“The life in us is like the water in the river. It may rise this year higher than man has ever known it, and flood the parched uplands; even this may be the eventful year, which will drown out all our muskrats.”—Thoreau -Conclusion to Walden
Kit Bramblett, the county attorney for Hudspeth County in West Texas, where Mr. Nelson was arrested on a marijuana possession charge last year, has said he will allow Mr. Nelson to plead guilty to a misdemeanor count if he pays a small fine — and performs “Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain” in court. (Via the NY Times)
“We are surrounded by fear and fear based behaviour. We must not give in to the cliche that would have us believe that we can only risk being vulnerable when we finally have found a place that allows us to feel safe. In fact the way we open or don’t open precedes and shapes our perception of the world that is out there. The world is never going to make you feel safe enough to let down your guard. You have to start by letting down your guard. This is the means that enables us to move to that place of deeper knowing in which we uncover that dimension within ourself that experiences safety, no matter what is happening on the surface. As we stay in that place within ourselves that knows we are safe, we begin to see a world that is no longer dominated by threat. We become able to draw upon a strength that comes to us from a different place. We need to transform our consciousness first. This transformation is facilitated by our spiritual practice.”—Cynthia Bourgeault (via azspot)
today at work i made 4 quarts of lemonade. they were supposed to be samples, but by 5pm, the customers stopped showing up, and all i had left was the biggest pitcher the cafe owns filled sloppily full of too sour lemonade.
i still kinda smell like lemons, too. for 3 hours today, i was pretty obsessed. i tried to learn to juggle, but couldn’t decide the definition of juggle. two objects in the air? just one? was i just throwing lemons in the air?
before work i sat in the sun and wrote in my journal, sitting next to a trash can that smelled dead when the wind blew just right, and like cigarettes the other way. writing is maybe the only thing that makes me feel consistently better. nabokov said he needed to write to get rid of things, and i am still trying to articulate what, exactly, i need to get rid of.
i feel so goofy and caricatured. i feel like when i am happy, i am floppy-eared and toothy-grinned. i am full skirts and bobby socks. perched on my shoulder, you could fine cartoon birds. when i am sad, it is dark hair, dark words, salty eyes, raw face. maybe there’s an organ in the background. it’s pathetic. it’s genre. it’s fixed.
emerson sternly advises to finish each day and be done with it. really, i see no alternative, and in this way, it becomes a mantra.
i had forgotten that my fridge freezes everything, which means it makes beer the perfect temperature. a consolation, indeed.
today i hired my replacement editor for the magazine, as well as the new community editor. it was not the person i truly wanted, and i was already unhappy with being in charge of another section i know nothing of.
the editor-in-chief called the new editors, and i emailed those who did not make it. i spent over an hour compiling my documents and content ideas to send to someone else i have met twice.
thinking about being done with the magazine has made me pretty heartbroken, but i think more so than the nature of the work itself, i will just miss having a side hustle so to speak. i need that other work, that sense of doing something else.
but don’t worry, internet, you know i’ve got some awesome stuff in the works.
i am pulled in so many directions, but instead of just letting myself feel, i am following along. midnight has become early, and i am just trying anything i can. emails are being sent, and plans are being made. i want to do more. i want to do it all.
“For what it’s worth: it’s never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever you want to be. There’s no time limit, stop whenever you want. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you’re proud of. If you find that you’re not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again.”—
“The Curious Case of Benjamin Button” by F. Scott Fitzgerald (via seymourglass)