August Break

Cold honeydew melon with mint and crystallized ginger served with cool water and a lemon custard with raspberry puree. This is the lovely meal my friend Bertha prepared for a few of us at her Going Away Garden Party. Soon, I will be driving her to the airport and will hug her goodbye before she boards the plane back to Mexico.

Soon, I too will be on a plane. But I will be heading back to New York for more training at The Interdependence Project. I'm VERY excited and looking forward to being in New York again. Yay!

So, as you may have guessed from the title, I am taking a little break. I've already been a bit absent from here, I know. This will be an "official" break for the month of August. However, I will be posting photos (exciting, non?). My goal is to post a new photo every couple of days, maybe with a caption or two, maybe not. We'll see. But I want to get back into posting more often, without the pressure of publishing a full on blog post (Granted, this pressure comes only from myself...but you know how it is.).

I got this wonderful idea for an August break from the always fabulous, Susannah Conway. If you'd like to join the August Break or if you'd just like to see what other people are doing, check it out. Should be fun.

Have a wonderful August! Stay cool out there...

(Currently listening to and loving this...Pyrakantha by Balmorhea.)

A morning on the High Line

I was surprised by the flowers. I hadn't expected so many. I was dazzled and kneeled down numerous times to take photos and lean into them. The stark contrast between the old buildings and the bright colors fascinated me. At one point, I stood in front of a wall of green ivy, mesmerized by the leaves gently bopping up and down.

From the moment I learned about the High Line, an elevated park that extends along the west side of Manhattan (check out this fabulous video with Robert Hammond to learn the history behind it) I wanted to see it. So, on this particular warm and sticky Monday morning, I made my way through Chelsea and ascended some stairs to begin my stroll.

But in the midst of all the flowers and tourists, I unexpectedly thought of my grandmother. I lowered my camera and tried to imagine what it was like for her to grow up in New York (Brooklyn, to be exact). She had had a hard life here. She had had a hard life period. I wondered what she would think of this place. She had always had a knack for keeping plants alive and flourishing. Unlike me. Though I love plants, flowers and trees immensely, I can barely keep a cactus alive.

New York City can be rough, overwhelming and exhausting. It can also be incredibly beautiful - the people, the food, the noises, the smells, the city blocks, the flowers (the daffodils!), the parks… So much contrast. I think my grandmother would have liked this place.

(This post is dedicated to both of my grandmothers - Ola Mae Rains and Gene Clift, who passed away this year).


Sometimes I fantasize about being a unicorn

Thirty five year old polaroid film. Yes, that's right. Discovered with an old polaroid camera my stepfather found at an estate sale. It was still sealed, the packaging in almost mint condition and perfectly preserved.

Naturally, I couldn't wait to open it.

And open it I did. Breathlessly. And then shoved it into my SX-70 land camera and took off for the Zilker Botanical Garden to take pictures of flowers. As I arrived and approached a beautiful lotus flower floating in murky water, I opened up my camera and prepared the first shot. Then…nothing. Nada. Zilch! No gratifying click (ugh!).

The film was just too old. The battery no longer worked. Disappointed, I put away my land camera and whipped out my trusty DSLR instead.

That's when I noticed them. The Faerie houses. The Zilker Botanical Garden just happened to be hosting the very first annual Faerie House and Garden competition. And this day was the last day.

The little kid in me jumped up and down. I might have squealed.

So, I didn't get the chance to play around with polaroid film (this time), but I did get the chance to peek into these magical little structures.

And that (almost) elusive lotus...

(You're still here! A little goodie for you then, dear reader. Currently loving Chvrches - Lies. Enjoy.)

The purpose of life...is to dance! dance! dance!

Some might say that dancing is a frivolous act. I have come to believe that it is essential to life.

And by dancing, I mean all kinds, from the professional performing in a ballet to the amateur sliding across the living room floor in his socks (you know who you are!).

In New York City recently, my friend Ambika taught a group of us how to Bollywood dance at The Open Center. I was very reluctant at first. Me? Bollywood dance?? But I had a little liquid encouragement and the warm and welcoming presence of my new friends. So I did it. And I was terrible! But I had so much fun.

No matter how old you are or how crazy life gets, don't forget to dance.

(This is my kind of Bollywood dancing)

Happy Spring (suck it winter!)

Spring in New York City. A weekend of intense meditation training with some incredibly beautiful people (along with some surprise Bollywood dancing!). And a birthday full of sleeping in, sightseeing, wine drinking, cake and cookie eating and blister getting.

All in all, probably the best birthday I've had in years.

Hello 36. You're lookin' good.

Immersion Training at The Interdependence Project

On the Bowery

Central Park

Red leaves in Central Park

Little Italy

Chinatown / Little Italy

Williamsburg, Brooklyn

(Currently listening to and loving Passion Pit - Cry Like A Ghost)

Questions to ask yourself if you're single (or not)

"Write about being single," my friend Phil said.

"Well, okay," I replied. "I think I can do that."

"So, how long have you been single?" I asked.

"Three months."

"Oh dear, is that all?"

I have been single for two years now. I think I'm starting to forget what it's like to be in a relationship. Don't get me wrong, I've met some fabulous gentlemen during this time. But nothing has blossomed, for various reasons.

When you're single in a world where couples and young families are the norm (a.k.a. your thirties), it can be easy to fall prey to the question, What's wrong with me? And I admit, I have wrestled with this question for a very long time. But I have come to the conclusion that it is the wrong question.

Allow me to explain.

Almost everyone I know carries with them a deep-seated feeling that something is wrong with them, coupled or not. Even when I have been in relationships, I recall the feeling of not being quite right or of not feeling like enough. Being with someone does not make this feeling go away. Okay, at first, yes, it seems to magically disappear amongst all the lusty wonder of getting to know someone new. But then, like clockwork, the feeling that something is not quite right, rears its nasty head. Sometimes, if you're lucky, you meet a person who will stare down this nastiness with you (and even help you laugh about it). But ultimately, not even the sexiest man alive can save you from this very personal battle. All he can do is delay it for a little while with all his sexiness (not that there's anything wrong with that...ahem).

So, instead of torturing myself with the question, "What's wrong with me?" I've started to turn this question on its head and ask, "What would it be like to feel like a whole human being, regardless of my relationship status?" And, "What would it feel like to wake up every morning confident in my own skin, tender and openhearted?" Or, at the very least, "What would it feel like not to wake up to some ridiculous judgments that only make me feel small?"

I've had enough of not feeling like enough. Single or not. There is nothing wrong with me (there is nothing wrong with you).

(Currently listening to and in love with James Blake's voice. Listen.)

Some day

I go through waves. Of wanting and not wanting. Caring and not caring. For much of my adult life I have stated that I do not want kids. Maybe some day, I thought. When I'm older or when I'm established or when the time is right. Well, I am older now (and apparently should have had kids when I was 25).

So, sometimes I am overcome by the grief of realizing that I may never have children and I break down. Other times I am settled and okay with it.

Despite this realization, I am actually really happy with everything I am doing in my life right now. I am stoked that I get to participate in an intensive training program in meditation at The Interdependence Project and travel to New York six times out of the year (!). I get to do all kinds of fabulous things that get me fired up every morning. My life is full and fragrant and bursting.

But there is a part of me that feels increasingly disconnected from other women and this eats at me. Even the earth is referred to as a mother. Where does that leave me? If I am not a mother am I still not a woman? If I am not passing on my DNA, does that make me expendable?

Please don't get me wrong. I have an enormous amount of respect for what some of my friends go through every day. From what I can tell, being a parent looks like one of the most difficult and disgusting jobs in the world. Seriously.

I only wish there was a way for me to make peace with these questions.

Maybe one day.

In the City

I was lost. Somehow I had ended up on the other side of lower Manhattan, staring across the water at New Jersey. Which is never right. I looked down at the map on my phone one more time and felt my stomach flip. Tied up in knots and anxious about my first day of training at The Interdependence Project, I had walked in the opposite direction from where I was supposed to be.

Whoops.

So, I was a little late. But it was okay. A wise man (my Zen teacher) once told me that nervousness is simply another expression of excitement. If that is true, then, I was indeed very excited.

Just in case I have been at all vague about this training I am doing, allow me to elaborate a little bit. I am currently enrolled in the Yearlong Immersion and Instructor Training program at The Interdependence Project in New York City. Which means, I am deepening my meditation practice and my knowledge of Buddhism, as well as, gaining the skills necessary to teach and facilitate meditation (not to mention, meeting a bunch of awesome people who like to nerd out just like me). No small feat! But it is something very near and dear to my heart. I'll get the opportunity to travel here five more times throughout the year to further my training.

Oh, darn...

Chinatown

Brooklyn

The Interdependence Project

View of Manhattan

Lower Manhattan

Two is a magic number

Sometimes, my enthusiasm gets me into trouble. Like right now. I had every intention of putting the fun back in my photography by taking this online class (Intuitive Lens!), but instead, I am feeling a wee bit overwhelmed.

It's okay though. I'm going to start where I am. And right now, well, that is at the very beginning.

So, let me share with you one of the first prompts (I hope that's okay...), because it really got me thinking and I thought it might get you thinking too. Or, better, yet - feeling.

We have been asked to choose two of our favorite photographs taken by other people and think about why we like them. Then, choose two of our own photographs and think about why we like those. Are you with me?

Okay. So, here goes. First up - my two favorite photographs by other people.

1) This photo from Tibet by Shinya Arimoto. Honestly, I love all of his work, but this one is one of my favorites. It is an ordinary moment. Simple and honest. I love, love, love the light in this photo and the fact that it's black and white. If you get a chance, I highly recommend checking out his portraits. You won't regret it.

2) This photo of a three legged coyote from photographer Kevin Russ. The fact that the coyote is looking straight into the camera haunts me. I love it. Again, it appears to be an ordinary moment and yet there is almost a magical feel to this photo. All sorts of questions come up: What happened to that coyote's leg? Why is he just standing there? What happened to those trees behind him? I'll never know...

Now. Two of my favorite photos from my own work.

This first photograph happened completely by accident. I was photographing flowers at the Austin Botanical Gardens and decided to get some shots of the old log cabin replica that is built there. I peaked inside with my camera and a young girl appeared in the window, looking in. I love her curiosity and of course, the light. But I also love that it is a young, modern girl peering into the (reconstructed) past.

This second photo is from Boulder, Colorado. What I love about this is the feeling of being on the ground, inbetween the flowers. And I was, literally. To me, it is calm and reminds me of being a little kid, with nothing to do but pick dandelions and stare up at the clouds all day.

What about you? Do you have any favorite photographs? What is it you like about them? What do they evoke in you?

Awesomeness ahead

In the wee hours of the first morning of 2013, I awoke to the sound of an owl hooting softly outside my window. At the time, I thought, well that's interesting and strange and then rolled back over. Later, I thought, oh, maybe it's an omen! But is it a good omen? Or is it a bad omen? I couldn't remember the symbolism... Are owls messengers of death or of wisdom? And then I thought, oh hell, sometimes an owl is just an owl.

Either way, it's an indication to me that big changes are coming (but then again, life is nothing but change, so this conclusion is hardly insightful. See, I'm onto you, you psychics and palm readers...).

So, to prepare for all this awesomeness ahead, I am dedicating the month of January to photography. And also, because, well, I am taking an online class called Intuitive Lens through Squam Workshops and I want to share all the fun photos I'll be creating.

Oh yes, that's right: fun. I am determined to put the fun back in photography. At some point last year I got way too serious about photography and found that I was no longer enjoying it as much as I used to. Which sucks! I want less suck. Thus, my intention to create more fun. Yay!

Speaking of intentions... instead of resolutions, I like to set intentions for the year ahead. One of my first intentions this year, of course, as you already know, is to create more fun. But I also wish to open my heart just a little bit more, go on many adventures and deepen my meditation practice. Exciting, no?

What are your intentions for the year ahead?

Below: some photos from my holidaze using the VSCO Cam app on my iphone. I'm still getting used to it, but so far I'm really liking it.


 

One word

Reverb 2012: Encapsulate the year 2012 in one word. Explain why you’re choosing that word. Now, imagine it’s one year from today, what would you like the word to be that captures 2013 for you?

Nourish. This was the word I chose last year looking ahead to 2012. I hoped that 2012 would be about finding and giving nourishment.

So, has it been nourishing? Oh hell yes. More than I could have ever hoped. I found nourishment in my many travels throughout the year, in reconnecting with old friends and in meeting new ones.

Also, my meditation practice blossomed. So much so, that I decided to put off any thoughts of moving (my heart still aches for you San Francisco...) and apply for the 2013 Immersion and Instructor Training program at The Interdependence Project in New York City(!!).

But something else happened this year that I am at a loss to explain. While I feel increasingly nourished, I feel less and less inclined to write and I don't know what that's about. I feel huge changes on the horizon and I don't know how to write about that. Or if I even want to. Which is not like me at all. I used to rush to put pen to paper. Words used to fill up my head like water and come spilling out, with me barely able to get them all down.

Lately, though, I long for privacy and for a sacred place that is not public. Or at least, not on the internet. This is what my meditation practice has become. It is a sacred place that is, oddly enough, not really any place at all. I wish I could properly express how this practice has unravelled me and how grateful I am. I don't think I'm going to do it justice here. It's hard to express in words and it's even harder for me to not get teared up thinking about it.

Next year, I will continue this marvelous unfolding. I hope to find the courage to write about it. I hope to post lots of photos and to share with you all the ups and downs of this crazy adventure I'm about to embark upon. I guess we'll see, no?

The word for 2013?

Unknown.

On being radical

 

"I am larger and better than I thought.
I did not think I held so much goodness."

Walt Whitman

Reverb 2012: Best book you read in 2012. Describe its impact on you.

This is usually a tough one. I mean, really - the best book from the year 2012? But, after asking myself this question, I knew immediately which book I wanted to write about.

By far, the best book I read in 2012 was Radical Acceptance by Tara Brach. I could not have picked a better book to read as I braced myself for my 35th birthday. It split my heart open in the gentlest and most touching ways.

The most touching came in the form of a simple suggestion - a gesture. Whenever you experience pain or confusion, place your hand over your heart and tell yourself, I care about this suffering.

Think about that for a second. Imagine, instead of criticizing yourself or trying to push all your emotions down, you paused and simply acknowledged you were in pain? This simple act of acceptance and recognition has had a powerful impact on me. I've used this gesture numerous times when I've found myself lost in confusion or when I've experienced a particularly painful emotion. It is what Tara calls, radical acceptance - an unconditional and loving presence to whatever is happening in that moment.

What's even more amazing about this gesture, is that when I acknowledge my own pain, I begin to connect more deeply with the pain of others. I realize, I am not alone. What has gradually unfolded (and is still unfolding) is compassion and a deep sense of belonging. Something, despite all our fear and cynicism, I think we all long for. 

 

Tara Talks: This Moment Counts from Tara Brach on Vimeo.

Little moments at large

Reverb 2012: What unexpected moment, person or experience surprised you and touched you deeply this year?

What didn't touch me this year? So many full and beautiful moments, I can't even count them. What an amazing surprise. Of course, there were painful moments. But in their own sharp way, they were beautiful too. I wouldn't take a second back.

Here are a just a few moments from 2012 that touched me deeply this year:

My Mema, turning 100.


Waking up in a small cozy room at the San Francisco Zen Center and hearing the morning chanting through the half-opened window.



Being surprised by a snake, getting caught in a mountain thunderstorm and seeing a double rainbow while in Boulder, Colorado for the Buddhist Geeks conference.



Seeing my friend Suzy twice in one year!


Ice cream at Lick. All summer. And in December.


Walking on the beach with my sister in Port Aransas, Texas.



Receiving the Buddhist Precepts in the Jukai Ceremony at Austin Zen Center (photo by Jori Taylor).

What moment(s), person or experience surprised you and touched you deeply this year?