As the year begins to wrap up, some words to think about...
i hope that in this year to come, you make mistakes. because if you are making mistakes, then you are making new things, trying new things, learning, living, pushing yourself, changing yourself, changing your world. you’re doing things you’ve never done before and more importantly, you’re Doing Something. So that’s my wish for you, and all of us, and my wish for myself. Make New Mistakes. Make glorious, amazing mistakes. Make mistakes nobody’s ever made before. Don’t freeze, don’t stop, don’t worry that it isn’t good enough, or it isn’t perfect, whatever it is: art, or love, or work or family or life. Whatever it is you’re scared of doing, Do it. Make your mistakes, next year and forever.
“The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other’s life. Rarely do members of one family grow up under the same roof.” ― Richard Bach, Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah
I believe when you’re open to the universe, ready and willing, the universe puts the right people in your path. Sometimes in a way that’s so startlingly, painstakingly beautiful. It’s hard not to believe in the greater good when something like that happens…
I met such a person on my way home from Sedona. I had arranged for a car service to take me to the airport, early on Saturday morning. The sun wasn’t out yet, Sedona was still slumbering.
It was on my walk out to the Tlaquepaque (a cute area with shops, and an ATM, which was what I was after), that I realized for the first time just how quiet the desert gets. It had been a busy trip with my girlfriends, and lots of catching up and laughing, and for the first time…there was silence.
It was dark when I first walked out…and I felt a little scared and nervous, scanning all the sculptures of pioneers and native healers scattered throughout the resort, wondering if they’d come alive at this hour… but just as quickly, that thought passed, and I felt this immense and overwhelming feeling of peace.
I really felt this place.
It was beautiful. And just as I was walking back to the lobby, my senses heightened, I heard this woman’s voice: Am I picking you up?
I hadn’t even noticed the car, but she had been driving so silently beside me. Sure enough, she was my ride.
For the next 40 minutes, on a windy, woodsy road to Flagstaff Airport, my life changed. I can’t even begin to explain just how perfectly placed in my life, at that exact moment, it was to meet this woman, to have this conversation with her. We talked about a lot of things, of spirituality, of cleansing, meditating, of having soul contracts with other people here on earth, of visualizing where I want to be in my life.
I know this must sound so hokey! But she shared so much of her personal life to me and we were both so open.
Meeting her reminded me of just how true it is that you meet people in your life for a reason, and to be open to the gifts and the wisdom that they will impart on you, no matter how brief they may be in your life.
It made me realize how grateful I was to be in that car ride with her, on my way to go back home. And just then, the sun rose, the sky turned pink and from within the trees, dozens of elk rose from the grass, their beautiful long necks craning to see us pass them on the road.
We sat quiet looking out at them- it really was a sight to be seen.
When the ride ended, and I handed her the money, I knew that ride was worth way more than what I could ever give her.
“Maybe I’m old, but to me ‘going out’ means going out to dinner. It’s about the conversation: someone recognizing your intellect, the charm of flirting, and really speaking to somebody.”—Keri Russell in Bon Appetit, Sept. 2013
This space has been a little more than abandoned in the last year…for reasons I wasn’t really quite ready to put down…yet.
I guess I’ve spent the last year just trying to make sense of how much my life had really changed. And rather than seeking solace and answers and therapy through music, literature, writing—I’ve spent it searching inward. Synapses connecting to other synapses. Looking for answers only where I know I’d find them best: within.
If you’re still there reading… and checking in, thank you.
“As humans, we waste the shit out of our words. It’s sad. We use words like “awesome” and “wonderful” like they’re candy. It was awesome? Really? It inspired awe? It was wonderful? Are you serious? It was full of wonder? You use the word “amazing” to describe a goddamn sandwich at Wendy’s. What’s going to happen on your wedding day, or when your first child is born? How will you describe it? You already wasted “amazing” on a fucking sandwich.”—Louis C.K.
We open the back door and let in all the light, all the heat.
Let it penetrate our bodies until our bones are warm, our limbs melt-y.
On afternoons like this one, when the sun reaches the point where it is directly shining on our little back patio, we hit the pause button and forget about time. We let go of everything to take it all in. These short spurts of heat that last only long enough to remember that afternoons such as these did once exist, in our youth, stretched over a period of a few months—those drawn-out summer afternoons staring bored, lazily, out at the sun. But here, here, we savor it. Me and that petit monstre of mine.
After all, moments like these never really last that long.
In a couple of hours, spring’s fog will just roll right over us.
“It was like when you make a move in chess and just as you take your finger off the piece, you see the mistake you’ve made, and there’s this panic because you don’t know yet the scale of disaster you’ve left yourself open to.”
I went for coffee and doughnuts. But the sun was shining so bright on Saturday morning, that Michelle and I stayed to stroll along the brightly colored doors of Temescal Alley, with its racks of highly curated vintage clothing, local artisan jewelry, and a store stocked with everything you’d need to build the perfect terrarium.
In my haul: An amazing japanese 70s-80s cropped dolman sweater, an even MORE amazing (almost fluorescent in the light) purple hanging plant called a Wandering Jew, a candle, and a cool rooster print I framed as soon as I got home.
Back home with the radiator heat hissing, a quiet early morning absent of Milli, (who would have been all over my toast) free to enjoy this slice of walnut bread with almond butter, among cooking magazines and short fiction books.
i thought 2012 was the year of change, but as it turns out, looks like 2013 will have it’s own share of changes too…
i started thinking about this as i sat down on my couch—moved to a temporary corner on another end of my living room to get my old rug out the door (thank you fellow Craigslister)—staring at the big empty floor in front of me. i can visualize lots of different rugs there, but who knows what will actually fill its space. it’s a lot like the thoughts that have been filling my mind recently about my job, my career, my personal life, the city that i live in. all things that have the potential to swap out this year.
i embrace the “turning of the tide” the “change in the wind” and all those other metaphors that are said for when change happens. i feel ready for it. if 2012 was the year for making tough life-changing decisions, then let this be the year that i start to put things back together. i’m looking forward to that.