stay in one place when so much awaits us elsewhere? the journey of an inch of a thought of a moment, I traverse small and great distances hoping to find something new, inside and out. every trip is worth taking, even if you don't leave your chair, go there. everything around us is growing, changing, moving - why should we be any different?

this last day of april

today my friend elaine made up the word beaunicornucopia.

it was that kind of day.

it's been one of those months

I don't know how to sum up, scratch that, I know how to, but do not want to take the copious amounts of energy it would surely take to sum up the last month or so. let's suffice to say, like any month worth its salt, it has been both wonderful and terrible. I have been in search of bolts of enlightningment, which of course deliver quite the painful zap as they illuminate. I have a tale or two to tell. in due time. for now, I sit and ponder and practice scales on the guitar. I want a new guitar. it is time.

oh, and I discovered very recently that I am, in fact, a jedi warrior. super awesome.

I hope this finds you smiling.