Perhaps I do most things with too much planning, but with that disclaimer, here are my goals for Fall/Winter :
1. Read. Read poetry and the New Yorker and children’s books and old classics and new ones, too. I miss reading. I used to read things besides the DSM IV; it is time to resurrect reading for the pleasures of language and story. I want rainy days and pages of good books, while I cuddle under my afghan and sip tea.
2. Dance. I want to buy one very good pair of dance shoes and make as many excuses as possible to dance as often as possible. I want to swing and salsa and maybe take a modern or hip-hop class.
3. Football. During my Sunday Sabbath, I will be religiously committing to blocking off three hours to watch the Seahawks, complete with unabashed cursing. I also hope to actually start winning in fantasy football, or at least achieve a respectable mediocrity. Finally, I hope to attend one high school football game with my friend Ben. We don’t care who we watch, we just want it to be cold and slightly miserable while we drink that syrupy hot chocolate and hang out on the outskirts of the student section.
4. Walks. I want to hear the little crunch of leaves underfoot and breathe in the crisp, Autumn air. I hope to visit the arboretum and other tree-worthy places to see the leaves in their fiery prime.
5. Scarves and boots and textured tights. I don’t think further comments are needed for this one.
6. Bubble baths on very cold days.
7. This one might be a titch early to speak, but I want to celebrate the holiday season with intention and preparation. This will include getting my first ever Christmas tree, decorating my own apartment, and baking Baklava, in honor of my grandmother.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Incompleted Thoughts
Why do I love and hate the desires of my own heart? Because they surge me towards what I want, at the cost of actually feeling that I am wanting. To live into my heart is to know the piercing of the unknown space between desire and the desired. It is to live into the unconsummated. It is to trust that my dreams will come true somewhere between now and never and maybe. Tonight, dreaming feels excruciating. I try to grip them tightly because I don’t want them to get away, but then I know they wilt for lack of freedom.
I want to embrace life’s unknowns but I have too much of a craving to control. I want results, satisfaction, arrival, or at least incremental steps that tell me I will arrive eventually. And yet, the journey is changing the point of arrival, so that I must surrender the destination even as I step towards it….
It is all rather risky business.
As Anne Shirley once said, and as a dear friend reminded me tonight, life has so much potential thudding, which makes soaring on the wings of anticipation rather hard, I’m afraid.
(Life context for this emotional purge: one teeny little morsel of an email from an editor, probably just a pseudo courtesy prelude email to the real official rejection slip that is coming…which somehow opened up the vast quantities of want I contain within me….)
I want to embrace life’s unknowns but I have too much of a craving to control. I want results, satisfaction, arrival, or at least incremental steps that tell me I will arrive eventually. And yet, the journey is changing the point of arrival, so that I must surrender the destination even as I step towards it….
It is all rather risky business.
As Anne Shirley once said, and as a dear friend reminded me tonight, life has so much potential thudding, which makes soaring on the wings of anticipation rather hard, I’m afraid.
(Life context for this emotional purge: one teeny little morsel of an email from an editor, probably just a pseudo courtesy prelude email to the real official rejection slip that is coming…which somehow opened up the vast quantities of want I contain within me….)
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Gratitude
Tonight, I am watching lightning over the city and raindrops making patterns on my window. It is lovely– very soothing for my night-before-the-first-day-of-school butterflies. I have had these since I was six and they just don’t go away.
Something about this weekend has felt so exquisite. Part of it was the 13-hour hang out spree with my old friend Andy, including chocolate and banana pancakes for Sunday brunch, writing time, laughing time, chatting time, and time to share our writing project together with a roomful of dear souls. We had a 4pm “happy hour” at my place and read the creative non-fiction narratives we have been working on that explore homosexuality and spirituality. It was just such a vulnerable and beautiful time for many of us– 2.5 hours of reading and amazing feedback and conversation. I was so honored to have a group of people so engaged with our writing, and so pleased to see it generated a shared space to wonder and explore together.
I think I am just feeling a little overwhelmed by the beautiful people in my life and the community I have as I start the school year. Tonight I was listening to Patty Griffin amidst new and old faces and just taking in the moment, which somehow felt very full of possibility and love. I am also a little overwhelmed that I get to live each day with so many things that give joy to me- teaching, writing, studying, commuting almost everywhere on foot, the daily, sweet moments of friendship, a family that is consistent and loving, new people who show up in the most surprising ways.
Something about this weekend has felt so exquisite. Part of it was the 13-hour hang out spree with my old friend Andy, including chocolate and banana pancakes for Sunday brunch, writing time, laughing time, chatting time, and time to share our writing project together with a roomful of dear souls. We had a 4pm “happy hour” at my place and read the creative non-fiction narratives we have been working on that explore homosexuality and spirituality. It was just such a vulnerable and beautiful time for many of us– 2.5 hours of reading and amazing feedback and conversation. I was so honored to have a group of people so engaged with our writing, and so pleased to see it generated a shared space to wonder and explore together.
I think I am just feeling a little overwhelmed by the beautiful people in my life and the community I have as I start the school year. Tonight I was listening to Patty Griffin amidst new and old faces and just taking in the moment, which somehow felt very full of possibility and love. I am also a little overwhelmed that I get to live each day with so many things that give joy to me- teaching, writing, studying, commuting almost everywhere on foot, the daily, sweet moments of friendship, a family that is consistent and loving, new people who show up in the most surprising ways.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Life's Known Pleasures #114
When I go from lightly goosebumped to sun-baked, all in about 90 glorious seconds,
lounging, dock sprawled
after dunking in the lake
On a sun-soaked August afternoon.
lounging, dock sprawled
after dunking in the lake
On a sun-soaked August afternoon.
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Lemonade, Mr. Grocery Man, and Grace
A highlight of the day was that my favorite lemonade, Santa Cruz organic, was on sale for 25 cents at QFC. Normally, it is almost $3, which means it is a rare indulgence. But, the sign said 4 for 5 bucks, plus there were coupons for minus a dollar on each one. Because I am bad at math, I thought for a moment that they would actually be paying me to buy the lemonade. Nope, turns out 5/4-1 is not less than 0. Anyways, I still got them for a steal, even if I did not make a profit.
I walked to QFC three times to bring home my large, summer supply of lemonade; with the help of Stacy and Naomi, I brought home 21 jars. The second time I went I dropped one of the bottles and spilled it all over the aisle, which was particularly embarrassing in light of how I was raiding the whole supply. I know that it sounds terribly selfish, but the sale ended at midnight, so at 10 pm I felt totally comfortable clearing out the shelf. I just could not believe I was the only one who seemed to care about this sale.
The other good part of the whole situation was that Mr. Grocery Man finally cracked a smile. I see him almost every other day (the grocery store is just around the corner, so I frequent it) and he hardly looks at me. I try to be my sunshiny self, and I sense I am bothering him, so I have just quieted up. No asking him how his day is, no sharing how excited I am when chicken fryers are 99 cents a pound. But, tonight, Mr. Grocery Man finally smiled the 3rd time he had to ring up my vast quantities.
I now have 21 lovely jars of lemonade under my bed. Please, come over and we shall share a cold glass. My only hope is now that I have in abundance what I consider a delicacy, that I will maintain my deep joy in every sip, and not take it for granted. I should probably make rules about consumption—sort of ration it out so it lasts until Christmas. But, who wants lemonade in December? No, perhaps I ought to just indulge as much as I want. It is difficult to for me to know what to do with abundance.
Which leads me to a conversation I had today with a professor about grace. I realized I like to portion grace out in very small quantities, living my life as perfectly as possible so I do not need the luxurious abundance of it. I ration grace out to myself, not taking too much, though there is a supply much larger than the lemonade under my bed.
I think I ought to indulge my lemonade supply as a little exercise for myself….
I walked to QFC three times to bring home my large, summer supply of lemonade; with the help of Stacy and Naomi, I brought home 21 jars. The second time I went I dropped one of the bottles and spilled it all over the aisle, which was particularly embarrassing in light of how I was raiding the whole supply. I know that it sounds terribly selfish, but the sale ended at midnight, so at 10 pm I felt totally comfortable clearing out the shelf. I just could not believe I was the only one who seemed to care about this sale.
The other good part of the whole situation was that Mr. Grocery Man finally cracked a smile. I see him almost every other day (the grocery store is just around the corner, so I frequent it) and he hardly looks at me. I try to be my sunshiny self, and I sense I am bothering him, so I have just quieted up. No asking him how his day is, no sharing how excited I am when chicken fryers are 99 cents a pound. But, tonight, Mr. Grocery Man finally smiled the 3rd time he had to ring up my vast quantities.
I now have 21 lovely jars of lemonade under my bed. Please, come over and we shall share a cold glass. My only hope is now that I have in abundance what I consider a delicacy, that I will maintain my deep joy in every sip, and not take it for granted. I should probably make rules about consumption—sort of ration it out so it lasts until Christmas. But, who wants lemonade in December? No, perhaps I ought to just indulge as much as I want. It is difficult to for me to know what to do with abundance.
Which leads me to a conversation I had today with a professor about grace. I realized I like to portion grace out in very small quantities, living my life as perfectly as possible so I do not need the luxurious abundance of it. I ration grace out to myself, not taking too much, though there is a supply much larger than the lemonade under my bed.
I think I ought to indulge my lemonade supply as a little exercise for myself….
Friday, July 27, 2007
Tea time, etc.
I have been so negligent at my blogging responsibilities lately, which I am sure is very disappointing to the 4 regular readers (you know who you are…☺.)
So, here is a quick life update. My new apartment is my heart’s delight, just as I expected. I still get a little thrill when I walk in my front door. The space is conducive to writing, brunches, dancing, and tea parties. I just had the loveliest tea party last night: fine china, fresh raspberries, unbelievable chocolate from Belgium, and a lovely Earl Grey.
I usually do not go to bed without knocking on the window of my dear friends Stacy and Jeremy, who live below me. They have their tea around 11:00 pm, and I like to be part of pj time and debriefing the day. It is like living in the dorms again, and I am having a very hard time focusing on my studies. This is quite unlike myself…I don’t know where my type A, studious girl has gone. But she needs to show up sometime soon, as she has 30 pages to write for school before August 10…I am beckoning her back, but she just wants to play.
Let’s see, in other news…my Thursday creative writing sessions at Pete’s (10:30-5:00 or so) are just heavenly. It is like going to work to the best job ever, only I don’t actually make money. I made the decision in June to devote my Thursdays to personal writing projects, and it has been such a wonderful gift to myself. No phone calls, students, or studies on Thursday until after 5.
I don’t usually discuss such things in my blog, but I will say that I am at a complete and utter dating lull. It is only sad because summer is such a nice time to have romantic picnics and longs walks on the beach… but then fall is a much better time to cuddle, so perhaps I will try again when the weather turns. But, the problem is, I realized I don’t actual like dating. (I feel like it is equivalent to filling out job applications. I would like Gilbert Blythe or Mr. Darcy to just show up without that unpleasant and necessary process of mutual evaluations, rejections, etc. )
Ok, I am supposed to be studying, so I better post this message.
So, here is a quick life update. My new apartment is my heart’s delight, just as I expected. I still get a little thrill when I walk in my front door. The space is conducive to writing, brunches, dancing, and tea parties. I just had the loveliest tea party last night: fine china, fresh raspberries, unbelievable chocolate from Belgium, and a lovely Earl Grey.
I usually do not go to bed without knocking on the window of my dear friends Stacy and Jeremy, who live below me. They have their tea around 11:00 pm, and I like to be part of pj time and debriefing the day. It is like living in the dorms again, and I am having a very hard time focusing on my studies. This is quite unlike myself…I don’t know where my type A, studious girl has gone. But she needs to show up sometime soon, as she has 30 pages to write for school before August 10…I am beckoning her back, but she just wants to play.
Let’s see, in other news…my Thursday creative writing sessions at Pete’s (10:30-5:00 or so) are just heavenly. It is like going to work to the best job ever, only I don’t actually make money. I made the decision in June to devote my Thursdays to personal writing projects, and it has been such a wonderful gift to myself. No phone calls, students, or studies on Thursday until after 5.
I don’t usually discuss such things in my blog, but I will say that I am at a complete and utter dating lull. It is only sad because summer is such a nice time to have romantic picnics and longs walks on the beach… but then fall is a much better time to cuddle, so perhaps I will try again when the weather turns. But, the problem is, I realized I don’t actual like dating. (I feel like it is equivalent to filling out job applications. I would like Gilbert Blythe or Mr. Darcy to just show up without that unpleasant and necessary process of mutual evaluations, rejections, etc. )
Ok, I am supposed to be studying, so I better post this message.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
A New Home
This week I feel like I am opening a beautiful gift. I am moving to Queen Anne on Thursday, saying goodbye to my lovely Wallingford, and waiting for a new season of life. Space is always a significant thing to me: my heart is very sensitive to the spot of earth that I inhabit. There is so much about my new home that thrills me: two dear friends from school (Stacy and Jeremy) will be living directly below me; I get to walk to school and I love walking; I get to explore the alleys and views and coffee shops of a new place; I get to enjoy long dreamed of hardwood floors; my apartment is on the 3rd floor so I can sleep a little more soundly and with the nighttime air drafting in from open windows; it is the least expensive apartment I have ever had.
(Now, if you are members of my family and read that last part, you are probably already worried about the quality of place I am renting. This is not unfounded, since 3 years ago I was renting my urban castle that almost made my father cry when he visited me. What I had seen as charming dilapidation, my father saw as a health risk. In fact, when my sisters visited me last weekend and began to ask for me to “talk about my new place” I was sure my father had planted the evaluative questions, so as to make sure that I would not be calling later and complaining about the rodents in my walls and leaking roofs and kitchen cabinets that succumbed randomly to gravity and fell to the floor. Shannon and Heather, please assure Dad that I will be safe and sound in my new home.)
I can’t wait to decorate my new place. I think I am growing a bit in my tastes: there will be fewer tassels and a bit more sophistication. Mind you, I will always enjoy a well–placed tassel. I hope to have lovely plants that soak in the sunlight of my marvelous windows, cozy rugs to lounge on, and nice splashes of merlot, espressos, and rich greens in the color scheme. I also hope to have many people whom I delight in stopping by and eating my food and reading books and sipping coffee and laughing together.
(Now, if you are members of my family and read that last part, you are probably already worried about the quality of place I am renting. This is not unfounded, since 3 years ago I was renting my urban castle that almost made my father cry when he visited me. What I had seen as charming dilapidation, my father saw as a health risk. In fact, when my sisters visited me last weekend and began to ask for me to “talk about my new place” I was sure my father had planted the evaluative questions, so as to make sure that I would not be calling later and complaining about the rodents in my walls and leaking roofs and kitchen cabinets that succumbed randomly to gravity and fell to the floor. Shannon and Heather, please assure Dad that I will be safe and sound in my new home.)
I can’t wait to decorate my new place. I think I am growing a bit in my tastes: there will be fewer tassels and a bit more sophistication. Mind you, I will always enjoy a well–placed tassel. I hope to have lovely plants that soak in the sunlight of my marvelous windows, cozy rugs to lounge on, and nice splashes of merlot, espressos, and rich greens in the color scheme. I also hope to have many people whom I delight in stopping by and eating my food and reading books and sipping coffee and laughing together.
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