What it Takes to Find Trust

On that Sunday morning during the conference, with a room full of strangers and sunlight towering through the ceiling-high windows, the Joker said to us, Now as you continue walking, filling the empty spaces in the room, I want you to meet the eyes of the person you walk past and hold your gaze as long as possible. Continue this practice with each person you walk past.

I follow his instructions, holding onto pairs of eyes for so long that my neck and shoulders twist, while only my legs walk past. I'm amazed by the intense closeness I feel to those who act with a similar audacity; the intense empathy and hope I feel for those who hardly hold their gaze. I don't know it in that moment, but I'm about to discover that I can also be a person afraid or unable to hold my gaze.

~~~

I'm in Brian's car driving to a meeting on Monday afternoon. It's rush hour and I'm sitting at a red light avoiding eye contact with the Latino men in the car next to me. What will happen if I give them my gaze? If I invite them in, will they betray my trust? Will I feel used for my kindness? Abused for my openness? The answer has been yes many times before, so what reason do I have to believe that it will be no today? The stakes are high, but my heart still somehow believes that there's reason for fairness. That there's reason to try and try again.

I offer a tiny glance and a small smile for a moment. Then just as I'm ready to pray for a safe response, the light turns green and my foot hits the pedal. We're off. Off to our respective lives. Off the hook for the time being.

~~~

Driving home from the meeting I'm stopped at a red light again, this time on a busy downtown street. There's an ice cream shop on my right with big glass windows where bright yellow and neon lights shine through, illuminating the sidewalk like the yellow brick road. A young boy has his face smashed up against the window, and we catch each other's eyes. I smile without hesitating. We hold on to our joyful stare for a full 10 seconds until the light turns green and I'm forced to keep moving.

~~~

When I get home, I pull out a pile of hand-written testimonies from homeless men in DC that I'm supposed to transcribe for work, only to discover that I've been given the wrong pile. These are not testimonies, but lists. 15 lists of goals for 2009. The first one reads:

I want to love my neighbor as myself.
I want to speak to people even if I don't know them, and even if they don't seem desirable to talk to (dirty, smelly, ugly, disfigured).
I want to ACKNOWLEDGE A PERSON'S HUMANITY.
I want to give up my claims to vengeance and instead forgive, seek peace, seek to end conflicts, and apologize.

I freeze, choked up, but unable to let anything out. I look around my apartment, over my shoulder and behind my back to see if someone's there--if someone did this to me on purpose--slipping these lists into my pile to send me a message.

You are not alone.
You are not alone.
You are not alone.
We are all trying to find trust.

~~~

What are the chances that this homeless man's goals for 2009, which I was never supposed to see, could help me to see everything? Could it really be true that so many of us want the same things? To feel safe enough with each other to stare into a stranger's eyes? To acknowledge the humanity sitting right next to us? To forgive and have courage enough to try again with deeper hope? To love each other? To Trust?

I sit choked up and absolutely certain that the answer cannot be anything but Yes. Knowing that I'm not alone in my aspirations--that the very people I might be most inclined to fear, are also the ones hoping for a chance at trust, just as I'm hoping for a chance back--that's something to remember. That's something to hold onto and build from and believe in. We need each other, and our needs are not all that different. Working with that just might be what it takes to find trust.

"Case of You" + Art Updates

My jaw dropped at the beauty of this piece, as I sat watching on my parents couch. "Case of You" is one of my all time favorite songs, and I couldn't imagine a more perfect dance than this one to do the song justice.



~~~
In other news...

Things have been so busy around here that I didn't even tell you the exciting news! I opened an ETSY store featuring many original paintings that would make great gifts for the holidays! Check it out here!

It took me a hell-of-a-lot to breakthrough my neurosis, perfectionism and doubt and finally put up my ETSY store. And let me tell you, even though I'm happy it's there, I'm still coming up against major road blocks in my heart.

So this week I'm dedicated to giving myself the space I need to work through my frozen places. With slow walks in the crisp autumn air to this magical haven of mouth-watering empandas, phone dates with soul-sisters, The Wizard of Oz, jasmine incense, this highly enjoyable book (have I mentioned I love John Green?), and this challenging but essential one.

What about you? What are you committed to giving yourself this week--amidst the holiday craze and consumerism-extravaganza--What small refuge will you offer to yourself?

thankful 2009

thankful for The Artist's Way and the guts to stick with it
thankful for having an amazing partner, supporter, and soul-mate in Brian
thankful for people who live inspirational, free-floating lives
thankful for the power of Theatre of the Oppressed
thankful for songs like this one , that speak more truth than I sometimes know how to stomach
thankful for my nievity coupled with rash decision-making that result in learning really valuable lessons
thankful for living life at the edge
thankful for two parents who love to tell me i'm they're heart
thankful for the Lakota, the richness in their culture, and the chance to experience so much of it
thankful for Corbin, Mr. Bill, Jen, Marsha, and all the people I admire for one reason or another
thankful for Grandma Mary Lou's legacy as a phenomenal artist, empowered feminist, avid political reader and active citizen
thankful for all the stories of his childhood that my dad told at Pop Pop's yesterday, and the look on his face as he was telling them
thankful for the way joni mitchell sounds on a record player, as opposed to computer speakers
thankful for the way i laugh and cry and talk until the sun comes up with jodi thankful for the juicy gossip, deep understanding, and unconditional love that micayla always brings
thankful for the chance to babysit children and learn how much i love giving them the gift of trusting their instincts
thankful for all the times i was given encouragement, support, or the answer "yes"
thankful for the calm that a long slow attentive walk can bring
thankful for my mom's amazing cooking and that the pantry's always full of things like spinach & artichoke dip, and sushi
thankful for sunlight on my face and streaming in through the window where the cat lays
thankful for firey red leaves and things becoming more beautiful as they near the end of their lives
thankful for the taste of espresso with sugar in the raw
thankful for the magical memory of florence and the unforgettable women i met their
thankful for the shadows on a pear and the red ones that taste like apples but don't constipate me like apples do
thankful for soy milk and all the marvelous things that help me poop
thankful for people who laugh at my openness as opposed to telling me i'm gross
thankful that brian still thinks i'm beautiful even though i shower only twice a week
thankful to have gotten rid of scabies & the modern medicine that made it possible...my access to the medicine
thankful for my parents health care that i can stay on until i'm 25
thankful to be 22 with so many dreams and opportunities
thankful for all the people i've met on air planes and all the wisdom i've learned from those people
thankful for alternative spring break & the women who run it
thankful for having women to look up to in college like marsha, katie, sonia, and kristan
thankful for crusty radicals, tight-rope walkers, straight edge people, and those who live maddening authentic lives
thankful for art and all the people brave enough to do it
thankful for the house i live in and the people i live with who love to cook and find things for free
thankful for people who still know how to play like children--who help me reconnect to my childish side
thankful for mindy's chocolate & caramel covered crackers that melt in your mouth
thankful for a huge family that has no exhiled or unwelcome members
thankful for mix cds that my friends made me in high school that are still my favorite things to listen to
thankful for really warm wool socks when my feet are as cold as ice cubes
thankful for a cuddle partner every night and every morning
thankful for realizing my privilege
thankful for my unknown future
thankful for vulnerability -- for all the people who let their true selves slip out into the world
thankful for feeling more comfortable in my own skin... that i don't feel like i need to look a certain way as much as i used to
thankful for my lufa
thankful for people who tell me that i don't need to know where i'm going, that i don't need to have anything figured out, and that i certainly don't need to be making any money right now :)
thankful for my mom's closet with clothes from the past 4 generations that fit me
thankful for hidden treasures that i can scavenge through
...a forever unfinished list of little joys i'm so thankful to be alive for.

So Many Questions...

If I were my own best friend, what words of wisdom, or love, or kindness would I offer myself?
How can I honor the spirit of all living things?
What can I give away?
Who's story needs to be heard?
Where does the world's deep hunger and my deep passion meet?
What will I eat for lunch today?
How will I pay my bills this month?
When the world runs out of money to pay me for what I'm supposed to do, how will I manifest what I'm meant to do?
How do I avoid wage slavery in a capitalist society?
Where can I sell 90% of my stuff?
Could I live with only 100 things?
Is there a Theatre of the Oppressed meet up group in DC?
Who in DC can I have regular friend-dates with so I don't get so lonely working from home?
Does the couch that we never steam-washed still have scabies if we haven't sat on it for a week?
Am I crazy to be on the path that I'm on?
What if I have no clue what's next?
How can I schedule a trip to NYC that will cost me less than $50 total?
If I send this to print will you want one?

Googling for some answers, praying for the rest. What questions are you asking today? What answers does your humble heart have to offer? I'd really love to hear in the comments below.

Updates from the past week...

I'm moving a mile a minute these days and a bit worried that I'm falling into the trap of accomplishing a ton but feeling little joy in my accomplishments. Not to mention I'm exhausted! Will you sigh with me that these things are over? Help me celebrate my feats?

In the past week I...

Finished & delivered my first ever commissioned art piece. It felt FANTASTIC.
Meet Stephanie: vivacious, supportive, down-to-earth, and lovely. Stephanie was my RA in college, and she and her husband just bought their first house. Long story short, I ran into Steph at a happy hour where she expressed interest in commissioning me to do a painting. But honestly, I was shocked the next day when she actually called me to make a deal. 3 weeks later I dropped off the finished product: a 2'x4' acrylic painting on canvas of Stephanie & Lonnie during their first dance on their wedding day. Stephanie loved it so much that she was almost in tears.

I can't tell you what an amazing feeling that was. To know how powerful it can be--the simple act of creating something beautiful. I want to soak it in... To trust that the universe is full of gifts that are waiting to be realized, and that we all need people who can help us realize them.

As I was racing to the finish line to complete this painting, I was also organizing two emergency workshop-style meetings for CHUM (Co-op Housing College Park) that both ended up kicking major ass. Historical anecdote: My senior capstone project was about why University of Maryland needs cooperative housing, and how students could go about getting it. Then I decided I couldn't just write about something like that. No, no. I had to make it happen. Hence, here I am... still organizing after I've graduated.

Then there's that thing that [attempts to] pay the bills... good old Content Management. Hours in the "back end" uploading, editing, transcribing, clicking, and saving. Although, I have to admit it's been pretty interesting transcribing these stories. And the audio content I'm about to upload is real gold.

But best of all, amidst all of these things, I found out that our house was infected with scabies: vicious bugs that get under your skin like tics and make you itch furiously. Imagine every single person simultaneously washing all of their laundry and bedding, steaming every couch and carpet, and lathering their bodies in scabies-killing cream....AT THE SAME TIME OR ELSE THE SCABIES REINFECT! Quite the experience...

What a week!

But I'm still over here working my little tail off... hoping to make you a few special things by the end of the week. Most importantly I want to turn Vulnerable is Beautiful into a professionally printed zine, ready for you to purchase just in time for the holiday season. Wouldn't that be darling?!

What joys are you celebrating? What ways is your world spinning, or how are you standing still? I'd love to know in the comments below.

Meet Me Again

Dear Firenze,

I still hold you in my heart. I still miss the way your cobbled stone streets ruin all of my shoes. I still feel your moonlit glow on my skin as I walk home from BeBop at 3am. I still taste your perfect cappuccino and salted panini next door to the painting studio. I still hear your muffled mopeds and jingling biciclete as I cross the Ponte Vecchio. I still lug around those extra 15 pounds from daily gelato and vino rosso. I still breathe in the sunset view in both directions leaning out the window of 48 Via Del'Oriuolo. I still feel your royalty, your balance, your charm, your heart. I still hold you with me.

Amore e Baci,
Rachael

Disaster Zone

Things currently in our freezer:

Half of Brian's clothing
My bra
My slippers

The life of a household infected with scabies.

once the last absolutes were torn to pieces...

November 1968

Stripped
you're beginning to float free
up through the smoke of brushfires
and incinerators
the unleafed branches won't hold you
nor the radar aerials

You're what the autumn knew would happen
after the last collapse
of primary color
once the last absolutes were torn to pieces
you could begin

How you broke open, what sheathed you
until this moment
I know nothing about it
my ignorance of you amazes me
now that I watch you
starting to give yourself away
to the wind

-Adrienne Rich

This is my November poem. Thank you for writing, Adrienne Rich. For daring us to begin once we tear the last absolutes to pieces, once we shed our hefty layers. Your truth is magic to my ears.

Smiling for 72 hours straight

I just loved this image. Found in the Trumbullplex Artist Co-op, Detroit, MI.

I just got back from the most incredible conference on cooperative housing in Ann Arbor, MI, run by an amazing organization called NASCO. So many dear souls were there from all over the world that they had my insides smiling for 72 hours straight. We spent hours laughing and throwing leaves in the air, playing games like kids at summer camp, dancing until the sun came up. It was just the boost of energy and simplicity that my soul needed amidst so many intense workshops.

I left feeling inspired and reinvigorated--reminded of my passion for justice and equality through cooperation, for warmth and beauty through intimate communities. Reaffirmed about the possibilities of the human heart to love openly and deeply, even with complete strangers.

There are so many stories to share with you, but I'm a busy bee over here, so for now I'll just leave you with some incredible places to visit:

This workshop dug into me on so many levels that have long gone untouched, unfelt.
"Hope District" of Detroit reminded me of the Lower 9th Ward of New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina. But It's really true there, that beauty is born from the broken.
This film proves it, too.
These were some of the incredible people I met. Can you believe students built this beautiful home from the ground up?
And for your own sanity, I won't link to the business plans, work budgets, tax forms, or legal contracts--but know that there were lots of those, too.

Off to drink more tea & water and fight the oncoming flu-like symptoms that are inevitable after sharing a weekend with 400 crusty co-opers. ;)

feelin good, nina simone

Birds flyin' high you know how I feel
Sun in the sky you know how I feel
Breeze driftin' on by you know how I feel
Its a new dawn, its a new day, its a new life for me
yeah, its a new dawn its a new day its a new life for me ooooooooh
AND I'M FEELING GOOD

Fish in the sea, you know how I feel
River runnin' free you know how I feel
Blossom on the tree you know how I feel
Its a new dawn, its a new day, its a new life for me
And I'm feelin good

Dragonfly out in the sun you know what i mean dont you know
Butterflies all havin' fun you know what I mean
Sleepin' peace when day is done that's what I mean
And this old world is a new world and a bold world for me

Stars when you shine you know how I feel
Scent of the crime you know how I feel
Your freedom is mine, and I know how I feel
Its a new dawn, its a new day, its a new life for me
(Free styling)
OH I'M FEELING GOOOOOOOOOOOOOD

So many things I wish I knew how to tell you...

Really. There are.

I wish I knew how to tell you all the stories of all the times when I was just about to give up hope, but something came along and turned the tide in my direction.

Or that I know how it feels to compromise myself for the possibility of love, but that the only way real love has ever evolved in my life was from the stubborn determination to Offer Who I Am.

Or how hard it feels to stop telling myself lies about my own self-worth and potential. But how deep the pay off is when I do.

Or how much I'm riding on trust.

I wish I knew how to tell you that in between my endless pout over living in a basement apartment, there are moments in the early morning when that big jewel in the sky shines her rays right through my one window, right onto my morning cup of coffee, and warms my hands, reminding me to slow down, to be present.

I wish I knew how to tell you without so much fear that I have art waiting for you. That I've been creating like crazy over here, and that soon I'm going to let you in on my creations and pray that you'll want one.

And I wish I knew how to tell you that I know I'm making compromises right now--playing the "working woman" role, and leaving less time than I'd like for my soul work. But how I also know that I need this--at least one month without complete havoc over how I'll pay my rent.

I wish I knew how to tell you that I'm not afraid of the living the life I'm meant to live--I'm not afraid of my path. I'm ready for it. Today. This very minute. But even still, I find myself coming up against new edges, new fears, and having to contract again in order to expand again.

I wish I could tell you that I know what it's like to feel lost from my path. Like the universe is not on my side. When I'm wishing and dreaming and things still aren't coming true. But that all those things are part of my story. Part of the sadness and the struggle and the resistance that help me hope with even more heart.

I wish I knew how to tell you that having you here with me gives me courage, gives me trust, and helps me believe that I'm meant for this.

We are in this together. Our dreams are waiting for us. And the world needs us to be true to our hearts. Especially now during such desperate times. The world needs us to create more beauty--and beauty doesn't come from waiting for the right situation, the perfect moment, a better economy, or enough credentials. Beauty comes from the broken, the vulnerable, the honest, the true. It comes from the hopeful heart.

Today, even when I don't know how to express myself like I'd prefer, I come to you from my heart, offering myself to you as a partner-in-dreaming, hoping you'll say Yes.

A Halloween Wish for You

Be who you've always dreamt of being. Not just today. Everyday!

Heart thumping and palms sweating, surreptitiously glancing left to right, left to right, I whipped out my red dry-erase marker and quickly scratched this message to the back of the Metro seat. I have so much fun with Halloween, really embracing a new character for a day, a night. What if Halloween were a spring board? An opportunity to embrace a new version of you? What would you be then? Who would you embody?

I think it's no coincidence that I write this post on the Halloween that I dressed as Miss Frizzle. She simply, utterly, totally ROCKS. Her sweet & wise ways. Her encouraging demeanour. Her daring persistence to JUMP IN and learn through experience. She's definitely a character I'd love to embrace more.


What were you this Halloween? Were funny coincidences involved?