Archive | November, 2015

Fall Mix Tape :: Leaves of Every Color

Well, shit. It’s nearly Winter and I have not put up the music I spent my Fall with.

Please forgive me. Here it is. Enjoy!



Victorious | Panic! at the Disco

I need to come clean. I secretly love orchestral rock. The loud drums and heavy bass. The soaring layers of voice and instrument. Queen. Some David Bowie. Tia Carrere’s “Ballroom Blitz.” Especially for Panic! at the Disco, their verbal gymnastics turn. me. on. [Their lead singer is also highly lickable.] If orchestral rock were embodied in a human male, I would vibrate so intensely in his presence it would be hard to keep my clothes on. Imagining myself dancing at a concert with all this loudness? Total turn on.

So, there you go. Owning my turn on.


Levels | Nick Jonas

I know. How could I with Nick Jonas? Here’s why I love this song: after 18 years of marriage we keep ‘getting higher’ by going deeper with our intimacy. It’s juicy and addicting – just like this song.


Got You (Where I Want You) | The Flys

The lead singer on this one reminds me of early Chris Cornell. This could have been on the Singles soundtrack, and that is everything to me. Plus, so awkward trying to connect, right? But this will always get me:

I think you’re smart/
You sweet thing



I used to get frustrated with people who wanted to change but wouldn’t, until I heard this song. All of these things made us who we are- and that is hard to let go of. Changing our identity is a tough choice. I have more compassion because of this song.


Where Are U Now | Pentatonix

I have always loved a good a cappella group. Started with The Nylons (my first ‘I paid for the ticket’ concert), The Manhattan Transfer, then Sonos, and now Pentatonix. They did Justin Beiber a favor covering this.


City | Sarah Bareilles

Because sometimes I needed a good song to cry to this Fall.


Hallelujah | Panic! at the Disco

Because of these lines:

All you sinners, stand up/
sing Hallelujah/
Show praise with your body, stand up/
sing Hallelujah

Yes, I am a sinner- gladly so.
And yes, I will show praise with my body.


Calling All Angels | Train

Callin’ all you angels. Because you are, and because we need each other. We are angels for each other, always.


Walk on the Lake | Axiom of Choice

This is the perfect song to sit and watch the rain with. The album is lovely, as well. Perfect for a slow Fall day.


Links on 8-Tracks coming soon!




choose the life that is. yours.

do not choose the lesser life. do you hear me. do you hear me. choose the life that is. yours. the life that is seducing your lungs. that is dripping down your chin.

– Nayyirah Waheed


I am having trouble choosing the life that is. mine. Can you tell? I am encouraging myself. And you.

More later, loves.




To Speak the Heart’s Truth

I sit down on my meditation stool.
I hold the match and light three small candles.
Two flames peek out from brass cups, punched though with tiny ‘x’s.

I breathe in.
And out.
To center myself and
be here.

I settle my head atop my vertebrae.
Roll my shoulders back and down.
Notice my back against my shirt
and let my hips settle on the stool.

I feel the whole of myself
|body mind spirit|
come home.


Then I open my mouth
and let the truth|s of my heart
fall from my lips
and take flight from my mind and body.

Sometimes the truths are repetitious:
I want to live in a better|warm house
I feel tired
I miss Seattle
I love…

Sometimes the truths are new:
I don’t like salmon anymore
The noise of the radio is too much in the morning
I am beautiful
My heart aches for all the mothers and babies and families torn apart

Sometimes the truths are surprising:
I am afraid I will not be happy in this one area
There are some I hate before I find compassion (Donald Rump)
I loved the drama more than the healing
the trees and the autumn colors batter my heart|in the best way

I sit
and I tell the truth
whatever, whatever my heart wishes|needs to say

I offer gratitude
I pray
I breathe
I blow out the candles.

And after, I know:
I am cleaner
I am lighter
I can focus
I can let go and move on

There is no need to act on it all
But, I know what is real:
my heart
its truth|s.




Memento mori :: How we remember to be alive

Because the leaves are nearly done falling.

Because dear friends with anxiety and depression have had it twice as hard these past two weeks.

Because three of her dearest male friends died in as many weeks.

Because I cannot find something and I know it is gone. Forever.

Because my body is already shifting in this direction.

Because no one wants to look, but we all know it’s coming.

Because leaving the space creates a hole and I don’t know how to fill it.

Because who I am changes each day.

Because they are so tall now.

Because I will not last as long as this house has.

Because my spirit is ready for rest and winter.

Because the French phrase for ‘orgasm’ is ‘la petite muerte’ – the little death.


|| “It’s difficult for people of advanced years to start remembering they must die.
It is best to form the habit while young.” || Muriel Sparks in Memento Mori


I know I am going to die. And therefore, I want desperately to live. As much as I can, while I can. We do not have long in this world, this particular heaven. Living fully is the best we can hope for. And also, it is the most wonderful thing we can ever do.

I remember to be alive by remaining close to death. Death shows me the brightness of all that is my life. All that is my life.


The smell of my daughter’s hair as she rests against me.

How my legs still work and I can jump across the room.

How I feel at home, resting against his chest.

The color of the poppies and the feel of the bricks.

The depth of my desire; it is beyond all I know.

The yellow|orange of the leaves outside my bedroom window.

The smell of sugar cookies, oven-hiding, nearly ready.

A bone-warming hot shower.

The tears of pain + hope + prayers to anyone.

The teal blue of my desk.

The soft kisses of the waves on my wrinkled toes.

Running wildly into the lake.

The cool feel of the stainless steel keyboard as I type my love into form.

The blue flecks in his eyes.

The 100 wishes for goodness she gave me.

The way a soft kiss stays like a memory.

Turning the yellowed page of the book I read once a year. Touch|sound|sight.

The freedom of his boy-laughter (let|him|always|be|this|open|pleasegod).

Stepping on Legos.

The anticipation of hours-simmered, homemade vegetable soup.

Laying down each night, in cold sheets, warming them with my life.




May you always know the courage of your heart.

photo of red leafed tree with quote over the top


May you never be subservient. May you never fall prey to fitting in. May you always swirl in all the directions the sacred winds want to take you. May you never hush your laughter or your tears. May you breathe without restriction. May you show up every single day to the calling that is you and may you always know the courage of your heart. – Fig Ally