Gettin' jiggy

On a particularly chilly summer night this week, I got home from a fun night out only to realize I wasn’t tired, my apartment was clean, and my homework done. I had the most incredible (if I do say so myself) idea to do the jigsaw puzzle that has been sitting in my closet for years. Within minutes I felt like I was 12 again doing puzzles on the coffee table with my sister and dad.

I began by finding all the edges so I could create the boundaries before filling in the inside. Looking over the vast amounts of pieces I started to wish I had never opened it the box. The big picture completely overwhelmed me. Then my Joseph Campbell class kicked in and the symbolism of the jigsaw puzzle became ever so evident as I took it one piece at a time. With each piece I looked for its correct place and found it most often by not thinking about it or by changing my perspective of where I thought it should be. Sometimes I got caught up in one piece and couldn't move on until I found its place. It was learning to be with the incompletion that moved me forward. The puzzle still isn't finished and I'm not sure when the time will show up again. Doesn't matter, every now and then sitting down to get jiggy will be just enough.

Today I'm grateful for puzzles, books, and Walgreens.

Wrinkle in time

Last week I took a photo and became shocked and dismayed at the the wrinkles I saw. Who was this woman before me with time lines around her eyes? I haven't know so much vanity until that moment...I immediately began scouring the Internet and my magazines for ads to help with my new "situation." Then blaming spending too much time in dry Colorado and how I should have moved before I began premature aging. Feverishly wondering how being two years away from 30 I could age so quickly.

Alas, after my few days of vanity I came back to reality (and SF) to remember it doesn't matter. I'm young and will always be young under the surface. Wrinkles or no wrinkles I'm still me. Remembering my whole life only a wrinkle in time anway - who really cares if it ends up on my face too.

Today I'm grateful for wrinkles, creams, and humidity.

Scaredy cat

For as long as I can remember I've been afraid, and unsure of exactly what. I've been told to lock my doors and always look behind me when walking alone. As if humans (especially men, which a certain guy I dated pointed out many times) were dangerous and to be feared. I had an eye-opening experience last week of putting up my guard with a woman who hugged me and told me how she looked ghetto on the outside and dressed like me on the inside. (And yes, this sort of odd thing happen on a daily basis in SF.) Those words blew my mind and made me so aware of my fear of others.

I heard somewhere,  "Love is what we are born with. Fear is what we learned here." Love my parents so dearly, but I do think some of my paranoia is from them. There's always a "be careful" or "watch out" following most of our conversations. A normal parental interaction, yes...I also see how it has shaped my world. We often mock one of my cats who runs from everyone and everything - except me. I'm actually somewhat afraid of him!? He pushes me to see my fear (consciously or unconsciously I can't know) and represents the part of me who is scared of anything new and just about anyone I don't know.

For several years I've struggled with an immune disorder that hasn't been diagnosed very sufficiently. Needless to say I get parasites, viruses, and the like very frequently. It's suddenly making sense. Immunity is about keeping people out. This society thrives on fear and I'm done with living that way. Like all emotions fear has a purpose, but not in loving. I can't love this world and the people in it if I'm afraid. This world is a safe place being a woman or a man and I'm tired of believing otherwise. I can lock my door and still spare a smile, and sometimes change, for a stranger.

Today I'm grateful for Boo, Dr. Dean, and Lauren K.

Eat, Pray, Party

At the moment it appears Eat, Pray, Party would be a more appropriate name for my own novel. After seeing the movie this weekend I remembered how much the book spoke to me, and in particular the "love" part. Ever since reading Elizabeth Gilbert's book "Eat, Pray, Love" I can confess to being somewhat of a wannabe. Really though, did anyone really know what an ashram was before reading her book? I think not. Ms. Gilbert's book had more impact on my life than I care to acknowledge. If it weren't for her I wouldn't have quit my lovely government job for a year (and now longer) to experience the thrill of the unknown including living at a now infamous ashram.

Similar to Gilbert it was a romantic love gone awry that somewhat pushed me over the edge (silly boys). At the time I left for Yogaville I was getting over a break up with my best friend of 12 years and found out my boyfriend of nine months was married. (insert sign of disgust here) After the ashram I headed to China which wasn't quite like Bali, but part of Asia nonetheless. I didn't fall in love there (although I did at the ashram), and instead spent time experiencing love with my family in a foreign country.

At the end of my time away I didn't end up with a Brazilian from Bali, but like Gilbert I found peace in myself. Gilbert's time in Italy reminded me of my own urge for pleasing my tastebuds that so often gets ignored (before I moved to SF of course). Living at an ashram I identified with the part longing for connection with the divine. As for love, that's everywhere. Let's face it "Eat, Pray, Love" dives into our innate desires for pleasure, spirituality, and romantic love. After a year away from my former life I now realize I didn't need to go so far to find them. My life includes all of these aspects....San Francisco itself incapsulates pleasure in the form of food, spirituality in its myriad forms of people, and love in the form of well...love. How wonderful to actually  live the life I imagined instead of just reading about it.

Today I'm grateful for movies with Hayley, cream of asparagus soup, and airplanes.

Love square

For quite some time there has existed a love square (not just a love triangle because it involves four) in the house. It starts with my dad (when he is gone get all the attention), whom my dog is obsessed with. My cat Riley adores my dog Taz and follows him around. Then the fiesty old man cat Boo follows Riley. Everywhere my father goes there follows Taz, Riley, and Boo. It's hard to tell if what they feel for each other is romantic or just a loving attachment of some sort. (In this case if it is romantic I should be an even stronger ally against Prop 8 since they are all male.)

The most obvious affectionate "crush" belongs to my cat Riley and Taz. Riley rubs up against him and sticks his tail in his face, meows at him, and even lies down next to him. It makes me giggle out of sympathy and pity for poor Riley whose love can never be. I also see the larger picture of what I have to learn from my tabby's love for my mutt. Riley loves Taz regardless of what Taz does. Riley loves just to love and asks nothing in return. His affections don't cease just because Taz hasn't returned him any attention, they still continue. I only wish I could love as Riley does - extending my care without begging anything in return. Riley reminds me of the pure essence of unconditional love, and I love it.

Today I'm grateful for floppy dog ears, sleeping in, and Mountain Mama's.

How to be Alone

Love this poem and video "How to be Alone" Such a lovely reminder that sometimes our most memorable moments don't happen with anyone else. Without TV, Internet, or roommates I'm faced with myself a lot. Since I seem to use quotes for affirmation please see below:

-"To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance." -Oscar Wilde
-"All of our unhappiness comes from our inability to be alone." - Jean de la Bruyere
-"If you are alone you belong entirely to yourself. If you are accompanied by even one companion you belong only half to yourself, or even less, in proportion to the thoughtlessness of his conduct; and if you have more than one companion you will fall more deeply into the same plight." - Leonardo da Vinci

Today I'm grateful for cable, Internet, and pets.

10-year reunion union

I don't know how this is even possible, but this weekend was my 10-year high school reunion. Preparation included watching "Romy and Michelle's High School Reunion" to plan for the worst and relive some of my favorite quotes. I planned the union with the Student Council VP (I was Secretary of Social aka the dance planner) and thank goodness we aren't doing any sort of voting on the most successful graduate!?

Looking at the word "reunion" it is about uniting again, and that's what we did. I went to reconnect with people from my past and remember how much they gave to the person I am now...whether they know it or not. Realizing it isn't about proving anything, I still had moments of feeling insecure. I'm the same girl I was in high school with a different wardrobe, better haircut (actually that may be a lie as I think I may have the same one), and more wisdom. I also however, don't have a hot husband or even a boy toy to show off. What I do have is my personality which won me "Most Friendly" and some great friends from the past along the way.

Today I'm grateful for Meadow Muffins, reunions, and confidence.

Om sweet hOMe

I'm sitting in my parents' house with the dog and cats nearby and wondering for how long I can call this place home. I haven't lived here for quite some time and I have my own apartment...even crazier, my sister just bought her own house!!? "No place like home" and "home is where the heart is" are popular idoms and yet hold such deep truths. On a literal level, ther is no place like home because no two places are alike...the heart is physically where you are, such as at home. My heart is at this home and my heart also belongs to Man Francisco (no more "psycho," don't want to context of crazies anymore!);).
Yesterday I wandered my neighborhood in Denver with nastalgia. I really found myself in my Shambhala retreat on Pearl Street. I was sad and happy to see things change...the gelato place I knew wouldn't make it, indeed didn't make it. Different cupcake flavors at City O City, but the same Bhakti Chai. The beautiful courthouse building nearby was torn down, but he library across the street remains intact.
My Denver studio will always feel like home (evidenced also by the fact that my door code still works - like any good creeper I had to test it out); I fell in love there, found myself there, and created my future direction. It has been two years since I quit my "should" job and since that moment my life hasn't been the same. That apartment saved me and so did Denver; out of the parent's basement (again) and on with life. I think it's so important to celebrate and witness such milestones. It reminds us of how far we've come - in my case 229.4 miles (but who's counting).
My parents' house was the first place I've lived when we came to Colorado from Germany during my teenage angst years. I didn't know anyone and spent most of my time with my neighbors playing outside and hiking in the foothills across the street. After college when I came back to Colorado Springs I also stayed at this house and again during my quarter-life crisis.
That's what home does - it gives us a place for the familiar with lots of room to grow. Home (and om) is where the heart is...and it can have many locations.
Today I'm grateful for Taz, Boo, and Riley.

Ocean Beach speaks

My heart called me to the beach on this cloudy, summer week. I wasn't sure why until I arrived and there was much it needed to tell me. So, I listened closely with my ears, and eyes. Watching the sea gulls I was reminded of their effort to fly and then surrender of riding the waves of wind. The chilly breeze spoke of constant change at it rustled the trees. Tree branches whispered of strength and being grounded through the fog. The fog told me to keep going even without clarity as it rolled over the ocean. And the ocean was rough with an inner calmness that I needed to hear for myself. 

As I stared out at the water for more knowledge I suddenly remembered a poem I wrote in 4th grade with Mr. Ratz (I am aware that even back then I wasn't what you would call a poet):

Along the soft, wet beach I walked,

The ocean waves crashed

and the sea gulls talked.

I've always loved the ocean and listening to it, must be the Neptune conjunct my Moon (yes, that's really how people talk in my program sometimes);). This Colorado girl has given up her dry desert for the beach and intends to continue to nuture her Neptune for many years to come - or at least until the beach stops speaking to me.

Today I'm grateful for sand dollars, Shaun, and my airplane ticket home!

The tone of the ring

First off this post is going to be ridiculous for several reasons...1) I've been spending too much time with books 2) the no Internet thing is kinda making me crazy  and 3) it's about ringtones the kind on cell phones. The other day I was estactic to find the Internet on my phone working and wanted to shop for a new rington as my current Pachabel is getting rather old and I wanted something with a bit more edge...like Mozart or Beyonce. As I scroll through my phone before going online I begin giggling at how hilarious the names of the ringtones are: Gloomy DJ, Invisible Emotion, Vino de Amor, Something. These are the name of poems or bands...not the tone I want to set with my ring. The tone really sets the mood for a call and feels very underestimated. It can provoke a giggle, or a cringe, or even delight (if that cute guy ever finally calls).

Mock or not...picking a ringtone feels like a huge responsibility! After much thinking I decided on Natasha Beddingfield "UnWritten" now that the Hills is gone and doesn't ruin it for me anymore as a theme song.

Today I'm grateful for vegan donuts, free yoga, and campus computer lab.

Roberto reigns!

It deeply pangs me to announce I too was among the millions of people who watched the season finale of the Bachelorette this past week. I felt loyalty to the show since Ali is from San Francisco, okay that's a lie...I mostly just enjoy staring at attractive men without being thought of as creepy. One can't help but be wary of relationships that begin with having fantastical dates and even performing in the Lion King, but I do have hope for the lovely Ali and Roberto. The man (in a white baseball uniform similar to a knight in shining armor) wants to make her happy and that I in my humble, single opinion is the start of a beautiful future.

Today I'm grateful for TV, Meg, and pizza whilest watching the Bachelorette.

Mythtified

My summer hasn’t been all reading in the fog or eating lots of cupcakes…I’ve managed to squeeze in a few classes and macarons as well. My most recent completion was a mythology class about Joseph Campbell and I’m not even sure where to begin except that I renewed my love for all things fiction and fantasy. I'm so into mythology right now I'm even creating my own words, such as mythtified (sounds like "mystified" and has been my experience since a recent summer course).
Somewhere along the way I forgot about the imagination…my Netflix list is documentaries, the TV shows I watch are “reality,” and I read non-fiction books. Fantasy and fiction aren't just for kids. Myths bring us meaning and guidance in situations that seem fantasy and upon closer look - represent our lives.

There lies the trouble, I don’t remember how to think symbolically or metaphorically since my obsession with reality began. Our society has become so literal it's lost its magic (and I was almost confused about how to use two types of "its" in one sentence). Why does a butterfly have to just be a butterfly? It can also represent transformation and soul searching.

Myths may be false (Avatar) or only partially true (Bible) but their meanings and metaphors hold deep truths. We begin to see that every character is us instead of choosing the pretty maiden or the hero warrior. We have both within us…as well as the dragon (please note an obvious reference to just about any fairy tale is included here). It’s noticing that Lord of the Rings, Greek mythology, Star Wars, Avatar all hold similar patterns of struggle and rebirth as process of individuation and coming into our true selves.

As a child I watched fairy tales and read books of mythology for entertainment and as an adult I see how much I have to learn from them. So what’s necessary for us to reengage with fantasy? It’s a willingness to be with the metaphors whether or not we see them. Seeing connotations and not the denotations of comic books, movies, and even some TV shows. Our imagination lives through mythology, better yet…the hero always lies with you (see, even Mariah Carey is into mythology). ;)

Today I'm grateful for remembering to write, yoga with Lauren, and my upcoming Colorado trip.

Transformation under trash

Since my Joseph Campbell mythology class I’ve been taking my metaphor retraining pretty seriously and particularly came in handy this past week when reality seemed a bit miraculous. I was taking my trash out and upon lifting the bag out of the can noticed a butterfly! On the side of the can was its cocoon. After several minutes waiting for it to fly out I was growing impatient. A small voice reminded me that my trash can where I discard things I don’t want…was its home and all it has known since it came into this world as a transformed butterfly. There is transformation under trash, and I have proof.

today I'm grateful for trash, compost, and recycling. =)