i spent a split second in the poetry section of the elliott bay book company tonight and happened to flip open a thin, but wonderful gray Mary Oliver collection. the poem that caught my eye: “lines written in the days of growing darkness.”
fitting for a seattle november, isn’t it?
monday was a hard day, for no reason other than it’s half-way through the quarter, i’m a student again for the first time in 15 years, i didn’t get enough solo time this weekend and, well, i’m human. my insecurities hit toward the end of my afternoon class and i cried all the way to the bus. and once the faucet is on, it’s on. i noticed a poster on a street corner looking for a lost 66-year-old man with dementia. that really sent me over the edge.
i wrote a list once i got on the bus.
it’s titled: on the days you want to quit.
- put a good song on repeat
- eat something healthy + fulfilling (warm in the winter, cold in the summer)
- know that if you didn’t have a few days like this, you wouldn’t be pushing hard enough.
- no one said it was going to be easy. ha.
the last one made me chuckle. when i first moved to san francisco, i had a roll of butcher paper on the wall of my room. at some point, i wrote “no one said it was going to be easy” amidst random notes and reminders. i fell into a particularly dark period of depression right around the same time and i remember my roommate at the time saying to me, “you know, no one said it was going to be easy.” i looked at him with a blank stare. it was so blunt that i laughed. “what?” he said. “you have it written right there on the wall.”
the cry helped. the run helped. the music helped. the food helped. i know that there will be days when those things won’t help. but having some sort of hope, some kind of optimism that you’ll make it through, that helps, too.
so here’s to pushing on.
P.S. serendipitously, this song is randomly on my speakers right now and it just feels fitting.
iris, oh FABULOUS iris. she’s iconic in her huge round glasses and bright colors, but i didn’t know much about her before watching the documentary: iris. i love that she and her husband carl started old world weavers after she couldn’t find the textile she wanted for a client. why not just make it? from there, the company only grew. as far as her personal style goes, watching her put together pieces is pure magic. why? authenticity. she buys and wears only what she loves. it’s as simple as that.
i need these. i just can’t decide which set i want, because they are all f*%king amazing.
see them all on paper jam press. and if you need a refresher course on tribe called quest hits, listen here.
“here is my secret. it is very simple. it is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.”
— antoine de saint exupery (via)
AMO introduced me to this lovely hilltop park in the castro a while ago. there’s a sneaky pathway between two hillside houses on 19th street, so sneaky that you might not know that it leads to anything in particular (part of why i love it so much). i’m usually more than winded after all those f*&#*ing SF hills, looking at my feet with my hands on my hips, telling my legs to climb just a little farther. but when the path opens up into a wild green patch tucked into city blocks with views of twin peaks in one direction, market street, downtown and the bay in the other, it’s so worth the short climb.
AMO started a new blog a while back and it continues to inspire me: read along at kitchen ammunition.
images from her post on foraged blackberry crisp. YUM.
new online magazine wayfare.
listening to jazz radio on spotify and this old blue note cover caught my eye. love the simplicity of the typeface and the bold colors.
listen in full here.