Monday, December 26, 2011

Look around Little Dreamer......


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.









Thursday, December 1, 2011

Getting to the ROOT of it all....


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 fa├žade 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???

 
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