Arts Rx

“The quieter you become, the more you can hear.”~Baba Ram Dass

I do believe this to be true. (I like to think this is concept I am gradually grasping with time.)

But I also know that, for me, there are certain times when it is best to keep myself on the go. To distract and let the momentum gently urge me on through, until whatever is plaguing me ever so slowly begins to lift…To get lost in crowds of people, to surround myself with vibrant sights and amped-up sounds, to immerse myself in scenes of thriving, overwhelming, pulsating life. To remind myself that, amid it all, I am merely a speck.

So these past days, in addition to the insane amount of walking/running miles I’ve been clocking (seriously, these dogs are barkin‘), I’ve been fortunate enough to dive headfirst into some amazing displays of the arts here in Seattle. I am very grateful for this.

Just today, I saw some amazing aboriginal paintings and sculpture at the Seattle Art Museum (soaking in an art form that’s been around for 50,000 years has a way of humbling and dwarfing one’s own current problems…), then I
watched a powerful (and tough) Argentinean film about the neglect of that country’s indigenous people (“Nosilatiaj.Beauty”), and finally, this evening, I took in some unexpected live gypsy jazz. It was a full day. Whatever works, right?

My meditation

I don’t quite have the words yet for tonight’s powerful drum circle. Perhaps they will come later, perhaps not.

Looking (hard) for the good

As the long weekend comes to an end, my feet, legs, head and heart are exhausted….I’m honestly just drained. And somewhat relieved it’s over.

But since my not-so-lovely AZ return, I did manage to snap these:

Moving through

Eerily reminiscent of last Memorial Day weekend Sunday (seriously… the chances?), I’ve been on the go today. Walking, wandering, keeping in motion.

Attempting to move through.

Sometimes it’s the only thing we know to do.

Wading through it, again

On occasion I worry that my blog is too cheery. I find I mostly write at times when all feels hunky-dory, when I’m high on life or feeling particularly motivated and inspired. Well today, despite the bright blue skies and holiday weekend vibe, none of these are the case.

(I’m also aware that I write about certain topics vaguely, usually opting for privacy, and am forever wary of exposing too much. But today I feel vulnerable and raw anyway, so here it is…the cold, hard truth.)

This morning I’m quite sad and a bit bruised. I know I’ll be fine, that I’ll get up and dust myself off again, but I am currently wading through the day with a sour gnawing in the pit of my stomach. My heart is heavy; my head spins.

The truth of the matter is:

~sometimes a really good cry arrives in a mall’s food court bathroom stall, where the smooth jazz playing overhead (nearly, but not quite) makes you laugh at the pathetic absurdity of the scene

~sometimes vision board images and formerly helpful quotations need to be covered up because the supposed “meaning” of it all feels like a big frickin’ joke

~sometimes the pain mixes with relief because the gut is exhausted from holding the truth

~sometimes I feel too far away from the people I love

~sometimes I worry that, one of these times, I won’t know how to get up and dust myself off

~sometimes I need to compose emails I may or may not ever send

~sometimes I sense the Universe trying to apologize for/soften the big blow I’m about to receive (like yesterday’s Southwest free drink coupon and the showering of flattering compliments from a friendly air steward)

~sometimes I am sick already of always waiting for (almost expecting) the other shoe to drop. Am I incapable of just believing that a good thing is actually a really good thing? Must I overthink and compensate and smother and not just trust?

~sometimes I wonder how much of it is really my thoughts that manifest the outcomes (and then I beat myself up about this…and then I feel badly for beating myself up about this…not a healthy cycle, I know)

~sometimes I am just plain tired of feeling like I’m bumping into little obstacles every direction I turn. I am keeping perspective, and in the grand scheme, they’re nada. Silly hiccups. But right now, I’m tired.

~sometimes I wonder what it is about sunny Memorial Day weekends in my recent memory that insist on being filled with loneliness, sad and hurt? Whatever happened to carefree beach jaunts and BBQ ragers??

I stumbled upon this post by one of my favorite bloggers this morning. The timing is simply perfect.

Wishing you all wonderful holiday weekends. Earlier I went on a lake run, seeking clarity and perhaps a little peace. What I found was a slow and steady pace and a ladybug who attached herself to my turquoise yoga pants. I guess I’ll take whatever I can get today.

So that’s me uncensored today. Thinking of everyone else out there who might also be craning to find the warmth of the sun.

(*My family trip to Arizona this past week was really lovely (grateful!!). I feel badly for putting that on the back burner, but I promise that photos from that reunion are soon to come…)

A cowboy’s prayer

Future home wish list:)

Thoughts become things, right?

Leapin’ in

Desert Sunrise

Today, I am off to HERE!

I haven’t been to the SW since my early teenage years, and I’m really looking forward to experiencing the culture of that part of our country as an adult. Sign me up for days filled with family time, pool dips, omnipresent cacti & turquoise, fresh guacamole, big contemplative skies and orange-tinted desert sunsets.

Before I jet off, here’s a rather ghetto video of a reggae song I happen to love:) (I saw Three Legged Fox play at Jammin’ Java many years back, and I’ve been drawn to this tune ever since!)

Have a wonderful weekend, friends!

Friday Friday Friday

Sometimes when I struggle to find my own words, quotes, piccies and sweet tunes will just have to do in lieu. What music is keeping you company today? (It’s M.Ward over here…) Happy Friday, y’all!

“But possibly I am something more than I suppose myself to be.”~René Descartes

(*Norwegian Festival in Ballard, Seattle*)