I’m still learning…

Sitting down with gratitude for slightly warmer temperatures and a sun bright and clear. Thankful foremost for the time to write until the work whistle blows (and the ever strong encouragement from the dear one whose couch I crashed on last night). Clearing the night’s emails I find this beautifully rendered quote from the always good Zen Pencils:


It reminds me of the Michelangelo, “I’m still learning.” Thank the Universe.

Some days — most days perhaps — we go through our grind of seconds, not really building anything most especially not ourselves. We forget that our time on this exceptionally varied planet is limited and we owe it to ourselves to expand our hearts and minds and bodies and clutch of talents as much as we possibly can. It is all so vast. There is too much choice and too much mundane chattering for attention.

I feel small. I am all too often am fearful of my own potential. I let my mind churn over banality, getting ever more contracted in my world, instead of expanding it with the more in the greater world.

To believe in ourselves, to want and strive and work and yearn to learn for the simple pleasure of doing it… it is one of life’s simplest, greatest challenges.

Today’s mantra: I am enough. Yet I am worthy of learning yet more.

The Weaver


I posted a version of this at BeingUnbound yesterday. Please forgive the first (and likely last) cross-post but the story has as much to do with inspiration and intentional enjoyment as it does with travel bounds. As I am wrestling with some big questions (like where I will live and work next) telling this story helped remind me what it is that I love to do.

Once upon a time…

Over the rim of his coffee cup he gazes again towards my feet and says, “I am completely mesmerized by the fabric of your scarf.”

I smile and look down to the pashmina loosely tied as usual thru the handle of my rucksack.

“It has a story.”

“I’m sure it does.”

With ripples of pleasure that deepen my crows feet, I tell it.

For this is what I do. This is what I love to do. I travel and collect stories. And sometimes I collect a physical thing which is like a beacon that points to the story behind it.

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The many lessons to be learned from failure

“Winners want the ball”

Gene Hackman in the Replacements (guilty pleasure movie, not just because it is based on my ‘Skins)

Failure as the “best teacher” and “is a good thing” (and even to be encouraged) seems to be a common theme this month all over the webs. My web-FAIL and whole key fiasco fits here too. I am not the only one.

The night of the web-FAIL, my yoga teacher and I were having a conversation after class about how hardcore one of his teachers from NYC is. This teacher apparently walked into class one day and said something to the effect of: “Everything in this world fails. Projects fail. Things fall apart. Relationships fail. Your body fails… What we do in yoga is teach how to be present, witness the struggle and deal with those failures. Let’s go.

To me, the “yoga” in that sentence is “inner strength.” The actual practice of yoga helps with breathing and concentration which certainly help in stressful situations. I also think the well from which we draw in moments of crisis is our confidence– our internal power to stay calm to find a way. 

The problem and solution is on me — I like it that way.

Unscheduled Maitenence

My personal “check engine” light has been glaring at me for the last weeks. I look at the date and think “Where did January go?!” I have been busy, yes, but certainly not so much that I could miss an entire month passing by.

Somehow I thought that life would find this magical place where the hourglass would even out and I would have time. Yet alas, no. Not yet.

Bug in SnowLooking at my posts for the last year and taking stock, it seems this is rather a continuous problem for me. Whirlwinds of adventure mean that time goes quickly. It is a reminder to appreciate moments but also that maybe I should finally take stock and figure out a bigger chunk of what I am doing. Hello Adult-Type World, I guess I am in you now.

In addition to figuring out my big-girl-pants next life steps, I’ve been in the process of trying to come to terms with this blog. See, at the end of December I broke my steak of blog posts. Once I missed one, I missed many. It is sad to say that a habit can so easily fall apart.

Instead of wallowing, however, I’m pushing myself to get the thing done and, imperfect as it will seem to me as soon as I hit publish, I will ship this today… or at least “today” Eastern Standard Time. Sounds like a rather inauspicious beginning but such has been the journey to this point and so at least that wild streak will continue.

The Tune Up

The conclusion that I have come to, my dear reader, is that Wednesdays don’t work for me. It isn’t anything that they did, you see, it is just me. I’ve changed. I’m not breaking up with them entirely though, I hope we are going to remain friends.

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Broken Chain

There are times when the pieces fit securely into place and all seems to flow in a great, expanding, steadfast and sturdy row. This, my friends and my dear self, is not one of those times.

I can hardly type 3 words without going back and editing. Misspellings abound. My writing seems jerky, careless and rushed. 

Mirrors in VeniceThere is a metaphor there.

I go out to get some needed fresh air and quite literally smack into life in all its awkward weirdness. The seconds tick and all I want is silence to coalesce the seeping, dripping globs into meaningful forms. Yet I am trapped into a silly cycle going nowhere fast. I feel the pull of my reaching mind against the dictates of expectations and niceties which supposedly grease the cosmic wheels.

Life seems scattered.

The links in my day all ajumble with knots and tangles collapsing in on themselves. Excited energy feels more like tension. The twisted snarls are taught and vibrating.

Collapse seems imminent. But there is no time for that indulgence.

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