rise in peace

in the aftermath of friday's tragedy in isla vista, as a ucsb alumni and former resident of the small town, i've been overcome with a lack of words to attach to this tremendously sad happening. as a true believer in signs, however, i knew exactly what i wanted to say when i heard of maya angelou's passing on the radio this morning. the poet and activist was and is my inspiration to write and to commit to peace. in honor of her, of the fallen ucsb students, and of those who fall victim to hate, i share one of maya angelou's most famed poems, and ask that in peace, we all rise.

Still I Rise

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may tread me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

- Maya Angelou
April 4, 1928 - May 28, 2014

take me back...

 

waikiki. wailoa. puueo. mauna kea. kona. HILO.

--

the colors, the breeze, the swaying of the trees. the peace, the ease, and the warmth of the water. i know home will always be there. and i know i will always go back.

here i go again...

things are always changing. we know this. though, it often takes a big change to actually get our attention. this time last year i was certain that by now i would be moved back to hawai'i and enrolled in UH manoa's creative writing MA program. it was the only program i applied to, the only place i wanted to be; it was the everything into which i had been pouring all my energy. the application, i thought, was the easy part. it was saying goodbye to santa barbara that would be hard. i spent the next five months saying my mental farewells; enjoying the last birthday i'd celebrate here; appreciating my final spring on the central coast; tying up the decade i had spent here.

then things changed.

i couldn't be sure it wasn't a cruel joke, as my mom read me my rejection letter over the phone. but it was true, i didn't get in. everything i had been planning for years had come to a sudden halt. and the saddest part, so did my writing. as the reality of my rejection sunk in, my desire to write sunk even deeper. no matter how i felt, i just couldn't find the words.

it's been about five months now since i've had enough motivation to step out of my writing rut. maybe i made peace with being in santa barbara longer. maybe my recent trip to hawai'i made me realize home would always be there.

maybe enough time had passed.

whatever the reason, i finally realized, if i let another five months go by without practicing the craft, i could no longer call myself a writer. and that was a change that i wouldn't be able to accept.

so here i go again, as i attempt to give you a glimpse of life through my eyes, with my words. for those of you who stuck by me, thanks for awaiting my return.

i write for you.

xx
lika

letting go

Last week I met with my mentors, Sojourner and Ann. It was the first time the three of us hung out all together. We sat with tea and talked. The conversation shifted naturally like a branch in an easy wind, from art to current events to common friends. Then as random as the breeze, we began talking about the things we clutter. I learned Sojourner, like myself, held on to many things, namely old letters and books upon books of writings and journals. Things, that in a fire, would be the first thing you would rescue. We spoke about the inability to let these sentimental items go, yet also the necessity in doing just that once they are lost.

The thought provoking topic was followed, just days later, by the loss of my iPhone. This also meant the loss of priceless pictures of my birthday camping trip, a disco dance party, and all the fun and memories in between. Then I realized, this was yet another reminder from the universe that I needed to learn to let go. I was reminded that all things change, shift, and eventually go away; on eternities time table, lasting as long as a snowflake in the sun...

Snowflake in the Sun
Undying love no doubt expires
like food and life itself.
Starry eyes go dim, the heart retires
to forever’s failing health.

Money grows then falls from trees
to an ever increasing cluster
of limp and dying leaves
whose green have lost their luster.

For there is no certainty
in life, we must concede.
Everlasting impermanence is all we can foresee.

--

Remembering and accepting the ultimate impermanence of all things makes it easier to let go. Whether an iPhone or old letters, an old love or insecurities of a new love, once we realize letting go is something we must all learn to do, there is freedom in the release...

Untitled
Can holding on ever be
greater than letting go?
I fear my grip is slipping,
yet I have no fear.
Freedom is found in the release.
Free as the bird in flight,
dusting the space ever so slightly
above the sea,
completely confident in its direction.
How can one be so certain of a route
they cannot see?
Maybe I could fly blindly into forever
if there were no such thing as time.
Who says timing 
is everything?
 
Timing did not create 
the moon rises and sunsets.
WE created time to make sense
of that simple, senseless beauty.
Where is time?
When is it time?
What is time?!
Nothing but a barrier to be broken.
Let go of the tortures of the tic tocs
and feel yourself float towards infinity,
nearing the Heron’s horizon.

Holding on only works
once you let go.  
You will not say goodbye,
you will open the door
to the inevitable unknown.
Not “in time”
time = now.

--

So whatever you may be holding on to, just know that it is ok to let go. 

xo 

not beautiful or remarkable things...just things

my mentor sent me a writing prompt a few weeks ago: write down 6 things you see each day, then at the end of one week, compose a poem out of two of those things. the lesson being that poets, and artists in general, should strive to be "more attuned to the physical world and to find concrete things that possess a special vibrancy" (Linda Gregg, "The Art of Finding"), then incorporate these things into their craft.

over the course of a couple weeks, here is what i came up with:

july 11:

earrings
freeway signs
glass jar
turquoise
tea
sunflower

july 25: 

tests
stripes
my reflection
bangle
laughing baby
toes

july 26:

man sitting on sidewalk
new haircut
stress
style
leaves
relief

so i only did it on three of the days, but i did manage to use all the words in my newest attempt and literary creativity...

the things i see each day

as i drive along the highway,
i roll the window down to feel
the breeze of time passing.
a wild wind whips through
and my earrings sing a song
of pennies dropping into a glass jar.
freeway signs point to places
i'll never see,
fields of sunflowers
i'll never know.
white clouds paint stripes across a turquoise sky
as i cease to cease.

my reflection in the windshield,
a loose reminder
of what once was--
a laughing baby with squishy toes
turned adolescent with body woes.

and now i fight the tests of my twenties
by speeding faster
in search of relief.
i chase change with a new style,
new haircut, new shoes
a new bangle filled with jewels.
beautiful objects,
permanent as leaves on a growing tree.

when i finally exit
this whirlwind
wind of a road,
in search of a cure to my saturated stress,
i see a man sitting on the sidewalk.
living in his permanent present,
his sign reads:
a quarter for a cup of tea

...

interesting how the little things we see each day, ultimately paint the big picture of our world. what did you see today?

the transfer of inspiration

a good friend and sister of mine shared with me a TED talks video featuring the French street artist JR who won the TED talks prize for a "wish to change the world". watching him speak about his wish, got me thinking about my wish. with so many things i wish i could change about this world, where do i begin?

i sat and thought. as that video was passed to me, the inspiration was too. now i sit here letting the inspiration well up within and flow through me, and i hope as you read this, into you. we all begin to fulfill our wish to change the world through the transfer of inspiration.

this past week i was inspired by my mentor to do my very first open mic reading of some of my poetry. offering me yet another attempt to transfer inspiration. when we continue to pay it forward for whatever cause may be, we create a chain reaction of people thinking about how, they too can change the world.

following is one of the poems i was inspired to write and read for the open mic, and below that the TED talks video on JR. may you greet this day inspired, and one step closer to making this a better world.

for brandon elizares (02.04.96-06.02.12)

i didn't know you.
through scattered stories and collaged memories
now i know,
they knew you even less.
how much did your spirit endure
before it gave out?
the way a wall will fall
from unending thrown stones.
had those hands lifted you up,
would we be laying you down?
if those hands were taught to heal,
to instead use stones to build an empire
filled with warriors
for peace,
we would be walking on a path of love,
and not drowning
in your loss.



a special thank you to a couple of my inspirations: b. alia & sojourner