instruments of peace.

between you and me {sorry mom!} i haven't been to church since last easter. in the past i talked a lot about yoga serving as my religion, but we all know how less frequent the chanting sessions have been these days. so, it feels like i need a little bit of inspiration, a reminder that it's bigger than you to bring me back to a place of peace.

last weekend during a jog on a perfectly sunny santa barbara morning {just a quick california trip!} i stumbled upon this gem on the side of a stone wall that lined a monastery. i stood there reading it over and over.

i prayed for us all to be instruments of peace.

and so, i hope this is one you'll file away. bookmark it and read it in moments of any everyday frustration, in 'hatred, injury, doubt, despair, darkness, and sadness.' and let it allow you to channel 'love, pardon, faith, hope, light, and joy.' because those are the things that make this life worth living.

i am so grateful i took that running route by chance, and for that moment standing in the sunshine on the corner just before turning toward the mission to take in the view.

namaste, my friends! peace peace.

how wild it was, to let it be.

i'm quite the meticulous reader. i like to make sure i read every. single. word. and so, i end up going back and re-reading pages a lot, and hence, take a rather long time to finish a book {at least that's one of the reasons}. i'm also somewhat of a book juggler. i like to have multiple going at once, which often times leaves me a third of the way through for months. exhibit a, gone girl. yes, guilty as charged, still trucking {many have taken priority!}.

anyhow, cheryl strayed's wild was one that took {a short} three months to finish {lots of plane rides this summer!}. cheryl is one of my favorite writers of all time as you might remember from when i saw her in person and when i gushed about her other book. in wild, she tells her story of hiking the pacific crest trail from california to oregon alone while she was twenty six. it's an unfathomable journey and yet she makes it seem achievable, as i felt like i was with her every step {literally} of the way, waiting to see how it would all unfold. she's an inspiration, and while my {new york} adventure is much less scary than hers, i couldn't help but find a few parallels along the way.

i thought i'd share some of my favorite quotes that left me in awe of her words.

i knew that if i allowed fear to overtake me, my journey was doomed. fear, to a great extent, is born of a story we tell ourselves, and so i chose to tell myself a different story from the one women are told. i decided i was safe. i was strong. i was brave. nothing could vanquish me. insisting on this story was a form of mind control, but for the most part, it worked. every time i heard a sound of unknown origin or felt something horrible cohering in my imagination, i pushed it away. i simply did not let myself become afraid. fear begets fear. power begets power. i willed myself to beget power. and it wasn't long before i wasn't afraid. 

and, as part of her last chapter, a good life lesson...

it was the the dream of a common language. i'd carried it all this way, though i hadn't opened it since that first night on the trail. i hadn't needed to. i knew what it said. its lines had run all summer through the mix-tape radio station in my head, fragments from various poems or sometimes the title of the book itself, which was also a line from a poem: a dream of a common language. i opened the book and paged through it, leaning forward so i could see the words by the firelight. i read a line or two from a dozen or so of the poems, each of them so familiar they gave me a strange sort of comfort. i'd chanted those lines silently through the days while i hiked. often, i didn't know exactly what they meant, yet there was another way in which i knew their meaning entirely, as if it were all before me and yet out of my grasp, their meaning like a fish just beneath the surface of the water that i tried to catch with my bare hands - so close and present and belonging to me - until i reached for it and it flashed away.  
it was all unknown to me then, as i sat on that white bench on the day i finished my hike. everything except the fact that i didn't have to know. that it was enough to trust that what i'd done was true. to understand its meaning without yet being able to say precisely what it was. to believe that i didn't need to reach with my bare hands anymore. to know that seeing the fish beneath the surface of the water was enough. that it was everything. it was my life - like all lives, mysterious and irrevocable and sacred. so very close, so very present, so very belonging to me. how wild it was, to let it be. 

she learned to let it be. to accept what was and trust her life exactly as it was. let that be a lesson for all of us. it's a must-read, my friends!

p.s. they are making a movie and reese witherspoon is starring as cheryl!

words to live by.

sometimes when you don't have any words of your own, it's best to lean on others'.

these three quotes get me through as of late, and remind me to look for the magic, be happy for the moment, and trust that everything is happening as it should.

i miss this space, and writing here feels foreign. it's both comforting and heart-wrenching at the same time. just know, i think about you everyday... i'll be back soon.

{quotes via love notes, a gift from a friend}.

lost and found.

i sat on my first solo subway ride in new york city on a chilly sunday afternoon after being in the city for less than twenty four hours. it was the n train, and within sixty seconds of sitting down i started to cry.

i felt so inspired.

and mostly i was just so grateful to have this feeling back. it's one that used to catch me off guard at random moments in san francisco. on the bus… a street corner… driving across the bay bridge. it was a feeling that let me know i was supposed to be there, wherever there was.

but see, this overwhelming joyful inspiration disappeared over the past year, and i thought i may have lost it forever. i guess all it took was three thousand miles, public transportation, and a girl willing to take a big risk to get it back again.

oh you sly inspiration you, stay as long as you would like. i am so happy to have found you.

{picture via my new pin board nyc}

write like a motherf*cker.

there are some incredibly rad women on this plant. many of which i've written about here... oprah, anna quindlen, and brené brown to name a few. and among them is ms. cheryl strayed. i picked up her book tiny beautiful things back in the fall and read the majority of it while i was galavanting abroad {aka on long flights}. she also writes the ever popular wild, which is on my to-read-as-soon-as-possible list.

this past sunday i was fortunate enough to see her speak in person and she was as captivating in real life as she is in her books.

cheryl spoke with such authenticity and stoicism. that's what i love about writers - especially those who write memoirs - they are comfortable with vulnerability by owning their words, feelings, and life experiences. the thing is, someone can always relate with pain and raw emotion.

i couldn't help but want to be on stage as the interviewer. do you have a writing sanctuary? what is your writing routine? how do you create titles to your work? what is your favorite part about being a writer? alas, just an audience member. someday! oh someday i'll get to have conversations with the greats.

one of my favorite {and subtle} things she did on several occasions was refer to herself as an artist. and that's what writers are, yes? beautiful and eloquent word stringing artists. may you bring out your inner artist and as cheryl says, write like a motherf*cker.

trust.

needing some trust this week.

channeling that inner cheerleader.

may we find our way.

*inspiration found here and here.

love your experience of solitude.

i sometimes think that blogging is saving my life.

how else am i supposed to find my voice? even when i'm so tired it hurts i feel the need to visit you.

one of the most important excerpts you'll ever read {in my opinion}.




be whole. love wholly.

seven reasons why there's nothing to worry about.

one. you can't get happy, you can only be happy
two. you can have true love
three. you're not fat
four. you're not your daily grind
five. you can change your world
six. you will never die
seven. you can be yogic, and to the yogi, everything is bliss


*happy yoga by steve ross.*

where would you wish to wake up tomorrow?

i cannot recall exactly how i found this video. i guess that's neither here nor there.

the point is, every time i watch it, i get chills. and inevitably i tear up.

i thought of this short film my entire week in new york. it so perfectly represents how i feel about that city.

diverse.





if nothing else, watching this will remind you of the power of human connection.

we are all different, yet the same. there is a thread that binds each and every one of us. our raw emotions of vulnerability connect us in a way that should bring comfort and ease. because we are all only human.

each of us may have a different answer to where would you wish to wake up tomorrow?, but the responses all revolve around one concept.

that we will wake up happy.

for me, i'd wish to wake up exactly where i am now. in my little home sweet home apartment. then i'd like to put on my yoga mat and have a blessed practice.

if traveling teaches you one thing, it's to be grateful for the place we call home. i'm thankful for it all...the travel, the journey, the adventure, the encounters with strangers, the opening of my front door to the four walls that shelter me, the warm bed i am able to sleep in.

this amazing short film was put together by fifty people, one question. i love their work and i have faith their message will change the world.