Guest House

“This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival; a joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor. Welcome and attend them all. Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows… still, treat each guest honourable. He may be clearing you out for some new delight.” (Rumi)

IMG_1554

ISO a Stronger Connection

{*Published after the fact, back in the big city. I miss the quiet; my brain feels rattled already on a particularly noisy night in my ‘hood.}

I say all the time that I need to unplug more. All. The. Time. What does it take for me take to actually do this at this point in the frightfully embarrassing addiction/dependency game? Sad as it is, the physical absence of a strong WiFi signal, allowing me to power down and attention up. Tune in. Reconnect. Reboot. Re-root.

To listen. Really listen.

IMG_1568

The wind is the loudest thing I hear—and, now, also the glug glug glugging of paddles powering by on the nearby lake. I tune in more, and I notice that’s not all…more instruments contribute to this background playlist; there is a bird’s stuttering whistle, a neighbor’s faint sneeze, a cloth cabin strap’s boomeranging zinnngggg, a dog’s high-pitched yelp. I kick off my flops, cos I want to feel the pine needles under my toes, the Earth under the soles of my city feet.

The breeze blows, and I am cold, but I am happy. I am alone under this verdant canopy—just me and the trees and the slowly-lowering afternoon sun. (Oh, and that robin over there popping, hopping through a pine cone obstacle course of sorts.)

I try to read or journal or write or anything, but I get stuck watching the light dapples dance on the cabin “roof” next door. There is everything to see, everything to do—but nothing all at once.

This attentiveness, it is rare. It is needed. I vow (yet again) to get it back.

IMG_1581

IMG_1600

Building a Bank of Memories

Magical morning mist, Cowichan Bay, BC

Magical morning mist, Cowichan Bay, BC

This, I think, is what love is: taking it all in, hoping for the best. Admiring the lake’s shimmering surface and unknown depths. Building a bank of memories, and cherishing them all equally.
~Jane Smiley

Seasons of Change

Fremont @ night

Tonight I walked home under the brilliant light of a near full moon (the air smelling of sweet late-summer bonfires). I felt blanketed in love after a comforting, cozy dinner out with my amazing Seattle tribe; I adore them so.

And yet this is suddenly a city where my brother and sister-in-law no longer live (I love them so much…I don’t have the words). I don’t know this place without them (and I’m not sure I can). The tears cascade in alarmingly bottomless streams, and my heart sits heavily in my chest, sucking away my air. I find my footing home in the dark of night—new footing that feels awkward and clumsy—but that with time will come. (Right? It will come?)

I hate change, and I resist transition, and yet so often, we don’t have a say. And so, here it is; change has come. And I grapple my way forward into this new season, shuffling under the moonlight to find my path home.

997043_10152734713024697_2503898142298518600_n

Solo Mission Musica

A few weekends ago, I did something rather brave (for me, anyway). I went to a music festival alone about three-and-a-half hours from where I live. Sure, I’ve traveled abroad alone and moved abroad alone, but somehow this wee domestic venture felt like I’d passed a new milestone of sorts.

Anyone who knows me, has heard me rave about Pickathon, a magical, friendly, music-filled gathering in the Oregon woods. I went last year with two of my Seattle BFFs, and I was instantly SMITTEN. Wooded stages & barn venues dotted with twinkle lights, hay bales as seats, flowing wine & beer accompanied by tasty food (all local, of course), kind folks, a sea of tents under a calming canopy of green. Everything about it appealed to my inner kinda-hippie and my love of gooooooood soul-soothing tunes. It’s a sweaty, stinky, dusty affair with a little dose of over-the-top hippie-dippie and PDX hipster, and yet, I just love everything about it.

I’d waited a full year to return again; however, when the time came, I couldn’t find a single soul able and/or willing to join. Not a one. Womp wah. After some pleas, some long shots, some pity-partying and a good amount of fretting, I decided to suck it up and simply follow my gut. I wanted to go so badly, so why not go? Alas, I did (thanks to some gear borrowing and awesome cheerleading from some really special friends. I know SUCH good people here). I’m so glad I listened to those inner whispers. They didn’t steer me wrong.

Pine State Visit by Corinne Whiting

Pickathon canopy by Corinne Whiting

Pickathon sign by Corinne Whiting

Pickathon woods by Corinne Whiting

Food court by Corinne Whiting

Pickathon barn by Corinne Whiting

Shakey Graves by Corinne Whiting

In honor of incredible music, here are some great tunes to enjoy:

On Repeat

I’m back from an unbelievably spoiled, delicious, VIP, special, fun weekend in sun- and wine-soaked Walla Walla, Washington, and until I figure out how to summarize it all, I’m staying quiet. But there’s music. There’s always music:)

Enjoy.

Silence + Chatter

There are days when I’m not entirely sure what I’m doing—how I landed here, why exactly I am here, how long I should stay here, whyyy the heck I’m self-employed, whether I’m living enough/traveling enough/helping enough/trying enough. At times I frustratingly feel like I’m forever seeking, always on a hunt, perpetually off-schedule—while some people seem to so contently glide through the routine without so much emotion, without so many stinking questions.

Some days I lose perspective, and these queries and concerns play tag in my head, and I feel exhausted. The chatter: it is tiring.

Other days, I see so clearly that these questions don’t so much matter. That whatever the heck it is I’m doing, it’s okay; I’m onto something. I’m aligning myself, bit by bit, that much more with those things and those people and that music and those experiences that resonate with my soul. Some days, I am just so beautifully tuned in.

I am getting better at listening. To the chatter and to the silence.

My life is so full, and during certain, packed weeks, there is too much to even record. When I pause and push aside those nagging lacks, those voids that occasionally rise to the surface and ‘ping!’…. I am blinded by the light of all that is already there, of all that is already GOOD.

Here’s just a mere sample of the past couple weeks (great waterside brother time, awesome press events with AFAR Media, birthday celebrations that keep on giving, a VERY impromptu Lake City Dive concert—her voice!!, kitschy tea time, stress-releasing sun runs, St. Patrick’s whimsy, and through it all….some really fantastic company).

p.s. Happy St. Patrick’s Day! What’s making you feel *lucky* these days?

photo (57)
photo 1 photo 2 photo 3 photo 4 photo 5
photo 1 photo 2 photo 3 photo 4 photo 5

Previous Older Entries