When I am happy

I don’t write as often when I’m happy.

I wish that I did.

But my year has been too full: of love, of travel, of laughter, and art, and good food, and music, and kids, and fair weather, and friendship, and pink skies and just so much goodness. I am so blessed to sit in the light of all this joy.

I wish I could share it all with you, but I like to catch my moments of delight in pictures. After all each one is worth at least 1000 words. ☺️

Love the hurt

My partner has BPD. She can be unfathomably unkind. Sometimes she just wakes up and chooses violence.

And there is no escape that I want. I love her. I accept it.

But the little voice in me asks, “Don’t you think you deserve it?”

Violence mixed into love is all I’ve known. And so I feel safe & at home in the chaos.

But is it healthy? Is it fair?

I feel like it’s making me kinder, but is it also eating away at my peace?

my sun doesn’t shine and my moon doesn’t rise without you.

No twinkling lights splatter across the inky abyss, no meteors soar or stars shoot.

Your love makes me certain that there are bits of heaven tucked away in this hellscape.

It gives me hope and makes me sing louder, dance harder.

We melt together when we hold each other; the flesh surrounding us is warm and soft and tender, but it keeps us farther apart than we care to be.

Luckily our souls know no such bounds & our energies collide.

And I am safe.

I am full.

I am seen & elevated & made more by and for your love.

A Letter to Agnes DeMille by Martha Graham

A Letter to Agnes DeMille by Martha Graham

There is a vitality, a life force, a quickening
that is translated through you into action,
and because there is only one of you in all time,
this expression is unique.

If you block it,
it will never exist through any other medium
and be lost.
The world will not have it.
It is not your business to determine how good it is;
nor how valuable it is;
nor how it compares with other expressions.
It is your business to keep it yours, clearly and directly,
to keep the channel open.

You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work.
You have to keep open and aware directly
of the urges that motivate you.

Keep the channel open.
No artist is pleased.
There is no satisfaction whatever at any time.
There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction;
a blessed unrest that keeps us marching
and makes us more alive than the others.

Imposter syndrome

I think that the entire reason I worked to get my degree was to fight my imposter syndrome.

I had to achieve a bachelors of fine arts from a state university before I could really say that I’m an artist.

Now I don’t believe that for other people… not in the least. Anyone can be an artist.

I guess the difference is that I know where I came from. “i’m polished white trash“ I just always joke. Maybe i’ve been recycled.

I think I needed that stupid piece of paper to take myself seriously. So now I can really say it. I am a trained artist!

But it feels strange; I wish it were more comfortable.

Maybe I’ll grow into it.