you are not the madcap on the surface
of the sea.
you are not the tremor of the outstretched blade
of an age-old west pine
you are not the cold hard lip of a north-bound
against a south-face lee.
so let it be.
you are not a burning star held only by
her own great gravity.
nor a galaxy
that no one
the constant air,
the shelter there.
a planet, bright
i am many things at once. settling and living more. cultivating an ability to dream and love far places without undermining my treasures at home. always changing, growing, and rearranging, but learning to breathe new life into old belongings to break the cycle of buy/donate/buy/donate. donating is nothing to be proud of if consuming is endless.
learn how to appreciate without having to own collect inspiration, not envy allow items through your front door only with care and consideration do less, meditate more white spray paint is your friend stop apologizing for being, learn to apologize when it’s actually needed don’t explain your life away give no thought to complaints generate positive energy, sidestep negative energy instead of empowering it (stephen covey)
let your home be a space that invites quiet.
“i will only say now that elegance must be the right combination of distinction, naturalness, care and simplicity. outside this, believe me, there is no elegance. only pretension.” — christian dior
lately, i have little to give in words. my mind full, my heart hungry, my thoughts more on studying life than chasing distraction. instead, i speak in images. instead of syllables: details. rather than paragraphs: mood. in place of punctuation: color, space, gratitude. instead of speaking my own truth, i listen. i soak it all in. this was the summer of finding my place, of moving in grace. anchored by a vision much greater than my own mundanities. feeling priorities and perspectives settle, less fleeting and tossed. a freedom has found me.
tiger balm, clementines, aide-mémoires (and other travel essentials) international airspace | 3:00 AM
long flights, tired eyes, clementines. a tiny spray of citrus oil bursts into dim air as i pierce the thin peel. the plane hums in silence; most are asleep. the tang and sweet on my taste buds slows my breathing as i lean back against the stiff seat and close my eyes. this tiny fruit survived two weeks at the bottom of my pack, and the familiar flavor is comforting. india is four hours behind me but i’m not ready for home yet…