quote: pooh on life

“life is miserable,” moaned eeyore.

but pooh just laughed.

“oh eeyore!  it’s your mind that’s miserable.  life is just life.”

(a belated) happy merry everything!

hope your holidays have been filled with joy, light, and love!

thoughts: grateful

today I got some news that I didn’t like.  so I fought it and whined about it and rebelled against it.  and then I was reminded that it’s easy to accept the things we want as blessings.  the things we want, when they happen, we say they’re meant to be.  but it’s harder to say that the things we don’t want are also meant to be.  sometimes what feels right doesn’t happen in order to leave space for something better.  so I’ll revel and dance in that space.  instead of throwing a tantrum in it.

plus, it’s tough to receive anything new if you’re not grateful for what already is.

today I am grateful for long, slow walks and time to observe the world.

“and whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.”

-from max ehrmann’s desiderata

photo: be back soon

nostalgia: spin the wheel

I’m 16, and it is winter in Minnesota.  It’s warm inside, insulated from the biting cold outside these walls.  I’m in my bedroom, glancing over words in a textbook.  Despite the fact that no one is watching, I want to look like I’m doing something.  My eyes glaze over and then turn back to the clock.  It’s almost 6:30.  I grab a few folders, turn off the light, and run down the stairs in the dark.  It’s been dark since 4:30, but no one has turned on the hall lights yet.

When I reach the bottom, the kitchen glows against the blackness outside.  Only slight glimmers of snow are visible through the large windows.  My mom offers a smile as she moves with hurried grace amongst the burners and ovens.  I spread my homework out on the kitchen table.  I know she’ll ask me to set the table soon, but I relish every minute of having the full space to myself.  I page through folders until I find my most mindless assignment.  Because I’m not really sitting here to do my homework.  I’m sitting here to watch Wheel of Fortune.

Mom watches the final minutes of the local news while she cooks, only stealing quick glances at the TV.  My ears perk up when I hear the new anchors sign off.  I take this moment to turn up the volume a couple notches.  Suddenly the exaggerated announcer’s voice and the game show theme song play against the comforting smell of dinner.  Food always smells better this time of year.  The still, dead winter is a blank canvas for its aroma.

The first contestant spins the wheel.  My eyes are glued to the TV.  I don’t have glasses yet, so I squint slightly.  My mom stands at the stove, stirring vegetables in a pan.  She ducks her head slightly to gaze under the pot rack and at the TV.  More spins follow.  The wheel clicks to a halt each time.  Another spin, another letter.  My mom’s lips move slightly, whispering guesses as she deciphers the puzzle.  Before a quarter of the letters are revealed, she has the answer.  She blurts it out with excitement.  I smile and tell her she should be on the show.  She lifts her head and laughs.  I turn my head back to my homework, and I smile, too.  This is my favorite time of night.

Lately I’ve found myself watching Wheel of Fortune while I make dinner.  It’s on at 7:30 here instead of 6:30.  The board with real moving tiles has been replaced by a computer touch screen.  Pat and Vanna’s lack of aging is even more magical.  The sun is shining, it’s warm outside, and the food smells different.  But the feeling is the same.

(Also, I was inspired by this blog’s lovely recollections of childhood.  This is one of her most recent.)

video: no more GMOs

from http://gmofilm.com/ :

(click link for larger video)

“THE GMO FILM PROJECT tells the story of a father’s discovery of GMOs through the symbolic act of poor Haitian farmers burning seeds in defiance of Monsanto’s gift of 475 tons of hybrid corn and vegetable seeds to Haiti shortly after the devastating earthquake of January 2010. After a journey to Haiti to learn why hungry farmers would burn seeds, the real awakening of what has happened to our food in the US, what we are feeding our families, and what is at stake for the global food supply unfolds in a trip across the United States and other countries in search of answers. Are we at a tipping point? Is it time to take back our food? The encroaching darkness of unknown health and environmental risks, seed take over, chemical toxins, and food monopoly meets with the light of a growing resistance of organic farmers, concerned citizens, and a burgeoning movement to take back what we have lost.

Today in the United States, by the simple act of feeding ourselves, we unwittingly participate in the largest experiment ever conducted on human beings. Massive agro-chemical companies like Monsanto (Agent Orange) and Dow (Napalm) are feeding us genetically-modified food, GMOs, that have never been fully tested and aren’t labeled. This small handful of corporations is tightening their grip on the world’s food supply—buying, modifying, and patenting seeds to ensure total control over everything we eat. We still have time to heal the planet, feed the world, and live sustainably. But we have to start now!”

thoughts: an open letter to los angeles

dear los angeles:

6 months ago we had our first anniversary.  traditionally, first anniversaries are celebrated with a paper gift.  you must have forgotten until last month.  the paper parking ticket was a lovely token of your affection.  thank you.  in return, I’m writing you a letter.

since we’ve been together for a year, I should tell you something.  I never thought we’d be an item.  truthfully, I didn’t find you attractive.  I was born a midwest girl, and somewhere along the way, the east coast caught my fancy.  I flirted with new york.  I mean, really, who doesn’t?  and things got serious with boston.  4 whole years.  but we weren’t meant to last.  boston had moved on to younger prospects, and I had moved back to the midwest.  you should know that minnesota will always be my first love.

you probably already know this, but I tested you out.  we had a brief 3 month stint.  nothing serious.  you were fun, new, and exciting.  but you surprised me.  you liked vegan food, you practiced yoga, and you even offered a never-ending array of local, organic food.  what more could a girl ask for?

things just weren’t the same without you, so I returned.  you took me to the beach and showed me places to hike.  you even helped me get over my fear of earthquakes.  I dealt with an unbelievable amount of bugs for you.  and I wouldn’t do that for just anyone.

let’s be honest.  I played hard to get, but you had me at 70 degrees in february.  how could a girl not fall hard for that?

I know I’ve been tough on you at times.  complaining about your smog and traffic.  but once I really got to know you, those things didn’t matter as much.  june gloom aside, you’ve been wonderful to me.

I can’t say how long we’ll last, but you should know that from this point forward, paper will never be an acceptable gift again.

xoxo,

a

thoughts: a piece of reality

I mentioned it before.  the bracelet I bought in ethiopia.  and even months later it rarely leaves my wrist.  as time goes by, ethiopia seems to slip away.  I look at photos and think, “that really happened.  look.  you were there.”

and yet it’s such a world away that somedays it seems hard to believe.

and on those days I feel ungrateful.  because ethiopia taught me so much, and then I left.  ethiopia taught me things I thought I knew.  things we are raised to believe.  that what you have doesn’t determine who you are.  that all people are the same.  that joy and happiness are not defined by your circumstances.

and yet.  our society, our reality, makes it easy to forget these things.  to get caught up in things that don’t matter.  to insulate ourselves from other realities.

I now find myself overcome with emotion in target, the grocery store, malls, concerts, and sometimes even my own home, wondering how this is my reality?  how can this reality exist on the same planet as another reality where __________ (fill in the blank)?  a) there is no access to clean water.  b) people die of vaccine preventable diseases.  c) and on and on and on.

this week someone asked me if traveling to ethiopia was life changing.

“yes, of course,” I said.

“in what way?” she asked.

and I surprised myself.  I went on and on and on.  I usually find it hard to know what to say.  but instead the words just flowed.

have you seen the movie inception?  (if not, you should.)  in the movie, the characters move through dream states.  and they each carry a small item in their pockets.  something unique to them.  a totem, as they call it.  the totem only exists in its true state in reality.  as such, they rely on it as a means of separating a dream from reality.

the bracelet?  is my totem.  on the days I feel ungrateful.  on the days it feels like it didn’t happen or no longer exists.  it’s there.  it’s real.  it happened.

and I am changed.

quote: glass, half broken

“You see this goblet?” asks Achaan Chaa, the Thai meditation master. “For me this glass is already broken. I enjoy it; I drink out of it. It holds my water admirably, sometimes even reflecting the sun in beautiful patterns. If I should tap it, it has a lovely ring to it. But when I put this glass on the shelf and the wind knocks it over or my elbow brushes it off the table and it falls to the ground and shatters, I say, ‘Of course.’ When I understand that the glass is already broken, every moment with it is precious.”

- Mark Epstein
Thoughts Without a Thinker

 

photo: 10 years ago

I walk down this street frequently.  pushing a double stroller.  sometimes getting weird looks from strangers.  always maintaining peace between two toddlers.  usually singing a third rendition of twinkle twinkle.  often answering questions about why people litter.

amidst today’s usual chaos something caught my eye.  on the same sidewalk I walk on every week.

today of all days.  what happened 10 years ago?

(I know 10 years ago my little brother turned 7.  and today he turned 17.  I should have told my 14-year-old self to enjoy being taller than him.)

(happy birthday, z.  thanks for making me a big sister.  height notwithstanding, you’ll always be my little brother.)

photo: backyard sunset

ethiopia taught me to marvel at the beauty in everyday life.  to look up at the sky instead of down at the ground.  how often do you notice the stunning view from your own backyard?

happy friday.

photo: perfect day to break these out

(see the heart?)

(happy valentine’s.)

thoughts: my new happy place

something so monumental happened this morning that I thought it high time I sign back onto this blog and write something.  I won’t lie.  typing in this web address, I paused after www.  ”what’s that website I used to write on?”  yes, terrible, I know.  and, of course, I missed my password on the first try, too.

back to this morning.  it’s been a year since I wrote about my trials and tribulations with the 405.  my neighbor.  my friend.  my occasional arch nemesis.  well, this morning I hopped on the 405 at 8 AM.  and I have never seen something so beautiful.

space.

so.  much.  space.

60 mph.

lanes where the next car is hundreds of feet ahead.

ok, maybe sometimes 70 mph.

here’s the kicker.

I drove from culver city to sherman oaks in under 20 minutes.

14 miles in under 20 minutes.

in LA.

I should back up and tell you that this same drive last week took me 90 minutes.  at one point I watched my odometer and the clock.  ten minutes passed, and I’d only moved 0.3 miles.  and all the while I kept thinking that in minnesota with 3 feet of snow on the ground, I’d still be moving faster than this.

traffic: MN – 1  LA – 0

weather: MN – 0  LA – 1

in case you’re keeping score.

in all seriousness, there have been many exciting things happening since hanukkah.  a whole two months ago.  I’ve been to florida and philadelphia.

in florida I kicked back so much that I didn’t take a single picture.  I re-learned what it’s like to share a small space with a sibling.  and also realized that the age gap between us is very evident when said sibling is ready to watch another movie at 1 AM.  just you wait, buddy, that endless energy doesn’t last forever.

in philadelphia I learned that they only plow the center of the streets.  this means that people are responsible for digging out their parking spaces.  as such, they later hold their space with a chair.

I also learned that my cousin is already a genius at only 21 months old.  way to carry on the family tradition, little soybean.

in the last 2 months I also made my first risotto, mastered a vegan tres leches cake, attended a taping of Conan, continued to get rejected for Oprah tickets, became addicted to green smoothies, gave up all paper and plastic bags for 2011, and as of yesterday was hired as a yoga teacher.

please expect my next post to arrive in less than 2 months.  for now, you know where to find me at 8 AM on a sunday morning.  on my way to yoga in sherman oaks.  on the 405.   my new happy place.

photo: night 8 – lights out

photo: night 7

 

photo: night 6

photo: night 5

during the 12 days I spent in mn, I repeatedly asked my mom one thing.

“so which menorah can I take back to la?”

“we’ll have to see,” she repeatedly replied.

sometimes z or wy would chime in.

“not the one that I always light!”

I was starting to think it would require a covert operation to smuggle a menorah out of the house.

(similar to the one I was planning to sneak pepin, the family dog, to la with me.)

until the first night of hanukkah when I unwrapped this:

this?  is all I really wanted for hanukkah.

photo: night 4

photo: night 3

(bonus) photo: love this kid