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.

we are lucky in our longing

my lover is on the road.
my lover is in a different time zone.
my lover is lodged in my chest, pointy elbows poking into my ribs, warm whispered I love you's calming my heart.

so this is love? it seems to always come in unexpected packaging. we fell and then he flew away. he returns for what is mind-blowing bliss only to board a plane again. and he is off. and I miss him.

and I thank the heavens for the ache.

and I hear from him at 2 in the morning or 8 in the morning or 5:37 at night or whenever else he gets a free moment from the rise of rock n roll fame.

I fall asleep late and wake early, just hoping to hear his voice, his beautiful voice.

others are starting to fall for him too. for his energy on stage, for his beautiful music, for his magnificent mustache. I asked him the other day if he will still need my love when millions of people love him -- he said that he will need it then, more than ever. I believe him. he also said this:

Our love is an egg, I am a bird. Our love is a ship in the night, I am the watchman on the tower.
You can close your eyes and sleep without worrying, because your heart is safe.

it is hard to miss him so much, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

we are lucky in our longing.

this innerspaceship

it's all happening now. of course it's always been happening. if only we could have a magical magnifying glass in the times of doubt to help us find the clues that are always surrounding us. if only we could steady our aim, our shaking knees, our wavering minds. if only we could resolve with the calm of the ages that we are getting there, somewhere, ever-moving forward.

of course there are also those times when the signs are everywhere, impossible to ignore. those times can feel so good, so exciting, euphoric even. those times can also feel overwhelming and terrifying, rattling us with a desire for a return to the crib. it is our labor of love to not hide, to not shrink. to delight fully in filling our guts with the proof pudding our hungry hearts have been craving.

a good bit of advice I once gleaned from a hippy dippy video whose title shall go unmentioned due to its eye-rolling overuse, is this: when you have an inspired thought, act on it. I would add to that, act on it immediately. don't let that moment, of what I like to think is clarity, slip into the murkiness of a pot of over-thought self-doubting mumbo gumbo. take steps right at that moment to bring that idea to life. follow your inner guide and go where it is you're always wanting to go, but for one reason or another haven't gone yet. and don't get caught up in the why of why you haven't gone there yet, or why you're not already there or well past it, for that really doesn't matter. what matters is that you're going now. so go. do. move in the direction your chest is facing. trust that you know far more than you or anyone else realizes. trust you.

I believe that our only real task is to believe -- in ourselves, in others, in the process, in the deliciousness of cinnamon rolls, in the glory of sunsets. to believe that all we imagined possible, is in fact possible. that the only thing blocking our view of paradise is our own hand shielding our eyes for fear that we can't handle its beauty. we can handle it. we can deal with overwhelming joy. we can be the masters of our wildest imaginings. how delightful, how terrifying, we are the ones behind the controls of this innerspaceship. we decide if we blast off or implode. will we explore our outer reaches or stay grounded in florida, sweating in our suits? how delightful, how terrifying, we decide. and for what it's worth my fellow astronauts, I believe in you. I believe in us.

red rockets of desire

I want this. I am going to get this. soon enough. soon enough. oh you Nord Electro 3 sixty-one keyed beauty with your velocity layers and your waterfall keys and your saucy red finish. you will be mine. my fingers will make you moan luscious melodies. we will become so very close. I will tell you all my secrets and you will sing them to the world. I can't wait. I can wait. I will wait a little longer, but not much longer...

money tree seeds

in this photo, we are all wishing for private jets and unlimited travel funds.

lately I have been faced with the fact that money does indeed make the world go round, or rather, it gets you around the world. plane tickets are not cheap, but the majority of my loved ones are far far away.

what to do? what to do?...

make lots of wishes for money tree seeds and surprise checks in the mail and gold records and anonymous donations. oh look, a million dollar bill just sitting here on the sidewalk! lucky day!

a lack of funds shouldn't keep me from the x's and o's I'm needing. the money is hidden somewhere, I just need to find it. I'm checking all my pockets. I'm cramming my hands between so many couch cushions. I'm determined that I will find the cash to exchange for the currency of love, wrapped in the arms I am missing.

***an update: two days after posting this, I received an unexpected check for $2,700. true story. keep asking for things, they're coming.

if anyone was wondering...

this is what joy looks like.

get a little closer

hugs rule. I don't think we get/give nearly enough of them. why not up the ante?

an update

I am in love.

what am I missing? nothing.

I am ahead in life and behind in writing.

I've been out and about/one with the world/full of so many words, but with no pen and pad in hand. it's ok. it's all right here in my lovely little head. my lovely little head/my lovely large heart.

I have been on the road, stuck in the mud, dancing and sweating, laughing and loving the shit out of everything I can get my hungry hands on. hungry hungry hands. I have had my ears wide open, only slightly less so than my eyes, my eyes wide open, only slightly less so than my heart. my hungry hungry heart. I have been feeding myself a diet of hugs and high fives. I have been ever so busy deepening my smile lines, increasing the wattage of my bright shining eyes. I feel blessed. I have found love and I am bathing myself daily in music. what in the world more could I be needing? perhaps a donut or two, I give myself those. maybe some long walks, I give myself those too.

I try to give myself the things I am really asking, ignoring all the other requests that I suspect come from somewhere else, a place outside, a safe place. I don't need to play it safe. I need to play. if I am everything I need, what am I missing? nothing.

open or close?

our skin and bones are not intended for what we often think - they are here to keep us from bursting.
life fills me and it is my flesh my muscle matter my rib cage my pelvis my skull - they keep me together, they maintain this constant explosion of joy of madness of overwhelm of frustration of pleasure of all the endlessness.
it is my body that anchors the heavens I hold inside.
it is my home - I choose if I see it as a cage or a stage. I can act out my life or I can hide and blame the walls. I can sing or I can whimper. I can beat my chest or bang my head.
I am the choices I make.
I grip the chord that pulls the curtain.
open or close? open or close? open or close?
I am the master behind the miraculousness that fills me. I can let it crowd out the air I need to breath or I can breath it.
in and out. in and out. in and out.
I choose between the cage or the stage. the singing or the whimpering.
I choose. I choose. I choose.
life.

who needs sleep?

lately I have been waking up before the sun. perhaps it is the fact that the man on my mind is in a different time zone. I am trying to align myself with his distant shore.

perhaps it is because I have work to do...

the other morning I woke up at 4:37AM and grabbed my voice recorder. a couple weeks before that, same thing at 5:35AM. what was it that woke me? a song. this song. I decided to lay it down while I was unable to lay down myself. I recorded this while the neighbors slept. who needs sleep when you have a dream?

while the conveyor belt keeps conveying

I have a rash on my face. not cool.

whenever I get a physical ailment I do not rush to rite aid in search of an ointment. I take a peek inside. a check-in checkup, if you will. "what's up?" I lovingly ask myself. I also call my mom knowing she will open up her hippy dippy mystical medical book (which I love) and look up "rash" and tell me that rashes are an indication of an emotional irritation over delay. and then a lightbulb will blink on in my brain and I will nod yes. yes, I am very irritated with delay right now. I can't help it. I know patience is a virtue, but I am not always a virtuous woman. I am trying. I am reminding myself that the goods are on their way. the goods are always on their way. there is a big beautiful conveyer belt conveying the blessings I seek. I know this. I believe this.

but sometimes I get tired and forget to remember that this is not a waiting period, this is my life.

right at this very moment the conveyor belt is dropping blessings on my head. yes, maybe there are bigger and better things down the line, but these things now, in this moment, they are preparing me for all that is to come. I am allowed to forget this fact. what matters is my vigilance in getting back on track. there is something I want that I don't have, but there will always be something. that won't change. how I choose to see everything leading up to the something is what matters. I've been around enough blocks to know, for each goal achieved, there will be infinitely more desires created. I will always want that which is out of reach. I just need to make sure to give that which is right in front of my face lots and lots of love while the conveyor belt keeps conveying.

too busy

I've been too busy to write. too busy having fun. too busy being happy. too busy deciding on a whim to jump in my car and drive a couple thousand miles to see someone special. too busy laughing really hard. too busy talking till the wee hours of the morning and then falling asleep on floors. too busy dancing. too busy believing in magic. too busy learning that I can be anything I decide that day I feel like being. too busy being the adventure I seek. too busy being in love with the moment to think about writing it down. good thing I have a camera.

los angeles, my love

los angeles, my love

your beauty puts a song in my heart

(and your burritos put a smile in my belly!)

sharpening my ax

just as my feet were passing across the clashing carpet through the cacophony of the hollywood guitar center, looking longingly at the glossy curves of a surf green fender stratocaster, I get a text message from my bandmate ry: "hey, you want a guitar and an amp for free?" why yes I do. thank you.

the signs are there, if you are looking for them.

and so I get my new gift and decide to make it my own. for $53 I order a new body and a new pick guard. fortunately for me, my other band mate, jeremy, is a magician. so together, jeremy, ry and I gather to solder and drill and lose screws and eventually marvel at the end result. it is an ax fit for a queen, whatever that means. either way, I'm ready to shred.