Late morning breakfast

*As I made my breakfast in the kitchen this morning, my heart was full, and I cried tears of joy, of being completely overwhelmed by thoughts and emotions, and growth. I wrote this stream of thoughts to share with you, my lovely readers. I have left it unedited, and un-filled in. It just is. Take what you need. Love you. *


When all you can do is beg and plead and wrestle with the part of you that is one with the Lord.
When dancing and singing, and crying, flow from your body like branches from a tree, like leaves spiralling out to fall to the ground and nourish the earth.
When aspirations and dreams are both the most important thing, and yet mean nothing in the moment, for you are content with the world in front of you.
When the prospect of life ahead is so full of pain you almost wish that you could go home now, safe and finished; but you know that you love so many here.
Lift your head and feel the sun, smell the flowers, watch the ants crawl on the earth. They've said it forever, and I will say it again, because this whole earth was created for you, for beauty, for exploration, that we might worship a Creator more infinite than our minds can reach; but it feels so good to stretch, to reach higher than we can. And we reach those moments where it begins to hurt, to tear because we can reach no further. I sometimes feel that I am lost, that I have gone too far, that there was no purpose in the wanting, in the search; and then He reaches down to me. I kiss my baby's back, and I know that the Savior had a mother who loved Him, who kissed His back, she who loved the spirit inside Him. Who grieved for those terrible things that had happened, who feared for the future; who was only human, and could only pull back glimpses of angels in all the weaving, baking, washing, tending, walking, living that there was to be. And she who shed so many tears, to wash away an old world that her child might build a kingdom. That my tears might wash me clean that I might build, that my children might see. That we might all see, that we might all give. I want to give, I want the Lord to take. Take my best, take my worst. Give to whomever needs it, I don't care who they are, what they look like, what they're doing. For I am no better than any other; we've all been there. We all hurt, we all want. We all want what we can't have. And yet, we could have it. So lucky for all that I have, so cursed for the excess I let get in my way. I go round and round in circles that I can't understand. But I read books, and listen to music, and hug and kiss, and birth, and talk, and watch and sin, and write, and cry, and fight and forgive, and serve, and I sort into categories, and I make "reason" of things that I can't see from one end to the other, and I pray. And through all of it I grow through His grace, and I believe that it will serve a purpose. that I will serve a purpose. That we all will. It's what we're all meant for, that nothing is ever wasted. Every feeling, a tiny bird that flies home. Bringing you one flight closer to home, to Everything. To whatever you need.

oh all right!

Since I just passed 10,000 page views I'l throw you a bone.

THE ANNUAL SUMMER PHOTO DUMP!!!!!!

Roycie fell down the stairs at the lake

Sandpoint

4th

painting with cousins

Rach's baby shower

cousins

church at the lake

typical beach wear: Andee's baptism shoes

in need

happy six year anniversary!

Church in San Antonio

only this is us "ditching" and going to the nice, new building closer to our house,

instead of our own chapel. Rebels I tell ya.

these stinkin' kids

sweet nephew Everett 

night swim

Grandma came for V's bday

SA temple

Riverwalk with G ma

Vida's birthday door

pretty crappy comprehensive, but, you know...

Fantasy in a minor

 Beautiful, fantastical story told by five suffering souls. I love books that ache, but in a dreamy light way, like floating on a rain cloud. I highly recommend it.

Diurnal Urinal

Everyone reaches the point in their life were they say, "I can't live like this anymore." Maybe it happens everyday, wakes them up like a whiff of coffee percolating not far off. Let's say it happens only twice a year; connected to the poles of the earth, a biannual flip flop for solstice celebration. Or perhaps it happen only once in a lifetime---an earthquake that opens a chasm that can never be closed. Does it matter how many? Are they all different, or the same? Do they come from the same place? Does the child who's secret love has kissed yet another boy on the playground, and never him, feel the same as the alcoholic who crashes his car through the center divider? Is it the same pain, the same gaping inability to see God in that solitary moment. And I bet you're sitting there saying, "No, no, they're not the same; of course one is different, some are worse, some are better. Some get better, some get worse."

And I say,"Yes!"to all of that. But, all that begins in the moment after. Whether one changes their life, or lives through their life, or dies right then and there; that all comes after that prickly gnawing feeling in the middle of your abdomen. Like a tiny hedgehog took to hibernating beneath the ribs, and now that fuzzy, sharp little fellow is opening up right there, right inside. After that feeling comes the decision to change, or move, or do nothing. But in that one moment, I think we all feel the same. We're bound together by a common thought wave descending from our Mother Eve. She was the first to feel the pull. She took that bite because she couldn't live like that anymore. Her gut told her that everything she knew was a shell; she was just a doll, and she wanted so badly to be real. And so she bit down; she threw away her shell so that she could feel pain, so that she could love, and so she could experience that final moment where she would say, one last time, "I can't live like this anymore." One final scary moment separate from God before her spirit left her body; refined to too fine a material for a life like this.

We are all the same, and we are all different. We all go up, we must all come down. My moment will never change me in the exact same way the moment changes anyone else. We many never share the same joy, or wallow in the same depths of sorrow, but I am almost sure that each breaking point, for one infinitesimal moment, is exactly the same.

I don't know that any of that matters; but it made me feel squiggly inside today, none the less. 

10 frings

1. I've never colored my hair, ever. Not even highlights. Now I can't, I'm just waiting for it to get too grey, and then I'll do some funky town on the 'ol bean.
2. I've never been in a tanning bed. Thank goodness.
3. Claire, my college roommate and bf, and I were once seriously addicted to solitaire. Many, many hours wasted, classes failed because of computer solitaire. I had to quite cold turkey, and I barely came out alive.
4. I've spoken of my love of miniature things, and my love of all things weird and supernatural many times; so of course, it only makes sense that I used to collect sardine bones, teeth, and kind of dead sick thing to keep in empty Altoid boxes lined in tissue.
5. I put hot sauce on just about everything.
6. I'm pretty much obsessed with healthy eating; but I will never give up pizza, doughnuts, or McDonald's french fries. I don't even eat them regularly, and I feel sick when I do, but I reserve that God given right.
7. This was the best thing that happened to me all day. I josh you not, lights up my face like a Christmas tree.
8. I used to say that if I wasn't married by 30, I was going to become a lighthouse keeper, a cloistered nun, or the appalachian goat woman from Cold Mountain.
9. This movie is so good I was screaming at the end. Literally screaming, it was that tickling. Watch it on Netflix and tell me I'm wrong.
10. I was once upon a time in a hand bell choir. No lies, I even played hand chimes before I could work my way up to the bells. I <3 nerds.

pin me

Here are some of ze things I have been pinning as of late:

A little throwback tune:

I used to drive around listening to this song, thinking how awesomely it would fit into a crazy, rainy car crash scene in a movie. The music video still tears me up.

And to end on a lighter note...watch the movie Butter, on Netflix. So good, so good.

stars daisies babies King Kong

I have a bad habit of feeling empty. I try and cram, cram, cram as much in as I can. I'm a junkie for knowledge, affection, style, the internet, and wishful thinking. But, as you know, the junkie never gets enough, hence the bottomless pit.

Oh, and I do very little doing. Not enough to stretch the mind, or the body.

Bad combo, that thinking and not doing. A breeding ground for fear. Fear from all the things that could be done. Fear of never being enough. Fear that eats dreams, like Kobayashi eats hotdogs.

I've let fear tell me my whole life that there are things about me that need to be hidden, sensitive bits that were hurt long ago. But they were beautiful bits, and now sometimes I think they've rusted in their hiding places. I call them out, and they come slowly. It takes a lot of work tug the nightmares of children from the bones of sleeping adults. I personally find that talking helps; I'd probably love to talk to you, if I already don't. I'd love to tell you how I feel about the decline in population of large cats, or food, or anything in your life. I'd like to talk to you about my crazy family, and my crazy life. I'd love to talk to you about God, and about what you think your potential in life is. I'd like to comfort you, and tell you you're good. A small word, that 'good', and often underwhelming; but I find sometimes, that it if said just so, just straightforward enough, it feels clean and strong, and warm. Like old bare wood. Sometimes when I'm around adults, which I don't get to do vey often :) I talk so much I get jittery. I get a buzz off words. In fact, I'm usually quite ashamed after this, like any tipsy party girl. I talked too much, too loud, too bold. Funny things slip out when you hurt inside, don't they? And then, something strange happened as of late. We moved, and I talked, and I walked, and I stripped things away. My possessions, my family, Vida's health, our safety, bits of B's and my relationship. And I just kept feeling, like I was losing feeling. I kept seeing myself as this cup, and I was emptying out; and the fear kept filling it in with nothing. Because when nothing is inside of you, it becomes something. And I jut kept praying that I would get filled up. I prayed that I would be filled with things that would make me a better me. That's all. It was like a crucible; sometimes we do have to burn it all down.This time it was so intense it was like nothing was holding me here; here on earth. I just waited, and felt ok with waiting. And I kept thinking this should feel scary, but it didn't. It just felt like a bubble; quiet, and muffled, full of space, and at the same time so taunt, so precarious. And then the bubble must have popped, because I'm back. And I feel it; I feel my life inside of me. So now I'll do, I'll do something for a while, and then I'll probably cycle back through some other interior passageway. I love to take adventures inside myself, it's like Magic School Bus up in this hizzy everyday. I highly encourage you try one sometime.

Peace,
O.