headwaters of fear

The Mississippi started as a trickle in Itasca

I puddled through it

skipped rocks at its banks 

canoed down its trail

swam in its stream

ate fish from its waterbed

I feasted on the Mississippi's beginnings

with spirited laughter and a camper's hunger

Mark Twain gave me a different story of 

two boys adventuring through Hannibal

I spent an evening on a paddle boat

wondering where Huckleberry was

and wondering where the raft 

floated down the wide 

rustic river that is so very Mighty

The beginnings of the river

led to a now polluted river

its fish cannot be eaten in places

its waters can't be waded

its smell burns nose hairs

and Huckleberry and Sawyer

well, their raft will never sail again

The river's been infected

and it's Mightier than ever

Fear began in headwaters

much like the rocky trickle

that I played in 

Fear flooded the land

polluted peaceful villages

and spread across the world

in raucous oceanic waves

it's an epidemic 

Painting anxiety on people

with words of hyper energy

filling the holes of openness

engulfing children innocent to

anxiety but magnetized by energetic

shifts

Fear began as a trickle 

and as people clung to its

magnetic power

floating down with it

clinging to a life preserver

not knowing how to swim

not knowing how to settle

not knowing where to place

sandbags, not realizing the 

epidemic, not realizing the 

natural disaster that fear

would be

a virus that started as a

trickle,  blew up bombs

destroyed nations

obliterated cultures

eliminated species

polluted streams

and closed doors to peace

If there was one way to solve

world peace it would be to 

acknowledge fear, let it trickle

but build damns 

conserve its harboring forests

respect its power

dillute its poisonous watering holes

ration its food

respect its knowledge

meditate on its resolve

feed life with love and compassion

forgive

Forgive fear

without that we will forever be flooded

we will forever be chasing our tails

Crayola Blue Skies Umbrella Twilight

Just when you think your day has been full to the brim with unexpected things. There is always room for more.

After a long day huddled over my keyboard, frantically writing toward deadlines. Led Zeppelin cheering me on with his amazing guitar talents, chocolate cookies, and a bit of caffeine. I am torched. The focus and intensity have drained me. 

I walk through the revolving door out onto a rain glossed Wacker Drive. The fresh air hits me first with it's surprising warmth. Next comes the sound of the bus that sloshes puddles to the curb. Then the vibration of the EL. And I look up, first my eyes see the Wrigley clock, it's a minute before 8. I breathe in and my gaze goes skyward. I am taken aback as a rain drops hit my cheeks because instead of black or cloudy skies, my eyes are enveloped in blue. The blue you choose to color the sky with when there is no "sky blue." The blue of Crater Lake. The Blue of sapphires. 

I stop and stare upwards, as if I'm a tourist gawking at the skyline that borders the Chicago River and State Street. I cannot help but feel that this moment was worth the wait, worth the day's sweat and toil, worth another night of postponed climbing. 

I slowly puddle my way down the street, no umbrella, but loving the feel of water on my head. 

From my window

The yellow room lights up with sunlight and makes patterns on the white curtains. I bask in it and drink spicy chai while reacquainting myself with the world. Me and my laptop, the sun, a hot cup of chai, and lots of warm blankets greet this Sunday morning with openness. 

As I look up from my email and my facebook wanderings I catch glimpses of runners trotting pass; I can hear their exhales and feel the earth shake a little bit as they pass. I always think it's interesting that even though I'm inside I can still distinctly hear the world outside. Many a night and morning I will just listen to it. 

Secretly I am spying through these windows of mine. Observing the path that so many take that crosses right in front of my eyes in earshot. The green shrubs and the big evergreen have grown very tall so that my peeping view is smaller than in the past. Now I only see the color of the car and the top of a runner's head. 

Little girls are singing the Alleluia on their way home from church. Their voices stream in with joy. It didn't matter that I couldn't see them, I could tell they were happy. Happy to be singing on this beautiful day. 

When I listen closely to the cars I can feel the energy of their pace. Sometimes I feel a tension rise up as they zoom by. Everyone so in a hurry to get somewhere. To be somewhere. To not be fast enough to get there. Hurry Hurry Hurry. The noise of hurry is not one that entices me. And it's a noise that I do not like to portray, although it's difficult when you're surrounded by it. Hurrying is not really that effective. That's all I got to say. 

It disturbs the nervous system flooding your brain with thoughts of "come on, go faster, I need to be there in 5 minutes, honking horns." Just by writing those thoughts I immediately feel a string of tension thread through my spine.

Things can wait. Knowing that it's your responsibility to take care of yourself and how and when you arrive somewhere makes hurrying even more personally damaging. Face it, if you're late, you're late. Apologize and face up to your responsibility, but it won't help to rush. Rushing just exacerbates the problem and turns you into a tizzy.

"Non-hurrying" practice is one that has instilled a lot more patience in me and with life. Waiting in lines becomes more enjoyable, because you stop the thought pattern of "Oh my goodness this line is moving so slow...they should really have some more people working here." Instead, (this happened to me in an airport security line) see what and who is around you, observe and maybe start a conversation. Really you're all in the same boat and you've all been given a chance to learn something from someone that you may never have met. 30 minutes flies by in a heartbeat and you aren't so gosh darn annoyed. Annoyance is just a waste of energy, more so than waiting in line. :-)

A couple walks by their faces highlighted by the sun. They are enjoying their path. My roommates' DVD plays loudly from her room. She coughs consistently. Sickness persists even when you don't want it to. A sign of weakness in the body, a sign of vulnerability, a sign of unbalance. 

The day has begun the world outside is calmly laying down it's journey for the day. I snuggle deeper under the blankets and enjoy the solitude and stillness. Paying attention to the fatigue of my body--very sore abs and hips from yesterday's asana practice--I let things slow down. 

27

Dark chocolate infested with ginger
4 bowls of Lucky Charms
IM chats with Ruben in Costa Rica
Dinner with the best roommates
My first Spanish Lesson
Yoga with Steve
Messages from friends around the world
Netflix before midnight
parents in Chicago
Thai food and Sushi
a vegan peanut butter chocolate cupcake

Adventure brewing
Happiness surrounding
Peace in my heart
I embark on my 28th year with hope and love

Chocolate, Hard Work & A Walk Down the Magnificent Mile

When there's nothing to worry about, but the typing of my fingers or the speed of my creativity. I become overwhelmingly giddy and goofy. And when a deadline is hours away and I know I'm going to work until I get loopy, I become uncontrollably weird. So weird that I buy chocolate eat it and then spin around in my chair until I'm dizzy. Then as if on cue I dance in front of each person in my dept and offer chocolate and a personalized dance move.

Sometimes the stress level is so high I can feel its thickness. I have come to recognize the frosting of stress and cut it with laughter rather than falling into its crypt.

Creative people do not do well in certain situations, and they definitely do not do well when they are being leashed and tied up like a dog outside a really awesome restaurant. Creative people need fresh air, lots of color, humor, and in my case space to move.

Movement is essential for creativity. So much so, that I sometimes do headstands in my cube, or strut down the hallway with high kicks and kung fu punches. Creativity for me is about moving out all the junk to get to the good stuff. The physicality is essential. More for me to release the control that my brain so often traps me in. The control of perfection is what I've come to recognize. When I'm in that place--it's in many ways a day of doom. Forget getting me to write anything short of crap.

Since I work in a field where judgment is constant, it is essential that I do not judge, but rather associate. What does that mean? Well I'm still learning how to practice what I call "association," but what I've discovered is that it's very abstract and requires nothing of the brain but more of what many people refer to as "the gut." As soon as the brain makes the move, Screwage. You're doomed, because ultimately you'll be plagued with taking the project too personal no matter if it's good or bad. You're doomed because it's suddenly become about you. Or as I should say "me."

Association with intuitiveness is a much more...hmmm...selfless act of creativity. Mark me, it does not mean that you can't "enjoy" or have "fond feelings" for your work, but it cannot be the ultimate reason for doing your work. Rather the work just "comes" and works the way it works because it was inspired to do so.

In essence everything that is creative needs to be "spiritually" driven. Now, I do not mean "religious." But I do mean "spirit." The incorporeal part--the part that is not driven by our brains. The brain does nothing for creativity but cloud. Well, that's not entirely true, but 95% true. The brain provides memory, but memory is still rooted in the incorporeal part.

Delicious. Creativity is so delicious. When you're in it, you're in it and there's nothing else. It's presence personified--Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel, the Golden Gate Bridge, a Shakespearean sonnet, Tosca...Nature is a perfect example of creativity. And well, to "create" means to be creative. ...

Tonight after being drained from the thickness of stress that surrounded me and eventually clouded a lot of my presence. I walked. I walked for blocks. I contemplated walking all the way home, but I was hot. It was 60 degrees out and I was wearing a wool coat and my wool fleeced boots. I walked as far as I could down Michigan Avenue. Breathing in the air of the city, relaxing into the darkness and staring up at the clouds that were backlit by the bright towers that balanced around me.

In my head I went to Cahuita, Costa Rica to clear away the claustrophobicness that I was experiencing. I felt the ocean breeze through the stale air of the taxi-driven streets, I felt the energy of the stars, although the lights were from the offices and storefronts around me, I heard the birds in the ambulance sirens, and I saw the ocean in the frozen lake.

I smiled and felt the energy of the city. For the first time in two weeks I felt an energy that wasn't weak, but one that was full of hope. It was on the faces of the people, and it was in the pace of the cars. Things felt slower. The weather must have brought out the warmth and the hope that "Spring will birth new things."

Spring is the time of creativity. The time to plant new seeds, the time to fertilize dreams, and the time to let the cold mourning winter go.

Where we walk there is a path. Where we work there is an energy. Where we are is right here.
Where we create we are present.

My Costa Rica

From my journal entry Feb 22, 2009

A parrot sits sipping sweet coffee out of Marcelo's coffee cup. Nibbling on Marcelo's ear, the parrot friend coos as he samples dessert after sweet coffee and nuts. The hungry green feathered friend with a red forehead can't stop enjoying the generosity of Marcelo and his compadres.

The wind chime's melody dances with the percussive folding of the waves, and the chirping of the birds backs up the mellow improvisations that the wind makes when rippling the pipes into a purposeful pattern of perfection.

In a country where blue and green create harmony in every space, people feel joy next to the jungle where creatures hide and surprise the passer-bys in dark hours with a brush of leaves or a hoot from high above.

There is a melody in every moment, spirit in every breath. Prana, the life force, beauty inhaled and exhaled immortal feeding mortal for now and evermore. Peace, purposeful and poignant in people and in place, personified pools of blue and green.

Oh, Costa Rica, a rich coast of energy from spirit, may we meet again as the moon rises and falls and brings in the tides of change. Bless me forever more my blissful beach jungle land.

Anne

What do you want to be when you grow up?

The question "What do you want to be when you grow up?" is one that has forever been rooted in the American psyche. A question that once seemed so innocent and inspired by imagination, but which somehow steamrolls out of control in your mid teens as your hormones lash out at you and destroy the balance of your ecosystem.

Suddenly you have no idea who you are let alone what you want to be and the pressure to discover the answer creates an unbearable amount of strain on your emotional and intellectual belief in yourself. And many times you fall. Or, begin embarking down the road of self-destruction because somewhere along the lines these questions "What do you want to be?" and "Who am I?" become an assumed necessary responsibility.

You search for the RIGHT answer day in and day out, and many times you lose yourself in depression, anxiety, addictions, and other self destructive behaviors that ultimately blind you from enjoying "Who you are and where you are at the moment."

I have always wanted to be a great many things, but the funniest and awesomest thing is that everything "I thought I wanted to be"turned into something better than a "job title".
Age 3: brain surgeon
Age 7: ballerina and art teacher
Age 14: actor/model
Age 16: doctor
Age 18: professional clarinetist
Age 22: editor
Age 26: happy

At the moment, I am happy and somewhere in the last two years I stopped associating "What I want to be with who I am." Freedom and inspiration followed as soon as I stopped boxing myself in.

The other day an associate who was having a hard day, said to me, "You're always so God damn happy. I don't get that. You're always laughing."

I wanted to say a lot, but instead I just smiled at him and said. "It's a choice."

Yes crap happens, but as soon as you let go of trying to "control" everything and everyone. You discover how freaking amazing things can be and how freaking amazing you are and the power that you have to take on challenges that are really freaking painful.

So as I learn to appreciate and accept that I am not definable by a category, and that "Who I am" is not a question that needs an answer. I am able to acknowledge that I am a powerful being whose talents are to be used to show love, gratitude, and compassion for people and experiences that occur along the trail of life.

Life doesn't have a pause button, it's happening right now and you are who you need to be right now. No translations necessary.