Fall

The previous months have passed gently as the late Indian summer, typical of San Francisco dwelling, turned its attention to fall and fog. I am not sure why fall is my favorite season but there is actually a feeling that resonates in my body in response to this season and it makes me feel warm, grateful and glad.

Recently I noted a change within myself. I am suddenly more spirited and more interested in partaking in the fun traditions of our culture. In other words, I went shoppingfor Halloween costumes and had great fun doing it. Its been years since I've become excited about celebrating a "holiday" or fun day. I am not sure why that is, but I used to get annoyed with these days that were deticated to themes, decorations ad traditions.

So what shifted? Why after all these years did I suddenly become interested in celebrating these traditions? Simple, I became a mother. It is odd because suddenly I want the world to be the most fun, exciting, adventurous, cool place ever! I never looked at it this way, but I do believe traditions and celebrations are our way of honoring life, enjoying life and coming together as people to share sentiments. Its not annoying (as I once thought) it's awesome!

To begin with honoring traditions and celebrations I am beginning with Halloween. Afterall it is within my favorite season.

Notes to self...

1.) Everything is a process, an unfolding of events: an intricate map of geographical emotions, distance, time and languages. Stop searching for a destination, a conclusion or a punction mark. Be present in the process and be humble by the fact that you have no real idea where life will take you. Everyday invite life in to teach you and take you where ever it is you may go. 2,) Trying to be better= Pointless. Be challenged by new knowledge and let it take you where it will with conscious intention. 3.) Laugh! Laugh hard and deep and let it devour you. Laugher is medicine.

All along

My mind lies gently resting on the unveiling truths, quiet and still,
until more arrive and suddenly it is a show of little shooting stars clanging in my pocket like loose change just waiting to be found, aha!
The days are neither collected or sold, they are origami creatures
performing circus acts on the strings between my heart and all else
that beats and hums of life within.
they are built of sugar and salt and they journey between
sweetness and heartache,
and even in the moments that do not know of time,
the journey is always there, flowing like a river that never stops to think of what it would feel like to stand still; It just is, knowing or not, it is.
Hunger never knew how to borrow so fully from the empty barrel that lies between my rib cage,
prana and tears fill this space, wind and dust someday.
sorrow, it knows me.
sleep and laughter, they come to caress my hair and smile into me, as if to say feed upon us before you go back to climbing cliffs in search of your one lost puzzle piece. rest now.
but my journey does not break into parts,
it is one shoot of an arrow
and I only I see the slowest motion version of it,
hoping, waiting, hoping
that by the end, when it has laid its mark, you are there in those final moments
to smile, and to say I've loved you all along.

Let it be.

The fog hovers like an umbrella of greedy sun steeling humor,

mocking your bleak mood, as if the apparent season of summer

would somehow hold you to your capability of feeling bliss.

The voice that mocks the ego says, darling, you are holding

so still that I can see right through the cracks, a wild bull

is dancing on your mind, those butterflies are blooming in your stomach,

those worms are eating holes in your heart. How do you do it? How do you sit so still?

How do you remain so quiet?

Ah but there you are, composed, smiling, hiding, hoping none of this truth

will seep out and let itself by known. You taught yourself to tread water, to smile and always be polite. You learned to do this well, and you can't let go. Being perfect is what you do.

Today on the lower step to the back door of your apartment, you sat. The middle of the day

sat still with you, it hummed your sadness, it recognized your fury, it gave prize to your fight. The vast sky that stretched beyond where your imagination has wandered invited you to dream. The earth, she gathered bouquets for your funeral. It was the death not of you but of a little square inch piece of fear.

Let it be known. You are a woman of vast emotion, the deepest sorrows, the widest longings, the highest loves, the biggest laughter... You feel all of life with all of who you are.

Let it be.

and then there is you being your own best friend.

Today I woke up with a little tingle in my chest, with a little hallow space right in the middle, like a bulls eye to be targeted by some saintly emotion of self-love. That little hollow ache is the kind that asks you to pull the sheet over your head and say no thank you to being an active part of the bustling world outside.

Today I forced myself to yoga, in other words I got dressed, showed up, rolled out my mat on the floor and thought, "Oh God what am I doing here." I have no desire to move my body or to breath into this space of blah.

It had been several weeks since I'd done yoga. My body felt reluctant, non-flexible and weak. Surprise, surprise! Could it be mirroring exactly how I felt emotionally and mentally? After one too many Vinyasa flows I could feel my body trembling in pose, it was hard to hold, to stay with it. Back down to child's pose, exhale, and then the floodgates opened.

I spent the last 15 minutes of my yoga classes silently bawling, tears rolling down my face, but not a peep. I realized when I hate doing yoga the most is when I need it the most. It connects me to myself, even when I don't want to connect, or I'm scared to connect because there are feelings there other than happiness.
I stretched out all the kinks, got the blood flowing, let go of some old tears and left that yoga studio feeling renewed. There is only so much chocolate, wine and self-deprecating behavior to numb the not so fun days, and then there is you being your own best friend, saying, "Get you ass out of bed, get on the mat and let go, be and accept."

How or Why?

There is no how or why

there is just

what is

I cannot explain nor define.

In my simplest form I am a ribbon of endless length

that never unwinds the same way twice and

remains bound to a wheel of certainty

But for you, without knowing how or why,

I want to come undone,

I want to dance,

I want to stretch and be seen.

I close my eyes to words i may never speak

I cannot yet see the reason in between two outcomes

The years have escaped me, nothing is familiar

But you are the same, always the same

and on my mind,

in my intentions,

a part of my smile

the act of just being.

You are there in my heart

without knowing, how or why.

Hey Honey Where You Been?

It was a Wednesday night at the Press Club in Sacramento. The music was horrific, the drinks weren't strong enough and no one entertained my curiosity. My roommate insisted on dancing with her obnoxious drunk friends, so I disappeared into the loner room, a quiet place full of empty tables and a window facing the bustling intersection on 21st Street.

I sat down. Then a bandit of cheesmo testosterone bearing beef-cakes came to flatter me and offer to buy me a drink, oblivious of my need for solitude. I didn't find it in me to be rude or ask them to leave me alone, so I smiled and smoothly planned my escape.

Then...

A shadow of a man walked from the corner of the room to the center table. A young Bob Dylan vibe, a crazy curly-haired rebel that won my heart without even trying. "hey honey where you been," he asked me. I smiled, leaned in and whispered in his ear, "thanks for saving me."

We lasted about 2.5 years. In the beginning I told myself that love was suppose to be rapturous, tormenting and self-sacrificing. I fought for that relationship and I would have given my limbs to prove my love, but there is only so much fuel in the gasket for that kind of love. And when it ran out, I just needed to lie down and be loved, without task or fight.

I learned that even though I loved that man with ever ache in my bones and beat of my heart, sooner or later it was going to wear me down, perhaps be the death of me, so I cried, packed my bags and left.

Midnight snack!

I sometimes stay up past my bedtime, lingering barefoot on the creaky old wooden floors of my apartment, between the windows and the walls, where the moonlight casts shadows; and I stay there alone and completely satisfied; satisfied just to give myself over to MUSIC, ...knock your head off your shoulders, heartbreakingly good music:) I have always been willing to sacrifice sleep for quality music listening opportunities, even if it is music I have listened to a thousand times. Those timeless goodies, mmm hmm! Music fits nicely in the high priority category of my reason d'etre. It fuels me in so so many ways.

I once tried to explain my experience of music to someone who witnessed me in an a moment of a blissful and passionate expression of gratitude for damn good music. I described is as something like this... When a song reaches me it, it penetrates every part of my being; it has my liver singing hallelujah, it has my kidneys whispering amen, it has my finger nails wailing wooohoooo. It takes a hold of me, all of me, and it does not let me go until it has transformed me into something new.

Here's a little midnight snack, one of my favorites...

Bob Dylan's Sara

Is motherhood really THAT bad???

I often have my single female friends ask me what it's like to be a mom. Getting pregnant for the first time at the age of 25, even though it did not feel young, meant I was the only one amongst my close friends who was having a child. I always knew I wanted to be a mother and I knew I wanted to be a young mother, so for me it felt entirely natural.

When I was pregnant I had many women share their honest sentiments with me about their experiences of motherhood. Some where down right scary. Was it really going to be THAT bad? Did motherhood mean not only was I going to lose my figure, the ability to sleep in and enjoy Friday nights out, but also was I going to change? ...become less free spirited, stop cursing, become more practical, less fun? Did it mean I was going to turn into a "mom?" I was assured that motherhood was going to change me.

Motherhood has changed me and when my curious girlfriends ask me to spill my truth on the experience this is what I say... Motherhood is an experience you can never prepare for, it is teaching at its finest; your child teaches you how to love unconditionally, how to see the world anew everyday, but more than anything, the hardest thing is that motherhood is a mirror. You suddenly realize that the only way you are ever going to teach your child anything or provide for them an example of how to perceive the world and live well is by being that example, living that day to day example of what it means to be a truly good person. This is the hard part!

Allow me to offer a little parenting advice from someone who has survived 17 months of it! 1.)Don't change too much. Invite your child into your world!

2.) There are no rights or wrongs as long as you are acting from a place of love.

3.) Throw away the damn baby books, your intuition know better. Except The Aware Baby is a must:)

4.) Get on the ground and play.

5.) Get over it! All the little things that happen throughout the day can get frustrating, don't let them get to you.

Today I meditated, and then lost my path with thoughts of Johnny Depp. Oh well!

In between self-discipline, a yearning to experience the world beyond physical desires and material possessions, I come to a dead end. There, I must admit to myself that at moments I am entirely superficial and love nothing more than the taste, sight, touch and feel of things. I have no room in my bones for spiritual awakenings and conscious living in these moments, only gourmet food, designer shoes and love making. Oh yes, human, so very human that is me.

I recently made friends with two females I met at a Sangha event in Berkeley. Our introduction was made in a space kept for meditation, contemplation and a devotion to the spiritual journey. I am definitely on that journey and I yearn to hold a space of depth for that which is divine in everything and I often feel most motivated and enlivened by this space. Anyhow, I invited these two blond bohemians over for tea, thinking how great to have friendships with other women who seek this certain quality to their lives. They arrived together both looking fashionable and fun, like girlfriends you could drink martinis with at a posh bar while discussing the latest celebrity gossip. We sat around my coffee table drinking ginger tea talking about Ayurveda and our experiences with meditation. To my delight though the conversation didn't stay here. We shared a love of fashion, we talked about men and that "umph" one feels when attracted, and how rare and insanely true attraction can be. These girls made me realize that I am not a lonely breed of female, but there are in fact other females who are equally spiritual aspirant, lover of knowledge, fashionista, sex goddess (or so I wish).

My raison d'etre is many things at many given moments. If I were solely focused on my need for deep meaningful living then i'd be ignoring a great aspect of myself. Is it contradictory to think that one can live a conscious and sacred existence while at moments being imperfect and perfectly superficial? I am certain that many would say YES. That's fine and that may be partially correct, but I am going to interject some thoughts here.

In order to really walk the path of truth, intention, meaning, one has to be honest, one has to be them self. One has to acknowledge imperfection not as a weakness but as a reality of being human. So as I travel this spiritual journey seeking wisdom and self betterment, I allow myself to be me. I recognize the great power of intention and the ability to change oneself, that is entirely separate though. I always have a greater capacity for compassion, love, devotion, inspiration etc. but I cannot make myself someone that I am not. I will always admire the serene and dedicated yogi for his ability to be silent and simple. That just isn't me though. I will always admire the powerhouse woman who can run a business, maintain a good marriage and raise happy children. That just isn't me. I don't know how to multitask. I do one good thing at a time. I can't live a life of boring clothing, boring foods and no sex for the sake of enlightenment. I get it and maybe one day I will want to give up all my earthly desires, but today is not that day.

Today's mediation: silence, silence, ....silence. Hmm,what shall we eat for breakfast? ooooh waffles drizzled in honey. ssshhhh, silence, we're meditating. oh man, what would it be like to spend a day in bed with Johnny Depp. oh god that sounds so fantastic right now. I want sex! Shhhh, shut it, meditate you wild monkey mind. hmm, I wonder how long it would take me to reach nirvana, hmm...............

I've spent far to many moments beating myself up for not being good enough. I just don't have room for it in my life right now. I am not a saint, I am Megan Fleming. I value meditation and I try to meditate daily. Sometimes my path is lost with thoughts of Johnny Depp. And I don't so much mind:)

Ain't no leader like the one I am.

If there were a clear and mapped out path for my life, in many ways I'd be grateful. I have never been the type of person to make plans. I'd like to think that I enjoy a certain quality of mystery in my life: the spontaneity that comes with encountering the unknown, but is that all it is? Or is it a commitment to things that I fear? I once gave up taking a weekend trip with a group of friends for the fear that I'd get there, somehow crave solitude and then be confined to a weekend of non-stop social activities. I sometimes get stuck in the frozen foods isle of the grocery store, dazed and confused about which flavor of ice cream I should buy. What if I were to get Cherry's Garcia and then later realize I wish I had New York Super Fudge Chunk? Making the tiniest commitments can boggle my mind. With making the real big decisions I usually flip a coin and let it decide for me. There are some exceptions to my commitment phobia though. I knew hands down I wanted to be a mom. That HUGE commitment didn't scare me one bit. I knew that when I was in truly in love I'd be able to commit forever. That didn't scare me one bit either.

I guess it is this then: commitment doesn't scare me, it is having to make decisions for things which I am uncertain about that scares me, even the littlest things. I can birth a baby no problem, but ask me to pick out an ice cream flavor and I am all over the place.

Though I am not accustomed to living by a schedule nor do I like routine, I sort of thrive in that environment. I loved college for the freedom to live on my own, explore the world away from my parents, eat pizza at 3am, blast music and smoke cigarettes in bed. Yes, this was all great but what made it great was that class didn't wait for me, I had to be there, papers had deadlines, professors had expectations. I could be wild and free in so far as I had been responsible enough to carry out my student duties.

Lets just be honest, I have a tendency towards self indulgence, even laziness at times. If I had utter freedom to exist without responsibility I am quite certain that at times I would find myself hunkered to the couch watching reruns of "I Love Lucy," accompanied by an empty pint of Ben & Jerry's. I don't like existing in this way, at least not for extended periods of time.

As I get older I am beginning to recognize that commitment is a learned habit. The more I practice it, the easier it becomes. So here it is, I think this may be the gist of my dilemma... I want to be the master of my destiny, I want to dance to the beat of my own drum, I don' want to work for any corporations, I don't want to waste my time doing things that I have no meaning to me. I want to live boldly and freely, and as far as accountability goes, because I do need it, it should come from a place of passion and truth. It should come from my own inner wisdom putting on the spectacles and looking deeply to evaluate and praise or to nudge and say, "get off your ass and be better than this."

All these years I just thought maybe I had a rebellious streak, a fear of commitment, and an inability to function as one of society's machines. I guess I am more certain now that no I am not rebellious at all. I just want to do things my own way. I am not commitment phobic, I just need to know what I want before I invest. And lastly, YES I am unable to function as a machine in society. Ain't no leader like the one I am!

Dance it out!

By the time I was 8 years old, I had choreographed my own dance routines, which would be performed regularly in the living room of my parents' ranch style home in the suburbs of Sacramento. My interest in dance started as a way to show off: to put on frilly outfits and to imagine what it would be like to be extraordinary.

I also grew up in a household that loved to dance. I have memories of my parents dancing around the dining room table to the music of Tony Bennet. When you'd see them dance together it suddenly became so aparent why they were together. They knew how to be silly, sexy and smooth all at the same time.

Although I outgrew my "look at me" dancing phase, I still do love to dance. The ability to move spontaneously in a moment of inspiration tends to pull me out of myself. It is my self-prescribed antidote for dullness, depression, and that "ugh" mood that makes me feel heavy and unmotivated.

Dance as an art, meaning it has technique and theory, is not my subject of this thought. I like to think about dance as the small portion of my day that happens organically, just like hunger before a meal. I crave to move and I do so. God forbid anyone see me dancing in my undies while scrambling eggs in the mornings. Well, other than my toddler who has grown accustomed to my "just because I feel like it" habits.

I am curious though about all the different notions surrounding dance: dance therapy, cultural dance, seductive dance, dance of love, spiritual dance, baby dance etc. Dance, since the beginning of time, has been a bridge of refuge from oppression, it has been the first step in romantic courtships, it has led many couples from the dance floor to the bedroom, and most recently, I have noted that dance has the ability to sooth a crying baby. Turn on the reggae, pick up that chubby cheeked waller and let him know that there is more to life than crying. When my son is upset, I never let him cry it out alone. I scoop up my love bundle and we dance it out together.

Ah, dancing, yes, perhaps one day this could be the solution to war. Just dance it out!

Happiness experienced only when shared???

A few years ago I read the novel, Into the Wild, that was made more popular by the film version. It was a great book that brought up endless existential questions, but the reason I refer to it is for a specific line that has always stayed with me. I am not quoting this directly, but it was something like this: Happiness can only be experienced when it is shared.

My life has been shaped and defined by those I hold dear and call my friends. I have not always been the best at friendship though. I wasn't always willing to share myself completely, and instead found it necessary to share only the part of me that was strong, capable, beautiful, perfect etc. And though, in moments, I am all of these things, those moments are fleeting; they arrive and then leave before resonating.

When I was 16, my dearest friend was diagnosed with brain cancer and she was given a year to live. I watched her go through every stage of emotion. I watched her hair fall out. I watched her lose the ability to walk. I sat beside her the day she lost her battle to cancer. I had never know this sort of intimacy with anyone and it terrified me. She taught me something. She taught me that it was okay to be weak and be seen. She taught me that friendship cares less about seeing the perfections of a person, it cares only to truly know the whole person. In her weakness, baldness, and fear, I saw nothing other than an amazing young woman who I adored. There was nothing she could do or say that would make me feel otherwise. This is what friendship is, I have told myself.

A part of me believes that happiness is cultivated through our own willing; it comes from within. Another part of me believes that in order to experience happiness fully, it has to be shared. I am really good at going to the movies alone, sitting alone at a table for two in a nice restaurant, traveling abroad without knowing a soul nor the language of the country I am in. I have always been good at being alone. However, when I am in the company of a kindred spirit, my joy is abundant and life just makes more sense.

I have know true friendship, it is a gift and it is rare. At this moment in my life, I feel I have room for nothing less. I want to sit make-up-less, imperfectly and silently with someone who knows my favorite song. And I want to give others the space to do the same. I am grateful to all the lovely people in my life whom would gladly let me do that, and already have.

The simplest things seduce me.

Somedays I am in search of a blatant display of awesomeness: Neruda's poetry, an '89 Lynch Bages, a piece of Scharffen-Berger, a Bob Dylan song, ...etc. Other days I am seduced, without thought or reason, by the simplest things.

As the wind moves the flower to dance gently under the sun, I too am moved with it. The natural world is something I cannot comprehend, but nothing makes more sense to me. The earth, the sky the sea and everything in between are things I have known from the beginning. There is nothing new about any of it, and yet I never get tired of looking at it, discovering it, awing over it.

Brian always says, "The wind blows and you get turned on." I think he might be right!

Go Nude! But Don't Forget to Wear Really Great Shoes!

I often refer to matters of the heart and spirit when speaking about my raison d'etre. I appreciate the depth and substance of a life lived with contemplation and a devotion to wisdom. Philosophy, Art, History, Politics, Social Justice, ...Yes please! I love deep thinking. I love exploring the intricate layers of the human mind. I love things that stir my senses to the inner core and energize a more pure way of being. But I have got to admit, some days should be reserved for mindless, superficial, good fun!

Every so often, I find myself in DIRE need for one of those days. It usually begins with browsing some of SF's finest fashion boutiques. If you know me well, you know that I can transition between talking about Sartre and shoes rather easily. Today I found myself in Gimme Shoes. I feel at home there, not just for the fact that all the sales associates know me by name, ha, but being in a space of well- made, sexy, awesome shoes, puts me at ease. I feel a feng shui of my energy while spending time in Gimme, and I feel damn good.

What is it about shoes that I ADORE? I believe it began when I was in grade school. I found wearing the Catholic school uniform, um, stifling. My shoes were the one and only aspect of my attire that I could choose. Shoes were my means of individual expression. There is an experience that is created around shoe shopping. Some of my most vivid memories of spending a summer in Italy when I was 16 are held within those lovely little Italian shoe boutiques. The smell of quality leather, the organic craftsmen ship of a pair of handmade shoes, the qualities of earthy and feminine colliding into a perfect pair of heels... Oy vey! Over the years, my shoe collection has become an expression of my experiences, my travels, and my evolution as a woman.

So yes, shoes may be my vice, because it is likely that I like shoes a little more than I should. Most days I'd say give me truth or give me death, but some days, it's just gimme shoes.

Take me to where the Buffalo Roam

At various points in my life, I have wanted to experience living on an Indian reservation, having the opportunity to soak up some wisdom from the elders and live more simply. (Living more simply, always always on my list of to do, and such a challenge) For as long as I can remember, I have been drawn to cultures that honor nature and abide by an ethic of compassion and love of all things and people.

A while back, I met an old Hopi man,Istaqa, meaning coyote man. We had many conversations about life, war, mother earth, ethics, love, parenthood etc. Anytime I asked him a question, he would not respond with an answer but instead provide a story. He helped me to not only admire the practices of his Hopi ancestors, he ignited my own internal compass for accessing knowledge. He also used a saying, "Have you eaten yet?" This was his way of asking how are you? At first I thought, how bizarre to ask if I have eaten. But then I understood. It is the basic need for nourishment which gives life. From there all else is up to us. How many times has someone asked, "How are you" and you felt like saying, "Not good?" If someone instead asked you if you had eaten, would that change the way you felt about your present state? Maybe it would encourage you to nourish yourself better or perhaps it would make you realize that your life is abundant because your basic needs are met. I love this saying and sometimes use it for fun. We often forget that many people of the world are not so fortunate to have plentiful food and basic resources, so if we think about this question, "Have you eaten," we recognize something significant.

In my experience I learned that with a quiet mind in a quiet place, preferably in nature, all questions have their answer. There is nothing the heart and mind does not know. In one of my favorite John Butler songs, "Sometimes," he sings, "Somethings its hard to see the truth and yet it is harder to ignore." In my daily intention to provoke the good within myself, I always draw on the inspirations from Istaqa and the wisdom of the Native cultures.

Here is a Lakota saying on how to live life. I really love this. Thank you for allowing me to share.

Friend do it this way - that is,
whatever you do in life,
do the very best you can
with both your heart and mind.

And if you do it that way,
the Power Of The Universe
will come to your assistance,
if your heart and mind are in Unity.

When one sits in the Hoop Of The People,
one must be responsible because
All of Creation is related.
And the hurt of one is the hurt of all.
And the honor of one is the honor of all.
And whatever we do effects everything in the universe.

If you do it that way - that is,
if you truly join your heart and mind
as One - whatever you ask for,
that's the Way It's Going To Be

Georgia, You've been on my mind

It is rare that I get to sit down on the couch and actually watch a film these days. So when the opportunity arises, I am beyond thrilled. I love film, no wait, that's not it. Rather, it is the feeling that film produces, the quality of reaching something meaningful and directly related to my own experience of life. I remember as a child, how watching certain films would shift my reality and would inspire me towards a certain way of being. At one point, I thought I was destined to be the real life karate kid. And then a week passed and I was on to being Mary Poppins:) Film has always been a powerful means of expression for human emotion. The opportunity to see a really lovely film can be transformative.

This past weekend, I rented the new Georgia O'Keefe film and really fell in love with that woman. She lived by her own reasons. She was incredibly simple and yet dynamic. Is that possible for one to be both simple and dynamic? Perhaps not, but I am assuming such. She changed the way I understand how those two opposing adjectives can be truly complementary of one another.

I went to the Georgia O'Keefe museum in Santa Fe a few years back. I have to admit, though her paintings are beautiful, I don't love them. I enjoy looking at them for their use of brilliant color and provocative sensualism, but I wouldn't choose to hang one on my wall at home. I was actually more moved by the black and white photo exhibit of O'Keefe. I would go back just to revisit those photos. I found them earthy and raw and incredibly self telling. Anyhow, through all my experiences of Ms. O'Keefe, she has come to exemplify beauty in so many ways.

I think that her fascination with Taos, New Mexico is part of the camaraderie. I found Taos to be a place filled with magic and soul. It melts away the layers, dries out the inadequacy, and leaves one feeling both humble and powerful. Perhaps that is why it is a refuge for artists. I could write a novel about Taos, but my purpose here was really to share my appreciation of Ms. O'Keefe. I have come to understand her as I have come to understand Taos. She comes off as an such a strong, hardy woman, but she is delicate and her heart holds a capacity for love that is rare. Just like Taos, a seemingly rough and austere presence at times holds a treasure for those who stay long enough to know it. The thing that also fascinated me about O'Keefe was her devotion to her "husband." The film portrayed him as a self-centered, eccentric type that knew very little about how to love a woman. O'Keefe lived her life for her, but even so she had a deep love for this man and a deep longing for him to recognize all that was good in her. There is something to be said about this. With ever reason not to love someone/something, for every reason not to allow our lives to be run always by what is felt and for every reason to concern ourselves first with honoring our own purpose, there is that one reason that simply outshines them all, "The heart has reasons, reason knows nothing of." -(Pascal). And this is what I loved most about her, that ability to move through life with grace and joy in spite of all that does not go as planned, and in spite of not being able to have all that the heart desires.

So thank you Georgia O'Keefe, thank you for your life and work. I will whisper your name every time I enter the canvas of Taos, as I feel somehow I knew you.

My journey of learning to live in the moment!

"Living in the moment," has become as common as the phrase, "How are you?" It's something we say, but it's not always something we think about. I have always strugged to truly live in the moment. My daily reminders from the "Tiny Buddah" suggest it, my morning pratice of yoga and meditation hopes for it, and the little voice in my head often says, "Hey darling, you are not living in the moment;" ...even so, I am still lingering on yesterday's memories and trying to run from tomorrow's storm clouds . So for me, the truth of living in the moment means surrendering to the "what is" of each day. Longing and fearing are probably the biggest hinders of personal freedom. Don't just live in the moment, really be there.

Learning to live in the moment started when I wasn't willing to hang out with negative thoughts and feelings. Everytime I had a negative thought or feeling, I'd escape to some great memory of the past or I'd start builing a lofty dream of what the future could be. All the while my mind and emotions were standing right in front of me doing jumping jacks and yelling, "Here we are!" What does one do when living in the moment means dealing with one's crazy self?

When someone casually says, "Just live in the moment.," ask them exactly what they mean. If I asked you to sit down and paint me a picture of something and you've never painted or been introduced to art, would you feel a little lost? For me, living in the moment, could only be defined once I praticed it. It is a practice I master some days and entirely fail on other days. It is about learning to accept that life is both light and shadow and our experience is really a creation of our judgements and reactions. Living in the moment means to accept the joy, the sadness and everything in between. Afterall, a moment is just a moment and then comes the next moment.

Never Follow a Recipe!

"Never follow a recipe," is a saying I use when it comes to more than just cooking. However, the saying did originate in my kitchen back when my husband and I were just dating. He couldn't understand why I never used a cook book or followed a recipe. It wasn't that I was against following recipes, but I guess for me there was no purpose in doing something when the process was controlled and BORING. I wasn't after creating a masterpeice, I was after the experience of my own creation, my own trials and errors. The term "Never follow a recipe" now applies to so much more. It is easy for us to follow the path of those who have gone before us. In my husband's case, this is the wise choice. You avoid error and you know where you're going to end up. Somehow for me, this was never quite exceptable. The process of life is the joy of discovery. "It's the journey, not the destination," as "they" say.

Not to discredit the wisdom that we can learn from those who come before us. There is an ocean of ancient wisdom that deserves much credit and respect. From this we can build ourselves a foundation of understanding. By doing this we give ourselves the tools to be better craftsmen of our own life. So, allow me to put it this way. Nourish your mind and soul with wisdom and grace and from there allow your own spirit to carve the way, afterall the world is always in search of new recipes:)