The Rain Here

11 09 2014

It rained here the other day with such big, round drops, that a person could walk five paces in between getting wet.

"Ecstasy" by Maxfield Parrish

“Ecstasy” by Maxfield Parrish

But that was just one rain. The big-drop rain doesn’t seem to be the dependable personality of the rain here. The one constant I’ve seen so far is its ability to both approach and depart so quickly, surrounded on either side by beautiful blue skies with picture perfect clouds. The skies here often seem that they are exquisite artist renderings of what people think beautiful skies should look like—back drops meticulously painted on scrims, which the set-designer just rolled out from the back of the theater.

The downpours can be heavy at times, with magnificent thunder and lightning shows. Afterward, steam dramatically rises up from the hot pavement. Surrounded by all these trees, and chirping bugs and birds, it is less gritty than the steam rising up from the manhole covers in the big city. And it’s prettier too.

The other day, I drove for about 20 minutes on curvy back roads through a forest to buy almond milk, taquitos, and popcorn. (All of Georgia is in a forest, whether you’re in the city or the country—or, like us, somewhere in between). And in those 20 minutes, I witnessed gentle grey clouds, a spectacular maybe-I-should-pull-this-car-over rainstorm, steam and mist and fog (condensation that couldn’t decide whether it was warm or cool), then cleared-up skies, followed by the most amazing sunset I’d seen in a long time.

This cartoon gets it.

This cartoon gets it.

I am fond of rain. I can’t remember ever not liking a rainy day. I’ve always preferred them to the sunny ones. Just as a sun-lover feels downtrodden and irritable after so many days of rain in a row, I am not a truly happy camper until a stretch of sunshine-filled days is finally interrupted with a gentle, grey day, giving me a much-needed respite. The sun is just too aggressive for me. Perhaps that sentiment is rooted in my much too pale and sensitive skin. I can accrue a sunburn in less than eight minutes of being out-of-doors on bright, sunny day and my Nordic eyes are sensitive to that harsh light. There’s a certain amount of pushiness that a sunny day has. “Get out there and do something!” A grey day, on the other hand, is much more laid back about your personal choices. “Did you want to read a book today? Oh, okay. That’s cool. Just to let you know, if you wanted to take a wee nap, that’s fine too.   Really, anything you decide to do today is splendid. No judgment here.”

Sunny days are the over-achieving girl who lives next door, always giving you the side-eye, because you don’t mow your lawn every week. Grey days are your best friend, the one who always listens and supports your every decision.

I am not as deterred by the amount of sun here as I thought I’d be, mostly because the bounty of trees provides this super white gal with ample amounts of shade. And also, those clouds—those picture perfect, Maxfield Parrish clouds that decorate the bright, blue sky are not so bad. Not so bad at all.

If I had a little rain cloud following me everywhere, I would save so much money on sunscreen!

If I had a little rain cloud following me everywhere, I would save so much money on sunscreen!

I’ve only been living in this region for a month, and it’s certainly not going to surpass Seattle in its ability to please me rain-wise. But already, Georgia has given those glorious mid-west thunderstorms that I loved in Chicago a run for their money. And maybe, just maybe, since the winters are so mild here, the months to come will have lots more grey days and rain. I sure am lucky my husband didn’t get a job that moved us to Arizona or New Mexico.

Burma in the Fall

10 05 2013

I dreamt of Burma in the fall

It sounds like a poem

But it’s not

not yet

It was beautiful though….sort of like

Tennessee or Wisconsin in the Fall

but way more exotic.

Upon waking, I was glad that my subconscious did not call it Myanmar

but wondered

Can sleeping thoughts help the progress of human rights?

Let’s hope.

Because what have I really done in my waking life?

I was with my LoverHealer and he thought it would be good for me to go to

Burma in the Fall

and who am I to disagree

It worked.  I felt LovedHealed

It was beautiful,

dreaming of Burma in the Fall

It sounds like a poem

and it is



29 04 2013

Oh, my goddess!  Look, everyone!  IT’S SPRING OUTSIDE!  Right now!  Right now, spring is happening!  Just yesterday, I was walking outside past a tree–you know, those big stick-things protruding from the ground with smaller sticks branching out from them to hold snow.  Well, guess what!!  Guess what I saw on the sticks!!  I saw SOME GREEN SHIT coming out of the branches!  GREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEN!!!!!  Beautiful!  I can’t remember the last time I saw something so beautiful!!!  This tree is not just a big stick, you guys.  IT’S ALIVE!  It’s this beautiful living thing.  AND IT’S GROWING RIGHT IN FRONT OF OUR EYES!!!!

That’s not all, you guys.  There is some green stuff coming out of the ground too.  That’s right.  GREEN STUFF IS GROWING RIGHT OUT OF THE FUCKING GROUND!  And when it comes up and out, it’s not done growing!  Gorgeous, colorful shit called FLOWERS are going to keep growing on those beautiful green stems.  AND THEY SMELL WONDERFUL!

I don’t mean to alarm you or yell at you too much, BUT YOU NEED TO GET YOUR BUTT OUTSIDE RIGHT NOW AND SMELL THE AIR AND WALK IN THE GRASS AND LOOK AT THE TREES!   Seriously.  GO OUTSIDE RIGHT NOW AND HUG A FUCKING TREE.  You’ll thank me later.  And if you don’t, that’s okay.  I don’t fucking care.  I’m so fucking happy that it’s spring outside.

Chicago actually had a winter this year–which means we all died a little bit in our soul.  But not the year before that.  The year before that, our winter was so lame, that we never felt dead inside.  I almost missed feeling dead inside.  Because when you are beat down so much by a long, cold, relentless winter, it feels amazing to have spring breeze in and rescue you.  Because spring comes in and says, “Guess what!  You’re not dead inside!  Your spirit was just sleeping!”  And just like that, YOU ARE RESURRECTED!  All of a sudden, every single religious and mythical tale about resurrection makes sense.  THEY ARE ABOUT SPRING, YOU GUYS!  They are about how you are now saved!  YOUR SOUL IS BACK!  IT NEVER REALLY LEFT YOU.  It just felt like it was gone.  But now–now, you have a new life.  And this life is fucking beautiful.  Your skin can be exposed to the outside air and not hate you for it.  It will love you for it.  You walk outside and suddenly, everything is beautiful, you’re in love with everything, and you suddenly understand how someone could write a whole fucking poem about a blade of grass.


Life is Living You

28 03 2013

Life isn’t about the moments you plan to be perfect. It’s about all the other ones–the quiet ones, the screaming ones, the surprising ones.  The ones that either rip your heart out or fill you with so much love you feel divine.

Life is the ultimate improvisation.  Make your partners look good.  Look ’em in the eye.  Go out there with that magical mixture of confidence and humility.  Be generous with your own ideas and enjoy supporting the ideas of others.  Say “yes” to your own ideas before you expect anyone else to say “yes” to them.  Stay open.  Be affected by what’s happening around you.  Allow yourself to be changed.  Be sincere.

Whether you strive for perfection or don’t, you won’t get perfection.  So remove that stress and enjoy the beautiful, imperfect, unexpected moments that life will inevitably give you.  Know that you cannot avoid the difficult moments.  These are just as important to the story and you can’t skip them.  You must live through them.  Let Life tell its whole story through you–not just the fun moments you want to enjoy.  Allow every moment to transform you.

You’re not living life.  Life is living you.  Help it have fun while it’s here.  Don’t fight it.  Work with it.  Let it surprise you.  Life knows what it’s doing.

’photo by Amanda

moutain mirages

20 08 2012

there are some days

looking out across the lake

when I see mountains that aren’t there

clouds and sunlight and shadows and memories collaborate

making mountain mirages

after the joy of

Oh my gosh!  Mountains!

comes the disappointment of

Oh.  They’re not real.

but they are still beautiful

which is still joyful

and what’s disappointing in that?



so enjoy all mountains, real or imagined

’cause we need all the beauty we can get