little sarah Big World

Tag: sunshine

Reflection

~OR~

What’s Different Here?

On a Bike Ride

I find myself in a writing state of mind more and more lately, but they are brief flashes, fleeting as a summer rain shower, and always at the most inopportune times–always when I’m without paper or pen. Out for a run, in the tub, on the train, with thoughts swimming and ideas taking shape. But just as readily they float away, though I beg my inspiration to stay and let me do it justice. Notions that start in a personal email and later get fleshed out on the blog, or an urge to journal that gets channeled into letters, then sent out to one of my pen-pals or friends.

And then there’s the sudden return of my inclination towards poetry, an impulse I’d thought had died out in my teens, but apparently was only lying dormant. I can feel something inside of me opening up, and with it the lines are beginning to blur. I’m not sure yet, but I think (I think) that I like it. Rainy days, muggy and muddled thoughts gave way to clear brightness, and a sharp-defined vision, which nevertheless remains just out of reach.

River Flowers

*       *       *

I dislike the feeling of repeating myself, relearning the same lessons and reliving the same mistakes. But I’ve looked at my life, as it presently stands, and seen long commutes, foreign customs and cultures, an inconsolable distance between me and my tribe. Me, in the back of the classroom, “the assistant,” writing in my journal and biding my time.

And I think, “Haven’t we been here, and done this?”

Red Bridge

So I ask myself, what’s new? What distinguishes this chapter? Why did you come here and what are you going to do about it?

And the answer is, this time, I am savoring the silence. I am okay with not knowing what will happen, for now. The answer is patience (through counseling) and presence, a meditative step towards grace, away from fear.

Steps

The answer is: writing, learning discipline, meeting goals. Rising early, staying focused, and seeking inspiration (instead of wasting time browsing lifestyle blogs, which I still do way too often, if we’re honest). In this area, I’ve still a ways to go.

Way to Go

The answer is: creativity, and space. An open time-frame and mindset that allows for pretty postcards and dance-party running warm-ups, instead of just dinner and dishes and deadlines.

*       *       *

When I picture what’s new in this season of my life, I see myself at home, working at my desk, taking breaks to run or snack or meditate. I see myself reading on the train, when I’m able, and being okay with just being, when I’m not. I see simple meals, good books, hot tea and health. I see studying, sitting, contemplation and growth.

Chaddo Reflections

This, the 27th year of my life, is a sweet vanilla silence, a blue-green color, a reflecting pond.

Alien Bridge

*       *       *

But also, it is sunshine, and warmth and cheer. It’s a pioneering spirit, a can-do attitude. In this, the land of the rising sun, I have learned to rise each day with purpose; and like the land, to be solid, yet ever-growing; like the water–clear, deep, and still.

Blue On Blue

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After the Storm

After the Storm

The fields flooded near our house, where we like to go for brisk morning jogs or after dinner walks. Where you can see Mt. Fuji on a clear day.

Flood / Light

But today it is all golden sunshine and metal-tipped waves in the vast ponds that have settled in like a second summer where crops used to be.

I have no idea how devastating the waters are to the farmers, in this late Autumn season. I can’t help myself from marveling at the beauty.

Metallic Waves

Chad tells me that this isn’t the second typhoon of the season, just the second time they’ve cancelled school/work about it. In fact, there have been more than a dozen this year. Angry skies with lots to say.

Newspapers report 17 dead and over twice as many missing. For us it was much more benign–a day off of work, strong winds, heavy rain. Eating and reading and cooking and talking. We did yoga and went for post-storm runs.

After the Storm, Earlier

The strangest part was the middle, its eye, which was sunny and clear and calm as anything. If you didn’t know better, you’d think it was all over, never suspecting the looming clouds and violent gusts ready to return, full-force, before tapering off again. A corner, a tear escaping, then eyes shut, eyes open, sparkling and renewed.

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Reckoning

a thousand acres

“Have you reckon’d a thousand acres much? Have you reckon’d the earth much?Have you practis’d so long to learn to read?
Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems?

Stop this day and night with me, and you shall possess the origin of all poems;
You shall possess the good of the earth and sun — (there are millions of suns left;)

millions of suns

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Adjustments

Plane Trails Like Boat Wakes

So cold in the morning I can see ice crystals hovering mid-air.

I found it!

So cold in the kitchen that steam rises from freshly washed dishes drying on the rack.

Hip as Hell

Last week I was lying by the pool, not a thing to do. Seventy degrees and sunny in Palm Springs.

Spotted on a run, captured on a walk

This week I feel that I must get out of the house, do something, anything, everything I can, just to stave of the mounting panic. This week I feel trapped, like a nesting doll, inside layer upon layer of confinement. Trapped inside because of the cold. Trapped under a thick city-wide blanket of toxic smog. Trapped in a web of my own anxious thoughts. Etc.

 

 

Right Here, Right Now

~OR~

Early Morning, Hungover, Anxious, Can’t Sleep

~OR~

I Made Something for You

in Palm Springs

in Palm Springs

So I will go on writing poems
Even if you don’t
Hoping one day
You will find the little collection
I have made for you

And smile.

I will go on writing poems
Even if you don’t
Because I don’t really care
If you write poems

I just love to read you.

I will go on writing poems
(Even if you don’t)
For the same reason
I go for runs
or long walks
The same reason
I write letters
and blogs
The same reason
I play music
or laugh
or dance
or sing

For the same reason I get up in the morning:

I love you.

 

Then & Now

~OR~

I once was lost, but now am found

Late August: cold, grey and damp

Mid-December: warm, sunny and bright

So some people will say that 4 months is too soon. But look what a difference it makes. Look how far we’ve come. The sky has opened up, and with it our hearts and minds. The whole world has changed, for us, and because of us, and because of everything we’ve been through and everything we’ve promised to go through, together.

Four months ago I was an anxious girl in a strange place, shivering and conflicted.

Now I am somebody who makes Big Decisions and then sticks to them, who greets uncertainty with a smile and a straight back.

We literally could not have more fun in this moment, so don't even ask

Somebody who is scared, yes, but nevertheless I ask “How can we have more fun?”

And if the answer is huge, and daunting, like a mountain rising up through the cold winter air, all sharp white peaks and electric blue sky…then I say “Okay?”

And then we laugh. We talk. We share the sunshine, and we hold hands and jump.

Life’s a Trip

~OR~

“I could go forever with a car, the open road, good music, and good company”

Looking up in Rip Van Winkle Park

Do you remember when you said that if all we had was a bed and music, we could have an amazing time?

Café Lumiere, I believe

But we also have coffee–sometimes fancy (with maximum adjectives), sometimes simple (black). Sometimes instant, after a nap or with our sunlight closet kitchen breakfasts.

The Russian Way

And we have amazing friends, from all over the world. Friends who make us P-shaped sofa beds to sleep on after arriving in the middle of the night–post-party–after 13 hours of driving. Friends who make speeches, or take us to a private beach, or get us tipsy on champagne on a sunny winter’s afternoon.

Now with more regular sustenance

We have words, too, and crosswords, and we divide and conquer, for maximum fun. We have a new-found sense of comfort around each other, so that just as the faint worry forms itself in my mind (“What if we just sit here and eat in silence like all the saddest couples?”), it is obliterated by how utterly easy it is to be around you.

you coo lay leigh

We have a ukulele! We lose entire mornings to it, burn through lazy afternoons and surprise each other with our sweet-yet-simple, earnest efforts to plunk out a tune. So we do have music, but now we make music, too.

P, B, and J

We have snacks for days, and sometimes we have meals. We cook together, and sometimes we say “Fuck it,” and get take-out, and it feels like the most fun, the most giddy and indulgent thing. It feels like milk and cookies with a friend after school. It feels like a sleepover. Like no parents no rules.

sunny slopes in Pacific Grove

And we have sunshine. We have sunshine in our hearts, and warming our scalps, and electrifying our pulses, and we have it in the kitchen, and coming in through the wintery west windows, and in the middle of December. We have easy sunsets on the conversation-fueled charges from Utah to California and back, and we have a steady, stealthy sunrise as we pull into the City of Salt, 8am, 13 hours weary but ready to keep going.

We do a loop around the valley. We arrive back home exhausted, thrilled, enamored.

*       *       *

So yes, music and a bed would be enough. But we have so, so much more.

Leave(s)

 

There is a certain quality of afternoon light this time of year. A warm, mellow, golden autumnal glow.

There is a way the light filters down through the trees, like all the energy and activity of a whole year stored in branches and roots and bark, suddenly burst forth in sunshine yellow brightness.

There is an excitement to this season of slow death. A vibrancy of newness and transformation.

*       *       *

Or hadn’t you noticed? Had you been too anxious, caught between a heavy past and an ambiguous future, limbs shaking and guts stripped bare? Had you been so nervously casting your wide net, trying to catch that glimmering, shimmering thing off in the distance, that you failed to see the gentle ripples you’d been making had turned to violent waves, arms thrashing, and you about to go under?

Me too, Friends. Me too.

Kitchen Time

I have been working so much, Friends. Too much. Too much work, too much play, not enough Sarah Time, which (honestly) tends to just be Kitchen Time.

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Mellow

I’m really into yellow lately–yellow nap blankets, yellow squash from the garden, new yellow pillows from Lindsey.

It just seems a more Fall way to be, yellow. The whole turquoise and bright red thing is too young and optimistic. It’s too summery.

Now turquoise and YELLOW, well…that is some adult shit right there. That is reading Nora Ephron in my own apartment with an afghan draped over my business casual wear.

Anyways.

I am on a plane right now as you read this, headed west. One last dose of sunshine while it is raining and September-perfect in Salt Lake, and then home again. New and improved.