Sounds like...

A couple weeks ago I started taking piano lessons again. Mostly for enjoyment, but also because I don't want to be stuck playing the same sonatina for the rest of my life. I guess all I really needed was someone to answer to in order to keep practicing, which is ok with me. Two lessons in and I am having so much fun!

One of the pieces I am working on is Debussy's "Children's Corner" - if you've never heard it, find it and take a listen! It sounds like bell tolls, waves, thunder, rain, breathing, and wind.

I think I'm in love.

The After

I opened a vein for you,
pressing my thumbs
into the throat of fear
over and over and over and.
I still lust after the romance
of empty rooms and dark corners,
but you occupy space
as only love can.
Even in the worst light
I will look for you:
feet crossed and a song
on your lips.

Bout

Outside, trunks of trees

dot the ground like handfuls

of ripped hair, roots still stuck

in sidewalk cement.

There was rain tonight

and bouts of light pulsed

the sky, skimming misshapen

limbs and empty lots.

All I want is to walk

the damage and memorize

the places where trees

once stood, their silhouettes

pressed into the dark sky.

Skywalk wasn't enough.

Here's my 13,000 ft. dive back down to earth. AWESOME.

Skywalk

Last Thursday Rick and I rented a car (a red Mustang convertible was all they had) and drove to Hoover Dam and the West Rim of the Grand Canyon from Vegas. Pictured above is the Skywalk, which is a mere 4,000 ft. above the Colorado River below. They don't let you take any personal belongings with you - not even cameras - and you are also required to wear shoe covers so as not to damage or smudge the glass floor. I admit I was a little nervous, but my oh my what a view. You can see for miles and miles and there is nothing quite like standing above and in and around something so magnificent. Talk about feeling small, folks.

Disenchant

expectations are tricky. trying to feel something other than disappointment.

Suddenly

After a tornado rips through your neighborhood and very gingerly leaves an entire tree tipped onto your house, things change a little. You realize how little control you actually have over...anything. The word "value" instantly takes on a new meaning. The people you love are brought to the forefront and suddenly, you are forced to accept that life is fragile. So fragile.

This past weekend while I was with my family at Kabekona, we went to church on Sunday morning in LaPorte. Imagine the smallest town you've ever been in and then divide that in half twice over - that will give you a pretty accurate image of this town. There is a school, a grocery store, a gas station, and a church. A little white church that I have been attending as long as I can remember. We always sit about four rows back on the left hand side, surrounded by aging giants of the Lutheran church and their wives and families. The phrase "stand as you are able" rings out over the congregation as we rise (or sit) for hymns and pray responsively. I can't help but look at my 85 year old grandfather during the sermon - his expression radiates with a warm understanding, a kind of peace and assurance that I can't really put into words or fully understand. I can feel this warmth stretch down the pew to my grandmother - a quiet anchor.

That little white church in LaPorte has managed to thrive for years and years and continues to be an unlikely source of inspiration to me. I like how out-of-the-way and almost secret that little congregation of people is to the rest of the world. I like singing those hymns and reciting the creeds and prayers that have been burned into my brain. Somewhere, in-between that age-old language of worship, my skepticism of the institution, and my struggle to have faith in the world, hope has found a way to usher itself into my heart, even when unknown forces surface, so suddenly.

Four Seasons Tea Ceremony

I had the wonderful opportunity to attend a Taiwan tea ceremony this weekend in celebration of Taiwanese Heritage Week. We were split up into groups of five where we were served a different tea by certified tea artists of the Taiwan TeaTalk Group. Tommy Tang, his sister Sunny, and their mother are from Chilai Tea Farm in Taiwan where they grow and produce their own tea. Tommy gave a lecture in the morning and then all three performed the tea ceremony in the afternoon. It was a truly lovely experience.

Spring: "Tea Bud in a Cloud"

Summer: Chialai Green Oolong

Fall: Wu Tang (Dark Roasted Oolong)

Winter: Mi Hsian Honey Oolong (this was my favorite)

Losing Matter

The hurt can be tender, too.
Your absence aches like a loose tooth
and my heart is a cavity.

Into the Light

I finally woke up today. The sun was brimming behind my blue bedroom curtains and I felt something change - the whole neighborhood seemed to feel it too. After opening windows all over the house: in the kitchen, in the dining room, on the staircase, in the bedroom, and in the T.V. room, I settled into the sun room with a book and the wonderful warmth. Outside, people were walking to church, playing with their dogs, riding their bikes, singing along to their car radios, and playing ball in the front yard. My favorite was the young boy walking down Russell Ave. with his backpack eating a bright orange lollipop.

Why does a little bit of sun make so much difference? Is it chemical? is it natural? is it coincidental?

This chair and this room and this view. This.

Minnesota Specific

The winter makes me dream about shores and wave lengths and sounds that sum up my heart place.

When the last boat

trails the dark water

the lone loon sings

as if the trees were walls

and the water a set of strings.

Cities I Love, Cities I Miss

Harriman Park: Hampton, IA

Monkey bars, swings, bike rides, slides, running, tag, sunshine.

Berlin Wall: Berlin, Germany

Forgotten, tourist, history, erosion, photos, lonliness.

Skagen, Denmark:
Study tour, frost, yellow paint, sunset, waves, art, bus rides, windows.

Paris, France

Disbelief, anxiety, uncanny, friends, stench, love, luggage, appetite.

Stories to take home

My half price finds on this very very wet and gloomy day:

This is a classic! $1.00

I was very pleased to find this in clearance. A discarded library book, the cover of my copy looks more like a washed out green cloth: $3.00

Picked this up because it looked wonderfully strange. Later, I discovered it is dedicated to Maurice Sendak - even better! $1.00

floor plan

my boundaries have been redefined
by room-specific expectations ---
windows mirror streets and closets
house winter coats and boxes of books
and all the bulky excess of togetherness.

i pull the sheet down from the window
and you are sitting in your favorite chair.

Our Abode

Pillow Talk

Him: "My goal is to read ALL the books."
Me: "Oh, you mean like all the books we own?"
Him: "No. I mean like, ALL the books."
Me: -laughter- (Folks, he's serious).

Heirloom Rifle

For Rick
The present has muscled its way off my tongue.
We are building, dear: soon we'll have spare
rooms and a fireplace and a collection of shape-
less boxes and borrowed furniture. We will rifle
through our new space and hang photos and ration
the money we spend and the food we eat. Your body

is a room to me - you are a structure in my house, a body
of security and curiosity. The taste on my tongue
is bittersweet bliss as I patiently store my spare
change and count down the days until love takes shape
in elegant wood beams and plaster walls. Sometimes I rifle
through your things when you're gone and steal a ration

of your canned good memories. Can you ration
love, I wonder? Can you dole out a partial body
of affection piece by piece: lips-teeth-tip-of-the-tongue?
My affection for you does not waver. When time is spare
you still rest your head on my shoulder and hold the shape
of me against your frame as if I were an heirloom rifle

waiting to be cradled and fired. I never liked to rifle
through the past for very long. I was able to ration
my expectations and wait with you, plan with you. The body
of our experience rests softly in the crease of my tongue.
In the beginning, I could tell your limbs were lonely and spare
so I lifted you off the page like a detail or a shape

from my favorite painting. Love can re-shape
hearts with fast fury, leaving lovers unattended to rifle
with happiness - a commodity impossible to ration.
Eventually, we learned to find strength in the subjective body
of coincidence and the void that flickers at the back of the tongue.
The void houses my snakebite dreams and the spare

rib in the dirt. Bones and marrow and other spare
parts of some divine idea nestle there in the mud, a shape-
less attempt at a beginning. It's like the world's rifle
is cocked and loaded and love is the only thing left to ration
out salvation. You know how to calm my body
down like an antidote placed on the tongue.

Our story rolls off my tongue and anything I have to spare
is yours. I am determined to shape the world that rifles
through me - to ration out hope as if it were born of no body.

The First Year

Last year at this time I was still in my dress (I kinda wanted to put it on today but it's stashed away in a box in storage) mingling with family and friends in downtown St. Paul. What a wonderful day it was!

One of the first trips Rick and I took together was spring break 2006 to Tucson, AZ. I took this picture of him on a hike up in the mountains surrounding the city. I can remember how incredibly happy I was to be sharing new experiences with him. Today, nearly 5 1/2 years later and with one year of marriage under our belt, I can say that I am one lucky girl and I love him so so much!

Snapshots

Nothing like family meals on a sunny afternoon at the lake.

My first completed baby blanket for a friend. I guess I got the knitting gene.

Grandma Ruth at Kabekona on her birthday. I love her expression.

Rest and Recreation

The windows were open all night.

This morning the cool air curled up next to me in bed. I dozed, remembering that I am off for the next week. My mind quickly wandered to thoughts about what to pack, briefly concerning myself with the weather and the way the lake will look in the afternoon. The leaf shuffle outside finally got me out of bed and now the day is stretched out ahead of me like two lane traffic.

Stop and go, stop and go.

Wherever it is that we're going, dear, we're getting closer.