Bookends

The hills outside San Jose are dotted with a particular tree in full bloom. Their color is that of a forsythia bush, but they are tall, the blooms a yellow puffball the size of a grapefruit or large navel orange. The color bursts out from a sea of lush green as they dip and wave in the breeze. It must be spring, now, here in this timidly familiar place.

Pylons criss-cross the verdant surroundings as we approach the city...moved forward in a luminous pink bus. I've given Costa Rica two months of my life now, slowly inching up the list of other geographical contenders for my attention. The slender bodies of the bamboo that frame the highway are yellow too, but softer. Broken up by their leafy tops, they do not smack in the eye like the "Costa Rican forsythia" does.

Our pink bus plunges down the hill into the suburbs of San Jose. My two bags (one holding all my art) and I will soon be expelled from this rosy air-conditioned cocoon into the bustle of the city for my last forty-eight hours here...ramping up to the level of home, LA.

Reflective, as one might be on, say, New Years Eve, I circle around this thought...I do not believe in transformational festivals, an irony not lost on me, since I spend the better part of the year bringing these festivals to fruition...but there it is. For me, life is transformational. Life, that is so much bigger in scope than a tiny sliver of time in the jungle, or in the dessert, or the mountains...but in this particular instance the festival has served as bookends to my year. Highlighting my transformation in the year that was wedged in-between.

"What a difference a year makes!" This common phrase is spot on for this last year. My experience of this festival, as well as my changed response to the city of San Jose have served well in highlighting this shift. Confusion, heartache and loneliness have faded away, like darkness with the approaching dawn. This year I am "me" again! Happy and interested in life all around me. Invested in my art and hopeful again that I will find an adventure partner that shares my passion for life rather than kills it...what a difference a year makes...

While you, my dear (few) readers, may find your festivals to be transformational (and I'm happy for you if they are, as I LOVE creating that magic)...I will be happy if my life continues to be a source of learning and transformation.

Can't Wait for the Awesome!

You know when you look back on something you thought was awesome but really turned out to be just totally shitty...and you wonder how you could be such an idiot, cause for the most part, you're a smart cookie?!

...and you find yourself wondering, why did that have to happen? What was even the point? To see how terrible you can feel and still survive? I mean, who needs that?!

...but then you realize that when awesomeness comes around again and this time it's some realdealMFingbananaswoohoothatsit awesome...the comparison is going to blow your mind!

Yep! Can't wait for that AWESOME.

(in the meantime I'm gonna keep painting and baking and riding my bike)

Laters!

The Power of Tiny

Painting walks a fine line between meditation and inner contemplation...after this last Burn I dove straight in and sank so deep that I was a day late in returning my rental car (oops!). While there have definitely been meditative moments, on the whole, the process of working on this latest painting has been a very contemplative process...digesting internal experiences that took place for those two weeks in the dust. (my navel runs deep 😉)

Today I had a moment where a physical/visual occurrence dovetailed with my inner monologue (so it makes for a tidy example).

The painting I've been working on contains some blocks of letters on red. They are bold and stand out in a sea of (mostly) monochromatic tones. They are the visual equivalent of the grand gesture...and they were at odds with the rest of the painting...too bright...too much...to there...but I knew that they had to be a part of the painting...a part of the bigger picture.

This afternoon, I made a tiny gesture. A tiny visual gesture. I added five matching red shapes, the largest of which is no bigger than the fingernail on my index finger...and the whole painting just popped into togetherness.

You wouldn't think such a tiny element would have such a big impact, but it does. This tangible example mirrored what I have been mulling over in my head, during, and since the Burn.

So much in our lives focuses on the grand gesture (and don't get me wrong, I'm a huge fan, it makes for a good story) but what inspires me more is the tiny gesture...the tiny pebble that is tossed into a pond and the subsequent ripples that reach the other side and then reflect back.

Maybe some slightly less esoteric examples will paint a better picture.

I went to the Burn this year wanting, seeking the grand gesture, the epic adventure, the sparkle...and for the most part it remained elusive...

In a mid-week lull of whatthefuckisgoingonIwashopingforadifferentnarrative, a tiny moment presented itself. Not a grand adventure. Not a chance to have a magical make-out session under the stars, nor a letscommandeerbikesandgetlost or a letseatallthefuckingcandy* ...but rather a moment that said, stop, sit outside your tent and a small but worthy conversation will come your way.

It did.

Change radiated out from that tiny conversation and back in...

Tiny gestures...

Of course the power of tiny gestures goes both ways. You can take two seconds to pick up a mooped sequin or two second to brush off someone in need of inclusion...

I think in the face of big events (and there are so many happening around us constantly) we feel a need to respond with a big gesture, and we forget that even the tiniest act, can have a profound effect...

I guess what I'm really trying to say, is thank you, to all you bringers of the tiny gesture...you made my Burn... x

Traveling Light...

So, there's been a (not so fun) recurring theme with the past few men I've given my heart to, and I've been struggling to unpick what is going on...but I think I may have figured it out. (Thanks, Erin, for the reiki and reminder that I have a light heart).

I've somehow been attracted to men who find women with excess baggage interesting. I found myself thinking back to an early high school boyfriend, in combination with some more recent and current interactions with men in my life and a pattern emerged.

I've been stepping into these connections with an open, uncomplicated heart (having been so blessed with a loving and supportive past...everyone should be so lucky!) but I think this lightness of being has backfired on me. I think, because of this lack of heavy, lack of drama, I'm being perceived as both boring and possibly not engaging the subconscious male animal's protective instincts...a one-two punch that is cultivating disengagement.

The tricky part is...how to I go about solving this? How do I break this cycle? How do I find a man who understands that after a while all that baggage gets heavy, it becomes a burden that gets in the way of the adventure that is life. I travel light, and traveling light is great for adventures.

I know that at some point I may acquire more baggage, hold more sorrows...that's a natural part of life...but I don't think this will make me anymore authentic or interesting than I am now...so...

I know there is an adventurous man out there somewhere that wants to run out into the world with me and do all the THINGS!! Someone that can stand tall next to me...both of us with light hearts, open. [and maybe (at least for now) only a carry-on between us...😉].

Happy 12yr Anniversary...

An Anniversary

Ten years. 

If someone had told me ten years ago that I would be single for ten years, I would not have believed them. 

Ten years...I lived it and I still don't believe it.

Oh, I've had some casual dates and some hopeful moments, but nothing has stuck. I've had people tell me that I'm too picky, but honestly, can you be too picky when it comes to someone you want to spend the adventure of your life with? 

I don't think I've been too picky. I mean the last person I was (and still kinda am) interested in isn't tall or classically good looking, though I find him very attractive. He doesn't have a fancy degree from some Ivy League school or a high powered job, but he loves what he does and that is incredibly appealing...that passion for a life that is being lived. He's old enough to have had many life experiences that might make one pause...ten years ago it would have made me pause... But you see, in ten years I've gotten less picky, and more, at the same time. What then would have made me hesitate is now what makes someone interesting. Their life. History. What has built them into the "them" they are today.

Ten years ago I might not have seen beyond some of these superficial things. Not enough of my "boxes" would have been ticked...but now...now I have no little "boxes". Instead I have a gut feeling that says pay attention...

Now don't get me wrong, I'm not some desperate creature that needs someone to "complete me" (or save me or any other nonsense of that ilk). I am perfectly happy with the "me" I am today. I have a pretty good handle on who I am and what I'm looking for out of life...I'm not perfect and I don't expect or want perfection, for me or from someone else. But, as much as I love my life, I do want to share it with someone...and if the last ten years are anything to go by, something has got to change.

But what?

The day is coming, when I will be able to let go, let go of the "might have been" and heart in hand, take a step forward again. 

But where?

Tinder? (<click on Tinder..I'm laughing hysterically) OkCupid? Match? eHarmony? A set-up from well intentioned friends of my parents?

My little romantic heart doesn't want to shop for love online, but what else can I do...?

(he did...I did)

For now, I've used up all my sticky tape to keep my heart in shape and I'm working on having "the courage to start all over again." 

About a Boy...

I met a boy this summer.

I call him a boy because he made me feel like a girl in all the best possible ways...that exhilarating high, that you always want, but don't often reach.

I will admit, I had stars in my eyes and hope in my heart.

I knew from the beginning, like all relationships, that we might try and see and it might not work...and while I knew this would be painful, the "not working" part, I was willing to take that risk because I knew I would be able to live with it. That the pain of something that has run its course is something I can handle, that is ok, because I and we have given it our best shot. It is a natural, if difficult progression. 

The spark that has never been given the chance to burst into flame...how do you live with that? How do you live with something that never got the chance to "not work"? To me that is one of the saddest things of all...


     "Over time, the ghosts of things that happen start 
     to turn distant...they wear thin. The ones that slice 
     like razors forever are the ghosts of things that 
     never got the chance to happen."

                                              ~ T. French


Stars no longer sit in my eyes, but I still have hope in my heart, it's ripping at me...the ghost flame of what might have been or could still be... Only time will change that...

I met a boy this summer...and I can't seem to let him go...

Biking Around the Road Blocks

Sometimes life throws things at you and you've got nuthin'...each way you turn you seem to encounter a road block. I've got a couple solutions when life sends me down a dead end. The first is dancing. 

While dancing is awesome, sometimes the clubs are closed and dancing around in your room just isn't going to cut it! That brings me to my second solution. Biking! 

Today was such a day, where I was again facing something that has (at least at the moment) no solution. I'm very good at falling down that rabbit hole where my mental wheels will spin and I won't actually get anywhere. When I feel that I'm falling into this trap, it's time to get the other wheels spinning. So, I put on my happy t-shirt... 

...and went for a ride.

While neither dancing nor riding actually solves anything, it does allow me to push a personal reset button...and now I want another happy t-shirt that says "Bicycle Doggy Chariots Make Me Happy!"

Magic, damn it!

So I started writing this blog about the death of dating, or rather the death of having fun while dating...and I had this whole circus, merry-go-round metaphor/analogy going, etc, etc, blah, blah, blah...and I just couldn't post it... Don't get me wrong, I am tired of modern dating and (as I said to my friend) it would be nice to just fall asleep and wake up to find my partner sleeping next to me, but that's not how life happens... and I WANT to have fun, damn it (while dating and after)! I want adventure and compatible wildness and life trajectories that aren't going in completely opposite directions.

I have all these "things" vying for my attention, telling me to go out there and find someone, through social media, totally rubbish blogs, online dating, Hollywood and their damn romantic comedies... etc. But* in reality, a spark of interest often comes when I least expect it and in a flash I remember what it was like to like someone when I didn't have bills to pay, when reality didn't get in the way of magic...

I was at a festival (definitely a place where reality doesn't get in the way of magic) earlier this summer and as I hopped around in a field to some lovely beats, I noticed a sign bopping up and down in the crowd. It said, "You're doing it right!" 

The optimist in me wants to think I am...am I???

*yes, yes! I know I shouldn't start a sentence with but, sue me!

ps - Since I wrote this, I've had the pleasure of reading a good blog...as apposed to the rubbish one I linked above. Here it is!

Doggie Domestication and Personal Rumination

Achhh! I have been so slack about blogging as of late, but life is busy, ya know?! It's not like I have a job, or a career, or a family to take care of...but somehow I manage to be busy...who knows what will happen when I start living like an "adult"...I'll probably spontaneously combust!

I digress...

So what's with the odd blog title? Well, recently I have been doing a lot of dogsitting. It's not some spectacular career move, but it does put a few bucks in my back pocket, let me stay in different neighborhoods around LA, make art and play with doggies...

It also means that unless I'm conversing with the dogs (which I do, sometimes) it still leaves me with quite a lot of time to ruminate about things...

The most recent little thought that floated through my head was this~ 

We put too much emphasis on how life or a certain situation feels (and by this I mean our emotional response to any given situation)rather than focusing on what is (or the reality of said situation...reality being subjective, of course!) 

I'll use myself as an example.

Right now I don't have a job, no career, no boyfriend, no fiancee, no apartment, no house, no car..."no SIM card, no disco, no photo...we want your soul!" Oops, I digress again, but you get the picture. This situation feels uncertain, my emotion response is one of concern about all of the afore mentioned. That is how the situation feels.

However, the is...

In reality (or my version of reality) things are no more uncertain than if I had a house, a job, "Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television. Choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electric tin can openers..." 

Wait... I digress yet again! What I mean to say is that in reality my life is no more uncertain without all these trappings than it is with them, it just feels that way.

And you know what I decided, I choose not to.

I choose not to feel that way. I choose to embrace the fact that life is just going to happen and if I keep putting one foot in front of the other in the direction that I choose, I will get somewhere...and then somewhere else and elsewhere after that.

I think it is in our human nature to focus too much on the fear our feelings can engender rather than looking at why we are having those feelings in the first place and why our natural response to them is actually a conditioned response that grows out of our experiences.

Choose to change your responses.

Choose forward motion.

"Choose life" :-)

The Reluctant Cyclist

I am, without a doubt, a reluctant biker. It's not that I don't like riding a bike...or that I'm lazy. I actually love riding and have fond memories of riding on top of the wall surrounding a lovely old Italian town or being thrilled (and a bit terrified) on a mountain biking afternoon in Switzerland... It's just that here, in LA, I don't like playing king of the road with cars...

Fortunately for me, I'm allowed to ride on the sidewalk (or path to you non-American speakers!) However, this does pose a different set of problems...cracks that run parallel to my tire (or tyre)...forcing me into a groove I do not desire, blind driveways and the like.

So I've come to the conclusion, I think, that what I like and dislike the most about biking is that it makes me feel alive (and therefore also aware of my own mortality...) But, since it is my current, and only chariot (aside from my legs and feet) I am getting over my reluctance, exploring uncharted (at least for me) territories and enjoying the spring air, the scent of jasmine, orange blossoms and car exhaust...

* the picture is from the fabulous Lucca, Italy (sadly LA is not "quite" so picturesque!)

Hollywood Surrealism

There's something quite surreal about biking through Hollywood, late on a Wednesday night...or rather early on a Thursday morning after a few glasses of wine at THE Dinner Party. It's early February, so the air is crisp and refreshing...a nice antidote to divergent conversation and entwining music making with friends who know how to knit together melodies and harmonies that makes your head whirl...

Of course the ride is not in anyway a basis for reality....a random man in a cowboy hat, strolling and strumming the guitar in front of the all night pharmacy (chemist)...pockets of party kids leaving the clubs punctuate the night, but mostly a quietness so often absent and a feeling of anticipation or possibilities arises... 

I sense a state of being that feels like how I was ten years ago, in Ireland, wandering home through urban landscapes, feeling and knowing anything was possible...and while the feeling is still there, some of the potential is lost, would I really take hold of an adventurous night time story, follow a line and lose the plot or would my ten-years-older head keep me from following the lead of possibility...? Reality sets in when I turn up the hill on Beachwood. I miss the wild recklessness of ago, but think that life may have devoured or compressed it out of existence...maybe I will surprise myself yet, and lose the plot only to find another...