{birds} a comedic view

i laughed out loud when i recently discovered this quote...

i think this is absolutely wonderful, especially considering that some of my most holy moments have involved being shat upon by birds.

if you missed my bird stories the first time around...

**********

on my heart and messenger geese

**********

i am so very grateful for being able to get a comedic view of my situation. my sense of humor has, without a shred of doubt, saved me.

foodstuff: quiche de noël

during this week twenty-three years ago, i sat in fourth period french class and learned how to make quiche au jambon.

my teacher, madame shiptenko, was a passionate foodie and a lifelong francophile. she had studied cuisine in paris and absolutely loved to cook...

she regularly taught us cooking lessons in french. i'll never forget her first spectacular display: crêpes suzette. what a brilliant way to capture the attention of high school students - by bringing strong liqueur to class and dramatically setting it on fire.

the week before christmas during my freshman year, madame shiptenko taught us to make a simple but spectacular ham quiche. it was so fantastically delicious that i made it for my family just a few days later on christmas morning. everyone instantly fell in love with it...

thus, a tradition was born. i have made this quiche every year since then. twenty-three quiches to date and hopefully many more to come.

i still have the paper with the original recipe, which is the source of these images. it's withered and worn, yellowing and splattered from year after year of use in the kitchen. this recipe makes a fluffy, rich, golden brown quiche which fills the house with a heavenly smell.

merci beaucoup, madame shiptenko, for the gift of your passion. merci for the food, for the french, for the learning, for the love. i think of you every year when i make the christmas quiche...

a few innkeeper notes:

* i use a combination of emmentaler and gruyère cheese, which was the suggestion of madame.
* use icy cold water when making the pastry.
* if you are short on time, use freezer pie crust. however, if you do, don't tell madame. she will exclaim "mon dieu!" and roll her eyes to the heavens. i know it isn't the same as the buttery handmade pastry, but it's still ridiculously good.

* baking time is always longer than 30 minutes. i usually cook it for approximately 45 minutes. look for a golden brown color over the top.
* it needs time to cool when coming out of the oven. even though you may want to dive in immediately, i highly recommend letting it firm up a little before serving.
* if your pie plate isn't very deep, you risk an overflow of quiche juice. avoid making a mess in your oven by placing a cookie sheet or piece of foil on the rack underneath the quiche.

* vegetarians: skip the ham and substitute veggies. i've used caramelized onions with great success.

bon appetit, mes cheris! joyeux noël!

{symbol} nunquam dormio

i am fascinated by this image...

the first time i saw it, i was riding my bike in the desert. it was very late at night, and i was a weary burning man traveler who suddenly discovered an exquisite tea temple out in the middle of the playa...

{photo by zippaparazza}

the tea temple was a peaceful respite from the harsh desert winds and constant chaotic activity. i left my dusty boots at the door and entered a space where a calm, thoughtful camp was brewing and serving tea. the vibe was soothing, the voices hushed, the faces content. pillows were arranged around low, circular tables. generous people kept filling my cup with steamy oolong tea while i rested within the warm tent walls...

{photo by zippaparazza}

i have no idea how long i stayed at the tea temple, but when i left i felt completely restored. every day after that i rode by the tent and looked gratefully at the sign on top...

{photo by mark matthews}

according to my research, nunquam dormio is latin for i never sleep.

the image showed up again this week in a book i am reading: pronoia by rob brezsny.

and i am once again pulled by it.

right now i think of it literally - as the tea temple, a physical space that is perpetually open for weary travelers. i also consider it a metaphorical symbol - as the peaceful place within myself that is always awake, aware, and available for respite and rejuvenation...

{illustration by justin kamerer}

{story} hearty

ten years ago, at a gathering in the mountains of montana, i sat by a flickering campfire with a group of new friends.

we had all set up camp in the same part of the woods and ended up becoming a neighborhood of kindred spirits who often ate dinner together.

after our meal one night, everyone spontaneously started exchanging little gifts. bars of chocolate, jewelry, postcards, tools, tea, candles, and other heartfelt offerings were pulled out of backpacks and shared freely.

i was sitting next to an older gentleman who we affectionately called "hearty." he was a wandering fisherman from alaska who was the human embodiment of pure love.

as the exchange gained momentum, i leaned over to hearty and said:

i'll be right back - my gifts are in my tent.

quickly i dashed through the woods to get the vintage cigar tin i had carried with me from home.

it contained "wood fairies," creations i had made which were delicate painted sticks adorned with shimmery stones and feathers for wings.

the box full of fairies was easy to find in my stash of stuff, but as i walked back to the fire my confidence diminished.

i thought:

everyone else has shared things

that are practical, edible, useful.

my creations aren't any of those things.

by the time i sat down next to hearty again, my resolve to share the fairies was wavering. i shyly opened the rusty box, handed him one, and said:

it's...it's a...i call it a wood fairy.

i made it from sticks and feathers and stones.

he examined it in the firelight for a moment. during his brief silence, my insecurity caused me to blurt out a disclaimer:

it...doesn't really have a purpose. it's just...pretty.

he looked up to see my befuddled expression, put his hand firmly on my shoulder, and said:

oh my.

oh, my dear friend.

PRETTY has a PURPOSE.

he said it with conviction, strength, and truth. he said it with complete clarity. he held my gaze and did not look away.

and then we both smiled.

and my world shifted.

because until that moment in the woods, i had lived in a very pragmatic world.

i came from a place that considered ART and everything related to ART to be LOVELY but NONESSENTIAL.

this idea had been painful for me for a quarter of a century because i was born an ARTIST.

i loved ART. i loved to look at ART. i loved to make ART.

however, i had always been given the message that this LOVE was fun but frivolous. over the years i had grown to believe that ART was not practical, edible, or useful.

hearty looked me deeply in the eye and told me in no uncertain terms that what i loved to do was meaningful.

that making ART has a PURPOSE.

everything cracked wide open for me by the campfire that night.

thank you, hearty.

**********

{photography: lance fuller}

{music: "no poetry" by gary jules}

{retreat} inner voice

{the shieling by caitlihne}

during my twentysomething years, i traipsed through a nebulous swirl of existential angst.

it was a confusing time because i had followed my dream and moved to los angeles to pursue a career in acting...yet i was deeply unhappy as an artist.

living in a thriving metropolis while navigating the twists and turns of an inner shift was difficult for me.

so from time to time, i escaped.

accompanied by my guitar, my journal, and a bag full of art supplies, i would jump in the car and head off into the mountains...

{inside or outside by dadu shin}

although i occasionally camped, my landing spot was almost always a beautiful inn, cottage, or bed and breakfast.

into a cozy little nook i would go, retreating from the chaos of nine million people and making space for my own voice to be heard.

this was such an important practice for me. it helped me find my way to where i am now.

last night i realized this: i loved my ritual so much, i made an inn of my own.

and here we are.

now i am full of wonder about you: do you have a retreat or a ritual which assists you in untangling the threads of your story?

{magic} lunar halo

last night, my best friend and i fell into a heap of laughter on the driveway while telling stories.

simultaneously, we both gasped. 

directly above us was a full moon surrounded by a perfect glowing halo...

{moon halo over somerville by scott williams}

it was stunning and lovely, this radiant luminescence in the indigo night sky.

stretched out on the asphalt in awestruck wonder, we admired its beauty for a long time...

{word} open

words, words, words.

in my book, words are powerful beings. if you have been a guest for any length of time here at the inn, you have probably noticed that i love words.

words often get stuck in my head the same way songs do. sometimes a word shows up in my mind, goes on a repetitive loop, and visits me in mysterious ways throughout the day or week. it frequently feels as if the word is tapping me on the shoulder and asking me to pay attention to it. most of the time it refuses to leave until i understand what it is trying to teach me.

this week's word is...

{photo by i saw the sign}

it started with a tweet from the wonderful daniel of mettadrum...

per daniel's invitation, i meditated on this word for a couple of minutes. it felt expansive - visions of wings stretching, petals unfurling, insides shifting. it felt spacious - there was room for everything. it felt invitational - like rolling out a giant welcome mat for all that is...

{photo by james bo insogna}

so the word open has been journeying around with me all week. when a word does this, it usually shows me examples of what it means. open had a message for me last night.

my best friend and i called for a cab after an evening out on the town. when the car arrived, we were approaching it when suddenly two women ran up and jumped in. my immediate reaction was defensive - hadn't they seen us? is this going to cause an issue? how long will we wait if this cab doesn't work out?

while my mind was spinning in these questions, my friend went over and talked with everyone in the car. after a couple of minutes, he turned around and gestured for me to get into the front seat. he told me that even though they lived in the opposite direction from where we were going, they wanted to ride together with us instead of trying to find another cab.

i was tired, confused, and resistant. this is when the word of the week floated back into my brain...

{photo by joel dill}

the word said: open yourself to this experience. open yourself to this moment. open your heart. open your mind. open.

and then an incredible thing happened.

i got into the car and had the most memorable cab ride of my life.

one of the two women immediately started telling stories which caused the entire car, including the driver, to laugh hysterically for the whole ride home. she was riotously funny, as skilled as a professional comedian. she inspired knee-slapping, side-splitting, gulping-for-air guffaws and tears rolling down our faces. i haven't laughed like that in years.

in addition to her fast and furious funny tales, she also sprinkled her stories with bits of brilliant life wisdom. she communicated a message which spoke directly to my heart. i was genuinely sad to say goodbye when we arrived home, waving goodbye with a feeling of fullness after wiping my eyes from the outpouring caused by her hilarious show.

dear daniel, thank you for prompting me to spend some time with the word open this week. your tweet helped me make room for this delightfully spontaneous shimmering moment. your word is still floating around in this innkeeper's brain, making space and reminding me to roll out the welcome mat.

{story} messenger geese

early one morning, i was driving through the rolling hills of napa on my way to school. the sun was just coming up over the mountains. the landscape was awash in pink light. lush vineyards, golden grass, and gnarled oak trees were all bathed in a rosy glow.

as i drove, a song started to play which reminded me of my dad. he had died two years before, and the pain of missing him was still fresh. witnessing the beautiful view and hearing the memory-filled music created an instantaneous ache in my heart.

full of this feeling, i rounded a curve onto an empty stretch of road. my arrival there startled a huge flock of canadian geese who had been resting in a field. my presence caused them to excitedly launch into the air, a chaotic flap-fest of wings...

{print by caitlin heimerl}

my mouth dropped open in awe. canadian geese were my father's favorite bird. he absolutely adored them. we had prints, photographs, sculptures of these creatures all over my childhood home. i could not recall ever seeing them in napa, yet here they were in this spectacular moment.

tears started to fall as i felt longing and sadness for my dad. i regarded this as a small sign of our timeless connection. it made me miss him terribly.

suddenly, the entire flock of geese, who had been flying away, switched direction and started to fly toward me. i was dumbfounded by this and could only stare in amazement as they approached my car. my heart almost exploded from the majesty of the whole scene.

and then...

they flew directly overhead and a giant load of goose poo hit my windshield.

a truly enormous amount of poo.

in fact, it was so much poo that i had to use the wipers and a significant supply of cleaning fluid to be able to see the road.

this made me laugh with total abandon.

my dad was a hilariously funny guy. he loved laughter, teasing, jokes, and fun.

this incident was just the sort of silliness he created whenever things got too serious. if i had been a sniffly mess over something as sentimental as this scene, he would have done something ridiculous to make me smile.

hence, the goose bomb.

i laughed all the way to school.

i laughed while i wrote this.

i'm still laughing...

{note: this is the second story i have written involving otherworldly communication through bird excrement. in case you missed the first one, here it is.}

{query} adventure

{design by zack davenport}

your innkeeper adores adventure.

one of the things i love about adventure: meeting a wondrous variety of mind-blowing and magical people. when traipsing all over the map, i consider myself wildly lucky to meet an array of amazing humans.

one such specimen is the fantastically effervescent annie passanisi of happiness advocates...

i was introduced to annie on twitter many moons ago (thank you fabeku!) and we instantly swooned over each other. as pixie dust spreaders, musical theatre gals, and burn broads, we are kindred spirits indeed.

when my burning man ticket search got tough last month, annie called me and scooped me up out of my funk. after a dismal morning of tears and frustration, she made me laugh riotously and convinced me that it would happen. we actually got to meet each other in person on the playa, and i can say with heartfelt gusto that i will adore her forever...



since we returned from the desert, annie has been assembling her own personal dream team of twelve women who will be collaborating on a beautiful project this fall.

i am ridiculously excited to announce that she invited me to be one of those twelve!

most of the juicy project details will be detailed later, but for now i will say that the result is going to be a whimsy-fest of epic proportions.

right now, i am working on my contribution to this project. i have a big batch of stardust simmering - lots of thinking, outlining, collecting inspiration, brainstorming, and researching going on here at the inn.

which brings me back to adventure, the concept that landed me here in the first place. my part in annie's whimsical creation is about adventure...

{image via shawna laurington}

thus, your innkeeper has a humble research request. if you have a moment to leave me a comment, i would love to ponder your response to the following question:

how do you define adventure in your life? what does the concept of adventure mean in your world?

{story} on my heart

in my early twenties, i worked at an outdoor restaurant where i met a beautiful and true soul friend.

during a shift one afternoon, a bird pooped on her crisp white shirt.

my friend smiled at the mess and told me a story:

when she was eighteen, her mother became very ill.

knowing that their time together was limited, her mother promised that she would show up after her death in funny ways.

she wanted to be able to bring laughter to life’s little moments.

one way she vowed to deliver this humor was through bird droppings…

her mother told her that whenever a bird shat upon her, it was to be regarded as a direct message from beyond.

so my friend and i laughed together at her soiled shirt and felt the hello.

a few years later, my friend decided to travel the world.

i was thoroughly excited about her journey, but deeply sad to say goodbye.

the day she left, i took her to the airport.

many tears fell.

in fact, so many tears fell that i could not drive safely and chose to pull the car over in a park on the way home.

i grabbed a book on meditation from the back seat and spread out a blanket in a shady spot to collect myself.

the first page i opened to suggested that i close my eyes and slowly tune in to all the layers of sound going on around me.

i reclined in the shadow of a big leafy tree, closed my eyes, and focused my attention gradually on the layers…

airplanes. wind. cars. birds. children. dogs. laughter. bees. construction. crickets.

my mind kept drifting to my friend’s departure and more tears fell, but i kept coming back to the sounds.

in the midst of this practice, i felt a wet splat on my chest.

i immediately sat up and looked down at my shirt.

bird poop. on my heart. left side. direct hit.

i stared in utter amazement. i have only been shat upon by a bird two other times in my life: once at the school carnival in sixth grade, and once while eating my first italian ice in new york city.

i knew instantly that this was another hello from my friend’s mother.

this made me laugh. and cry. and rejoice.

and i asked myself right then to remember this:

pixie dancing

{photo by sholgk}

some people believe that pixie dancing is responsible for the turning of the earth and that this dancing is the work they do to keep us spinning on this big beautiful floating rock.

it has been said that pixies choose to be joyful in this dancing because they know that a merry heart makes light work.

sending you a heaping sprinkle of stardust for your weekend...may you remember the pixies and weave a lighthearted dance into your days.

{perfectly imperfect} one

it was only a few years ago that i realized i might be struggling with perfectionism.

it happened when i started teaching at a school which had posters everywhere that said "it's ok to make a mistake."

as i started learning the value of this simple idea and teaching it to my students, i slowly became aware of a voice and a way of being within me that was perfectionism. as i noticed this voice, i found out that it was intense, frequently present, and quite damaging...

{ana juan via the book smugglers}

once i opened up to this idea, i started to become aware of all the ways this perfectionist chatter was hurting me as a person and as an artist.

in fact, i've been thinking about writing a series on perfectionism for at least a year. i have a whole folder of articles saved, a long list of ideas to write, and a huge amount of experience that i want to share.

and yet, i keep putting it off because i think i need to organize it, refine it, plan it, polish it, and...well, perfect it.

isn't that such delightful irony? it fits right in with "making a to-do list chalkboard" perpetually being on my to-do list...

{elizabeth webb via greyscale territory}

this morning, my perfectionist voice was active. one of the ways it functions is that it starts in with the "not good enough" script. it says things like, "you didn't get up as early as you should have. why didn't you plan your morning differently? you should have done this task yesterday. wow, you aren't doing enough and there isn't enough time and nothing is ever enough blah blah blah..."

in the middle of this stream, i suddenly noticed the voice and i said the following out loud: "stop. everything is fine. there is no problem right now. stop making drama. all is well."

and it stopped.

i noticed it, got present, and my whole morning shifted.

in this exchange, i realized that i wanted to launch imperfectly into my series on perfectionism.

today. right away. now.

so here i am.

i don't know how often i will write about it, i don't know exactly how i plan to share it, and i'm not totally certain i will be able to communicate it the way i have envisioned.

but as your devoted innkeeper, i have to follow my heart...

{sveta dorosheva}

and my heart says: start talking about your journey with perfectionism.

one of the goals of the inn is to create a magical place to unwind, talk about life, ponder, rejuvenate.

thus, i would like to know...have any of you dealt with perfectionism?

i am officially opening up this conversation and letting it breathe amongst the shimmering walls of the inn.

xo

lesson of the year: the hardest to love

today was the last day with my students.

class was a frenzy of yearbook signing, silly pictures, and group hugs.

i stood in the midst of the chaos and reflected upon what i learned this year.

did i improve upon my lesson design skills? did i become more effective as a director and producer of shows? did i choose better scripts, integrate more technology, or refine my classroom management?

many thoughts about the year were bouncing around in my head when a student approached me.

this student was my most difficult challenge for the last few months. his behavior was intense and pushed me to my limits. i called upon every ounce of patience and compassion within myself to help this human function in the world of middle school. it was a huge amount of energy and effort, and i was quite uncertain that i had made even a tiny difference.

as i stood pondering the year, this student walked up to me and handed me a piece of folded notebook paper. he did it simply, with no fanfare whatsoever, and then walked away...

i slowly opened it, and my heart cracked open with joy.

he had written a sincere note telling me how much he loved my class and that it was his best experience this year. he thanked me for teaching him and wished me a great summer.

everyone else was zipping around the room, completely absorbed in silly middle school antics, and my most challenging student had just quietly handed me a thank you note.

i was flabbergasted.

immediately i remembered a little sign i made myself at the beginning of the year which i taped to the wall in my supply closet:

although i learned many things this year, this lesson is the one that stands out, the one i want to remember, and the one i carry most dearly in my heart.

{transformation} morgan morning

when working through julia cameron's book vein of gold earlier this year, she instructed us to think back to our early childhood and recall our three favorite books.

this is the first one that i remembered...

{written by stephen cosgrove + illustrated by robin james}

it is the story of an adventurous young horse, morgan, who wanders away from his mother, tumbles over a waterfall, gets hurt, and is unable to return home. after a cold night alone, the morning star magically transforms him into a unicorn.

my sister and i cried at the end of this book every single time my mom read it to us. we frequently requested it as a bedtime story. not wanting us to end up in tears before sleeping, my mom would say, "are you sure you want me to read this one?" we always nodded our heads in confirmation of the choice.

when i found it on my best friend's bookshelf recently, i decided to bring it home and spend some time reading it again. it is just as beautiful as i remembered. the story is heartbreaking and the illustrations are gorgeous.

upon reflection, i can see why this story was meaningful to me as a child. the story of transformation is one that has captivated me from the beginning. in fact, this message was present in all three of the books i recalled.

if you would like to try this activity, take a few moments to think back to your early childhood stories...

{source}

quickly name your three favorites.

one. two. three.

do you see any similarities in the themes or characters of those three stories? have the elements of those stories been present in your life journey? are they in your life now?

p.s. i have been listening to a random internet radio station as i write this, and a song just started to play that features the sounds of pouring rain and a horse galloping around. magical!

music makes us fast friends

my best friend's toddler twins recently started their first music class...

{jonas bergstrand via animalarium}

i had the pleasure of being with them during their first day in class.

the teacher was wonderful and warm, a person who the kids immediately connected with and loved.

she explained to us that during class, the children are free to explore, express, join, watch, wander, and play.

in the middle of class, she was introducing a new song when one twin felt spontaneously inspired to run up and throw his arms around her in a giant toddler embrace.

she immediately hugged him back, smiled a radiant smile, and without missing a beat said:

my heart nearly burst with joy upon witnessing this scene.

to express my love of this idea, i bring you two videos...

{fast friends}

{music}

guardians of being

on a recent evening, i found myself navigating an intense conversation with my beloved kevwrex.

we got tangled up in a talk about the future, the kind of discussion where frustration, worry, and fear of the unknown creep in and cause stress.

in the midst of our swirly chat, our dog daria entered the room and subtly stationed herself betwixt us.

at the height of our emotions, we paused for a moment of silent contemplation.

in this quiet space, daria looked calmly at both of us and released the loudest, most fantastically hilarious dog belch we have ever heard...

we both immediately started howling with laughter and nearly fell on the floor with pure delight.

our moods promptly lifted, our conversation shifted, and our smiles returned.

daria jean beauty queen brought us back into the moment with the grace of a burp.

eckhart tolle refers to pets as "guardians of being" because they help us stay in the now...



millions of peoplewho otherwise would becompletely lost in their mindsand in endless past and future concernsare taken back by their dog or cat
into the present moment,again and again, 
and reminded of the joy of being.

{book}

i am deeply grateful that my darling dog reminds me to stay grounded in the present.

the treehouse

the first thing you see when you walk through the front door of our home is an enormous photo of a beautiful redwood tree.

this majestic beauty is hanging in the center of the house and gives the illusion that a giant tree is growing up through the middle of our space.

it is the reason we affectionately refer to our abode as "the treehouse."

my friend lance visited us recently and captured this image of me in the tree...

lance caught this moment with his fabulous camera when i peeked my pixie head over the edge of my loft to make a silly face at him.

i think it is great fun to live in a treehouse.

it is difficult to realize

how great a part of all that is cheerful and delightful

in the recollections of our own life

is associated with trees.

wilson flagg