deep breaths

I'm stressing out. This country seems to be looking the void straight in the eye. And it looks scary because there is so much at stake. I have a lot more to say about this, but for now I'm trying to take a deep breath and continue to have faith that together we can undertake the changes we so desperately need. Take a deep breath and remember a glorious fall weekend spent in the open air and under the glow of the sun.

Breathe in. Breathe out. And look: fall colors lonely aspen

on the way to long lake, crested butte

truck furniture

Truck is an amazing Japanese furniture company that I'm moderately obsessed with.

three visual haikus

Today is one of those gloriously slow, beautiful fall days. I pulled out this little book on Hungarian photographer Andre Kertesz that I haven't looked at in ages! I thought I would share these three photographs that I adore. They are poetic--quietly meditative and almost lonely in feeling. I love how modern his sense of composition and texture was, back in the 20s. Read more about Kertesz's incredible work and life here.

chez mondrian, paris, 1926

pavement, paris, 1929

lost cloud, new york, 1937

while you were sleeping

I absolutely LOVE this video by Jeff Scher. It's an amazing little visual poem about a rainstorm. I used to make short films like this when I was in college, but haven't made one in eons. Hmm... that's some food for thought. Check it out!

building something out of nothing

I'm still wretchedly sick. And I'm also wretchedly bored. I've watched loads of movies, logged some serious hours in bed, eaten loads of chicken soup, and I'm still sick. Maybe it's time to re-learn an important lesson:

A few years ago, A. and I decided to ditch our little mountain town for a few months and take a big month long trip to Brazil. We had no specific itinerary but we did have two stipulations: we wanted to see a real and authentic Brazil and we wanted to be by the beach as much as possible. After days of airports, planes and buses across the whole of the Americas we had at last made it back to the middle of nowhere. Jericoacoara, Ceara, our destination, was a place without a lot of things, chief among them roads. The only way to get in and out was to drive in an open air, off-road bus over the swollen dunes of the beach, a bumpy and slow but enchanting ride. As the bus crested up and down the dunes, circled passed a quiet lagoon, and skipped its way across the tall sandy grass A.’s gaze met mine often. The excitement of everyone on the bus was palpable; we were headed to a secret a forgotten place. When we finally arrived the bus driver took us down the main stretch of sand, proudly showing off a swarm of guesthouses, cafes, bars and the local version of a grocery store before finally stopping at the end of the line. Jeri sits on the left part of an almost peninsula that juts out into Atlantic on Brazil’s jagged outline of a coast, just a hair south of the equator. The town faces west as it gazes over the ocean and is almost entirely surrounded by enormous sand dunes that make up a national park. When we arrived it was late afternoon and the sun’s golden hue was disappearing over the edge of the ocean. It was hot. And spectacular. We wanted to swim, eat and drink our way through this paradise, and set about our task as quickly as possible. It was right about then that my body started to fail me. It all started with some bug bites. A mosquito, or rather a hoard of those suckers, found their way into our room one night and quickly devoured our fresh non-tropical flesh. And while A. recovered relatively unscathed from the event, I was not so lucky. My body completely turned on itself, reacting to the bites like they were poison. What started with red swollen itchy skin led to a full on feverish flu. With that I was miserably locked out of this Eden and chained instead to my bed. To me it was a devestating start to what was supposed to be a lusciously romantic adventure. One day, as I graduated from bed to a deck chair at our little pousada, I did absolutely nothing. Nothing. I didn't sleep, I didn't read. I didn't try to watch one of the horrendous telenovelas that seemed to be the only programming available in the whole of Brazil. I sat and did the only thing I had energy for, which was nothing. As I sat, quiet thoughts and meditations crossed my mind, and I realized that there is a lot to nothing. I learned, in that chair, what surrendering looks like. Let go, the universe seemed to be saying. All you can do is let go. And then open your eyes and see how much you can build out of nothing.

colt, brazil

now it's my turn

So somehow I've come down with a nasty cold. Yuck. I'm weak and congested and I'm pretty sure I'm coming down with an ear infection. My plan this weekend is to rest and recover, and to allow my brilliant husband to nurse me for a change. I'm planning to watch a lot of movies, like these, for starters:

you go girl - take one

(This is the first in a series of posts which will feature different inspired and independent women.)

Last week I finished re-reading one of my favorite books of all time, Jane Eyre, by Charlotte Bronte. Towards the end of the book I came across this passage where Jane discovers her true voice and self: "I broke from St John; who has followed, and would have detained me. It was my time to assume ascendancy. My powers were in play, and in force. I told him to forbear question or remark; I desired him to leave me: I must, and would be alone. He obeyed at once. Where there is energy to command well enough, obedience never fails. I mounted to my chamber; locked myself in; fell on my knees; and prayed in my way -- a different way to St John's, but effective in its own fashion. I seemed to penetrate very near a Mighty Spirit; and my soul rushed out in gratitude at His feet. I rose from the thanksgiving -- took a resolve -- and lay down, unscared, enlightened -- eager but for the daylight." You go girl!

when inspiration stikes at 2 am

oh my god i am so exhausted. it seems that my flirtation with insomnia has picked up again, which is leaving me feeling battered and cloudy today. not a good way to start the week. sigh. i'm going to take it easy and be happy for these beautiful roses that A. gave me last week!

I heart Tina Fey.

exclamation, point.

So if you don't know how tough the past few months have been for A. and I, then I'll tell ya. They've been rough. That's why the following text conversation made me smile so: A: Scott invited us to the Bronco game!!!! me: When? Sunday? A: Sunday!!! Home opener against the chargers!!! 2 o'clock!!! me: your exclamations are making me laugh!!! So I guess we're going to see the Broncos. And I have a feeling that A. is going to have a hard time keeping his jaw wired shut during the game. Things are looking up already. ! .

what you are and what you are meant to be

So I've decided to create this little space and put it out there, wherever that may be, for myself and perhaps for others to enjoy. I've been needing a quiet area, a blank slate of sorts, to organize my thoughts and inspirations for quite some time and although I'm a blogging neophyte, this somewhat strange format feels right for now. I suppose I should mention that the phrase "by its own design" comes from one of my all-time favorite songs. I will leave you with these beautiful words:

I have seen where the wolf has slept by the silver stream. I can tell by the mark he left you were in his dream. Ah, child of countless trees. Ah, child of boundless seas. What you are, what you're meant to be Speaks his name though you were born to me, Born to me, Cassidy. Lost now on the country miles in his Cadillac. I can tell by the way you smile he is rolling back. Come wash the nighttime clean, Come grow this scorched ground green. Blow the horn, tap the tambourine. Close the gap of the dark years in between. You and me, Cassidy. Quick beats in an icy heart, Catch-colt draws a coffin cart. There he goes now, here she starts: Hear her cry. Flight of the seabirds, scattered like lost words Wheel to the storm and the fly Faring the well now. Let your life proceed by its own design Nothing to tell now. Let the words be yours, I'm done with mine.