This Is What It's Like: An Eleven Block Walk On A Night In June

This is what it's like.

It's only finishing half of my drink because we're at a restaurant on the corner of your street and I can't risk drinking more than a few sips. It's being proud of myself for siting there and only giving an occasional fuck about it, but mostly none at all.

It's nearly tugging myself up the street when I want to do nothing more than run directly to your apartment.

It's feeling proud of myself with literally each step I take toward my home.

It's less than two blocks in and passing the place we would meet at to grab a lemonade for me and a grilled cheese for you and feeling satisfied and sad in seeing the chairs have changed, like it was done in acknowledgement of our parting. I imagine management holding a meeting about it and laugh.

It's another two blocks up and passing the mexican restaurant where you fidgeted around as you spoke with frustration over this business, your insecurities bright. Where, outside, you wrapped your arm around me, tugging me in to you, still on the phone with your brother, whom I already loved without ever meeting. The place where I passed on seeing you later and wondering if that was The Night.

It's the place right next to that where we ate the last meal we had together. Where I insisted on dining with someone else soon after just so it wouldn't look like you anymore.

If I turn my head away from this place and look to my left, my eyes land directly where we sat and had one of the most important conversations of our time together, and probably the realest. A place I take myself to almost daily because it is my favorite regardless of your existence. Proof that you, nor anyone, can ever take away anything good in my life as long as I claim my joy to be mine.

It is just a few feet away from the spot where I saw you last, the amount of tears on your face only outweighed by the amount of pain and confusion covering it. A place where I walk my dogs up and down and back again and don't think of it as I laugh over their antics and say hello to the people I've grown to know there.

It's hitting my block and remembering you just spent all of last week working right here and not once did you walk the three minutes to my door. It's hating that I don't get to hear about the experience.

It's coming inside and distracting myself with social media and seeing one of your best friend's face pop up on my newsfeed, and another on my instagram, because I'm finally now aware that I'm an artist and our communities are overlapping far too often. Namely because they are the same community.

And this is just one night, one walk home, less than an hour's time.

This is what it's like.

It's choosing myself over you, every day, every minute.
It's talking to God about you every morning, praying that He works in your heart daily.
It's walking on other streets, other blocks, turning left instead of right, purposefully.
It's walking wherever I damn well please.
It's listening to old voicemails from you every time another boy kisses me, your voice coming through my phone like a blanket wrapped around my heart.
It's knowing, absolutely knowing, you think my newly acquired, varied, and consistent success and happiness actually has something to do with you; being self-centered enough to think you can make or break my career or life, confusing loving someone with thinking you know what's best for them, instead of recognizing the truth or asking me about it.
It's the amount of things I'm dying to tell you, share with you, ask about, piling up so much in my head that I would never remember them all.
It's finally learning, in the most awful way, how to undo the belief systems that told me I couldn't have you and my career, that told me I wasn't good enough, that told me what I was supposed to do and be and say with you, that had cluttered and covered me. It's unlearning all of them at the expense of my heart.
It's caring, it's not caring, it's caring, it's not caring.
It's the beautiful recognition that every time I said my happiness is within me is actually the truth. I had only mostly believed it then, repeated it often to soothe you and motivate me, but now basking it it like God has plucked me out of the darkness and threw me into the light. Because He has.
It's every random, crazy, never-thought-this-would-happen thing that is happening now that tells me each day that I do not know the outcome.

It's not knowing the outcome.

This is what it's like.

On giving thanks, giving thanks

If you've got lungs that take in air, give thanks.
If you've got feet that carry you from place to place, give thanks.
If you've got Love in your being, give thanks.
If you've got the ability to speak, give thanks. Loudly.
If you've got hands that can touch, give thanks.
If you've got ears that hear and eyes that see, give thanks.
If you've got a list of things you're wanting in your life, give thanks.
If you've got books in your possession, give thanks.
If you've got silence to think in, give thanks.
If you've got patience for yourself, give thanks.
If you've got big, lofty, seemingly impossible dreams, give thanks.
If you've got food in your fridge, give thanks.
If you've just got a fridge, give thanks.
If you've got a sky, and trees, and flowers, and birds to look at, give thanks.
If you've got clean water, whenever you want it, give thanks.
If you've got clothing on your body (and more in your closet), give thanks.
If you've got a computer to type on, give thanks.
If you're reading this post, give thanks.
If you've got the ability to move your hips, twirl around, stomp your feet, give thanks.
If you've got a window to open for cool air, and a blanket to cover you for warmth, give thanks.
If you've got a job - any job - give thanks.
If you're unsure how it'll all work, give thanks.
If you've got a favorite color, a best friend, a heartwarming memory, give thanks.
If you've got a high school diploma, give thanks.
If you've got a college degree, don't you even start with me, you better be giving thanks.
If you've got the ability to sing, give thanks.
If you've got people in your life that love you, give thanks.
If you've got faults, give thanks.
If you've got fear, give thanks.
If you've got truth, give thanks.

We are lucky, we are lucky, we are so unbelievably lucky. Let's give thanks.

On The Invitation

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing. It doesn't interest me how old you are I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love for your dreams for the adventure of being alive. It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon... I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shrivelled and closed from fear of further pain. I want to know if you can sit with pain mine or your own without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it. I want to know if you can be with joy mine or your own if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful be realistic to remember the limitations of being human. It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself. If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. If you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy. I want to know if you can see Beauty even when it is not pretty every day. And if you can source your own life from its presence. I want to know if you can live with failure yours and mine and still stand on the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, "Yes." It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after a night of grief and despair weary and bruised to the bone and do what needs to be done to feed the children. It doesn't interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back. It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away. I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.   - 'The Invitation' by Oriah Mountain Dreamer I was going to bold my favorite parts but then I realized I had to bold the entire thing. This couldn't be more true or relevant for me. The first time I read this, I remember being certain that someone had crawled into my inner most parts, the depths of my being, and taken out the truths that sit there. It does, of course, remind me of you. Like all things of greatness. It reminds me of the conversations that we have, instead of being like normal people and going to the movies or out with friends. And it reminds me of why I'd rather have those conversations than, say, hear a silly story about that day, or know your father's name. Though to be fair, I want to hear those things, too. But these things that she speaks of in this poem, they are more important. They shape the ground to stand on, they pave out the path that make it so it matters to hear the silly, to know the names, to go to the movies. But more important than reminding me of you is that it reminds me of me. The way I hate when people start conversations by asking what one does for a living, or how old one is. Tell me what moves you, tell me what causes you to ache, tell me how you're actually feeling instead of saying that you're great, you're fine, you're good. Let me see into your soul and I'll show you mine. Then we can go to the movies. Scroll up, read it again, take it in.

On Five for Friday {two}

Five For Friday... on a Sunday! (I mean, it was a holiday and all..)

Five Facts:
1. Henry got a fur cut yesterday and didn't talk to me for an hour afterwards, but you'll be happy to hear I won his love back with potato chips. Bribery, friends, bribery. Since then I've been wrapping him up in blankets since he is now shivering from his short new 'do. Excellent mothering, no?

2. If I don't get a certain amount of alone time, I am sunk. This week I accidentally planned three things that involved groups of people, back to back to back, and about halfway through I thought I was a goner. When I need a good laugh, I imagine myself working in a big office, surrounded by people all day. Oh boy, oh boy.

3. Important lesson: when one paints one's nails in bed, one may end up with purple nail polish all over one's bedspread. All. Over. It.

4. This year was the first Thanksgiving where I had a vegan version of turkey and vegan deserts. This is big, people. I also did my afternoon meditation despite the clamoring going on around the house and the various relatives who were whisper-asking my mom just what exactly was I doing. I maybe forgot to give a disclaimer first and I also maybe did this in the middle of the living room.

5. A mix cd is a most excellent super good gift. Even better when coming from the hands of a handsome man person. If I was given only mix cd's and flowers for the rest of my life, I would be the happiest in all the land. Ahem. Please do take note.

Five Faves:
1. Favorite poem (this week). The last line, friends. Delicious.

2. Favorite current read.

3. Favorite things to browse lately.

4. Favorite new blog. Though you probably already know about it..

5. Favorite video of the week. Because, I mean, COME ON.

Okay now, whatcha got for me? Favorite links?

Favorite facts from your week? Favorite favorites? What? xo

On Signs, Water Bottles, and Not Running

I was just thinking I should really do a blog post. A real one - not one of my saved up ones for busy weeks like this. And as I'm thinking this, I'm going through the 136 emails waiting for me (yes, seriously) and THIS thing of beauty came before my eyes, saying basically what I wanted to write to you but in such lovely words and in such a wonderful way that I just had to share it here:

"This Is For You, If You're Feeling Unsure Right Now" 

Just incase you're wavering right now. 

Just incase things feel wonky. 

Just incase you've been pushing + things haven't been working. 

Just incase if you've been wondering if it's a sign to give up, check out, go back... 

here's your sign: 

No it's not. 

This is the time to be gentle. 

This is the time to give yourself what you need. 

This is the time to build your faith. 

This is the time to keep taking step after step after step. 

This is the time to keep showing up, keep shining, keep believing, keep knowing, 

even when it's not easy. 

And eventually it's just gonna become your modicum, your standard of being. 

Don't get distracted. 

Have unwavering focus on your dream, on where you are going. 

Don't look back. Don't get distracted by the coyotes and the spiders. 

They are only there to teach you how not to be. 

Stay focussed. Stay clear. Stay bright. 

It's all gonna be okay, love bug. 

In fact, it's gonna be fuc*ing magnificent. 

Is that not.. well, perfectly perfect? It made me all swoon-y and delighted. How many times do we allow ourselves to stop, to quit? One of my favorite sayings is the one about how people don't realize just how incredibly close they are to getting what they want when they give up. Doesn't that just kill you?! Imagine your hand could literally be on the doorknob, turning it, and just as you're about to open the metaphorical door that leads you directly to your dream, you just stop. It's taking too long, it's a little harder than you thought it would be, all of your friends already got their door... and on and on and on.

In acting class last week, we did a little exercise where a water bottle was placed in the center of the room and one by one, we walked, with closed eyes, toward the bottle and attempted to bend down and pick it up. I was second to last and as I watched each person go, no one got it. Some came close but not one swooped down at the right place and picked the bottle up. Then it was my turn and as I walked, I let my energy lead me, I didn't try to analyze or use my mind. I bent down and a few seconds later opened my eyes: my hand was literally half an inch above the top of the bottle and if I had gone just a second longer, I would have gotten it. Everyone freaked out (we are actors, after all) and my teacher went on about how that was a perfect metaphor for people and their dreams and I couldn't help but think of how it is a perfect example of exactly what I have done so frequently in the past. I get right where I want to be, I somehow use my energy to guide me directly to what I want, and as I stand there with my hand reaching out, about to grab it, my eyes fly open and I stop. Usually followed by running in the other direction.

Why are we so afraid of our dreams? Why do we self sabotage? Why do we blame everything and everyone else for not getting what we want?

I don't know about you but I've done enough of that for one lifetime, thank you very much. Recently, I made a conscious effort to push forward, to keep going despite all of my mind's best attempts to get me to stop. I haven't been this exhausted since college, honestly. I haven't seen some of my dearest friends in weeks and months. I haven't been able to reply to texts, emails (ahem, explains the 136 of them), calls.. nothing. I am literally running (literally as in literally, not literally as in the way we all use it) to and from the subway and my apartment and everywhere else in my day. Running! In eighty degree heat through tourists on vacation! I feel slightly crazy but beyond that, I feel so incredibly amazing. So right. So happy.

(To be fair, I am keeping an eye on myself as I know I love to "be busy" as a coping method. That whole "look at me, I'm so important, I'm so busy" bullshit. You know what I mean, don't pretend you don't. But in this case, I'm actually just delightfully, blissfully, living my own life type of busy.)

And so what is the point of this here rant? I'm pushing myself so much further than I ever have and I'm taking care of my own dreams and my own needs and you want to know what?

I booked a fucking job.

My first one in two years (my ego would like to interrupt here to tell you that I also took a break for two years but I'm here to tell you it wouldn't have mattered if I didn't take a break). Two years! I'm really excited and nervous but mostly, and this is hysterical, I didn't even really have time to think about it until right now. And when I'm done writing this, I'm going to go back to my 136 emails and 20 item to-do list and probably forget again. And that, my friends, right there is the secret: the more you say yes, the more the Universe says yes. I love the irony that I'm so busy that I didn't even have time to really process that I booked a job. It just felt so normal to have my agents call and rattle off some information to me that I jotted down on hotel stationary and threw in my bag as I went off to my next thing. That is a damn good feeling.

And so this morning, after being at two events last night and getting into my bed only a few hours before I had to wake up, this morning I had the idea to skip going to an audition today. I was so tired and I thought, 'no you can't possibly push yourself even more and add one more thing in to this week, you've just booked something, relax, have an easy day'. And after that was done, I heard my truth gently urging me to go. So I did. And I have no idea how I fit it in but I did, I went.

I'm getting what I want. These dreams are shaping and unfolding and there is an abundance of goodness, Love, creativity, money and happiness in my life. And what I'm trying to say here, is that my hand is hovering above the water bottle and instead of letting my eyes open and stepping back, I am going to gently allow the hand to grasp it and trust that it will get there in due time. And what I'm trying to say even more, is that if you're standing there, at the door or above the water bottle, and you're thinking it's time to throw in the towel and that you were wrong about your dreams or that you don't deserve what you know in your heart is meant for you, then please scroll back up and re-read that poem. Or email me (I'll answer that one, I promise). Or get in your favorite t-shirt and journal about it. Or put on a damn tiara and dance like a fool in the middle of your living room.

Just incase if you've been wondering if it's a sign to give up, check out, go back... 

here's your sign: 

No it's not. 

And now, dear darlings, back to the grind. xo

EarFULL: Here's to here.

Here's to the life's that I am not living.
The Susie Homemaker that I am not.
The apron I'm not wearing
and the food I'm not cooking.
Here's to the diapers that I don't have to change (yet)
and the fact that I can be as selfish as I damn well please.
Here's to the Subaru I'm not driving,
the early morning, rise-and-shine that I do not have to polish.
Here's to the garden that I am without,
the yard that I am without,
and the quiet, empty streets, crickets chirping that I do not hear.
Here's to the fact that this may be the only time in my life where
I do not have to attend any back-to-school night's nor
work on any projects due the next morning.
Here's to the places that I do not live in.
The ones who have the sounds of
basketballs being bounced on the walk home,
wagon wheels creaking as they're pulled up the hill,
dinners being had on the outdoor deck.
The places with bright lights that actually turn off eventually.
The kinds of places where you leave a spare key at your neighbors.
Here's to the alternative universe me
who sees flowers blooming
instead of dead rats.
The person who can open her closet door fully
and doesn't not have to be afraid walking home.
Here's to the other me, somewhere out there,
with a mother-fucking washer and dryer.
I hope she appreciates it as much as she should.

Here's to the truth that I'll get there when I get there and
until there is there, there is only here.
Here's to being able to get any kind of food at any kind of hour
and the magical wave of an arm that gets you a ride to your front door.
Here's to seeing Brooklyn sunrises and Broadway shows
and bar after bar after bar.
Here's to having friends every several blocks
and hearing more languages in a single day than someone who works at the UN.
Here's to never having to see people again if you do not want to and
here's to the inexplicable joy of running into someone you love.
Here's to the thousands of no's that live in this city and
the most beautiful Yes's that are waiting for me.
Here's to crying in joy over a vacuum cleaner
and the fact that I will love my future washer and dryer more than any has ever been loved before.
Here's to this moment that is right now and the knowledge that it is perfect.
Here's to knowing I can leave any second that I decide to
and that it will still be here, waiting for me, letting me return if I want to.
Here's to trusting that you're always where you should be
and here's to the imperfect, ever-changing, growing, blooming creature
that is you,
that is me,
that is here.

SoulFULL: Listen

-- Hafiz

Here Comes The Sun:

This is for trying new things.
For pushing into that feeling that doesn't ever feel so great.
For greatness.
This is for patience when you've run out.
For running out.
For running.
This is for the way it feels to let yourself feel.
For feeling nothing.
For feeling everything.
This is for time that is fleeting.
For fleeting thoughts.
For freeing thoughts.
This is for being free.
This is for you
and the way you look at me
that gives you away.
It is not an elephant in the room,
but God Himself there with us.
The company is welcomed.
The company is laughing.
This is for me
and the way that I don't recognize myself
and all the ways that I finally do.
This is for front porches and front stoops and front yards
who keep the stories
I keep in the back of my brain.
This is for going back.
For going forward.
For swing-sets and sunsets and set-ups and upsets.
For letting it settle.
For never settling.
This is for meeting you at 2
and meeting you at 20
and meeting me at 25.
This is for meeting halfway between our houses.
For all the houses you had.
For finally being home.
This is because love will fill you up
until it spills up and out,
until you have no choice but to share it.
This is for sharing the words unsaid to anybody else.
For the things that go unsaid.
For the things that don't need to be.
This is because I know you are on the path you should be.
Your feet would not be on this ground if it wasn't for you.
This is for you.
This is for you.
Take it.