and tuesday is the day
and for what you'll just have to wait
because i've owed you an explanation for a long time.
3.28.2010
retrieval
tonight is the night
and tuesday is the day
and tuesday is the day
3.25.2010
2008 tour. finally.
before i start writing too much about the thom yorke show's i am going to see april 5th and 6th in new york city, i want to take a moment to finally Finally FINALLY air out a piece i wrote in september of 2008. i brushed off the dust and polished it a bit tonight since it's been sitting in blog purgatory for over a year as a draft. and despite being written over a year ago and a half ago, it still holds very relevant in light of all the personal history and mythology i'll be staring down when i go to see him perform again in a little over a week.
so, without further ado, here it is.
this is a story of resonance and convergence.
and this is the biggest story i have in me right now.
it's a story i have spent the last month in a state of constant battle to avoid going through it all. i've resisted re-finding the selves that lived the story while also fighting being weighed down by the burden of what i want to say--it's so much and so steeped and i'm not sure i can do it justice.
at the end of august this year {2008} i had the privilege of seeing radiohead play three times in a week and a half stretch. but it wasn't the experience i would have thought it to be. the time was marked by loss. adventure. boldness. hiding. and grief. but somehow, inspite of all disappointments, it was still absolutely amazing.
but to give it context, let's start at the beginning:
i began listening to radiohead roughly ten years ago and their music has been a constant presence in my collection since. their music tapps into a very raw and alive part of myself and it has always managed to create movement in still places.
but i think the first time i fully understood them was on june 23rd, 2001. the gorge amphitheater. that was the day i first saw them play live and over seven years later, it's still one of the epic moments of my life.
the person i went with flatly declared he wouldn't enter the pit of people standing in front of the stage, so i ventured in alone to try and find some friends from high school. i never did connect with them, and that didn't even matter as soon as the band took the stage just as the sun was setting. it was a rowdy crowd that calmed down after the third song, exit song (for a film), and as the waves of people pushed back and forth i was able to inch forward step by step until i ended up about seven people from the stage.
and i don't think my eyes left thom yorke almost the entire time.
there was something so massive working through him that i couldn't even begin to articulate what was happening beyond the electrified feeling coursing through me. watching him. his movements. gestures. dancing. i was taken away on the journey he was living both in himself and through the music and i was filled up beyond my ability to comprehend. and i know i was experiencing one of the greatest gifts in that i was able to reach out beyond what i thought was my capacity in response. the people around me were alive to each other and even the awkward self i lived out in those days shone out to the beautiful boy who danced my way. i was radiant in my presence, mirroring thom in how pure and condensed i was able to live myself simply through the act of receiving what he gave.
the night could not have possibly lasted long enough to satisfy me, and after the end of the encore, when the last chord of motion picture soundtrack was held out indefinitely signifying the end, i was still disappointed despite the generous line-up of songs. the natural high lingered and the drive home was almost surreal. i was alone in a car driving through the mountain roads while my friend slept though kid a was blasting on the stereo. i was bouncing in my seats i couldn't contain. i felt so awake. so alive.
later i wrote: his presence on the stage extended beyond comprehension--beyond life almost. seeing the energy pour out from him and emanating from every word, syllable, movement made me realize he is a conduit for the world that extends beyond the five senses...he sings of a world that surpasses even his own conscious understanding in order to give us the gift of a fleeting glance...i couldn't stop moving to his music.
and there. that one word: conduit. thom yorke is a conduit of the divine passions of humanity. lowercase d divine. a divine that is inclusive, not exclusive, and it reaches out and sweeps you in to the most beautiful highs and heartbreaking lows before you even know it. radiohead's music opens spaces in me. stimulates movement. and above all, it creates resonance.
in acting we call the one thing you want most in this world your super objective. in my life this is resonance. the first thing i did when i was born was to find everyone's eyes in the room and hold them. the doctor's. the nurse's. my grandmother. both my parents, including my mother. for her i needed the assistance of the doctor to tilt me back so that i wouldn't slip out of his hands while i arched my back and stared at my mother upside-down. the doctor was astounded. newborns shouldn't be able to see that far. shouldn't be able to find, register and connect to people beyond their scope of vision. but i did. i was already searching.
so, starting from birth, literally, i have been looking out at the world and asking it to reflect back the truth of its self, share in the joy of the discoveries, and surprise me with different names for familiar colors. forever a tuning fork searching out for things to strike against me so i can sit alive in the vibrations.
and radiohead is by far the most constant and significant of all forms of resonance i have in my life. the depth this resonance creates guarantees that i will never tire of their music allowing me to listen to one of their songs on repeat for days and for entire albums to carry me through years. and each time i come back to and revisit a song or album, i only add new layers of resonance. a slowly forming patina cradling each song.
i can recall where i was when each of their albums were released and many of their songs are an earmark for specific moments or time periods in my life. in light of the fact that both my memory and the things i tether it to are prominent themes in my art work, it's also significant that their music functions much like a scrap book of such a large portion of my past.
and yet, the above is just one layer of how i experience the music of both radiohead and thom yorke. so much of how the resonance is created relates to this rich and colorful emotional landscape that their music creates--the focal point being thom yorke and his voice. it simultaneously expands my heart beyond the boundaries of my ribcage and shatters it into a million little pieces. he channels so much into the soaring and raw life of his voice and its presence is the centerpiece of each song. he commits so fully of himself that listening to him feels like an intimate experience. but not of him, though i guess in some ways it's inseparable from the artist, but really an intimate experience of the universal self. this mirror he holds back to the world so that we can look into hard to see places and in the end know ourselves better.
any time i am caught unawares by their songs being played outside the safety of my car or my home, i feel raw and exposed. the communion that happens naturally when i hear their music is not something casual, not something public, but rather a private and vulnerable experience of thesw parts of myself that come alive through their music.
a couple of months ago i had my ipod on shuffle at work and i {still, in 2010} so clearly remember the moment of transition between one song {of insignificant title and artist} to a thom yorke song. i actually experienced a visceral reaction through my whole body like i had stuck my finger in a socket and the jolt when right to my heart.
i put it into words right away in this instant message conversation i had been having with eden {my best friend} right after it happened:
nathania:
so now, fast forward to 2008. {i saw them once more in saint louis in the 2003 tour and vowed never to see them from the lawn again. i couldn't see thom's movements, see his eyes, see him as a vehicle for this life beyond life that is the most beautiful thing any performer, artist, or piece of artwork has given me}. i got to see them in vancouver in august of 2008, but somehow the magic isn't there. i figure it's because i was still too far away and/or i was with someone who i squelch myself around {when will i ever get to be myself around attractive men?}.
but i have these doubts. it shouldn't have been the external circumstances. i still should have found a familiar rush and excitement no matter how far away they were.
and when i crashed at john's place that night, the first words i said when i walked into his room at 3 am were: am i broken?
i wondered for so long and hard that night: what's different? is it my tuning fork that's no longer working? why can't i just get carried away with open heart and oscillating spirit? and i couldn't come up with an answer.
so i see them again the next night, but this time i'm four people from the front and i'm with eden and i have no excuses for not being myself. and still, the magic isn't there. i can't find the place where my heart is racing the whole time and i'm alive in a whole new way and place and space. and i don't get it. i did have an amazing time. i know this. and the concert was brilliant. thom messed up twice on faust arp and the banter on stage as he and jonny unsuccessfully play a neil young song while phil (the drummer) runs out to applaud them and give them a dollar as though they were street performers was brilliant. and colin comes out for the next song and immediately hugs thom. smiles all around. vibrant. intimate as they welcomed us in to their family on stage. and it was a great crowd. the opposite of last night's mosh pitting, crowd surfing drunkards {fact: the canadians aren't always polite}.
somehow i couldn't resonate. my heart was still despite all my efforts of trying to force the high. but it
just
wasn't
there.
and i know it wasn't a failure of the band's or thom's part. i watched his movements and my mind could get excited because i could see the pieces playing out in front of me, but somehow they couldn't make their way into my heart.
a few days later i related the experience with a mentor of mine. he's a musician. he gets the resonance factor. and we talked through this curious absence of resonance for these shows and suddenly i am in tears because of the loss and the fact that i am broken.
i am broken.
i realized in talking through it that i had put a glass ceiling to keep myself from going to the highest highs while i've been in recovery mode all spring and summer. the loss of a relationship. then the loss of my grandfather. all these moments of severance both tearing/ugly and clear/clean and i've reined myself in and put a seal over what i am willing to let myself feel. and somehow, the highest highs are as dangerous as the lowest lows. they ask too much of me and in some ways i didn't want thom, such a precious idol on my artistic alter, to even have the chance to disappoint me so i just kept it from even being a possibility. rather than risking finding him faulty, i made it so that i would be the faulty one.
coming away from this conversation i realized i needed to see them once more. give myself one more chance to see them live this tour. the only option left and one i didn't even know existed until the fan standing next to me the night before at the auburn show mentioned he was seeing them in santa barbara next week.
so here we go.
and my little brother gave me my early birthday present {of a highly scalped pit ticket} and i bought the plane ticket that night. i was going and it was going to be an adventure.
and adventure it was.
i carpooled with two people {men} i met on a message board online. one from the seattle area, the other hailing from dallas. i woke up at 4:30am and was in los angeles by 10am and in line by 12:30. i was the first up the hill to the santa barbara bowl (they don't let you run up the hill and i've got the longest stride on a normal day and longer when i want something bad). and i went immediately to just a hair right of center stage. the mic stood right in front. i was going to let myself live into this show. finally.
but it still wasn't there.
i had traveled all this way and it was still.
not.
there.
but even so, even in the face of that loss, it still was an adventure. one of stepping into my power a little here and there. of being bold enough to look a tall, beautiful man in the eye and call him on his attraction. of being at the after party where the band made their appearances. of watching thom. thom. five foot and not much thom walk right by me and me being completely, frustratingly speechless.
so, i got my adventure, one that is {still, in 2010} precious in my own personal mythology and personal history, but it was not the experience of unleashing myself and running free in the music that i had hoped. so while i will never call the trip a failure, the victory was in a realm i didn't quite expect and certainly not the one i went south looking for.
so i continued on and i couldn't listen to their music at all for a few days. and even after i could put on some songs here or there, i couldn't play something like videotape or the reckoner, something that was too potent. even now i have a hard time watching footage of their live performances. it makes my heart hurt. and the ache comes from the fact that in safety, in my aloneness, i am able to let myself resonate in their music where i wouldn't let myself resonate faced with them in person.
in the end, it comes down to three things: 1. the parts of me that are alive in their music are the things that i cling to as indicators of my most passionate, unique, alive, saturated self; and 2. i tether a whole heap of hopes to these vibrant pieces of me and 3. i see these parts of me as indicators that i will move forward in the direction i want. and by forward, i mean forward in a big way. and if i had actually given permission to this part of me to be alive to the music, and then somehow discovered it didn't work, it would be the loss of the only thing remaining after this year of loss: hope and the truest, purest part of myself. and i don't know how i would survive the loss of those two cornerstones of myself. now or any time.
so, without further ado, here it is.
...................................
this is a story of resonance and convergence.
and this is the biggest story i have in me right now.
it's a story i have spent the last month in a state of constant battle to avoid going through it all. i've resisted re-finding the selves that lived the story while also fighting being weighed down by the burden of what i want to say--it's so much and so steeped and i'm not sure i can do it justice.
at the end of august this year {2008} i had the privilege of seeing radiohead play three times in a week and a half stretch. but it wasn't the experience i would have thought it to be. the time was marked by loss. adventure. boldness. hiding. and grief. but somehow, inspite of all disappointments, it was still absolutely amazing.
but to give it context, let's start at the beginning:
i began listening to radiohead roughly ten years ago and their music has been a constant presence in my collection since. their music tapps into a very raw and alive part of myself and it has always managed to create movement in still places.
but i think the first time i fully understood them was on june 23rd, 2001. the gorge amphitheater. that was the day i first saw them play live and over seven years later, it's still one of the epic moments of my life.
the person i went with flatly declared he wouldn't enter the pit of people standing in front of the stage, so i ventured in alone to try and find some friends from high school. i never did connect with them, and that didn't even matter as soon as the band took the stage just as the sun was setting. it was a rowdy crowd that calmed down after the third song, exit song (for a film), and as the waves of people pushed back and forth i was able to inch forward step by step until i ended up about seven people from the stage.
and i don't think my eyes left thom yorke almost the entire time.
there was something so massive working through him that i couldn't even begin to articulate what was happening beyond the electrified feeling coursing through me. watching him. his movements. gestures. dancing. i was taken away on the journey he was living both in himself and through the music and i was filled up beyond my ability to comprehend. and i know i was experiencing one of the greatest gifts in that i was able to reach out beyond what i thought was my capacity in response. the people around me were alive to each other and even the awkward self i lived out in those days shone out to the beautiful boy who danced my way. i was radiant in my presence, mirroring thom in how pure and condensed i was able to live myself simply through the act of receiving what he gave.
the night could not have possibly lasted long enough to satisfy me, and after the end of the encore, when the last chord of motion picture soundtrack was held out indefinitely signifying the end, i was still disappointed despite the generous line-up of songs. the natural high lingered and the drive home was almost surreal. i was alone in a car driving through the mountain roads while my friend slept though kid a was blasting on the stereo. i was bouncing in my seats i couldn't contain. i felt so awake. so alive.
later i wrote: his presence on the stage extended beyond comprehension--beyond life almost. seeing the energy pour out from him and emanating from every word, syllable, movement made me realize he is a conduit for the world that extends beyond the five senses...he sings of a world that surpasses even his own conscious understanding in order to give us the gift of a fleeting glance...i couldn't stop moving to his music.
and there. that one word: conduit. thom yorke is a conduit of the divine passions of humanity. lowercase d divine. a divine that is inclusive, not exclusive, and it reaches out and sweeps you in to the most beautiful highs and heartbreaking lows before you even know it. radiohead's music opens spaces in me. stimulates movement. and above all, it creates resonance.
in acting we call the one thing you want most in this world your super objective. in my life this is resonance. the first thing i did when i was born was to find everyone's eyes in the room and hold them. the doctor's. the nurse's. my grandmother. both my parents, including my mother. for her i needed the assistance of the doctor to tilt me back so that i wouldn't slip out of his hands while i arched my back and stared at my mother upside-down. the doctor was astounded. newborns shouldn't be able to see that far. shouldn't be able to find, register and connect to people beyond their scope of vision. but i did. i was already searching.
so, starting from birth, literally, i have been looking out at the world and asking it to reflect back the truth of its self, share in the joy of the discoveries, and surprise me with different names for familiar colors. forever a tuning fork searching out for things to strike against me so i can sit alive in the vibrations.
and radiohead is by far the most constant and significant of all forms of resonance i have in my life. the depth this resonance creates guarantees that i will never tire of their music allowing me to listen to one of their songs on repeat for days and for entire albums to carry me through years. and each time i come back to and revisit a song or album, i only add new layers of resonance. a slowly forming patina cradling each song.
i can recall where i was when each of their albums were released and many of their songs are an earmark for specific moments or time periods in my life. in light of the fact that both my memory and the things i tether it to are prominent themes in my art work, it's also significant that their music functions much like a scrap book of such a large portion of my past.
pablo honey--sorry, love. you don't really have a spot
beyond what creep carries on its own. never really liked you.
beyond what creep carries on its own. never really liked you.
the bends & ok computer--high school. enough said.
kid a--freshman year of college. birthday gift from kate & lissa.
amnesiac--sophmore year. australia. pyramid song.
hail to the thief--at the tail end of my year off between sophmore & junior year of college.
purchased it while traveling through scotland at the time. inverness. traveling.
in rainbows--2008. the year of the finding and the losing. what a beautiful heart-aching year.
{listing individual songs would take too long.}
kid a--freshman year of college. birthday gift from kate & lissa.
amnesiac--sophmore year. australia. pyramid song.
hail to the thief--at the tail end of my year off between sophmore & junior year of college.
purchased it while traveling through scotland at the time. inverness. traveling.
in rainbows--2008. the year of the finding and the losing. what a beautiful heart-aching year.
{listing individual songs would take too long.}
and yet, the above is just one layer of how i experience the music of both radiohead and thom yorke. so much of how the resonance is created relates to this rich and colorful emotional landscape that their music creates--the focal point being thom yorke and his voice. it simultaneously expands my heart beyond the boundaries of my ribcage and shatters it into a million little pieces. he channels so much into the soaring and raw life of his voice and its presence is the centerpiece of each song. he commits so fully of himself that listening to him feels like an intimate experience. but not of him, though i guess in some ways it's inseparable from the artist, but really an intimate experience of the universal self. this mirror he holds back to the world so that we can look into hard to see places and in the end know ourselves better.
any time i am caught unawares by their songs being played outside the safety of my car or my home, i feel raw and exposed. the communion that happens naturally when i hear their music is not something casual, not something public, but rather a private and vulnerable experience of thesw parts of myself that come alive through their music.
a couple of months ago i had my ipod on shuffle at work and i {still, in 2010} so clearly remember the moment of transition between one song {of insignificant title and artist} to a thom yorke song. i actually experienced a visceral reaction through my whole body like i had stuck my finger in a socket and the jolt when right to my heart.
i put it into words right away in this instant message conversation i had been having with eden {my best friend} right after it happened:
nathania:
thom yorke. thom. thom. thom. i can't describe it, but that man has a special place for me. i have always known it, but something just happened and i'm not sure how to describe it.
i have my music on shuffle.
and one of his songs came up in the queue.
from his solo album, the eraser.
and the transition from a non-thom yorke song to his song was tangible.
it was like coming home.
it was like coming home.
but coming home in a sense of returning home to a place that is no longer your home but was your home for so
long it has the history/memories/steeped quality, but you are still a stranger there. a bittersweet quality of aching and
longing felt in the body.
long it has the history/memories/steeped quality, but you are still a stranger there. a bittersweet quality of aching and
longing felt in the body.
so now, fast forward to 2008. {i saw them once more in saint louis in the 2003 tour and vowed never to see them from the lawn again. i couldn't see thom's movements, see his eyes, see him as a vehicle for this life beyond life that is the most beautiful thing any performer, artist, or piece of artwork has given me}. i got to see them in vancouver in august of 2008, but somehow the magic isn't there. i figure it's because i was still too far away and/or i was with someone who i squelch myself around {when will i ever get to be myself around attractive men?}.
but i have these doubts. it shouldn't have been the external circumstances. i still should have found a familiar rush and excitement no matter how far away they were.
and when i crashed at john's place that night, the first words i said when i walked into his room at 3 am were: am i broken?
i wondered for so long and hard that night: what's different? is it my tuning fork that's no longer working? why can't i just get carried away with open heart and oscillating spirit? and i couldn't come up with an answer.
so i see them again the next night, but this time i'm four people from the front and i'm with eden and i have no excuses for not being myself. and still, the magic isn't there. i can't find the place where my heart is racing the whole time and i'm alive in a whole new way and place and space. and i don't get it. i did have an amazing time. i know this. and the concert was brilliant. thom messed up twice on faust arp and the banter on stage as he and jonny unsuccessfully play a neil young song while phil (the drummer) runs out to applaud them and give them a dollar as though they were street performers was brilliant. and colin comes out for the next song and immediately hugs thom. smiles all around. vibrant. intimate as they welcomed us in to their family on stage. and it was a great crowd. the opposite of last night's mosh pitting, crowd surfing drunkards {fact: the canadians aren't always polite}.
somehow i couldn't resonate. my heart was still despite all my efforts of trying to force the high. but it
just
wasn't
there.
and i know it wasn't a failure of the band's or thom's part. i watched his movements and my mind could get excited because i could see the pieces playing out in front of me, but somehow they couldn't make their way into my heart.
a few days later i related the experience with a mentor of mine. he's a musician. he gets the resonance factor. and we talked through this curious absence of resonance for these shows and suddenly i am in tears because of the loss and the fact that i am broken.
i am broken.
i realized in talking through it that i had put a glass ceiling to keep myself from going to the highest highs while i've been in recovery mode all spring and summer. the loss of a relationship. then the loss of my grandfather. all these moments of severance both tearing/ugly and clear/clean and i've reined myself in and put a seal over what i am willing to let myself feel. and somehow, the highest highs are as dangerous as the lowest lows. they ask too much of me and in some ways i didn't want thom, such a precious idol on my artistic alter, to even have the chance to disappoint me so i just kept it from even being a possibility. rather than risking finding him faulty, i made it so that i would be the faulty one.
coming away from this conversation i realized i needed to see them once more. give myself one more chance to see them live this tour. the only option left and one i didn't even know existed until the fan standing next to me the night before at the auburn show mentioned he was seeing them in santa barbara next week.
so here we go.
and my little brother gave me my early birthday present {of a highly scalped pit ticket} and i bought the plane ticket that night. i was going and it was going to be an adventure.
and adventure it was.
i carpooled with two people {men} i met on a message board online. one from the seattle area, the other hailing from dallas. i woke up at 4:30am and was in los angeles by 10am and in line by 12:30. i was the first up the hill to the santa barbara bowl (they don't let you run up the hill and i've got the longest stride on a normal day and longer when i want something bad). and i went immediately to just a hair right of center stage. the mic stood right in front. i was going to let myself live into this show. finally.
but it still wasn't there.
i had traveled all this way and it was still.
not.
there.
but even so, even in the face of that loss, it still was an adventure. one of stepping into my power a little here and there. of being bold enough to look a tall, beautiful man in the eye and call him on his attraction. of being at the after party where the band made their appearances. of watching thom. thom. five foot and not much thom walk right by me and me being completely, frustratingly speechless.
so, i got my adventure, one that is {still, in 2010} precious in my own personal mythology and personal history, but it was not the experience of unleashing myself and running free in the music that i had hoped. so while i will never call the trip a failure, the victory was in a realm i didn't quite expect and certainly not the one i went south looking for.
so i continued on and i couldn't listen to their music at all for a few days. and even after i could put on some songs here or there, i couldn't play something like videotape or the reckoner, something that was too potent. even now i have a hard time watching footage of their live performances. it makes my heart hurt. and the ache comes from the fact that in safety, in my aloneness, i am able to let myself resonate in their music where i wouldn't let myself resonate faced with them in person.
in the end, it comes down to three things: 1. the parts of me that are alive in their music are the things that i cling to as indicators of my most passionate, unique, alive, saturated self; and 2. i tether a whole heap of hopes to these vibrant pieces of me and 3. i see these parts of me as indicators that i will move forward in the direction i want. and by forward, i mean forward in a big way. and if i had actually given permission to this part of me to be alive to the music, and then somehow discovered it didn't work, it would be the loss of the only thing remaining after this year of loss: hope and the truest, purest part of myself. and i don't know how i would survive the loss of those two cornerstones of myself. now or any time.
meet me in wonderland
waiting for alice in wonderland to start
and while recently i've successfully avoided movies with gorgeous
young actresses (like anne hathaway and the blonde belle who plays
alice)
i'm still looking forward to the wild burtonian ride with a handful of
depp thrown in.
and while recently i've successfully avoided movies with gorgeous
young actresses (like anne hathaway and the blonde belle who plays
alice)
i'm still looking forward to the wild burtonian ride with a handful of
depp thrown in.
catch you on the other side.
3.24.2010
a different perspective
count is currently 4, including me), i walked up a set of stairs
leading up to a rather charming building on my street (i daydream
about living in it each time i pass). the extra five feet of stair
elevation put me back in the sun's view and also let me see what a
cute building this squat piece of dilapidated housing across the
street can be. even if only in silhouette.
abundance
[uh-buhn-duhns}
-noun
1. an extremely plentiful or oversufficient quantity or supply: an abundance of grain.
-noun
1. an extremely plentiful or oversufficient quantity or supply: an abundance of grain.
2. overflowing fullness: abundance of the heart.
3. affluence; wealth: the enjoyment of abundance.
i keep on having dreams of abundance.
the first, right around the time i took the course on manifesting intentions, was one that evoked pure amazement and joy in the dream. it was a strange one to recount since it involved me using a breast pump, which is a sign that my job surrounded by breast feeding and pumping women is finally sinking in to the psyche. anyway, in the dream, i was pumping but it wasn't the watery, pale substance i know is what makes up a human mother's milk, but this rich, pure white milk {think half and half like qualities} that was not only filling up but overfilling the containers i was using to collect the milk in.
the second and third, both of which are from the last month or so {and the second from this past weekend}, featured me finding money. lots of it. wads and piles of it. and it was as much surprising and joyful as the experience of seeing the radiant whiteness of my milk pour out from me and so generously and easily. the second of the two dreams also included a moment's glimpse of my current wallet {dearly beloved with yellow leather, also but in dire need of some minor repairs and major cleaning or flat our replacing} in the trash. it was a very clear and final glimpse and i'm still rather inclined not to try for the repair/clean option but just keep my eye out for its replacement.
as for the theme of abundance in my waking life, well, that's been a little harder for me to manifest as effortlessly. after starting off on this surge of energy coming from the intentions workshop i completed, most days i feel like i'm lugging a huge dead weight up hill.
but i slug on. one heavy step after another. and in the meantime trying to trust the clear evidence that i'm only doing better and better in life and only moving getting to where i want to go.
i keep on having dreams of abundance.
the first, right around the time i took the course on manifesting intentions, was one that evoked pure amazement and joy in the dream. it was a strange one to recount since it involved me using a breast pump, which is a sign that my job surrounded by breast feeding and pumping women is finally sinking in to the psyche. anyway, in the dream, i was pumping but it wasn't the watery, pale substance i know is what makes up a human mother's milk, but this rich, pure white milk {think half and half like qualities} that was not only filling up but overfilling the containers i was using to collect the milk in.
the second and third, both of which are from the last month or so {and the second from this past weekend}, featured me finding money. lots of it. wads and piles of it. and it was as much surprising and joyful as the experience of seeing the radiant whiteness of my milk pour out from me and so generously and easily. the second of the two dreams also included a moment's glimpse of my current wallet {dearly beloved with yellow leather, also but in dire need of some minor repairs and major cleaning or flat our replacing} in the trash. it was a very clear and final glimpse and i'm still rather inclined not to try for the repair/clean option but just keep my eye out for its replacement.
as for the theme of abundance in my waking life, well, that's been a little harder for me to manifest as effortlessly. after starting off on this surge of energy coming from the intentions workshop i completed, most days i feel like i'm lugging a huge dead weight up hill.
but i slug on. one heavy step after another. and in the meantime trying to trust the clear evidence that i'm only doing better and better in life and only moving getting to where i want to go.
3.22.2010
3.19.2010
to my blog
oh my darling blog how i miss you. you've disappeared from my life
like my other friends 'personal time' and 'yoga practice.'
unfortunately you're behind 'bill paying' and 'house cleaning' but you
are right after them in the queue.
like my other friends 'personal time' and 'yoga practice.'
unfortunately you're behind 'bill paying' and 'house cleaning' but you
are right after them in the queue.
sunday is only a partial workday and monday a full nothing yet booked
on it day so hopefully you will return to my life soon. a few pictures
from my jaunt to vancouver are dying to make their debut as well a
vignette or two from that trip. and of course a more serious post or
two is also waiting a little restlessly in the eaves.
but for now, much overdue sleep.
3.15.2010
night time prayers
dear heavenly father*,
i'm scared
disappointed
and having resltess nightmare every night.
yet i still feelhopepray
that things are moving forward
and despite adding on a few pounds these past two months**
i still move through my days with a solid sense of wellbeing.
so please don't lolligag too much on manifesting the evidence of my
progress.
pretty please?
amen.
*a relic phrase from growing up religious
**the reason for which is a topic of an overdue post. and no, i am not
pregnant.
3.07.2010
my favorite photo of the day
genuine after i caught sheree making the goofy face in the background
of frame 2.
i love traveling.
3.06.2010
overdue.
your last text. yes, it's sunny here today and i hope it's as lovely
for you today, too.
sorry, too, that you won't be in nyc and i'm hoping it works next time.
sorry, three, that a real thanks and email to you for your package are
long over due, but i know you understand.
in the meantime, enjoy my suns for you.
notes from bc
in vancouver for the weekend with one of my favorite people.
staying in a hostel for the first time since 2004?
brisbane, australia.
{the one on the corner where i met you after a couple of years. how
many more until we meet again? you'll probably have kids by then.}
prone on a rickety twin bed under outdated covers and the lights are
off.
my body is restless as i listen to lonely-making music {kaki king -
can anyone who hears this really be a bad person & montreal} and
daydream about the next two days of play and explore.
staying in a hostel for the first time since 2004?
brisbane, australia.
{the one on the corner where i met you after a couple of years. how
many more until we meet again? you'll probably have kids by then.}
prone on a rickety twin bed under outdated covers and the lights are
off.
my body is restless as i listen to lonely-making music {kaki king -
can anyone who hears this really be a bad person & montreal} and
daydream about the next two days of play and explore.
and, a mere month away will find me in new york city for a few days of
more explore and more play. and art. blessed intense living and
breathing art.
and, i feel good about life.
so thanks.
and yes.
Pardon the brevity of words, but this was sent from my iPhone.
soooo....
it's 7:12am.
i just spent the last 12 minutes nervously working two browswers as i purchased tickets for the 5th on one and the 6th on the other
{safari, i neglect you for your sassier sister, firefox, except when on my iphone where i have no chioce, but i was grateful for your presence today}
since i recently got new debit cards, there was a hiccup in one of the searches and when my card didn't work {i forgot the card number had changed about a year ago when i left it in an atm and got entirely new cards} i lost my ticket altogether. a subsequent search couldn't find ANY tickets on the 6th and i realized how much i wanted this trip and both shows to boot, when it appeared the 6th wasn't available.
stubborn me kept searching and searching and on the 3rd or 4th try i came up with seats again {while still juggling the different pages on the other web page--you only have so much time to complete each section of ticketmaster's pages}. whew.
the nice thing is that thom is finally doing something about scalping. this is a paperless ticket tour so you don't get a ticket. you have to show up at the boxoffice and show your ID and the credit card and that's the only way you'll get in. and even then, they don't give you a ticket you can then turn around and sell, that's just how you get in. :)
so yipee.
i'm going to nyc.
and thanks dagob, john, az, holly and liz for the nudges.
i needed them.
and here's to living life in pursuit of seeing and MAKING great art.
i just spent the last 12 minutes nervously working two browswers as i purchased tickets for the 5th on one and the 6th on the other
{safari, i neglect you for your sassier sister, firefox, except when on my iphone where i have no chioce, but i was grateful for your presence today}
since i recently got new debit cards, there was a hiccup in one of the searches and when my card didn't work {i forgot the card number had changed about a year ago when i left it in an atm and got entirely new cards} i lost my ticket altogether. a subsequent search couldn't find ANY tickets on the 6th and i realized how much i wanted this trip and both shows to boot, when it appeared the 6th wasn't available.
stubborn me kept searching and searching and on the 3rd or 4th try i came up with seats again {while still juggling the different pages on the other web page--you only have so much time to complete each section of ticketmaster's pages}. whew.
the nice thing is that thom is finally doing something about scalping. this is a paperless ticket tour so you don't get a ticket. you have to show up at the boxoffice and show your ID and the credit card and that's the only way you'll get in. and even then, they don't give you a ticket you can then turn around and sell, that's just how you get in. :)
so yipee.
i'm going to nyc.
and thanks dagob, john, az, holly and liz for the nudges.
i needed them.
and here's to living life in pursuit of seeing and MAKING great art.
3.05.2010
to go or not to go....
i have to decide whether or not i'm going to NYC in april to see thom yorke kick off his solo tour.
the tipping point is that the plane tickets just went from $300 to $400 and yikes! that feels like a lot for two shows. not to mention the two extra days off i'd have to take from work.
sigh.
but look at this man. i'd get to see him, the distant mentor of my artistic life, front and center two nights in a row in one of my favorite cities.
should i do it?
the tipping point is that the plane tickets just went from $300 to $400 and yikes! that feels like a lot for two shows. not to mention the two extra days off i'd have to take from work.
sigh.
but look at this man. i'd get to see him, the distant mentor of my artistic life, front and center two nights in a row in one of my favorite cities.
should i do it?
2.28.2010
a color party
a dear dear friend of mine celebrated her birthday this year by inviting a few of her good girl friends over for a night of color and cupcakes {and since i made them they were also colorful cupcakes}. we spent a good part of the night hunkered down throughout the living room making a color collage of our choice {i was red, of course}.
here is a little bit of the fun.
the collages:
2.25.2010
crossing 520
in a dream of mine from several years ago.
in the dream the water lashed out at us as we crossed an empty highway
on foot. sneaker waves attacking us from the sides trying to pull us in.
in the dream we made it safely to the other side in a strange fast
forward fashion that only happens in sleep no matter how fast we think
time is flying.
but, in real life, we didn't make it and the bodies of what could have
been were carried to their watery death not long after the dream came
to me.
the experience as a whole, meant to be written out in a song, has so
far only come to me as a chorus:
sneaker waves won't let me be
a collision course in eucatastrophe
sweep me up and lock me in
hold me down and keep me thin
and for some reason, the photo evokes a dreamlike quality that brings
it all back.
2.24.2010
a yoga practice begins...
i joined a studio on monday, which, as the quirk of my eyebrows you can't see suggests, is still a bit of an emotional commitment that scares me. it's a dedicated practice to my mind and body that comes with this dollar sign that makes me nervous. the first two months are reasonable because they lure you in like drug dealers with 2 months for $99 then hit you with $120 a month on the other side of the addiction.
and for some reason the dollar sign couples with these vague threats to my ego so i almost turned around two or three times on my way to the studio that first day.
my ego, the sly dog, is very comfortable in its position of power and it knows it cannot possibly stay the same with yoga. it threw up all these things in my way and then some more for good measure.
what if i can't afford it on the other side?
why don't i just stick with the Y {which i'm not going to at all right now for yoga or otherwise for a variety of reasons which the ego very well knows}? it's so much cheaper, you can swim or do cardio or weights?
what if....
what about...
all these pretty lame excuses flew at me left and right but i plowed on and made it there that day, and then next, and then again tonight.
and the practice, in a group of focused and dedicated students, is light years away from what i got from the Y and is more motivating and more of a challenge both physically and spiritually than i could ever find there. and, the heaviness of spirit that has been buzzing in my ears has started to fade and i don't even care any more if tomorrow is sunny or not.
oh, and one last thing. the first night after i joined, kept near-awake and hovering just below consciousness a lot because of my {strangely} sore joints, i had a dream that i could lean out over my leg, comfortably hold on to my feet and then lay my chest flat onto my thigh and hug it to me.
at this point, this can only happen in a dream, but man, it would be nice to be bendy like that.
and for some reason the dollar sign couples with these vague threats to my ego so i almost turned around two or three times on my way to the studio that first day.
my ego, the sly dog, is very comfortable in its position of power and it knows it cannot possibly stay the same with yoga. it threw up all these things in my way and then some more for good measure.
what if i can't afford it on the other side?
why don't i just stick with the Y {which i'm not going to at all right now for yoga or otherwise for a variety of reasons which the ego very well knows}? it's so much cheaper, you can swim or do cardio or weights?
what if....
what about...
all these pretty lame excuses flew at me left and right but i plowed on and made it there that day, and then next, and then again tonight.
and the practice, in a group of focused and dedicated students, is light years away from what i got from the Y and is more motivating and more of a challenge both physically and spiritually than i could ever find there. and, the heaviness of spirit that has been buzzing in my ears has started to fade and i don't even care any more if tomorrow is sunny or not.
oh, and one last thing. the first night after i joined, kept near-awake and hovering just below consciousness a lot because of my {strangely} sore joints, i had a dream that i could lean out over my leg, comfortably hold on to my feet and then lay my chest flat onto my thigh and hug it to me.
at this point, this can only happen in a dream, but man, it would be nice to be bendy like that.
2.19.2010
bottle neck
so, the next post down is the most recent cause of sporadic posts here. whenever i have a post that is bigger than the time and energy i have to give to it, well, things just plug up until i can get the most important one out.
this one, in particular, i've been meaning to write since january 11th when my dad headed back to home to europe. and, i was pleased and honored to learn that some of you have even come to the blog specifically looking for the conclusion of the story of my father's visit. so, here it is and it's cost me about 2 hours of precious sleep, but it's worth it and i can finally draw a thick black sharpie line through the words dad blog on my most recent to do list.
thanks for being patient, and thanks for reading.
{and in case you missed the first two installments of this story, here and here they are}
this one, in particular, i've been meaning to write since january 11th when my dad headed back to home to europe. and, i was pleased and honored to learn that some of you have even come to the blog specifically looking for the conclusion of the story of my father's visit. so, here it is and it's cost me about 2 hours of precious sleep, but it's worth it and i can finally draw a thick black sharpie line through the words dad blog on my most recent to do list.
thanks for being patient, and thanks for reading.
{and in case you missed the first two installments of this story, here and here they are}
and away we go.
{part three, written in six parts}
....................... .......
......................... ..................................................
... .........
there came a point in my father's trip
when the cracks began to appear
nothing major, mind you
just hairline evidence
of disapproval and criticism
but somehow
this time was different
no gaps began to show
no gulfs to slip into and disappear
because
i realized the words ran along a familiar theme
her voice one i recognized all too well
and somehow
i stopped being impressed with what she had to say
so we carried on
and the things i once called the flaws of my father
integrated themselves back into the tapestry of his being
adding color and dimension i have no right to judge.
...............................
................................................................................
.............
my mom gets an email for every blog post i write and several of these she has forwarded to my dad. but he's also discovered how to click from the email to my actual blog and has been reading through the almost 500 posts. {tangents: 1. now, i'm quite proud of him for this because he's rather overwhelmed by computers. and 2. i find it sweet when i start to talk about the idea of traveling to iceland with my friend sahra, and he knows exactly who she is a la my blog}
naturally, he's developed quite a curiosity about this band called radiohead, so on the drive home christmas eve i put on thom's cymbal rush as his first taste.
silence in the back, broken by a simple and sincere "this is nice."
and as the song closes and i switch to another disc for an actual radiohead song, he thinks i'm going to a new artist entirely and says "don't change it, more of this radiohead..."
yes. hell, yes.
i need to make him a mix.
...............................
................................................................................
.............
we had a date, just the two of us, and i think it's the first we've had in my 27 years as his daughter. despite a slightly later start than some, we did pretty well for being new at it.
the night began with the world's best eggplant french fries, a lavender soda, and more stories about his youth and my oma {grandma in dutch} in one sitting than i have ever heard before.
and that was merely the beginning.
next he took me to the 9th. beethoven's glorious symphony that culminates in a bass-carried opening that raises the hairs on the back of my neck.
ode to joy
a commonplace concept and melody, lessened by careless reproductions. so when it's brought to its original {read: live} form and you can actually feel the familiar tune resonating from the strings of six or seven basses the genius of it stands out so simply and heart-achingly. joy cannot be more tangible than the feeling of listening to them live.
the double bass. a massive instrument mostly dedicated to the atmospheric plucking and notes that ride far below the melodies and harmonies. so when they started the opening measures after waiting over an hour for this finale...
well,
it was just perfect.
so perfect i had to see it again a few nights later with a dear friend, and my dad was the reason i got to see it then, too. the nudge. the reminder. the ticket. and so i had it not once but twice and it was glorious, each time in its own way. the first for my dad's presence, his slight hand gestures when the music got intense and overall our shared joy of music {i finally realize how i get my emotional sensitivity to music from my dad}, and the second for the closeness of two women friends and my cute little black dress that made its debut that night and both for the music. for the music. for the music. you just can't replace a live orchestra.
...............................
................................................................................
......................
................................................................................
......................
there was one part of that night, though, that feels separate from the rest.
two moments, really, that stand up and out
resting away from the other memories
not letting me gloss over them in satisfaction and warmth
the first was a moment during intermission
we were meandering through the crowd
navigating floor after floor in our thwarted attempts to find coffee and tea
i could sense he was getting flustered by the third time we were disappointed in our search
and as we turned to enter the crowd once more, he took my arm confessing in this vulnerable and honest voice how much all the people unnerved him.
and somehow without consulting me, the part of me determined-to-maintain-at-all-costs-the-illusion-of-control stepped up, took over, and smoothly adjusted my body to gesture onward, break contact and force him forward and alone into the crowd with me following collectedly behind.
and,
i can't seem to forget that subtle moment of violence.
no, i don't use the word lightly though perhaps as a form of frustrated self-punishment.
i am unflinchingly disappointed in myself that i couldn't just meet my father at that place of helplessness. acknowledge him. somehow empathize. not even reply necessarily, but just continue forward softly, his arm linked with mine
instead of slamming the door on his face.
and not only that, but i did it again perhaps an hour later.
god, this next one breaks my heart to just think of it.
it's the moment we've all been waiting for
the entire concert hall
that magical moment the basses open up and deliver us the melody of ode to joy
unfortunately it's also when they timed vents to dump their dry air right across our faces
and my dad, recently recovering from being sick, starts to cough
well, not actually cough, but a sputtering attempt at concealing a cough to minimize the disruption of The Highlight for our nearest neighbors. but it's still fairly obvious to all in a four seat radius that something is sounding besides the instruments on stage.
and to make it worse, he can't seem to stop.
at first i wasn't sure if perhaps he had just started sobbing, but when i realize what's going on, i am at a loss for what to do. my mind isn't on the music anymore and i can no longer feel the resonace of the strings in my heart or body as i worry about the sidelong glances from a few seats to my right and fervently wish i could do something, anything, to make it stop for his sake, mine and our neighbors.
then he turns to me and makes his transgression worse by speaking! and saying in a clipped but at the same time way-too-loud-in-the-symphony-silence that it's the air. and even though what he was clearly asking for was a little sympathy and to share the load of his embarrassment and discomfort, all i can do is give him a look and shush him.
and that's when it happened again, the door making contact with his face and my hand hardly knowing how it went from being outstretched to that authoritative gesture that effectively closed the space between us.
and the irony of it all is that the very next day i found a cough drop patiently waiting at the bottom of my purse.
...............................
................................................................................
.............
and he still calls rather regularly. often on those nights when he can't sleep. and we talk if i'm able to answer or he leaves these charmingly addressed voicemails when i can't {hi tania, it's your dad...."as though i wouldn't recognize him" i think each time with a smile}
and when i said i was going to travel abroad this year, he asked if austria would be on the agenda. and i think it might just have to be.
currently listening to: devotchka - how it ends on repeat for the past hour and a half. and dad, since i know mom will forward this post to you, you should go listen to the song by clicking ---> here <--- and pressing play on the little video window that pops up.
the night before my father left we all gathered at my sister's house for dinner
i can't remember what we ate, but dessert was this fabulous chocolate that, in one of those small acts of symmetry, i just found and purchased for the first time tonight. some chi chi brand of spicy chocolate that heats up your mouth oh so delicately. yum.
but i digress.
back to the last night.
i remember being tired.
i remember spending too much of the night wading through the files on my old computer--i wanted to send it back to europe with my dad so he could become acquainted with macs, albeit an antiquated one.
i remember my dad pulling out his little ipod nano and admitting not knowing how to operate it {despite the cheat sheet my mom had carefully written out for him which was lying next to the ipod}. so we sat down at the kitchen table and i clearly showed him the one trick he needs: pressing the menu button as many times as necessary whenever he's lost until he recognizes the screen. the light bulb went on above his head and then it was time to go.
i remember the feeling in my stomach as he walked us out to the car.
and i remember clearly thinking i didn't want to say goodbye.
and finally, i still remember, the feeling that for the first time i was saying goodbye to a friend, and not just my dad.
i can't remember what we ate, but dessert was this fabulous chocolate that, in one of those small acts of symmetry, i just found and purchased for the first time tonight. some chi chi brand of spicy chocolate that heats up your mouth oh so delicately. yum.
but i digress.
back to the last night.
i remember being tired.
i remember spending too much of the night wading through the files on my old computer--i wanted to send it back to europe with my dad so he could become acquainted with macs, albeit an antiquated one.
i remember my dad pulling out his little ipod nano and admitting not knowing how to operate it {despite the cheat sheet my mom had carefully written out for him which was lying next to the ipod}. so we sat down at the kitchen table and i clearly showed him the one trick he needs: pressing the menu button as many times as necessary whenever he's lost until he recognizes the screen. the light bulb went on above his head and then it was time to go.
i remember the feeling in my stomach as he walked us out to the car.
and i remember clearly thinking i didn't want to say goodbye.
and finally, i still remember, the feeling that for the first time i was saying goodbye to a friend, and not just my dad.
...............................
...........................................
.....................................
.............
prologue:
...........................................
.....................................
.............
prologue:
and he still calls rather regularly. often on those nights when he can't sleep. and we talk if i'm able to answer or he leaves these charmingly addressed voicemails when i can't {hi tania, it's your dad...."as though i wouldn't recognize him" i think each time with a smile}
and when i said i was going to travel abroad this year, he asked if austria would be on the agenda. and i think it might just have to be.
fin. for now.
currently listening to: devotchka - how it ends on repeat for the past hour and a half. and dad, since i know mom will forward this post to you, you should go listen to the song by clicking ---> here <--- and pressing play on the little video window that pops up.
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2.16.2010
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