It’s been a stationary week and a half. Read More
I’ve been spending some time in a little coastal town in Oregon working on some projects.
Something I’ve really relished after the rush and spiritual high of driving up the Pacific Coast Highway earlier this month.
Driving up Highway 1 was a venture I embarked on for the first time last year when my brother and I drove across the country and back over the course of a couple months. It was a highlight of that year in a way that I have been unable to put into words in person, or virtually, since.
So of course being back on this side of the country I knew I needed to do it again this year.
My left shoulder is a bit darker than my right from the sun ushering me up the highway, but my heart is lighter for having done it.
Anywhere on the water is a place I call home.
Finding balance in stillness amidst the motion I am so drawn to, has been a reoccurring theme in this season.
The ever constant duality in my life of holding both contentment and far reaching dreams.
I am unsure if it is the heightened self awareness I have at this point in my life, or the constant information overload that plagues my generation especially, that keeps the search for this balance at the forefront of my mind more often than not.
But I am finding that, wherever I am, it is in the tiny in-between things that I choose to make time for and often the things that have little to do with work or “making a living”, that bring that balance.
And to be sure it is a choice… It’s rare that the things that sustain us in life are easily earned or just so happen to fall into our laps.
We have to choose the important things.
We all know this. We do. But we so easily let them slide by and time unrolls behind us and all-of-a-sudden we look back and think… Did I even enjoy that? When I was there, in that place, did I appreciate it for what it was?
I am trying to do that more. Enjoy the now. Especially on this journey of being on The Road this year. To not look ahead to the next place quite so much and just be present in the morning I have here.
Such has been the gradual accumulation of tiny motions of thought towards the goodness of searching for symmetry.
i feel at home within the stillness of a house at night
i rarely waver in the dark or quiet spaces of a slightly unknown place
for there is a lightness there
it is inside these spaces that i find my place
amongst tired floors and resting furniture
it is me and the small-slow creeping things
(unsure as i am if the dark impressions of motion are on the floor or inside of my mind—there is even comfort to be found in that too)
the creaks and groans are the tones of hidden hellos specific to these walls
the things heard are of my own creation or that of the inherent nature of the frame i’m inside of
it is on and under these sloped sleeping lines that i am able to recenter and remember my sense of self that is now and at once a mirrored home: the inner home of me Read More
The days begin with the slow saturation of the suns rays kissing and caressing the landscape gently awake, like you would your lover who’s still asleep next to you, deep under the warm darkness of sleep.
The sun always arises before the land.
Dutiful in its routine.
In the way that you too are always the first to awake before the form in bed next to you.
A morning person.
I wonder if the sun ever gets weary in its lonely trek across the sky, day after day, fated to a pre-planned path of journeying. Only able to have temporary, though distant relationship with the land and the things upon it.
Too far to ever have much of a chance to get to know the moving things down below, though it’s impression in turn upon them is lasting.
But, I suppose it does have the moon, if only for a brief moment, to play for a time with at dusk on some days. When both the moon and the sun are parallel in the sky from one another.
The moon is in fact the only one who knows a little of what it’s like to be the sun.
More so than any earthbound thing.
Two celestial friends. Read More
I am sitting cross legged on the earthen floor, thick patterned blankets between me and the dirt. It is dark inside the dome, which is made of 16 willow saplings tied together with cloth and string and covered in worn blankets and I am centered on the doorway, a square of piercing light that frames the fire a half dozen yards away where the fire keepers are excavating the lava stones, Grandfather, from the molten embers.
I am inside of a sweat lodge, the ceremony, Inipi which means “To Live Again” is to purify and place ourselves in a position of openness to send prayers for ourselves and those we love who are suffering.
“Nothing will hurt you here” Read More
I’ve been getting a lot of messages lately asking how I lead such a ‘different’ life.
How did I take the leap of faith to do ______?
How did I overcome fear or indecision?
How did I come to lead a life doing what I want to do?
How did I figure it all out?
And while I feel pressed to say that I absolutely do not have it all figured out and that you cannot compare your beginning to someone else’s middle... truth be told: I’ve always been asked this question.
Because I have always lead a different life.
I think to some degree it does come more naturally to me than most to live counterculture.
I must admit that I strive to be different to an unhealthy degree at times. But there are a lot of circumstantial things that have contributed to my counter perspective of how to live.
And I am watching now for the time of day when the shadows sleep. Read More
When there is still light in the sky but the sun has sunk low enough to put an end to the contrast of miraged skin.
What is the exact moment in time that your body no longer casts a shadow onto the earth and if that moment had a name what would it be?
The point of gradual desaturation before the gloaming sets in is an unnoticed thing to the naked eye. Perhaps permanently so, for how do you measure an intangible disappearance?
Where does the secondary world of dark figures retire to?
Isn’t it a kind of faith to know they will come back?
Perhaps it is as my Father said: “nothing good ever happens after dark”
For bodies no longer have mirrored accountability of their actions.
The leaching of apparitions’ measured movements.
It is a secret world that they go to-the shadows.
Frozen in an invisible realm until the sun rises just-so again.
the end of this season is nearing.
a year of flush faced wonder.
of physical and spiritual mountain climbing.
of stripping away and down to the bone, to uncover the essential facts.
my mind offers up the familiar words i’ve often used to describe this past year, but i am reaching for more.
‘more’ is perhaps not possible to describe this kind of living.
this sussing out and stealing in.
the icy ground is verbal in its protest of my warm steps as i walk towards the placid liquid sky.
the night is what greeted me here the first time i called this place home.
the dark wall of sky pierced through with needling white-light stars.
but now, now it is the mauve maw of dawn. Read More
this is an idea that has been circling the walls of my mind all week. Read More
sparked by a late night conversation with a friend over beers and gin and tonics and black bean burgers (just kidding. there was only one black bean burger. mine...)
i don't remember his exact wording but he essentially said:
well you know don't you, that the moments you are nostalgic for, that you remember with fondness in your mind, are the ones in which you were truly YOU. you were yourself, as you were meant to be. unhindered and uncaring about the world and others perspective of you.
and for some reason this blew. my. mind.
perhaps because i am one to always be searching for enlightenment/self actualization/knowing who i am in every new season and aspect of my life and i am somewhat of a junky for self help/tips on living your best life and discovering your truest self.
but so much of that learning and search can be clouded by the external voices of the world.
i believe we were each born with inherent worth and value, unable to be earned or acquired by any worldly action or accomplishment, and yet that is not largely how i live my life a lot of the time. the reason for which is often because i have lost sight of who i am.
and because the day-to-day moments and the now can often be clouded, rushed, confusing and hurried, it is often in looking back at the past that this clarity, this recognition of inherent self, is gained for me.
(the age-old adage of hindsight being 20/20 of course also applies)
i am an extremely goal, list and dream oriented and motivated person (see the goals tag here on the journal for proof). i have stated that i am a process junkie, but i am also addicted to getting.shit.done.
i am the kind of person who will almost-always make their bed as soon as they get out of it, but if for some reason the whole day goes by without it being made, i will make it right before i get in it at night.
i am also the kind of person who will add three things on the “to do” list that i’ve already accomplished just so i can check them off, who will use every last drop of shampoo before buying a new bottle and who will absolutely under no circumstances leave the house with only one errand to complete.
i like efficiency, progress, organization and accomplishing tasks. i have a really hard time not feeling like i am getting things done because, well, i always have a list of things to get done.
i also have a hard time not wrapping up my worth in what it is i do and separating that from who i am (but i digress).
i recently got back from a two month road trip and needless to say i have been flooded with inspiration and ideas and motivation ever since. more on that another time, but the point that’s relative to this post is that i have had a lot of ideas since that trip. a lot of project concepts, goals and endless tasks i want to complete. Read More
you’re a wildflower though, you know? not one of those perfectly manicured and pre-planned pampered garden flowers. or secured and tended-to potted porch plants. Read More
you are a wayward side-of-the-road surprise, with a mind-of-your-own way about you.
a varied find.
unruly at times.
often amidst weeds.
(you aren’t afraid to be in mixed company.)
here and there.
the nomad of flowers. and really it’s about time you embraced that. it really is. because most everyone else sees that about you.
not that you need their validation to be what you were made to be. i’m only saying that if what you are is so obvious to everyone else, why are you pretending that it’s not obvious to you?
embrace your roots. let your seeds sow where they fall. allow the wind to scatter and plant you where it may. for that is the way you travel. that is how you find your home(s): growing freely without intervention.