Fleeting Beauty

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I sat alone on the beach tonight at sunset, before I went for a run, looking out at this.

It only appeared exactly like this for a matter of minutes before growing dimmer, duller, and eventually darkening into night.

It was like looking at a stunning piece of art in a museum, only to have it morph and change before your eyes.

There is so much beauty in this world that is fleeting; yet, even if it goes away, the affect it has on you sustains and the memory of it remains, so it can never be lost.

#malibusunset #zumabeach

*Originally posted on Instagram and Facebook

Relax into the Moment

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My kids were playing ping pong in front of James Perse this evening while a nice breeze swept through the Malibu Lumber Yard courtyard. The building loomed over the ping pong table to keep it in perpetual shade; so I moved away from watching their game in order to sit in the sun to warm up. I sank into the soft cushions, closed my eyes, listened to their faint laughter in the distance, and felt the heat of the sun’s rays warming my face and body. I relaxed into the moment, seizing a few minutes to quiet my mind.

I have so much to integrate from this past week, after my birthday getaway alone, and have been tuning in to what I feel, what I want to reflect upon, and what I want to express, as I prepare to write about my trip (as is my tradition each year). So it was a gift to open my eyes and look up at the blue sky to see the beauty and simplicity of this view... a welcome break from the physical, mental and emotional stimulation of a long day of softball games and Malibu Little League closing ceremonies.

My daughter played amazing today, a double header in the hot sun, catching three hard hits into the infield to make three crucial outs, two of which she caught while she was pitcher, running and diving to catch them like a pro. She was named MVP of her team for the season, will play in two post season tournaments, and was recognized at the closing ceremony for scoring five home runs this season. Her accomplishments are hers alone of which to be proud... I am simply honored to bear witness to these milestones in her life.

I was an artist not an athlete as a child, so this culture is new to me and very different from piano recitals and dance shows. Her drive and perseverance to play and excel in these team sports starting with “s” (softball, soccer, swimming) is awe inspiring; and it’s a testament to all of our lives really being our own for the crafting. She is her own person, and I love that she is following her passions.

Whatever influence I may have over her other interests (creative writing, reading, playing an instrument), it is still her journey to forge her own path for a life that she will lead on her own terms.✨

#lookup

*Originally posted on Instagram and Facebook

No Filter Rant

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There is no filter on this photo I just snapped a couple minutes ago; so there will be no filter on its caption either (which is the norm for me anyway). It is inconceivable to some that one could look out at this view from their front door & not be grateful every moment of every day. Yet, sadly, it doesn’t work that way.

Gratitude is not automatic or a given. It is not inherent in direct relation to one’s interpreted & conceived good fortune, nor even to the obvious blessing of being alive, healthy & safe. Of course, you would think it would be, but it’s not. Gratitude needs to be cultivated, & so often that part is overlooked. I am grateful a lot, but not as much as I consciously wish I would be.

I have been enjoying this same view & these same sunsets for over 15 years, living in this tiny edge of the world since 2002. I have gotten married while living here, changed careers, grieved the sudden loss of my mother to a car accident, birthed two children, given up having a career at one point, suffered marital challenges, stayed home (sleep deprived & depressed) nursing babies, chasing toddlers, sweeping up cheerios, wiping up smushed baby food & feeling like I wanted to (& actually have) scream & cry from the grief, hardship, mundaneness & lack of intellectual stimulation.

Today, I stand here with children who are 7 & 11 & gone most of the day navigating moments of their own lives without me, on an unpaved road leading to an unknown destination, on the journey of a new career & a new stage of life. Nothing is certain... nothing but the love I feel for my husband, my kids, my siblings, my friends.

It is easy to see that this view is quite spectacular to the naked eye (& this image doesn’t even do it justice) in all its obvious glory; it is harder to see how spectacular everything else is in your life without consciously recognizing it - without tuning in your mind, body & soul to it - breathing it in & letting it inhabit your being.

I am doing it now. NOW. Now is all we’ve got until the next moment comes. Breathe it in. All of it. It is a privilege. Even the hard... especially the hard. It is what moves us closer to our truest selves.

#nofilter #rant

*Originally posted on Instagram and Facebook

 

Soften to the Silliness

The magical 🎈balloon lady storytime event with Annie Banannie at the Malibu Library one week ago was targeted for kids ages 4-10. My son (7) and my daughter (10, but three days shy of turning 11) sat there amongst an audience of mostly toddlers and were skeptical it was going to be worth their while.

This was one in a long series of Malibu Library after school events to which I have taken them over the years... probably since she was about two-years-old, and definitely since he was a newborn. As our library outings have been some of the most fun and memorable times I have had as a mother with my children, it is strange to think that this may have been the last one my daughter would ever attend.

When the show began, they didn’t jump right in to participate. At this point (pictured), he was still deciding what he thought, and she was captivated by a baby sitting behind me. Yet after the show progressed a bit, they both began to soften... smiling, laughing, and letting go just enough to have a good time and enjoy the lightness and the silliness.

Even though my daughter is now 11, I will still try to take her to these events, and hope that she will sit, smile, laugh, and soften... soften to the silliness, despite her tween angst, and soften to the innocence and lightness amidst her inner battle between not wanting to be treated like a baby, and not wanting to grow up at all.

#balloonstorytime

*Originally posted on Instagram and Facebook

Easy Like Sunday Morning

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Best friends. Balloons. Easy like Sunday morning. Groovin' on a Sunday afternoon.🎈

This photo I took of my son and his best friend at Malibu Bluffs Park is featured on the table of contents page in the current issue of Malibu Times Magazine. Although the issue has been out for two weeks, I didn’t realize I hadn’t shared the news until I walked by the magazine stand in front of Ralphs supermarket yesterday. It had just been replenished with a fresh stack of mags, so I thought I’d snap a quick pic... Thank you @malibutimesmag and @tracyiswright for the cool honor.

#malibutimesmag #featuredphoto #winterissue

*Originally posted on Instagram and Facebook

 

Breakfast & Poetry

A deep breath and this breathtaking view at Zuma beach jump started my day this morning. I then arrived at a breakfast and poetry gathering with a tribe of empowered and beautiful women, all of them devoted moms who are living, fighting and thriving in the trenches of parenting young children right now. We were to read a poem of our choosing aloud; but instead, I opted to read “Dear Mom,” a rhythmic and somewhat poetic piece I wrote and posted to my website over a year ago. A letter to my mom on the eve of the 10th anniversary of her death, this was something I had never read aloud before today.

While I spoke, my heart beat wildly and my voice quivered slightly; as the words were louder in my head than they had been before, and the feelings attached to them more visceral. As I heard my own voice give them life, the words floated through the air and landed in the ears of those listening, some of them discovering the fate of my mom for the first time. I kept my eyes glued to the page until the end, as I knew if I locked eyes with anyone while reading I might not be able to finish.

When I finally looked up, I discovered tears flowing on several of the faces around me, and the room was absorbed by the expressions of sadness, disappointment, anger, and love that I had just shared. Yet, above all of the emotions conveyed in the letter, LOVE transcended them all. Love left its mark on the hearts of those who received its powerful message, and it connected us... as mothers, as women, as humans. It was a beautiful moment, and one I am grateful to those women in the room for sharing with me.

#dearmom

*Originally posted on Instagram and Facebook

Beach of Humanity

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When the world seems out of control, and you don't know what you can do to make it better, you continue to contribute to the wellbeing of your family and community, and you keep working on improving yourself as a person, family member, resident of your community, global citizen, and member of the human race... and every so often, you walk out into the great wide open, take a deep breath, and remind yourself you are but a grain of sand on the beach of humanity. Even though every grain matters and has its role in constituting the whole, no grain works or exists alone to create or sustain the peace and beauty of the whole. 🌎

#contributetothegood #doyourpart #everyonematters

 

*Originally posted on Instagram and Facebook

In Seven Years Time

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I hosted my son's Lego birthday party today to celebrate him turning 7. And now is not the moment when I state any variety of, "Where did the time go?, The years are going by too fast!, or Slow down time!" No, I don't subscribe to this mode of thinking that most parents do. I feel the opposite. I believe that it's all happening at the right speed, in due time, with my close awareness and full presence.

These 7 years have gone by as they should. They have been lovely, hard, joyful, painful, inspirational, challenging, uplifting, heartbreaking, euphoric, devastating, and hopeful. They have been 7 years of my life. Of my son's life. Sometimes lived by me to the utmost & fullest, and sometimes lived less wisely than I would have wished.

There have been moments that have been some of the best of my life, and there have been moments that have been some of the darkest. My son is the gift I received 7 years ago; but along with this precious gift, I also inherited the challenge of parenting 2 children, dealing with an often volatile sibling dynamic, and precariously juggling my time mothering 2 souls, all the while trying to find time and space for my own self care & self preservation.

As I have written about before, I lost myself a bit a few years after having this child, and then I found myself again 3 years ago when I began to share, through writing, what being lost meant. So life - for me, for my son - is happening as it should, as it was meant to. When people say "It's going by too fast," I think they may really mean that they want more of their time to play out in the ways they want it to play out, or that maybe they haven't been using their time to its fullest potential.

Yet who really does? Who can? At least, who can do so every second, or every moment. Life goes on, for all of us... we live it, we feel it, we thrive, we falter, we triumph, we make mistakes, we make the most of it, we waste time, we celebrate it, we have regrets, and we do our best with what we've been given. That's it.

This day has closed. This time is done. We will wake to a new day, with more life and more time; and we will spend it foolishly or we will spend it well. What will you choose?

#whatwillyouchoose

 

*Originally posted on Instagram and Facebook

Communication

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Communication (noun): 1. the successful conveying or sharing of ideas and feelings. 2. means of connection between people.

I've been thinking a lot about communication recently, and how much our relationships hinge on it. The health of a relationship *the sheer existence of it* relies on communication (verbal or otherwise) between the two people engaged in it. Engaged, as in actively participating. Assuming how others feel, or leaving them no choice than to make assumptions about how *you* feel, in the absence of direct communication, is an affront to the relationship, and a likely sign of its demise.

Our responsibility as caring, feeling humans is to authentically connect with those we have relationships with, to honor those relationships by being present in them, and to be open, honest & forthright rather than closed off, dishonest & evasive. It's unfortunate, but so many relationships perish under the weight of the words not said, the feelings not expressed, and the actions not taken. Such a waste.

This reminds me of a line in Gone With the Wind, when Rhett Butler, upset about how many soldiers were killed in the Battle of Gettysburg, said to Scarlet O'Hara: "I'm angry. Waste always makes me angry and that's what this is, sheer waste." That's how I feel about good relationships being damaged, often irrevocably, in the delay, absence, or mishandling of communication. Sheer waste.

Many would say it is meant to be, as you can't force anyone to do anything... you can't make people take action, be courageous, or care more. Others would say keep trying if you love them, and never give up if you think they are worth it. I say, stay true to yourself, trust your intuition, and "when someone shows you who they are, believe them." You know the truth deep down of who should stay and who should go, often long before you will admit it to yourself. Do not lose your self-respect in the face of their cowardice, immaturity, or selfishness. Never hold on so tight that you close your eyes to the truth.

Show up for others. Love. Care. Communicate. Open your eyes wide 👀. See who's there, showing up for you, and honor that. And whomever is not showing up, isn't there.

#showup #whenpeopleshowyouwhotheyarebelievethem

 

*Originally posted on Instagram and Facebook

Ocean Warrior

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He came, he fought, he conquered.

My son gained a new sense of confidence in the ocean yesterday after he challenged himself to keep up with his big sister while they both boogie boarded in a more aggressive than usual shore break.

I relished seeing the pride in his eyes and elation in his voice as he ran up to tell me of their adventures facing the waves... how he was tossed, flipped and spun around by the sea and lived to tell the tale.

It was wholly dramatic and wildly exciting from the innocent perspective of this six year old's world; and after he finished recounting his saga, he stood quietly and stared out at the surf, seeming to reflect on all that he accomplished.

I cherished being witness to this, and felt like he grew and matured ever so slightly right before my very eyes. 🌊

#lovethiskid #oceanwarrior

 

*Originally posted on Instagram and Facebook

All I Got

My mom loved the beach. When we were kids, she took us to Paradise Cove in Malibu to play in the ocean and sand all day while she relaxed and soaked up the sun.

This Mother's Day morning, I took a run at Zuma, as I so often do, and I snapped this photo with my mom weighing heavily on my mind. I felt she was with me, in my heart; but I really wished she was with me in person, walking the boardwalk alongside me.

I would gladly have given up my run and that precious hour of solitude to just go for a walk with her. I pictured a spry seventy-year-old grandma version of her walking next to me, and wanted so badly for this version to exist outside of my imagination.

I remember how excited she was when I moved to Malibu fifteen years ago. I can still see her face when she saw the 180 degree view of the ocean visible from the deck of John's and my new place for the first time. Her jaw dropped when she walked in the front door and looked out at it; and she joked with us about wanting to move in herself.

She was so happy John and I were in love. She was our biggest fan... kind of like how fans of celebrities love their favorite power couple; yet instead of Brangelina, my mom fan girled us. She had a collage of our photos up over her desk at work, and she had several framed photos of us in her house.

She LOVED John. She thought I won the lottery of men. She adored us together and said "aaawww..." whenever we did something even remotely romantic in front of her, like give each other a quick kiss or cuddle up together on her couch. I think she was just so happy for me, and maybe a little bit relieved, that her outspoken middle daughter, who had an argumentative nature, strong opinions, and passionate convictions, found a gorgeous, kind-hearted man that seemed to love me despite these traits... or perhaps, to her surprise, because of them.

When John and I were engaged, she was beside herself with elation and excitement. My wedding day was one of the happiest of her life. She was beaming the whole day with pride... over me, the wedding I had planned on my own, and the man I had chosen to spend my life with.

None of us knew on that day that she wouldn't live to see the life we ultimately created together. It was only a year and a half later when she died, and she left us knowing I was six months pregnant, and that my baby girl was going to finally make her a grandmother.

She wouldn't get the chance to meet my daughter, or know we also had a son four years later. She wouldn't know that we'd continue to live at the beach, raising our family here and still looking out at that same view she had jaw dropped over.

She wouldn't know I would become a writer. That I would write about her often, or that I would begin to write my first book. She wouldn't know that so many people she loved would be touched by what and how I write, or credit her for my creative talent.

If my mom was alive today, I would have invited her out to Malibu and taken that walk with her; and then I would have taken her to brunch somewhere in town with a beautiful ocean view... or better yet, made brunch for her here so she could sit on our deck with a glass of champagne, look out at the ocean, and watch her grandchildren play around her.

Today has been hard for me so far. I don't know why this year more than previous years, but there it is. My family took me to brunch this morning at a local restaurant, after my run, and all I wanted to do was come back home, be alone, and write. I didn't want to see and be surrounded by adult mom and daughter combos celebrating each other over champagne brunch, or listen to my kids argue about whose foot was on whose side of the car and hear my son scream out at the injustice of it all. I didn't want to be informed about what they each wanted for their next birthdays several months away... subjects these kids seemed to think were paramount to broach on this particular day of days.

As a daughter, when you don't have a mom present to show your love and appreciation, there's a risk of presuming this day should be all about you. As a mother, things are rarely all about you, so this could be quite an intoxicating notion. Our culture dangles this day in front of us and tells us we should expect a magical twenty four hours in which our kids won't behave selfishly and our deepest desires will be met without us being asked what they are. If we buy into this premise, we will surely be set up for disappointment and our loved ones set up for definite failure.

I prefer to give more than receive. I love to be of service to those I love, to support them, to give them the parts of myself that can help them. To lift them up and serve them in the best ways I can, using my talents and strengths. That is love to me.

So since I cannot express and give love to my mom in person today, I am sending out my love to her and to all the mothers in my life through these words.

Mamas... I love you. You work hard, you sacrifice, you suffer, you triumph. You go above and beyond - and most days, it goes unnoticed. You plan ahead, you think of how to make others feel special, and you put the wants and needs of your kids ahead of your own most of the time. You are rockstars. I am in awe of you.

I never got the chance to physically be a daughter to my mom and a mother to my kids simultaneously, or to celebrate Mother's Day with my mom and kids together. The time it has taken me this Mother's Day afternoon to write this, and to reflect on my mom, is my special time spent with her today. Thinking about her, remembering her smile, her laugh, her jokes, her love, and writing this... it's the closest thing to showering her with my love and appreciation today.

That's all I got. Happy Mother's Day, Mom. I love you.

 

Love Hike

My husband and I fell in love hiking. We met on April 20, 2000 while both living in Burbank, and for the first few months of our courtship, we would meet almost every day after work to hike and trail run through Griffith Park.

We've lived in Malibu for nearly 15 years now, and we've hiked and trail run all through the Santa Monica Mountains to the coast - most recently Nicholas Flats, in which the lake is fuller and the trail more lush than it has been in years.

Three days shy of five years together, we were married on April 17, 2005 at the Adamson House in Malibu... which means we are celebrating our 12th wedding anniversary today. 💕

It's not always been an easy road, but our marriage is stronger now in the wake of the bumps and bruises it's taken over the years, and with a healthy sense of reality, perspective, positivity and perseverance.

#happyanniversary #twelveyears

 

*Originally posted exclusively on Instagram and Facebook

Textures

"It was called 'Textures', because you could see three different kinds of texture: the driftwood, the sand and me." - Marilyn Monroe, The Seven Year Itch (1955)

For some inexplicable reason, I thought of this MM quote from one of my favorite films of hers when I was looking out at this view during my beach workout this morning. I think maybe it came to mind because I noticed how many textures, colors and shades I could see before me, and how my view kept changing and morphing as the clouds moved by, the waves crashed and retreated, and the shore and sea creatures appeared and disappeared from sight.

Over the course of an hour and a half, I saw various flocks of seagulls land and take off, a large squadron of pelicans soar gracefully overhead, and a pod of baby dolphins frolic in the water right in front of us, several of them jumping full body out of the water before diving back in.

I snapped a photo before I left the beach of the rectangle frame in which all of this activity had occurred; yet by then, only the simple elements of beach, ocean, and sky remained. No matter... still a gorgeous view itself.

#beachworkout #zuma

 

*Originally posted exclusively on Instagram and Facebook

While Away

On the last day of 2016, my family and I visited the Sequoia National Park up in the southern Sierra Nevada Mountains of California. As we drove over thirty miles up a windy mountain road, the air temperature dropped from an already chilly (by my California coast standards) 49 degrees at the bottom of the mountain to a brisk 31 degrees at the point where we stopped amidst a winter wonderland.

We attempted to sled and saucer our way down hills so deeply covered with fresh powder that we immediately sunk down into the pillowy white snow instead of gliding atop the surface of it. This was a spontaneous day trip up the mountain, so we hadn't sought out a groomed tube park or any kind of designated sledding area. We simply stopped off the road when we saw some open space to explore and forged our own path to play in the woods where no one else was around.

This type of scenario is commonplace in my life with my adventurous husband, so I have learned to expect the unexpected over the years. As such, these natural snowy conditions were less than ideal for our planned activity. None of us seemed to mind though... we were having fun and were content to let the green of the trees and the white of the snow envelop us in their pure and pristine beauty.

The air was so crisp and fresh and the snow fell from the sky so soft and silent that, as I looked around, I felt as if I was watching a beautiful nature film with the sound turned down. Although I live in a rural mountainous area, it is temperate and always in motion, the coastal breezes and ocean waves providing us with a constant soundtrack. This frost covered forest was, in contrast, cold, quiet, and still; an environment to which I wasn't accustomed.

While my husband and kids were still trying in vain to get some speed and traction on the hills behind me, I stood alone in the middle of an open field, the blanket of white around me untouched except for the path of my footsteps. Entranced by my surroundings, I just stood there as the snow floated down and lightly settled upon me, not doing or thinking or being anything but present. I was just me. Me in that moment. Me in my mind. Me in my body. Me in my soul. Just ME.

A feeling of acceptance, peace and gratitude washed over me and I took it all in with a deep breath of cool, clean air... acceptance of myself, peace with my place in the world, and gratitude for my journey - past, present and most especially, future.

The sound of my kids laughing in the distance slowly came back into my perception, as if someone had turned the movie's volume up; and I realized they were calling for me to rejoin the fun. It seems I was being summoned back... Back to being a mom. Back to being a wife. Back to being a woman loved and needed by the same two eager and excited little humans as I am every day of my life. And most rewardingly, back to my position as the missing and vital puzzle piece that completes our family portrait.

2016 would be over in a couple of hours, and I was happy to see it go. It had been a year of examination, discovery, reflection, letting go, seeking resolution, and recommitting to dreams and goals that had always been there, but had begun to get lost in the shuffle along the way.

As I mentioned in my last post a couple days ago, I shared some things exclusively on Instagram and Facebook that I wrote during the final three months of 2016 in lieu of posting anything here on the blog at that time.
I am sharing those words and images below with you now to wrap up and bid farewell to what was a challenging and transformative year...

Milking It

 Pacific coast Highway - Santa Monica, CA

Pacific coast Highway - Santa Monica, CA

A two and half hour, traffic laden drive from the OC to LA warrants all windows down, sunroof open, bare feet, music playing, and a leg up while driving (even when wearing a dress). I drove down to Costa Mesa this morning for a dear friend's father's funeral, a fitting end to an already emotional week for me, after the tenth anniversary of my mother's death a couple days ago.

I drove most of the way home to Malibu on the clogged 405 freeway in silence and quiet reflection, thinking about life and how those we love will all inevitably leave us at some point on our life's journey, and how I knew that this was only one in a long procession of memorial services that I already had begun to attend, as my friends and I continue to lose the beloved people that came before us and reared us into this life. I also partly dreamed about just staying down there for the rest of the day, hanging out at the beach alone or calling a friend I hadn't seen in a while to meet for coffee, a smile, and a catch-up chat. Wouldn't that be lovely, I thought.

When I finally made it to the 10 freeway, traffic opened up, and so did I... shaking off my daydreams, I took a deep cleansing breath to remind me to stay in the present and seize the moment to enjoy the cool coastal breezes that were now rushing through my open car windows. As I emerged from the McClure tunnel onto Pacific Coast Highway in Santa Monica, traffic slowed to a crawl again, and I noticed a couple people in the cars around me craning their necks and doing double takes at me.

Now, I am a 44 year old woman in a black funeral dress in an SUV on my way home to my husband and kids, not a 22 year old freewheeling chick in cutoffs and a bikini in a sports car heading to the beach; yet, I was getting some looks. I can only guess that I must have looked slightly strange and oddly comfortable with my bare leg exposed and leaning on my door while wearing that conservative black dress. My black heels were kicked off under me and my wind blown hair was no longer in its neat little bun.

I didn't care how it looked - it was as free as I was going to feel today, and I was milking it for all it was worth.

Posted on Instagram and Facebook, October 14, 2016

Strength of Heart

 Happy Kids Dental Planet - Agoura Hills, CA

This is the parking space I landed in today at my daughter's dentist office...

Seeing it reminded me that when we open our hearts, and then entrust them to others for safe keeping, we render them vulnerable to other people's insensitivity, carelessness and mistreatment. The most challenging part of recovering from the hurt and injustice done to us by others is to not close up our hearts as a means of trying to protect ourselves from additional pain.

True strength of heart hinges on our ability and willingness to keep our hearts open, kind, giving, and forgiving, despite the risk of being hurt again. It's much easier said than done, I know, but I think it's one of the most important virtues to try to honor and live by.

Posted on Instagram and Facebook, October 17, 2016

Start Doing

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We are so good at saying what we feel, touting what we think, and preaching what we believe that the actual doing of it all sometimes gets lost along the way.

We promise the moon and then don't deliver it. We plant the seed then forget to water it.

Talk, talk, talk... words are our cheapest commodity. The real value is in our action and follow through.

Stop talking. Start doing.

  #actionsspeaklouderthanwords #talkischeap

Posted on Instagram and Facebook, November 4, 2016

Vote

Here we go...

#vote #election2016

Posted on Instagram and Facebook, November 8, 2016
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Be Here Now

 Pantages Theatre - Hollywood, CA

Pantages Theatre - Hollywood, CA

Date night out to the theatre last Friday night. I snapped this pic before the show began but didn't share it instantly, as I didn't feel it was worth taking even one second of my attention away from my date or the beautiful architecture of the Hollywood Pantages Theatre to do it.

It's how I felt in that moment... just an overwhelming urge to remain fully present. After all that transpired last week, and the palpable uncertainty and anxiety about the future pervading the air since the election, staying present is what felt best. (And truthfully, still does.)

The show that followed this pic was an assault to the senses - so raw, so emotional, so tragic. It reminded me of how alive you can feel, how much pain you can endure, and how, no matter what you have been through or are presently going through, there is still hope for a better day, a new start, a brighter future.

Allowing ourselves to feel alive and in our tangible reality is SO important. Yes, we all have big plans. So many of us work so hard to ensure a safe and prosperous future for ourselves, our families, our world. Yet we get so caught up in it all sometimes that we forget to live. Forget to breathe. Forget to enjoy what is right in front of us. Finding gratitude for the here and now and choosing those moments to be fully present today, without an ounce of worry or concern for what's coming next, is what energizes us to face all that lies ahead and galvanizes us to do and accomplish what we need to do tomorrow. If we don't, what are we doing it all for anyway?

Posted on Instagram and Facebook, November 16, 2016

After The Rain Has Fallen

 Malibu, CA

After the rain has fallen
After the tears have washed your eyes
You'll find that I've taken nothing, that
Love can't replace in the blink of an eye.

After the thunder's spoken, and
After the lightning bolt's been hurled
After the dream is broken, there'll
Still be love in the world.

-Sting

Posted on Instagram and Facebook, November 28, 2016

Don't Walk Away

 Sunset over the Pacific Ocean and the Channel Islands - Malibu, CA

Sunset over the Pacific Ocean and the Channel Islands - Malibu, CA

From my bedroom balcony, I watched this evening's stunning sunset unfold. With each passing minute, with every second even, the slightest shifts occurred, and the sky morphed from light blues and soft oranges to deep purples and intense pinks.

Although the changes were slow and subtle, they came in such a continuous progression that if you walked away for even a minute or two, you'd miss the whole thing.

There's no pause button. You can't walk away and come back to experience it when you're ready. It will happen whether or not you are watching.

I think the same could be said about life. Walk away, busy yourself, indulge in distractions, or simply take for granted life's pure beauty, with all its subtleties and fleeting nuances, and soon discover you're missing it... one minute, one day, one week, one month, one year at a time.

It's your choice. It's your life, and the only one you're gonna get on this Earth. Don't walk away. Don't sleep, swipe, surf, zone out, binge watch, or social media numb your way through it.

Please don't. Love it. Feel it. Breathe it. Live it. Just pay attention. It is worth it. Look up from your phone and see what's in front of you, live and unfiltered, in vibrant colors.

#nofilter

Posted on Instagram and Facebook, December 20, 2016

It Gets Joy

 New years Eve 2016-17

This was the first New Year's Eve my son managed to stay awake until midnight.

Since he had never been a part of the festivities before, he didn't quite understand why we were all at his grandparents' house wearing silly hats and holding bubbly drinks.

We explained it to him by saying that when a new calendar year begins, it is kind of like the Earth having a birthday - just like how he celebrates his birthday every year.

He took a couple seconds to ponder this idea, then said quietly, "So instead of the Earth getting presents, it gets joy."

Yes, sweet pie, that's exactly right.

#insightfulbeyondhisyears #wiserthanmostadults

Posted on Instagram and Facebook, January 3, 2017

Happy New Year to you all. I hope you will join me here often for the interesting journey that is sure to be 2017.

A Better Ten

The last time I posted on this blog was on the 10th anniversary of my mom's death back in October. Since then, I have continued to write, but have only shared a few of those words on social media, not finding the time or inclination to write anything of substantial length or significance to post as a full blog entry.
The close of 2016 was challenging for me, as it was for many. Over and above dealing with the U.S. presidential campaign and subsequent election, as well as the sudden loss of a few of our most respected artistic icons, I myself suffered the loss of both a dear family member and a long time friend and neighbor at the close of the year. I also had much to contemplate, reflect on, and work through regarding my family, the holidays, and both my internal and external life as a woman and an individual.
Sometimes it is necessary for us to do this kind of work on our own, without an audience, and without certain external influences or opinions muddling up the process. This, of course, does not bode well for a writer who mostly writes about her life's journey and experiences.
My proclivity to share my opinions and feelings through writing on this blog stems from my inherent longing to connect, relate, comfort, inspire, and provoke dialogue. So suddenly not having a strong desire to do so was troubling. What I did post on Instagram and Facebook during the last few months was always short and spontaneous, and seemed to be all I wanted to comment on or delve into at that point in time.
Now, a new year is upon us, and I thought it apropos to follow my last post about the 10th anniversary of my mom's death with a new post about the 10th anniversary of my daughter's birth.
It is definitely a better ten to celebrate.
I still plan to share some of the things I wrote during the final months of 2016, most likely in the next few days; but for now, this first entry back is all about balloons, birthdays and blowing out candles... and the hope and promise for the future as my little girl enters double digits.
 Originally posted on  Instagram  and  Facebook  on January 14, 2017

Originally posted on Instagram and Facebook on January 14, 2017

Party in progress at our house right now. My daughter turns ten today and her three best friends are over for the small, exclusive birthday party she requested.

As all of the girls were dropped off, there are no other parents here, and my husband took my son out of the house to give her the freedom to be with her friends without her six-year-old little brother in tow.

So here I am, in the kitchen, icing her chocolate cake and getting ready to write a big, purple "10" on the top of it, while four nine and ten year olds are out on the deck... chatting, laughing, snacking, taking instant selfies, and decorating photo albums.

It is quite peaceful in here, away from the action; but it is also a strange new reality for me, after nine years of kid parties at which a deluge of parents, babies, toddlers, relatives, nap breaks, bibs, sippy cups, diaper changes, and tantrums all previously played significant roles.

Very strange.

Well, better get back to the cake. Here's to TEN. The dawn of a new decade, as well as a new era of parenthood.

 Originally posted on  Instagram  and  Facebook  on January 19, 2017

Originally posted on Instagram and Facebook on January 19, 2017

It had been blustery and rainy for the better part of last week, and strong winds were still howling on the morning of Saturday, January 14th, my daughter's 10th birthday. We weren't sure if we were going to be able to use the deck for her party and were prepared to relegate the festivities to the indoors if the wind persisted and the rain returned.

But as the party's start time approached, the sun warmed the air, the winds calmed to a gentle breeze, and the ocean swayed and soothed for a much needed rest from the stormy tides it had weathered the previous few days.

I set up our outside table with the craft projects we planned and looked out at this view with a grateful heart. Not just for the weather cooperating or for the breathtaking panorama, as I am grateful for that every day, but for the soul that was born to become my daughter ten years ago that day.

Someone could naively suggest that the weather cleared up especially for her party by some stroke of divine miracle; or they could even go as far as to say my mom made it so from up above, a gift to her granddaughter who arrived on this Earth only days after she herself left it.

Yet as idealistic and romantic as I am, I don't believe in these kinds of notions. What I do believe is that life, along with the weather, is unpredictable; and we, for the most part, don't know exactly what's going to happen from one day to the next.

Losing someone you love without warning teaches you this; yet to a certain degree, so does parenthood, marriage, and simply living daily life. As much as we want to believe otherwise, we are only in control of our own actions, our own mindset approaching what we do, and ultimately how we respond to what unfolds beyond our control.

This day unfolded beautifully... my daughter officially turned ten at 3:19pm, and she made her birthday wish and blew out her ten candles just before the party ended and the sun set over the ocean out front.

 Originally posted On  Instagram  and  Facebook  on January 20, 2017

Originally posted On Instagram and Facebook on January 20, 2017

I wouldn't say it was lonely... just, different. Weird. Unchartered. Last Saturday, I hosted my first kid birthday party as the sole adult in attendance. My nine-going-on-what-feels-like-eighteen-year-old daughter was blissful and carefree when her friends arrived for the party that day; a refreshing departure from the potent mix of drama, melancholy, and defiance she has consistently been the last year.

She smiled from ear to ear all day long... laughing, posing for selfies, and basking in the sweetness and silliness of her girlfriends' happy birthday song rendition before blowing out ten candles on her homemade chocolate birthday cake.

I watched all this transpire with joy in my heart and my own smile on my face, yet was feeling like more of a spectator than participant of the party, and noticed the stark contrast from her past birthday parties at which her dad, brother and I were always at the center of the action. Being alone and observing her and her friends from the sidelines this year made me realize that a change was happening that I didn't know was coming, at least not this soon.

I know as my daughter gets older I will have to relinquish my role as the primary creator and orchestrator of her life's events and memories. This is vital for her to bloom and grow outside the constructs of my nurturing and protecting. Yet it's new for me (and a tiny bit heartbreaking) to let go of so much of what has defined me as a mother since I became one ten years ago.

It's all going to be okay though. I have my own game of life to participate in, one in which I am not a spectator. And no matter what... I will have a front row seat to witness her beautiful life as it plays out; and I will be her most enthusiastic and loyal fan. She may continue to ask me less and less to participate in her life's game as the years go by; but I will always be there to guide, support, uplift, and love her as her mom. And THAT role is one I will never relinquish.

Don't Walk Away

 Sunset over the Pacific Ocean and Channel Islands - Malibu, CA

Sunset over the Pacific Ocean and Channel Islands - Malibu, CA

From my bedroom balcony, I watched this evening's stunning sunset unfold. With each passing minute, with every second even, the slightest shifts occurred, and the sky morphed from light blues and soft oranges to deep purples and intense pinks.

Although the changes were slow and subtle, they came in such a continuous progression that if you walked away for even a minute or two, you'd miss the whole thing.

There's no pause button. You can't walk away and come back to experience it when you're ready. It will happen whether or not you are watching.

I think the same could be said about life. Walk away, busy yourself, indulge in distractions, or simply take for granted life's pure beauty, with all its subtleties and fleeting nuances, and soon discover you're missing it... one minute, one day, one week, one month, one year at a time.

It's your choice. It's your life, and the only one you're gonna get on this Earth. Don't walk away. Don't sleep, swipe, surf, zone out, binge watch, or social media numb your way through it.

Please don't. Love it. Feel it. Breathe it. Live it. Just pay attention. It is worth it. Look up from your phone and see what's in front of you, live and unfiltered, in vibrant colors.

#nofilter

 

*Originally posted on Instagram and Facebook

Soulful Six

 Malibu Bluffs Park - Malibu, CA

Malibu Bluffs Park - Malibu, CA

My son turns SIX today. A gentle and kind soul wrapped up in an energetic and hilarious character, he is a kid who likes to shock and amuse just as much as he likes to cuddle and love.

He possesses a depth and a soulfulness way beyond his years; yet he is raucous and rambunctious, needs to be told to use his inside voice constantly, and tires out his mama on a daily basis.

One minute he is leading our blessing at dinner, expressing how he is "grateful for companionship, the Earth, and everyone in the world, even the people he doesn't know, or who aren't alive anymore" (that last one being for my mom). The next minute he forgets all proper table manners to joyously revel in his ability to make uncouth bodily noises at will.

He is the yin to his big sister's yang, loves to pick flowers for me any chance he gets, and never ceases to surprise, bemuse and fascinate us with his remarkable capacity to elicit smiles on our faces and laughs in our hearts.

#thisissix

 

*Originally posted exclusively on Instagram and Facebook.

Freedom

 Running at Zuma Beach - Malibu, CA

Running at Zuma Beach - Malibu, CA

Freedom from... 

_____________________


Today I am feeling free from things that had bound me for so long.

It's gratifying to cut the cord from those thoughts and behavioral patterns that no longer serve me, my life, or my overall well being.

It matters not that you know with what I personally fill in that blank; but rather that you know what YOU do... or at least what from which you still wish to be free.

Whatever it is, have faith. It IS possible.

Be patient. Do the work, persevere, and it will happen.

#fillintheblank

 
 
 
*Originally posted exclusively on Instagram and Facebook.

My Abbey

 Lighthouse inside the Malibu Library - Malibu, CA

Lighthouse inside the Malibu Library - Malibu, CA

I love our local library. Some days I wish I could stay here... live here. It's like in the Sound of Music when Maria returns to the Abbey and begs to stay and become a nun so she can avoid the dilemma of being in love with Captain Von Trapp. The Reverend Mother says to her, "Our Abbey is not to be used as an escape... These walls were not built to shut out problems. You have to face them. You have to live the life you were born to live."

Of course, she is right. You must live the life you are destined to live with hope, energy, purpose, positivity, determination, perseverance, resolve, and gratitude.

And I do... most of the time; or at least I try to.

Still it seems the strong impulse to hide, to escape, to shield ourselves from the world outside is powerful at times, especially when it all just gets to be too much. When it feels like so much is being asked of us, demanded of us, and expected of us, and we just aren't sure if we have the fortitude or grace to face it on any particular day.

My Abbey on a day like that (on a day like this) is the library. A safe, comfortable and beautiful place to just sit, write, read, learn, and get completely immersed in the endless supply of books. A place where I wish I could read and write until my heart's content, with no time limits, deadlines, or bedtimes.

I know I can't live here. I can't even visit here for more than a few minutes at a time, or without a kid in tow, between all of life's commitments. Still, it's my sweet dream I dream as I sit here in silence, reading a book or writing my thoughts down and relishing a moment to shut out the noisy world for a while.

Time spent here is fast and fleeting, and it will be over soon, at least for today, when I must begrudgingly put my bookmark back in the crease of my book, gather up my son and the books he wants to check out, and face the remainder of the day, and the coming days, until I can make my next library escape.

 

*Originally posted exclusively on Instagram and Facebook.

We Are the Choices We Make

This is what I look like most days... baseball cap, yoga or running clothes, sunglasses, no makeup. No glamour, no glitz. No sign of professional success or status. No power lunches, business trips, or expense accounts. No coffee dates, happy hour hang outs, or peer camaraderie.

This is what I do most days... DRIVE. Me in the car, alone. For miles. That is, until I am descended upon by little minds and hearts and souls with their meltdowns, attitudes, bargaining, hunger, crankiness, and loudness (and at times, cuteness).

Whether it is up and down the coast highway or over the canyon to the valley, I live in a place where I have to drive quite a few miles to get anywhere.

This is a typical Monday, when I drive the same stretch of PCH four times. Seventeen miles down the coast from home to my son's school, nine miles back up to my daughter's school, ten miles back down to ballet class, a mile to the library with my son while she dances, that same mile back to pick her up, and then a final eighteen miles up the coast to home for the night. Fifty-six miles logged in four hours without leaving Malibu.

On days like these, it's hard to feel like I've accomplished anything or was at all efficient in my day. Am I doomed to be the horribly inefficient underachiever I feel I am at this stage in my life? Is my dream of being Mrs. Goal Reacher and meeting all the (possibly unrealistic) expectations I put on myself on any given day just an illusion? It seems like other people get so much accomplished in the span of a single work day (albeit many hours longer than mine) while I have been feeling extremely underwhelmed by my ability to do the same, because of the limit on my time. Or is it more because I am just not as organized and pulled together as them or as I once was?

When I still had a toddler at home, it was expected (and perfectly acceptable) to do less, to get less done, and to be less efficient. After all, there was a little person demanding my attention in a myriad of ways, and that always took precedence. It had to. I was being a mom and doing all kinds of important mom stuff, all day long. My success in that was easily rated by the smile on the kid's face, the fullness of his tummy and the dryness of his diaper... and the fact that we both simply survived another harried day of toddlerdom, relatively unscathed.

But now, it is different. No one's here but me. There's no excuse for a day (or at least, a morning) not ripe with boxes checked, goals reached, and missions accomplished. When you once were a person who worked a full time job as a single, successful professional, often lauded by your employer and peers for your ability to get stuff done quick and get it done well, you remember that driven and organized version of yourself and you kinda miss being her. You sometimes wish you were her again. You think you can conjure her up to perform on the same level as she did before; like the last ten years of all the baby making and isolated domestication didn't happen. And although some remnants of the former you are still in there (albeit ten years older), she just isn't flourishing as well as she used to in this messy and unpredictable environment that has replaced her former kid-free and organized life.

Now a five hour work day at home (interrupted by moving clothes from the washer to the dryer, folding and putting laundry away, or emptying and filling the dishwasher) feels anything but productive, at least in the self congratulatory, "Yay me!" kind of way that getting to do the work you love or finding the satisfaction in accomplishing what you set out to do that day does. And it is most definitely no match for a full workday outside the home where you are held accountable to, and appreciated by, someone other than yourself for completing your tasks and making cool stuff happen in the world. I know I could be getting so much further in my ambition to share, connect, and inspire through my work and my writing, if only I just had a few more hours each day to share, connect, and inspire.

Is this really my life now? This chaotic and harried existence in which I sacrifice so much of me for the "them" in my life? Things are not going to be exactly how I want them to be all the time, I know. Actually, they are not most of the time. This I understand and accept, to a certain degree, even if I do so a little begrudgingly. However, I often have to stop and remind myself that, each and every day, no matter what I get done or don't get done in my own realm of work, websites, and writing, I am still always accomplishing something: LIFE.

Yes, this is my life, these are my days and those are my kids who are learning, experiencing and growing. They do all these things, go all these places, and learn all these things, because of me. Because I am their caretaker. Because I am their shepherd. Because I am the one that promotes and encourages and facilitates these opportunities and journeys they have.

It is easy to feel like a mere shuttle driver in their lives while we move from place to place, in and out of the car and in and out of experiences. I sometimes have to remind myself to accept, be present, and recognize that I too am on this journey, and that this is my time too. My time to hang out, have fun, and enjoy them at these ages. My time to support and guide them, love and protect them, learn and grow with them.

Regardless of all the things my mind may think up or my heart may yearn for that go unfulfilled each day, I realize that when I am with them, I am exactly where I need to be and am doing exactly what I need to do.

Yes, I know all this. I do all this. I rise up (most of the time) and kick ass at all this. But it is still hard. And it may always be hard. To get out of my ego. To surrender some of my deepest desires for theirs and to find new and different ones of my own. To escape the intoxicating mode of busyness and the lure of personal aspiration. To deal with their strong emotions, growing pains, and kid-sized hurts (alongside my adult-sized ones) while still trying to be a model and example of human decency, empathy, compassion, and love.

Life as a grown-up is hard. Life as a parent is hard. Life as a spouse is hard. Life as a feeling, driven, passionate, and naturally flawed person is hard. It's all so hard. Yet it's all so easy. It's all so devastating, and it's all so wonderful. It's all so... much. Just sometimes. It's challenging, beautiful, f'ed up, and contradictory. It tests our patience, resilience, and resolve; and it dares us to live it the best way we know how.

It has been said by many, in many variations, that "We are the choices we make." Nothing could be both more painfully and inspirationally true. Our realities are built on what we have previously chosen for ourselves; and to accept, or better yet, embrace this truth, is essential.

So it stands to reckon that our futures will then be determined by what choices we make next. We steer our lives from where they have come to where they will go. We are the sum of our past efforts + our current attitudes to = create our future realities. We are our perspective, we are our hope. We are our awareness, our positivity, our perseverance. We are always evolving, as long as we are paying attention, and we are always learning. And although we may need to stay the course of the commitments and obligations that have already been routed for and by us, we can still venture out and explore new roads along the way, possibly forging new paths that will transform us to who we will be in the future.

All it takes is looking forward. FORWARD, NOT BACK. We're not going that way anyway, so who we were in the past can inform us, but doesn't have to define us. Even though we are the choices we have made, we are also the ones we make today, and we will be the ones we make tomorrow.

Make them count. Make them wisely. Make them without fear and without regret. Make them for you, your spouse, your kids, your life; and make them without the influence of ANYONE who may want to steer you to do so for their advantage, for their benefit, for their ego.

You may be miles away from who you were, but you are now on the road to who you will be. You have nothing to lose but your resistance and fear, and nothing to gain but the life you want to create.