{the ease with which we dreamt}

21 Oct

I’m reminiscent today of childhood; I have a few children clients, and their view of the world is astounding. They are amazing observers, but things tend to get lost in translation.  Lately though I am more interested in their ability to dream; their plans for life are what an adult would call grandiose, but they only see potential. I vaguely remember that kind of dreaming, the kind of making plans for a life that is possible only when the anchor of responsibilities and rent to pay isn’t weighing down. It’s much easier to dream with ‘grown ups’ footing the bill and tucking us in safe at night – decisions made for us, and crisis solved. I miss that limitless dreaming; days spent becoming a ballerina or an astronaut. I miss the ease with which I dreamt when dreaming was all I had to do. 


{rough thesis work}

18 Oct


Living Post Religion:

Redefining Morality & Structuring Boundaries without an External Religious Source

What is the process of creating moral maps & boundaries for one’s life as an adult who has rejected the map provided by the religious culture of their childhood?

Intro: Maps, destinations, rebuilding life after religion, tracing the origin of guilt, defining what morality means particularly in terms of intimate relationships, the decision to separate from religion and the aftermath.

Literature Review: Plato’s allegory of the cave – perceptions of religion, choosing to leave the cave, and learning how to adjust to reality and light. I will also include something more contemporary. Add more about the guilt into this portion, and less on the intro.

Own Findings: Discuss own findings in archetypes I’ve embodied and encountered – particularly the destroyer, the martyr, the judge, the liberator and most ironically the pioneer. Also discuss my own process of defining morality/creating new structures

Conclusion: Summarize findings & conclude.

Wild Geese – Mary Oliver {current favorite poem}

15 Oct

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

{88% & extremely bittersweet}

10 Aug

I just had a piece of dark chocolate, I mean seriously dark – like 88% cocoa. The kind that’s so dark it’s bitter, but still strangely sweet. I find that I am so typically attracted to that type of gritty, never easy to swallow, but extremely addicting type of thing – be it my preference in chocolate, coffee or relationships. I have had some bizarre relationships this past year (for lack of a better term), and they have all felt the way that 88% cocoa tastes in my mouth. I had to brush my teeth to get the bitter linger out, but I’m sure I’ll eat another piece soon. Lately though, instead of craving those relationships I am trying to learn to let them go. The biggest piece of dark chocolate I’ve had this year is leaving town and for some reason it makes me sad – knowing that the very thing that has been so painful will be gone. I know that I shouldn’t eat that dark chocolate because of the taste it leaves in my mouth, but I still like knowing it’s sitting on the shelf, lest my sick desire to consume it become unbearable. Ultimately, I’m better off without the option of the darkness, but I am still learning the art of letting go gracefully. Maybe I’ll have it mastered when I’m older and more grounded. Maybe I’ll crave less dark chocolate when I find something sweet to satisfy me. 

{beautiful sentiment}

9 Aug

Life is about who you love and who you hurt.
It’s about who you make happy or unhappy purposefully.
It’s about keeping or betraying trust.
It’s about friendship, used as a sanctity or a weapon.
It’s about what you say and mean, maybe hurtful, maybe heartening.
About starting rumors and contributing to petty gossip.
It’s about what judgments you pass and why. And who your judgments are spread to.
It’s about who you’ve ignored with full control and intention.
It’s about jealousy, fear, ignorance, and revenge.
It’s about carrying inner hate and love, letting it grow, and spreading it.
But most of all, it’s about using your life to touch or poison people’s hearts in such a way that could have never occurred alone.

Only you choose the way those hearts are affected, and those choices are what life’s all about.

{doll house}

8 Aug

In class today we talked about gifts, and were asked to reflect on the gift we had received in our lives that was ‘perfect’. I instantly thought of the most beautiful gift I ever received. I think it was the Christmas I was 8 years old. My parent’s always gave fantastic gifts, thoughtful and perfect. Despite any flaws they may have had when I was a child they always made both me and my brother exquisitely happy with the gifts they chose to give. But that year, that year was the most special gift of them all: it was a beautiful, hand carved, wooden dollhouse. The front was completely open and perfect for playing out scenarios that weren’t possible in my childhood world, but were possible and even practical in the space of that dollhouse. They used the wallpaper that was on the wall in my bedroom, this really beautiful pink and white candy striped design, and the same carpet that ran throughout our house. It looked like a miniature, but adult, version of my little girl world.  It was perfect in every detail. Reflecting on this gift as an adult who no longer plays with dolls, or has a living father, I appreciate that gift with even more depth. At that point in my life, as a little girl, I was known by 2 people. They knew my dreams and what I wished for, and they knew that the games I constructed with my dolls would always reflect what I wished for in actual life. I was adored by them, and that perfect gift reaffirmed the love that was always present. 

{missing this scene}

6 Aug

I was browsing through some old photos today and found this:

 This is the most darling, hipster-ish, small square room downtown in my home town. There are different shows played there every night, but always local bands on Thursdays. I forgot how much I loved the music scene there… sitting on those bricks with the sound of an acoustic guitar bouncing off the dark ceiling. I don’t know that there is a feeling more intimate than sitting in a crowd full of people listening to the soft hush of strumming and a cigarette filled voice.