My Music


Sunday, June 10, 2012

Opening Up

As one of my 5 readers, you may have noticed that, I haven't written in a while.  I can't really say (no pun intended) why this is.  I posted in the last few months about having a "broken mouth" and this is truly how I feel a lot of the time.  It's not that I don't have anything to say.  I have so much to say.  It's almost gotten to the point that it's painful that I can't say it.  I have several partially formulated drafts just sitting in my blog account and even more wheeling around in my mind.  And I don't know why I can't speak.  But for the sake of, at least energetically speaking, being available to and willing to change that story, I'm gonna start.  And it may come out awkwardly at first.  And I may need to make a few midnight ramblings like this one.  But I'm hoping I'll have something concrete to say about what I've learned over the last year or so, and where my journey is now.  And, as sometimes painfully transparent as that is, I hope you'll go with me.


I have been extremely nostalgic lately.  It seems like everywhere I turn something reminds me of the past: times, that, no matter how eventful or gray or up or down, are held in this beautiful space for me that when indulged in thought for too long is almost too much to hold.  I've been honoring that by leaning into it a little bit.  I made a playlist of songs that bring me back to that "place" in time, which I of course entitled Nostalgia.  I started calling friends I miss, recalling old adventures to mind, old mindsets, beautiful moments, not so beautiful moments.  It began with missing the two and a half(ish) transforming and beautiful years I spent in Arizona from May 09-Jan 12.  I miss going on a run on a beautiful, warm January day.  I miss the open skies and breathtaking sunsets and sunrises.  I miss the Mesa temple.  I miss my friends. My friends!!!! If you're reading this, I miss you.  Finer things club, Scottsdale art walks, indie movie nights, long bike rides by the canal at night, neighborhood bike rides, thai food, Tempe town lakes, running! so much running, music nights, long talks... it goes on.  After leaning into this, I began missing summers in Portland, my childhood in San Diego, beach camping in Carlsbad, Balboa Park.  All of these times, though not always momentous, felt magical and I am missing that.

I've been leaning into the feeling and acknowledging its presence.  However, because of a lot of the "work" I've done to get to where I am now, I understand that the past is not real.  Because, the only "time" that is real is right NOW.  The past is only a memory of a recent or distant present.  We can never go back into the past, because we can only exist in the present moment.  If I went back to any of these places right now (physically speaking), I may or may not have a magical experience, but the point is that it would be a new experience, it would be a present experience.  I realize that I have to bring the magic into where I am now.  Because there may be a day that I will be missing the exact moment I'm in, the time when I lived in the "pirate ship" (what we call our house) in Salt Lake City and all of the ups and downs of this present moment.  And I wouldn't want to live this or remember this experience with my head stuck in the (past) clouds.

I told my roommate my situation the other day and she made an insightful comment that went something like, "nostalgia comes up when we don't have a clear picture of what's coming up next."  Essentially, our minds don't know what's up ahead so we delve into the past for whatever we're wanting the present/future to be.  Whether we're searching for connection, for meaning, purpose, friends, or for life to be "magical" as I put it, we'll go looking for it in the past because it's all our mind knows.  I feel fortunate to have such a smart roommate.  I'm not mad at my nostalgia or the fact that it's showing up something fierce right now.  My past memories are beautiful things that I want to cherish and remember.  But I also know for a fact that my path right now is super unknown.  I'm moving forward, with hope and somewhat of a vision that I'm formulating for myself, and with a desire to create some new and wonderful things in my life.  But as scary and exciting as it is (two adjectives that completely describe my life right now), there are some days when I don't know what my life will look like two days from now let alone two months or twelve months.  It feels like taking two steps into the darkness hoping that the light will follow.  And it requires faith to do so.  So I step into the darkness, staying true to what I know, how I feel, and what I believe, having full determination that this synchronous rhythm I'm following will lead me to where I want to go.  And that's my story for now.

Thanks for listening.  Please comment if you have any thoughts.

"I do not ask to see the distant scene, one step enough for me."