March 6, 2014
I don’t mind anymore that I don’t know you yet. I don’t mind that you’re a stranger. I have a lifetime to spend discovering the different ways your name tastes on my tongue. I have years and years to dip my toes into the waters of you, the you-ness of your eyes, your laugh, how your hands fold and clasp. I’ve had it all wrong, searching for a reservoir when you are the sea. Honey, I’m wading into my knees, I’m diving deep, I’m underwater with this mystery that is a question of who are you? Just as important, who will you become? Followed by, who will we be? I’m sixteen feet under and still swimming and someday, there will be you. You exhale air to my taut lungs. I let it go. If there are years that ask questions, these are scattered with inquisitions like, are you a tomato from the vine person and do you have callouses on your fingers from strumming a guitar? Small things. Make up a life things. I want to collect the answers like a gift. I don’t mind that I don’t know you yet anymore. My hands hold my hopes. I’ve stopped scattering seeds, I am waiting for good earth, mossy and smelling green. I don’t mind you don’t know my name yet. I have a lifetime to listen to mine fall from your tongue in every color.
February 23, 2014
Travel the world. Travel some more. Write a book. Make a film. Fall in love. Stay in love. Get married. Travel with my love. Write a book of us. Sing. Learn a new language. Gain a few pounds from eating through Europe. Spend a summer in New Zealand. Have a baby. Have another baby. Have lots of babies. Maybe just a few. Travel with my babies. Kiss my husband. Make another film. Write another book. Have a gallery showing. Buy an RV. Travel across the US. Be honest. Live in another country. Make pancakes on Saturdays. Make pie on Sundays. Buy a house by the water. Sell extra things. Open up our home. Plant a garden. Learn to play piano well. Travel. Go wedding dress shopping with my daughters. Go to little league games. Live out of my gut. Write my grandparent's stories. Kiss at midnight on New Years in Times Square. Get good at yoga. Move cross country. Start over. Stay. Meet the girls my sons love. Photograph what I see. Watch my husband become a grandfather. Spend my anniversary in Paris. Make a movie. Sell my house. Drink good red wine or bad red wine with people I love. Explore. Live with less. Get a dog. Make lots of bread. Stop being afraid. Cook through Mastering the Art of French Cooking. Wear dresses more. Start a traveling library. Ditch the TV. Kiss a lot. Start traditions. Keep traditions. Make cinnamon rolls and egg bake for Christmas brunch. Say I'm sorry, I love you, I need you, I like you, I miss you. Understand they're sometimes the same.
February 20, 2014
filed under : thoughts
Social media's primary motivation is recognition, the cry of here, I am. See me. We are searching for understanding in the form of a larger network, because what is the point in churning out updates daily if not to attract and captivate an audience? Sharing our work and thoughts, connecting with people, opening up our metaphorical internet doors into our homes, these are valid reasons to check twitter. But more often, we share to share. Liking becomes less about what we like and more about the cultural recognition it gives us.
Meaning is often based on cultural context, so it becomes difficult to play the game of what would our ancestors have done? Yet, what would they have seen in social media, in the internet in general? The age that we live in allows for greater communication than ever before. We are able to affect change, to widen our reach, and in powerful ways, influence our cities and the world. Networking makes connection comfortable and easy. Yet, in constantly connecting, we are losing our ability to communicate without the web to clamor behind us.
The primary function social media gives us a way to say, look what I'm doing, regardless of whether we are doing it or not.
My friend Alex and I were laughing about instagrams (ours, specifically) and the behind the scenes prep that goes into a seemingly uncomplicated and straight-forward image . . . from location scouting, prop styling, editing, etc. I'm not saying that these are bad things, just that our realities are skewed. It's not just about sharing our breakfast anymore — now our breakfast has to be beautiful. Which is fine. Art becoming greater in the scheme of our daily lives isn't something I oppose, but why do we do it? Is this all one huge game of follow the leader? I don't have answers, just questions. What would it look like to go off social media? What would it look like to communicate solely via letters? What's the function of blogs these days? Do we need this network? What is the point of it all? It fascinates me in a sobering way that we even have to ask ourselves these questions.
Society has evolved to a pinnacle where the thought of not having an online presence and not sharing our work puts us in league with the dinosaurs.
I understand the appeal, perhaps too well! But it saddens me to think of the opportunities I've missed because I've been plugged into this changing, growing, controlling network. I saw a haunting photo series done on individuals looking at their computer monitors and thought, that's me. I wake up to the phone, check my email hourly. I take snapshots. My camera roll is full of coffee. I can talk to people without talking to them! Everything is an instagram opportunity. I should tweet that. Did someone comment on my blog? The irony is I'm plugging away at this post on my site.
Do you know what's sad? I've lost the ability to sit in silence. It's difficult for me to be still. I'm rediscovering how to read without interruption. I'm trying to simplify my thinking into one line, not twenty different avenues all begging for my attention at once. I removed notifications from my phone awhile ago, but I sit and suddenly I'm checking my phone simply to check it. Is it that I, or we, don't remember how to even exist without constantly reviewing the never-ending stream of forever updating information? As I write this, I have about twenty tabs open.
We're spending more time cultivating our online personas than our character and personality in real life.
I woke up the other day and resisted the urge to check my phone. As I put my coffee in the keurig (yet one more example of our fast-food culture), I had a sudden thought, strange only so far as it was frighteningly obvious. Ten years ago, this would not be part of my normal routine. Take 2004. Instagram was nonexistent and iPhones were a thing of the future. Facebook had come out only recently and blogging was starting to gain traction. Smart phones existed, but compared to our phones today, we would have called them illiterate. Yes, we had the internet, the next thing was coming, but everything was relatively quiet.
I romanticize the past, but there's a marked difference in how we operate as a people with the increase of technology and the ease of networking. Please don't thing I'm proclaiming a cry of abandonment of social media. I've said before, I enjoy instagram. Yes, somedays (too many), I buy into the allure that is pinterest (darn you, dark chocolate flourless cake), and my business would not be where it is today without the help of social media. But I don't want to mindlessly ingest and consume without question. What does the role of social media play in our lives and how will it continue to evolve as we as a people and society grow and change?
The thought of Google Glass terrifies me, and the promise of always being connected sounds like a nightmare.
Contrary to the trends of 2014, I feel most fulfilled when I am less connected. The more I am in the "real" world (how clarifying we have to make that distinction), the more inspired, well-rounded, and content I am. The less connected I am on social media, the more connected I am in real life. I think it's dangerous when we enter into social networking as a natural occurrence of daily life, and don't recognize the dichotomy between what is shared and what exists. The argument could be made that social media is part of ordinary routines, but that's the gist of this post. We're at a place when sharing is synonymous with existing, and to go without sharing is a kiss of death, or really a refusal to cry, look at me. See me.
What would happen if the internet went quiet and we all just lived our lives?
This is something I wonder about when my phone is dead.
February 18, 2014
This morning, I woke up late and ate a cold egg. It was panfried and slippery. My brother brought me a book and I read it to him, him little and round on my lap. I tickled him until his body shook with laughter. If you don't know, that's almost the best sound in the world. It's second only to listening to the slow breathing of someone you love.
This afternoon was a rainfall. I made a cup of coffee. I read the newspaper. I read a book. I played piano. The room was silent and I kept the lights off. It's nice to only sit under what comes through windows. A softness.
Later, I went to a coffee shop. I had a cup of chai. It's my staple though the sugar gives me headaches. This is a language I practice. The hot paper cup under my fingers, comfort. The quiet bustle of people, connection. A silent phone, stillness. I sat at a long communal table by myself, steadiness. In my hands, a book I love. That is called being. Everything was a study in solitude. A song from one of my favorite films came on, and I thought, yes.
How do you describe these spaces? A falling into place. A gentle nudge or a remembrance. That is called release. These moments mark me with rings. I see holiness in their wake. I will not call them serendipitous, but sacred. My ragged edges are softened by these places. The book was set down. I mouthed the words to the music and cried silently next to strangers. Yes. And again, yes.
Tomorrow may be a yellow sharpness in my stomach. My today was a promise. Yes, as it comes. That is called surrender. Another word is thankful, though we've forgotten. I'm carrying it like a prayer.
February 17, 2014
filed under : seven
"It’s hard, now, to be with someone else wholly, uninterruptedly, and it’s hard to be truly alone. The fine art of doing nothing in particular, also known as thinking, or musing, or introspection, or simply moments of being, was part of what happened when you walked from here to there alone, or stared out the train window, or contemplated the road, but the new technologies have flooded those open spaces. Space for free thought is routinely regarded as a void, and filled up with sounds and distractions."- Diary, by Rebecca Solnit
Daily Contradictions, by Katie Licht.
One Day in History, by Andrea Gjestvang
Shaved Brussels Sprouts and Ginger Potsickers by Naturally Ella.
what are you enjoying + inspired by lately?
February 15, 2014
For clementine afternoons and juice running down your cheeks and what summer means to you. For running barefoot on bad knees. For people waiting at a bus stop. For people waiting. For red singing until you are hoarse. For cupping fireflies in your fingers. For sloppy kisses. For goodbye kisses. For kisses. For goodbyes. For missing sour like curdled milk. For books with names of previous owners like a poem. For mint sharp in your mouth and wind in your teeth. For yellow tights. For the stillness of an empty movie theater after the credits stop. For leaving. For traditions wound tight like string around your spine. For flowers growing in your ribs. For graphite on the side of your hand. For lipstick smudges on cheeks. For silver exhales and silver moonlight and silver nights on snow. For photos that stay the same. For cities where no one knows your name. For cracked vinyl diner seats. For dancing slow, sweaty palmed with a boy you love and what his hand feels like on yours. For letting go.