Thursday, February 25, 2010


as inspired by Sunshine #1

It's snowing outside, but no matter. The sun is shining in my heart.
(oh, was that horribly cheesy?)

Here's my day's revelation:
Sometimes, life (like these flowers) is all closed up, lovely but unassailable.
But sometimes, if you give it time, it opens.

And suddenly there are possibilities. Not promises, mind you, but possibilities.
And when there are possibilities, it's like the sun is shining in your heart.

This life is light,
Its light burns bright
So we'll take it day by day, and let it be

And everyone will see, how good it feels
Oh they'll see the world for all that it could be

Oh, let the sunshine in
I wanna feel it from within
You spin me around and make me feel like I could shine

Thank you to Sparkles and Crumbs for finding Rosi Golan. She's nothing short of marvelous.

photos: LCTGloriosityFlowersColoradoFebruary2010

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

It's Been A Long Day.


I'm going to say that Serendipity has not actually completely abandoned me. I'm going to say that she's somewhere warm and sunny, like St. Barths, or fabulous and imaginary, like L.M. Montgomery's Prince Edward Island, and that she has therefore left me to my own devices.
And so nothing seems to be going...well...well. My life is usually governed by a brilliant balance of hard work, assertion, devil-may-care, and fate. But perhaps she's misplaced my forwarding address? Or just fallen asleep on the job??
Because, lately, I have that feeling that I have to daily remind myself, "Get up. Get out. Find something beautiful. Keep going." This is usually less of a mantra and more of a pulse.
And I'm visiting more and more that place of throw-my-hands-up-and-scream-"What-do-You-want-from-me?"
I miss people who speak my language. I feel a little alone. Well, tonight, I feel a lot alone. I say this knowing full well that my brilliant friends and family are hardly far away at all, I hold them in my heart so close. But one of my dearest friends in the world reminded me today that I am a Muse. I was a Muse, once upon a time. I haven't felt very Muse-y lately. I keep reaching out and I keep coming up with smoke.
So tonight, I recognize that, at least for now,
I am the Lone Muse.
Well-versed in Museology (the inspirational kind, and the other kind...) but overtly lacking in peons. I'm missing the syncopation of interaction, the you-inspire-me-and-I'll-inspire-you of life.
Alright, World. I embrace the alone-ness. I give thanks for the solitudinous of being the Muse-Seeking-Artist, the Muse-Seeking-Possibility.
Because you discover some truly wonderful things when you are alone (and perhaps I anticipated this when I moved across the country, but didn't realize the magnitude.) You discover the things that mean most to you.
You discover who it is that you turn to for comfort, for challenge, for meaning, for faith, and who delivers. You discover the value of what you lack. And you discover the ever-springing, no-matter-how-weary, staggering resolution to stand back up and keep going. Not all who wander are lost. Sometimes they are though. And the only way to get un-lost is to keep wandering, and find something about yourself that gives you direction.
So tomorrow, I'll get up, I'll find something beautiful, I'll put one foot in front of the other and recommence my wandering.
But tonight, I'm just a Lone Muse. And it's been a long day.

photos: 500px_by_DimBaldachnyl, dreaming girl from, Perks of Being a Wallflower Quote, Lauren Withrow image,, bridge pic by Corinne Day, Vogue Italia Nov. 03, Fight for that which you Love t-shirt from, birdcage quote from, Nothing to Lose EsTeR from

Monday, February 22, 2010

This is Dedicated to the Ones I Love.

Be like the bird
that pausing in her flight
a while, on boughs too slight,
feels them give way
beneath her - and yet sings,
knowing that she has wings

-Victor Hugo

My grandmother sent me a bookmark for my birthday, but not just any bookmark. It was a bookmark with inspiration. Victor Hugo's quote, that resonated all too well during last week's slump.

So, life doesn't always go as planned. But there is always some sort of beauty waiting to be realized. And today, I give thanks for the brilliant ladies and gents who inspire me.

To Grammie, who sends bookmarks that change my perspective.
To mom, who is always in my corner. Always.
And dad, who speaks my language.
To Mags, who can close her eyes and disappear into Lauridsen, too, and with whom I can well and truly blend.
To Sweets, who has resolved to uncover the artist-philosopher within.
To Michael, who says, "how are you?" and really means it.
To Gregger, who battles philo-theological dragons in a foreign country.
To my real brothers, Jim & Ted, who make me laugh.
To my surrogate brothers, Dan and Denny, who make me feel loved.
(note: brotherly roles are interchangeable.)
To my littles, who make me feel like I spread a little sparkle.
To B & C, who I think still really know me, even across miles of silence.
To the people who relish beauty, and exude grace, who are silly or smart, esoteric or earthly, who make life worth living, a multi-faceted gem of possibility.
They who make a reclamation of life not only possible, but much more worthwhile.
photos: Under the Wing by Luigino Snidero,, Etsy.TheStorque,,, Morten Lauridsen Lux Aeterna album cover, flickr.hellosunshine.esther, LCTGloriosityWorld'sEndStateParkPA2009, Trina Schart Hyman's St. George and the Dragon, LCTGloriositySleeperPics,,Cat in Paper Bag, flickr.JewelRedux.cinemafia, LCTGloriosityFlowers2010.

Sunday, February 21, 2010

In the Night

Do you know that everyone who lives in Colorado is a morning person?

I'm convinced that I'm the only person in the shadow of the Rockies who delights in the night and who has perfected the art of rolling back over when the sun begins to push in through my eyelashes.
I drove home tonight singing Brandi Carlile at the top of my lungs

The first sign of morning is gray and alarming
It's so disappointing the day has come so soon
While the rest of the world greets the day and feels new
I will push it away just like I always do, I will be
Dreaming, dreaming, dreaming,
Your real world away

Only beautiful, beautiful bright eyes lie,
Only beautiful, beautiful bright eyes cry,
Singin' late morning lullaby
Late morning lullaby

I would darken my window so I can fall asleep
While the critics frown down on the hours I keep
That leave me
Dreaming, dreaming, dreaming,
Your real world away.

Brandi's got it about right. My darling roommate, tenacious and cheerful, awakes, voluntarily, at 7am every morning. She's off like a rocket, going to the gym, or going to the library, or finding some other productive means of conquering the world.
And she's in bed by 9 most nights.
Whereas I, though possibly stirring before the noontime hour, have a brain that will not function before the digital clock reads "pm". Minor witticisms kick in around 3pm, about the time the sun hits its zenith. Clever arguments and correlations begin to shimmer around dusk. Major circular arguments and triple entendre show their charming faces when the sun has gone to bed. And when the moon, however brilliant she's feeling, assumes her throne high above my head, that is when the world is alive for me. That is when miracles are possible, and everything is beautiful, and love is not so far away. The Night is my Day.
And so I don't go to bed until 2am. And I think this is a self-perpetuating affliction.
But wait 'till the night has fallen like a black velvet curtain, wait 'till the snowflake swirl down like a glittering mist in the lamplight, wait 'till the boughs hang heavy with white and the glow off the snow makes an eerie wonderland of your bedroom wall, and then play this:

And then tell me you don't believe that night, after all, is the best time of day.
photos: - thepicklebotinteriors - awake, ThePrincessBlog, Google image - LivebytheSunLovebytheMoon, ShanyaAmaras An attempt to send some sun your way, LCTGloriosity Colorado 2009,

Friday, February 19, 2010

Friday, I'm In Love

Let me give it to you straight.
This week... it could have been better.
Most of the week felt like this:
(please note the fabulous clothes, ambient sparkle, but noticeable lack of an "other.)

Because let's be serious, sometimes I just want this Valentine's Day:
(ps. Junk Gypsies, I love you. Go there. love it. Thank me later.)

Instead, I usually feel like this: "Cupid, GET WITH IT."

or this: "Back! Back I say!"
So I make my peace with God, Aphrodite, and the Universe. I realize I'm a tiny little sparkly speck (and oh, my dears, I am sparkly.) And I say, "You're big. I'm small. That's fine."
But one day, dear powers that be, whenever you happen to get around to it, dish me up some of this:
or, if you're feeling really benevolent, this:
(tell me you don't look at this photo and wish you were snuggled up like that...)

In the meantime, I will be leaving post-it notes on the door of my heart.
and blessing my darling friends, both near and far, for their brilliantness.
because, Life, I:
and the gloriously-crowned friends you've given me.
I'll hold my breath, and remember to
and that the key to life is being open to living it.
Because, after all,
the stars exist, that we might know how high our dreams can soar...

The End.

photos: still from Penelope, Cowgirl image from promo e-mail from, La Vie Parisienne: April Showers Bring May Flowers, A Young Girl Defending Herself Against Eros by William-Adolph Bouguereau, Infant Stars by Luigi Masella from flickr, The Awakening of Adonis by J.W. Waterhouse,Slumbering INdulgence by Dan Larino, How to express your Love with Post-its from Google, quoted from Starbucks and Jane Austen blog, heart you from imgfave. I heart you from, say something beautiful from a broken laptop at wordpress, key image from vi.sualizeus, stars by

Saturday, February 13, 2010

The Reclamation of Valentine's Day: Part 5

Don't you love fairy tales?
There's something about opening a book that's filled with mystery, and trials, and the promise of a happy ending that invigorates me. I've slowly amassed a collection of favorite books - illustrated by Gennady Spirin or K. Y. Craft or the inimitable Trina Schart Hyman. These tales radiate with lovely characters and lovely storylines and leave daydreams in your heart.

Like the story of Cupid and Psyche, particularly applicable on a weekend like this.
It's all about how love changes us, and our love changes others, but also about how love conquers all.
If you want the poetic version, go grab Charlotte Craft's rendition (as illustrated by KY Craft). But here's a synopsis of the love of Love:

There once was a king with three beautiful daughters, but the youngest was the fairest, (as is to be expected in stories like these). This youngest and fairest was named Psyche, and she was so lovely that the people of the kingdom began to neglect their worship of Aphrodite.
Now everyone knows that Aphrodite, for all her beauty, is a jealous goddess. And so she sends her mischievous son, Cupid, to prick the delicate princess with his wicked little arrow, and make her fall in love with a hideous monster. But when Cupid arrives to complete his task, he is surprised by the beauty of the maid, and in his surprise, he pricks himself with his own arrow and falls in love.
At the behest of the oracles, Psyche is left on a mountaintop, from whence she is spirited away to a magnificent palace in the skies. There, her every need is met, her every wish granted, except that she is forbidden to see the man who comes to her every night (for he is no mere man, he is a god, and the god of Love, at that). And though she thinks she loves this man, her heart grows troubled. Now, when she pleads to have her sisters come visit, she gets just what she asked for. But upon discovering the lavish life of Psyche, these sisters (as sisters are apt to do in stories like these) are consumed by, well, cupidity. They incite concern in Psyche's mind. They tell her that her lover is no doubt a monster, which is why he hides his face.

That evening, the foolish girl takes a candle to bed and lights it to see the face of her benevolent captor. And he is beautiful. And she loves him.
But the wax falls from the candle and burns his skin. The god awakes, and vanishes into the air.
Distraught, Psyche seeks out Aphrodite, goddess of Love, mother of her lover, and asks her for her help in regaining Cupid's love. Aphrodite, never one to pity, sets forth impossible tasks for Psyche to complete, which she manages, because the very forces of nature, the ants, the river, the winds, decide to help her (as often happens in stories like these.)
Psyche's final task is to venture to the underworld and bring back a coffer of Beauty from Persephone. (Obviously, it's wintertime). After helpful advice on the safest way to cross Styx without dying, Psyche obtains the coffer.
And here is where she shows weakness. Whether it be greed, or doubt, or discontent, she decides to take just a little bit of Beauty for herself, that she may please her lover. But when she opens the coffer, she's overcome with an unwakeable Sleep (as sometimes heightens the suspense in stories like these.)

Serendipitously, Cupid comes upon the sleeping Psyche, and his tears prove to his mother that he loves her.
Psyche is saved, and in her union with Cupid, is granted demi-god status, that they may, indeed, live happily ever after (as always happens in stories like these.)
So, you see, we must not question love. And when we do, we must work to regain it. And when all hope is lost, love will come through. And it will change us, if only so that it will never leave us.

Photos: untitled by Lauren Withrow from flicker, AmorVincitOmnia illuminated, witch from Snow White by Trina Schart Hyman, Cupid from Cupid and Psyche by KY Craft, East of the Sun West of the Moon illustration by PJ Lynch, KY Craft image from Cupid and Psyche, girl running from, Psyche returns from the Underworld, Psyche Revived by Love's Kiss photographed by Siggito 2005, Cupid and Psyche by Francois Pascal Simon Gerard