Chelsea Talks Smack

Hush little baby, don't say a word.

2013-03-05T14:00:00.002-08:00

There’s something really amazing about the way your mind will unfold itself for you, when you give yourself stillness. Silence.

It’s the secret little gift that you give yourself, most of the time by accident and hardly ever when you “need it” to unfold.

Wrapped in an afghan on my front porch, I noticed the two rose bushes lining our fence and remembered that my Grandma Bernice, had rose bushes just like these in front of her house. Where I spent endless summers running pantless through the sprinklers, throwing pizelle “frisbees” at whomever passed by, a handful from the beginning. I remember using my first bit of youthful restraint not to pick the blooming flowers, despite their beauty and wanting to keep them as MY OWN. A lesson that as a grown woman, I would find hard to digest; with people, places and opportunities...whatever was forbidden and beautiful, I would want. The lesson in restraint is a hard one...harder for some than others. Harder when you see the potential, what those roses would look like on your bedside table, what that job would feel like in your schedule...what the man would snuggle like in your morning hair.

In an act of overcoming writer's block, I took a drag of my Turkish Camel Blues, left behind by one of our rotating bevy of guests- as houses tend to do, we’ve started accruing visitors of all degrees in friendship....home makes people feel welcome. No matter the closeness. A truth I’ve come to embrace and know that it’s hard for people to ask for the comfort of home, because articulating “home,” as a needed emotion makes a grownup feel like a kid again- a vulnerability that we spend our entire young adulthood attempting to grow-out of.
But, In that stillness, with the grey sky overhead I remembered versions of “home” by taste and scent; that my ex smoked these cigarettes and that every time I joined him with our morning cup of coffee, I felt this kind of gray. A grey, I remember by accidentally unlocking that memory bank- we store and think no longer affects us. A gray that thankfully was now only a memory, one that I’m now detached from and simply observing. I also remembered that my Grandpa used to smoke these cigarettes. I guess I didn’t know as a kid that he was even a smoker, but this scent made me remember him- living in his condo, the one with the ceramic pots on the steps and the fresh biscuits every morning.

A place I revered as a palace... the place where I learned to love musicals, learned to paint, a place that fostered my insatiable curiosity and desire to see the world and have it all. Where petrified Piranha’s sat on the mantel, exotic saltwater fish swam in the tanks, beaded dolls from Panama, carvings from Africa scattered around the house....artifacts and relics as toys- a nudge from the God’s to my 6 year old self that there was more to see. Perhaps this place was where I believed that the world as a whole was actually mine.….Another lesson that, through growth and age I’d learn was an attachment that only caused suffering in the long run.

But still, with that taste and that scent... I believe again, 26- single, dreaming... that the world IS IN FACT, mine. In whatever capacity I perceive it to be.

It’s easy to feel off center, or like we don’t know the answers; to our healing, to our desires, to our fate...when there’s so much noise. Or in yoga, “chitta vritti” -mind chatter. Even the intent to “observe” can be noisy, when you’re trying to observe to mask the layers of what’s going on internally.

There’s no noise here today, no time limit to force upon ourselves, just this stillness. There’s a boy who picked a flower and was taking the time to smell it while he walked to his car, a hummingbird that lives next door, a grown man on a pink Vespa, a broken hearted girl...they all existed in a 10 minutes time frame...all I had to do was look around. Get out of my own head and my own drama. My own self doubt and obsession.

It’s too easy to think that our own story is the most profound and confusing one and to miss the synchronicities of the Universe self-correcting and revealing itself to us as being “all good.” When things aren’t in upheaval it can feel as if you’re just coasting, but that isn’t the truth at all...the truth is much more delicate, takes a keen eye...a patient spirit...and a tranquil detachment from what we’ve decided is the-only-possible-plan-we-could-want.

Hush, hush little babies... be mindful of the things that cloud your mind, or pull you away from hearing the truth... be careful not to overindulge in the perception of others being "better," or having something you want... see your own life, for just a quick moment from the lens of someone else- or from your own lens with a shifted perception.....things look pretty peachy. Hush, hush.

What can you OBSERVE today?

This is one is titled The One That Took All The Courage to Write (6 months ago)

2013-02-07T12:53:00.001-08:00

Listen.

I love you.

No, I don’t think you really understand. I think you have this idea that I’m fickle, that I’m capricious and unpredictable. That the way I would love you would expire, or that it was founded upon the basis of being lonely or needing to fill a void. What you don’t understand is that the way that I love you is much deeper than that. It’s the kind that makes me feel like sunshine is beaming from every pore of my face...the glow kind. The kind that makes me check my teeth in the mirror twenty times, that makes my palms sweat, makes me touch up my mascara when you aren’t looking, stare at your name in my phone like if I just continue to stare at it maybe you’ll feel it and magically call.

You make me smile for zero reasons at ALL. Like, I look in your general fucking direction and I’m smiling. What is that? I’m smiling thinking about you right now.

I have fickle “like,” with people. Several of them. I have fickle like with people, who I go on dates with and share evenings with, who I entertain myself with to bide the time. If I didn’t, my impatience would certainly make me implode. I wouldn’t leave room for you to move towards me. So no, this isn’t the same.

The thing is, there’s an unspoken sort of energy that just works with us, if you would let it.

I know that I’m a Wild Card for you. The idea of “adventure,” literally makes you dig your heels even deeper into the Earth. You, to me, are like the earth- grounding and steady....I need Earth. To dig my hands into it and bloom from there, even wild flowers need soil.

You don’t want to recognize it yet, but you need AIR. You need levity... to get out of your head, your apartment, your stubbornness and your habits. No, not all the time... I want you to keep these things about you, I like that there’s a little push and a little pull. I’m aware that you’re afraid that I would knock off your equilibrium, but I promise I will know when to give you space. When to nurture and retreat. When to leave you rooted. I also promise to know when is the right time to knock you off your center.... because though you don’t admit it, you like the adventures when you agree to them.

I’ll do my best to let you think it was your idea.

The way that I love you isn’t what you think.... I didn’t wake up and decide you were a good rebound. In fact, you’re the complete opposite, if I were rebounding I would find one less complicated and more available. One who actually wanted to love me back.

See, that’s the problem with this whole loving you thing, you haven’t decided, willed, allowed...acknowledged, or perhaps... just don’t love me back. Everyone else seems to see it differently, they know it’s there, people can feel energy. People speculate.
But then you say, “No. It’s a no.” So.... then I feel like an insane, delusional rejected person and, did I mention insane, certified schizophrenic? Because listen, I don’t fully believe you.

Which I know sounds pathetic. Like this is a classic, “He’s Just Not That Into You,” move- but it isn’t. I’m not delusional, (I don’t think.) Your face looks like sunbeams when you’re with me too.... you can’t see your face, but I can. I know what a face looks like when it’s looking at someone's face who they’ve thought about kissing.

There’s so many reasons why this would be perfect... but it’ll never go there. You’ve already found every reason why it won’t. But don’t you see that this sort of “thing,” we have going on doesn’t just happen for everyone? You don’t just magically have the ability to communicate non-verbally the way that you and I can.... trust me, because the guy I’m in Fickle Like with right now can never read my subtle eye rolls, or smirks... that, “you look at me and you’re reading my mind,” straight face, the way you can. Fickle Like and I, we’ll never walk away from an afternoon with inside jokes.

Fickle Like and I, We don’t share subtle, awkward humor. We can laugh at Tosh.O, the obvious kind. The facilitated kind. We’ve got that part down. Just like everything else, Fickle Like needs easing, assistance.... a full pour of Shiraz, candles by the nightstand, obvious R&B, and obvious Pandora stations. The formula of ambiance. With you, I could do anything. Sit on your smoky couch with an apple juice, in silence and I would love you. Walk down an aisle at the grocery store, drive you to the airport, pick you up from that silly job with that silly hat that you had to wear and I would love you, because I do.

Do you believe me yet?

I want to love you for a long time, the kind that doesn’t run or over analyze how it could work. I want to learn how to be a good partner, the kind that isn’t jealous or fearful, selfish or immature. I want to love every single ripe, unfinished, incomplete thing about you...that you so eloquently said needs finishing before starting, I want to love all of it- because I already do.

Just like a woman.....

2012-10-02T01:43:00.001-07:00

You’re not a little girl anymore.

I caught a glimpse of my my calves, the way the muscles sit high and long on my leg, the shadows that hours of yoga and wearing the highest heels have attributed to the shading and I thought, “that’s a woman’s leg.” A woman’s leg from the tips of my childishly glittered toes to the top of my thigh. You’re a woman...one who knows how to move and adjust, manicure and present, settle, satisfy and offer her body. You’re in your body.... finally. Who would've thought that day would come? If only I could hush that 18 year olds fretting mind, so lost inside herself.

In the ways that my heart is young and optimistic, accessible and open it has, as a Woman's does, acquired the necessary walls and carefully maintains the ones worth keeping. But in those walls, only a woman knows where the doors are and who is worth letting through. My gut, my instinct alerts like a woman.... it knows the difference between “right,” and “not right for me.” My heart, is no longer an empty room, with a "come one, come all" sign, waiting to be filled with someone else’s stories, likes and dislikes that I'd hastily claim as my own in an attempt to keep them. That heart vessel doesn't say "Unoccupied," waiting to be invaded, or pillaged like it had been before... It stays FULL and entertained while deliberately awaiting the arrival of one worth re-arranging "the things" for.

My mind thinks like a womans now.... fiercely wanting to protect and nurture, hold and advise those younger around me. Despite my own need for advising. But as a woman can, I admit where guidance is needed and welcome...so that I don’t become stubborn, or rusty.

I can too, admit the places where I’ve hardened. I can track the steps, straight to the source... in honor of my spirit, I’ve done the work layer, by layer. I know now the longer you go without acknowledging the wound the harder it gets to heal when you decide you’re ready.

All of a sudden, in a way I hadn’t craved before...I have this insatiable desire to make sure you’re fed. Physically, spiritually, mentally. I understand that it is our job to bring something to the table and offer it up, without any expectations at all. I want to stimulate your mind, nourish your body, and sustain your spirit...because I've learned how to do it for myself first.

I admit that I need to learn from my Mother, my Grandmother, your mother... matriarchs... the ways to make a home feel like a place to nest.... the secret ingredients.... the go-to meal.... the must-have medicine cabinet items... patience. Knowing how to gracefully walk away, or pick my battles. This is all a part of it.

Unlike a Girl, I know that things take time. That nothing comes to full bloom in a day. I’ve relinquished the need to have all the answers, or to make you see things my way. Unlike a Girl, I know what it feels like to try and fit a square peg into a round hole, but now, rather than attempting it, I see the pieces for what they are and let them be.

Unlike a Girl, I don’t wish to be blonde, or shorter. I don’t wish for my hair to fall the way that hers does, or to have smaller ribs, bigger boobs, higher eyebrows... I don't compare relationships.... I know that no one has it “better,” we each just have it “differently.” Unlike a Girl, I’m comfortable with transparency, even if you aren’t. That my words are only of value if they are genuine and without pretense.... that the interaction, relationships, contracts that say, or feel otherwise aren’t “mine....” and that’s okay. Unlike a Girl, as a Woman I don’t look to be anyone else.... and the “exemplary examples” that I hold ideal, as Mentors I humbly acknowledge will make mistakes. That the only true guide you have is YOU. As a Woman, I find that power terrifyingly exhilarating....unlike a Girl, I’m prepared to harness, feed, listen to my own True North.

The way a Mother subtly does, as a Woman I know when to save my advice, I’ve learned to identify closed ears and closed hearts. I've learned when to slow down, speed up, or just stop completely.

I’ve come to know the power of having a personal spiritual practice that is accessible to me, that is mine, a dialogue that is open before the time of desperation. In my private moments between that of monotony and doubt, I have a deep, deep faith and personal devotion, a commitment to that beautiful divine side... that’s just for me. As a Woman does, I commit to a daily practice, of surrender and awe.

A Woman learns the things that are hers to keep. Her precious moments. The “alone” ones,
the kind of alone that drives home at night and yearns for only the shape of their own body, soft and familiar in the forms that it takes. Wrapping itself around a pillow, taking up the space... misconfigured, immodest, spilling over and dipping freely and comfortably. You must learn to crave that specific type of alone.

As a Woman I’ve learned the power of graceful restraint, coming to know when what you ache to say is already spelled out, a woman learns to trust subtle knowingness. She learns that words are the smallest part of the whole, as fun as they are to play with.... play can be spared.

A Woman knows that despite everything, she will be alright. She knows the well of resilience and strength that resonates through her whole being, even when she can’t bear it...she can do anything.

As a woman I trust my ability to love selflessly and selfishly in equal measure, inward and outward.

I may not always pay my parking tickets on time. I still wonder which paths my career will take me on....or who I’ll end up with. How the hell to organize my closet properly and if 4 Luna Bars & iced coffees in one day can be considered proper “meals,” when on the run (the answer is no.) I still need my Dad. I still want my Mom to like my outfits, my boyfriends, my hair color. The parts about being a Girl worth keeping are there....they’re playful and raw, completely, softly discernable. While ALL the years, the lessons, the introspection of a Woman exist, freely and proudly, I embody that which I've wanted to become..... and embrace that it's all still a process....

...Growing up isn’t too bad.

On Taking Breaks......

2012-08-07T02:47:00.000-07:00

To break.....

the definition:
To exchange for smaller monetary units

To crack without separating into pieces.

To part or pierce the surface of

To find an opening or flaw in

I broke. Three months is a long time for me to stay so far removed from this. But I broke. I needed breaking.
See, when you "exchange for smaller units" the smaller units get the attention that perhaps they needed, the neglected get nurtured. With less surface area to cover, it's hard to miss a blemish. Concentrated attention in spoonfuls. Saturated revolution.

The empty bedside journal, cracks its spine and the pages become worn. Bits and pieces of truth come out often, in waves...so you start to make room for their sporadic arrival. Focused room. Prepared to keep these pieces of "ah ha," solely to yourself. When we break, we honor our internal seasons, the ones that people don't teach us about. The seasons that aren't granted "holidays." We give our souls permission to regenerate and we give parts permission to die, so that new life, new patterns, new energy, can grow in their place.

I'm in the final week of what has been a three month yoga journey- (I will be an official Heated Vinyasa teacher by the end of the week), a three month returning to my CENTER period- finding my voice again and using it, and a three month adventure of consciously focusing on experiencing radical joy, self examination, intentional energy-giving and utmost, humble gratitude. During those three months, I've left a job, started a new one, watered new relationships and let others fall away. I've rewired thought patterns, and refocused.

"To crack without separating into pieces..." is when we allow the light to shine through. The cracks are there for you to see something that was locked up behind that wall that you were always curious about, but didn't have the key to find out for yourself. And then, something cracked. Enough room was made for you to peer into the other side.

That veil lifts and you get a glimpse of what you've been visualizing for years and hadn't yet tangibly experienced. When you see through it, keep looking. Stay there. That crack wasn't a flaw, or an accident, that was a new visual barometer to guide your next steps.

When you see what it is that you want, stop questioning whether it's yours to have or not. It is. If you know you need to make art, if see yourself on a stage, or in front of a classroom....that is yours. Trust that timing will do the rest. You don't need to fall apart, or go off course trying to find it without a compass or proper hiking shoes....you've got this. Stay there.

You know what it feels like when you experience a "breakthrough," but it's never one singular BREAK. Breakthroughs are gradual shifts, tiny cracks..... a small "piercing of the surface." And they're ACTIVE. We're constantly given the option to break.... but we rarely commit to the "through," part. Because that means that we have to acknowledge the "break," and when we really, truly start noticing them we have no other option than to shift our actions....through and forward.

Break often. Find the "flaw" and see through it. Take a break from the internal chatter that no longer serves you. Tell yourself it's okay to feel GOOD and be happy and not give an actual DAMN about what anyone thinks about how you did it, or why you're doing it, or what their idea of the "right way" is. Take a break from giving a damn.

When we break, we have to find a way to make use of the TIME we spent on old habits. When we break, we begin something fresh. When we break, we spend more hours spooned in bed with your favorite book or your new favorite person, you take an evening to watch the moon affect the ocean tide and you don't worry about what time it is....or who you're "obligated" to meet. When you break, you cut-off the flow so when you finally unwind again you're flooded. Ahhhhh.

Break for oranges and patios. Break for happy hours and beach houses. Break for sweaty mats and silent meditation. Break for new relationships and precarious territory, perfect for fancy footwork. Break for audible sighs and 3pm snuggles. Break for fresh eyes and eager ears. Break for the juiciness in anticipation and breathlessness. Break for a good sob and surrender. Break for daisies. Break because it is the most pure form of faith. Break, because taking yourself so seriously is overrated. Break for complete rebellion and barbaric barefoot dancing. Break to challenge your own ideals and exercise your beliefs. Break for what you can't get enough of and devour it. Break for what will expand your mind and have you clenching your heart, because it's all. soo. much. Break.

When you break the "big deal" thing, is less of a big deal and more a friendly neighbor. A trusty companion.

Break. Break, because contrary to what "breaking" infers which is isolation, imperfection or delay- the truth is that breaking means movement and light, both of which are beautiful, sacred and profoundly gratifying.

Back, but still breaking.

YOUTH: You're probably fucking up, but don't worry about, you've got time.

2012-04-12T12:19:00.017-07:00

There's something about the smell of the air at 10pm in Hollywood, when the sky doesn't give you the privilege of seeing the stars that makes you feel like you're eighteen again.

...tugging at your clothes wondering if you look pretty, if people will think you're funny, or if they're feigning interest... or if people can tell you've been eating peanut butter for dinner for like, a month straight, while piling into a car with a person you barely know, wondering if they're going to remember your name when you run into them at Gelson's in a week.

There's something about that smell. 10pm, right before summer comes full force, that reminds me of all those weird insecurities that you hope you've masked enough for functionality sake...now that you're 25 and all. You'll put this mask on autopilot. Chipping away at truths, layers trailing behind you, reminding you of what you're desperately trying to shed.

But here's the thing about youth. Right? YOUTH. Isn't it equally magic and horrendous at once?

The thing is this; sometimes, when you're 25, you'll end up cuddling with someone you shouldn't and you'll feel terrible the next morning and think, "when in the fucking, FUCK am I going to get it right?" then, you'll remember that sometimes, a warm bicep feels better than a pillow.

That sometimes, you'll isolate yourself and then you'll spread yourself thin. Sometimes, you'll be in the middle of the desert, with your arms in the sky, fingers splayed, tips touching the smoky dome of the Universe and you'll think, "Am I experiencing the actual best moment of my life right this second?" Then you'll fist your hands back up, the lights will turn off and you'll worry about your taxes. Or if you're eating enough greens.

Sometimes, you'll play Tetris with your plans and awkwardly dance atop the teeter totter like a lost puppy with a smile on their face while repeating, "I got this... I think? I got this... i think?" and like a charged game of Russian Roulette you'll hope you land on "GOT THIS SHIT." Then of course, you won't land there and you'll make yourself a quesadilla. And hopefully, play another game.

Sometimes, you'll have all the feelings and feel nothing at the exact same time and you'll think, "oh my god...is THIS the undiscovered dimension all humans throughout time have been feeling?" Then, you'll crawl into your bed all charged and "wise" and suddenly, you're on your phone debating ordering a pizza or calling your Mom, pretending that you have your shit together. Then you'll meditate, do some yoga, talk to God and feel "okay" again, until you wake up and have to relearn the epiphanies you had the night before and then, you'll feel bad for forgetting them. For not taking them seriously enough. For not making significant life-altering changes on your way to Starbucks, interspersed into your Daily Routine.

SOMETIMES, while you're mid-hangover, you'll be sitting alone at a café and the most beautiful family will be sitting in front of you and you'll be like, "THAT'S ALL I WANT." Then, you'll proceed to text that person who makes you feel like a Douchebag to see if they'll acknowledge your existence, by which the following steps occurs- Step 1. If so, they give you one word. You do a cartwheel. You project progress. Step 2. you'll try to hang out with them, which obviously won't happen... Step 3. You actually give up. A month later, you're back at the same café, staring creepily at a family coveting their life and thinking, "I'm lonely. No, I'm not, I'm awesome?... But still, I'm here creepily envying you? " thus, back to feeling all the things at once.

Sometimes, you'll collect all the wrong people and place them behind your fancy Windex-assaulted hutch, shiny glass and all and then at some unexpected point, you'll be forced to reevaluate their worth and realize you have to make a painful trade. You'll give up and then you'll take up. Then, you'll repeat it all again.

Sometimes, you'll have everything you want right in front of you, but you won't give it the time of day because you're too afraid to let go of the things that validate you just enough to survive, while counteracting your true desires at the same time. Because, obviously, it's too risky to flee. If you let go of one, what if nothing becomes of the other? Then you'll wonder why you're still hungry, clutching to the familiar.

Sometimes, you'll wake up. And each time, you hope you'll stay awake. Until you accidentally fall asleep again...

Sometimes you'll make a thousand excuses as to why you can't. Why you can't find love, why you can't pursue your dreams, why you can't find the time...then, while you're surrendered, empty and ready to be filled again you'll hear this strained voice tell you;

"Move out of your own way."

What they were really trying to say when they were telling you to "let go," was "...kindly unclench your tiny fists that are holding that "thing" that you so want to get rid of, move out of your own way."

It isn't that you're "too busy," or that you don't know what to do, it's that you've decided to know the answers before living through the answers, move your stubbornness aside. Then see the result. In fact, don't just move out of your own way... keep moving, in general. Move. Shift. Take steps.

Sometimes, you'll be like an elephant who just wants to plant a pretty daisy amidst the rose garden and proceeds to fuck the whole operation up.

What are you learning about YOUTH....what do you acknowledge to be true?

It's okay to ASK. For more PARMESAN. For more cuddles. For help. ASK, ASK. ASK.

2012-03-28T01:10:00.011-07:00

I lifted my heart to the heavens and asked that it be filled.

Ah, isn't that such a vulnerable moment, the ASKING.

...The asking of anything, really; permission, grace, advice, guidance.... ten more minutes, unapologetically declaring the need for more pleasure, or some damn directions. Extra cheese. Real answers. Proof. A little more time. There's great confession is ASKING and when there's a confession, you also reveal a wound or a "heart-piece." A, "hey, I trust you enough to tell you what I need right now." Asking is RAW and when something is raw, it is tender and when something is tender, it is delicate...so when we are in the place of asking we're admitting that we ourselves are fragile and that no matter what emotional facade we may build up around us, we are not made to be emotionally, physically or spiritually bulletproof.

Almost two years ago I went through what is my deepest ache-the one that left the floor and Iintimately familiar. Yes, while seemingly trite it was my first, real, true love heartbreak. See, I'm acutely aware that a breakup isn't an ounce of the pain or heaviness that people struggle with in the larger scheme of life, however, the dark hours that followed for me were as a result of this experience. The point isn't that specific experience but the things that I carried from it as a result; you will not feel this depth of pain, to this capacity forever. Even when it feels like it now, the Gods above will grant you some respite before you crumble. And, the most important one was this; It is our job to lift people up.
Caring, is not a "special personality trait" it is what we are here to do. If we aren't genuinely caring, unconditionally loving, connecting- holding and selflessly giving to those around us, what matters?

.... remember how supportive all of you were, when I was revealing my cringeworthy pain to you?

When I was heaving in a ball, clutching my heart and a pack of cigarettes, you were planning, scheming, sending prayers and notes. With no expectation, just to 'wave hello' that you were out there, thinking of me. I didn't realize the expansiveness of what it felt like to be HELD until I went through that. But, the thing I also didn't prepare for was; In order for me to heal, part of what I needed to do was reveal to those dear the parts of me that were still aching.

While, I see infinite magic, miracles and awe in this singular precious life that we're living, I recognize and acknowledge that there is true pain and heartbreak happening. That we're all surviving and navigating through our own suffering. We're experiencing loss of our loved ones, our visions, our self-control, our fortitude. Our minds. We're hurting. We each have different degrees of pain, on different timelines, wearing different outfits. But all of us have it. Which makes this whole COMPASSION thing, pretty essential.

Be there before someone needs to ask. Rush to their side. Assume they need tequila. Assume they need you to listen. Assume they need a bowl of spaghetti. Be still and silent. Expand your own heart and test your humanity by beving brave enough to truly comprehend what they must be feeling. When the words on the tip of your tongue are just answers for YOU, reevaluate them and give words made for who's in front of you. Take yourself out of the picture. Reserve your need to find a solution, or be right, or make a judgment and realize that by presently being with someone the answers you thought you had for them, actually work both ways and that there's something they're teaching you too. Make a little more space in your heart.

Pour one out for the homie. Dedicate a prayer, mindfully.

Send out a practice. A poem. A card that says, "...we'll find our 'happy.'" Send pears, or cabernet, bad chick flicks, or text messages full of emoticons.

Feed. Nurture. Nap with. Peel. DO THE HEAVY LIFTING. All for someone else.

...and if you are in the place of asking; it's okay.

Declare what you are and what you are not. What can be and what you need a little help with for awhile.

Give your pain a name and let the people who love you, snuggle up next to that distinct, bitter anguish and let them endure the thing with you. When you feel stale and vacuous, ask for a sip of their light to start the engines again. Then let them sweep you away from the ache, if even for a moment and make you smile again. Let them distract you. Take you on an adventure. Stimulate your senses, through food and music and newness. Let those around you make you feel alive again, when you're enduring the deepest opaque moments, when you think it isn't possible- feel. alive.

There's a reason we have the ability to hold each other. So keep your arms open.

If sleep, or the night. If food, or the mirror. If loneliness, or the silence. If unanswerable questions, or the confusion. If the ability to make a five minute plan, let alone a 5 year plan is plaguing you, we're here.

When you need a ride. Someone to tell you a story. A partner in crime. Physical presence. A light. Someone to count to three for you so you can scream on four. A person to look you in the eyes and say, "...you're going to be okay." When you need these things, ASK. But more than asking, be these things. This is our job, it is part of the human condition to take care of one another.

Let's stick together shall we? I got you.

How can you OPEN YOUR ARMS TO SOMEONE TODAY?

My idea of balance is like.... eat broccoli all week, or live on cheese plates and whiskey. ALSO TITLED: The blog about Self Awareness.

2012-03-14T21:20:00.012-07:00

"Something hit me in the stomach today; he could, can, will move on and be with someone else eventually. Then, I got really sick. So there's that. It's distant enough at this point that I recognize that statement as a reality. And... my ego doesn't like the idea of him getting to move on before me......wow, that was honest."

I typed these words to a dear friend yesterday. And while I don't generally lack the ability to be forthcoming, I momentarily, somewhat unknowingly, admitted a subconscious fear.

The way friends always seem to know how, she said the thing that is a truth but one I hadn't quite pinpointed.

"I appreciate your self awareness."

I appreciate your self awareness. The words turned around in my mind. Somersaults. Up and over.

The thing is, are any of our fears really subconscious? Or are we blindly turning our head towards a different view, because we just aren't ready..... there's a difference between being unaware and between being unprepared to handle a truth.

Often, the moments we have an "AHA!" we're really just finding the lock that fits the key, we knew there was a key. We knew there was a lock. They just existed in different places in our lives. Whatever was behind the door was maybe, something we weren't prepared to handle. Something we weren't ready to accept into our lives... to let assist in our evolution of spirit, self, movement.

The answer doesn't always present itself in one conspicuous gesture. The answer is a riddle.

The answer is a journey, that involves a lot of mini-answers along the way. Yes, no. Mhm-yeah-baby-more-please and hell-to-the-never-ever-fuck-that-shit.

EVERYTHING we are doing is honing our self awareness. Polishing it, so the "Yes" feels more effortless and the "No," is less frequent- there's less to say No to, when we start dancing with the things that we know are parallel with our Yes.

I'm a big believer in making friends with your fears. Letting them live on the surface so you can become familiar with the things that feed their hungers in a positive way and that feed them in a negative way. A precautionary step to avoid any sneak attacks, if you will. "Why hello little fear, you little punk, stop ruining my day- shall we have a cookie and hash it out?" That's more my approach.

::disclaimer, hippie shit is about to happen:: Click to Pinterest, Facebook, etc. now if you aren't down. Ok. Back::

The other day while I was on my yoga mat, surrendered, my thumbs at my Third Eye a voice said, "Hey.... I'm always here. You just have to ask me to wake up." What parts of yourself need to wake up.... it's already there. We may not hibernate, but parts of our spirit do if we don't urge them to stay awake.

I am intimately aware that:

My idea of nurturing myself is often counter intuitive. Sometimes, the things I do to "nurture" myself, are things that feed the wrong beast. I am aware that, while I may resist certain cravings, they are almost always right and if I ignore them, it only perpetuates their eagerness and deprivation. I am aware that truth rises to the surface, always.

I am aware that my idea of "being an adult," is skewed. I am aware that I will never, probably ever, be comfortable with making plans two weeks in advance and not being tempted to break them. Or, having to answer to authority. Or remember which bills I paid on time. Or having a well balanced fridge. Lucky Charms? Modelo? Broccoli? Marinara? Almond butter? Done. I am aware that I will have to work around my "imperfections," but that it also makes me keen on improvising and that, just like Truth I rise under pressure.

I am aware that I could use some work in the laundry department. That my friends are better at sending gift baskets than I'll ever be. That I go cross eyed when you talk about numbers and that I fear my relationship with money is a long road.... but one I don't want to admit, out of fear that it will keep me from embracing it. I am aware that at the core of everything, I'm actually a performer. That I'm happiest on stage. Or in front of a camera. Or a microphone. That I'm afraid I'll be chained to a chair forever and ever while my Gypsy implodes. I'm aware that I am fearful of imploding.

That I kind of have a temper. That I'm terrible at not getting my way. (that I usually find a way to get ' my way' and that, that particular conquest drives to the edge of insanity.)

That my two things are; love and significance. That when I'm in love my need to feel "significant" lessens, to the point of extinction. That there's a reason one was taken from me. That these two things need to find a way to live beside one another, eventually. I am aware that I like to fucking GO THERE, let's get our hands dirty. Bullshit meter, on high.

That sometimes self awareness is a rabbit hole. Which makes me weirdly insecure. That I want to lift people's consciousness, but that starts with lifting my own first. Through art. Through words. Through action.

I am aware that this blog is too long. Hi.

What are you SELF AWARE about? Good, bad, in between.

These are the ways you can love yourself.....

2012-02-12T18:47:00.000-08:00

I'll sleep in. Just one more hour.... snooze button pressed. I can skip yoga for the day, I said. Heart heaving. Bad decisions. Raw text messages. Lifted the veil, to reveal the tawdry parts that embarrassed me. Guilt, thick and distinct like gasoline at the pit of my stomach... why did you do that, why did you do that....

Reluctantly, I pulled myself up, imaginary strings attached to my shoulders, lifting me out from my lackluster. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Release it and move on. Thirty minutes later, on my mat, staring down at my newly manicured sparkling turquoise toes (a color chosen for the very specific reason that it was a silly color), I said.... see, this is how you love yourself.

Feeling anxious, letting my unnecessary panic decide the course of my day is not an option. Getting up and going anyway, while your insides spin out of control. Holding the pose all the way through, when your mind teases you, telling you you can't. Staying when you want to run somewhere called "safe," but really it's just somewhere hidden. These are the ways you can love yourself.

I stared at the list, of my "to-dos" none of which included my "to-enjoys," and while en route to check off the items, I found myself instead in a bookstore, cranking my neck up to the ceiling seeking Hafiz, words that would ground me. I walked away with Rilke, anthologies and a cappuccino. These are the ways you can love yourself.

I told the cute boy at the check out who never smiles back, that I had spent most of the day laying on the floor painting a brown jewelry box pink and writing myself Valentine's Cards with crayons.... he cracked a smile and said he didn't like Tuesdays. Not a total success, but at the very least I had now revealed that I was a little odd, which is, I like to think...a little charming and truthfully, I just wanted to talk to someone. When you want to talk, talk. Tell people stories, without them asking first. When you have extra sequins, make Valentine's. Have sequins, in fucking general. Smile at the stranger who never smiles back anyway, these are the ways you can love yourself.

Not checking the time, or worrying about email. I sat outside and I listened. I paid attention to where I was. To the man that was reading an article about tacos for a solid 45 minutes, which meant he wasn't reading at all but that was probably listening too. I listened with him, I wonder if we heard the same things? Ask yourself questions. Eat tacos. Wonder what a 60 year old man wearing White Converse sneakers does with his days? Imagine that he's a cartoonist, with a propensity for Pez and a collection of rare flutes. Make up funny images in your head. These are the ways you can love yourself.

I watched the couple that walked holding hands, buzzed from bottomless mimosas, still fluttering, they kissed by the car. Innocent, sweet. She left. He walked back, holding a bag of oranges and bundles of greens. I watched him smile and thought, how lovely that I got to witness how happy he is... I wonder if she can feel him smiling. Ten minutes later he walked back the other direction, this time with a friend, retelling his day, erupting with optimism. "We went to the market, then we had lunch...it was a five. hour. date." He was beaming. A lucky moment to observe, that I would have missed had I been texting. Or checking Twitter.

Tell your friends the details. Grin that kinda silly grin. Feel insanely thrown off your game, then let the amount that you keep it cool be ZERO, let someone in and let them make you feel completely exhilarated, these are the ways you can love yourself.

When you can walk, but feel like driving.....walk. When you have lingerie, wear it. When you find your favorite poem, read it four times in a row out loud....record yourself reciting it and listen to your pretty feminine voice. Hear yourself the way other people do. Eat a spoonful of frosting, test your guilt meter and tell it actually fuck off. Make a purchase in anticipation for something....for instance, I bought a full length beaded gown. Yes, beaded. gown. With no where to wear it.... I anticipate that won't be the case for long.

When you want to look soft, like the girl who wants to open her heart to you....the girl who wants to stay up late and tell you about the recurring dream of her and the moon, then whisper to you some of her most tender admissions.... be that girl now, you don't have to wait for someones acknowledgment to unfold. Unfold. These are the way you can love yourself.

When you feel like life is wrapping its fingers around your spirit, clenching its fists around you energetically, placing its strong hands on top of your head in an attempt to say, "stop. growing." push back. It's a test. When you wonder if you're invisible, or perhaps no one will love you or see you, or that you may have to compromise your spirit because, "that's just life".... remember that the ground beneath you will always support you, that the heart that's beating inside of your chest is always your steady companion and that your life is YOURS, that you decide your shine, the only person who can switch on/off INNER LIGHT, is you. These are the ways you can love yourself. Light, on.

Listen to Joni and Whitney, Carole and Patty. Sing out loud. Create for the sake of creating, whether anyone sees it or not. Dance naked, feel ridiculous and awesome at the same time. Admit you need to be held and touched and don't feel sorry about it. Tell your friends you need alone time, make less excuses and make more truthful declarations. Tell yourself you look nice today. Spend an extra ten minutes on something. Wave at a baby. Tell someone ELSE that you think they're beautiful if you're thinking it, even if you're out at a loud bar where everyone is trying to act cool, but everyone really needs someone to tell them, "you already are." Read people's name tags, look them in the eye. Dorothy, at Gelson's made my day. What a great name.... follow the yellow brick road.

Remember that the judgements you make towards yourself are harsh, unnecessary and tactless. That you pretty bird are a delicate, extraordinary miracle. Speak accordingly.

...these are the ways you can love yourself.

How will YOU love yourself?

The things I'm saying to myself..... minus all of the things I say to myself about Beyonce. That's another blog post.

2012-02-06T00:26:00.000-08:00

You will be compelled to act, when you are meant to.

The nudge, the "go on now...." the stumble into action, the 1. 2. and jump before you can reach 3.... you know the difference between the times you've made calculated decisions and the times a seemingly imaginary force shoves you..... you will be. compelled act, when you are meant to.

.... so give yourself a little bit of a break, really. Conserve your brain fuel, it is a precious.

This moment, is just that- a moment in your life, it isn't your WHOLE LIFE so all the over generalizing and dramatic statements about what this moment means for your future are probably premature, this. moment. is a screen cap, a blip, a 3 minutes in a 90minute picture.... even if it isn't the moment you want to be IN, you're in it, so savor it. Chew on it. Wring it dry.

Pick up every crumb with the tip of your index finger, because after THIS moment, you'll be wrapped up in another one and I can almost guarantee you'll have a bought of amnesia and romanticize what it is you're so desperately trying to run away from right this second.

They're all good. Minute 6, minutes 9-15... there's all different pictures though, right? With different angles and different lighting, making one. whole. So like the frame you're in...even if you're discouraged by it, because it's a part of your whole story and this is YOUR STORY. It would be helpful for you to stop pretending that you get a take two.... within the same lifetime, anyway.

Where you're at right now is preparing you, polishing you. Causing friction so that you are fucking. smooth. when it's showtime. In fact, you're studying for something and you don't even know what yet, find odd comfort in that. The surrender. The, "ah...I remember seeing that somewhere..." or "that's so funny, because I was just reading about that..." Nothing is coincidence. No thang.

Sometimes, it's as simple as this- you're just feeling a little blue. When you give it a name, "I'm having a Sad Balloon kind of day," it's a lot easier to let go of. But, I promise, it's easy to make feeling a little blue, feel like a whole fucking monsoon of gray, gray, gray has attacked you.... just keep talking about it. If you really need to go there. Or hey, maybe don't.

Oh and you should know this, but for the record, you should probably stop giving a shit about that guy. You know why? Because you're really fantastic and you should never need to convince someone of it. Bye. bye.

You're a dime plus ninety nine.

Forgive yourself. Stop feeling guilty about feeling guilty.

Smile inwardly, at yourself and then out to Universe.

There isn't anyone reminding you to take care of yourself anymore... so, set your boundaries- what do you need? What do you NEED? Fuck what everyone is saying you can/can't do; peers, family, friends, work... do what you know will make you FEEL GOOD. Look out for yourself.

Leave earlier. Leave later. Operate from that which you KNOW, that soul stuff, even if it isn't fast or convenient enough for your current circumstances.

Take space. Have another. Refrain. Slow down. Ask. Confess. Save some of what's left over for your own little feast.

Don't let them convince you otherwise. Honor your intentions. Don't make excuses just to be nice, it isn't nice if it isn't truthful. To yourself, or to anyone else. Spend time feeling insanely sexy, even if no one is around to see it. Especially then.

Do you. Repeat times ten.

It's all okay.

How do you take CARE of your spirit? What do you tell yourself?

Familiar things. Insomnia and....where are all the men in this town?

2012-01-12T09:47:00.000-08:00

“Can we take a nap?”

They were the first words that spilled out of my mouth when we saw each other, in our comfortable familiar place, with familiar sounds, of puppies nails on the kitchen floor scurrying to give me a nuzzle around my ankles. It was a home where I’d spent days and hours working from the study, digging into the homemade granola that tasted different because they kept it in the fridge (and I liked it that way, because it was how they did it) making myself egg sandwiches and sifting through pictures of him as a little boy.

It was a home where I’d fallen in love with his family, where we’d had our first fight, where I napped. Because I felt safe enough there.

The energy I’d exerted, working myself up to be in his presence again without falling to pieces was enough to take me out for a week. With his basement windows, covered, 2pm sunlight aching to break through…. I could’ve hibernated there for the rest of the year. A year that I was so terrified of letting go of, because I knew that what was to come would be new and different and perfect, but every event, every holiday, every weekend and milestone would occur without him in it, or with him but a different "him." Valentines day would come again, as would summer, BBQ’s and St. Patty’s Day… Monday afternoon and Friday morning and all of them, unlike the memories before would be missing something familiar.

“Yes, we can do that….” He said, the outline of his shape so acquainted with the outline of mine and how we fit. I wanted him somewhere familiar. Somewhere that I was used to having him. In bed. Comfortably. Guards down. Equal playing field.

So we napped. We napped, because I wanted to trick myself for an hour, or two, or however long I could stay asleep- into thinking that we were “Us” and that life would SLOW for me. Those two seconds when you open your eyes and forget that the landscape has shifted. I wanted two seconds.

See, I have trouble sleeping a lot of time, he was always sort of my, “Sleep Whisperer” he told me stories, or he talked me out of nightmares- often, ones that I had about him- when I was asleep I was safe. Just the presence of him, the rhythm of his breath and the warmth of his body was enough to lull me….somewhere else. Somewhere cosmic and uninterrupted. It was the time that I trusted him the most, because he wasn’t meddling, or planning, or seeking someone different.

We were Us and we were simple. Sleeping.

Often holding hands, on our backs. Our different languages didn't get in the way and fuss with things, there.

I hadn’t seen him in months and we complicated things by using too many words anyway (something I'm guilty of more often than not), conversation could wait... I just wanted to nap. So we did.

It's odd, actually- It’s been surprisingly easy and uncomplicated- but quite possibly the most profound and complex situation I’ve ever found myself in all at once. It’s like, centuries ago in different lives when we were both kings and queens, paupers and peasants, we fulfilled our promise to one another, to love forever and ever and ever….and this time around, it just wasn’t in the cards. But, our souls still know the difference….

When he’s in trouble, on some Greyhound, on some quest for his Higher Self through alchemy and crystals, meditation circles and smoke signals, in the middle of the desert, running away….I text, “Are you okay?”

When I’m looking at the pack of cigarettes on my kitchen table, a nasty habit we formed together, my phone buzzes and says, “….Don’t smoke cigarettes ☺….”

When my heart is so full, so aching, so overwhelmed- he says, “I’m going to shine 33 seconds of light on you….” and for 33 seconds I feel just a little bit better.

We’re so obviously not meant to be with one another- but we still….just. love. So much.

He knows, he KNOWS how much I want the whole “dream.” I want a partner. I want an equal. I want my prince to look me in the eye and say, “let’s do this THING.”

Enough time has gone by now that I see what it is that I want. The problem is, I can easily find men who fill in categories where he was lacking…. I can find missing “pieces”- but it isn’t “missing pieces” that’s the goal. It’s the whole thing.

He knew…that I was shiny. He saw that I shined. While, now…. I can barely get a boy who I have a crush on to return a text message?

He knew that I existed in both simple and complicated frames of mind at the same time, that I was equal parts ambition and dedicated lover. That I was lay-down-in-the-middle-of-the-mother-fucking-train-tracks for you, loyal, but never. Ever. A doormat.

That I was worth being treated like a fucking goddess, but not to feed ego, or pride or some chicky insecurity, but because I would treat HIM like a my counterpart and that together we were celestial, powerful and treasured, because WE valued each other. We said without saying, “I see you.” Soul understanding, ya see?

He knew that I would be a mother who picked two books every night, acted out ALL THE VOICES…. and always stretched “bedtime” with room for two more…..

He knew that I was “too much…” but he would never want me to operate and FEEL like I was. LIGHT IS NOT MEANT TO BE DIMMED DOWN OR DIMINISHED.

So, while we can nap and love one another, in different times and spaces, presently and nostalgically- he’s still a boy. On a journey, one different than mine. We were a We once, but now we aren’t and the times that I want to say, “I wish you were here…” and he says, “I’m exactly where I need to be.” I know that he’s right.

….and I guess, so am I. Exactly where I need to be.

I just wonder, will anyone else ever see me… through a lens as transparent as his….or, will they even try?

WHAT ARE YOU THINKING ABOUT TODAY.....?

Look around Little Dreamer......

2011-12-26T15:21:00.000-08:00

It's interesting what you see when you decide to view it from another angle.

...Like, right now- I'm sitting on the floor of my childhood bedroom, a floor I've cried on, meditated on, made love on (sorry Mom, Hi Dad, sorry.) On this floor, I'm usually facing one direction- towards where the door is, but tonight- I'm facing another wall.... again, a wall I've stared at a million times- I see different parts of Me from here.

There's a stack of sheet music under my bed, for instance- one book has a 100 songs, the other about fifty plus. I've only sang, mmm, 25? There's a birdhouse, an unpainted one. Some dried up paints.... one of my Great Grandmother's vintage feathered hats....

There are two canvases hanging on the wall, from when I went through the inescapable "painting phase," that us adolescent creative-types experience, despite actual talent for it. On them are pictures of Janis, Jimmy, Mick and lyrics from soul songs.

...To my left, a present from last Christmas that I never took out of the box, it feels like I received it yesterday. Apparently, "I'll do it later..." i.e. take-present-out-of-box, never happened- just like a lot of the things I say I'll "do later..." don't happen, not out of lack of caring, but out lack of attention to what you know matters to you. Painting silly futile bird houses. Singing all 100 of those songs. Caring for your gifts, pun intended and not intended, I suppose.

A guitar case. A portfolio from an old flame. Bunnies. Records. A painting of a little pixie girl blowing kisses to a group of canaries. A Writers Market book. Lanyards. A dreamcatcher. TREASURES AND PROJECTS...always projects, only treasures. Shall we go on a treasure hunt?

A vintage camera. Folders upon folders of poems and scripts, monologues, essays- most of which I've written, or studied and fell in LOVE WITH. Words and stories that nursed me, that I wanted to tell and live through.

An Andy Warhol wig. A bulletin board covered in mini-accomplishments; show fliers, ticket stubs, postcards and a little painting of a field full of poppies given to me from a painter in Florence. A room painted crimson red and beige, with obnoxious red splotches on the ceiling from stubbornly deciding to paint the room myself, damnit. A reminder of determination and brave choices.

See, when you forget who you are....you just have to look around.

I never know how to handle New Year's. It's always a little melancholy to me. I don't want to let go of the things that morphed me through the year, the people and the experiences that GREW ME.

For being a Gypsy you think I'd be better at Goodbyes.

I put an incredible amount of pressure on myself, where I'm going, where I've been...if I'm "on the right track." Peering too far ahead makes me all... disappointed in myself. No matter my accomplishments and that has to stop. This is my dream, why wouldn't the things I dream within it be a reality....if it's all the same thing?

This last year was so full, to the brim and while I've been home all of that unsettled stuff has tapped gently on my shoulder and reminded me that it still has a presence, that it lingers. That sometimes all you need is to see a glimpse of what "was" and all the dots connect again. The familiarity rushes back, the shape and structure of him, of it, of us and me, of hoping. They all... fit, still.

A reminder that the past and the present aren't separate from one another and that what I WENT through is still what I'm going through and most importantly that who I was, is who I AM, even when I am changing.

I'm not one for resolutions, because I like to actively remind myself, daily to find RESOLVE, FORTITUDE AND INTENTION. So, I'll say this much... look around when you feel off track. Look, Chels. Do you see yourself?

Do it often. Be picky about the things and the people that you keep because they will be your reminders. Light and dark exist at once. Bitter and sweet, are sometimes the most delicious combo. That all of it- the dreams, the past, the future are one. thing. Nothing is separate.

Make more time to let things sink in. Demand it. To really chew on something for awhile. To give attention and to make solid. REAL time for shenanigans and trifling.

..For Real Talk with your kaleidoscope mind and your little, little voice inside that big, big soul.

....find resolve in being GENTLE, in being kind. In being patient with your mishaps and your uneasy footing. Change is a graceful and clumsy dance, let it sweep you.

When I think from the beginning to end of where I started last year, when the clock struck midnight to where I'll end up at midnight, this year, I can say this- it's been more and it's been less, it's been unexpected in both good and bad ways, all of that existing within the same perfect whole. I've had dreams all year that I'm going to the moon, must mean that's exactly where I am.

This is your dream. Look around.

Getting to the ROOT of it all....

2011-12-01T10:08:00.000-08:00

There’s this incredible tree, in front of my doorstep, that I marvel at everyday.

I just sort of sit and listen to it.

The way it moves, the way it lets the wind sort of take it and rustle its leaves. I don’t know what kind of tree it is, I don’t know how long it’s been there- but I know that it’s this magnificent organism that’s functioning, breathing, sustaining itself and there’s something about that, that I find incredible solace in.

There’s comfort in knowing that amidst the dis-order, there’s destined order and routine, the kind that doesn’t have any agenda, rather exists to remind you that when anything/everything falls you will still react to the wind, to the demands, to the seasons and you will grow anyway.

The tree lets the weather take hold of it and it still stands there, rooted, and oscillating yet steady.

This is sort of how I feel. About life. Being a part of this living, breathing, operating and cooperating organ, that is still strong and planted.

I have this thing, this thing in me that always tells me, “know more, learn me, BE more….” The other night over roasted Brussel Sprouts and San Bres I mentioned my desire to feel more adequate and equipped to create, share, and take in beautiful things; knowledge, literature, music, everything that I can sink my mind-teeth into and chew on and my dear friend Lisa, who, I’ll probably talk about here often- because she fell back into my life after years effortlessly and has since made me feel like I’ve come home to myself again- said, “You have to start with what you know…” or something along those lines, message being: delve deeper into what it is that already has a HOLD on you. And start from there.

I talk about this a lot, this whole “Bloom where you’re planted,” idea and as a natural gypsy with a suitcase packed by the door and an agenda for “the next thing” on the line at all times, I have to check back in and remind myself of what that actually means. Where are you planted? What are the things that make you bristle up with eagerness to BEGIN them, to be a part of them…. What turns that light, just a notch brighter?

I know myself, I’d like to think incredibly well. But, it’s always easy to forget- and there’s a difference between knowing yourself and BEING yourself.

The things that begin at the ROOT for me are:

Music, but not just any music- the music that wakes up the slumbering soul, the music that suggests you should “go there…” the music that suggests you should stand up, strip down the façade and just. Fuckin. Dance. The music that brushes against nerves and makes the heart pangs flinch into submission, the music that makes your chest cave in and hurt so good. My root is in utmost conviction, loyalty, and unwavering reliability as a friend, as a partner and as a family member. In knowing my damn priorities and not for a minute, second-guessing who and what is important and needs attention or care.

My root tap, tap, taps on my shoulder and says, “you’re going to do that someday….carry on…” my root reminds me that I am capable and intuitive, gifted and prepared.

My root is shamelessly a lover of the vices that make you feel good and in no apologies necessary, My Dear. My root is somewhere amongst the stars and the moon, castles on clouds and neck-bending beanstalks and all the ladders, spaceships, slingshots and time traveling machines that it takes to live in their company. My root whispers; connect, create, CHALLENGE, understand, observe, demand.

My root is in full transparency, no holds-barred, take it or leave it. With a side of, let’s all just get along and be those shiny, happy, people holding hands?

My root is in, “I don’t give a fuck, but please be gentle.” My root is in happy endings, once upon a time, There Once Was A Boy…. And dreams do come true, ya’ll.

My root is somewhere wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt with a change of ridiculousness tucked away, just in case.

My root is somewhere in time wearing Pippi Longstocking braids, sitting around a card table with family playing Apples to Apples, drinking cheap beer and talking about love and babies, or politics, or babies, love and politics.

My root is always saying- be patient, be kind, be authentic, BE OPEN… and don’t forget to fall in love, even just a little, with something or someone everyday.

What does the ROOT of yourself tell you???

On being positively irresponsible and healthily selfish. There's also a Tiger involved.

2011-11-22T09:20:00.000-08:00

I feel different.

It’s funny…. The days you think you’re supposed to feel different aren’t usually the days you do. Your birthday, usually just feels like another day and every year Christmas, Thanksgiving and Halloween inch further and further away from feeling special, especially without serious planning and allotted time for tradition and childlike enthusiasm (all of which seem to need a calendar date, otherwise they won’t happen.)

The days you’re supposed to feel a significant change aren’t real days, because change is subtle.

I was aware of the drastic changes that were happening but I was in emotional denial. Sure, I had played them out- I prepared, I packed, I said goodbye- but I wasn’t mindful of all the shifting beneath the surface. I didn’t foresee the emotional tectonic plates that were turning me into an entirely new continent and how much of me was subtly integrated into all of the details, the details that make up the BIG THINGS and by “how much” I mean…..everything. My entire makeup was defined by this lifestyle I’d created and I had gone so far away from what made me feel…..powerful and alive, for the sake of feeling secure and needed, that I’m now realizing what that means: there’s a lot of extra energy is inside of me.

There isn’t any “We,” there’s just a Me and when it’s just a YOU, you’re also the only one responsible for taking care of how you’re feeling. There isn’t a fallback, a default, an excuse- for lack of a better term, to not be doing everything in your power to FEED your happiness. To not binge on blissing the fuck out.

It’s all up to you sister. All that extra energy wants your attention….so what are you going to do with it?

Well let me tell you, I’m going to embrace it, recognize its force- which to be honest, is a little frightening at times- it’s like raising a house cat, then feeding it some Wheaties and realizing it’s a Tiger. But, despite not knowing what to do with a fucking Tiger, I will feel through every cell of my body what it means to be self sustaining, positively irresponsible, untethered, self- reliant. Selfish. Yeah, go on now Child, be a little selfish- it’s okay. You’re not a bad person.

In fact, I say INDULGE, INDULGE, INDULGE- in staying up too late, in reckless flirtation, in taking your time, in giving mixed signals because you like green and red, in holding cards, in lingering, in calling the shots, in tables set for one, in knowing YOUR decision is the right one and decisiveness can be quite a rush, in Pinot Noir, in Girlfriends Only time, in listening to a new story, in calling when I feel like it, in going for it….all of it.

I will indulge because I’ve just discovered that there’s been this bounty in front of me while I was busy foraging for food, on the wrong property. Thing is, this isn’t specific to LOVE this is specific to Living.

EXPECT MORE FROM PEOPLE and the energy they carry, bring, share- because making excuses for them won’t actually help them find their subtle shifts, the ones they need and you need, to wake up. To step up to version Rad.0 (mhm.) When there’s a million things on your to-do list, manage your extra oomph appropriately- surround it with the vibey responsiveness it deserves and you will sustain it. Notes, to self Chels.

But really, since I do have a thing for the L word….I feel different because I realize this….

….being in LOVE doesn’t have to be exclusive to being with A love, if you recognize that you are love.

Yeah.

Energy channeled.

When was the last time you felt "different...." and why?

Pay attention to your instinct. You've ALWAYS known....alternate title: I cannot be tamed and other wild things.

2011-11-15T09:58:00.000-08:00

“What is not as it appears? What do I know that I wish I did not know? What of me has been killed or lays dying?”

You know those moments when you read something and it sort of makes your heart skip a beat? The ::gasp:: happens. Then, the “Oh fuck” stomach drop hits like a sucker punch? You know the times. The times when you understand why ignorance is bliss and you’re pissed that you can’t just remain fucking blissful? Yeah, well.

When I read that sentence, from Women Who Run with the Wolves- a book that, in my opinion, needs to be on the bookshelf of every woman, (especially the ones seeking to live free, wildly, BRIGHTLY)- I literally set the book down and decided to process, the way you grieve and mourn- visceral and rapidly.

For the most part- this whole breakup, I’ve dealt with gracefully. I’ve been respectful and supportive, put his needs in front of mine…I've been trekking up the HIGH. ROAD. Wearing shiny sunglasses, peering onward and West, sans rearview mirror. I was everything I’ve needed to be for the both of us, to transition into this new period with dignity and acceptance….. so yeah, all of that happened- then somewhere between a bottle of wine and Saturday night mass emails to friends about how/why we’ve broken up, my inner resentment and I had a little TALK. A little come to Jesus, if you will. Spoken through a megaphone entitled, “Pinot Noir and Truffle Fries.”

There were things that were happening between us that I’d let myself say, “this too shall pass…” To say any of the reasons why we split came out of “left field” and sneak attacked me, would be playing the victim card and that’s not my gig. That would be a lie that I told myself to cope and frankly, I don’t have time for nonsense and lying anymore. There were things that I’d convinced myself would be “okay forever, till death do us part,” things that, in hindsight, are so far from okay the Old Me looks like she’s heavy on the crack pipe. Somewhere between acknowledging all of that and opening my inbox on Saturday night, to glass number three of my good friend Pinot- I realized, boo. Devil- I was so. Goddamn. Angry.

I wasn’t angry at him- in fact, I was the exact opposite. I was still proud and loving and maternal as every towards him. Him and I are still healthy and fantastic, no regrets. I still want him to be wildly, happy. I was….. angry at myself.

Angry at myself for getting THAT FAR AWAY FROM MY CENTER.

Angry at myself for not listening to what my intuition had told me all along. Not just one thing that I’d ignored, but a series of things. I was angry that my brain had loved someone so intensely that I was willing to accept something that, even in my happiest moments, I knew would eventually leave me sucked dry that to the point of needing him to continue. I was angry that I’d let myself love someone so hard, that I may not be able to actually care about ANYONE like that, to that capacity, with that optimism and faith….ever again.

The remnants of that betrayal towards myself all sort of…rose to the surface this weekend.

I realized; you know what Chelsea Belle, right now- you're worth letting someone worry about you, take care of you, show adoration and excitement in YOU. Let them open doors, let them chase, let them see that you aren't here to be tamed, but you're willing to let them run alongside you-- if they can keep up.

Forgive yourself for staying longer than you should, for wishing it was going to be something that it wasn't, for seeing ALL THE SIGNS and doing it anyway. For turning a blind eye, for compromising too much, for giving it all away. Ease your instinct back out of it's cave, because you need it.

Listen to yourself. PAY. FUCKING. ATTENTION. Question their motives and as much as you want to give your heart freely, be cautious of who you give it to. Not to say that I have regrets, because I do not- but this next time around, I will be alert. Demanding of honesty. Of utmost respect and transparency.

The core of our spirits have this incredible system that senses red flags, warns you of danger, stops you in your tracks. Don’t be silly with that Center that’s trying to protect you- recklessness is only so much fun, then your heart gets in the way and it’s brutal.

Forgive yourself for knowing, for sensing danger and running head first anyway. Revisit the parts of you that you let DIE and bring them back to life, because you can.

Instinct. Your feminine nature that just knows. EMBRACE THESE THINGS. My wild women. Run with the wolves again.

What part of yourself are you not listening to???

Making Space, Doing Cartwheels, Skipping beats. What a Vague Title.

2011-10-31T21:44:00.000-07:00

Now is the time to make space.

Space- internally, behind the doors, stuffed in the back of the drawers and underneath the layers of camouflaged emotion. Rummage through the spaces you reserved specifically for all the "junk," where you kept it "in case" you needed to use it as ammo in a moment of calamity, knowing it would be there to comfort you like an old friend. That stuff, that has to go now.

There's a curbside waiting for it's arrival and there's other visitors at your door.....ready to come in and start making a home. Infiltrating you with new words and new landscapes, new rhythms and exchanges. New whirling fantasies and pretty charm.

....they'll keep you on your toes, remind you of who you are and hint at who you're becoming.... be mindful to like this person, that they hint at. Warmly embrace them. Welcome the subtle transformations like you do the changing of the leaves or the growth of your hair.

One day it wasn't and the next day is just was. Steady metamorphosis.

Choose these people, these things, these surroundings- gingerly, with curiosity and optimistic hesitation. These are the characters that will hang their hats and kick up their feet, atop all of your treasures, the ones we see and the ones we don't...they'll complicate your plans and make appearances in your day-to-day thought patterns.... they'll consume parts of you, even if you are careful. Let the pieces they consume be some of your favorites, roll with it.

Rearrange some things, tilt your head and furrow your brows- mull it over. Dance about in the emptiness. Do leaps and somersaults and salutations in every direction, to every Moon and Sun and stars.

Let the openness of this new space scare you a bit...because being afraid is exhilarating, sweaty palms and racing hearts, navigating and mastering, speaking up and skipping beats-- it's just your heart reminding you that you are ALIVE. See that? Skip, skip.

I have so much space, cleared out- cleansed, if you will, and out of familiarity a part of me wants to complicate it, fill it up with things, write on the walls and OCCUPY it. DO ALL THE THINGS, BE ALL THE THINGS, KNOW ALL THE PEOPLE, HAVE ALL THE THINGS RIGHT NOW- and I think, the beat I'm following happens to be just the right rhythm. Must just let it be, Chels. Add one new piece at a time, surveying all the parts before they become a permanent fixture.

I like this, even the awkward, sometimes-blue-and-wistful-all-at-the-same-time parts. This space-y, skippy, 'fraidy-cat, cartwheeling me. Just one piece at a time little chick.......

How much SPACE do you have in your heart and your life?

Gypsy Girls. All the Love & My New Gig.... HUZZAH!

2011-10-18T13:25:00.000-07:00

For most people, change usually goes something like this; something major happens and the moments to follow are greeted with a steady routine of processing first, adjusting second, adapting and continuing, third. That's for most people.

For people like me, change is usually followed up with a plane ticket. Most of the time, the plane ticket is one direction only….. A few weeks ago, I packed a carry-on bag, for my one way trip to LA Livin' on a prayer really, hoping that something would "work out." I'd been looking for job opportunities in the city since May and NOTHING. WAS. HAPPENING. I started to think I was being Sixth Sensed. Dead and didn't know it yet. Or something equally fucked up where the world just doesn't respond to your desperate pleas for change.

.....the instant I got to LA, with my seven outfits and my Non-Plan Plan, I realized why nothing had worked beforehand. I hadn't made the statement yet that I was ready for it to.

When I got here, after two weeks of an whiplash inducing, stomach churning, emotional rollercoaster rides, sans cotton candy and over-stuffed prizes--- Saying Goodbye to one life and Hello to a new one, holding onto the ledge still with one hand and reaching for New with the other, I let go. No net.....and like they always say it does, one appeared.

The day before I was about to go back home to get the remainder of my things and come back, (still with no job, a few freelance clients, a mangled soul, dwindling money and nowhere to live) OR stay in my room for the rest of eternity feeling sorry for myself, I got a phone call. About a job. A really. fucking. fantastic. job. After a few back and forth interviews, I was offered a dream position that I didn't think existed. I've taken a position for a small company that (in simple terms) assists high-profile clients, celebrities and their brands across all digital/social platforms. i.e. I get to work with amazing creative, inspiring people strategizing how to translate their awesomeness offline, online. And everyone knows what a Pop Tart I am, so working with some of my favorite celebrities on a daily basis is BASICALLY THE BEST THING EVER.

After the job was a go, the apartment fell into place, the dream neighborhood, the great furniture, the move was.....like butter. Smooth, easy, delicious. Not that I'm calling Butter slutty or anything.

Ironically, I live across the street from this lovely bird, who's an old friend (and fantastic blogger) and a few of my best friends in the entire world live in town, which means a lot of hair braiding and couch cuddling and all the drinking. The support system is incredible. Openly, unabashedly…. just, starry eyed, you-are-totally-fucking-stellar sort of adore these people.

My Ex-Love and I parted maturely, packing up my U-Haul together, moving pieces and making room like Tetris with our lives and our heart. Fitting. I miss him, everyday, I send love and light (I cry a little, or a lot) and then I continue. One foot in front of the other. Embracing all that's in front of me and sending smiles to all that is behind me and living, still, inside of me.

Gypsy Girl is used to describe the general way in which I approach life; freely, with optimism, story worthy characters, a little absinthe and a eagerness for adventure. She's back, my friends.

...sure... maybe she's running away, but she is running towards something. Even if that "something" is just a new perspective, inspired by looking at the same situation from a different angle. I like who I am when I'm moving. When I'm active, when there's demands on me and expectations that that I may not be able to live up to (but I will, boom.) Imposed pressure turns me on. So here we go.

Back to the Gypsy that I was....

Here's to all the uncomfortable, awkward, perfectly ripe and eager NEWNESS that is upon us.

WHAT'S HAPPENING IN YOUR WORLD MY BEAUTIES??

Butterflies. Booze. and HOLY SHIT SO MUCH IS CHANGING.

2011-09-22T17:00:00.000-07:00

On my way to see My Love the other day I noticed a group of girls, about eight or nine years old....skipping alongside a reservoir, picture perfect really--- I loved that they had time to skip, I remembered having that time, what it was like....to be joyful enough to just skip, unprovoked.

….these little ones, skipping, were holding a net. Probably for bugs, or fish....or maybe, for butterflies. I was charmed by that idea.

The idea that when you leave your house, you will encounter a butterfly and that butterfly will willingly, settle into your net, long enough for you to marvel at it.

I loved the optimism of it all...... capturing a butterfly, with no door, no motivation or expectation- no way to cage it in, just for a moment, to marvel and let it go.

Sort of what we do in life right? Look for something delicate and miraculous, something so fancy and unique and utterly beautiful, so we can hold it in our hands, open palms and just hope that it stays.

It’s been interesting. This change.

I heard my inner voice fighting without my rationale, “But I still love him” and gently, like a a schoolteacher placing her hands on top of your tiny ones, fumbling and frustrated trying to your laces, my Other Voice said, “Then, love him.”

Then, love him.

...so that’s what I did. Just, loved him--with no real place of belonging for that love to land. Just, Open heart, flexible mind...sort of love.

I spend so much time PLOTTING life-- writing lists, planning the next step, plotting “the way.” Almost, like I’m trying to find a loophole so that everything can go the way that I planned it, instead of they way fate plans it. Dodging under beams and ladders. Starting with a running leap. Anything to just make sure there’s no mishaps.

...then you realize, life happens to you. it HAPPENS to you, whether you’re plotting, dodging, scheming, or not. It just. happens.

Let it... (Ohhh, HA! so that’s surrender, gotcha Lesson.)

Then, the way the new pieces fit into your life will feel less clunky, less awkward---they’ll settle into their nooks....in due time, of course. You’ll walk around holding all this New in your hands, thinking, “what in the fuck do I do with this? I don’t know where to put this.” Until, eventually...you’ll decide to replace certain pieces and it’ll feel like surgery, it’ll feel like sticky, reluctant excavation...but you’ll do it anyway. To free up your hands.

Life is shifting in the most bittersweet and beautiful way...... and all I can hope, is that I’m here palms up, open, ready for my Butterfly to land. That’s what I wish for you.

ARE YOUR PALMS OPEN OR CLOSED??

The Saddest Goodbye......

2011-09-11T22:00:00.000-07:00

It's amazing....how swiftly dividing up your Life can be, when everything becomes Yours and Mine, and Ours isn't an approved possessive anymore.

In hindsight, we both knew. We just knew how hard it was going to be to finally walk out, the courage hadn't matured strongly enough, yet to fight through it.

It was about 6 weeks.....6 weeks, where I looked at him differently, every time we did anything, trying to etch it into my brain, burn it so deep that it would never leave.....since I knew, eventually it would. Silly things, ya know? The fuzz on his tummy, the shapes of his toes..... the sound he made when he put his nose on top of my head, taking me in. I watched my brain move through memories of his stories and ideas, our dreams together, and I grasped, hand over hand....trying to bottle them up, somewhere safe. Preserved.

This time, it's different. There was a very clear point, when we both new we had to let each other....be. We walked away knowing we'd literally given each other every inch. No regrets.

I watched my cigarette burn down, my eyes full to the brim, flooded with overwhelming ache...... "Can I please stay here tonight?"

We both wanted one more evening, where we could act as if we still belonged to each other. One more night, one more morning with sleepy heads nestled into one another....one more coffee run, one more nightcap before everything changed.

I held him in the dark, heart pulsing, shaking, our bodies fitting perfectly- the way they did....

"I feel so empty, I feel so dead."

In the way he always knew how to calm me, "Chels, you're more alive than ever. You're more ALIVE than ever." The rawness of my pain was so clearly, LIVING, breathing on the surface of me...throbbing, accessible, conscious.

"Everything in my future has you in it.... I don't want us to be done." Time always stopped together....I felt, if I just kept holding on, we'd never be apart. We were planning things, always- we were moving in October, to a new state...we'd met our "Someday" family, in our dreams...we already liked them, welcomed them...their tiny toes and their feistiness. I couldn't let them go.

"THIS IS YOUR DREAM..... YOU HAVE THE WHOLE UNIVERSE INSIDE OF YOU."

He said to me, while I hid myself inside of his arms, the ones I thought were made specifically for me. He was right, this was my Dream...he was my dream, and now....I had to walk away, knowing with my entire heart that we did every. single. thing we could.....some circumstances are just, unchangeable.

I have the whole Universe inside of me.....and one beautiful love story, that has strengthened my heart, opened me to the most vulnerable place- changed me, irreversibly.

We packed up my things, working together-- silently in sync.... detached still from the profound sadness that had now began to augment our lives.

"Promise me, you'll never feel alone.... you'll never look at the phone and think that there's no one on the other end to call."

He was, is, my Person. He said to me once, "Our souls have seen each other" and I know that they have, to the deepest capacity.

When I was sad, he'd say "I see you." When I was defeated, he'd say, "You love yourself....remember?" He'd known me...he knew my layers and how to remind me of them, when I'd forgotten and I knew his.

We sat there, on the bed, our bed---eating pizza, more for the activity than the nourishment....and he lifted his glass, piercing into me with those perfect blue eyes,"Cheers.....to our overwhelming success."

It was what he'd always said to me when we toasted. Finally, it actually made sense.

We, were successful. We love(d) so deep, so selflessly, cosmically.... we tried. We grew. We sacrificed.

As we divided our things into His and Mine....I knew, there was one thing that would never be divided, apparently....souls can't do that.

So.....My Love, as you will always be to me, here's to teaching me how big my heart actually is, to how magnificent it is to feel that love reciprocated and to our journey, together and now apart....

....I will love you. Cheers, to our overwhelming success.

IT'S ALL GOING TO BE OKAY SUGARPLUMS.

2011-09-01T07:18:00.000-07:00

Photo Cred: Le Love

It’s important to sit. To waste time. To give your thoughts breathing room.

To having “wasting time” be a goal.

To feel the weight of it all. To feel sadness and aches, for no reason....when everything is perfect. And then, to be jolted like a slingshot into joy when it flashes across you. Wildly, unexpectedly...the surprise guest, the kind you wear your party dress for...hoping they’ll come again soon.

Bask. Mope. Drag your feet, deliberately.

Nimbly tracing, with the tips of your fingers, all the way to the end of the rope, where the fraying first began- inch, by inch. Don’t skip a moment.

Pace. Play it on repeat. Pay attention to the detours and not just the destination.

Feel sorry for yourself, silently. Ride it out.

Demand tears to come, not “if necessary,” but always necessary. Insist on hammering it out.

Lay on the floor, for an indefinite amount of time. In every room of the house. Sit in the shower....draw smiley faces on door and watch them drip.

Drift off. To sleep. To that room in your brain that you haven’t explored yet. To nostalgia, where you've convinced yourself "things were better."

Watch yourself cry in the mirror. Notice a new way in which your face moves and wonder how many people know that specific way in which it moves and think of it any time they hear your name. Associate yourself with that face....tell yourself a sad story. Imagine conversations, that haven't happened.

Stare into your coffee cup. Let your eyes tell a story, so you don't have to keep repeating it....your brain already does enough of that.

Do less for awhile.

Regret the Tipping Point. You know there would be one....eventually... you just rolled the dice.

There's never enough time, is there?

Drink too much. Have a marathon day. Do less for awhile, so you feel less guilty about DOING IT ALL.

Admit you need tending. Forgive yourself, for knowing all along.

Ignore nothing.

Wake up. Put your hands, over your heart...... and remember, It's all going to be okay. Every single thing.

On not being such a bitch and Embracing Opposition.

2011-08-22T08:56:00.000-07:00

I've always been disciplined with my thoughts......clear, certain and unwavering.

When I was 17 I was a Monster, just laser focus....I wasn't wishy-washy about my future or overly invested in which college I was going to....I didn't attach myself to relationships and circumstances, I had one goal. one idea and absolutely nothing, (love/family included) that would hold me back from that.

I was on a strict diet, the word BREAD didn't even touch my brain-- let alone touch my lips. I would sing in my bathroom until my vocal chords bled, until I could hit a note perfectly....and consistently. I woke up, did my homeschooling, went to the gym, went to dance (or acting, or singing lessons...or all three) then I would curl into my first loves arms around 12am, while cradling an Atkins Bar and a To-Do list. I was fucking serious.

......five years later. I was worn out. I'd flogged myself internally with the belief that "you are not 'good enough,' unless someone else says so...." I wanted my power back.

Then, one day, I decided.....I'm going to try to be KINDER to myself. ::Sometimes cupcakes are "okay":: sort of kind. The sort of kind that didn't wake up in a sheer panic if I slept past 9am on a Sunday morning, because the guilt I'd induced upon myself to be "disciplined" was so demanding. I started becoming the kind of kind that said, "Hey....its okay if you dont feel like hustling today....watch a goddamn movie, eat something fried in butter, stop overanalyzing your future, say fuck it, maybe even stop talking shit about your hair..."

Slowly but surely I started feeling less and less hateful towards myself for not being "perfect."

Note, slowly. but. surely. I was not an eager beaver sprinting in the race towards "Self-Love." I kicked and screamed and clung to the shreds of fear that said "...but, but, if I'm NICE to myself, I'll become lazy?"

I was terrified of accepting the reality that either way---whether you torture yourself or let it be, certain things in life are out of your hands. Gripping onto anything will end up suffocating it.

So...I started being kind, I tried new jobs, I left L.A., I traveled without worrying that I'd "miss a job opportunity," I even started allowing myself to consider the reality that perhaps, I wanted MORE than all of this; I wanted family? A serious relationship? To actually feel.....validated and accepting of myself, MORE than I wanted the approval from anyone else. I wanted A WHOLE life. Not just a couple shiny statement pieces that went back in a drawer at the end of the evening---mama wants the whole damn ball.

Honestly- I'm still struggling with reversing the thoughts that I've weaved into my DNA, about what it means to "want it all.." about what you have to sacrifice for "career," about what "happiness" looks like....My Love said the other day you have to "start where your feet are planted." When the root of your soul from the INSIDE out is taken care of, the outside inevitably changes.

All I can say is this; watch the story you play in your head----does is look like the one you actually WANT? Are you receiving yourself within the way that you'd hope others would on the outside....?

Watch your thoughts. Watch them, Chelsea Belle..... it doesn't matter if you decide to get married tomorrow, or to flee to India---these choices are yours-- no path is permanent, try them all.

Embrace the opposition within yourself and use it as a roadmap. Protect that precious brain and fill it with thoughts that ELEVATE your heart to the highest.

You don't have to explain yourself to anyone.

The only reason we withhold from expressing our AUTHENTIC selves, is because we think, IF we choose to express them, there’s a chance...we won’t be received with a warm heart, open arms and gentle understanding. Whether its from OURSELVES, or the people around us-- If we knew, with unwavering certainty, that people would be KIND, our ability to live in harmony with our all of our choices, would be much more uncomplicated....and fluid. Yes, I'm talking to you.

BE KIND TODAY.

Are your thoughts working WITH YOU or AGAINST YOU??

Then Something Major happened. AKA Winning. Almost.

2011-07-28T07:42:00.000-07:00

Here’s the situation.

...that almost works, just a period, no explanation- just---hey bitch, there’s a situation- that’s it. There is a situation.

The situation is this in a nutshell; I’ve been planning to move to New York City in October with my man candy since June--- mid-Feb of this year, I left my previous job and went back to the world of freelance. For those of you that are all, “Oh freelance! How dreamy! Ponies! Cozy sweatpants and endless creativity all! day! long! SPRITZERS WHILE I’M ON A CLIENT PHONE CALL AND THEY’LL NEVER EVEN KNOWWWWWWWW” yeah, for you guys? Lay off the crack pipe.

It’s more like: What up Morning, what do have for me today ::while you put on your Rocky face and camo gear:: then, feel tempted to do laundry since you’re sitting in your laundry all day, but don’t do the laundry because you have to ACTUALLY WORK, thus you stare at the laundry and start to feel like a hoarder by 2:30, then wonder where the hell your boundless creativity went, the nagging creativity that was begging for you to pay attention to it when you had your last job, where you didn't sit on top of thongs and crunchy sweat pants all day.

So then... you’re all--- FINE. I will lean into the discomfort of my dried up brain and I’ll WORK THROUGH IT. Then you eat some cheese. And watch a YouTube video of Marble Machines, then you cry about Amy Winehouse---but maybe you're not crying about Amy Winehouse, maybe you're crying about yourself? But whatever.

....Meanwhile, you've already applied to 25 jobs, THIS. MORNING. ALONE. Then, you follow up with 10 potential new clients. While also working on your current clients.....interspersed with the other ideas that have yet to make you actual money. Then you write an invoice, then hassle someone who hasn't paid you yet, then you take 4 phone calls that a lot of them, end up wasting your time....

....the whole time you're thinking....this is an investment. This is all worth it.

Then you pitch six thousand ideas and most of the time people are like, “meh?” , then you check Mint.com and you’re like HOLY BALLS!!! How long can I stretch (insert abysmal amount of coin here) and you’re like, "no, look..." (and you start crying inside, then outside when it’s about 5 and there’s been no progress), I need these ideas to work because it turns out that I have a credit card bill and insurance and rent and a phone bill and you know, normal people shit that needs dealing with---and that last client? Yeah, that only lasted so long, it was a contract, that’s over.....then you remember your mom saying, “Patience is your life lesson” so you sit on the porch and meditate for 6 minutes, then go back to MANICALLY PURSUING SHIT.

....Then you remember some thing, some successful person said to you and DING! generate word of mouth, that’s the KEY! So you start by mouthing off to so many people your mouth hurts, so that they’ll mouth off to their people about how awesome your mouthing off is and boom, tipping point, snowballing, “oh man, I’m so booked---hit me back in a year.” BOOM. (This is unicorn shit, people---this happens somewhere in a land with Chupacabras and fuckin’ unicorns. And a couple other bloggers who we all love--you know who you are, and yes, I’m jealous--but that’s another blog and I love you anyway.)

THEN! SOMETHING! ALMOST HITS! Something really major---the kind of something that Cuba Gooding Jr. was all naked and screaming at Tom Cruise about. And you’re like, finally I don’t have to consider becoming an Atheist! And that “Something” is drawn out for about a year---this really big deal, that you’re really stoked on, YOUR CALLING (angels sing, fairies dance, glitter and absinthe abound!) and you think, after the last 10 years of constant rejection, it has to end at some point? There was a reason you didn’t book Lady Gaga, or Rihanna, or Maroon 5, or why Glamour and Marie Claire and Cosmo and Elle and Self and every magazine on the planet never wanted any of your million stories, or why those twelve business ideas you had bombed like Clear Pepsi and why your book ideas suck balls …..it was all for this thing, you mini-celebrate inside and Google, “Yacht.” Wee! Take that The Man!

Then, Something Major doesn’t happen. And you want to die. Which is dramatic, but sort of true. Especially because Something Major has been a whorey little tease knockin’ at your door during dark hours, night after bleak night.

Then, you do your laundry. But only one load, because you want to feel sorry for yourself and drink Gin instead and see how many creative egg and pasta based dinners you can make until your next paycheck comes.

THE SITUATION IS THIS: I don't want to live like this forever. I'm ready and excited to get back to the city and have actually found some opportunities that I would be HAPPY to leave the world of freelancing behind for----excited, even. Free samples at the bakery, kind of excited. I just need to get hired. Or booked. Or....for someone to take a chance on me and the ideas that I know. deeeep, deeeep down are STELLAR.

The Something Major that I wanted so deep in my loins (yeah I said it) hasn't happened yet.....but, Something Major and I will meet eventually. Right?

WHAT'S YOUR "SOMETHING MAJOR???"

The Moment Before the SHOE Drops......

2011-07-17T20:36:00.000-07:00

…...it was mostly about the garden.

The work, the “labor of the day.” Sort of how little kids show off their rainbow colored restaurant menus, as to say “see...I did good right?” It was about approval and proof, that this right here is what I have devoted my body to DOING for the day....with eager approval, a nod, a smile, a “did you see what he did today---gosh it looks amazing.” Followed by a comfortable sigh that you can now relax, your work has been acknowledged, you are valid. The moment before was all about that.

...Actually....the moments before MOST things are all about that. That= the undeniable need to have the people around you smile and say, “you’re doing good Kid.” Permission to breathe. To put down the flogging fists and hug yourself instead. Yes, I said hug yourself, you snarkhole.

….the moment before was when the day was just, “okay.” The moment before things were, “oh....ya know, same ‘ol same ‘ol.” Exasperated. Uninspired. Routine. Arguably, imperfect.

You wish you would’ve cleared out your inbox, or come up with something “more interesting” to make for dinner.....that you would have run an extra twenty minutes, or remembered to call your best friend, that you would have IMPLEMENTED.MORE.EFFECTIVE. TIME. MANAGEMENT. (you failure, you get one pass, but tomorrow-you have to do it BETTER tomorrow, says the Internal Monologue)---it’s the daily, unwinding of that “what could I have done better today.....” that we’re usually caught up in the ‘moment before.’

We’re fixated on the cracks, the pieces that are chipping and we’re scrubbing out the imperfections--- we’re watching with a close eye, we’re planning ahead as a consolation for the “imperfect” today, false hope for a better “tomorrow....”

….then, something happens---the something that forces you, abruptly from the seat of your chair, the fight or flight, the feeling of emotional attack- because you aren’t sure how to react any other way, so you pace back and forth and your body responds by shaking, shaking away the “ouch” that is inevitably about to settle in. The moment before, it was all about the garden, the “meh” day, the “I didn’t do my best....” and now, the moment, says, “HEY. Life. it’s fragile. All that shit? That shit doesn’t matter.....why does it always take ::this:: to remind you?”

A couple weeks ago My Love lost a family member, suddenly, tragically----too soon, you know? The way it happens. Too soon. Unfairly. And the following weeks have been a series of deliberately AWARE, moments. Like unfolding the sheer, gossamery wings of a butterfly, suddenly keenly IN-TUNE with that fact that, THESE. BREAK. That person you love? They break too.

We all do it---it’s our way of “surviving,” most of the time. The sort of, “better, stronger, faster, more....” it’s the engine, that keeps chugging away, driving us into the abyss of the GLOSSY, PERFECT, “FUTURE.” We sleep too little, we worry too much, we over-plan, under-do, OVER-DO, we forget---that we’re breakable. That we have a number, with our name on it and we aren’t standing in a line, but in a big old pool....with no clear indication when it’ll be our time.

….there will always be “the moment before....” but how are you going to BE IN IT?

Will you be, PRESENT-- proud? Kind with yourself for the day that you’ve HAD, even if it wasn’t the day you’d envisioned? It’s the only one you’ve got, kiddo.

Will you finally take that extra step, the leap, the "someday," and the "later?" WILL YOU FINALLY DO THE THINGS YOU SAY SO DESPERATELY YOU WANT TO DO? Or will you sit, whining, at the back of the bus, letting someone else drive it---apathetically, unthankful with the "cards you've been dealt." Cause guess what? You've only got this one deck, so you may as well play it.

Will you be fixated on the extra 10 pounds? The extra hour you need to put in at work? If the “moments before” are a series of guilt-ridden, self-loathing, disappointment, lack-focused, future-focused, unaware, ungrateful---you aren’t just in ‘moments’ you’re in your MOMENT, the one you’ve been waiting for---the moments before a tragedy, a shift, a LOSS, you aren’t aware that these may be YOUR last moments too......

How you gonna live it baby? Moment. to. Moment. Makes the whole picture. With gratitude today my Dreamers.

Self-sabotage, loving yourself and NOT BEING SO DAMN CRAZY.

2011-06-30T14:47:00.000-07:00

I've done this about a hundred times--- I run my hands across the contents of my closet, touching the fabrics, feeling for comfort and weight, then gingerly, like a ballet dancer preparing her pointe shoes- I pick an outfit, the outfit that he will break up with me in.

Something easy-- something, you know, effortlessly wonderful. That skims the curves of my body just enough, in case I have to walk away. Something memorable, but not too over-the-top. Something....that says, in a whisper, "you'll regret this later." Which naturally means, "makes my ass look wonderful and brings out the bronze overtones in my skin."

I drive up to meet him and play through how it has to go; cards tightly held in my sweaty hands... no tears. Definitely no tears. A sort of calm reserve to the "way things will unfold..." a quiet surrender. A chin held high. I play it all out.

....then, he greets me at the door as loving and as ready for me and US as always and I snap back into the reality of the situation, which is; he isn't breaking up with me (you fucking idiot.) He isn't running out. He isn't harboring secrets in places I haven't found yet----those are stories in my HEAD. This unforgiving, overactive MIND that is strangling, slowly, my life force.

I do this, see?

I do this thing where--I always ask you too many questions, fishing for red flags that point to devastation. I'll extract every ounce of inflection, intent, structure of the sentence and I'll chew on it, rolling these helpless words around the sharp incisors of my rabidly hungry mind , until it's this sort of nondescript mush of what was once a simple, likely-forgettable, thought.

I'm teetering between Totally In Control and Out of my Fucking Mind and sometimes, I don't know how to stop it.

I'm realizing---sometimes life doesn't DO what you want it to, but whatever winds of change come crashing through your imaginary rose garden, I MUST refuse to be the catalyst, of annihilating something before it can be 'so good'... I cannot continue to sabotage my own evolution....and in turn, happiness.

When a traffic jam halts the flow of my day, or a check comes a week too late---when "the plan," ends up being an IDEA instead of a reality, which inevitably happens--I refuse to be the reason it all "fell apart," instead, I am a contently peaceful observer in the unexpected advances. ADVANCES= forward motion= growth.

When things are changing in unexpected ways I will think of them as subtle, UPGRADES--better than my original "plan." I refuse to perceive everything as working AGAINST me and rather, as working creatively for me and the betterment of my SOUL.

What is it that that you're hanging on to??? Do you really believe that you aren't wildly, succulently LOVABLE and LOVED---that you aren't EMPLOYABLE, INNOVATIVE, VISIONARY??? That you aren't deserving, ABUNDANT, taken-fucking-care.OF. Why don't you know that are all of those things?? Come on, child.

You ARE all of those things. You. Me. Collectively, us.

So stop that shit. STOP IT. STOP. IT. STOP. IT. You master Saboteur. The title isn't fitting on you.

You can't start trying to change yourself so that you can love yourself, or your life, or your person...you have to love yourself FIRST, in order for the change to happen, perhaps, change isn't the word-TRANSFORMATION......that's better.

You hear that, Chels? Pretty hard to hear when your head is lodged so far up fears stinky little ass, eh?

Do you ever SABOTAGE your "GOOD?" and WHY?

"CELEBRATION" DOESN'T EVEN BEGIN TO COVER IT......

2011-06-09T15:58:00.000-07:00

Last night, my dream mantra was "CELEBRATE."

While, I wasn't sure why I kept seeing the word everywhere, I'm never one to turn down a good party-- and the highest form of gratitude, enthusiasm and EUPHORIA is to say, "hip hip hooray!!!!" regardless of circumstance....because at the very least, I know I live in a place where.....

I've got one ticket, to a roller coaster ride where dips are there to remind me that there's butterflies inside my stomach- to keep me humble and awake- where Diana Ross glam queens belt high Cs and the likes of Babe Paley's and Edie Sedgwick's are bantering in the corner car to keep things interesting- where rolling hills of candy factories serve as a background and every dip is a varying degree of Rainbow.

Where it doesn't matter whether I'm thinking inside the box, or out because wherever I am is draped head-to-toe in swirling compositions, shining prisms and Christmas ornaments, that reflect the light perfectly.

Where shades of gray are left for the soles of my dancing shoes and the clasp on my handbags. Where we have dance parties to glam-rock, while eating blueberries naked, with the windows wide open, while we dig through the dusty boxes in our brain that remembers the Jem theme song and we draw hot pink half moons on our eyes, then tip our hat at Lady Gaga for making adult face painting cool again.

Where we make 6 batches of Lemon Bars because we FUCKING CAN and because whoever gets to touch the fleshy parts will love you anyway and they'll love you even more when they're in a sugar induced euphoria caused by YOU, you're their sugar Queen.

Where every conversation we enter into makes us feel newly polished, satiated and cosmically DIVINE.

Where once and for all seeking approval of others isn't only a distant memory, but it's a sin upon the sacred CELESTIAL spirit that is encased within that transient exterior, that you have so finely perfected for the time and we can say, "AHHHH...." because we FINALLY understand that we are and always were, SUBLIMELY COMPLETE.

Where we buy balloons instead of lilies, or actually, where we buy both- where champagne is meant to be consumed, where the word "CELEBRATE" is instructed, just because.

Where reservations are unnecessary, because no matter where it is, they'll be delighted that you showed up. Where we always have a pen, a piece of paper and stoplight long enough to capture fleeting inspiration, or at the very least a person to say, "that should go in a blog."

Where Earth Angels appear in the form of snow days, life-elevating propositions, unexpected packages with Pixie Sticks on top, wild flowers and Chinese Fire Drills-- last one in the car gets to buy all of us a dozen sprinkled doughnuts.

Where everyone is granted a ridiculous nickname that can never be written, because it can't be pronounced and is said only by the most adoring of admirers. WHERE WE ARE REMINDED on a daily- that we are worthy, worth admiring and we are cherished as someones "absolute favorite creature."

Where I am a Kid and Life is a Candy Store.

Where you "let it go" for the sake of letting it grow, instead--it's okay for the ego to get demoted to the backseat for tonight. Where somewhere, someone is thinking of something even more fantastically mythical than a Unicorn.

Where YOU ROCK THE MOTHERFUCKING PATTON LEATHER PLATFORMS OFF THE CASBAH.

Where Optimism, Random Acts of Kindness and Bravery are not virtues, they are inherent to the law of existing. Where you will strive for nothing else than to find your most AWESOME rendition of Self and you will take that Self salsa dancing, then tuck it in bed after a tipsy night of drunken-self love. Where you will REFUSE to join the Square Bears when you're actually a melange of zoo animals, all shapes and sizes.

Where you will bring SOMETHING to the table-- whatever bizarre obsession, quirk or fascination that may be and you will OFFER IT UP, confidently as you were made to....

...where I give myself authority to expect the splendorous absurdity of asking for such things from myself and from all of you and I bask in it.

IT'S GOING TO BE A STELLAR WEEKEND, DON'T YOU THINK???

WHAT ARE YOU CELEBRATING?

BEING A HARD ASS IN A HAMMOCK JUST DOESN'T ADD UP.

2011-06-02T00:08:00.000-07:00

I am writing this blog from a hammock. Yes. A hammock.

As if there isn't enough of a reason to find writing from a hammock suitable, I will say that, it's also slightly dangerous for both my body and my computer...and I kind of like living on the edge...which brings me to another point entirely;

...while I'm swinging back and forth here, unsteady and a little unsure of what's going to happen next in my "story"- the weather is that perfect kind of balmy that the onset of summer teases us with, there's just enough of a breeze to cue the background orchestra of tall neighborhood trees, doing their thing, rustling in sync. Fresh cut grass, the smell of chives, English lavender and lilacs mingle in the ether and My Love picks bundles of thick purple asparagus and Swiss Chard to cook up, "look baby! We're going to eat this!" The childlike-gleam in his eye that's still amazed we can grow our own food and eat it.

My point is, I see it all. I smell it. I NOTICE. What's happening around me, right at this second that is perfect.

It would be really easy for me to get discouraged right now. To bellyache, to over plan in an attempt to find some comfort in the unseen twists and turns and ya know what? Usually, I am so Goddamn wrapped up in the "next," and the hustle, and the general lack of faith in my future that I've gotten used to surviving in this general state of, "worried."

I spend an unfortunate amount of time being absolutely riddled with this unshakable worry that I. just. won't. figure. it out. and you know what? It's fucking exhausting.

What's happening next? Who do I need to call that I haven't? Who should I be emailing? What best-seller have I yet to write? What way have I not yet considered that is going to be the key to abundant wealth and validation!? What pitch, what idea, what person have I not met, not considered, not CONJURED UP- WHAT AM I MISSING?!?!

Ah, yes- what you're missing? You aren't missing anything, but you're missing everything right now.

When you're busy talking about how "lost," how "uninspired," you aren't listening if guidance were to appear- to seeds of inspiration. When you're looking for the next destination, whether you're Googling it, or frantically scrolling through your iPhone for "Best Margarita spots within five miles" you've driven past three perfectly suitable patios, you've missed approximately 15 minutes of that story he was telling you, you've decided that the majority of your options "aren't good enough," and you've generally lost the point entirely. I know this because, I am this and frankly, sometimes I'm a pretty fucking miserable, asshole. I mean, I can be heinously difficult and discontent and it's not fun to be around for any party involved, myself included.

There's a difference between living on the edge and being the edge, especially if the edges are getting a little too sharp.

Today is about this hammock. And this weather, THE ABILITY TO BE HERE. OUTSIDE. BREATHING, eating a Costco size bag of Craisins, surprise kisses from the man I adore on my forehead in between planting new patches of raspberries, peach trees and potatoes. I see it. I smell. I hear. I'm here. Softening.

The phrases; it's just hard right now, things are difficult, I'm feeling stuck, I'm a little lost- are all banned from my vocabulary- I say them too often, thus I enforce them as fact when they really aren't they're bellyaching, they're discouraged, they're irritating- they're done.

I can be fully present, fully ambitious and fully inspired- I can exercise gratitude for the things that I have and the things I do not have, (thank you for not making me a Pussycat Doll even though this was once an actual, serious, and close goal- hindsight is 20/20.) There's a difference between persevering or being driven and being hard, which is simply, sometimes being, immovable.

I hope whatever you're going through, wherever your brain is today (thinking about tomorrow,) that you can find softness, NOTICE. see.

WHAT ARE YOU MISSING THAT'S RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU????