i sat outside this morning. my meditation was on the perfect espresso (with freshly grated nutmeg) and the new toast catalogs, where i can get lost in a study of color, light, and coveted things. a little rumi rounded out the trifecta. the eagerness of spring seems to have arrived overnight. the pittosporum and the jasmine contributing to drunken evenings, the roses promising to burst into obscenity at any moment. then there are the birds. en masse and solo, blue and red-tailed, even the crows, they fly crazy with delight from branch to perch. has it always been this way? or am i just awake?

some call it “being in the flow,” the matrix, the vortex–that connected sense of crossing into greater awareness and spirit. i’ve had a taste again, of living from the heart. of pleasure and faith. of open doors and the kind of honesty that sets fire to the story. and while i am as restless as the hummingbird to know where the next adventure will take me, to move through the air and to arrive somewhere that smells of rich nectar and heat, i am holding to this moment. the one that tastes the grit at the bottom of the cup, and that turns the page into yet another image of shadowed perfection.

Do not seek any rules or method of worship. Say whatever your pained heart chooses. ~Rumi

photo: toast catalogs and my favorite mug. on the porch, today.

clearly, there haven’t been words. or time for words. it has been all about living, doing, working, and settling back into my heart.

i’ve just wrapped up a big shoot for the adesso and sorellina jewelry fall 2011 collections. shot up at demetria estate in the santa barbara wine country, it was a feast for the senses. can’t debut the images just yet, but sure to be a seductive treat come fall. what i loved, more than anything, was how i was hushed into the viewfinder again. with cinematic light and landscape, gorgeous models, stunning jewels, endless glasses of wine, and a collective intention to spread beauty and serve–there was plenty to capture.

so far, 2011 has not spared us the dramatics. from revolution to catastrophe, in the world at large and in the lives of so many people i know (myself included). we have been shaken, simplified, overcome with devastation and resounding fortitude. pockets of grace. heroes emerge and small moments of pleasure are not lost on us in these times. we savor what tastes right and good because we know there is healing there.

i sit today in yet another pause. one where i know not what was or what will be. i know only that i crave more moments like the one above. where there is nothing to do but be in it. willing. strong. equipped, ready. and sure as ever that, at the end of it all, beauty will prevail.

photo of me by samantha goldstone

it doesn’t really matter if it is the corner of the frame or in the reflection of the eye. i see it in unspeakable moments, in the four month old that survived the earth opening up and the ocean rising. i see it in the warped lines and the shallow pools. in the waking–however that happens.

i feel it in the moment my own shoulders lower, when i am arrested with the awareness that the veil is thinned and that vastness persists. it happens when i stop looking, when i release the grip, the impossibility of knowing, the striving for containment. it happens when i see without looking.

i catch the light. and i remember.

at times, i think i might die of poignancy. the bird that flew into my home the other day, looked me in the eye, and left peacefully. the layers of soundtracks and verses. the “chance” meetings that continue to happen, unsettling and exquisite all at once. the brush of wind on my inner arm. the visitors in my dreams. the hunger and madness i see everywhere.

i crave eye contact and whispers. new memories. light.

i want to laugh and to stop trying to be good.

i wonder how i am perceived. my expressionless face presumed stern, hard-lined, tough.

when really i am all water and warm soil. a lot of moon. a little mercury and spit. blood orange, pepper, and sweet rasmalai.

my body feels more lean. sensual. soft. tired.

travel. anywhere. leaving yesterday. what i wouldn’t give to be above the clouds heading somewhere where the narrator isn’t.

the battle is waning, if from nothing more than wearing out the rations. my heart is tucked in tenderly, after narrowly escaping the knife’s tip. massive blood loss. the chest wound is now sutured loosely with golden thread. at least that’s what it feels like.

i should probably eat breakfast.

i can’t forget to bring my daughter lunch today. and make her doctor’s appointment.

tomorrow is International Women’s Day. i’ll be on a small bridge in good company. you should, too.

Speaking of good company, I’m looking forward to Liesel’s free call tomorrow night. (sign-up. NOW.)

it is a choice. always. to feel joy. to be free.

this one really got me:

Sober up,
Steady your aim,
Reach in,
Turn the Universe and
The Beautiful Rascal,
Inside out.
~ Hafiz

today, i actually like the wind.

and i don’t care that my favorite cashmere sweater has holes under the arms.

at the end of it all, a good shake-down always holds the potential for perspective. and awakening.

for that, i am honestly, unshakably, grateful.