mezcla

all i have to say is phew. it has been extremely annoying to me these past few weeks that my picture header was always on the left side, and not centered. well, after some searching last night, i discovered how to center it! no, i have not yet figured out how to make it stretch the whole width of my blog, but maybe it's just not possible?

the banner above is one i created myself....and all of the pictures are actually mine (i took all except the ones of myself...obviously). however, i'm just not sure i like this look as much as one larger picture. i really wanted to use my own pictures though, and i wanted to use a mix of them. mezcla. that's "mix" or "blend" in spanish...i like that word.

anyway, i suppose this shouldn't be my priority on one of my precious last few days in madison before i move to iowa city, but what can you do? when motivation calls....

part of the problem is i don't even know what to do. this is when i need leah to tell me exactly what step to take next, or molly- she's also good at that. i may just have to recruit my mom for that position, seeing as she's the one close at hand...

wish me luck packing, or organizing or planning or whatever it is i'll be doing...

"broken songs"

new favorite song.
i could listen to it over and over...it is soothing, and sad, and true.
it never lasts long enough.

click below, and have a listen.

"broken songs" by jim ward, featuring tegan quin.

she makes me happy

i'm not even going to pretend like my blog keeps you up to date on my day-to-day activities...by now you all know this isn't true. but i do like to have this space to spill some words or thoughts every now and then. now, onto the real subject of this blog.

She , despite her best intentions, looooves to nap. (she was napping at the time this post was originally written.)

She helps me make sense of things.

She thinks i'm way better than i am, but who doesn't like to be thought of that way?

She knows how to make spaces good places to be in...

She always has an idea and, thank goodness, a decision.

She has a deep, wise intuition and knows how to hear it.

She leaves her mark, and it's the sort of mark that pulls your gaze to it over and over again- the sort of mark that reassures you.

She is silly...you should have heard her 4-year-old giggle...sometimes you still can.

She makes saying goodbye practically impossible.

my sister is funny.

well, that's really all i had to say. in the title. no need to babble on when you already know the point. here are some pictures to back me up. here is also a link to her blog- her latest post is also proof: molly's blog(as you can see, just put on a country song- i.e. "american honey," and she's off...)(she can also tend to become a bit violent, and really doesn't like to give up until she has won....poor marta)
(she offers food to those without...or the inanimate)(she's a ham in front of the camera....man, you should have seen her when she was 7...)

all of these pictures are from one weekend. imagine the pictures that 25 years yields...mhmm. we got some good ones.

i love her.

i am. i am. i am.

"i took a deep breath and listened to the old bray of my heart. i am. i am. i am."
-sylvia plath

needing lots of reminders and thoughts like this, lately...

i am. i am. i am.

sea of clouds

today i'm in a sea of clouds. nothing i have done, or am doing, seems quite right in this light.

gregory boyle writes in his book tattoos on the heart:
(for those of you not familiar with his "language," or his book/work, he works in some of the most dangerous neighborhoods of L.A. where gangs and gang violence are prevalent, and his work is focused on bringing people out of gangs; a "homie" is a very close friend who respects you, would do anything for you....)

we still have to put our western minds in a headlock and wrestle them to the ground. we think "blemishes" are shortcomings. we think our continually gnarly hardwired responses are not just proof of our humanity but (somehow) of our unworthiness. Homies are particularly culpable here. In an acute gangster version of the stockholm syndrome, homies identify with, and grow attached to, their weaknesses and difficulties and burdens. you hope, in light of this, to shift their attention and allegiance to their own basic goodness. you show them the bright blue sky of their sacredness, and the are transfixed only by the ominous clouds. you stand there with them and encourage them to stare above and wait twenty minutes. "you are the sky," as pema chodron would insist. "everything else, it's just weather."

(.....and then later he writes....)

jesus says "you are the light of the world." i like even more what jesus doesn't say. he does not say "one day, if you are more perfect and try really hard, you'll be light." he doesn't say "if you play by the rules, cross your t's and dot your i's then maybe you'll become light." no. he says, straight out, "you are the light." it is the truth of who you are, waiting only for you to discover it. so, for god's sake, don't move. no need to contort yourself to be any different than who you are.

(end quote)

i am the sky. i am the light of the world. right now, even in this moment.

happy, happy, happy

today thomas and i went to the playground. he can't get enough of the swing. after telling me how "awfum"(awesome) my sister is (i totally agree), he spontaneously bursts into song...his own song. and judging by the words (they went something like "happy, happy, happy, happy, happy") i think i know the title- "happy." the feeling was pretty contagious...

we talked about the birdies, and the doggies (not to be confused with "dogs," according to thomas). and we talked about how his brother, sam, went on a bus once. and the fire hydrant across the street, and how the firefighters get the water out for fires. and the woman (not a "lady," says thomas, but a "someone") across the street mowing her lawn. so many things to talk about at the park.

thanks, thomas, for making me happy.