What a real liberal looks like....

I actually teared up in the car listening to Democracy Now! (which isn't that shocking really), but it did surprise me a little. Not that I have even read a great deal by the man, unfortunately. But what I have read has always struck me as being incredibly kind, wise, diligent, and powerful. Howard Zinn was my idea of what a liberal should look like. Although he led a great life up to the age of 87 as an activist, historian, and educator, it is still a great loss for our country and our world.

A portrait by the amazing artist Robert Shetterly

"To be hopeful in bad times is not just foolishly romantic. It is based on the fact that human history is a history not only of cruelty, but also of compassion, sacrifice, courage, kindness. What we choose to emphasize in this complex history will determine our lives. If we see only the worst, it destroys our capacity to do something. If we remember those times and places-and there are so many-where people have behaved magnificently, this gives us the energy to act, and at least the possibility of sending this spinning top of a world in a different direction. And if we do act, in however small a way, we don't have to wait for some grand utopian future. The future is an infinite succession of presents, and to live now as we think human beings should live, in defiance of all that is bad around us, is itself a marvelous victory." Howard Zinn

Hank the Cowdog

This Cowdog could have been Hank...

Broadcasting my voice across radio airwaves does not bother me. Putting up a piece of art and having others eyes on it is slightly unnerving, but I usually enjoy it more than dread it. But standing up, in full view of an audience, and moving, speaking, and attempting to act is downright scary to me. Occasionally I like to try to overcome this fear, push myself in directions that aren't the most comfortable.

A few years ago I was in the chorus of The Vagina Monologues, partly because it was for a great cause that I believed in and I got to work with a wonderful group of women, reminding me of my Smith days. It was exhilarating and so much fun. So when Hank the Cowdog popped up, a live radio theatre production based on a children's book that BB adapted, I decided to be brave again. Two friends are doing it. No lines need to be memorized. And I get to be a chicken. What could be better?

The two days of rehearsal have been a great deal of fun. I am in constant awe of the kids involved, their ease at being in the limelight, and admire the wide spectrum of the community that has come out to be a part of this humorous tale. Live radio theatre involves enthusiastic narrators, two mics that actors speak into, a live band, and an array of sound effects that add great humor to the show, think Prairie Home Companion. Scripts are on stage and there is not much movement. Except if you are a chicken and you get to cluck around stage at random times.

There are rehearsals for two more nights and then the performances are on Friday and Saturday. Should be a fun time....I am glad I was brave.

Sitting

It was dark except for a candle in the middle of the circle of mats and cushions. The whir of a fan was the only noise besides the settling in of sitters around me. Warm, comforting, a space filled with yellow light. The gong sounded and then we sat, adjusting into our own breath, a cycle of inhales and exhales that are uniquely our own.

I was surprised when the gong sounded after 45 minutes. The time has gone so quickly. It had been a challenge at times to not let my mind wander; I had gone from worrying that my cell phone was not off, feeling the ache in my spine as I tried to sit up straight, and sensing my body sway as I sat in some realm between awake and asleep.

I loved that no words needed to be spoken. That a group of fifteen people came to sit together in a warm room, faces that looked familiar from the community. I left with J without saying anything until we were out of the room, back in the snowy night.

Great peace. A wonderful way to start out the weekend.

Letting the Tension Go...

Today I got a massage from my amazingly talented friend A, who helped release my tight pecs and shoulders. Her fingers are like magic and she knows so much about the body, the connections. It is a great time to turn inside, to realize through breathe and relaxation and quieting the mind, that  I can make some of the pain go away, that I can help A as she massages my muscles.

Next time I need to sit quietly before I go in for my massage. I need to work on slowing down my ever-racing mind and release the tension that seems to enjoy residing in my neck before I lie on the table; I need to play a more participatory role in my massages. Massages are about relaxation, but they are not about going in and expecting your masseuse to solve everything.

I have realized through working with A that massages can go deeper, literally and figuratively, that they are more than just letting someone rub your muscles. They are a time to be present, to show up, and to do some hard work. And have amazing results at the end...

The Day

Priceless days: you are walking on air, the whole world around you gleams golden, you say the right things, you laugh a lot, you feel great in the outfit you put on in the morning, you feel so full that you could burst, work goes smoothly and is fun, your interactions with strangers are filled with kindness and smiles, your dog listens to your every word, your boy wants to cuddle, your dinner turns out fabulously, your wine is perfect on your tongue, and you catch the sunset which makes everything glow.

Hold this day into tomorrow.

In the 30's...

Last night I had an interesting experience. I felt old. But not in a negative way. In a confident and clear way. I wasn't in my twenties anymore, I wasn't the one looking up (although I still do to many), and I didn't feel out of place or inexperienced. I felt like I was part of the Jackson community, someone in the art community who has something worthwhile to say. I liked the feeling, although it was odd to suddenly find myself in that role of mentor. I hadn't realized I had become that. But I guess I have also recognized that I am not a 24 year old, fresh to Jackson, either.

This post goes out to the amazing 30 year olds I met when I first moved to the valley, women who are still so dear to me. J and J and A....inspiring.  I only hope that I can be such a role model as all of them were to me.

post office ladies

It is a growing relationship, one that started with me saying the name on the name tag or them commenting on my scarf or the Pearl St. Bagel coffee in my hand. A tentative hello with some recognition, but not quite care enough to show that recognition whole-heartedly. A softness though, a different greeting than other people standing in line, waiting for stamps or their over-large packages, might receive.  A greeting with some degree of familiarity.

It is fascinating to me that these are women that I see every morning, that I have for almost six years, and we are only starting to begin a more personal dialogue.  It isn't that any of us are unfriendly or rude, just that that is the game played at the P.O. There is more humanness in our interactions now and a genuine caring about our conversation. One used my name the other day, referenced from a package I was picking up, starling me.  A big step forward.

They are always friendly, they get stressed out but only for good reason, and they do their jobs well. I hope our game continues.

What spending all day outside and watching Meryl Streep can do for the soul...

Pushing myself around the track, I was struck at how long it has been since I have spent a full day outside. Probably since climbing season. I had forgotten how your body adapts to the elements (helpful when you have layers to take on and off) and how wonderful it feels to be surrounded by blue sky, towering peaks, and sunshine-filled air. A fullness, yet also a lightness, occurs.

R and I did a women's skate skiing clinic today at the Village. It has made me eager for more, to get better and better, and be able to adopt this sport as part of my winter routine. A mix of hard work and, when you get good, an effortless grace. Could you ask for more in a sport? Nine to four and although my body was ready to sit, my mind was still racing to skate.

It's Complicated=A fun movie. And I got to see it with a great guy. E is always game for the same films I am, as long as they have got a good review, and our taste very rarely differs. Meryl Streep is one of my favorite actresses....I have watched two movies of hers in the past week and I just can't get enough of her. Her diversity, her strength, how her age has only made her more beautiful.

What a nice full day...Couldn't have asked for a much better one.

31

No photos, not much hype, just a normal day with phone calls and emails from and conversations with the amazing people that make up my life. What a full life. I am lucky. 31 years. Amazing how fast time goes...

My Project Runway addiction...

Season 7 begins in fifteen minutes and I can hardly wait!

It is always exciting to see the new characters, to pick the ones that immediately stand out, and, of course, see the amazing Tim Gunn. This is coming from a pretty big non-TV watcher (although I am also slightly addicted to The Office. But I watch that on Netflix.) so it is impressive that I will sit through the advertisements to watch PR.

I think my fascination with this show comes from my deep down dream of being able to design clothes and then make them by hand. My childhood drawings of models in my imagined designs are still stored some where in my parents house. I still buy fashion magazines. I covet designer labels I find at thrift stores, even if the garments don't fit right, just because it has a famous tag. Clothes are like a dirty secret to me, something I would secretly like to be more wild with, more daring, more...fashionable. And I think that maybe, through watching PR, I am attempting to access that part of myself, to still feel like that little girl drawing on her bedroom floor.

Have to go... I can't miss Heidi!

Communication

Once I get going, I think that I can be a pretty good talker, a sharer, a communicator. It is just that space before the words, the moments when everything is in my head, still silent, not out in the air, in someone else's ears.

I am not sure what the hesitation is--disappointment, fear, uncertainty, not wanting to hurt others. All qualities that occasionally keep me from being true to myself, from speaking my own heart.

It is my biggest struggle. My biggest obstacle in life. And I am determined to work on it. I am going to change how I look at it....struggle no more...obstacle no more....rather, it is an opportunity to find a side of myself that is new, even at the ripe age of 31, a time to be curious and explorative, brave and powerful.

It is an exhilarating goal.

My grateful's for today:
1. My friendship with J
2. My friendship with R
3. That the day was warmer and almost balmy
4. My wood stove
5. That there were tasty, nutritious leftovers in the fridge for dinner.

Diamonds in the Morning Air...

How to hold onto the peacefulness of morning, when the mind hasn't totally woken up to began its whirring and the details of the day haven't reached such a magnitude that everything else becomes secondary? Walking up Cache Creek this morning the air looked like it was made up of diamonds. Snow particles hung in the air, catching the new light and twinkling. It was beautiful. And I had time to notice.

I must like having my days packed. Who doesn't have busy schedules though? Sometimes I think that so much is lost because there are so many emails to write, phone calls to make, conversations to have, and situations to deal with...all very important. But all so NOT important. Priorities need to be shifted in my daily life and I am having a hard time knowing how to make that a reality.

An end to a tired day. I think that Olive and I will go to bed and wake up more alert to keeping that morning feeling of bewilderment and peace. Olive always wakes up that way though...

Running at Night with Olive

After a long day spent taking down and putting up a trampoline and "spotting" young children from falling off said trampoline, I came home to my poor neglected dog, whose big brown eyes said only one thing: take me for a walk. So we did, under a full black sky of stars, the Big Dipper hanging above the Elk Refuge. Mars glowed red in front of us, acting as our street light since the one that borders Broadway and the Elk Refuge seemed to be out. Olive was a leash free dog, allowed to run and romp and sniff. And although it was maybe fifteen minutes, the smile on her face upon our return was priceless.

A good message that the small things, even a short walk, can be such gifts.
Thank you Olive, yet again.

I think that watching Julie & Julia last night inspired me to be a blogger again. Something about writing on the internet and later becoming a published author is just dreamy. Also, I am reading The Right to Write by Julia Cameron and her words are hitting me hard. This can be applied to any art form I think:

"...When I am trying to think something up, I am straining. When, on the other hand, I am focused about just getting something down, I have a sense of attention but not a sense of strain. Another way to think of it is that writing is the art of taking dictation, not giving it.  When I listen to what I hear and simply jot that down, the flow of ideas is not mine to generate but to transcribe. When, on the other hand, I struggle to write, it is because I am trying to speak on the page rather than listen there."

She goes on to talk about how by listening, a lot of the ego disappears. There is a degree of separation from the work, where curiosity and amazement take charge, and the "me" steps aside. I like that idea in regards to writing, but also painting, drawing, sculpting...the list goes on.

What else inspired me today?

I opened up an old yogurt container that I had made papier mache paste in for Alice in Wonderland in December and this is what I found:

So amazing, so beautiful (if a little smelly). And it totally reaffirmed my love for all things organic :)

A New Year...A New Approach to Blogging

I was going to post daily, starting on January 1. That has not happened, but I am determined to start now and keep my daily happenings, thoughts, ideas, inspirations recorded...

Instead, it is January 9 and I am sitting in the warm house (thank you wood stove), enjoying Olive and our still present Christmas tree, decorated with white lights. Jamie is in D.C. I have the house to myself. I am making art.

Events from the past nine days:

--walking the Prospect Park loop with Bryn and enjoying the swans and ducks who were surviving in a half-frozen pond

--enjoying the late night life of NYC with good friends and fine scotch

--feeling inspired by Chelsea and the myriad of talent that resides there

--the gratitude I felt towards taxi drivers, airplane pilots, and airport employees for making my travel back West possible

--the hero's welcome from Olive and the hug from Jamie

--cooking dinners

--seeing my co-workers and feeling like I was home.

--enjoying the climbing gym once again

--working out with my Tuesday group

--enjoying friends company, with great food, good conversations, and two new skirts (one Marc Jacobs) from Vanessa

--a great art show at Shades by Dennis Sanders

And these are just some of the gifts....

This morning Jamie and I pulled ourselves out of bed and, much to our dogs delight, packed up the ski gear. The hike up Glory was fabulous--clear, crisp air, blue sky, the feeling of sun on my back, my pace perfect and steady. It felt good to be skiing again, even if I did feel less than graceful....