Wednesday, August 31, 2011

peace, via guys named Anthony

These days peace is not a constant in my life. I have to hunt it down, fight to wrangle a few moments here and there, and be on constant lookout for moments to present themselves. And on rare, special occasions, moments are gifted to me.

Such was the case this week. And not just solitary moments, but moments that can be returned to as necessary. (And aren't those the best kind?)

Both moments of peace were given to me by men named Anthony, neither of whom will ever know just how much their gifts meant to me, or just how much I needed them.

Exhibit A:

I tend to forget for stretches of time just how much I love the Red Hot Chili Peppers. But I was reminded in the most lovely of ways with the release of their (fabulous) new album. It's gotten a lot of play since release day...

(Of course, every time I think of the Red Hot Chili Peppers, in my head I see Anthony Kiedis on the cover of Rolling Stone in 1994 and I get kind of teenage-girl-giggly, and maybe start to palpitate a little bit... sigh...)

Exhibit B:

Ohmygosh I almost cried when this was handed to me. From the first note I was transported back to that perfect July night, spent with 30,000 friends, and Bono, and Edge, and Adam, and Larry. And this odd wave of calmness came over me. And I just couldn't stop smiling for a long, long time after the CD stopped playing.

It's been played a lot in the past week, too.

(Of course big props go to Hubby who both made sure the new RHCP album was waiting for me after work, and who plotted and planned with my cousin to procure the U2 show for me.)

Unconventional paths to peace? Yes.

But right now, they work for me. And that's what counts.

Peace out.

see more at Beth's.

Saturday, August 27, 2011

being green

I can remember being smallish (although I don't remember just how smallish) and seeing Kermit the Frog singing Being Green. And I remember crying. Really crying.

"It's not that easy being green
Having to spend each day the color of the leaves
When I think it could be nicer being red, or yellow, or gold
Or something much more colorful like that"

I was sad, because Kermit was sad. And I didn't want Kermit to be said.

That was not the only time I cried as I listened to Being Green. It was merely the first time.

And eventually, when I wasn't so smallish anymore, I started to realize that maybe I was crying for myself, too.

"It's not easy being green
It seems you blend in with so many other ordinary things
And people tend to pass you over
'Cause you're not standing out
Like flashy sparkles in the water
Or stars in the sky"

I felt that. I was ordinary, plain. I blended in. I was easy to overlook. Not that I was looking to stand out or receive accolades, or anything even remotely like that. But at the same time, I wanted someone to notice me, to acknowledge me, just to see me.

And so I cried.

I haven't heard Being Green in years. Eight years? Ten years? It's been a long time. But last night, driving home, I heard Andrew Bird sing Being Green.

And I cried. I cried for the smallish girl, and the not so smallish girl, who just wanted someone to see her.

But then...

"But green's the color of spring
And green can be cool and friendly-like
And green can be big like a mountain
Or important like a river
Or tall like a tree"

I realized that somewhere in the past few years something shifted in me. Some time, some way, at some point, something in me settled in. Somewhere along the line, I've become kind of comfortable. Somewhere along the line, it became far less important for someone to see me. Because somewhere along the line, I saw myself.

"When green is all there is to be
It could make you wonder why
But why wonder why wonder
I am green, and it'll do fine
It's beautiful, and I think it's what I want to be"

And driving home last night, I smiled through the tears.

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

ordinary everyday moments

It's funny.

They're only ordinary moments until they aren't there every day.

Then, somehow, they become more like...


see more at Beth's

Sunday, August 21, 2011

balance beam

So, a new year starts this week. And I still find myself right in the same spot I was. Right in the spot that I almost desperately need to move from. But I'm still here. I haven't moved. I've tried. And tried. But... I'm still here.

I am a person of extremes. Meaning I go to the extreme in everything I do. I can get so angry that it lasts for days, so nervous I have panic attacks, so frustrated it causes me debilitating physical pain. My body has trouble processing certain foods? Then I will only eat the five things I know cause it no trouble at all. That sounds like an exaggeration, but it's not.

I have done myself no favors. Living in extremes has made a mess of me in more ways than I care to count, more ways than I care to admit (sometimes,usually, even to myself). And I know, I have known, that this must change, and that only I can change it. And I've tried. In my own extreme way. I've read the books and I do the yoga and the mediation and the acupuncture and the herbs and and and... And here I am, still struggling, still stuck, still here.

But I read this article on Friday. I know, right? After Thich Nhat Hanh, Buddhist scripture, Hindu scripture, countless books on Zen.... This article made an awful lot fall into place in my mind.

I have no balance. None. I run to the extremes without stopping, pausing, thinking, noticing, breathing... And that is why I'm stuck. I cannot move on, move past, go forward, until I can find some balance. It's hard to go forward when you keep running from side to side.

I know in my heart that all of the insane physical/emotional issues I've been dealing with for the past 4 or 5 years are all connected in a great big circle, and they just build on each other and feed on each other and keep circling around. And I just keep letting them.

Because I have no balance. I might have once upon a time, but I lost it a long time ago. So I'm stuck.

I have not learned (maybe I've even refused to learn) the lessons that this space in time is trying to teach me. And until I can learn them, I'm stuck.

And I think it might be about balance.

I think I need to {finally} find the Middle Way.


On my run this morning, I tried a different approach. I tried to stay in the moment.

I am running. The sun is shining. I am breathing fresh air.

Yeah, my mind wandered, and I'd start to think about things that have happened, or things that might happen. And I'd start to get angry, or nervous, or whatever. But I'd catch myself. And I'd go back.

I am running. The sun is shining. I am breathing fresh air.

It wasn't perfect.

It was a start.

And I feel like maybe I'm {finally} ready to learn.


So, yeah.

Thanks, Flea.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

house moments

So, you live in your house. And everything that is in your house is there because you brought it there. And everything is placed exactly where you wanted it to be. And you see everything in your house every day. And you go about your life and it's busy and there comes a point where your house kind of fades into the background. You almost don't even notice it anymore.

But sometimes your house will catch you off guard. You'll reach down to get something off the floor, or the light will be shining through the window just so, or the cat will have flung his squirrel toy into some strange spot...

And, all of a sudden, you see your house like you're seeing it for the first time.

I like those moments.

Saturday, August 13, 2011

enjoy the silence

So, I haven't been doing much lately.

Actually, I've been trying to do as absolutely little as possible.

I've been spending as much time as I could manage at home. Sitting. Reading. Drinking tea. In the quiet. And the calm.

Sure, there's been the occasional Target run. Or Starbucks run. Or an hour or so at work attempting to get things ready. (Or at least look ready.) But I find I'm really just hurrying home.

Because really, that's all I've wanted to do lately. Just sit at home, trying to have as much calm, as much quiet, as I can.

It's almost like I'm trying to stockpile it, bottle it, save it up for a later date.

Because in far too short of a time, calm and quiet and sitting will be nothing but faint, distant memories.

But perhaps... just maybe... if I can take in these last few days of summer, really truly fully take them in, and store them firmly in my mind... maybe I'll be able to conjure up a few brief moments of calm or quiet in the midst of the coming madness (when I really really need them).

Thursday, August 11, 2011

you capture - happiness

Happiness has been a bit elusive lately.... As the summer quickly fades away, I find myself trying to clutch every last little bit of joy I can find in it. But the melancholy is slowly seeping in anyway. So.... Hubby and I took an impromptu trip into the Big City to eat at The Best Restaurant Ever.

This was dessert.

Happiness restored.

see more at Beth's

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

you capture - white

It's no secret that I have the Starbucks love. And it's no secret that it's been HOT. You'd think, if you put those two together, that I'd be throwing back those frothy, frozen, frappuccino things. Right?

But here's the thing. They're really cold. Really. As in make-my-throat-hurt-cause-instant-brain-freeze cold. Oh, they taste lovely. They might even be on the menu in Heaven. But I just can't handle the cold.

So instead, I just keep ordering my ventisoyunsweetenedgreentealatte or my hot chocolate (with coconut, for a little summer kick). And then the baristas make fun of me. And then I ask them if they give a hard time to everyone who orders coffee, or if they save up all of their scarcasm just for me. That pretty much makes them look at the floor or otherwise avert their eyes in shame.

And I just take my hot beverage, sit down in the air conditioned cafe, and sip away.

(Okay, so I'm usually also eating a cookie. Who are we kidding. Whatever.)

see more at Beth's