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Pulled down by the undertoe

Engaged. He's Engaged.

At first, I wasn't sure what my response was... I felt immediately split in two, as if one half of me was on the other end of a phone line unable to speak, jaw dropped, and the other half of me was calling into the phone "hello? hello? are you there? what's happening?" Now, on day two, it is devistation coming through. Devistation, though? Shouldn't I just not care? Why does it hurt? I don't understand why it hurts. Not even a passionate hurt, either. It's just a 'stopped dead in your tracks' kind of hurt. Nothing is moving.

The funny thing is, I knew it would happen. I knew it would happen with her and in this exact way. I knew that after me, it would happen fast. When I first heard her name, I knew it would be her. And not more than a month ago we met at a cafe for lunch for a kind hello, my brother was there, and I could see the love still there in his eyes, and I could see the way he bitterly fought it and chose to hate me instead, because it made his love easier to despise me. I remember seeing that twisted look in his face, I remember taking it all in, and responding in my heart that 'yes, I have seen you for all that you are, and my love requires more.'

I remember him telling me he didn't, couldn't, love her the way he knows he is capable of loving, but that he liked the relationship because it was easy. I told him there was something to that ease, and that if he looked more closely, he'd see that love has the capacity for growth much more in the ease than in the tension, which is where our love existed. Love gets stuck in tension. Love grows slow and gentle with ease, but never ceases. It is a constant unwrapping. Perhaps he found that. I hope he found that.

So many thoughts went through my head yesterday. I want to write him to congratulate him. I want to say only good things. When I peer beyond the sea of my own emotions, there is happiness for him, and compassionate joy. I want to express these things. At the same time, I want to express my own terrible emotions... the more self-centered ones. And I don't even want to express them for the purposes of recognition, or spite -- nothing along those lines at all. I'd simply want to know how, how to understand the pain I feel, and what to do with it. An instantaneous death and birth. How can one feel such incredibly mixed feelings?

Anyway, wouldn't it ultimately just be selfish of me to write him any kind of letter right now? This is his time, this is his happiness. But wasn't he my best friend? Yes. Yes he was. But if I were to write him now, even if it were genuinely from the heart, congratulatory, and embracing, it would bring up the past for him and take away from this precious moment for them. I can't do it.

So I must leap out of my skin? I want to run, run so badly... for miles and miles. But I am sick. I've got to work this out of me. Before it begins to show. How can I get it up to the surface and out, without it showing? There is no where for me to go, no way for me to work it out. Cleaning projects, I suppose. Or painting. Meditation. I certainly can't mope about listening to depressive music, as I have been doing. And what about love-making with my lover? My heart is on the floor right now. God, and even that doesn't make any sense. I have the most amazing, incredible man. I love him so very, very much. He's beautiful. And this ache is every bit natural, I know. But I don't want it here. I don't want this interference.

Let go, let go, let go.

When I fall into a hole

The bedroom window, I am convinced, is a small slice of morning heaven. The windows open out, do not bear screens, and always carry a gentle breeze through the mesh curtains. When I wake, the very first thing I do (before coffee, even) is to push these windows open. Hours later, when I'm lying down for a nice afternoon nap, the easy breeze rocks me right to sleep.

Heaven isn't with me all the time, though. Beneath the shades of happiness that color my life, there are still inner struggles to be dealt with. For instance, the battle over lethargy continues. This lethargy stems from some sort of reversed inertia, a vacuum if you will, that was turned on when school ended. It has continued to pull my motivation away, until I feel somewhat stuck, empty, tired. I say each day that I will begin a new project. Today, I will begin writing a story! Today, I will write a poem! Today, I will.... and then I end up lying in bed, reading a book. Or sitting on the porch, reading a book. Of course, this is obviously reconcilable. I mean, reading a book is terrific, and progressive in its own right. But is it an escape? Perhaps. Perhaps not. What I'm really pointing at I guess is this unwanted guest in the corner, that part of me that feels she isn't fully living. What does fully living mean, though? Are there distorted expectations of myself here?

There isn't much I can do for the next two years but wait. Naturally, there is a sense of drifting that makes me nervous and uncomfortable. For a capricorn woman, there must always be a mountain to climb, a new goal to achieve, some sort of upward and onward movement. I know that right now, this mountain and those goals don't exist. Logically, I know there isn't anything wrong with that, and that most likely, I've been filling my time beautifully. Baking bread. Painting pottery for friends. Reading Russian novels.

I have a hunch that my spirit's been needing the attention lately. The thought popped up on my radar this morning in the form of a question: where is the energy of spirit? I've built my new nest, put all things in their right places, but I didn't make a new nest for the Spirit. I have a funny little relationship with that "God" thing. It's like an imaginary friend that I use to keep around me all the time. I'd invite it over to play when I did tarot readings, when I painted or did anything creative, even when I bathed. I haven't looked about for it in a long time, since moving; I haven't invited it to visit with me. I think I've found the thirst.

I saw sparks

The dramatic details of Vronsky and Anna, of Levin and Kitty, and all the others, continue. I am somewhere around the 600th page by now, praying for the safe delivery of Levin and Kitty's first child, full of anxiety over the precarious nature of Vronsky and Anna's relationship, and appreciating/respecting the character of Mr.Karenin more and more. How does Tolstoy write so well? Each character's predicament is so vividly clear to me, it's as if I were inside of them all, as if I were them all. I want to begin from page one again as soon as I complete this book. Does that sound absurd?? It probably is, but I have to study this man's craft. I need to find out what makes it work, and work so well. I know already that there is no way, simply no way at all, that I'll ever be within spitting distance of his calibre of talent, but that wont keep me from learning as much as I can from his writing. I envy writers like these, because I can sense in them the ability of letting go that I have only my achieved in my poetry, but cannot jump the hurdle of the mind in my story writing. They call this force flow.

Laughable moment of the day: moonpie attempting to squeeze her fat ass into a tiny box.

Passing Afternoon

It's been a while since I updated. Where has the summer gone? Smells of autumn are already subtly sifting through the air... my favorite time of the year.

Visiting friends. Spontaneous trips. Russian novels. Bread Baking. Moving house. Cats! Plants. New friendships. Breaking one's own records. Researching graduate schools. "These are just a few of my favorite things..."

It has been a busy summer thusfar. School began today and I find myself nostalgic, restless even. I so deeply miss the excitement of new classes, buying notebooks and pens, flipping through syllabi and "new" used textbooks. Not being in school anymore has that feeling of being in one place when you know you're missing out on another... some party somewhere, something exciting going on that you aren't a part of, but could be, or should be attending. Oh graduate school! Where art thou?!

If only the decision could come to me, but it hasn't yet. Where, or what, to study next... In the meantime, I've already begun cracking the books on GRE preparation. This, coupled with some unfounded feeling of doom and insecurity over actually getting into a graduate program (with cum laude and research honors, one would hope I shouldn't have a problem getting in). Nonetheless, the fear inherent in the possibility of not getting accepted into a program of choice sets in an inordinate amount of anxiety.

Here are a few of the highlights I mentioned above: Currently reading Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy. This author's depth and breadth of human understanding and piercingly precise depiction of the human heart and human mind is astounding. I began the novel identifying the most with the character of Constantine Levin, and immidiately picked-up on the notion that this character's moralistic viewpoints and subtlties of personality might actually reflect those of the author himself. (Jessica later verified this to be true). Now, at nearly half-way through, I find myself actually identifying the most with Anna. Caught between a man she doesn't love but is in a relationship with, and in-love with a man she can't be with, is an all too familiar situation. The expression of her inner struggles with the helplessness of her predicament, the inevitability and uncontrollable needs of the heart, are spoken of here by Tolstoy with such clarity that he has enlightened moments of my own past for me... shown me exactly what I felt but was so painfully unable to articulate. Can you tell I am in-love with this writer?? And there is so much, so much, poured into these pages (all 800 of them)! I am enjoying the time it is taking me to finish this novel. I am grateful that it's so goddamn long... so many books I enjoy end too quickly, and I miss them sorely when they're over. This one is like three books in one. I get to enjoy it, and enjoy it, and enjoy it some more.

And what better way to enjoy Anna Karenina then on the front porch of my new apartment? It's spectacular! All four of the cats... yes, four.... love it here. With plenty of porch and plenty of yard to play in, it's like they've discovered one giant litter box outside, which makes mama (me) very happy. The new place is positioned right between Little Five and Candler Park, so that the running path I so often enjoy is just a block away, work is less than a mile down the street (biking to and from is pure bliss), the coffee shops, the clothing stores, the healthfood grocery is all within walking distance. The apartment itself has 12ft ceilings, hardwood floors, built-in bookshelves.... it's like a fairytale. I wake in the morning, have coffee at the table on the porch, and do morning yoga there on the wrap-around.

I've also been working at the art of baking bread. After a few early mishaps (not kneeding correctly, forgetting to add salt), I've finally reached a place where I can now play around with my recipes. Last week I added roasted garlic, thyme and basil oil to the mix for a delicious loaf that was eaten in three days flat!

Multiply life by the power of two

Sitting in an airport for six hours on standby gives a woman plenty of time to indulge the wandering and thoughtful mind. Literally, thoughtfull.

How about the incredible success of technology? Without a computer or lap-top, still I have the world wide web at my fingertips. The Blackberry was perhaps a dangerously efficient invention. It allows me to be "plugged-in" and "connected" at all times. What happens to one's love of books when the newer more interactive FACEbook is around? I look around me and see phones even greater than mine... A seven year old child across from me is watching the movie "Up" on her mother's remarkable iPhone.

I find myself straying from topic...

I wanted really to talk about growth, and the creation of families. I had the wonderful blessing of spending the last few days in the lovely Columbia Missouri visiting my childhood friend. Married three years ago a month from today, she and her husband have a new 9 month old baby. Having known Jessica for 10 years, half of which were explosive adolescent years, much history has been logged in and between us. At 25 going on 26 now, the changes do not seem to have slowed. If anything, they've excellerated, but with much greater meaning and more expensive implications.

Children, for one, are at the forefront of such changes. I long for a child myself, but having not yet gone through this particular change do not often grasp the magnitude of the change behind my procreative desires.

What has made my relationship with Jessica such a deep and profound one is the propensity for empathy with one another that allows us to understand eachother - usually without words - to such a degree that my own feelings can sometimes be indistinguishable from hers. This remarkable gift allows me to feel, or empathically grasp, an experience she is having that I have not yet had; in this case, a child.

Of course, there remains some basic level of separation in that I cannot fully and completely know her situation. However, there are definitely moments of enlightenment, moments when the separateness of my experience from hers fades enough for me to become aware of the experience as she is encountering it. The result is such that, in short, I've been blown away.

What does it mean to have a child? Starting your day at 6am, regardless of your own needs. Strict routines, constant watching-out, and countless personal sacrifices. Among these challenges though, there is a joy I've never seen before, except perhaps for rare moments with my own mother. The joy is untouchable, and for the most part unexplainable as well.

The first night there Jess's husband was finishing his nursing precept, which meant he wouldn't be home until early the next morning. To keep one another company, Jess and I slept in the bed together. Like children again, we stayed up long after the lights had been put out, tucked in the covers chatting about boys - old loves, new loves, our mothers, thoughts, lessons. In the morning, like an alarm clock, the baby woke right on queue at 6am. Obediently, Jess went to the baby's crib and brought him into the bed with us. This was the rare moment for me that I wouldn't have ordinarily been able to have... Experiencing what her life is like as a young mother, - the more intimate hours of dawn when her and her husband would be the two lying with the baby. Like a true 9-month old who has first learned to use his arms and legs, Finn climbed on our bodies like they were new mountains to uncover. Baby hands grabbed at my nose, pressed into my stomach and chest. The sounds of his cooing, not unlike a bird's, were the fresh morning sounds I had the pleasure of waking to.

I don't think these experiences have pushed me in one direction or another as far as my desires for motherhood are concerned. I've been more moved by the transformations I see in my best friend and the love that exists between her and her young family - husband, wife, and baby. On a more personal note, I've turned inward and given more acceptance to where I am now in my own life. A single woman in a new relationship. Unmarried. No children. Fresh out of college. I'm still figuring a lot of things out. Simple things, even, like what I prefer to wear to the grocery store: jeans or a skirt? Am I more casual or concerned? How can I meditate more? These kinds of questions are happily at the forefront of my mind.

I always thought the saying "be where you are" was somewhat cliche. But I think I've actually begun to really understand the importance and the gift behind that neo-phrase. Whether I am me or her, embracing where we are right now means opening ourselves to the gifts life has for us each as individuals. I enjoyed this trip immensley, and I am looking so forward to being home with the many awaiting projects. Even sitting in this airport, now in the fifth hour of what will prove to be an eight hour delay, I'm embracing the gift of time - the gift of the present.

(Me and Finn with Mr. Blue Elephant)

Head Over Feet

I found a place! It's beautiful. Well... it will be beautiful after a little TLC. One block from Little Five Points proper. The location just can't get any better than that! The running path is down the street. Not to mention the great shopping... my wardrobe is going to see an improvement for sure. The photograph above is of the bedroom. It is probably 15ft x 15ft. It is enormous. And yellow. Very yellow. (the color of creativity and imagination).


These two photographs are of the amazing kitchen and dining room/office. The kitchen is honestly what sold me on the place. Just look at all those shelves (doubled on each side). mmmm

Interestingly, this is the oldest inhabited house in Atlanta. It served as a hospital during the Civil War, and was burned to the ground by Sherman's troops. A few years after the war ended they rebuilt the house on the same old brick foundation. This place has more than a few stories! And hopefully whatever ghosts are hanging around are kind ones. I'm praying for no "Beloved" type ghosts.

Remember when you were only a child

Dreams. Last night was jam-packed with dreams. I kept waking, slightly annoyed, thinking all my dreams were a little ridiculous. After pondering them this morning however, they're actually pretty telling. In the first series of dreaming I was in a prison with a lot of other inmates. One of the prison walls in my cell had a large opening in it, where we could climb out onto tree limbs that were high above a body of water. This small space of freedom from the prison was all I had. Surprisingly, I did not necessarily feel inhibited, though technically I was. This dream I believe symbolizes the way I feel right now about my brother living at my apartment in Decatur and being confined to Jay's house for this next month, without most of my things. It is a physical limitation of sorts, though I have a small slice of freedom to move about (I can go home if I need to, it's just far less excessible to me).

The second series was more disturbing. I was wandering around an ancient European city where I had just found a beautiful apartment. I was on my way through the streets to go move a friend out of their apartment. To get to this friend's place I had to walk through a dilapidated part of town, where there were many large, very old building but in severe decay. It almost looked war-torn. When I arrived at the friend's apartment I climbed to the top floor and became fearful. I moved my weight from side-to-side to show her that the building could collapse at any moment, for the entire building moved with my shifting weight. I had an image in my mind that the place was made out of plyboards, like a house of cards, and could truly fall at any second. This dream symbolizes the Self, as most buildings or homes do, and because the thing was about to fall means, perhaps, my old Self is in utter disrepair or is near to collapse.

Finally, the third series was like a completion of sorts for the previous two dreams. I was in a car with my entire family, and Josh was in the car with us at first. We were traveling to the "other" side of Georgia, a place we'd never been before. Driving out on a high cliff I could see beautiful mountains, with the most incredible cascading waterfalls that went all the way down the mountains, as far as the eye could see. Everything was lush and green. My heart was exhuberant! When I began to realize the sadness that, although Josh was there, he would not enjoy it with me in the way we would have if we were still together, I grew very depressed. I wanted to move there with him, I wanted to begin dreaming out loud together about ways we could spend more time there. When I turned to speak to him about this sadness, he was no longer there... instead, Jay was at my side, smiling. A feeling of calmness swept over me. I felt both protected and sedated -- warm in my heart. I understood that things had changed, I acknowledged the sadness over the situation, but I also felt at peace with who I had at my side now. Waterfalls in dreams symbolize letting go. How appropriate.

This is the first morning I've awoken with a feeling of renewal, and good/healthy energy to get out and begin the day. For months I've been waking up with a feeling of lethargy, bordering on depression, that didn't offer me any sort of refreshing feelings or even motivation. Today, I feel good. I feel a little closer to healed.

Darling, do not fear what you don't really know

Well, I itched the scratch afterall. He's beautiful.... or, as Jason said, "breath-taking!" It took around 2.5 hours, and didn't hurt too terribly bad. Where the tail crosses over the inside of my elbow is the place that proved most sensitive. Still, it was a bearable pain, and short-lived.

Background on the quetzal: The quetzal is the national bird of Guatemala. Originally thought to possess divine powers, the Mayans sacrificed offerings to Quetzacoatl, a feathered serpent God. The first records of Quetzacoatl's worship appear in writings from Teotihuacan, an ancient Mayan city (circa 500 BCE). Quetzacoatl's archetypal image stood for many things, but was specifically associated with the wind Gods, holding a connection with Venus, known as the "star of the dawn," lording over the arts, crafts, knowledge and wisdom.

When I was traveling through Guatemala I had the great fortune of seeing a Quetzal in real-life. They really are breath-taking, especially the male birds... with their showy display of tail feathers. The lady birds are somewhat less dramatic in their appearance, with a lot more blue in their coloring. Male Quetzals have a vibrant red chest and longer tails.

Tulips

Tulips by A.E. Stallings

The Tulips make me want to paint,
Something about the way they drop
Their petals on the tabletop
And do not wilt so much as faint,

Something about their burnt-out hearts,
Something about their pallid stems
Wearing decay like diadems,
Parading finishes like starts,

Something about they way they twist
As if to catch the last applause,
And drink the moment through long straws,
And how, tomorrow, they'll be missed.

The way they're somehow getting clearer,
The tulips make me want to see --
The tulips make the other me
(The backwards one who's in the mirror,

The one who can't tell left from right),
Glance now over the wrong shoulder
To watch them get a little older
And give themselves up to the light.

.... Oh, what a delicious poem!!! A.E. Stallings, you have my heart. (("Wearing decay like diadems"... how perfect is that line!))

The littlest birds sing the prettiest songs

First thing's first: the tattoo itch. I'm not so sure I'll scratch it, but, if I do, I'd like a Quetzal on my other arm. The Quetzal is the official bird of Guatemala. Here is an image I pulled up from the internet, tell me what you think:

Pardon the poor resolution... this was a camera phone upload. Chicken bruscetta -- a fantastic summer substitution for the classic Chicken Parmesan dish.

Christopher and Laura came over for dinner last night. She is a doll! Sweet and down-to-earth, she's a third-year med student at Emory. She has a very warm and inviting presence. Naturally, I'm thrilled that she's dating my brother. He really needs someone to love, as he himself is a very loving and kind spirit.

The personal research has begun: I bought Border's out on their poetry and writer's magazines yesterday. I've already found one new poet to fall in-love with -- Ange Mlinko. There's a clarity that just reaches out through the pages towards you, a certain vividness, palpableness... its texture is so very alive. These qualities make her poetry stand out among all the others. Also, since I feel particularly inarticulate today, I decided to share a poem by Mlinko that I enjoy:

Win-Win by Ange Mlinko

If an orchidophage's tastebud magnified

resembles an orchid

so my buds indubitably mimic pricking ice cream cones.

Love, little by little it dawned on us the artisanal

ice cream, especially the prizewinning caramel,

would be out of our reach,

like the previous Friday of a Sunday leaving the beach,

in the meltdown.

When you grasp at the soundfile of cymbals

-- "that knitting needle sound" -- through your headphones it kindles

an inkling that in the bongo-playing

you can hear the wedding ring,

ting ting in the liquescence.

When you hear the sound you may smile

to think of the ones and zeros that soundfile

resembling sticks and drumheads,

or knitting needles and drumheads

as the beat gets molten.

When things get molten you may think of fire

made up of a million little matchfires

rendering a house on the Sound

-- belonging to ex-employers -- a bit of char on the ground

as the regrettable outcome of a meltdown.

A thousand hotheads make a Sarkozy:

at the sight of their BMW in a car cozy

a thousand swans make a Sigolene

purring win-win.

The sound is statistical, like the meltdown.

The holes in your socks and the follicles in your leg

are pixelated as a JPEG.

My tastebuds resemble microscopic glasses of gin now, now's

the time to shake and shiver like a maraca in this house.

The many kinds of dissolution.

Well, birds happen forth from feeders like swinging pagodas

against snow, as

the meltdown goes on, a dump of rock salt.

We'll soon be signatories by default.

Crystals of sodium chloride

are made of smaller crystals of sodium chloride.

Let me know their House

is made up of many other people's houses, magnified.

I enjoy the continual reference to the interconnectedness of things, the way life can be broken down and broken down into smaller particles, all resembling one another... like a rock of salt, like a prism, like a hall of mirrors. Then, there is this sort of resolution within the poet/narrator herself, that seems to suggest she has given up some sense of ego, knowing that her life is nothing more than the mirrored crystals of sodium chloride. Anyway, these are the things I've taken away from the first few readings of this poem. I'm sure the more I read it, the more I will uncover... that's the gift of good poetry.

In other updates: I did some remodeling to the blog... obviously. What do you think? It seems unfinished to me... I'm not quite sold on it...

Also! The diploma finally arrived in the mail today!! It's magnificent.

You belong to no one

Current summer reading list: "Write Away" by Elizabeth George; "Kafka on the Shore" by Haruki Murakami; "The Myth of Freedom" by Trungpa Rinpoche.

It's hot again, and I reminisce through old writings... most of them half finished. "Dirty Seashells," a short story of love gone wrong. "Fruit and All Things Nice," a short story about breaking free, and the naive female. Poems. Scribbled notes of other story ideas. Where to begin? All of this sifting and sifting, snatching up little nuggets of gold here and there... but a part of me knows I will stop half way through, when the going gets good -- paralyzed by self-doubts. Every story I write picks up pace, becomes better and better, and as soon as I catch a glimps of its shine I become terrified that I will fuck it all up. The anxiety is great enough to stop the flow of words, every single time. Somehow, I need to overcome this. I need to get out of my own way.

Elizabeth George is encouraging in her book on writing. Each chapter she begins with a quote from her personal diary. These quotes reflect her own struggle with self-doubts in the writing process. Yet she pushes forward, every time. She keeps going.

Florida Atlantic University... this is where I'm setting my sights for graduate school. I want to study poetry with Susan Mitchell. Every time I visit the MFA website for FAU, a wave of intense longing flushes through me. I'm not ready yet, though. Almost, but not quite. I'm not ready to leave this town. I need to stay just a little longer.

The process of looking for a new home has begun. I found one in Cabbabe Town that was adorable, but slightly too small. One closet?? I'm a woman, come on. There were a few places in Grant Park I went to look at yesterday. To put it bluntly, they were all shit-holes. Dark and damp inside. Ratty carpet. Peeling paint. Holes in the screens. The kind of places you can imagine will never really feel clean, no matter how hard you might scrub. And then there are a few places in Little Five... what catches my breath on that one? Oh, that. That's what catches my breath on that one. Cabbage Town might be my best bet.

(The moon in Jamaica)

You are the stars that I follow endlessly

What a beautiful morning! Though summer is slowly making its way in, there is still the fresh floral scent of springtime in the early hours. Every morning I wake with the window open, cherishing this brief and passing time.

There is a genuine sense of pleasure in being true to one's self, in following through with what the heart truly desires. Yesterday I had an invitation to attend the Virginia Highland's Summerfest with friends, but my heart resisted the idea. I knew it would be a day-long drink-fest, hanging out by the poolside, watching the crowds of drunken thirty year olds stumble around the Highlands without any real purpose other than to find another drink. What I really wanted was time to myself around the house, a gentle, domestic evening. I chose to honor these feelings, and instead kindly declined the invitation.

I had a wonderful afternoon nap. I spent the evening working on our mosaic benches with neighbor Jenn and friend Helen. We talked about God and the universe. Jenn has had a fascinating childhood. When she tells me stories about how her parents raised her and her sister, I often think to myself that this is how I'd like to raise my children. Jenn is an atheist and was raised this way. I really enjoy listening to her talk about what it means for her. It's something that one really has to open themselves up to hear, otherwise, our preconcieved notions about what "atheism" is will inevitably get in the way of understanding. It is a tricky thing, she explains, to show others how she derives an incredible depth of meaning from her religious position because such terms like "atheism" and even "spirituality" don't quite suffice. She does not believe in a "higher power," but this does not necessarily disclude the sense of awe and wonder that the concept of a higher power bestows upon believers in the big "God." She is aware of a pulse, a unique undercurrent in life that allows for the transparency of the physical world, of spirits and even premonitionary dreams. She wants to call the universe "magical," but at the same time she doesn't believe it requires any sort of magic. She believes in the beauty and majesty of physics, and this was how she was raised... to see the complexity in the physical world and to have a humbled, awed respect for the world.

If I were asked to articulate my own religious position it would be very much the same. I was not raised to be religious, yet as far back as I can remember, I've had a child-like thirst, an unquenchable desire to envelope myself in this spirit all around me... I have always and only ever found it it nature. I enjoy the concepts in Buddhism, but cannot really be Buddhist, because it will never fully encompass my view. It is inevitably a limitation of sorts for me, all religions are... this is why, I feel freest and most fulfilled in the home of my own religion. It's not New Age, it's not eclectic, because I don't really borrow from other religions. Yes, I meditate from time to time (and would like to meditate more), but other than that I don't have a set of practices. I strive for continual growth, to engage with others in the healthiest, kindest way possible. I hunger to be near beauty, to sit with it and appreciate it and feel the nearness of beauty. God is not really a concept to me, though I find myself speaking in my heart to some sort of unidentified source of spirits, for I do feel there is a consciousness or consciousnesses surrounding me that can respond energetically to my own energy, and interact. I don't think of salvation, I don't think much of those "spiritual leaders" that have come before me, I can really only understand the here and now, and when I look around, what I see is a fantastic universe, a complicated, mathematically intricate and wonderously balanced interaction of energy... this image, I fall in-love with on a daily basis.



A garden tool, well used:

The flowers are beginning to really spread out and go their own wild way!! Jenn and I have agreed that the white ones are really the prettiest.

Everlasting joy

Productivity is the name of the game. First, the closets were attacked. There were nine loads of laundry hiding in there!! Who knew I even had that much clothing? Wow.

While I was waiting to rotate loads I decided I'd bake a cake with the cherries I had left from yesterday. Pitting them wasn't that difficult, actually. It was fun! The red juice is so deep and vivid in color. I pulled up a basic cake recipe from the internet and just played around with it to suit my liking. I added vanilla, fresh ground cloves, and fresh ground anise seed. For the icing, I made a lemon yogurt sauce which I drizzled over the top when it was done cooling. Oh - my - goodness! I have never in my life made anything so delicious as this sucker.... I'm going to bring it into work this evening to share with everyone. It simply must be shared!

Saved by a woman

The carrots have come in!! They are beautiful and delicious, and suprisingly yellow. I wasn't aware that one could grow yellow carrots... apparently, it can be done!

I turned these yummy friends into a tomato salad with pine nuts, blue cheese and balsamic vinegar. It made a terrific summer snack, especially given the particular sweetness of the yellow carrots against the salty blue cheese. Yum!

For dessert... Wild cherries! I feel really good eating raw foods like these. It's as if they cool the body down like an air conditioner. My insides chill out. It's very soothing, not to mention refreshing.

So, here's a little project that Jenn and I have been working on lately. We discovered these large cement blocks amongst the back yard kudzo one day and decided they'd make great benches. Over the last year we've managed to collect broken dishes and tiles. Now we're turning these blocks into mosaic benches! They're turning out beautifully:

I'm also beginning to make prepartions to move, but to be perfectly honest, I'm feeling somewhat torn. I'm excited about finding a new place in Grant park; I think it'll be wonderful. And of course, it will be much more affordable as well. At the same time, I'm saddened to be leaving my neighbor whom I've grown to love spending time with in our little creative pursuits. I'm also nervous about the prospect of living with someone again... it's been so long. Will he clean to my standards? What unknown things am I going to get frustrated over? What if this doesn't work out?? I know these are all just natural anxieties, and I will work through them one by one over the next two months. Chris is going to sublet my place for the summer, which will help me out on bills since Dad got laid off this week. Incredible.... over twenty years and you're let go just like that; no pension, no retirement. Times are tough indeed.

Oh!! I almost forgot to mention the latest literary discovery! Anais Nin. How she has my heart! I picked up her collection of short stories "Little Birds," which is an exploration into desire and the erotic. She crafts thirteen different tales of men and women, vividly capturing the idiosyncrasies of each character's emotions, longings, fetishes and desires. It's riveting and poetically tasteful. At times it was even hot... I found myself having to put the book down and take a walk to cool myself down! I'm really interested in checking out her others works as well, particularly her diaries. I want to know this woman. I want to study her skill.

Sunlight Multiplying

The garden is now in phase two. I purchased more plants this morning, selecting more or less at random those that appealed to me. I came upon a beautiful vine of Jasmine, which, after much deliberation, I decided to pot instead of plant. This way, I can take it with me when I move. The smell is delicious. It reminds me of a cross between Lilac (which I miss terribly -- they grew all over upstate New York) and Wisteria, yet Jasmine is much easier to contain than Wisteria.

There's still a significant bald spot, as you can see in the photograph below, that needs to be filled. I am thinking of getting two more plants like the one I have in the smaller plot that attracts the butterflies. It makes a terrific sprawling ground cover, with vivid orange and red blossoms. I also bought Creeping Jenny, which remind me of a girl's thin curly locks for some reason. These I planted in the lower portion of the flower bed, and added a tier-like boarder out of rocks to help with irrigation.



I've also got a healthy list of books waiting to be read. There are three books of poetry that Jenn gave me as a graduation gift: Hopkins, Auden, and Hardy. These are her favorite, and they are all important authors I haven't read yet, so I'm really looking forward to exploring their work. I also bought a new Alice Munro collection of short stories yesterday while I was waiting for Jay to get out of his massage. "Something I've Been Meaning to Tell You."

I also have to admit -- I'm rather tempted to just buy the entire collection of Alice Munro's work... it would be a very good investment!

The waiting is the hardest part

It's officially over. I graduated yesterday -- cum laude, research honors. The day was overwhelming, really. I hadn't had more than three hours of sleep the two nights before graduation. The ceremony itself was surprisingly short -- an hour and a half at most. The set-up was elegant and very well put together. Already I've been finding myself wandering around my house anxious and restless. It's like I don't know what to do with myself now that I don't have the stress and pressure of school, or the ongoing projects... or even the direction it gave me.

The morning began with a small ceremony for the honors department graduates, where I recieved a framed award for having completed research honors. Dad, Linda, and Grandma attended with me, and refreshments were served. We had coffee and lunch at the Landmark diner afterwards, just to kill time before the actual graduation. I told Grandma she was my guest of honor. She flew in from Long Island just to see me graduate. She is the most adorable little woman... so tiny! Maybe 90 pounds at 5'6. And just as sweet as pie.

My friend Ashley graduated with me, and we were so glad to be able to sit together and go through this experience with one another. It has brought us very close, which is a blessing to me. After the ceremony we had a house party with family and friends that lasted well into the morning hours! Champagne, wine, bbq, laughter, amazing people, guitars and singing... I couldn't have asked for a better day. It truly was one of the very best days of my life, and I write this with tears in my eyes.

My father also wrote me a card. In it, were the things a daughter always hopes and strives for her father to see in her, and in rare moments like these, she actually gets the opportunity to hear them. Here is what he wrote:

"My dear Jamie,

I've always been so proud of you. You're beauty and charm on the inside and on the outside. Now add to that wisdom and knowledge. I don't know how any one person can come so close to perfection. I love you always. Dad."

I will hold on to this note for the rest of my life, keeping it always near... and times in the future when I might lack faith or belief in myself, I will take this out and read it, to remind myself of my worth... to know that I am loved.

Little red wagon, Little red bike

Springtime is magical. The sudden afternoon storms that open up the skies, the hail, the salty-pavement smell bouncing off the heat-released streets... it's gorgeous, and I love its constant changes. The roses in my neighbor's side yard are in bloom. When the wind blows just right, I catch a huge wiff of their elegant scent wafting in my kitchen and bedroom. This is my favorite time to run. Honeysuckle and Wisteria blend together in the air, showers of petals fall on my head, and the breeze still has that hint of cool in it. It's magnificent; it's magical.

My ever-so wonderful neighbor Jenn was sitting alone on the porch last night when I came home. It is always such a delight to relax with her. She gave me a bean and jiicima salad she'd made, as well home-made smoked shrimp grits with bacon (soooooo good). She's been having an unfortunately difficult time lately. She'd been dating someone that she felt was perhaps finally the one. It didn't turn out to be so, and realizing this has proven to be a heavy blow. Of course, at thrity one years old, it is no wonder she is taking it hard. I can't really understand how someone hasn't swept her up yet... she is such an incredible catch. Brilliant. Insightful. Creative. Interesting. Beautiful. Thoughtful. Deep... the list goes on and on. I strive to be the woman she is, and always count myself blessed to be in her company.

To change course, today is the first day I have not felt the severe ache of loss. This isn't to say that I'm necessarily anymore put-together deep down in my emotional being, but it does say something about the healing process and about my overall outlook in general. I'm still not totally sure what the next step is in my life, but I'm feeling more at ease and less anxiety-striken over the uncertainties.

Next weekend is graduation. Holy cow. Is this really happening? It is... it is indeed. Today also marked a moment for me when I truly got in-touch with a sense of personal accomplishment and pride for all of the hard work, trials and tribulations, I've endured to get to this place today. I am proud of myself. It's been a long, often difficult journey.... a journey that has spanned three states, three different schools, three lost loves, and countless skin-sheadings. It is a remarkable milestone, and truly a moment to step back and really examine all of the changes, all of the history, wrapped up in these last six years. Questions about where I am going from here fade into the background when I think about how much I've done, been through, and accomplished. Sure, there have been many failings along the way as well, but can they really be counted as failings if I have endured them, pushed through, and continued the path of growth and learning? I really don't think so.

I pray for good things in the days to come. I'm looking forward to a summer of travel, writing, learning to sew, moving house, planting flowers, experimenting in the kitchen, investigating graduate programs in journalism, and watching the vegetables sprout.

Music selection: Josh Ritter

Come on, Step inside

FLOWERS!!! Finally! At last!

I sunk my knees into the soil late afternoon yesterday. Playing in the dirt... it's the only thing that will keep me sane after studying math all day long.

So here's what I have so far. This is just the first bed. There's a slightly larger one still empty and waiting for me. Apparently, I over-purchased for this little plot, so I have a good bit of Silva left over (the red blooms). My plan so far, is for these guys to all get big and lush, and hopefully, they wont look quiet as prim and proper as they do at the moment. In the back corner is a large ground-cover type plant that gets thick and bushy, and attracts the attention of butterflies. The little white babies are called White Diamonds, and they wont grow as high as the bushy thing behind them, but will branch out and grow to a height similar to the purple flowers and the red silva around them. I think the White Diamonds are my favorite. I seem to have a preference for tiny, delicate blooms. Baby's breath has always been a dear love of mine, if that tells you anything.

And finally, I gave the monkey grass border a serious haircut, as they were growing all kinds of wild and crazy. Hopefully I trimmed them correctly... I sort of guessed from memory, as we use to have this same monkey grass at my house when I was a child.

Pull me out from inside, I am ready

Sometimes these moods sneak up on me, and I can't shake them.

Like today. Today has been an odd day. Slippery in a way. It began well enough, but slowly, oh so slowly, it turned sour and distasteful. I feel needy. Or, to put it better, I feel in need of something... I know not what. Love. Care. Security? I keep trying to get a grip on what exactly it is that's bothering me, but I'm truly at a loss. It could be the ache in my legs from running yesterday, or the ache in my deformed foot. It could be the lock on my bike that is now broken, thanks to Mike "Cushman" (ugh), whom I let borrow it for far too long and who probably broke it in some drunken stupor he is known for indulging. I cannot now get my bike off of the rail at work. It is stuck there, tied to the metal with a thickly wrapped combination cable. Thank god for my neighbor Jenn who came in as I was leaving with her date and saved me from having to walk home. Needless to say, it would have been a long, long walk.

I will try instead to focus on positive things tonight. I had a wonderful talk with Jess on the phone this afternoon. It is a saving grace that our lives always seem to parallel one another. If there is anyone I can count on understanding me and my (our) life, it is this woman. It's been this way since we were little girls... once remarking with wonder on the silly fact that we both ate a brown sugar pop tart for breakfast with iced tea, and were both January girls. *Twins*.

(photo taken last fall)

And I had a homegrown, bib lettuce salad for lunch today! It was fantastic. A little olive oil, lemon juice, salt and pepper. It needed nothing more. The salad was perfect.

Maybe what I am beginning to realize, is that I can make the kind of life I always idealized for myself, by myself. I don't need a man who will "bring" it to me, who will "inspire" it in me. It's all here, every last bit of it -- is all inside of me. God. The earth. These dreams. Maybe I still struggle with loneliness; that is to be expected. It's a human condition. Memories weasle their way in and crack more places in the broken heart, but you know, most of the time, it's really all okay. I find the beauty in the world. I can; I do. Let me not forget that. Let me not forget that there are always moments when I can dream, and live, when I wake in the morning and take a deep, healthy breath of fresh air and smile with all the gladness of my soul. Life is what you make of it. Sometimes I sculpt the clay poorly... but the wheel is still spinning. So sculpt some more, I say. Sculpt some more.

I was thinking tonight, also, about something my poetry professor (the poet laureate of GA) said to me two semesters ago.... music, is much like poetry. "Take Bob Dylan, for instance. Much of his music is real poetry. The difference between him and us, is that he gets the good fortune of singing the beauty, whereas we still have to work it out on paper and trust that, that paper, will convey the depths of our spirits."

Tonight's music: Girl in the War, by Josh Ritter; and the Counting Crows ((both are so, so goddamn good))