arcade fire

i returned to the gorge this friday for the first time since seeing radiohead there in june of 2001. that was a show that was so perfect i've been trying to reproduce the experience ever since and never quite hit the mark, even when it's my musical hero, thom yorke {almost always when it's thom}. and i've seen a lot of good shows: u2, sigur rós, portishead, zoe keating, beirut, andrew bird, the list goes on. even when i am moved, even when it's an immersive experience, there is almost always a feeling of disappointment that it it didn't live up to that one magical show that first blew me away. i've begun to think i just have gotten too old to feel that strongly, or perhaps the show i remember didn't actually happen as i'd preserved it and over the years i've quietly questioned my memory of its beauty.

and a decade goes by. and a few more years, and then arcade fire made their announcement and though i've never followed them closely, i knew i needed to be there. i knew it would be a solid show, epic even, but they surprised me with one of the best shows i've seen. only one or two have ever come close to the emotional notch that the first radiohead show set for me and this unquestionably did. i can give the gorge its credit for being the best venue i've experienced, but there was something about the surprise of the night that was part of the magic. 

i ddn't know the name of the lead singer, each and every one of the song names, or even a good portion of the lyrics. i just took it as it came, slipping under the pressure of my usual expectations and instead i found myself arrested in ecstatic time – a state of being that suspended me in each moment as it arrived, then up and against and into each of the subsequent moments as they rushed toward me. note after note. song after song. i was gently locked in a state of grace. there was nothing spared for distraction beyond the present: the hands on my back drumming a shared passion, moving to the sway and pulse around the two of us. enthusiastic hugs. shared smiles. dancing together. this is joy.

and the music kept coming, these songs that stretched beyond the setting sun in the distance, filling the canyons of the columbia river, and passing beyond sight and feeling into the realm of anthems. yes, anthems. nothing short will give them credit for the expansiveness of their music played live, something i have only felt from a few of their recorded songs. 

between the click of the light and the start of the dream...they took up the all the space between the crowd. and it was there something shifted. held firmly in the present and on all sides by the music, i felt immobilized amid the flotsam of my self, feeling everything as a reflection of my fear, my joy, my hope and grief. and i have never cried so much in all the other shows i've seen combined. can we work it out? scream and shout till we work it out. and the mirrors kept coming. song after song. confetti shooting everywhere, catching in my dress, my hair, filling my eyes, drying the last of my tears. not even sure anymore why they ever were falling. children wake up/hold your mistake up/before they turn the summer into dust. we are here at the end. the crowd singing along. the chorus. the finale. they conducted us in those final notes, asking us to sing them off stage. my gratitude in each note of wake up. too full to even wish for more.

and only then did i realize i didn't take a single photo. my phone had been in a pocket behind me, but i needed something from the night. something more than a handful of confetti. something to hold on to later if i ever asked myself if the mirrors were really that good. a set list felt right but we were a little ways from the front. we waded through some listless fans and a few enthusiasts keeping up the melody long after the band left and we made it to the rail as the first few set lists were given away. 13 band members. i always get one when i set out to get it.

but i always seemed to be on the wrong side of the stage. the lists and crowds were diminishing. i almost walked away twice. kept returning. my vision was clear. i walked up to center stage in the middle of a conversation about one of the first set lists accidentally dropped between the rail and the platform. i could see it there, about a foot beyond reach, the security guard warning us not to climb over the fence. i couldn't leave it while i was so close and a few minutes later after i almost left a third time, one of the crew walked past handing out one of the last lists off to my right and i took the moment he paused to say excuse me, sir, do you mind getting the one that fell, please? surprisingly, and he wasn't too busy to kneel down, reach into the space, stretch that little bit farther. he picked out my hands from the others that suddenly appeared, a wad of gaffer tape and song names, mine.

we walked out, a little quiet, a little raw, more than a little grateful for the dark stretch of the columbia river gorge that was no longer visible even in the nearly full moon, and already this is one of those moments i plot on a map of my life: august 9th, 2014 -- george, wa, the gorge, 15 feet from the font of the stage -- this two hour span of lights and musicians and sound held me down and made me listen to everything all at the same time reminding me i feel strongly, love deeply, remember clearly, and i'm not chasing rainbows. 

with my lightning bolts a glowing/i can see where i am going/better look out below!

cut

evidently my older sisters fought my mom a lot when it came to brushing their hair. too much work. too many tangles. too many tears. i'm guessing here because i was too young to remember at that point, but it must have been something pretty dramatic to give my mom the resolve to maintain my untidy and unfeminine shorn cut that followed me around through early grade school.

what i do remember clearly are all the attempts at reasoning with her, all the promises to brush my own hair, swearing myself to silence no matter what the effort was to hold in the pain of grooming – anything to keep it longer than boy-short and awkward. i remember the injustice of it, of my lack of say in what happened to my own body. i remember the disappointment in yet another hair cut and the envy i harbored for courtney-from-kindergarten's chin length hair curling in gently toward her face. i knew her hair would have been an acceptable compromise between the tangle-free length my mother insisted and my desire to look like a girl if only i could get my mother to understand.

somehow even then, i felt like my hair was tied to being a girl or perceived as a girl {i very well may have been called a boy once or twice in that 0-6 range and certainly remember a friend's younger sister being called a boy and my well of shame in empathy for her}. even then, i felt lacking in femininity despite not even knowing the word.

as soon as i was allowed – about 3rd grade or so – i kept it long. shoulder length slowly became even longer – something to pin up. braid. ponytail. brush long down my body. it was always everywhere, but i embraced its imperfect disorder and loved the messy bun of hair achieved with one rubber band and a practiced set of twists and turns that was the perfect unity of balance and disorder.

the first time i cut it shorter {chin length} was in my best friend's kitchen toward the middle of high school. the request was shoulder length. she was wielding the scissors. i was there, emboldened by her daring hair colors and cuts: bright pink one day, the next it might be platinum or just as easily raven. she was bold and beautiful and i wanted to own some of that daring, but only to a point. unfortunately that point got crossed as one uneven side led to another, and suddenly the hair is up above my shoulders and that's long after i had begun crying from the first snip. luckily she was able to get things relatively straight before it passed my chin. for several years after that incident, i kept it the longest it's ever been {more than halfway down my back}.

wanting to be bold and being bold are two totally different things.

i'm not sure exactly where the idea came to chop off my hair this time around. perhaps it was as simple as needing a new haircut. perhaps the motivation to return to my normal hair color was a factor. i think seeing both anne hathaway and charlize theron {particularly the latter, a tall beauty as she is} helped i'm sure, and about a month ago, for the very first time in my life, i seriously considered taking the blade to my hair and hacking it off for real. as in: above my chin. as in: a bob cut. as in: boy-length hair.

i did some research, pinned some images on my underused pinterest board, found a replacement hairstylist after my last one moved away, screwed up my courage, and then almost backed out.

wanting to be bold and being bold are two totally different things.

but somehow i found myself in a salon chair today, musing on connections and sensory input in a technology driven culture, being grilled on some of the details of my personal life {i adore my new stylist for many reasons}, and watching a razor seemingly haphazardly take off all of the dyed bits and about 90% of my length, at least in back.

it was a scary process as relaxed and entertained as i was. looking at myself in the mirror while my wet hair is plastered to my face is one of the least flattering views of myself ever. so to have to sift through that bulbous view of my cheeks as i curiously peered back at what is emerging...it was a hard hour in the chair. down to the last minutes. even after everything was done and the hair was given life again through some pomade and hair dryer. i still wasn't sure.

and as i left the salon, self-consciously running my hands through the absence on my right side particularly {she left a little length on my left}, i still couldn't quite make of it who i am underneath. one part the shy elementary school girl still wanting the sixth grade boy to notice her. one part the stubborn girl just wanting to look like a girl. and one part the woman i am, excited by a change, conscious of sloughing off the past year's worth of growth {physical and emotional}, and relieved at letting go of an 8 year dying habit.

but tucked away in some out of the way corner of my brain, i am also aware that i am letting go of something i have long been hiding behind in my own little ways. boldness aside, that is a victory in and of itself. my step is a little firmer. my gaze, stiller.

today

there are some days you cannot account for. they cannot be predicted, premeditated, or contained. they find you, usually when you need them most. they are the gift of a sign. an extra sweetness. a hug held longer and tighter to remind you that the world is okay. your life is okay. you, you are okay. more than okay, actually, because the day takes you to a place so far beyond okay. a place where you are free and spontaneous and true, soaking in the expanse of land and sky and life around you.

today...

today was one of those days. 

and here at the end, as it wanes to a close, i am left so tired and so full. especially my heart. a huge piece of me so recently squeezed dry, tonight it rests soft and satiated. and try as i might, i can't really account for the gift of this day. i certainly didn't predict or premeditate it, but here in this humble collection of words and images and phrases, i will try my sleepy best to contain it. the day. the beauty. the fresh, clean snow. a new day. a new year. a new direction. a new start. 

today was just one of those days.

28

the birthday celebrations have begun.
today it was small, just the two siblings {in town}, some thai food and vegan cupcakes.

tuesday, the day, is umi with az. edamame, chicken yakitori, blackberry lemonade, avocado rolls. yes.

and early in november comes the actual celebration. the invitation of color and flight into my life as i {slightly unwillingly} leave my mid-twenties and welcome the next year of my life in its unfolding.

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another milestone to make note of: my blog turned 600 posts old last week. here we are. you and me and the words make three. thank you for marking with me in my ritual of self-reflection and preservation.

i already know how it ends

i gave myself permission to desire today.
like sails set to wind, my heart opened up for the space of one city block
unfurled itself
and beat a fluttering rhythm of hope.

hiccups, heartaches & terry-cloth towels

tough week.
storm's just begun.
no time for myself
and the next big project is only just starting.

trying to stay present in now...now.....now........and now....which is tough for more than six seconds at a time.
and really just feeling not ready to turn 27.
i thought i would be so much farther
by now--wait, stay in the present.
that's right.
i'm here.....here....here........{still} here.......right where i'm supposed to be.

but i still envy natalie portman
and pretty much every other young actress of her ilk
but it takes me a few seconds longer before the burst
of heat and feeling of worthlessness
and the burns aren't as bad as they were.


maybe where i am this moment is farther than i think it is.


i hate that it all matters as i add up the nickles and pennies of growth i've fought so hard for these past {nearly three} decades when all i really want to be able to do is to throw in the towel and end this personal war between where i want to be and where i actually am.

i don't think i am capable, though, so the compromise is to give myself until april to finish the vets project and the wccw project {helping make art with veterans and prisoners respectively} and settle into a new home and new job.

april, nathania. april.

the last of the domes

so, i turned in my keys today.
both sets.
but only one mail box key.

goodbye 1514 bellevue ave
goodbye my dear friend, the church dome next door
goodbye ivy colored wall i won't see turn bright red with the fall
goodbye {for now} hardwood floors, high ceilings and darling light fixtures.
goodbye {for now} glass doorknobs and built in bookshelves with glass doors.

as an aside, last weekend i crossed paths
with several artists i was working with
last year when i first moved into
apartment #509 and all of them, in
some cases before i even mentioned
moving, said they remembered fondly
the photographs of the space and the
lovely details of the building.

a lot of stress earlier in this month
{and by a lot i mean can't get out of bed in the morning or stop crying amounts of stress}
came from a conflict i only yesterday put together.
a crucial piece was missing
but i met by chance in the hallway
one of the two parties involved,
and discovered he had never been mad at me.

so thank you forgiveness gods for giving me just the piece i needed and for giving me a chance to apologize anyway.

so onward i go.

my new apartment is unfolding.
a landing-place to rest for an undetermined amount of time.
a lot of things on my "to do" list
like change my address with the bank,
cell phone, post office {whoopsie}, school loans, etc.
boring but necessary.

in the meantime, i'm enjoying getting rid of things.
i'm enjoying more windows {twice as many}
i'm enjoying having a kitchen two people can fit in at the same time.
i already love my view of sunsets and the mountains and the water.
i love the sun that hits my back when i sit on my bed in the morning.
i love getting to hang out with one of my best friends all the time.
and i love sharing food and going shopping together.

i am looking forward to:
getting the last of the house unpacked
having a place to make art projects
having enough presence to blog regularly
and enough stability and confidence to start auditioning
working to make artwork with inmates of the washington correction center for women
the project working with veterans that is looooooming
the fun of my relationship to return fully after a couple months of displacement stress
getting my feet under me with my new job
working out regularly
hanging out with dear ones again
feeling put together
praying not just because i'm maxed out.
yes.

not close enough

i had another radiohead dream two nights ago. one in the series of many, particularly in the month and a half since i got the news i would be redundant come april 14th. and i think it was sunday night's dream that finally tuned me in to the very obvious motif present in each dream:

i can never get close enough.
to the band.
to their performance.
and it's always a physical obstacle of some sort combined with having not enough emotional value to them. in sunday's variation on the theme i was going to see them live in this tiny performance space, but my ticket wouldn't let me get anywhere near the stage. i was too late. restricted to lounge seating only which consisted of these diner-esque tables along the side of the space. too far.

and if you know me at all you know i have to be able to see the whites of thom's eyes to make it worthwhile. i have to be closer than close. and my dream was filled with this pressing need to find better tickets or find some way to outsmart the security guards meant to keep folks like me in my place. because i would rather NOT see them perform than be stuck too far away to see the breathtaking magic of man turned conduit.

so where does this get me?
where does this happen in my waking life?
why is it something i fear so much...being unimportant/not enough to someone that is so important to me? being unable to get close to the person who embodies the way i want to live my life and my art?

i'm still trying to construct that into meaning something to me.

and in this very instant, literally, i think of what i have planned to do tonight: make art. paint. and steep in the life of my next big project, hester smit {introductions pending}. and then suddenly i realized how i physically keep myself from my own ability to do what thom yorke does simply by how much i believe i can't actually do this. i can't actually find her. i can't give her life. i can't bring something unique and true to flesh. i can't give my life over to her. i can't be a conduit. i can't do it.

shit. why does it always have to be so simple and so hard at the same time?

so i guess i need a new set of yes-es.

yes, thom yorke is an amazing conduit.
yes, i know what that looks like.
yes, i can give yourself over and become a conduit yourself.
yes, i can find answers.
yes, i can make them alive in me.
yes, i can bring hester smit to life.
yes, i can bring hester smit to life.
yes, i can bring hester smit to life.
yes.