Calligraphy Tattoo: Good Like Bread

This is a phrase significant to a few people in my life who are significant to me. I've always loved this phrase so I finally got it in tattoo form. Good Like Bread reminds me to be nourishing and a gift to others and myself. Bread, in my world, is always a gift.

A Rare Tree: Thoughts on Love, Sex, Being Single, Hiding, and Valentine's Day

Hello Duckies,

We're almost a month out from Valentine's Day and I feel the need to revisit it. I am rather juvenile in the way that I handle this holiday. Over the past few years I've believed it important to explain to others that it is not about romantic love for me when asked if I have a Valentine's date. It is about all love. It is about friendship. It really is not about romantic love. It is about reconciliation. It is really not about romantic sex. It is about the beauty of the world apart from ideas of marriage and partnership. It is about the hope found in small gaudy gestures to one's friends and family members. It is about goddamn world peace and paper doilies. I want Valentine's Day to be about anything that is not romantic love, which is odd given that I'm prone to fits of romance and poetic indulgence and often find myself in lengthy and gratifying discussions about all things relational with my nearest and dearest.

I don't believe there is something wrong with co-opting V-Day for one's own mischief or healing apart from romance. There is something healthy to be found in this space. I wonder why though I articulate around Valentine's Day so vehemently? I hold my language and messaging around this holiday the way some people hold a banner at a protest. This day of silly cards and box of chocolate hearts means something to me as I believe it means something to many people, those that own the day and those that dismiss it with a force that can only be fueled by actual caring. Why does this day represent something significant to people?

Many of my friends are engaged, recently married, or about to get engaged. This is beautiful. This is expensive. I had no idea that I would need a separate wedding account to finance all this wedding travel. Apart from the financial concerns there is almost nothing that makes me well up with gratitude and awe at the mystery of time more than watching the women and men who I loved from youth make life commitments to another human. These friends are stitched so tightly into my psyche that it's impossible and undesirable to measure their impact on me. There is no corner of the self that is untouched by young friendship. The time in my life when many of these friendships formed they knew me better than I knew myself. They were home. They are now building their own homes. They are now making their own commitments.

I have joined the ranks of many 20/30 something single people (and I daresay many people in young couples feel this way as well) who are called to know themselves better than others know them. I am called into the sometimes lonely place of being a single adult navigating the day to day realities of building a life and recognizing the value in the pieces of life that require no work and are merely gifts. I am learning how to be home for myself. This does not mean that others do not frequently come to stay at this home. It does not mean that my people do not often shed light on aspects of my person that I've neglected to spend time on, but the stage of "friends melting into each other until we are one large LOVEBOT" has passed, at least for the time being.

My friendships now are just as deep, but they carry a layer of humility and recognition that we are all walking our own path and that no one else can walk it for us. These friendships acknowledge inadequacies, fears, and the pervasive truth that no one person can entirely fill up another person's flask. This reality of adult life as it relates to my inner being as well as my external friendships compels me to dig deeply into myself on a frequent basis, to wax philosophical to the point of annoyance, and to turn my mind off indulging in the simple pleasures of a house well kept, a glass of wine shared with a friend, a ridiculous tv show that provides the comfort of consistency, and a loaf of bread that rose properly even at altitude. I believe all this individual and group growth to be positive. There are times though in the midst of all the beauty associated with becoming an adult who is self-assured that shit gets lonely. From what I've observed in myself and my other singletons this loneliness often translates into either:

a) a strong desire for a relationship

b) a strong desire for a new life plan

c) a strong desire to assert one's independence/ downplay the desire for companionship

or d) all of the above on a semi-regular rotating basis


When I'm lonely I tend to hang out in the land of d) and for some reason Valentine's Day makes me tip into the c) realm. I've had to face, as embarrassing as it is since I fancy myself grounded to the max, that I can sometimes hide my "I really would love a partnership that involves lots of loving and laughing and hoping and sexing and sexting (maybe more sexing less sexting)" behind my admiration for other types of love. I am so busy working on being a single adult that I forget that in addition to being self-sufficient I'm also filled with desire. It is the type of desire that builds bridges between people's hearts, minds, hands, bodies, and bedrooms. This hiding does not diminish the fact that I think that we should acknowledge and lift up all forms of radical empathy, which is the stuff love is made of. I just think maybe it's time for me to be clear with myself, which I'm finding more and more can be a surprisingly daunting task.

On Valentine's Day this year I received a letter at my workplace. A few friends also received these letters. The letters arrived together. They were powerful and full of gratitude for who we are as professionals and people. They were from a client. Mine said all sorts of lovely things. It said I was kind, but straight up about things. It said I didn't hide things that are ugly or hard, but in the face of them found beauty. It called me and my team as valuable as rare trees. That was a particularly favorite line of mine. Upon reading it again I realized that in this "love" area of my life I have not been totally upfront with myself recently. I have not been frank. I've been co-opting my own feelings and desires and hiding them behind stories that I find beautiful instead of finding beauty in what is in my heart and what is most raw during this life stage.


Maybe this year, inspired by my strange reaction to Valentine's Day and subsequent self analysis, I will work on continuing to honor and uplift the types of love that do not pivot around romantic partnership and allowing those solid examples of the human spirit to create a space for the chocolate box heart/swooney/lovey dovey/i want you now and forever/kissey/sexy/touch me/hold me/hear me/heart me brand of love. Perhaps in the coming year I will seek to not so much re-frame as to embrace. I will seek not so much to assert as to appreciate that there are as many iterations of the human heart as there are trees, each one as rare and valuable as the next.

The Unpleasantness of Being Brave

I learned how to swim before I could walk. Water is the most calming force in my life. When I was in second grade my class got free swim lessons. Our district secured a grant for all of us to take swim lessons and diving lessons. I was ecstatic at the prospect. I was in my element during the swimming portion of the lessons. I felt competent and committed in the way that you only can when engaged in an activity that you were made to do. Then came the diving portion of the lesson.

This pool was Olympic regulation and the highest diving board seemed to me to be larger than any building I'd ever seen. I was selected to be the first to "dive off" the highest platform. Really what this meant is that the diving teacher would pick me up, tell me to stay straight as a pencil, and drop me into the water. I was selected because of my confidence in water. I climbed the board feeling a great sense of anticipation and excitement. Then I looked down. All of a sudden I felt Ike I was going to vomit. My body wanted to be as far away from the edge as humanly possible and as low to the ground. I knew that something major was at risk. I knew that by jumping I was risking something and it petrified me. What was interesting though was that I quickly realized that I could also not climb down the ladder without losing something. The whole class was watching and furthermore climbing down a ladder once you've realized how high you are is almost as scary as jumping off the board into the water. I had this acute sense of anger at myself for climbing onto the board thinking, "I could have just stayed on the ground where God intended me to be. I could be in the third row behind the other kids hiding out awaiting some other classmate's jump."

The diving teacher came and took my hand and said, "You do not have to jump, but I promise you that you will be okay and you'll always remember that before anyone else you jumped off the high dive. You'll remember that you were brave. You seem brave to me." I am sure that in that moment I did not seem brave, but I took his hand and let him hoist me over the board. I hung there little legs straight as a board. Before I knew it I whizzed through the air and was in the water. The impact reddened my legs and lit up my spirit. I felt like I had done something big. I knew that I had done something for myself. The decision was two-fold. I climbed the ladder and I made the jump.

Today I was reminded of this story. I had a conversation that has been at least a year and a half in the making. I found myself on the brink of bringing it up then would become ill. At one point I realized that I had already climbed the board. I could jump or I could do the labor intensive work of climbing down. I climbed up to the board the first time I shared something real about myself with this person. I took another step up the ladder when I began to regard their opinion highly. I took the next step when I began loving them. I realized that I've been on the board for a long time. For a moment I imagined that I might be able to climb down without anyone noticing. I no longer have a host of second graders bearing witness to my shame. I realized though that I have become my own second grade class bearing witness to myself. There is no hiding from yourself when you've decided to drop pretenses. I jumped. I brought up the dreaded topic. When I hit the water it stung and I was proud of myself for it. Who knows what will come of this recent small and specific act of abandon. What needs to unfold will.

Today I was reminded that we are never jumping alone even when we feel alone. We always have love hoisting us over the board. There is a choice. We can decide to never climb up the ladder. We can decide to climb back down. We can jump. After quite some time of living in fear of the climb and of the jump I am pleased to share that I remembered that I climb the ladder. I was reminded that I jump.

to a younger woman

i'm home sick with strep throat and it's snowing outside. what a perfect excuse for an afternoon blog post. a letter to my 15 year old self inspired by sugar's letter to her younger self.

sweet girl,

you are about to fall in love. relish that. your first love is a roller coaster. be an idiot. it is the first time in your life that you will be called to dig deeply into your insecurities. it is the first time you will feel you are a version of yourself apart from your family. when he says i will love you forever and then some believe him. later when then some has passed be grateful that for a time you stood under orion's starry belt and believed that you would have only one love in your life. hold that idea like an old woman holds a weathered photograph of her pregnant form. you will spend years wondering about this love and what it meant and what it means for future relationships. this is partly because you are young and naive. it is partly because you are you, uniquely designed to weigh, measure, and fortify memories. let it breathe. let to go. there is nothing wrong with the progression of the heart. be wild in your consumption of adoration.

you will always love water even after the 6am water polo practices are only distant memories. spend as much time in the ocean as you can; you will not always live near it. don't spend too much time thinking about leaving. the sea is your first great love even proceeding the aforementioned adorable boy who will give you a bracelet among other things with your name, first and middle, engraved on it. you will return to the ocean methodically. it will be your metronome of self. sand and sea are blessings you cannot escape.

when you walk around the park that day in july eating raspados with your ponytail askew and your shin guards flopping around your cleats walk slowly by each tree, over each uneven slab of concrete to the place where your friend stood laugh and speak loudly over the music. don't ever be drowned out by anyone's music unless of course what it has to say is more important.

watch your brother sleep. remember everything he says. learn about joy through his reactions to the world.

when your english teacher asks you to join the cheerleading team because they need girls with good grades it is okay to say no even though she is exquisite in your mind. you have never been nor will you ever be a cheerleader. your teacher will still become one of the most important women in your life. down the road a young woman you've poured into will put into words to you what you always wanted to say to that teacher, "thank you for knowing that who i am is infinitely more interesting than who the world suggests i should be. thank you for fighting for my mind."

when somewhere down the road you find yourself in your first college dorm and a boy spends an hour talking to you about your hopes and dreams and how your hair really does look like light on the sea at dawn do not arrogantly presume that because you are from a rough neighborhood you have everyone's number down and he is a flirt without substance. he will later surprise you with one of the most meaningful friendships of your young life.

keep loving on people the way you do. never doubt that wisdom. be brave in your friendships. you will be called into bravery many times in the years to come. face those times with conviction, laughter, and a belief that forgiveness is the great victor. sweet girl, forgive all the time the large and small pains. you will learn to tattoo forgiveness onto your palms everyday. your faith will run like a living red ribbon through your veins, a more glorious option than blood. do not resist any of this.

when far down the road you realize you have lost touch with los angeles and its people, your people, do not be afraid to reach out. life is a winding river that sometimes comes full circle. do not fear the circle.

when, in your freshman year of college, you have strep throat do not hesitate to share a room with a girl who also has strep throat on the dorm ski trip. you will lay in bed together sick and discuss jane austen. others will find it amusing and photo worthy. late at night your throat will be burning so badly you're crying and she will be equally feverish. do not be afraid to pray together. this girl will become your one of your best friends in the world.

in a few years from now you will walk out of a friday afternoon practice with a body drained from a distance swim, eyes burning with chlorine, and mind fatigued from competition. do not forget on this day to go and visit your best friend who is not feeling well. do not forget to bring her a get well present because she loves presents. her room is a shrine to color. do not forget to brush her thick black hair so long you could live in it. do not leave the room without talking to her about your boyfriend and how she is sprung for the introverted Russian boy with an older brother so beautiful that he reminded you of snow. etch into your mind the calla lily rosary she has taken to bed with her and rests between her thumb and middle finger as she spells out all the details of how she wants to kiss the Russian. do not forget to do any of this. on monday she'll be dead.

wear her ring everyday on your middle finger until the years and mornings spent sleeping instead of swimming have rounded you out and you must move the ring to another finger. do not fear this. do not put away the ring for the fear of the flesh. your body and soul will round with time as you move away from girl and to woman. this is natural. do not waste time or creativity on the fruitless pursuit of a perfect body. dear sweet girl, love your precious fingers.

when you are 26 you will be showering. it will be snowing outside. you will not be living in los angeles. your breath will unfurl against the cold air. you will submerge in heat, water, and lather. this same ring will catch your hair tugging at the tangled mess of waves. you will think of your job, the time sheets unsigned, the patient returning with a question, and the coffee pot left out. you will think of the man you love as a brother, or a friend, or a lover, or something in-between. for a moment as your hair grips your ring you will think of this best friend and her long unruly mane. you will think back to when she died and you could not speak to anyone. you could only manage a shower letting the water's weight and monologue move you from one life to the next.

sweet girl, do not forget water will always be your vector to self.



photo: me at age 15 before a water polo away game with blue lipstick

autumn list

this fall i am:

waiting to hear back from grad schools.
appreciating my new roommate.
loving the fall colors.
drinking many, many cups of coffee.
visiting my sf family.
thinking about new mexico.
walking my lake.

here are a few shots of colorado fall.

holy mother of sauciness and the like

that is an excessively indulgent title for a post, yet it has to be said that this is an excessively indulgent recipe. it's simple. it makes almost any pie better. it makes almost any day brighter. it makes almost any waist wider.

this is not for the faint of heart. it is not for the feverish dieter or the concerned citizen. it's for the long days. it's for when you want to say, "honey you are so dang handsome that i've decided to pour heaven all over your food." it's that type of sauce.
Fixings:

1 stick butter softened, but not melted
1 to 1 1/2 cups powdered sugar
2 Tbl Whiskey or Kahlua (whiskey is best unless the dessert you're heaping it on has chocolate as a primary ingredient)

Mixings:
Mix the butter until it's fluffy and add the sugar slowly. Then mix in the booze. Heap on top of pie or any other food of your choosing.

It can be stored in the fridge for later indulgences.

Thank you Ree Drummond!

Halloween Cup 2012

yesterday one of my closest friends in denver moved with her new hubby to the east coast. i'm happy she'll be in the fall new england glory, but i'm going to miss her a lot. at her going away sleep over she brought up a most excellent idea that i will share here as i think that many people should adopt the idea of the halloween cup. the concept and origin are listed below:
why: my friend for one of her going away gifts got a large trophy that reads, "best halloween costume". she loves dressing up. it was fitting and generally awesome. something has to be done with it.
what/when: the idea is that there will be an annual get together on the weekend closest to halloween to compete for this trophy among our friends. the inaugural cup will begin in 2012. i am very excited. perhaps unreasonably excited. note the fervor with which my friends and i embrace dressing up below (and above).
where: each year the party will be thrown by the person who won the cup the year before. next year it will be at my friends house in Connecticut. then whoever wins it hosts the next party.
how: how will i contain myself until next halloween? unanswered question....

do you have fun holiday traditions?



photos: jedi ballerina and retro virus (had to be there), not quite sure...any occasion to wear that gold skirt, nymphs for beltane...yes beltane, tuesday dinner in college, rainbow bright, because it's always a good idea to dress up and sing on tables, the cook crew at sierra camp 2006.