I found the piece that was missing. in Santa Barbara, of course.
now I am home but just waiting to get back. I am whole and brimming when there.
my santa barbara friends teach me about living, growth, possibility. we adventure, we explore, we walk. we don't sleep much--there is too much life to live.
lights in a garden, classical guitar, black tea, fire pits, peach hookah, a corner loveseat.
heavy rolling clouds of fog, streetlamps.
freedom. yogurtland at 11 at night. hours spent in antique shops. a penis traced in the dirt and ash on my windshield? somehow it all feels like I am finally living, like I have finally stepped into the world I've been watching turn on its axis.
the ocean is there. still and ever-moving. always the same, always changing. so easy to lose the baggage, to drop all that weighs down. it is enough to surrender, to let the beauty surround, to realize yes I too belong in this picture, I am beautiful too.
one day I will have a little house and decorate it all in blue and white with birds and vases and candles. maybe I'll start collecting now.
I am humbled in this city
There seems to be an endless sea of people like us
Wakeful dreamers, I pass them on the sunlit streets
In our rooms filled with laughter
We make hope from every small disaster
Everybody says "you can't, you can't, you can't, don't try."
Still everybody says that if they had the chance they'd fly like we do.
weepies, a painting by chagall