Ten.Three Hundred and Two
1. More poetry taped to doors and gifts placed on seats. I can’t stop smelling the Pali santo.
2. How is this really the last day? I’m not ready to go yet.
3. The sunrise this morning. How after last night’s rain the golden light makes everything look so lush and rich in color.
4. Still waiting for coffee.
5. This life.
6. All of the cards keep saying the same thing: It’s time to choose. If you want to continue on this path or transformation and growth, just do the hard thing.
7. So many smiles and so much laughter.
8. Hot coffee spilling over the sides. Everything here is spilling over: the jasmine, the clematis, the water, my heart.
9. Driving up Grove Street, alone in the van in complete silence, only in the presence of myself and the high rolling hills, feeling that “yes, this is Home. Yes. This is Home.”
10. Whole.
Ten.Three Hundred & One
1. Turkey? Yes, turkey I think.
2. The upside is that I get to hear all of the first sounds of the world waking and here it sounds unlike anything else at home.
3. Everything here is so fragrant. I’m trying to know the names of what I see and touch.
4. Praying for my life.
5. And this is just and experiment, an exercise in learning how to let go and stay in beginner’s mind.
6. Of course I would find my water bottle after I’ve already bought another one.
7. The sun, the sun, the sun.
8. All that you touch you change. All that you change changes you. I keep the light on the crown.
9. The hills and the oaks and the olive trees. Gravel, baby ducks, the formation of clusters on the vine.
10. There are so many things to say. I’ve forgotten to take notes like Dyana told me to. I’m just going to have to trust myself to remember.
Ten.Three Hundred
1. 300. What a number.
2. The sound of my feet on the wooden slats of the porch. There is no way to be quiet.
3. Bird song. But not just some birds but all of the birds and the frogs and the sounds of the sprinklers.
4. Feet crunching on pea gravel.
5. Full on coffee and coffee cake and potatoes and chicken sausage.
6. How I am both tired and exhilarated at the same time.
7. And overwhelmed by all that there is to take in.
8. This is the first time I’ve ever smelled a fresh orange blossom and I want to bottle it up and take it home with me.
9. This circle. So safe.
10. I still don’t know what day it is. But as A’Driane would say, “What is time?”
Ten.Two Hundred & Ninety-Eight
1. 3 a.m. wake up because I just need to know that everything is ready.
2. My Lyft driver is early. I dash upstairs in the dark to kiss all the cheeks.
3. The birds are so loud.
4. He thinks my suitcases are full of clothes and shoes like a typical woman.
5. I misplace my license at the baggage counter and freak out for just a moment.
6. I’m glad my friend and I picked the same flight by accident. We share 4 seats between us and chat a little, sleep a little, write a little.
7. The three of us together navigating San Francisco. Parking and food plus art supplies.
8. The fanciest hotel. We clearly don’t belong here but we have our wine.
9. The sun. The sun. The sun. And the green and the water and these big hill and this feels like home.
10. Steak Frites and 2013 Idell Family Oscar Syrah and a chocolate trifle and a blueberry lemon cake.
Ten.Two Hundred & Ninety-Nine
1. 3:30. Forgot to turn off the airport alarm.
2. Coffee from the lobby and quick walk around the grounds. Overcast skies and big peach-colored roses.
3. Fremont Diner for a good biscuit with sweet marmalade and scrambled eggs and bacon. And Coffee. I finally get a chance to do a photo booth.
4. Flowers.
5. We walk the square. Plump ducks with feathers I wish I could pick. My eyes search the grounds for loose ones I might be able to stick in my pocket.
6. A big salad and an Arnold Palmer. So much sun.
7. Here. The ranch is just as beautiful as I remembered it to be. It always is.
8. Deeply grateful for all that’s to come.
9. So sweaty.
10. Delirium has set in after a long day. Laughter and sleep.
Ten.Two Hundred & Ninety-Seven
1. The colors of this morning's sky: peach and lavender and lemon and sky blue. I'm reminded of rainbow sherbet.
2. The blooms from yesterday's floral workshop are so fragrant. I think it might just be the eucalyptus.
3. Waffles toasted in the oven and bacon and coffee. I sit next to the big kid at the island.
4. She’s pouting again because there isn’t any prosciutto.
5. Meal plan + grocery list + grocery shopping + last minute supplies + sunshine + getting to talk to the woman at Michael’s about the retreat.
6. That feeling of almost being knocked over from gratitude.
7. Thought we were out of ink. Turned out we’re out of paper.
8. But the goal is to be in bed before 11 so that I’m not too tired on the plane.
9. He tells me that he’s excited for me and that we’re going to have fun and it feels good and affirming to be seen and loved.
10. Travel jitters.
Ten.Two Hundred & Ninety-Six
1. Slept in just long enough for it to feel good but not like my day has run away from me.
2. Coffee. Fruit Loops with flax milk. I think I like flax milk.
3. This corner of the gray linen sofa and the view from the window across from it. I see that the goose is back. He seems to travel alone and has made the wetlands behind the house his home.
4. On the way in I listen to the On Being episode with angel Kyoto williams and remember that I have half-read her book, Radical Dharma.
5. The shop is basically me boxed into 4 walls: white, green plants, heavy paper stock, Factured Goods brass spoons, succulents in tiny pots, and all the flowers.
6. My nerves quickly dissipate.
7. I layer eucalyptus and roses and some other plants that I can't yet name and wrap them in brown craft paper, tie them with a string. The brightness and slight sweetness of the flowery gin cocktail.
8. The drive home is not too long, but just long enough to tire me.
9. I leave in only 2 sleeps.
10. I needed a day like to day with so much alone time, with the sun, with flowers, with women and light chatter, with being present, with so much feeling like myself.
Ten.Two Hundred & Ninety-Five
1. Moody sky. The chatter of the tiny birds.
2. Cereal for breakfast. Luck Charms with flax milk.
3. I love getting children birthday gifts that are not the usual stuff. We pick out a pot, seeds for sweet pea flowers, gardening gloves, and a garden fairy.
4. I try to get a babysitter but remember that it's prom.
5. Emergent Strategy feels like the right read for right now as things begin to shift. Even the words I'm using in my head are changing. They are new words that I don't yet understand but trust that I already know. Learning and unlearning. Observing and honoring the patterns that appear.
6. "More precisely, where shame makes us freeze and try to get really small and invisible, pleasure invites us to move, to open, to grow." - Emergent Strategy
7. Me in between them under the white down, sunlight on my face, the sound of my own breathing.
8. Pizza and Nebbiolo. No mess to clean. Thin and crispy crust gives me pleasure. The acid in the wine gives me pleasure.
9. Pink nails.
10. A few hugs from friends in the old neighborhood. I wonder how good of an idea it is for us to still put in time to maintain these friendships. There is the sense that this is healthy and yet for all of us, each time there is a leaving of the old town or the familiar friend, the wound is once again revealed. How do we hold but a love for the old while engaging and building the new?
Ten.Two Hundred & Ninety-Five
1. Moody sky. The chatter of the tiny birds.
2. Cereal for breakfast. Luck Charms with flax milk.
3. I love getting children birthday gifts that are not the usual stuff. We pick out a pot, seeds for sweet pea flowers, gardening gloves, and a garden fairy.
4. I try to get a babysitter but remember that it's prom.
5. Emergent Strategy feels like the right read for right now as things begin to shift. Even the words I'm using in my head are changing. They are new words that I don't yet understand but trust that I already know. Learning and unlearning. Observing and honoring the patterns that appear.
6. "More precisely, where shame makes us freeze and try to get really small and invisible, pleasure invites us to move, to open, to grow." - Emergent Strategy
7. Me in between them under the white down, sunlight on my face, the sound of my own breathing.
8. Pizza and Nebbiolo. No mess to clean. Thin and crispy crust gives me pleasure. The acid in the wine gives me pleasure.
9. Pink nails.
10. A few hugs from friends in the old neighborhood. I wonder how good of an idea it is for us to still put in time to maintain these friendships. There is the sense that this is healthy and yet for all of us, each time there is a leaving of the old town or the familiar friend, the wound is once again revealed. How do we hold but a love for the old while engaging and building the new?
Ten.Two Hundred & Ninety-Four
1. All the robins and the birdsong of something sweet and small.
2. Sunrise coming up over the Meijer. An early morning run to the store for cereal and milk and just enough food for them to make a lunch.
3. I remember the piece Danielle LaPorte wrote about how much pizza would be a staple in the family's diet when a book deadline rolled around. This is how I'm feeling about life right now. This is a week with a lot of deadlines and a lot of laundry and a lot of meals that I don't feel like making.
4. In the basement I turn on Beyonce and lay out faux flowers on the table, find a paperclip to keep the candle from rolling around.
5. Compliance and Defiance.
6. I want to take a nap but I want to finish this even more.
7. Tonight, I just want to sleep.
8. In the mailbox are two books: Between The World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates and Emergent Strategy by Adrienne Maree Brown.
9. I tell her that I've been trying to figure out how to make her come out from hiding to use her powers. Because there's a younger generation that needs her wisdom.
10. I'm feeling the future.
Ten.Two Hundred & Ninety-Three
1. Thin white blanket over the greening grass.
2. Ranunculus in the windowsill, looking so soft and relaxed.
3. Light. Finally the light.
4. I move my work station around the house, from basement to kitchen to dining room to the boy's bedroom. Always searching for the light.
5. Cravings: bed, another season of Versailles, a large salad.
6. Eating instead: a cheeseburger, fries, a glass of Banshee Pinot Noir, crème brûlée, a cup of coffee.
7. Almost.
8. Because the ache and the knowing are too strong to ignore. I already know the changes that are to come.
9. Still awake.
10. I don't know why I'm turning on the t.v. I find The Twilight Zone and see that the next episode is one that I used to watch over and over and over again with my youngest when he was a toddler. I think of how we would nap in my bed after pre-school so that I could rest before we had to get the older kids to school. So much has changed and yet so much hasn't.
Ten.Two Hundred & Ninety-Three
1. Thin white blanket over the greening grass.
2. Ranunculus in the windowsill, looking so soft and relaxed.
3. Light. Finally the light.
4. I move my work station around the house, from basement to kitchen to dining room to the boy's bedroom. Always searching for the light.
5. Cravings: bed, another season of Versailles, a large salad.
6. Eating instead: a cheeseburger, fries, a glass of Banshee Pinot Noir, crème brûlée, a cup of coffee.
7. Almost.
8. Because the ache and the knowing are too strong to ignore. I already know the changes that are to come.
9. Still awake.
10. I don't know why I'm turning on the t.v. I find The Twilight Zone and see that the next episode is one that I used to watch over and over and over again with my youngest when he was a toddler. I think of how we would nap in my bed after pre-school so that I could rest before we had to get the older kids to school. So much has changed and yet so much hasn't.
Ten.Two Hundred & Ninety-Two
1. Clouds that look like mountains.
2. Birdsong.
3. Bacon and maybe eggs and toast made in the oven because the toaster is broken.
4. Today is for cleaning. For meeting her for lunch. For more cleaning. I need to get the wine off the wall.
5. This is how I show care.
6. The two of us sitting in the cafe, talking about living as a black woman, making friends as an adult black woman, wondering how we find other black women that are here, where we are, staying home and doing what we're doing while living in predominantly white spaces. How it can feel isolating. But at least we now know one another.
7. I grab 6 pre-made tiramisus and two bunches of orange and yellow ranunculus.
8. Everything feels tight.
9. This is all lesson in remembering to always honor the boundaries and to never allow for exceptions. That I do my best work when the container is solid and less permeable.
10. We watch the snow begin to fall, covering the grass and parts of the sidewalk. It's so pretty you almost forget to be mad about it.
Ten.Two Hundred & Ninety-One
1. Why are they all down here?
2. There is not enough time for what needs to be done today.
3. The addition of peanut butter cups and English butter fudge should give everyone a pretty good indication of how I might be feeling. I know it's bad but it's also so good.
4. I call it self-absorption but maybe I've misdiagnosed. Maybe it really is just a personality difference that is not necessarily wrong but a way of being and seeing that feels too foreign for me to understand.
5. My experience with the doctor and her question is generating a lot of feedback which means that we women still struggle with worth and value.
6. I know that we say we value ourselves, but I wonder how large the gap is between believing it and then acting in life as if the belief is really true.
7. Head down and fingers moving madly to get this done in time. My desire to stay on schedule this week is as much about work as it is rest. I want to honor the days of rest I need before taking flight.
8. He tells me that someone got partially sucked out of an airplane window.
9. At Culver's we see teachers and familiar faces, they have friends, and once again I feel out of place and not a part of anything here.
10. I crack open the window but let in no breeze, only the low hum of passing cars on 34.
Ten.Two Hundred & Ninety
1. Not good sleep. Dreams too active.
2. I can tell from the light in the sky that there is snow on the ground—not much, but just enough.
3. One is upset because there is no salami and the other is upset because there is no prosciutto. Neither are satisfied by the turkey and ham that's still here and proceed to make their lunches with a frown.
4. This is not a good way to start the morning. "You make great potatoes," the little one says and that makes up for everything.
5. I drive almost 40 minutes to get there but it's so hard to find a doctor you like. We order up blood works, she tells me to start walking again and that she likes my philosophies on parenting and the news.
6. I sometimes think I'm going to fall asleep while I sit here in the car. Maybe it's because this is the one part of the day where I really take a moment to stop.
7. This time she's created scholarships for HBCUs.
8. I'm looking forward to a long summer in New Orleans where the burden of otherness is lifted for just a little while.
9. The fullness of this week.
10. Sometimes you just follow the signs.
Ten.Two Hundred & Eighty-Nine
1. Rain against the window. There is no light today.
2. My dreams were not lucid but I did start and stop, continually asking myself "Is this a dream?"
3. Granola with flax milk, blackberries, walnuts, and dried cranberries in the blue ceramic bowl that feels like California.
4. Cut the back out of the chicken, sprinkle liberally with Kosher salt before placing it back in the fridge for a dry brine. Fold 6 baskets of laundry. Feed them lunch.
5. The sky is still low and dark and every now and then I hear the sound of rain against the window. The basketball hoop has wiggled itself to the middle of the driveway again.
6. Rest.
7. I watch most of the performance at my computer in the basement, chin cupped in my palms.
8. I take notes. Pyramids, Nefertiti, yellow and black and white, purple, black fist, black panther, a honey bee.
9. I think of money and power and status. I think about the ills of capitalism but how participation in it grants you the ability to also subvert it in subtle and sometimes grand ways. How do we work within the current systems to effect the most change? Is it wrong to be paid to perform at a concert that is put on by a racist if some of the money you earn from that performance goes to pay for lawyers or bail out Black Lives Matter protesters or to rebuild homes in low-income neighborhoods ravaged by Hurricane Harvey?
10. It's getting close.
Ten.Two Hundred & Eighty-Nine
1. Rain against the window. There is no light today.
2. My dreams were not lucid but I did start and stop, continually asking myself "Is this a dream?"
3. Granola with flax milk, blackberries, walnuts, and dried cranberries in the blue ceramic bowl that feels like California.
4. Cut the back out of the chicken, sprinkle liberally with Kosher salt before placing it back in the fridge for a dry brine. Fold 6 baskets of laundry. Feed them lunch.
5. The sky is still low and dark and every now and then I hear the sound of rain against the window. The basketball hoop has wiggled itself to the middle of the driveway again.
6. Rest.
7. I watch most of the performance at my computer in the basement, chin cupped in my palms.
8. I take notes. Pyramids, Nefertiti, yellow and black and white, purple, black fist, black panther, a honey bee.
9. I think of money and power and status. I think about the ills of capitalism but how participation in it grants you the ability to also subvert it in subtle and sometimes grand ways. How do we work within the current systems to effect the most change? Is it wrong to be paid to perform at a concert that is put on by a racist if some of the money you earn from that performance goes to pay for lawyers or bail out Black Lives Matter protesters or to rebuild homes in low-income neighborhoods ravaged by Hurricane Harvey?
10. It's getting close.
Ten.Two Hundred & Eighty-Eight
1. Sleeping in but only just a little.
2. The winds are furious this morning, the sky is dark. Conditions are perfect for coffee and books in bed.
3. Donuts while I make a PDF of rules for electronics usage. These are good rules for myself as well. I'm always struggling with how to be present but not too present. How to use technology with intention and restraint, for real connection and inspiration, and not as a tool distraction.
4. I suggest that we go to the library. Both of us need new books. I get some more Octavia Butler, a book on lucid dreaming, and a few books on photography. She finds 3 novels for herself to read. In the book sale section we grab a cookbook of only desserts and an illustrated copy of Alice in Wonderland.
5. I flip open the book on Francesca Woodman and then find myself engulfed in the book for an hour examining her self-portraits and an essay on her life and her work. I am thinking many thoughts about conception and performance and youth and potential and what kind of conditions create the container for art.
6. Work.
7. The onions make me cry but the smell of them with the mushrooms and the garlic and the seasoning, then with the tomatoes and the wine.
8. "What would happen if the earth got sucked into a black hole?"
9. I think of how much I also used to like space. I am a lover of mysteries: space, the supernatural, the abandoned and the unimagined.
10. Oneironaut - A person who explores dream worlds.
Ten.Two Hundred & Eighty-Seven
1. The grayness is hanging around this morning. There should be rain today.
2. Three cups in the ceramic blue mug before leaving for the grocery store. I'm leaving later than usual and know that I will miss the little old man.
3. Goddess braids. That sounds and feels right.
4. I seem to have lost track of the day. This happens sometimes when there is much to do. I think it might also be a symptom of a lack of presence. How do we lose time? By losing ourselves?
5. She helps me go through the cookbooks to figure out what to make for tonight's dessert. We go through what's on the rack and then she spots Bouchon Bakery.
6. A simple chocolate chip cookie seems like the way to go. I have her read the recipe and then we gather the ingredients, get bowls. I tell her that we're going to practice mise en place and then I read to her the ingredients again and the amounts and we talk about fractions and how many scoop are needed to make 2/3.
7. I have forgotten to buy a present. I really am the worst at these kinds of things. One day I will be better.
8. Wine and laughter and chicken and salad and wine and more laughter. Gratitude at the table and the counter and the sofa.
9. And then suddenly it's midnight and you almost wish you could stay longer.
10. The kids go straight to their rooms, crawl into bed with their clothes still on. I open a window to let in the chill. There is almost no sound.
Ten.Two Hundred & Eighty-Six
1. I make scones per her request. Just a basic scone, sprinkled with sugar.
2. I 've lost track of time and start my coffee late. This happens when all three of them arrive at the island at the same time and there is to much talking and a lot of me being interrupted mid-process.
3. Interruptions. They will all be gone again today and I will have time for just myself.
4. The sun. And the warmth. Finally, a real taste of spring.
5. The white woman with the dreadlocks and glasses who never says hi to me when I come into the store. She welcomes everyone else who enters the store except me. I find it irritating and amusing the pieces of culture one chooses not to accept. I will probably never shop here again even though the other owners of this shop are friendly. But surely, there are other places for me to go.
6. And this is what I mean by feeling lonely.
7. I push out the thoughts.
8. Roasted tomatoes and garlic and pasta and focaccia. We lick the bowls clean and eat a few extra pieces of bread as the sun slips away.
9. She's helping me take out my braids. I think of how black this is—the doing one another's hair thing. How intimate of a practice it is. How I wish I was better at it.
10. I watch two more episodes of Versailles as I removed the rest of the braids. I will dream in French.