roll away your stone

beyond the the daily rubble of beauty and frustration there is a clearing. the impossibility of reaching it may tempt you astray; the rocky roads are easily confused for an eternal anchor. yet, if you have the will to roll away your stone and you find yourself there, the land is vast. a horizon does not exist for there is no end to existence. it is a waking life's sleep at the end of exhaustion. a place where you create the rest.

::

2012, i'm told, will be a great year for treading through the chaos that life creates to find that empty space for yourself to create something of meaning. that is not to say it will be easy. but it will be worth it.

here's to the attempt.

can't stop, won't stop

persuade. pursue. persist. push through :: sunrise to sunset. no stopping anytime

the most phenomenal woman

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

-Maya Angelou

i've shared this poem with many phenomenal women in my life. but today, i celebrate the MOST phenomenal woman. happiest birthday to the my beautiful mom, who makes 62 look so effortless. i love you today and always. xox

maya, may i

Maya, may I have this dance
to shake my rhythm hips
and speak my lyric lips;
to be everything it is
that I feel,
everything that I am.

Maya, may I grow
from the roots of my toes
to the leaves of my finger tips,
knowledge constantly pulsing.
Maya, may I never forget
always, there is something to learn.

Maya, may I cease to judge,
may I remember 
our individually colored threads
weave one beautiful
tapestry of humanity.

Maya, may I be strong enough
to not only attempt,
but to achieve;
and be brave enough 
to face the falls.
And rise again.

Maya, may I? 

            You may not--you will, as we all will.

And we all will.

I had the privilege and pleasure to go to a speaking by Dr. Maya Angelou earlier this month. Inspiring might only begin to describe the experience. Above I pay homage to just a few of the jewels I took--and continue to take--away from her lecture. Her life and body of work is tangible proof that any human being can achieve excellence. Any human being. And if we allow ourselves. . .we all will.

from her cowboy boots to her down home roots...

happiest birthday to the most country girl i know. all my yee-haw love, miss lola. xo

you can do anything that you wanna do, but uh-uh, don't step on my cowboy boots. 

-hank jr. 

i would give you the 'the wide ocean'...

but the wide ocean is already yours, and mine, and ours. so i give you neruda. because i know he--like the ocean--speaks to your spirit. happy birthday to you, my mermaid <3

Ocean, if you were to give, a measure, a ferment, a fruit

of your gifts and destructions, into my hand,

I would choose your far-off repose, your contour of steel,

your vigilant spaces of air and darkness,

and the power of your white tongue,

that shatters and overthrows columns,

breaking them down to your proper purity.

Not the final breaker, heavy with brine,

that thunders onshore, and creates

the silence of sand, that encircles the world,

but the inner spaces of force,

the naked power of the waters,

the immoveable solitude, brimming with lives.

It is Time perhaps, or the vessel filled

with all motion, pure Oneness,

that death cannot touch, the visceral green

of consuming totality.

Only a salt kiss remains of the drowned arm,

that lifts a spray: a humid scent,

of the damp flower, is left,

from the bodies of men. Your energies

form, in a trickle that is not spent,

form, in retreat into silence.

The falling wave,

arch of identity, shattering feathers,

is only spume when it clears,

and returns to its source, unconsumed.

Your whole force heads for its origin.

The husks that your load threshes,

are only the crushed, plundered, deliveries,

that your act of abundance expelled,

all those that take life from your branches.

Your form extends beyond breakers,

vibrant, and rhythmic, like the chest, cloaking

a single being, and its breathings,

that lift into the content of light,

plains raised above waves,

forming the naked surface of earth.

You fill your true self with your substance.

You overflow curve with silence.

The vessel trembles with your salt and sweetness,

the universal cavern of waters,

and nothing is lost from you, as it is

from the desolate crater, or the bay of a hill,

those empty heights, signs, scars,

guarding the wounded air.

Your petals throbbing against the Earth,

trembling your submarine harvests,

your menace thickening the smooth swell,

with pulsations and swarming of schools,

and only the thread of the net raises

the dead lightning of fish-scale,

one wounded millimetre, in the space

of your crystal completeness.

-pablo neruda

fashion forward by going backward: Daughters of Simone

 

By the end of this year alone I will have attended 5 weddings. Being in my mid-20s I think that is probably the norm. What is NOT the norm, however, are these fantastic vintage wedding dresses by Daughters of Simone. This San Francisco based company was founded by two other 20 somethings with a huge sense of style. Tired of the typical wedding dress, these ladies fashion new wedding dresses from old ones, achieving a soft, sheik, vintage appeal.

While a wedding is not in my near future plans, I do know a few more blushing-brides-to-be that will be soon in the hunt for the perfect dress. Above are a few of my favorites from Daughters of Simone. Many are one-of-a-kind and already sold out. Their collection--which also includes vintage accessories--is available via their website daughtersofsimone.com or through their etsy shop.

Daughters of Simone is going backwards to push the limits of fashion creativity--and its working for me. I may have to get married soon, if only just to buy a dress!

she floats

she floats.
buoyant and breathtaking
like a petal wafting
both above the earth 
and deep below its surface.

she floats.
spirited and soulful
moving with the rhythm 
of the effortless
purposeful sea.

she laughs
radiant and real.
the sound of inside smiles.
and it is here 
you may drown
as nothing exists
before nor after 
that eternal bliss.
and it is why

she floats.


happy golden birthday to my soul sister. xo, liks

photo :: unknown 

i will follow the sun

i will follow the sun.
take me under,
blind me.
without cover,
you will find me.
burnt,
blistered,
baked,
in a blanket of heat.
my only relief will be
the sea.
and still
i find you there.
so i dive deep,
to follow the sun.

photo :: brandy-alia 
lyrics :: lika

on the road

 

san jose :: santa cruz :: san francisco :: humboldt/burnt ranch :: sonoma

i'm off.
solo mish.
nor-cal awaits.
hope to regain
some much needed
peace,
perspective, 
passion.



from great traveler/writer/poet/maniac jack kerouac, while he was on the road:

"what is that feeling when you're driving away from people and they recede on the plain till you see their specks dispersing? it's the too-huge world vaulting us, and it's good-bye. but we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies."

"there was nowhere to go but everywhere, so just keep on rolling under the stars."

"the best teacher is experience and not through someone's distorted point of view."



be back in 10...xo

wanderlust

anyway you slice it, travel remains a wander-ful, lust-ful necessity. 

i'll be heading out on a 10-day nor-cal road trip in a couple days #solomissions. i hope to get motivated to go even further. to all the homies floating around our humble planet, just keep swimming. to those stuck in limbo, let this move you. 

the further you go, the closer you get to understanding humanity and yourself. . .all the while growing creative inspiration.

SEVEN IMAGES TO INSPIRE WANDERLUST

lost and freedom found

fullness i seek is hidden by emptiness i carry.

when the load becomes heavy

i reach for more stones,

while the consciousness i require is on a path of light.

light as breath on a page;

permanent as scars etched in flesh;

necessary as silence is for spirit;

the noise quiets.

my cup fills.

art by kirstin nolte

the danger of the uninspired

My cursor has been blinking for four months now. A quarter-inch black line on a pale screen, haunting me. "WRITE SOMETHING," it silently screamed. And I, like so many uninspired souls, found it all to easy to ignore. I'd like to say it was something profound, breathtaking, or life shattering that finally got me writing again. But it was fear. 

Today I started thinking about a world full of people lacking inspiration, and the danger that would ensue. I reflected on the last four months of my life and all I could come up with was...Pilates. Pilates? After four months, the most profound thing in my life I could muster was a mat exercise?! Sure my core was getting stronger, but what about my core. When I lack inspiration my slate is blank, my spirit empty, and all I am is matter moving aimlessly through what I dare to call life. 

Can you imagine a society of souls, barely afloat, with no purpose, no energy? In today's world of sustainable living, creative inspiration is one energy source we can't afford to overlook. The minds of artists and innovators are boundless spheres of ideas and creations, but to cap one's potential is to put a limit on what humanity can achieve. To fall victim to life's mundane tasks only to forget the unique human ability to see the artistic beauty in everything around us, is to overlook one of life's greatest blessings. 

For months now I've wrongfully blamed my surroundings for being so uninspiring. By definition artists are creators, and are responsible for manifesting their own inspiration. Because without it, they seize to exist.

So for the sake of meaningful existence, take a lesson from my momentary lapse in motivation. Above all else don't just seek inspiration, BE inspired.

And if your "cursor" remains at a stand still, spend some time with like minded artists. I promise you, creativity is contagious. So while I while I muster the inspiration to pull new poem out of my pocket, in the mean time...