512

Tomorrow is 512

512
is someone I've loved and
will always love birthday
an Indian purse
and postcards from far away
are jewels he's left behind for me

512
is a home
where a family lives
where someone significant
wrote music and
made love to me
in an attic room

512
is my home
my sanctuary
my studio
my place
my nest

A snapshot: In my element

I realized upon walking into my apartment this evening, that I am IN my ELEMENT. Suitcase in the hallway. Clean laundry from last week all over the floor covering my yoga mat. My shower and bathroom hasn't had a really thorough cleaning for...well I can't remember. And my bed, my bed was the best visual--totally destroyed, a big pile of sheet and comforter, half on my bed half off my bed and the pillows looked like a tornado had taken them and spun them to all sides of the bed.

I definitely have been in my element, or maybe NOT HOME ever.  My wind down consists of Facebook, some journaling and a phone call when I can spare the "me" time after being out from 8 am until 9 PM, starving, and unsure of where all my 200 dollars of groceries went in the last 5 days--well I've got carrots, swiss chard, cereal, veggie dogs and some really ripe bananas. I get caught up in catching up with my friend who lives in NY and forget to eat dinner--it's now 10:30 at night...that's how the story goes. And I was gone last weekend, the weekend before that, and this next weekend I'll be in NY. I'm in my element.

I don't know what day it is. I only know what I feel like moment to moment. I had a phone call with an ex-boyfriend who is now my dear friend (so maybe I should just refer to him as my friend, but I like throwing the history in) and he was like "Dating anyone?" And I laughed, "No time for sex, drugs, and rock 'n roll." At least when it's not worth it. He laughed. I laughed, and realized that I eat, sleep, work/write, practice yoga, teach yoga, and do yoga homework. I'm super happy with that, and have no tears coming out of my eyes because I don't have a body next to me at night or a hand to hold when I'm walking down the street. Yes, of course, it would be magnificent, but I want it to be right, I want to be with someone because of the right reasons. I'm done with this whole "experience" thing. I've had my fair share of "experiences" and I truly love my life right now.

I love how the sun comes in through my windows every morning. I love walking to work. Walking the mile long commute through the warehouse district to yoga. I love how I feel almost every single day, and when I don't,  I love the fact that I can admit to myself that I'm not "liking something." I'm in my element.

The laundry on my floor, the funny face and disheveled hair, all of that is a sign of me being "in" the life.   I clean 45 minutes before my students come over. That is my incentive. I open mail when I decide to turn on the tv and then don't watch the show because I'm opening mail and talking to someone on IM at the same time. I'm horrible about doing stuff all at the same time, but it makes me feel me.

Some people would say "You must just be stressed out if your home is a mess, and you don't have groceries?" Actually, a perfectly tidy apartment and full fridge, usually means I'm having students over, or I'm going on a long trip (minus the food), or I just decided that I should clean and take a day off from the world. Mind you, I can't stand a dirty kitchen, so that is always clean no matter what.

I'm in my element. I don't want to clean. I want to write, and now I want to sleep--5:30 comes way too fast.

Wabash Bridge at Midnight

The train halted at Grand tonight. I was antsy. I got out and walked the extra 10 minutes. Felt the cold Chicago wind ripple my hair across my face. Saw the blue tower on the Wrigley building lit up. And walked my large cowboy booted steps past the monstrous Trump towers. The city was quiet. Wacker Drive, bustling with taxis and the speed of rush hour traffic was a distant hum of a memory--it was a playground for hopscotch and a jaywalking stroll. I lingered on the Wabash Bridge, looking down at the ripples of the Chicago River, my heart beating to a tune still in my head from the story-telling concert I had just spent the evening with. A sigh came out and blended into to the echo of my wooden soles and the gentle water breeze--a sigh of heartache from love. A sigh of puzzlement from the distance travelled with these two legs of mine over pavement, sand, rock and whatever else my soles have landed on by themselves, on their own. Yet, in the quiet stillness of the empty streets the bridge that I crossed over felt like a metaphor. The love we give and live with is a bridge toward the unknown, the mystery, and the pain that comes with the crossing, the traveling is one that all travelers feel. There is no plan to this adventure. There are only bridges that are yet to be built and stories to be shared about the bridges to islands yet to be discovered. I paused at  the BMW motorcycle parked outside the Swissotel and secretly wanted to jump on it. Feel the road. Feel the wind. Feel the thrill of connecting to the rush of motion. The Taxi sign pointed to an empty lane. The steps down to the park below echoed under my footstpes. No dogs in the park. The doorman smoking a cigarrette outside one of the buildings nods in surprise as I pass by in my hooded jacket with flying strands of blonde hair dancing around my face. Hands gently swaying. I glance around me, wondering why I do not feel scared at this hour. And I laugh as I remind myself that that was a silly thought. I shimmy through the revolving door. Hello to the night doorman. A big black guy, whom I always feel happy to see. I press 5 on the elevator. My apt opens to the remains of my dinner--sweet potatoes and wild rice. The floor is covered with the laundry I was about to do and underneath it lies several yoga mats waiting expectantly for their next students. Washing my face I notice I a tear stained cheek. I feel my heart. It knows. It knows what the tear said. I look in the mirror my eyes hold my gaze. I ponder my reflection, and receive the human emotion of the moment. Sigh. Life travels just as I watched the river underneath a wooden planked bridge. As cliched as this sounds, I never would have expected the distance that my heart has traveled, nor have wanted anything to be any other way. Acceptance, it's what I look for in the mirror before I turn off the light. I accept what is now, and know that it is enough to just be me.

OH MY GOODNESS

My mom makes the best apple crisp!

The space between the words

As a writer, I am always perplexed and shocked when I start typing. The fear that hangs before the first letter appearing in front of my eyes is unexplainable. It's like I'm afraid of looking at what I'm capable of creating. Afraid of what I might find. And underneath that afraid of what energetic reaction may be created from my voice. 

My voice is cleaner more truthful and more visible when written. My heart more open and more available when indented into the screen or a piece of paper. My words, my soul, my energy more visible in what I pour out of my finger tips. My vulnerability front and center spotlighted.

So I hang in the space between the words, holding my breath not ready to exhale the voice that crazily vibrates within the silence that I create. The yoga of writing is one that I am just learning to breathe. My breath so much a part of my power with words as it is with my power of my body. My timidity hangs in the feverish exhale that lasts much shorter than my deep inhale of inspiration. Yet the inspiration shifts inside of my loins and inside my heart and inside of my throat. Stuck like the stickiness of a sore and knotted muscle. Begging to be massaged and used so that it can wander and create what it's been so inspired to do.

That space. That space between the fingers craving for artisanship. That space between the delivery of me to the world around is sacred space. Space where I hide and feel safe, but there is only so long before that space feels crowded with unsung songs and unwritten stories, which then makes me feel like screaming because I just can't bare the fact that I have gone so long without saying anything. Without accessing my voice, my truth, my power, my gift. 

Why am I so frightened by the exhale? Why am I so frightened by what I have to say? Why am I frightened by me? 

I don't think I'm abnormal. I think there are many people who given gifts that are full of power actually find them a bit frightening because of how consuming they can be. 

Knowing how you're meant to use your gifts is a trial and error experience. At least it is for me. My passions and my inspirations ignite so many ideas in my hands and in my heart yet I feel at a loss for words or for that matter action. I find myself consumed with the responsibility of what it means to begin and to commit that I hold my breath in action because I'm worried about failure. 

It seems much easier to stay in my safe space, however, the more I stay here the more crowded it feels the more restless I am and the more unsatisfied I am with so-called safety. Plus it is only hurting me, therefore no longer a safe haven. 

So as I face the truth of my own voice my own power and I experiment with it on the mat; I've begun to realize that I don't need to be afraid of my voice. It's much scarier to know that I've been denying the world my full attention and spirit. 

Humility is something that is heard not hidden. And from humility their is an intense amount of power and truth. 

I end with this because we so often times consider humility to be one of the "unspokens" but I beg to disagree that humility is one of the greatest voices. And I leave that to resonate in space...

Where do Labels end and I begin?

I have a very close friend is going through a battle of life or death with himself. Doctors continue to label him. Society continues to label him. But the most difficult part is that he labels himself. Brands himself with a label that is not who he truly is.

His heartbreak, his struggle, is one of the most difficult things I have ever had to witness in my life. And I have had to walk away because it is too difficult to feel his pain. I can no longer watch him turn into something he is not. And I am helpless to help him change because he is the only one who can decide how to rip the labels off and find the truth.

What is the truth? Well it's not always what everyone tells you it is. I have learned that about my own journey. I face it everyday and in every moment. Is this real? Is this true? Is this truly what I need? When we discover the truth sometimes it sucks. And sometimes we have to deliver bad news or realize that we can't do or be what the outside label says.

There are moments in life where you feel like you've got your clothes on inside out and everyone's judging you by the brand on the tag, only it's not necessarily the clothes you're wearing.  You're wearing you. And you don't know how to be you without someone telling you who you are. But the real you is you. There's no label you just are.

So where do I begin and labels end? Where do you begin and the label ends? Where does life begin and fairy tale or nightmare end?

I wrote this during work because I was so inspired by my friend's label of himself that I had to wonder a little bit about the necessity of labels and if there is the possibility of removing them.

When we tell someone what's wrong with them or label a problem or label ourselves--how is that effective help? Labels don't help. They box people in. 


What do you truly believe? That is your truth. That is who you are. You must feel it, it must cause your bones to shake and your heart to spin. There is no answer that we can give ourselves or to others that is going to be RIGHT. There is no RIGHT answer. There is only exploration. And that may not even be accurate. 


BE.


BE IN THE MOMENT.


BE WHO YOU ARE RIGHT NOW.


Don't try and change that.


Healing comes through awareness in the moment. 
It is our awareness in the instant time and space that allow us to recognize what we see.
We cannot count moments, but we can feel them with our gifted sense.
And from there we can feel life with our entire being.
That is the true gift of being human--feeling.


WHEN DO WE HAVE ENOUGH LABELS?
COULD WE LIVE WITHOUT LABELS?


I work in an industry that makes its living creating labels. Competition.
"I'm better than you are."
Can we just respect each other and recognize that if we all fit ourselves together that then we would have a very beautiful world and a balanced world because we would understand how we all need each other and operate as a collective unit by living in our being and feeling the moments that we are blessed with. 


Then maybe we wouldn't have such a difficult time believing in who we are. But we are currently a world of labels and that unfortunately causes my heart to hurt. So maybe if we begin to remove the labels and begin to accept who and what things are. Then maybe we'll create a little more peace.

A soliloquy

Can I write you a story? Can I play you a song? Can I dance with you in one arm and carry flowers in another? Can this be simply beautiful without an interjection of “what if?” Can I put my sail up and float along on this ocean’s wave even if it is just for a while? Can I just be swept away with the magic of your eyes gazing at me? Can I just forget all the yesterdays and feel free? Can this be what it is without one heart becoming wounded? Can love just be rather than end in misery? Can I just be me without causing an undesired effect? Can this be fun rather than a shotgun wound to the heart? Can I be with you without worrying if I will change my mind? Can we just be a harmonious melody even if there is a finish line? Can life allow for ending without dead ends? Can both of us see that if this is meant to be perhaps that means there may be a dropoff point?

What responsibility do I carry when exploring new territories? Am I really a Spanish Pilgrim carrying havoc and distress? Where might my joy take me if not into new discoveries? Is this not just an experiment of unconditional love for one another? Where then does this all leave me at the end of the day when I look at you and say, “I don’t know now, but I’m afraid I’ll know later and then I will only cause pain?” When are we allowed to have fun and let that be our love?

 “Who are you?” they always ask, “To not be with someone.” When does my answer “I am with someone and that someone is me,” become the right fact?

I am baffled by this role, this life of playing roles that are constantly misunderstood. I am baffled that there is this “need” to be with someone else to feel complete. I do not believe in this any more. I do not believe that I am missing a half. I do not believe that there is just one “just right” for me. I believe that I have been lucky to have fallen in love more than once and I believe that I am lucky to have discovered that I really am complete without the other “thee.” The mystery of belonging, of longing to be together, is something that I do not believe to be a healthy act.

Now I would just like to be and actually enjoy another’s company without the bells and whistles of future ringing in their eyes and ears as I speak my soliloquy. I do not want to apologize for casting a spell that causes you to see unclearly. I do not want to apologize for an end that may occur. I do not want to apologize for a fairy tale that may never end happily.

I simply ask for this moment, this bit of time, to be happy with what we both have given rather than worrying about tomorrow’s broken heart pedigree.

My facebook status tonight

Listen intently to that which is not heard within the babble...there are melodies that bring beauty and joy to the heart that are not audible to those who just hear. Listen to the silence that falls around empty words and you will discover the true melody.


Perhaps this is the beginning or the end or a complete poem...I do not know. I just merely felt the words come out as I sat down to type a status tonight.

A night at the museum

I went to the Museum of Contemporary Art this evening hoping to be inspired and driven to write a lot this evening. Per usual I was unexpectedly surprised by how my expectations were soo wrong. Note to self, when inspired before going to an art museum, just go home and write, don't go to the museum.

It was not that there was really nothing cool to look at...although I was disappointed by how uninterested I was in 1960s and 70s Italian art. I feel rather bad about the Italian artists these days, they have such high standards to live up to with Caravaggio, Michelangelo, and Da Vinci. No wonder they went to extreme lengths to try and regain something creatively inspiring.

I was most taken aback by the sculptures. I never imagined myself as a sculpture lover until I saw the "real" David and started crying by how extraordinarily beautiful he was. He is the perfect man. And then tonight, it was the dead corpses covered with blankets that I couldn't get out of my head. I was taken aback as I walked down the hallway to find these 9 covered bodies--all of them contorted in different ways.

What struck me was the mystery of the story below the blankets. How did they die? Who were they? Did they suffer? What was their last thought? Questions rang through my head like the ambulance sirens that were supposed to come pick them up and take these sculpted dead bodies to the morgue.

And on my walk home, I laughed at the fact that death is beautiful. And with that thought I was transported back into the scene in American Beauty when the boy is showing the film to the girl with the dead bird in it.  Death is beautiful. There is a peace that takes over no matter what pain the person was in. Morbid, maybe. But it triggered an avalanche of thoughts and questions.

There is fear about death everywhere, yet we depict it artistically all the time--movies, music, visual art, and even in the food we eat. We in many ways feed off of death. That may sound like a strong statement, but when was the last time you ate something that didn't result in the death of something living? Even if you are a vegetarian there is still death involved for that plant.

Death deserves some respect and less exaggeration. We are all terminally ill and we are all dying. Which raises the question of dependence. Life depends on death, yet as humans we feel so much sorrow and grief when death occurs--we don't want it to. However, if it did not occur life may perhaps cease to exist. You cannot talk about death without encompassing all living things. Death won't stop just for humans, that would break the balance of everything. The earth needs us to die just as much as it needs trees to die.

It is the lessons of suffering that we don't want. I agree suffering is difficult, but it exists to teach and to make us aware. Death teaches us. Those 9 artistically molded bodies taught me something. Death is merely an artistic end to a story. We never know when ours may come.

Me and Moon

Me and Moon have been talking
We have been talking for as long as I can remember
No, it is not the "Man" in the Moon I talk to
Just Moon
The entire white orb of light

Moon and I have interesting conversations
Last night Moon wanted me to come visit
To bring in the New Year from above
So I traveled to the Moon
Or I traveled as best I could
And there I sat
Like a Nursery Rhyme
On Moon

Viewing the world from an objective angle
And there, up above, I talked with Moon
We discussed great things without word
Moon's light and fullness was like my heart
Radiating peace and unconditional love

I saw my friends and my family
I saw people I barely knew
I saw parties that I was invited to
but did not physically attend
Moon and I laughed and watched
as the world celebrated a "New Year"
And then the Moon said
"Watch this"
He slowly eclipsed

I found myself opening my eyes
Smiling knowing
Moon had allowed me to give my compassion
to the world for a few minutes

Just Dance

I'm always amazed by what happens to me when a rhythm is played or when an increase of energy is present within music. I immediately want to move. I immediately want to feel the tingle of the electricity of the rhythm in every pore of my body. I am entranced when I dance. I lose all consciousness of what else is around me when I am connected to the energy that is me and the rhythm that is felt. It is me the music and the energy that connects the two parts. 

I danced for 3 hours straight without thinking or drinking. It was a good dancing night. For most of the night it was just me on the dance floor with the intermingling of my colleagues. I didn't care. I think tonight was the first night that I didn't care about who was watching, how I was moving, and whether or not I was dancing well. I was just moving and loving every moment of the freedom and the energy that I was able to create. Soon more people were dancing and then I started to get even happier, because I could see and feel them getting into the energetic tangle. It was beautiful. Everyone moves so differently, and it is just so fascinating to see how one person interprets a rhythm or a song and makes it his own. 

It goes without saying, I love to dance. I love music and I love feeling music in me. The more I learn, the more I realize that movement is something that I am fascinated by. I love the human body and I love how it works. The smallest movement of the body can change the entire energy of a person and can even go so far as changing the emotion of a group of people. 

Dancing is not something some people do, it's what we all do. It's present whenever we move. 

When you tell your mom everything

When you tell your mother everything
You know she's not going to understand
But you know you have to take that chance
Well at least you feel like you needed to at the time
When you tell your mom all the good and all the bad
When you tell your mom about your super powers
You are going to get a reaction
You are going to get the "worried" reaction
Information overload is a mom's injection to "worriedness"

But when you decide to start telling your mom everything
You feel freedom
You feel like you
You don't feel like a secret
You start to be you
You start to let the person that cares about you more than anything in
When you realize you never let her in
You are overwhelmed with what that means
You feel like a stranger to yourself and to the woman who did everything for you

When you decide to tell your mom everything
You are jumping off a very big cliff into a very unknown land
You know she won't understand everything, but you are finally willing to take that chance
You are finally willing to let her reactions to your words matter less than the truth you want to share
You are finally living and sharing your life with someone that you love and who loves you back
You are finally communicating without borders

When you decide to tell your mom everything
You have decided to start telling yourself everything
You are ready to be heard
You are ready to step out from your shadow
You are ready for whatever may come

When you decide to tell your mom everything
You feel the love she's been giving you from day one
And you will be surprised by how amazing that can be

The reflection of a trombone case in an elevator mirror

When you realize that you love someone, you never forget that moment. Every little detail becomes ingrained in you head. Even the location of the mustard seems like a still life painted by a marvelous artist.

When you realize that you love someone, an incredible thing happens a part of you wakes up as if an alarm clock just went off.

When you realize that you love someone, it may not be the first time that you realized it for that person. It may actually be days or months after you pushed aside any hope of reality allowing that love to become something of a committment between you, the universe, and that other person. 

When you realize you love someone, you have an undenying urger to tell them without concern for the consequences.

When you realize you love someone, you begin to understand the connection between soul, body and the greater universal spirit. When you realize that you actually love someone, there is no turning back...you will always love them in some way. 

When you realize you love someone, you feel completely out of control, and you know that you cannot really control the destiny of where that love takes you. But, having faith in that love will deliver you to a beautiful place even if in the end you are not really with that person. It was love, it was the realization of love, that got you there. 

And so when you realize you love someone, you have to have faith that it will take you on a journey that you would never trade no matter how big the heartbreak may be when reality shatters your perceptions of "what you thought might be forever." 

The thing is, you will love forever and love will forever be realized.

Today I realized that I will never stop loving the people who have made me "realize love" and I'll never forget the smell of the coffee on one particular day, nor forget the color of the trees and the smell of rain, or even think about dismissing the orange dinosaur shirt, or the reflection of a trombone case in an elevator mirror.

And so when you realize you love someone, there's no turning back. SMACK you've started living with your heart and your heart is the best compass you have. 

The reality of the AR Team: a real dream

I can measure it all in hours
2 hours in Cahuita at dinner
2 hours walking, dancing, and listening to reggae
30 some hours instant messaging
60 some hours of interrupted long distance phone calls
30 some hours of kissing
35 hours of sleeping, well I slept while you spent the night meditating and studying
10 hours of bathing
20 some hours of holding hands
2 hours of dancing to bad 80s music
12 hours of riding in cars
168 hours minus 20 hours--our total honeymoon
I can measure it all as if I were counting it on my fingers
I can measure, the life of Anne and Ruben, in a chapter that ends with no words
There is nothing more to say than, my reality of this feels much more as a dream
Teaching us beauty and helping us find a little more of who we both are
I can measure you in hours, I can measure us in telephone bills
There are no fairy book endings dear one, there is just the reality of this
We dared to dream of a life together, and reality set an alarm clock that was set much earlier than I expected
It's been 48 hours...I've already let go

Being human

Being human is fragile

Beautiful beyond expression

Dangerous for the most unexpected reasons

Joyful for the dance we take and make

Heartbreaking for the love we share and cannot humanly keep

Stressful for the burden of power we carry

Inspiring for the possibilities we have been granted

Reassuring with soul companionship

Believable when we see the sun and moon

A dream when we wake to find our body breathes

Energetically driven by the food we grow

Desired by the animal inside

Passion from the center of our every nucleolus

Being human is something to be respected

With our great power comes great responsibility

It's so easy to play in the shadows to search the light for more

But it is our bodies that protect us from the energies that shift

It is our bodies that make us human and allow our spirits a place

A place to manifest the ingenuity of something much larger

Being human is a gift of light

We have the ability to see what the power of energy can create

from the smallest seed to the largest galaxy

We are impeccably awesome and impeccably blessed

Jump

When do we learn to jump?

Is it before we run

Is it before we hide

Is it when we find joy

or is it when we are scared

When do we learn how to defy gravity?

Is it on the high dive

The graduation podium

The one-way ticket to a land far far away

How do we jump?

With eyes open or closed

With our nose plugged or unplugged

With a scream or with silence

How do we know?

With love

With pain

With intuitive wisdom

With our heart wide open

Where do we jump?

In our heart

In our homes

In foreign soil

On stage in front of 1000s

When can I jump?

Now.

Jumping is something we use as a way of expressing joy, or when we have no other choice. But, in my life jumping has meant facing fear. It has physically meant jumping off 70 ft waterfalls. 

Jumping has been a metaphor in my life that often did not involve the physical "leap of faith" but the "leap of faith" in myself. The physical examples of it are the best ways to describe the "leap of faith" --waking up one morning and deciding that I would ride my bike without anyone at the age of 4, climbing a 500 ft exposed piece of rock, doing my first back walkover on the balance beam, moving to Chicago without knowing anyone, and performing on stage in front of hundreds of people.

 

I have jumped so many times, and have fallen more times than I can remember. 

But, now there is a jump that seems higher than any of my previous ones. One that will land me in a valley unlike any place I've ever been. I keep wondering when the timing will be right. I keep wondering...I keep postponing this jump...this leap of faith.

Take my hand

I'll hold on tight

we'll walk this rope

we'll fight this fight

Together

there is no letting go

interlaced in love

enlightened through life

Take my hand

I'll do my best to empty 

the promises of yesterday

into the truth of today

There's nothing to fear

my strength is strong

if you can handle

where I'll lead you

Take my hand

let me show you

what I need you to know

what I need me to be

where I need to go

Take my hand

trust that there will be 

a road

a sign

a resting spot

a journey with hope

for you and I

wherever we go

Can we move on from here

Can we move on from here

It's isolating

cold and dirty

slippery when spoken

a hole when silenced

takes peace and 

empties it with the noise 

of a garbage disposable

grinding to bits the seed

that was to grow 

Can we move on from here

the pollution is suffocating

boiling up with tears that

won't come 

dehydrated it is this place

ground unfertile to grow

Can we move on from here

I hate it here

it's dark the sun doesn't shine

words misspoken descend

like storm clouds

detonating lightning 

wiping out connection

Please can we move on

I cannot... 

I cannot stay

not here, not with you

not now

Please let me move on

these walls

I was laying on my nasty bedroom floor tonight, eating sweet potato fries with hot sauce and a good ol' cup of chamomile tea staring at the same bedroom ceiling and walls that I've been embraced with for 4 years. Cancun blue walls and a ceiling that's hardly white that holds one light bulb. 

I laughed. The ceiling is crooked with signs of water damage and foundation shiftage. Over a hundred years old, this house has held many secrets and has been called home by many people. I thought to myself about everything that these walls have witnessed in the past 4 years, and I couldn't help but feel all those memories rush back at me pulling me into the past. 

A lot of love, a lot of pain, a lot of sickness, and a lot of late night work. And through all the memories I saw change, I saw myself become who I am right now. All the stuff in this room makes me claustrophobic next to all of the memories. I see shirts, sheet music, shoes, and stationery that I never use or haven't touched in years. Some of the stuff just takes up space and I don't even know what it is. 

I want to get rid of it all and keep only what I need. This room, this house, reflects stagnancy and the past, yet it is a place where I have found comfort, yet never felt completely at home. The moments it's felt most like home have been the moments when I lose track of the space that I'm in. Therefore making the point that home is not about material buildings. 

These walls have held me safe, but as I look around all I see is the possibility to change. To make the choice to stay or leave these walls will be change. 

I saw another set of walls tonight that were very foreign and empty of memories, but full of peace and possibility and requiring me to simplify. They offered me a new opportunity to live with my beautiful friend and her adorable little dog Nutmeg. The synchronicity of where I'm at and this opportunity couldn't be more aligned. 

Of course, I hover. I hover on this change because of the responsibility it involves. 1)Simplify by getting rid of everything large (car, furniture, etc) 2) Helping to take care of Nutmeg 3)Living with a new person.

How it aligns is that 1) I have flexibility in staying 2) It's cheaper 3) I get to have a dog 4)I get to walk to work 5) I'm going after a dramatic shift that's already happening in my life.

As I stared up at the ceiling, I realized that this felt like a road sign and that it was a blessing. I am given a chance to go a different direction. An unexpected direction, but a direction full of many possibilities. 

When it comes down to it, I don't think this decision is about the money that I will be saving. It will be much more than that. 

Contradictions

When we look around at things in nature there is this juxtaposition of rough and smooth. A rough surf  next to the smooth sand of a beach. The porcupine's thistle next to the smooth outline of a bird's feather. The color blue next to the edge of a mountain peak. 

We take these visuals as normal presentations of how things are and use them to define our world. Smooth and rough--textural differences but a reflection of natural contradiction present in ordinary life. Contradiction in the sense that the eye sees and feels two different things simultaneously, consecutively, or disproportionally. 

Yet in human speech and human thought we often find contradiction as a place of weakness in thought, intelligence, or in ethics. We judge and assimilate inaccurate opinions of contradictions supposedly apparent in our own experiences, yet, without realizing it, we are also "walking contradictions." 

Deciding to believe something one day, and then changing our minds from one moment to the next. Evolving in opinions and dissolving into the line "to err is human." But, I'd like to argue that we are not erring, rather discovering that there is never an absolute and that there is always change present. There are great things to discover in contradictions about yourself and others. 

Rules contradict, words contradict, time contradicts (it's 9 am here, it's 10 am there). 

You are allowed to contradict. The important part is the reaction to contradiction. And in many circumstances contradictions can cause upheavals and judgments passed upon others that are frightening. Hence, the evolution, the cycle of change, the unavoidable nature of life.

I contradict so often I cannot keep count. But discovery always occurs. And forgiveness is always needed--whether for myself or for others.  As I move forward, I realize that promises are not a good way to live your life, because you're up against an absolute. More often than not promises have only led me to broken promises.

So I say this all now, and tomorrow it all may change.