The seasons change as time unfolds to a life…Opening up

Our lives are no more than the knowledge we garner and the choices we make with each present…passing…moment.

Shed light and listen. Really listen. Be weary of those who fill the gaps with incessant chatter; they are the ones who often know the least, yet jump to cram their ignorance into an otherwise perfect silence. Shed light so you can appreciate the dark for what it is not. Know truth, or for you, there shall be no truth. Acknowledge the inherent elegance of this…our daily struggle…for life.

In this struggle…
Authenticity is my goal.
Clarity is my hope.
Balance is my challenge.

The breath that fills our lungs, the words that fill our days, and the choices that reflect our nature are each integral bits of the whole, blending together to form a life. May the whole of this life reveal the pure intentions of a satisfied soul and the unabashed stride of an adventurous spirit.

For who is a writer who has forgotten her voice?
An actress who cannot remember the call of a crowd?
The artist who does not recognize her omnipresent muse?
A leader who has forgotten her responsibility to demand justice?

We are nothing if we do not dance in the reverie of our passions. They keep us whole. Motivated. Honest. Remain grounded in the reality that you weave your days from the fibers of these passions. Each strand wraps around a piece of your personal truth, binding it to your abdomen. As one fiber interlocks with another, these truths grow, displaying the story of a life. Without authenticity and strength of conviction, this work will tangle and weaken, leaving a life undone. Hold tight to your life's purpose and incorporate your passions into everything you do, each breath you take. Accept no less. The ingenuity of your individual work marks the presence of a soul I am blessed to know, honored to love, and grateful to learn from. Keep a soft eye turned inward and relish in your authentic truth, for this—and this alone—is your salvation and guiding light.

Stopping the insurgency…

As I write, I fear the worst. My current state of trepidation is fueled by the cyclical winds of change that bring of the evils of yore back again. I wait, on the verge of this rebellion, quietly pondering. Where will I be when the revolution begins? My hope is to be on the front lines fighting the powers that strive to usurp the progress of the past few decades. Of which revolution do I speak? Clearly, I’m referring to the ubiquitous mustache phenomenon. What should have died with Tom Selleck reemerged a few years back among a curious few who, undoubtedly, were trying to be “ironic.” I was living just south of Seattle at the time, so when I witnessed the ‘stash nouveau I just figured it went with the territory. No cause for alarm, I thought—the reemergence was effectively quarantined in the land of tall trees and strong espresso. Alas, 2008 brought more than wildfires to SoCal. The mustaches have effectively arrived in San Diego.

OK, wait. Let’s back up a minute to clarify. I love guys with facial hair. In my book scruffy guys are cute and sexy. A (moderately sized) mustache is acceptable when buttressed by other facial hair. (e.g., goatee, full-on beard, *soul patch, etc.) The straight up, in your face, unforgiving mustache is an entirely different story. Word to the wise, if you need to condition your stash to keep it untangled, or you find yourself inhaling unruly hairs with your breakfast sandwich, or if your stash resembles an obese, hairy caterpillar that has crawled upon your pillowy lip to die—cut that motherfucker right now. It’s not funny, it’s not sexy, and contrary to urban legend, no lady’s ever gonna take you up on that mustache ride offer. Ever. Seriously, sporting that thing above your upper lip is the equivalent of dousing yourself with 8 gallons of pussy repellent.

*Only if moderately sized & proportionate to said mustache. This combo can get tricky…Please exercise extreme caution.