to get into the light where you belong

photo (85)
Someone once told me that the way you spend your New Years is the way you will spend the rest of the year. And it's been true for me in the past so I've become particularly attached to the idea -- like midnight is this magical time where either mice turn into horses or the other way around. Close your eyes and jump... 

(Ten years ago, when 2003 became 2004, I was listening to David Lee Roth perform JUMP with my then-boyfriend at the House of Blues. Four months later, at a coffee shop around the corner, a bald-headed guy in a hat and bandana, would walk into my life as Van Halen showered our eardrums with "I get up! And nothing gets me dowwwwwn..."  He'd point to the sky, claim that the song was his jam before introducing himself to me. "I'm Hal, nice to meet you.")

I am attached to most ideas that project magic and by the same token become derailed when I am left waving the wand at a frog that has no plans to be anything other than a frog. (No offense to frogs which are totally lovely.) 

So when I close my eyes and jump into the chalk drawing and nothing happens and then I close my eyes tighter and jump twice as hard and nothing STILL happens, I start to second guess not only the jump but the legs attached to the feet and the eyes attached to the face and the moment attached to the other moment which comes before this moment and oh, shit, this year has been around for an entire week already and I still haven't figured out a game plan, here. There's no thesis statement. No theme. No word to stick in the middle of the Venn Diagram and be, like, OKAY, LET'S DO THIS. BIG PLANS HIGH FIVE IT'S ON LIKE DONKEY KONG YEAH BOI.

It's six days in and... well... huh.

Here's the thing. We are all brilliant geniuses at doing all of the things we want to do and be in our heads.  Our 2014 Pinterest boards are gorgeous. We are supermodels in Chanel smoking black and white cigarettes with a babywearing Paul McCartney on guitar rooting us on as we type quotable things on vintage typewriters. I am, anyway. In my head I am wearing heels so high I can touch the ceiling without tripping and breaking my neck.


New Years Day was a train wreck. We let the kids stay up until midnight which was actually 11-something because everyone basically caved in at that point... even Bo, who after shaking her groove thing through a dozen pop anthems, curled in a ball next to Revi on the floor.

In the morning, we were all sick and exhausted and the twins climbed out of their cribs bright and early and decided to go on an ice-cream party binge which resulted in my first phrase of the new year:

"What the fucking fuck!???"

And from there it spiraled downhill... we ended the day in tears, all of us, angry and frustrated and exhausted, eyes puffy and hearts defeated and mama said there'd be days like this there'd be days like this mama said.

I spent New Years looking for a sign. Opening up books to pages at random in hope that some divine wisdom would open my mind to the magic that is clearly everywhere but seemed completely dead and lost that afternoon. 

Is this a sign? 

This must be a sign. 

I saw the sign and it opened up my eyes I saw the sign. 

I had big plans to sit down today and write something motivational and, perhaps inspired, hoping that the muse might sing into my ear something fierce. Because it's a new year and the iron is hot and the force is with us all and the only way to get out of the house of mirrors and into the light is to acknowledge the reflection... 

I have spent the last week trying to marinate on some sort of plan. A mantra for 2014 or at the very least a dance... I don't believe in resolutions because everyone wants the same things... we all want to be better and faster and more interesting, kinder and stronger and lighter and MORE. We all want to write books and make movies and help others and wake up in the morning with fire in our hearts and pep in our step. We want to walk with purpose. Give back. Push up. Pull off. 

I'm trying. 

In the meantime, forgive me while I spoon these crickets. (And frogs.) 


There's this picture I took of Bo several months ago at the library and she's wearing these giant boots and she is so sure. She isn't overthinking anything or trying to map out her journey or trying... she's just... going... in this very unstoppable way... like a wave and how all you can do is ride along.

Nobody can stop her. Not even a sign. 

Nothing can tell her which way to go. Not even a sign. 

She moves forward in the direction of what moves her, those boots like iron shards against the magnet...

"Bo, where are you going?"

She doesn't know. 

She just moves - the very personification of faith and spirit and adventure, confidence and fearlessness and strength and risk and reward. She moves like she knows she's going to fall and doesn't care. 

Moments after I snapped this photo, Bo fell flat on her face, got up ("I okay! I okay!") and kept going...

...Because falling on her face isn't a sign to stop. 

It's just a part of what it means to go. 

Like hangovers after a wild night. Sprint, stumble, sprint... 

I don't know what is going to happen this year. I don't have a plan. It would be nice to get all of the green lights, to wake up feeling inspired every morning, invigorated by the magic that is undoubtedly everywhere. But that isn't where I am at the moment and that's okay, too.

The truth is, sometimes there is magic and sometimes there is not. Sometimes there are signs to point us in the right direction and sometimes we have to do the pointing with our own hands.

Sometimes we wake up in a new year with all of the answers and sometimes, they come later...

First words aren't always profound.

But we keep speaking.

We keep writing.

We keep laughing at our childrens' knock knock jokes even though we've heard them a thousand times and "who's there" is #1 on our vocal speed dial.

We keep looking.

We continue to ask questions and make plans and do what we can to change things in our lives and the world. Even when all signs point to DON'T DO IT/STOP WHILE YOU'RE AHEAD/NO, that doesn't mean we don't GO FOR IT/FORGE AHEAD SISTER/YES. 

I saw the sign but my eyes were already open so I ignored it because it wasn't really a sign at all. It was just a thing that happened. (Because when the ring breaks and the rats descend and the flowers arrive dead and it's raining and Murphy's law is your new BFF, NONE OF THAT MEANS ANYTHING if you know it shouldn't.)

Because signs are but reminders of what we already know in our bones to be true. 

To stop. 

To go. 

To slow down. 

To keep going. 

To turn around. 

To acknowledge that not everything has to mean something.  

Mirror mazes, chalk drawings, faux fur toddler boots made for walking ... whatever it takes to get into the light where youuuuuu belonnnng. 

Sing it, Ace.