hey hoss

hoss, Davis, CA Canon 300D

Do you remember what it feels like to feed a horse? Holding your arm out, full of grass, and feeling those horse lips in the palm of your hand. There's nothin like it.

Matt and I are going to stay at a place called Costanoa this weekend. I hear that you can rent horses and ride them along the coast. Yee haw!

garden entry

Garden is open, Canon 300D

My friend Susan talks about "miracle walks" in her fabulous books. These are walks you take with no particular destination, in search of beauty, goodness, a little surprise. The amazing thing about them is that just by declaring them a "miracle walk" you always find something special along the way.

Sometimes you end up meeting a friendly dog, sometimes you strike up a conversation with an old man selling oranges, sometimes you see something so beautiful, right in your neighborhood, that you wonder, "has this been here all along?"

Keri Smith posted an entry recently that spoke of seeing things (and later drawing them) in her neighborhood that others didn't notice. Maybe she didn't call it a miracle walk, but I am convinced her eyes (and heart) were open to see the goodness, and that's what emerged. Like magic.

This garden entrance is only two blocks from my house. I never saw it until yesterday.

considering nirvana

"Consider that nirvana is itself no other than our life."
-Dogen

2 o'clock tittie

2 O'clock Tittie, Canon 300D

Because my husband grew up in San Francisco, he can often tell me the lore of various places we pass by on the street. It is never your usual docent tour of the city. It is mostly told from the perspective of a 10 year old (which I prefer).

"That's the house we thought was haunted!"
or "This hill was called Red Rail, (because of the red railing) and we used to ride our skateboards down it at breakneck speeds."

There is a church on Gough street that I have always been curious about. To me, it looks like the inside of a washing machine, others refer to it as the "big, ugly one on Gough St."

But folks in the know, (ie. my husband and other ten year olds in the city) know that it's really called "2' oclock tittie". He confides that at exactly 2:00pm, the church casts a shadow of a female breast.

I happened to be driving past today at exactly 2pm. There it was. The mythic tittie, bare for all eyes to see.

Photo Friday- Neglect

rusty tools, Canon 300D

Photo Friday's theme this week is "Neglect"

Balloon Hat

El Volado

The Mexican Bus, San Francisco, Canon 300D

The famous Mexican Bus once again.

liam

Liam, Canon 300D

The happiest little guy on the farm.

life on the farm

purple flowers, Davis, Canon 300D

Went to our friend Larry's farm this weekend and soaked up the sun, rode bicycles around town, pet horses, met a goat named Abby, sat in walnut groves, ate popsicles, and got chased by a dog. My friend Susan even got zapped by an electric fence. Oops. (I was about a centimeter away from it at that moment, my camera between the wires, clueless, trying to get a donkey to grin at me.)

I am always amazed to leave the city and discover that the air smells different in the country. It was so fragrant, damp and smoky out there and by night, the stars were like wild bulbs in the sky. (We don't get to see stars very often)

The best part was riding in Larry's tractor at dusk out to the rope swing and pond. The sunset was so pink and luminous and the water so still, that the pond created a perfect mirror. I'm sure the sunset was admiring itself that night.

tiger kitty

Alva, Digital Rebel

Fall in love with Esme.

teacup chihuahua

Teacup Chihuahua, Neiman Marcus, Digital Rebel

This dog was resting in the arms of a sweet man at Neiman Marcus yesterday (shopping with Mom) Apparently he is 3 months old and won't get any bigger than this, no bigger than a teacup! or maybe a latte mug...

His face was so tender and vulnerable. Why do we find vulnerable things so beautiful?

forgetting

Flying Liam, Canon Eos

"Develop an interest in life as you see it; the people, things, literature, music - the world is so rich, simply throbbing with rich treasures, beautiful souls and interesting people. Forget yourself."
-Henry Miller

Sometimes I wonder if the folks who read this journal might believe that I have a certain kind of life, maybe even a charmed life? one that is brimming with celebration, laughter, beautiful friends, few worries. In a way, this is true. (There are so many ways to tell a story) And yet, it is also a choice, what I choose to tell.

What is the story we want to tell about our life?
What are the stories we want to remember when we're old?

This journal is often the place of forgetting for me. The place where I am reminded (through sharing) of the beauty of the world, of the colors and brilliant landscapes, of the talent and wisdom of artists, writers and friends.

I've kept journals for most of my life, and most of them are downright depressing. They are wrought with struggle, confusion, insecurity and sharp pain. They are utterly excruciating to read now. (I'm sure you all have similar journals?!) It seems that I was only inspired to write when I was going through something really painful, so that is what I am left with- a collection of painful stories. It doesn't really tell the whole truth. (Were my 20's that bad?)

Several years ago, I decided to keep a visual journal, one with few words, but full of photographs, quotes, tickets stubs, candy wrappers, wishes, drawings and love notes. It became a quilt of my experience, and told a completely different story. These journals are more like footprints of my life (without the judgment and cynicism of the moment) simply tracks, things that passed through. It gave texture to my remembering. It felt wider and more full. It allowed for more joy.

The heartfelt venting, the rants, the spills. This is all good stuff and I still do this. It clears the air. Sometimes we must start there.

But I am learning, (through a personal essay class with the brilliant Laurie Wagner) that somewhere deep inside, perhaps just a little bit deeper, is a story that is even more interesting to tell. It might not be pretty, but it might tell a whole truth, a wider truth, a more beautiful truth, however painful.

blue

Matt, poolside, Digital Rebel

A friend of mine told me that he once dreamed an entire day of the third grade. When he got to school, he knew how each moment would happen. Every action, every word, was like a script the world was acting out for him, one that he had already glimpsed. The blocking, the lines, it was all there. Unfolding.

The teachers happened to give a schoolwide aptitude test that day and because he had already dreamed the day, he knew the pattern of correct responses on the test sheet. He got a perfect score without ever reading the questions.

They called him into the principal's office.
"Are you bored in class?" they asked.
"No, not really," he responded.
They smiled (thinking they had a genius on their hands) and promptly skipped him to the fourth grade.

Photo Friday-Clean

Viola, Abbott's Lagoon, Point Reyes, Digital Rebel

Photo Friday's theme this week is "Clean"

abounding

brush, Abbott's Lagoon, Point Reyes, Digital Rebel

Just discovered boy shorts, Miha Matei, Chris McCaw and the best smoothie of my life at Cafe Gratitude. At each table there is a game you can play called The Abounding River. It is about creating abundance.

This cafe has positive words written all over the walls. I love its good spirit and unabashed lack of cynicism.

"No pessimist ever discovered the secret of the stars, or sailed to an
uncharted land, or opened a new doorway for the human spirit." -- Helen
Keller

Viola

Viola, Abbott's Lagoon, Point Reyes, Digital Rebel

My friend Viola is beautiful, Italian, and like a friend once wrote about her in a song, "has eyes like pools of extra virgin olive oil..."

She and her fiance Grant are bird biologists and just returned from Antarctica where they studied penguins for the last several months. Listening to their stories is like hearing tales of walks on the moon. Welcome back G and V!

*click on Viola's name above to see penguin photos on her site

dune

sand dune, Abbott's Lagoon, Point Reyes, Digital Rebel

"Everything created by God contains a spark of holiness."
-The Baal Shem Tov

citrus

citrus, San Francisco, Digital Rebel

I have been discovering some great photography sites recently:
Saul-Sandra Photo
Women Photographers on Beauty My friend Elena has a piece in this collection.
Making Happy makes me happy.

the loop

clear vision, Ocean Beach, Digital Rebel

A newly ordained minister at Glide gave a beautiful sermon on Sunday. She told the story of a woman she knows named Georgina, who at 42 years old decided she was nearing "middle age" and better get fit! She fell in love with jogging and after 6-8 months decided to enter her first 10K race.

She woke up that morning a bit nervous and arrived at the race early to stretch and get warm. She was surprised at how many other athletes were already there, doing the same. Before she knew it, the race was beginning.

About 4-5 miles into it, she wondered why they weren't looping back toward the finish line. When she stopped for a water break she asked someone. The person looked surprised and said, "Honey, you're in the Cleveland marathon. You won't be looping back for a while." The 10K started in the same place, but much later. She was in the wrong race.

This was obviously alarming. "This isn't the race I signed up for! This definitely isn't the race I trained for!" and then she realized, "But this is the race I'm in, so I guess I better finish."

She walked much of the way but finished all 26 miles. I am inspired by her faith, that she planted her feet firmly in the moment and forged ahead, even if it didn't look like what she expected. How often we say to ourselves, "It shouldn't be this way! and I wasn't prepared for this!" and quit entirely.

*

My husband Matt has been training (with our friend Jeff) for the Davis Double Century in May. This is a 200 mile bicycle race in one friggin day! It would take me close to two centuries to complete it. But Matt has been training like a beast and surprising himself (and me) in the process.

He is learning that his physical limits exist, but are far beyond his psychological ones. He thought he was supposed to get tired after 30 miles or so, and therefore did, over and over again. But when he completed his first 70 mile ride, he realized that he doesn't really get tired until much later. It's as if getting tired was only a habit. Now he comes home every Saturday with a new report, "I did 70! I did 80! I did 100!"

He is my inspiration, my buddha of perceived limits. There are things I am afraid I can't do. There are races I am running that I don't feel qualified for. And he is reminding me, whispering in my ear, "It's not time to loop back yet; you can do so much more than you believe..."