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.

the yearning for good

I, the fiery light of divine wisdom,

I ignite the beauty of the plains,

I sparkle the waters.

I burn the sun and the moon and the stars,

With wisdom I order all rightly.

I adorn the earth.

I am the breeze that nurtures all things green.

I am the rain coming from the dew

That causes the grasses to laugh

With the joy of life.

I call forth tears, the aroma of holy work.

I am the yearning for good.

~Hildegard of Bingen

recently

recently I've been experiencing small explosions of inner joy. the quiet kind. soft moments when the light is right. a peaceful sense that I am exactly where I want to be. eyes wide, I move from one now to the next.

south by south mess

sometimes you drink a little too much whiskey. sometimes you try to start a bar fight with a stranger. sometimes you misplace your frustrations and it takes the intervention of a good friend to step in and keep you from getting your teeth knocked out (thanks jamie).

sxsw is not a time for detoxing. it is a time to sing wilson phillips to your liver. "hold on for one more day" rings through your hazy head as you maneuver through far too many drunk people, and strange people, and half naked people, and hungry people and hopeful people. the chaos in tey-hoss. a love-hate relationship seems in order.

I was there to support this year. I'm not sure if I rose to the occasion. I found myself wanting to hole up and savor that strength for my own endeavors. I didn't want to give it away. I felt like being greedy with my words of encouragement. I felt like singing my own songs. there's only so much singing along you can do when your head is full of its own melodies.

I do what I can, sometimes more, sometimes less. I'm learning the sweet spot in the middle. my happy medium. somewhere between shrinking and exploding, I stand on a stage, illuminated by my own inner spotlight. from there, I will shine.

I saw london, I saw france

I saw london, I saw france, and I packed just enough pairs of underpants. overall I'd say my trip was a success. adventures had. lessons learned.

trust the plane, trust the pilot

it's 4am and I am awake. no I have not been out all night dancing. I just woke up. I brushed my teeth and I washed my face in the dark. last night I managed to make it to 9:30 before falling asleep. no I am not 73 years-old. I have jet lag. sleeping in sporadic bursts, feeling tired during the day, crashing while others are eating their dinner. and now it is 4 in the morn and I am wide awake -- a small price to pay for seeing paris on valentine's day.

something I wrote from paris:

it never ceases to amaze me, how easy it is to end up someplace else. one foot in front of the other, airplanes and trains. one connection after the other. 12 wrong turns for every right one, but always getting there in the end. I don't even think I would trust it if I reached my destination on the first try. I take strange comfort in pantomimed directions in foreign tongues, the first few rounds leading me somewhere other than the address in my notepad, but ultimately leading me to the instructions that work. and there I am, a hotel in paris, laughing to myself that I made it. all the walking with heavy bags, all the sardining myself onto tightly packed trains, all the attempts at sleep in awkward positions, all the effort, all the exhaustion, all the frustration... it all falls away and what is left is shock at how very easy it all is. I am here.

and there it is, why I travel -- to gather up lovely little metaphors for the rest of life. and I wonder, why is it when I am home, and I lose my way for a bit, I am not so forgiving? if I can't find my hotel in paris, I keep looking. it bothers me not that I am meandering through the cobble-stoned streets asking strangers to guide me. and yet at home if I take one false step, I get so frustrated with myself, with the street, with the directions or lack thereof. the fact that I'm not there where I intended to be immediately is so upsetting to me. but things aren't supposed to happen immediately. we're supposed to meander. we're supposed to solicit the help of others. we're supposed to take wrong turns in order to discover the lovely little streets we've never seen even though they're right around the corner.

of course these are things we ultimately know, and that's most likely why we subject ourselves to 11 hour plane rides. even though those 11 hours can feel like infinite minutes stuck in a broken clock, even though we allow ourselves occasionally to wonder if we're going to fall from the sky and die in a fiery crash, we still trust in our hearts that the plane with land safely and we will reach our destination. that is why we are there. we trust the plane, and we trust the pilot. so when we are home, why don't we just trust ourselves? as dear ralphie emerson once put it, "If I have lost confidence in myself, I have the universe against me." trust in yourself, and you have the world on your side. trust the plane, trust the pilot.

the victory of a kiss

if you are reading this, I am in paris, doing this. ah the kiss, such incomparable bliss. my lips traveled 5,661 miles to meet his. I can only imagine how happy they must be at this moment...

I will leave you with this:

I love you between shadow and soul.
I love you as the plant that hasn't bloomed yet, and carries hidden within itself the light of flowers.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
Because of you, the dense fragrance that rises from the earth lives in my body, rioting with hunger for the eternity of our victorious kisses
~Pablo Neruda (translated by Stephen Tapscott)

good things come

this is what a little patience, a lot of hope, and one really great boyfriend will get you.