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Posts Tagged ‘life’

I hope my life is never without love… Nothing can be felt without Passion… To be Inspired is to understand the reason for living… Follow your Heart… Make Mistakes… Make lots and lots of Mistakes… Remember the things you Love, and do them… Be completely Consumed by a feeling… Give in… There is nothing in your life that you are meant to have that wont come with time… Don’t try so hard to make good things happen… Good things happen on their own… And when you find that one person that makes your world go round, That one person you can’t imagine your life without… Tell them you love them… Tell them you love them every day… Because you’re meant to be happy… And happiness is knowing what you have today… and being grateful you have it…

 

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Eyelight Studio

My Parents have been together for 25 years today, and they’re still in love.

Still so in love that they can occasionally gross out their 21 year old daughter by holding each other close, staring deeply into the familiarity of their partners eyes… and for lack of a more dignified adult word… making out!

I love you both so much! and I can only hope to still be grossing my children out 24 years and 4 months from now!

Thank you so much for teaching me about love and marriage, and being one of the few remaining examples of how both can work in the world we live in today!

I Love You.

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Sometimes you want it, sometimes you need it, and sometimes you just plain gotta have it.

Hawaii gets to me, living in a place were you can only drive for so long before you end up right back were you started drives me crazy. Not to mention the dirt is the wrong color, the apples at the supermarket suck and don’t they know that beaches are supposed to be cold, gray and completely deserted short of the occasional surfer, dog walker and van full of stoner kids?

I miss the rain, and the fog, I miss waking up in the morning and having to muster up the strength to leave the warmth of the covers long enough to stoke the fire. I miss acres and acres of natural forests filled with tall trees, and the kind of lush greenery that thrives on a climate of cold wet winters and hot dry summers. I miss honey bees, and butterflies, the way the babbling of a creek in the distance can melt into the peaceful sounds of serene silence, and I miss my dogs.

photo by Castlelyn Carmona

I even miss the things I never liked in the first place… like seagulls. Now I’d say I hate seagulls, but hate is such a strong word so I’ll go with dislike, I very strongly dislike seagulls they’re like the rats of the sky, pesky, loud, always begging for bits of food, then blemishing your vehicle ungratefully whether you feed them or not, but somehow lately I even find myself wondering… where are the seagulls?

for me island fever is like finding a small splinter in the tip of my finger when there are no tweezers to be found. Without a quick fix I just try to ignore it hoping in the back of my mind that it will be purged by the natural functions of my body… a naïve short lived hope at the very least. When I wake up the next morning it’s been momentarily forgotten, I get out of bed and head for the shower. Still groggy I reach for the tap and… F*CK! I look to my hand and there it is right where I left it, but now it’s not only a little splinter, but it’s a little splinter on a finger that is throbbing and red with infection. I head to the medicine cabinet for a band-aid and some ointment, but there’s nothing to be found, no band-aids, no rubbing alcohol, and still no tweezers. So I give in, I turn off the tap, throw on some clothes and head downstairs to where my laptop is perched precariously on the edge of the couch. I sit myself down and arrange it on my lap as I let out a reluctant sigh of shrewd acceptance. I flip open the screen, and head for my favorite travel site, I type date a few days from now, and wait for the ridiculously expensive numbers to appear so that I can laugh at myself suck the splinter from my thumb, and move on with my life, but they never come the only numbers that grace my screen are reasonable… really really reasonable.

One phone call and a 500 dollar credit card purchase later the throbbing in my finger has stopped, and I’m on my way to a whole Humboldt full of metaphorical antiseptic.

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It’s the big goals in life that are often the easiest to focus on. We work and we strive to gain the validation of becoming new things, and obtaining new parts, and pieces of our lives, but in all of this striving and obtaining, and the occasional clawing we do to get to the top there are so many everyday things that are lost, and unless they are remembered and cherished we’ll all just pass right by them on the way to our next big things.

It has not been as easy to stop and be a part of my own life as I thought it would be. I always thought I was my own life, but recently I realized that I’ve been missing so much of what makes up my everyday. Consumed by my latest aspirations and my no so sunny optimism I found myself feeling rather dark and gloomy, and after moping about the house for longer than I would like to admit it struck me and I had to asked myself

where was the beauty in the world?

Where was the beauty in me?

and why couldn’t I see it anymore?

I was determined to turn it around to find happiness in my own world, in my own life, even if my “big goals” were taking more time than I had anticipated. So I did something I hadn’t done in a wile, I looked to the inside of my right wrist, and read the words I’d had permanently inscribed there “Be Grateful” two simple words and an entire world of meaning. I’d like to tell you that I’d forgotten they were there, that I’d become so used to seeing them everyday that I wouldn’t even notice them, my mind skimming over them like a freckle or a birthmark always there, but rarely noticed. The truth is, I stopped looking, stopped reading them when the inscription began to make me feel guilty for never being happy with what I had, and always wanting more, but this day was different, I read them over and over first taking them in with just my eyes, and then taking them back into my heart. I stared at my wrist for a long time and then touched the words with my fingers, rubbing against them and reassuring myself that they were here to stay, and finally I held them against my chest, right over my heart as if I were trying to absorb them into my very soul.

When I walked to the mail box that morning I picked out ten things along the way I was Grateful for; the warm Hawaiian rain, The feel of the earth beneath my feet, the sound of the wind in the trees, little birds hopping through the grass, my home, fresh ocean air, the sweet smell of plumeria, puddles, and packages in the mail. Every one of them simple, and every one of them something I’d experienced almost everyday, but I’d passed right over them before not even seeing that there are so many things to smile about each day.

Every day I spend some time watching the finches, and the sparrows perching on the fence in my back yard as they take turns dive bombing the bird seed scattered across the few feet of deep red volcanic soil at the end of my patio. They chirp and sing as they muscle for rank and placement on the boundaries of my yard and I smile, and take as much time as I wish to appreciate the happiness they make me feel inside, and I am grateful.

It’s a struggle to remember to take time, and to be grateful. A lesson I must reteach myself every day, but it’s worth it, it’s worth taking the time, and as time goes on I can only hope that I will become so accustomed to appreciating the world around me that it will be the first thing I do, and I wont remember how to miss it.

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There is nothing more comforting than knowing you have a place to come home to, and I’m fortunate enough to know that I always will. My home isn’t an apartment somewhere, or a cozy little cabin tucked back in the woods. It’s not a big house full of room mates, or a duplex on a military installation. It’s much bigger than that, it’s not a building, or a town, it’s a whole county, Humboldt County to be exact.

Humboldt County isn’t just a place; it’s a feeling, a passion kept alive by the people who’ve come to love it. Bordered by the Pacific Ocean, and nestled in the redwood forests of Northern California, Humboldt is beautiful, serene, tranquil, a picture perfect post card of wilderness, and the late night fantasy of anyone who loves the outdoors.

Known for a subculture of beautiful plants that flower prosperously all year-round thanks to the over abundance of hydroponic and horticultural shops that litter its cities and towns. Humboldt is a wonderland for the College freshman looking for a chance to prove their independence by growing their hair long, and washing their jeans… well… “never”… The clean-cut suburban city kid can put prep schools and winter formals behind them for a chance to spend day after day eating brownies and contemplating the vast intrigues of a Grateful Dead poster. Don’t get me wrong, College in Humboldt is a wonderful nurturing place to come into your own and find out who you really are, but many young adults take a little bit of a smoke-filled detour on the way.

Humboldt is the place my life started, where I took my first breath, lost my first tooth, spoke my first word, got my first kiss, fell in love for the very first time. I’ve lost and gained all those things that make up a childhood in Humboldt, and it will always be my first love. From summer days spend lazing by a murky pond, to winter nights bundled up under the stars, there’s no place I’d rather call home, and though my life may take me away, I will always find comfort in knowing that whenever I choose she’ll be there with arms open waiting to pull me right back into the warm embrace that is knowing where you come from, and where you belong.

“Humboldt is like a sweet kiss on a rainy day, you never know where it might lead, but you’re glad to be with the one you love”

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