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...

The Rise of Ghosting

There's been a lot of talk about ghosting recently..."maybe, maybe too much talk..."

I'm as close to black and white as I ever get, when it comes to ghosting (ok, so maybe I'm slightly charcoal). If you have some insane stalker, by all means, walk away without another word, but in the world of average dating, ghosting is about the shittiest thing you can do to someone. 

There has been quite a bit written about ghosting recently. So, I don't think I need to discuss it at length... I'll keep it short and sweet (there's nothing sweet about ghosting).

As a recipient of ghosting (multiple times) I have to disagree with Jezebel's point that the recipient is deserving of this treatment. I was in no way deserving of the ghosting that I found myself on the receiving end of...I even had one of the men who did it to me subsequently say "You don't and didn't deserve the way I just let it go, totally not fair to you..." 

What it really boils down to (at least as I see it) is a lack of respect for someone and a giving in to fear...fear of having a difficult and potentially uncomfortable conversation. When did we become so afraid of raw, real feelings and open, honest communication?  Are we so universally afraid of not being totally adored that when we feel we might upset someone, we choose to shutdown, to disappear? This shutting down is not the way forward... Is "no" really that difficult to say? I respect "no"...but I have no respect for individuals who think that it is somehow better to never say no, who would rather say nothing at all.

While there will always be cowards when it comes to being open and honest in relationships, what I find more disturbing is how ghosting has spilled over into other arenas. I've noticed a worrying trend of ghosting becoming a part of everyday life. I have been ignored by businesses, clients and prospective employers. What has happened to our manners?

I'm not writing this necessarily to change your mind, but rather, at least, to invite you to take a moment and reflect on how you like to be treated... Does this run parallel to your thoughts on ghosting, parallel to your own behavior?

For those of you who are chronic ghosts, I invite you... 

Own your own bullshit! It's ok to be terrified of a real conversation. Admit you're terrified, make that part of the conversation. Shit, you don't even have to say it. Just get some little business cards printed up that say "I'm too fucking scared to communicate. I'm sorry. Goodbye." and hand them out to whomever you want to end something with without a genuine conversation. Then you can continue on your merry way knowing that you'll never have to change and you've at least minimized the crushing agony of "what-the-fuck-just-happened?" that is playing in circles in your recipient's head. 

...but if you want to be the better version of you... have that conversation, face to face.

Stop ghosting.
Start talking.

Meaning-full

In the wake of confusion that comes when someone decides, for whatever reason, that they are no longer into you, I always find myself asking the big questions...like, "what is the point?" and other such ruminations. During this last fallout period, I ran across a quote from Victor Frankl's Man's Search for Meaning. It struck a chord. So I ordered the book and began to read it between bouts of self-indulgent mopey-ness. I haven't finished it yet, but so far it has been a good and thought provoking read. It has made me think around my own ideas of the meaning of it all.

Here's what I've come up with, for me, personally. 


     The meaning of life is to have a life full of (lived) meaning.
      (I like how that is kind of a verbal palindrome) 



I'm sure I'm not the first (nor will I be the last) person to have this idea, but what I do like about it is that it's a blank slate or in my case, a blank canvas. The blank canvas has no judgements, it simply sits there, waiting for you to choose a color and start to paint. Meaning or meaningfulness is a bit like painting, you have to approach it with intent. Without intent you will produce mud...

I also like the universality of this idea. That, if you pay attention to what your genuine needs are for fulfillment, then this idea should provide a path to finding meaning in life that fits perfectly with you, and only you. It does require some thought about what genuinely gives you meaning, but it is fluid and can accommodate most needs and can change and develop over time. I hesitate to use the word "needs" as there is a lot written about setting yourself free of need. However, in my mind these are not "needs" that make you needy, but rather less concrete aspects of life that bring you fulfillment. Ok, I'm starting to ramble...examples, right, good idea!


For me, the things that give my life meaning are - 


     People. The people I choose to surround myself with... 
     (both friends and family)

     Creating. Or creative expression, in all its forms. 
     (painting, baking, ceramics, photography, dancing, etc!!)

     Adventure. Travel...seeing what is around the next bend, 
     whether that bend is on the other side of the world or the 
     view from my bike in an unexplored neighborhood of LA, or   
     around the corner of time...as well as the adventure of 
     discovering new people, new creative pursuits, new stories, 
     internal exploration, etc...the adventure of life/living, 
     as it were.


Those are my three. What are yours? What feeds your soul? What fulfills you?

While, not being wanted, can knock me on my emotional ass for a minute or two, it never really takes the meaning out of life for me, it just pushes me to reflect, reassess, lick my wounds and then get on with living, with intent, purpose and meaning!