a story about silence

i remember the television blaring on all days of my childhood.

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i remember the radio announcer speaking to my mom as she primped and primed herself for the day.

i remember music in my ears on the bus, as i did homework, while i read.

i remember words without meaning pouring into gaps in conversation.

i remember anything to cover up the silence.

the absence of noise woke the fear in my mind. the fear unfolded stories about ghosts in every creak of my wooden home, about loneliness amplified, about unwanted thoughts staging an attack. noise blanketed the drop offs into the unknown so that i never quite dropped. much like the characters in kurt vonnegut’s short story “welcome to the monkey house”, sound severed my thoughts from growing. i remained distracted, anxious for the next silent moment.

i went to a jesuit high school, one that required its students to attend retreats with religious tones. as a girl opposed to religion and anything remotely religious, i entered retreats a fairly closed-minded skeptic. especially my senior year, the longest of the retreats. for four days a random chunk of my senior class and i embarked on this journey. which, along with talk of jesus, spirituality, and life-in-general, included meals. eaten in silence.

imagine.

dining tables lined with seventeen and eighteen year old kids wiggling in discomfort with eyes focused solely on food, with minds shrieking WHAT THE FUCK. ears catch the only sounds to be caught: cutlery against plates, food against teeth.

no one knew how to navigate the soundscape of silence.

i struggled to understand the purpose. what did silence at the dinner table do for me? what purpose did swallowing my food and my words serve? i wanted to talk to my friends. to laugh. to compare notes. but retreat leaders kept our vocal chords at rest.

i graduated high school in 2007. yet, it is now, in 2012, that i understand the beauty in silence.

silence removes distraction, allows for intentions to become clear, for thoughts to manifest fully instead of getting lost in music notes or t.v banter. thoughts become a lot less scary when you hear them out. loneliness somehow melts away, too. you hear your heart in the quiet. you see yourself as alive, as connected. not alone. never alone.

a space without excess noise brings me a sense of calm, too. though it used to bring me anxiety (and sometimes still does, especially in conversation). i feel much more relaxed here, sitting on the couch writing, listening only to the wind talk with the birds and the house clock tick in the dining room. i am comfortable. not anxious. not scared.

there is a reason i find solace in the mountains.
there is a reason i will settle down on a hillside some day when i’m grown up.

like any other habit, adjusting to silence takes time. you cannot understand the importance of silence in a day. it took me about five years to scratch the surface and i am still exploring. be curious anyway, even if you’re impatient (like me). practice at living in silence. explore its depths. see what happens.

i think you’ll be pleasantly surprised at what you uncover.

namaste

zoe

badvertisements (i’m so clever)

critical thinking comes to me naturally.

(source)
(also: TRUTH.)

if you couldn’t tell.

i ask ‘why’ all the time. i always have. sometimes it gets me in trouble. sometimes it winds up hurting me. sometimes though, it helps in sorting through the bullshit.

like advertising. i am okay with judging the shit out of advertisements. especially those aimed at men, women, weight and appearance. my heart goes fluttery fast whenever i watch television commercials in particular.

like the progresso commercial where a woman calls and speaks with a male chef who, because he is male clearly (clearly) doesn’t care about the customer’s weight loss and the joy she expels. so she asks for a woman, instead. because, obviously, all women turn into dithering piles of giggles and claps whenever one of us loses weight.

or the nutrisystem commercials claiming prepackaged, processed, gnarly foods covered in plastic will help you shed the weight you so-desperately-need-to-lose. maybe it will. but nutrisystem won’t help you develop tools to build a foundation with food not in little boxes. it won’t teach you how to view food as nourishment and as enjoyable. because, for real, boxed food rarely compares to homemade, hand crafted deliciousness.

or how about the workout programs we see in between our shows? the ones showcasing dramatic body transformations? yes, i do believe discovering a healthy weight will increase a person’s confidence as well as health. but no, i don’t think focusing solely on physical appearance as a means to happiness and wholeness is good. it’s superficial. it leaves out the person inside, the one who believes her outsides matter more than the solidity of her character. additionally, what happens when and if you stop the work out regiment? what happens when you lose that “ideal” body and gain your natural one?

or what about proactive commercials? zits are unseemly. be smooth. be clear. be perfect. hide your flaws because they’re offensive.

or, man, the over-the-counter speed pills playing dress up as diet pills?

what the fuck are we selling here?

according to american media, our outsides matter over any other piece of our selves. the size of your waist directly affects the number of friends you have. no one will like you if you’re not thin, wearing straight hair, and a white smile proving your happiness. there is always something to fix. there is always something to improve. we’re never enough.

we’re selling unobtainable ideals. we’re selling body-consciouness and food obsession. we’re selling guilt and shame and depression. we’re selling inauthentic, pitting fake against real.

i am so angry. so frustrated.

because it doesn’t matter how smart you are (i’m pretty smart and i fell for this shit). this type of advertising weasels into all lives. it catches people unguarded. there is a reason western culture breeds eating disorders and self-esteem issues. there is a reason women trade dieting tips like old family recipes and don’t bat an eyelash when a friend complains about her thighs.

what kills me the most is the apathy, the blind acceptance, of the culture we live in. i know people fight against the negativity brought by american media. i know of body acceptance movements and women’s empowerment organizations. but i know intimately the shrugging, the “it is what it is” statements.

during the oscars my aunt kept referring to the “fat lady in the background”. pointing at the screen, at her, like some displaced wild animal in the zoo of perfection. my dad joined in eventually. i simmered. i bubbled. until, eventually, i boiled over, almost yelling as i spilled, “can we not call her fat? she’s a person, in a dress. she’s a person.”

it kills me how easily we attack one another and ourselves. how we judge without reason. how we build self-worth from the surface and stop there.

i encourage you to start asking questions. to start seeing the not-so-subtle messages tucked between dippy dialogue and uppity commercial jingles. further more, i encourage you to share your opinion, even if others think you’re nuts (e.g: my parents think i’m crazy every time i spout off at the t.v.). because, whether american would like to acknowledge it or not, some malicious force is sinking into our conscious. this isn’t okay anymore. this wasn’t okay, ever.

imagine a world in which depression, anxiety, body-shame, and self-esteem were not the biggest personal issues our culture faced. imagine if we started to consider our character, if we started to measure our worth in how much we loved, how much kindness we shared? what would we look like, then?

we have more power than we think. this doesn’t have to be forever “it is what it is”.

this doesn’t have to be shrugged off anymore if we don’t want it to be.

namaste

zoe

(p.s: ironically, i post this the week after nation eating disorder week. yeah. i would)

(p.p.s: i know it’s music monday but i wrote this last night and am still pretty fired up so. music later. and really, does anyone care? eh.).

self-love sunday

the right words to start this ramble are not at my fingertips.

(me and daises yesterday in san francisco sunshine)

this week was weird, right?

filled with heavy energy. i slept in weird cycles, experienced insomnia for the better part of the week, woke up foggy every day. an underlying sadness tinted the week.

i spent hours unloading into my journal. honest thoughts. confused thoughts. too many thoughts.

and saw my truth:
i am only honest in words, in writing.

i have so much to say to so many people. so many thoughts and feelings and conversations i want to vocalize. not necessarily pleasant ones, either. but each time i gather the strength and steadiness to open my mouth, it stays closed. those inflated words deflate, fall back to their homes in my chest, and i implode silently.

i am as emotionally developed as my seventeen-year-old self.

i’m too busy being nice, good, easy, to speak my truth, to find my voice and use it. as i explained to a friend the other day: “i am going through the teenage rebellion i never had.“

(although, ironically, i was very quick to share my opinion when i was a teenager)

or, maybe, more accurately, i am going through the quarter life crisis no one talks about. either way, i am a big ball of feelings with no outlet other than my pen and paper. everything inside me is screaming for release. i can’t be afraid of how other people react anymore. it’s not a burden i need to carry. it’s not one i want to carry. this lack of sense of self has me floating int a weird, uncomfortable, shaky place. i’m running around trying to find my self in other people.

i gotta get over this. i’m not as fragile as i keep telling myself.

this week, i’m shooting for honesty.

off the page.

namaste

zoe

(p.s: remember when i mentioned phantogram the other music monday? well, give the phantogram pandora station a listen. hot damn.)

(p.p.s: i haven’t felt like blogging at all this week.)

music monday + monday lessons

mmm monday.

(san francisco on saturday on random street walks with my friend)

a light breeze, fat clouds, sunshine kind of monday.

i woke up intending to work out the whole day because i ate cake last night and militant, dictator zoe ordered it to be done. under strict authority, i laced up tennis shoes after i slipped out of my sheets and dreamy early morning haze. i skipped breakfast too for good measure. funny how plans figure their way out, though.

because the television spazzed out. and my brother came home sick from school. and my stomach grumbled loudly. and i picked up a pen and undid my tennis shoes. and i wrote into my journal. and i realized: “i still think my weight matters in the measure of happiness. so i still chase it as being the problem of all my problems” (journal quotes). silly anxious and negative self. it’s just cake, not the devil. calm yourself.

so i ate some breakfast, ate some more cake, laced up my tennis shoes, and took the walk i actually wanted. i listened to two pod-casts, did some yoga in the park under the sun, felt the grass beneath my feet. three or so hours later i am home, rested and happy and not thinking about that cake from last night or the cake from earlier. just how awesome my legs feel and how settled my heart is in my chest.

and how awesome this song is.

because i am in love with bon iver.

and mondays, for that matter.

namaste

zoe

(p.s: please don’t steal my photos. thanks!)

self-love sunday

before i start a recap of sorts:

(flowers on a walk the other day)

today my little brother turns eighteen.

kind of like cinderella pulling her whole transformation, my brother is an adult now (though not in a dress and carriage-made-from-pumpkin), suddenly. an adult. like, legal. which is weird because i remember when he was born, how little he was in my own little arms.

to commemorate the occasion, i am making chili bread bowls, per his request. and cake. because birthdays are not birthdays without cake in my eyes.

yup.

anyway.

so, i am working on friendships. on connecting and reconnecting with people who truly, deeply matter. often times we chase friendships or people who clearly show no interest in slowing their retreat. we wonder, “why am i left behind?” while the solids in our lives trail us, wondering “why doesn’t she turn around?”.

confession: i am a die-hard chaser.

i pour attention and affection into friendships my intuition chirps are “one sided”. i did it in early friendships. i did it in high school. i did it in college. i do it now. worrying about how i stand in the lives of part-time friends prompts the burn of anxiety. of loneliness. of depression. it also hurts the real friendships i have, as those true sources of joy distance themselves, shaking their heads at my breathless game of catch and release.

slowly i am understanding the need to balance the energy i put into relationships, including the one i hold with myself. i cannot give away my reserves so quickly, so willingly, so entirely to people.

i spent a lot of time with old friends this week (ones from college and one from high school). i noticed the goofy ultra-dork reemerging. easily and naturally. there was never a sense of “am i good enough?“, only “god i missed this”. i did not experience a need to be anyone other than the person i am, to prove something my mind made up. there was no judgement. no anxiety. just a lot of laughter.

i know i am never alone. i know a lot of the time i think myself into a space for one and tell myself no one cares (not true). i am getting there, though. realizing i make myself alone when i concentrate on those part-time friends, when i forget all those beautiful people in my life who are, always, open and willing to embrace me when i need it the most, not when it suits their schedules.

do you ever find yourself worrying over relationships that bring you more unease than ease?

namaste

zoe

(p.s: did any of that make sense? i feel like that was a bunch of word-vomit.)

thoughts from long walks

i am currently waiting on cookies in the oven and kale chips in the dehydrator.

(on a walk the other day in sonoma county with a close friend)

a good metaphor for my life, don’t you think?

i’ve got no big message today. no deep, thought out words.

nothing is A-FUCKING-MAZING. and nothing is particularly soul crushing. i am merely existing today, enjoying the seventy-eight degree sun rays and the smells of my kitchen. i am reveling, simply.

last night i preformed poetry again. words direct from my heart. unlike last week, i showed up with a louder voice and more nerves. i stumbled a bit though i spent hours and hours burning the lines into my memory, talking to an empty house, the bay, passing cars and, finally, a circle of strangers. practice doesn’t always mean perfect. nothing means perfect because perfect doesn’t exist.

a funny thing happened when i finished and reclaimed my seat: nothing attacked me inside. yes, i shook and tripped over a few lines but that negative voice stayed locked inside. in fact, i heard nothing. just felt a sense of release and empowerment i am still trying to wrap my mind around. just thought, “i did it” quietly while the words of others filled the balmy san francisco evening.

i took a walk with my self and my headphones this morning. drank a decaf americano. danced the whole way home. thought and rethought those hopes i scribbled for the new-year.

i’ve spent a lot of time since we jumped into 2012 thinking i was a big fat failure. thinking i was doing nothing right, making no progress, only sliding, minute by minute, backward to a place i never wanted to see again.

today changed that.

as cars drove past me and sunshine soaked into my bare arms i understood: i am progressing. i never wasn’t.

i am opening my heart to the world, to people, to myself. i am shedding warped ideas of self and happiness. i am gaining a sense of peace and an understanding of life i never thought i would.

perfection has no place in my life anymore. i am reclaiming the person i used to be. the person i always was.

bumps and all.

namaste

zoe

i’m not sure about that bottle of pills

on tuesday i woke up at six for a doctors appointment i called salvation a month ago.

(photos of birds i take on long walks)

yet, even as i heard “chemical imbalance” and even when i picked up my first bottle of oblong blue pills, i did not feel saved. just skeptical. and mildly uncomfortable.

the mood swings i swing through scare me sometimes. leave me trembling underneath the question of “is this normal?” (really though, what the fuck is “normal”?)

in conversation where stories of sadness and hardship are traded, i realize how unbelievably human it is to struggle. my problems and issues shrink. i become one in a whole. we’re battling, collectively.

it’s just no one talks about it.

post-tuesday-morning-diagnosis i wandered. i walked. i smoked a bowl and sat in sunshine (because february think its spring). i breathed deep and practiced a few heart openers (got all warm-and-tingly in the chest. good signs). one thought sparked two hours of feverish writing. gentle contentment replaced heaviness. i smiled at the idea of knowing how to process.

but, as i am human, subject to an ever changing scenery of emotion, the mood shifted come nighttime. stubborn insecurities i cannot shake heated up cooled over anxiety. late-night sobs stuck to the hollow of my throat. i cried words and tears over my journal. wrote furiously into pages before occupying the land of dreamers and their dreams.

naturally, i woke up today agitated. to an alarm calling for my attention. to a lack of voice. to bitterness. to another long car ride filled with music and sadness. to a therapy appointment actually scheduled for next week. to more tears, to hands too jittery from coffee i never drink, to heart filled up with fear and loathing…

to, eventually, suddenly, nothing but pure joy.

wednesday morphed into endless laughter, seventy-something degree weather, unbounding love.

and i realized:
the more i feel, the more i release.

and i realized:
sadness is normal. crying is normal. anger is normal.

because i realized:

this is the human experience.

this is okay.

i’ve got a bottle of pills now. mood-stabalizers. if i am being honest, i will say i am scared to take them. i am scared to lose this ability to feel, something i just gained access to after years of feeling nothing. i am curious about this lost anger and misplaced sadness.

also, i’m not as scared of my feelings as i was a month ago, on the desperate day i called around for someone to grant me reprieve from my mind. i just feel more human. and, oddly, more connected to people. i’ve knocked some perspective into my life, opened up the dialogue, listened and listened and listened to friends pour their souls out because every one needs an open ear. simply focusing on the people i love and opening up to hear their frustrations has been enlightening. suddenly, i am not alone. suddenly, this isn’t all about me anymore. because it never was. we’re all going through troubles together. despite those quiet moments of deep loneliness, you are, truly, never alone.

life, pills or no pills, keeps happening.

every second i breathe, i pulse. over the course of my waking hours i am one emotion and another. i am human.

and i think i’m okay with that.

namaste

zoe

(p.s: yes, i am going to take the pills, just to see what happens. it’s an avenue i think i need to explore, if only to say, “yes” or “no”.)

self-love sunday

i don’t even know where to start today.

a lot happened this week. words, however, are not lending themselves to me, rendering me a writer without expression. i’m just a big ball of feeling.

i am learning to trust my feelings, to question my thoughts. to listen to the whispers of the heart, not the analytical murmurings of a brain. i forget i live in my heart, too.

today, on two feet with arms stretched to the sky, i am open to the world and the universe and abundance. last night, a momentary ‘pop’ released pain in my left shoulder. pain i’ve carried for months. the night before i went to a restorative yoga class and cried. i am releasing.

i am creating space.

i am opening.

i keep thinking, “i don’t know what ought to be.”

over and over.

among other things.

(found in jan spiller’s book cosmic love…or astrology for the soul, i can’t remember. i stumbled across this the other day in a bookstore. i sat there and read for an hour).

love inflates the emptiness felt feelings leave behind.

i breathe deeper. fuller.

there is still salt in the sea water of my life. still waves i navigate. but i am buoyed to a warm, steady happiness.

i am learning how to float.

what are you learning?

namaste

zoe

(p.s: thanks for the comments on the last post. you’re all so supportive and awesome. thankyouthankyouthankyou. i have a lot more to say about voice and speaking and discovering. soon enough!)

can we talk about gifts?

so, remember when i set the intention to be more open?

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to, you know, receive the abundance of my life?

(i blabbered about that, right?)

well, can we talk about a the gift the universe dumped on me today?

it was kind of fucking great.

remember when i got home from burning man and talked and talked and continued to talk about dancing? i am pretty sure in the middle of all that talk, i declared pretty passionately “i found my soul on the dance floor“?

well. i really wasn’t kidding.

’cause i recognized my soul again today on the hardwood dance floor of my kitchen.

did i ever tell you i wanted to be a ballerina when i was kid? (like almost every other five-year-old girl). but i devoted my body to soccer instead. years and years of nothing but chasing a ball. yes, i loved it. but i still loved dance, too.

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i envied a childhood friend who danced ballet as long as i played soccer. she claimed she wasn’t the best, something about her feet. i always thought she was beautiful.

and free. so, so free.

did i ever tell you how much i hate reality t.v shows but how much i love, love, love so you think you can dance? and how i cry every episode? the only formal dancing i’ve ever seen was a ballet in first grade (i fell asleep) and the dancing of my childhood friend. so of course i sat for long, long weeks in front of the television, pointing always to every dancer and saying, “that’s fucking beautiful.” (because i am really graceful, too).

did i ever tell you when i was a kid i created dances with my friends and performed them for my mom? and the kids at my day care? (surprisingly, i had a lot of friends).

did i ever tell you how i believe in past lives (more on that another time)? i do. and i was definitely a dancer a one point. i feel that down to my bones. (why else would my knees hyper extend and why else can i balance so well and make nice lines? useless talents?)

so, no wonder i envy dancers. dancers are artists who create with their bodies. there are stories in those moves. colors. images. i wanted that.

(source)
last summer i reconnected with the dancer in me again. we rejoiced in an open desert. then, she left.

and came back today. we visited, fell in love all over again. she whispered to me, “just move”. for one, solid song i thought nothing. not a single fucking thought. i just moved. but even that’s not quite right. something moved me.

kind of how something spills words into my conscious and asks for a transcriber. something about writing in a fluid trance isn’t just me. there’s something working through me to paint the world in words. something worked through me today in the kitchen. i opened up and received liberation. and when i came to, wheezing with exertion, i cried.

rain clouds spilled. from the couch i watched rain drop through sun rays. ever the scientific genius, i smiled and said, “i bet there’s a rainbow outside!” and promptly ran/tumbled/walked to the window. to see a streak of rainbow, bright above the hill.

then i cried a little bit more.

(because i am cheesy and think everything has meaning).

how do YOU see your soul?

namaste

zoe

(p.s: i wrote this yesterday)

(p.p.s: the best, best, best part? usually after any dancing i walk around with a sore, inflamed low back. yesterday (and today!) not only do i feel no pain, but i feel strength!)

(p.p.p.s: happy valentine day. to be honest, i am not a fan. for various reasons (maybe i’ll discuss this tomorrow?) but mainly because i believe in loving every day. regardless, have a beautiful, love-filled, chocolate-and-rose-fueled day!)

self-love sunday: love isn’t conditional

i wrote something the other day.

(source)
about a friend and a conversation.
about a friend and gratitude.

i keep thinking about it.

specifically:

the people who love me most are the people i hurt the most.

because i do. i take for granted the love. the support. the affection and attention. i choose to mis-interpret, to build dramas founded on whimsical thoughts.

to be honest:

i think i am a shitty friend (and daughter. and occasional lover).

i think i tarnished a lot of relationships because i tested people. i tested their capacity to love me. i asked for love without ever actually asking for it. and i always got it. overwhelming amounts of the stuff. i got love so deep i got scared.

i distrusted the relationships i held with people because i never thought beautiful, honest, forgiving, loving relationships existed for me. i thought they might go away. that they were conditional. that i needed to be someone else first. because of lessons learned in horrible, no good relationships. consequently, i’ve strained relationships where nothing but love ever existed. i was the only suspicious one. i tested the boundaries of my friendships to test the extent of other’s love for me.

for that i am regretful.

for that i am embarrassed.

for that i am apologetic.

but.

i know now:

love exists for me.

real, unconditional love.

right now.

and, you know, it’s okay for me to take it.

it’s okay for me to express my love for others, to not always expect some back. it doesn’t mean i am any less seen, any less loved. no one is out to get me. i can drop my suspicions. i can trust. i can believe in the relationships in my life. i can believe in myself.

enough to end the silent investigations.
enough to be content with what was shared if a relationship fades.
enough to soften, to accept what is without over thinking.

enough to simply be.

namaste

zoe