Sweet Darkness
You must learn one thing.
The world was made to be free in.
Give up all the other worlds except
the one to which you belong.
Sometimes it takes darkness and the
sweet confinement of your aloneness
to learn
anything or anyone
that does not bring you alive
is too small for you.
—David Whyte
Cheers! to the weekend, and to living, as opposed to existing. And one more toast to those who know the difference.
This is worth pondering. Does nature in her wisdom intentionally produce nonconformists, or find a use for them, enlisting their disparate talents in her service. Is there a place for everybody, a reason for everything, and we fail to understand some underlying cosmic logic?
Do acts that appear the most senseless to us have a rationale that we fail to appreciate? Are what we consider errors and mistakes really part of the grand design? How encompassing and integrated is the mosaic of life? Just how big and complex is this world that we define so freely and understand so poorly?
The Queen Must Die, And Other Affairs of Bees and Man – William Longgood
(thanks for the words, Lisa, and for the model, Julie!)
but i'm glad i didn't.
tri-x in mamiya c330 tlr, shortcake, november
Oh. Hi there. I was going to say, “Yikes. A week without blogging. I was just a little busy—falling. Did i miss anything while i was away?”
But I already know the answer: I didn’t miss one thing.
tri-x in mamiya c330 tlr
today, i sever the connection to my inner Wisdom with my own hands.
the Places She leads me, i cannot go because i am weak.
the Light She shows me, i cannot embody, because i am weak.
the River She floods, i cannot swim, because i am weak.
the Truth She sings, i cannot hear, because i am weak.
the Fruit She offers me, i cannot taste, because i am weak.
this threshold of Knowing is crossed, and so perhaps when i return, the door will be propped open.
but i know i will not return. i will search my whole life for that elusive gateway, and will not find it.
today i gather scraps of shed skin, and paste them to my face, because i am stupid.
because i am weak.
today i think of Orpheus, and plant seeds in my garden—let them be the Brave ones,
now that the frost has passed.
(but even Orpheus looked back.)
today i recognize that a bird in my backyard has called out,
(as i write this, shortcake says, “look, mama! a bird!”)
like a reminder of Morning,
and that i chose sleep, as did you, because we are weak.
(did you?)
this is not Bravery. this is not receptive Stillness. this is not bold Foolishness.
this is not silent Power.
this is smallness. because i am weak.
(does anyone have any chocolate?)
i’ll add a few inspiring, though not “pretty” links now, to completely contradict everything i just said:
a poem about dancing. yeow
i’ve always wanted to photograph people in the shower. check out this series. yeow.
in case you missed this on my facebook, yeeeow again:
shortcake + black marker lipstick. (i don't even wear lipstick. where did this compulsion come from?) digital (d200).
This is something i am not good at: being nice.
This is something i am good at: taking pictures.
This is a daughter of a new friend. (And who does not want a new friend that makes stove-top lattes with pure maple syrup and has loads of fresh kale growing in her backyard?) When I met this little girl I cried—literally had tears stream down my cheeks—because of her beautiful face. That was a little bit embarrassing.
This little session has inspired me. And so I’ve decided that if I do not introduce my new session offerings by next week, you have the right to punish me in any way you see fit. Ideas for consequences? I could probably use the motivation.
(This is something I am not good at: marketing.)
Our niece Kennedy was diagnosed with Leukemia when she was a year and a half old. I remember her little body covered in wires and tubes, with sunken eyes and yellow skin and thinning hair, sitting in the hospital bed that looked like a cage. Now that I am a mother, it is almost unfathomable to remember what she and her family endured during that time of tests, treatments, symptoms, and side effects.
BUT! SHE! SURVIVED!
Kennedy is now fourteen years old, healthy, and so very talented. Her stage voice blows me away—look out, Broadway! And her other artistic talents are budding, as well (obviously, see that photo!?!).
I’m going to confess to you that I am a bit of an asshole, because surely you were not aware of that already. And I’m sure I will offend most of you, but here it is: . . . I don’t really dig the whole volunteering thing. It seems relatively empty and self-servicing to me (or, that has been my experience). Generally, I think that if you are going to be of true service to the world, it is best all around to do your thing, or to get busy searching for said thing. People can run races for a cause or stand in protest for a cause or “help out” at whatever organization they think will be the most self-glorifying. But those who actually make the big differences in the world are the ones who have the creative and scientific vision, as well as the courage to implement their genius. (See? Asshole. Yeah, I know.)
At the same time, regarding Kennedy specifically, I think of the penny drives that were run, “Coins for Kennedy.” Yes, so there are little somethings we can do. I don’t think that doing the little things lets us off of the hook from being authentically fabulous, but I do think of this Helen Keller quote: “I am only one, but still I am one. I cannot do everything, but still I can do something; . . . I will not refuse to do something that I can do.“ I can ride a bike, at least, in hopes that the money raised from this event will help one of those scientific geniuses do their thing. (Also because it’s a really fun event with free frappuccinos.) And you could donate, in Kennedy’s honor. Or join me! But then get back to work on that thing of yours.
This is Kennedy now:
This past weekend, Louise and I went to investigate the theory that online people are actually real people. On a whim. To . . . Kansas.
It turns out—get this—they are! Real people, that is. Real-person Deb invited us into her home for the weekend, without agenda, without purpose (oh shit! I can do things for no reason!). Just . . . for fun. She caffeinated us and fed us and entertained us and photographed us (oh shit! i have a face!) and even let us borrow her super-cute real-person husband as, oh, you know, our own personal pilot (oh shit! i can choose to fly!). Just . . . for fun. Real-person Aimee met us on Saturday and helped us drink a bottle of wine and splurge on a few items of over-priced clothing at Anthropologie (oh, shit! i can buy an apple shirt! because who does not want a shirt with apples all over it?). Just for . . . well, you get the idea.
aimee + me, holga fisheye
It was a weekend full of frivolous nonsense. It was not rational in the least. And it was absolutely wonderful.
me + deb + rock music
It was incredible to spend time with all of these three women, so full of vitality and wisdom and beauty. One thing that struck me about them was the connection they have to their own power. It is not an I-have-something-to-prove sort of thing, but a certain inner knowing and acceptance and manifestation of their own unique gifts. I am so inspired by them all, by their power and joy and authenticity and the bravery to challenge the concepts of “easy” and “safe” in order to live their own fabulous truths. Lately, I’ve been remembering: (oh, shit!) I am a real person with my own real talents and my own real choices and my own real place in the story. There is the balance between 1., knowing that you are enough, that “all you had to do was be born,” and 2., being connected to that truth and purpose that you were born with, and living. It’s all about the mojo, y’awl. (Oh shit! That mojo is powerful, though. So watch out, when it hits you.)
julie (louise) + me (thelma) + deb (superstar)
AND P.S., HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME! (please do sing.)
