inspiration
Posted on | November 10, 2011 | Leave A Comment
SUPAKITCH & KORALIE “Euphorie” Paris from Raphaël Hache on Vimeo.
these guys are amazing. they have more work on vimeo… just so excellent!
hope everyone’s well!
xo,
sam
poem
Posted on | September 20, 2011 | 3 Comments
there is a dark place in my soul
where fear and doubt have room to grow
but side by side and row by row
with what every wise man knows
beware the undertow
thoughts as rich as velvet dirt
a soil so rich from years of hurt
to fertilize that earthen sod
where sharper boots have trod
thinking they were gods
my trust is like a diamond ring
without a mockingbird to sing
rarely lonely and often alone
i’m better since i’ve grown
i’m better since i’ve known.
———-
i’m moody today. here’s what came out when i sat to type.
much love,
sam
More than my eye can hold
Posted on | September 4, 2011 | 3 Comments
Beauty within
Resplendent glow
Purity brighter
Than whitest snow
Or largest star
Which yonder twinkling spins.
Pools of deepest
Ocean hues
Algae greens
Sea-foam blues
But hotter than a boiling stew
Or cauldron’s bubbling brew.
comparisons are…
Posted on | August 16, 2011 | 4 Comments
odious.
I kept reading that phrase while working my way through Madeleine L’Engle’s Austin Family Chronicles series. At first I chuckled, then I realized how powerful it was as a mantra of sorts.
See, you’re probably nothing like me and never get bogged down comparing yourself to others in terms of your looks, measurable or quantifiable success, talents, personality (or lack thereof), etc., et. al. You’ve never felt down on yourself after realizing your role models had accomplished much more by your age or that all the best ideas seem to have already been taken.
So, comparisons are odious, because the majority of them come packaged with a mentality that there is some great scarcity in the universe. They make you feel as though there’s only so much beauty, so much love, so much happiness and peace of mind to be had and that your ranking in the social pecking order might just mean you don’t make the cut.
You can try to climb higher or earn something better than what you think you’ve got… or you can agree with me that the whole ranking system is crap from the roots up. I don’t believe there’s any shortage of goodness in the world and everyone has something amazing to offer. It’s a fact worth celebrating that no two people are alike… and a really amazing thing that there are enough trails for everyone to blaze his or her own.
Comparisons are odious.
Plus, how can you not love a saying with “odious” in it? That has to be one of the best words in the English language, for sheer efficacy of meaning and satisfying mouth-feel when spoken aloud.
xo,
Sam
three poems
Posted on | July 1, 2011 | Leave A Comment
i am a million million miles away
adrift on velvet cerulean waves
no city stench, no cab-fume-haze
i’ve been floating, floating for days
i am a million million miles from home
but always reached by cellular phone
i very much wanted to be alone
a million million miles from home
- – - – - – - – - – - -
for all the darkness that creeps in this world
i cast my lot with the light-filled bird
who soars and swirls and beacons me on
a cairn that calls:
you’re not alone.
- – - – - – - – - – - -
hold me close and prop me up
the river will soon swallow me up
and rush me down those precipice falls
and clean me white and rub me raw
these words like puzzles they swim in my head
like paint and music in rhythm and red
i’m most myself when least aware
and serve these words with love and care
my god my god i missed you so
from wandering distantly in the flow
but prop me up and hold me near
with eyes to see and ears to hear
On holding a grudge.
Posted on | June 29, 2011 | Leave A Comment
I’ve been crying again lately, which to me, is a very good thing.
I’d said a prayer recently for a soft heart… the kind of heart that senses keenly, is slow to anger and quick to compassion. Sometimes I feel the city pressing in on me, my experiences, past and present, rubbing a steady friction that builds callouses on my soul. I grow numb.
So crying is a gauge of sorts for me, an omen of inner health, even if that seems somehow backwards.
The same backwards that under-girds my conviction that it is the acknowledgement of mortality that makes life so incredibly sweet and beautiful.
I keep having flashbacks to the moments I’ve received news of a loved one’s passing. Re-feeling the strange stretching of time like a great rubber-band and the inevitable snap back to reality, that while expected, is no less shocking or painful.
I used to think that it was only in suffering and sorrow that I could grow, deepen, mature.
Now I am learning what it is to grow in goodness, to be faithful and keep my integrity when I am reasonably happy and content with my lot. I am continually humbled to see so much beauty in other artists. I am remembering to always be learning and to take the lower seat at any table.
As a child I was taught to seek greatness, and I always thought I wanted that. My craving to be desired, admired and loved was insatiable. I thought that by being loved and valued on the outside, I would finally feel accepted within.
I suppose this is the grudge that’s needed forgiving.
That I inherited an inability to love myself for who I was, that I was discouraged from being my true self all during my childhood and directed into paths that taught me to put on a show, to lie in order to blend in and to succeed at any cost.
Now that I am able to put those things to rest (although never completely perhaps)… It is time to be free from the need to feel angry about it all. I see now what is meant by the quote that unforgiveness is drinking the poison you wished to serve your foes.
I’ve been the one holding the grudge.
So, in the spirit of forgiveness, may we all find ourselves one burden lighter this summer…
Much love,
Sam
Bookland
Posted on | June 3, 2011 | Leave A Comment
I was talking with friends recently and we all related to that feeling of missing a world in a book. It can be especially acute whilst actually reading a great book, a sense of longing and sadness that, when explored, is connected to characters and places wholly fictional. Upon finishing a great series (Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings comes to mind…) there’s again that sense of loss, like the same feeling at the end of vacation when it’s time to return to work on Monday. Or worse, school.
I have been philosophizing again about my love of narrative. Also, looping into the equation is why I get hung up on teen/young adult stories. Lately I’ve been watching Veronica Mars and adore it. I was glued to Glee (the singing!). It’s not that I dislike adult protagonists, but I’m so much more drawn to teens.
I can think of two things that are relevant:
First, I often regret my youth. I know that I live vicariously through the characters I read or watch. These heroes actually DO things in their lives. They make choices, albeit many of them foolish, they learn (sometimes) and grow (again, sometimes.) It’s cathartic… in an indirect way.
But the second thing is to what I keep coming back: the fear of death.
Living in the present, aware of life, of time, of every breath… is terrifying. The good angel on my shoulder would argue it’s the best way to live, and generally, I’m inclined to agree…
However, youth is a charming distraction because there’s so much tiiiiiiiiime.
The responsibilities of adulthood are distant mountains on the horizon, mountains of student-loan debt perhaps, but distant nonetheless. Plus all those magnificent firsts. Being that we are an instant gratification society, maturity and aged things aren’t always appreciated in our popular culture. First kisses, first cars, first apartments, first, first, first…..
Then comes the thing we’ve been avoiding all along… all of youth is headed for this free fall into adulthood. And oh, the pain of it… but don’t worry, there are pills for that.
Want to be numb from life? Oh we’re excellent at that… drugs, internet sloth, alcoholism, workaholism, chocaholism… just about anything can be substituted in order to muddy up the waters and remove all clarity from the vision… that shroud, that sickle, that clock counting down.
So, I escape to books and tv shows.
But, as I said before, there is a good angel on one shoulder and I’m making a concerted effort to listen and follow directions…. to remember that NOTHING is certain, not youth, not a job, not health… absolutely nothing. Not even the countdown on the imaginary clock… I can’t even guess the numbers. It’s impossible. I am reminded that rain falls on the good and the wicked all the same.
So, ultimately, I just get the one shot at this and I so very much want to make it worthwhile.
If I could toast you all, that would seem appropriate about now.
This essay/rant is a lot of why I haven’t been making time to write on here lately.
I’m enjoying the first part of summer in NYC. I’m biking a ton, having picnics, making art and music too.
And I want to keep doing those things because they are making my life better.
I’ll still be around, but I’m only going to write here when I really have something to say.
This is where I’m at for now.
Much love, as always,
Sam
Magic
Posted on | May 16, 2011 | Leave A Comment
Adding it to my life list. I need to see this in person.
xo,
Sam
momentum
Posted on | May 9, 2011 | 5 Comments
i’ve resisted maturity for various reasons. slightly rebellious, i’ve always wanted to retain as much of a childlike view of the world as possible.
grown ups are lame.
for proof, see any movies from the 80′s targeted at children.
also, there’s a fear that once i actually “grow up,” i won’t be able to change anything. i’ll be one of those stick-in-the-mud folks who shouts down “technology” and gets mired in a job i despise.
then the universe’s ultimate joke is played out. on me.
apparently, it doesn’t matter what i think, for the fact is that time has passed and now i am a grown up.
some discipline and organization is just necessary to accomplish everything i hope and dream. i like linen and care more about quality-made, comfortable shoes (albeit still stylish please!).
and while there is more flexibility than i ever imagined, at the end of the day when i see boys skateboarding down 8th avenue, i don’t consider them peers.
they’re “those skateboarding kids in the effing bike lane.”
sometimes when i look at the stars (and i know i’m not alone in this feeling) i feel like the eternity of space and time is filling me up, and everyone and everything is swallowed up by the presence of all that space. i notice the sky so much more in the summers in NY, when the brightness and color peeks through the crevices between skyscrapers. in the summer, when the heat becomes oppressive, i miss the desert.
in the desert, heat makes sense. you need more space for such heat, it likes to spread out and breathe. everything in the desert has a tough hide and the landscape allows for as much blue sky to show as possible, as if the color and scale might offset the sensation of being baked alive.
and it works, somehow. the great swaths of color, especially at sunset are enough to distract from even blistering skin.
i don’t know if i believe in reading stars or not. i guess i feel like whatever might have existed in terms of real skill and knowledge is almost completely lost to our modern society. but i love to imagine it’s possible.
that anything is still possible.
i suppose i have managed to hold on to some things from being a child. mainly, an obstinate sense of wonder ….and a love for sugary cereal.
i hope to never lose that at least.
xo,
sam
montreal
Posted on | May 1, 2011 | 4 Comments
for my recent 30th birthday, russ took me to montreal for a week.
on the way, we stopped at holy cross monastery and stayed a night with the monks and celebrated palm sunday with them.
then we ate and rode bikes and snapped photos and butchered the french language to some very sweet canadians for a week.
it was amazing. more photos soon!
xo,sam