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.

strong bones humble bones

When I made this pot, I was thinking about bird's nests. Then I decided it would make a nice pot for my brother, who requested a small piece to put his spare change and other things from his pockets in. And then I forgot to give it to him for Christmas... eventually it will find it's way into his possession.



Until then, I call it my Humble Pot, because it turned out so lopsided and rumbly, that it reminds me that I mess up. A lot. That sometimes, all is not well.



I am looking forward to the new year- I've only set one goal for myself, and I am determined to see it through. I did well on last year's resolutions. It really is amazing what can be accomplished in a year...

ps. look at my cute nephew :)

So hats off to the bull, no giving up. (Chevelle)

it's going to be a long weekend home with the family, long in many ways. I will try to be pliant like a long reed bending in the wind, no giving up.

meanwhile here is the pink one. it's misshapen and cracked but it's big and holds all my hairbrushes. Plus, there's this dollop of white glaze amongst the pink that's just lovely.

this one, this one

Yes, I have a dusty shelf.
This one, I am most proud of.
It's like a thin dried up leaf in late fall, the ones that are brown and crumble at the touch- this one too is thin, and fine, full of graceful veins of blue.
It calls to me, of decay and rebirth and the deepness of brown, the richness of the earth.

the green one

the glaze turned out fabulous on this little green one.
the texture came out nicely too... just a few swipes with the wooden tool.

little yellow pot

I love love love the shape of this little pot; the graceful curve of the side is exactly what I was aiming for. I love it when the shape of a pot comes out well.



and the little swirl inside makes me giddy as well.



I've realized tonight it is tricky to photograph pottery: the shape and the color are very hard to capture. I need a better camera!

good morning

Each day for the next 9 days I'll be displaying a photograph of one of my most recent pieces from ceramics class. This is a small yellow mug I made, that is ridiculously ugly, but in an aren't you adorable sort of way. I love the cheery yellow color.

also, first snowfall in Chicago this morning!

this city of mine

sometimes on random Mondays or happy Tuesdays or bored Wednesdays and freezing Thursdays, in between the Fridays and Sundays, i catch myself wondering at the lack of love in my heart for this city. this city of mine.

there is nothing wrong with it.

it's really very beautiful.

and you can't beat that lake.

i just

don't

love it.

sometimes i beg for it to prove itself to me, to try to win my love.

sometimes i work tirelessly, wandering it's streets looking for something about it to love.

but in the end, my heart is unmoved.

i am wondering whether this is ok.

and if it is not, what then?

mess

I've been all over the place this week. Things are in an upheaval at work and my natural inclination is to hibernate for 1.2 million years so I can slowly analyze everything and contemplate and think and change my mind 3.4 million times, living out every possible scenario until I feel at peace, and then emerge and go on with my life. But life isn't like that, and so my mind steals my sleep, waking me up way too early on a Saturday, racing around and giving the pit of my stomach a queasy doubt. The only thing I can do is to move forward.

I know that it will all work itself out. I know to be patient. I know to expect less than I want, that I'm not in complete control of every outcome. I know that, in the end, I will be ok.

But despite all that, I must live in the present, and step forward cautiously, slowly, trying to break as few eggshells as possible, when all I want to do is smash and stop and stampede through the next few weeks.

I awoke to the sun rushing through my window, and lay in the warmth, thinking for a good hour. In winter, being warmed by the sun is such a luxury. I am reading Into the Wild, and feel myself drawn to nature. I would love nothing more than to pack it all up and hike in the woods for a few days, to clear my mind and body of this city, but that's not the kind of life I have. I've been thinking a lot about existence, and why we chose the lives we do, and how much power we really have to change them. Money and comfort define so many of our decisions. It is one of my policies to insert love as much as possible into every equation of life- motivation, how and where to spend my time, my money, my talents- everything- I want to reflect back to love. I want to be bold enough, to take the risk to make decisions based on love, not money or comfort or my own self-agenda. It is not an easy thing to do, not at all.

I seem to have given myself a lot to think about.

odds. ends.

Sometimes I blog because there's just so much going on in my life that I need a place to sort it out, sort of.

First off: seriously, deliriously, considering buying myself this faux fur throw. Ridiculously expensive, but I somehow feel like indulging right now. I've fallen in love with Restoration Hardware over thanksgiving, and love the beautifully crafted everything in that store. That's the sort of style I picture my dream home to have. My grey stone cabin surrounded by purple flowers in some woods with an outdoor kiln and place to do pottery... this is as ambitious as my dreams get, folks.

Tomorrow I start carpooling: the past 8 months of biking have left my lower half in ridiculously good shape, but I decided today after biking in 5 total layers in 25 degree weather, that it's time to give my body a break and start carpooling. I would put it off longer, but I don't want to spend 140 on a month metra pass, when I know I won't be able to bike until through the whole month of december. I really hate carpooling though, because it adds an hour total to my commute each day and nothing is as peaceful as the metra. Hopefully my dad will get my car fixed soon soon soon. When he does I will commute to work and learn French through tapes.

Saw my friends from high school over the break and it was downright delightful.

Picked up my pottery pieces yesterday, overall: B. There are one or two pieces I am really proud of, the rest are just exercises in honing my skill. I have about 1.2 million ideas that I want to realize in clay, so all i need is about 1.2 million minutes and my creation craving soul will be sated. read: my commute sucks.

I just downloaded the ebook version of A Walk in the Woods. Should be amazing. Can't wait. I also get the Economist again, and Time mag (thanks, Susan!) which had an excellent article on anxiety this week, and the quarterly (physical copy) of City Journal. So, lots to read. I read a great article on the train tonight about women in the workplace in the Economist, before falling into a deep sleep on the train.

I have been working hard hard hard on my website, and it is looking nice if I do say so myself. Of course I am going the extra mile and including some jQuery code for a nice effect, which means teaching myself jQuery and java. I hope to get a lot done on it this weekend. It is my ticket out, folks.

I love the cold crisp air, but don't love the dryness of winter.

I lost my headphones.

My room looks amazing. My dad helped me make some furniture on Thanksgiving day. Pictures of that to come as well.

I was hung over for the beginning half of this day. No regrets.

The models at work are coming to a close, but I reckon if the teeth model ever gets out there into the world it will be a miracle.

Christmas lights are the best.

I've been kicking butt lately in most of my Scrabble games. It's like something clicked, after playing it for a year, multiple games a week, and all I can do is win.

Hoping my gma heals quickly. I am not ready for her to not be on this earth.

I'm just ready for the snow. I love winter.

mad dash

sometimes, after an emotionally tough day, i just run. i tie my laces, don the sports bra, and dash out of my house. i hit the pavement, all the emotions and energy of the day coursing through me at once. i let my body pick the speed, and usually it is fast, with head high, arms and legs synchronous, a song like "Lost in the World" by Bon Iver and Kanye blaring in my ears. i lose myself in the movement, and let all the emotions rise up in me, and pound them out through the pavement.

tonight was such a run- it's not exactly cathartic physically- i can't sustain such dashing and sprinting, so i usually run until i feel sick, then walk a bit, then run again, until my limbs are limp. physically, no, this doesn't feel great- i prefer long runs at a steady pace. but emotionally, this is fantastic.

tonight i ran. i ran and sprinted and lifted my knees and my head to the heavens, and poured out my soul. as i ran i shed pounds of emotions, until i felt lighter than in a long time, and floated on the wind home. i sat by the lake and pondered things, and the muses touched me, phrases and ideas flitted through my mind. i let go to the bottom of the black lake all that i had carried through the day - all the stones and rocks that others had given me to carry, and i dropped them with a giant heave in the cold waters. free, i smiled the entire run home, and even chuckled to myself, thinking, of all the curious looks on the faces of passersby, i don't care what you think of me. i just, don't care.

life seems to be this balancing act of caring about others and then not caring. of deciding what is worthy to carry and what needs to be dropped.

tonight i dropped it all and flew home.

muses.

there is something about the way an artist moves... a grace that is unseen in any other part of life. except for maybe the way a tree bends in the wind.

i remember watching a Harvard violinist stand in the middle of a church and play a solo by heart, from the heart, and move with every note. I will never forget the movement, which struck me more than the music he played. just watching him made me feel like a part of the performance, convinced me of his sincerity and belief in the music he played and the instrument he used.

I've also witnessed this when throwing on the wheel- my really great instructors have this movement with the turn of the wheel and the lift of raising clay and shaping it, little nods and elbow movements and grunts that match their actions and the shape of the clay. I know my own eyes glaze over as I study the shape of the rotating clay and my head is always in movement, looking at the clay from all directions. Sometimes I close my eyes and feel only with my hands the various lumps and memorizing where they are, where more pressure needs to be applied. little graces.

at the SOFA on saturday, we watched a glass artist spinning some glass. I noted that he too had movements like a violinist, as he constantly spun the hot glass at a steady pace, his shoulders would roll back and his head would follow, and then forward again, as he gently shaped the glass, his graceful body movements making a graceful piece of glass.

there is something about art, something whole and physical, and transcending... something that makes ordinary people, people who are gawky perhaps when walking or kicking a soccer ball, to suddenly become graceful conduits when enveloped in their art.

may I be such a conductor of art, that it may flow through me with no pride or ego to stop it or sully it, and may it transform my being into something beautiful, and leave me as pure as it came. may I be like water, a smooth and free conduit of electricity, of art, let it pass through me to electrify something, someone else. may I be worthy, and have the skills, to make even one graceful movement when overcome by art.

may I.

some saturday

Started things off this morning with a brisk 9.3 mile run. Some context: the furthest I've run in the past year has been 3 miles at a time... but, Clarence and I kept a steady 10:30 pace, and finished in around an hour 40 minutes. No walking! And the Ghiardelli chocolate fondue at the end was marvelous.

Man am I sore!

I cannot begin to tell you what this race and not walking it means to me. I didn't train, but I still pushed hard, something I usually don't do. There's something to be said about pushing limits and the unique emotion and confidence that fills your being afterwards.

Afterwards, of course, I went to the hot tub and soaked my aches away.

bliss.

Then I went to the SOFA and was inspired by these graceful pieces by Shayna Leib William G. Turnbull and Susan Taylor Glasgow (respectively). There were some great forms this year at the SOFA. Right now I find myself enamored and fixated on forms. The balance, precision, and creation of space.

bliss again.