June 2013
connect when the feeling strikes. work on loving. work to avoid regret. because a lot of the time it’s hard to tell what the last time looks like.
- will johnson (writing about jason molina) | via newspeedwayboogie
Woman
Rhye
woman | rhye
because i believe you. every single woman out there. dare me not to!
i look daily or certainly several time a week at your instagram feed - in awe. you accomplish more in one day, one week than i could ever dream of accomplishing in twice the amount of time. you are a mother of the loveliest littles, you appear sufficiently skilled in justabouteverything, you are absolutely stunning, you are humble and kind and fearless. you are probably 10 years younger and sometimes i look to you like a sister might. i adore you and hope that we meet in person someday. until then, hello and thanks for the private note. for always connecting during the times that matter most. you know who you are. xo, M.
Hard to Find
The National
hard to find | the national
a vision is hard to find because it doesn’t need finding. it’s always there. always in you - that passion - that thing that moves you in a way that perhaps something shinier just can’t. a calling, i suppose. what’s calling me? a question that i have been exploring in big and small ways for the past 10 weeks. the time since i left my job in vc. to the untrained eye, i’ve done a lot of nothing and yet there’s purpose in the nothingness. journaling, painting, running, creating a self practice of a yoga/ballet hybrid has been among the most helpful. it’s cleared out some of my stuff - you know, feelings - and made space for this vision to shine and/or calling to speak up. while i don’t have the words yet for what i am working on or where it’s going. left or right? i am game for either as long as the integrity of the vision isn’t compromised. a singular yet layered goal: maintain integrity, remain open to change. anything could happen. the one thing that is clear - crystal - i am looking up. and that’s a very good thing. it took a few years. but i feel mostly healed. which is to say i feel like myself again. the hijacking as i called it - is over. it is the awareness of time lost that i am learning to accept.
people, truly courageous people write to share with me their deeply personal stories about living with depression and they want to know if i have any advice or how will they know when they are getting better. my gut reaction is to reach through the monitor and offer a tight squeeze. one that says I Understand. i - whole body, whole mind - Understand You. and then i sit and wonder what to say. how could i possibly help someone through what was the darkest season of my life. how could i guide anyone through what felt im-fucking-possible. do i tell them to run 365 days a year, to take an extra 10 minutes to dry their hair and at least look good even though they feel awful or even worse - feel nothing. turns out nothing is terribly painful. do i tell them to practice smiling at everyone to save face. do i tell them to take a take at least one picture daily of something that feels beautiful, do i tell them to drink tea and practice yoga before bed, do i tell them to be one hundred percent honest with at least 3 friends because watchful eyes are comforting, do i tell them to find that song and dance hard to it daily until they feel something, do i tell them that it will get better even though i know in my core that i truly don’t know if it will …
it’s the last part that i wrestle with because as much as you read and hear that one should remind someone in a deep depression that things/life will feel better - no one told me that. i am not sure if the people in my life knew that i don’t take well to bullshit [because i never have and never will] but on my worst day as i sobbed uncontrollably in the middle of a crowded farmers market, my head tucked into the corner of my father’s neck - i looked up and pleaded with him “tell me it gets better”. i needed to know before i went back to the office with that smile i had perfected. this man has always been my champion. he has always told me that i was the most beautiful, the smartest, the best dancer. you name it, i was at the top of the list. he paused, his blank face made me nervous. i waited for him to say what i thought he would say “honey, it will definitely get better” but instead and i am still stunned when i think about it, he said “honey, i just don’t know” … i cried harder and asked him one more time and this time i said “i just need you to say that i am going to feel better … someday” he didn’t respond but he squeezed me tight and that is what i needed. turns out a tight squeeze and the truth - he didn’t know more than i could know - pulled me and pushed me depending on the day to get well. i am grateful that he found the courage to reveal that he could see just how broken i was and that he wasn’t sure how that would play out. but that tight squeeze showed me that he loved me and he would be there - with me.
so i am here for you (?), if you need me. but i can’t tell you something that i don’t know. only you know the answers. only you can see the glimmer, the vision. only you can hear the calling. but i will say, keep moving. even if it’s just to wiggle your toes.
[unedited, hitting publish]
Play
Banks - Warm Water (Prod. By Totally Enormous Extinct Dinosaurs)
warm water | banks | thanks to streetsmarts
it’s too late to dance. it’s rarely too late to move. but this on repeat while choreographing a dance in my head for tomorrow morning. definitely. until then, good night.
