01/21/2011 § 1 Comment
12/20/2010 § 1 Comment
i wore a long black skirt that day, and had thrown a pink polo on as an afterthought – my outfits were all over the place in college. the sun shone into the square, draping the windows in a light gold. i saw him ride up on his bike, as planned, and pull up to our corner. he climbed up the slope of grass and sat down under the shade of a tree.
i approached him, heart quickening like a girl with a crush too big for her, and sat down by his side. the grass felt pleasantly cold beneath my fingertips, brightly green and protected by the arms of the tree above us. here in the corner of this walled-garden, on this sunlit afternoon, we too were safe, we too were glowing.
i straightened my skirt and laid down, my head reclining into his lap, and smiled quietly into his kind, brown eyes. he brushed my hair gently behind my right ear and smiled:
“you are beautiful.”
i believed him then. we were perfect then.
it is one of the few memories of us i recall in such detail.
12/20/2010 § Leave a comment
looking through these recent entries, there is an odd pattern. i’ve written one entry per month, each published on the 20th.
what is it about this day of the month that unleashes unto the world what i keep in the dark all other 29 days ?
tonight, at 1:15am, we will see the moon glow red, and coincide with the winter solstice. this has not happened in 372 years. this makes me feel giddy and small all at the same time.
how i wish a writer in cold dark russia would be so inspired by tonight’s event that he take this small but extraordinary blip in the history of All Things Beautiful and transform it into The Great Love Story. and having once read it, remind our sad souls the things we forget.
how timing, at precise intersections, can extract all color from the world.
or, for the struggling optimist, how it can recreate and give birth to Light.
remember that the world cannot know Dark without life-giving and precious Light.
just as we can’t fully grasp Joy rushing through our weightless bodies without heart-stopping, breath-cutting, soul-violating, Gutting Pain.
tonight, 150,000 lives will see the last of their days. 380,000 will see their first.
wishing the best to us to all tonight.
09/20/2010 § 1 Comment
i relish these nights, where i sit and do nothing. except i don’t do nothing. rather, i grow into a quiet and amused observer of these walls that surround me and attempt each time to sculpt the empty air. in moments my fingers have plotted what they understand to be The World, if only so that they may reconfigure the edges of the fractured beauty into what i once glimpsed as The World Beyond.
08/08/2010 § Leave a comment
my little apartment feels more like home every day.
i felt it when i replaced the paper window shade with the grey ruffled curtains i’ve dreamed about. i felt it when one of my best friends called me and made me laugh as i had my legs perched over my new chairs. i felt it this morning when i stretched in bed and saw the sun peep through, teasing my floral bedspread. i felt it earlier as i grabbed freshly bought avocados and radishes out of my fridge and made a light lunch. i felt it now as i looked at myself in the mirror, fresh-faced, sans makeup, feeling strangely beautiful and at peace.
so this is what it feels like ?
i’ll enjoy it while it lasts.
07/06/2010 § Leave a comment
these waves of summer are biting cold in this heat.
but go under far enough, and your body will adjust.
it always does.
i love summer for what it brings out of us, from us.
“I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?”
“The Summer Day” by Mary Oliver
06/30/2010 § Leave a comment
a girl with long legs and an infectious smile is hula hooping outside the window.
it’s past midnight.
a man walks by with wilting roses in his arms, unwrapped.
taxis are filing down the street, windows down.
otis is telling you to try, try a little tenderness.
“all you got to do…”
it’s just one of those nights.