Waking up in a Canoe on Town Lake | 33 Sunrises x Day 11

Waking up at the Texas Rowing Center with Miranda, Eliot, Milo and Plum
Why 33 Sunrises? What is this about? Over the last year and a half I've gone through major life changes and afraid of getting caught in a rut of "words without action" in my business, I needed a creative project to re-energize, bring life back into these bones. I'm 33 this year. I've always loved the sun rise but I wanted a challenge that would actually get me out of bed, to start the day out in a positive way and still have it be a trajectory for my photography business, essentially create content and have fun! I'm on Day 11 of documenting the sun rise, whether just in words or words and photographs and this feels like one of the best decisions I've made in a really long time.

I didn't start out with any grand plans though. To be honest I had no plans. No thoughts of where I would go or what I would see. That's just how I roll. I didn't even think prior "Oh! Let me invite others to join me on this path!" I just wanted to ensure I was jump starting the day, then it occurred to me "Wait... I can invite others on this path, too?! Oh my goodness! How exciting!!"  

This morning was one of my favorites. Miranda runs a lifestyle and sewing blog Live Free Creative Co. She's done everything from make wedding dresses from scratch to flower arrangement DIYs. I draw so much inspiration from her as both a business owner and from the beautiful mother she is, to curious Eliot, big-hearted Milo and darling Plum. What a joy this morning was, following along on their adventure of kayaking Town Lake! Their family is moving to Virginia next month, husband Dave is already working/living there, and M had a bucket list of places they wanted to ensure they visited before they all headed East! 

How serendipitous only the week before I thought "Who can I kayak at sunrise with?!" The kids did so great! The light was otherworldly, of course. The water was peaceful and perhaps in Carli's perfect world, I'd wake up to this flow - the sea, an ocean, this river - every day of my life.

I've lived in Austin since 2005 and I've lost count of the number of times I've kayaked, but I can't ever say I actually stopped to look at the trees on the banks. Usually I'm caught up in the grand scale of it all, the city skyline resting atop the train tracks balanced by the nature we're floating upon. There was a tree so The Notebook-esque, with large branches bending and arching on all sides that just barely touched the surface of the water and the roots were gigantic, sinking deep into the river. 

The first set of shots I took with my Nikon D700 (full frame dslr) when I was just shooting from the dock but the ones when we're all actually on the water were with Mirandas iPhone! I love the iPhone - it's great for portraits - but it didn't do the sun light through this tree justice! In any case it is a moment I shall not forget... 

Thanks Anderson family for sharing Day 11 with me! 
 

Oh those silly swans. For no reason whatsoever as I was shooting they just waddled up and tried to eat my toes! Maybe because they are so long they thought they were worms?? They're just beautiful animals, so graceful and it was great being up so close to those wild beasts... 

Thank you soo much to Mack from the Rowing Center for yelling "Hi!" back every time I run the trail. Thank you to Matt for the kind email and Alvin for setting us up in the canoe and for remembering that Oh my gosh I have been kayaking at TRC for many many years and yes, he has been there for 21 years himself! 

Lots to love about this great city. So many friendly familiar faces.
Good morning, ATX, indeed. 

Waking up at Mt Bonnell | 33 Sunrises x Day 10

Waking at Mount Bonnell Covert Park
Perspective.
Some mornings you wake up ready to conquer.
Some you hit snooze.
This morning, snooze, and now as I sit here wondering where my typing fingers will lead, I want to cower. We're talking about mental illness this morning as the sun rises, something that hits really really close to home. 

Maybe we're all sitting in the dark, and we're just waiting for those bursts of light to show us the way. Maybe those bursts of light are people or books or a song, something, as Kafka says to "Break the frozen sea inside of us." Maybe that darkness is what society calls mental illness, masking as so many names we don't know and maybe we'll never know or fully understand. 

When I hear that word, "mental illness" I immediately think "padded cell". I think oh my gosh these people need to be locked up and who are they and how are they creeping around in our society and we don't know who is really crazy and... then I remind myself that mere depression is a mental illness and attempting suicide is caused by mental illness... and who defines mental illness anyway... and when and why has it ever been a word associated with padded cell and not something that is conquerable,
beyond medicine.

For these things are in my blood because what happens to our family members happens to us, it's a part of our dna. So we must ask ourselves then, are these things not conquerable? Are we destined? Are we mere subjects of destiny? Are we victims of the events, the people our ancestors have become? Will we become them? Are we them?  

Do we control our fate? Are we victims of failed collaborations or events for which we might even be unaware? 
Are we nature? 

I find it so fascinating that Jesus says to the people who are about to stone the harlot woman "Let him who is without sin, cast the first stone." Perhaps a man could only say that if he first understood the gravity in those words. 

We are human. 
I am no psychologist but I know this... 

We are born into this world in circumstances beyond our control.
If this is truth, and the only thing we have control over in this lifetime is our actions to those events, then...

Perhaps mental illness in our society today that is diagnosed with pills and more pills and more pills and more pills ~that we don't even know how they are really affecting us~ is a mere lack of willingness or understanding to look at the cause and not the symptoms of a bigger problem. Maybe we're looking at a tree that is warped that has wrapped itself so perfectly around a fence, but we're all blind to that fence. We just see this marred and mangled tree... and that invisible fucking fence is so prevalent to the person who has become that tree that because of circumstances beyond their control they have had to grown around, so to speak, things they have been perhaps forced to deal with, but hey-- they're still alive and that fence has become a part of their story.

We all have our demons. We have secrets. We have our fences that we have been forced to grow around, to grow through, to become one with. So many of us still, have been blessed to lead lives where those life-defining events are fewer. Thank the Universe for this.
Let he who is without sin, cast the first stone. 
Next time we're looking at something we don't understand, let's hold up that mirror, that great big beautiful mirror that you are human and I am human and there is only this lifetime to ask questions. 

Let us ask so many questions. To the doctors and nurses that shape who we are based on a mere few words scribed on a page for mind-altering, life-altering prescriptions. To the restaurant owners that create menus that fill our bellies that become fuel for our thoughts and actions and ultimately feelings. To the mothers and fathers that don't just make love but create a life with their actions,
that raise a generation that won't just accept the status quo rather
show them
how
to be
 curious.

"The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars." - Jack Kerouac

Waking up in Buda | 33 Sunrises x Day 9

Waking up in Buda at Stagecoach Park
This morning, few words, mostly pictures, of which Emiliana took the first and last. 

Since this is our ol' stomping ground we stopped by Summermoon Coffee off Main St for a "night-night milk" (steamed milk and one pump of vanilla :) and a topochico for me. 

We marveled at the vines crawling down the trees - so unusual that the last half of the trees weren't covered, no? We saw a tree rotted out and wondered what would have caused such damage. We sat down by a creek and watched leaves float down. We read Caps for Sale over and over and looked up into the tall trees imagining we saw monkeys, too. We only saw the sun. Emiliana wanted to take it's picture so I gave her the 6 lb camera to hold. I promised I'd play when the timer went off.... 

Would love to have "Waking up to ______" special guests. I'm letting that thought ruminate... 

Lovely day to you, my friend. Hope you can take a brief moment to look up at the trees, the sun, the sky, too. It's always there awaiting for us to see it's beauty... 

 

Waking up at Mozarts | 33 Sunrises x Day 8

Waking up at Mozarts Coffee
It is impossible to know what this whole "Waking Up" series will become.

Emiliana's fever finally broke and I thought "Wouldn't it be lovely to just sit on a blanket, her and I, as the sun rises over Barton Springs? Watch those swimmers that have come for 20+ years??" When Emilia was a baby I loved taking her, we'd laid out a blanket and picnic. So I planned to be out the door by 6am. Planned. We packed the car, made it out the door by 6:30am and as we're walking up to Barton Springs, gear and blankets and books in tow, she looks me in the eye and says "Mama, I don't want to go." This girl LOVES water so the next best option would have to do: hang low somewhere close by. That wasn't my intent. I wanted to go to Barton Springs. Children teach you first and foremost that you have absolutely no control, over them or their reaction to the events. When they throw fits or don't like the agenda you have two options: stomp your feet too, raise your voice and see who wins, OR genuinely listen to them, get down to their level and, as a thinking, feeling, heart-filled individual you can try to understand their perspective. (Perhaps no different than how to treat a co-worker, housemate, or spouse? :) 

I only held my breath that Mozarts would suffice. 
I don't remember the first time I came to Mozarts but it feels like the first time, every time, I love this place so. No doubt because it is by the water. It's simple. Picnic tables outside and inside. They've done renovations to the inside and now even carry Amy's Ice Cream. We shared a bagel and I got my two half- caff shots of espresso with a pump of mocha (while salivating over the delicious pastry and cake-filled cases). From the books and paper we brought, we learned all about the letter "D" big D, little d, dogs and ducks. It's been so inspiring watching Emilia's eagerness to learn. It's even more fun to get down to her level and examine the little speck of a leaf she'll find or the "xo" etched on the table... 

Trying to find the perfection, even in the "Plan B".  

 

Waking up in 80 sq ft | 33 Sunrises x Day 7

If all had gone according to plan, I would have woken up in NYC this morning, teaching a class on vulnerability and creativity for the House of Margot Blair's Creative Workshop. For several reasons it was postponed.

So I have a credit to my Southwest Airlines account and I woke up exactly where I was supposed to be...

The smaller of 2 windows in this room is just above our heads and the cool air cascades over the window sill onto us. This is uncharacteristically cool for an Austin summer, so much so I forget I am waking up in a hot-as-hell Texas summer with the air conditioning-like feel pouring over us. The only way I know the window is indeed open is the birds. Oh those swallows we've befriended over the last 6 months.

I've been renting out a room from a local food blogger since December. It's been an interesting last 6 months and I'm grateful for the home she has opened to Emiliana and I. Before I arrived in the north Austin area (I've always been a south Austin gal) after moving from a 2400 square foot home, I gave almost every household item I owned away, to Goodwill or family and then the whole wardrobe thing... another blog post. Another day. Between giving 80% of my clothes away and not buying any new items for almost another 6 months... Yeah. This. I speak so lightly on matters that have transformed the very core of who I am over the last year and a half. Another blog post. Another day.

This morning I lay next to my sick baby, grateful for the wisdom of my older sis who is always a phone call away. With only my belongings in this home being the ones that are in my room or packed away in boxes in the garage, I've spent the last 36 hrs holed up inside-giving sips of water to the little darling, brushing the hair off of her warm face, reading books about Ten Apples Up on Top and I am reminded how much I love to be her Mommy. 

I have 3 weeks remaining in this room. I don't know where I'm going next. I have a book and a publication and a cookbook with my sisters in the works and ideas, so many ideas about starting a "We are Creators" campaign and bringing pianos to the parks of Austin as a more permanent exhibit. [If you have any interest in collaborating on any of these thoughts, do connect! :] 

But all I want to do in this moment as Emiliana lays sleeping next to me, is stay. Here. Next to her as she heals. 

So I'm grateful. This morning I am so grateful that even though today I won't make a dime, I am laying next to Emiliana Rae, my sunshine. Tuesdays are Mommy days. Good morning world. 

Waking up | 33 Sunrises x Day 6

I was getting ready to head out the door when I got a call from John telling me Emiliana had a high fever. Nearly speeding down I-35 at 6:15am this morning I watched a most spectacular sun rise, only not with my baby (she is on the upswing, btw). I was too lost in thought to take a photograph. This morning, so many words... 

London proves it. I heard a news story about the 3 recent attacks. We have entered into a new age. It is no longer just a battle on our soil, against our property. The war we fight has entered our minds, is a battle waged against our own minds and hearts. 

We must question. The devices that measure our steps and our heart rates and our music and our phone calls and our entertainment — it is all based upon platforms that manage and collect data, but collect data for what purpose? Who sees it? What is the information we are being fed? Is it not possible that all of these devices, all software if collecting our data can also purpose an agenda?

Yesterday British Prime Minister Theresa May spoke about it. ISIS has been known to infiltrate our social media. They connect to our youth, to those without a purpose to those struggling to find their way, by providing them a community, a supposed safe place, to feel heard, to connect, to be understood and too oft, to their demise and now our own. 

We cannot know if the messages in a mere photograph in our TUMBLR feed or a random photo on IG is not a rabbit hole towards JIHAD. Surely we would be wise enough, aware, astute enough to not fall, to recognize before it is too late, but when one has little to live for, one is willing to fall, perhaps even to die, for less. 

“Not me” we scream. “It can’t be” and we turn a blind eye to our youth that spend hours upon hours on social media. We get our entire identity from life and followers, so it is a no-brainer, pure genius that the organization that teaches human beings “your life is worth sacrificing” is also recruiting where our youth, where we, as an entire population reside. 

There is only one way to fight back on this front, two if we could be so bold, three if we want to begin to make a difference. Number one, shut off your devices and live. Number two, connect. Look up from your device and say hi to the person next to you on the street, in your cubicle, in line at the grocery store. Number three, know who you are, outside of a heart icon, beyond the publishing of an IG story. When was the last time you really lived the story instead of trying to figure out how to tell it? LIVE now. 

We would be shocked if we knew just how many of us have been contact by ISIS, trying to make us into someone or something we are not.

The psychology behind the attachment to our devices is becoming our undoing, as a society, as individuals.  Would you recognize a voice other than your own, in your own mind? Would you be able to tell the difference between your own thoughts and those emanating from another? How is this question even relevant today? 

What do we reach for, when we are hurting, physically, emotionally? How are we dealing with the troubles of our hearts, our lives? What are we calling our gods, our media, our medicine? What soothes us? A pill? Facebook? Sonic binge? It is all we know, perhaps how we were raised, all we’ve ever known. 

We wonder why we say our heart aches or breaks, perhaps it's because we physically feel that. The more we sit with emotions inside of us- the more we acknowledge them as not defining us rather, us as an observer- the easier it is to feel exactly where/what emotions arise. I’ve noticed I carry a lot of stress in my neck and shoulders, which in turn causes my neck/jaw to hurt, whenever I’m being unwavering about something. 

"Life is pain, Your Highness. Anyone that says differently is selling something.” (Princess Bride :)

The other day when I was upset, so in my own funk I wasn’t aware Emiliana was watching me, she came up to me and put her little hand on my face and said “Just take a breaf, mama. Take a breaf.” And that made me burst into tears because that’s what I say to her when she’s upset. “Just breathe little one.”

What if we gave ourselves permission to feel anger, to feel bitterness, hatred, disappointment, but in the same breath acknowledged that even though those valid emotions arise in us, they do not define us. We are not them. 

This morning, let’s take in a big deep life-giving breath, raise our arms towards the sky and count our blessing that we are alive. Today, we have control over one thing and on thing only: our thoughts and attitude towards what happens around us. 

Lovely, let me tell you a secret.... in case you already forgot. 

You are light. You are light. You are light. Go on and shine!

Waking up at Mayfield Park | 33 Sunrises x Day 5

This was the first morning Emiliana joined me on this sunrise adventure and she woke ME up! We decided it would be a most amazing morning to go to the "pea-hawk park" as she affectionately calls it, for a picnic breakfast. We packed rice krispies and milk and picked a spot between the 3 largest koi ponds to enjoy our cereal and listen to the peacocks screeching above. 

Eventually the males in the trees quieted. We had the park all to ourselves the entire morning. The park is spectacular this early, with so many ponds and secret passage ways to get lost in. The swinging entry gate, stone walkways and sunlight peeking through the trees feels like a secret garden, something outside of the hustle and bustle of Austin's bumper to bumper traffic. I don't bring Emiliana here enough. There are public garden plots to tend and an event space to rent! It's really lovely.

I couldn't help but hold my breath as Emiliana crossed the single stone pathways between each pond, solo. I thought "What's the worst thing that can happen? She falls in? OK. I'll fetch her out." And she held her arms straight out to her sides and confidently said "Look Mom!" and I tried so hard not too. 

I love our adventures... 

33 Sunrises x Day 4 | Waking up at the Pennybacker Bridge

I sat on a cliff overlooking the 360 Penny Backer Bridge and hoped to watch the sun rise. Between impending rain and heavy clouds and my facing the west, it didn’t make for much of a colorful sky as much as a great view of the lake. As the sun rose behind my back deep on the other side of the woods, I watched first a motorboat, then jet skis, then a paddle board all float along, far down below. And long after they left my sight the waves of their commotion carried on, lapping on each side of the shore that despite their never touching, felt the gravity of their presence. So it is.

Those waves. My god those waves of what we do or what others do sending repercussions into the world. I always say we are energy and what we do and who we are and what we say affects so much and a dear friend commented “That sounds so new age to me” but it’s not at all, really. It’s practical science. If we emulate what is in nature, and if our bodies are composed of the elements of a replica of the world around us, and if, as they say in Judaism, if we destroy one human being it is as destroying an entire universe, then… … … …

Have you ever stood in the wake of a storm, just to feel the wind blow? 

We are seeking energy, whether we call it that or not, it is forward motion. We want to feel something. We climb to the tallest we can to look out on a tiny world below in hopes of feeling small. We grab a bottle of rum, to feel nothing. And nothing my darling, is absolutely something. That is the problem.

I photograph sunrises, I wake up every morning before the sun to remember what being alive feels like. It’s too easy to numb ourselves when we carry the weight of our lives. That’s what caffeine and medicine and prescription drugs and “likes” and “follows” and nightly news and celebrities are for. But what if…

What if instead of adding to these we somehow took them away? What if instead of sitting more hours in front of the television we turned it off? What would we do to fill that time? What would nourish who we are at our core instead of distracting us? What would water the seeds of our dreams instead of desensitize and kill them? Dare we dream again?

The sun rose without my knowing it that morning. But it still rose.
Time marches on whether or not we sew our seeds. I think that is the most daunting of all things to realize. There is only this. There is only now.
And so tomorrow I will watch the sun rise one more time…

33 Sunrises x Day 3 | Waking Up at Jo's on SoCo

Good morning, Darling.
First and foremost, please push play. 

"Tell me again how night ends?" asked Little Owl.
"Moon flowers close
And morning glories open" replied Mama Owl.
"Dew drops sparkle and
Spider webs like tiny threads hang down.
The rooster crows.
The crows caw,
And the day begins."
But little owl did not hear,
              for he was fast asleep.  

[An excerpt from Little Owl's Night, one of Emiliana's favorite books, written by a local author gifted to us by Diana Uribe and one we gift frequently.] 

Waking Up at Jo's on SoCo
So this is how it goes. I brush my teeth, eyes still closed. I throw my baseball cap on over my hair. I stumble/race out the door, throwing my closed bag over my shoulder as I barely arrive at SoCo as the sun begins to rise. The cotton candy clouds forming on the horizon make me grateful I'm here, but I'm still barely awake to think straight. I back-in parking (maybe twice because I'm in such a hurry/still asleep), open my camera bag and...
                                                                  my camera's not there. 

This is so typical me. Trying to do anything for 33 days in a row- as the Hebrews would say - hineini, or rather, hineh ani. Here I am. I showed up, be it even without camera in tow, and today, this is enough. 

Sitting on South Congress
at 6:33am
to document the sun rise,
but using words
instead of pictures,
iced two shots of espresso
one pump of mocha,
people passing
sun filling my eyes
making a memory
in words
without a lens
but the two gifted me
today.

C'est la vie.
Have a lovely day, my friend. 

33 Sunrises x Day 2 | Waking Up at Mueller Lake Park →

At 5:45am as my alarm went off I struggled with either driving downtown or staying closer to home. I hit the snooze and drove to the park Emiliana and I frequent. 

Waking up at Mueller Lake Park 
While it's a man made recent development, I read they planned the lake around the existing trees and old airport hanger. Well-played, Austin. Since my old favorite willow tree at Butler Park was cut down last fall, I find much solace in the older willows that grace the lake here. 

There's a farmers market on Sunday mornings next to the hangar, from 10-2pm. That's when there's fresh produce from several local farms, a couple of local coffee brewers, baked goods and a few unique shops like vintage spoons etched and custom knives. It's one of the better ones in Austin, I think, mostly because of the live music and children running around. Oftentimes Tiny Tails to You will set up shop with baby animals and they'll be a face-painter and story-telling too. And that's just on Sunday. 

The Thinkery, the newly built children's museum is a few blocks away and a gigantic outdoor park just across the street. It's quiet on the weekdays. I was surprised with just how few runners there were. I pretty much shared the park with the ducks trying to nip at my calves and turtles until closer to 8AM. By 8:30 there were kids and dog walkers and the sun high in the sky.

I didn't know what to expect this morning. I found Mueller to be a nature haven compared to the concrete and architecture that surrounded me yesterday. I've not claimed to nor ever felt myself a nature photographer, but this morning it was delightful trying to find the tiniest almost imperceptible changes that the rising of the sun brought. I would walk down a path the sun hadn't hit and 5 minutes later the entire field was lit up with an explosion of light. 

It's all about timing, right? Timing and trust. 
I have a lot to learn...

Good morning, Mueller. :) The pleasure was mine.

   

33 Sunrises x Day 1

I needed a personal project. Naturally it began on my favorite spot, the Lamar Pedestrian Street Bridge. So very lovely to see you at the crack of day, Austin, Texas and lovely meeting you Kenneth.

There Is Only Now

"Begin" she said.
Where?
"The story is inside of you." 

But I don't feel anything. 

"There is only now."
There is only now. Love, lust, adventure, passions, loss, questions these are all but a part of the journey. All we are is now.

Thus I sat out on a great journey. The greatest journey of my life, to tell my story. Lost in the words, in the storyline even of my own narrative. I could not understand how a story that I had personally lived could be so difficult to tell.

A wise man came to me and asked if I could be granted anything. What is it that I would want to make my life complete?
'I want to tell my story,' I said bravely, for I always had a fear of speaking my needs.
'Very well then' he said. 'You have been gifted the ability to be present. There is no limit on the number of times you can be and will be present in your life.'

I awoke from a dreamlike state; I wondered if the last few hours were of my imagination. The stone next to my bed told me otherwise. It's weight, heavy, like the consequences of what I had confided to the wise man and I, as usual, doubted. 

Had anything changed? Was I the same? A choice. I had been given free will to choose to be present and I did not realize yet the gravity.

I followed the narrative across the countryside. I dug holes deep into the earth believing it would be another stone that would catch my eye and lead me to the answer. There was no solace. My searching became a deep bottomless pit in which the darkness drove me only to dig deeper still and darker. Thus I was and felt very alone.

Somewhere along the highland of those hills I called out to the wise man, believing he would hear or greater still he would appear and really grant me what I had asked. I just wanted my story. I didn't want a journey. I only wanted answers.

Patient and faithful as he was, he did come. He picked up a handful of sand and put it in mine, as it slipped through the cracks of my fingers. His quiet gaze met mine.
'Not people. Not feelings.
'Not love. Not moments.' Not possessions.'
All sliding through the cracks I could not contain.

I cried. For me. For those I could not hold or know forever. For the feelings of beauty that fled faster from my heart than the beautiful birds that flew over my head as I thought this thought. 

The wise man left me to traversing those hills. My loneliness returned. Hours, maybe days passed and with every stone of remembrance I added to my sack, I began to question its weight over its worth. I slipped my thumbs under the straps to push my bag higher upon my shoulders and as I jumped to move them, the thread-barren bag ripped from my back, spilling the contents behind me. Was that a scream that came from my throat, but I heard no sound. I could re-tie the straps but the more I began picking up those stones, the very pieces of me, the more memories that flooded my mind. I had no knowledge of the length of my journey ahead and my heart was most raw -- to leave these stones here on the ground where they lay wouldn't make me any more. I couldn't have predicted how that would have felt. The roots of those stones sliding from my insides, ripping parts of me away with them with every step I distanced myself from them. And yet, more light, more air, the weightlessness of my burdenless back replaced my discomfort, slowly without effort, and I came so close to flying across those hills. 

I felt the desire to connect most great. I needed validation. I wanted to tell what I just endured, what I allowed myself to do. But no one that crossed my path provided my relief. I needed validation. What did it matter? Did I matter?

Enticing a sweet songbird with a crust of bread I caught him just barely in my grasp. His soft wings, fluttering inside of my palms reminded me of his delicacy and how he belonged in the sky. I walked on through town after town, listening to him sing, still feeling him struggle. He told me I mattered of that I felt most certain. My arms were now heavy and cramping of carrying him but I was unable to let him go. His voice became quieter. I needed his songs.

I killed him unknowingly, unassumingly, quietly in my sweaty grasp. No place adequate to bury the little fellow. He fell limp on the path my feet long far tread.

There were many tears on this journey while I, I was still waiting to see the writing in the sky.

At this point in my story I had lost everything. Like the sharp rises and falls between the mountains I was traversing, I , too, had peaks and valleys in me. These continued storms were leveling them. I could do naught but walk on.

Journeying northward, I followed the highlands of those dunes to a body of water with which I was unfamiliar. A storm was blowing in and in the distance I watched the lightning strike across those waters and felt the rumble of thunder spread goosebumps on my skin. It was magnificent. I waded into the shallow warm waves crashing over my feet and for the first time in a long time, did nothing. Non-reactive. I stood there, in the stillness, as the rain began to fall. I felt my hair sticking to my cheeks and chin -drip, drip- dripping off my nose and still, I could not move. My clothes clung to frame. I was not afraid. Somehow for the first time in my life, here, now, wading in these waters, there was a peace in me much stronger than the winds closing in from the sea. 

Josephine House x WildSky Events SXSW

Shine, Darling.

A dear friend emailed me this. I found out almost a year later it was typed from "Chasers of the Light".  My heart tells me you need to hear it too.

"Sometimes you look up and there just seems to be so many more stars that ever before. More. They burn brighter and they shine longer and they never vanish into your periphery when you turn your head. It's as if they come out for us to remind us that their light took so long to come to us, that if we never had the patience to wait, we never would have seen them here, tonight, like this.

That as much as it hurts, sometimes it's all you can do, wait, endure and keep shining, knowing that eventually, your light will reach where it is supposed to reach and shine for who it is supposed to shine for.

It is never easy, but it is always worth it."

Always, always, always, always worth it.

-carli

The Tide

"Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it.
Boldness has genius, power and magic in it." _Goethe

-carli