{re{d}ress}

my valentine: an unconventional love story

2012-02-13T19:37:00.000-08:00

falling in love.

it happens so quickly, always unexpected, not necessarily convenient, and regardless of what other obligations or commitments might be in your life. it just happens when it's supposed to and there is not much one can do about it but surrender to the truth of it, surrender to the romance of it, just plain old, surrender.

so let me tell you about how i fell in love yesterday.

the story starts a week ago when i thought i had an apartment in my pocket but wanted to check out the market for a day or two more while i thought it was safe to hold on to this other one. the apartment manager hadn't had any other serious prospectives and wasn't showing it again until thursday. the apartment was pretty good. had the right elements even if it was a bit small and quirky in weird places. okay, not enough light in the bedroom, but i thought i could live with it all. i held off on putting the application in because i just needed to make sure there wasn't anything better out there. one of the few i looked at during the mad search was a basement apartment with ceiling clearance that would have brushed my hair if my hair had any body to speak of. it was immediately apparent to myself and the lovely landlady, roberta, that this would not be a good fit. we smiled, wished each other luck and parted ways.

i emailed the manager about the pretty good apartment the next day, but unexpectedly, someone had brought in an application and deposit the day before. i was momentarily devastated, but quickly bounced back hearing myself say there is better out there.

i thought i found two that were the best i could do in my budget this friday and spent about 45 minutes agonizing over the decision between them. you know the ending, it was in my last blog post: i went with the prettier one. the one without the gas stove and the horrible parking situation, but that had the awesome manager, all the right details in all the right places, and was something i could live with. i signed the application and handed over two checks. one of them was for $600 and forfeit if i withdrew my application.

i went home that night with my new apartment securely in my grasp, i wrote up a blog entry about it and then something weird happened: i opened up the craigslist apartment search page.

it was not something done automatically out of a habit born from days of endless apartment searching, because as i did it, a very clear voice in my head cautioned with foreboding: nathania......what are you doing? and i shook my head in disbelief as i saw that earlier in the evening the perfect apartment had been advertised while i was out humming and hawing between two that now seem so obviously not the right place. i coached myself to sleep that night with reassurances that this was for a reason. i convinced myself it's always the dress you don't try on that's perfect and i resigned to live up to my word and sleep in the bed i made for myself.

then i woke up at 4am and couldn't go back to sleep. this wouldn't do – i had to at least see it. see the flaws that i can't see in the photos, see the ugly bits, the incompatible bits, the things that wouldn't be as good as the one i had secured with 600 hard-earned dollars. so i called my mom {who, living in austria, is usually available for consultations during sleepless nights}, we talked it through and i decided to do just that.

on the way to the building for my 3:30 appointment, i repeated the mantra whatever comes up i can handle it. whatever comes up i can handle it. whatever comes up i can handle it. and that's when i realized that i was perfectly willing to give up the $600 if this really was the perfect place. that a loss of $50 a month for an extra 50 square feet, a gas stove, better location and who knows what other perfections was manageable and that all would be well. but as i walked up to the apartment and called the manager, i got sincere apologies that he had missed getting me the message that the apartment had already been rented earlier that day.

not meant to be i guess.

again, i coached myself to be okay with the decision i had made, but every time someone congratulated me on my new place, i felt like the woman engaged to the wrong man. this isn't right. i'm not ecstatic. i was happy to have a home again, happy it was nice enough, but i was not in love and suddenly that seemed like a grievous thing.

the next morning, snuggled into the warmth of blankets and a slow sunday morning, i got a call from a number i didn't recognize. usually that means it's a photography client and usually i let it go if i'm still in the late stages of waking up. but today i didn't. today the marching orders in my head said answer the phone. so i did. and surprises of surprises, it was roberta, the lovely landlady from a week ago. she had saved my number just in case something she thought might be more appropriate opened up and that just in case happened.

she had an apartment in madison valley {nearby to where i was currently housesitting} and thought i might like to come and see it. ceiling height would not be an issue, she reassured me, because the apartment has high ceilings and hardwood floors and a clawfoot tub and built in shelves and closets galore. and then i asked her how many square feet it is {nearly 1000}. then i asked her much it was {and she brought it down $100 a month for me}. and then i asked her where it was because now i was quite curious. she explained the intersection, explained where it sat on the corner and then, with a big smile on my face, i told her where i was at the moment: in the bottom floor of the very same building, housesitting for one of her current tenants. we had a good laugh. she adores my friend, thinks it's a fine reference for me that he'd trust me to watch his place and so we arranged to meet up so she can show me the place later that day.

i was glad a photo shoot in everett prevented me from getting there exactly on time allowing other more enthusiastic folks the chance to snap it up. i still had one foot out the door because there was the nuances of moving into the same building as a very good friend, the drawback of living 2 miles from work instead of 1, and of course, there was my $600 in the hands of another apartment manager who had gone out of his way for me, twice.

i made it back from my appointment at the end of the two hour showing appointment and she took me inside.

first, there was the kitchen. not stunning in the fridge department {i actually thought okay good, this isn't perfect from head to toe}, but then i noticed a gas stove and original glass doors on the beautiful caramel-colored cabinet that stretched across one length of the room. my head was officially turned as we walked into the room that is the hub of the apartment. it's the room that has a door to the bathroom, a door to the bedroom, a door to the living space, and then a whole wall of doors and drawers of matching caramel-colored cabinet that runs the width of the room. she showed me the claw foot tub {...and not the prettiest bathroom, though nothing is screaming at me in aesthetic agony}. and while the bedroom has carpet and annoyingly spaced windows, it's large and has potential {my bed could go there or maybe there...as my foot left out the door gently lifted itself up and i stepped all the way inside the possibility of living here}.

we stepped back into the middle room, the hallway of sorts, and i said roberta, what are you doing to me?! and she replied with a smile: wait, you haven't seen the best part yet. and whether or not there was a dramatic pause after she pushed open the door to the main space, there certainly is a moment in my memory, a frame in my head for what happened next.

i see the space on the other side.

the space.

this space.

the high ceilings. the huge, formal-sized dining room {more than twice the size of my last dining room}. the windows. the fireplace. the lead-glass paned bookshelves gently sectioning off the living room from the dining room. the expanse of wood flooring. the caramel-colored woodwork carrying in from the kitchen and hallway.

the space.

the space.

the space.

i walked in and was speechless. awestruck. happy and sad all at once.

i repeated: roberta, what are you doing to me?!?! and she replied: a woman and a couple came through here already today and this is the first time i can recall in the history of renting this apartment that the first person who saw it didn't take it. i think it's for you.

i shook my head. i wrestled inside. my friend, his private nature and my desire to let him have his space. that $600....

i didn't sleep last night. i couldn't. i tried. i closed my eyes. i tossed. i turned. i repeatedly checked my email waiting to get blessings from afar. i played all the scrabble moves i could on my phone. i read. i rehearsed what i would say to that other manager to convince him to give me back my $600 check. i read some more. i drank warm almond milk with agave around 1am and again around 5. and somewhere in the fog of the early hours of the morning, i decided that no matter what, i had to have it.

sleep finally caught up with me at 6am and at 7:30 the gentle pinging of my phone lead to a skype call and the green flag from my friend who told me to do what my heart tells me. then at 8:15am i called roberta and told her the news she already knew {i sent her a charming set of emails at 10pm, 12am and 4am last night tracking my decision making – we had a good laugh about them}. at 9am i was at the door of the other manager's apartment, preparing to beg for forgiveness and was met with a disappointed smile but an outstretched hand with my two checks he was returning to me before i even could ask. and then by 10am, a mere 24 hours after that first call from roberta, i arrived at her house to write a new deposit check and set in motion that little dance that will unite me with my new, true love.

of course later, after the first rush, there were the questions. there will always be those questions: will i really be okay with the funky fridge and the carpet in the bedroom? was it really as pretty and as big as i remember? is this really worth all the trouble?

and then there is the steady truth of it all. the resonance. the relationship of years spanning out before me {i wanted a space i wouldn't easily outgrow, even when i am eventually ready to live with someone again}. when i got to go back and visit a little while tonight, i paused at the bottom of the stairs, worried i'd glorified it too much. worried i'd be disappointed.

but this is what greeted me and i know now i have nothing to worry about. surrender, nathania. surrender and breathe. it was all so perfectly aligned, down to the fact that my stuff just happens to be in storage a block and a half away. and even its imperfections, like any true relationship, are just another part of its charm:

those are window seats by the window -- storage underneath the lids

& you can't see the walk-in closet off to the left that has even more storage

formal dining table i have the option to buy for $200 or so with the chairs.

the closet in the middle of the apt hub.

did i mention the working fireplace?

the apartment hunt

2012-02-10T22:39:00.000-08:00

i really wanted to like the apartment tucked away between the 15th and 19th street shops. the one with the great building manager, the coved ceilings, the really sweet parking situation. i really wanted to live on the grown-up side of capitol hill and discover the cafes i normally overlook. i really really wanted the steam heat included in the rent {a warm home to come to all year long....mmmmm} and not paying rent until the first week of march would have been nice. and i could have taken it. i was the first in line. i had priority even as the second wave of prospective tenants came through as i lingered in indecision -- the manager promised me dibs.

but i couldn't do it. i could not reconcile myself to even the limited counter space's worth of tacky green countertop, couldn't accept the carpet in the bedroom that i mostly would have covered up with my area rug anyway, couldn't accept the weirdly painted red pipe in the bathroom and the linoleum in the kitchen that would have quietly grated on my nerves each time i crossed the threshold. sure, there were original 1920's light fixtures that were gorgeous, hardwood floors in the main living space and a walk-in closet to make you weep, but it comes down to the details for me. my heart has to sing into all corners of a space i inhabit. i have to be able to resonate no matter where i in my home.

that's why i went with the other apartment. the one that might be a pain to park nearby on friday nights, the one on the northwest end of capitol hill {exactly one mile west of the above apartment}, the one with beautiful hardwood floors throughout the space, a kitchen and bathroom i can easily get along with, windows shining light perfectly into the main spaces and a walk in closet that will suit my needs just fine.

so at 8:45pm tonight i handed over a few checks, my application and shook hands with the other amazing apartment manager who's bad day turned around when i came traipsing through at 6:30pm {he said something to the effect of me bringing some sunshine to his day}.

and now my heart is giddy. i sang in my shower tonight and stepped out thinking i get to have my beautiful towels again soon, and a real bath, and my books, and a place to putter around in, and my own KITCHEN, and a space to paint out all the inspiration i just absorbed in europe....

home.

i get to have my own home again after being estranged seven months. twice the length i had intended when i started this crazy adventure.

home.

we are so close.

cross your fingers and pray with me for good news on monday.

mine.

{though the photos don't do it justice}

vienna {flowers/self-portrait}

2012-02-09T23:02:00.000-08:00

a flower shop by the stephan's dome cathedral in the center of the city. the colors. the shadows. the ranunculus {which, despite its name, is one of my all time favorite flowers}. only later did i really appreciate the sneaking self-portraits hovering on the glass in the foreground, frolicking the dark spaces.

currently listening to jose gonzalez's cover of heartbeats on repeat.

vienna {at night}

2012-02-07T22:18:00.000-08:00

vienna was a special leg of my trip. being the second city i visited, i had started to get a feel for the less rigid pace of vacation. the rhythm of never-ending days off in a row had absorbed itself into my spirit and exhaustion had not yet started to sneak in.

my time was split between jogs along the alte donau, eating amazing food with ellie and emmerich {i was in the city for less than 4 hours before being taken out for a substantial rack of spare ribs}, being given a tour of good austrian wine and a sampling of e & e's whiskey collection, and being reunited with gustav klimt.

more photos, but for now, here are a few shots taken as i meandered about the city one evening before heading back to their apartment in time for an incredible dinner prepared on a raclette grill.

wise words

2012-02-05T23:12:00.000-08:00

i have been shadowed by many friends this week even if across state lines and sent via text, holding me close, reminding me to breathe. paul, eden, lindsey jo, sea-oh, cameron, dagob, ross, mom, brian, amanda.....how you all were always there when i needed it most, often times without even having to ask. it was a good week even in its hardness.

here are two gems from phone conversations with lj:

there is a difference between being on top of an emotion and being underneath it.

and

they weren't true beliefs but they were true emotions.

judge, jury & executioner

2012-02-02T23:38:00.000-08:00

whenever i hit bottom the night always gives back a warm smile. last time it was on the flight to europe complete with shooting stars and aurora borealis. tonight it was a bright, half-moon lit run through discovery park. an airplane tracing a slow path across the sky left a glowing tail as long as my outstretched arm behind it. i took out my earbuds when i got to the water's edge. low tide. slow waves. quiet. alone. perfect.

it's on nights like these when i realize how much clutters the space between me and the moon. on the back roads of the park where no streetlamps dare to go, the space between us cleared and i could feel her above me, gracing me with sharp shadows and a gentle wash of tenderness my spirit was needing.

these past few days have shown me a terrifying reality: my bones have been broken and never set straight. and suddenly, thankfully, i have the clarity to look back {in shame and frustration} at how i have forced others to provide me with a sense of safety and worth. sure, i've packaged it up in a tidy box, put a pretty ribbon on it and a tag called trust, but the truth i am finally able to articulate for myself is that just like with love, trust has to start with the self before it can be found with others.

it is one of my goals of this year to forgive the ex that cheated on me and cowardly refused to ever own up to it {and yes, i have proof}. yes, i would not date him were he to be the last person left, but no, i am not over the damage of that relationship because it was a repeat injury, a fear, a phobia i have been carrying around for years already. i did my best, but the limb is still crooked and has been for decades.

and these past few days i took each knotted angle, each half-healed fracture and i watched myself ruthlessly snap them in two.

needless to say, this was not an easy process. it was not clean and it certainly was not pretty. it also involved about three or so episodes that dredged up an emotional response so intense my body could not metabolize it. it was only today that i realized these were panic attacks -- something it is humbling for me to admit given how much i hold on to my self-image as one who is emotionally present, resilient and bold. but i guess this should be reassuring that i'm successfully striking to the root of the issue because the only other time i have experienced said temperature dropping/shaking episodes was when the relationship i am referring to was initially falling apart in this clouded and convoluted way: a result of the dishonesty and cowardice that prevented any clarity and closure. but just because i'm on the right track doesn't mean it's any more comfortable or comforting. i can only hope that i'll be stronger and whole on the other side and that how confidently i tread each painful, limping step forward at the worst is only a further sign that this is passing, this is fleeting and good things await which i will be able to walk just as confidently toward, if not quite so painfully.

and those good things....i know they will be built on the foundation i am laying, built on the idea that no one can give me enough reassurance to calm my fears and that i am the only one responsible for these fears and how they manifest in my life. i have to take ownership of how they wedge themselves into the space between myself and another person, getting in the way and muddying waters. i know my fears are based off of my untrue ideas {even if the emotions they illicit are true}: that i am not good enough, that there will always be another woman more interesting, more important, more smart/beautiful/insert whatever, than me.

but i am here. i am here. i am here. grateful for where and who i am, for my life as it is at the moment, providing me a bittersweet blend of safety and risk and the perfect surface on which to break these broken bones again. and it doesn't matter what some one has done or could do in a relationship with me. they can break their word, they can sleep around or not, my worth does not change, i am still me, complete and whole. their actions merely inform how i do or do not want them in my life.

so yes, i am here and i am hoping to finally set them straight. and hoping. always hoping.

.....................................................

the song that accompanied the run: myxamatosis (judge, jury & executioner) which i found nicely appropriate. radiohead of course {and i get to see them in a month and some spare change}.

the mongrel cat came home
holding half a head
proceeded to show it off
to all his newfound friends
he said "i been where i liked
i slept with who i like
she ate me up for breakfast
she screwed me in a vice
but now i don't know why i feel so tongue-tied"

i sat in the cupboard
and wrote it down neat
they were cheering and waving
cheering and waving
twitching and salivating like with myxomatosis
but it got edited, fucked up
strangled, beaten up
used in a photo in time magazine
buried in a burning black hole in devon
and i don't know why i feel so tongue-tied
don't know why i feel so skinned alive

my thoughts are misguided and a little naive
i twitch and i salivate like with myxomatosis
you should put me in a home or you should put me down
i got myxomatosis
i got myxomatosis
yeah, no one likes a smart-ass but we all like stars
but that wasn't my intention, i did it for a reason
it must have got mixed up
strangled, beaten up
i got myxomatosis
i got myxomatosis
i don't know why i feel so tongue-tied

spa day

2012-02-01T23:25:00.001-08:00

last day of vacation and i treated myself to a long, leisurely morning at the sauna. two and a half hours of steam rooms and dry saunas alternating with euphoric plunges into the cold pool and long soaks in the hot tub.
i needed to sweat a lot out of my system from the past two days of concentrated personal growth and just sit and breathe in all the weight and warmth of steam laden air.
a fitting end to a month of vacation as well as a fitting beginning to a month ahead of cleansing, moving and grounding.
i can feel my home closer. so close. just another step or two...

nomad nights: the final stop

2012-01-31T22:44:00.000-08:00

i am here in seattle but still without a home of my own. housesitting one last time for an extended period. i have the month to apartment search. i have the month to return.

here's to hoping things will all come together sooner and i can be reunited with my home sometime between the 15th and 27th of this month. yes, that's specific. i have my reasons.

it's still bliss to be back in seattle, living out of a suitcase instead of just an oversized backpack. oh, {insert: jeans, t-shirt, hoodie, variety in general}, how i have missed you. i've also put down the burden of a rigorous running schedule to use these last few days of vacation to relax. after a month of being away, i am finally on vacation. reading for fun. hiding away from the world {mostly for good reasons and one quite painful one}. gathering deep for courage. preparing to reenter. work will force itself upon me on thursday at which point i'll have no choice.

in the meantime, nights 196 onward....until?

in roughly seven months, i will have changed location 39 times. mostly beds, thank god, though this number does include two air plane seats {hawaii and europe -- the latter un-pictured}, two air mattresses, and one couch. i only missed photographing said air plane seat and one other location that was a result of a late night airport run turned into an eeeeearly morning airport run and so a last minute change ensued.

here i am, finally: the last stop of my nomadic tour.

nomad nate, writing from madison park, seattle, washington.

venice - part 2

2012-01-29T21:22:00.000-08:00

at home. still not in the real world yet, nothing on my schedule at the moment except looking for apartments. hiding a little, but okay with it. in the meantime, here is the rest of my day-trip to venice.

touch down part two

2012-01-27T15:49:00.001-08:00

never in my nomadic adventures have i felt so homeless: sitting at whole foods, jet lagged and expectant, waiting for a friend who i am crashing with tonight. even knowing there are two other places about the city i could call home tonight without even having to ask doesn't seem to help the feeling of being completely untied to a physical place in this city.

and i think the element that heightens this particular moment comes down to uncertainty. i am stepping into uncertainty in a new way, on several levels simultaneously. it is humbling how scary it is despite how hard i have been teaching myself to weather moments like these for the past six months.

but here i am, vulnerable and true, living and breathing exactly what is hardest but best.

touch down

2012-01-27T12:36:00.000-08:00

here. seattle. finally, home is on its way.

the trip timeline {nights 166 to 195}

2012-01-26T02:27:00.000-08:00

i still have so many photos and so many stories, but here is the rough timeline, given in the beds i have slept these 29 nights of my trip.

night 166 has no photo and it's one of only two places i failed to document during this time. night 166 was spent in an airplane traveling over the top of the world, down past greenland and through the northern lights. it was a hard night. there was sadness and weight laced with anticipation of the fresh start i would make for myself during my journey.

nights 167 to 172 i was in paris with my dear friend, karina. we met exactly ten years ago on a night bus from melbourne to sydney and have spent the past decade in very good touch {think novella length letters passing back and forth across the internet between the uk and the us}. as you know, we had a magical new year's eve together. paris was the perfect place to get my travel groove set. highlights: monet's waterlilies at the musee de l'orangerie, taking runs to the eiffel tower, nye with karina, and the hummus from israel.

nights 173 to 177 were spent in vienna. my sister lives here with her boyfriend of six {?} years who i met for the first time on this trip. despite the language barrier, he and i hit it off splendidly and i had a fantastic time being given the local's tour of the food and wine here {i had more alcohol in these five days that i usually have in five months}. they were both fantastic hosts and my german is just not-horrible enough to get by in the city that was in general, wonderful and easy to navigate. highlights: the food, getting a little drunk that last day, navigating such a friendly city, boot shopping, rene magritte exhibit with my sister {a linguistics phd candidate}, and klimt's the kiss.

nights 178 to 180 were spent tucked into a corner of my parent's living room having horrible nightmares, late night gchat conversations and radiohead ticket strategizing. it was..................hard seeing my parents age, seeing them with clear eyes, speaking and hearing the realities of the life they have chosen. this hardness came with lots of gifts. i have an incredible relationship with my mother. we had lots of good talks. highlights: running in the austrian countryside, eating home cooked meals, the chocolate factory near my parent's place, and resting for a few days.

nights 181 to 185 were in rome {by way of a day trip to venice}. this was the portion of the trip i set aside to travel by myself somewhere and i wish i had allotted more time. aside from the late night panic that first greeted me on the train platform {as i realized the directions i had printed off to the hostel were more than a bit vague and what the hell was i doing there anyway!?!?!} i had so much fun in rome. i could spend days just meandering the city, bumping into the pantheon and happening across the colosseum during my wanderings. strangely one of my other favorite things was the relationship between pedestrians and cars. so many unregulated crosswalks across massively busy streets and you just have to gather your confidence about you and boldly stop traffic. and it worked. and on the small back streets, i loved how they belonged to pedestrians who would casually give way to cars as they slowly squeezed past. i loved it. and the city was generous in return. i fell in love with two paintings here and four friends. more stories later. highlights: walking, running around the villa borghese, my new friends, being alone, michaelangelo's pieta & the sistine chapel, giulio gargellini's ressurection, and klimt's the three ages.

night 186 was a lone night in a hostel dorm in dublin while waiting for my two cousins to come join and we transferred to the guesthouse side of the building to a much nicer accommodation. i arrived late after a fun flight with two irish men and a woman from seattle now living in ireland.

nights 187 and 188 were spent in dublin, drinking with the girls, navigating a city that drives on the left and getting really good food recommendations. the two daves that worked at the guesthouse where we stayed were beyond fantastic. the city was a bit grey but was livened by the silliness of two younger cousins. highlights: caravaggio's the taking of christ, drinking whiskey with the girls, beef & guinness stew from the brazen head, strangely, the bog bodies from the archeology museum, and running around phoenix park.

{hannah is covering her mouth because she just got news she was

not rejected from harvard law school. she's going to the 2nd round.}

nights 189 to 190 we traipsed down to killarney as i navigated {very safely!} driving on the left. car conversations are always the best and the countryside was beautiful. killarney national park was amazing and i got a bit of alone time hiking muckross lake on a beautifully grey day. exhaustion started to settle in as i kept mellow nights at the hostel chatting with a random drunk irish dude and the hostel's rather fantastic worker, pete. highlights: finding a ton of gluten free food in small town ireland, hanging with pete, the countryside, quiet nights & a short run through killarney park on the last morning.

nights 191 and 192 – galway by way of the cliffs of moher. more lovely countryside driving. more great conversations and amazingly sweet people. the irish are really truly friendly. i got a run in along salt hill staring out at the ocean and feeling the space stretch out around and above me. highlights: the cliffs of moher & help a little lost dog find its owner.

night 193 saw us safely back to dublin {same room, different bed} but i was exhausted beyond measure. almost went to sleep before 8pm. we were all feeling the weight of pending departures and a return to life facing the individual uncertainty and change we three had spent the last week hashing out amongst ourselves and our wonderfully tangential conversations. highlights: learning how to laugh with abandon with the girls.

nights 194 and 195 – back to vienna. a surprise welcome at the airport by ellie and emmerich. so wonderful to see a friendly face when i was expecting to navigate the transit system. we celebrated with a little whiskey i brought back from ireland. and now we are up to today. my last full day in europe. i'm going to get myself moving soon, collect some things i had left with my parents, see some more klimt, have a lovely dinner with my sister and emmerich and then get on an early morning flight to come home.

nomad nate, writing from vienna.

the beginning of the end

2012-01-24T13:37:00.000-08:00

today was a bon iver day, zig zagging through back roads of ireland and getting a little bit turned around in the busy city streets of dublin.
today was a giddy laughter day punctuating the small cloud of sadness the three of us feel at our imminent departures.
today was a painkiller day, feeling my body betray me in an added insult to the injury of deep exhaustion.
today was my second to last day of my trip.

my plans changed while in rome and i have only been happy about the decision i made then to come home a few days early. i need a small bubble of time on the other side of travel, to arrive, to ground, to sleep the sleep of the travel-worn and jet-lagged. i am also impatient to begin apartment searching and begin my life on the other side of being a nomad. i also come home to intersect during a few precious days of overlap...

home, here i come. just a few days more.

self-portrait in rome

2012-01-23T15:56:00.000-08:00

from the top of the vittorio emmanuele II monument in venezia square. taken on my last day in rome.

{photos of the monument itself as well as the rest of my charmed stay in rome to follow -- oh, and those are new earrings made by maximo, the craftsman who also made my new gryphon ring}

cliffs of moher

2012-01-23T10:18:00.000-08:00

we arrived nearly at dusk which an early occurrence here at 52° 57' 47 N. darkness always ready to sneak up on you here in the north, adding a hazy moodiness to the overwhelming beauty of the waves throwing themselves at the cliffs' feet. from as far above as we were, everything seemed to move in slow motion: the smooth glide of the waves approaching, then oh so slowly crumbling at the base only to rise up again moments later, stretching themselves to the sky before falling once again to the ocean from which they came. a trapped beast trying to get out. chipping away slowly at the stone boundary, carving out hollows, dreaming of freedom.

and then there was the ocean. how i have missed the openness. how i've missed the massiveness. hello again, atlantic. it's been quite a while my friend.

the trio in ireland

2012-01-21T16:26:00.000-08:00

traveling through ireland at the moment with my two younger cousins, anna & hannah {even they get their names mixed up}. it's been a lot of fun having people to navigate and explore a city with, buddies to confide in, girl talk on long drives and enthusiastic beer drinkers who might just help lead me to my 2nd beer i have ever consumed ever. i think it'll be a guinness.

it has also forced me to keep a clear sense of what i want and what i need. a bit of silence in the car as i navigate a roundabout, a quiet evening in front of a computer instead of a night out on the town, or a long hike alone. it's very different traveling with people versus even traveling alone but visiting people. i am enjoying it a lot as the final chapter of my month-long adventures.

here we all are our second day in dublin, romping through st. stephen's green.

{hannah on the left, anna on the right}

paris dressed in blue

2012-01-21T13:46:00.000-08:00

from the top of sacre couer, paris done up in her finest gloaming attire.

team radiohead

2012-01-15T16:10:00.001-08:00

it started with an early morning text from eden. walking on the streets of seattle she was creeped out by a man {and i won't even say what he was doing} and sent me a text at 2am central european time. for whatever reason, my usually silent phone had its ringer turned on and i woke up. as i read the text, i very clearly thought "that can wait until tomorrow when i am awake" but as i put my phone down to go back to sleep, i also very clearly thought "check your email." and without even pausing to wonder what could be so important, i did.
and there was the email from mike, radiohead friend #1. he was giving me the very important tidbit of info i would have otherwise missed during my travels: radiohead pit tickets were going on sale later that day, two days earlier than i thought. unfortunately this meant it would be while i was traveling through venice with my parents, or even worse: on the train to rome.
next there is scott, radiohead/music friend #10 {remember my bon iver friend from the concert?}. i called him straight away and gave him all the tips i know about scoring pit tickets. i also gave him my credit card info, waste log in info and instructions to purchase the maximum number of tickets possible: 4.
then there is the lottery. because you don't know what time the fan tickets will go on sale, just the date, and even then, it's a rat race to get in there fast enough to score tickets. last time i bought tickets it was 6am local time of the show {4am pst}, but 6...7....9! o'clock rolled by and no celebratory text from scott. the streets of venice were losing their appeal. i dreaded getting on the train to rome which would take me completely out of the reach of wireless and unable to do anything at all for our cause. but i said a prayer, got on the train and waited.
and beyond all luck, he got 4 tickets that sold out in less than a minute. and the crazy thing is i had seasoned fans lose out not only on this day, but when the rest of the tickets went on sale two days later {and they had 3 people trying at once to no avail}.
but it wasn't until this morning that i realized the 4 people who came together to make this bit of luck come together are the same 4 who will be getting these tickets and seeing the show together come april 9th. without the text to wake me up, without the email giving me that crucial update, without cashing in on scott's luck karma {blended with a lovely bit of type-a focus that helps get a job done}, we wouldn't have these tickets.
so there you have it. team radiohead 2012*: eden, mike, scott & me.

*with several important sidekicks joining us for the show {including music friends numbers 7, 12 & 13}

entering venezia

2012-01-13T14:54:00.000-08:00

{my posts will no longer be in chronological order. yes, i still owe photos and stories from paris, much less vienna & the austrian countryside. but all in good time.}

--------------

driving into venice was magical. the blue of the sky looked as though it had been washed too many times and now faded, was left to dry stretched taut across the horizons, the sun shining through the weakening fabric.

but once we entered the city proper, navigating the overpriced parking garage and orienting ourselves in relation to the train station i would need later, the thing that pressed up against my senses the most was the colors of the city. after the beige stones of paris and vienna, and even the white farmhouses of countryside austria, the colors were there for the taking. the wear and tear of centuries only adding a grace and patina to the saturated facades.

paris dressed in beige

2012-01-13T02:13:00.000-08:00

the buildings are {top to bottom}: arc d'triomphe, the courtyard at my friend's flat on rue simart, notre dame, a view of sacre couer from the streets of montmarte, sacre couer, again sacre couer from the streets, and then finally the view of sacre couer from the park peak we climbed up on new year's day. i'll have to get the name from my friend.

paris: city of lookers

2012-01-11T15:02:00.000-08:00

i have never been so exhausted as that first day in paris. by the end of the day i was literally falling asleep mid-stride – my foot hitting the ground waking me up for a few paces and then i would surprise myself out of sleep again not ten paces down the road.

but despite that deep exhaustion only all nighters can bring, before i was even "home" from the airport that morning, i was aware of the fact that paris knows how to look back at you. everyone. they look you in the eye and don't shy away when you look back. nor are they afraid to let you know what they think of you. they don't hide the fact they think you're dressed different or it's odd you're jogging along the underground tunnel to the arc d'triomphe. they don't hide when they think you're curious or ignorant {aka english speaker} or sexy. it's all out there for you to see and connect with if you so chose to look back.

and of course i did.

and what i noticed in myself was the shift i had in those first few days to feeling beautiful. and not that on any level i felt more or less attractive – i use beauty here not to describe my looks, but a simple state of being-ness. yes, this feeling had a degree of awareness of my appeal to others, but mostly it rested in a place beyond my own self-criticism where i could just rest in the light of a momentary dialogue with whatever was happening behind this other person's eyes.

even at the time i was aware of the correlation between being engaged in that moment of connection {as opposed to evaded or completely ignored when i usually go looking for eyes} and my own sense of self confidence and worth. and i know that i don't like how much i still rely on the eyes and acknowledgement of others to help me find that space of calm, collected confidence. but that growth is obviously still for another day.

it was enough those six days in paris to celebrate the fact that all my life i have been looking out, literally since the day i was born and looked everyone in the delivery room in the eye, and never have i found a whole city where they look back quite so boldly in return.

view from the steps of sacre couer that first morning.

street self portrait

2012-01-10T14:21:00.000-08:00

still flinching

2012-01-08T08:22:00.000-08:00

i am a flinching animal
always waiting for the next hand to strike
and while i might look you square in the eye
while i might kiss with abandon and offer my spirit freely
my thoughts leave a trail betraying the fact i am always watching your hand
{unless it's holding me gently already}
to make sure i see the next blow coming.

i am a flinching animal
scrubbing my scars on cobbled streets and stone buildings
salving raw skin with time and more time and lonely anonymity
trying to pull the moment toward me
when i cross some invisible line
can suddenly look anyone in the eye
coming or going
and not be afraid.

suspended

2012-01-07T16:14:00.000-08:00

i can't seem to get my head around what time it is. this is most obvious when i {hand} write an entry in my journal. miswritten dates since the new year include: 12.04.2012, 12.05.2011, and 01.02.2010 {really!? 2010?!}. i am not sure exactly where my mind has been these past few weeks, but it certainly has not been keeping track of the linear progression of time.

i am on vacation time where i don't rush myself, take a long morning runs and then later enjoy the process of getting dressed, applying lotion, earrings, whatever else i feel like doing or drinking or eating to simply savor the time passing. and in a rare space of grace, not account for and qualify it, merely observe and interact with it.

or not. often times i just spend an evening completely ignoring time, eating another piece of freshly grilled meat, having that other glass of wine, turning down that curious alley way in some strange city's streets to find something unexpected, something beautiful or merely nothing at all.

....................................................................................................................................................................

it has been a good few weeks so far and i owe you several posts, but in the meantime, here is a piece from the modern art museum in center pompidou, paris. it fits in quite nicely with this idea of being suspended in time.

things i love about this piece: 1. everyone stopped in wonder when they saw it. arrested, often for several minutes. 2. it filled me both with awe and delight walking both the realm of play and intellectual genius simultaneously. 3. i could get right up to it, feel the air blowing on my face, almost get brushed by the digital tape as it would dance about. 4. there was danger involved: those moments the two loops would almost slip beyond the grasp of the air. so close so many times, but always caught and returned. 5. the metaphor of interpersonal relationships that is implied in the image. the way the two are looped about each other permanently, but still have the places they are separate. the moments they are so tightly intertwined you think they will knot up, and then moments later, they are free and dancing separately again. just beautiful. 6. that the invisible becomes visible.

flux 2009
zilvinas kempinas

les nymphéas

2012-01-04T12:45:00.000-08:00

i have had some pretty incredible experiences with paintings, including the time i “fell” into a picasso, had a vision, then spent the next five minutes wondering if i had somehow accidentally taken drugs. it was that vivid. i’m not joking. tangents aside, i have never experienced paintings like i experienced monet’s water lilies at museé d’orangerie.

in the same way the announcer prepared me for the experience i had nearly 7 years ago listening to samuel barber’s adadio for strings in minneapolis, the white room you enter first before the two rooms of water lilies, in their own understated way, heralded the importance of what lay just beyond.

i remember thinking ah, a palette cleanser as i entered the entirely white vestibule and paused long enough to read as much on my brochure. but as i stood there sloughing off the world outside, drawing myself in and preparing my spirit to be immersed, i also took in the fact that every other museum go-er, quite a few in a several minute span, blew right through the room to get to the other side. i hate to admit a certain superiority that swept over me, but it was tied to a sadness that no one else seemed to be paying attention. how could they miss something so obvious?

pause.

and then i entered the first room.

what can i say?

it was beautiful. it was quiet. even with all the people, most respected the posted signs for silence by at least maintaining a whisper. and really, it was just surprisingly overwhelming to be surrounded by mural-sized monets. his depth, color, and tone something you could swim through for hours seeing something different each circuit of the room. paintings of that size offering so much space for variation. color. texture. details. darkness & light. a whole panel of dark on dark. eggplant. staccato of lilies throughout.

but the thing that surprised me the most, the thing that i could sit and absorb for hours was the calm of the space. the peace. peace in a way my always-going-a-million-miles-an-hour-brain often finds so elusive. even the pressure to observe, to articulate, to understand and gain something intellectual from the work {my art student training probably won’t ever leave me} was completely derailed by the quiet demand the rooms made to just sit and be. breathe in the colors. breathe in the space. just breathe.

so i did. for hours. and when i had my fill and tried to look at the work downstairs {a spanish exhibition} i felt such a strong pull back upstairs that i had an impatient disregard for the {high caliber} work in front of me. eventually i obeyed and returned, strolled through the two rooms of water lilies. sat some more. meditated.

monet understood the sanctuary of art and here i am a century later, benefiting from his genius.

paris in photos

2012-01-02T16:30:00.000-08:00

too tired for many words tonight, so here are a few photos.

fresh from the plane. enroute to my friend.

the morning light hitting my 16kg rucksack while

i try to convince my body it's not bedtime.

2nd morning. pausing at monmartre cemetery on my run to the foot

of the eiffel tower. a 2 hour running tour of the city.

my breath was taken away as i jogged around a corner and spotted st. augustine's cathedral.

a detour around it's perimeter was in order.

the first suns of the new year:

in between a rainstorm and the louvre.

overwhelmed merely by the sight of it, this is the

closest i got to the louvre this trip. next time, darling.

from the top of the centre pompidou.

changing over

2012-01-01T16:13:00.000-08:00

new year's eve night was perfect. an exquisite dinner made in my friend, karina's flat, an incredible dessert i had found at a local confectionary in monmartre, and a simple, but beautiful activity to bring forward our gratitude for 2011 and tie it to our intentions for 2012.

i found an old book at a local thrift store and we tore out pages, cut them down into squares, and wrote an intention for the year on one sheet and on another, something we are grateful for from 2011 that will help us achieve this intention. for example, i will find and create a beautiful home is paired with i am grateful for 423 terry ave as well as my nomadic period for all they taught me of home. these two squares were then twisted together to create a paper flower and the series of them was threaded onto cord. the final project is this lovely flower chain. mine will find a perfect spot in my home-to-be.

afterwards we ventured out to the streets, hiked up to sacre coeur and was amongst the crowds as the city raised its lights and sounds to the new year.

bon année my friends. bon année.

dinner including a bouquet of ranunculus. my favorite.

that's dessert in the middle there.

the project.

sacre coeur.

in transit

2011-12-30T14:50:00.000-08:00

leaving was hard.

i can't even explain fully how much this trip, at this particular moment, cuts deeply into the heart of some of the biggest things that scare me: being alone, being imperfect and unskilled {excusie moi, parlee voo ainglis? – spelling is intentional here}, not earning money for 5 weeks, not having a home or even a small space to claim as my own. being alone. that one counts twice. and cumulatively, they cast a shadow across the final week before my departure. a shadow that took over and spilled out of me once i finally had a place to share it: an open heart to listen, nod, hold me gently across a phone line. two actually. the same kind spirits that were there at the end of packing up my life into storage back in july. my mom and my brother, standing by me once again, even if on a sidewalk and in physical form.

so wednesday i got on the plane, equipped with two last minute additions that were so aptly chosen for me by a dear friend: a compass so i could find my way back and a little red travel journal. perfect size, perfect color, and an unexpected reprieve from having to finish binding my next journal before my flight the next day {i finished filling my last one on a beach in hawaii}.

but somewhere in the middle of the flight, the fears burst in my chest once again. maybe i chose the wrong song, or maybe the right one, but suddenly i'm in tears turning out toward the window, away from my seat-mate and i looked out blindly into the dark sky we are traveling through and saw a shooting star. but before i could even grasp the wonderment of the timing, i realize that the shooting star's path pointed directly towards some strange looking clouds. very vertical. very glowing. and as the awe of catching a shoot star swept through me, as the tears hit harder, i realized i was seeing the northern lights. something i have been waiting all my life for.

i looked out and stared for over an hour, the song still on repeat, as we slowly passed through them, these glowing formations so calmly suspended. they were not trying to get anywhere, as clouds often are, but just merely being. breathing. it was incredible.

i held a pillow up to the window to block out the glare, ignored the damage i might be doing by craning my neck for that many hours and simply took it all in. i lost track of counting the shooting stars somewhere around 7. they were generous as well.

i've always felt a strong certainty that this trip is exactly what i needed to be doing at this exact moment for this exact length of time and that, in their own way, the fears are an indication of that rightness. they are the gatekeeper between me and the person i can challenge myself to be and they won't keep me out. they can't. they're merely reassurance that i am in fact doing the right thing.

but what greater gift, what greater sign from the universe could be given in support of this grand adventure than by so effortlessly, so gracefully surprising me with a bit of magic and wonder and heralding it with a shooting star to boot?

departure

2011-12-28T01:25:00.000-08:00

tonight panic swelled to a tidal wave, crested and swept over and around me, caressing my shoulders, brushing my hair, holding me close and reassuring me with those simple words i have fought long and hard these past weeks to ignore: i am alone.

i finish this journey, the time period of nomadacy as i began it: alone.

and reflecting back on the eve of the final chapter of this adventure, i want to revisit a few things i wrote here as i began packing up my life. it's an entry called to build a home.

first, silly me, i thought i was going to be a nomad for 3 1/2 months. by the time i return from europe, it will already be twice that amount {though when i first got my P O Box and realized i had to choose 6 month increments, i had a flash of insight that i would need the whole lease}. and secondly, this image from a run so many months ago that still holds true for me both in the rightness of where i am and in the alone-ness. the two go hand in hand.

on my run this past sunday, i had this fleeting moment while looking down at my shadow bouncing along in front of me – it was this undeniable feeling of certainty about being in the right place at this moment and how being alone right now is a significant part of that rightness. i am finding myself and what's under the layers of build-up on my body, spirit and home and while i feel very loved and supported heading into this adventure, i am also alone on this journey and that is right in a way i can't quite gather up enough words to explain.

and finally. this song. still a theme of the year and of this time. listen again:

and now, it's time to leave and turn to dust....

nomad night 162

2011-12-25T01:14:00.000-08:00

and i'm quite proud to report, the first night i'm sleeping on a couch since giving up my apartment. not sure what europe will bring exactly but that's a whole other category of standard of accommodations as i truly will be a nomad at that point.

but tonight, it's me and the christmas tree and quite a bit of serious thinking i can't seem to shake. though i did have a lovely few hours of meditative pacing with a sleeping baby cuddled against my chest {who would wake up every time we put her down}. gentle figure eights with my hips and a rhythmic patting on her back did as much for me and settling my restless spirit as it seemed to do for her.

yes, relax, nathania. breathe. and enjoy the abundance of the last few days in seattle before your next adventure.

~nomad nate writing from covington, washington.

another earth

2011-12-24T01:53:00.000-08:00

i will be thinking about this movie for a long time. not only is it a beautifully told story, but the lead is also a co-writer and producer and its budget was $200k.

suddenly making something beautiful doesn't feel all that impossible.

now go see it.

my city

2011-12-22T12:47:00.001-08:00

and in a week i will leave the last thing i have had left to called home these past six months.

a true nomad

2011-12-21T23:18:00.000-08:00

after waiting more than five years to return to europe i find that i am eyeing my emmenant departure with more panic than a never-ending to do list warrants.

and tonight i realized why that is.

starting next wednesday, i become a true nomad. i won't have any place to call my own or my car to ensure independence. i will be a visitor wherever i go at the mercy of my generous hosts and the grace of language barriers. and what's more, the source of my panic revolves around the fact that i will be cutting myself off from the familiar cornerstones that i have relied upon these past months. in lieu of having my own home i have tethered myself to my routine, my job, my income, my community and the familiar sights and sounds of my city.

on wednesday, i am truly cut free. free of the things of my life, even the small collection i have been carrying from place to place since july. free of the knowledge and confidence which i know my city, know where the side roads lead, where grocery stores are and which foods are allergen free. free of obligations. free of work. free of the relationships, though, yes, i will try take a few of you with me as much as i am able, as much as you let me. but you won't be there, with me, reminding me of where i should go, who i am and who i want to be.

and that, i think, is the final phase of this nomadic chapter. the final challenge all the previous challenges of the last five months have been gradually preparing me for both literally and metaphorically*. and as i sit here, on the darkest night of the year, i feel much like i did that night in july after putting everything into storage, when all i could do was sit crying on the curb in my car with my mother and brother standing gently nearby.

this is ground zero and i have no idea what i am going to build in all this wreckage. somewhere, somehow i am being sent reassurances that it will be beautiful. that it will be grand. that this kind of bold, courageous gesture will only be rewarded in kind.

please, please dear god. please. let there be something on the other side. the other side of the flight. the other side of the trip. the other side of this year. i only have so much courage and i only have so much hope.

*because i have been a nomad these last six months i have accrued a bit of savings that have allowed me to pay for this trip.

outside in

2011-12-20T00:30:00.000-08:00

in some {many} ways the journey of the play proof took me lengthwise through my failure complex {which not so coincidently walks hand in hand with my perfectionism} and i am still recovering from the residual beliefs reinforced by that internal onslaught. in light of the lingering effects, it was perfect timing for these images to surface a few days ago from tara & nathanael's wedding i attended this fall.

they capture me at just that perfect moment of unconscious and unknowing grace. that place of beingness that warrants so much more self-compassion than i am usually able to give on a good day, much less on the other side of two months of internal abuse.

so helping me return to return to the tenderness and compassion my soft, six foot machine so richly deserves, here are two photos from the amazing photographer who documented the day, jeremy leffel.

and with a touch of irony 1. i have always believed myself to be awkward and clumsy on the dance floor and 2. of course, i always choose to be behind the camera or manning it for self-portraits because i believe i'm the only one who can find good angles on my quirky features.

lonely & me

2011-12-17T01:29:00.000-08:00

i recall loneliness from my childhood like a dear friend. we spent a lot of time in each other's company tucked away in a bedroom, meandering about our alabama-backyard, telling secrets, listening to whatever stillness we could find, and always and forever hoping for more.

as an adult, however, i'm proud to report i'm a bit estranged from my old pal, lonely. but he does come to visit on rare occasions, sidling up to me in a dark car parked in front of the apartment, fog insulating me from the world, my mind milling about around me like a flock of birds. and then suddenly he's there, quietly expectant, noiseless and persistent, scattering my thoughts as they take refuge in the sky.

tonight was one of those nights it was just lonely and me, sitting in the cushioned quiet of jasper – but rather than intruding on the space i had just made savoring the final measures of a song, he joined me without taking anything away. my heart was pierced by his tenderness as he perched sideways in the passenger seat staring back at me with calm eyes, listening to every silent sentence running through my mind.

sadly, he never seems to come with answers in his pocket, merely a little space and always and forever hope.

nightmares

2011-12-15T10:55:00.000-08:00

every anxiety dream possible paid me a late-night visit last night. the only thing that didn't show up was a relationship nightmare {oh wait, that was the night before} or a spider nightmare {thank god!}.

it started with the sky scraper. we were at the top and someone had to jump into a helicopter. they were afraid. of course they would be, we're at the top of a tall building {think columbia tower}. i wordlessly volunteered to create a bridge with my body from the floating platform next to the building and the hovering craft {and said floating platform shifted and bobbled really uncomfortably}. the person scrambled over my body into the helicopter and i was left spanning the space with all that height below me thinking oh shit oh shit oh shit don't look down how! do i get back up?!?!

then there was the dream about the policeman. a speeding car. flashing lights. someone else driving but we're caught. fear.

then there was the never-ending dream about the final night of proof. except this final show broke down so far that the audience had to get up out of their chairs and crowd the stage because the lighting was malfunctioning and they couldn't see us otherwise. but wait, then something went wrong back stage and we all had to evacuate to the stage then bring all of our props to the front of house and it ended with a discussion of extending the run so the crowd could see a real final show or just canceling the show altogether.

then there was the work dream. orders i needed to place. pressure.

the traveling dream where i was milling aimlessly about the world, lost & purposeless.

the money dream. needing to go provide a side dish for a party and a really fancy dish was suggested by a wealthy friend {think truffles and caviar} and i didn't have the money.

then there was the person that tried to steal my wallet. there was a fumble. he missed and started running. a chase ensues. he shook me off but i later found him, cornered him and took him to security where he promptly started lying to cover himself and make me look bad.

the night continued. i am sure there were more in there.

proof

2011-12-11T01:25:00.001-08:00

the cast party was tonight and we were all {mostly all} there. and still, the bitter side of the bitter-sweet ending i faced this week has yet to eclipse the steady momentum forward and i'm beginning to hope that maybe it won't. yes, i am sorry to say goodbye to the project, sorry to not slug myself up four flights of stairs after a long day at work to playplayplay, sorry not to stretch myself into new shapes and spaces, and sorry not to be a part of a beautifully tight-knit family of fellow creators on a project so much bigger than any one person.

but more so than i would have thought possible, i am just calmly moving forward, grateful for all that proof was for me, accepting it for what it was and wasn't, and greatly anticipating the next phase of my life that will probably shock the hell out of me as much as this past year has.

segue: i had a lovely night last thursday night. went out to see a friend, guide and art mentor perform his music. the last time i had seen him was in the beginning of september at wedding camp and at the end of the show as we sat down in the soft gloom of the columbia city theater and i gave a list of the things {tangential of course} that had happened since i saw him on labor day weekend:

ran a half marathon
saw bon iver
started a theater company
rehearsed a role
saw portishead
ran a successful kickstarter campaign
ran an 8 show performance run
booked a flight to europe

and i managed to both work and sleep somewhere in there. sometimes.

so let me breathe a second and tell you about the show.

it was hard. it was hard. it was very hard. for almost the entire show, maybe even as far as through the last show, all i could see in the role was the work i had yet to do: the work i knew in my heart how to do but couldn't let myself sit down, focus and explore. yes, i'm talking about that nebulous thing called the actor's homework and it's what i spent 9 months learning how to do and in those 9 months, i did it very well. despite the fact that i finished meisner almost two and a half years ago, i have a good memory and know exactly how to get to those tough, hard to crack places inside myself, but frustratingly, for most of this run, i wouldn't let myself go there. the gatekeeper, that voice of paralyzing self-criticism was just too. damn. strong.

which isn't to say i didn't have moments of progress. usually they were out on a run around greenlake. for almost two months i was the crazy girl, face contorted into some sort of expression at odds with my steady pace, often enough in tears or just about in tears as i made paths into the places catherine needed to feel, created memories and made discoveries.

i know i wasn't able to bring all the rawness i could create in myself to the stage, i know i wasn't able to find and live certain key experiences she had as well as i know i am capable of, but this is also something very important i realized this week: this role, as lovely and beautiful and challenging and seemingly perfect as it was, this role did not have to be a standing-ovation-hot-damn-give-this-girl-an-oscar-already role. it was simply a start – a milestone on the path i'm walking. a milestone to mark that i am doing something i have wanted to do for decades – my whole life really – and the important thing for me was merely to start and learn as much about myself as an actor as i possibly could. and i learned a lot. apart from the running, i also learned music is a huge key for me as well as sitting down and writing three pages of free association writing before getting any work done. bypass the gatekeeper. tap into the source and a sense of free flow. find that ideal, relaxed space of creation.

and after all that, also {hopefully} learn to extend as much grace to myself as i possibly can along the way and through the aftermath. and here i am, a week into the aftermath, still trying to process it all.

a significant part of the letting go process has come from a few particular voices that have given me more words beyond you were awesome {which are valid and kind but generally unhelpful in that same way i like it was frowned upon in critiques in art school}. it started with my sister's response to the play. she came to see the play on closing night on a rare night away from her daughter, my 4 month old niece, rosie. i know several aspects of the story would hit home for her, in fact had been aware of the parallels during my own acting homework, but was somehow still unprepared for how deeply she was moved. and not just by the story, which, in and of itself, was almost too perfect for her, but also by me, as an actor. on that night she realized that acting isn't just playing pretend and that there is a deep and subtle art and vulnerability that opened an entirely new avenue of understanding and communication between the two of us. so we just stood there, hugging and crying together, resonating in the impact we were having on each other, in tears in front of the rest of my family and the lingering crowd of closing night. and here i was in the middle of the cathartic, two spirits connecting, transcendant experience i hope to create on a broader, more universal scale as i move more and more into my art.

the next day i was able to spend a little time at her house further absorbing her experience. in her excitement, she reflected back to me her understanding of the story, her perception of catherine, and by default showing just how invested in catherine's story she felt. what was perhaps the most satisfying was to hear all the small things i had realized or decided early on in the creative process that i thought i had somehow neglected to bring to the part were actually there all along without me having to force anything. catherine quite literally had a life of her own, will continue to do so in our memories, and even through she came into being through my imperfect instrument, it was still one capable of creating something here.

and i guess i'm trying to say that somewhere between my sister's closing night response and her reflection back to me the next day, i have oh so slowly worked toward the realization that i did in fact accomplish something here. on this first show, in this first role, i moved someone as deeply as i have been moved standing in front of thom yorke and i am grateful and i am humbled even if it's just one person.

so all along, the desire for some sort of proof that this is the right path, that i am capable and talented as an actor, all those reassurances that i have sought my whole life about my path as an actor and my deep, scary desire to be an actor, they are all for naught.

i feel the lines i give toward the end are fitting:

catherine: ...all that stuff you just decided with your buddies, it's just evidence, it doesn't finish the job. it doesn't prove anything.
hal: so what would?
catherine: nothing. you should have trusted me.

so i have to look forward, not asking for any more proof in one direction or another, eyes forward, spirit humble and vulnerable and revealed and a trust that i am headed in the right direction, wherever that might be.

trust. yes. you are the key.

nomad nights 144 to 146

2011-12-07T01:39:00.001-08:00

i am in a new place – in so many ways.

tonight, physically, it's a new bed. i get to spend a few days in the apartment of one of my best friends while she's off wedding dress shopping in texas. i get to be in the wedding. a bridesmaid for the first time. i am beyond honored, beyond excited, beyond happy for the two of them and the fact that i got to witness their story unfold from day one. from the moment before zero when she didn't even know who he was nor who he would become. just a housemate with niiiiiiice arms arriving from michigan.

and i am grateful for a few nights in her bed. an empty apartment. space i can stretch out and be alone in with all this dearly bought free time. i want to attempt to put into words some of the flurry rushing through my head as i turn the page to the end of the chapter that was proof.

too much for tonight.

i'll leave you with a quote from a new addiction: the tobolowsky files. a podcast on life, love, and the entertainment industry as told by character actor stephen tobolowsky. more on him later, but this particular bit jumped out at me today in regards to my own story:

even though my life was speeding ahead of me, i had fallen back into the moment before zero once more. the moment that redefines everything you are and everything you do. i was at the beginning of a new act one. it took me 38 years to understand that in life you only tell the story, you don't write it.

episode 43.

~nomad nate, writing from eastlake neighborhood, seattle, washington.

good bye

2011-12-04T22:19:00.001-08:00

today i needed to remind myself that what feels like an ending is merely the sun rising on the other side of the horizon.

catherine

2011-12-03T18:10:00.001-08:00

closing night. a reconciliation between hope, reality, failure, and completion.

catherine, my friend, you've taught me so much.

i leave in a few minutes so we can meet again. one more time.

you're on in five

2011-12-01T16:03:00.000-08:00

goshen

2011-12-01T01:38:00.001-08:00

in another life i could have been a singer/songwriter. in the meantime, i'll enjoy the perfect delivery of others. today, zach condon & beirut. i thank you for your words and melody.

You're on in five, it's time you rise or fail.
They've gone before, stood by your door all day.
For what it's worth, defend your kind from shame.
The lights are down, go on inside, they've paid.
You're the face in stone, through the land I own.
You never found it home.
You're not the girl I used to know.

What would you hide from such a glow
If I had only told you so?

You're on in five, it's time you rise or fail.
They've gone before, stood by your door all day.
But you never found it home.
A fair price I'd pay to be alone.

What would you hide from such a glow
If I had only told you so?

things fall apart

2011-11-30T19:24:00.001-08:00

and what can you do?

one step in front of the other.

i'll tell you about it more from the other side

once we all make it.

back to black

2011-11-27T02:17:00.001-08:00

i dyed my own hair for the first time tonight. no watchful eyes behind me, making sure all the roots are covered, no gentle hands massaging my scalp for me while i sit backwards on the toilet. just me, six feet of pale skin and impossible soul by sufjan on repeat in the background.

i wanted to document my boldness staring back at me from the mirror, but somehow could only really manage the softness with any sort of accuracy.

then i went, and after one final set of second guesses, purchased a flight that will take me to europe for 35 days. i am filled with equal parts excitement and terror.

rosie

2011-11-24T21:21:00.001-08:00

i have been remiss in posting photos of my niece. partly because, like the old adage says, the cobbler's children are always without shoes and the photographer's niece without photos. but do i get them here and there between bounces and cuddles and too infrequent visits and here she is today, nearly 4 months old.

a little tired, a little run down and in a darker space than i have been....well...since i moved out in july. not sure why exactly it's been rough {hello! massive amounts of stress at the moment?}, but it has, and so a little baby cuddles and smiles were perfect today. it doesn't get much better than staring down the pure blue eyes of a four month old having her look back with calm contentment and the occasional lopsided smile. silent confessions were met with an uncoordinated grasp for my cheek. she held my face for a while. baby therapy. a beautiful evening.

3am

2011-11-24T02:34:00.001-08:00

i am afraid.
i am afraid of failure.
i am afraid of the next two shows, of not improving, of not taking the time to deepen the character as i know i can. as i know i should. the lines. go over them again. find a new softness. vulnerability. there are so many layers to this play that i see so clearly, but can't seem to create. i am a beginner but at least i've begun, right?
and i'm afraid of my eating habits – that they will stick here, regressed by a few years, maybe more. contemplating dark thoughts. worried that i'll loose all the progress i made this summer. size six is so close....
i don't know what the hell is going on. where is all the progress i've made since july?
i am afraid of having been caught red handed and shame-faced.
i am messy.
i am better than this.
i am tidier.
i am more relaxed.
i am stronger.
i am more together.

except i am not. at the moment at least.

so what's up, nathania? seriously.
my dear, my darling. where is your self-softness? where is your strength?
you know it's quietly waiting, buried under all that criticism you're lashing about.
a strength so tangible and expansive merely brushing up against it reduces you to tears.
so what's wrong?

i am afraid. i am afraid. i am afraid.

but that's always how i know i'm on the right track. it's how i know i'm pushing the understood boundaries of myself. here be danger. uncharted territory. lack of sleep. pressure. decisions. important decisions. where to store my things for the next two and a half months, where to travel in europe. how long? can i afford it? is it good enough? am i good enough?

nathania.

yes?

relax, please, and be grateful. grateful for the challenges of your existence. grateful you're not perfect. grateful you have a place to grow surrounded by people who will be gracious with your messiness. your imperfect words. your shame. your impatience. your inability to accurately articulate the things you are seeing. no, you are not blind. yes, you are right. but you still need to relax.

okay. inhale. yes. thank you. i am stepping back from the ledge, gripping the cool brick of the wall behind me. feet planted on the ground.
grateful.
grateful.
grateful.
i am so grateful for my fear. for the directions it makes me turn. for the fact that it pushes me.
i am grateful for my running gear, my long limber legs that will bring my body back to itself. i am grateful for the courage of those who love me best. i am grateful for my family and the lovely gathering we will have tomorrow. i am grateful for the job i get to do, that supports me better than i ever have been supported before with coworkers i enjoy. i am grateful for this holiday season of family photos. for the fall. for the new coat i haven't quite convinced myself i can afford, even though i know it's an amazing piece of textile and a long term investment in warmth and wardrobe {and i'm in love with it already}. i am grateful for hope, for patience, for these messy times when i am at the edge of myself.

i welcome grace. i welcome grace. i welcome peace. i welcome grace.

happy thanksgiving.

11.11.11 – my white birthday

2011-11-23T16:25:00.000-08:00

symmetry in numbers has always been something i've noticed. patterns, repetition, progression – i love it all. so, to get the chance to celebrate my birthday {which is an unassuming 10.26.82} on 11.11.11 was something of a numerical gift of the universe. a tribute to the balance and stability i hope to step into as i enter the last year of my 20s and absorb the strength that saturn return has bestowed upon me.

last year my closest friends both locally and around the world came together to give me color and build me wings and what a year it has been. the theme of flight woven tightly through some of the most profound moments. it began with that amazing vision i had on my run this spring in sync with the lyrics and one day, i am gunna grow wings – revealing in my spirit a rare moment of acceptance of myself, struggles and all. and while the image of flight is literally represented in the song, it also lives in that rhythm i have spent hundreds of miles savoring as i cemented my love for running this year.

and it was running that delivered the next experience of flight this year. even before the amazing release i experienced at mile 11 of my half marathon, i had a moment, at mile 8, when i pulled away from my little brother and told myself i am going to do this – i can come in sub-two hours. i can do this. i can do anything. and suddenly there was a rush of adrenaline and focus that filled me beyond full, rushing down my back and causing the muscles across my scapula to ripple in anticipation. and even while this is all going on and i was registering the emotional and physical events happening simultaneously, i spared a quick thought for humor's sake to acknowledge that if i had wings, they'd be coming out of the part of my back shuddering as though i was trying to take flight.

the third and most recent experience of flight was the breakthrough i had in singing not too long ago. at the time i even named the blog entry flying because that is what it felt most like in the moment – this clear sense of soaring effortlessly. it was like i imagine a bird to feel in that freewheeling space where any direction is not only possible, but easy, and connected to a deep internal strength of ligaments and muscles so perfectly designed to do exactly what is needed. that strength, that knowledge, that potential, i have had all along despite all the times i have told myself otherwise.

and the flying, the acknowledgement and acceptance of own strength, as i am learning, is so often accompanied by grief. a purge. a release. as they come at greater frequency, i hope for myself that i will hit the bottom of that well of self-doubt and find something new to channel.

in the spirit of that hope, for my birthday this year, i wanted to welcome a sense of lightness, freedom and purity into the equation, take the wings you all so colorfully presented me with last year and strip away everything to its purest elements: light, air, weightlessness, luminescence and flight.

so i gathered to me some of the clearest voices in my life {those darlings that are local} and together we infused the next year of my life with these elements. a benediction of white and light and adventure and play and connection to those things rushing toward me from my future: the cumulation of my efforts on proof, of travel, of settling into a new home, seeing radiohead {in march} and of finally getting to go to my hometown.

a fitting welcome for the new year.

nomad nights return {119-120 & 127-135}

2011-11-22T23:02:00.001-08:00

in a lovely bit of symmetry, i find myself retracing my path and revisiting the first two places i spent my nomadic nights in, but in reverse. last weekend found me in the same spot i spent nights 7 to 9 and this next week i'm sleeping in the same bed i spent those first 6 nights.

i remember that last day in my apartment and first night completely cut free and alone....the anxiety around moving my heirloom bookcase with glass doors, the stress of day in general, that final load of all my lovely things, closing the door of #44 for the last time as mine, saying goodbye to my moving crew {of dear friends who put up so well with said stress} until it was just my mom and brother who lovingly witnessed me crying by the curb of the magnolia house that has so wonderfully stored these things since. the sloughing off. the irrevocable starting of a new phase.

and here i am, about to enter the final pages of my nomadic life and very gently being reminded by this symmetry to look back and mark my progress. it was lovely having lindsey jo here this weekend {for so many reasons but also} to reflect back the changes i have made since she last saw me this summer, in the weeks before the cleanse, before the move and before everything shifted. i think it can be summed up in one sentence she said: you're less type-a.

hallelujah! sweet progress.

this time has allowed me to relax about cleanliness, relax about needing a perfect space, perfect quiet, perfect boundaries. it has allowed me to go with the flow, save significant amounts of money {some to be spent on further nomadic adventures in europe!}, explore new neighborhoods to jog in {covington, discovery park, green lake, ravenna, hawaii} and generally learn to go with the flow. be more gracious toward myself and others.

and now i'm planning my ultimate nomadic experience: a month in europe traveling from country to country, adventuring, playing, letting go, letting free. spending a month not working nor searching for a job for the first time in years. and as much as i know it will be hard to come home again from that, there will also be the excitement of seeking out and finding my next home and that puttering joy around making it my own.

dear, home, my next one...you are close to me tonight. i feel a tenderness toward you and even find myself on craigslist looking for you knowing you won't be appearing just yet. not yet.

soon, but not yet.

nights 119 & 120 back in the sammamish highlands.

nights 127 to 135 back in magnolia...

this room has gone through some nice changes.

~nomad nate, writing from magnolia, seattle.

................................................................................................................................................................................
................................................................................................................................................................................

and this is the blog's 800th post. happy 800! and thank you all for following along.

first two nights

2011-11-19T00:22:00.001-08:00

it's strange how un-nervous i was. the anxiety and worry, the restlessness i would expect, they simply weren't there. a little bit of oh shit, we actually have to do this! and a thought or two about whether or not all the lines are memorized, those sorts of things eeking into my brainspace, but otherwise, a steady calm i didn't expect.

i wish i could bring you in more on this journey, to share and preserve what is happening. i wish i could tell more stories. i wish i could find feelings and words for these first few days – these first few shows – of such significance to me....but i can't. and while on some level, i would say i don't have the time or energy, i think on another level entirely, i am cut off from vulnerability of the bigger picture, engrossed instead in the daily tasks of putting up show, running it and then taking it down again each night and goinggoinggoing for seven days straight.

my story is drowning in details.

i will have time. i will find my way back into the bigger picture, the massive victory, the bold and beautiful move that this production is for me.

but tonight, all i can think of is sleep. sweet, sweet sleep. and an overwhelming gratitude for the people who have flocked around me, offering their enthusiastic support. my friends who have come to the show so far {yes, you, sea-oh, megan, eden, michael, spring, jp, justin, julie, lj, lj, lj! bob and michelle, jon, amanda, josh, chris...}, those from afar who have spanned the distance with emails, phone calls, texts, facebook messages, all with such simple and earnest support. and even before, all the people who came together for kickstarter, who have witnessed me work for months, spill over in frustration and exhaustion....you are mobilizing around me and giving me such care.

but there is one person in particular....i have to mention this one moment. opening night done, the crowd mostly scattered and one person steps forward to give me a familiar smile. i automatically smile back the smile reserved for a deardeardear friend. then my face fell and i practically shouted what the fuck are you doing here??? our gaze locked, the words spanning between us, a net to catch the tears that followed the rush of sound. my dear lindsey jo who was supposed to be in FARGO, NORTH DAKOTA and who had flown in 6 hours before in order to see my show opening night.

that was how big it is. this moment. this step for me. and to have her there, acknowledging it, sharing it, pouring into me all the love and support, the surrogate for all the faraway friends and family that couldn't come...

i am overwhelmed.

i am grateful.

lj and her sheepish smile that encompasses the joy and beauty of her being here.

a lullaby

2011-11-08T23:45:00.000-08:00

a good night.

home sick

2011-11-06T23:55:00.000-08:00

for the first time since july, i was seriously home sick. home sick for a bath i can stretch my whole length out into, homesick for the quiet welcome of my living room furniture, the beautiful assurances of my library, my birds, my bedroom flooded with light, the view from my window, my narrow kitchen, these spaces that are past tense. missing. missed. another peace. another piece.

i even went so far as to think about apartment hunting today — craigslist, a tempting click away — but i know too much now. i know an apartment will not quiet the restless worry, just keep it at bay. it will not solve problems {that aren't mine to solve anyway}, merely provide a distraction and illusion of control.

my to-do list is longer than my arm, but tonight, i left rehearsal, put away my actor hat, my producer hat, even my best friend hat and sat in a bath with some poetry.

----------------

two vignettes from tonight's bath time poetry session. i was reading from the collection behind my eyes by li-young lee

from become becoming

wait for the sky's last blue
(the color of your homesickness).
then you'll know the answer

from secret life

and when it's time, the dove

calls from its hiding place
and leaves the morning greener

and the one who hears the dove more alone.

two weeks

2011-11-04T01:56:00.000-07:00

please tell me we'll get there. that everything will work out. that the backdrop will be made, that the setting will be elegant. that the lines will come. the honesty, live. please tell me i am not waiting in vain. that i'm not a fool for trusting. again. i am done with high and dry. i want to be juicy and ripe. pick me from the tree and savor the dusty patina of summer sunshine still clinging to my skin. please.

---------------------

in two weeks we'll be on the other side of opening night's show. how did we get this far? how will we get the rest of the way there? put one foot in front of the other, floss, drink water, and hope and pray and sleep. try to remember that i am stronger than i have ever given myself credit for. i don't need you. i don't need anything. i am here, restless at 2am, listening to how it ends to remind myself this is just a crisis of breathing. calmly, now. in and out. expand. contract. the bellows of my diaphragm. the kind of breathing that gives me more than just oxygen. that's it. simple. sweet. this is how it ends. this is how it begins.

#3

2011-11-02T10:32:00.000-07:00

a week after driving around in the car with music friends #12 & #13, it felt right to be following some of the exact same roads touring one of my first music friends through my city. kerry park. alki beach. golden gardens...

chris, #3, whom i first met traveling from los angeles to santa barbara to see radiohead finish off the american leg of their '08 tour. at the time i refrained from telling my mom i was getting into a car with two strange men and later driving back to los angeles with a third until after i was home safely, but obviously my gut speaks true, and here we are, three years later, meeting up again in another city {for the second time} and planning the east coast leg of radiohead's next tour.

it was a good night. played through kid a live, singing along quietly {despite my recent voice lesson break throughs, very few people actually hear me sing in person, particularly to a thom yorke song}, listening in silence, stopping and freezing our butts off for photos, and meandering through stories more personal than we have shared in the past.

it was a good night. one of the last bits of carefree time between now and the opening of the show.

-----------------------

pale blue eyes played while we were at lunch together at elysian brewery. i often forget i have blue eyes, or that they affect others.

flying

2011-10-31T17:30:00.000-07:00

today, in my voice lesson, i found something new: that incredible, free falling space where the sound came straight from my gut, effortless and true — an entity of its own flying free from my body with a power and clarity i couldn't even recognize.

and it brought with it such an overwhelming feeling of joy i started giggling mid-scale, then laughing out right, then crying, then laughing and crying again until the sobs took over and a grief not unlike the one i felt on mile 11 of the half marathon swept through me, leaving me clean and calm in the face of how scary it is to be so powerful.

i have only ever reliably experienced this feeling of being such a clean conduit in front of a canvas, paint brush in hand, critical mind carefully stowed out of the way in some muted back corner, but what a perfect time to be finding this in my body as a product of the instrument of my lungs, my soft palate, my self.

now, nat, go out and find this in a body called catherine standing simply on a blank stage. she's there. she's waiting.

support

2011-10-29T02:54:00.000-07:00

the most amazing thing happened to me today. i still have a hard time not convincing myself the phone call was just some glitch of my imagination. maybe if there hadn't been a coworker in the office demanding an explanation for all the oh my gods and a voice skirting the edge of tears, i would have succeeded in telling myself it was all some cruel trick of my vivid imagination.

but it happened. it really did. and before i tell you exactly what the content of this 3 minute phone call was, i would like to skip back a few months to a moment i had in mid-august. i wrote about that event in its entirety here but the bit that is the most important is the realization i had documented in the piece. one night a few months ago, a mere hours before my friend andrew enthusiastically jumped on board to collaborate on a film/documentary/narrative about my journey southward, i was crying in a dark theater watching harry potter {yes, harry potter}. my tears came from realizing that my deep, vulnerable desire to have the world believe in me is to drive back the black hole in my spirit that historically has been my own lack of belief in myself.

and that black hole? it still comes and goes, warping space and time to find its way into projects and places in my life it has no place. yet at the same time, i've been learning to defy physics, pouring hope and love and challenges into that space and finding light make its way back out again. i can survive without a tightly woven and perfectly organized home space. i can challenge the sweaty pain of a half-marathon and push up against success on the other side. and i find more strength and beauty and clarity in myself than ever before. i've been making progress, you know, and part of that progress is just being able to acknowledge that the world, and more importantly my own spirit, does believe in me, even when i struggle.

and so today......

god.

i don't know if i can do the shock and awe and heart-searing gratitude justice.

today i got a phone call from a friend wanting to discuss my play. they've mentioned donating to the cause in the past, but today's conversation that stretched out on the other side of hello took me entirely by surprise.

rather than just giving a significant{!!!} amount of money, they have thought a lot about how to help push along the fundraising campaign. and this person, this one single, steady voice said: i will match the next $1,000 worth of donations to the campaign--an offer which will effectively take us to our goal double time.

and so. there you have it.

it's so far beyond surprising i still don't know what to do beyond sit with heart-fluttering joy and forge ahead into my first production as producer, first production as lead, first real not-class-associated acting role and not look back any more.

and last night's rehearsal was the first where i worked up a sweat. the first where i came home and had to unwind for hours, the crucial conflict of the piece playing through my head like a real argument. it was the first night i felt connected to the successes of the work, no matter what it looks like on the other side.

so thank you, my solid supporter. thank you to all the voices that have contributed to get us 1/3 of the way so far. thank you to all the other voices in my life who have found words of support and encouragement over the years. for me, for my work and for the colors of my life. i am so grateful.

i know i already asked once, but here is the link again in case you were considering donating. every dollar you pledge will become two. even ten will become twenty. every little bit helps.

29

2011-10-27T02:57:00.000-07:00

29 is here.
29 is new.
29 is scary and about doing scary things like acting in a play i've wanted to do for years. and like acting, full stop.
29 is living with the driving need to go running, even if it's just a short 4 mile trot around greenlake before rushing home to go to rehearsal.
29 is the smell of a freshly picked golden delicious apple hand delivered in tissue paper with a gorgeous card.
29 is gratitude for all the birthday wishes delivered via facebook, text {one of which was composed of 19 parts}, gchat, phone, and in person.
29 is knee-weakening gratitude for all the birthday donations to my kickstarter campaign. my heart is full in light of so much generosity.
29 is the giddy joy of freshly homemade gluten-free cake that was so surprisingly beautiful i said holy shit about three times in a row when i first saw it.
29 is the sassy boldness of eating yet another piece of said cake at 10:30pm no matter what my waistline threatened to do in response.
29 is staying up until 2am making sure i've got the next day's lines memorized.
29 is facing the vulnerable uncertainty of waiting for someone. even if the wait is short {in the grand scheme of things}. even if the wait leaves my achilles heel so obviously exposed in the meantime.
29 is the confidence and strength to live in uncertainty.
29 is having a real savings account for the first time in my life.
29 is hoping for the grace to be compassionate with myself in the middle of a bad day {like tuesday} when the world doesn't organize itself to my liking and the weight of all the stresses in my life presses down on my spirit. good stress & bad stresses alike: busy work schedule, rehearsal & production demands i can never somehow meet, relationships in grey zones, a living situation that is challenging for me, a never ending to-do list, never enough sleep, need i go on....?.
29 is the optimism that i can find self-compassion and welcome it into my daily life.
29 is the hope that i can let go of my perfectionism.
29 is the last year of my twenties. the second half of my saturn return. a new phase. a new year.
29 is here.

birthday sun

2011-10-26T17:13:00.000-07:00

photographed before a {short} birthday run which will happen before eating the most beautiful birthday cake i have ever had made for me {photo to follow after i'm done with my birthday rehearsal later tonight}.

a good day so far. a very good day.

portishead - 10.23.2011

2011-10-24T02:04:00.001-07:00

i can't believe i almost missed them. i can't believe i almost didn't go to the show, almost turned around even as late as when i was finding a parking spot. a weird resistance to seeing the show alone had snuck in but i made it past the hesitation and into the venue to be welcomed by the anonymity of darkness and a thick crowd of strangers.

but strangers gradually individualized themselves: the obnoxious taller-than-me-person directly behind me {who later thought it okay to sing along AUDIBLY to the rip--a very quiet song--as well as film over my head, knocking my i-don't-care-what-i-look-like pony tail and bumping the back of my knee a few times too many--grrrrrr and fist shaking to poor concert etiquette}. but then, more importantly, the two from portland standing next to me who thought it adorable {their words} that i was memorizing lines between sets and who, quite magically, ended up becoming concert friends #12 & #13 {more further down}. i had come feeling a bit anti-social and had a book to stick my nose into to boot, so it was a little bit of a double dog dare to the universe to see if anyone would breach my thick walls. evidently the universe had an ace up its sleeve, or perhaps more accurately, two.

but let me tell you about the music. if i can.

it....yes. full. ache. reverberating chest. bass. quake. melting heart. hope slipping in a little too. hand to face. hide. retreat. sound. dissonance. harmony. beth's tiny body, so quiet and understated yet filling us all with her massive voice--harsh at times, but just as easily ready to split open and bleed for us in the next moment. my hand over my own heart for most of the show pressing into the lines of my upper ribcage, holding in the beating because it. was almost. too much. to feel.

and above and beyond it all, the sweeping sensuality of their sound--so beautiful and raw that sexy seems like a childish term for the incredible force of human nature their music brings forward. and part of me, submerged in the delicious chaos of their music, couldn't help but marvel at the apparent contradiction between the mechanical, inhuman and almost overwhelming cacophony and the deep, primal life it evokes. maybe it's because their dissonance is laced with just that perfect amount of heart-wrenching melody, allowing the other worldliness of it all to be grounded in the heart, spirit and body. and as much as i've loved it all these years, their music still surprised me as it arose from the deepest pit of the earth, sliped into my body from my feet, and took up a bold residence in my gut spreading softly through me, pressing its way into my pulse and the swaying dance of my hips. it was inescapable. i could not stand still.

except for wandering star--that was the opposite. i couldn't listen quietly enough to absorb every last sound she made: from the opening notes when i barely knew what was about to hit me to the searing tremble of her voice at the end. it's hard to pick a favorite in a night that included sour times, the rip, glory box, machine gun, & cowboys {just to name a few}, but wandering star just might have come close.

as we cheered our way to the encore, i did something i regretted not asking of my last few concert friends. i leaned over to my new friends jack and alex and shouted: can we go for drinks? we have to go for drinks!

and so we rode the post-concert buzz together, meandering to ballard market, hanging out at golden gardens with cilantro/lemon dip & marzipan chocolate, trekking up to kerry park to overlook the city and just generally reveling in the lovely connections we shared. we exchanged snail mail addresses {hello fellow postcard senders!} and i sent them along their way with some burned cds i had in my car to sweeten their drive home to portland the following day: bon iver, florence & the machine, and a mix of thom yorke/radiohead songs with at least one critical song they had never heard before: all for the best.

i got home at nearly 2am. it was a very good night.

--------------

silence

hunter

nylon smile

mysterons

the rip

sour times

magic door

wandering star

machine gun

over

glory box

chase the tear

cowboys

threads

roads

we carry on

proof

2011-10-20T21:47:00.000-07:00

i know i've been a little close-mouthed about the play i've been rehearsing for and not because it doesn't mean a whole lot to me to finally be making theater after wanting to act since i was in kindergarten. but in addition to being the lead, i also wanted to learn how independent theater was made, so i'm co-producing with our awesome director. it's been an overwhelming learning experience {we've started our own non-profit}, a lot of fun, just the right amount of challenges and inevitably exhausting.

but this is the real tricky part. in a time when even our well established regional theaters are ending seasons early and struggling to make ends meet, funding is scarce and less work is being made, which makes projects like ours even more ambitious and more needed. so this is where you all come in. i don't ask much of anything from you, the readers of my blog, but if you have a dollar or 5 or 53 {notice the amounts are all prime numbers? heh....yes, we've found our inner math geeks in the process of making this play}, we could really use your help. consider donating to our kickstarter campaign running here or even just spreading the word to people that might.

on behalf of blank stage theater, thanks.

nathania, producer, actor, and jack of all trades kind of gal.

the heckler

2011-10-20T00:45:00.001-07:00

it started about an hour or two before tonight's rehearsal. a black cloud swept in and perched on my shoulder. eat this. don't eat that. wear this. you can't wear that. petty little comments in a petty little voice.

then about twenty minutes into rehearsal this woman with frizzy hair and weird eyes shuffles in from the meeting happening elsewhere in the gorgeous school where we rehearse in madison valley.

actor: excuse me, we're rehearsing here.

the crazy: mumble mumble...carry on...i'll just sit here.

she sits firmly.

awkward pause.

actor {who is the reason we scored such a great space}: well, we can't really kick her out...

director: alright everybody, take a deep breath, focus and let's continue.

but the sighs from the corner became more frequent, more audible, until finally she got up and started shuffling over for a better view.

actor: excuse me, you're going to have to leave.

the crazy {indicating me}: she's really dry. very dry.

me {with a fair bit of sass--ready to go to battle out of nowhere--guess catherine is sinking in somewhere}: excuse me!?!

actor: don't listen to her. excuse me, that's out of line, leave now.

the crazy: she's soulless, totally soulless and dry. and old and soulless and ugly. {being forced out} i hope you're not acting here. this is terrible.

actor {coming over with a gentle arm on the back}: don't mind her, you're doing great. you're beautiful. don't listen to her. don't listen to her.*

from the exterior, the irony of the old comment at least is that i'm a good 7-10 years younger than anyone else in that room. but from the hidden folds of my spirit, that voice i have been trying not to listen to this entire production uses those exact words. targets those exact sore spots. i can't imagine being reflected back a more accurate image of some of my deepest darkest fears about acting.

how did she know? how could she possibly know?

and why, of all the people to be a prophet to, did she have to pick me?

*sadly, the exchange was really more drawn out than written here--it stretched on for a couple of minutes though it felt like even longer. i just sat at the table and tried not to listen.

pry it open

2011-10-18T09:36:00.001-07:00

starting now.

7 miles + sunshine + fall = bliss

2011-10-17T23:49:00.000-07:00

i had the best fall run today. the weather, a dear friend, showing up to meet me at the front door. that clean edge to the air that is just warm enough to encourage me down to a tank top and just cool enough to not let me forget its gifts: a sly sweep across my shoulders, tracing the sharp lines of my scapula, slipping down along the groove of my spine and touching me where you cannot.

optimist

2011-10-16T18:13:00.000-07:00

despite the grey skies, or maybe because of them, today was an optimist* day. i had the song on repeat in my car and evidently the reinforcement paid off because the day ended much differently that in began:

*not to be confused with optimistic by radiohead.

blood bank

2011-10-16T01:25:00.000-07:00

i find it a strange quirk of the universe that i will have a song in my collection for months or years and never really listen to the lyrics until the moment they are relavent to my life. perhaps i've been listening all along and i merely note the moment my unconscious mind tells my conscious mind to perk up and listen, but either way, i heard this song in a whole new way today and found my story mirrored a bit including a few eerie details.

i'm navigating some tricky territory at the moment in my personal life, but in a way that constantly affirms that i am in the right place, with the right people, as uncomfortable and imperfect and slightly painful as everything is. running parallel to the journey i'm making giving up control in my home space, this has been an opportunity for me to rescind control in other facets of my life. i can't fix things, people, relationships, i can merely be present, honest and true to the best of my ability.

today the weight of things sank in a little but bon iver was there to sing me through to the other side, giving parts of my own story back to me in a package i can hum along with.

blood bank - bon iver

Well I met you at the blood bank
We were looking at the bags
Wondering if any of the colors
Matched any of the names we knew on the tags

You said see look it that's yours
Stacked on top with your brothers
See how they resemble one anothers?
Even in their plastic little covers

And I said I know it well

That secret that you know
That you don't know how to tell it fucks with your honor
And it teases your head
But you know that its good girl
Cause its running you with red.

Then the snow started falling
We were stuck out in your car
You were rubbing both my hands
Chewing on a candy bar you said
ain't this just like the present
To be showing up like this
There's a moon waning crescent
we started to kiss

And I said I know it well

That secret that we know
That we don't know how to tell
I'm in love with your honor
I'm in love with your cheeks
what's that noise up the stairs baby
Is that Christmas morning creaks

And I know it well and i know it well

phase 2 of nomadacy {nights 91 and onward}

2011-10-15T21:01:00.000-07:00

night 91 and onward

last night i moved from my second stay at phinney ridge* and back to my friends' place south of the zoo. this is my layover point {unless plans change} for the next two and a half months. my fall and early winter camp of sorts.

i have fears about this next stretch of time but i keep on going back to the logic of the decision which comes in three parts: 1. i want to travel internationally while i'm not paying rent and that can't happen until january. 2. with the play, work and hopefully sleep somewhere in there, i don't have time to find the perfect place. 3. even if the perfect place fell into my lap, i don't have time to settle in and unpack so why waste rent money for a space i couldn't really take ownership of?

but despite my mantra that this makes sense/this makes sense, i have mixed feelings about this next phase. somehow, somewhere in my brain the mere fact of being here longterm means i have to identify and take ownership of my space, how it looks and feels and suddenly i want things. i want my own comforter with the crisp white cover. i want my blender. i want my winter clothes i packed up thinking they'd be coming out of boxes sometime in the next few weeks {which, realistically i'll have to sort through and unearth}.

but this is not my furniture, these are not my things and my spirit doesn't sing back to me welcome when i step into the space. since the ownership that would naturally be a part of me living somewhere for an extended period of time still isn't possible even if i'm not moving from place to place, it forces me to confront that compulsion to nest on a whole new level. it never spoke as loud to me when i knew i was only staying somewhere for a night or a week. however, even though the volume is cranking, i am learning again i don't have to listen.

random thought: now that i think about it, today is exactly three months in. the last night at my apartment was july 15th and at this point i anticipate returning from my adventures around mid-january.

here we are. the mid-way point.

so far i've made two really good friends during this time. those kinds of friends you want to take home and show all your treasures of mind, body and spirit. and it still feels strange to me that neither of them have seen my jade plant that has a life of its own, neither have seen my paintings, my color coded books, the careful arrangements of shells and buttons. one of them, sadly, will be leaving to move to los angeles soon, so perhaps she never will, and the other, i hope, in whatever way they are able, will still be around this january to see the fullness of my spirit and space unfurl itself into whatever shell of a home i can find.

wait. one second. that's a good realization for me to make here, now, at this very moment as my fingers type this sentence: that my greatest strengths and greatest weaknesses are merely two sides of the same coin. i set out to do this because i need to locate the strength to find myself in the container of myself {and not in my home space which, at the end of the day, is merely a collection of superficial things given worth}. but simultaneously, because of that strength, i sometimes feel i can't contain the entirety of myself and that the things i collect around me help carry the vibrant burden of my being. they distribute and dilute it, but also, in their own way, multiply and contain it. i am filled with a reverence for the magic that happens in my home space, for the beauty and resonance that i cultivate and when i finally allow myself to return to that space, i already feel a greater sense of awareness and appreciation for that part of myself.

random thought: i just decided that during my travels i will splurge on something for my new apartment. an offering to these things that have waited so patiently in storage during my absence.

there was a 3 hour break here as my friend {a la tuesday night's car ride confessions} came over, delivered some soup, ate chocolate with me, admired my new lululemon pants, brought lambic we didn't need to consume because we went on a 2 hour walk in the crisp air down to fremont which included a spontaneous dance in the street to the music some folks were blasting in their car concert on the side of the road along the burke gilman trail. it was a good detour of the night. an in-person care package. during the field trip i also saw a massive jade tree {3 x 3 feet?} for $110 at the indoor sun shoppe. if i don't find something on my travels for my home, i'm buying that jade. perhaps even if i do.

so here i am, standing at the edge of the next precipice, feeling the journey i've taken stretch out into the next path of challenges and growth. and the lessons i have learned, about the links between mind/body/space, control/beauty/body, relationships/hope/control....they rest gently inside me tonight, even as i navigate some tender spots of home and hope and tender hearts and connection.

nights 81 to 90

as i was packing up and cleaning the phinney ridge house, the most incredible sunset was spreading out its colors just outside the back porch. it seemed a fitting close to phase 1.

*this was the house sitting gig that made being a nomad possible, so thank you, 7027 palatine ave for your generous growth opportunity.

~nomad nate, writing from sou-zoo, seattle.

not touching

2011-10-13T00:20:00.000-07:00

a dessert-sized portion of my life at the moment, delivered to you in the brilliant words of billy collins.

not touching

The valentine of desire is pasted over my heart

and still we are not touching, like things

in a poorly done still life

where the knife appears to be floating above the plate

which is itself hovering above the table somehow,

the entire arrangement of apple, pear, and wineglass

having forgotten the law of gravity,

refusing to be still,

as if the painter had caught them all

in a rare moment of slow flight

just before they drifted out of the room

through a window of perfectly realistic sunlight.

for no one

2011-10-12T01:39:00.000-07:00

between two storms. some of them happening simultaneously. what a glorious few days.

tonight i was mired in my own restlessness so i pointed my nose northward at 10pm to spend a few hours in the car with a dear friend. the only one i could call at that hour. the meandering process of car ride confessions to articulate what i already know: the marching orders are clear and i have everything i need. clarity, sweet clarity but enough with the phoenix already. how many times will i need to reduce myself to ashes?

maybe as long as it's taken me to put into practice a lesson i feel has only made itself know today: if you want to be with someone who will fight for you, you have to learn to fight for yourself first, even if it's just a peaceful protest. gentle hands for tender hearts.

for another

2011-10-10T00:02:00.001-07:00

the metal taste rushing to my mouth

lathing stories of surprise and hope

is no longer yours.

{for now at least}

though, for the record, it's more

than a little confusing to have you

reappear

even soft and fuzzy on the horizon

today of all days.

about today & yesterday

2011-10-03T11:17:00.000-07:00

this song came to me this past saturday* on my drive down to portland. and what felt noteworthy about those three hours in the car by myself was how comfortable i was to be in my own skin. how i felt the edges of who i was so clearly and truly liked who i found myself to be. i could see that i am a bolder person than i often give myself credit for and far more confident than i allow myself to be.

but then there is this song. four minutes and eleven seconds that so acutely sings the truth of how some of the most potential-filled connections of my life slipped away. and i know i have to take responsibility for it. i know that i have, on some level, attracted people unable to step up and simply speak their truth, choosing instead to just fade away into nothing while offering me the golden but painful opportunity to face the dark void they leave behind.

but now i find a bolder voice, a far more joyful sense of being here, being me, being right where i want to be and i simply want about today to be something that is only about my yesterdays. and i think the important thing for me to remember here, is that while i can't control in what manner the next person comes and goes from my life, what i have put into practice is taking responsibility for how i keep ahold of myself. in the past year i have had the opportunity to test my footing and found myself capable of maintaining the understanding, no matter if the worst {or best} case scenario becomes true, that i am here and whole and nothing they do can add to or take away from that.

about today -- the national

today you were far away
and i didn't ask you why
what could i say
i was far away
you just walked away
and i just watched you
what could i say

how close am i to losing you

tonight you just close your eyes
and i just watch you
slip away

how close am i to losing you

hey, are you awake
yeah i'm right here
well can i ask you about today

how close am i to losing you
how close am i to losing

*most recently, yes, cuz, i haven't forgotten you tried to spoon feed me the national first.

nights 77 to 79

2011-10-03T07:46:00.000-07:00

back to portland for a night, you might remember this apartment with a spunky cat named handy and his absolutely fantastic owners. i wish they lived closer. watching reid and kat banter and dance around each other warms me all the way down to my tippy toes.

morning brunch with jamie {at the tin shed where they didn't bat an eyelash at my dairy-gluten free diet}. this is another person i could never possibly get enough time with. check in about the creative process as an actor. so precious to be reflected back that i haven't just been wasting my time and failure isn't inevitable.

nights 79 & 79 are spent in sunriver, oregon, right outside of bend. these are probably the poshest accommodations i'll be staying at this whole time. fireplace, golf course view, running paths to make my legs cry {in a good way} and a roommate i adore spending time with. the three hour car trip was broken up by whole foods excursions, life updates and good music mixes {thanks, #10!}. damage control of misprinted brochures was handled with the help of bridesmaids in the background and enough empathy-humiliation to last me a while. ouch. that film didn't pull the punches.

while i feel everyday life these days is like traveling in my own town, getting away from it all still feels like a treat and makes me strip down to the absolute necessities {toiletries, running shoes, good music, a few clothes}. the extreme weightlessness feels good.

afternoon massage, night run, a long drive home tomorrow then proof. dear god. we are here already. rehearsals begin tuesday. more on that later.

nomad nate, writing from sunriver, oregon.

6:30am

2011-10-02T08:02:00.000-07:00

as always seems to happen when life is about to pick me up and squeeze me in a bear hug of change, 6:30am has been greeting me each day with surprising regularity and an unfortunate amount of enthusiasm. a typical element of any big transition is burning a bit brighter, bolder and longer (as in burning the 2am oil) so an early morning wakeup call feels more than a little frustrating. can't i review my life sometime between 2 and 4 pm??!?!
but as inconvenient as the timing feels, if my mind asks, my body delivers, and they both find in the hours between 6:30 and when i actually need to get up a sweet silence that lets me hear the questions/memories/desires running through my head all that much clearer.
and as dark o'clock turns to dawn o'clock i watch the parts of the room around me distinguish itself from the night as a fitting metaphor for the process happening inside my head.

nomadacy extended

2011-09-30T00:52:00.000-07:00

the original plans starting shifting during wedding camp when my friend, sallie, who is about to enter her own nomadic period, casually said i want to travel internationally while i'm not paying rent and a lightbulb went off in my head. of course! i should take that three week trip overseas i am years overdue taking! but i'm committed to seattle through the first week of december when proof closes, then a little longer as i finish up the madness of the holiday family photo shoot season and then a week or two beyond as we arrive at christmas {and currently plan to fly my parents to the states for the holiday}. so, it looks like the last week of december sees me flying east to europe. new year's eve in paris with my friend of a decade, karina, some time in vienna with my sister, a little jaunt through the netherlands with my father {new idea: dad, you up for it?!?!} and then at least a week navigating on my own in a country where i don't speak the language.

and as exciting and right as that the decision feels, it means the nomadic three and a half months will become a nomadic half a year which is terrifying. all my beautifully lined up places to stay finish at about mid-october {in two weeks!} and while i won't be out on the street, i have reservations about the plans that are scraping themselves together post-mid october. i'm weighted down by logistics: i'll have to move my things. i need to rustle through my clothes to find all those warmer articles i packed thinking they'd be let out again before winter. not to mention questions like: if i am paying for storage for both my things and a small to mid range rent, why i am not just paying for a real space {even if i don't have time to find and settle into that new place starting next week when rehearsals start}?

it feels good to stand at the edge of carefully laid plans looking out at the hazily shaping future and know it's okay and this is just the next level of the double dog dare i made to myself to challenge my sense of control. challenge my death-grip on safety and organization and plans. and it was really sweet to hear the reassurances from a new friend last night {see bon iver entry below} that i should keep going. someone who's heard, in that meandering and tangential way of mine, about 14 half-stories about my life over a seven hour car ride, and yet can already reflect back to me that the challenges i'm asking myself to face next are right where i should be. and as scared as i am, i agree. i handled really well {for the most part} a life without a home, but organized and planned out neatly from a to b to c. but what about when the plans fall apart or worse, don't exist? what about when they aren't perfect? i am still waiting for a kismet introduced housesitting gig to present itself, but in the meantime i forge onward, step by uncertain step.

as i close the 29th year of my life and move into the last year of my 20s, i boldly step into a month of uncertainty and challenges: rehearsals for a play i have so much invested in, a new grip on my life i suddenly find myself in where i'm feeling and acting a bit more boldly and therefore vulnerably, and then a span of 2 1/2 months of unplanned nomadacy {the "madness" element to that word seems to stand out a bit extra at the moment}.

and as i gear up for that, i want to take a second to look back at where i have been for the past month.

night 59 was spent once more at my sister's house. it was my mother's last night in the country. a quick two and a half months that went by in a whirl of my move and then baby time. we stil managed to spend a good amount of time around practical tasks {like cataloguing all 1101 books for me in a database before i packed them up} as well as roadtrips {eugene & portland}, emotional break downs {most notably the night i put all my stuff into storage and couldn't help asking what the hell have i done?}, good movies {tree of life and the final harry potter installment} and lots of little moments over the phone, conversing from within the same continent and time zone even. what a gift to have her close for so long. you can see her asleep already on the bed we would share whenever i stayed over at my sister's {occasionally with a new niece/grandbaby}. the next morning i made my fantastic french toast breakfast for everyone and gave myself the second {perhaps???} wheat-induced belly ache i've ever received. bummer.

nights 63 to 77 have been spent here in what is the longest unbroken time since i started. two weeks in the same place straight. tonight is my last night here, tomorrow i head to oregon for a few days and then when i come back i am in my second stretch up on phinney ridge.

as i unpacked this time i carefully evaluated each thing i carried and sent a box of extraneous baggage back into storage. no, i really don't need to wear that shirt for the next 2 months, certainly won't need my sandals or my holga {whoops, just made plans to go shoot with it} and it felt good to lighten my load a bit. i carry too much stuff. holding tightly to myself my belongings as though somehow they can ground me.

silly, nathania, they are just things. feel the edges of your true home. ground yourself in that quiet space you seek when you go running, the one that often peeks out from behind your inner monologue in yoga classes, and that speaks to you calmly, without judgement as you paint...the part of you still buzzing from an amazing concert on monday. there you are home and always will be.

currently listening to this version of beth/rest by bon iver. the jump at 1:22 as he says "pry it open with your love" gets me every time.

bon iver

2011-09-27T01:06:00.000-07:00

my consolation prize for not getting to see thom yorke this week. and not a shabby one at that: justin vernon of bon iver and another falsetto to fall in love with, another concert friend to add to my numbers* and a show of such glory glory glory.

holcene was unreal, my eyebrows pursed, barely holding back tears {"i am not magnificent!"}, re:stacks everything i could have wanted and more, and the final act, wolves part 1, was out of this world. he invited us all to sing along with the simple instructions: "you'll get the lyrics right away so just keep repeating them, gradually getting louder." the swell of sound was massive--you could barely hear anything any more--but rather than being drowned out by noise, we were swept along through the melody holding on by our fingernails to words we were singing but could no longer distinguish. we were the music.

what might have been lost.

what might have been lost.

the typical post-concert crash always breaks my heart. i don't want it to end. let's hit rewind. repeat. pretty please? the three of us, my newer and newest friend and i, all considered going to portland or vancouver if bon iver was playing there the next night, but sadly, this was the last show of the north american tour. the rustle of feet outside the venue. the exchange of numbers because this looks like a friend to hold on to. fighting the impulse to stay up later than i should, all go out for drinks, something, anything to keep the night going. not let it end. instead, it was a simple goodbye. me, still on some level, puzzled by a post-concert hug from a year and a half ago {did i not tell you about it? i probably should. that night makes for a good story}, resisted the impulse to hug our new friend goodbye. a rare decision to be safer.

what might have been lost. luckily, in this case, nothing, cause we get to hang out again soon. yippee.

this makes #10 in my list of concert friends.

*can't quite count him in the radiohead numbers though i guess he could be a preemptive radiohead friend since they just announced their tour...

13.1

2011-09-25T21:41:00.000-07:00

i ran my first half-marathon today. this was an achievement for me since not only have i stated on several occasions that i would never be crazy enough to run for 2 hours, but who, on january first, would have laughed hysterically if i had been told i would even be running 7 miles regularly by the middle of february and a half marathon by the end of the year.

but life can change direction quickly and it did for me on january 9th and the bumps in the road i navigated for a week or two begged some form of outlet. so i put on my old running shoes and went out in the cold january nights, with not enough visibility gear and certainly not the right materials to run in. and to my surprise, not only could i run 5, 6, 7.5+ miles, but i enjoyed it. couldn't wait to go on runs, would laugh like a giddy school girl when my muscles pumped out a few jogging steps in ballet flats or flip-flops rushing between store and car, car and home. and the first few blocks of an actual run would find me just as joyful.

i loved to run. quite the novelty.

but then march hit with a bang and an injury. 10 minutes on the floor, sobbing, unable to get up, a few days in bed barely able to make it to the toilet to pee or get up from it again after i was done. thankfully {surprisingly}, my body bounced back and took only a week and a half out from running followed by a month of cautious runs, carefully monitoring the body i had neglected in my enthusiasm. the half marathon i was sure i would run in may became perhaps july in the chiropractor's words. july turned to august and with a rigorous work, rehearsal & producer schedule on the horizon, september became the last opportunity i would get to run a half marathon this year.

i closed my eyes, stretched my arm out and pointed at random: black diamond half marathon. here we go.

i had a month to train but had been logging fairly consistent 6-8 mile runs and my goals were modest: run the whole way, don't stop, cross the finish line. if i beat my sister's time of 2:04 yippe-ki-ay! but i knew that would be asking a lot. i am a pretty slow runner on a regular basis--the greenlake regulars pass me all the time and i pretend not to care, but i have to tell myself maybe they are only running three miles to make it okay in my head to just chug away one step at a time.

but then this morning arrives and i spent much of it wondering what the heck i had signed up for. after a late night party celebrating freehold's 20th anniversary and a 3am wake-up-can't-get-back-to-sleep-till-4am (thanks, wind) i was pretty tired and a little nervous. not nervous about whether or not i would finish, i knew i would, more because of the visible and exposed nature of the race. why did i feel the need to drag myself out of bed at 6:30 am and drive an hour out to a state park and run like a lemming around a 13.1 mile course and have a time publicly logged? why not just set out 13 miles around my neighborhood and call it a day. cheaper too and who needs a poorly designed shirt? but the excitement was contagious, gradually working it's way into my system and i realized it felt nice to feel a part of something.

and then we were off.

i started modest at the pace i typically run on my own. slow and steady. easy does it. but then it felt too slow. i had more in me, so we went from a 9:30 pace to a 9:05. then the 9:05 became an 8:55 and then an 8:40 and 8:20 at times. i kept pushing a little faster and my brother kept mocking my promises of an easy 10:30 pace that surely he could keep up with despite not training for 2 months {he's been cycling significant distances--very different muscles}.

first it was the tattoo-armed girl that was just that little extra ways in front of us. then the green shirt. then the grey shirted girl we learned is named jessica. one by one i set out to overtake someone and we did and without too much effort. at the halfway point, we were clocking in 5 minutes under an hour and that was without even trying and a slow first mile, mile and a half to boot. it was weird how easy it was. i mean, for a good part of the first half we were joking around between the two of us probably annoying half the folks around us who were heads down and serious, but we were having fun. i did worry that somewhere around mile 9 i'd tank out and all the people i had so boldly passed would then overtake me, but i couldn't hold back. it just felt right to go at the pace we were.

around mile 8, i left ross behind. he was having a hard race, his stomach a ball of acid and his body protesting the lack of practice runs as well as a lack of proper recovery from last week's 600 mile bike ride. so suddenly i was on my own and that was when the race really started for me. now it was just me forging ahead, picking up speed as i could, passing first the man in the blue and orange who we had alternately passed and been overtaken by. he turned and smiled at me acknowledging the current move of our leap frog game. i smiled back, again worrying my body would fail me and i'd see the back of him once and for all before too long.

i never did. i kept going as miles 9 and 10 started asking my body to work a little. but it did and still i kept passing the other runners. green shirt. red shirt. pink shirt. crazy shorts girl we talked to at the starting line who has run several halfs already and who was so far ahead earlier in the race. dark green shirt. one after the other after the other. then the little old lady who barely came up to my arm pit. she was my hero and that was near mile 11. a tough victory. i was to the point where i was thinking i could call it quits, take it easy and glide in probably sub 2 hours anyway. but something happened as i was rounding the corner into the park, the officials pointing the route we needed to take while throwing in an encouraging word. that's when i knew i wouldn't slow down, knew i could stride it out and knew i would do better than i thought i could hope to do on this first race.

and just as all this happened, the decisions made on a preverbal level and my body responding to the demands automatically, kicking it up a notch for those last miles, i slammed into a wall of grief. my chest squeezed up around my heart, tears started streaming down my face and i was overwhelmed by a great sadness. and while the rational part of my brain could monologue internally about the embarrassment i would feel if i broke down at the finish line or even somewhere in between, the rest of me was just running and running and running all the while softly cataloging the different dimensions of the feeling. it wasn't like in the past when a surge of grief overtook me as i did something i knew was taking me farther away from something i want {like sleeping with an ex i should have been long finished with}, no, this was more tied to the success i was about to achieve and how much i have gotten in the way of my own self historically. by achieving this seemingly impossible thing, i opened myself up to the truth of all the other million and one things i have told myself i couldn't have or do because they too felt impossible. and yet, here i am, able to do something just because i put my mind and body to it.

and perhaps part of it was grief for my poor mishandled body. this long and lean form i have criticized, prodded, picked at and blamed for so many things it was not responsible for or were simply untrue: my body is not beautiful enough to attract someone i am attracted to, she is not graceful enough, strong enough, a fit and athletic man would never want me {sadly a literal thought from the other day}, my skin is not good enough, even after losing a little weight i still have so much farther to go, it's craving weird foods, why does it want to each so much, why did she just say that, do that, eat that???

if my body were a separate being, she would not be friends with my mind. my mind is a bully, my body is the weak kid with lunch money, waiting to be pushed in the mud.

and yet, here she is, generous and loyal to the core and so wonderfully showing up and doing exactly what i asked and even more. and even while i was able to feel a rare moment of untarnished pride, and as much as i was grateful, i was also sad for her and the abuse she has suffered through. deeply sad.

and to get through to the other side, i did what any actor would do: rather than fight the emotion, bring the emotion to the fight, put it into the work, or in this case, the run. so i breathed it out, put it into the ground, put it into my legs, slowed the wheezing breath that hadn't strained all race until the grief came and seized control of my chest. and mile 11 became 12 and i was still passing folks, and 12 gave way to 13 and what became the only brutal mile of the race. it went on too long, had too many hills and was full of the uncertain footing that trail running brings. my pace slowed. i passed someone on a hill only to be passed at the crest {the only person to pass me the whole race}. tanked out a bit until i felt someone coming up from behind. she never got too close but the threat was enough to light a fire under my bum to make it through to the end. finish line. photo. yippee. relief.

kind of surreal. more than a little exhausted. excitement in seeing racecourse friends catch up and finish: the red shirted man from mile 11 {just after little old lady} who gave me a high 5 as he walked passed asking if we broke 2 hours, crazy shorts girl, jessica, ross. the green shirted woman from several minutes behind who clocked herself in at 1:55. yes, success.

and now i am home with achey hips. taking an easy afternoon. stretching. bath time. compulsively checking for the results so i can figure out my time. resting in a clear victory of myself which is rare for me. i like to put caveats on things, lessen them a bit, but today i felt the deep consequences of that mindset and i'll try to change so that next time, there won't be such a battle. just me and my body, working hand in hand effortlessly letting success come in response to the simple elegance of making a decision and the athletic grace of putting your heart and muscle into something.

homeward bound

2011-09-23T23:34:00.000-07:00

a preface to this piece. in august i took a solo performance intensive with the amazing marya sea kaminski who is one of my real life heroes. the class itself deserves its own entry, about how i hit up against failure, how it paralyzed me, how, once i pushed through to the end {blocking myself all along the way} and then let down my guard, ideas flew at me left and right that i could not manifest to save my self or show a mere week or two before.

despite the discomfort, it was a success. i wanted to learn more about constructing solo work, have tools to store in my back pocket {check}. i wanted to generate writing and start to sculpt thoughts around a show/idea/theme {check--see below}. i wanted to get my creative and performance juices flowing as i start ramping up for rehearsals of proof later this fall {check--and had a great moment of reminder about how vulnerable it can get on stage}.

nowhere in my goals starting out did i set out to make and complete a perfect piece, but somehow i tripped myself up trying to do so. but before failure snuck out of its locked box and tripped me up, i had a pretty awesome experience working through what anne lamont calls the shitty first draft. the below is version 1.8 of the shitty first draft of free writing and pretty much a piece on its own. it marks this amazing opportunity that is currently on hold while i put together a production this fall as well as {significantly} explore the theme of home and what it means to me now as an adult by living the life of a nomad. my current life is a lovely companion piece to the below. love how life works that way.

...................................................................................................

a week ago, a facebook friend messaged me late at night. and when i say friend, i mean he’s more of an acquaintance, the older brother of a classmate in college. a good guy, really, but no one i’ve ever spilled my guts to or gone out of my way to spend time with. no, more just someone i’ll laugh with when i travel to see his sister, a passing friend who’s “sunset a day” photo series i’ve been admiring from afar all year via said facebook.

we all have these kinds of friends, collecting them in mass quantities, shuffling through their updates about what boring thing they ate, what boring thing their dog or baby or friend’s friend did, whining about how boring it is yet doing it compulsively all the same. it’s inane, i know, but the only reason i subscribe to this use of technology is because of photographic works like this "friend", andrew, has been displaying all year, but even more so for the magical moments of connection like the one i’m going to tell you about. it was the kind of magic where a simple late night question “are you back in seattle yet?” lead, in less than 5 minutes, through a series of the twists and turns of meandering late night conversation, to the confession of a driving desire on my part to go down to alabama to create a piece about memory, family history, time and place.

and then, the critical moment happened when this man, this person i can count on one hand how many times i’ve hung out with, offers to come and document the project. and then, when i ask if he’ll help me make the short film i didn’t really realize i had been trying to figure out to make until just that moment, he even manages to get excited about it even more. giddy. the two of us typing away enthusiastically into the wee hours of the morning, andrew completely unaware of the emotional breakdown i had earlier that evening watching the last harry potter movie {sappy but true}, seeing the entire magical community mobilize behind one person, tears streaming down my face realizing that i want that experience of people believing in me so much they would die for me, then simultaneously realizing in the flash of an epiphany that i crave that belief from others because, dammit, I don’t believe in myself! and then fastforward back to the present moment, me at a keyboard, a mere hour or two later, being given the gift of this one person’s belief and commitment and oh-my-gosh-i-don’t-think-i-can-sleep kind of excitement in me and my project and my vision.

after waiting 18 years to return to my childhood home and 6 years to make a piece of artwork about it, everything is happening and happening with the ease that synchronicity brings {that’s not going to be a problem, nathania, i have all the equipment i need sitting 5 feet from my body}.

so here i stand, suddenly at the precipice, looking forward to this place i have been looking back to for so long. and let me tell you, it’s a scary precipice. because all that longing, all that patina of loving polish and care i have added to all the memories i have maintained over the years, all those things i cared for and have contemplated for many years that may no longer exist, or even worse, exist still but so changed as to feel defiled--all those things might be taken away, violated or not as i recall them to be.

and as the time and space between me and bayou la batre, alabama compresses, gets smaller, the anticipation is often overwhelming and i feel the pressure building, the hope and memory and excitement and inevitable disappointment already converging until all i can do is breathe. breathe. breathe.

breathe space and air and light and life into the memories i do have, take them out and look at them one by one before having them irrevocably changed by the reality of what these places look like now. because 18 years in geographic time has passed, where a town was built up by the tourism surrounding the placement of bubba gump shrimp company smack dab in the center of town {even though it wasn't actually filmed there}, bringing interest and wealth to a town that probably deserved neither, to the violence of katrina who ravaged more than just new orleans, and especially to the uncontrollable yet gentler forces of time and change.

and on top of all that there is 18 years of personal time, of me growing up, becoming an adult, seeing and feeling the world from 3 feet taller and decades older all the while hording the memories i had of this sleepy little town in the south that inhabited me more than i inhabited it as a 3^rd culture kid, never speaking the southern language of mooobeal {mobile} and the bi-youuu {bayou}, never eating the southern diet of everything fried in two inches of bacon fat and never really understanding the southern mentality of “traveling a ways” meaning going to the next zipcode.

but the south, it has always lived in me in ways i can’t fully understand even as an adult. maybe because it was the most reliable way of feeling beauty and connection from within a family with three older siblings who would really rather not have anything to do with their littlest sister, a mother too spaced out to mediate and a father too imbalanced, fighting the world, fighting his wife, fighting his children and most of all fighting himself, where i was perpetually submerged in that feeling of loneliness that was more of a chronic disease than a passing emotion. the kind of loneliness that comes from feeling so small and separate in such a big world. a feeling i find kind of ironic since as an adult woman i can’t seem to get over how big I am.

so where could i turn to but the south? the spanish moss laden trees passing by outside the open window of our car, the yellow wash of light soaking the faded fabric of our living room, the louvers of the windows that we would hastily close each night the bug sprayers would sweep through the area, the pungent yet sweet and horribly toxic smell they would leave behind that i would drink in to saturate my vivid childhood senses. the jeweled crimson of magnolia seeds. the gentle chime of the draw bridge being brought back up that i would strain to catch the first sign of each time--these images sink deeper into the spirit than i fully know how to go, pumped with life by the thready pulse of my memory that so lovingly crafts the experience each time i draw them up and back into me. and it worries me that i have instilled in myself a confidence in my memory, not for the methodic memorization of numbers and words, though i’m not all too shabby at that, but for that visual and sense memory, of knowing a place i have been to only once and years ago at that.

what if i go now and it is not how i remembered it not because it’s changed, but because my memory failed?

so i ask myself now: how do i let go of what i know or think i know? how do i come to this place open hearted and free? because whether or not i want to, i come burdened with an abundance of nostalgia. but not the sweet kind of nostalgia, cloying and untrue, no, this is not the saccharine variety but rather the sacrificial. the kind of nostalgia that churns up dark waters, where everything that has been lost or taken or forgotten washes up in its wake to be burned as an offering for all that is to come. because as much as i go down there for the past, for what was and what has been, to honor and name it, present it in vivid colors, i am here to discover what it holds for the future, to see how it lives on in my life as it is happening right now and how that will all grace what is to come.

wedding camp {nights 49 & 50}

2011-09-22T00:49:00.000-07:00

i am long overdue to tell you about my labor day weekend that was spent at wedding camp. it was a wedding & summer camp mash up and should not be confused with a camp about getting married.

even before i got to camp way out in the middle of nowhere eastern washington, it was a magical experience starting with my carpool buddy and new bff {that's "best friend forever," mom}. my new friend sallie & i had the most wonderful conversation and good-food-filled drive out to the camp. bosom friends before we met {shared blog stalking in common, we both knew we'd hit it off before we met}, we spanned topics of dreams and art and relationships and connections and skin and synchronicity and good movies never once getting around to turning on music because there was no space for anything beyond the rapid fire of inspired conversation. it was the perfect three hour drive ending with a welcoming campfire, super-sized marshmallows and s'mores to rock your world {i am an excellent marshmallow roaster}.

already my expectations of only finding delightful and engaging people in attendance were met as random interactions with other guests around the fire spread out into conversations that meandered under a star-filled sky. my spirit was filled with the 12 year old magic and delight of being at camp, meeting new people and getting a rare span of time to just delight in the world around me and the wonderful event we were all gathering around: the marriage of two incredible spirits.

and so nights 49 & 50 of my nomadic adventures was spent in the only place one wants to sleep at camp, wedding or otherwise: on the top bunk of the cabin beds, catty corner to my new bff.

saturday blossomed with stunning skies shining down on my long run. of course i met with some funny looks from the other camping folks in eastern washington who don't understand that a vacation morning can have anything but bacon and campfire in it, but i did meet a fellow wedding camper out running on the trails and again, was not disappointed in finding a kindred spirit in all the participants of the community of the bride and groom. we even, after a bit of running-geek chatter, agreed to run a 10k later this fall together. another bff in the making perhaps {particularly once i got home, friended her on facebook and realized the boyfriend she mentioned is none other than an old friend from my highschool rowing days and a friendship that was always deeper than either of us could really fathom given how little time we've spent in each other's company--another story entirely}.

breakfast was the first of the community meals. dining hall style yet the food was homey and delicious and the ebb and flow of diners allowing for more conversations, more connections, more delight in this amazing assembly of wonderful people all coming together as a many-limbed entity supporting and celebrating the union of this couple. i lingered for a while, met new folks, realized i knew others from before and looked forward to a day of zip line, swimming and sunshine at camp. oh, to be 12 again for a day. what a gift.

and then there was the wedding waiting for us.

i am to a point in my life, a little restless in my single-hood at times, but susceptible to this deep, vulnerable joy laced with a dash of heartache at weddings. even ones where i am not at all connected to the couple--like weddings i photograph where perhaps i just met the bride and groom hours before--they dig deep into this longing i have to connect with someone and build together a future for ourselves, for a family, for a life joined yet interdependent. in the case of tara and nathanael i was lucky enough to see it unfold between them step by step. through weekly updates before or after singing lessons with tara, i got to watch them go from two friends joining me for an incredible viewing of hamlet, to those early moments of is there something more here? to the couple that they are now, devoted to each other and a relationship extending beyond the boundaries of each individual spirit.

what a gift of hope to me, of knowing that life can surprise you, that someone incredible might be just around the corner, and that it doesn't have to be a struggle, it doesn't have to be complicated, that sometimes, two people just know and are free and confident to act on that knowingness. this couple is a perfect example of that, and watching the wedding, so carefully crafted from the typewriter written quotes on beautiful paper strewn about the camp, to the handmade wooden arch nathanael put together, to the song john van deusen from the lonely forest sang as tara walked down the aisle: it was all a perfect reflection of the couple. and i think the thing that meant the most to me, and, in fact, mirrored a desire i have for my own hypothetical wedding to some hypothetical man out there: to have a wedding that is not merely an evening's event where people come together and disperse without the ability to truly connect, but rather is a time and space set aside where the families get to bond, where people get to see the bride and groom for more than the passing moments in the receiving line, and where {and this is something i realized at their wedding} the community is able to bond within itself creating this tightly knit circle that both celebrates and supports the union.

i felt a part of something here. a part of the community blessing tara and nathanael in a way i can't fully describe even now, after two weeks of thinking back to the event. despite how few people i knew before hand {and i actually knew more than i anticipated including the nurse at work that introduced me to the cleanse that that changed my body and life this summer}, i felt a part of something bigger stretching out its arms and embracing these two incredible spirits giving them our blessings and promising support during the journey ahead.

it was a beautiful wedding.

the dancing went till late, the dj a heap of fun {he sports two tattoos that remind me beautiful and compelling tattoos do exist}, and the 9/10 year old on the dance floor knew more about michael jackson than i ever have or probably ever will {i humbly put in a request to have kids as cool as her when i choose to bring my own into the world}. the night ended in a sparkler dance and a quiet walk back to the cabin with much looking up at the full sky of stars.

the second morning around the breakfast table i was able to make final connections of bigger significance. an old mentor of mine was there and we got to sit for a while, interrupted at times by the spit ups of his foster child {who, in a weird twist of fate, i photographed at the hospital about the time they received the call that a child was waiting for them}. it was an unexpected gift of the weekend: reconnecting with someone with whom i hold a great amount of tenderness for how he so carefully guided me to a place of strength and courage i would not have found so quickly on my own. and in particular, the project i'll be completing next spring down in alabama {more details pending} was one he was helping me work towards at the time of our mentoring work, and now, years later, emerges as a fast reality. and, in turn, i got to hear his story, see the joy emanating from him in the dance with his new, and perhaps temporary daughter, and the depth to which he loves and understands her. the playfulness her presence highlighted in him was magnificent in a way my 2am brain cannot articulate beyond the fact that it was a perfect closing connection to the weekend.

while i met a lot of wonderful folks during the weekend {kerry, ginger, renie, kris, john, etc, etc}, the last one i have energy here to note is a woman i met in passing several months back at the bride's house. she's the wife of a mutual friend and is a graceful 5' 11" tall, elegant, curvaceous to just the perfect amount, confident, lovely and an inch or two taller than her husband. it was something to witness in myself open admiration for her that is at such odds with the way i view my own body, particularly in relationship with men that are shorter than me. i hack myself to pieces with my internal monologue, shaving off whole limbs, leaving bloody messes left and right across my figure and yet here stands before me, a woman not too different from me and somehow worthy of admiration when i find myself so lacking. we had several conversations about it throughout the weekend ending in mutual confessions after returning home about how we both suffer from lingering negative self talk surrounding our height and the disparity between how we view ourselves and how we view each other as tall women. the gift of our exchange has been the tangible experience i have of her, her height and my grace towards both and now i am actively seeking to internalize this other perspective and reflect it back to myself, gift it to my self-perception.

here, take this lovely image of what it actually looks like to be a tall, lean-limbed woman and remember that you are not that different from her.

what a glorious weekend.

an impromptu photo shoot when i fell in love with the wood siding of the cabin as we walked past. wait, sallie, go stand over there....okay, now take a few photos of me. sallie is pretty mean with a camera too, evidently.

did i mention the photo booth? heck, yeah!

the drive home was magnificent. sunny eastern washington.

welcome, indian summer.

an old friend

2011-09-19T17:45:00.000-07:00

i have been here before...

2011-09-16T22:51:00.001-07:00

and i said "yes" then as well.
will they say "yes" back?

nights 41 to 62

2011-09-05T23:24:00.001-07:00

i am halfway through my first longer stint of house sitting. it was this three week block of time spent in one place that was the impetus for even considering this nomadic period. and during the first month as a nomad i looked forward to coming to this lovely, adult {read mature} house, perched on phinney ridge and having 3 floors, a grand piano and a well equipped kitchen to myself.

but the night of the migration hit and i found myself exhausted. worn. buried up over my head yet again by the amount of STUFF i have to tote around. overwhelmed by the transience of it all, the loneliness i feared in the empty house i was turning towards, leaving the comfort of two housemates who care so much about me. in the middle of packing up, one of the housemates came in to find me just sitting on the floor, staring into space, surrounded by piles of halfway organized things. it was the low point, my spirit sunked about 10 feet under my body, looking up at me with overly dramatic, pitiful eyes, asking why i had to move yet again, and at 9:30 at night to boot.

hugs were distributed and i found i could carry on my way again.

this burden of dragging feet and spirit is one i'm starting to anticipate, as well as, strangely, the feeling of uncertainty and fear each time i have to move. no matter how imperfect the current situation is, no matter how much i look forward to the next, i can rely on it like an alarm, the desperate clinging that begins right at packing time. and a surprising part of the mix is fighting a feeling of trepidation about whatever awaits me: housemates after having none, a house to myself after enjoying the comfort of housemates....the hypocrisy is as frustrating as it is ironic. and it's not like these are big and dramatic moves, not like that first push off to college, arriving alone in a new city and new life not knowing anyone, not like i have anything but safe and wonderful places to go.

it's humbling to feel my vulnerability each time and encouraging to move through it so quickly.

even though this was not an easy move, late at night, wedged in between a million other things happening, i was relieved to discover almost as soon as i pulled up to the house, opened the sticky basement door, schlepped my things upstairs and started the routine of claiming space and getting situated, the quiet of the new space hugged me as tightly as the good friends i just left.

the past week and a half has treated me well here. a blender i adore, a fridge all to myself filled with the marvelous things i have bought {actually, the first night here, after bringing my stuff up stairs, i went out and celebrated with a big trip to the grocery store to nurture my lonely spirit--good, clean food}. a bed like none other i have slept in. a grand piano with the sheet music for moonlight sonata that i plunk my way through measure by measure whenever i need a change of pace. an amazing flat screen tv and stereo system for watching movies while i edit my way through quite a few photo shoots.

thank you, palatine ave house. you've been great so far and we still have a week and a half more to go on this visit {the first of two house sitting gigs here this fall}.

nomad nate, writing from palatine avenue, phinney ridge, seattle, washington.

night 38 {water dreams}

2011-08-24T00:21:00.000-07:00

the dream i had last night won't leave me. lots of skin. water. the driving desire to connect--the expectation of disappointment. surprise. more desire. the gentle tilt of that pelvic triangle curling toward another. contact. connection but still chaste. sweet instead of sexy. not that it wasn't. it was. teasingly so.

i am lying now in an entirely different bed, and different city, rubbing my eyes like an exhausted child not sure what to do next. email sent. request made. but still overwhelmed by the intersection of what i want, what i can't seem to manifest, and how i can go about taking responsibility for the things i do to get in the way of myself. get in the way of what i want. it seems so close at times only to disappear just as quickly. more than once.

here we are again and i am tired of playing the fool card. tired of falling back on hope and mostly just plain old tired tonight.

dreams, please be quieter, restful, and if they must come with intensity, least let them tell me something i can do about the situation.

..........................................

last night where i had this dream was spent at my sister's. i have returned there three times. we dumped our life out on the bed, eyes bloodshot from 3 1/2 hours in the car, peering through the rain and holding on to the wheel much tighter than i needed to. tonight, i am back in my current bed, happy to be home again.

nomad nate, writing from sozoo {south of the zoo} neighborhood, seattle, washington.

night 37

2011-08-22T12:20:00.000-07:00

it's not a coincidence that i have traveled more and been more mobile since leaving my apartment. lacking a loyalty to a specific space, without the physical groundedness and obligation of chores and commitments, other cities and spaces are open to me and far more accessible.

last night, to get a little bit of far-away-friend time, i drove down to portland with my mom {who needed to see her own far away friends} and spent the first night of this nomadic journey not on a physical bed. an air mattress is still a bed though and certainly not the couch off to the left of the photo that would not have been able to contain the length of my legs, much less the fullness of my entire height {live your height nat, live it gloriously}. so here i am, night 37 in portland, oregon, staying with a good friend, visiting with another {who is like speaking to an oracle of myself 5 years years into the future}, doing a little bit of fun and spontaneous shopping while also taking a little personal time in a cafe to write draft #1.5 of a piece i'm working on and can't wait to tell you about.

currently writing from fresh pot coffeehouse, mississippi st, portland, oregon.

hawaii

2011-08-20T00:38:00.000-07:00

long overdue. thanks for your patience. bon apetite.

waimea valley botanical gardens.

i could have spent a whole day here swimming in the waterfall pool

much less laying under the monkey trees that are stunning.

on the last night, a coworker {and friend}

put me up for the night i extended my stay.

we walked part of the way out to kaena point,

the northwestern most point of oahu,

and enjoyed the dying day.

she took a few photos of me in the dusk.

.

.

the final run out to kaena point the morning of my last day.

sadly, i didn't see any albatross.

i drove down the east coast the final day stopping at shark's cove for lunch at the grill, valley of the temples for a meditative prayer and to ring the massive bell, the pali lookout for some windy but breathtaking views and a few random spots along the way.

.
.

back on waikiki for the last hour before my departure, i took a few self-portraits with a frangipani. as i head to the end of my current journal, i noticed the photo i took of myself at the beginning was a self-portrait with a frangipani as i was traveling in australia visiting a dear friend. here i am, over 7 years later and back in the tropics in the first time since then. had to complete the cycle as i began, with a simple, fragrant flower in my hair.

night 31

2011-08-16T23:23:00.001-07:00

i have been a nomad for a month now. july 15th was the last night i spent at my old apartment, and here we are, 31 nights later.

perhaps unconsciously to celebrate the occasion, i spent last night away from my current home base {in the wallingford/phinney intersection} at my sister's in order to take portraits of my niece, rose. you can see her there, all sleepy in her baby basket, resting on the bed i share with my mom when i stay there. she's not a baby to cry all night and wake up the household, and i actually enjoy it when she spends the late-night time between feedings in our room. even when she grumbled quietly last night {and probably would have gone back to sleep on her own} it was fun to have my mom pass her over to me for 10 or 15 minutes while i dozed with her on my chest, gently rubbing her back until she conked out again. the rest of the night i wasn't even aware that i was sleeping in a house with a baby.

more than just a convenience {it's a long drive out to covington just for a photo shoot}, i have enjoyed the nights i have stayed at my sister's place. it goes beyond having the baby around and being on babytime where productivity takes the back burner and rose's meals are the only regular thing. being surrounded by family is something i find i am valuing even more than i anticipated, even when it's stressful. between having lived in a different continent as my parents since i left for college and the fact that the last time the 6 of us were together as a family was more than 8 years ago, feeling part of a family unit, a community of people related to each other has been something i've held on to as i navigate this space without a home of my own. finding home in family, or at least savoring the part of me that equates family with home and having a space to return to has been an unexpected gift of this time. additionally, if i had my own place to go home to, i definitely wouldn't have gotten to see my mom and family as much as i have.

i guess family is a good example of a landing-place in my life. a safe, and at the end of the day, loving and caring place to return to no matter how impatient or ill-humored we can be with each other. as much as i can nit-pick the imperfections of my family, i really do count myself lucky to have a mother and brother i can sit and weep with {both that first scary night after moving out and then on sunday, processing a lot surrounding a self-abusive habit i can't seem to kick}, a sister who is able to host me so often despite how much she has going on, and family abroad i am still in regular contact with.

i want to wrap this all up a little more tidily--make the through-line thought and image that i want to impart here a little clearer--but my eyes are literally bleary and it's time to go to bed.

currently writing from sozoo neighborhood, seattle.

for lj

2011-08-14T23:03:00.001-07:00

my friend lindsey jo is one of the rare people in the world i can pee in front of without pausing the conversation we're having. at some point, since we're in different time zones, i realized that if i would pee with her in person, there's no stigma against it when we're on the phone, so consequently, she's also the only friend i will pee with on the phone.

i know you're thinking this is tmi {which means "too much information," mom}, but i'm merely giving you a slightly humorous context for how open my friendship with her is. much like sisters, there is a fluidity and closeness that can never be learned. and beyond that, a unique refrain of honesty i don't really have anywhere else. at least not the particular brand we share.

i guess it started with the beginning of our friendship when, at the end of the first night we hung out, i confessed to the rather venomous {at least in side my head} girl envy i had been harboring for her since i first saw her a month or so before. she is gorgeous in a way that melts all men {at least in my head} and has a presence when she just walks into view {not in my head}. my girl envy had sat like a fifty pound toad on my chest any time i saw her until i decided it would no longer get in the way of a friendship with this delightful creature.

so, i confessed it. plain and simple. i probably even apologized for it because i felt as though those kinds of thoughts are never secret, even if they aren't spoken. an hour or two later, my new friend lj, lindsey jo leitner, gorgeous and radiant as always, shocked the hell out of me in return by saying in front of three or four other women: "nat, i just have to say you have the most beautiful breasts...." i think she even went on for another sentence or two and we all had a laugh about it. the next morning i remember asking a mutual friend who was also in attendance to the night and that moment "she really did say breasts, right? not something else and i made an ass of myself for thinking breasts???" yes, nat, she really did say breasts.

mind you, i was on the pill at the time, a bit on the more voluptuous side in general and certainly more heavily endowed. though, in fact, my d'ecolletage either then or now is not the point. the point is our history of this style of honesty, rather daring at times, that has only deepened as the years have added themselves to our friendship.

this summer she spent a week with me at the very end of the film festival, she was my date the final closing night and one of the few people i would have wanted to navigate that space with me. after two years since i last saw her {two??!? really!?!?} it was a welcome week to stretch out into and enjoy the quiet spaces as well as new adventures. but the time wasn't without it's hiccups and we cruised through the d word {disappointment} with as much grace for each other and ourselves as we could, coming out the other side only more firmly grasping and valuing the life between us.

i am so blessed to have her in my life. so blessed. be it phone calls or long rambling voicemails {both given and received}, teary eyed conversations {both in person and not}. joy. color. art. faith. spirituality. adventure. laughter. joy. honor. presence. hope. home. home. home. space. light. love.

i do not know how else to adequately celebrate her birthday, so all i have left to say is: happy birthday, lindsey jo. i give you the perfect blue of a clear hawaiian sky and a lush, verdant green from the dark and rich hawaiian earth.

busy thursday

2011-08-12T00:56:00.000-07:00

how do i get so busy?
this morning's commute included picking up my rent deposit refund the new company was slow to procure, dropping off cds to fedex, going to work, work, racing about to pick up a collection of short films from the film festival, fighting traffic to get home in time to go on a run. fail, so skip run. do other things i am behind on instead. fight traffic to west seattle to a friend's house to watch said short films. stop by my local organic grocery store on the way to pick up dinner (i still owed him a big thank you for helping me move). come home after midnight.
whew.
i still had time to reflect and let sink in the realization of how many habits, actions, knee jerk reactions and defenses in my life are due to the fact that i finish many thoughts with the silent suffix "because i am not nearly perfect enough."
reprogram. reprogram. reprogram.
i have been repeating to myself to great effect, one simple sentence my brother suggested: no matter what happens, i love you.

nights 25 to 40

2011-08-10T00:51:00.000-07:00

the first thing i did after unloading my car last night was to exclaim over the drawers they have for me here. four in total. two for my clothes and two for my "desk." one half of my desk-ish drawers is given over to creative things like my postcards and stationary and journals while the other half is left for more practical things like check book, accounting things, bills, etc. the sheer luxury of organization is thrilling and the fact that i am not relying on a suitcase to contain my closet is swoon-worthy. and here i am, less than a month in. can. i. make. it?

luckily i have given myself two weeks {with the odd night spent with my sister and new baby} here with some dear friends. longer than i have stayed in any place so far.

already in the last two nights i have felt myself start to land, become productive and feel grounded again. here i have my own space, territory to lay claim to and suddenly clarity and focus returns. my diet is also improving, willpower returning. all these things intertwined in a way i have yet to understand entirely. but for now, it's enough to note the shifts and changes gently allowing answers to things surface as they are able.

welcome home, nat. for now.

writing from sou-zoo {south of the zoo} neighborhood, seattle, washington

nights 20 to 24

2011-08-08T21:35:00.000-07:00

night 20 wasn't spent at the b & b, but at the house of one of my hawaiian co-workers who lived about 5 minutes from where i had been staying. we had a fortuitous crossing of paths the night i was deciding whether or not to extend my stay and she offered up a spare bedroom in the house where she lives. her little old lady housemate spends half her year in washington state so i go to use her bed and admire her very brightly colored collection of artwork she has made and acquired. i regret not documenting the animal masks on her wall that were charming and sweet.

as you can see, my stuff was immediately dumped on to the bed and floor in order to re-organize all my things into the suitcase {probably one of my least favorite parts of travel}.

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night 21 was roughing it by my standards. a seat on a plane. 40A. at least there was a window and more than ample space for my legs. on dint of being bumped to a later flight, i got an exit row and bulkhead to boot.

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nights 22 to 24 have posed the first real challenge to my self-imposed transience. upheaval. unwelcome. hormones. family. enough said.

a good reminder that nothing and no one can threaten me unless i choose to allow them to. unfortunately, i did for a bit, but now we are on the other side. also a good test of my safety network of friends that within two phone calls i had two alternate places to stay should it come to that. luckily it did not, so here i remain until tomorrow night {which will be the welcome first of my longer stays}:

nomad {auntie} nate, writing from covington, washington.

the last gift of the islands

2011-08-06T02:21:00.001-07:00

tonight, after a precise series of events (from having to sit outside check-in to scarf down my passionfruit because the dept of agriculture wouldn't let me take it home to the arduous decision of what chocolates to purchase for my family--we take chocolate very seriously) i ended up at the ticket counter to ask about frequent flier mile membership just as they were announcing the need for volunteers to be bumped to a later flight. being right there i was first in line on the new flight which leaves at a more convenient time, arrives at a more convenient time, has an open exit row seat for my long legs AND scores me a $400 flight voucher.

feeling the magic tonight and strangely not sad at all about vacation coming to an end. it was the perfect length of time and i have a new niece to come home to, nomad adventures to look forward to and a reduced work schedule which will help me bring a little balance back into my life.

more on the transition (i was hoping to write more while on vacation but i was having too much fun) and more photos soon!

-nomad nate

writing from the honolulu airport waiting for my san francisco midnight departure.

self portraits in sand

2011-08-04T02:35:00.000-07:00

nights 16 to 19/20

2011-08-03T00:11:00.000-07:00

not sure how long i'll end up staying in hawaii. crossing my fingers for an extra day. the current plan is to leave on thursday which will give me only one more full day. but i really need more. need the time to sink into rest. sink into not-working. sink into myself. either way, i have been enjoying myself greatly {once i got all the weird complaints/work hiccups/false alarms out of the way--kind of ruined the first day of vacation for me}. a huge part of that what has been great about my time is the host of where i am staying. he's a local who rents out rooms in his house and provides an amazing garden to graze upon, serving up an incredible breakfast each day. he is a wealth of knowledge about the area and even took me to a yoga class early this morning.

the physical space initially presented some disappointments for me. my need for aesthetic harmony is greatly challenged, which hasn't bothered me in other spaces, but here i found myself more rigid at first since i am paying money--i feel like everything should be up to a certain standard. mine. and while i am not a princess needing gold knobbed bathtubs, i do lean more towards being a neat freak in terms of tidiness and aesthetically i am a snob. this is something i am aware of and it's part of the reason i'm taking on the challenge of nomadacy, but it's been good to stretch myself into acceptance and enjoyment of something outside of my comfort zone.

so here we are, eco lodge on hali'ewa, north shore, hawaii. nights 16 to 19 or 20, depending.

writing from hali'ewa, oahu island, hawaii.

heading north

2011-08-02T03:05:00.000-07:00

after a long week of lots of work {lots!!!} i finally turned my nose northward toward emptier beaches and cleaner food.

i am an auntie

2011-07-30T01:20:00.000-07:00

her name is roselynn sims. middle name still tbd. she scared us all today since meconium made its presence known when my sister's water broken 9 hours into labor. that could always mean bad things and that's when the home birth became a hospital birth. it was after another 4 hours of non-progressing labor that it became an emergency caesarean that ended up being very much needed because the cord was wrapped around her neck. but she's been a good nurser so far and has the biggest, widest eyes you could imagine and is perfectly healthy. i haven't spoken to chris, but bimi was the happiest i have ever heard her.

it's frustrating to be so far away and unable to take her first portraits, but a dear friend and coworker will do the honors sometime tomorrow and i'm sure those will be posted soon after.

stats: 7lbs 4oz - 19in - 1:37pm - july 29th, 2011

here is a sky photo from today. i thought the little rubber
ducky in front of the sun was appropriate.

surf's up

2011-07-28T02:22:00.000-07:00

fact: there are certain activities requiring physical prowess or skill that i shy away from because i don't want to be a bad at it {a beginner}. snowboarding is one. bowling another. but today i went surfing for the first time ever and i gave myself full permission to suck. and i did, but somehow it wasn't a problem and still heaps of fun.

the first wave i caught on my own i was sure i hadn't made it, so in the first wash of disappointment, i missed the fact that i was gliding along calmly with the wave carrying me in. by the end, i even nearly stood up a few times. that last step forward of my right foot always somehow an insurmountable feat, my long legs and high center of gravity going against me here. maybe next time. but for today, it was enough to just catch the waves i did, in whatever state i could, laugh giddily {in that big, releasing sort of way} whenever the water surprised me and earn my stripes: a pair of sore arms and matching bruises on my hipbones.

nights 11 to 15

2011-07-27T01:20:00.000-07:00

i am here, in hawaii. finally.

something about the timing of this trip has always resonated with me. arriving a week after a stressful move, offering up a time of introspection and reflection and pause {how often do i just stop and have time to just be??} after a big transition such as this...it all felt right beyond the excitement of traveling and getting to do something so fun for work.

all week i have been borrowing from the store of r & r time i anticipated receiving here, and it gracefully carried me through the first week and a half of nomadacy with more groundedness and ease than i could have believed possible that first broken night. so here i am, cashing in and feeling space for and around myself and the vacation portion hasn't even begun.

time to work but also time for a long run a mere hours after i landed. frangipani blowing along side me like some tropical tumbleweed while i stared down the ocean and circled the diamond head crater i've been assigned to hike up. the finale of the outing was a long stretch of tired limbs while my feet were flirted with by the pacific.

day one of hawaii: a success.

writing from the princess kaiulani sheraton, waikiki beach, honolulu

night 10

2011-07-27T01:15:00.000-07:00

my sister's house. sharing the bed with my mom and hoping that my short night of sleep before my morning flight will be interrupted by my sister going into labor.

sadly, no such luck.

still a little bummed by the fact that i will miss the birth of my niece, but then you should see the note on where i'm {sleepily} writing from below.

~nomad nate

writing from waikiki beach, honolulu.

nearing hawaii...

2011-07-26T13:37:00.000-07:00

a good day.

2011-07-25T06:15:00.000-07:00

lots of sun. two great photo shoots. started casting the other roles for "proof". i leave for hawaii on tuesday. a good day.

nights 7 to 9

2011-07-23T23:35:00.000-07:00

so the plans changed, as they are wont to do during this time, and night number seven was actually spent here in issaquah in a bed i am familiar with through years of pet sitting for a good friend of mine.

this where i am right now, trying to sift through my possessions and pare down what i am carrying with me from place to place. currently i am a posh version of the little old lady carrying around a million plastic bags tied to her stolen shopping cart. my bags contain a juicer, book binding supplies, a yoga mat and more clothes and cosmetics than i can possibly use but each thing is still trying to insulate against the space surrounding me that cannot be claimed as my own. amanda's house. anita's house. not my own space, but at least these things are mine. necessary. important. but i realize these are mostly lies. time to have a heart to heart and put more things in boxes. until then, much needed sleep. i have been working non-stop and am craving time to slow down and write more about this transition, braid together the different threads coming together to set the stage of my transition into transience and {hopefully} transformation.

writing from sammamish, washington.