double time now

 

the seasons at this time of the year go from summer to winter very quickly- 80 degrees in the morning, 30 at night in one day, and then here we are, in the 40s, 50s, light jackets, gloves, scarves.

I find myself putting on socks more often.

this quick change of seasons is also reflected in my life. after months of waiting, years, things are moving, moving quickly now, double time. gasp to catch up and relax in the momentum, letting it carry me to the end of the year. I took on another full time job, working after my full time job medical sculpting, 5 mins down the road to a Christmas ornament shop, personalizing ornaments until 10pm. and then again for 10 hours on Saturday. for 6 weeks. rock climbing classes on Friday. Still the long commute. But if i hustle now, Jan 1st, when I START FREELANCING (oh happy day!) I will be in much better financial shape. And freelancing, working from home, oh what joy that gives my heart to not have to sit in a car for so long, wasting so much of my life. this year has been absolutely horrendous in that regard, absolutely. I will probably even get a rid of my car end of January, as I have not enjoyed it very much. I prefer biking, really. there's nothing like exerting yourself to get to a place. and that constant exercise... nothing better for my whole being.

amidst the hustle, if there is a silence, a moment to myself, it takes only a thought and i am crying wholly for my grandma. I do not like the thought of Christmas and Thanksgiving without her, I do not like it one bit.

 double time now, gotta hustle.

just this

I went to a YoYoMa concert last Friday (glorious artist that he is!) and the last piece was this one, and its too incredible not to share with anyone who can hear. do have a listen:

she said she said

we knew, my mom, dad, brother and i, when we walked into the house that it was for final goodbyes. final. something you don't think about until you absolutely need to- and then, then it really is the times for lasts, for goodbye. the time when you can't avoid it any longer. and it hits you, and the wind leaves you, and you

pause

and feel. and then walk into her room, where she is so tiny, and her body is a shell, the strong muscles and fat melted away, lost and dissolved and what i left is the raw and the essence- the broad smile and strong grip on your arm. and for a moment you're terribly afraid when you imagine life without her, but she is not gone yet and she speaks

she tells you she wants to wear the necklace you bought her a lifetime ago in London, the one she wore so proudly and you picked out so quickly and she wants to wear it in her casket, and wants you to have it before she's buried. and she tells you to take a picture hanging on her bedroom wall, and anything else you want. and you apologize for never taking her to Vegas. and even though you know you'll see her again, even though you know

even though you know

this life on earth is the only frame of reference you have. and you ask her if shes scared. and she says no. and you know that's not the full truth. she says shes going to a better place and she cant wait. and you know that's the full truth.

and then she makes a joke and you both laugh, because that is what you do together, you laugh. you poked fun at family members, strangers, each other. you were sarcastic and never took offense, and you bore each other's pain in your small ways, because that is what you do when you are family.

and she said, she said i love you.

and i wonder why i'm not crying, why i feel relief that her wish will finally come true, and that she won't have to stay here in this body anymore with so much pain. but i know i will feel the loss, and it will come when it's ready, when it's time, and the grief will flow and i will ride it's eddies out to the soul-lake where it will merge with other rivers and tributaries of emotion and experience and become part of my being.

and some days the river of grief is still and silent, waiting. and some days it is turbulent and forces you to the bottom where the rocks bash your body and leave invisible bruises. and you wish with all your heart that she is still here. that i could just call her. just once more. but you can't.

so you feel deep.

and you dry your tears.

and this is what you do.

and forward, despite

i find myself in tears nearly every night this week: sporting events make me cry. the Olympics, especially. and every day this week i've come home from work and turned on the Olympics, and watched people fulfill their life dreams, or not, and either way it's terribly moving and i always end up with a wet face.

and then there's the spare moments when i remember my grandma, and the fact that she's gone, and the last moments we had. and i think that the grief is finally moving in, making a home, and will probably stay awhile, until it is time for it to go again. and the tears trace their well worn path and leave me with a wet face, again.

and then there's songs like this. that could make me cry on the happiest day of my life.

i let the tears fall and the emotions roll. i let them move me to do things i otherwise wouldn't; to push send on an honest email, to spend an evening alone at the lake in the sand and take the long way home through the forests, to slow down. to take each moment and hold it a moment longer, examine it a bit more, and despite the allness of it all, to try again.

yours til Niagara falls

you're on my mind

by which Light I see everything else

lately, the topic of priorities have loomed in my life. large events that have me moving through this time, moving through this space, asking myself large questions, making large decisions, making time for large introspections.

i'm going deeper. asking hard questions of those around me. wanting answers that go beyond the now and into eternity. i'm no longer asking what it is all for, that question can only be answered in scraps and fragments of truth. i'm not asking why this is happening to me, that question only tears and shreds confidence. i'm not wondering what is next, because it no longer matters. Now is what matters. This instance. These words. These actions. This time; now.

now, when, i said goodbye, for a time, to my grandma. i am so thankful to have had 30 years of time with her. so thankful that I was able to spend these past 4 years, past few months, living and working in a city close to home so that i could visit her more frequently, and really get to know her. to be able to travel with her to family events over the years, and as my siblings got married and have children, to remain single and be able to spend that time with her, instead of with a spouse or child. to get the chance to stand with family and friends and commit her to the earth from which she was made. to cry, wholly and freely, unabashedly, in front of strangers, unashamed for the emotion i was showing- to be vulnerable enough to feel this grief at it's full.

there is so much to write about this recent happening, so many things i have learned in the past week, so many challenges met and conquered. how do you have a conversation with someone, knowing it will be the last? how do you see your family cry for the loss? what advice do you give when questions are asked about whether that last trip should be made? these things aren't easy. not easy at all.

in the light of these things, all selfish, fearful, and small things fall away; perspective is regained. courage is found in loss. purpose is found in knowing you will go the same path, one day. confidence is found in knowing there will always be others who will catch you in your grief.

and so in this light, the Light of all eternity, i move on; we move on, furiously beating our hearts and feverishly pumping our blood, colliding like the molecules that make us- living, now.

never mind, i'll be fine

clean

And after the storm
I run and run as the rains come

And now I cling to what I knew
I saw exactly what was true 

And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears 
And love will not break your heart but dismiss your fears 

Get over your hill and see what you find there 

With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair


mumford and sons

onward

this is it: the beginning of the rest of the half of this year.

i find myself in an odd place- the first half of the year was tumultuous. event after event, cars, boys, work, art, medical issues, sports, fights and reconciliations, funerals, trips and travel- really, almost ridiculous what was all packed into the first 6 months of this year.

and now, breath.

i find myself without a major project for maybe the first time in my life. website just needs some tweaking, but otherwise, i am all caught up. i knew this day would come, now i just don't know what to do with it.

i guess set new goals for the rest of the year. So here they are:

1. Get back in the ceramic studio.
2. Get out of credit debt, once and for all.
3. Take more rock climbing classes.
4. Learn French learn french learn french...
5. Get a new job.

That's it. That's really it. If I could accomplish all that by the end of this year....

when you know you know

i am a risk taker.

but sometimes, out on that ledge, that precarious high shelf, i get so scared, and i tremble and cry out for God to spare me... but if he doesn't and this becomes clear that this is where i must be, i stay and peer over the ledge.

sometimes that's the only way to know, the only way to really really know, the way to go on the right path.

and it's sad, that sometimes i have to be teetering out on that ledge, that the ledge is where I am being led, where the answers will finally come. but sometimes that's the way life has to go, sometimes this ledge is the only place where i will find the answers, and i refuse to shrink back.

so i went there, i looked from the ledge into the abyss and saw the lions licking their eager teeth, i saw the vultures circling in the sky, heard the rumble of coming storms, and tasted the sulfurous air. but across the abyss i saw the clear skies, the potential and hopes and possibilities. then i saw the thin, ragged rope which he's (again) offered me so i can cross, but this time, it's not enough. i need a sturdy bridge, or bulkhead, something to hold on to when the storms arrive and threaten to knock me off that ledge. i need a convincing argument, i need to see a fight in his eyes, and if that thin rope is all he wants to offer... all he can offer... then i withdraw.

i am a risk taker.

but i'm not a fool.

joy oh that joy

the looming death of Petunia

my dear, sweet guinea pig Petunia is enduring her last moments on Earth. Despite two recent trips to the vet, a shot of vitamins and drugs, she is not going to make it, her shallow breathing and listless body are making it evident. She hasn't eaten in days.

i will miss her. she is so sweet, I remember the first time my sister brought her home, she just loooved to be held and cuddled.

Her sister Iris is sleeping next to her right now; I am glad she has a friend to sit with her during this time. It's just the knowledge that she won't be on this Earth much longer, the finality of it, that is so sad. I will mourn her to let her go.

These were taken when she was healthy:

ambiguous but it needs to be said

.

.

.

i never wanted to be here, in this place that you've put me. 

and now that you've put me here, on this precarious high shelf, ready to tumble, i need to get myself down. 

and i will, oh i will. 

(and i'm not sure if you've put me here or if i've climbed up.) 

i'm not going to stay.

.

.

.

a series of unfortunate events

this looked nice:

new lamps on my porch:

a new library book, a clean guinea pig in my lap, and the night to myself:

until i heard angry buzzing, looked up, and saw hornets in our outdoor light. i guess they made a nest in the light... 

i ran inside.

oh well.

i haven't moved much

But with this view at the end of my bed (and a raging flu virus), would you?

keep me

the honk and the words "F---- Youuuuu" screamed in my direction snapped me out of my early morning reverie. A lady in a silver car was slightly in front of me, at the end of the on-ramp next to me, her window rolled down, cussing me out. I was eating a granola bar, listening to my book on tape, blindly following the car in front of me, in this typical bumper to bumper traffic that I knew would go on for the next hour. She didn't have her blinker on, wasn't trying to merge, and yet somehow decided I wasn't letting her in.

She pulled in behind me, and then a few minutes later, pulled alongside me on the other side of my car, and started screaming out her window at me again. I rolled up my window and turned up my book on tape, shaken, but resolute to give her nothing back. I couldn't believe she could be sooo angry, and wondered if screaming at me made her feel better. I started to really hate my commute again, but then looked at all the thousands of cars around me, and realized this was the first time I had ever been cussed out on the freeway, and for driving 3 hours a day, really, I had made some mistakes, but besides a random honk or two, no one had ever gotten this angry. So, she was an anomaly, not the average. I also wondered what kind of person she was like when she wasn't in a car, and if anyone I knew would make such an outrageous fool of themselves when provoked. It was embarrassing for her, I was embarrassed for her. For humanity. Sad, too.

That afternoon I went to the lake and sat on a bench eating my McDonald's. The lake was pure sparkling blue, the sky cloudless, and the wind gentle. Birdsong and waves filled my head. An older man with a walking stick came walking up to my bench, and in a friendly way he told me not too look too long at the lake, it would be dangerous for me. it was as though he had read my mind, as I was thinking that i would just spend all day here, at lake's edge. I said to him, yeah, i may never go back to work! He stopped and looked at me full-on, and exclaimed yes! exactly! you get it. and he went on to tell me he was in double danger, as he had a house on the lake in northern wisconsin, and had just come from there, and had a boat that he spent all his time on, named Wavewalker, after Star Wars. He said when he pulled the boat in for the final time yesterday, the boat had said to him, when are you coming back? and he laughed. I listened to him, fascinated, this old man was a kindred spirit, i knew it immediately. And strangely, he had the most vividly blue eyes, the exact same color of the lake. His eyes were otherworldly, I have never seen eyes like that, and couldn't tear my eyes away from his. they seemed to glow, almost. and after he walked on, I wondered if I had just encountered an angel.

The message, I think, was this: humans yes, can make you sad. can hurt you. but don't give up, on all humanity. keep hope. there are others who will buoy you up, and tell you about their boat that spoke to them, share their joy in the lake and nature, stop and have a friendly word, and go on. that, and God will keep me, will send me exactly what I need, exactly when I need it. I can trust him, for it has been proven to me, over and over and over.

it will all be ok.

ttd: pixel pusher

this is my quiet work that pays my bills, the pushing of pixels into order and art.

this is where i've been all day, at computer's edge, refusing every social invite this weekend to finish this project. 

and it is so near! one more day and it will be complete, oh happy thing that is!!!

I am thankful for this screenshot of a nearly completed illustration!!!!!! 

6 exclamations thankful.

unrelated

When I consider your heavens, 
the work of your fingers,
the moon and the stars,
which you have set in place,
what is mankind that you are mindful of them,
human beings that you care for them?

PS 8:3-4

 

 can i just take a minute to be thankful for this wine? for this delicious, relaxing wine that covered all the ills of commuting 2.5 hours tonight, including getting stuck in traffic on the way to ballet class and missing ballet and screaming at every car that honked at me because "yes i dont care i am taking up 3 lanes" and pulling many illegal moves in my car while just trying, at the least, to get home, to just forget it. then this wine. this wine that relaxed my shaking hands, and calmed my nerves, there is nothing i am more thankful for at this moment, than this wine.

and with that i am going to bed because i am waking up tomorrow morning to go running alongst the lake with a friend. first of many runs, we hope. the slow transformation of morning running habits begins tomorrow!!

TTD

Thanks day 6- Nephew. Thankful for this boy!



Thanks day 5- reading outside in the lawn, always.



Day 4- the crack that you don't see in this windshield anymore, that insurance completely covered the repair of. Many thanks.

I think I'm losing track of days. I take pictures but then run out of time to post them, or upload them to flickr.  For now, this is the best I can do.

"For now, this is the best I can do" - grace in so many ways that i hardly allow myself in my head...

NEON

Excuse me. This, my newest shade of nail polish, is the exact same color as this postit note. It also is the same color as the orange-yellow line painted on the pavement. It's neon bold, outrageously orange, ridiculously bright. In context of my achingly dull gray and beige studio at work, it doesn't belong.

You and me, nail polish, you and me.

I'm quite thankful for this nail polish.

thankful overload

1. package from my sister:
    family photos, guinea pig treats, guinea pig book, and card with a hot guy on the front (!!!)

2. package from the plume:
   summer cd, postcards, lip balm, lotion, tea, delicious smelling chocolate (it's nice to win!)

3. library books:
    Let's pretend this never happened by Jenny Lawson, and the girl with the dragon tattoo audiobook (for those commutessssss)

Despite all these unexpected gifts, it was really hard to refrain from perusing Madewell's super sale right now... I need red flats like nothing else. Restraint, restraint!

thirty thankful days

she over at the amazing blog speaking for herself is starting a thirty thankful days challenge. I am going to post one picture a day of something I am thankful for, and for the next 30 days, refrain from buying anything that isn't   food or gas, unless it's a gift. for someone else.

I am notoriously bad at challenges, but here it goes.

Day one, I am going to use a photo from over the weekend, because I am still so thankful for that camping trip! I am also thankful for the sound of wind in the trees, it is worth all my cds.

wind in leaves

i can't begin to explain to you how much of my heart belongs to the wild, to the untamed, the outdoors. I am most comfortable hiking through deep woods, looking out over a field, or the lake, or up at a sky full of stars. I never feel more loved by God than when I look at the stars, placed with such care, with such love, with such attention to detail. They whisper to me, I love you, look at My glory, love Me. so this weekend camping in Door County has left me full of the sun, empty of the city, full of green, and full of birdsong, empty of the haggardness of city living.

 

I want to try camping alone. I wish I had a dog to camp with. I wish I had a front lawn, all my own. I wish I could lean up on trees with no one to see, and clamber over rocks to get to point B. I wish I could refresh myself in lakes and ponds. I wish this were all part of my daily life.

I don't really know what to do with all these wishes.

All I know is the weekend spent in nature reaffirmed something that has been nagging at me, recently. It took the bad and sad and angry parts of me, and replaced it with smooth rocks and cool water. I feel purged. Empty. and whole.

It also reminded me of what i love about the city, the opportunities and possibilities for improvement.

I am torn.

the least of these

unknown

Focus.

I am taking up a 30 day self-portrait challenge to kick myself in the butt, and get my art under way. I've also done a lot of thinking lately of where I was 5 years, 3 years, 1 year ago, and where I might be in 1 year, 3 years, and 5. And, in 30 days. Life changes. Change is the theme of 2012, for me. So let's document it. Analyze it. Use it for inspiration.

In other news, I made the best fried egg of my life today. And some excellent rhubarb crisp. My cooking skillz have come a long way in 5 years!

cooking!

my first poached egg!

and fresh rhubarb from my dad's garden. it tastes like rainwater and all the tartness of the earth.

catchabreath

i'll fly back to you (oh lake of mine)

i flew back from Boston today

the whole plane ride back i pondered deeply the big picture

for the perspective from the skies

in the clouds

gave me clarity

to sit and think,

for once

about the entirety of my life

the possibilities

and passions

the future and past

the direction i am heading

and where i want to head

up there, in the skies,

it finally became

a little more

clear.

PS. beautiful eggs from my coworker, and the lake, where I have been spending a lot of time lately on my lunch, after work.

moving on moving

i think it takes about a week for me to fully come to a realization when something happens, when something/one dies. and by then i've already made contingency plans. already thrown myself into something else, used the momentum of emotions to push myself further in some area of my life.

this time, it's rock climbing.

I'm quasi afraid of heights. i like to take things on that terrify me, or at least induce some amount of fear in me. it makes me feel stronger when i accomplish something i am afraid of. like finishing my research. or doing a triathlon. i like to push my edges, my boundaries, and see what happens. will i crumble? will i get stronger?

does it matter?

"i wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow out of life." this quote has been my favorite since high school. i never feel like i live it more fully than at the end of something, and the beginning of the something else. these are my coping mechanisms; these are what keep me on top of the waves. my thoughts curl around my ankles and pull me down, imaginary conversations beckon from the depths, but the new things to occupy my time, my thoughts- the new things are what lift my head towards the air.

deep breaths. move on.

and again, not for the first time

but this time, with more respect, with more resolution, with more knowledge that this is the right decision. the right thing. that it never could have been... even if we so wanted it to be.

and to be surrounded by such friends, such good friends, who eat all your food that you willingly give, i would cook for each one every day gladly, eagerly. they ease the hurt and the disappointment, and remind you that love is rich and deep in friendships, and lasting. such ease of conversation, delight in our silly lives. little understandings that add up to a lasting relationship; this, then, is a relationship, is worth it. is worth everything.

the friends will come all week long; my week and weekend is booked and next week is Boston, where I will be immersed in the city I love so deep, with one of my dearest of friends who is a sister, really. the healing will continue, the disappointment will fade, we will both go on.

there is a moment of sadness in that: the going on. the separate ways, even if part of me, and probably part of him, knew all along it would end like this.

still, the strength i find in staying true, in knowing that i tried with all i had to try with, in being honest, completely so, that strength, and that respect for him in doing the same, that trust that I still have that he did the same, that I choose to have; that too is enduring and is worth everything.

so this bittersweet ending, in the end, is just that; utterly sad, and utterly right.

utterly worth everything.

(that "peace" lasted 2 days)

If

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream---and not make dreams your master;
If you can think---and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings---nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And---which is more---you'll be a Man, my son!

Rudyard Kipling

and after the storm

"get over your hill and see what you find there

with grace in your heart and flowers in your hair."

mumford and sons

after the hectic swirl, the all consuming emotions, the tears that flooded and threatened to drown, comes the calm. the grace in my heart.

extreme calm, in contrast. the placid bucolic state of mind that should trend to lethargy but instead gives a solid platform for hard work, after teetering without balance for most of the year.

things, activities, end. and now i pick up new things, activities, after crossing long overdue tasks off my list. the next three months i will focus on more individual activities; ceramics, ballet, triathlon training. the past three were heavy with socializing, for me, and a rest is needed. it will start with an Easter trip to Boston, a much needed escape from this city, from my (dear) family. and will probably end in a triathlon, the ultimate goal for my desire to be back in shape.

and this blog, it soon will be ending. I am starting a new blog, one attached to my website that will be solely devoted to art, to that which inspires me, and occasional ruminations on my artistic process. these more personal ruminations, which I've never felt entirely comfortable sharing on such a public platform, will be written in a more private place, in a physical journal. i still strongly believe that going through life without reflecting on it, without taking the time to jot down thoughts and reactions to it in some manner, is only living a little bit. my blogs have given me clarity and solidified my experiences in my mind. i have been journaling since the age of 6, and i know it has formed who i am.

i will enjoy this earthly peace that never lasts, and drink deep from it's well. i've lived too long to know it will last, to know that i want it to last.

the sun

I love it, the moment when the sun crests the tall city buildings across the street. Approximately 4 hours after sunrise, the sun pours through my bedroom window.




It has more barriers to reach my window in the city, but there's the split instant when it does, when it pours through as though it were there all along. (It was there all along).

Like when you are sad and that moment when you can see the light again, when the time for being sad is over, and in the words of pencilfox: "feel it, then move on." and you move on. Past the buildings, streaming into some open window, all the happiness that was there all along. The sadness was appropriate, was necessary, was as deep as the buildings are tall. But the sun crests over the buildings at some point. It's the law of the universe, the way it was set up to be, the changing seasons, the rising and setting of the sun. Everything has a time, and a place, uncontrolled by us, deeply felt by us. What glorious order of the universe God has set into place, for us, for His glory.

can't quite contain this

life right now is emotion after emotion- anxiety, joy, grief, sadness, contentedness, all rolling inside one after another after another after another and another.

I'm trying to remain flexible, to bend and take each one in at it's depth, to not let my thinking destroy my feeling. but all these emotions are exhausting and I find myself wanting them all to stop. just for a moment, while I catch my breath. while i coast on the back of my new sweet ride, a fuji road bike, and let the moments glide over me while i sink to the bottom of the lake, watching the water and waves above, myself lost in the muted waters. just for a moment, and then i will break the surface and ride the waves again. but for now, respite.

respite on the back of a bike this morning, on the trails, again, the burning in my thighs, the fight against the wind. the mist, covering the black and gold weeds and trees, and the snow, sticking to the earth like no one's business. the accomplishment, that feeling i get when i have to be in the outdoors, cold, in pain, surviving, just to get to work. to get home. to see my niece.

my new niece, born last Saturday. I see her tomorrow, i am so elated. so elated.

and this weekend, i say goodbye to one of the finest men to ever walk this earth, my uncle. it's been a blessed long time since i attended a funeral.

my grandma, living, but not wanting to live. is there anything more heartbreaking? more frustrating?

friendships, new and old, basking in the comfort and love of the old ones, not yet easy in the new ones. not yet easy at all. the weird and quiet artness of me, indeed, the best parts of me, are so begrudgingly accepted or ignored sometimes that it makes me recoil.

for now i retreat to my family- i feel a pull and that is where i belong. everything else fades to the side, the periphery, the gray and blurry out of bounds. one emotion at a time. just one.

i've been here

behind the wheel. of my very own car. morning, and night. for hours a day. driving. singing. thinking. listening. driving.

stop. go. stop. go. stop. go. stop. go.

this is the new rhythm of my moments.

Winter is fading fast, and I already miss the deep dark long cold nights and am sad by the lack of snow. i relish cleaning off my car when it has frost or a light coat of snow on it, digging in the scraper with a satisfying screeeech. i miss spending all day in the col

d snow, like when i was young, making snow chairs, and sledding until completely and utterly cold, and then the painful reawakening of feeling in my toes and fingers. i am a winter girl.

waiting, waiting, for my brother's wife to give birth. due tomorrow. boy or girl, boy or girl.

I also miss reading for an entire day. giving myself over to a book, completely losing myself in another world. when was the last time I did this? is this adulthood?

i haven't scratched canvas with paint in years. i thought i gave up medicine to do art....

ah yes, i did. Here is my latest drawing from my sunday drawing class:

three classes left.

i've been eating a lot of baked potatoes recently. more on this later.

i dont want to live this way; reading into every word you say

things are turning and churning and changing and it is in these uncertain times that I remind myself of what is certain, what is constant, what grants me the same time and time again. It comes back, again and again, to pottery, art, a lump of clay, God, nature, running, writing, and reading. when everything else overwhelms me, these my rocks sustain me, and i move through this city of mine lightly, cautiously, knowingly.

i think singing at the top of my lungs with all the pathos of someone in their twenties for an hour in the car each day is just as cathartic as running.

traffic is becoming less scary with each hour and 15 minute commute.

work is hard. but i am stepping up, defending myself, finding the joys where they lay, and moving through it as well as i can.

my body yearns for a run, despite the hour of singing a day. a long run in hot weather, along a forgotten path away from all these people.

it also yearns for a cave to hibernate the winter away- for unending hours to devote to my art without needing to stop for food or sleep or money earning.

it is in these periods, of immense change and being stretched out in a thousand million ways, that i learn the most. so i welcome it with a pliable heart, and a steady gaze forward, and remember that even this, all of this, will pass too quickly one day.