Untitled- but of course it's about you.

You are timeless.

I can hear the seconds ticking away, one after the other on my wrist,

my trusty Timex keeping me 

as it always has.

But you are timeless. 

The seconds my trusty Timex have been entrusted with 

slip and melt and bend together,

the ticking narrating otherness.

But you, 

you are timeless

and my heart races as it beats so slow

humming alongside my thoughts as they breeze by,

reaching through to the corners of the universe

but never stopping longer than to kiss me on the cheek.

Then they're off, 

taking the ticking ticks with them,

strolling hand in hand beyond my reach.

You are timeless.

12/16/2014- 3:06 AM

100

In the last seven days, my life has gone from zero to sixty, zero to one hundred, zero to six thousand. I've had extraordinarily little time to process it all, but for the first time in my young twenty-one years, I'm perfectly fine with that. More often than not, I'm consumed with thoughts to the n-th degree about literally everything- family, friends, academics, work. For some reason this week has been entirely different. My brain is giving me a free pass, some sort of karmic break. I'm not sure why, but every conversation, action, laugh, cry has all been directed by instinct rather than mental or emotional processing. Its unprecedented. And crazy. And awesome. And I just had to make a note of it here, cause after one of the most unbelievable weeks of this semester, and this year, I'm happy. Terrified and uncertain and everything else under the sun. But I'm happy. Twenty-two in two days, and I couldn't be feeling more human.

I woke up with your name on my lips.

Happy Decemberish!
Instead of freaking out about the next two weeks, by the end of which I will be 22 (?!), I'm taking a big Pranayama breath, writing everything down, lighting some incense, sipping some Riesling, and going to bed.

It's nearly 1 AM and rather than subject myself to the same nostalgic rabbit hole as last night, I'm putting my hands up and giving into December. Today marks the beginning of a three week countdown to freedom, Ashtanga yoga, job applications, food blogging, recipe-rewriting, and peace. It doesn't matter if I don't wake up with your name on my lips anymore, I haven't for a long time, and even though I still kind of want to, today I woke up with my own name on my lips. And this Riesling's. Let's do this.

What do pie dough and nostalgia have in common?

I think the weirdest thing about losing electricity and heat during such a reflective and family-oriented time like Thanksgiving is not the lack of me-time, but the immense self reflection that followed a period of high intensity family time. Finally back in the kitchen and baking, getting the gratitude gears turning within me wasn't all that difficult. What was difficult was realizing the deep seeded pang that I thought I had healed months ago. Once superficial, then cut infinitely and gaping, I thought I had neatly sealed away any sort of rooted nostalgia. A few hours and pies later, I locate the source of my angst and here I fester. Do I reach out again? Do I let time keep passing, furthering temporal and, for the time being, geographic space between us? Usually I let my emotions be directed by whatever universal tug I'm feeling, and right now I've never felt more pulled. Note to self: apple pies and nostalgic trips down photo album memory lane do not make a stable Taylor. Not unhappy, I'm just feeling confused and very stuck. Time to sleep.

Like the sun that always shines.

Recently I was enlightened to the existence of these things called angel cards, and they offer daily guidance in the form of a single word with an accompanying description. The angel that told me about these angel cards picked one for me today: Trust. Before I asked her what the description was, I tried to let the word sink in. What does it mean to trust? What kind of trust? How can I direct trust internally and externally? The answer to these question obviously varies from person to person, but its importance is steadfast. We all know someone with trust issues, and to a degree we all share those insecurities with making ourselves vulnerable. Especially with those around us, the constant mental line we toe between giving someone the power to hurt us and entrusting that they won't is exhausting. Exhausting but necessary, it's the part I believe that makes us the most human. Not human in an evolutionarily sense, but human in the sense that we are able to connect with one another, thus forging deeper connections with the world around us and the universe that thrives within and between us.

Today sucked. I felt really human, and it felt like I was walking around naked-- bearing every inch of my humanness with my lack of a poker face. But I asked my angel for the description and this is what she sent me:

Trust: Move from a place of knowing within you rather than as a result of adaptation to outer experience. Let go of your assumptions and need to control life's creative process. 

Life happens-- not to you, but with you. Trying to control the processes and people that surround you is futile. You are the captain of your own destiny, a destiny that stems from the light that sits inside of you, impermeable and unaffected by anyone else. Let the angels bless you, but keep the darkness out.

I'm human, I can write these things and think them and truly feel them, but to embody them has been the biggest challenge. Sometimes I feel like I'm trying to keep a candle lit in a drafty room. But there's always people who are willing to relight the candle and huddle around it, and trusting that the candle won't ever go out is so important, no matter how dim it may get.

Fuck yes, absolutely no less.

Ah, 2:36 AM. One of my oldest acquaintences, I don't see much of you these days. Tonight, however, I greet you with a somewhat clear and level head. Something you are not greeted with often, especially from me.

The weeks between this post and my last seem unbelievably distant, and I feel each of those weeks, days, hours, moments deep in my bones. Senior year, man. This is some weird shit. A time when everyone is just one gin and tonic away from absolutely losing their fucking marbles. At this point last year, I was returning from the single most ridiculous and out of this universe weeks in my life spent on the Caribbean coast of Costa Rica, in a town I can barely accept was a part of this reality.

This year is different. This is the last fall of my undergraduate career. The last September, October, November. Halfway through November and I'm still reeling: the aftermath of an ended relationship for not just the books but the silver screen for fucks sake, a lacrosse ball to the face and the subsequent concussion recovery alongside endless "athletic" injuries, the realization that #nonewfriends is #stupidasfuck, and fresh off the presses tonight: a new flame essentially flickering out. Thanks to the ever intrusive world of technology, "conversing" about our "feelings" became relegated to a late-night staring contest with a tiny rectangular screen and the tiny ellipsis that mocks iPhone users in times of "emotional" stress. As I sat under the covers of my bed, watching this small scale shit storm of insecurity and uncertainty and social pressures unravel, I remarkably reminded myself of the existence of an article I was forwarded a few weeks ago. A godsend, no really, a miraculous, unbelievably common-sense orientated nugget of wisdom, this article (and this subsequent one) punched me in the face with realization. It all essentially boils down to this: YOUR HAPPINESS IS NON-NEGOTIABLE. If they/it/he/she/all the above is not gung-ho, balls-to-the-wall, ready-to-shout-from-the-rooftops-excited to be anything with you, they do not deserve a place in your life or to be blessed and graced by your presence. You always deserve a fuck yes, never anything less. Want that froyo? Fuck yes I do I'm gonna eat the shit out of that froyo. Need some time to figure out if you want to be with me? Sounds like some grey area bullshit. I think I'll take the froyo and serve you up a nice "fuck you".

In a time with all sorts of lasts, saying "Fuck yes" is crucial. Be it about making new friends, deciding on postgrad jobs, the last person you want to say goodnight to, that goddamn froyo: Fuck yes, abso-fucking-lutely no less. 

Someone get me a burger and some friggen froyo.

el ultimo sol

Senior year of undergrad is finally underway. Honestly, there isn't a whole lot I can say about it yet- Two days of classes and a weekend almost under my belt and I feel like I'm right back in the swing of things. Definitely a little weird, and undoubtedly a departure from my summer life in New Hampshire, upperclassman life at Brandeis has been an interesting mix of unremarkable and its antonym. Still in denial that I have to be a somewhat real person, attend classes, do homework, and work on my databases, the last few days have been quite the mixture of all sorts of reunions, marked most commonly by the phrase "I spotted your hair from afar and recognized you!" Oh, Brandeis. Its almost good to be back.

#100happydays

I woke up this morning with the feeling that something was missing. Yesterday was the first night, in 100 days, that I went to sleep without hash-tagging a picture of something that made me happy with the title of this post. Little did I realize that my perspective on the little moments throughout my day would be so subtly impacted by this challenge, subtleties that directly make me an active participant in the integration of social media into our personal and cultural identities. This realization struck me about halfway into my 100 happy days, when on day 50 I found myself on a beach in North Hampton alone, and instead of enjoying the solitude that the nearly empty beach patiently provided me, I raised my screen in front of my gaze and took in the view from behind a digital lens. I have some beautiful shots of the sand, the water, the rocks, a crab that scuttled by me, but my thoughts were turned outward toward presentability rather than inward toward sanctity. When my friend finally joined me and we walked the stretch of beach to get ice cream on the other side, my photographic collection stopped short, I left my phone behind as well as my "connection" to the outside world. We found some beautiful shells and happened upon a very friendly dog, both occasions I longed for my phone and subsequently scolded myself for technological reliance.

A few weeks later around day 80, I was sifting through the many playlists in my iTunes and stumbled across one primarily stocked with old-school John Mayer. I'm talking like, Room for Squares old-school. Forever one of my favorite cohesive albums, one song in particular challenged the very nature of my #100happydays challenge. 3x5, an upbeat, folky, yet somewhat cheeky melody commenting on Mayer's proclivity for leaving his camera behind on his adventures. Not only does the entire song call out the average person's desire to capture every beautiful moment on camera to be able to share with those not able to join them, but each verse strikes me with the very honest truth that experiences should sometimes just plain be experienced. This notion followed me throughout the keeping of this blog, but also when I studied abroad- I was nervous that I wasn't documenting my time wisely enough and so I took home with me what you could call a generous (4,000+) collection of "moments" in the forms of quick point and shoot snaps. As a lifelong fan of photography, the first time I heard Mayer's song, I was a little offended. It seemed like he was targeting photographers and lovers of film, attempting to make an example of these beings as folks who simply were not living. And I have to admit, this assumption is based in some truth. A few years, countries, and 100 happy days later, however, I find that Mayer wasn't all knowing (an earth-shattering realization let me tell you). My favorite photographers not only are capturers of stunning imagery, but also they expertly impart the feeling and emotion of not only their subjects but of themselves in the image. Worlds become encapsulated in these miniaturized versions, and the ability to transport worlds in your pocket is not only infinitely amazing, but also pretty convenient.

Not every happy moment in my #100happydays challenge was documented. There were hundreds, if not thousands of moments where I felt happiness, but either didn't have the ability to document it, or chose not to. This challenge was definitely a challenge. Daily something-or-others-- be it posting on a blog, flossing, remembering to meditate, and even counting your blessings, can be extraordinarily difficult to maintain. But mindfulness, especially mindfulness of your own happiness in the world around you, really ought to be a habit. It's endlessly gratifying to realize when you are becoming happier just by modifying your approach to each day and its potential to maximize your happiness. Although I'll be taking a break from social media for a while, I don't think that I'll take a break from photographically documenting the happiness around me. I may not take 3x5's for every happy moment, but I'll certainly try my best to take, and make, each day for the happy day it deserves to be.

Sun Salutations and Observations

"You were born for Ashtanga."
Today, an Ashtanga yogi, in an Ashtanga Shala, told me, ME, that I was born for the Ashtanga practice. Mind you, she dropped this huge, universe-sized bomb on me while I was magically holding my wrist behind my back in a pose rendering my lotus legs and twisted limbs into a position I honestly never imagined my body could contort so effortlessly into. As the yogi's words sunk into my trembling muscles, my inhale slowly turned into a deep belly laugh and I twisted deeper.
"Are you okay?" she offered.
My response-- another laugh and "Yes, perfect!" in between fitful giggles and an attempt to maintain my once smooth Pranayama breaths.
"Good. I hope you stick with this, it will change your life!"
I breathe in again, my final of five breaths, and with my exhale respond, "It's already changed my life, I'm a pretzel!"
Another inhale, exhale, laugh from us both, Vinyasa and back into seated position on our mats, the yogi and I look at each other and smile. She has no idea that with those five words in those five breaths, the light I grew and nurtured and loved within me during my practices in Atenas' very own Casa Grande flickered, as if it was winking at me, reminding me that it was still there, burning and shining and glowing even without my attention.

Little did I know that walking into the studio tonight for a seemingly regular Primary class at a seemingly regular time would offer me a special, individualized practice. A practice with a devoted teacher, not only willing to take my pace but also pushing me past what I thought my body was capable of to what I really can accomplish. I am so, incredibly blessed to be able to return to that light, ignited within my being during those three magical months, whenever! And blessed to have yogis that remind me that my light is special enough to shine brightly and share.

This studio is a place of magic.

Om shanti, shanti, shanti. From the bottom of my heart and the very deepness of my spirit.

Namaste.

Nutella, and Other Things

Considering the viewership of this blog has declined significantly in more recent years, and my lack of posting, and also my recent proclivity for jotting quick inklings down in my Notes app, I figure I'll get them even further from my headspace and alongside similar sentiments.

Note: None of these writings are meant to be taken in any particular manner. If the people they are written for/about find them, that's pure chance. It's even purer of a chance that they will discern that they are the subjects of my thoughts. And if they get that far, if you get that far, take it for what it is. Or not. 

05 June 2014, 2:17 PM

Nutella

I climbed into bed last night and the thought that crashed into me as soon as my head hit the pillow was looking over at you, standing there naked as naked can be, with your finger in the nutella jar, swirling your hand to get the perfect gob of sticky brown sweetness on your finger. You see me looking at you, taking your perfect figure in under the dim, golden glow of your lamp and you scoop that perfect fingerful of nutella right into your perfect mouth, not breaking eye contact with me. It wasn't even seductive, it was just so you. Without hesitation, you bounce back into bed, jar in hand, carve out another perfect fingerful and looking up at me, you whisper, "want some?" I break eye contact with you only to look at your hazelnutty, chocolatey finger and I whisper back, "sure". A smile creeps across my face as you inch closer to my mouth, and as you watch me, the same smile spreads across your face too. Your good morning kisses never tasted sweeter.   

-- 

03 July 2014, 9:35 PM

"One day I woke up and we no longer spoke the same language. I haven't heard from you since."- Hishaam Siddiqi, Where Did You Go?

I'm not sure if you just didn't get my message, or if you're actively (more like passively) cutting me out of my life, but thank you for not fighting for me. Thank you for letting me walk out of your life, and the life I used to know in relation to you. In the week that I've cast you out into the sea of non-existence, I've felt so... light. You used to sit in my mind, heavier than any other thought and feeling, weighing down the breaths in my chest. Hanging heavy on my lids as I fell asleep, never able to settle my racing thoughts and heartbeat as long as you existed to me. Maybe you'll come back, feeling the way I did, wanting to talk or chat or feel. Maybe you won't, instead moving on to some other poor soul destined to be wrought with your unforgiving carelessness and inescapable charm. Either way, I'm out. I refuse to let you sink me in your tumultuous waters, crashing me against your harsh shores. Maybe I'll even feel you envelop me in your cool, caressing, arms, but I won't go under. I'm afloat, free of your shipwrecking love. I refuse to sink. 

-- 

I decided, after about a half an hour of internal debate, not to post the other three musings that I have sitting on my desktop staring me right in the face every day. These three contain names, and aren't NEARLY as candid as the two above. By no means do I tout either of these writings as "good", they're merely cathartic means of processing feelings that for some reason always take the long, arduous road. For those less sleuth-y, these two writings are in fact about the same individual. Less than a month in between the two, the catastrophically vast difference in emotion from the former to the latter has got me feeling most, if not all the feels tonight. The last week and a half have been the best of this summer, and with eight or so weeks left before fall sweeps me back up into the motions of my final year of undergrad, I intend to extend this feel-good week as long as possible. 

So far, SO good.

And you know what? Here's a picture for good measure. Cause I feel like it. And I'm happy. HAPPY! 

In solidarity with my old self, 

live simply.