Wednesday, August 4, 2010

On Dreams

All last week my brain moved as if a damn broke and water was rushing to each part of my brain. Dreams...they are big and small yet the sad part is that they tend to be us chasing them because we want money, or something better for ourselves. Yes, these are good, but what if my dreams don't include money? What if my dreams change on a daily basis? And what if my dream, one day, is playing cards with my friend Joyce, and the next day have cocktails on the porch? These dreams don't pay in money, but they offer my soul some peace and not to be cheezy's priceless.

When I asked Jake about what he thought about this he said: "when someone chases their dreams usually the money follows because they are doing what they are meant to do." He's right..all the articles I've read in Outside Magazine are about people fighting the odds. Taking chances, jumping..and there is ALWAYS, always someone who finds out about what they want to do and offer sponsorship. Awesome.

So get out there..struggle a bit and see what happens!

Sunday, April 11, 2010

How I Measure...

Today as I was mopping the floors at the gym I was haunted by the idea that at some point I am going to have to confront the woman who measured me against others, against society, never against who I really was. That thought led me to thinking even further: how do we measure ourselves when it comes to success?
I wrote a list of things that I felt that made me successful. Among some of those things...I'm honest, I don't cheat, steal or lie. I've learned to love impossible people, that hate is a word that doesn't fit into my vocabulary and (according to my dad) I do what I say I'm going to do. when I sat back a reread the rest of my list I realized that my list itself, and the fact that I could write one about myself is a success.

You see, I've made a lot of money and never got ahead. I woke up early, worked hard, went to bed late. I've made sacrifices and excuses and I still felt like I was looking for me somewhere inside the expectations of success that others had for me.
So I moved. I struggle with having enough money. I have no local family (though I inherited one), I have no boyfriend, no kids--but I've done what my heart called for. I've done everything I wrote in my journals I would do. I'm here, sitting in my very own apartment in beautiful Vermont. I've grown into my skin and grown to love myself for me and not what I dreamed I should be. I'm a writer....a writer who has the guts to write a memoir but is scared shitless of how the people involved will receive it--but I'm doing it...I'm honoring myself by living my by own standards and not that of others.

I feel I am a walking success story--it may not be what others wanted for me, and I may not make enough money or have material possessions, but I'm me...that's awesome!

Monday, March 29, 2010

A Poem by Louise Erdrich

Advice to Myself

Leave the dishes.
Let the celery rot in the bottom drawer of the refrigerator
and an earthen scum harden on the kitchen floor.
Leave the black crumbs in the bottom of the toaster.
Throw the cracked bowl out and don't patch the cup.
Don't patch anything. Don't mend. Buy safety pins.
Don't even sew on a button.
Let the wind have its way, then the earth
that invades as dust and then the dead
foaming up in gray rolls underneath the couch.
Talk to them. Tell them they are welcome.
Don't keep all the pieces of the puzzles
or the doll's tiny shoes in pairs, don't worry
who uses whose toothbrush or if anything
matches, at all.
Except one word to another. Or a thought.
Pursue the authentic-decide first
what is authentic,
then go after it with all your heart.
Your heart, that place
you don't even think of cleaning out.
That closet stuffed with savage mementos.
Don't sort the paper clips from screws from saved baby teeth
or worry if we're all eating cereal for dinner
again. Don't answer the telephone, ever,
or weep over anything at all that breaks.
Pink molds will grow within those sealed cartons
in the refrigerator. Accept new forms of life
and talk to the dead
who drift in though the screened windows, who collect
patiently on the tops of food jars and books.
Recycle the mail, don't read it, don't read anything
except what destroys
the insulation between yourself and your experience
or what pulls down or what strikes at or what shatters
this ruse you call necessity.

Friday, March 26, 2010

The seven Deadly Sins used to be 8 !

Apparently the seven deadly sins were written by a monk who was exiled into an Egyptian desert because he was having an affair with an aristocrats wife. This monk, who has a long ass name, was without the company of anyone for a very long time before writing the list.

The seven deadly sins were never printed in the bible but in Dante Alighieri's "Inferno."

Now think about this: I was watching something on the History Channel today about the coming about of the prison system around the world. Seems that when this system first opened its doors to bad people these people were left alone...alone in their cells, alone to eat, never getting the company of another human being. The narrator of this show continued to tell me (the watcher) that most of these prisoners went crazy for the lack of emotional and physical stimulation which is why we integrate prisoners with one another now.

So what does this say about that first guy I mentioned? Think about it: alone for long periods of time = insanity. Alone for long periods of time gives a person the time to be inside his/her own head where left without contact of other human conversation = a cycle of thoughts that never leave the brain, that never find syllables.

I've always been a seeker of truth and information. I read a lot about anything that interests me, but I've learned that if one can't express these thoughts and talk about them with someone these thoughts are often irrational (which is why I have to verbally hear my thoughts in order to see if they make sense).

So apparently, millions of people around the world feel guilty or shameful because of their own human desires. I am one of those people. A scholar on the show quoted Mary: "there is no such thing as sin." So I ask you, my reader, what do you believe? If there is one thing that I learned from my Literature studies is "believe nothing that you read." Well, you can believe it if you want to , but you must always remember, the older the texts the better chance you get for misinterpretation in its translation over the years.

So a deprived monk, who had sex with someone's wife went crazy from being alone too long and feeling guilty about what he had done wrote a list that some how got into the hands of a poet. That poet wrote a book and the church accepted it as their own. Typical!

So no matter if this is true or not, it's true for me that nothing written can be taken at face value. Not even this blog!

Oh yeah, the 8th Deadly Sin was, get this, "sadness!" So in order to be a true child of God all we had to do is feel...nothing except guilt for thinking about how we feel!

Any thoughts?

Thursday, March 25, 2010

Keeping Things Whole - Mark Strand

"In a field
I am the absence
of field.
This is
always the case.
Wherever I am
I am what is missing.

When I walk
I part the air
and always
the air moves in
to fill the spaces
where my body's been.

We all have reasons
for moving.
I move
to keep things whole."


Revival road is the name of the chapter in the book I’m reading.

I’ve attempted to read this book three times over the last few years.

I wrote the date of each attempt on the first page inside the cover.

Last night I started it again

but this time I left the date blank.

Maybe I don’t want to remember my failures.

My favorite line in this chapter is:

“[…] I am leaning toward him, farther, farther.

Do I right myself? This is not an aesthetic choice.”

I’m really not sure why I didn’t scratch the month and day and year

next to the others

except that it felt right

at the time.

Just like my friends body sewed to mine.

It felt right

at the time.

Maybe next time I pick up the book

I’ll feel differently about it

about me

about my choices.


Revival is an album I love.

My favorite line off this album is:

“Well the night came undone like a party dress

and fell at her feet in a beautiful mess.”

Late last night I noticed a pattern of revival:


Some say I am too young to recognize the full strength

of what’s it’s like to live, die, and be reborn

but tell that to my heart

and the innards of my blood

scratching at my soul

because right now I am the process

of revival.

There comes a time where one has to decide to literally be (or not to be).