About The Girl

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California, United States
Not-so-silent observations that splinter my conversations. Harnessing the steady flow of random thoughts and musings that continuously interrupt my daily conversations. Paired here with my artwork and photographs from recent adventures. Non sequitur (pronounced \ˈnän-ˈse-kwə-tər\)- a response which, due to its apparent lack of meaning relative to its context, seems absurd to the point of being humorous or confusing.

Saturday, April 10, 2010


"The butterfly counts not months but moments"
Rabindranath Tagore

The events of this week have successfully reminded me of my priorities and my ability to remain present.

Each moment, each life, each instant...

I feel constantly challenged to both recognize and release the fleeting glimpse of heaven in encapsulated in each moment. Wrapped generously in distractions, hidden within each moment is a piece of heaven. If only we can stay right there with it long enough to experience it....

And then, just as suddenly, unexpectedly, willingly let go and move into the next moment.

Holding on doesn't bring me closer to what I want. I find myself constantly learning to live with my palm stretched wide open, heart vulnerable.

I am truly grateful for another day with Willa.

I feel truly blessed to have experienced a truly joyful, vulnerable, heartfelt closeness, tenderness, transitory bliss...

I ask for nothing more but to feel this and live this.

Ciao bella!

Saturday, April 3, 2010


I am missing one.

I seem to be surrounded by heroes and heroines who were accompanied by their loyal and fearless side kicks.

An audience present and accounted for.

I just finished watching Julie & Julia. It could be an inspiring, promising tale - writer overcomes hurdles, succeeds at cooking her way through Child's cookbook acquiring skills, fans, fame and success along the way...

As the movie poignantly notes..."Julia Child wasn't always Julia Child."

This is true. The movie documents the sometimes achingly slow process of Julia becoming Julia Child and Julie growing into her self and and back into a writer. But in the movie, Julie and Julia always have a side kick, a partner, accompaniment.

A somewhat captive audience for whom the story unfolds.

The way I understand the story, Julia Child didn't actually marry until she was forty. I want to know more about the time before her husband. But the story of Julia becoming the Julia Child begins AFTER she has already found her trusty side kick.

In order for the the story to begin, does our hero or heroine need a partner, an audience per se, to witness the account? What would have become of Julia without her husband? And of Julie? She stopped cooking the one night he left her....

Do I need a side kick for my story to even begin?

Julie and Julia shared not only a hearty passion for all things culinary. Both faced their share of:
Stumbling blocks.

In the company of these obstacles each found their trusty side kick standing by, waiting with encouragement, gentle, persuasive nudges, "saintly" acts and/or delightfully distracting kisses.

Granted, sometimes the side kick also offers honesty, distraction or otherwise unhelpful "assistance."

What happens when the dream and the happiness exist but in the absence of someone else as witness? Has the story not yet truly begun? If a tree falls in an empty forest, does it make a sound to be heard? Am I making an audible sound? I am no longer certain if I'm even making sense!

What is the purpose of a side kick? A side kick would hold me accountable. No flaking, procrastinating or otherwise postponing my dreams. A side kick would loyally defend me against my critics. My side kick would sit beside me when a meltdown overcomes me. A side kick would inspire me to become the best version of myself.

I am eagerly awaiting my side kick - trustworthy, honest-to-a-fault, stubbornly independent at times, consistently loving, playful, respectful, loyal and encouraging, compassionate, creative. No need to kill lobsters, although it might some day come in handy. Must have a sense of personal style, an appreciation for design, art and all things refined, enjoy doing handstands in the park, dancing in the kitchen, reading, holding hands, taking long walks and generally soaking up each other's company.

In the meantime, I am savouring all that I enjoy and at some point must share. I can be grateful. I have it all to myself. If only my perception about solitude was synonymous with that of enjoying a favorite dessert all to myself. An entire chocolate mousse of my very own! But to me is it ever quite as sweet as when I am able to dialogue and discourse about the texture, the taste, the smell, the airy lightness, the rich, smooth delight in each bite?

I would prefer to share the experiences - food and life seamlessly intertwined with another, like-minded person. Perhaps, for now, my readers will become my audience. My place-holding side kick. As my story is unfolding already. I refuse to wait any longer. I am eager to create my dream and write my story starting now.

Will you accompany me for the journey? I promise to fill the time with honesty and delightful discomfort.

Thursday, April 1, 2010


I have re-read only a few books in my lifetime. There are those that somehow I return to with eagerness. The Alchemist, A Room With a View, To Kill A Mockingbird, Pride and Prejudice, My Antonia, Heart of Darkness...these are a few that I find change me even in the very moment when I read them.

Simultaneously timeless yet achingly appropriate and timely.

"He cried in a whisper at some image, at some vision—he cried out twice, a cry that was no more than a breath—'The horror! The horror!'"
(Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness)

Today I revisited these words. Over the last months I have taken a flashlight to the way in which I live my life and make my choices. I recall feeling agitated by my fear, my worry over decisions and reactions. In this moment these words struck me with such tremendous force. The real fear is that in the end I might look back and think what if, if I had only...

The dreadful sadness that is witness to an opportunity or event that is inexorably out of reach.

I prefer to flay myself open. Arms wide I accept with raw vulnerability the blessings and suffering rendered of my own choices.

I recognize now that when I fail it is because in that moment I have risked all that mattered.

When I laugh joyously, raucously, ungracefully cartwheeling through the park in my bare feet it is with the feeling of wind in my hair, the contrasting rush of earthy, damp padded prickly perfumed grass against my skin. The authentic, spontaneous pleasure stirs an unbridled, contagious laugh from deep within me. I am here. I am alive.

Do I regret the grass stains, the tousled hair or flushed complexion? Absolutely not! At times the judgement surfaces...but this I know: we each do the best we can with what we have in each moment. And I will continue to expose myself with such seemingly impetuous abandon.

Not because I don't care.
Not because I am careless.

Because I cannot imagine harboring that possibility within me and not releasing it. I cannot imagine spending my days pondering the what ifs of my life.

I prefer to live them thoroughly, roughly, truly, in the raw, unedited draft that is each glorious day. The revisions, the clarity, the well-planned all have their time and place.

I willingly subject myself to the extraordinary possibility in each moment. I will advocate hope endlessly. Not because I do not feel its lack and opposite but because I prefer to spend my days in the light radiated by its presence rather than the shadow of its absence.

These choices render me greatly vulnerable. I imagine the joy, the joy of knowing that I risked, I loved, I experienced...with a smile on my face I pushed my entire pile of chips to the center of the table and said in this moment I release fear and I believe in the absolute value of exactly what I am doing.

Good things come to those who.......allow for good things?.....stay present and feel gratitude?......let go of knowing and truly feel?

What do any of us really know?

When was the last time you read something that changed you even in the very moment that you read it?

When was the last time you put everything into exactly what you were doing? What was it?!


"The one I feed."

I am learning to feed myself.

There is a Native American parable about a grandfather who says, I feel as if I have two wolves fighting in my heart.

One wolf is the voracious, vengeful, angry one.

The other wolf is the loving, compassionate one.”

When asked which wolf will win the fight in his heart, the old man replies, “The one I feed.”

Hunger pains.

How do we learn to “feed” the aspects of ourselves that heal us, that grow us, that help us to thrive?

I feel the wolves have an insatiable appetite!

I have been experimenting with thinking less, quieting my internal dialogue. Creating my artwork, walking and meditating are feeding this hunger to stay present. I feel as though it's a precarious walk along a very fine tight rope!

Which wolf are your feeding today?

What does your unger look, feel and sound like?