of the west

it's funny how
the heart rips
wide open
in the presence of beauty
it hurts a little but

when i think back on montana
driving through slowly rising roads
i think of the narrow plain flanked
by blue mountains
every shade of blue
even some I hadn't seen

the wild flowers,
wild grasses,
wild animals,
the fences and rambling shacks,
the slant of the sun across it all

and what I remember most
is the funny, weird,
delightful
sensation of my heart being ripped

ripped open
wide open and also slightly open
just a little bit
completely
ripped
with the beauty
of the west.

on moving back

I know i haven't been in this space in awhile. There are a lot of reasons for that. But, I am going through one of those times that I know I will want to remember. So, while I've been doing a lot of writing lately, maybe I will start to put some of it here.

You see, I've moved back. I've come full circle, as it were. I've come back home, to Wisconsin.

The weight of that sentence will be lost on anyone that hasn't known me for at least 15 years- known how badly I wanted to leave Wisconsin. How much I didn't care to see another corn field. How badly I wanted to live in a city, or anywhere else. Wisconsin was slowly killing me when I left. But, now as I return, half dead in many ways, it is where I come to drink deep once again. To reconnect with everything that I have forgotten. To remember where I started, to maybe get a clearer view of where I am going. Where I am.

But where isn't so important anymore, at this age. 10 years later. Where is, well, it's just a place.

Who is more important. And what. What do I want? For myself, for others, for the world? For the future? For the past? What have I learned? What is important to remember and learn from, and what is important to discard?

Bring me a higher love.

I spend long afternoons outside. In the woods and the fields. I happily examine every weed and tree and seedpod. I spend long days and nights with friends who have known me for decades, entire weekends with my parents. I'm looking for answers about myself in them. And, I am finding them. I am remembering who I was. What drove me to leave, and starting to understand how I came back, and in comparing who I was to who I am, I am learning.

I love this state. But, I don't fit in anymore, that is clear. I am different. I am from here, but I am no longer of here. I understand it, because it is part of my past, of my upbringing, part of me. But it doesn't understand me, not anymore. I am recognizable only as a ghost.

I'm ok with that, for now. For being a ghost so I can dig deep and learn what I need to learn before I move on again. Social pressures mean nothing here- here I have the space, both physically and emotionally, to make whatever I want of my time. I've been learning guitar. Sketching a lot. Throwing pottery. Getting into deep discussion about life with my oldest friends. I get restless now and then for a good night out dancing, and then I go back to Chicago and socialize until I can't take it anymore.

It's a good life lately. It was a good move back. My only regret is that I didn't move sooner, when my grandma was still alive. I live only a few miles from where she used to live. It would have been good to have been up here sooner. It would have been good.

counting it down.

new year. count it, 2014.

4 hours until the next tylenol, 102 fever, 2 days with fever.

5 days on tamiflu.... 4 days.... 3 days... 2 days... 1 days.

flu done.

simultaneous.

week and a half with cough. then piercing pain in my side.

pneumonia.

3 ibuprofen, every 8 hours.

10ml robitussin, every 4 hours.

1 zpak every day.

5 days on zpak. 4 days... 3 days... 2 days.. 1 day. 

little change. 

5 more days... 4 days. 3 days... 2 days.. 1 day.

no more coughing.

pain- bruised ribs? pulled muscles? pain regardless. 

takes 4-6 weeks.

3 ibuprofen every 8 hours.

2.5 weeks done, 1.5 to go, until hopefully no more pain.

rest, rest, and more rest.

everything is counting, waiting, yearning for the treatment to be done. one more day is one day closer to health. one more week is one week closer to movement without pain. count it down. pills, weeks, days. 

count it down.

realization

i've
i've cried enough times to know how to make myself stop
to calm my mind
and deep breath

and
and i've lived enough
i've lived enough
to know,
to know the dark eyes wide.
and so when the light shines full on my face
it blinds and blinds and blind
and i take more than awhile
for the pupils to dilate to adjust to the light
to know
that i am in the presence of the light.
that the dark is gone.
that there is shadow only behind.

i know and i know and i know
and i plan and plan and plan plan
but in the end
i didn't even see the light
that hits me full
and then i know and know and really know
the tears come and come and
my heart feels
and grows
and i know

Celebrate the passing of time

scenes

the purging

like a forest fire, i am burnt
all things burn away
ash is left
and seeds are released

like the plains, i am wind swept
all the dirt is lifted up
and out
and what is left behind
is raw and essence

like the beach, i am scorched
the sun has dried up the useless bits
and what is left is hard
and glass

like the mountains, i reach up
and as i do, the lesser stones fall
and rumble down my sides
until they are a part of me no more

like giving birth, my flesh is torn
the pain of all this excess
being torn from me
leaving only what is real and true behind
makes me cry

but i look at my reflection
and i see a more beautiful reflection
of the One who does all this
and i know this is not in vain
and i leap up with new wings
and take flight on new air
and nothing is the
same


I wrote this when someone asked me what being 30 was like. I have one month left of 30, and this is the only way i can sum up this year of 30. you can't take the 20s with you, and all the excess is stripped away until only essence is left. i think of my grandma 2 days before she died, and even her flesh was melted away, and only her essence remained. I think this happens constantly throughout our life, this stripping of the excess, and it is good, and necessary, and at times painful. but it makes sense. and the closer I move to God, the more stripping of excess there is. and the more full i am of Him. and this too is good, and painful, and makes sense.

confessions of the squirmy

*written last week*

I've spent a lot of this week in introspection. Long hours of time in introspection. The casual and melodramatic self-indulgence of my teenage years. Lots and lots of writing, journaling, and reading. Taking a step back, examining my life, watching the waves of events in my memory and how they've shaped me, deeming myself worthy or unworthy- or at least, parts of myself.

and i've discovered several glorious things, and several quite depressing things.

I've discovered that i get incredibly squirmy when examined this close, like bacteria on a microscope slide that when it comes into focus is all squirmy and moving all over the slide. the sharpening of focus on my life, myself, has caused me to squirm and throw up facades and fireballs to distract, and pulled my emotions all over the chart. Pinning oneself down is never easy, but necessary from time to time.

i have a lot of love in my life. more than i deserve. more friends that care about me more than i know or ever stop to think about. and yet, this was the first thing to become apparent the minute i started examining myself. there is a lot of love. in all its painful glory. in my heart-wrenching un-deservedness, i have been shown love far more than i have shown it. i need to be more cognizant and gentle of this love, to think before i speak, my heavens do i need to think before i speak. the end agenda should not always be a witty sarcastic joke. and yet, far too often, it is. stop. breathe. absorb the love. absorb the moment. reflect it back, ego-less. deem yourself worthy, if for a minute, of holding this love, set aside my ego, don't cast the love aside in a joke.

i have not been moving towards God as quickly or as much as I could. Somewhere last year, i stopped. I stood still. i stopped pursuing Him. somewhere last year life became Great. Too Great. it took everything in me to hold it, my hands were full with the Greatness. my prayers were only cries, and it was rare that i stopped to behold the glory of God. this has changed me. both the Greatness, and removing my focus from the Glory. But i didn't need to hold it in my hands, and if i had beheld the glory, i could have let it go. this has to change, and I thank God that He has revealed this to me.

The last observance is that my ego has become too great. it has stymied my creativity, my relationships, and my happiness. it is good to allow oneself mercy- none of us are perfect, we are all human... these things are true. these are things we say to ourselves, and we should. but in some cases the truth cuts deep and we cannot allow mercy- the only thing we can allow is change. because if i continue down this path, if my ego grows, if i do not find some other, more appropriate source of self-worth, i will become nothing. i will continue to dry up and bear no fruit. the mercy i allow myself is the chance to change, for to accept that i can continue down this path is to accept that i am capable of no more.

and yet in all these shortcomings, i see myself being used. it is in my weakness that God has used me for His glory, not in my strength. what good is strength, then? would that i would only become weaker so that God would use me more. at my lowest, my worst, my least creative, my least productive, that is when I have seen the most of God's hand in my life.

I am slowing the squirm, to allow myself to become dissected. to learn to trust that I am called to be present. to find peace in just simply... being. here. now. with you. in this world. in this city. in this neighborhood. here.

365 Days Later

It's good to look back, to see what has become of all the time in between. One year ago today, I would have given anything to look 365 days into the future, to know what I know now. After such a hard couple of weeks, to know at some point there would be an upswing. To know that my decision regarding one boy would be the right one, or wrong one. To know that my grieving for my grandma would lessen. To know that quitting my job was the right decision, or wrong one.

So, here I am. 365 days later. And it's an odd, bittersweet 365 days later. I can't remember the last time I was poorer. Or happier. I'm at that sweet spot, between storms, when everything is calm and ok. I feel like a deeper, richer soil than I was a year ago. And part of that is because of so many of those decisions I made exactly 365 days ago. I'm not convinced that dating that boy was the right decision. I wish I had listened more to my intuition, the small voice speaking doubts. But at the same time, I don't regret it. I was shaped, and in a painful way, but I am at a bigger place of acceptance now. I feel more ready for the next 365 days, for the next relationship. Like the mulch of the past year will grow something beautiful one day. And all that I have learned, career and, everything-wise, because I quit my job... I mean, really. I don't even know where to start with that. I am working harder than ever, and finally have the space to expand creatively. Space is priceless.

As for my grandma, the grieving now is softer and more gentle, but just as deep. One thought and there are tears in my eyes. I'm not sure this will ever change, and that's ok, and I'm not sure I want this to change.

365 days later. There is an upswing, there sure is. If I could go back, I would say to myself, make your decisions. It won't be easy, but you will see it through, and it will lead you to where you need to be.

one for the road

the pavement is everywhere in the city. it seems to be static- it is not a growing living thing like grass, but if you have ever lived anywhere with paved roads, you know that is not true. It expands and shrinks- crumbles and is torn apart and put back together, patched. It's the bottom- the least- the common denominator- the base of a city. It's spat on, peed on, thrown up on, spilled on, swept and cleaned and takes it all over again. The heat absorbs into the pavement and rises up, making the city waver in the light. The ice coats the pavement and turns the city to an obstacle course. it is the common, the normal, the least.

my feet pound the pavement- literally. the city's rhythm jolts up my legs and sets it's pace in my heart. i match  my breathing to the movement of my feet and even the tiny cilia in my ears tremble with the pace. my every molecule orbits with the city, around it, through it, and because of it. i am in tune; i am the city; the city is in me. the pavement is my base. my lowest denominator. and i pound it every chance i get. it pounds me back and we force each other to change, to crumble, be built back up, to be dirtied, and to be cleaned again. the pavement in summer is heat and steam. in summer, i am heat and steam. the crash and clash of our molecules weave our destinies, the push and friction propel us forward, hold us in place, and compel us to move.

sweat drips down my neck, my back, my legs. i push; it pushes back. the exertion is cleansing. i reach the lake, and realize it too is a part of me. the endless blue is in my mind, is the backdrop and the main character, the holder of my tears; it is my tears. i cry the lake. i rejoice the lake. i frolic and swim and laugh and move like the water of the lake, in the lake. but i am also afraid of the lake- it's depths, being consumed by it all at once, what may lurk underneath. as i ran tonight, i had this thought- how can i be afraid of something that i love so much, that is a part of me? how can i be so afraid to jump straight down into the water, to let the waves wash over my head? when this lake is such a part of me? but that is how i am. i am afraid of what is inside of me; i am afraid of the lake. i am afraid of letting go of the pavement, the lowest, the common. i am afraid of what comes next, when there is nothing under my feet to pound against. i am afraid of leaping straight down, because what if i never stop falling, what if i never learn to fly, what if i was never meant to leap at all?

i pound against the pavement; the friction holds me in place. the lowest, the common, it holds me steady. i pound it relentlessly.

one day it will give way.

without calculation

this is where we differed, he and I
the caring of things
of people
I didn't think you should put a limit on caring for people
it's not an equation
if it were, the balance rarely evens out
but then, my burns in life had been first degree-
his went to the core-
for him it was an equation, an equal giving and receiving-
an always worrying who was ahead, who behind.
he had been burnt.

but caring without calculating for him taught me
that caring doesn't drain you or leave you empty,
the burns heal. it
doesn't destroy you when it's not returned
doesn't waste your time when it doesn't lead to forever
and the scariness and risk of it fades when you practice it-
caring fills you
carries you
and leaves you more whole, stronger,
practiced
to care for someone
else.

the equation of our stances [of our positions on caring]
between us was too great
the remainder was much to bear
we snapped under the difference
and became singular
and
he will go on calculating
living alone in his equations
i will go on risking
caring without calculating
my heart open wide,
giving everything
losing nothing
gaining everything.
back into the unknown.

inspiration

One of the artist blogs I follow is offering this amazing class!
http://www.umberdove.com/2013/05/huge-horizons-give-way-and-all-new-true.html
Check it out here.

This comes at the perfect time in my life, as I have felt so far away from inspiration, even though i have had so much time this year to create. I need to recenter, to find the reasons I do the career that I do... and I hope this class helps!

on dreams, then

i don't think

that one should ever crush or criticize a dream.


i don't think

that unrealistic dreams cannot lead to somewhere more realistic

that crushed dreams don't build character

that reaching too far doesn't teach it's own lessons.

that life should be mitigated by only what is attainable.


i don't think

that realism has much of a place in dreaming.

that realism will avoid finding a way to tether the dream when the time comes

that i am, or you are, the one to provide that realism.

that practicality and logistics make much sense in a dream.


i think

that if you crush dreams, if you are skeptical, that if you breathe a word against ability, that if you are tethered to reason constantly, that if you can't shed the physics of this earth from time to time to dream,

that you should never speak to me.


i think

that the world is full of endless possibilities

that those who believe in these possibilities are the ones that gain from them

that this viewpoint is a daily choice

that the path taken down an impractical road can shape a life.



and lastly
i think that you were
not the
one
for
me.

accepting the unacceptable

when the rain comes, and it all pours down, and you're left with mud slick on your boots, with wet hair in your eyes, and a heavy fog in the air around you. with each slippery step try to discern where the hope could be in the fog, could possibly be. in the midst of all the unacceptable. what is there to hold on to? what is solid, after all?

did i know this would come? all along?

There are unacceptable things which I must learn to accept. deaths, disappointments, failures, and this relationship coming to an end. this relationship ending. this relationship ended. unacceptable. accept it. this will not weigh me down forever. time will do its thing, will move forward, and carry my shaky body with it, my anguished mind. and time will carry me into a better place, a better mind, a better being. and i will accept it. eventually. in small parts. in tiny fragments. in forgotten memories. in discarded gifts. in deleted emails. deleted phone number. deleted relationship. and the mud slick on my boots will be washed clean. and i will walk on. accept it.

bittersweet, these things.

And then there are the unacceptable things that can and should never be accepted... all around us. a 10 year old girl was beat up 2 blocks from my apt for crossing the street into gang territory. a man was shot 10 blocks from my apt in the middle of the day while going to the store. bombs in my beloved Boston, in OUR beloved Boston. the gentle academic city that i thought was a dream come true, where all my most important firsts happened. now blood on the streets. memorials, a part of the city forever. unacceptable.

someone clean up this city! someone make it right! I can't accept Chicago to go down like this, Old Town to disappear and to ring with gunshots. I refuse to accept it and i will do all i can to stop it. this is not how it should be. and it tears me apart.

the sun sets on the city, and covers our shame in strokes of gold. the lake shimmers in the sunrise, and hope grows all around us. we will be ok. we will see this night through to daylight. hold on.

figuring it out

This freelancing thing has been hard.

But each day I'm learning more and more how to adapt, how to control my time and my drive, what anxieties to let fall and what anxieties to pay attention to, and try to fix. To fight the loneliness of finding myself suddenly without coworkers or classmates, I find myself going for walks with a friend that works nearby on lunch, eating lunch with another friend, skyping more with my sister, talking to myself, starting up dance classes again, and organizing more social activities with my friends, and taking up more offers to go out. I want to add journaling every day to this list. I actually, for the first time since working full time and commuting so far, find myself craving social interaction. My mood has definitely improved. I am doing more interesting projects, and have even thrown a few pots.

But the structure, the attempt to get things done, or completed... this is hard. And if I just watch Syfy episodes all day and don't get anything done, the guilt at the end of the day is overwhelming and depressing. I hit a self-motivation low around the end of February, and since then have done ok at dragging myself out of the non-productive hole, completing a few projects helped. It's still hard to get a full day's work in, and I have a lot to learn.

But I like this. I like taking on projects. I like the opportunity to do my art and if I could just learn to discipline myself better, I think I could be really successful. I haven't done any art for myself in so long, and coming back to it is rusty and slow, but the muse is whispering, and soon she will be shouting and I won't be able to deny her request.

whisper on, muse.

heavy

heavy like a thousand oak trees, standing firm on the earth
heavy like an anchor tied to my feet, drop me in deep water
heavy like thoughts that swirl and cloud and muffle
heavy like rationale that destroys faith, knowledge that steals joy,
heavy like the burden of all that is yet to be done, all the time still to live
heavy like a hard relationship, a hard situation, a hard choice
heavy like having to let go
heavy like being vulnerable
bleeding out vulnerable
heavy like my heart.

moved...moving

So, I've created a new blog to showcase my artwork- my projects i'm working on, inspiration i find, etc. You can find it here: http://www.signedbyheidi.com/blog/

please visit!

I will keep writing more personal thoughts here, life reflections, but it will probably be more sparse than it's been in the past.

I've also started and plan on keeping up my etsy store which is found here:

http://www.etsy.com/shop/signedbyheidi

Right now I have some jewelry up, and I hope to add to it until all of my jewelry inventory (which I started selling in 2010) is gone. Then I will add ceramics, and illustrations and prints and the odd sculpture here and there once I get that going. But first, the jewelry needs to be sold! Tell your friends.

And, give me feedback, on prices, designs, what works, what doesn't. I'm open!

Alright everyone have a lovely Valentine's Day.

on the murders in Chicago

Really, Chicago, really?

I have half a mind to leave this city for good.

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: