refreshed

Hand-made wicker glider for love, stacks of colorful stowaways on stark white beams, bright plastic furniture, tall lace up brown boots and pearly shades of grey, a bonfire to keep the panthers away, jubilant patty cake games and a sweet brown lab curled up in resignation.  xo

shutters, bars, screens and blinds

photo by me

Been thinking about windows.  xo

100%

Finished cowl scarf.  Ridiculously saturated photo.  New shades. xo

because everyone else is.....

photos by me

Last night was strange: full of restless sleep, perseverating thoughts and dark dreams.  When I got to work there were whispers of a relapse, or maybe something worse. I had him stay close to me with his red-rimmed eyes, hollow cheeks and vacant stare, eagerly grateful for hot tea.  He slept on the couch in the living room, his unrest eventually melting to stillness. I dreamed of past students, bloated and decaying of flesh, urgent with desperation and wild running horses. Thought-pancakes of stale playa dust flipped over in my mind, flat and insubstantial.

out to dry

photo by me

Shot in a Bangkok alley, I can't help but imagine all the rascally thai kids who belong to these undershirts.  xo

I'm beginning to recognize how nothing is ever truly lost.

at the time, it seemed to fit perfectly

I found my mug.  It was in my ski boot.

xo

opposing forces

My tendency to accumulate tangible things sometimes manifests itself as brain clutter, disorganization and misplaced priorities.  Yesterday while cleaning out my car in search of my most favorite mug, I instead found my wallet which had gone missing weeks ago.  I also came across a moldy yogurt container and a damp thai hammock.  Today my phone died and I haven't been able to locate my camera charger for far too long.  I know these things are here, swimming in the sea of unfinished tasks and impulsive forays of fancy.  I also know that above all else, I crave simplicity.  I yearn for the freedom of being unattached, and an infinite lightness of being.  Love to this process.  xo

like a paper balloon

Last night I was reduced to tears over this incredible documentary.

I also looked at photos of paper mushrooms by artist Vincent Floderer.

This morning I found a terribly whimsical window display by this artist

and played around with a cookie wrapper from my floor.

xo

heart

Protected by a moat of unruly waters
stony walls
and windows that face the eternal sky.

xo

ashes to ashes

Last night in a fit of cathartic impulse, I tore up and burned about 15 of my old journals.  These spanned the past 6 years, at least seven relationships, two heartbreaks, ten homes, nine jobs, two trips to Africa, countless haircuts, bloody marys and soy lattes and more than a thousand paper cranes.  I then went out for a few drinks, free music and pac man and when I came home, I added my most beautiful paper birds to the still smoldering volumes of the past.

Reading my free will horoscope today, I am validated.

This would be an excellent week to grieve madly and deeply about the old love affairs that shattered your heart. I've rarely seen a better astrological configuration than there is now for purging the residual anguish from those old romantic collapses. So I suggest you conduct a formal ritual that will provide total exorcism and bring you maximum catharsis. Maybe you could build a shrine containing the photos and objects that keep a part of you stuck in the past, and maybe you could find the bold words and innovative gestures that will bid goodbye to them forever. Do you have any intuitions about how to create a rousing healing ceremony? 

       
xx

limbo

In the spirit of finding opportunities in transition and using the space between:

A To Do List for the Following Month.

a. Pare down books to the unread and the essential*
b. Organize crafting supplies
c. Spontaneous yoga: more vin than yin.
d. Knit a cowl scarf.
e. Send things via post.
d. Eat all the random food that hides in my cupboard.
e. Spend time making a new journal, but don't write in it.
f. Practice self-restraint in acquiring new things.

I have a few weeks to prepare for a move to my new home.  Transitions are still difficult, as limiting habits rear their heads and escapism glows bright with false promise.  I'm learning to use these times to my advantage by being intentional and recognizing myself.

*A note about books.  As an only child with a big imagination, I lost vast amounts of time to reading.  Squirreled away in my room, I disappeared into blanket forts for hours on end with pages of adventure.  I anticipated new library books in the mail, fingers crossed anxiously for days. I found daily solace in well-worn worlds. Reading filled a social need for me, as I didn't have a siblings or a consistent community; books became comfort, family, and friendship. To this day I re-read books.  I reach for an old favorite with the ease I would call my best friend, taking up in the middle or end like no time at all has passed. I've finished a story only to restart immediately at the beginning. This is my comfort zone, sometimes at the expense of experiencing the rich world of which I am a part.  Friends are meant to be shared; today, I create new space on my shelf.

xo

coveting

Both sheep and boots. xxxx

rainy day

LAKESIDE WINTER

As described by the narrator from The Fall of the House of Usher

It was one ghostly and wretched day when the clouds were dragged sullenly seeping across the sky did I fist visit that dissolute place.  Through dank Seattle mist the buildings of lurid brick towered over bare and claw-like trees, and the wind whistled dismally in the November chill.  And I tell you now that I am not mad, for every so carefully placed crimson brick filled my mind with a penetrating unease, which over time wrought my brain numb.  Such a feeling it was upon this first sight, did I consider turning upon my wavering heel and fleeing as rapidly as my limbs would carry my.  But it was not to be so, for as if by some shrouded force, or perhaps some unconscious curiosity of the mind, my fickle shoes carried me forward across the square.  I hasten to assure you of my sanity now, so you will hear my words and heed this warning; for my anxiety did not abate but rather heightened at my proceeding observations.  As I stood numbly lost in the fancies of my mind, a bell echoed out into the stillness and children of heavy tread and heavier spirit drifted through the square.  Contorted to the point of anguish by weighty sacks, it was their faces that haunted me the most.  For as if in absolute protection from the sun, the likes of such ghastly pallor I had never seen nor have yet to see again.  And yet the sensation that came from these phantasmal figures was not of ghostly tranquility, but rather a deep trepidation, indicated in particular by their lustrous eyes: restive and agitated.  I truly hope you will not think me mad, for as quickly as they came, the children dissipated into the recesses of every building, leaving me with only a pestilent aura of unrest.  I know not what plagues these surreal beings to the point of such anxiety, nor do I care to know, for their memory alone is enough to plague me for the rest of my days.    

I recently rediscovered this paper I wrote for a high school english class. I believe we were supposed to chose an author to imitate, and I'm not surprised that Poe spoke to my dark side.  Fun stuff, maybe a bit heavy on the adjectives and crystal clear what I thought about my school! xo

a list

some inconsequential things that bring me joy

1. courtroom sketches
2. licorice tea
3. the way rice cooks
4. double weimaraner day
5. tumbling tumbleweeds
6. words like scud and nubbin
7. basset hounds named scootch
8. references to abe lincoln in unexpected places
9. frozen waterfalls
10. where fur grows in opposite directions on a cat's nose

to be continued...
xo

the space between

Thai monks wear orange to represent the color of change.  In the past year I have found myself increasingly drawn to the space between things.  I've come to relish the stretches in yin stillness, a withering bloom and the deep breath of the unknown.  As the old  boy wrote; we work with being, but non-being is what we use.  xo    

p.s. (thank you)

cancerian

Found this precious origami guy on etsy.  In love. xo

Also, my free will horoscope:

In her poem "Heathen," Lesley Wheeler describes a young boy who puts his ear up against his mother's ear "so that the god in your head can talk / to the god in mine." The coming weeks would be an excellent time for you to try something similar with people you care for. It's a ripe moment to raise the stakes in your intimate life . . . to get closer than you've dared to get before . . . to retire the familiar stories you and your allies are in the habit of exchanging so that you can tune in to the deeper hum of each other's wilder truths. 

Dear Universe

I need a blank slate.  I would love a panther painting as well, and a friend with which to share daily silliness.

panther by bend craigslist artist 

LOVE

xo

the answer

tonight, is to quit. xx

sherm stops to smell the roses

feeling inspired by orange

xo

In this picture

I am drawn to the barbed wire and spikes.  xo

the elephant within

Slowly making sense of a tumbotembo.  xo      

eagerly anticipating......

this!

xo