this is the cup that i choose to drink from today. the cup that was made for me by a dear one in madrid. a woman i've never really "met" but with whom i find friendship and have total admiration for. i commented on her post here, jokingly requesting my whismsy, and she surprised me the same day with my custom design. another precious gift from this crazy creative online world that i cannot remember not being a part of. the blessings from which, already, are too many to count.

so this is the cup that i choose to drink from today. the cup i will hold precious between my two hands and inhale the scent of steeping pungent spices from. the cup that contains all my dreams of far away places, beauty, and connections. the cup that promises abundance, flavor, color, and quenching. the cup that holds mystery and promises. the cup that cannot be broken and, yet, is as real and tangible as anything else. in this cup i place my faith, my leap, my transparency, my love. i will drink from it deeply and i will trust, yes i will really trust, that it will always be full. 

uzbek suzani, from apartment therapy

i sit with the will to write and realize that i've got nothing to grab onto. no stories to tell or witty references to make. just morning gazing on a soft chaise lounge with wispy tendrils of consciousness drifting through an otherwise quiet mind. my thoughts are of  farmer's market strolls and elliptical dreams. hummingbirds at my window and my yoga mat. piles of pennies on the table being painstakingly counted to pay for travels to far far away and for children that need to be fed. a body that craves endurance and sweat. and some new shoes. books that are speaking to me and movies that make painful sense. yearnings for adventure and stability in unison. tenderness and gratitude for all that is right now. something intangible that is busting forth, flowering and finding home deep within me. curiosity about capital letters and proper grammar and whether or not i should let on that i do, in fact, know how to use both. flowers for my altar and chia seeds in my breakfast drink. an itch for a new sofa and a vintage suzani on my bed.

a child to wake up and running shoes to put on. 

the last sip of coffee.

slowly and sleepy, i am making my way into this foggy, obscure and possible day. 

yesterday's me, portrait by my man, canon rebel xti, july 2009

i just removed yesterday's post because, quite frankly, it was filler. it was past tense, not relevant and just something mediocre to hold over until i had the time to give you something real. sure, the photos were ok, the sign was sort-of funny and i do love the eldorado springs pool, BUT the real reason i put it up there was so that i could quickly post something before i went down and lay by the pool at the venetian hotel in las vegas (where, mind you, they passed out cold cucumbers that my puffy eyes greatly appreciated). i put up that post yesterday because, still feeling pretty new at this, i worry that if i don't put something up here frequently enough, you might not keep coming back. my small self speaks up and nags me to keep up. appear with it. be the illusion of clever, smart, spiritual, creative and deep ALL THE TIME. whatever that is. this, of course, leads to inauthentic work and no more than mere blah content. completely insane, no? but true. so true.

the beauty of this medium is that we have the choice to present what we want about ourselves in any given moment. not so different from real life. you only see what i want you to see. the more that i do this, though, i realize that what i really want is for you to just see the real me. freedom to just be what is and toss it out there. this is like the grand experiment. art is life. life is art. you get what you give. and i want to give wholly. that doesn't mean that it will always be serious, or deep or even smart. how could it be? it just means that it has to be real. authentic. and present. 

so: take 2. 

what was real for me yesterday morning was that i had just had the best night's sleep of the past three weeks. in a fluffy white bed on the vegas strip. i was soaking up the indulgence of sin city for a mere 18 hours. and i loved it. typically, i shun vegas on the road trip between santa barbara and colorado. (for all the reasons one shuns vegas). i insist that we drive 40 minutes off-course in both directions to spend the layover night in springdale, utah because it feels holier, majestic and restorative. and it is all those things. usually, it's perfect. usually, i say a prayer, baptize myself in the river and i'm good to go.

this time, though, my body craved luxury, spoiling and a little gaudy decadence. i felt worked by the less than easy "vacation" of the past three weeks. i wanted five stars and my family was more than happy to oblige. there was wine and bubble bath involved. remote-controlled curtains, flat-screen in the bathroom and plenty of pillows. a roller coaster and italian chocolate cookies for the kids. i watched nurse jackie, read the rolling stone article about adam lambert and drank an $8 bottle of water. 

so there you have it. the unabashed truth of yesterday's me.  just a tired traveler in the nevada desert who eagerly and excitedly accepted free cucumbers by a pool; and who recognized that sometimes the doorways that beckon with seductive neon lights and the promise of high thread counts are exactly what she needs. AND,  i  managed to get away without ever being handed a porn ad. damn straight. viva las vegas.

dear colorado,

it's time for me to go home.

home to california.

where i come from, where i live now and where i (finally) want to be.

i've loved you so much. at times with the most painful of longing. we both know we've strung this out as long as we could have. four years is an awful long time to sustain a long distance relationship. it's time to let go completely. the tethers no longer serve us. 

you taught me so much about myself. i grew up in your canyons and went deeper than i ever thought i could sitting on your mountain tops. you pushed my every edge.  so many illusions vanished while i was in your embrace. you gave me haven, grace and refuge. for that, i'll always love you. but, i can do this for myself now.  i know that i don't need you anymore. 

i still want to be friends. really. it's not you, it's me.  i still want to visit now and again. check-in on one another. take in your beauty and your rockin' resilient snow-caped peaks. your streams and creeks. your ridiculous abundance of hummingbirds and butterflies. and your people. oh how i love your people. i'll be like john (jane?) denver and i'll sing your praises. we'll meet again around the fire and talk of poems and prayers and promises and things that we believe in. 

until then, you can find me out west. where i live. and where i want to be. 

 so much love, lisa

ps. somebody tell me why there are seagulls in the colorado sky? are they lingering in-between like i was?