peace out

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I live in a stunningly beautiful part of the country. So it only makes sense that I leave that beauty and replace it with new beauty. I’m insatiable! Nothing is ever good enough for me!! I always want more!!!

breathe…calm yo’self…serenity…

I never get up and drive to watch the sun rise. But I’m on a little birthday getaway, and these are the gifts I received for stepping outside my door yesterday morning:

Canvas Ranch sunrisesheep

As I get older, I realize how important it is for me to have the peaceful silence of nature around me. It softens the hard edges, sheds light on dark corners, and clears some of the static in my brain.

It fills, energizes, and it is the answer to a lot of my questions.

It gives me joy.

And that is the best present, really, that I could ever ask for.

happiness is a warm taco

My friend Mae took this photo during a moment of our champagne tastes and caviar dreams (I didn't have a picture of me eating a taco).

My friend Mae took this photo during a champagne tastes and caviar dreams moment (I didn’t have a picture of me eating tacos).

The alternative title to this post was “happiness is hugging a warm taco”, but doing so is decidedly messy. Don’t believe me? Try it, then get back to me.

The other day a friend and I went to get tacos at a local Mexican market. It’s no frills and the tacos are soooo good. You walk in, pass the glass case filled with ready-to-go carnitas, salsas, cheese, chicharron, and crema, and head towards the back where you can order your deliciously warm tacos. Did I mention that they are $1.50/each??

When they call out your order for pick up, you can sit down at one of the few tables or hoist yourself up on a bar stool and sit at one of the counters.

I hoisted.

I hugged my taco.

I spoke with my mouth full: “Thi foo make me happy.”

If you’ve made it this far into the post, first of all, thank you from the bottom of my taco-loving heart. Second of all, you might be thinking, “Poor girl, she thinks she’s posting a review on Yelp. tsk tsk.”

Yes, sometimes I get confused and think I’m on Yelp, Match.com or even forget where I am in general, but today, talking about tacos reminds me how something so simple can bring such joy. When everything is so clearly simple and solid and in-the-moment. It doesn’t matter if it’s a taco, a stunning view, or breaking out in uncontrollable laughter with a friend. I’m grateful for any fleeting moment that causes you to connect to yourself and something even beyond that. Something bigger than yourself…that intangible feeling of…love?

I don’t know why my lesson was sent in a taco, but hey, I’ll take it. There’s a reason why I’m always proposing to food. Mr. T and I pity the poor fool I fall in love with: “Marry me or else I’m going to make a taco a very happy husband!!”

Hey, that’s a good title for a Match.com profile…

 

solo

solo

I was on a nature walk recently when I crossed paths with three elderly people speaking a language I couldn’t place. When they saw me, the lone man raised his fist in the air.

“Good for you! Alone!” He said, smiling and gesturing to our natural surroundings.

I raised my own fist and my boyfriend Camera, in the other. In the eyes of the general public, I was by myself. I’m very lucky that Camera is an understanding sort of partner.

“Yes! Can’t wait for someone…must go!!” I said in broken English, even though I speak perfectly good sentence-wise. I say perfect in sentences. I can get my words out.

(I don’t know why I do this. Must be the decades of speaking to my mom in all sorts of broken up ways so she can understand what I’m babbling about.)

They all smiled at me and headed to a bench to take a break. Their good cheer gave me a boost.

field with a view

I like being alone unless I’m having dinner by myself at a restaurant. Where do I look? Should I stare thoughtfully at empty spaces so as not to creep people out? Or is this creepy in itself? Is it sad to read a book by candlelight while shoving food down my throat?

I should rephrase: I don’t have a problem being alone most of the time. Sometimes being with my own thoughts is terrifying, but at least it’s an activity that doesn’t harm anyone else.

I get filled up really quickly the more energetic and crowded the situation. I can be as outgoing as the next person, and then my inner timer goes off !ding! without warning. I will start to sag and sway. I elbow myself in the side – yes, this is possible – and say, “You’re done. Better come up with an exit strategy.”

After I say a few goodbyes, I know how to slip away, unnoticed.

I guess once a ninja, always a ninja.

This is how I leave a party.

This is what I look like leaving a party.

It’s strange to want to connect with people yet need to be alone. Someday I’d like to be in a serious relationship with the right person, yet I also ‘joke’ about wanting them to live next door to me, not with me. I secretly – that is, until now – think this is a brilliant idea.

d.w. winnicott - artists

I used to think this kind of push-pull was terribly antisocial of me, but I now know that there are many people who can relate. For goodness’ sake, even Oprah needs time alone with her thoughts.

We like our feet on the earth and we want to soar the skies. We like you…in doses. We know how to play well with others (this is up for debate) and are fine playing by ourselves. We have a lot of words to share, but sometimes they get stuck on the way out of our mouths. We like to write things out. Can I get a holla??

Oh, I forgot, you’re probably in hiding. That’s okay. I get it. For now, know that I am raising a triumphant fist in the air for you. We solo explorers need to stick together…until we need to go back to our respective hiding places.

stone cold knitter

i miss my cat.

I’m an on-again, off-again knitter. I’m in on-mode right now, having been inspired by a friend who has been crocheting those cute amigurumi figures. I’m of Japanese descent, and it has taken me forever to learn and remember that word. Amygummy? Agroommy? Ergimummy? Argh!!

I love yarn, especially when the fiber is spun from alpacas. I love wooden needles and the fact that you can’t bring them to jury duty because it is a known fact that knitters are stone. Cold. KILLERS.

I’ve been trying to knit the perfect hat. This has been going on for years. The only hat I’ve ever kept was the one I subsequently lost in Scotland. Every time I travel I somehow manage to leave behind some article of clothing. (I am choosing to let that last sentence sound sexy and daring, even though it involves beanies and stretched-out sweatshirts.) In fact, I’ve hardly kept anything I’ve ever made, save a few coffee cup cozies and some crocheted roses my armygrummi friend taught me how to make.

Why is this?

a) I’m a perfectionist unwilling to compromise the highest apex of my expectations
b) I give everything away as part of my plan to clothe the heads of the entire population, one hat at a time
c) I look terrible in hats

See? I look like Michael Nesmith. I’m very upset because the hat is too small for my head. And it’s making me look like I have sideburns.

All are sort of true. But the thing that dawned on me this morning is that I actually enjoy the process. Screw the outcome. My task, my lesson, is to appreciate what is happening in the moment. Sometimes I feel disappointed that I didn’t capture a moment with my camera or that a better camera would be able to perfectly capture a scene…and then I remember that I am here, seeing this perfect thing at the most perfect of moments. That I can choose how I want to see what I see. Moments like this shift my perspective and depth of gratitude. Knitting, you are a surprising teacher.

Yes, we’re stone-cold killers. But we can also be found staring lovingly at our inordinate amounts of yarn and our beautifully crafted weapons of choice.

It’s the alpaca heart in us.

time

the road to point sur lightstation

I drove out to the Point Sur Lightstation last night to join one of the moonlight tours they offer every month. At first, my dramatic self didn’t want to go: Would being alone make the moon less beautiful? Would I feel even more alone going alone?

Get a grip, Sarah Bernhardt.

The wind up at the lightstation was fierce. I had visions of being tackled and catapulted across the ocean by this mack daddy of winds. I scanned the tour group to assess who would allow me to grab onto them without judging me. I now have a deep appreciation for sturdy frames.

As per usual, I was the only one who was there by themselves.

I’ve viewed a lot of sunrises, sunsets and moons as a singular person. In a way, I’m not really alone. It’s me and the sun. It’s me and the moon. Even when I’m with other people, it’s still just the two of us, sharing an understanding…sharing a secret together.

sunset

Last night I watched time pass as the sun set amidst a bank of clouds and the moon rose above the mountains.

moon

When I woke up in the morning, my hair was like the Salvador Dali of bird nests, tangled by sleep and that maniacal wind. And then during this very ordinary moment, time stood still. I found out my loved friend passed away from ovarian cancer some time this morning.

 …

“I don’t know, Jane…” She had said the last time I saw her. “The doctors say I have six months and I’m trying to be strong, but I don’t know…”

As I walked away from her, I suddenly turned back around, gave her a final hug and told her I loved her. We stood there together and cried in silence.

That was five and half weeks ago. And now she’s gone. My brain can’t compute it. But my heart, which I am learning to take more seriously, holds her close and revels for having known such a remarkable person.

I’m never alone. I never was.

Peace for Nancy. I hope she is seeing all of the most beautiful sunrises and sunsets ever imaginable.

light

“I just try to live every day as if I’ve deliberately come back to this one day. To enjoy it, as if it was the full final day of my extraordinary ordinary life…We’re all traveling through time together, every day of our lives. All we can do is do our best to relish this remarkable ride.”
~ “About Time”

The symptoms of ovarian cancer are often mistaken for other illnesses – for more information, please check out the American Cancer Society website to learn more about this disease.