zoe & the beatles

a girl on a mission for self-love…with her four best friends in tow!

HI HI HI!

BIG NEWS, KIDS!

can you guess?

okay, i won’t make you…

I’M BAAAAACK!!!

come talk with me again?

i missed you :)

namaste,

zoe

letting go

sometime around late march will mark the two year marker for my little blog.

(the sky the other night. spring is so lovely)

calling it a blog sounds too negative in the way self-indlgent is. my journal. my space for practicing honesty. my corner on the tangled streets of the internet to connect with soul neighbors. those sound like better descriptions.

i started writing a few months into the crazy (on a different blog). the voice sounds constrained, strained. kind of like a little girl trying to fit in.

the voice grew as i grew. evolved in tone, in intensity, mirrored whatever state of being i occupied whilst typing. still, i felt much like a little girl trying to fit in, trying to sew budding consciousness onto the patchwork of the self-love quilt. it never quite stitched in right.

and, as i approach my two year time chip, a solitary thought address me. repeatedly.

i am ready to let go of this blog.

i keep stumbling into rambling valleys of self-discovery and i find i don’t want to share. i want to reflect on experiences, know what they mean to me, before sharing. i am enjoying the solo journey through the ever changing forrest of colors, thoughts, and moods. i am questioning myself, my beliefs. and, in the process, i am releasing.

every day i shed past ways of thinking, acting, and believing that only served to hurt me. writing here is like writing continually of the past, of things i no longer feel so connected to. my eating disorder, my depression, are not my life anymore. they are parts of my life. i can’t keep my focus on them like they matter more than anything else.

additionally, the more i step away from the blog-o-sphere, the happier i am. kind of like how i feel about facebook (i don’t have one). i more organically experience life and its lessons when i am not reading the opinions of others. not sitting in front of a screen for hours some how feels better, too.

so, for now i am disconnecting. it’s the best choice, the one my heart keeps asking of me to make. there are new avenues to be explored. life can’t be directed at a computer screen for me anymore. my passions lie elsewhere. please feel free to e-mail me. i will always offer an open ear.

thank you so much for following me on this crazy, messy, lovely trip. thank you for listening, sharing, and connecting. you’re wonderful, lovebugs. truly.

much, much love.

namaste

zoe

you guys.

how do you upload videos onto here? like, ones you make on photo booth? you can do that, right?

more importantly: why am i so untechnologically savvy? fo’ real.

namaste

zoe

things

i feel empty right now.

(i took a picture of this empty house the other day. the door knocked creeped me out.)

but then, empty isn’t quite the right word for it.

but then it is again.

my brain is confused.

i don’t feel like blogging but i do feel like writing. rambling, really.

i read this earlier.

then laughed because i related on like, all levels. green backpack included.

after that i read this earlier.

wonderful.

so it inspired me to do this.

i’ve been stumbling onto really, really amazing and inspiring and invigorating blogs filled with beautiful writers and even more beautiful words. one wrote a book i bought and she asked her readers to fill a blank page with everything they loved. and, since i feel weird and uncomfortable and tavi mentioned reminding yourself off all the wonderful things in your life when you’re down, this makes sense.

things i love. written in no particular order. the other day. in my notebook. (plus a few added on because why not?)

WORDS. writing. music. nature. trees. hiking. mother earth. yoga. walking. breathing deep. making tea. cooking. reading. connecting. sharing. talking. listening. helping. hugging. kissing. photography. men. women. sam. my parents. my brother. laughing. breakfast. singing. dancing. acid. weed. water. my water bottle. poetry. sunlight. redwoods. nate. victoria. road trips. drug trips. bass lines. my journal. journaling. exploring. moving. chocolate. kale. cake. my hair. my eyes. my eyebrows. my smile. the beatles. animal collective. waking up early. staying up late. tarot readings. traveling. flying. san francisco. the beauty of marin county. orgasms. good food. good company. meeting new people. the night sky. summer. summer nights. mountains beyond mountains. swimming. earring. beautiful lyrics. rings. sunsets. sunrises. spoken word. chuck. old trucks. baking. orange. purple. scarves. indian food. thai food. skirts. brussel sprouts. my sunglasses. gender discussions. this american life. (and subsequently) ira glass.

aaaand i’m done.

what do you love?

namaste

zoe

(p.s: also, i love beauty and the beast. my dad put it on and i’m watching it with him. it’s kind of got a great lesson and as much as i hate on disney, i still like their movies. and belle was always the princess i identified with the most. she loved books. i loved her.)

(p.p.s: adding this p.p.s the day after. this totally worked in helping me feel awesome and reinvigorated, by the way! fell asleep happy.)

music monday

i cannot tell you how important music is to me.

(source)

honestly, i don’t know where i would be if my ipod was some how not in my life. probably lost and confused. mhm.

the song i want to share with you today is one by a band i’ve loved for a long time, though i’ve only just recently got this particular onto my ipod (the horror!). the song got me through last week and i’m pretty sure it will get me through many more weeks to come.

WHAT WOULD I WANT? SKYANIMAL COLLECTIVE

lyrics (because the words are just that important you need to read them)

Good dreams
Sky
What would I want? Sky
Is everything alright?
You feeling moldy?
You feeling lonely?
You’re not the only
Is everything alright?
You feeling stormy?
You feeling phony?
You’re not the only
Do you get up up up?
Clouds stop and move above me
Too bad they can’t help me
What is the right way?
Do I float up up up?
When I stop and look around me,
Gray’s where that color should be,
What is the right way?
Old glasses clinking and a new order’s blinking
And I, I should be floating but I’m weighted by thinking
That I got on the river,
Really can’t make it change,
When the sky gets filled up too fast
And the taxi man’s saying, “You better
Give me some money,
Stop daydreaming, dude!”
When the point of horizon is hiding from you,
What would you want, sky?
What would I want? Sky
Is everything alright?
You feeling lonely?
You feeling moldy?
You’re not the only
Is everything alright?
You feeling stormy?
You feeling phony?
You’re not the only
(Are you taking it lightly?
Lost in the flurry
You start to worry
You will be buried
Taking it lightly
And so you hurry
And then you worry
Here come those flurries)
Do you get up up up?
Clouds stop and move above me
Too bad they can’t help me
What is the right way?
Do I float up up up?
When I stop and look around me,
Gray’s where that color should be,
What is the right way?
(Taking it lightly?
Lost in the flurry
You start to worry
You will be buried
Taking it lightly
And so you hurry
And then you worry
Here come those flurries)
Old glasses clinking and a new order’s blinking
And I, I should be floating but I’m weighted by thinking
I’m a fly on the river,
Gotta make me some change,
When the sky gets filled up too fast
And the taxi cab’s waiting, you better
Give him some money,
Stop daydreaming, dude,
When the point of horizon is hiding its blues
What would you want, sky?
What would I want? Sky

namaste

zoe

self-love sunday: some rambles (it’s been a long week)

sleepy, per usual.

(san francisco at sun down, the other day)

my nocturnal clock is off. (or: i stayed up too late drinking whiskey in honor of st. patrick’s day but mainly in honor of one of my best friend’s birthdays).

this week has been weird. light and heavy in all moments, together. sluggish, too. i’ve spent a lot of time observing my emotions, feeling them out. simply a quiet week, peppered with overwhelming, abundant moments too intricate to explain. the best way to describe it: i am reentering consciousness.

the world looks like ireland outside my window. earlier this week fog ate into the tops of mountains, obscuring them. now clouds mix with blue sky i missed. everything is green. save for the one tree, defiant in holding yellow. i’m contemplating a cup of coffee. i’m thinking, in general.

i miss my friends. i miss sitting around smoking bowls and talking, talking, talking. i miss the closeness. i miss the connection. i miss knowing they’ll always be there. most days i keep the company of an empty house and an over-active mind. often my irrationality tells me i am slipping from friends’ consciousnesses. often i believe it. deep down i question my importance. my therapist tells me i am co-dependant and i can’t disagree. i’m still learning to appreciate my self, still searching for such self-acceptance and self-love in other people. still measuring my self-worth in the number of phone calls and texts and tips-of-the-hat i receive each week. it’s like this: fun things happen and i’ll find out about them later via stories, laugh and wonder why i am not helping tell them instead. wonder where invitations disappear to. wonder why i care.

frequently i wonder, too, “will i ever be settled?”

i think i know the answer. (i know — zoe, stop. we know. weknowweknowweknow. these thoughts are real, though. they’re not arbitrary. they’re as real as your fear of the dark or your fear of heights. let me feel. let me explore. let me process and progress as slowly as i need to. sit on your judgement because i am not judging you and your process.)

my heart feels sealed off. frozen in uncertainty, sadness, self-loathing and overwhelm. there are truths there, buried deep and fully-alive though only half-recognized. the me i want to be, the me i am, the me i see, will not come out. she’s rooted. stuck. available to only one or two people in my life.

i crave intimacy and authenticity like i do chocolate and cake and brussel sprouts (lack of such things in my life are some of the main reasons my eating disorder lives). times exist where i sit in the company of someone i love and we stumble into an opening, an invitation to speak, to pour my self out. words warm in my chest, bubble up to my throat, roll out onto my tongue, ready. i think, “this is it! it’s time! say it, say it, say it!” but i rarely do. instead i’ll swallow those truths back, slide them past my beating heart and into their caves where they’ll strip off their armor and wait for the next moment to be brave. it hurts every time.

someone told me recently, “you can’t hold all of that inside“. oh, but i do. i’m not good at asking for what i need. what i need feels like too much. so my quietness becomes my way of screaming. “i’m fine” is the biggest lie i’ve ever told.

possibly the craziest part of this crazy is this: i know my real friends love me deeply and unconditionally. i am the one who chooses to not understand, to not grasp fully what that type of love means. i am the one who nods in agreement on the outside while simultaneously rejecting any iota of love on the inside. i recognize i am generally the one keeping myself trapped and bound by fear.

my insides are all messed up. i will always be cleaning house.

i’ve frustrated and hurt a lot of people because of this persistant sadness i can’t quite figure out. i’m afraid that’s only helped distance me from my friends and my friends from me. i’ve let it swallow me entirely, isolate me fully. i’ve let it infiltrate all relationships. i feel like i’ve let a lot of people down, myself included. so it’s no surprise, really, that i struggle to talk to people. no one really knows me, truly. i won’t let them. because i fear losing everyone.

talk about irrational fears.

the good news (yes, there is some) is this: despite my negative rambling, i am getting better. i am opening up. i am slowly, slowly, shedding my fear of abandonment. the more i talk, the more i release. it’s a practice. kind of like strengthening a muscle. work it a little bit, watch it grow stronger.

i’m not sure when i will be able to separate my self-worth from my friendships but i am hopeful one day it will happen. i am hopeful one day i will see myself as my friends see me — as a whole person, not only flaws. i am hopeful one day i will freely ask for what i need without fearing judgement and complete rejection. i am hopeful one day i will be myself without apology, without wanting to be anyone else. i am hopeful that, one day, i will be okay.

this is my process.

namaste

zoe

(p.s: i wrote this in pieces this week, while floating in a weird, weird mood. today i woke up in much brighter spirits. i blame the whiskey fest and the company of one of my best friends, one i never feel shaky or questionable in front of. that and the sun is back after a week of straight rain. and i’m going on a hike!!)

life, lately

not pictured: talking, listening, sharing, laughing, crying, writing, dancing, stretching, living, breathing.

namaste

zoe

(p.s: all my photos. copyright me and my imagination. please no stealing.)

i wasn’t going to post today but, you know.

i had too.

so, i harbor this mad woman crush on kate of eat the damn cake. she’s an awesome writer. she’s honest. she eats cake. girl after my own heart.

anyway, she wrote a post recently about sexiness. specifically about bodily sexiness. it’s pretty brilliant and i recommend you read it. i kind of freaked out because she put into words how i feel and how i think on a pretty much regular basis.

however, as i read through the comments section, i got all eye-brow-arched-curious. people responded to the question of what makes you sexy with “MY INSIDES”. a lot of people shied away from rejoicing in the sexiness of their sexy bodies. while, yes, i agree completely that sexiness starts from the insides and radiates outward (pretty sure i added that as a second comment because i treat comments sections in blogs like real life conversations), why the hell can we not appreciate both physical and internal sexiness?

as someone who was so out of touch with her body for like, oh, you know, her whole life, finding my physical self sexy is no golf-clap deserving feat. it’s something i want to and am and will celebrate. because i used to look in the mirror and cry all over myself. because i used to say, “i hate you, body.” and i wasn’t kidding. to rejoice in my body, to find it attractive and wildly sexy, is, to me anyway, sexy.

divorcing the concept of sexiness from your body simply doesn’t sound healthy to me. that’s disassociating. women in western media are, unfortunately, victimized and sexualized unhealthily. i think a lot of the time women reject that, and i don’t blame them. the affects of being put on display as mere sexual meat with no real substance past boobs and ass are real. i am not denying that. however, completely detaching from the body and focusing solely on the attractiveness of spirit discredits you and your body. your have a body for a reason. for a few reasons, as far as i’m concerned. to carry your spirit, to give you the ability to move, and, most importantly, to enjoy it. to appreciate it. to see it as lovely.

clearly we need to rewrite the script for what physical sexiness is, what it looks like. which, to me anyway, is this: ALL BODIES OF ALL SHAPES AND SIZES AND COLORS ARE INEXTRICABLY SEXY.

maybe when we change our attitude about the word ‘sexy’ and what our patriarchal society has defined as sexy women will again own their physical sexiness and view their bodies as beautiful, sexy, attractive vessels. not things to be manipulated into an unobtainable, unrealistic version of ‘sexy’.

reclaim your sexiness. make it known. there is no reason to not feel sexy. who is telling you otherwise?

what do you think? can we own our physical sexiness without losing our feminist integrity?

namaste

zoe

i have a fucked up view of my body. aka: i have a fucked up view of myself. (until i realize: ohmygodwhocares)

most days i walk around disconnected from my body.

during my exercise compulsion/restrictive eating phase, i worried all the time about my body, about how its folds and round edges presented themselves. i observed every reflective surface. i pinched, hit, scratched. i was only my body. all the time.

when i started gaining weight, i stopped looking at my reflection so much. i started delving past surface level because i no longer connected to or liked my surface level. beneath my skin, i recognized a dimly lit soul, obscured by obsession. i detached from my physical self, took the time to reacquaint with my spiritual, emotional, and mental self. suddenly i was not just a stomach with arms, legs, hands and feet. i was a person, too.

on the off days i catch my silhouette off-guard, i react in one of two ways. on the good days, i will smile, turn one way. turn another way. strike a pose. laugh at myself and continue on with a good day. on the bad days. well. we all know how the bad days go, don’t we?

generally i cry. like i am surprised at seeing myself, truly. in my mind i look a different way. i am the smaller version of myself, the one i spent hours studying in the mirror for two years. not the heavier young woman looking back at me with empty eyes. i don’t know her. i’m scared to see myself as i am.

you know about body dysmorphia (disorder)? crude judgement call: eating disordered people have it. in a few sentences:


Often BDD co-occurs with emotional depression and anxiety, social withdrawal or social isolation. The onset of the symptoms of a mentally unhealthy preoccupation with body image occurs either in adolescence or in early adulthood, whence begins self-criticism of the personal appearance, from which develop atypical aesthetic-standards derived from the internal perceptual discrepancy between the person’s ‘actual self’ and the ‘ideal self’

oh, hey life.

i see beauty easily in other people. i see it quickly. in smiles, in eyes. in the way shoulders roll back and chests lift. i see beauty in all sizes, in all shapes.

just not in mine.

i am measured in rolls, cellulite, and stretch marks. not by my intelligence, laughter, and kindness. i don’t see what other people see. i struggle with physical compliments. whenever anyone tells me i am beautiful, i cringe. i think, “how can you see that? do you not see this stomach? these legs? these horrible arms?” other women are allowed to look like i am and be beautiful. i am not.

really though, i don’t hate my body. i hate myself. the self-hatred manifests in the mirror.

i constantly battle the beauty ideals born from magazine culture. the rational side of me understands i deserve intimacy, authenticity, happiness, and love no matter the size of my stomach. she knows people find me attractive. she knows beauty shows up in a variety of ways. she knows personality shines just as bright as physical beauty.

none of that matters though when you put all your worth into your appearance. personality doesn’t matter when you can’t shake the idea of worth being directly tied to an uber-processed, shallow idea of beauty. self-love won’t happen when you can’t get over the idea that your body isn’t right, that it needs to be smaller because you’re too big for your height, for yourself, for anyone else.

deep down, i am terrified this will be my forever. that i will never gain a positive body-image and allow life into my life. i am scared i will never love the person i am. that is more immobilizing than living forever with this eating disorder.

the best i can do?

take it one day at a time.

what do you do if and when you find yourself in this struggle?

namaste

zoe

i wrote that last night before insomnia kicked in. i wrote it before i found two beautiful blogs i spent too many hours looking through. tucked in between those virtual pages i found photos. videos.

like this one. (scroll down till you hit the video of the little boy. he is more in touch with his fantastic, female sexiness than i am at twenty-two.).

and this one. (scroll down till you hit the video of the blonde girl reciting a poem she wrote. it’s fucking brilliant and left me covered in goosebumps).

i listened to some spoken word last night, about what it means to be female, about what it means to be fat. it got me thinking, about the word fat. about femininity. about bodies.

think about what you think about when you think about fat.

what words come to your mind? what emotions? what images?

more importantly: are they negative?

america has this unhealthy obsession with fat. we care so much about the bodies of other people, about the bodies we inhabit. turn on your television and count the number of shows about fat people (TLC is a good place to start). open up magazines and tally the number of articles geared toward losing weight. better yet, go count the advertisements.

america is drowning in fat shame and fat obsession.

the weirdest part is this: fat means nothing.

i’m going to say that again:

FAT. MEANS. NOTHING.

NOTHING.

it only means what we choose to associate with it. and, unfortunately, america generally associates fat with ugly, unhealthy, abnormal, shame, and unworthy.

what right do we possess that allows us to pass judgement on the body of another person? what happens when we do do that? when we judge, we create assumptions. how do you know a heavier person is not healthy? how do you know they do not exercise or eat healthfully? the answer? you don’t. nor should you care. it’s not your body. it’s not your life. (i am saying this as much for myself as anyone else).

the image of a toned, tight, and fit person haunts every single person in western culture, whether we fight against it or not. that ideal still exists, still floats in the back of our minds, still affects how we view our body in the world. womanhood and femininity do not come in a one size fits all. we just like to pretend it does.

worshipping the idol of thin is a religion breeding contempt for diversity.

and contempt for our own beautiful selves.

after i watched those videos, after i read through quotes and surveyed pictures, i stumbled onto one thought:

i am so lucky to have this female body.

no matter what shape it takes.

because people like that little boy will never truly be a woman. transgendered females will never be biologically female like i am. this body is a gift. it is something to be celebrated, not cried over because it’s a little round. to be a woman is an amazing, sometimes overwhelming, experience. there is a reason we look different.

so, my god, zoe, stop worrying about your body. because you are not you body.

you are a living, breathing, soul with beauty your limbs can never measure.

namaste

zoe

music monday + an announcement

music:

friend loaded this onto my computer a few weeks back. cannotcannotcannot stop listening. i love anything sufjan stevens. so, obviously, i lovelovelove this. in the car, on walks, writing, dancing. any time. it’s lovely.

announcement:

i was waiting for the appropriate time to share this and, well, the time feels right.

a month from today i will be in germany, starting a two and a half month long travel journey.

though i will spend roughly the first 10 days with my dad, we will leave each other in london on april 21st, at which point i will embark on a solo trip. I AM FUCKING STOKED. traveling abroad is a childhood dream, one i’ve been saving for since i starting collecting birthday money before i hit the double digits in age. i am going everywhere i can. every where my bank account can take me. my rough plan puts starts me in england, leads me to ireland, to spain, to southern france, to italy, to switzerland, possibly up through germany again, to belgium, and back to paris, france where i fly out of.

one more time: I AM SO FUCKING STOKED.

for a really long time i thought and believed i needed to travel with another person. for safety purposes, for loneliness purposes, for but i encountered a few problems with that plan. i met two types of people: ones with money but with no balls, and ones with balls but no money. no one ever seemed able to travel with me. i got tired of waiting, of sitting on my steadily growing unrest.

about a month ago my dad told me about a brewery tour his company was flying him out to germany for. the restless creature inside of me perked up. and, well, that was that. i hopped on that trip, not waiting for the consent of my parents because, oh, yeah, i’m an adult and don’t need to do that anymore. i forget that sometimes. honestly, i feel lucky to not be traveling with anyone. there is a freedom in solo journeys you can’t get while traveling with others. i am bound only by my loose plans and the breeze of curiosity. i like to believe that all this time i’ve been spending alone has prepped me some for the quiet days i will face.

am i terrified? yes.
am i excited? fuck yes.

i anticipate learning a lot. i anticipate a few tense moments. mostly though, i anticipate not coming back the same person. that’s all i can really ask for.

i am telling you all this because i am not bringing my computer. i doubt i will blog much, if at all. this trip isn’t about sitting in front of a screen. it’s about exploring sleepy towns, foreign cities, and the depths of my self. it’s about expanding and learning. it’s about fulfilling my 2012 intentions: doing things that scare me the most.

please share any traveling tips, places to see, hostels to stay at. share anything. and know that yes, i know to be safe. i ask you to not scare me like everyone is trying to do.

namaste

zoe

(p.s: why are egg yolks like, so fucking good? mmm dinner.)

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