Pink of Perfection

Can you imagine, for a moment, the way the light through the window was dancing its patchy pattern across the table this morning, and across these cherries? It scatters still, across my cup of coffee and keyboard; it seems a fitting thing to bring up for what I’m about to try to say.

Which is: There are days when you burst into your own life. Your sense of self fills every bit of your body: the round tips of your fingers, your elbows, your earlobes. Suddenly, you are fully present in your form and in your life. You are dashing across the street like Mary Tyler Moore, twirling in your skirt, every synapse open and firing.

I am waiting, knowing this moment will end. It began Friday night with the surprise of love and support at the premiere of Colin Hearts Kay (which won Audience Choice for Best Feature!). And then it slid into Saturday when I was wearing a cute outfit and feeling quite lovely, sitting alone at the bar of one of my favorite restaurants with a glass of cold white wine, reading As They Were.

These are some of the things I love: friends, wrap skirts, chilly wine on hot days, M.F.K. Fisher. But for whatever reason, sometimes we turn to the things we love and they fail to stir in us that expected delight, the longed-for pleasure. Instead it is just a glass of Albariño, just a curled paperback.

But every once in awhile we find our lives transformed by joy for an afternoon or a weekend. These are days when we are so fully alive in our bodies, we feel like the stars of our story. Should it be any other way? But, inevitably, there are those other days. The necessary downturns, the going-through-the-motions, the sleepwalking in our own lives. And that’s fine too, if not because melancholy can serve a purpose, then because they make the slow, rapturous intake of pleasure even more satisfying. Too bad there’s not a valve we can switch on and off; but then, I suppose, that would be all too predictable.

I have been on my own personal cloud 9 since Friday at about 8:30pm. And it’s not because of any good news or career triumphs of my mate. It’s because, as someone close to me said, of a transformation. It’s sounds a little heavy or sci-fi, I know, but isn’t that a lovely word? It’s something humming in me, a gear that’s clicked into sunny, quiet place of wholeness. A group of girlfriends brought it on, then more friends, more family, a sewing project free of frustration, an iced latte or two. And now, after a slow wander through the bookstore and a dash to the farmer’s market, these cherries will sustain it. If only for a few moments more.

I am getting the distinct feeling that maybe y’all are a little burnt out on recipes. No? Am I being oversensitive? Are you just outside playing in the sunshine? Here’s hoping.

But in any case, I thought it was time for a little shake-up. Remember when we were all going on and on about morning pages last month? Well, when I found out that Julia Cameron, author of The Artist’s Way, was teaching a “Creativity Boot Camp” class at the Open Center, I figured it was a pretty good way to spend four Wednesday evenings.

Julia Cameron is a real trip, in the best way possible. She’s got these loose, luxurious blonde curls, wears deep red lipstick, and can somehow convince a room full of adults to sing songs with lyrics like, “your green heart is filled with apples!” In a word, she’s amazing.

In our first class, she did an exercise with us that I loved so much, I had to share it with you guys. So if you’re in for some creative, big-dreaming Friday fun, grab a piece of paper (or chime in in the comments) and let your imagination loose. Don’t spend too much time thinking about each list; just be loose and go with your gut.

1. Write ten things you love.
2. Write five things you would do if you knew you wouldn’t fail.
3. Write five alternative lives you would like to live other than your own.
4. Write four tiny things you can do in the life you have to bring you closer to those imagined lives.

Now, imagine an older, wiser version of yourself who has some advice to share.

1. What do you need to know?
2. What do you need to embrace?
3. What do you need to do?
4. What do you need to grieve?
5. What do you need to celebrate?

Happy weekend to you lovelies! As always, thanks for dropping in here, reading, and adding your delightful and insightful two cents.

Image via Valeriana Solaris

Yesterday, when I was convalescing, I fell down the rabbit hole known as Polyvore while watching The Bachelorette (seriously, Justin–for real, or not?). I’ve known about Polyvore for years from the cool collages of stylish girls that show up on fashion blogs. As much as I love making a collage, I never used the site since I wasn’t nuts about the branding on the application.

And then! I realized that, duh, you can take a screenshot of your collage, rather than posting the embed code. The pics won’t be handily clickable, but oh well. The point is, I now have a way to collage my heart out, without wondering what to do with the giant finished product.

Last night I designed my evolving look, dubbed “Nerdy Lady,” worked on an outfit for Sebastian’s movie premiere, and then moved on to plotting a California-cool, semi-professional look for my friend. And now, I can’t be stopped!

What I love most about collaging is how through selecting images you love––a beautiful tart, an antique locket, a mod, streamlined couch––you begin to see patterns. It’s like being a magazine editor of your own life, with your most authentic self revealing herself through images. And that’s my current goal: to listen to my authentic self. It’s the voice beyond the chatter that says you’re not good enough or smart enough or beautiful enough or that a pint of ice cream really will make you feel better. That voice is a menace. But your authentic voice? She is a soothsayer and truth-teller.

photo via psd

In the Tunnel of Summers

by Anne Stevenson

Moving from day into day,
I don’t know how,
eating these plums now
this morning for breakfast,
tasting of childhood’s
mouth-pucker tartness,
watching the broad light
seed in the fences,
honey of barley,
gold ocean, grasses,
as the tunnel of summers,
of nothing but summers,
opens again
in my traveling senses.

I am eight and eighteen and eighty
all the Augusts of my day.

Why should I be, I be
more than another?
Brown foot in sandal,
burnt palm on flaked clay,
flesh under waterfall
baubled in strong spray,
blood on the stubble
of fly-sweet hay.
Why not my mother’s, my
grandmother’s ankle
hurting as harvest hurts
thistle and animal?
A needle of burning;
why this way or that way?

They are already building the long straw cemetery
where my granddaughter’s daughter has been born and buried.

Oh heavens, am I ever happy to see you, Tuesday. You bring order, reason, and perhaps even a sense of proportion back into my life today. You’re a sight for sore eyes.

I had one of those weekends that starts as wonderfully indulgent––$1 oysters by night, chocolate croissants by day––but devolves into overindulgence. The kind of overindulgence that has you saying “Another round!” with too much exuberance, eating sausage egg biscuits from 7-11 at 1AM and waking up to a headache that makes you wish you were never born. With my allergy to moderation this weekend, I believe I made Mark Twain proud.

And so I am ready to become reacquainted with the whole grains in my cupboard and these green things called vegetables. I’m off to buy asparagus.

How was your weekend? Did you make delicious things? Did you drink eleventy-million beers, like me? Do you also have a problem making the fun stop once it gets going? Maybe it’s an Aries thing. Which reminds me: don’t forget to read your Astrologyzone!

image via Colin Gregory Palmer

tasting :: deep dark and delicious americano. you are my life blood.

hearing :: stereomood. you can create playlists based on however you’re feeling.

smelling :: the citrusy scent of a clean house

seeing :: the kind of amazing DIY life-coaching site, Coaching Sanctuary

feeling :: ready for a summer road trip. woo-hoo!

What are your senses this Friday?

Happy weekend to all of you lovelies, and thanks once again for being the dearest blog readers around.

print by William Dohman on Etsy

I am learning how to decorate, and it’s not skill that comes naturally. For someone so drawn to beautiful things, with strong opinions about lighting and furniture shapes, you’d think this would be a snap. But there’s some aesthetic intelligence that’s not native to me. It’s related to the way my dad could pack the trunk on a camping trip so compactly, but with a dash of the artistic eye thrown in. It’s about putting disparate pieces together in space and making them cohere. And then somehow, also managing to make it beautiful. People who have this intelligence astonish and inspire (and, okay, intimidate) me.

When I was in IKEA recenlty, getting pulled in 1,000 different pretty directions, my mom offered up some helpful advice. “What’s the mood you’re trying to create?” Spatial relationships might not be my forte, but moods I get. Knowing that I wanted my bedroom to be airy and relaxing helped me nix items that, though beautiful, didn’t jive with the feeling I was after.

This is not unlike my friend’s Alison’s advice to shop for clothes with code words in mind. Instead of feeling utterly overwhelmed at Anthropologie, I now go through a somewhat ridiculous-feeling yet effective mental exercise as I hold up an item. Is this chic? Does it seem like something Anna Karina would wear? Is it a little tough? Does it have a vintage vibe?

And this leads me to the real topic at hand: envisioning one’s ideal life. This is a daydream game I have long loved to play, but I consider it to be more vital than idle imaginings. Because if you don’t know what your ideal life looks like, how will you begin to create it? And how will you recognize your own triumphs when you get important pieces to fall into place?

Here are some pieces of mine: I imagine sunlight and white bedding, mornings spent writing, colorful latte bowls, and dinners with friends. By many accounts, I have a lot of what I have always been after. But something is also amiss.

Continue reading “Imagining Expansiveness” »

tasting :: Alison’s you-wouldn’t-know-it-was-healthy-but-it-was strawberry rhubarb crumble

hearing :: rediscovering my infinite love for Frank Black’s Black Letter Day

smelling :: dreamy hand soap in a cafe that I can’t stop thinking about it

seeing :: exploding roses, everywhere

feeling :: very happy to spend the weekend with my mom

What are your senses this Friday?

Wishing you all a very happy, relaxing weekend. Happy Mother’s Day!