{SPT} the me who hides

Sometimes
I pull my hood up
and a force field surrounds me
the darkness may have come
but I can protect myself
a habit that began in college
and when moments lead me to melancholy days
again
I find pulling my hood up around my head
creates
a security blanket for my soul

This month's SPT theme being all of me made me think about capturing the feeling of the me who hides from the world when loneliness, grief, or other feelings of sadness creep in.

I was able to quickly tap into this feeling as I sat on the couch this morning. And I took a few pictures with the timer...but as I tried to capture the last one, Millie would have no part of the sadness anymore. She seemed to pose for the camera, captivated by the sound of the timer. So here is another self-portrait: the me with the big smile. People say that I have a beautiful smile. I never believe them. I am always focused on my big teeth and the way that my lip comes up so far that you can see so much of my gums. But here I am. All of me. From the hiding to the laughter.

See more SPT photos here

little joys

here comes the sun. it was out all day today.
a visit with a dear friend (how lucky i am that every few months she travels from indiana to seattle for work).
pizza and beer.
watching grey's anatomy. i am still thinking of last week's episode. i cried through the last 10 minutes. and yesterday's episode. wow. wow. wow. i am a little too close to this show because i almost wrote "i should pray for bailey's husband." yes, yes, i know. it is not real.
finishing the book wicked. it was good. odd. interesting. the idea that we are often misunderstood as we carry our baggage.
a crocus is blooming. already. one little purple crocus. makes me so happy.
that my brother was signed to a record deal with a band he plays with. more details to come as i learn more.
curling up with millie and taking a nap.
the fact that my husband is dressing up like professor plum for school tomorrow. (the different advisory groups have to dress up with a theme - it's spirit week. his students came up with clue. so we were at macy's tonight searching for a purple shirt and tie. 30% off the already marked down 50% off. what more could you want?)
that my yoga students are sticking around after class to connect, ask questions, talk with me and each other.
singing songs with the weepies as i work.
that i am finally catching up on reading blogs.
that my editing work is starting to increase (oh please, please let this continue)
little moments when i can remind my husband that he can do anything and he hears me.
feeling really alive.
remembering that maybe, just maybe, i can do anything.

postcards

This is one of the postcards I made for the postcard swap organized by Christina (the rest of them are quite similar to this one, but each were created separately). I have received a few in the mail from others already. And I must admit that I have felt pretty special when I go to my mailbox with such anticipation and am given the gift of a postcard. I plan to upload them to flickr, but, of course, I am still figuring out how to create a link to my flickr page so stay tuned.

Creating all these little pieces of art that I have sent out into the universe to be discovered in a few mailboxes all over the country (and world) has been so much fun. And I am owning the fact that these are "little pieces of art." The sentiment expressed in this postcard seems to be for me too. Maybe it is also for you.

senses. a memory.

{see}
My apartment in Indiana, late March 2001. Books are stacked on shelves, on each other, on the floor. Storypeople adorn the walls. I sit on my purple chenille couch, the calypso flower print comforter from my bed across my lap. Next to me, curled up with his head on my lap, is my new companion, Traveler. I traveled to Tennessee to pick him up; his previous experiences are unknown to me, but he seems to realize he has found his forever home. He has lived with me for nine days. His fur is golden red; he wears a red collar and a green bandana. The only light is from the television. We are tucked into the couch, cuddled up, sharing the comforter watching Natalie Portman have a baby, fall in love, run away from love, run back to it in Where the Heart Is. Traveler's eyes are usually closed. He must have learned these lessons already.

{taste}
Rich, cold chocolate ice cream. What more could a girl want. My memory chooses to believe it was Haagen Daz right from the carton.

{smell}
A candle burns and the slight scent of sandlewood fills the air. I bend down to kiss Traveler's nose and smell his doggy breath that still has the faint odor of his dinner.

{hear}
A driver revs a car engine and peels out at the stop sign. The refrigerator hums. The heater kicks on. Traveler sighs, yawns, sighs again. Drama abounds through the language, words, feelings that sound through the television speakers. Toward the end of the movie, I hear my own breath as tears fall and I cry.

{feel}
Trav's soft fur as I stroke his head with my fingertips. The cold ice cream as I indulge. The soft cotton of my orange and red striped pajama pants. As I watch the last few moments of the movie, my heart seems to pause for a moment. Will I ever find this love? Even crappy, over-dramatized movie kind of love. Will anyone ever look at me and want to stop the world just to be with me? Will I always be alone? I begin to cry. Traveler moves his head to my hand and I feel the warmth of his breath. My tears stop. I feel my heart begin to beat again. I have enough. I am enough. I hear my own voice say out loud, "If it is just you and me Traveler, it will be okay."

{and know}
It is only when you let go of controlling the dream that you can be quiet enough to see it when it crosses your path. (Three weeks later my husband and I went on our first date.)

This post is dedicated to my first golden child Traveler. A year ago today, Jon and I had to let Trav go. I miss him but know I am blessed that he gave me such gifts.

a phrase

a phrase has walked across my heart this evening

a reminder
from the past
a hint
of the truth
a whisper
from the universe
a song
for the present
a vibration
of sounds and certainties
a need
from the soul
a wish
for the future

a simple phrase
you are not alone

checking in {life and AW}

As you may have guessed from yesterday's post, I am on a trip. Training today for an editing project I am working on with a group of fantastic women. Because I am back in Indiana, I have been able to spend some time with my mom. Lucky me, I get to join her later this afternoon when she meets with her attorney to discuss her will. How am I old enough that my mom wants me to go with her to talk about her will? Yesterday, we did have some fun shopping at the mall I call Keystone at the Crossing - two new outfits from JJill as my early (very early) birthday present.

As for AW. I am behind. Very behind. I take a breath. Last week was intense for many reasons and I left on Saturday for this trip, going back home tomorrow. I am tired. The thought of getting up early when I am already dealing with a three hour time change is more than I can deal with. So I let go of the morning pages. Hope to write them tonight, maybe tomorrow in the airport. I brought AW with me so that I can read Week 4 and finish the Week 3 tasks, begin Week 4 tasks. But if all of that has to wait until this weekend...I take another breath. I am still excited and committed to this process, but life does sneak into my plans. And I have to let that go. Guilt, panic, guilt, shame. Letting go of this is part of the process...at least my process. (And can taking a hot shower followed by a long nap be my artist's date this week? I am so tired with the time change and lack of sleep due to an uncomfortable bed, new surroundings in this hotel, late night arrivals, and late night conversations. I admire all you parents out there with young kids who sleep so little. You are amazing people.)

senses. airport.

{smell} The air is stale but seems fresh after getting off the airplane. As I walk a little farther, I begin to smell the carts of fried food. Cinnabons, pretzels, french fries. I am glad I have time to eat.

{hear}
Beep, beep, beep as the cart whizzes by on my left. People talk. Quiet, loud, annoyed, excited, silly, happy, angry tones all around me. Monotone recorded voices remind us not to leave our baggage unattended. Friendly, tired voices call people to their gates. "Just one tonight?" Yes, yes, traveling alone. Eating at a sit down restaurant all alone can be a pleasure, yes, a pleasure, even in an airport. "May I take your order." Hamburger and a Sam Adams please. "May I see your ID?" With pleasure. People talk on cell phones as they sit alone at their tables. I hear a man in annoyed tones who appears to be talking to himself. Then I see the earpiece. Do we know how odd we look talking to no one?

{taste}
I bring the pint of beer to my lips; the rich flavor hits my tongue, then slides down my throat. I smile. Though I don't often drink beer, sometimes a cold beer makes my heart a little happy. And then a hamburger with cheddar cheese. In the last year, hamburgers have become my airport comfort food when I have enough time to sit and eat at a "nicer" airport restaurant. Not sure why. But I am just going with it. As I walk to my terminal, I pull a piece of wintergreen gum from my purse and pop it into my mouth. Fresh breath. Just like that.

{see}
People rush by me on all sides. Pulling their luggage behind them, some almost push each other out of the way. The fear of missing a plane on their faces. Long hallway through the G terminal. Moving walkways as far as you can see. People dressed in jeans, skirts, high heels, flip flops, suits, shorts. Many seem unaware that they are in Minnesota in January. Dreams of someplace warm, anyplace sunny, abound. I am jealous. When I sit down to eat, I pick-up the napkin to unwrap the silverware. For a moment I am confused. Plasticware. Then I remember. Terrorists. Right. No knives. People will steal the knives and try to hurt other passengers. Will they really? Sadness just for a moment. I watch the other diners, other people who are lucky, like me, and have arrived on time with enough of a layover to eat a meal sitting at a clean table in a quieter nook of the airport. A young man with a much older woman. Grandmother and grandson? She laughs as he animatedly tells his story. A woman sits alone and talks on her cell phone, pauses to order, then returns to her conversation. A group of six people get ready to leave. Time to get to their gate. They seem excited. The waitresses hurry with orders, food, drinks because they know their customers are passengers who have a firm agenda. My gaze moves over the words on the last page of a book I started earlier that day.

"It was only a smile, nothing more. It didn't make everything all right. It didn't make anything all right. Only a smile. A tiny thing. A leaf in the woods, shaking in the wake of a startled bird's flight.
But I'll take it. With open arms. Because when spring comes, it melts the snow one flake at a time, and maybe I just witnessed the first flake melting."

{feel}
Tears sting my eyes as I read. My heart catches as I find myself hoping with the narrator. I do not want the book to end, so I savor the last few words. As I finish my beer, I note that feeling of drinking a beer on a mostly empty stomach. So no, I won't have another, thank you. I pick up my heavy backpack and swing it behind be, putting one arm through, then the other. I drape my coat over my arm and pick up my other bag. The nervousness of the time kicks in as I walk down the long hall to my gate. Then I see that they aren't boarding yet. A sigh of relief. Find the bathroom. Then back to the gate. Sit down. The calm of having enough time. I reach into my bag and pull out the next book, smiling to myself as I run my hand across the smooth cover.

{and know}
The companion of a good book is a wonderful sort of friend to have as you travel across the country.

(Quote from the last page of The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini.)

be gentle, seek strength

This week has been full of lots of time in my head...not sure what to put out there for others to read, see, judge. Trying to remember to be gentle with myself...and connect with the strength I know I have inside me. As I was driving yesterday, this song came on the radio and I have been humming it ever since. Thought you might want to hum along too.

End of the Line

Well it's all right, riding around in the breeze
Well it's all right, if you live the life you please
Well it's all right, doing the best you can
Well it's all right, as long as you lend a hand

You can sit around and wait for the phone to ring (End of the Line)
Waiting for someone to tell you everything (End of the Line)
Sit around and wonder what tomorrow will bring (End of the Line)
Maybe a diamond ring

Well it's all right, even if they say you're wrong
Well it's all right, sometimes you gotta be strong
Well it's all right, as long as you got somewhere to lay
Well it's all right, everyday is Judgment Day

Maybe somewhere down the road aways (End of the Line)
You'll think of me, wonder where I am these days (End of the Line)
Maybe somewhere down the road when somebody plays (End of the Line)
Purple haze

Well it's all right, even when push comes to shove
Well it's all right, if you got someone to love
Well it's all right, everything'll work out fine
Well it's all right, we're going to the end of the line

Don't have to be ashamed of the car I drive (End of the Line)
I'm glad to be here, happy to be alive (End of the Line)
It don't matter if you're by my side (End of the Line)
I'm satisfied

Well it's all right, even if you're old and gray
Well it's all right, you still got something to say
Well it's all right, remember to live and let live
Well it's all right, the best you can do is forgive

Well it's all right, riding around in the breeze
Well it's all right, if you live the life you please
Well it's all right, even if the sun don't shine
Well it's all right, we're going to the end of the line

sung by the Traveling Wilburys