and everything

A Faith Journey

2012-02-05T12:13:00.000-07:00

It's been a while. I really needed the space from this place. I needed time to live life and think hard and not have to write it all down every step of the way. But it's time I check in, not with my blog, but with myself-and the two did quickly become synonymous in some important, reflective ways.

A faith journey.

I was raised in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, but we were far from the typical church members. Both my parents were converts several years and one child into their marriage. They saw light and a good way to live, they had spiritual experiences and they made the plunge into Mormonism. Skip forward 15 years and there is a major schism resulting in divorce. At this time I was 8 years old. I was baptized and raised as a Mormon. The Church was never a major part of our home consciousness, but rather a large part of our societal consciousness. I attended church, young women's, EFY and seminary. I even ended up at BYU.

Those are the facts, here are the thoughts.

I remember making the distinction between the Gospel and the people operating it very early on. This was a natural course of events for a child from a broken family to take. When you are told divorced people are not as righteous by your mistaken and thoughtless Sunday School teacher, the distinction must be made for you to keep coming.

I had mostly good experiences with young women's, though I fought tooth and nail against the norms of their view of women and what they were meant to be. This likely had more to do with my personality and need to live outside of expectations than any real disconnect with the things I was being taught. I was told that sexuality in any form outside of marriage was a sin and would ruin my self esteem and also value as a woman unless I repented and forsook all those behaviors, etc. You can imagine my dismay when I realized I really wanted to be sexual. Due to daddy issues and self esteem issues, coupled with a resilient teenage need to rebel against the norm, I landed myself in some pretty bad situations with men over the years. I also landed myself in some pretty good situations with men over the years. It all looked different and usually had to do with my view of self at any given moment. Sometimes 'crossing the line' didn't seem to affect me, spiritually or otherwise. Other times, it was consuming and destructive. In hindsight the difference came from my motives for the act and sometimes societal guilt.

All the while the church and spirituality were somewhat of a factor. As I've grown older and cultivated what spirituality is to me, all of this makes much better sense. I see it this way: the "spirit" is a real thing, but rather than some outward influence, it is merely our connection to our innate selves. The spirit then, does become a guide for action and when you've lost it, you ought to re-evaluate, because that's means you've lost connection to self and being outside your own body is truly the most dangerous place to be. In that sense, many of those acts did take away 'the spirit' and my ability to make good decisions. Then when I would get it back, when I would reconnect, I felt better and my actions automatically lined up again with my true self. This has looked a lot of different ways over the years and it gets really tricky when you add moms and bishops and friends and boyfriends into your equation. I found a pretty good balance that ranged from straight up lies in order to maintain appearances to honest break downs and cries for help, from genuine regret and remorse to confident action. I found myself in a bad way several times, but learned eons of truth from the darkness.

I never really had a falling out with the Church, because I never really had a falling in with the church. I knew from a very young age that I didn't fit in the mold. I wasn't going to be what they had shown me I should be and that was going to be OK. I was always into Christ, he just seemed to have it all figured out and I loved the idea of a heavenly brother that understood everything I was going through, I still do! It never really mattered to me that the Church had a spotty history or that the BOM may or may not have literally happened the way it claims to have. I cared what all that meant to me, now, today, in my very life. And insofar that it was going to tell nice stories that helped reaffirm good behaviors in me, I was into it. Sure, the answer of women in the Church having the gift to bear children instead of the priesthood never really sufficed. But I also never really wanted the priesthood so that was OK. The gay thing didn't come up till much later when I had actual personal contact with people in that situation, and then the answer was a no brainer-of course they're loved and not broken and should be able to get married. I liked the idea of marriage in the temple because it meant I could be with someone forever. But my thoughts never went beyond that. To be honest, garments freaked me out and I didn't want to do it. The ceremonies and the clothes and the rituals were just not something I could mentally tackle. So I didn't. I told myself I would shoot for the temple and cross that bridge when I got there.

I want to acknowledge the many many times that church situations fostered beautiful experiences for me. My adherence to the main ideas of being loving and kind, generous and accepting served and continue to serve me well. The fact that my parents had the maint tenets of the gospel to help them raise me really helped them to teach us kids to be good people and do good things. My connection to the idea of Christ was tied to an experience at EFY. Some of the most influential women in my life were YW leaders, and I did feel nice inside the temple doing baptisms. I don't want to discount any of that. I'm just not convinced it is what I thought it was.

Dating was a problem. It seemed like you were either in the church and square and the worst, or you were out and making really poor decisions. When you go through late adolescence with two drug addict brothers in Utah Valley, it's hard to understand that there is a third option. I would get discouraged and my mom would promise me there was a third option. She promised me that at a school like BYU, there were certainly other people that felt like me. There were people who liked the Church insofar as it served them, but stayed quite liberal in their views and actions. Oh-and who hated FHE as much as me. The first few years of BYU I did not believe it. I dated two wonderful men that were so great and righteous, etc. The problem was that I could not tell them my whole truth and I could not be my whole self, and ultimately both relationships failed. I also dated some bad news, generally as a pendulum swing after the squares. They served their purpose too. All in all I tried a lot in order to 'find myself'-in the way college students do. What did I want? What did I believe?

I guess the answer came in getting really confortable with the question. I found yoga at 17. It is not, and has never been my religion. Instead it is a philosophy to help me live a sane life. Yoga explained that it was OK to say 'I don't know' and be happy to just be on the journey, no where near any type of finish line. It taught me to love and respect my body. It was the same summer I started to practice that I began my long and painful journey of creating healthy boundaries with the men in my life- because somehow my worth made so much more sense that summer than at any other time in my life.

Alcohol and coffee were just side notes. Once I started taking care of my body at 18, it made sense to use all things in moderation, including sugar. It was at this time that I cut out meat entirely because I felt so much better for doing so. At 19, Utah Valley began to feel small and I had fallen in with the restaurant crowd (i.e. the rough crowd in Provo, haha). I made the decision to get out. I sent dozens of resumes all over the world and 18 days later found myself in Taghazout, Morocco teaching yoga for a surf resort. I was running away from the difficulties of being 19. It didn't work. Nonetheless, my experiences in Morocco were invaluable and I don't regret my time there in the least. I met people from all across Europe and even the world. I lived and worked with people who had never even heard of Mormonism-I was free to make my own decisions because nobody expected anything from me in that way. So I drank and smoked hash, I hooked up with sexy Swedish men and learned to surf with the Moroccans. It was escapism and numbing, but I grew there. For the first time, no one was pre-supposing how I ought to behave. I ran myself into the ground with the freedom and after leaving in the middle of the night and then couch serving around England for a few weeks, I came crawling home to my Mom. She took care of me and I got back on my feet.

But then I was raped, and everything changed. God became a concept I was incapable of touching, alcohol and promiscuous behavior became coping mechanisms and I landed in a psyche ward after trying to commit suicide. It was there, as I lay in bed with the worst hangover of my life, listening to my mentally-ill roommate pray out loud for me, that I knew this was not working. From there it was a slow crawl. Rediscovering my self worth after that year was a task, and I am so lucky to have had the people around me that I did. I spent a lot of time alone, writing and reading, thinking and praying. It was during this darkness that I got most in touch with the inner light I had learned to call God.

A yoga trip to Southern California was my first foray back into the sunshine and it felt so good, I really didn't go back (in the spirit of full disclosure, I was still a 21 yr old girl, and exploration is an inherent and crucial part of that). I went back to BYU and finally found people there with whom I could be open and honest. I began getting involved with groups and events. It was then that I met the love of my life. I had been thinking of publishing a piece in a new, free-forum student publication about the motto of BYU and the phrases used to describe football efforts and their suspicious connection to church propaganda ("rise up", "raise the bar") did you have to subscribe to BYU football to get into heaven? I was confused. Isaac was an editor on the paper and we talked about my idea for an hour at our local coffee shop. We ran into each other a few days later while I was on a date, and we have been together ever since.

It was with my new community that I was finally able to articulate my feelings towards the church. My ambivalence wasn't unrighteous to them. They were searching for truth and goodness in spite of the institutional church and all of its damaging ways. I began to see a way that I could fit inside the church. I started talking about God and how I was much more comfortable with the idea that we are all God and we all connected and that is beautiful, than with some idea of a scolding, yet loving father figure out in the cosmos. I remember the relief I felt upon realizing that I didn't have to do the temple, or wear garments, and I could still be a worthwhile, good human being. I felt good. I feel good.

I still don't have any interest in being antagonistic towards the church or religious people in general, although the more time that goes on, the less I understand it. Instead, I am in the process (and hope to always be) of creating my own Gospel, of finding ways to connect to myself as a person and as a woman, of finding ways to connect and serve other people. I am in process, I am living in my questions. And I am very happy.

This isn't goodbye

2011-12-20T21:29:00.001-07:00

I have a lot to say my friends; a full heart is a good thing to have this time of year.

Life isn't getting any easier, instead it is getting more capacious.

I've found love.

And nothing else I can say about it will really let you in on the wonder of life for me right now so I will leave it at that.

This space has been infinitely healing and therapeutic for me. But I've got this person now that seems to serve that purpose. Maybe I'll be back when I need a blank page or a silent sounding board, and I will definitely be back once I have some more tangible (for you guys) things to report. But for now I'll be taking a small hiatus because I am so utterly submersed in my life and I need to live in that reality for a while.

Thank You

2011-11-25T00:30:00.001-07:00

I've been a bit absent here, and also everywhere. I want to explain the reason for my absence in great detail to you, I really do, but I'm doing my best not to jinx it. So instead I will leave it at this: there is a light in my life that is allowing me to sleep deeper and live wilder.

I feel grateful for a lot of things today; my health, my family, my education, etc.

Yet the thing I'm most grateful for is the constant state of growth I am in, and the person in that state with me, my light.

Thank you baby, for being who you are.

What I'm reading

2011-11-18T10:40:00.001-07:00

Some things to think about...

A CALL TO MEN.

EVE AS A BALANCE TO CHRIST.

Just two of the many things I am reading and listening to.

The love of my life-and a gift for you!

2011-11-15T12:06:00.001-07:00

I tricked you. It's not a man. It's yoga. A few weeks back I got to be a part of a photo shoot at 3B Yoga studio and Athletic Boutique. This is the place I practice yoga and also the place I buy my yoga clothes. The boutique carries brands like Lululemon, Om Girl, Prana, Hardtail, Spiritual Gangster, Manduka, Bronwen Jewelry, Sanuk and more!

Here is your gift, enjoy!

The photographer was Kiera Haddock. I love her. And I do not say this lightly. She is passionate and knowledgable and was wildly energetic about yoga and capturing our practice.

Check her out: Kiera Haddock.

In these pictures I am wearing a lululemon top and prana pants.

This last one was taken with my phone, but I'm wearing lululemon and it's in our cute boutique!

Happy shopping!

poetry

2011-11-09T02:38:00.002-07:00

I'm quieter with poetry in my life.
not poems that rhyme or poems that describe.
but poems that soften or insult or outline.
words that verbalize my unspeakable.

Enjoy.

I've spent a lot of my life trying to be different. If all my friends were blonde, I had to be brunette. If everyone liked one band, I hated them. If everyone was doing life one way, I had to do it differently.

It has mostly worked in my favor, but more so it just speaks to my strange sense of self.

So as misanthropic as I pretend to be, the reality is that I crave humanity and community and acceptance the same way we all do. And this is all to say that I've found it, among the other misanthropes of course.

There is this sense of community that I didn't even know I was missing. It's full of insightful conversation and searching souls. I feel more at home in my body and life now than at any other time. I am finding peace with ambiguity, and a sense of wonder at living in my questions.

also-there is this new thing happening.
and it's happening so seamlessly that I've forgotten to feel skeptical.
I suppose this is the best moment of my young adult life and soon it's going to get even harder.

it's a shame, really, the ephemeral nature of these moments of clarity.

Apropos

2011-11-06T01:23:00.002-07:00

i feel like i'm living in a stolen hour. as i drove home in the first snow of the season, the clocks jumped back, and a nonexistent hour appeared.

it seems appropriate and also necessary to write right now. though i'm not so sure i can accurately articulate what is on the tip of my fingers.

i've adopted a new attitude lately. i call what i'm doing

Affirming Life

(thanks Lauren lady)

it's basically a lot of noise in order to find silence.

i've spent my whole life driving quickly and veering widely one way and then over correcting the other. tonight it feels like the training wheels came off and after a few wobbles, i'm riding with a seriously endearing smile.

i'm out of analogies.

you guys.

i am starting to get the hang of this.

and it's way fun.

drinking from the firehose

2011-11-02T00:06:00.002-06:00

here's the thing about being 21:

there is too much. too much to do. too much to read. too many people to talk to. too many ideas to consider. just too much.

my darling dad calls it drinking from the fire hose: this stage of life where you are willing to open your mind and get a little taste of everything.

but i must say, it gets quite exhausting. today was a 14 hour day. filled with many of my favorite activities and people. the problem was, there didn't feel like there was enough time to devote to each of the things i did today. and that feels like the story of my life.

I know, I know. pick fewer things to interest yourself in. limit the amount of time you spend here or there.

prioritize
might be the one word advice from a psychologist or my mother.

but i realized that that word means something very different to someone my age than it to does to my mother's age. in fact, it's a fairly nonexistent concept in my generation. because we are drinking from the hire hose.

yes, there are times when one class may be put on the back burner to see an incredibly poetry reading or when you forfeit tickets to a game to study for chemistry. There may full semesters devoting yourself to a significant other where you fail classes, but learn love. Or times that you stray from true self in your behaviors and then find yourself back where you mean to do.

The point is that priorities at this age are flexible and maleable and very often changing. and it's simply because we are sorting out which ones really matter.

and that, my friends, that is the point of being 21. to drink from the firehouse. and then hope at some point you can relax and take delicious sips or gulps of the bits of life that grab you most deeply.

.

2011-10-30T14:03:00.002-06:00

I'm not that great at being realistic.

you might get tricked because of my cynical attitude,

but you'd be wrong.

As it turns out, there aren't simple causes and affects. my coping mechanisms are very limited. they exist mostly in extreme sarcasm, extreme emotional response and extreme apathy.

I have some self work to do. Some work I've been quite afraid of because its potential power to undo me completely.

The irony in the situation of course is that not doing my work is threatening to destroy me also.

So here I go, down the path of pure honesty and brutal emotional overhauling.

which means... I'll be blogging much more often. stay tuned for some post adolescent angst and heartbreak sorrows. or just more cryptic ramblings. we'll see.

I'm falling

2011-10-17T17:02:00.001-06:00

it's these bright October days that feel fast and slow all at once.

October is my month by which to mark the passing of time; that is, I can always tell the kind of year I'm going to have by the kind of October I have.

To quote a friend...

"It feels like I've been gone for a very long time and I just got back."

it has to do with this desire to learn about the world around me.
it has to do with being young and without the deep consequences of adulthood.
it has to do with knowing my body and my mind.

it's going to be a good year.

A year for the books.

2011-10-07T23:05:00.002-06:00

well... it's the end of the day and with the exception of a text I wish I hadn't sent late last night, I didn't do anything destructive today. good job me.

I woke with a bloody nose and lost keys... clad in black (I always like to dress to represent my feelings- drama queen that I am) and certain this was destined to be an awful day, I made my way to school.

and then... I got an A from a professor that doesn't really give A's. An A that I really needed and that I really worked for. Because I wasn't going to get any of the other things I wanted today, like a hug from someone who doesn't owe me any more hugs--the A was a reminder of my capability and intelligence, the mark of who I am now versus who I was this time last year. and in the absence of a hug, it was a necessary reminder-- the kind that buoys up independence and personal strength.

today there have been lots of texts, phone calls, e-mails, and even letters (I love your old fashioned style daddy, much more sincere). there were also pink daisy's and a late night sweet treat on my doorstep. I'm a lucky lady...

no, I'm a blessed lady.

at times over the last year I've wished I would have died that day. but now I know I wasn't meant to. there is more for me to do, more people for me to know, and more loving to be done.

As a way to end this year and allow myself to move into the with limited baggage, I am including what I wrote a year ago about this day. It has never been read. But today I want to share... for a comparison or complete honesty or because it's part of the story being told here.

-------

So this totally shit thing happened.

I went running because I'm feeling fat and it seemed about time to do something about that.

Then I was attacked, and raped. In the middle of the day. Practically in my own backyard. By an old man with a dark spirit and ill intentions. I understand the irony of the situation that I have traveled half way around the world completely solo and have never even been mugged. I also see the irony in that I am one of the only girls I know who doesn't worry about rape on a daily basis. I don't own mace, I don't walk to my car with my keys between my fingers, and I have never really considered what I'd do if this day came. But the day I decided to pull myself together, drag my ridiculous life out of the gutter, evil found me.

Then I ran away. Then I spent 24 hours retelling my sad little story to what felt like a million cops and people I didn't know and didn't want to know. They weren't even people I could look in the eye. But it seems like looking anyone in the eye is sort of hard. When people look me in the eye, it feels like they can look inside my soul and see what is going on there. I wish they would tell me. Because I can't seem to sort it out. That must be because they gave me zanex. To save me from my panic attacks. But really it just makes it so when my heart and spirit feel worked up, all I can do is sit and stare. Not so cool.

I did a police sketch. They are way hard to do. Mine really sucks and I just don't feel like I did much good in that department. Everyone keeps telling me I'm so brave and that I did everything right... blah blah blah. I don't feel brave. I feel like I'm taking up a lot of space in a human's world.

Everyone is really upset. But no one wants me to know that. My brother went looking for the guy. My dad likely wants to come here with his new found gun habit.

But all I can think is this changes everything. Because even if people don't know. I know. And because of that I'm finding it hard to have a very fruitful conversation. I am now dealt with like glass, to be seen and touched, but delicately and lightly. I am driven everywhere, I am held while walked places. I am watched. Constantly. My mom is lying next to me even now. Pretending to sleep. I get messages of love all day from friends. I don't really know how I feel about that. I don't really know how I feel about anything.

Will anyone ever let me be alone again? Do I want to ever be alone again?

No one knows how to treat me. I don't even know how I want them to treat me? But I can't help but thinking that I'm going to see a lot less of them now. Because somehow I am now different.

And I don't want to go to sleep. And I don't want to stay awake. I don't want to eat. I don't want to be here, but I don't really have anywhere I do want to be either so I'm just sitting. I've also been told to feel and do whatever I want. And for the first time in a very long time, I can't even figure out what I'd rather be doing. Probably anything than living this life. It's tarnished and although I've been told it won't always feel that way. For now, I don't really believe them. I know they mean well, but like I said. This changes everything.

I don't think I'll publish this post now. But one of these days I know light will hit me and I will press one button that will send all this out into the world. And that will be that.

------

hmmm

2011-10-05T22:32:00.000-06:00

I cried three times today.

I don't know how this week snuck up on me. I didn't notice the days spinning by...between my ferver for school and new commitment to all things media (btw RIP Steve Jobs), it's easy to see why. but those things were distractions; intuitively encroaching themselves on my consciousness to shield me.

but now it's two days away and not even Ryan Gosling can keep my mind away from the obvious.

I read a funny thing. It said:

"I miss being the age where I thought I would have my shit together by the age I am now."

I'm 21. Tomorrow is my half birthday.

The next day is the anniversary of this. and I can't decide what to do with that day. All year I imagined that I would use it stroll down that path and assert my freedom from the oppression that that sort of thing naturally puts on a person. But now it's here---and that seems undoable. so undoable that panic finds itself in my chest with even the thought.

and it's all just serving as one big reminder that despite all the progress, all the good that has come, all the lessons learned,

it's never over.

I also thought by the anniversary I would have begun a national revolution about violence against women of some sort. I would have riled all the people around me into becoming activists. I would have gotten the talk going. I would have freed the oppressed. I would have lifted the broken.

but here I am, almost a year later and all I have to say for myself is

i'm still here.

so that will have to do. my quiet testament to life after rape will have to live in my quiet life.

maybe next year I'll start a life changing campaign to end this thing, this elusive violence against women. or maybe not.

because at the end of the day I know this sort of thing lies in the hands of individuals. And although national viewpoints can be destructive and demeaning, dangerous and deceitful, all I can ever really do is begin to enlighten the individual to a heightening issue that is threatening to destroy our culture. does that seem overly dramatic? think about it a minute.

and thank you for reading. and thank you for your prayers. and thank you for your words. I can't tell you how many times an e-mail or a comment has come from one of you, whether I know you in real life or not, that has picked me up at a low point. your words kept me connected, even when I couldn't leave my bedroom.

longest weekend of my life

2011-10-02T21:47:00.001-06:00

longest weekend of my life. but totally worth it. :)

I fear the wind

2011-10-01T19:03:00.002-06:00

You might think I was quoting a Disney channel original movie created circa 2000, and you'd be right. in part...

but also... I am discussing my complicated relationship with wind. the rush I get standing outside on a windy, unsettled night like this, is unlike any other i know. I would say it's 1/2 fear, 1/4 excitement, and 1/2 pure calming bliss. Tonight an empty suburban street felt like a deep corner of the Uintah's to my skin.

and I became a loan wanderer. of frontiers about to hibernate. but there are no more frontiers of palpable stance, and so my literal mind will have to resign itself to an unimaginable frontier of tradition.

standing in the wind is like an ephemeral grace that draws up a salty wanderlust in me.

so now I'm back inside considering the human impulse to move west (hello Christian Bale, I can take you to Sante Fe), and also the term of "going back east", employed whether you were ever there in the first place or not. like returning to collegiate New England or homesteading mountainous venues.

hell, I'm goin' to Tulsa, OK. OK?
middle America meets up with northern frailty and southern bruit.

and does New York really belong to all of us? (spelled U.S.)

hmm... something to consider while I toil endlessly on the inch thick glue left from 30 yr old vinyl wallpaper on the walls of my bedroom.

I'm back.

2011-09-28T16:24:00.003-06:00

My apologies to those of you who went to look at my blog in the past few weeks and found yourself blockaded. I was taking a much needed hiatus from sharing my soul with the world. Or more accurately, I was nursing my wounds like a little girl. I also took a break from facebook.

It was lovely.

but now I'm back.

and I'm ready to let all of you read all of me and interpret as you will.

I've been all wound up lately with the notion that I had been rejected. and no one likes to be rejected. but something changed my perspective and today I'm feeling so free. so ready. so open.

I'd like to surmise that part of this newfound glee resides in my newfound queen size bed and silky blue sheets. (compare Monday to Today... only difference is the bed)

regardless of reason, i'm feeling like...

what do you have for me next life?!

Bring. It. On.

shallow revelations, i know. but i'm busy catching up from the cold from hell that has been living in me all week.

more worthwhile things very soon.

coping

2011-09-26T00:18:00.002-06:00

another perk of this privatization of the blog:

i can be candid without being cryptic.

i know a thing or two about coping with upsets and setbacks and heartbreaks. undoubtedly they all end with me a better me. or at least a different me. but it takes some work. it takes some change.

so what's a girl with a broken heart that just isn't mending in her time frame to do?

cut off my hair?

no way, i've worked too hard for these locks.

get a new job?

nah, i am being a student.

move away?

come on Kels, you know that one doesn't work.

be destructive?

nope, won't help a thing.

laid up in bed all weekend, i had a chance to think a little more productively than a busy life allows.

and i remembered something strange i did right after what happened last year. i hung these lights.

i did it instinctively. it was my first move to fight back. i needed my space to be lighter, better, and more secure. my mom says that as weird as these lights were mid-October, she knew they meant i would be OK.

so i'm in the same mode again this year for a very different reason. this time i'm not hanging lights, instead i'm redecorating. i'm making conscious efforts towards bettering the space i occupy.

i had thought life was going one way and now it's going another way and so i am adapting...by buying beautiful new bedding and painting my walls blush. i think it will be just as helpful as the twinkle lights and much smarter than chopping my hair.

and it seems an apt use of my time as the anniversary of what happened comes rolling up. the goal will be to finish before October 7th. so that on that day i can sit in my new basement apartment and feel good about being alone and in such close proximity to a place i've meant to flea all year.

because the fact is i am more me than i was this time last year anyway and i want it to show in my environment.

i made the first change today and now i lie in billowing white bedding that happened to be in the linen closet... i'm such a happy girl.

do not start with me

2011-09-25T00:46:00.000-06:00

everything seems worse when sick.
and when everything is at its hardest, i usually get sick.

welcome to the travelling cold. it has lived up and down my body all week. ouch.

it's been a quiet week here on the blog. let me just say that it's not for lack of care or topic. In fact i began several really dumb posts this week. I thought about telling you all about my new BFF professor, or seeing Mary Poppins, or being carried across wet tar in the arms of a friendly construction man.

but now that my audience is more knowable and hand selected (you're welcome you lucky people), all that seems trite. and also, i already told most of you all of that.

so instead, in an effort to begin molding this space into what it will heretofore be for me, an update on some of the things i may not have told you:

first, a little nod to the universe (i.e. God). Thank you. i was pretty confused at first but now i get it.

second, i wouldn't go back to being 18 year old me for anything. not even unlimited goldfish. or an allotted nap time the rest of my life. or unlimited funds at jcrew. or a beautiful library with the best cushions and throws to lounge on. and those are all things i really really want.

third, occasionally something happens in me that turns me into a force to be reckoned with. this week i went through my childhood memorabilia to make more space in the garage and found a lovely little trinket that used to live on my wall. it reads:

"do not start with me, you will not win"

something of a mantra in my earlier years. i think i'm accurate in saying that time, coupled with some very humbling moments have mellowed me some.

but i also think i'm accurate in saying that that fire is not gone. and for whatever reason, i'm back full force, trying to figure out how to channel (corale might be a better word here) it all for the greater good.

wish me luck?

On going private

2011-09-19T18:54:00.001-06:00

I'm just not much in the mood to share myself. That's it.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

here goes nothing

2011-09-17T15:51:00.002-06:00

i've been meaning to articulate all this for sometime now today seemed like the right time, because today there is a football game happening. between BYU and U of U. apparently it's a big deal.

so as my disdain mounts for the fact that it's a big deal, it is clear that i need to sort through some of this hatred.

where to begin?

i'll begin with honesty... this thing between me and organized sports is admittedly, a personal vendetta and very little more. so if you're looking for a legitimate argument, best to stop reading now.

it began with a high school football game, in which my dance team was the halftime entertainment. about 2/3 of the way into our dance the football team stormed the field, our music was cut short and we were forcefully and shamefully ushered off the field. i'll be the first to acknowledge that excluding our parents, very few attendees were there to see us. but i think this epitomizes the issue at hand.

more about my experiences with high school football. the high school i attended feeds its players directly into college sports (cough* BYU football * cough), and for this reason along with fiscal gain and skewed pride, money was distributed abundantly to things like new turf and locker rooms for these jocks, when our state championship band could have really used the funding. interesting.

onto college, where i am at personal odds on the daily with the majority. Sports players, namely basketball and football ones get: personal book shoppers (heaven forbid they walk to the bookstore themselves), personal tutors (other students paid to help them through courses), and their very own locker/training rooms (even the other sports players have some resentment about this one).

*** as an aside, how does BYU feel good about the fact that Vivent sponsors them? it makes me think we are more tied to capitalism than i initially wanted to believe. damn.

please don't chide me with arguments of money, i promise that i understand why things are this way, i just don't like it.

i should be clear in saying that while i don't enjoy or understand sports and their faithful followers, it is not the actual game that gets me riled up. it is the games' usurping powers in my life.

bitter much? forgive me, my college revolutionary mindset and a broken heart have got me all worked up and i figured i would write about it before i say something regrettable to my study buddy that's wearing an I Am BYU t-shirt. talk about propaganda!!!! don't even get me started about Rise Up, the other t-shirt theme that seems to go remarkably well with the Raise the Bar proclamation of a few years back. which begs the question of how many of these students know the difference between supporting BYU football and supporting the church authorities?

as i write this i've got one neighbor mowing his lawn in his BYU get-up and another in his defiant U of U get-up, side by side, with nothing to separate them but patches of grass. excuse me while i scurry out of here before things get ugly.

9/11

2011-09-11T12:19:00.001-06:00

I dug this out of storage this morning; here is my 11 yr old understanding of that day:

(all grammar and spelling are completely intact)

9/11/01

Hi, Kelly(my journal's name...)

today is going to a day that will be recorded in history. today the world trate centers or twin towers were hit by planes & they collapsed. two planes were hi jacked & then flown into the buildings after the pentagon our countrys military base then another building that is part of the world trade center collapsed as a train reaction but luckily it was evacuated before it happened. we don't know if it is going to end in war or if its only terrerists. I found out about this today on the bus going to school my friend senica came on and started saying "the twin towers blew up" I immediately got scared. our school pretended nothing had happened so kids wouldn't panick or anything. G2G -Kelsey

it should also be noted for humor intent that this entry alternated between print and cursive handwriting...

I remember spending all day glued to the TV and in the coming months our school would organize the sale of books compiling our 5th and 6th grade poetry or letters thanking the heros and heroines of that day for their bravery.

politics aside (mostly because we all know I choose not to have any, ha!)...

I can't believe that happened in my lifetime, and also that I grew up during the tumultuous decade that has followed. A lot of people my age yearn for an earlier time, and most are inordinately drawn to the sixties. What I am realizing is that this decade, the two thousands (or however you say that correctly), is equally as wild, and presents equal opportunities for the passion (or dispassion) of the sixties. Our tools and our issues are different, instead of African Americans or Communists and Women (though these issues are far from put to rest) it's Mexicans or Terrorists and Gays. And instead of print and protests, there are blogs and websites.

I don't think I'm being too bold in saying our reach is far greater than we know, and though I've mentioned before I find myself hesitant or even unwilling to take a hard and fast stance, I am fascinated to be a part of it.

As an interesting digression and commemorative conclusion, dictionary.com's word of the day is Elegiac: relating to the mourning or remembering of the dead.

appropriate, no?

.

2011-09-11T01:39:00.000-06:00

in an effort at honesty and reflection and all those other painful things....

writing that last post was like checking off the last of my to-do list:
-go to yoga
-clean house
-deposit checks, balance check book
-go shopping
-do homework
-write a blog post

i talk here about healing, and growing up, and sorting it all out. well something has occurred to me this week as i deal with that thing, you know, that thing that i didn't see coming.

a change has happened in me, not in my circumstance.

i'm not more resilient

the different is in my knowledge of my capacity to do life.

i'll explain it this way:

------
remember your first fight with your best friend? how you think you'll never get over it and the world has ended, and you're 12 yrs old? and then you make up, or you don't, but either way--- life goes on?

then you get older and your heart gets broken for the first time. because you're young. and he's young. and you don't understand half of what's going on, but you're sure you know it all. so you're sobbing because he was the one.

then you turn 18 and you are an adult but all that seems to mean is more and harder decisions and then some really shit things happen and you kinda wish that fighting with your BFF was all that was on your mind

and in all the years of this and that, here is what you learn:

it's all relative and time heals and la di da.

-------

it's this knowledge that's kept me going all week. i did all my things and then some. i didn't let this stumble take me down because i had real world things to do--i had a life to live!

so today after i finished that blog post, my complete to do list finished and my best means of distraction (Parks and Recreation...) being over and all, i had time.

and that time turned into a diatribe on college sports that actually had nothing to do with college sports. and that turned into a youtube sesh of Grease and Taylor Swift songs.

and now i'm in bed wishing it was Monday morning because though healthy and necessary, indulging this for a moment really hurts....

Summer Lovin'

2011-09-10T17:00:00.001-06:00

it is amazing to me that this girl and i didn't think of this earlier.

using forever 21 as our personal dress up closet.

here we are being Sandra Dee and Danny Zuko

ya know, during you're the one that i want

(it's hard to tell but my version of this costume actually consists of shiny leopard print pants)

as for the rest of my life... it's feeling pretty neat and tidy. it's full, but not bursting. it's productive, but also fun. for the moment at least, i've struck a nice balance. or maybe i'm just tricked because i just balanced my check book and nothing else makes me feel more on top of life.

we'll see how it goes.

U.S of A

2011-09-07T18:24:00.003-06:00

I think ironic is one of the most mis/overused words. so i try not to use it ineffectually.

but it is ironic that i am a declared American Studies major, but when the national anthem plays on campus, i remain supine, reveling instead in the obedient way in which each passing student stands with hand to heart.

or maybe i should subtract the word altogether, because it could also be called beautiful that i can simultaneously enjoy the freedoms of a nation and decline to vote for its leaders.

yes, that is likely just what is so appealing to me about it.

i never mean to do something which i don't understand. so when asked for allegiance, i want to know why and to whom/what, or else count my opinion-positive or negative-out entirely.

i know far too much about the many ways in which propaganda is seeping into my everyday consciousness to voice, let alone stand by any type of opinion.

instead i am devoting myself, in the academic realm at least, to understanding. understanding my heritage (Oh no, did i just become a white girl searching for purpose in her roots?!).

let me clarify, i mean to understand being an "American", the same way i mean to understand being a woman, or a Mormon, or anything else that i am. Or maybe i intend to understand the Americans around me, to whom i vehemently contradict.

ok ok... i'm being hasty and too intense. i can't encompass enough but i also can't narrow my range at all...

let me subtract the offensive pronoun and state simply.....

Yay for American Studies!

didn't see that coming

2011-09-06T11:46:00.002-06:00

One of the worst parts of beings on pain meds for any amount of time is that life gets a little blended up and it becomes very hard to know what has really happened and what you dreamed. It seems to me that someone confessed an addiction to pornography and someone else is getting hair extensions... the fun part is I don't remember who. ha. best to assume anything that happened in those five days was a dream. alas! I also planned and then unplanned a casino night with chicken fingers....

but yesterday. yesterday did happen. and i wasn't on any medication and i wasn't suffering from premenstrual syndrome. it really did happen. when i wrote this a week ago, i was right. but i really had no way of knowing what exactly i was sensing with my intuitive antennae (hehe, more and more like an insect each post).

it's a hard hit. and it's probably going to feel like a hard hit for a while. but it's fleeting...

and i'll be ok again.

it's all about the big picture anyway..... right?!

sick of being sick

2011-09-04T21:24:00.001-06:00

i think i am my worst self when i don't feel well. i lose patience and perspective. i get grouchy and short with the people that i love. it's awful.

so today is day 5 of the most recent run of such behavior. the first few days i wasn't aware enough to know it. the second few days i tried to push myself into recovery i wasn't ready for, with much frustration. and finally today i just gave up and spent all day in bed.

pathetic.

then i had a change of perspective. the kind that comes from being just so sick of your current situation that you make a shift.

it happened while perusing this site.

i'm no longer feeling so sorry for myself... because there is more than me on my mind.

as a side note... the exploratory laporsomething or the other went well and we now know what we needed to know.

Back to school

2011-08-30T11:08:00.001-06:00

Back to school, back to school... to prove to daddy that i'm not a fool.

oh me oh my. there are so many people here, just people watching is sensory overload and i find myself confined to the basement where it's quiet and cool (do those qualifications make me sound like a spider to you too?)

gah... i'll be out the remainder of this week for exploratory lapor-something or the other... i.e. could anyone give me good ideas on movies or shows that are streaming instantly online? imma be couching it for a few days. merci!

blended segues

2011-08-26T16:58:00.000-06:00

i can feel it. i'm standing at the precipice of life as it's going to appear for me. and i'm anxious. i want to jump.

it's the change of seasons (not literally, because it is still a painful 95 degrees here).

but one phase has ended and another is beginning. transitions, especially anticipated ones can feel so long sometimes.

i lean towards over preparedness in all aspects of life, and that kind of forethought can really meddle with the present moment and a persons expectations.

things change quick at this age. ah.. what am i saying? things can change quick at any age.

so maybe the wisdom lies in being able to adapt just as quickly while staying true.

as i prepare for a few things that are quite unfamiliar and uncomfortable to me, i can see my mind tirelessly wrapping ropes around all the bits of my understanding about life and who i am, hopelessly trying to amass them into one whole consciousness.

and it occurs to me that they are coming regardless of my planning.

life is happening all around me in perfect melodies and seamless segues.

so perhaps all this abstract babble sprinkled with reality is just my way of nodding to the passing time and acknowledging my simultaneous participation and lack of any real control.

via

for a giggle

2011-08-23T23:04:00.001-06:00

I have gotten mid post into what I thought might be thoughtful and articulate posts several times in the past few days, with no avail. So instead of trying to to be thoughtful and articulate, I've got a story and some pictures...

Last night neither my mom or I could sleep... so instead we stayed up until 2 AM pinning in my twin sized bed. my mother is a master pinner... and here are a few of the gems that had us in stitches late last night.

I know a simple truth

2011-08-21T11:45:00.001-06:00

I know a simple truth about people... When we accomplish something hard for us, we like ourselves very much and that kind of confidence then turns in to another hard task accomplished. It looks very different for each of us... But it's the same concept.

I'm going to go ahead and take a leap here in saying that we, as people, are largely if not entirely self limiting. We convince ourselves something is out of reach or out of our capabilities and we resign ourselves to a life of 'could have' kind of thoughts.

I myself have put some of those limits on myself, usually due to circumstance or more realistically fear. Some of the time that's alright.. But then there are those things that if verbalized will have painful holes poked in their logic by those close enough to care.

It's a long way to say that all I needed was someone brave enough to question it and patient enough to allow me time.

I went hiking. Alone. And that is something I had accepted would never be part of my life again. Until the question was raised... I reacted strongly and it took some time... But look at me now.

Picture taken by a friendly hiker.

I want to stick with the brutally honest nature of this blog and admit that I spent the entire hike planning my escape and checking to be sure I had service on my phone. And to be sure, the experience is going to always be a different one for me, because as much as I heal and get strong and forgive... I'm not sure I can ever forget, not entirely.

But I did it. And that's enough for now.

Thank you green eyes.

Location:Rock Canyon

saturday is a special day

2011-08-20T21:49:00.000-06:00

i spent today relishing alone time. there's something about a saturday with no obligations that is just so... so necessary sometimes. i used my free day to organize my life and clean my house. :)

once upon a time i wrote (describing myself),

"I like to organize, but I wish I was an artist"

at some point i concluded that i could do both... create and live a productive life. what an extreme and settling realization it was. it occurred to me that i create best when i am organized.

i'm sitting in my room with a newly cleaned out wardrobe (goodbye pants from high school....) and re-tabbed file cabinet, bills are paid and media files are backed up. Phew.

so...ahem...announcement...

meet my new portal to organization and creativity

I never meant to become a mac snob!!! it just happened!

Thank you Dadio. :)

Evolution

2011-08-17T22:08:00.000-06:00

I saw my therapist today, my back stage cheerleader, my inner truth embodied and spoken in a person.

Today we chatted like old friends. Telling stories and reveling in my small and large successes in the last ten and a half months (what a year it's been!).

I remember the first time I sauntered sullenly into his office, mere weeks after being attacked, and sat curled on his couch behaving like an inarticulate teenager with a foul mouth.

He describes that first visit much kinder, saying that I was merely afraid to be alive at that moment, afraid to even breathe. He tells me he could see my light that first day, even though I couldn't.

At one of those early visits I decided to go for the direct attack, asking him blatantly why he would want to work with people like me, people that had been broken down and humiliated the way no one should be. He answered simply that he liked watching people rise from the ashes. ha! I laughed out loud and resigned myself to resolutely die in my flames.

I'm not sure what's happened between now and then... a little of this a little of that, a few highs and some more lowly lows, some major realizations and some slow and painful work I guess... it can't really be attributed to any one thing or person, instead my healing is a smattering of all of it.

My fire did and will continue to shape me (nothin better than a little heat under you to get things happening); I do feel like the phoenix rising from the ashes or the snake shimmying out of used skin. I've evolved. I've shed unnecessary coverings and cleansed as deeply as possible.

maybe it's strange, but I can't say I regret any of the events of this year or any of the past 21, the ones in my control and beyond....

instead i am vastly and unabashedly thankful for them; the vulgar and the improper, the true and the shunned, the small and the earth-shaking.

the moments that make me me.

Midnight thundershowers

2011-08-15T00:50:00.001-06:00

It's strange, that moment when nothing could be better.

Yesterday our retreat ended with a tearful circle that felt surreally like an LDS testimony meeting. I have the best job in the world.

Now I am listening to the pelting rain and gusting wind and wondering what I did to get so lucky.

I've been found out

2011-08-11T20:04:00.001-06:00

I've been called out. Hard core. It's rare that someone feels comfortable enough to call me on my BS. But like I said last post, this week and these people have lulled me into an honest portrayal of myself.

So there it was... I asked about a physical pain I've been experiencing for a few years now and got a scary response. Essentially it ended with me sheepishly shuffling off the mat with a red face and tears near leaking status.

I should be clear, my embarrassment comes straight from my insecurities. With the inability to excuse, lie, or side step a question, the reality hit hard.

It'd be great if I were brave enough to repeat the conversation here in this public forum. But I am not that girl today.

The long and the short of it is lands here:

I MUST find a way to enjoy my body in Utah... I MUST stop whining of fear and preference and a full schedule.

Who will take me hiking/biking/anything-ing?!?!

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Humility

2011-08-10T12:30:00.001-06:00

Ego.

Sometimes I get confused about my age, maturity, abilities, and knowledge. At 17 I knew it all. At 21, I know nothing.

At this retreat I am everyone's little sister or daughter. Some of them are seconds away from pinching my cheeks, and strangely enough, I really like it. It gives me leave to act my age, enjoy my naivety, and ask questions.

There are all kinds of people here; from teachers to neuroscientists to full time yogis. And they're all here in the same spirit of unassuming learning, peace and growth.

In this setting I am finding a new type of humility. Not the type that comes from getting knocked down and broken, but the type that comes from a deep relieving exhale. It's the moment you realize you have nothing to prove and find security in the absolution of your true self.

-

Sweat lodge

2011-08-07T15:51:00.001-06:00

40 people crouching in a 10x10 fabric covered dome and hot rock soup in the middle. Add an eagle feather and some chanting and you've got an Indian sweat lodge.

Wild.

Freakin' hippy's. :)

Lovely retreat so far. I've been at this yoga business for 4 years now... And I am still at the very beginning of the beginning of my journey. Exciting, no?

This morning as i jerked through second series my mind kept telling me to quit. My body felt stiff from my week in bed and traveling all day yesterday. So my mind kept saying things like 'my ovary hurts', 'I'm too tired', 'I'm too weak', 'i don't know enough'. In yoga this destructive voice is called the inner critic. I'd like to dismiss mine and replace it with a more truthful voice, known as the inner guru. Or maybe just hoping to lose my inner voice completely, live more from my heart and spirit. Because being hurried or stressed or anxious are states of mind, no? Gah, I've trapped myself in my own words again...

Here's something though:

Today was the first time I have been even remotely alone in the great outdoors since it happened... I stood looking at the river in a flow of pine trees. With faint sounds of the group chanting in the sweat lodge and burning sage weaving through my salt curled hair, I cried. I cried three tears that rolled into one stream under my chin and swiftly dried up.

It is the beginning... and I can do anything I want. And I will always be healing and life will be a gracious procession of phases and drags.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:Mt. Shasta

Retreating

2011-08-05T19:28:00.002-06:00

All my favorite clothes into one suitcase for one week of some of my favorite things... Yoga, hiking and healthful delicious food.

I'm retreating folks, if I'm feeling introspective you might hear from me... Otherwise you can assume I'm in a tranquil, blissful place. Or possibly so sore from attempting the ashtanga second series that I can't move.

Namaste

An update after my last post:

I survived. I am still in quite a bit of pain, but am weening off the gnarly drugs and hope that a week of sunshine and yoga will help restore my body and get me back in touch.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Pink pills and a heavy head

2011-08-03T09:46:00.001-06:00

Day 2 of bed rest and unwitting painkillers.

I've got this belief that my body knows better than my mind. It's a higher intelligence that can guide me to better health if i learn to listen.

It's an ever evolving motion of changing needs that depend on all sorts of variables; from time of year to time of day to life demands, it has to be a constant conversation between mind and body.

Sometimes I miss something crucial and my body acts out to get my attention.

2 nights ago I landed sobbing in the ER with a burst Ovarian cyst ( that might be an over share, but I'm still high/ get over it). Once they had me pumped full of goodness knows what and I could think again I began taking in my situation and feeling what can only be deemed incredible anger...

It's been an extremely rough year marked with not one but three ER visits I really could have done without. Good things do not happen there and I fought the clock and medication the whole time as I was not going to let my guard down and sleep in such a place.

Skip forward 12 hours and I find myself in the loving arms of a non traditional doctor gaining some much needed perspective. What was I missing? Why had my body gone to such drastic measures to get my attention?

I don't know all the reasons but I'm feeling strangely thankful to my woman parts for getting my attention... Maybe they're cleaning house so that I can physically leave all the worst bits of what's happened to them behind.

That's all for now, things are getting foggy again... Ha

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

salt water heals all

2011-08-01T10:09:00.001-06:00

tears, sweat and the sea.

"i believe in crying the way most people believe in exercise.

that it should be engaged in often and that it's essential for the health of the body."

-MEG FEE of The Wild and Wily Ways of a Brunette Bombshell

bits

2011-07-31T18:06:00.000-06:00

topics and words have been streaming quickly past me, just out of reach like silver smoke in syncopated wind.

two days of sleep and turquoise calm.

it's strange, this reassuring purity of soul.

and the mesh filter that's got me listening to Josh Groban and dreaming of dancing.

it almost seems uncalled for, the unsolicited beauty and unwarranted ethereal reality.

they're cryptic meanderings, no?

i apologize.

they're all i've got today as i'm feeling more tender and gentle today than usual.

Probably not worth the read; a personal post

2011-07-26T23:54:00.001-06:00

I've recently committed myself to sleep without aid... It's part of this whole 'welcome back to the real world' phase I find myself in.

Some nights it's easier than others. Tonight I've got a tired body and a whirring mind; possibly the worst combo as it results in shaking legs and twisted sheets.

So it is, I am lying in bed caught in a web of wants and needs, pasts and futures, memories and movies. Today it took me the whole morning to sort out which bits of my dream have really happened.

I've never been one for details, I choose to exist instead on more of a general picture level. Concepts are better than facts and the way someone made you feel is much more important than how they did it. The numbers, and even the words don't matter so much except to the outsiders... And maybe the cynics.

As a person I hold bits, strange bits. The thing I remember most about my parents divorce is some time I spent huddled under a blanket next a vent with my cat. It's a strangely calm memory, for observation. The thing I remember most about the day of my attack is similar.. I spent the day wrapped but aside. I didn't speak much, just watched... The cops my family my friends swirling all about and... And him. I watched him. I wasn't really there but I was watching and not speaking. From the moment he touched me to many days later I watched my life and did not live it.

I don't love it; living in a mind that can't seem to grasp the present. But such is mortality, and all this babble has got me feeling tired.

And I better call my guardian mom for a bedtime cuddle... Helps to slow the mind and ease you into a sleep where you feel safe.. Also abates the nightmares some
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:Bed

business

2011-07-25T16:56:00.000-06:00

I spent all morning with a new friend....

His name is Dunny and we had a great 5 hour ride today. :)

I've been lazy about my innately woman tab as of late. My apologies and a bit to read to start you thinking again. more from me on this soon.

Also for all of you poets out there, some friends are starting a zine. don't ask me what that is, because i don't know, perhaps a mini magazine? anyhow i'll be submitting to them for their first issue and so you should too.

provopoetrysubmissions@gmail.com

you don't have to be a local writer and they are accepting poems and {very} short stories until July 31st! Good luck!

Here I am

2011-07-22T11:37:00.001-06:00

I remember when just getting out of bed or leaving my house for a simple task like washing my car made for a successful day.

Today has me feeling confident that those days are through...

I am astounded at how nice it feels to wake up at a sensible hour and plow through a to-do list. Now I'm sitting with an hour to spare before my noon yoga class at the yoga studio.

And I'm using my spare hour to eat some Vegan Nachos and revel in the peace and calm that has recently washed over my little life.

Last night I wept in gratitude as i was handed a piece of paper. Because that piece of paper felt like the finishing line in those extremely painful last few strides of any race. And I was amazed that something so small and thin could signify an end and a beginning simultaneously.

But I guess that's always how it goes... Endings blurring into beginnings.

It's ironic, or maybe providential, that the worst things in your life can and often do turn you down roads to find the best things in your life.

At least that's been my experience. Not to worry my darlings, I am now well aware of the cyclical nature of life, the danger of stagnation and the constant vulnerabilities of the human spirit.

And I think I can live with all that...

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

on being an artist

2011-07-20T09:57:00.001-06:00

Elizabeth Gilbert on nurturing creativity | Video on TED.com

a beautiful reminder to keep showing up for your side of the work and trust in whatever comes next.

a soul's capacity

2011-07-18T22:38:00.001-06:00

The day after the worst day i was beautiful.

i woke up in the morning and looked in the mirror at a person i didn't recognize. i stared into the mirror at a glowing young woman, with feeble eyes and an understated harmony... but at the moment all i could see/comprehend of myself were the physical differences; (i.e. bright eyes, clear skin and the best hair day of my life)

and up until this weekend i'd chalked it up to terrible irony and a great deal of adrenaline..

and then it was presented to me in a new way; perhaps my physical appearance that day (that whole first month really) was a reflection or a reminder of the child of God i still was, even after the worst day.

i've seen a lot of beautiful things, but few can contend with the tears that are the only way to celebrate a glimpse of the worth of a soul.

i may just be the luckiest girl in the world.

a clean slate.

2011-07-13T18:19:00.000-06:00

today is a big day for me.

today i am free from the menaces of the failings of our system as it were.

pretty steep proclamation, huh? well i meant it.

strangely, this day is cruising by like any other day. it seems like i should feel more elation or jubilation or some other kind of -ation... instead, i went to work and then the dentist.

ah well. perhaps it's appropriate i fulfill my obligations, on this, the day that i re-enter adulthood...sort of...(when does that actually begin i wonder?)

when you've been living one day at a time for so long, it is wildly exciting and freeing to notice how much time you have in front of you.

here's to a life lived with eyes wide open.

no, this does not connect at all... but i think it would be a huge generational betrayal for me not to blog about what happens in two days.

speechless

2011-07-07T20:32:00.000-06:00

the unexpected losses and unfathomable triumphs seem to be the life blood of youth.

my capacity for learning and growing and loving seems to be increasing at an unprecedented rate. but what else are your early twenties, if not years for deep and quick expansion?

life feels accessible to me at the moment, so open for interpretation and exploration.

for the first time in years i find myself investing instead of uprooting; it's lovely to feast on that footpath, and the subsequent serenity can be found in my breath.

last post i mentioned an excursion... well it was an excursion that can only fully be described as dreamy.

{check out my patriotic craftiness!!!}

i'm keeping details to myself for now, but i wanted to mention one bit of the trip that continues to haunt me days later...

whilst in a seemingly innocuous conversation with a certain someone,

i was rendered speechless.

and i must emphasize, that never happens to me. i can always scramble a fragmented sentence or at least an audible "um..." or "sure" . occasionally i will also choose not to respond because i'm upset and know better, or maybe i can't form my words into coherent sentences right away...but at that moment, i was not choosing to be silent, but was put there when my mind and breath abandoned me simultaneously.

my point? i'm flustered. and it's fabulous.

Happy Birthday America

2011-07-01T11:58:00.001-06:00

En route to sunny California... :)

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Ashtanga

2011-06-28T20:27:00.000-06:00

practicing yoga is the only way i know how to accept myself.

it is the only place i know how to live in my questions and let go of a petty grasp for concrete answers.

with sore muscles and an overflowing mind, i find myself inching towards sunshine and deep rooted self assurance.

soul stretching

2011-06-26T19:06:00.002-06:00

there have been an ample slew of inspirations intruding on me lately.

{via}

between the green of my little mountain home town and the whispers of newness and life in my ears; i find myself overwhelmed, over come and maybe a little over extended.

{the back of Timpanogas in Utah}

my words don't seem enough these days. they prance loudly like inaccurate stabs at the human condition.

but that won't stop me from trying. again and again and again.

living with unkempt contempt, bigger each sentence.

there is heat and turbulence in my solar plexus, and it shakes like a growing muscle.

it occurs to me there are ways to avoid all this. and then i remember i tried those; they didn't work.

so i suppose i'm resigned to the constant state of gooey malleability.
even though it's the worst.

such is life.

mile marker

2011-06-22T16:44:00.000-06:00

Out of all the reckless things I've done in my life, this is by far the scariest.

My therapist told me that an indicator of my healing progress will be if I am ever able to open to another human being again. With silent indignation I argued that sealing off and closing up is easier, albeit lonelier, but much easier.

I was right.
so was he.

I am making an effort.
I am uncomfortable and anxious in all the best ways.
I am terrified.
I am loving this.

For now just a quick one to exclaim what should be written with exclamation marks...

wish me and my little heart luck?

dadio

2011-06-19T16:43:00.001-06:00

Here is my effort at surprise visiting my Dad today. It was a good effort.

There's no question about it. I am a daddy's girl through and through.

Love you Dadio.

oh, and this is my 200th post. i wouldn't be here without your support, so a big cyber THANK YOU.

for you

2011-06-15T22:48:00.000-06:00

it's been a long day and an even longer life. i'm bridesmaiding this weekend so i'll probably be sparse in these parts. here's to old friends and new possibilities...

via

don't say i never gave you anything.

2011-06-12T19:20:00.000-06:00

Enjoy kiddos. For more CLICK HERE.

Fenced in nature

2011-06-11T14:14:00.002-06:00

It's lovely here; pressing sunshine, blooming flowers and snow capped mountains. I have but one complaint, one which I ought to take up with myself...

You'll notice in the picture I am on the inside of that wooden fence. But I can see those sturdy mountains. They are mere minutes from my front door, these countless opportunities to explore and play.

I bet you're wondering why I'm still sitting in my back yard then.

It has to do with people and how much I hate them.

Part of the appeal of nature is the time alone with your thoughts. Walking for an entire hour without seeing another soul is one of the most rejuvenating things I know of.

But nature and I had a little problem some months back and now just the thought of being with it all alone sends me into a dizzying thought pattern of irrational fear.

I'm looking hard for some type of compromise or way around all this... But in the meantime I find myself staring at my sanctuary from inside a fence. And that's got me feeling all sorts of conflict and anger.

I MUST find a way to fix this, because I may not make it through a summer spent observing and not doing.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:Provo, Utah

.

2011-06-09T17:05:00.001-06:00

Everything's the worst!

--Liz Lemon

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:In bed

i find myself. missing you.

2011-06-08T21:21:00.002-06:00

life's gotten simple.
it's turned into a day-to-day shuffle.
just the way i like it.

when life slows down, i get a moment to breathe,
and with breathe comes awareness,
and with awareness comes pain.

can i admit that i'm extremely lonely without sounding the "please be my friend, i'm so sad and pathetic" bell? cause i am. but it's a necessary kind of lonely, and it's a lonely i've been unintentionally carving out for myself a while now. (you may have noticed you dear stragglers that have been holding on for dear life...)

so i'm living a solitary life with but one aim...

learning to love myself again (or maybe for the first time).

i want to fall in love with myself.

i want to love being alone, and love being in a crowd, and love myself at work, and love myself as i wander and shuffle through a lazy, dusty Utah summer. i want to love being me.
tiny eyebrows and all....

and i want, no i need, to do it alone.

answers to some questions

2011-06-04T14:59:00.001-06:00

yes, i am a vegetarian.

yes, i get enough protein.

no, i do not care if you eat meat, so stop trying to bother me by doing so in front of me.

and no, i do not care if you "only eat fish". or whatever. we can still be friends.

why do i do it? lets talk in person about that one.

some of you have asked me what i ate while living in Morocco. Meet Shane....

my Australian flat mate, good friend, and miracle vegetarian chef. Shane and I crossed paths in Morocco last spring and man did i want to take him home with me, but so did every single one of our guests. for that reason he published this cookbook. i just received my copy and can't wait to start re-creating all the delicious vegetarian/vegan recipes he taught me about first hand.

in blog news, thanks for all who entered my iPod giveaway. This lovely lady won by luck of the draw. :) you should check out her blog, she is one of the best writers i know. she is also my former room(bed?)mate, and the major reason i had to courage to even get to Morocco (click here)

in the ridiculous life of Kelsey news, my car got towed last night and it made me cry. and once you start crying it's kind of hard to stop because you remember all the other reasons you have to cry. so i spent a sobby few hours and way too much money retrieving it (a big thanks to this one, and her fiance for toting my weepy self around). so now i plan to become the queen of ksl by selling all the electronics i own but don't know how to use.

wish me luck my cyber friends!
xoxo

The 10,000 hour rule

2011-05-29T12:01:00.001-06:00

I read in a Malcom Gladwell book that it takes 10,000 hours of practice to become an expert at something. He proves his point with people like Mozart, the Beatles, and some computer programmer people I had never heard of...

Now 21 feels a little late to be beginning a journey into expertdom if you ask me... So I began thinking of things I'd already invested some hours into.

Could I become an expert facebooker?

What about an expert walker? I rarely fall and I'm certainly past the 10,000 hour mark on that.

Or how about an expert friend? I have had friends for years... I wonder if sending a text counts as expert training friend time?

You see the dilemma...

So here I sit with some spare time on my hands, time which could be used to facilitate my rise to expert status, and what am I doing?

Playing with my new toy, the iPhone 4. And as much as I want to tell you about the app I got for quizzing myself on yoga pose names, updating my Netflix queue, and blogging (see exhibit 1), etc. I always hated those Apple snob people that talk about it incessantly- so I will stop myself here and just say....

Only 4 of you have entered my iPod giveaway. Maybe you think it's not real or that I'm not worth following, even for an iPod shuffle. Whatever your hang up is, may I urge you to put it aside and leave me a comment?

Otherwise there is a 50% chance I will be handing this prize over to one of my coworkers, who I coerced into entering... Coerced with a smile that is. :)

You still have two days! Follow me publicly and leave a comment and you're in.

Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

How yoga saved my life

2011-05-27T18:18:00.000-06:00

i could tell you about the community of yogis i am a part of that so lovingly supports me. or i could tell you how yoga makes me stronger and softer in one smooth motion. i could tell you how much joy and patience i find in practicing.

but that all feels a little cliche, a little scripted, and a little facade-y. and i mean to penetrate..so i'll say this instead:

yoga teaches me to push my limits and respect my boundaries.

i know how to breathe through the kind of discomfort that comes with change, and i know how to back off when i'm doing myself damage, and i know how to tell the difference for me. and i wouldn't know any of that without yoga.

one of the hard things about... well... about anything... is that we are all designed, sculpted and conditioned so individually. which means, when it comes to answering questions about how to live/eat/worship etc., you're the only one that can fully answer them.

sometimes things happen that really throw you off kilter. they scatter your beliefs and disturb your ability to connect with yourself. this was one of those for me. i forgot how to answer my own questions. i completely lost touch with my body and my spirit. i even stopped practicing yoga for a while.

when i say yoga saved my life, i really mean it. mere weeks after the fact i stood on a ledge...and when i recieved repurcussions for my destructive behavior, it didn't sit well with my knowledge of who i am. and then i made some slow and painful changes. (here's when i realized it if you need help piecing this vague info together).

so nowadays, as i flit from therapist to doctor to friends and back again, those people become my mirror and it becomes more and more clear...

i am going to be OK.

and that's largely due to yoga and the self knowledge it has perpetuated in my being.

so while there continue to be dips and spikes in the line graph that is my eternal progression, consider this my cosmic thank you to the universe (or God, if you will) for yoga, and how it saved my life.

a bit of honesty

2011-05-23T19:58:00.001-06:00

I've been avoiding this post, but as I have committed to documenting things thoroughly and also because writing here is so therapeutic, here it is: a bit of honesty from some uninhibited writing on a sunny Washington DC day:

i'm scared. really scared. so scared that I just spent 8 hours in my hotel room mustering up the confidence to get on the metro and see some amazing things. so scared that i believe without sunglasses strange people will somehow read the fear in my eyes and attack. i've always believed you get what you put out there. i worry that what i put out there is permission to be taken advantage of.

thus. i spent 8 hours hiding today.
i used to be brave. i used to be fearless. i used to be independent to a fault.
as things have settled down around me i've been digging myself deeper into a depression that sings a black song of 'i can't' into a protected space in my mind.
i can't travel alone. i can't love anyone right. i can't be forgiven. i can't be healed.

but i imagine some self doubt and mild fear is normal for a 21 yr old girl tryin' to make her way in a lonely world (haha). but i can't seem to come to terms with how much of all that has always lived inside of me. and how much of it was placed there on an ill-fated rainy afternoon.

(as hilarious post-script, i also have written in my journal some very heated arguments for why i will never participate in activities that require me to travel in a group with matching t-shirts. and also why i think it's dumb that the Washington monument seems to be nothing more than a phallic power symbol, although at the time i couldn't think of the word phallic and just called it a giant penis)

there you have it. my thoughts unedited. i wanted to share this bit of post-adolescent emotion for a few reasons. # 1, to keep it real around here. # 2 to express the tremendous amount of energy i expend to leave my house each day. # 3 so that hopefully the next time one of you tells me how good i'm doing you can remember this and allow me to disagree.

i know. i know. i need to be patient with myself. but here's the thing, i'm not such a patient person. so.... i'm doing my best.

in other news. i think i'll get an iphone. the internet and subsequent access to an online thesaurus should allow me to side step anymore awkward mentions of national monuments and genitalia. among other benefits.

I'm off to the city where anything is possible....

2011-05-19T22:54:00.000-06:00

We'll be celebrating (and relishing) the last moments in my dear friend Tracy's single life.

and we're going to do it right. what does that mean you ask? well...

what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.... right?!

I'm crooning for crooners

2011-05-17T17:57:00.001-06:00

my Dad raised me on songs like these. along with the Beatles, Edith Piaf and Neil Sedaka.

i'm still not in the mood for honesty today. so i thought i'd leave you these to enjoy instead... sing along. please.

thoughts from our nation's capitol

2011-05-16T21:09:00.005-06:00

I tagged along on my mom's business trip to Washington DC this past week. Partially because I haven't been there since I was a kid and partially because my mom is still a bit scared to leave me on my own (I don't really blame her)

Overall, I'd call it a successful trip.. some photo's for your viewing pleasure..

as you can see i wasn't really at my finest this trip. but more on that tomorrow because i'm not feeling extremely honest tonight and what i have to say about this trip requires blunt honesty in order to resonate.

for today i'll just share a short story about my new found social awkwardness. i hope it makes you giggle. it made me want to cry.

i found myself wandering alone in old town Alexandria Thursday morning after an oh-so-lovely yoga class at a local studio. meandering in and out of antique furniture shops, i was starting to feel at ease in this foreign setting. blessed with the lightness of after yoga prana and that fearlessness a good sunshiny day can give you, everything felt lovely...

until.... i happened upon a midwifery clinic.

i should pause to give some background here. i've been on a bit of a maternal/feminine/empty-womb/ithinkilikekidsnow kick as of late (i mention it here). i am particularly fascinated with all the natural birthing options. i.e. midwives and doula's.

back to my story. i see this midwife clinic and naively think i'll just go in and see if they've got some pamphlets about why you should use a midwife versus a doctor (why should you?!), or maybe talking about some mothers that had lovely experiences with their midwifes.

no. turns out midwife clinics are not places you can casually wander in and out of like you're window shopping "maybe I'll get a midwife today..."

so i walk in and immediately get trapped into a conversation with a grumpy receptionist in a very unfriendly looking waiting room full of pregnant ladies. and zero pamphlets. shit.

i mumble something awkward about maybe being kind of interested in finding out more about the possibilities of midwifery, blah, blah, blah. she misinterprets. or possibly i am so uncomfortable at this point that i am unclear. in any case, she assumed i was pregnant and i allowed her to because by the time i realized it it felt too late.

"when are you due?

"um... i don't know" (what month is it?!?! when is 9 months from now"

"when was the first day of your last mentrual period?"

"um... i'm not sure" (trying to do math in my head... how long does it take to know you're pregnant?!)

"ok.. well lets set up an appointment and the midwife can help you figure all this out.. what is your address?"

"um.... I don't know... I'm new here"

"ok..why don't you come in tomorrow at 3 and we'll figure this all out" (bless this woman's soul)

i hurriedly gave her the wrong number and scampered out. i can only assume i appeared a scared, newly unplanned pregnant, very young, girl. deer in head lights is how i'd describe my end of things.

lesson learned. just like you shouldn't walk into planned parenthood to find out about contraception options, don't walk into a midwife clinic for pamphlets. they don't hand them out.

fail. monumental fail. catastrophic fail. i then hid in my hotel room for several hours.

the end.

addiction

2011-05-11T10:45:00.000-06:00

I want to talk about it.
I want to talk about it because it's been a part of my life in a really socially unacceptable way for the last few years and also because it's been a part of my life in much sneakier and socially acceptable ways for... well forever.

I'll define it the way I understand it so that we're all on the same page:

an addiction is a compulsion. any type of compulsion you do in order to stay outside yourself.

some common and more obvious presentations may be substance abuse, over or under eating, over sexing, over shopping, etc. (insert your "drug of choice") these are pretty easy to categorize and point out. these are socially unacceptable, even unlawful at times.

some less obvious but perhaps more common presentations may be over zealous contributions to school, church or state, meticulous housekeeping (or the opposite), over exercising, too much television or internet time, etc. (insert your "drug of choice")

see what I mean? it's much more acceptable to have a strikingly clean house and be disarmingly competitive in school than to be an alcoholic. but while that might be true, the two actually exist in the same vein.. So while some will destroy your life in more visible ways... i do believe quite strongly that ranking some as "better" and some as "worse" is wrong.

did i offend or surprise you? probably... keep reading.

so why, then, do we do it? why do we act compulsively and sometimes so destructively? hmm... hell if i know, i'm new at this attempt at "living a conscious life" thing...ha. kidding...

i can probably safely and loosely answer by saying that it's a coping mechanism of sorts. for coping with the things of life. and different things of life come each of our ways. and that can probably account for the variation in behavior. but more on this another time because i'm no expert.

I'll save myself a public admittance for the moment by not pointing out which behaviors I lean towards and instead just tell you that I do lean towards several. particularly in times of crisis.

and due to these leanings, I often find myself in a shaky place. it's a place where I live outside myself, with no real knowledge of what I need or even want. it's a place where I feel nuts. it's the place i live when i make those questionable decisions that seem so ridiculous in hindsight.

I've found a few tricks for reconnecting with myself. ways to remember who I believe I am. ways to get back inside my body, however painful existing there may be. but I'm still at the very beginning of what will likely be a lifetime journey. the point is... I've begun my journey and i'm so thankful to the undesirable course of events that have brought me to a level of consciousness to even begin.

the first step in any type of recovery program (grieving, 12 step, etc.) is admitting there is a problem. so maybe this is my public admittance that I have a problem. maybe you don't have a problem... but if that were true, you probably wouldn't still be reading this post.

goodbye for now. more hopeful insights on this topic to come, there are many reasons to be hopeful, but for the moment, i'm just trying to start the conversation.

Fold

2011-05-08T19:30:00.001-06:00

a mug of warm mint tea is all i need to sit outside and watch the mountains disappear in a fog of heavy cloud on a rainy afternoon.
seeing them disappear doesn't worry me too much...
i know they're still there, healing in a saturated bath of chilled water.
curtains of rain in the backyard make the green grass and white blossoms pop,

and the light green buds on some trees seem to be responding personally to rain drops.

sometimes rain is a traumatic flashback.

today rain is life, hydration and healing.

today, rain is the feed of springtime.

today, rain is purity and a soft jaw proves it

teaching

2011-05-08T12:21:00.001-06:00

I spoke here about the some of the subtle lessons my mom has taught me over the years.

(The planters my brother John and I planted for her for mothers day)

Today I want to talk about some of the lessons she taught me by simply living her life the best way she knew how.

She taught me how to be calm in a storm and make decisions when decisions need to be made. (picture courtesy of the flood in 2010, also known as the year when all the worst things would happen to our family).

She taught me to be independent and explore, even when she didn't agree with me. and then she loved me when all she really wanted to say was "I told you so". (picture courtesy of my goodbye party before leaving to Morocco against mothers wishes)

She taught me that living a simple life full of colors and crafts that make you happy is enough.

She taught me selflessness in planning around the people you love most.

She taught how to anticipate needs and always be prepared. (here she is anticipating her grown children's cold fingers and bringing hand warmers, then teaching us how to use them...)

She taught me what it means to be a strong, capable woman. Here she is with her second husband, having just graduated with her masters degree.

She taught all of us to love Disney world.

Not pictured:

She taught me that buying a book is one thing that is never a waste of money.

She taught me how to throw a party with matching plates.

She taught me to manage money (OK, still a work in progress on this one...)

She taught me about faith.

She taught me how to research things before jumping.

and most importantly, she taught me to love myself.

thanks Mom. I love you.

the balancing act. or. why I'm always falling.

2011-05-06T23:55:00.000-06:00

I don't want to do this anymore. I don't want to go to ten different doctors with ten different forms of therapy. I don't want to have to ask for my medication. or better yet, I don't want to be taking any medication. I don't want to get a glance of pity or a pat on the back for strength.

I just want to be a normal 21 yr old girl (please don't patronize me by thinking something along the lines of "no one is normal"... it's just annoying)

I keep thinking that I'm finished, and the work is over. but I am not. and it is not.

They say recovering from a trespassing like the one I went through is all about regaining control.

I absolutely hate this idea.

control is an illusion, and the more you hold onto it as an idea, the harder life will be.

here's the thing: bad things happen to good people. bad things happen to careful people. bad things happen to all people. and you will be swimming up a stream your whole life trying to change or control that.

I didn't have the power to control what happened to me. and I don't have the power to control what happens to me in the future. but I've got something better that makes life more bearable.

faith

faith in karma and faith in a plan. faith in goodness and learning. faith in perseverance and endurance.

I've been working lately on finding balance in life. i'm not so good at it. I tend to go full force into whatever I'm doing and then back off in an equally aggressive way. maybe it's my age, or maybe it's my nature. hopefully someday that kind of fire will get me somewhere I can do some good.

but at the moment, i think it's making me sick.

blog winnings

2011-05-03T11:24:00.001-06:00

A few weeks back I entered a contest on this lovely blog.

and somehow, I won! Here is my beautiful prize from Favor Jewelry

(i took this picture with an iphone and now I want one. real bad. anyone have ideas of how I can support a life of yoga travels and iphones?)

Thanks again Micaela!

life and sunshine

2011-05-03T08:29:00.003-06:00

there have been low points in my life, they sometimes come often and hit hard. and sometimes I spiral so deep inside myself that I actually get lost. and then something happens... and everything is better.

I think it has something to do with not having expectations, learning to roll with the punches, etc., etc. and that something... well it just happened. and everything is somehow better.

the past 6 days have been a lovely sampling of all the best bits of life... including sunshine, children, yoga, and a beach romance.

my dry mountain winter skin had forgotten about the kiss of sunshine, so I spent the week pink skinned and barefoot.

I also spent the week remembering all the reasons I practice yoga, and all the reasons I live life. and forgetting all the reasons why I am "tainted", or "broken", or "ruined".

somehow what happened wasn't who I was. even if just for a few days. I walked on the beach at night with a boy (I should say, a man) and didn't feel the rush of anxiety I had anticipated. I took a break from my deprecating addiction to technology by ignoring my phone and not checking my e-mail.

all that stuff just didn't seem relevant in the sand strewn beach house, surrounded with friendship and laughter. I breathed easier, and deeper, and with more appreciation there. I existed in the moment, and the moment kept me suspended in the air for 6 healing days.

it was just the cathartic push I needed to finally exit the cave I've been living in for the past 7 months.

in other words:
I'm back... keep your eyes peeled. I've got a feeling it's going to be a hell of a summer. :)

for your viewing pleasure....

my favorite child ever.

the whole crew

Ashtanga Workshop at Jois with Sharat.

a picture post, finally

2011-04-25T15:37:00.004-06:00

FYI. blog silence is generally a sign that things are smooth in my life. But I thought I'd quickly check in around these parts in an effort to keep you all interested in my ramblings...

Saturday I cashed in on my sister's birthday big time with a day at The Spa and a night at a salsa club. In between was a tapas style restaurant so delicious it won't be forgotten anytime soon. (By the way, check out my sister's cute reading blog here: Carbohydrates and Conjugations)

if you're not jealous already... let me tell you this:

The spa had a nook. as in an enclosed space with 3 sides of wall and 1 side of opaque curtaining (refer to those heavenly holes in the back of the picture above). as in the perfect place to nap. as in a warm space full of spa music meant to sound like the ocean. as in the thing I aspire to have in my home most... after this...

and I got to nap in that nook for several hours with a warm chai and soft robe while winter refused to relent outside.

I don't know if it's the fact that the semester is over, of life is just looking up in a big way for me. But I find myself a happy girl these days. (and didn't I hear somewhere that it's all about perspective anyway?)

In 2 days I'll be taking my Suzuki Reno (the slightly trashier version of the Las Vegas model) on it's first road trip for some yoga and (fingers crossed) sunshine. So except some more blog silence and I'll try to come up with something worthwhile to tell you about next week. :)

as a final testament to my vanity, check out these pictures from a photo shoot for 3B Yoga.

life love literature

2011-04-19T23:34:00.004-06:00

life. love. literature.

any time I'm feeling stagnated, I can find new energy in one of these. I crave them. and they, my passion starters, tend to each send me the same way regardless of which one I started with. I fall in love with a person that leads me to a new thing about life. or I decide I love life and start writing better literature. or I read a book that alters me so much I can actually categorize my life into before and after I read it sections.

how many books have really changed your life? have you read a book that sat in your mind for months after the pages closed? I've got a handful like that. and interestingly enough they were almost always gifts from friends, both transient and steady. and so they were gifts from God.

I was given a book 6 years ago that made me look at the way I ate for the first time. my dad turned me onto what is now my favorite book by my favorite author, a small reminder that it's OK to be nuts and in your own head. (thank you Catcher in the Rye, JD Salinger) A dear literary friend showed me the fruits of a favorite poet that has so well verbalized so many things that live in me (thank you, Frank O'hara) to name just a few...

bits of literature change you. the good ones anyway... and I want to tell you about the one that's changing me right now. For my birthday last week I was given a book that lit me up in so many different ways. by a person that also lit me up in so many different ways.

reading it was like being able to successfully see the whole world in a very nice swaddle. I cried. I got angry. I laughed. and I walked away with a new and better understanding of where I stand in the world and particularly the (what is it now?) 60 % portion of it that are female. The book is the Vagina Monologues. Read it. whether you are a man or a woman, get past the use of the "V" word and pick up this book. you'll thank me later.

then came this...

I have found a new fascination in what may be the ultimate life experience. giving birth. (no, I'm not pregnant, but how cool is it that I someday could be?!). more on this and what I plan to do about it later...

just mentioning it to tell you I'm in a love with a new facet of life, due to a piece of literature.

these 3 things that keep me alive in the most important ways you can be alive can switch places, throw the ball around and start wherever they please. But they always bring me to a place I need to go.

I'll be honest in that I lost structure at some point here because my sleeping meds are kicking in. which just means goodnight. and a call to action sign off.

buy someone a book. send someone a poem. send someone an article. send someone something that has changed who you are. we've all got to help keep each other afloat down here as we are all completely connected and intertwined.

let me throw an OM in here to prove it. OM.............

Pink trees

2011-04-16T17:28:00.001-06:00

I think it's finally safe to say that spring has sprung here in the Happy Valley. The pink trees have bloomed, and those white and pink blossoms have got my little heart jumping for joy. I noticed them for the first time today and I got one of those happy feelings that almost makes you cry out of excitement but then just makes you sing out loud while you drive instead.

Is it cliche to day I feel as though I'm coming back to life as the trees around me do? well I don't care. I am.

This song reminds me that the sun is always shining somewhere.

today it shone here. and I had to try to bring some of that beautiful light into my space here on the interweb.

so here's to the prospect of coming sunny days filled with yoga in the park and campfires in the canyon.

I've fallen in love more times than I can count

2011-04-14T03:18:00.000-06:00

there was lip ring, hairy legs, and the thumb. there was poetry boy, mountain man, the republican and briefcase boy. There was the Frenchman and the English Jack Sparrow. California boy and ward boy and the boy I predicted as my future husband one night a few pills into a bottle of narcotics. there was the hair dresser and several climber boys. and a few special ones that never got nicknames but instead were always referred to by first and last name. and we can't forget Zachary Foy, the dashing young doctor to hold my hand during one late night cyst burst.

I wanted to love them all.

but now. years after most of the afore mentioned. it's 3 AM. and I find myself wondering if it will ever happen to me for real. and i find myself feeling seriously scared to talk about that wonder.

On this blog you will find my soul, some profanity, and a boatload of half-ass attempts at introspection and even humor. but this is the first time you will find this. this very blunt and vulnerable fear.

a fear centered around a worry. a fear centered around insecurity and instability. a fear so irrational and ridiculous, particularly for a 21 yr old, that I am actually quite embarrassed to be admitting how deep this fear is actually rooted in me.

But here is what I know about fear. You have to bring it out into the open.

that's why I've so thoroughly documented these last 6 months. because they have been scary and I feel scared a lot of the time. scared about what happened, about it happening again, about how often it does happen. but more scared about what it means for me. scared of if I can really become whole again. or be who i was again.

and writing about all that somehow makes it better. makes it softer. makes it exist less inside of me and more in an electronic catalog. to look up again if I forget.

so here's my fear. my deep dark fear that I am pouring out into cyber space in the middle of the night.

will anyone be able to love me?

don't bother answering my dears. I've got a sneaking suspicion you each want to or have wanted to know the same thing at some point.

for living

2011-04-10T15:21:00.000-06:00

We may act sophisticated and wordly but I believe we feel safest when we go inside ourselves and find a home, a place where we belong and maybe the only place we really do.

-Maya Angelou, Letter to My Daughter

Tourists don't know where they've been; travelers don't know where they're going.

-Paul Theroux

Time is on my side again. I scraped through a semester (with a lot of help) and now. I'm free. and I don't know where I'm going...but that taste of freedom is unbelievably invigorating. it reminds me that I'm still a young chicken with a world of living in front of me.

I'm people watching. there are Russians. and there are students. there are lesbians. and there are teenagers. there is everything, and I feel so calm living inside myself with the beating pulse of the velvet underground creating my own personal soundtrack to a mimed world.

---as a side note. the party was flawless. seamless. perfectly executed, attended and enjoyed by all. I can't even tell you what a lucky girl I am. pictures to come.

6 months

2011-04-07T22:50:00.000-06:00

it's like this. there are certain things that happen in your life that define you, very poignantly. and like the pin prick they are in the long long show that is your life, they make holes. holes that can either be mended correctly, or patched temporarily.

these are the events that will give you calm because they will separate your life into segments and chapters, before's and after's, causes and effects.

these are the events that will make telling time easy, and reminiscing a simple data entry exercise.

today is the six month marker of a rainy Thursday not unlike this one when just such an event occurred... I went for a run and my life changed. I was attacked and raped by a man I didn't know not one mile from my home in the Happy Valley.

today, as the thick rain pelted my windshield, I was transported back those six months to the back seat of that police car. where I sat, held in the arms of the warmest stretch of maternal arms, completely oblivious that my ipod still sat in my lap playing on and on that happy running playlist. staring. at the same type of heavy rain as it pounded the windshield.

I guess I'd call those first few hours/days the shocked state. you never really know how you will react to something like that until you're right there. in it. even if you think you do. you are wrong.

I had my own ideas about what I'd do if placed in such a situation. I was wrong.

in these last 6 months I have existed on both ends of pretty much every spectrum I know about. from drunk on a rooftop to weeping during an inspired priesthood blessing. from days in the psyche ward, to days in church meetings. from starving myself to binging on cheetos. from the inability to sleep at all for fear of dreaming to a damn near narcoleptic state of rest and rejuvenation. from swearing off men to... well....you get the idea...

so today is a victory. in fact, it may be the victory of my lifetime. because after all that. I am still alive. and I didn't always think that I would be today.

this weekend is this big party I've been talking about for a month now. yes, it's a celebration of my turning 21 (yesterday). but more than that, it is a celebration of the fact that I have made it this far.

and that after living in all those bizarre places I mentioned above, I am finally learning where the middle ground is and how to travel on it.

time heals. life teaches. and i'm figuring out what it means to be OK and more importantly, what it means to be OK being me.

Here's the best part of all this.

Here is the first thing I wrote here after it happened. at the end I say "Because something bad happened and somehow it means I have been sent love from all directions."

that continues to hold true. at no other time in my life have I felt so loved and close to so many people as these past 6 months. and I'm thankful for that. it may be the biggest contributor to today, my day of victory.

contrary to popular belief

2011-04-05T16:12:00.001-06:00

it is always creepy to tell someone they were in your dream.

always.

nonetheless... I've made a habit of it.

oops.

check it out

2011-04-03T13:28:00.002-06:00

check these babies out. zero make-up. thank you Gracie. (call 801-787-6992 for your own set... shameless plug for a friend. but really. she's the best. and cheapest. in all the valley)

This time last year I found myself wedged in the back of a wet suit closet on the coast of Morocco, crying like a child as I watched general conference.

That momentous experience of fear and a heavy dose of reality sent me travelling home... in more than just a physical way.

I cleaned out my computer files today and happened upon a to-do list I had created around that time for when I got back to the states... and there, listed as my number one to-do upon re-entering a life I'd left behind was this:

~do independent research on cheese

awesome. dream big Kels.

You're Invited... really, you are.

2011-03-31T23:01:00.000-06:00

I mentioned an upcoming birthday. It's next Wednesday April 6th. and I'm turning 21. and that means a hell of a lot considering 6 months ago from that day something happened that had me very seriously wondering if I would even make it to 21.

so not to guilt you into it or anything.... but the only thing I really want this birthday is to see all my people in the same place at the same time.

which means:

You're Invited.

and I'm serious. if you read this blog i'm assuming you at least have some investment or interest in me and I want to see you there. come on, indulge me. it's my way of getting some serious attention without having to be thereafter attached to someone for life...

confessions of a barefoot loud mouth

2011-03-31T22:46:00.001-06:00

it's not a secret. I talk. a lot. too much really. I like to think I listen well too, but I probably shouldn't claim it as fact....

it's a blessing and a curse really... I make new friends easily and I love people (mostly)... but on the flip side, the sound of my own voice at the end of a long day is enough to make me want to cut off my own tongue just for some peace and quiet (too graphic?).

so sometimes I need to spend time alone in coffee shops, or reading blogs, or other one sided interaction type activities where I don't have to talk. for the sake of my sanity.

today was not one of those days. today was a day with lots of talking and long overdue catch up. so much so that I actually sacrificed my daily shower to facilitate it all. and it was oddly edifying. in a way it hasn't been in so many months.

I'll give ya the highlights since happy posts can be few and far between in these parts...

there was a chai with a little miss that just gets me.

then there was those few hours for a barefoot photo shoot in the sunshine (I'm sunburned-yay!), followed by an outdoor nail polishing session; all with my oldest and best friend. sometimes I forget how much I need and will always need this girl in my life. for poring secrets into and crying with. for being the only person to truly know me. all sides of me.

and the day ended with a promise to see a missing part of myself, a former bed mate, and the only person that it is literally hard for me to stop talking to, tomorrow. And she's going to start the beautification process for my big day next week by giving me luscious false eyelashes.

These 3 petite ladies (my goodness, why are all my closest friends so tiny!?) were such a good reminder that I really do like life, and people. specifically my life, and my people.

treading water

2011-03-28T17:23:00.002-06:00

Perhaps I'm overcompensating, but today has been one of my most productive days of the past 6 months. Something about opposition and ridiculous happenings seems to light a little fire inside me and force me to really get things done. It is finally occurring to me, this idea that may seem obvious to the rest of you. I should rephrase... it is finally sinking in, this idea that has intellectually held true for a long time.

If I continue to drop out of life each time something or someone tries to knock me down, the only person I harm is myself. And even though I speak masochistically so often, I don't really mean it....

maybe you're confused, considering last Monday I dropped out of life for a day of R & R and preached quite the opposite. All I can tell ya is sorry, I'm kinda like that.

today i'm getting things done. today i'm treading water hard enough to keep me buoyed up until the draining of this pool in two weeks. i.e. the end of the semester. and it feels good. and it reminds me that in some ways, I have gotten stronger during this time.

above is the song I've got on repeat as I swiftly type paper number 4 of the day. and I must add that as I climbed the spiral staircase at school in search of the internet connection to post this, the sun peeked out from behind the clouds. And as I sit straddling this bench I can't help but drop my head back and close my eyes to allow my open heart some light and my lungs some air.

my life is a joke

2011-03-27T12:40:00.001-06:00

I wrote that last post whilst higher than high (on prescribed medication, fyi)

luckily I had the where with all to check it out again this morning before posting it and edit a few unwise words out. I spent the night in the reality of what could have made an interesting nightmare.

my life is a joke and I've got charcoal mouth now.

writing on ambien

2011-03-27T12:34:00.000-06:00

how many times a day do you seriously doubt yourself? how many times do you look in the mirror without actually looking? how often does circumstance concede to a room full of haunting tunes and lavish scents?

allow me a sentence or two of suppressed teen-aged angst...

it feels like I will never fit anywhere, even when I'm full of friendships.

I think it's possible that that's because I'm not able to give all the things I want to get.

I could spend some time with that sentence... but lets move on.

to the fact that I took a sleeping pill an hour ago and still find myself aimlessly typing away on this silver keyboard like it matters.

this is one of those posts that doesn't have a point or a way to lift you at the end... but chances are, if you're still reading, that's not what you're looking for.

you know you're in trouble when your favorite place to be is supine on the bathroom floor.

I guess I'm American

2011-03-26T23:37:00.004-06:00

I think something is alarmingly amiss with my patriotism. That- or mine does exist at all.
I'll tell you how I know.
Today on campus for whatever reason, the national anthem was played over the loud speakers outside. Virtually all of the 200 people walking through the quad stopped in their tracks, turned to the flagpole and put a hand on their heart. I, put my head down and quickly slinked down the stairs to avoid the stares. Of all the more devout citizens. As I descended I wondered if I would or should be sent to some sort of American hell/prison for my lack of jubilee on the matter.

But isn't america all about choices and freedom to behave how you like? Hmm... that's the way someone explained it to 7-yr-old Kelsey. Now this thought is anchored sort of irritatingly in my mind. were those 200 some odd people feeling some true patriotism? Did some of them cry?

You see, this time last yr I dropped out of my life. I quit 4 jobs, withdrew from 13 credits and packed my possessions into the attic of a friend so I could go on the transcontinental adventure of a life time. It was meant to last 6 months or more; I came crawling home just shy of 3...

But here is one thing I learned on my journey. I really like America. For months I listened to Europeans and Australians and Swedes complain about America and Americans while I politely smiled. I couldn't really understand it. why was I such an anomaly, why was I such a target and why did my simple background cause such heated discussion? Being an American, yoga teacher, vegetarian, (at the time somewhat) Mormon, blonde, woman.... I incurred pretty lengthy discussions. and these are all labels I try hard not to be pegged down by. I just wanted to be a person, and a friend; yet I found myself taking a lot of effort to side step issues. Primarily because when it came down to it, these people were my clients.

I've mentioned before I'm not so political, I'm not ever registered to vote (try not to cringe you beautifully involved people)

So why did I come home so pre-maturely? A few reasons, which I may elaborate on sometime, but one of those was "I actually like America". I like trash cans and ice cubes and people that {mostly} obey traffic laws, I like proper sewage and clean water. I really like living here.

and maybe that's as simple as my patriotism needs to be for now.

head in the clouds

2011-03-23T19:06:00.001-06:00

I don't actually know this person. But here is a picture that might make you smile. And here is where I found it.

today is a good day. or a better day I should say. this semester seems to be trying to kill me... I am hanging on by a thread in every single one of my classes. But yesterday I got some good perspective on it...whether or not I go to class, finish my papers, or take the finals; in 3 weeks, this will all be over.

so here's an electronic thank you to being in college and getting a fresh start every few months with pretty minimal roll over effects from the last section of life.

that's worth at least a smile and a little bounce in my step, right?! :)

or at least it's a good reason to change out of the all black outfit I wore today, signifying to the world my overall mourning....

more self care

2011-03-21T13:58:00.005-06:00

I thought I had mostly escaped the symptoms of PTSS (post traumatic stress syndrome); I don't really do the hyper vigilant thing (checking locked doors 10 different times, etc.) and I don't find myself ultra jumpy or startled easily, not anymore than before at least.

but it turns out that the symptoms live on a very wide spectrum and vary so much from person to person. since we all come with a very different slew of life experiences and beliefs that one event does not effect us each the same way...you see, I thought that the fact that anxiety and intense fear and crazy destructive behavior were going to be the worst of it... then it became the end of January.

today I'm speaking specifically about the depression bit of things.

I've heard depression explained a lot of different ways but here's the one I like best for the moment: depression is like viewing your life and life in general through a microscope, and it takes some type of catalyst to get you to step back from that one-eyed lens and take in the grand scheme of things.

I'm no expert, but it seems like that catalyst can range anywhere from a good dose of nutrition and exercise, to talk therapy, to anti-depressant medications, and everyone should follow the path that speaks to them the loudest. (by the way, that's probably the advice I'd give on any type of decision making process)

I've found that dealing with mine takes a whole team of professionals, supporters, medications, etc., etc. Blerg I hope I'm not coming off whiny.... what I really wanted to talk about today are a few simple things outside of these traditional ideas that help me when I'm feeling low... or when I'm feeling flat-lined and hard pressed to emote, which is my new norm.

It all comes down to concerted self care. you may have noticed it's a theme of mine. and here are some ways I like to do it.

~walking and looking up
~taking a bath
~spending time with someone really easy to be around
~dressing in comfortable clothing
~drinking tea (ginger is my favorite)
~exercise, yoga in particular
~cleaning my living space
~media binge. i.e. magazines, movies, TV series, books, etc. (just be careful with this one, you can get caught up watching something like the Virgin Suicides all alone in the tent you made over your bed, and that is a problem)
~coloring or some other artistic outlet (I just got this coloring book, don't judge me, I love it.)
~writing poetry, prose, blog, or journal. you don't even have to let anyone read it... you'd all laugh at how many posts I have written that stay un posted.
~organizing and writing to-do lists
~baking or cooking, particularly healthful, whole foods
~polishing my nails
~napping
~hanging Christmas lights

and here's my favorite...
~turning off life and taking a day (or even just an hour) to re cooperate, all alone.

so I may have written this today because after dragging myself out of bed and to my ballet class I arrived home and immediately committed myself to a day of self care. It began with a two hour cleaning streak, including laundering my towels and sheets (what is better than a clean fluffy towel after a warm shower and clean sheets to nap in right after?). Now I'm on to writing this blog post and after I'll make a simple healthful lunch and watch hope floats. I'm also planning to ditch out on work and school all day long. realistically I won't leave my house at all today.

does it sound like I'm absolutely spoiling myself today? that's because I am; and I think I deserve to do that every now and again when I'm able to... and here's a secret.... so do you. I'm not sure at what point we as an adult American culture decided that this kind of behavior was too self-indulgent, but I wish we hadn't. Because I think it's absolutely necessary and if more of us don't start doing it, there will be severe consequences.

p.s. I got some of these self care ideas from you when I sent out a sad cry for help a few months back, so here's another thanks.

2011-03-20T17:20:00.000-06:00

things seem to be evening out. no downs. no ups. just gentle wavering and manageable upsets. i did my whole life and then some this week. and even with 9+ hours of sleep, I can't suppress a steady stream of unquestionable yawns.

i bought a party dress. for a party. my 21st birthday party. to be exact.

yay.

or some other exciting proclamation of the joy in aging.

(and yes, I am one of those people that makes a big deal out of each and every birthday.)

so... that's me.

humor

2011-03-16T19:43:00.001-06:00

I came across a statement today in my Humanities of Islam course today. A course I took partly because I lived in Morocco for 3 months last year (if you didn't know, they're Muslim over there) and partly because it seems to me that humanizing and understanding each other as people from different places and of different ethnicities is going to be key in contributing to 'world peace'. Here is the statement....

“The sign of an Islamic reformation is when you start seeing a lot of Muslim comedians. Given their willingness and ability to indulge in self-criticism, that’s when we’ll start to see the emergence of a separate centre of gravity that engages in self-scrutiny and a willingness to say, ‘It’s not Israel, it’s not Jews, it’s not the United States, but it’s our own cultural handcuffs that have put us in this morass, that have kept us lower than anyone else in the world today.’”

- Steven Emerson, journalist and terrorism expert

I will not comment on the issues at hand too directly. instead I will simply tell you my take on humor and as always, ask you to think about it a minute.

I like very few things more than a good joke coming from a non-native English speaker, in English. Because my sense of humor can be embarrassingly simple, the succinct interchange of common words or a play on a misunderstood or mis pronounced word is just brilliant.

A good friend of mine in Morocco named 'Youness' used to joke with the tourists that they could also call him 'useless' (though he was anything but). Oh that sweet man and all the hours he spent patiently trying to teach me French at the beach: "les vagues sont grand aujourd'hui"

I think being fluent in another language is when you're able to make and understand jokes with a native speaker.

But it can also happen in English, when two people are from separate countries or even states (FYI: people from the United Kingdom, Australia and South Africa call underwear pants, and so you should always avoid asking your English and Australian friends to look in your pants for the money to buy everyone avocado smoothies...)

but lets move away from this kind of language barrier-ed humor to social commentary humor that is satire... as in... it's funny cause it's true... (I have to insert a thanks to Tina Fey for 30 rock, even if it must be parenthesied in this particular post) . It's like this neat art form where we can use the mirror that is a satirical comedian and look at ourselves and our world.

Humor seems to be a big part of who we are as humans. As soon as we can laugh with one another, we can relate to one another in a very earnest way. This is why it is a scary thing to paint a culture as humor-less. what more sneaky way to de-humanize... and as we all know, de-humanizing leads to all kinds of dirty things... (cough, cough, the holocaust).

I guess where I'm going with all this is that I think we all need to laugh. laugh at all the stereotypes and all the extremists and all the nut-cases out there. but more importantly, laugh at ourselves.

here's a good one I like to tell (let me emphasize that it matters very much who tells the joke because this one's not funny coming from anyone else)...

"remember when I got attacked and then consequently tried to smoke a cigarette, almost jumped off a building, etc., etc.,?"

ha... too soon? too real?? hmm... it's better in person. try to see the ridiculousness of this.

the thing is... if it's not funny, it's just extremely sad. But if I can laugh at my icky situation, maybe there's hope out there after all?

so try to pick up on what my new buddy Ahmed Ahmed is trying to do in this video; I promise you it's worth your 10 minutes.

and it's carrying on

2011-03-14T21:04:00.001-06:00

life that is. day after day. hour after hour. and it's actually not droning on the way it has so often before.

tonight my mom and I will watch a movie together and ignore all our "responsibilities"; because doing so brings us back to a time not too many months ago when days were shorter and harder, but there was more love than we even knew what to do with.

and so it proves true again:

spring time is the breakfast of nostalgia.

coffee

2011-03-10T22:31:00.002-07:00

Tonight I immersed myself in a scary place that somehow makes me feel sane.

I didn't realize how much I miss the smell of coffee and cigarettes. But sitting nestled there between friends and co poetic champions with the espresso smell gently settling into the fibers of my clothes, I felt oh-so-lovely. The 40 degree weather meant shorts and tank tops for us Utahns and that {slightly} warmer breeze misted in over me with bits of exhaled smoke and faint trails of forthcoming spring.

If I could only learn to close my own mouth, I likely would have sat there until someone kicked me out. But as it happened, I read a poem that I wrote out loud and it set off all sorts of signals and anxiety inside of me, and I had to come home quickly.

nonetheless, it was a lovely evening spent in the most social environment I allow myself to exist in.

also. many thanks for the comments on my last post. what beautiful feedback from such beautiful people.

this is me, asking you for help

2011-03-08T11:25:00.002-07:00

Today is International Women's Day.

and all morning I've been trying to think of something to write that could encompass how I feel about my femininity and womanhood. but then I realized, I spend all post every post (nearly) writing about just that, and I'm so sick of hearing myself talk and think I don't know what I'll do if I crank out another "this is what being a woman means to me" type post right now. probably something very problematic...

So this is me, asking you for help.

would you join my conversation today? comment with a bit about what you think of the topic, even if it's just a Thank You for your mom or sister. I am in desperate need of some new ideas and inspiration.

Include any links to music, other writing/blogs, or quotes that help you speak.

but please, speak.

Rainy Day Lament

2011-03-07T17:02:00.003-07:00

something about cold and pounding rain outside makes being warm and inside so unbelievably enjoyable. Kids are sleeping in halls and on benches all over campus. Usually I think that's weird, but today I kind of wish I was one of them, curled up peacefully with a backpack as a pillow and headphones in for sound control.

I'm yawning every few breaths even though I've slept roughly 24 hours out of the last 48. And I've recommitted my fashion choices to comfort and flow. Skirts and flexible fabrics allow me to tuck my legs up into myself whenever I like; it feels like concerted rest and contentment for my body.

My air dried hair is resting on open shoulders and I didn't bother with make-up today.

Because each day is a decision in how I want to see things. and today the rain looks more like a life force than drudgery.

The people in my life act like a safety net and my ability to walk on thin ledges or cross busy roads is buoyed up by the manifestation of God in my fellow man.

So thank you... you know who you are.

fear

2011-03-06T22:49:00.001-07:00

I am and always have been very much my own woman. I have done what I want, even when it was destructive. I have worn my hair how I want, even when I knew on some level how stupid it looks to have diagonally cut bangs. I have dressed how I want, from boys band t-shirts to mixed matched clothes; it's always been my own choice... just a few examples of me fully embracing my free agency.

and I've always embraced that agency fearlessly.

for example: this time last year I quit 4 jobs, dropped 13 credits, packed up my life into 5 boxes and 2 suitcases and moved across the world to Morocco to teach yoga to surfers all by myself.

so why then, are the things I do every day here, in happy valley, some of the hardest and scariest in my life?

I suppose I could delve into the depths of my psyche for an answer to that or create a list of reasons my life is 'hard'. but because I tire easily these days I think I'll make it simple.

I'm scared now because in all my fearless and outlandish escapades across continents and social groups and experimentations I was essentially and successfully side-stepping all the scariest things...

like acting my own age.

so now, I live in my parents basement, I attend university and I even work there with other students. I am involved in a singles ward full of people a lot like me too. I date people my own age-ish and have friends that squirm at a curse word.

sounds pretty safe and simple and nice, right?

well not for me....let me tell you, every day of this stuff is scarier than anytime I did something dangerous or nuts. and every day of this stuff takes more courage than any bold move across continents. and everyday of these people is newer and more astounding than any of my foreign or older friends.

the moral of this post?
I have no idea....
I just needed to talk/write about the irony of each experience in my seemingly innocuous position being so scary!

content

2011-03-03T12:05:00.001-07:00

here I am plugging along, using all my faculties each and everyday just to get my simple tasks done (and most days those don't even happen), and then all of the sudden.. there it is... content...

the kind of content that's always been there: violence towards women. assault. guns. etc.

it's always been part of literature and movies and whatever, so why didn't I notice or care so much? oh yeah... because then it wasn't real. it was pretend and those things didn't really happen, at least not outside of the news (which I make a point of not watching).

yesterday both my classes featured works surrounding these topics and I couldn't help but think.... seriously??? I dreamed/nightmared about this last night. leave it be already.

but... such is life.

i imagine my sensitivity will calm down at some point. or maybe not...

in other, better news...

I wore a real live daisy in my hair yesterday and watched a beautiful recital of classical piano music.
And today I'll be purchasing a coloring book because both my body talk and normal talk therapist recommended I do more to be playful and artistic. I can't wait. :)

it's yoga

2011-03-02T22:11:00.000-07:00

Before the yoga studio I teach at was 3B (3B blog), it was it's yoga. That name and the studio's signature sequence, The Rocket, was created by a man named Larry Schultz.

I met Larry only once. It was the first weekend of my yoga teacher training; and he had come into town to do a workshop. After the first week of teacher training (roughly 8 hours of yoga a day) with my weak and marshmallow-y body and young soul, I was pretty shot. Not only physically, but emotionally and spiritually and I remember not being sure I could make it through his Rocket Workshop. Since it was required, I showed up on a Friday night to meet this happy man and a room full of eager students anyway. and I am so glad I did.

This was almost 4 years ago, but here are a few things I remember about Larry and that workshop. He talked so much about yoga reversing the physical effects of technology as we spread our hands instead of close them to text or type. He talked about the MDR (minimum daily requirement) of 5 Sun Salute A's and 5 Sun Salute B's every single day. He said everyday 60 minutes after waking he hit the mat. He did some rough math and threw an amazing number out there of how many Sun Salutes he had likely done in life. His answer to everything was "it's yoga", thus the name of his studio.

Why do we feel less stress after class? It's yoga!
Why do we feel more energy and joy after class? It's yoga!
and on and on like that...

But most of all I remember he picked on me, in the good kind of way. Because at the time I was barely 17 and the youngest person to ever go through the teacher training, whenever I would successfully find myself in a more difficult posture he'd say loudly "these are 17 yr old shoulders over here" or "these are 17 yr old legs". He was enamored with me and the fact that I would choose to do something like this at such a young age. In reality, I just got lucky for such an opportunity to cross my path so perfectly at such an early age.

He probably didn't even remember meeting me after going to back to San Francisco, but I think of him from time to time when I teach or when I practice. I remember his dedication to the practice and his jovial approach to teaching.

Well, Larry passed away this last weekend. And now we are a new studio and we are finding our groove really well in our new space, without the rocket series or the it's yoga name and I can't say enough about how much I love being a part of what we do there. But none of us will forget our roots.

the it's yoga studio represents such a time of growth and learning for me. My last year in high school and my first year in college were spent in that studio, and the passing of Larry for me more or less represents the nail in the coffin (excuse the morbid and perhaps slightly inappropriate analogy) for a very special and tender time in my life.

But with death, comes rebirth. Like endings are also new beginnings. And I'm grateful to have been a part of that studio and now to be a part of this one, where we do such a good thing. We teach people everyday to Breathe, Bend, and most important Be. (3B, get it?)

the end of today

2011-02-28T22:13:00.005-07:00

By some provident miracle, my class let out 15 minutes early tonight, allowing me to drive home during the most beautiful sunset I've noticed in a while.

I promised myself long ago never to photograph sunsets. But I'll tell you, this one had me tempted.

Not because it was so beautiful (I think they look that great a lot, and I fail to notice in my slumped state.)

But because of the way I felt when I looked at it.

The pink and orange beams seemed to shout as they left this valley, and the silhouetted cars passing a crowded intersection felt foreign and exciting. like a new adventure or something.

I mentioned my class got out early... well it was that fact as well as the fact that days are getting longer here that allowed for my serendipitous meeting with these; the last few shreds of another hard day.

and it got me thinking....

as the days slowly extend their capacity for light; so do I.

So when I got home, I decided to change my Sara Steele calendar a day early.

March looks something like this:

Enjoy.

the hardest thing in life

2011-02-26T23:48:00.000-07:00

I spend a lot of time trying to sort things out; put them in neat piles and categories. I like to be able to summarize myself or my current state in a single sentence. Because I am a dramatic speaker that likes to put emphasis on most of what she's saying, I call things the "most" whatever or the "biggest" whatever all the time.

Tonight, in the epitome of emotional frustration, I found a way to verbalize the hardest thing I know about in life. and I really mean it is the hardest, because it encompasses so well all the other things that find their way into my "unsolvable problems" column, the one I try to ignore because unfinished issues make me so anxious. Alright, enough preamble... you ready?

The hardest thing in life is when you realize how little control you really have over any of it. over anyone. over circumstance. over mortal life.

I know that the "successful" people in life want to tell you all about how to "make it happen". and I am not discounting that, nor validating a lazy life. It's just... when it comes down it... you can't "make it happen"... not really.

This whole agency thing makes for too much error and variability. Our human ego's and tempers make for too many hot headed explosions, or on the flip side, quiet rage and regret that eats at the soul.

So what happens when you hit that wall and something inside you just says "you can't fix this.", what then? Well I think I might have an answer for those times too, or at least a partial one (I know, I'm full of wisdom tonight).

Faith.

in something. or in someone.

I'll tell you frankly that I find mine is God and His Son, but feel free to insert wherever you find yours instead as we're all on our own personal journey.

Tonight a 20 minute conversation filled my body with most every emotion. I was saying all the wrong things, and my motives were probably polluted. I lost my temper, I condescended, I did all the things that just don't help. Then, I said a silent prayer for a new voice. and the conversation continued on in it's idiotic circles with one change; more peace, a little more love.

Yet I left unsatisfied and trembling, teary eyed and confused, sad and hurting.

And on the quiet drive home the thought came to me that no matter how calmly and rationally I form my words and no matter how many times I try to forget a rainy day, there are certain realities of these things that I can't change.

And so what I do, or try to do (since I will not pretend that I remember this stuff on the daily), is release all this, all this frustration and hurt, I look up and I release it. Some of you may know this but I want to introduce the rest of you to something called the serenity prayer. It goes like this.

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

delicate femininity

2011-02-26T20:25:00.001-07:00

you might not know it since I get to type here, but my penmanship is like unto a 14-yr-old boys. it's embarrassing.

I also have a natural aversion to most crafts, home decor, and all things domestic. I'm also scared of children. but I'm working on that one... not because I want to have any anytime soon, I can't even nail down the first bit of that equation (dating is so hard....)

what I'm saying it that basically, I've always felt I lacked certain maternal and also feminine genes. but here's the thing... sometimes when something truly intrusive happens to you, like what happened to me, you really start to question what your gender means to you.

So here's to finding out what femininity means to me... I'm on a journey to work out what is innately woman according to Kelsey. I imagine it varies tremendously. I will likely never be sucked in by home decor blogs, and likely never get a true kick out of an apron the way my mom does. But I am still a woman. And I want to start defining what that means for me.

Today, it's delicacy.

{via}

Right now I'm listening to piano music and polishing my nails a soft pink color called "dulce de leche".

and that's all I really want to say about it.

Yoga Photo Shoot

2011-02-24T09:08:00.000-07:00

Here are some pictures from a recent yoga photo shoot. Enjoy.

Check out a more full collection and learn more about the photographer here.

campaign for a life in technicolor

2011-02-23T18:49:00.000-07:00

CHECK IT OUT!

So I met this beautiful person, and I met her through the blog world. She has been an inspiration, a source of strength and support, and an overall reason to smile in my life during these last few dark months. Today she featured me on her blog as a part of her "campaign for a life in technicolor" series. Read it here.

This lovely lady leaves on an LDS mission shortly and her writing will be missed, but I can tell the folks in Texas need her much more than we do and I'm so proud of her for going.

I'm back on it

2011-02-22T12:23:00.001-07:00

Life that is... or a horse if that's how you'd like to put it... The last few weeks have been a bit touch and go... you may have noticed the pattern: 1 manic post, 1 depressed post, 1 happy post, 3 unhappy ones... something along those lines.

It has not been a fun way to live.

So I'm refocusing my efforts and life habits to find a steady and helpful pace.

believe you me, I am not under any misconception that simply because I say this there will not be up and downs... In fact, I got a call yesterday from a friend I don't hear from so often. She had heard what's happening in my life and wanted to offer support. She is dealing with some different, but equally horrific trials. She told me she still has days she doesn't really want to get out of bed; it is always nice to know you're not the only one.

and perhaps the mania can be explained in this way; when I get a little taste of normalcy, or minor joy and comfort in life, it is much more a celebration than ever before. Once you've seen hell, mortal life seems preferable and even wonderful.

I guess the difference now will be my efforts to find that middle ground to travel down, versus allowing what I cannot control to control me.

all I'm really trying to say is... I'm going to start drinking tea again, and reading literature from tangible pages again, and spending time alone meditating again, and turning my phone off sometimes, and existing in quiet spaces more often.

my ginger yogi tea this morning came with this quote on it, "you only give when you love".

what wisdom in those little tabs sometimes...

I'll end with two things I want to say to all of you (by all of you, I mean my readership as well as the collective you that doesn't read this but is in my life anyway)...

~Sorry, for all the times I scared you and all the times that even writing here didn't quite help me work out my inner turmoil. Because I know from the phone calls and texts after those posts that end with such a lack of a definitive answer or calmness or even conclusion, that I can really get you guys worried.

~Thank you, for you all the love you sent and continue to send me. I feel it most days and it's a big part of the reason I believe that I will be OK. (and someday when I'm more stable I will repay you all, with cookies or something... ;) ha)