10.18.07 | time for season 4...

Click here for season 4.

10.17.07 | Meanwhile, back at the ranch

I find it terribly hard to believe that my last post was my birthday eve. Yet, I've been dealing with manifestations that have usurped my attention and made my time anything but free space. There have been websites and knitting and books in various forms galore:

I got my sister's website up and running: www.oilandmud.com, and did one for my cousin Jena's wedding: www.jenaandjeffrey.com

I've been felting bags like mad: a bold pink and black one, a furry mod strappy black and brown one, a strappy pistascio/mocha/oatmeal one, a little strappy mustard-gold one.

I listened to HP #6 on ipod, and read HP #7 in a matter of days until my eyes burned.

I just got back from a crisp evening walk with my trusted fluff-muffin. We passes blazes of color and the sky was clear and luminous with cloudscapes. Leaves were surfing the wind or rattling on branches as the air howled. Dispite the flurry on the tides of air, it was a calm and serene landscape as we strode on, running in parts to chase scurrying leaves.

I'm not sure why -- perhaps it's the season or the last installment of the HP doorstop of which I had a dream about last night -- but I've been thinking about death lately. Not in a grotesque or perverse or gothic fixation, but merely a meditation on the illusion of time's vast and fast pace and biological life cycles. How our habits in the light and dark of a day define our weeks, months and years until look back and see where we've come from, what we've been doing with all this time, what's been well intended and left unmoved, what's not been said and what's left to do. I feel like I suck the marrow out of my days and nights, but that there is something latent, potential, glowing inside of me that wants to burst out in a rage of kinetic blooming and growth --- yet it's not rushing, and that worries me.

According to Vedic astrology, i'm in my Rahu period which means I'm planetarily goverened by Rahu who poses me with the challenge to be creative and throws curve balls my way for the sake of realization and greater, deeper growth. Perhaps I'm not patient enough. Maybe the time isn't right. But, my gawd, I'm ready for it. I want to feel the way in which this potential energy will play out it's kinetics in this worldly space. And, I think: Am I waiting too much? Should I be more aggressive, or let the universe throw it my way?

These apocalyptic meanderings have me all anxious when I consider what I want to do yet. However, my rituals are so comfortable and worn, I can barely strike up a new yoga asana ritual or a flossing ritual. I'm ready for some movin and shakin, but I still can't get up until 7:30... I need to shake something -- an energy block? what?

Speaking of movers and shakers, in the latest Dwell, Sim Van Der Ryn is featured. I read his interview with glee -- for he is a true innovator of off-the-grid living and dwelling. He is a man that pushes the boundaries between environment and human space, or really, brings them back into one. (humans are nature afterall). He pushes GREEN waaay beyond the shallowness of LEED. He is living and breathing the mantra: You can't call it an idea if it isn't dangerous.

"Jesus Christ is the only God. And so am I. And so are you." - William Blake

"To live is so startling. It leaves but little room for other occupations." - Emily Dickinson

"I found Jesus today. He's been hiding behind the couch all along!" - Magnet at Folsom St. Coffee

 

9.19.07 | blue-eyed soul

27 years ago on this day, my mumsie was going into labor. Tomorrow at 10:33 AM is my natal anniversary. I'm a Libra Rising according to Vedic astrology charts. I started celebrating today: I bought some new trail and street running shoes, scheduled a massage for tomorrow, told the boss I would probs be out much of the day, and can hardly wait for tomorrow night's dessert of chocolate lava heaven.

The guy who sold me my running shoes, liked my trendy and uber-cute periwinke felted purse and wanted one for his wife for the holidays. I gave him my card, and that made me happy.

Things have been mildly wild here lately -- lots o' work going on. But I manifested it, so i'm not complainin.

Today is Talk Like A Pirate Day, according to the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster, whose members call themselves Pastafarians. This whole shebang was imagined in response to a Kansas legal-something-or-other request that schools teach Intelligent Design along with Evolution. I'm a fan of the Darwin, I sneeze at Intelligent Designers, and I Love love love what the devout Pastafarians set out to do in order to offset the covert ID plans. The newly formed, but highly legitimate, CFSM demanded that their creation story be included in the curriculum as well. I'm not entirely certain of the details of said church-myths, but I do know that they worship pirates. I worship with boots of Captain Jack Sparrow, so I reckon I'm already a member.

Here's the long awaited post party redux:
There are so many people that come on one day or one weekend, it's near impossible to see them all and have a rad conversation for more than :30. I was hit with the same feeling that comes on when I walk into a library or bookstore: overwhelmed.There were so many people brought together by DNA and memories and friendships, and they are all so different that it makes you wonder what their common denominator is. And then, you realize you're it, so you can't be a wallflower at your own party. It's difficult when there are steps are involved, but there were seemingly no major issues there either.

The party was a hit. We had a kickass band, an epic space, yummy munchies and cool people everywhere. Everyone was surprised it was so wonderful. "I'm SO impressed!" they said. "What did they expect?" I thought. Would I do anything not cute? Honestly, it was quite nice and literally no sweat. It made me want to quit my day job and be a party planner for my new brand of Zen Weddings.

Here are some bloggie collectibles as of late that I want to disseminate unto you all:

Great balls of holy vox fire:
D.H. Lawrence said, "Be still when you have nothing to say; [but] when genuine passion moves you, say what you've got to say, and say it hot."

Mooovie of last week: I'm Reed Fish

Quote from RobB:
"Do not accept anything simply because it has been said by your teacher, or because it has been written in your sacred book, or because it has been believed by many, or because it has been handed down by your ancestors. Accept and live only according to what will enable you to see truth face to face." - Buddha

Oh, and if you are savvy, you must read the latest post on www.spiritualcowgirl.com today. Let me tempt you with this riddle: How did “O Thou, (or O Birther) from whom the breath of life comes” end up like this: “Our Father, who art in heaven”?

 

9.2.07 | I live on a chain

Haiku is a mode of Japanese poetry that combines form, content, and language in a meaningful, yet compact verse. Haiku poets write about everyday things including themes of nature, feelings, or experiences. They use simple words and grammar to "paint" a mental image in the reader's mind with 17 syllables and 3 short lines:

5 syllables
7 syllables
5 syllables

Dr. R. H. Blyth, a haiku aficionado, remarks that
"A haiku is the expression of a temporary enlightenment, in which we see into the life of things."

Here's a notorious example:

The old pond
A frog jumps in
The sound of water.

- Basho* (*Exact syllables per line lost in translation)

Here’s another example:

August 17th
Decided to get married
A lovely friday

Using poetic license, you could also use the syllabic pattern of 9-2-7. . .

Celebration continues tonight
For two
Joiners of life on a chain

 

 

 

8.29.07 | Rebels, Inc

There is a flurry of rad stuff floating around Rebels, Inc. today, as well as the clam before the storm of visitors and strangers for the party of all parties in which I don't want to dance at either. Is it just too much to want to go around and talk to people? Too much to ask? Too rebellious?

Let the rebellion begin with these mellifluous snippets of lovliness:

From Sera Beak's blog post:

For I am the first and the last.
I am the honored one and the scorned one.
I am the whore and the holy one.
I am the wife and the virgin.
I am (the mother) and the daughter.
I am the members of my mother…
I am the silence that is incomprehensible
and the idea whose remebrance is frequent.
I am the voice whose sound is manifold
And the word whose appearance is multiple.
I am the utterance of my name
- Nag Hammadi Library

From RobB's latest letter of luv:

"Do not be idolatrous about or bound to any doctrine, theory, or
ideology, even Buddhist ones. All systems of thought are guiding means; they are not absolute truth."
- Thich Nhat Hanh

Live at the empty heart of paradox.
I'll dance with you there, cheek to cheek.
- Rumi, translated by Coleman Barks

Mooovies worth watchin:
- Shortbus
- The Rage of Placid Lake
- Hedwig and the Angry Inch
- Benny and Joon
- Becoming Jane

I heard through msn's homepage celeb gossip section that Owen Wilson may have had a suicide attempt. This makes me sad (b/c I secretly love him, but not as much as Johnny Depp). And, it makes me wonder about the pressures of the rich and famous and what would compel someone to going to such lengths. I just don't get it.

In other news, we went to a wedding in Keystone last Sunday for some dear friends and fellow co-workers at the OZ empire. It was a fabulously aware ceremony -- and one that I adored and made me almost wet myself with utter amazement and pleasure (did i just say wedding and pleasure in adjacent sentances?) from the first word to the last. I give a 5-star rebel rating, even if the rest of it was traditional in the fullest sense of Vera Wang and formaltude.

 

8.22.07 | walk in beauty and a truth

Here's a compote of nuggets and eco-harvested pearls of life goodies plucked from the lush vines and branches of succulently sacred and alluring wisdom:

1. Today was' love letter from Rob day,' the day that re-sets my brain with all things right and rebellious in the world. Today I visited this link: http://www.behance.com/Featured/Articles/100-Tips-to-Improve-Your-Life/5591 and I just had to pass it along as it has tips for everything from work to laundry and all compiled, is like 1000 ways to get all your ducks in a row to make life more efficient, balanced & productive.

2. Incitement and arousal assistance for Virgo from Rob: Are you ready to leave the past behind, drop
all your assumptions, welcome the return of your innocence, adopt a beginner's mind, and start fresh everywhere? I hope so, because that's what the universe will be nudging you to do. Here are some words of wisdom to incite you and arouse you:
(1)"You don't know what you can get away with until you try." - Colin Powell
(2) "Never underestimate your power to change yourself." - H. Jackson Brown, Jr.
(3) "If opportunity doesn't knock, build a door." - my friend Lucy Spinner
(4) "God calls you to the place where your deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet." - Frederick Buechner.

3. Osho, fo sho: "A religious person is one who contributes to the world some beauty, some joy, some happiness, some celebration that was not there before." - Osho

4. From the Writer's Almanac: "In addition to his novels, Wm. H Gass has also published several collections of essays, including The World Within the Word (1978), Habitations of the Word (1985), and Finding a Form (1996). He often writes about language and his sense that the greatest purpose of language is simply to create beauty. He wrote, "[Language] is not the lowborn, gawky servant of thought and feeling; it is need, thought, feeling, and perception itself. The shape of sentences, the song in its syllables, the rhythm of its movement, is the movement of the imagination." What a Gass! Three cheers to Merleau-Ponty!

5. A-U-M-dacity: the power of meditation practice is well documented for health and sanity benefits. I just finished reading 2 books by Daniel Odier on Tantra (which I was told recently by an astrologer-dude that I was a practitioner of the path of the left-hand in a previous life, which really, only makes perfect sense). I loved them both - And sing high praises to them. For your lovely & immediate gratification, he has a website: http://www.danielodier.com/ENGLISH/entree_e.html

If you don't want to check it out, here's what this fine man has to say about Sit & Stay:

Why sit?

When we meditate, we enter the deepest part of our being, which exists beyond any split between us and the absolute, and which remains untainted by our culture, our beliefs, our experience or any feelings of ego-separation. We discover a space and a wholeness within ourselves, which exist beyond all realms of differential thinking. We " remove the taste of dualistic thinking" as we re-enter our spirit's natural state.

What form does the practice take?

It is about emptying the mind of all clinging to fixed patterns, by granting the body its rightful place. …The body naturally takes to non-duality whereas the mind has difficulty even conceiving it. " The body receives sensory input at every turn, and is filled with diverse forms of temporal and spatial information. The body conceals the divine within it. He who penetrates the body's nature is liberated" Says Abhinavagupta.

 

8.21.07 | dog days & hot august nights

resipiscent, adj.: Having returned to a saner mind. [From Latin resipiscere (to recover one's senses), from re- (again)
+ sapere (to taste, to know). Ultimately from Indo-European root sep- (to taste or perceive) that is also the source of sage, savant, savvy, savor, sapid, sapient, and insipid.]

useage: I find myself resipiscent after having signed the marriage licence/papers on friday. It was at once a relief and a subtle form of entrapment, one that made highly palpable what I had committed myself to. It was a shedding of the weight of all the questioning and analyzing, and a refreshing step forward, instride with my special K in a way that (i daresay) we hadn't been in a long time. There was a part of me that was pleasantly surprised by that last bit, and the little skeptic on my shoulder squawked something in regards to how long that would last. Time will tell. But the trappings of this situation weigh differently than the pressures of "are we going to do this or not?" and the subsequent banter that ensued. I feel like I've shut the gate on that issue, obviously resoving to carry on into other pastures with new fencelines to learn, and other gates to cross.

I went to the Shakespeare Festival -- A Midsummer Nights Dream - with a well traveled friend who cited a speaker from the Conference on World Affairs: "Why don't we re-envision marriage as a 5 year contractual period, with the choice to renew or not." I had to agree whole-heartedly. I hear about / see too often the relationship that doesn't work and is loosely bonded together by the ideals and fear, at which point both spirits have most likely suffered something awful by not honoring themselves and their soul's duty. While there may be a light that never goes out, some spirits dim when their fierce light is hindered or sacrificed. In which case, the 5-year up-for-renewal-plan is a new take on old bondage. Which makes perfect sense to me on the logical & rational levels. It made me at ease with the process -- since there was no "forever clause" (and of course I added the Pete Yorn clause which stated that if I was ever alone with the man, I was allowed to make out with him). the K-ster was in agreement of the penti-annual re-avowal cycle. But I can't say that I was overly detached, as Ghandi said "If you want something really important to be done you must not merely satisfy the reason, you must move the heart also." So, I must have felt semi-romantical about it...

 

8.14.07 | a new to-do list

1. run for president
2. make art
3. become a professional vow scribe. check this out:

now, avowel

oh kevin my kevin
my succulant strawberry, my mirror, my rock
i pray thee, giveth me
a love that is true and honest and brave
and thusly shall I return such love
with a love at once raw and unruffled,
expansive and radiant
that will defy love with constant renewal
through the effervescent changing tides, cycles,
and dirty laundry
as we adventure together

Awww.

I'll give you a dollar if you can deconstruct that poem and all of it's influences and allusions... ;)

pastiche, n.: 1. An artistic piece, for example a literary, musical, or dramatic work, that imitates works of other artists. 2. A hodgepodge of incongruous parts taken from various sources.

8.8.07 | ebullience

Again and again
Some people in the crowd wake up.
They have no ground in the crowd
And they emerge according to broader laws.
They carry strange customs with them,
And demand room for bold gestures.

The future speaks ruthlessly through them.

- Rainer Maria Rilke, translated by Stephen Mitchell

 

8.6.07 | drop while you shop

We all know that my practical side -- the green and eco-conscious, the simpler, etc.-- that I put into practice in my daily existence is really just a reflection of my current state in life and of my highest ideals and of my keen awareness of the raw necessities. But, really, it's all just a sham for my lack of budget and expensive taste for the essential luxuries and quality items that are only found in Italy and handmade in Paris.

This past weekend had long been scheduled as 'shopping weekend.' My German Tutor offered to take me shopping, be my buying guide, (knowing how fashionalbly enept I can be) etc., so we hit up the Cherry Creek Mall in Denver. On account of punctual open-for-business-time, we ended up at MAX first and wandered through $300 long sleeve t-shirts before the super cute sales lady asked what we were in for and said: "Oh, I have the perfect dress -- it's our last one, and it's your size, and it's the perfect price point." She lead us to a gray silky number. "This dress is classic -- the gray and the style. It will get you through 3 seasons..." she said as she undressed the maniken. "Ok, you have to try it on and show us." So, I did. and it was silky and gray and sleeveless. It was nothing I would have picked out, and I didn't necessarily love it. But then, she brought out the Jimmy Choos to try on with it "for heels effect", and I must say, I did love the shoes. "Do you have any Christian Louboutin?" I asked. "No," she said, "But they have those at Neiman Marcus." (which was just across the street - oh my lanta.)

Before I left home that morning, Kevin gave me a snotty lecture about how he doesn't like my t-shirt fetish. "But it's so cheap!" I thought. I can afford t-shirts, and, sometimes, jeans. He texted me on my drive down to the big D: "Think Sex & the City." I laughed -- as that is quite an exspendy venture. But, we definitely got started out on the right foot, so to speak.

The next store housed the motherload of amazing re-interpreted-renditions of one of my most favorite styles: the hooded sweatshirt. As I was losing dress focus and drowning in a sea of cowl-necked-hoody-goodness, Anya found the most perfect little understated dress -- a mix of black stain and gray cotton blend -- with pockets. Oh, pockets, how I love thee. I tried it on and it was an instant hit. I felt like I should be sauntering around Paris in that dress, wearing a pair of red galoshes and splashing through puddles. It was a keeper, and so was the reinterpreted hoody, and then I found another cowl-tank item, and broke the bank at the register. Nothing like scoring big in store #2 to make short a day of shopping.

Just the day before, we had been in the Flatirons Mall (Kevin had a return from our annual trip to the mall the weekend prevoius). K & I wandered into a variety of stores and I just looked around, mainly in dismay, and he kept getting frustrated that I wasn't trying anything on. "How do you know if you don't like it unless you try it on?" he asked in exasperation. "Because I just know what I like," I said. I am infinitely drawn to chic t's-- and I was -- the ones that are cut right, and classic, and soft and more than just an undershirt. Is there really anything more classic that a perfect t-shirt & jeans? I had just combed through my closet for tired pieces and overworn duds up for donation, and there was plenty of room for bolstering the T count in my closet. Needless to say, I could have bought 35 t's for what I dropped at the exspendy (but uber-cute) boutique.

Then, it was on to Neiman-Marcus, a place I'm not certain that I had ever visited before. I was excited to see me some red-soled shoes. And, there they were, beaming under the lights like a ray of heaven -- I was almost smitten. They were the shoes with the sassy underbellys, the notorious red leather sole that only a parisian-couture trendsetter could manifest in a frenzy of foot fetish trademarks. I tried on the black leather pumps with 4 inch heels, an angle of instep that was way beyond avalanche danger in my book. oh, but i loved them. Due to my status as a peasant among the Neiman-Marcus shopper demographic, I had to 'think about it'. And I did, all the way around the in-door mall as we moseyed around for whatever else it had to offer.

"$620 for a pair of shoes!?" I must have been losing my mind. On the other hand, it was my 'wedding' party and most brides spend $2500 on just a glorified prom dress that will never be worn again. On the other hand, i didn't exactly have money to spend and there was no way to write this off. On the other hand, when you're on your way into the hole, you might as well get a little deeper. But on the other hand, that is truly insane. But on the other hand, I would have them foreva and they would go with anything, so it would be a good closet investment. The banter went on and on, back and forth. On our way out, I had to stop and try them on again. After spending some time with them, I took a deep breath and decided to just do it.

"Ok," I said. "I'll take them"

"Will you be paying for these with a Neiman-marcus card today?" the man (coincidentally named Max) asked. I shook my head no. "Will you be using American Express?" he prompted. I shook my head no again...

"Visa." I said. (I mean really, who the hell takes AmEx? Apparently Neiman-Marcus is hoitie-toitie enough for AmEx...but not taking VISA? wtf? how retarded it that? it's everywhere you want to be, for petessake.)

Then the Max went on a spiel about how N-M only taked those two cards, or gift cards from the mall, or cash or check. "I can just write a check." I offered. (and who the hell takes checks these days?)

He came back out and wrote down the total on a piece of paper: "That will be $870," he said. This shocked me, and I looked it. Was there a surcharge for writing a check? After mental-mathing the tax calculations, I knew tax wouldn't bring the total up that much. So I asked how much my shoes were. "Those are $800," he said. I stepped back away from the counter and thought about half of my mortgage payment. "Wow, I'm going to need to mull that over. I can't do that right now. I was under the impression that they were less," I confessed. But, I'll take a rain check for when I win the lotto.

 

7.18.07 | the big mouth

from RobB:

"Any media-brainwashed automaton can summon the insipid courage to peer into the horrifying abyss. But it takes a freaking genius with a fearless imagination to peer into the maw of happiness."

7.16.07 | 14 Haikus

We are going to Breck
full load with snacks and supplies
I-70 sucks

Excitement ensues --
"OMG, it's coming!"
a deepfried twinkie

Found dreamy flip-flops
at Breck mountaineering shop
must go back fo'sho

Crisp creek, jumping fish
flip-flops in the mud, rolled jeans
catch & release, splash.

3AM wake up
take down, pack up, eat brush teeth
leave RV camp-deck

Lincoln, Democrat
maybe Bross. Took scenic route
from dark dawn trailhead

Traipsing through the moss
a fragile ecosystem
delicate flowers

a mountain scrambler for breakfast...

Morning plumbing starts
on the trail at 13k feet
no trees, no outhouse

Finn, Finn, Finnegan
Hikes the 14'er
faster than Heather

up one, back down to
trail juncture. Pack goes sans Finn
Ali schleps Finn to car

All paws OK, but
hungry and tired is Finn
home equals bath and food

Pasta Pizza & greens
lunch for 6 hungry hikers
left dog in car

necessary evil
standstill parking lot: Sunday
on I-70

We are back in Denver
anybody want to go
hiking? just kidding

 

 

7.11.07 | When you feel it, you know

There is a Buddhist saying that goes: "To know and not to use is not yet to know." I ran across this today while perusing www.grist.org, which if you haven't ventured to that site, I daresay that you need to go there like yesterday already.

Today, I've pondered this question in light of sustainability. I live in Boulder, you know, and sustainability is part of the Creed of the Boulderites. We like to use it in conversation on a daily basis and say it in front of red-staters and watch the look on their faces. Here in this unit of so many (37?) square miles surrounded by a green belt which protects us from the world just beyond the open space boundary with reality is the mecca for natural health, organics, world-class athletes & yoginis, american buddhism and green talk. There is also a lot of $$$ here, and not a lot of diversity. I wonder how people can not work and afford to live in the square footage downtown in which they dwell, but that is another gripe for another day.

I've been working on a project that involves sustainability -- namely, how a corporations sustainable image holds up. As applause, there is much transparency and they are leaders of the corporate pack trying to green their image. One can get buried in the numbers and stats for hours, some may find flaws, others will be duly impressed, and others (like myself, perhaps) will be skeptical. "is this it?" they will ask. "what are all these big corporate terms & data points? Is the Company bottom line trumping the bottom line of a real, green and glowing sustainability report card?"

I know that changing a light bulb is a radical thing to do for some people. The world can't change overnight. But the big guns -- be they businesses or people in the limelight and power suits -- have more immediate power than grassroots movements toward a greener future, especially considering how power speaks over the greater good in this country (see also: SiCKO, the idiot in charge, the major disaster that is Iraq, who killed the electric car, et al.) Those in the power-seats have a big responsibility to see the problem and to know the problem. And then, they can make steps to do their part to really make a difference towards a very viable solution. It takes balls to be a leader. It takes balls to divest CEO salaries and invest in something bigger than the tiny% of bottom line benefitters. It takes balls (& brains, of course) to push the envelope. Anyone can just cover their bases.

Exhibit A:
A friend of mine works for an organization that is working to aliviate transportation along one of Boulder's most populat turnpikes. She bikes to the bus station, loads her bike and herself on the bus every day to get to a neighboring suburb bustop by 8am (sharp) and then bikes to her respective office. Everyday. (rockin high five, grl!). But she works with stuffy suit wearing folks who drive to work every day. Said friend has been in the sustainability field for 25+ years. Back when it was a seedling. Her course of work leads her to question the organizations to-do list, MO's, and desired list of accomplishments not out of disrespect, but as a true inquiry to the depth of the real issue / impact at hand: "What are we really trying to accomplish here?" Perhaps that is to esoteric of a question to ask people who seem so, well, suited, an concerned with keeping things on track and getting it all done and making everything look harmonious and well done and accomplished. Said Friend is a (threatening!) subversive undercurrent to those who are satisfied with the operating status quo. She asks what really needs to be done, lays it out, and gets squashed with cautions regarding thick bureaucratic red tape. So, she snuffs out her passions for really making a difference and looks for a better thing (while paying the bills in the meantime).

Exhibit B:
Who knew that organic & natural were SO trendy that companies would stretch the advertorial truth, like this item about soap: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-6E19OUBNhM

wow. I mean, it's soap. we use it every-gaddamn day. It is designed to touch our skin and most intimate parts. We all know how petroleum products affects hormones, among other things. Lying about soap? oh my living... First the war, then health insurance, now... soap. wtf?

Sidenote: Google: Dr. Bronner's magic soapbox. Have you ever wondered where all of that crazy verbage on the label comes from? What goonie wrote all that?! Well, some inquiring mind asked and filmed it & that makes me about as happy as having that peppermint patty feeling in my panties.

The JZ Smithians among us know that the Map is not Territory. (and Feist chimes in beautifully: a map is more unreal / than where you've / been or how you feel"). BUt many of us have maps. We rely on maps for direction and answers. We need a plan, stan, and will often relinquish our gut feelings for the sake of the flimsy PLAN. We have Steinbeck (and the Red Hot Chili Peppers) telling us that the best laid plans of mice and men always go awry / nothing ever goes according to plan. Because frankly, a map of the road is not the pavement itself (and who hasn't mapquested something to feel secure in their direction only to find that mapquest only got you to a dead end?). Is this a tangent? Absolutely. But I have a point: When the time comes to scrap the map, we must do so accordingly (& remember to recyle it) because that means it's time to chart new territory (& old maps are only useful as wrapping paper anyway.) This takes guts. And, it takes guts to be ballsy. Karen Salmansohn on being ballsy: http://www.notsalmon.com/2007/06/ballsiness-happiness.html?show_id=8666479696927249253#bk_8666479696927249253

<insert here: RobB's bodacious love letter here for the sake of supporting smart rebellion for the ill-prioritized policies among us & a call to mindful defiance, as taken from the horoscope to CANCER: To celebrate your ramble through the most wildly independent phase of your astrological cycle, I'm offering you three inspirational quotes. The first is from poet e.e. cummings: "To be nobody but yourself in a world that is doing its best day and night to make you like everybody else means to fight the hardest battle that any human being can fight." Your second shot of motivation is from Clarissa Pinkola Estes: "If you have ever been called defiant, incorrigible, forward, cunning, insurgent, unruly, or rebellious, you're on the right track. If you have never been called these things, there is yet time." Lastly, here's a Hindu proverb: "There is nothing noble in being superior to some other person. The true nobility is in being superior to your previous self.">

Coming full circle for the sake of true essayist fashion, Rob had this to say today for Virgo: "The things that can destroy us," said Gandhi, "are politics without principle; pleasure without conscience; wealth without work; knowledge without character; business without morality; science without humanity; and worship without sacrifice." In other words, if we know, we need to know with more than just our heads. True knowing is more than facts, it flows through our figures and our hearts and becomes a living wisdom, comfortable with the uncertainty of being mapless.

Sidenote 2:
As a professor at Yale and as a critic, Bloom has moved further and further away from the mainstream of literary criticism in this country. Most other critics look at literature as a product of history, politics, and society. Whereas Harold Bloom is one of the last who believes that great literature is a product of pure genius, and who believes that we should read not to learn about history or politics but to learn about the human soul.

Sidequote:
"Loving-kindness (maitri) toward ourselves doesn't mean getting rid of anything. Maitri means that we can still be crazy, we can still be angry. We can still be timid or jealous or full of feelings of unworthiness. Meditation practice isn't about trying to throw ourselves away or become something better. It's about befriending who we are already." - Pema Chodron, *Comfortable with Uncertainty*

oil pastel. The inner hippie of Eddy Munsch, by moi.

 

7.7.07 | where's me aye pod?

While I prefer spending the 4th of July as a distant spectator, this year I had the priviledge (?) of watching them from the grassy soccer field at the Colorado Rapids' new stadium. I knit a cute hat (see below) during the game & had a difficult time getting into the patriotic hoop-la and the blaring announcer that would not shut-up. And, then the fireworks started with a BAM -- the force of which was do blasting that I momentarily jolted backwards. And this went on through the entirety of the display which made me feel as if I was in the trenches, without gangrene of course. I had just seen a matinee of SiCKO earlier and had an even harder-than-normal time getting all revved up about the good ol' US of A. I was quite the red, white and blue downer. But at least I was a productive knittress. (though, as I sat in that plastic seat in the stands on the 90+ degree day holding wool in my hands I fully realized that knitting is really a winter sport.)

(**For the record -- I'm not a total party pooper on the fireworks brigade. One of my most memorable moments was canoeing on a full moon night around Seeley Lake, MT, on the eve of the 4th, when a big burst of sky sparklers unfurled above us and reflected on the lake. I Oooh'd and Ahhh-d that one.)

SiCKO got me all riled up in the way that any Michael Moore / Conspiracy Theory / Bush featuring / Anti-Eco Policy film does. It makes me think that if so many people feel so Blue State, what is seriously wrong with all the red-staters? Where has the US worldview gone to totally backasswards? Why do people not realize that we are really in the handbasket and it's time to bite the hand that carries us and feeds us glittering BS.

One of the more interesting (and perhaps obvious, now that I think about it) things said in the film had to do with the juxtoposition of France & the US, most specifically how the voice of the people is heard. In France, the Gov't is apparently afraid of uprising by the people who protest the gov't frequently (nod to Marie Antoinette here). The US stifles any rebellion and waves it away in passing as they are (seemingly) only tuned into bribes of large sums that affect our legislation and bolster corporate bottom lines. Moore has a point in this film about the heartless corporate vortex that is insurance companies. The item that most kills me is that the US is not full of demoralized, poor, and uneducated people (arguable, yes), and although there may not be any outward fear of the government, there is definitely a complacentcy to challenge governmental doings.

And then, I thought of the Documentary Shut Up and Sing: educated, wealthy and empowerd women speak up against the government in a very non-confrontational way, and they get shut down (& fellow citizens try to demoralize them). Oh, the Irony.

"Wittgenstein, schmittgenstein. What's for Lunch?"

On another note, last night, we saw Evening. Needless to say I cried & didn't put up much of a fight to hold them back. I didn't really relate to the movie that much but there were some nuggets of wisdom that shone through brightly at the very end that created a little shift in me: "There are no such things as mistakes." And, that nothing that brought worry, etc., while one was lively really matters in the end. All you have is you & memories & the footprints you left behind.

As part of our movie marathon to ward off hot summer afternoons, we may go see Once next. I am excited for this as it is a musical about love. The same main character / actor / singer was part of the group that formed The Cake Sale -- which if you have not heard this CD, there is one song that is a total must called "Some Suprise," a duet with Gary Lightbody and Lisa Hannigan (?). So stunningly simple and moving. You can check it out here: www.myspace.com/thecakesale

In other news:

Sera Beak's Spiritual Cowgirl Blog is open for business: http://www.spiritualcowgirl.com/. This is the very same beautiful soul that wrote The Red Book -- which I encourage any spirit to read, like now.

In the Garden: something has been eating my strawberries, but the Pear tomatoes are ripening and the Chard was totally delish.

For total fun & nun-chucks & wedding slingers: www.archiemcphee.com

New on the "when I grow up To-Do list": Start on-line ecomm pirate themed knitting store -- www.knitordye.net

Some Fun Words:

fourth wall, n.: The imaginary wall between the stage and the audience.[From the idea of a stage as a box open on one side through which the audience sees the action. The term is also used as a metaphor for the boundary between fiction and reality.]

ataraxia, n.: A state of freedom from disturbance of mind.

compossible, adj.: Compatible; possible along with something else.

The New Knits:

Baby Gnome hat

my first i-cord (baby) hat

7.4.07 | Never on the same day

On a glorious walk/hikethis morning after the raining afternoon/evening of yesterday (see pic below), Boulder felt slightly more quenched after the intense heat that has baked everything to the perfect flame-fearing pitch which has made my AC unit run on overtime. I was with a lazy Finn and a fun friend who related an overheard wedding story to me: A bride and groom asked their parents -- who had been wed for 30 some years -- for marriage advice. "Have you both ever thought about divorce?" the kids asked. "Yes, but never on the same day," the father/in-law replied.

Ah, so refreshing. This is what I'm signing up for. Similar themes were brought up at a bridal shower I was at last weekend when the bride asked for advice / words of wisdom from her quaint group of strong friends. The best advice from that circle was (note to self) to cut each other some slack: "As long as you are both moving to the same goal, or the same end, realize that each person will have their own journey along the way, but will eventually end up there. Knowing that you each have your own paths, but that you're moving in the same direction together gives each other room for their own way [doing things]."

I've started looking for some cute dresses for the party. We've got 4 postcards back and 6 people are coming -- I don't know who two of them are, either. Anyway, so the dresses. I'm drawn to the iconic, classic, wear-it-again-with differen- shoes-black-dresses-with-babydoll-cuts. To be compliant, I thought I should hold out and find something not-black. So, I could go with something artsy, swishy and cute -- it is at a gallery with bluegrass tunes, afterall. But, the color thing isn't that easy. I've been on www.shopstyle.com, where you can go to Womens > dresses and look at pretty much all the styles out there for 189 pages. yay & yawn & pricey & not so pricey. I've decided that some colors and anything too stylish of the times is just to novel and short lived. And I flock back to the black frocks. I'm not saying that I haven't seen some cute dresses, but nothing I would pull off a rack or wear again or actually buy in the first place.

Looking for the perfect dress for any time and all the time is like looking for a divine partner -- novelties wear off, but iconicism lasts. Or, maybe, I'm looking too much on the outside -- there is a chance that divine partnership is within you rather than residing in something else outside of you. Which all seems like too much waxing esoteric on cute party-wear.

In other news, I've drawn up a list of things I want to do when I grow up:

1. be a lavender farmer
2. run off and join a rock band
3. save $$ & get a horse
4. write 3 books (to start)

The trail just to the west of Wonderland Lake, looking South at the Flatirons. No cropping necessary.

 

6.24.07 | Strawberries & the apples of desire

I harvested my first strawberry on Saturday morning and promptly bit into it. I can hardly wait for the rest of them to adorn my cereal bowl. Strawberries are the only fruit that has seeds on the outside. I'm not certain if that is like wearing your heart on your sleeve or not...

Back in Asian Religions at MSU, I heard a parable about a strawberry & a mouse and a death wish and a chase / cliffhanger type scene (the details are blurry -- I'll have to dig up the story). I cited it in a mass email that announced my decision to move back to WI to finish up my degree and be with my main squeeze. I believe that the story echoed sentiments that sound different to me now than they did back then. This time around I hear a big lesson to forget your biggest fears and go after what you most desire with delicious ravenous intent & to take a lucious bite out of your dreams and the opportunities that are standing right in front of you. At the time, and in that email, I related my pursuit of the new love interest to the strawberry in the story. It worked, I guess, as I'm still with my strawberry.

Round about the same time in my life (give or take a year) as a precocious, unrequited girl in love with the idea of love, I was told another story about fruit from another tradition. On afternoon at the rectory, Fr. Tom was telling me about Plato and how the shiny red apples of desire can lead your chariot horses astray for the taste of their crisp autumnal flesh. Another tale of the villanized Pome, and yet another tale with a foreboding flair on the nature of desire -- this time, feeding the fear of going with your gut.

On Saturday afternoon I watched the documentary on The Dixie Chics -- Shut Up & Sing -- while I basked in the AC and finished a knitting project. I gained a whole new appreciation for the DCs, and felt an uncanny closeness to Natalie and her big mouth. (I kept waiting for a PY cameo, but he was only listed in the credits. *sigh* I would trade my whole pot of strawberry plants for a Pete Yorn show at the Fox.) The film was incredibly well done, and even made me cry. (Why? because they were! I like to call this "Crying by association", or "feeilng someone's tears" -- which when you think about it, is a pretty big thing to feel someone's inner emotional world that closely... What would Merleau-Ponty say about this, I wonder...?) I applaud the Dixie Chics now more than ever. Even though I wasn't overly thrilled with the show I saw back in November, I'm glad that I bought their tickets in support of their art.

Overall, it was a laid-back yet productive weekend what with projects-finished-and-hikes-and-walks-and-hauling-rocks-for-projects-to-come and all. And I even got some pictures from some of that (also, more picts of the lawn posted in the 6.18.07 post below):

My third strawberry to ripen; but the first one un-munched by slugs & co.

Finn & his pal Xaus (a fellow wheaten) resting in the shade on the Mt. Sanitas Valley Trail.

 

6.21.07 | the longest day

I've been itching to write lately, but outdoor pursuits and early bedtimes have limited my outlet for bloggage. But even during the recently slow days "at the office" I find my mind wandering into writing topics and essays. I'll have an afflatus of inspiration and ideas flooding and chattering out large portions of a potential essay, but no space in the office to spill out these notions. It's painful, really, to have such an influx of creative flow and not be in the space and time to be able to seize it and go with it.

When I was back home, I drove out to Alma, WI (via Mondovi) to see my dad who had a my wedding dowry in hand. As I sat and ate breakfast with them, he told stories about all of the characters in town -- like the gay couple who own numerous homes along the river, and the Riviera de'Alma and the ice cream shoppe; or like the woman who is married to a doctor and flies to India every year to bring things back to sell in her shop; or the people who move out the the middle of 100 acres from past big city lives simply because a significant other was born and raised there. They were talking about how they related to Michael Perry's characters because they knew someone just like that from the Mondovi/Alma area.

I was not too excited to make an early morning drive to Alma on Sunday AM of my trip back home, but when I got there, I was reminded of the richness and divergence in people and stories that were tied to a place like Alma -- A small town with a mild history and rich farmland. I remember listening to my aunt Karen talk about my paternal family and certain happenings, personalities and dysfunctions, and I said out loud that it sounds as though it would be great book material. The same thought came to me while I was visiting Alma for all of an hour, watching the town walk to the lutheran church next door. On the surface, such places can seem lazy or tired or anttiquated. But doillie making and card playing aside, the history of such a place is not tired, since so many stories are told and re-told with greater frequency. I would argue that the history of a place like this lays just beneath the visages of it's community members, the residents that grew up here or have just migrated in. "Piecing together a story would be so easy here," I thought. "I'd just have to hang out and talk to people about what it was like..." I decided that someday, when it was affordable to do, I would come up here just to write, with no plot in mind, just a sense of the place, and see what would come out of that.

In the meantime, I wish most days that I could afford that luxury sooner than later.

"A poet's work is to name the unnamable, to point at frauds, to take sides, start arguments, shape the world, and stop it going to sleep." -- Salman Rushdie

 

6.18.07 | I dig gardens

Yard work...

...reminds me of my grandparents who incessantly work on their 2 acres (affectionately known as the back 40) -- mowing, cutting down trees, planting trees, gardening, moving plants, turning the garden over, etc. My Grandfather has a special connection to his lawn mower, similar in motif to the connection my mother used to have with her vacuum cleaner. When my cousins and I were all little, gramps would give us a ride in the back trailer of his riding mower.

...reminds me of my dad -- who used to mow our lawn in town in shorts, his old raquet ball headband/sweat band, and tall white socks. He always got uber sweaty in the wisconsin summer sun and always had an expression on his face that was one part discomfort, one part "I just want to get this done," and two parts work induced impatience. Eventually, when we moved out to the country, and had our own back 40, we got a riding lawn mower and mowing duties were placed on the women of the household. When I was behind the wheel, I would daydream and run into trees when I wasn't looking straight ahead.

The ranch was a work in progresss, and there was always work to do -- stuff to cleared out, piles to be burnt, flowers to be planted, sprucing up to do. Now, in my own very little bitty plot of land (which is worth more than the house that sits on it) I have the same care and upkeep duties of this little corner's non-sprawling landscape,and as diligent as I am, I find myself raising a monster weedpatch every year.

Every spring, I am amazed at how much debris and clippings and bags of leaves I can clean up in just this cozy yard. And by summer, I find it utterly remarkable how many weeds this yard can foster. Last weekend, in the sweltering early summer global warming heat, the K-ster and I ripped up sod, moved lichen-covered boulders, planted Xeriscapic plants, put down weed mat, and generously tossed out the mulch-bark. The front yard on this little corner of Colorado, has become quite the charming masterpiece.

This is the view from the front door.

view from the end of the driveway. no more weeds!

view from under the tree.

The rock wall that we built about a month ago to replace the rotted section of the wood wall.

 

6.15.07 | living words

I hear the wedding doubts get worse as the day approaches. Just when I wanted to stop thinking about all of this... there are some things in my inbox that make forgetting difficult. But on the otherhand, invites have finally been sent out, and though there are moments of doubt that linger -- it can only be normal.

previse, v.tr.: To foresee or to forewarn.

premorse,adj.: Having the end abruptly truncated, as if bitten or broken off. [From Latin praemorsus, from praemordere (to bite in front), from prae- (before), mordere (to bite). Ultimately from the Indo-European root mer-
(to rub away or to harm) that is also the source of morse, mordant,amaranth, morbid, mortal, mortgage, and nightmare.]

strident, adj.: Loud, grating, strongly expressed. [From Latin stridere (creak).]

educe, v. tr.: 1. To draw out; to elicit, as something latent. 2. To deduce. [From Latin educere (to draw out), from ex- (out of) + ducere (to lead). Ultimately from the Indo-European root deuk- (to lead) that led to other words such as duke, conduct, educate, duct, wanton, and tug.]

stalworth, adj.: Stalwart: strong, dependable, firm.

selcouth, adj.: Strange; unusual; marvelous. [From Middle English, from Old English seldcuth, from seldan (seldom) + cuth (known), from cunnan (to know).]

peradventure, adv.: 1. Maybe; possibly. 2. n. Uncertainty; doubt.

dehort, v. tr.: To discourage from doing something.

I'm questioning marriage in it's most common form of social extravagance and the heart of its meaning. I could go on a tirade re: "the silliness and the ubsurdity: How I really feel about all things wedding." I just read some Slate articles from their wedding issue, and I have to say I agree with all of it. Weddings are severely overrated. There is a sick amount of cost involved on this one day. And dispite history and common practive, money has everything to do with the day itself, but has nothign to do with the reality of fostering and entering into an aware relationship.

If I had to tout my recent experiences through a class list, it would be as follows:
- us & them: the myth and the narcissism of "my day" syndrome
- craziness and emotional upheaval (see also: theories on Marriage vs. reality, - pre-marital talks & brave questions (see also: personal excavation & 'why am I really doing this?), threat of pre-marital divorce)
- single vs. couple -- a discussion
- Comprimise 101: metamorphosis into the sum of the parts, without losing the parts of the sum.

K still talks about getting a tux. I talk about something in Patagonia. Or another cute black dress. "nothing in black" he told me. "but a tux is black," I reminded him. A wedding is, afterall, the death of one thing and a transition into another in some circles of parlance. Really, it's just a party. I've tried to streamline this for my own sanity, the sanity of others, the very possible and attainable simplicity of it all, an overall lack of pomp and circumstance, and a chill evening for the enjoyment of even those who dispise going to wedding-related events.

 

6.3.07 | The clock is a soul-less mechanism

I fully meant to ruminate more on the trip to Louisville, KY, and share more insights. Yet, I find myself staring at the calendar wondering where the hell '07 is going, and why it is going so fast. Time seems to be moving faster lately, for myself at least, and I wonder why -- the days zoom and leave me in their whirlwind wake, blinking and tired in disbelief. Here are some desultory tid-bits of loveliness since I've been collecting since I last wrote:

Words & noted ephemera:

mesmeric, adj.: Fascinating; hypnotic. [After physician F.A. Mesmer (1734-1815) who discovered away of inducing hypnosis through what he called animal magnetism.] (Useage: Johnny Depp and Orlando Bloom are mesmeric.)

sequacious, adj.: Unthinkingly following others. (Case in point: I want to be a pirate, too.)

scrutator, n.: One who investigates. [From Latin scrutator (searcher), from scrutari (to examine), from scruta (trash).] (Trivialness: There is a pirate store in San Fran owned by the Eggers-guy who wrote A Staggering Work of Heartbreaking Genius, or something like that.)

Quote for the collection:
"Let your tears come. Let them water your soul." -Eileen Mayhew

Quote that resonates with the latest Secret of best-selling fame:
"We live in a world of theophanies. Holiness comes wrapped in the ordinary. There are burning bushes all around you. Every tree is full of angels. Hidden beauty is waiting in every crumb. Life wants to lead you from crumbs to angels, but this can happen only if you are willing to unwrap the ordinary by staying with it long enough to harvest its treasure." -Macrina Wiederkehr

In other news:

*I won the FUEL FRIENDS Spiderman contest (two friday's ago) and will recieve the prize pack, which incudes the movie soundtrack!

* The house is now completely painted in lucious colors. Good times and good talks were had with Mum.

* I bought and listened to the Secret, that little ditty of best-selling fame that pushes quite american values with very ancient footnotes. I have an arsenal of critiques and footnotes about it.

*I found a dollar on my walk last Friday morning. This is after passing up the $0.22 that Finn and I saw the day before.

*I figured out what I need to do to help my knees back into running shape: 1.) stretch one of the Quad quads, and 2.) initiate a squat, repeat 20 times, everyday, until it feels better to run, 3.) shake out knees after working out.

*I need to figure out / plan / unravel or re-tangle the messages of RobB's last few horoscopes. I day dream about this as I try to untangle myself from the corporate red-tape that binds me to the current project I'm on during my day job:

a.) VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): Your relationship with time seems to be one of your biggest problems. There's never enough of it. You're always fighting against the limitations it imposes. It frustrates you and even hurts you. But let me ask you this: Can you imagine yourself cultivating a more friendly and cunning relationship with time? Are you able to visualize the prospect of you and time becoming more like allies than adversaries? How would it feel to regard time as a loving taskmaster that compels you to realize you can't do everything and must therefore focus on only your brightest dreams and truest pleasures? This is a perfect moment, astrologically speaking, for you to attempt this magic.

b.) VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): The coming weeks will be an excellent time for you to become dramatically clearer about the nature of your ambitions. To jumpstart the process, read this insight from career counselor Robin Hirschberg: "People tend to confuse their purpose ('What do I love to do?'), with their ideals ('How am I comfortable behaving?'), and their desired results ('What can I achieve?')." Now get to work figuring out the truth about those three foundation stones, Virgo. Once you do that, develop a plan for getting them to work together synergistically.

c.) VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): "Welcome to the never-ending brainstorm session," reads an advertisement for Barclays Bank, one of the most successful financial institutions in the world. It's an approach that has some similarities to the ethic that prevails at Toyota, the company that makes the world's best-selling car. Its core principle is *kaizen,* a Japanese word meaning "continuous improvement," though it can also be translated as "to take apart and put back together in a better way." A blend of these attitudes is what I recommend to you during the coming weeks, Virgo: *kaizen* meets the never-ending brainstorm.

I just had a spark of illumination while -re-reading this last one, and am wondering now, how Kaizen relates to what I've been through with my relationship with my main (real-life) squeeze and if that is a forever never-ending brainstorm? I also think it's interesting that in Jewish wedding vows, there is no "Till death do you part" clause. I still wonder why anyone gets married in the first place. I feel like I've been married for at least the past 4 years, and it comes as little surprise why the honeymoon excitement is lacking for all things party-planning. There is a reason that budding newlyweds can get hitched in record time and think about things later. Because, If you think too hard about too many things all at once in the face of all things legally married, you're bound to flip out at least a little bit.

This spotting (#3 I believe) happened two weeks ago when the house was taken all apart for the sake of making room for ladders and paint.

5.15.07 | if wishes were race horses

Here are some images from last Friday morning & evening (May 11) when I got a sneak peak at the backside of Churchill Downs. It was a dream come true in many aspects, as I have been reading about horse racing throughout my horse-crazy childhood, and am the proud owner of the entire Black Stallion Series. At one point, I wanted to be a jockey. And, there is still a bit of that in me, though after the grand tour of the backside, I realize that a day as a jockey would be enough for me. But, I did feel right at home with all those people who were my size.

I learned that most jockeys these days are around 115 lbs and have to work at it (in the same manner of models and high school girls). In this aspect, I have a one up on them since I weight in at 106 on a bad day. Jockeys also have to work up to their current rank by working horses for barns, and perhaps starting as an apple picker / walker / groom. It's not a glamorous life -- especially when you consider the early mornings, the competition and rough play on race day, and the fact that you are essentially living at a facility like the state fair grounds for much of the year. The industry -- or this side of it anyway -- is so far from normalcy. And I have to reckon that the other end of the spectrum of the industry -- the owners and breeders -- lead lives far from normalcy as well. Simply b/c anyone with that amassed fortunes and that many acres (600+) and that big of a turn of the century mansion is not leading what I'd call the middle class life.

An evening at the races, however, draws a different crowd, a greater sampling of the social spectrum. I was lucky to enjoy the races from the Turf Club (which I had shopped exclusively for). Our table was right near the finish line. We arrived about half way through the races of the evening. And, after getting the low-down on betting odds and the Daily Chronicle of racing stats per race and race entry (all drawn up by the race secretary), we placed our bets. I had looked at the stat book, and had a difficult time weighing the numbers of these sentient creatures. Only their names seemed to stand out for me. There's about 30 minutes between races. In that time, the horses walk from the backside to the paddock where they are tacked up and mounted and paraded around the circle. Then the horse and rider pairs are ponied out to the track and walked past the stands before they take a warm up lap and enter the starting gate. This walk by is where I would choose my winners. Race 6, I chose a grey mare who came up from behind to take the lead and win the race. She was a long shot, but she was cute -- one that I would want to take home and want to hug. The second race, I picked a bay mare with the same huggable credentials, and another long shot. She won too. Two in a row my first time out. I now knew what my fallback plan was should I ever find myself jobless. I only bet on one more race (a conservative gambler) and felt rushed and had mistook my choice for another by the same number and barn color. I got to see Colin Borel ride in 3 races, none of them he won. And I wondered how many horses it took to get to a derby winner.

I saw a lot of things on the track that didn't impress me and seemed so true to the books I had read that I was surprised to learn that not too much has changed for the race horses besides advances in Veterinary technology, of course. Coming from Boulder and my own background which coddled horses with chiropractors and massage and acupuncture and other modalities of healing, I assumed that if any horses were to receive elite athlete special treatment, it would be those trusted runners in the race world. But I had sorely been mistaken and was actually quite blown away by the modalities that were missing from these horse's lives -- things that could only have made them run faster and farther and be happier about their work. I mean, if all of the athletes who ride in the tour de France get massages par for the course after every race day (and inbetween), I would reckon that this would be such a mainstream course of maintenance and common sense to ensure top performance. I guess when competition is involved, and trainers are playing off horse's instincts and energy levels and excitement levels, they expect spazztastic horses who just run -- run for the wire and for the big stakes. "That's the difference between a stakes horse and a claimer," said one trainer we visited. The bottom line is winning, and with that, the money, all at the expense of the horse -- the athlete doing all the work (and getting sore and tired of dealing with bad riders).

This is me doing a morning warm up with my trusted steed. Oh, wait. I lied. But maybe next time.

Cooling out back down the stretch.

The Twin Spires. The Derby has been run on this track since 1875.

Jogging back down the stretch.

A faux race for fun.

There are not many female jockeys, and there was a smaller percentage of women overall on the track scene.

This is on my list of things to do before I die...

Dueling steeds.

Thanks to the blur, this totally could pass as me. I'm just going to pretend it was.

A view from the stands of a turf race at the twilight races. I think I bet on the grey horse in this race...

The last race of the night (also on turf). I find it interesting that they still have a track photographer, but then again, everyone wants a shot of their finish line pass.

 

5.10.07 | Lilacs

This warm spring air in my neighborhood is still laden rich with the scent of lilacs that lingers at all hours, never resting.

Between shifting to a-day-a-week-in-an-office to finding 'non-Boulder' clothes for schmoozing around the great green state of Kentucky, I've been struck with the panic that comes from recent bouts of mainstream normacy in life. The clothing item made me laugh, namely b/c I rarely stray from sweet soft t's and yoga pants and chacos, so for me, jeans and a t'shirt or a patagonia sundress (organic cotton) is lookin good. There is a scene from Dharma and Greg (did you know that Jenna Elfman is a Scientologist?), the episode that Greg runs for Congress in which Dharma goes shopping with Greg's mother, Kitty, for country club attire. Dharma swears it'll be no-thang for her to make the switch, and she assures Greg that she'll wear a bra. More than clothing (I do love trendy cute dresses -- just not their big spendy tags), I worry about the heat and humiditity (and to think I want to go to India!). Instead of a bra to chastise my small but perky thermometers and keep them under wraps, Kevin uttered one word: deodorant. Apparantly I aire on the side of au naturel vs. country club fresh. (But I knew this, after all, as I am convinced that the pit juice they sell at big box stores is toxic and cancer inducing and it never worked for me anyway.) All wetness aside, I'm excited for this little jaunt to the Bluegrass (and the barn and the track and the horses, oh my!). I leave in just a jiffy, but here are some nibbles that have accumulated since the last post for your bloggie noshing:

verbigeration n.: 1. Obsessive repetition of meaningless words and phrases.

asyndeton n.: 1. Omission of conjunctions, as in "I came, I saw, I conquered."

obiter dictum n.: (pl. obiter dicta) 1. A passing comment. 2. An observation or opinion by a judge that is incidental to the case in question, and not binding as a precedent.
[From Latin, literally, saying by the way.]

haplography n.: 1. Accidental omission of a letter or letter group that should be repeated in writing, for example, "mispell" for "misspell".

brachylogy n.: 1. Conciseness of diction or an instance of such.

kibitz v.intr.: 1. To look on at some activity and offer unwanted advice or criticism. 2. To chat or banter.

"Belief is the death of intelligence." -Robert Anton Wilson

There is no religion without love, and people may talk as much as they like about their religion, but if it does not teach them to be good and kind to other animals as well as humans, it is all a sham. -Anna Sewell, writer (author of Black Beauty) (1820-1878)

VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): "Have you heard of the 'Nine Pregnant Women' rule?" asks businessman Scott Mills. "It takes nine months to have a baby--but you can't get the job done in one month with nine pregnant women. That rule applies to any project: As you think about managing the time that's available to complete a project, it's critical that you identify which steps you must complete sequentially." I suggest you install the Nine Pregnant Women rule at the center of your meditations right now, Virgo. The time is right for you to gaze at the big picture of your life from on high, and then formulate a revised set of long-term plans.

VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): I was enjoying a leisurely bike ride in a rural neighborhood where I'd never been. The houses were sparsely placed amidst overgrown meadows. The temperature was balmy. My endorphins had kicked in and the fragrance of wildflowers had rendered me giddy. Then my mood shifted suddenly. While rolling downhill on a one-lane road, I hit a speed bump -- freakishly, unexpectedly, right in the middle of paradise. Why was it there? My bike stopped cold and I flew through the air, landing awkwardly. The damage was minimal, and the shock was a bit invigorating. Still, I advise you, Virgo, to watch out for and avoid a comparable speed bump out there in the frontier you're exploring. There's no inherent karmic necessity for you to experience an inconvenient interruption like mine. Add 10 percent more caution to your roving and rambling.

4.29.07 | Bringing home Buddha

Last weekend, we took our first road trip in the Subaru & left thursday afternoon for Albuquerque to help out with mom's new house. We determined that we spoiled ourselves with that turbocharged, smooth-riding, sleek new car. It made road trippin' less jarring & something to look forward to. I bought a Buddha for the back yard while down there, but I didn't get to place him in his spot in the backyard due to stomach flu and rain.

This past Friday was SO beautiful here that I ran errands for potting soil and eco-weed killer (got distracted by the flowers) over lunch and "left" work at 4 to go tame the yard. Kevin was leaving for an all-weekend bike trip to Fruita, and I had tackeled the yard parts of my to-do list just an hour after he had left. The list shrunk more by bedtime and I was glad I had a half of a book to finish and a bag to knit (then felt) to keep me busy (should I ever really run out of things to do).

Why do I get some much done when Kevin is not here? Case in point: Saturday. I woke up, performed all morning rituals, went to the paint store for paint samples, met a friend at the farmers market, got some good flora at Pharmaca, fed all of the planted plants in the yard with kool-aid, checked to make sure all the weeds I had sprayed the night before were indeed dead, hung my new pot of pink petunias, fixed lunch, checked E's, read, met my german tutor for 'art supply and inspiration day' and went down the Pearl Street mall in search of new handmade papers, enjoyed fresh juicy juice at Anjou, checked out the goldfish skirt at Londyn's, ventured over to the library to check out some books on making paper, Stopped into some galleries, sent my german tutor home with ideas abrimming, walked Finn, went to the dog park, bathed the dog, showered, knit something in chocolate brown and watched 2 movies: The Holiday and The Prizewinner of Defiance, Ohio, before hitting the sack at midnight. I highly recommed both. I laughed and cried through The Prizewinner and think that everyone should see it. Julianne Moore is great. The story is heartfelt, empowering and wonderful. Good for parents and grandparents and children alike. I truly enjoyed Jack Black and his off the cuff humor in the holiday. I remember thinking "he's so funny. I hope he's a stable humorist... I hope he doesn't end up like Chris Farley." I also realized that I have an unexplainable girl-cursh on Cameron Diaz. I can't figure that out, really, other than she must be like 6 feet tall and maybe I envy her height...?

Mysteries aside, while Anya & I were walking down Pearl on the almost summery-Saturday, we were stopping into the galleries and of course talking about the mixed media pieces she's been making for at least 5 months now. At one gallery, we found pieces that were similar to hers -- similar in materials used and idea. there were 3 different artists and 3 different takes on the method of execution -- their own interpretation of the materials -- and only one of them really pushed the limits, while the others were actually pretty pedestrian. We stood there wondering how some of these pieces were granted wall space, and were a bit surprised to see such a similar concept staring at us from the cluttered walls of the art co-op. Anya stood amazed, scrutinizing the pieces, "... unbelievable..." she started. "The idea must just be out there in the universe and some of us just pick up on it..." For me, her utterances made me think of originality and the flow of ideas, like how someone can think of something "new" and learn later or simultaneously of someone across the globe finding the same discovery. It happened to Darwin, among others. It's as if there is a universe of knowlege in place, streaming through us -- somethings making neural connections, others passing by without recognition. I want to say, if my memory server me right, that the myths of India would support this, that Shiva and Shakti& the creation of the universe behind the veil of maya courses a similar tale of universal knowing. But this is depending on my memory of these stories.

I woke up today in my favorite sweatshirt in the middle of the bed. I started laundry and cleaned the house and watered the new plants before taking myself for a walk. I couldn't believe how out of shape I felt after a week of not eating and not really doing anything. In some ways, last week was like a cleansing ritual, but I wouldn't exactly call fruit punch and mountain berry gatorade cleansing fast drinks of choice. I've seen so many people out running, too, since I've been out of my running route for the past 5 weeks letting my patellar tendonitis rest in peace and stretching my IT band. I think it may be time to pick up the pace again, albeit slowly, and get back into my groove. I've been thinking that I need to balance the sidewalks out with some hike/trailruns for a knee-sparing change of scenery. Now that the weather is HOT, I've been committed to shade/indoors between 10 and 4. I'm afraid of the sun and it's cellular damaging, gawd-awfully sweaty heat-rays.

defiance n.: 1. The act or an example of defying; bold resistance to an opposing force or authority. 2. Intentionally contemptuous behavior or attitude; readiness to contend or resist.

4.25.07 | the pink blossoms of spring

Tonight I walked
with the crazy dog down the
road. Wet sidewalk, still.

Yesterday, boulder:
awash in heavy spring rain.
Good day for recovering

from stomach bugs and
other nasty ailments brought
on suddenly Sunday night:

Between 10:30p
and 8a, thought I was dying.
eruptions so primal (gross).

Bring Your Own Bucket:
went to Dr.: "Will take a
while for this stomach to heal..."

I took Monday off.
consumed water; clouds outside
brewing wet, all coming out later.

Tuesday rain pummeled
the house glass all day. I worked,
barely, fueled by powerade (yuk).

Today, wet ground and
sore stomach. hungry stomach.
not ready to eat.

But the birds are loud
and the worms are plentiful.
mud-paws pad sidewalk

pungent air from pink
blossoms make sweet of the gold
in the doggy bag

picked up from the
tall grass crystaled crisp --
vibrant, heavy. ( horse's fave nosh).

tonight, spring's pink blooms
wanted to stay up late and
revel in the sweet shift before summer.

This is where Finn naps all day -- on the corner of the couch most oft reserved for cats. Ginger eyes up his spot...


Finn with bedhead face fur & matching decorum pillow.


I like a good couch nap too. (Taken a while ago, prior to stomach upset spisode)

4.12.07 | Mahwidge & other demons, a short story of imaginative fiction

"Each person is a story that the Soul of the World wants to tell to itself." – Michael Meade, http://mosaicvoices.org

"Mind-bottling. Like your mind is trapped in a bottle." - Chazz Michael Michaels

"Her emotional pendulum swung from apex to apex. She was torn between moments on both ends of the spectrum, but she sat in the middle and watched the back and forth, the intense ebb and flow. Torn between scenes of comfort and warmth that make forever seem more than possible, that make denying what they have together an incongruous point of departure, a silly incredulous thought (they would look at each other and feel it, the excitement, and the desire to always be in each other's life....); and between feelings and situations that turn the question fountain on full blast, swimming around her head at no moments notice. Scenes that she could imagine happening with near visual clarity as if it's a memory waiting to happen...

"(She would look at the ring on her finger. It was always a little to big. She would slide it off, look at it and then to him. She would catch his eye and say: "why don't you take this."

"He would look at it, puzzled and unsuspecting.

""You can use it to buy something you'll enjoy." she would say resolutely. ...)

"The music airing in the background provided sentiments for both emo-polarities. One song riffs how 'they won't sleep better alone / no they won't feel better alone' and the next how it was ' easier when we were younger / we could put it back to gether / it was there if you ever wanted it / but you closed the door / and said good bye for good' and then back to 'someday I'll look into her green eyes / and know that she'll come with me.' And that's only one CD. There were plenty more songs and lyrics floating around in rotation that would match any current mood and sea change. She wanted to wait out the storms for better clarity, knowing full well that there are no answers in the game of life, but there had to be ways to relax the pressure and the need for a hasty decision. (...)"

 

4.11.07 | Now? write now?

This morning, I had a letter in my inbox from a dear mentor:

"a student told me today that she is going into equine something or other psychotherapy. horses as people whisperers, as i understood it."

I wrote back:

"yeah -- the horse as people whisperers is a growing - like HUGE (global) - phenomenon. I got criticized for that in my thesis-- colonialism of the horse, or something like that.

"(And, I have to concur that some of the stuff that people can apply to horses is a little stretched and out there, but certainly, there is much that a human can learn about themselves when relating to a horse. There's a lot of shifts that can go on. This all started back in the 70s with a guy named Tom Dorrance. I got to meet him before he died. He was a simple cowboy with a simple way of relating topeople and horses and had a keen sense of basic psychology. If he was working on a project with someone, he'd say "man, I could really use a hammer for this..." instead of the alternative "get me the gaddam hammer"... the jist of this work was to make the desire to do something come from the horse/human ("It has to come from the inside of the horse" he'd say) - to make it their idea instead of forcing or pressuring (or beating/abusing) them to do it. Another crux of his philosophy to working well with horses is 'feel, timing, and balance' -- which creates lessons and workloads of personal work for any general human bean to really "get". [ insert zen lesson here.] [ maybe something about meditation and quiet minds here...] [maybe something about letting go, or going with the flow - watered down Tao] [ insert lessons to be learned about feelings --inside and outside (this is my personal favorite part, hence Merleau Ponty.)]...{and you can certainly see how this could be colonized/capitalized upon by Naropa trained therapists for troubled youth, prison inmates and cancer survivors.} in terms of the 'pop-culture horse-lit' that's out there, one book in particular, A Revolution in Horsemanship, states at the very end something along the lines of "the horse is here to change us..."... which was quite a salvific claim.) Interesting things at work in this horse whispering industry."

Which yeilded this snippet in the response:

"thanks for that excellent paragraph. which leads me to ask, what are you doing for you right now, write now. (...)"

Which made me think that maybe the writing is on the wall, write now.

4.10.07 | Wishin & hopin & thinkin & prayin / plannin & dreamin...

Last week, I listened to a great 40 min+ long interview with PY. He explained that his songs are kind of like horoscopes in that there is no real absolute meaning, that people can interpret them however they'd like, however it suits them at their current place in time. I had to agree with the man. I've been listening to Musicforthemorningafter almost non-stop since may of 2002, and each song carries a new radiance, a new luster depending on how my situational light hits it at any given time. I guess that's what I love about it -- one of the many things. There was a PY appreciation thread on the message board last week that touted: "Can't spell 'happy' without PY."

Here are some fun words that came in over the past week that seemed fitting for events/feelings as of late:

testaceous (teh-STAY-shuhs) adj.: 1. Having a shell. 2. Having the reddish brown color of bricks or baked clay. [From Latin testa (shell).]

ostiary (OS-tee-er-ee) n.: A doorkeeper, especially in a church.[From Latin ostiarius (doorkeeper), from ostium (door, entrance). Ultimately from the Indo-European root os- (mouth) that is alsothe source of usher, oral, orifice, oscillate, and osculate (to kiss).]

embrocation (em-broh-KAY-shuhn) n.: 1. A liquid medication rubbed on the skin. 2. The act of applying a lotion to the bruised part of the body.

Scene from Tuesday afternoon: I'm pretty certain they were actually touching...

4.9.07 | Places to go, People to do, Things to see

Today is my the birthday of my first horse, Tulip. It is a birthday that she shared with my father.

I finished reading TImothy: Notes of an Abject Reptile over the snowy (what the...?), cabin-fevered weekend. I started the Inheritance of Loss a couple of days ago (I learned that I can read and ride the stationary bikes a the gym at the same time), and I like it. It talks about India & Nepal like I've been talking about them lately -- I want to go there (soon -- fallish). Would anyone like to join me. I think I've got a place to stay in Delhi. Here's what's on my itenerary so far: Taj Mahal, Ganges, MahaBodhi temple in Bodhgaya, Bodanath - Kathmandu, Nepal. I'm hoping to seek out the place that has tugged at my soul strings for a while, and score some snazzy wool rugs.

I've made a list of other places that I'd like to visit sooner rather than later. They include but are not limited to:
1. Vegas - Red Rocks Rec area (mtn biking, spa, Voges Haute Chocolate store)
2. Ireland - England - France (Christian Louboutian shoes & Mr. Lightbody)
3. India - Nepal - Bhutan
4. Peru (Macchu Picchu) - Galapagos (Darwin) - Patagonia (clothes (kidding))
5. Kentucky (horses)
6. LA (Smalls)

My feet really started to itch at the end of last week when I was talking to a web developer in India. "It only seems right," I thought. "I can't wait forever to go. I'm never going to win the lotto. I'm only a thousannaire." So, it is my personal duty, now, to "get out" more. Way out.

In the meantime, when my hands are not holding books, they are working on little art projects involving Mod-podge and expensive handmade paper and stamps. Simple, yes. Cute, yes. Fun, yes. But my hands want to do two things at once. They want to read and create. Aside from getting books on tape, this brings up an issue of our disintegrated states of text & image -- one or the other, not both. But really, we can't have one without the other, as they form an imaginative whole of what/how we know. Luckily, my artsy works have text integrated into them -- I am inspired by quotes and the amazing sheets of fibers/paper. And, that is my contemplative product that keeps my hands busy in the meantime...

Here was my love letter from RobB this week. I've been told after a friendly reading of my chart, that there are great things ahead and I've been feeling it all along. This love-note resonated with that in an uncanny way:

VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): The Dalai Lama, one of the planet's superheroes, was born during a rare grand trine of Jupiter, Saturn, and sun in the water signs. This week those same planets will conduct an equally extraordinary grand trine in the fire signs. At the very least, I expect the birth of a sublime being whose benevolence will one day match the Dalai Lama's. I also suspect that millions of other wonders will hatch, a disproportionate amount of which will be engendered by you Virgos. Your fertility is at a peak, as is your knack for creating interesting goodness and cathartic beauty.

3.28.07 | Omnifarious

Pertinent words:

omnifarious (om-ni-FAR-ee-uhs) adj.: Of all kinds or sorts.

sessile (SES-il), adj.: 1. Attached directly to the base, without a stalk (as a leaf or a flower). 2. Permanently attached; immobile (as an animal, for example a barnacle). [From Latin sessilis (relating to sitting), from sedere (to sit). Ultimately from the Indo-European root sed- (to sit) that is also the source of sit, chair, saddle, soot, sediment, cathedral, and tetrahedron.]

acescent (uh-SES-uhnt), adj.: Turning sour; slightly sour.[From acescere to turn sour. Ultimately from the Indo-European root ak- (sharp) that's also the source of acrid, vinegar, acid, acute,edge, hammer, heaven, eager, oxygen, and mediocre.]


Quoteable quotes:

"It is impossible to imagine Goethe or Beethoven being good at billiards or golf." -H.L. Mencken, writer, editor, and critic (1880-1956)

"The most important scientific revolutions all include, as their only common feature, the dethronement of human arrogance from one pedestal after another of previous convictions about our centrality in the cosmos."
-Stephen Jay Gould, paleontologist, biologist, author (1941-2002)

Random fun:

http://www.cloudappreciationsociety.org

Suck and Blow are over used. "Let's say instead that the coming week will lick and slurp and drool," says RobB to Gemini this week.This reminds me of a cat I once knew who had no teeth...

In Rob's love letter to Taurus this week, I lifted this lovely number: "Love simply, live amply, run wild."

Holy-moly Haiku:

Your sole / soul purpose
is not to work (nope, sorry)
...think of something else.

3.26.07 | "Less caveman, more poetry"

I got my haircut three weeks ago with Rob. As always, it was stellar. We talked about a myriad of things, talked through things, saw both sides, came up with more questions, options for solutions. Eventually, we began talking about sex. how some guys want it, just it, and come home thrusting. "Yeah, that just doesn't work for me." I said. "You mean, you need less caveman, more poetry," he asked. Heck yes. Is that too much to ask?

In the movie, Trust the Man, there is a scene that I re-lived a couple weeks ago.

I wanted to ask some fellow boys in my life a pertinent question along the lines of: "so, why would guys think that they should be able to "get some" without being decent grown-up human beings and have a real honest realtionship?"

Why can't they look you in the eye? Why the speed and roughness? Why so animal like? Why is it such a problem to have decent foreplay? *sigh* Why can't we all have tanrtric sex like Sting? Who wouldn't want to go through some emotional / intimate leg work to have that connection?

Men are not as strong as we give them credit for. They weren't meant to ride with clouds between their knees..."I'm only a man, in a silly red sheet," sings Five for Fighting's frontman. A friend once told me: "Just remember, that they're not as important as they think they are. All that posturing and what not is just to cover up their incompetence." Another once told me: "It's better to have a few good men, than a flock of morons."

But I really think the question has to do with how men deal with the weight of patriarchy -- the pressures, the ideals, the invisible subconscious programmings that generations of patriarchy has implanted on the male psyche (book recommendation: The Snake Charmer, by Sanyay Nigam) -- a weight that's difficult to shrug off because it calls for a paradigm shift and a new way of being in the world and in relation to the world's inhabitants.

 

3.25.07 | In his words

It's time to renew my poetic license. But until the phrases start flowing, I have to borrow some lines from Snow Patrol, again, because they are so pertinent to how I feel things have been feeling as of late.

You could be happy and I won't know
But you weren't happy the day I watched you go

And all the things that I wished I had not said
Are played on lips 'till it's madness in my head

Is it too late to remind you how we were
But not our last days of silence, screaming, blur

Most of what I remember makes me sure
I should have stopped you from walking out the door

You could be happy, I hope you are
You made me happier than I'd been by far

Somehow everything I own smells of you
And for the tiniest moment it's all not true

Do the things that you always wanted to
Without me there to hold you back, don't think, just do

More than anything I want to see you go
Take a glorious bite out of the whole world

Snow Patrol, Eyes Open, 2006, You Could Be Happy

Please don't let this turn into something it's not
I can only give you everything I've got
I can't be as sorry as you think I should
But I still love you more than anyone else could

All that I keep thinking throughout this whole flight
Is it could take my whole damn life to make this right
This splintered mast I'm holding on won't save me long
Because I know fine well that what I did was wrong

The last girl and the last reason to make this last for as long as I could
First kiss and the first time that I felt connected to anything
The weight of water, the way you told me to look past everything I had ever learned
The final word in the final sentence you ever uttered to me was love

We have got through so much worse than this before
What's so different this time that you can't ignore
You say it is much more than just my last mistake
And we should spend some time apart for both our sakes

The last girl and the last reason to make this last for as long as I could
First kiss and the first time that I felt connected to anything
The weight of water, the way you told me to look past everything I had ever learned
The final word in the final sentence you ever uttered to me was love

The last girl and the last reason to make this last for as long as I could
First kiss and the first time that I felt connected to anything
The weight of water, the way you told me to look past everything I had ever learned
The final word in the final sentence you ever uttered to me was love

And I don't know where to look
My words just break and melt
Please just save me from this darkness

And I don't know where to look
My words just break and melt
Please just save me from this darkness

Snow Patrol, Eyes Open, 2006, Make This Go On Forever

 

3.24.07 | Hi Blog, it's me, Ali

Dear Blog, I'm sorry I've left you alone so much lately. I have so much to write and share with you, but work has been a royal zoo and the other part of my life has been uproaring as well and needing tending to, and because of that, I've been hashing out a lot of things, but many of those things can't really be shared in such a public place for obvious reasons and should really just stay inside my head until they are delivered in a nice package to the right person. But I can say that as much as SnowPatrol is not PY live, they are like apples and oranges, I do like both apples and oranges very much, and this weekend, when I wanted PY, SP was already loaded in the Suby's turbo disk changer, and it was Ok. There was a song off their new album that seemed to really hit home the vibe that'd been going down on Saturday. Here are the lyrical bits of sing-songy Gary-Lightbody-grr wisdom:

I want something
That's purer than the water
Like we were

It's not there now
Ineloquence and anger
Are all we have

Like Saturn's rings
An icy loop around me
Too hard to hold

Lash out first
At all the things we don't like
Or understand

And it's beginning to get to me
That I know more of the stars and sea
Than I do of what's in your head
Barely touching in our cold bed

Are you beginning to get get my point
They're always fighting with aching joints
It's doing nothing but tire us out
No one knows what this fight's about

The answer phone
The lonely sound of your voice
Frozen in time

I only need
The compass that you gave me
To guide me on

And it's beginning to get to me
That I know more of the stars and sea
Than I do of what's in your head
Barely touching in our cold bed

Are you beginning to get get my point
They're always fighting with aching joints
It's doing nothing but tire us out
No one knows what this fight's about

It's so thrilling but also wrong
Don't have to prove that you are so strong
Cos I can carry you on my back
After our enemies attack

I tried to tell you before I left
But I was screaming under my breath
You are the only thing that makes sense
Just ignore all this present tense

We need to feel breathless with love
And not collapse under its weight
I'm gasping for the air to fill
My lungs with everything I've lost

We need to feel breathless with love
And not collapse under its weight
I'm gasping for the air to fill
My lungs with everything I've lost

SnowPatrol, Eyes Open, 2006, It's Beginning to Get To me

 

3.21.07 | Who's your swami?

Ovid wrote: "There's nothing constant in the world,
All ebb and flow, and every shape that's born
Bears in its womb the seeds of change."

Not to leave you all with the same tired, though exciting, blurb of bloggage for over a week, but as PY sings, Time flew away. And, here I sit on the first day of spring, with a slightly stuffy nose, admiring the fresh chartreuse shoots that are bursting into the world from the dirt, from the gray limbs of winter, teasing us with the expectation of blooms and flower-powered air very soon.

Last night, when I got home from a very long and groovy therapeutic session in Denver, where I even began to entertain the idea that maybe PY and I had met in a past life, I looked up at the night sky as I was standing next to the garage and the cloud above me looked like an upside down elephant head, like Ganesha. Eariler, I had learned not to take things in my human space so seriously. I'm sure Ganesh could shed some light on that.

During the session, I also learned I was growing into and better understanding PY's third Album. That was wild.

"All emotions are pure which gather you and lift you up; that emotion is impure which seizes only one side of your being and so distorts you."– Rainer Maria Rilke

I've been feeling especially nippy lately. The horses always seemed to get this way in the spring, as if they were feelin good about themselves -- high on all that fresh grass. I kinda like this refresingly honest vibe, but harnessing my inner bitch can be an exercise in playing with fire, depending on who I am playing with. But I do like telling people how I really feel without the sugar coating. Unfortunately, most peeps need the sugar coating so what I say turns out to be rather abrasive for their current state. I almost want to tell them what their really thinking. I really shouldn't talk to people who don't want to know how I really feel when I'm like this. It's a feeling that's been hard to temper. I've also been short of fuse lately -- esp. with clients -- but have done nothing regrettable.

Rob's email for the week summed up my feelings a bit, and coincided with a cosmic spring cleaning:

VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): It's the perfect time to kill off old habits that drag you down and to sever bad connections that bring out the worst in you. Therefore, I suggest you make an undercover search-and-destroy visit to the murkiest parts of the underworld. When you get back,invite skeletons to come out of the closet and monsters to crawl out from beneath the bed for a nice long heart-to-heart talk full of tough love. And in general, don't you dare avert your gaze from any song and dance that might half-scare you and half-inspire you into triumphing over evil. P.S. In every decay there'll be beauty; in every loss there'll be a glimmer of future joy.

Oddly, this also corresponded with a dream I woke up to as the sun broke this AM. The dream-scene was metaphorically like this: Someone was standing in my way of doing something that I really really wanted and had always looked forward to. They were insecure in my passions and stregnth to go out and meet my destiny, a source of my exuberance, and tried to sidetrack me at a new raw restaurant. But, time was of the essence, and it was a once in a lifetime shot, and I was honest in voicing how suffocated I felt: "Why won't you let me do this? you've known I've wanted to do this for a long time? I need to go there... why did you bring me here?" And, after an appetizer bowl of sweetpotato calamari (it's a raw restaurant in my dreams, remember?) I was loosed to continue on. That which I had been seeking/needing to meet had almost left the building, having spent time with my family, and I caught up with him in the nic of time. (Yeah, PY was the cameo for this part). I had expressed my frustrations regarding what went down in my absence, and was teased to stay in a way that was at once "a coming home" feeling and a "follow me" vibe. But with each osculation, I kept thinking loyally of the things that held me back. It was a dream that was at once cryptic and blatant, and PY was in it, which at first distracted me until I saw the greater metaphor (which was not to run off with a rock band), even while I was still sleepy.

In other news:

*The 5 Languages of Love was recommended to me by an English mate Freshman year, and had been suggested again. I will be picking it up and reading it with my squeeze.

*I had Art day with my German Tutor on Saturday afternoon. I made something for mom to hang on the wall (or fridge) for her b-day and housewarming. I used her shapes and textures and colors to a near close match, methinks. I hope she likes it. I'm also starting a series called Cloud 9...

*I got a new dynamic rocking desk chair yesterday (delivered by my special K who always implements the gifts I buy for my office) and my ass is thanking me.

*I am trying to convince my snuggle-buddy that tantric is the way to go. We are energy centers after all, and a little intimacy never hindered anyone's bliss vibe.

I also learned on Monday, that I am meant to be a loner. This is something that I am generally confortable with; it's just ... lonely. I've been that way through high school, college, etc., and I refuse to wear normal deodroant/anti-perspirant, so I kinda set myself up for it in some respects (but I shower daily!). Here are some quotes I dug up that ruminate on the splendidness of isolation:

"Do not follow where the path may lead. Go instead where there is no path and leave a trail." George Bernard Shaw

"People travel to wonder at the height of the mountains, at the huge waves of the sea, at the long courses of rivers, at the vast compass of the ocean, at the circular motion of the stars; and pass by themselves without wondering." St. Augustine.

3.11.07 | Perfect Circles

I've been sitting on this blog post since my last one due to lack of quality time with Dreamweaver lately. It's a waxing poetic regarding the rest of last weekend that could have almost be called 'Come back home,' but I'll save that one for later.

On (last) Saturday afternoon, we left the big city if Mpls/St.Paul for the smaller city of Eau Claire to hang with the relatives. The drive to EC from MSP was misty-like (if I let myself) -- a trip I've known intimately from Horseshows at the MN Statefair grounds, the old Horseshoe Lake Arabians property (now a golf course), the endless lessons in Hudson (exit 10), and trips to UW-River falls for Ray Hunt and Tom Dorrance horsemanship seminars. The sprawling farmland, oak and pine forests along 1-94, and other familiar landmarks, nudged a feeling in my innards that recognized the landscape that nutured me. Even though much had changed, much was very much the same, as if some things had come full circle. Once again, finding myself in the same spaces, with a long journey between the point of departure and return.

Kevin and I stayed with my family. He got to eat real Mayo and I got to savor some incredible bean soup before another set of relatives stopped by for some chatter, a game of cards and some laughs. It was a gas.

Sunday morning, we had brunch with Kevin's Aunt and uncle. Alongside the omlettes, there were heavy helpings of pre-marital discussions with a sound and very grounded sounding board of a couple offering honest and lively insights to the reality of the experience of building a life together and growing together.

The flight home last Sunday was nice, as the MSP airport has some good restaurants for those with some time on their hands. We arrived home home quite late, and exhausted. But I stayed up until the wee hours of Monday getting stuff together from the weekend and for the upcoming week. This past week sent soaring by in a blur -- but it did have some highlights: On Tuesday, we went down to Denver to see SnowPatrol at the Fillmore (a super nice venue). Gary Lightbody is quite action packed, and the show was nice, but it seemed a little cookie cutter. I know comparisons are not fair, so I won't even say that nothing holds a candle to Pete Yorn Live.

 

3.5.07 | Minneapo-bliss

After the threat of Minnesota snowstorms to make my bad-dreams come true, we had a painless flight to a still very snowy, icy MSP Int'l Airport. In fact, we were early. I enjoyed a powe rbagel from Einstein's and a new book, Timothy: Or, Notes of an Abject Reptile, during the trip back to our home-state up north, and everything was washed in a deep sense of "familiar" and "comfortable" from the moments the white-out city came into view. Ahh, Minneapolis. The state of many good memories for this girl. Not long after exiting the jetway, upgrading to a 4wd vehicle, rounding up our sole piece of luggage, we were off to fetch the birthday girl and whisk her away to Chino Latino for Friendly reunions, coconut shrimp curry, and molten volcano cake with Kaluha whip cream and a b-day sparkler. My anticipation for the show at First Ave was mounting with each forkful of chocolate lava, and it made me wonder if there was anything that could top a legendary epic dessert and the sight and sounds of an epic PYall-out rock-out all in one minnesota night.

On the way to the Venue, Kevin had a momentary lapse of directional acuity but we made it in good time, with only a short wait at the door (outside). We found a great space for all of us (as we met up with 6 other people) on the second level, along the rail off Stage left. I had the troops hold down the fort of visibility unlimited, while I checked out the Merch booth for some goods and to salute Maxx. Much to my (great) surprise, he remembered me. "You're the one that knit Pete the hat..." Instantly my mind was alive with questions: "did he like it? did it fit? blah blah blah? I know he's probs more of a scarf sort of guy..." and on and on I went. I bought some merch for signage after the show, and proudly walked back to the crew to announce the best news I'd heard in a while. I had recognition by the PY peeps. I am the girl who knit PY a hat. wowsa. That's the outcome I wanted from Operation: PY hat, part deux. ("The knitting group is going to love this," i thought.)

The show was AMAZING. First Ave and the northwoods crowd had a totally different energy than the week before at the Ogden. Minibar and Aqualung were in top form, and PY rocked the house with a fully loaded set and a 5 song encore. We found the rest of our party in the crowd at various stages during the opening acts, and as much as it is hard to catch up over ear blowing decibel levels, it was great to meet the rels and the dear friends at the most happenin place in Minne that night. Exhaustion was setting in as the band left the stage for good, but my feets had a mission for signage from the man himself, and I needed to ask him for merch embellishments.

I met my cousin down there as she was getting her merch signed by the entire band, and by whatever stroke of luck, the place I happened to be standing became the line for "seeing and being seen by" PY himself. I worried it was BYOS (bring your own sharpie) but luckily, this traveling band comes well prepared. While he signed, we talked. And Max (with the groovy cool glasses) yelled over to Pete: "This is the girl who knit you the hat!" All the while I was blabbing and PY was saying "you look familiar... yeah, I've seen you before... like on my myspace page... What's your name?" "Ali" I said. I was dying inside (and outside too, I guess.) When I try to say what his music means to me, words don't come in brevity. I could write essays to count the ways... And I think that's my hangup. I need to hone my thesis and pare it down to the essentials: "your music rocks me like nothing else has or does, and it happend on first listen. the MFTMA CD has hardly left the CD it's sole rotation since, and everything after is just as affecting and real and luscious. Thank you..." It all seemed surreal, and the fact that my normal hearing skills had been half shot from the drunken madness of purely epic vibrations, (and it was waaay past my bedtime) i'm surprised I still could contain my equilibrium. Kevin the good sport was uber gracious to take some picts to document the memories for bloggage and posterity.

I was SO amped, I couldn't sleep that night. It was electric and pulsing through my veins at unshakable volume. So, when Chez Bigger's head Chief rapped on the neighboring door to our twin bedded room and said the word "run" that brisk Saturday morning wind gusting through Apple Valley couldn't keep me in those flannel sheets any longer. I am the girl that knit PY a hat (even if he doesn't wear it much).

Here are some picts that may look all the same to the untrained eye, but they full of distinctions:

1:30 am Mar. 3: I dared myself to make a complete, coherent sentance and stop blabbing. Nothing like a bad case of diarreaha at the mouth when you're in front of your most favorite rockstar ever. :)

getting some signage on the gift-age.

Happy B-day signage for MichB's embellished giftage.

 

Yeoman, n., adj.: performed or rendered in a loyal, valiant, useful, or workmanlike manner, esp. in situations that involve a great deal of effort or labor: i.e. "He did a yeoman job on the problem."