Happy Valentine's Day.
I'm not a huge fan of the holiday, but it does bring attention and focus to celebrating relationships. But this year, I want to remind myself, and everyone else that it's also an opportunity to be mindful of your relationship with yourself. Keep some energy kindled in your core so you have a bountiful source to offer. Take a moment tomorrow to accept yourself for who you are, and just rest in that moment. It's not something we easily grant ourselves. It's not prideful, it's not selfish (but it is self-centered, self-balanced), it is turning towards the internal. A gentle reminder to be kind and nurturing to ourselves.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Monday, February 7, 2011
Caught up in the details.
How often do we dwell on the bad shit?
It's overwhelming sometimes. It is very easy to sink, down, down into despair and never resurface.
Life is hard. It only get's harder as time goes on, and the years roll by. But I've decided, this evening, to write a list of my favorite things. I haven't limited it to simple things, and I haven't limited it to sweeping life philosophies. Because when it comes down to it, my existence in this universe is multi-channeled, and I have the freedom to explore my desires, and to grab onto that which makes my life beautiful. What is your list of favorite things?
Showering in the evenings (not so late that my hair is still wet when I go to bed). The feeling of clean skin sliding under the covers is absolutely delicious. And if the sheets are freshly washed, all the better!
Recognizing the potential and opportunity in a painful situation, and finding the strength and confidence and desire to pursue that.
Reading before bed. It's a pleasure I rarely give myself. But it's wonderful when I do!
Stumbling across some old album you used to listen to as a kid/young teenager. Even if the music is awful (or if it still speaks to you now), it's a charming little flashback that unearths perspective regarding where I was at 13, and where I am now.
Yoga. Oh god, oh wonderful, wonderful spirit, I love love love yoga. Come back to the breath, always the breath. Breathing into the discomfort sends my distorted muscles and mind into strength and balance. And I've only brushed the tip of what's possible.
Figuring out that I've only just begun.
Falling into vulnerability, whether it be in someone's arms, or in myself. It's a beautiful and frightening place to be.
Opposites. Or more specifically, the delightful tension they create between them.
Finding the balance between my own perspective and another.
Discovering the spectrum of things.
Sushi. Good sushi. And ginger. I love ginger how other people love wasabi.
Sudden inspiration, and having someone who's kind and creative enough to be my wall to bounce things off of, and letting me be their wall.
Crying. Though not particularly in public. But there have been multiple times in my short existence where I've felt so overcome that sobbing feels a little like an emotional (granted, not as happy happy pleasurey) orgasm.
Being reminded that I don't have to take myself seriously.
Queer. Courage. Authenticity. The strength to call something by its true name.
It's overwhelming sometimes. It is very easy to sink, down, down into despair and never resurface.
Life is hard. It only get's harder as time goes on, and the years roll by. But I've decided, this evening, to write a list of my favorite things. I haven't limited it to simple things, and I haven't limited it to sweeping life philosophies. Because when it comes down to it, my existence in this universe is multi-channeled, and I have the freedom to explore my desires, and to grab onto that which makes my life beautiful. What is your list of favorite things?
Showering in the evenings (not so late that my hair is still wet when I go to bed). The feeling of clean skin sliding under the covers is absolutely delicious. And if the sheets are freshly washed, all the better!
Recognizing the potential and opportunity in a painful situation, and finding the strength and confidence and desire to pursue that.
Reading before bed. It's a pleasure I rarely give myself. But it's wonderful when I do!
Stumbling across some old album you used to listen to as a kid/young teenager. Even if the music is awful (or if it still speaks to you now), it's a charming little flashback that unearths perspective regarding where I was at 13, and where I am now.
Yoga. Oh god, oh wonderful, wonderful spirit, I love love love yoga. Come back to the breath, always the breath. Breathing into the discomfort sends my distorted muscles and mind into strength and balance. And I've only brushed the tip of what's possible.
Figuring out that I've only just begun.
Falling into vulnerability, whether it be in someone's arms, or in myself. It's a beautiful and frightening place to be.
Opposites. Or more specifically, the delightful tension they create between them.
Finding the balance between my own perspective and another.
Discovering the spectrum of things.
Sushi. Good sushi. And ginger. I love ginger how other people love wasabi.
Sudden inspiration, and having someone who's kind and creative enough to be my wall to bounce things off of, and letting me be their wall.
Crying. Though not particularly in public. But there have been multiple times in my short existence where I've felt so overcome that sobbing feels a little like an emotional (granted, not as happy happy pleasurey) orgasm.
Being reminded that I don't have to take myself seriously.
Queer. Courage. Authenticity. The strength to call something by its true name.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
2.5.11
If every blog I started began with “Life changes” I think I'd start to feel like I was beating a dead horse. Then I could start saying, “The more it changes, the more it stays the same” and more of those lovely fucking phrases we like to throw about like rice at a wedding.
Do they still do that?
But anyway, the truth is I mostly blog when there's some big fuckin' event that sends my little ass spinning down the rabbit hole, clad in that familiar blue and white (to help push the comparison along). And life does change, even if it changes back to something in a slightly different form with the same hairstyle but different color. Life events seem for me to feel like a Salvador Dali film. I'm never really quite sure what I'm looking at right after I watch it, and all my thoughts and emotions seem far away and dream-like. It takes a good deal of time for me to pull meaning and sense from the splashes of images my fading memory slowly puts back together like a badly configured puzzle that comes with a pair of scissors.
Reflection is kind of like an art in that way. Subjectivity pulled from subjectively experienced occurrences. You think there's a right way to go about it, so you start to place piece after piece next to each other, but soon find there are certain parts that are just too small, or is a square instead of a semi-circle. To make matters worse, the puzzle is a copy of a Hans Hoffman painting, and it's one where you don't really remember what it looks like. So you have to improvise. It's your own Hoffman painting, uniquely tailored to your satisfaction.
Which is the trouble, isn't it? It isn't always about your own satisfaction, but at the same time, sometimes it must be. Definitions, definitions, what kind of damn satisfaction are we talking about? Just because the Rolling Stones can't seem to find it doesn't mean I can't. And here we find the balance between ego satisfaction and what is really needed to be happy.
Tricky, tricky. So it seems! It's not really, but we like to make it seem it is. Understandably so, our schedules and our patterns are of great comfort to habitual creatures like us. Simplicity underscores most of our experiences, I think, but it's simplicity that is the most easily disguised.
All of his is very convoluted (how ironic) and vague. But, the details will remain with me for a time, and I'll simply leave you with abstract philosophizing for you to ponder or to read and wonder what the hell I'm on about.
Do they still do that?
But anyway, the truth is I mostly blog when there's some big fuckin' event that sends my little ass spinning down the rabbit hole, clad in that familiar blue and white (to help push the comparison along). And life does change, even if it changes back to something in a slightly different form with the same hairstyle but different color. Life events seem for me to feel like a Salvador Dali film. I'm never really quite sure what I'm looking at right after I watch it, and all my thoughts and emotions seem far away and dream-like. It takes a good deal of time for me to pull meaning and sense from the splashes of images my fading memory slowly puts back together like a badly configured puzzle that comes with a pair of scissors.
Reflection is kind of like an art in that way. Subjectivity pulled from subjectively experienced occurrences. You think there's a right way to go about it, so you start to place piece after piece next to each other, but soon find there are certain parts that are just too small, or is a square instead of a semi-circle. To make matters worse, the puzzle is a copy of a Hans Hoffman painting, and it's one where you don't really remember what it looks like. So you have to improvise. It's your own Hoffman painting, uniquely tailored to your satisfaction.
Which is the trouble, isn't it? It isn't always about your own satisfaction, but at the same time, sometimes it must be. Definitions, definitions, what kind of damn satisfaction are we talking about? Just because the Rolling Stones can't seem to find it doesn't mean I can't. And here we find the balance between ego satisfaction and what is really needed to be happy.
Tricky, tricky. So it seems! It's not really, but we like to make it seem it is. Understandably so, our schedules and our patterns are of great comfort to habitual creatures like us. Simplicity underscores most of our experiences, I think, but it's simplicity that is the most easily disguised.
All of his is very convoluted (how ironic) and vague. But, the details will remain with me for a time, and I'll simply leave you with abstract philosophizing for you to ponder or to read and wonder what the hell I'm on about.
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