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Wednesday

Jun302010

Six impossible things before breakfast

"There are rocks deep enough in this earth that no matter what the rupture, they will never see the surface.

There is, I think, a fear of love.

There is a a fear of love."

It's all changing now, whether we want to see it or not. The way we look at each other, the space we occupy, the trees, what we're willing to do . . . It might still be working its way up out of the deep, unknowable place from where it began, but if we quiet ourselves for just one minute and notice the momentum and the direction of the water moving over and past our ankles, we'll have to admit it. It's changing, and all we can do is keep paying attention and see the goodness there is to be found in it, and let go of trying to fight it. Suffering comes from resistance. This much I know is true. Did you catch that? Easier to say, yes. Easier to type. Maybe right now all we can do is imagine it and see how it feels just for it to be allowed to live in our frantic, earnest little heads. It's a step, and steps are good. They are especially good if we are paying attention enough to feel the earth start to push up against every square inch of our feet. Good. Let's keep going.

Six impossible things before breakfast. What would yours be? What do you want that seems impossible? My therapist reminded me this week of what I felt mine were a few months ago. The sixth was that I would be happy again. And she looked me straight in the eyes and said that she saw happiness, undeniably. And she's right. The way life changes on a dime and the ways we are continually able to bend and shift around those movements are amazing to me. We are capable of more than we think we are. We can handle a whole lot more than we'd imagined we could. Trust me on this one if it doesn't ring true at first glance.

This isn't just a hobby for us, an excuse to go out and party, an ego trip . . .

We want you to know this. The boys and I are taking this position we're stepping into awfully seriously and with a sometimes hushed reverence (though sometimes you call for dancing). You're worth our time, you're worth our sweat, you're worth our honesty. You're worth the four of us putting our fears out on the back porch for a while so we can bring something real and pure to the table when we play for you. You really are.

Wed, June 30, 2010 at 9:22 AM |

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Tuesday

Jun222010

Warning: another sappy, gushing letter, from Sarah, to you.

This is the real thing.

So are you.

Those are the words that showed themselves to me without warning the moment I walked into the venue in Hollywood this past, most blessed of Saturday nights. Soundcheck couldn't have been easier or more encouraging. After I got dressed, I walked in on my bow-tied boys already on the stage, warming up before the people started to arrive in front of us at <sigh> The Hotel Cafe. They were playing our newest song, "Backroads". And I thought, "We belong here. This finally feels completely right." When I sat down at the piano to join in with the music, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. I knew it was going to be a good night. This is largely because of you. Your hearts were sending something into that room, and I felt it. It fed me and made me forget about my sleep deprivation. And so I started singing, for you, and for myself. I'll never regret that.

I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you.

Everything about you, I want to eat it up and let it take residency in my body. There is so much goodness in you that outweighs where you're growing. I love those parts too. I really am quite certain that you have no idea what you do to me, and to anyone who actually sees you the way you are. The truth is that you have a beauty that is completely your own, entirely unique. Have you ever considered such a thing? The only regret I have is that there is too little of me to go around. I want to love you well -- the way you deserve to be loved. But life just doesn't seem to be set up for that. We are spread out so much thinner than we were meant to be.

So, perhaps, part of the solution here is for us to fumble around and learn to love ourselves better. I know. This is not for the faint of heart. There was a time not long ago when the idea seemed hopelessly out of reach.

But I'm daring you to just start to let this sweet little thought peek into the corner of your windows without you drawing the shades. You don't have to be ready to let her in yet. She's not going to hurt you in any way you don't really need to be hurt. The same goes for me.

And the thought goes like this, "You are ok. Just as you are, right now."

Tue, June 22, 2010 at 7:25 PM |

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Monday

Jun072010

Notes From The Desert, Part 3

Almost ten thousand feet up on this mountain I'd never seen before today. Apples taste better at high altitudes. I swear something happens to the molecular arrangement of the apple or my taste buds. Either way, I am savoring every sweet taste I am afforded. The only things I can hear up here are the occasional trills of two or three lucky little birds and the few flies who are vying for this glorious piece of fruit.

Should I try to go back down the same way I came up? I'd really rather not, but I have no idea where I am in relation to any other trails. Even finding the one I stayed on for the first few minutes will be an adventure. I guess I generally just believe I'm going to be ok. I generally pay less and less attention to the "shoulds".

I am tired. Tired of waking up alone morning after morning. Tired of disappointing myself. Tired of cleaning. Tired of paperwork and desk time. Yet I'm grateful at the same time. Yes, I am grateful. So much goodness. I am employed. I have a handful of dear friends. I am playing music and singing on a regular basis. These are necessary for my survival. All of those things. So thank you, job, friends, and musical outlets, for my life. I really am not sure I'd still have it without you.

I have to be writing, constantly staying in that space. Let's get another album rolling, boys. Let's challenge ourselves and stay honest. I am looking for a fuller expression of myself through this art.

With my back against this morning desert sun, I only wish I had a few more days. It seems to take me a while to sink into this free creativity, so the only solution right now is to continue in it, to stay conscious. Sound so easy, doesn't it? I need to listen. Stay. The songs are here, waiting, and I am saying that I am ready.

Mon, June 7, 2010 at 10:29 AM |

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Thursday

Jun032010

Notes From The Desert, Part 2

It's as if there's someone sitting here with me, in this warm, dry air, on this stiff, modern couch. Or maybe across the room at the bar.

I hope you're ok.
Yes, so I do.

I could do anything I want, but most of the time, I sit still. It's an inconsistency. A woman of action when it comes to so many matters, aren't I? I have quit jobs, fallen away from relationships, changed travel plans at the last minute, jumped into cold water in the middle of the night, but when I have the time to do what I want and I'm alone, I'll usually just be laying on the floor. Is it just laziness? Fear? Some belief about myself and what I am capable of? The need for stillness in the midst of so much motion . . so much shifting? Yes, probably all of those reasons. We've not all that easily explainable, you and I. So hard to really know and understand each other.

But I want you to come find me, the way that I am looking so hard for you. I know I've made my share of mistakes, but I don't think that labels me "Disqualified". I want to be surprised with notes left on my car. I want someone to know me, in a clean-slated sort of way, to show me more of the truth of who I really am, and the other way around. A give and take that requires little effort. But they say there's nothing harder than learning how to receive.

I am coming more and more awake and aware, and I know I have a long way to go. But even now there is a fire in me that is burning so differently than it ever has. It gives me no choice but to go after the life I want.

And I want to wrap my arms around you and know that you're not looking over my shoulder to see who's watching. My love can't change a thing if it's not fully received.

I want to be forgiven.

Thu, June 3, 2010 at 12:42 PM |

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Monday

May312010

Notes from the Desert, Part 1

My love, if you could hear it, sounds like nothing you've ever heard.

I suppose I should back up and take a look at the source once more, and what's become of her -- whether or not there is more truth there that I'm able to see than I was before right now. Let's start with some basics now, shall we? Yes.

I need time alone with no interruptions. Just like I need water and to be outdoors every day. It's in those still moments that I am gathering up what comes to me to tend to what's growing, in and outwardly.

I am a fully-growing woman, but Little Sarah still needs my attention. Yes, I can see that. I can see her. She's around when I'm uneasy in public, when I look in big mirrors with bad lighting, or when I am falling asleep. Always a loud-laughing goofball, that Sarah. She pays attention. She is impulsive. And when it really comes down to it, after all of the shopping and blow-drying and makeup, she doesn't really care how she is perceived, as long as a piece of what is received is even a hint of this love -- for you and for this life.

But I still don't really know the way to her heart. People and all sorts of things make their way there, but it's all a mystery to this observer.

What are we doing here? Why is any of this happening? I have no answers I can hold on to anymore, do I? I think I know, at least, that we are all humans, and if we are open to it and stay present, we can all show each other something that needs to be shown. Even if it's just the way someone sits, or looks at your lips, or bags your groceries so slowly, or listens to you, or is ambivalent. . . I am learning. Correction: I want to. I know that i don't always walk around with that frame well-fixed around what it is that I take in. but if I can allow you to teach me a little bit more today, and a little more than that tomorrow, my life has the potential for more of what I want, and that is connection. Love. Does any of this sound familiar?

What is it that I will regret? Times I could have loved you but didn't. moments when I could have known what you really needed, but wasn't listening for the answer. All of the songs I will not write because of one thing or another.

What will you regret?

Mon, May 31, 2010 at 7:38 PM |

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