tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31678975111242814242024-03-05T02:01:23.577-08:00Let That Songbird GoUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger31125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3167897511124281424.post-42157707859984108072016-09-14T06:38:00.001-07:002016-09-14T06:38:36.177-07:00Whatever it takes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">When I was 14 years old I stood outside the boys’ locker room after a high school basketball game with a team from Australia to ask if anyone knew Daniel Johns from the teen rock band silverchair.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">If you know me at all you’ve heard the name. At the time my entire existence was meaningless except for my undying love for a boy I had never met. But I KNEW. We were soul mates. Both of us would be ok if we could just find each other. In fact, the whole world might be ok.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">And so I set out to get famous. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Clearly we could never get married if he didn’t know who I was, and—ahoy!—there was a guitar. (Hindsight is now telling me that becoming a folk singer was not the *quickest* or best way to get famous, but it was somewhat convenient and promising at the time.)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Nothing was going to stop me. I researched exchange programs to try and get placed in his town, I begged my mom for plane tickets to Toronto (from Washington state) because at an in studio performance I was SURE to meet him (and then, of course, Voila!). I talked about him to <i>everyone.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>And stood outside the boys’ locker room soliciting total strangers for information.</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">This was a thing I wanted badly enough to do whatever it took. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I didn’t care what anyone thought. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Anyone.</b> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">And I wish I felt that way about anything again, ever. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">More often it’s like the Meatloaf song: “I would do anything for ________, but I won’t do <i>that</i>…”</span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">“That”</i><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> generally referring to being too uncomfortable, risking too much, compromising dignity, facing fears, or, as it’s sometimes </span>blatantly<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> said, going balls to the wall, doing our best, giving our all. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">God forbid we actually give our all to something and fail.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">God <i>really</i> forbid we give our all to something and succeed.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I want things. I look ahead to my life and I see a lot. I see things I can’t fathom not happening, loves I can’t fathom not loving, dreams-come-true I can’t fathom not coming true. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">What am I willing to do for them? Am I willing to do <i>that? </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Are you?</span></span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3167897511124281424.post-75582795775319718492016-07-26T14:32:00.000-07:002016-07-26T14:32:22.249-07:00Summer Rain<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwhoMrzusU6EBoirKe-tUWq22fpyHnLHmPBUxk3qyfIChNdTw-FQpvMTibiw302v5r4ALxs_MUyHvmIcJLIbl5OoyVLkrskhcKxS_egaCh-0hWOVL08EnDWJ0MrtJ-jyhdRmu0SYH3qXQ/s1600/IMG_4427.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwhoMrzusU6EBoirKe-tUWq22fpyHnLHmPBUxk3qyfIChNdTw-FQpvMTibiw302v5r4ALxs_MUyHvmIcJLIbl5OoyVLkrskhcKxS_egaCh-0hWOVL08EnDWJ0MrtJ-jyhdRmu0SYH3qXQ/s640/IMG_4427.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I bought a new car yesterday. I traded in my 20 year old beauty Sabine and after they took her away I sat on the couch and sobbed, unable to even go outside and look at the newly manifested beauty I had wanted so much.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I was NOT a person who *could* buy a new car. It's amazing how much I feel the need to really hit that one home to the world at large. It was a completely farfetched idea, and I was just crazy enough to start looking online for Prius C's in baby blue. Just to dream, and maybe get the cosmic ball rolling. I would name her Charlotte. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Turns out all you have to do to buy a new car is find it and promise the people you'll pay money every month. Turns out I can do that. Turns out from start to finish my impossible notion became reality in under two weeks.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Looking at Charlotte was uncomfortable, driving Charlotte was uncomfortable. I did some errands, sizing her up fiercely in the parking lot each time I returned to her. IS THIS ACTUALLY CHARLOTTE....IS IT REALLY HER....THIS IS NOT MY CAR. Sometimes it was a whisper, sometimes a scream. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I realized that I was uncomfortable, not because this isn't my car, but because it is. </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Here's to blowing what we *can't* do out of the water. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Charlotte and I will be just fine. As we headed out for dinner and some music last night it began torrentially raining, wild storms completely out of the blue. For a state that is back to being all but on fire after the terrible flooding this spring it was a miracle and a spectacular blessing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I had a sudden moment of clarity, and asked Will if he remembered the factory name of my car's color. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I saw the same realization twinkle in his eyes and he smiled. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">"Summer Rain."</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3167897511124281424.post-57538270174573606932016-07-02T09:23:00.000-07:002016-07-02T09:23:16.851-07:00Every Square Inch<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCVXxTOqYKgBttI8ivxHoFFEbFpGUiSA3SOZEcjbnksIqNobwIeiteT1x-GjBBPItVaPyJn1qDUcRVWKS8xSZ3CuT8msM9rKzEmp3JWtgvknkR04_Eqxvnzi7mV5_-slHojurRQfGVQzY/s1600/IMG_4088.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCVXxTOqYKgBttI8ivxHoFFEbFpGUiSA3SOZEcjbnksIqNobwIeiteT1x-GjBBPItVaPyJn1qDUcRVWKS8xSZ3CuT8msM9rKzEmp3JWtgvknkR04_Eqxvnzi7mV5_-slHojurRQfGVQzY/s640/IMG_4088.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I just took a shower, and then put lotion on every inch of my skin.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I assure you I have never before done anything to every inch of my skin, short of sweating many a summer (and spring, and fall) day in Texas.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">About 18 times along the way I tried to shortcut the plan.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>I don’t really need to go below my knees…..my arms are fine…..getting the middle of my back is hard, that’s good enough….sheesh…</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">But every time I made that tiny (and let’s admit it - <i>tiny</i>) extra effort I was delighted to feel like I was rediscovering a new part of my body, that long neglected something-or-other that didn’t command any <i>particular</i> negative attention from the Big Bad Wolf, but is sort of blobbed into the hazy grey of everything-else-except-those-very-few-parts-of-me-I-think-are-pretty-ok.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><b>This whole process took about four minutes, and I’ll go ahead and say it was pretty flippin’ revolutionary for little old me.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">And actually “little” and “old” describe with a fair degree of accuracy the range of the physical growth scale I seem to inhabit. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><b>Little:</b> I’m the baby of the family and no matter how much I grow I never catch up to my big brothers. I rely—confessed with something less shameful than shame, but still some not-so-proud-of-ness—on my little girl charms way too often. It’s a defense at times, a “this is the best chance I have for this person/these people to like me,” and sometimes it can be just plain crushing to my 34 year old self esteem. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">O<b>ld:</b> I’m 34, and that’s, like, almost <i>40</i>… (<i>Maybe at 40 I’ll finally identify as a woman rather than a girl??</i>) I feel old in that I’m worried about the day I wake up in a body that no longer feels (or looks) like mine and will have missed All the Days of taking advantage of loving the heck out of the one I once had. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><b>I don’t feel grown up yet, but worry that I’ll suddenly be, well, <i>too</i> grown up. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Little girl going on little old lady<b>.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Love, love, love…..love….love, love…..love…..</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><b>Love</b>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Real actually love is what I showed myself today. The kind that shows, not tells. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I can make the effort to put on flattering clothes and make up, poise myself in the mirror in the best angle of light, and breathe a small sigh of relief as I tell the reflection (<i>with at last a shred of conviction and belief!</i>) that she’s beautiful before snapping an obligatory selfie that will probably never be posted. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">But to take four precious minutes out of my day (says the girl who took <i>pleeeeenty</i> of “precious minutes” to do a great many other less than useful things since she woke up) to even acknowledge—let alone praise and do something nice for—every part of my miraculous freaking body (have you given any thought today to just how<i> insanely cool these things are??</i>)</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">That’s new.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">That’s big.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">It’s kind of the biggest thing, actually. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Our intentions, our <i>a</i>-ttentions, are the most powerful tools we have. It’s what aligns us with the good stuff, the stuff we want, and makes the signs and arrows along the way a lot more easily recognized as such.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>As much as some part of me has wanted it, my intention hasn’t actually been to be healthy and the best physical version of myself that I can be</i>. How could it be when I’ve been ignoring and avoiding and turning away from the things that would actually make it possible? There’s a deeper intention at work.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">And it’s one that’s pretty hard to look at.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Before I wrote this, or knew I would write it, I made myself jot down some of the yucky thoughts that my post shower shower of love brought up:</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i></i></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>I’m not allowed to be beautiful</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>Why do I deserve to love my body when so many others can’t/don’t love their own</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>People will think I’m trying too hard if I take care of myself</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>People will think I’m vain if I take care of myself</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>My beauty makes other people feel bad about themselves</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Deep breath……</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Yeah, those are hard things for me to look at. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I’d like to say that it’s been a while since another woman has said to me, “<i>I </i>hate<i> you; you’re so skinny!</i>” </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">But it hasn’t. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I’d also like to say that the last time it did I <i>didn’t</i> respond by saying, “<i>Oh thanks! I hate you, too!</i>”—hopefully said with enough reluctant sarcasm to not be <i>quite</i> so awkward….</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">But I did, and it was.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><b>You don’t diminish others when you shine</b>.<b> </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">And you certainly don’t make them feel better about themselves by putting yourself down. (See ridiculous above example.) </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">You deserve to love you. Wait, scratch that. You don’t have to deserve it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Just do it.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: 14px;">Four precious minutes at a time.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: 14px;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3167897511124281424.post-67789784160377476612016-05-11T10:20:00.000-07:002016-05-12T13:06:42.419-07:00"I am a person who _____________ ."<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgucWhpD7CpYKhgZheOoamH-oH6cwYHg5sVs66Zsum4529Wk6vMBtkgOpRg1hIossmYXaE8LIHJJYxGi0nBtMyot8JX4z9cblKXjhyphenhyphenRD6TJ-TK5FWwogW9_vVOZMM0Z4OkIiFymArf0AII/s1600/IMG_0958.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgucWhpD7CpYKhgZheOoamH-oH6cwYHg5sVs66Zsum4529Wk6vMBtkgOpRg1hIossmYXaE8LIHJJYxGi0nBtMyot8JX4z9cblKXjhyphenhyphenRD6TJ-TK5FWwogW9_vVOZMM0Z4OkIiFymArf0AII/s640/IMG_0958.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><b>I woke up yesterday morning and worked out.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">That statement probably doesn’t mean much to anyone but coming from me it means a great deal. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">It was the first time since I was obsessed with this ridiculous (but awesome) Jane Fonda VHS tape as a teenager that I have gotten up in the morning and really moved. And not only did I move but I did deliberate things to build muscles that today are sore enough to make me feel like I was hit by a truck.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><b><i>I truly want to be healthy. I truly want to feel good</i>.</b> I even like (reasonably) early mornings well enough. My mom and I have both had the goal for as long as I can remember to do a push up. She’s worked real hard at for a while now. I haven’t. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I don’t actually believe that I’ll ever be able to do a push up.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<i><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">OR</span></i></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">closer to the truth is that <i>I’m terrified of the body that would be able to do one</i>, because it wouldn’t be mine.</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">My body has stayed roughly the same since I was in fourth grade. It has grown in weight since then and my knees are not <i>so</i> painfully knobby, but for the average observer there are no real ups and downs. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I know I’m lucky. If I eat as badly as possible (and as a teenager I pretty much ate as badly as possible—anyone else binge on Jiffy peanut butter, PB Captain Crunch and Aunt Jemima’s on Wonder Bread in the middle of the night? Anyone??) or if I eat like a saint (at least compared to some) my body will look the same. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">People assume that slender people are healthy. People assume that <i>I'm</i> healthy. It’s been a weird thing feeling the need to assure them at times in my life that I really wasn't. Where the heck does that come from??</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I'm not <i>un</i>healthy; I can climb a flight of stairs but might get winded doing so. I could probably run for my life if I had to but am really crossing my fingers that I won't have to. I like healthy food, though many of the things I like best to put in my body (</span><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">coffee, alcohol and honey greek yogurt to name a few) </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">aren't. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I started playing a game in the last year or so. It's called <b><i>"I am a person who __________"</i></b> and the game is to fill in the blank. The goal is to fill it with things you want, and notice even with small somewhat meaningless things how much resistance there can be to a statement. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I played it one day by wearing a belt. I never wear belts. I put one on, declared "I am a person who wears belts," laughed out loud and went out into the world to do errands. It was weird, but I rocked it. It felt good. I got home and my mama called. I answered the phone and there was silence for a few seconds. "Shawnee?" she finally asked. She didn't recognize my voice. That's the power of play. </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">In general "I'm a person who likes change." I love new places, new experiences, new people, new songs, new clothes, new understandings of myself and my world.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><b><i>But</i></b> <b><i>I'm terrified of changes in my body.</i></b></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">My body is the one I've had forever. It's familiar; I know it inside and out (well, not a lot of the inside but some). Even the parts I'm not super stoked on are better than the unknown. If I could suddenly have the body I "wish" I had I doubt I'd be able to enjoy it. <i>Because it's not me</i>. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The voice that would be able to say "I am a person who works out (or does yoga, or runs, or even </span><i style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">stretches</span></i><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> for god's sake!)" has not been willing to speak, not even a whisper.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">But I woke up yesterday morning and worked out. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">And guess what? Just like that a 20 year streak was broken. A hard and fast rule in my psyche was demolished</span>. <span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">It wasn't perfect. Certain things were difficult and painful, and my body was subject to many awkward and compromising positions. </span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">BUT</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I did it, and that's all it took. One action, one morning in May, and <b><i>I am now a person who works out</i></b>. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Whaaaaaaaaaaaat??</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">That's power, and that's beauty, and really, it's just plain <i>fun</i>.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">I bought work out clothes. If I can move tomorrow morning I will most definitely get up and do it again. </span><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">I'm excited to work with my body and see what happens.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"> </span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">And if I can change <i>that</i> big one so easily...what else is possible?</span></b></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Now read out loud and fill in the blank:</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">"I am a person who ___________...."</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3167897511124281424.post-79029105643475037792014-07-08T08:51:00.000-07:002014-07-08T08:55:49.545-07:00Underneath It All<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiab5Y56Xv7ikc7zafXrA3HiBtB2lUFd23lEfXJsM9sIhGD_eavFfNRSBx0eNqIBHuO0DgVQTfESZET1aUoq4cr6J9gtjGb1-BbGBROcsSGD6VMzQeDkk_FOjJW9bUyZPV2lehjZgEmJ9U/s1600/_DSC0760.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiab5Y56Xv7ikc7zafXrA3HiBtB2lUFd23lEfXJsM9sIhGD_eavFfNRSBx0eNqIBHuO0DgVQTfESZET1aUoq4cr6J9gtjGb1-BbGBROcsSGD6VMzQeDkk_FOjJW9bUyZPV2lehjZgEmJ9U/s1600/_DSC0760.jpg" height="640" width="425" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Untouched raw photo by SanjayNPatel.com. FireMakeupArtistry by Jessi Pagel</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
...And then I got my hair and make
up professionally done and had a really good photographer take
pictures of me. Only the second time in my life THAT'S ever
happened, the first being when I was eleven years old. I've had a
whole 21 years since then to solidify and further complicate the
relationship between who I actually am and who my self image thinks I am. I think
for most of us there's a world of difference.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I wanted to write about the experience
because it really seemed to have an impact on people seeing me like this, and I was somewhat overwhelmed by how many of you expressed a
preference for me as I usually look—i.e. without make up, and I was
really touched by it. I understand what you mean. Yes, I look really, really “sexy”—in one shot I think I look a lot like Julia
Roberts, in another Natalie Portman, but only in the ones I didn't
consider necessarily attractive did I look at all like Me.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
We love people for their quirks, for
the familiarity of the lines on their face, their smiles, the comfort
and confidence we feel in who they are. Many of you didn't recognize
me at all in this picture, including my own mother. Some face paint,
lighting, a lens and some talent and we can be anyone we want to
be—<i>which</i> I think can be really good for us, in moderation (like all
good things in life).</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I think it's important for us to play,
to take on roles, to make ourselves the creative canvas sometimes.
It reminds me that people only “see” what's on the outside, and
guess what? If people see me like I am in this picture they're
guaranteed to have a different impression of me than if they saw the
“normal” me. That's neither good or bad; is just is. It's a
tool, to be used for creativity, for strength, for fun, for growth,
as long as it doesn't take you over, as long as you can come back
down and remember who you are underneath it all.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
A lot of us learned, through some means
or another, that wanting and enjoying the spotlight makes us selfish
or full of ourselves. I'm not sure what it will take for me to get
over this one, but having a really amazing photo shoot done felt like
a really healthy and positive step in the right direction. I mean,
let's face it: I'm building a career that revolves around being, quite literally, in the spotlight, and the more I can learn to be
comfortable and truly enjoy it the better an experience it will be
for the people supporting me.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I'll admit, even looking totally not like myself I still felt wholly vulnerable in front of the camera. I asked Sanjay to please not take any shots of my knees from the side, and looking over the
photos find myself cringing at many a wrinkles, hairs, teeth and, yes, my knees. It's exhausting isn't it? The curse that each
of us carries to scrutinize every tiny part of our incredibly magical
and amazing bodies? There <i>has</i> to come a point of surrender,
that I'm still working hard towards. I've learned enough to know
that no one—like, NO one—is paying any attention to my knees, unless, of course, they hate theirs too. They'll be looking then, but unless they hate
theirs in the very same way I hate mine, they aren't going to see
what I see. No. One. Cares. But me. What's the point?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I'm very familiar with the wide
spectrum of feelings I have inhabiting this body, going about my
business in the world with it, looking in the mirror at it. A lot of
people think I'm really beautiful, and a good person, and I do my
best to see myself that way, just as I want the beautiful people in
my life to see themselves as I do. I catch glimpses here and there, and I'm
grateful to all of you for that, yet there is no one in the world
that sees us the way we each do on our darkest days. Perhaps we're
not really as terrible as we think we are......? It's a noble idea.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I was relieved when I washed my face at
the end of that day to find both that mine was still there—wrinkles,
freckles and all—and that I was happy to see it. I know many of you were too. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3167897511124281424.post-2221059491839217182013-08-02T16:17:00.000-07:002013-08-02T16:17:10.164-07:00Day 5<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbnr1ePL5gkiuagy3ofpI4JXS-qshCHYm-b7wIbA4eOPg3wQ7SIs393SlTubgmkijK8IYtMk02fITyEa3m58BkxdT8vrA13uhXmNlCK_f9Mnu819cJukoh0GNdB3vt5Ca-kzFbnGRQRrU/s1600/IMG_8623_2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbnr1ePL5gkiuagy3ofpI4JXS-qshCHYm-b7wIbA4eOPg3wQ7SIs393SlTubgmkijK8IYtMk02fITyEa3m58BkxdT8vrA13uhXmNlCK_f9Mnu819cJukoh0GNdB3vt5Ca-kzFbnGRQRrU/s640/IMG_8623_2.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Well, it’s Day 5. I lost count of how many times people were surprised when my sweetie would tell them he was heading out on a seven week long adventure--without me. They were not necessarily surprised that he would do it, but surprised that I would “let him.” Not only would I let him--not that it’s at all my place to allow, or not allow, him to do things anyway--but I pushed for it. Sure I miss him like hell already, but who’s to say that we can’t enjoy that? Who’s to say that the missing isn’t beautiful? I let him take this trip, because my most important job as a loving partner and friend is to notice what makes his heart light up, and encourage whatever that might be. </span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">And yes, I chose to stay home. I chose the 100 degree heat, the 8 foot tall weeds, the fire ants and the empty house, because along with that I also chose chickens, a Nana cat, and a big blank canvas with very few distractions on which to focus a driven and tremendous desire to get “caught up,” and to create. </span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Creation isn’t just about making art; it’s about learning to see art in the everyday things that you do. When I wrestle the 8 Foot Jungle in the backyard, I’m creating; when I do dishes and fold laundry and put together Goodwill boxes, I’m creating; when I organize my studio, I’m creating--even if it’s just space; space is good. And of course there’s photography, preparation for the record I’ll be making in December, and about 300 other creative ideas that were gleaned from a giant hand-me-down stack of Country Living and Martha Stewart magazines. My boy is allowed to be a tiny bit terrified by that (but he’ll also be happy that I used “gleaned” in a sentence for the very first time :)</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I just feel like I’m constantly daydreaming about having it all....all the TIME, that is. All that precious time that nobody quite feels they have enough of. And right now? I have a bunch, and by jove I’m not wasting a drop of it. (Ok, maybe a few drops.) In fact, I’ve taken the daily To-Do List to a whole new level by creating a system in which every task is assigned a point value. Even the daily things like watering the garden and cleaning the kitty litter get points, so that even if all I do in a day is take good care of the living parts of our household, well, that’s worth something. (So far today has <i>nothing</i> on yesterday’s whopper: I clocked in--or out--at 1:15am with 51 :)</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I know it’s easy when we’re in long term loving relationships to begin forgetting, or even fearing, who we are without the other person, but I think it’s important to remember, and to embrace it. The better for us to grow; the better for us to be able to truly support one another, without being afraid of growing apart. There’s always risk in growth, but I believe wholeheartedly that to really be alive we must take it. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">So here’s to friendship, love, life and adventure; may we know when it’s best to “allow” them. I must go now to feed the Nana cat and give ice and treats to little chickens. And yes, I get points for that.</span></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3167897511124281424.post-5909640306844574812013-05-08T09:13:00.001-07:002013-05-08T09:13:44.476-07:00The Best Day of My Life<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I had a memorable cashier at Whole Foods on Sunday, the day before my 31st birthday. She had a huge smile and was very personable and something about the way she told me to have the best day of my life the following day, like the idea had just struck her and she thought it was the greatest thing, was unforgettable. It WAS the greatest thing; it IS the greatest thing, that each day we wake up into is where all the action happens. It’s where all creations are made, where all seeds are sown, where all dreams are dreamed, where all hearts are broken and where all hearts mend. Every kiss, every laugh, every song, every hug, every cup of coffee and glass of wine, every great conversation, every small thing that matters, all happen Today.</span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">No day is inherently more extraordinary than any other. Some we can’t wait to get here, some we can’t wait to get gone, and some, well, just seem to go a little unnoticed. But one thing remains true, the days are exactly what we make them, no more and no less. We are all creating, all the time. We are all artists in that way. Life is a canvas with which to paint our dreams.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I had a really, really wonderful birthday, full of love and gratitude for all of the amazing people (and freakin' sweet new Goodwill dress :) that helped make it so. I have yet to answer the question, but the first time someone asks me how old I am and the answer is 31...well, it’s gonna be a little weird. You gotta understand that the baby of five older brothers never gets to be THIRTY-ONE....yet somehow, here I am. </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I’m planning to make this a really big year, full of many of those “someday” dreams that I’m just going to make happen. Because I want to. And because, for the first time in my life, I really feel able. Growing can be scary because we don’t want to look at and admit to all the things we don’t know, and there is so much I don’t know. But the great news is that I’m surrounded by extraordinary people who have learned the things I want to learn, who are doing the things I want to do, and who are so generous in their willingness to help me. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">So here continues the journey....that I cherish oh so much.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">And today?....</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Today is the best day of my life. For it is the one that I am living.</span></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3167897511124281424.post-89562445235796199532013-02-28T00:00:00.000-08:002013-02-28T00:00:05.097-08:00People<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Once, when I was feeling down on myself about my accomplishments in life, or lack thereof at the time, I remembered someone who’s life I had profoundly changed. And it was a new friend, a very recent experience that I was still in the thick of, and it was a huge shift for me. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">There are marks to be made on this world, absolutely, but they don’t always involve winning awards, or getting a certain number of likes on your Facebook page or selling X amount of copies of your new record, or, heaven forbid, winning a Grammy. These things are great, and we shouldn’t stop working towards what we want, but in the end it’s all about the people whom we have walked beside, maybe for a mile, maybe for a day, maybe just long enough for a story and a smile, maybe ‘til the very end of that long, long road.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I have saved peoples’ lives, I know this. And some I couldn’t save, I know that too. But if I’m going to measure myself by accomplishments (a bad habit, but I know we all do it) I’m damn well going to go by the lives I have changed for the better. We’ve all made profound impacts on people throughout our lives, and what an incredibly beautiful thing about being human. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Please take a moment to realize all the times you have made someone’s life better, whether it was a shoulder to cry on, good conversation, a giggle fest that just wouldn’t quit, saying “I love you,” “Thank you,” or simply calling them a friend and really meaning it. These things matter, and much, much more than a lot of things we let get us down. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">If I am at all wise, it’s all my mother’s fault. I dedicate this to her.</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3167897511124281424.post-35578575161234174642013-02-14T10:40:00.000-08:002013-02-14T10:40:41.913-08:00The Answer is Always Right Here<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnOf8kAw3PWLaQqad7lB8vCAqV99GaNxZC3613RdM5-CxzQ-9_L5oWeS0RsV7vYOYgXs1EsbGNOt4rcfBQb9UgzR2oWWuSNYygAcBnfYWrHz0CrtGkGprAxEK5p3Tm14CowIscf6VlLlw/s1600/The+Answer+8x10.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnOf8kAw3PWLaQqad7lB8vCAqV99GaNxZC3613RdM5-CxzQ-9_L5oWeS0RsV7vYOYgXs1EsbGNOt4rcfBQb9UgzR2oWWuSNYygAcBnfYWrHz0CrtGkGprAxEK5p3Tm14CowIscf6VlLlw/s640/The+Answer+8x10.jpg" width="512" /></a><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">It was in a noisy, crowded bar in Vancouver, BC after playing a show with the political punk band I was in at the time when I heard, and understood for the first time, those words. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We had taken separate cars up and half the band had gotten times messed up, resulting in a rather frantic and immediate entry to the stage once everyone had arrived. No sound check. We just plugged in and went. Sometimes that’s what you have to do. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We stayed after to see the other bands, though noisy bars have never been my thing. I don’t have the ears, or the voice, for it. I don’t want anyone shouting in my ear, and I don’t want to shout in anyone else’s ear. It just makes me cough, anyway.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">My mind wandered, as it often does in proper pendulum fashion....a wide and graceful slow motion swoop back and forth between past and future. (Isn’t it inevitable that it has to pass through the present each time?) </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">If the grass is always greener on the other side (in the other tense?), then our Selves are always better over there, too. If we can remove ourselves enough with a projection onto the future then maybe we won’t be burdened by us when the time comes. If time heals everything then eventually it will just take the parts of us we don’t like away.....<i>right?</i> Instead of removing the Big Bad Wolf of our ego and judgement, we would rather wait for time to take away everything that provokes it. Typical ;)</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Whatever answers we may seek, we can only find them right here. This moment. Even if the journey is 1,000 miles long <i>there </i>becomes <i>here </i>eventually. Nothing can be discovered outside of now. In fact....nothing can be said, felt, seen, experienced, feared, sung, drunk, heard, touched, celebrated, broken, destroyed, or even noticed outside of now. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Once discovered, NOW is a vast and infinite canvas...yet we spend so much of our time trying to create our Life's Masterpiece safely hidden on the edges that don’t really exist. You have all the room you need to create your incredible and unique work of art. Don’t worry about taking up someone else’s space. There is room in the moment for everyone and if we all could get together there, well, I dare say magic might happen. (And I dare say it does.)</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3167897511124281424.post-355790654769647412013-02-07T11:28:00.000-08:002013-02-07T11:28:31.076-08:00The Prettiest Girl in the Room<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“<i>Everyone harbors a secret hatred for the prettiest girl in the room</i>.” ~32 Flavors, Ani DiFranco</span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I think about that line a lot. Sometimes it’s in the literal sense of how people compare their bodies to others and sometimes it’s more in how we get down on ourselves because of others’ accomplishments and attention. It all ties together.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">It’s true that I have been thin all my life. And I have pretty much been 5’10” since the 4th grade. I was the textbook definition of awkwardly scrawny, and still have a knobby knee complex that is truly ridiculous. Because I tried to eat at least a little bit healthy in school, skipping the unidentifiable parts of high school lunches and going for salads instead, people assumed I was on diets and accused me (light-heartedly? <i>playfully?</i>) of being anorexic. (The still-clinging habits I adopted to try and prove people wrong are a whole other story!)</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">It’s taken me a long time to realize the fact that most of my life people have demonstrated that it’s ok to say things to each other like, “I hate you; you’re so skinny.” And it’s “<i>ok</i>,” because people think it’s a compliment. People think that phrases like that actually make someone feel good about themselves. People think in that sense that if they put themselves down it will boost others up.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">It’s completely inappropriate to talk to someone in that manner if they’re overweight, so why on earth is it ok to accuse someone of being under weight? (And furthermore<i>, when the heck did it become a compliment to tell someone you hate them??</i>)</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">What’s the message learned from that? “<i>Shine too bright and you’ll make others around you feel bad about themselves</i>.” Ouch. No one wants to do that. Most people would rather hold themselves back than risk hurting other people and somehow the guilt is lessened if we diminish our light and keep ourselves down.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We need to fix this, in a big way. We need a new model (take that as you will!). As best I can figure it out we are all here to be as happy as we possibly can, and you know what? <i>Joy is beauty!</i> When we shine our brightest, when we do our best, when we follow our dreams, when we take care of ourselves, when we tell, and show, the world that we are in love with who we are, we help teach others how to do the same. That’s what the world needs. That’s a remarkable gift we can give each other. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">You are here to shine, with a light that is yours and only yours. The world would not be the same without it. </span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3167897511124281424.post-30501181567556329232013-01-31T15:14:00.000-08:002013-01-31T15:14:46.816-08:00Do Nothing<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">There are turnaround moments in our lives, some monumental and some mundane. Sometimes we know without a doubt when we experience one, some take days or months or weeks to catch up to us as such.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Last week I had a quiet night at home with my sweetie. Neither of us had any plans on the evening, and ended up just doing our own thing, with him in his office and me downstairs. I’ve been trying hard lately to separate my “work” hours from my “off work” hours (mostly to make sure that I actually <i>have</i> some off work hours!) and that evening I was trying to figure out what to do with the ones I had.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Innocently enough I started looking around the house for little chores I could get done or fun projects I could do, and it began to strike me that everywhere I looked were items or areas taunting me with obligational guilt, i.e. <i>I was completely surrounded by “I should’s.” </i>It escalated, rather quickly, to the point where I was frantically pacing around the house feeling like I was in one of those horror movie scenes where everywhere the character turns there’s another scary thing in a quick zoom lens knocking them in the face ‘til either they go insane or the camera blacks out.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Seemingly small things had added up to make an overwhelming weight for me, and I was paralyzed to do anything at all about any of them. I called my mom to try and calm down, and she asked me for an example of the “small things” I was referring to. I went to a random surface in the bedroom and began naming off everything I saw there and why it was something else that “<i>I should be doing</i>.” Then she asked me another good question.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>What advice would you suggest to your readers if they were to find themselves in a situation like this? What would you advise them to do?</i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">After a second of contemplating this shiny new thought I practically yelled, “<i>Chill out! I would tell them to do nothing!” </i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">That was precisely what I needed to do. That state of complete overwhelm and panic is a terrible place to do anything from, sometimes even impossible. Once I surrendered to that notion, I tried relaxing on the couch playing my favorite game on Will’s phone. Couldn’t do it. Then I tried reading, but the second I opened the book I couldn’t do that either. <i>Nothing, Shawnee. Just sit there, and be still. Do...nothing. </i>Not as easy as it sounds, though I had NO idea it would be that difficult! ...And I will confess that I never actually succeeded. Thank God for midnight and a comfy bed ;) </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I know many of us can get so driven that it’s hard to get off the productivity train, even when it’s stalled out and stopped dead on the tracks. It’s hard not to feel like every minute that goes by without something else getting done is five minutes wasted. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">My only flash of solace during this experience was, at my mom’s suggestion, to go around and make a list of every <i>thing</i>, big or small, that was the source of a “<i>should</i>” in my surroundings. Hence began my daily fun of the Super Duper Ultimate To-Do List! :) It’s on a spread sheet on my computer, and I mark off the day something gets done, so I can organize it by day, with all the things I’ve already done at the top. <i>Sure</i>, my list is well over 100 items long, including tasks, household or otherwise, of varying size (“make a new record” is right there next to vacuum the stairs), BUT in just a few days over 30 of those things got done! I decided not to care how small something was. As long as I determined it was taking up brain space, it qualified. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Even if a list is long, at least then it’s quantifiable. I much prefer to have it all written down where I can see it, rather than just feel the ominous presence of an unidentified shadow.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Ok then, I’m off to cross out “Write Thursday’s blog” now ;)</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I wish you a beautiful day. (And a little bit of nothing.)</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3167897511124281424.post-74782757320369345682013-01-24T09:18:00.000-08:002013-01-24T09:18:04.144-08:00Feel Good<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“When I do good, I feel good.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> When I do bad, I feel bad.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> That’s my religion.”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> ~Abraham Lincoln</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I love this quote, and I think it works the other way too. <i>When I feel good, I do good</i>. <i>When I feel bad, I do bad</i>.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I’m not far enough along yet to claim that I truly <i>understand </i>the law of attraction....but I definitely believe in it....to whatever degree I am capable of in the midst of whatever it is that's going on. I only know what I have experienced and I know that when I feel super down I can’t very well do much of anything. It's harder to be productive. It’s harder to be kind, harder to reach out. It’s harder to take good care of myself. It’s harder to leave the house (I’ve heard this is important to do ;)</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I’ve been realizing lately that there are so many little ways I can take better care of myself and I just don’t. I know what makes me feel good and I know what makes me feel bad, so why do I do so much of (the wrong) one and so little of the other? I can feel bad about my skin, but do I actually take the time to properly wash (and love!) my face before bed? I can feel bad about all the sugar I eat, but do I actually <i>not </i>eat it? (What in God’s name do I think will happen if <i>don’t </i>eat the entire bag of chocolate covered strawberries I got in my stocking in one sitting?) </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Feeling good is magical, straight up. <i>Feeling good means everything</i>. It means having an open heart so that you may receive. It means being in alignment with this incredible and indescribably beautiful universe. It means that you’re less focused on <i>you </i>and more focused on the amazing life force that runs through you. It means knowing that you are a beautiful human being and you deserve good things. It means having the confidence to acknowledge your dreams, the confidence to see opportunities to get closer to them, and then the confidence to try. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Of course you’re not ever going to feel good all the time, but getting back there should always be priority. Buy that $6 sweater from Goodwill, take the time to make that delicious salad for lunch (instead of just snacking on those chocolate covered strawberries), spend that extra $1 for the fancy coffee you <i>really </i>want, wash your sheets, hug your chickens. Do whatever <i>you </i>need to do to feel good. The world will be a better place for it. </span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3167897511124281424.post-82157558239184653872013-01-11T12:24:00.000-08:002016-10-12T11:28:05.941-07:00Stop and GoSometimes I feel like my life is one big game of stop and go. Maybe that's healthy to point, but what happens when there's too much stopping and not enough going? At the risk of repeating an analogy that makes a lot of sense to me, too much stopping is like pausing a song after every line to reflect on it, without allowing yourself the experience of hearing the song in its entirety.<br />
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It's important to have a balance, between adventure and reflection. If you're going, going, going all the time it's easy to miss the meaning of your experiences and what you've learned from them, because the next thing is already there. But, if you never allow for adventure you'll inevitably be stuck reflecting on a past that is well over by now.<br />
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I find myself spending so much time hesitating....just hesitating: second-guessing, rethinking, worrying about the potential worst outcomes of things I put out into the world (and often jumping ship when I find a strong dislike of the <em>worst </em>worst one!). Some things <em>should</em> be well thought out, absolutely, and others (like that funny post you're making on facebook)....well, just don't need to take up that much time and energy.<br />
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We all want to have an effect on the world, but in general we want it to be positive. With exceptions, of course, no one wants to say or do anything that leaves a negative impression, and we definitely want to leave a good first one. Some of us are far more cautious than others when it comes to that, and the fear can leave some people paralyzed, never actually gaining the confidence to make any impression at all.<br />
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Life is ever flowing, and it's a much more pleasant experience if we let ourselves flow with it. It's good to take time to rest and reflect, but usually we can get away with coasting for a bit when we need to, rather than slamming on the brakes and shutting the whole thing down 'til we know exactly what we're doing again.<br />
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I don't know about you, but I rarely know <em>exactly </em>what I'm doing.....though usually there's some kind of light on the horizon, towards which my heart knows to aim my feet.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3167897511124281424.post-9627484809488106292013-01-03T07:00:00.000-08:002013-01-03T07:00:03.283-08:00A Beautiful Start to a Beautiful Year<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxd4eagRs0SY5ZHNUoPDtFWGuAPid2PsFyFsSzXUVzxKy5-bFDZRyW7QniqYXYm8gv5dUMKrMZwUf4_H4Ugvrzs5tAID9YEm4e83DkDhVlp519m2B0kIDA8Ynnp_tuNYJ3wE9YHTXyb38/s1600/IMG_1571_4.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxd4eagRs0SY5ZHNUoPDtFWGuAPid2PsFyFsSzXUVzxKy5-bFDZRyW7QniqYXYm8gv5dUMKrMZwUf4_H4Ugvrzs5tAID9YEm4e83DkDhVlp519m2B0kIDA8Ynnp_tuNYJ3wE9YHTXyb38/s640/IMG_1571_4.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Well well well, what have we here?</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">A beautiful start to a beautiful year.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I do believe with all my heart that there is only one direction life can go, and that the nature of the universe is to be better and better all the time. There is no limit to how happy we can be. No need to hold back for fear that we're going to use all of it up, or hit the peak of the hill just to roll down the other side to our bored and unhappy demise. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Sometimes I worry that I'm running out. Sometimes I worry that the world is running out. Of what? Of resources, of creativity, of new ideas, of general Good Things. For every good song that is written that's one less good song in the pot. For every creative endeavor that's one less thing that can be discovered. <i>Isn't it?</i> </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I spent much of last year working my way out of that mindset. And thank God, 'cause it sure was a heavy thing to carry. I began to feel a bit ashamed that I would ever accuse the Universe of being anything less than infinite. I began to feel tremendously excited and humbled to think of how many things people think of to create and then never do. What if? <i>What if everybody created everything they ever dreamed of creating? That</i> is what joyfully calls me into this year. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I vow this year to be kinder to myself. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I vow to judge less and give more.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I vow to do more of what I love and less of what I don't. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I vow to let go of everything, and know I cannot keep something that was never meant to stay.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I vow to breathe. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I vow to look in the mirror often and say, "Shawnee, you can do it. And Shawnee, I love you."</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I vow to live more and hesitate less.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I vow to be happier than I've ever been.</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3167897511124281424.post-13777142371581861632012-12-27T16:31:00.000-08:002012-12-27T16:31:37.690-08:00Today's Small Steps<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">i’ve been thinking a lot lately about time, about phrases like “my time” and “wasted time” and “making time.” truth is we can’t make time. truth is we only have right now. truth is i rarely feel that i’m making the most of the time i am given.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">i recently started to break down my daily routine and chart how much time i was spending on what. i wanted to know why day after day after day i was never getting as much work done as i thought i should be, and needed to be. turns out what i was calling “a whole day to work” in my head was really just the few hours between taking care of other things. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">i have a house and i like to keep it clean. i have chickens and i like them to be tended to. i have gardens that need care. i have a kitchen that i like to use. and i’m finding that i put way too much pressure on myself to get a million career moves done in a day. every day i’m disappointed in myself, which then puts more pressure on the next day. no good.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">i waver back and forth about being in a huge hurry to achieve my life goals right now, and being relaxed enough to let myself have any amount of down time that isn’t productivity driven, or guilt infused. down time is not wasted time. in fact no time needs to be wasted time, as long as we are centered and present. i completely zenned out during rush hour the other day and was completely at peace with my life. how about <i>that </i>for productivity??</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">am i afraid to get caught up for fear that i will really, truly have nothing left to do and feel devoid of my life’s purpose? it seems impossible that i will ever have anything less than too much on my plate, though i need to be taking even baby steps in the right direction or it just plain weighs on my soul. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">today is what i made of it, nothing more and nothing less. just as tomorrow will be what i make of it. you can’t just take a running leap and get to your dreams (if you can you’re not dreaming big enough! ;) you have to build the path one step at a time. </span></div>
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here’s to today’s small steps, even if it’s just one.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3167897511124281424.post-48663203351191506582012-12-20T11:11:00.000-08:002012-12-20T11:11:12.704-08:00My Chickens and a Hard Drive<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC6XoMfBmpxooRNowz7WwWnCjwLnPZ7heH26YsrRLgGyN9cQtyBOlQGjN0AeJod2t7RspaymRKB7tHp9hLd4XdoEPa72g1tnaN5t7-PmHgeUXxniN3Kl4YoAAIt3T_Yp_EYD6XH2i9o-s/s1600/P3260850.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="502" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC6XoMfBmpxooRNowz7WwWnCjwLnPZ7heH26YsrRLgGyN9cQtyBOlQGjN0AeJod2t7RspaymRKB7tHp9hLd4XdoEPa72g1tnaN5t7-PmHgeUXxniN3Kl4YoAAIt3T_Yp_EYD6XH2i9o-s/s640/P3260850.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">i’ve definitely thought about it before, i bet most of us have....if your house was going to burn down and you could only grab the essentials, what would you take? </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">my house didn’t burn down last night, but it was a very real possibility that it might. and at 3:00am, with police yelling at us to evacuate and Will instructing me to grab only the essentials, all i remember saying in my stumbling daze was “what does that even mean??...” my chickens were in the backyard and i couldn't much think of anything else. i had soaked the area around their coop, for lack of anything more helpful to do, and left the water running to make use of the leak in the connecting joint. then we had to go. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">i got my laptop, forgot my external hard drive, and stumbled upstairs in pursuit of “irreplaceables” with will’s calm but assertive guidance. i should know where my birth certificate is, but at the moment i don’t. passport? social security card? purse and phone seemed like good ideas. it was cold outside; i packed a scarf. and i was unbelievably thirsty so i filled my water bottle. the rest?.....?</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">the threat of losing “everything” came down to a hard drive and my chickens. Will and i were together and safe, and because of that knew that whatever else happened we would get through it and be ok.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">60 firefighters kept our neighborhood from burning down. the wind was tremendous and they managed to keep even the houses on either side from being completely destroyed. three of the people made it out of the house; the fourth did not. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">we got to come back home. and never have i ever been so grateful to walk through my front door. sleep wasn’t about to happen so we made tea and folded clean clothes. i washed some dishes. we curled up on the sofa and watched arrested development, as it seemed the only logical thing we could think of to do. around 5:30am we finally crawled back in bed, and attempted sleep that wouldn’t come. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">we don’t need all this stuff. it’s people that matter, and we’ve been humbly inspired to start spending more time with our friends and loved ones. we’ve been reminded how quickly things can be taken away. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">we’ve also been reminded that we’re not special, that tragedies are happening all the time, all over the world, and that no matter what happens to us we are still incredibly fortunate to be who we are and to live where we live. as scary as it can be i appreciate real glimpses of what people go through, so that i may feel real empathy, beyond just the textbook version of “i can’t even imagine....” we don’t want to imagine (and can’t!), because if we could we might explode from comprehending the suffering of the world, the bad things that happen to good people as well as the bad things that happen to "bad" people. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">be kind to strangers. be mindful of what you don’t know. be grateful for blessings that surround you every day.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">and if you have chickens, for god sakes go and hug them.</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3167897511124281424.post-20362516695544923202012-12-13T07:00:00.000-08:002012-12-13T07:00:05.168-08:00A Crooked Crow<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3GGQrs4p-p3akeFZUGM86lmHXmRVoIx0u50XmbHgpHLeG4KL9mSfIHDdcN1vHxGnkfE8uguoCA8Np4E2mTfE2p9GFtO9wdgjb1ieFVOpwO82QCkv5ur2w-jfYjYFJ3GbT1dOJwCSLSPE/s1600/IMG_0360.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3GGQrs4p-p3akeFZUGM86lmHXmRVoIx0u50XmbHgpHLeG4KL9mSfIHDdcN1vHxGnkfE8uguoCA8Np4E2mTfE2p9GFtO9wdgjb1ieFVOpwO82QCkv5ur2w-jfYjYFJ3GbT1dOJwCSLSPE/s640/IMG_0360.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">standing at the foot of the precipice</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">both our faces worn</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">our hearts were rough at the edges</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">just the passing of a storm</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">i am no more simple </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">than the stars that shine for me</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">i am just a girl this time</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">but that’s my poetry</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">life was born in this valley</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">with sunlight looking back</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">over shoulders bare in a big, big sky</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">the poets taught her that</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">i am no more simple</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">than the stars that shine for me</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">i am just a girl this time</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">but that’s my poetry</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">i am only the silence</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">i am only the space between the words</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">i am only a story that you’ve heard</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">‘cause we’re all some kind of creature</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">with grass under our feet</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">when life first came it was stars and rain</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">what chance the two should meet</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">i am no more simple </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">than the stars that shine for me</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">and i am just a girl this time</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">but that’s my poetry</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">i am just a girl in time</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">but that’s still poetry</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">*</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">i spent a long weekend this month in the west texas desert with a whole gaggle of talented songwriters and amazing people. no phone, no internet, no room to go hide in when i got shy. it was fantastic. we cut up old romance novels and sci fi books, we translated poems from languages we didn’t know, we ate delicious food, cheered each other on and talked about what it means to us to be a songwriter. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">we really have to let ourselves go to find ourselves, and our true art. one thing about art is that we always think we get the idea, rather than the idea getting us. it just shows up, doesn’t it? we need to take credit for taking note and persisting until we bring the idea to light, but we also need to be humble enough to know that it came through us from the big, bold, beautiful and mysterious magical energy we’ve come to know as life. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">i was asked to be on a panel about lifestyles and songwriting and what ways we have best learned to mix the two, and really what it came down to for me was that <i>i know my muse.</i> i know the place where my best songs tend to come from, and that’s both a blessing and a curse. it’s a blessing in that i know how to keep it alive and tap into it when i need to without letting it take away from or damage the life i’m so madly in love with, but a curse in that anything not coming from that place somehow doesn’t feel genuine or “true.” it’s very hard for me to write anything that isn’t a direct translation of emotion into song. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">the song above came from a poem translated in terrible fashion from italian into a tale of a snake and the god of disease and all sorts of weird religious stuff. i was instructed to take my silly poem and go make a song from it. naturally, the first thing i did was slash out all of the parts that didn’t mean anything to me (i.e. snakes and gods of sickness and weird religious stuff) and suddenly a sweet song, that actually means a great deal to me, wrote itself in precisely the amount of time it took to get the words down on paper. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">i can’t believe i’d never done any of this crazy cut-up shit before. get out of the way, there’s a whole lot more that’s trying to come through ;)</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3167897511124281424.post-65583975911681520542012-12-06T07:00:00.000-08:002012-12-06T07:00:09.299-08:00Make A Wish<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Make a wish. it used to be the most magical thing in the world. do you remember? it was the <i>best thing ever</i>. i mean really, what was better than making a wish that all of your wishes would come true? Or just making a wish that your heart believed in more than anything else that had ever come before?</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">for as long as i can remember, when it was 11:11 or finding a dandelion or blowing out birthday candles, i have wished the same thing. i’m sure there was a time when i wished for a toy (or another toy...), and then for my skin troubles to go away, and then for a certain boy to fall madly in love with me.....the list goes on, but that magic of making a wish and believing in that magic (in one form or another) to make it come true seems not to have followed. i’m trying to get that back.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">i started pretty early on to wish for what seemed like the only logical thing left after those other distractions were laid aside. <i>i wished to not let fear hold me back from doing the things i wanted to do</i>. it was that simple. i’m not one to let myself regret, but if i did it would be just as they say: regretting the things i didn’t do. i catch glimpses of what i’m truly capable of, firework flashes of what it would feel like. i’ve lived a long, long time, but still feel like i’m just getting started. fear will never “go away,” but it is no longer welcome to hold me in my tracks.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">our lives are in our hands. i know it’s hard to believe in magic. i know it’s hard to believe in a lot of things, but if we stop making wishes then it’s all over. you don’t need an excuse, though 11:11, dandelions and shooting stars are all rather good ones.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">let the universe show you that you’re a part of everything. let her show you that she’s listening. let her show you that she can help.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">make a wish!</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">make a wish!</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">make a wish!</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">*above photo prints available at <a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/113199205/dandelion-seed-in-red-flowers">https://www.etsy.com/listing/113199205/dandelion-seed-in-red-flowers</a></span></i></span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3167897511124281424.post-72000839474815300302012-11-29T07:00:00.000-08:002012-11-29T07:00:04.758-08:00The Greatest of Teachers<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2IzdTLwXGcZpua3jjDkOHO2kWuLeVAAsIn8ptkg6NtCbsIVGt6kmzmmBPYLMWFzhdrM2JeJdq5iuUlTnDQlPv4U_CAOktQYeigWwmzAUqkWorgQi8syBp_CDh_2GHrYZ7Cq36vIaOhYU/s1600/The+Greatest+of+Teachers.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2IzdTLwXGcZpua3jjDkOHO2kWuLeVAAsIn8ptkg6NtCbsIVGt6kmzmmBPYLMWFzhdrM2JeJdq5iuUlTnDQlPv4U_CAOktQYeigWwmzAUqkWorgQi8syBp_CDh_2GHrYZ7Cq36vIaOhYU/s640/The+Greatest+of+Teachers.JPG" width="614" /></a></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>you can live the life you want if you can love the life you find.</i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">many of us celebrated a holiday of gratitude last week (and many of us are still full!) any excuse to be grateful is ok by me, though not needing an excuse is good too. we are, after all, breathing and living on this beautiful planet, warmed by an incredible sun, in a tremendous sea of cosmic expansion.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">there’s a book i have called The Untethered Soul (Michael A. Singer), which i reference with some frequency. there’s a chapter about death that is particularly powerful, and what i have taken most from it is that the best way to appreciate what you have is to imagine that you don’t have it. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">we’ve all heard the term “first world problems” before, and my goodness don’t we have a lot of them! we’re good at finding all sorts of problems, because most of us (that are reading this at a computer) just don’t have that many. if there are big ones, then we don’t really get around to the trivial things.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">we all take things for granted, that’s just perspective. no one can keep a clear and appreciative mind all the time, but the ones that come close have learned how to recalibrate and they do it often. it ain’t no one time thing! sometimes we don’t realize we’re taking things for granted, but just imagine they aren’t there; you’ll realize pretty quickly if you are!</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">so how about life? are you taking that for granted? that could go away at any second, without warning, without a fair trial, without discrimination and without remorse. it’s hard to feel entitled to life when death is so clearly the keeper of it! i’m a believer in the circle of life. i believe they are one in the same. death is not our enemy but the greatest of teachers.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">so live. live well.</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3167897511124281424.post-70469670932226799312012-11-15T07:00:00.000-08:002012-11-15T07:00:03.764-08:00Our Own River, Our Own Light<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjETNkWuvQbwzHmtYmHbSrmYvyS8ZmkcKN6giUM-ga4__ekG2gXN6QHLXZ5b08rig7Cf5vPzdCjHHIHQnl-ByhKEq67yc1qinQX5Omj1uW0WUGPIrsSSd6Yz-HePboSZOVEYMBY4UPc5Ew/s1600/Songbird.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjETNkWuvQbwzHmtYmHbSrmYvyS8ZmkcKN6giUM-ga4__ekG2gXN6QHLXZ5b08rig7Cf5vPzdCjHHIHQnl-ByhKEq67yc1qinQX5Omj1uW0WUGPIrsSSd6Yz-HePboSZOVEYMBY4UPc5Ew/s640/Songbird.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>slow down my love</i></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>this old world she ain’t running out of time</i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>slow down my love</i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>ain’t nobody can write what’s mine</i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">i wrote that song because my love and connection with any music that wasn’t my own was dwindling. it was forced and skeptical and a lonely place to be. it was getting harder and harder to find music that touched me, that really struck a chord, that made me feel something. and the worst part was that i just stopped looking. i let the heavy weight settle on me that we must be running out. i felt doomed to continuing disappointment, or if i did find an amazing song then it was just one more song that i could no longer write. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">is there a bigger picture? ask yourself that all the time. the world is an expanding universe. there’s always a bigger picture, every moment. there’s always an energy on the cutting edge that just isn’t anywhere else. refocus on it. it will help you see.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">i have taught myself to think of creative energy as a river. it is always flowing by, it is always accessible to me. if i let something go by un-captured, it’s ok, because there is always more water flowing and i can’t separate one good idea out from another. it’s all the same energy, taking on the form of the moment.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">why am i afraid to surrender to magic? why does it so often surprise me? it’s the essence of life, and i do so love life. i <i>am</i> life. i <i>am </i>love. love is magic. magic happens. magic is. </span>i'm a little ashamed to have thought such limiting things about the universe!</div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">ain’t nobody can write what’s mine, but i can’t write something that’s someone else’s either. we each have our own river. we each have our own light.</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3167897511124281424.post-76502006982087417142012-11-01T07:00:00.000-07:002012-11-01T07:00:09.792-07:00"About" Me<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXOcWLltoPWTqnR8K3N-cQKYePN4muvUC358Y68ZecwMUBlzw44pF71HaBpjx21MZVUCDvs_eSxoe-_1yUEHVBc2WhKaHdsA1aGQUppHpkKbxwhU-eJyQoH5pesyqotJJjTk1AMaptrvE/s1600/Water+Tree+and+Girl.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="510" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXOcWLltoPWTqnR8K3N-cQKYePN4muvUC358Y68ZecwMUBlzw44pF71HaBpjx21MZVUCDvs_eSxoe-_1yUEHVBc2WhKaHdsA1aGQUppHpkKbxwhU-eJyQoH5pesyqotJJjTk1AMaptrvE/s640/Water+Tree+and+Girl.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">i just started a business. i followed the suggestions of some good (and impressed ;) people and i started a photography business. what else could there be for me to talk about right now? it was an interesting process writing the “about” section for my shop, and i was a bit surprised by what came out. truth, of course, but which version? every word we use has its own input, its own shade of color and as i go about excitedly ironing out wrinkles and overcoming obstacles in this new endeavor i keep coming back to these words that i wrote.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">It's the Little Things</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">After being a song writer for so many years i've learned a few things. With exceptions, of course, when you write a really good song, you know it. You've gotten enough feedback, you've known what it feels like to open up and exhale something as beautiful and as close to truth as you've ever known. I've learned that no one can say exactly the same thing exactly the same way. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">It was a dewey morning in Bellingham, WA, at my then partner's family farmstead, when i noticed a tiny little weed in a dormant barrel planter in the yard. Each one of its tiny little arms had perfect balls of dew at the ends and it was like a magical fairy christmas tree, radiating an unbelievable amount of light and joy and beauty....to no one but me. I pushed a button, and that beauty was captured, my own story added to it, simply by being there, simply by noticing.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The joy of photography is unparalleled for me. I can feel the same kind of rush as i do with song-writing, but photography is somehow more pure. It's far less of a struggle to get to "the heart of the matter." There's no way for ego to really enter into it. The picture was already there. I just took it. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I don't have a fancy camera. For what i do it hasn't been that important. I work with what i have, and for now enjoy being able to have a camera wherever i go. I do plenty of photographing at music shows and other events, but i shoot when i want to and can put the camera away when i choose. I'm the unexpected photographer, and, for now, prefer it that way.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">It's a fine line. If i'm always in photographer mode, sometimes i can miss the experience at hand. I try hard not to regret missing a great shot. I try hard not to let photographing the life around me take the place of living it.</span></div>
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my shop can be found at <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/LetThatSongbirdGo" style="color: #0225a3;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px; text-decoration: underline;">http://www.etsy.com/shop/LetThatSongbirdGo</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0225a3;"> </span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3167897511124281424.post-89876748466182528962012-10-11T07:00:00.000-07:002012-10-11T07:00:10.194-07:00Good Thoughts, Bad Thoughts<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi09moMVI2ddKMB_-j5mTFMkzJp3liyzu7CS649orEijRdBJzaSg5lSjG3p38J63Qg4DruzBsT_q8RtlIIGgCSN3Xnw0RBDmhWCKmrl6191eQZ4gK5ZLJ1ek7SNdKfK6UQrVzESD9zWjg/s1600/IMG_7132.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="508" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi09moMVI2ddKMB_-j5mTFMkzJp3liyzu7CS649orEijRdBJzaSg5lSjG3p38J63Qg4DruzBsT_q8RtlIIGgCSN3Xnw0RBDmhWCKmrl6191eQZ4gK5ZLJ1ek7SNdKfK6UQrVzESD9zWjg/s640/IMG_7132.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">it’s interesting that we’re so afraid of our our bad thoughts. “step on a crack and you’ll break your mother’s back”....yikes! and there are people who won’t do it, no matter what. either they’re convinced it will happen, or it’s just not worth the risk. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">these words were written on an airplane, and who hasn’t had the inner dialogue of the devious devil daring the plane to go down an the exhausted angel desperately putting out the fire? </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">we’re afraid of the bad thoughts, because we fear they might come true. <i><b>why don’t we think the good ones will come true as well?</b></i> no one worries that if they hold a positive thought for long enough it will come to fruition. instead we think the positive thoughts don’t really matter, and won’t let ourselves get duped into believing them, just to be disappointed time and time again. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">you would be impossibly hard pressed to get me to stand in a dark room and say “candyman” three times in the mirror, but <i><b>there are times when it’s just as difficult to look in the mirror and say good things as well.</b></i> sometimes it feels like lying, sometimes it feels like we don’t deserve it, sometimes it feels like we’re being tricked into some sort of woo woo fortune teller stuff. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">i’m just saying, if we think some of our thoughts are powerful but not others, i think that deserves some re-examination.... </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">don’t you?</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3167897511124281424.post-88189417389940576972012-10-04T10:39:00.001-07:002012-10-04T10:40:28.549-07:00Live Forever or Die Trying<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">live forever or die trying: not sure what this was advertising, but i saw it on a poster in the denver terminal along with a couple of glamourous and dramatically somber models. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">a lot of us do just that. i mean, not live forever--never once has <i>that </i>been accomplished--but a whole lot of every generation seems to keep thinking they'll be the first to do it, because they'll do it <i>right</i>. so much time and energy drained into preparing for future life at the cost of the present. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">we think we can store it up. we think we can deny life now and then have a huge surplus later that will satisfy our every desire and then some (because if it's all scrunched into a smaller time period then it will be super concentrated <i>super life,</i> right??) we’re working for more than just retirement; we’re working for the very life we're letting slip by. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">unfortunately there are some things you can’t cash out on. some things are only there for a split second and then they are gone. be careful. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">take a deep breath and be grateful. if you aren’t grateful now, you won’t be then. if you aren't <i>living </i>now, you won't be then.</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3167897511124281424.post-8745700382521773282012-09-07T10:14:00.000-07:002012-09-07T10:15:14.586-07:00A Matter of Life and Death<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">i think most of us have heard many times in our lives to get our priorities straight. when we’re young it probably has to do with grades in school and partying or figuring out what we want to do with our lives. when we get older it probably has more to do with money and jobs and family and friends (and figuring out what we want to do with our lives!). </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">the month of august shifted a few priorities for me, and as important as it is to be persistent and persevere through hard times, it’s good to recognize when some things just have to be let go of. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">some people have yet to experience the death of someone close to them. i’ve dealt with it a lot, and as hard as it is there is nothing quite like it to inspire “getting your priorities straight.” there is a pureness of emotion, a recognition of fragility that is both terrifying and liberating. when someone is suddenly gone that was just there a minute ago, the things that aren’t really important just fall away and there’s a strange peace that comes with it.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">this last month i watched one of my best friends die. i wasn’t there the moment it happened but i was in the hospital almost every day, and being on tour, was often rushing straight from there to a gig, or to the studio. mary was the coolest lady. she was the kind of old person that would complain (grumpily) about how grumpy other old people can be. she had a memory to challenge an elephant’s and was an amazing story teller even though she was never trying to be. she was just recalling her life and one memory would lead to three others and i loved to listen. she loved the doors and thought leonard cohen was the sexiest man ever (it was definitely the voice :), aside from her husband, to whom she was happily married and remained crazy about for 64 years. they had the kind of marriage everyone dreams about having. they had a lifetime of working together and appreciating the hell out of each other, and never lost their sense of humor, right up ‘til the end. ("what was your name again....?" rod would often ask before kissing her hand.)</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">it’s been said a million times and a million ways, but when it comes down to it you just never know. i had a realization on this trip, which shouldn’t really have been a realization at all, that every single person that has ever lived on this earth has also died. every single one. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“getting priorities straight” for me is asking the simple yet difficult questions, every day, that if today was the day, if this was the moment, could i die happy? am i doing the things everyday that are true to myself and my soul and my purpose? </span>what things would i regret not having done? who do i need to reach out to and tell them i love them? </div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">we are so afraid of death, and many of us spend our whole lives trying to avoid it. it’s so interesting to me though, because actual death is a moment. just a moment. one moment you’re alive, and the next one you're not. and regardless of your beliefs, either you’re finally out of this human mind and body and are on to the next leg of the journey, or the lights are out forever and you’re done. either way, how can either of those things (or any other outcomes i can think of) be nearly as scary as we make them out to be? </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">i am beyond certain that most of us live our whole lives without really knowing what incredible miracles we are capable of, without understanding that living in an infinitely expanding universe means that we are infinitely expanding people. love and creativity are energies powerful beyond belief, and i believe so much that we need to trust them unconditionally. we can't only trust when we see exactly how things are going to work out. i believe they are the key to unlocking our full potential and genuine happiness, yet we are so eager to let everything stand in the way of them. do we think that if it's not our fault we didn't fulfill our potential and lead joyful and creative lives, if we can blame someone else in the end (the world??), then it will make it all easier? that it will make death easier? </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">i don't need to have all my dreams come true in order to die happy. i <i>do</i> need to know that i was walking in the right direction. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">what if today was the day? what if this was the moment?</span><span style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">mary mason :)</span></span></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3167897511124281424.post-67209397480117041652012-03-20T17:15:00.000-07:002012-03-20T17:15:41.221-07:00Intuition and Mr. Slug<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVrDMj_IvyFXT7RofTuE-J_a0HjiR7KjNofTwolD9cO4DK2Q7ZLzFn1bBn5_G6w6kMqULemKDSlwjlVS7Unl5Jkq3IQtSr4hNlCoFQN-_G8zFCk8-nJw93eiYfIm3Thyyo_2SNnVUHeSM/s1600/IMG_0848.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVrDMj_IvyFXT7RofTuE-J_a0HjiR7KjNofTwolD9cO4DK2Q7ZLzFn1bBn5_G6w6kMqULemKDSlwjlVS7Unl5Jkq3IQtSr4hNlCoFQN-_G8zFCk8-nJw93eiYfIm3Thyyo_2SNnVUHeSM/s640/IMG_0848.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">i think sometimes what makes intuition so hard to trust are the times we never really get to know if we made the “right” decision or not. there’s no follow up, there’s no cosmic camera to flash you the scene of what would or wouldn’t have happened had you taken another path. and we could really use that couldn’t we?? <b><i>rarely are we lucky enough to receive a definitive confirmation of making “the right choice.”</i></b></span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 23.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">no. <b><i>trust is trust</i></b> (is trust is trust is trust is trust). and<b><i> the more we trust the easier it will become to trust</i></b>. this goes for the whole scale, from “life changing” to mundane.</span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 23.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">i was coming home one night and when i pulled into the driveway saw that the recycling bins were still by the curb. my first instinct was to go and get them, even though it was late and i could think of no earthly reason why they needed to come in then rather than in the morning, but i felt lazy leaving them and managed to let what should have been a split second decision get caught and turn into a conflict. i grumpily ignored my intuition while i gathered my things and headed towards the house. </span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 23.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">POPSPLAT!!! </span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 23.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">i had stepped down on the concrete and done horrible things to a slug who was previously having what i expected was a pretty peaceful evening.</span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 23.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">my mind said to me calmly, <b><i>“it’s not always about you.”</i></b> </span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 23.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">my goodness isn’t that a powerful thing to hear! i certainly wasn’t being selfish that night, or setting out to do anyone (or any thing!) harm, but had i simply gone with my gut instinct without putting it in the Hot Seat of Reason and Rationality, i would have retrieved the recycling bins and taken the side path to the gate instead of the front path to the steps. and mr. slug would have gone happily on with his peaceful evening. </span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 23.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;">trust is trust (is trust is trust is trust is trust). </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;"> </span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0