i still love you. charcoal on sketch paper, november 2011.

the cover of my upcoming seasonal mix cd, stragglers solstice. thank you cara for being in this photo.

an interpretation of ingres' odalisque. 2005, oil on canvas.

I completed this painting a very long time ago. It was 4′x4′ and when I moved away, it was too big to take with me. Wonder what happened to it…

-Paul Gardner

i finally finished a painting. it’s not my best work, but the fact that i actually am finished feels really good. onward!

trust your path. oil on wood. 11/2011

leaves on the ground in belltown, november 2011

I see how gorgeous you are before you fall to Earth.

You’ll need to be rotten and ugly and smelly for a while.

You’ll nourish next year’s beauty: so should be my mantra.

I can’t be a perfect autumn leaf, or a spring flower every day. Some days are about generating nutrients. Others are about shining. Introvert, extrovert: pick a theme.

-excerpt from my journal

In the last few days, the air has turned crisp. As I am typing this, a strong wind blows outside, yanking leaves from trees and tossing them all over the place. I just left the community center where we’re working on getting SUPP underway, and saw leaves blowing like crazy in a stream of rain-soaked wind.

The last few weeks have been challenging. I find myself afraid to surrender to the wind, to the falling leaves, to the chaos of change. I want to cling to the beauty of the gold and red and orange and yellow leaves, in denial of their new role as nurturers of the earth, no longer a feast for the eyes.

I made up my mind today that when I walked into the community center for SUPP, I wasn’t going to try to force the kids to participate. I want them to take part because that’s what they want to, not because someone is making them.

Unbeknownst to me, this seemingly defiant attitude of surrender seemed to be exactly what was needed; several students showed up unprovoked, and a few new ones even joined us. We had a fantastic impromptu lesson in Photoshop as we selected and prepared images for making stencils, and everyone seemed engaged, eager to complete their stencils for next week’s mini-mural and t-shirt projects.

fallen leaf in a fountain in belltown, november 2011

It got me thinking: maybe instead of trying so hard to control whatever change I need in this season, it’s time to surrender to the Universe and let her show me what I need. It’s not that I want to become inactive in this project or any of my goals; rather, I want to take a step back and allow it all to take shape organically.

Part of maintaining a yoga practice, both on and off the mat, is finding the balance between the constant interplay of opposing forces. Surrendering to fall is no different. In the coming weeks I am committed to allowing change to manifest in my life. I am trusting the Universe and my Path to bring me what I need. I am taking a leap of faith into the blustering wind, ready to flutter to the ground, to become muck, to find warmth under the soil. It’s time to begin a new cycle of nourishment and growth.

“is your name brian?”

wonder fills his eyes as he nods: how would i know?

“i’m katie. i used to work at the sunlight cafe.”

he smiles and nods, asks me when i worked there. squints over the details. tells me he’s on his way there right now, at this very moment! i ask him what he’s going to order. coffee and a cinnamon roll: just like always.

he’ll take a couple of hours to eat and get a refill or two on his coffee. then, right before closing time, he’ll order his dinner. it’ll probably be the special. the rest of the time, he’ll jot down notes into his tiny spiral flip pad or chitchat with his server. he’ll stay until long after the last customer is gone, savoring his meal and poring over his tiny papers, reading and re-reading his blue scrawl.

brian lost his memory in a car accident in 1978. he mentions this twice to me during our conversation on the bus today.

at one point as he is in the middle of a sentence i gaze wide-eyed out the window behind his turned head. a semi-truck is about to hit the bus; it’s about 5 inches from us, parallel. brian and i watch in astonishment as the truck obliviously scoots forward in the afternoon traffic, closing the gap between us dangerously tighter.

finally, the bus pulls up alongside the truck: a driver yells at a driver. horns are exchanged. we are on our way.

i start thinking about how my life used to be and how many paths i could have taken. i think about brian and his memory and his routine and what his existence might be like every day: each morning truly new. does he wake up scared or confused or happy? do memories ever come back to him, like fragments of a broken cup? a ship at sea, the sky gray, an occasional sunbeam hitting the mast?

before brian gets off the bus, i tell him about when i was fasting this winter, how food from the sunlight cafe was my biggest craving. he gives me a huge grin as we part ways. understood.

flowers in the hood, july 2011

gorgeous sun on a maple leaf, july 2011

my new neighborhood is restoring my faith in humanity. actually, countless people restore my faith in humanity on a daily basis, nearly canceling out my cynicism (unfortunately a quick perusal of the daily news tends to bring my faith in humanity back down. sigh.).

last week, i was strolling home from a workout at the local pool. as i passed the neighborhood barbeque joint, in addition to the usual selection of delectable funk music blasting from within, i noticed a “happy birthday” sign strung across the entrance. a small crowd of people were gathered outside. “come on in and have some cake!” two women called to me. i smiled and stopped to chat. “i can’t,” i said. “i haven’t had dinner yet and it won’t feel good to eat sugar right now!” “well, take some to go then. what kind do you want?” one of them asked. i specified the chocolate, and they ended up giving me two huge slices of both chocolate and vanilla with strawberry filling, all wrapped up and ready to take home.

i stood and chatted for a while, wishing a happy birthday to both people who were turning 50, thanked them for the cake, and made my way down the street.

we have a sculptor in the hood, july 2011

someone made something cute out of graffiti that had been covered. july 2011

more pretty flowers showing their stuff, july 2011

 special thanks to barns for asking me to write this post.

the samaritan village is located on mount gerzim, towering above nablus and the surrounding refugee camps of el ein, askar and balata. all visitors must pass through an israeli checkpoint to go into the village (the two times that i went, i had to leave my passport with the soldiers there). there is a settler road on which only cars with yellow israeli license plates can drive, connecting the village to greater israel and segregating it from the rest of the west bank.

there are approximately 500 samaritan people living in the entire palestine/israel region today. for more information see this wikipedia page.

roman ruins in the samaritan village, mt. gerzim, the west bank. these ruins are dated between the 1st and 6th centuries AD.

roman ruins in the samaritan village, mt. gerzim, the west bank. these ruins are dated between the 1st and 6th centuries AD.

roman ruins in the samaritan village, mt. gerzim, the west bank. these ruins are dated between the 1st and 6th centuries AD.

vandalized roman ruins in the samaritan village, mt. gerzim, the west bank. these ruins are dated between the 1st and 6th centuries AD.