unprocessed

I have never had so many adjectives to describe myself, to describe my feelings.
Who is this person with emotions that breathe in thick like steam?

Disappointment, frustration, discouragement, anger, confusion
Excitement, peace, anticipation, expectation, hurt, hope....

Never in my life have I tasted so many flavors of life
The richness of it is making me sick
Too much, too quickly, without time in between to catch my breath

Hand on my heart to catch it from falling
Fingers on my wrist to count my racing heartbeat

Jazz Aspen Snowmass

concert: Nickel Creek
* impressive
* delicate, deliberate
* creative
* unique
Their whole setup made me want to move back to Montana just to join my brother's band so that we can step into the needy hearts of all Nickel Creek's adoring fans when they break up at the end of this tour. We could SO do what they do. (I need desperately to learn a stringed instrument. cello preferably).

concert: Ben Harper and the Innocent Criminals
* Ben Harper sings with an inspirational combination of peace and conviction in his delivery of every song
* I am never done being amazed at the amount of truth that come through in the lyrics and performance of each and every song this man writes
* the band as a whole was absolutely SEAMLESS in their musicianship together
* I stood on my chair (making me only slightly taller than the average male there) and found myself with an immediately perfect view of both the screen and the stage
* the sound technician for this show was brilliant, not ONE word missed, not one moment of wishing something was louder or softer or clearer, brilliant (rare)
* My slightly elevated postition made me right about the same height as the rising haze over the crowd - contact high??? or was it just that i was standing on my chair?
* this concert was the most passionate form of communication I have ever

Thanks to everyone who helped me go to this show. You're amazing!

slipping into something comfortable

tea is my new nightly ritual, reaching into the Celestial Seasonings sampler box without looking gives the experience a sense of spontaneity

ryan adams is my most consistent companion of late, with him i don't have to talk
i like just listening, contrary to popular belief most days i'd rather just listen

my office makes me restless, i'm convinced it's the fluorescent lights
counting the hours at work is a recent development i'm trying to remedy, i feel like i'm back in high school marking off the days until summer break

gratitude has become an almost tangible emotion, there are those I can touch who are blessings to me by their very nature
i don't often feel strongly, this is a happy addition

of all the longings within me that I am aware of there is one that I would not have expected of myself - the desire for cold, crisp air and rain that comes around more often than not
some years summer can't be long enough, this is not that year

autumn, this year it carries a sense of anticipation and relief that I can't quite explain
hot drinks, i miss cappuccinos served with a saucer, a small spoon and a stick shaped packet of sugar
sweaters, every day i could wear a hoodie with its generally to small to be used hood and its comforting front pocket
blankets, i love that cool air means falling asleep every night under the comforting weight of wool and down and cotton all atop each other

it's like being at that moment on the edge of sleep, anticipating the dreams that will come and yet content to lie still and let the day slip away first
the transition from season to season happens a little more often for me than some
each shifting and juxtaposition of normal and new feels and looks different than the last

this time, for whatever reason, it feels like slipping into something comfortable

to my future self

don't be lazy.
don't be inspired without doing something about it.
don't be afraid of failure.
keep a loose grip on the things you think are important.
keep writing down the things you get passionate about.
don't make choices unless they direct you toward those things.
recognize the difference between cautious wisdom and controlling fear.
write songs to teach.
make space in your life (or iPod) for new music.
make space in your heart for new people.
grieve when you need to.
remember that you have something to offer.
take care of you, make time to be alone.
don't let anticipation steal your now.
take every opportunity to learn new languages, explore new art, meet new people and to get more stamps in your passport.
finish a song every once in a while, even if you don't like the result.
pray out loud when no one is listening.
remember that your decision to be selfish effects lives.
raise awareness.
find an outlet for extravagent love.
be kind.
smile, alot.
take pictures of people you love.
call your dad for no reason.
get up early sometimes.
sleep all day sometimes.
do something nice for no reason to someone you don't know well.
ask God for opportunities to be prophetic.
seek outlets for creativity in new forms.
paint.
laugh.
turn off your phone.
be in love and not scared.
pray for your husband, even if you haven't met.
have lunch with your grandmother.
be early, often.
be happy all by yourself.
send birthday and christmas cards.
work out.
walk somewhere instead of driving.
drop everything to listen to the rain.

as usual

i'm laying in my bed in the middle of the afternoon comforted by the sounds of the first good rain storm of this summer blowing outside my window. as usual am late to somewhere and haven't even started getting ready and even that knowledge isn't motivating me to seperate from this little haven of rest i've found just inside the window from the storm. i find my position in life this afternoon to be both literal and figurative.
clouds have rolled off the mountains and out onto the plains now for weeks withouth turning a good storm, my thoughts have tickled the edge of depth in my heart without forming sentances for longer than I care to recall. I've been stuck in the thick air of humidity that won't turn to rain in the way that i've been wanting to tell someone, anyone, how i've been feeling but finding myself without outlet or without words and sometimes just without time to go looking.
I am, as of yet, unreleased. So in that I find myself jealous of the clouds who's humid tension has now found the sweet release of rain. There have been moments with salty rain drops have gathered at the edge of my mascara, but they are nothing compared to the sweet release of summer rain, complete with lightening flashes and rumbling thunder, which i so desperately want. Release, I do not have.

I should make tea, clear a space on the couch underneath the window and write another chapter to the book I started two years ago. I should cry, write another love song and stand outside until i'm wet enough not to know if i'm crying or just enjoying the rain.

But I have somewhere to be, and i'm late. Sounds like the rain is dying down anyhow, maybe next time.

i think i've found my place

peaberry coffee: colorado mills: outside seating: good coffee: sunshine and a view of the mountains

something about this place just works for me. it's got all the essentials neccesary for away/alone time. it's only about ten minutes from home, but that's far enough to decrease the liklihood of running into someone from work, which is almost impossible without leaving our town. so i can just hop on the freeway and 15 minutes later i'm setting up camp at an outside table with an umbrella, connecting to free internet, suntanning my legs, looking at the mountain and drinking coffee that doesn't resemble starbucks in any way. ****sigh of relief***

back home i had several such corners of the world i could disappear and tuck myself into. here i had to keep my eyes open for a little while to find it. this is me and my laptop's third visit and we think this place is a keeper. Shhhh....don't tell anyone where to find me.

in this exact moment I want for nothing to improve the situation. i even feel inspired enough to believe that i could become a frequent blogger again. though i doubt i have retained any sort of readership in my sporatic posting over the last three + years....i write for me and the idea invites me.

///a successful weekend on almost every account//

waking up to a total downpour by a phone call letting me know that something else in my department at work has broken and then proceeding to get cramps as i went into work on a saturday wouldn't seem like the recipe for a successful weekend. i should at this point remind myself that not every day should be judged by its beginning.

the rain, to most, would have been depressing. in this land of bipolar weather a good solid rain was comforting.
the phone call, though momentarily frustrating, was surprisingly tame and regretably common in theme. i can't say it caught me off guard, things in my department have a way of screwing themselves up....it's just my job to manage the crisis, not fix them. Prevention is an idea I can only dream about.

the cramps. that's life.

as for working on a saturday goes, i would consider it a contribution to the success of the weekend, not a detriment. LOVE FEAST. this celebration happens once a quarter and some of the bulk of the planning falls to me. i am the food end of things and carry the weight of making sure that 150 people get hot, tastey, theme appropriate food. thankfully there were only a few short moments in the course of my afternoon preparations in which I wondered about the shape of the evening should my efforts come to complete failure. again with much thanks to a graceful God I did not, in fact, have to find out how to deal with this kind of failure. all this to say that the social, entertainment and culinary elements of the 50's themed evening fell together perfectly and by the time I left the building (after about an hour of twisting to the oldies!) the sky had cleared and the weather was well on it's way to the sunshiny goodness i've been enjoying today.

the weather in colorado really does run on some sort of throw switch. one moment on, the next off. today, however, has furthered the statistic that I just made up in my head which says that the weather is at least 85% perfect 50% of the time.///

grace like this...

there is such, for this exact circumstance.
if only i could wrap my head around it.
there are some nights, or days, or afternoons, or times when i'm eating breakfast, or shopping for shampoo....when i feel the need for this grace more than others.
sappy love movies are not entirely to blame, but they are a guilty pleasure and should be avoided when my lonley bone is aching.
i will not and should not do anything to try and conjure up a remedy.
and this brings on the madness, for which I so desperately need this grace.
grace to be...here.
grace to be...now.
grace to be...waiting.

opportunities

weighing options, considering possibilities, balancing priorities
making choices, searching hearts, thinking deeply
writing thoughts, exploring ideas, working hard
watching the weather, waiting for rain, hoping for stars
needing a push, wanting an answer, hoping for ...

brick and stone inspired

why does it move me so?

pictures of faraway places

those which hold art and history and stories and lives that are not so unlike the ones which surround me

yet somehow beneath the glowing Tuscan sun

or in the shadow of the Alps

therein lies a mystery to me that stirs something deep

why does it move me so?

and if I had the freedom to go...

where would this longing take me

to whom would I go?

with whom would I venture?

and the season was...

home has been, these past 7 weeks, like how I imagine a long kiss goodbye. bitter-sweet, full of emotion and resignation. filled with land-mark experiences and last-time experiences. having the feeling of truly breaking away and moving on, while leaving only those strands of my life here connected which are the most true, strong and permanent.

it has been like autumn when you watch the leaves begin to change color and slowly drop to the ground. and in this watching, whether willing or not, the season changes and cool nights turn to icy cold. at last even the strongest leaves succumb to winter winds and blow away. change and beauty and climax and resolve and the steady, unfailing consistancy that time has to continue minute after minute; never slowing or speeding up to effect a different outcome.

being at home this season has been comfortable and reassuring, but not in that tucked in by the fire sort of way. comforting in the way that you are acutely aware of the texture of a wooden railing if it is the last thing you will touch before you jump from solid bridge to moving water below. that kind of comfort where you can touch something you know and then knowingly let go because it has served its purpose. to balance you until ready.

the series of returns I have made to this place where I grew up, where my family makes its home, has had many chapters full of discovery and growth and a lot of distractions, compromise, questions and dead ends. Each time I pass though this place has held something for me in the season. Now, for the first time, even though I never love saying goodbye to all this, I feel that I can let go because here holds no more for me now. it's a large page to turn and it's not without mourning, but it has an eerie yet exciting feeling of permanence. Like the word home has been chizzled off this place and it is ready to be rehung.

Denver.

thinking thoughts

it happens all the time. a moment of inspiration or a question i'd like to ponder will buzz around in the back of my head like a fly at a window. and then something interrupts this thought, and the fly finds a crack in the window and is lost to the outdoors which is my subconscious. is it narcissistic of me to find these thoughts entertaining and be disappointed to search my memory and find them gone, unprocessed? well, if so then call it my guilty pleasure.
is this inability to hang onto what seems important and worth exploring at the time another tell tale sign of my aging mind? I have never feared or loather growing old, but i wont't argue that it isn't inconvenient. I'm learning this at 22. To my knowledge i dont have wrinkles yet, but my ability to remember everything and never sleep if i dont want to is quickly fading. Is it time to start doing crossword puzzles and getting into bed by 10?
I hope not.
so, this is the explanation why ten minutes ago i thought i had all the makings of a deep, inspirational blog, and now I have only the question of where it's gone.
lame.