two odd moments made my day yesterday.

one. the dellusional man at martin's who said, "i can't eat this oatmeal because there's aids scabs and blood in there." sometimes you just have to cock your head and smile. it was a bad image but a tender moment as i continued to finish my bowl. it was a jarring reminder that mental health is some serious business.

two. the nurse walking by my house, "um... excuse me? ma'am! did you just parallel park in that spot?" (it was between a scooter and a car with six inches on each side. in the least humble way, i responded, "yes! it's my spiritual gift. have a good day!"

i get to this blog.

and my mind is blank. my fingers don't know which key to hit next and i remember that the exhaustion of this weekend will soon catch up with me.

one day at a time: writing and listening and studying and loving and living in the most fearless way i know how.

can't waste.

what i want to worry about, i can't: there's not enough time in the day to waste. instead i am listening to "fix you" on repeat as i sleep tonight because it reminds me of the simplicity of life and the importance of perspective. being present and saying something is more important than saying nothing. i am here.

coldplay's fix you:

When you try your best, but you don't succeed
When you get what you want, but not what you need
When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep
Stuck in reverse

And the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone, but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

And high up above or down below
When you're too in love to let it go
But if you never try you'll never know
Just what you're worth

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

Tears stream down on your face
When you lose something you cannot replace
Tears stream down on your face
And I...

Tears stream down on your face
I promise you I will learn from my mistakes
Tears stream down on your face
And I...

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

for the record.

i am not in a state of depression as my last post may have alluded. yes, it's a dark poem but wendell makes my nights better and that particular poem brought a small amount of peace to my heart with all the happenings of my favorite seventeen year old family member. and regarding that situation: there's no way to help, no way to ease any anxiety- my own or others'. instead i am choosing to let go as it's not in the realm of my control. and i will listen first and then say something second.

this weekend included lunch and dressing with a woman who puts four lemons in her iced tea, a six mile run, one extravaganza including flamenco dancers, fancy dresses, pistachios, hazelnuts and the most straight-shooting-girl-talk i've had in a while, a karaoke celebration which ended with delicious milkshakes, one sit down dinner party for thirtyone, lunch with my favorite eighth graders, one third of build your own damn house / errands with the most honest risk taker i know, and a small conversation which reminded me of her wisdom and why she is the best question asker ever.

it's these moments, this collection of things i say yes to, that make a lot of unimportant stuff fall to the side. in the end, my heart is warmed when thinking about the time we turned down the country music and you looked me in the eyes and said, "em. let's live life more fearlessly."

thank you for the love.

to know the dark.

by wendell berry:

to go in the dark with a light is to know the light.

to know the dark, go dark. Go without sight,

and find that the dark, too, blooms and sings,

and is traveled by dark feet and dark wings.

this poem hits close to home right now, in the most literal sense.

[ache]

it's time.

for a little vacation from life... just a short one where someone else drives the bmw and i get to be a passenger and not think about my cousin or my job or my friends episode. i will bring j's indian book and ski down the mountain, practicing deep breathing and remembering to laugh and exercise all appropriate silliness.

and back to work on friday i'll go.

for lent.

i'm giving up kidding myself.

consumed.

"...on that morning, the sun rose and bloomed like blood in a glass syringe." (76) from the toughest indian in the world by sherman alexie.

sometimes i feel like it's that morning. when i'm consumed and my mind tumbles about with anxiety. i often stop myself and intentionally ask, "how did i get to this place?" and i trace back how each thought led to the next. how each step got me here and how each finger tip, knowingly, went there.

what would life be like without my questions? with an authentic nonchalant-attitude? what would it be like if i really didn't care?

even the above questions get me nowhere.

in the mean time, i will calm my head and my heart by listening to the head and the heart's song lost in my mind. how appropriate, cait.

there's something about.

gelish nail polish. even with invisalign, it looks fresh for days.

other peoples' medical appointments that cause my heart to palpitate, my head to get light and my face to heat up. difficult, but i was glad to be there.

the whole foods (aka whole paycheck) three blocks from our house.

ellie goulding's covers. all of them: sweet disposition, the wolves, sleepyhead, only girl.

pillow talk.

pinot noir with pastaless lasagna and homemade whoopie pies that taste oh-so-good.

the anticipation of the weekend with chris and hope.

today is march first.

and i woke up this morning, took a deep breath, and was grateful for a tiny little soul living in southern california. my precious nephew, asher, will forever be a katz.

this life is fragile and demanding and some people have what it takes to love and launch a life into this scary place that we call the world. my gratitude is overflowing in this moment... the one where i finished applying mascara with the need to reapply because i began to cry thinking about carter and courtney's beautiful journey of faithfulness and perseverance in the process of growing their family.

love.