oh iowa.

my film wish list.

tension is who you think you should be. relaxation is who you are.

chinese proverb

done deal.

yesterday my subletter came by to sign the lease and begin piling my apartment full of boxes. (no, it's not fair but i let him anyway. i'm just glad he's taking it.) so now i have about a week until i move into my new place. i've been scouring design magazines eventhough said and i are going to be having picnics on the floor until our bank accounts recover. i'm so excited for this.

from sfgirlbythebay:

People Who Live
by Erica Jong

People who live by the sea understand eternity. They copy the curves of the waves, their hearts beat with the tides, & the saltiness of their blood corresponds with the sea. They know that the house of flesh is only a sandcastle built on the shore, that skin breaks under the waves like sand under the soles of the first walker on the beach when the tide recedes. Each of us walks there once, watching the bubbles rise up through the sand like ascending souls, tracing the line of the foam, drawing our index fingers along the horizon pointing home.

now.

/daydreaming about painting my walls and having friends over for big dinners/looking forward to laughing with my parents over dinner/big ideas/curling up on lindsay's couch with a glass of wine and laughing over celebrity gossip/feeling the quietness of winter all around me/loving that my hand is so little in said's/long walks/dancing like a wild woman at marvin's with my girlfriends/feeling so unbelievably grateful and hopeful and full of love/anticipating my brother and kosi's arms around me/lying in the bathtub with a mug of hot chocolate and a glass of wine at my side (i have no qualms with spoiling myself)/backbending/

today my friend john said, "we are finally getting older" and i do feel that way. we're beginning to build our lives and it feels beautiful.

we cannot destroy kindred: our chains stretch a little sometimes, but they never break. marquise de sévigné

In the West, you have bigger homes, yet smaller families; you have endless conveniences yet you never seem to have any time. You can travel anywhere in the world yet you won't cross the road to meet your neighbors. I don't think people have become more selfish, but their lives have become easier and that has spoiled them. They have less resilience, they expect more, they constantly compare themselves to others and they have too much choice. This brings no real freedom.

Dalai Lama

our home

i have a new home. it's across from an elementary school and above an old grocery store (soon to be converted into a flower shop - fingers crossed.) it's old and needs work but said and i are going to do it. it has two bedrooms with high ceilings and huge windows and enough space for a yoga and painting studio.

this is a leap and i'm so excited to do it.

one's destination is never a place but rather a new way of looking at things.
henry miller

i have a hard time being indoors all day. i don't like competition. loud noises, extreme temperatures, and big parties all annoy/drain me. i get extremely nervous talking in front a large group of people. i like to spend at least half of my evenings solo doing yoga or writing. i've always though of it as recharging but now i realize i'm just sensitive to a lot of things that other people aren't. i guess it just never occurred to me.

a few months ago one of my yoga teachers passed along the book, the highly sensitive person. at the time i kind of shrugged it off thinking it was too new agey, but i started reading it the other night and it completely resonated with me. most of it anyway. i guess part of the reason i've never admitted it is because it partly felt like a defeat; a weakness. but in a lot of ways my sensitivity is the reason i'm attracted to yoga. it's why i love to write. it's why my apartment is decorated in flowers and paintings and i'm in love with a man who appreciates the same beauty i see.

a few of the questions on the self test:

	I am easily overwhelmed by strong sensory input.
	I seem to be aware of subtleties in my environment.
	Other people's moods affect me.
	I tend to be very sensitive to pain.
	I find myself needing to withdraw during busy days,into bed or into a darkened room or any place where I can have some privacy and relief from stimulation.
	I am particularly sensitive to the effects of caffeine.
	I am easily overwhelmed by things like bright lights, strong smells,coarse fabrics,or sirens close by.
	I have a rich,complex inner life.
	I am made uncomfortable by loud noises.
	I am deeply moved by the arts or music.
	My nervous system sometimes feels so frazzled that I just have to go off by myself.
	I am conscientious.

bon bons by the bon bon

gorgeous new jewelry designs by my brother's girl bonkosi:

"the best things in life are nearest. breath in your nostrils, light in your eyes, flowers at your feet, duties at your hand, the path of right just before you."

robert louis stevenson

the good things about today.

i saw feist perform in baltimore last night.

i met stefan's very cool, very beautiful yoga teacher friend michelle.

i slept so hard i had pillow creases on my face. (especially wonderful after about five days of no sleep.)

i woke up to the sun streaming in the window and a chilly breeze coming through. (thank god. please turn to autumn!)

i wore my favorite shirt with pockets in the bottom.

i rode my bike to work.

i treated myself to a soy almond latte.

oh, and i had the most amazing birthday ever.

(salvaordean food, cowboy boots, stomping around town with my posse, photobooths!, a big dc family dinner)

i loved this post:
http://hulaseventy.blogspot.com/2007/09/details.html

it made me melt.

twenty-three

another year comes to a close and i'm moving into the next. i've been looking through my photographs reflecting on all this past year has surprised me with — a little more balance, a lot more fun, relationships that seemed to manifest out of thin air, and ofcourse a lot of challenging, bawl-your-eyes-out moments. the difference between twenty-three and all the years before was that i finally began to trust myself. not all the time. i'm still plagued with doubts and insecurities and my nearly uncontrollable "monkey mind" but i have more faith in the outcome.

last night in yoga i came across a quote — you fear the waves a lot less when you realize you are the ocean.

so twenty-four, whatever you've got bring it on. i'm ready.

home.

stefan and i went for a long walk (two and half hours!) a few nights ago winding through adams morgan, down connecticut into dupont and finally to the national mall where we sat on the steps of the archives and talked.

he's looking for a change right now. a big one, a little one. something. just a few weeks ago i felt the same way. i was ready to completely uproot move to the west coast, to costa rica.. anywhere. i told him that i felt that was a problem with me. when i'm unhappy i look for daring and lifechanging ways to feel different, but i've decided that i'm staying put for awhile. i'm going to try and let things happen rather than trying to control every outcome. i'm going to enjoy standing still.

right now, this is home. it's a home i built from the ground up over the past year and a half. it's taken awhile for me to feel this way, to feel that both feet were planted firmly on the ground rather than one in iowa city and one here. coming back from the midwest, i looked out the airplane and realized i was headed towards home, not away from it.

family of yogis.

mom called last night and told me she went to her first yoga class. it was a few miles outside of glenwood near pony creek. the teacher led them to an outside studio where they sat and talked about the yoga sutra. she was excited about the class, and about this new perspective of life. she described some of the feelings i did when i first started practicing.

it was funny. as she told me this, i felt the most connected to her than i have in a long time. not to say i don't feel connected to my mother.. in fact i feel extremely close to her.. it's just that with this distance between us, i sometimes want to share parts of my life with my parents too much and i want them to immediately understand me.. eventhough i've been growing in different directions a thousand miles away for a few years. and they're changing too.. i forget that.

and in other news, my grandmother attended a wheelchair yoga class. she quit, she informed me, because she was not able to get her arms over her head. "honestly i'd rather read my book," she said. i don't really blame her.

and the livin' is easy...

it's the dog days of summer here in dc. ninety four degrees. i feel like i'm in a microwave first thing in the morning, and i arrive to work looking like a wet puppy. i can't help but daydream about fall's sixty degree days and latte weather. yes, summertime, i'm being ungrateful again. go away so i can realize how lucky i was to walk outside in flipflops and shorts without a single thought.

my summer:

other news:
i'm starting my yoga teacher training in september. i cannot wait.

today june begins.

"and what is so rare as a day in june? then, if ever, come perfect days."
james russell lowell

amanda took this photograph when she was visiting last weekend. i don't think i knew she took it. she always does that. captures me in these moments that i don't remember having. i love this photograph because i feel that it really portrays my life right now. lying on my bed, drinking a glass of wine, reading, watching people walk by out the window. and now a bit of romance too. ah, summertime.

oh, how i love you anthropologie.

another journey

i just bought a ticket to guatemala. i'm backpacking over thanksgiving with my friend krista.

this is krista:

this is guatemala:

look up.

"never bend your head. hold it high. look the world straight in the eye."

helen keller

i saw this quotation on the wall of my yoga studio as i was leaving on friday night. i thought of how many times i avert my eyes when walking on the street; how sometimes i want to say 'good morning' and i don't.

my aunts from san francisco came for the weekend and my aunt deette told me she always says good morning to the people she passes when she walks her puppydog, and sometimes she keeps track of how many say hello back.. somedays it's two out of three and sometimes it's only two out of the twenty or so people she passes.

after we left the farmer's market we walked down t street towards my apartment. the sun was shining, the sky was a crisp blue, and there was a strong breeze. a man walked out of his house with his coffee mug and looked up at the sky and smiled. "hi," i said. he looked at me surprised and gave me a big smile. "isn't it the most beautiful day?" i said and really, really meant it.

"it really is," he said, looking me square in the eye and grinning. it was funny to connect like that after all of that talk about looking down and feeling cold. i'd just met the warmest man in the world.

Right now, and in every now-moment, you are either closing or opening. You are either stressfully waiting for something--more money, security, affection--or you are living from your deep heart, opening as the entire moment, and giving what you most deeply desire to give, without waiting. If you are waiting for anything in order to live and love without holding back, then you suffer. Every moment is the most important moment of your life. No future time is better than now to let down your guard and love. Everything you do right now ripples outward and affects everyone. Your posture can shine your heart or transmit anxiety. Your breath can radiate love or muddy the room in depression. Your glance can awaken joy. Your words can inspire freedom. Your every act can open hearts and minds. Opening from heart to all, you live as a gift to all. In every moment, you are either opening or closing. Right now, you are choosing to open and give fully or you are waiting. How does your choice feel?

David Deida

my treehouse.

be grateful for the home you have, knowing that at this moment, all you have is all you need.

sarah ban breathnach