True happiness is not wanting anything.

Keep it Up!

My life is perfect.

–imperfections included, this little ball of blossoms tick-ticking away in little floats and little blossoms from the sweetest little trees of Spring are nothing more than my same little seconds floating away; blossoms tick-ticked off, and blossoms gone.

My life is so, so perfect.

*     *     *

An over-flowing bowl of fresh veggies, avocado and spinach bolani bought from the farmers market. A half-full bottle of Black Toad dark ale to go with it. Iron & Wine playing in the background. Wearing my favorite jammies in all the world: yellow “wish” sweats, and of course I.’s flannel. It’s 8:30pm.

Love. In. my. Heart.

What an amazing, simple thing just caring for someone is. To care about someone; To know someone cares about you.

Satisfying work! A challenging, forgiving, creative, and flexible job. Great coworkers. Mostly self-sufficient now, lunch with my manager, lunch with the VP of Marketing – possibilities await.

A new book to read. Tooth-deep in Stendal’s The Red and the Black – yum.

My iPhone finally synced with my work calendar – the joy! The horror! The joy! The horror!

A man. Walking home. With bag and bottle. I watch.

Words, here, at my disposal: Toothpick verbs and fat slobbery bricks of noun. A big, open lake, winking lights. And a birthday – another testament to not being yet dead! – is fastly approaching, and with it the knowledge — the cold hard fact — that with every passing year of my life, I love life more as it passes.

*     *     *

I cannot be sure I’m not in love with my ex-boyfriend. In fact, I’m certain I am, but it doesn’t matter, does it? He is gone. Only love remains.

My cat is dead. My brother is dead. My best friend is dead. My grandmother is dead. My grandfather is dead. My friend is dead. 29 years’ worth of  old selves – all dead. Everyone I know is getting older; Everyone I know is inching closer to death.

My beautiful bouquet has wilted. My freewrites go unwritten. My one-woman-show goes un-performed.

I have people at my back who believe in me. I, miraculously, believe.

*     *     *

I have So Much. I have Sunshine. I have Home. I have Life — freshly born, freshly served –every, fucking, second. I have Death, arching around my memory, curving around every living hour, and I am grateful for it.

I wake, and I am grateful.

Who do I thank for all this perfection? Who? Who do I throw myself before, en-knee, promising absolute devotion? Who do I honor? Before what God do I bow: humble, naked, pure, worshiping, grateful, grateful, grateful?!

I don’t have an answer, and so, to every person I meet, to every person I pass by, to every person that is: I will imagine it’s you.

…post

I have a new friend: Esme

[Big ups to I.G. for the name]

Esme looks at herself in the mirror

“Hi Shannon:

We are pleased to offer you a spot in our level I troupe. Training starts on next Thursday – March 11th.”

There is nothing more common than unhappy people. Do the world a favor and ruthlessly, relentlessly, uncompromisingly run after what makes you happy –and never turn around to look back.

Still here.

Foggy morning. Jasmine tea. Reading chair. Freewrites at Peet’s. Brazilian dance. Fog clears. iPodding. Hummos lunch. Alone time. Panda brings an orchid. Panda time. Walk around the lake. Saxophone. Cherry blossoms. Ambling couple. She: “How come you didn’t pick me no flowers?” Jumping into action: “Oh, here man, I gotcha covered.” He: “You saved my ass! Thank you.” Laughs. Kisses. Get dressed up for a dive. Head-sized burrito. X-mas lights. Fake flowers. Corona toasts. “To Germany!” (And to Chris). Take a movie in. Cucumber water. Cozy. Best friend.

Now that’s what I call a perfect Valentine’s.

I knew this February 14 would be spent un-romantically: I don’t have a boyfriend, husband, or even lover. And that darn vow!

But Valentine’s Day, especially over the past couple of years, has never been strongly associated with romance, Hallmark, and candy hearts for me; rather, the 14th day of our second month is strongly tied to  loss and memory, to spirituality and hope. Valentine’s  is both my brother’s birthday and a very special weekend I spent meditating alone in the northern mountains of Sa Pa, Vietnam.

But, as Valentine’s Day nears, I see that it will be exactly perfect: I will be traveling with my ex-boyfriend, to my parents’, to visit my brother’s bench.

I sat zazen this evening and realized that — no — not the most romantic day, but a day certainly full of love on all fronts.

patience, belief, discipline, softness, desire, peace, completion, contentment, solitude, self-respect, change, and will. Oh, and gratitude.

Wake, Inhale, Cook, Dress, Drive, Work, Write, Eat, Type, Talk, Love, Smile, Laugh, Shock, Pioneer, Withdraw, Gaze, Think, Send, Pen, Read, Step, Open, Gasp, Chew, Jog, Lift, Close, Drink, Race, Say, Download, Eat, Undress, Shower, Exhale, Sleep.

Evoking (and invoking) Socrates, all I have to offer for tonight’s post are more questions:

• Can “crush” (generation 2)  actually mean “learning to love anew”?
• Are some types of love more dangerous than others?
• Doesn’t all love carry with it some inherent danger?
• Is it “dangerous” to be vulnerable?
• Isn’t love, really, the safest bet of all?
• When is love “not worth it”? When is it worth everything?
• Does love have a quantifiable value? If so, would you pay it?
• If it’s probable to re-love an old love, is it equally probable to un-love a new love?
• What if that new love and old love are the same love?
• Is love is love is love? Was all love created equal?
• Since when does having a crush mean breaking a vow of celibacy?
• Can one have sex and still honor the original intention of abstinence?
• How is it that I don’t care about any of these questions, and that I already know the answer?

 ”Substract love from love and the remainder is love” – Upanishads

Is it normal to develop a new crush on an old boyfriend?

I wonder how I got to where I am and how I will get to where I’m going. Then, and now, I realize luck has nothing to do with it; however — faith: everything.

We absolutely, positively, hands-down create our lives. That purple elephant standing behind you? Entirely possible, only of your creation. read more »

I just found out that a friend of mine, recently back in my life, once had to create a User ID and password for a CAL account, our alma mater. Apparently, under the influence of our friendship and a Grey Goose martini, she jokingly made “that shan is hot” her password. Well, ever since then — in order to have consistency across her accounts — she has used “that shan is hot” for the password to every single one of her accounts established since college.

Even though we’ve barely spoken in 3 few years, nevertheless, every time she’s logged into Facebook, Twitter, or her email, she’s been reminded of me.

When I heard this, I laughed my head off. I have to say: it’s nice to know someone out there is thinking of you, even when there’s silence.

Ooh. Those great foam rollers everyone loves. The ones you crawl around on to stretch out the muscles. The perfect self-massage. I do a solid 30 minutes before bed. Ah, now I’ll really be able to sleep. read more »

Laundry scattered on burber carpet.

Dishes sticky and stacked on counter.

Personal email dogpiled in inbox.

Four weeks of recycling doing trapeze show under sink.

I started working on a longer post, but after an extraordinarily too-short weekend of interstellar fun, I must retire at 8:15pm. This will have to suffice for now.

Dancing in a kimono is even funner.

Today I was reunited with an old lover: read more »