Wednesday, February 22, 2012


“You don’t know what you got ‘til it’s gone” - Joni Mitchell knew some stuff. Sometimes we humans (for sure the American kind) tend to take things for granted. You know, like food, water, a flushing toilet, sleep. Until lately, I always did. Now for the first time in my life, I’ve been dealing with insomnia. I mean, I’ve always been a light sleeper and of course I have jetlag issues when flying across the world, but this was a whole other thing. It’s been a roller coaster ride that escalated last week when I only got an average of 3 hours sleep a night. By day seven I was walking a bit crooked, hearing my own voice outside my body and having a few conversations with the Care Bears. Not good. I finally decided that I had to take a day off work and go to the doctor for a pill. Either that or call a good friend (or enemy) to come hit me over the head with a bat.

Now why am I telling you all about my bout of insomnia? Maybe because I’m getting older and a lot of old people like to talk about their ailments, but I think it’s more to get the chance to write about sleep. Marvelous sleep. It’s coming back to me gradually and I’m finding a whole new gratitude for it. Besides the replenishing and restoration it provides for our bodies, sleep is when we get to dream. And those dreams have implications for our lives, if not full-on messages. Oh, and if you happen to believe in such things, sleep gives angels a chance to whisper things to our spirits, unhindered by the so-called “logic” we often wear in our wake-time.

So I’d like to get lots of it every night. But I’ve stopped assuming that it’s going to magically come to me every time I lie down and close my eyes. Sometimes there's work to do: letting go of stress, making life changes, aligning inside, getting our groove in rhythm with our heart, or maybe just taking time to acknowledge our breath. Or maybe, maybe I need to laugh more (is that possible?)…

It’s a challenging process and I’m learning to be patient and gentle with myself. Perhaps next time sleep evades me, instead of fighting it and being frustrated, I’ll use the time more wisely by getting up and doing animal impersonations.

Sweet dreams…

Thursday, October 6, 2011


we've all got those people in our lives who give us the motivation to take another step toward our greater purpose (don't you love when someone just dives right in with a sentence like this?). the ones who, often passively by their mere essence, encourage us to go far and wide and long and deep. i've been blessed to be surrounded by such folk throughout my life. i suppose i seek out these ones, everywhere i go, knowing that the inspiration they offer is the special sauce on my life's mcJourney. it's a mysterious, cyclical wonder - i become inspired to birth something into the world, which in turn inspires another, and so on. pretty cool, eh?

just today i've been inspired by reading a new friend's blog, getting some coaching from my solo show director, and from Steve Jobs' wonder-full commencement speech at Stanford. they've all reminded me of who i am and what moves me forward. and that dancing with the rhythm in my own heart is what really matters. oh, and guess what? my rhythm will sync up with yours and hers and his and theirs and then we'll all be contributing to the big ol' grand drum circle. how lovely.

ten bucks says you've encountered someone today who makes you want to be a bigger, better you (if this is untrue for you, i'm just kidding about the ten bucks). go with it - it's all inside of you anyway, just waiting to come out. play with it so you can pay it forward...

stay hungry. stay foolish.
- genius quote of the day

Saturday, September 3, 2011

la luna

feathery sand and grainy clouds
conversing and reflecting la luna,
in agreement that she is god of the night
even as el sol shines high in china,
or some other hidden place over there.
ms. moon gives orders - don't dare decline -
to dance into trance and pay homage to your feet;
to sing with the wolves,
to love with bodies touching,
and to spin madly until the world wobbles toward reverse.
she will attest to your faithfulness,
to your bright blue stamp on humanity.
she will whisper your name as los nubes y la arena join hands in prayer.
then you will be compelled, with very little choice,
to worship deep into the night.

Tuesday, May 17, 2011


I admit it – I’m a junkie. I can’t get enough of closeness, affection, eye contact, care, touch, crying, laughing - all ingredients that make up intimacy. At least these things are included in my personal recipe. I’ve experienced so many levels of intimacy with so many people. Lovers, friends, colleagues, kids, even the guy crossing the street in front of my car. Yes, I think it’s possible to create it or find it anywhere if giant, universal love is one of your values.

I’ve had a few conversations lately about the subject of intimacy and it’s interesting how different people see it with different glasses. One friend said that for her, it’s finding connection and closeness non-verbally, while another felt that sharing stories of her life constituted intimacy. I know an awful lot of people who would make intimacy synonymous with sex…well, and yes, there’s that. My best attempt at summarizing, very generally, my idea of intimacy is this: any mutual experience that make two (or more) people feel closer to each other, loved and seen in truth.

Since this is a subject dear to my heart (after all, I AM a junkie), I’m thinking of writing an expanded piece on it. I’m very interested in knowing how any of you would define intimacy. In one word or many. Bring ‘em on!

By the way, my dear Facebook friends, these “notes” are coming to you live from my blog, which is much cuter than the dull, white wall page you’re looking at. If you’d like to see it in color form, I’d be delighted to have you here...

Sunday, May 1, 2011

journal musings of forward intention

i learned some lessons as i hopped on and off of airplanes, in and out of new beds, up and down emotional roller coasters. taking in the world opens doors, opens windows, opens eyes and opens heart. truly. and i know. i know there is a choice - abierto o cerrado - open or closed.

the mirror is mocking with gangsta' rap, but i see the deception. broken shiny things in need of pins and needles. forty years in this skin is calling. and i'm running - running like a turtle in heat. running like a crazy lady with arms flailing and feet kicking out to the side in wild abandon, like I did when I was five. no care, no mind to what’s happening inside or outside – only the bliss that’s humming through my body and the means to an unnamed end.

did you know only the female mosquitoes take your blood? i should've known. perhaps I should learn the lesson and run far, far away. but she is me. and i am her. so i guess i'll just itch for eternity.
I'm an intimacy junkie. I’ll go to near-desperate measures to get a fix. no need for a support group - I consider this one of my best and most charming qualities. addiction to meaning, to depth, to skin-on-skin, to love, and…to risk and danger.

i've gone out on a few limbs in life. i'd like to climb higher and further out on the branches. but is it worth the risk? what if it breaks…
what if i fall…
what if i get a better view…
what if the air is cleaner up there…
what if i make friends with a bird and he teaches me how to fly…
I can carry a list of what matters in my beak, I mean, my mouth:
peaceful sleep, quality coffee, artistic food, top-down convertibles, authentic kindness, new experiences, on-time flights, cloud pillows, dance-language, descriptive adjectives, openness…

infinite grains of sand shifting and molding into spaces unclaimed. waves bringing gifts from far away worlds and stories that roar and whisper...
storytellers give life and meaning and questions.
I have questions of color: what color was yesterday? what color is now? what color will tomorrow be? my paintbrush is poised...

I’ll write more poems,
I’ll write a song,
I’ll draw a little man in the shape of me,
I’ll smoke a bong,
I’ll learn Spanish curse words,
I’ll fly to Singapore with or without a plane,
I’ll lower some expectations,
I’ll raise some standards,
I’ll commit to something impossible,
I’ll paint a wall the color of my life,
I’ll buy lots of amazing shoes,
I’ll dance my story,
I’ll get another tattoo,
I’ll make friends with an animal,
I’ll explore my passions very unwisely,
i'll embrace a wrinkle or a gray hair as the wonderful work of wisdom,
I’ll create a character from my own soul and yours – with a camera in my face,
I’ll witness a birth,
i'll truthfully decorate the canvas of my body,
i'll put more muscle around my bones,
i'll find a home that meets my dreams, or maybe it will find me,
i'll amp up my belief in abundance,
i'll have an amiable relationship with money,
i'll break a rule - on purpose,
I’ll practice creating magic out of a hat or out of thin air;
I’ll recognize magic and spirit-play and love more often,
I’ll grieve to the core and with self-compassion,
I’ll lose track of time,
I’ll wear my watch upside-down,
I’ll invent something ridiculous but useful,
I’ll do all of these things.
or none of them.
dreams are as necessary as rainbow confetti and breathing.

every decade branded, every decade a brand of jeans, every decade brings emergence of a theme. the theme has a thumbprint, a song, and a very special hat.

Wednesday, March 30, 2011


I feel a kinship with you, glorious cataratas,
something familiar and ancient.
Perhaps I’ve been here before with my tribe or my flock or my herd,
or maybe it’s simply the knowing that my tears are one and the same as yours,
cascading down and refining the earth.
Your power, your beauty, your peace and your danger – how can one help but worship?
You are god and I am small,
and yet somehow we are one.
You strike me serious, but the butterflies continue their play –
landing on my fingers and inviting me into their world.
I hear the joy in your freedom…
Be my teacher and I, too, will flow and ROAR!

Sunday, March 6, 2011


One of the best parts of moving to California was discovering the artichoke. I mean, Cali has many great “A” veggies to offer – artichokes, asparagus, avocados - but the artichoke is special. I didn’t grow up eating them. Not sure why – maybe my parents didn’t like them or maybe they just weren’t available in Oklahoma. My guess is the latter, considering that most of my Oklahoma fare consisted of beef and potatoes. I can imagine the general sentiment there being, “What the hell’s an art-ee-choke?”
If you’ve had the pleasure of eating an artichoke, perhaps you can understand why it’s my second favorite food (number one is bacon, but that’s for another story). Though typically a frugal gal, I’ll spare no expense when it comes to having artichokes on a regular basis. Sometimes they can be quite pricey, but I don’t look at the cost much, unless I happen to notice that they’re two for $4.00, in which case I do some little cartwheels in the produce aisle and buy six of them.
In my Clark Kent hours, I work as a Nanny. I take care of an adorable four-year-old, who seems to have an aversion to anything green. But I did not let this fact daunt me; I knew that the artichoke could get through. And indeed, it proved itself as the only vegetable worthy of Katie’s affection. We’ve even started a club for artichoke lovers, which includes Katie, her baby sister and myself: “’A’ is for artichoke!” It’s not the least bit surprising that the artichoke can warm the heart of a small child. Not only is it delicious, it’s pretty much the most fun food around. Who can resist picking off each leaf and scraping the ‘meat’ off with your teeth, then getting to throw the used leaf into a pile? And don’t even get me started when there are dipping condiments involved…
And now for the less obvious, but very valid reason for my adoration: the word “art” is in artichoke. The artichoke itself is a work of art, as well as inspiring many works of art (including this blog post - ahem). It inspires me every time I eat one, to the point of thinking it might be better to just put it on the counter and gaze at it. In fact, if left un-harvested, the artichoke will bloom with a large purple flower head, finding relevance for its floral display in addition to its yumminess-factor.
As a lover of art and beauty, I constantly look for metaphors in life. Everywhere we look, we can see an image of some profound aspect of life. The artichoke is no exception. It’s covered in prickly spines, waiting to draw blood from the enthusiast. Yet to get the heart of it, you have to get past those spines. You also have to scrape away the yucky little stringy things (the choke) that are attached to the heart. But once you get there, it’s the most succulent part of the vegetable, and worth all the work.
Now don’t thank me for all of these insights, just be on the lookout for a sale at Whole Foods and pick up one of them art-ee-chokes. See for yourself.