i am

i am not my thoughts.
i am not my negativity.
i am not my hopes.
i am not my waistline.
i am not my skin.
i am not my apartment {no matter how beautiful it is}
i am not my running apparel {no matter how cute and lululemon it is}.
i am not my cleverness.
i am not my wit.
i am not my elegance.
i am not my dreams.
i am not my desire.
i am not my relationships.
i am not my singlehood.
i am not my desirability.
i am not my rejections.
i am not my fears.
i am not my school debt.
i am not my bank account totals.
i am not my successes.
i am not my failures.
i am not my art.
i am.

p.s. to touchstones

i forgot one important moment of last week, a small exchange spanning the distance across a dashboard, some pavement and three lanes of a crosswalk.

i was having a particularly frustrating day last tuesday. things weren't clicking, i wasn't able to flow with the things i thought i should be doing or not doing, people not showing up--in short, a jonah day. amidst the whirl of it all, i was in my car waiting at a red light, chewing on something that was bothering me while composing an email about it that rather prominently included the word disappointed. i was no doubt staring rather intently through my windshield, tears just starting to form, when a man steps into the crosswalk in front of me, makes rather deliberate eye contact and smiles this soft, encompassing smile. he looks away for a handful of heartbeats until he catches my gaze again, this time turning his head to look at me for another second or two. and just as he makes his away past the third lane of the crossing, right before he is blocked from sight by a bus, he turns one final time, his whole body rotated to look at me, to smile that embrasive smile one last time. my heart, i realized, was fuller but lighter, the email, so important 15 seconds before, completely unnecessary, and a smile took residence of my face to mirror his own as i a lifted a hand to wave my acknowledgment and thanks.

he waved back and nodded his head once just before disappearing.

touchstones

it was a strange week this week. a little off kilter. a little wonky and emotional and down right dirty at times. loneliness creeping in at unexpected moments for the first time in this cycle of singlehood {like in the middle of the night when i half awoke to shift in bed and somehow, for a split second, thought i was asleep next to someone, only to finish waking up to the sense of disappointment that no one was there and no one has been there for months}.

in contrast to how lovely and free flowing and jubilant the previous two weeks had been, it hasn't been fun to navigate. yet, somehow despite everything, i've still managed to collect a horde of lovely moments and things to draw close about me when life outside is a little rough and tumble.

and so, for today, i just want to acknowledge the touchstones of this week--the textures and victories that pulled me through the bumps:

--the fact that i only had one day off between runs for the first time since my injury
--the bouquet of vivid, pink ranunculus that's been sitting on my dining room table
--the spring suns biting into my winter skin
--the t-shirt clad run {the first of the season} i completed on monday
--the 7.5+ mile run i completed on thursday {the longest since my injury}
--dinner with old friends {one of whom is currently going through chemo}
--installing my birds
--seeing the birds slowly spiral in space
--jane eyre with eden
--buying a plane ticket for a dear friend to come visit and make a group of us brunch later in may
--being called elegant, witty and impressive all in the same email
--anticipating having my family over for easter brunch
--feeling the seattle international film festival draw near
--finally beginning to discover what it means to be connected to one's voice and in the same lesson going higher in my range than i ever thought possible.
--being able to vent and be held by a good friend.
--closing in on the plays i'll help produce later this year {we're down to 3}.
--being surprised by a new book at my doorstep sent as a gift from a dear aunt.

looking at it this way, i have to concede the fact that i had a wonderful week!

what the body knows

part one:

coming home from work today, i stopped by my mailbox. the stuff at the front was unpromising. advertisements and more advertisements. i pulled out the oversized post card from my car's dealership and completely ignored the circular still inside. i examined the postcard trying to make it into a pool colored envelope containing a bird returning home, but it stayed as it was, boldly announcing the latest deals i'm missing out on for servicing my car. of it's own volition, my hand dove into the back of my mailbox until it hit an invisible envelope and i said holy shit in surprise and certainty as my hand reversed, clutching its prize. looking down i saw that indeed, as unexpected as it was, a bird had been delivered and somehow, my body knew it.

thank you, richard, for your well timed sunset sky bird.

part two:

people like us...half of them think it will never work out...the other half believe in magic.

--from the trailer for the movie beginners seen in front of jane eyre

{both times--along with the tree of life's trailer}

i'm trying to connect the dots for you between the above quote, the movie jane eyre which i watched for a second time tonight, the movie the tree of life and me. we intersect at this point of longing and desire and hope {and fear} and magic. always hope. always magic. and i wonder whether love exists like it does inside this point of convergence. this love i can only seem to catch glimmers of. whether magic can exist and sustain between two people. whether it is enough to have a connection. a dedication to that raw and true place of self-evolution and vulnerability, one that constantly pushes up against our understood limits of self. and as we push out farther into our individual internal unknowns, can we sustain a life together, each out on the edge of ourselves but sharing the journey? is this even feasible without being exhausting and are there others out there like me? some days, i am not sure.

i don't even know if i'm making sense. the dots i'm trying to connect are skittering off in opposite directions but if i just sit and connect to my own internal truths and trust what my body is saying i find hope and rest. in the meantime i just have to just keep moving forward, one step at a time, knowing this is a lonely path at times and that all i can do is be as close to who it is i want to be with, and hope that it is enough.

supercollider & the butcher

today was a day for new radiohead. the next limb in the tree as it were. i tried to listen to the songs while doing the dishes and that lasted for about 30 seconds before i danced my way in front of my stereo so i could take it all in without soap, running water and a dish strainer mediating the experience. even the distance between the speakers and i became an obstacle and i ended up on my knees on the ground. listening. listening. dancing in place and listening.

it's a new experience hearing a song from them for the "first time" after having heard the live version for years now. the poor quality recording i've had of thom on the piano familiarized me with the melody and lyrics through its many listens, allowing me to arrive at this first listen today knowing all the words and anticipating the direction the song will take, all the while, rapt attention to gather into my spirit every new sound. every new nuance of his voice. and with that, another layer is added to the patina of this song.

supercollider is lovely and electronic, in line with what i see as the arc of radiohead's electronic evolution, but the butcher, the second song of the recording, is a part of what i see as this amazing counter rhythm to their synthesized exploration. it's darker. earthier. and i feel like it's directly related to the more acoustic and organic sounds that thom was using on his solo tour last spring. electronic thom/radiohead channels something from so far out in the universe the rest of us humans can only see it through these electronic and other-wordly sounds. meanwhile, this other facet, this muddy, organic, full of acoustic percussions and man made sounds comes from the opposite place: it's from so deep in the earth, burning in the center, brought up through the ground and into the light of day through his music. i experience the electronic coming in through his head, cerebral and ethereal, sinking down to the heart and coming out to us while the organic comes up through the ground, swaying through the hips into the gut, and always, always, always, back out through the heart. his music. their music. it resonates in the heart.

but i'm skipping a piece of the story here: my first experiences this time last year with his new earthy sounds. his solo tour. nyc. both nights, but most especially the second. coachella. i owe you that story. i owe me that story.

but right now, i'm heading on a run in the sporadic sun with my two new songs on repeat.

image: copyright radiohead. cover of the 12" vinyl release.

home

let me tell you about a shift i've felt in my life this past week or so. really, since the epiphany i had on my run two weeks ago {to the radiohead song let down--read about it here}. it's one i've been gearing towards for years now, and one i'll probably need to rediscover anew all the time.

but for today, i feel so alive in my ability to just let my life, my thoughts, my worries, my joys simply flow through me. i am not them. i am not my negativity. i am not my abundance*. i am not my body. i am just the conduit through which all these things pass through. i am just the witness.

and it's left me feeling free. joyful. weightless.

and somehow, finally, i have also slipped in to a place of managing everything better after fighting for months of control. i am getting to sleep earlier. i am focusing more at work. i finally switched bank accounts to my credit union which has separate savings accounts for both traveling and my acting career--two things that i want to bring more to the forefront of my life.

my dishes are done. my birds are being hung. i am present.

and, i really have to scramble to make it to bed by my midnight bed time {which is the compromise between the 11pm time i need to have and the 1/2am habit i've been pulling lately}, but i want to leave you with a live recording of the song home that has really been my anthem since the re-start i made on my year in early february when i went up to vancouver for a few days. i blasted the song all the way up north and it has been highlighted in my life in various ways since then {most notably when my friend sheree was in town in late february and we had a sing-along in my car at top volume}.

tonight, it was on repeat and again, accompanied by my blossoming voice while making chocolate chip cookies for some friends. here is a charming live version:

*though i am continuously grateful for the daily signs of the abundance of the universe. after having my best month ever at my job, i am topping that by having my best pay period ever {or just about near it}. but unlike last time, i'm not working copious hours of overtime. in fact, i feel a lot more focused at work so i feel as though i am working less, and joy is a part of each day. additionally, i had my best day of sales ever last thursday, only to beat it less than a week later. i am grateful. i am grateful. i am grateful.

the tree of life

the new terrance malick film. i've been trying to avoid even watching a trailer. i want to come to it clean. no ideas. no expectations. but the fates were against me and it played before jane eyre last night...

what a montage.

my hand found its way to my heart in a vain attempt to keep it from slipping out and falling into the images flickering before me. i don't even know what the film is about, but we are already resonating in quiet, aching spaces.

let up & let down

it should be easy to tell you about what happened on my run on friday, but the truth is i've written three complete posts and pitched them all out. too wordy. trying to connect the dots and spell e v e r y t h i n g out for you to understand. but what i experienced was, at the heart of it, very simple.

it started about 2 miles in the run: this realization that i'm fighting against my lack of endurance and how it makes my runs less fun and me more judgmental. but i quickly realized that i just need to suck it up and run because that's the only way i'm going to get to the other side. additionally {i told myself}, the place i am at physically right now doesn't negate the strength i was so joyfully celebrating last month. and while it's also been a bumpy ride emotionally this month, it's not something that threatens the resilience and courage i've been celebrating in myself recently. this is just a month out of my life and a stepping stone in the right direction, no matter how uncomfortable it is at the time.

but about a mile or so later, i felt my heart open up to accept this truth that the mind had claimed. embrace it with welcoming arms and a tender spirit: i am here. right now. in this place of both physical and emotional rebuilding. and this past month, on both levels, has been exposing raw nerves and inflamed ligaments. rehabilitating these lingering injuries of the body and spirit. and in the length of a city block, the heart felt for these things, but also brought along a feeling of hope for the future that this work is helping me prepare for.

so in this moment, i could accept this month as just a piece of the puzzle and a necessary phase to get where i want to go.

but it didn't stop there.

a mile or two later, running along the backside of a cemetery, the song let down {yes, radiohead} came up on shuffle. the first half of the song, with true radiohead spirit, so beautifully acknowledged the disappointments of life: being crushed to the ground and let down as only thom can sing about. but as the final verse crescendoed through my earphones, it delivered with it an image i couldn't close my eyes against. i saw, in sync with the rush of sound and energy of the music, two iridescent waves curling toward each other in front of me, colliding, and flowing quickly toward me in their warm, golden glory. and suddenly, my body had this expansive sense of not only running in this finite moment of time, but also on the greater path of my life, forward toward my future that was rushing enthusiastically to meet me. and what an exciting future those waves seemed to represent.

i had to close my eyes it was almost too much. overwhelming and beautiful as only sudden truths can be.

and sitting here, writing about it, my heart breaks for moments like these when i feel far away from where i want to go, disappointed and disconnected from things that are important to me. afraid of them even. afraid of doing the wrong thing. saying the wrong thing. asking too much. not asking enough. what if what i envision for myself is too beautiful to happen in this world? there are days when i feel powerless. powerless because i'm not sure if i will ever hear back, because i miscalculated taxes and owe over $1,000 that i would rather spend on other things, and powerless because i'm still to scared to even prepare for an audition.

and yet, it's there. these moments of acceptance like the one from my run. tangible enough to be accessible whenever i sit in my inner stillness and relive the moment or replay the song and hear him travel through his own doubts to find his way to sing so appropriately to me:

you know, you know where you are with

you know where you are with

floor collapsing, falling, bouncing back

and one day, i am gonna grow wings

a chemical reaction {you know where you are}...

so, for tonight, tomorrow and the next day and countless after, it's just important for me to keep putting one step in front of the other, one recovery run after the other, one disappointment after the next, however many it takes for me to get where i am going. because i do know where i am. i know it. i know it. i know it. and one day, i am going to grow wings.

..........................................................................................

here is the song let down. the verse i was referring to starts at 3:40