I am here.

I am here, present among the pines and the wood that sinks deep beneath the surface. I dance in the mist that blankets heavy, waiting for the light that will break and scatter me along the grains of sand and stone.

In the armchair that nature has carved for me,
I will sit, and behold the sandwiched layers of time spread out before me,
I will listen, for the fleeting echos of ancient whispers by land, by animal, by river, by wind and rain, that sings for the caged spirit within.
I will watch, with scouring eyes for the next glimpse of magic that colors the sky, then gaze in awe at the life I've been given to witness such incredible things...

And it dropped out of the sky like paint dripping from a can. They ran out to meet it in search of gold and treasure, riches as far as the imagination can stretch. They said they coudn't find any. Look again, my darlings.

It's been awhile, I know, but there is no excuse. Life has been magical.

Cheers to you this Friday...

nirvana

A weight is tied to the tongue of my thoughts lately. A strange feeling, one that use to terrify me actually. Where I am all emotion and no words surface to explain it away to make it manageable. It has taken me years but I understand now.

This space is a place where I am suppose to do nothing but feel.

Natural.
Necessary.
Urgent.

It means there are emotions here that have gathered like stars, stars that have become attracted to and spin around each other. They swarm in the space where all souls begin, in the chest, near the heart, and above the pit of our stomachs. Where breath begins and ends, where the beating of our heart commands everything else. A space a million miles away from our heads.

Once they gather, an energy emerges that vibrates outward, traveling from that soul space, trickling through the organs, across blood vessels and nerves, and finally leaping through my skin, radiating out the tiny hairs like sparks from a sparkler, gathering speed, gathering momentum....

And suddenly, I am alight.
I am without thought,
and my limbs have an indomitable urge to move,
to dance, to spin, to stomp, to jump.

There is no need to fight it, no reason to resist.
With my underbelly exposed, I extend my arms, close my eyes,
and I flow...

I am the stars, I am the light
I am the emotion,
and I feel everything without judgement or thought

in this space, in this beautiful space where no words exist, where my body moves to
express what I am...

this, for me, is nirvana...



xoxo

the intensity I seek

I've been feeling quite raw lately. I can't quite place into words the rumbling, but it's an intensity that calls for me to hang mid-air and let my toes feel empty and weightless. Looking down I see little trees and houses, moving cars and people that seem like ants walking aimlessly about. Above, I see nothing but sky, deep blue and nearly black trimmed with white sparkles, a sea of dreaming that invites me to go swimming for awhile.

There is an intensity that I am attracted to. A boldness that pulls emotion from the seemingly empty or mundane, an energy that calls for color to seep into the corners of my peripheral vision, and an echo that falls gently, flowering around the shoulders of a enlivened soul.

There are many conduits to this living, breathing precipice of awakening. Nature, a work of art, a vision, a song, a picture, a person, a poem. Sometimes it comes from a breeze, many times it's the sunlight that seeps through naked branches in my back yard. When it arrives I see nothing else, and I am called to stretch the limits of my human understanding, unzip and climb out of my human skin, and feel the cold, damp air on my bare bones. A ball of fire spins, blazing underneath, blurring the lines between body and breathe. To unsheathe, to expose, to cut open and let our true selves mingle and swallow the air that keeps us alive, this is the intensity I seek.

When it arrives, I know by nature it is not meant to last. And so I hang on a bit longer and float, until my pounding heart, and weightless feet touch the ground once more.

And you, where do you find intensity? What moves you to the point where you feel buoyant and all ablaze?

Wishing you an impassioned  Tuesday...
xoxo

The wind is wild

So, a good friend of mine suggested that I don't write poetry on the blog.

His opinion is that poetry is a difficult thing to connect with, extremely subjective and ambiguous. Meaning, I may know what the hell I am writing about, but others may not (like studying poetry in 9th grade). The other thought, my poetry just sucks and no one gets it.

I do see his point in some ways. Whenever I post poetry, it receives the least amount of comments compared to anything else I post. The real question is though, do I give a crap? I don't, not one bit.

Don't get me wrong, I love posting things readers respond to. But I think if we have been blogging long enough, we get better at not measuring success or joy by the amount of comments received. If I did, I would have quit a long time ago, hehe. Receiving and giving comments carries a meaning all its own, a meaning filled with honest gratitude, kindness, and connection. I have learned that the better I get at separating ego from giving or receiving comments, the more honest and authentic I feel.

So back to the poetry. I am also learning that to truly commit to being creative, you cannot give two shits about rejection, failure, approval, or any form of external validation. Harder said than done, I know. I can say with self-proclaimed expertise, praise can be an insidious poison that creates addicts if we don't remember our intentions. So if and when a kindness does arrive, humility and gratitude overcomes ego and ambition. I may not be a natural poet, and I may not be particularly good at prose either, but I lose myself in the beauty of words. Anyone that spends time listening for the heartbeat a collection of words can muster, is reeled in helplessly and willingly by the daydream and romance the rhythm spins. This is what I love, this is what I seek.

So, here I am helpless and willing, tossing my words out into the world with no agenda, only for the joy of it :). That's just what bloggers and writers do :).

I wrote this last night as the winds around Boulder shook things up a little...(btw, if you couldn't tell, I love alliteration :).

A walk in the moonlight
is a wish that won't be made tonight.

The wind--
wild, whooshing and whirling,
crashes against the window,
waving woody branches as if
wanting them to grow wings and fly.

I wait for the whistling--
or the howling,
but the gusts want to
wax and wane instead.

Without worry, I feel warm
and safe within my house
as a whirlwind of leaves
scatter across the streets,
wandering far away from where they once began.



xoxo

Happy Wednesday

the white and the gray

Snow has arrived in the past two days, and with it an awakening. I quiver, wondering and curious as to how I lived so long without the gift of seasonal transitions in my life. Walking amidst the whiteness and hearing the muffled crunch beneath my boots, I notice the air is deathly silent despite a hint of cool, biting breath on my lips. Looking up, I am dusted by the white and the gray, baptized by nature's hands upon my head, illuminated with the joy that is snow...

The snow won't be staying too long this weekend, so we plan on reveling in it as long as we can.

Wishing you a weekend full of wonder, too.

xoxo

Whirring...inside out

The wind outside beats against my window clawing to come in

And I am mesmerized by the whirring of my insides clamoring to get out

I am mesmerized by
the hum, the vibration, of my
daring need to fly

I am mesmerized by
our jagged armor held together by melted glue

If you let me in, if you peel what sticks to you and expose the deep reds and blues that line the inside of you

we can whir together and beat the hollowness like wild beasts making music

and dance until
our insides are hanging wildly about

Is it really Wednesday already? Is it already half way past October? I am truly whirling and the days are a blur. I close my eyes and imagine myself in a train station with people and trains buzzing past me on fast forward. Slowly, I extend my left leg out and try to trip time off its feet. But we know how miserably I fail.

So I recount time here: pumpkin patches, screen printing class, a soul sister visiting from Chicago for 4 hours, a book binding class, discovering new music, learning to knit cables, reading Rilke, Whyte, Nin and Oliver, writing deeply in journals (which feels like slicing a pumpkin wide open, and I can see my fleshy insides exposed), and carving pumpkins only to have them devoured by fat squirrels. No one told us about the squirrels and their fancy for pumpkins. Florida squirrels never did that. So we bought more pumpkins for dramatically moved girl who cried out in woe for her demised pumpkin that she named. And then we roasted the pumpkin seeds with butter and salt, mmmmm.

 :).

Good Wednesday to you my fellow time travelers...

xoxo

Messages

Yesterday, I was driving down Pearl St. here in Boulder, as I often do, when something new came into vision and caused me to brake impulsively. Knowing I had my cameras, all I wanted to do was capture and absorb what I had seen.

Monarch Dragon (shot with sx-70, i.p. color shade cool)

Sometimes little stories, anecdotes, dreams, or messages arise from things that captivate me, just as it should. I find myself daydreaming often, propelled by the lessons that currently seek to merge with my conscious mind. Most of these messages are deeply personal, but today I am struck by an awareness that these messages may not be just for me, that they are for anyone struggling to find their most powerful creative voice.

I am not alive if I cannot lose myself in the mesmerizing space between this earthly place and the ethereal home of my soul.

I wander aimlessly at times, too aimlessly for my own good. But it is here in these imaginations that I find inspiration and a call to be something more than the serious and humanly woman that I am.

I am the shadow, the tiny crumb of earth covered in flesh, wanting nothing more but to fly amidst the dragons in their full, fiery splendor. I am called, yet I am rooted, and seek desperately for a blade to slice the strings that hold me firmly planted to this place.

A voice echoes from within, "Stop wandering dear girl, and build tirelessly the wings that will fly you to the realm you seek. Keep your head to the sky and sink not into the comforts of escape that will most assuredly want to envelope you. Turn these burning desires into the fuel that you feed upon, let them guide and lift you intuitively, until naturally, you become the thing you are meant to be."

Too long have I lived in the shadowy darkness of longing, of wishing, of wondering. Too long have I been frozen and too afraid to unleash the deep, inner workings of my creative soul. No one should be so starved. Not me, not you, not anyone.  Leave the shadow behind and don the wings that were meant for you and only you. Bring to life your purpose, your gifts, your passion, and hide in the darkness no more.

AndroidJones.com

Thank you for letting me share this message with you,
fearlessly....

xoxo

ps. I recently submitted and was accepted into words to shoot by's most recent collaboration~ water. I am utterly honored and hope you stop by to visit everyone's submissions :).