Griffith Observatory

I went for a hike up to the Griffith Observatory yesterday morning.  I think I just really needed to do something passive.  And by passive I guess I don't mean inactive, because I was running and frolicking up and down that trail.  But I mean that I just had to make some time to have no responsibilities or obligations.  To not think of work and getting things done.  And to just be alone in a long moment of freedom from phone calls and emails and jobs and driving and schedules.

Griffith Park has long been a place of serenity for me.  My hike to the observatory begins with the lush overhang of trees, and wooden bridges that I think are there because of a creek, but it's always been dry as far as I've known, so sometimes I think the bridges are there just to look pretty, because they do.  

I love that hike.  I don't pass very many people on my trail.  This time it was only a guy with his one-eyed dog and a latino family, the little girls giggling as they slid down the dry desert slope.

And the observatory I've always loved.  It's free admission, so anyone can stroll in and learn all about the solar system and universe and history and science.  There's so much to see and discover in that building!

But this time I just walked the grounds, following the scaled down orbits of each planet marked by metal lines inlaid in the concrete around the building, and finally I stood on the small metal Earth for a while, stretching and thinking, while standing on the real Earth too.

Astronomy has long been an interest of mine.  When I began college as an english major, I also took on astronomy as my minor.  Well, it didn't take me long to realize that the involved studies of that education was not fit for a pastime!  So I switched it to philosophy.

I did, however, learn some beautiful things.  About the stars and planets and this phenomenal universe that is holding us all in its fine fragile grasp.  Worm holes and black holes and what is time.  It's fascinating to me.  Truly and deeply fascinating.

And I remember back in Aspen, when I took my first astronomy class in high school and just soaked it up. I'd take friends out with me over by the music tent at night, to the lumpy bumpy park, which I think is gone now, and we'd lie down and look at the deep black sky speckled with so many stars and I would point out every one I knew and show them the unreachable.  

And we'd lie there sometimes until the stars began to disappear with the early light of our big star.  And sometimes we'd go and visit a baker that I discovered who was up working before the town arose and he'd give us fresh cherry almond muffins in the earliest of the morning before his deliveries.  And those were the sweetest of nights.  

But yesterday I stood there and just took it all in.  The smoggy sweeping city below me.  The tourists and laughing children around me.  All of it operating and all of us together.

Standing atop this mystery, I just thought, god, I would not trade this world for the world!  It is by far my favorite place I've ever been.

And I thought about everyone else too.

Here's what I hope for us.  All of us.  To be good to each other.  Just to be good.  Because we are all on this tumultuous journey in this crazy beautiful universe.  And no one knows what it is.  But we can all understand.  We can understand a lot.  Like how every day is here and difficult, but somehow, sacred, for just being.  

L.A.

Here's what I did this week.  Learn about traffic.  Here's what I did not do.  Let it get me down.  Though I was close, so very close last night, my determination to let things be and find some good in everything won.  And it seemed like the world rewarded me for that. Thank god and hallelujah!  

Now, thankfully, I don't have to deal with the worst traffic for my new job, but there's always some, and I've found ways to enjoy it so far, catching up on politics that I don't really care about, listening to jazz or classical to make sure I stay serene, learning to speak French.  I just kind of let the time in the car with myself be a fun little segment of my day.

But last night, well, that was a different story!  A major thoroughfare was closed or blocked or something, I couldn't even see what was up, and everyone was re-routed onto Sunset Boulevard, which is sort of just always congested, so this made it out of control.  I probably could have gotten out of my car and explored every block along the way and gotten a snack or something and returned to my car and have had absolutely no effect on the progress forward.

So there I found myself.  So close to home, with no choice but to be there.  No way out.  No alternative secret routes.  Mostly at a complete standstill. 

When my usual tricks for entertaining myself ran out, I finally found myself on the brink of true and utter frustration, like, please, can I just get home already!  And I thought to myself, well, ok, this is why people get upset with traffic and start honking their horns even though it's ridiculous and doesn't do any good. But then I found myself thinking (I mean, there was a lot of time to think), yeah, maybe it's true, but I don't ever want to be one of those people.

So, instead, I rolled down the windows and held my hand up to the sky and it started to rain ever so slightly, and the air was still warm, and in my rearview mirror I saw the most beautiful ombre backdrop of grey to purple to lavender to pink.  And I just kind of half-way crawled out of my window to face it straight on and I swear if a couple of tears didn't well up in my eyes with the rain and the sunset on Sunset Boulevard and so I waved to the guy behind me in his white Mercedes and he smiled and I think he turned to look at the sunset too.  And suddenly, life was quite magical once again.

And it got me thinking, for the rest of the drive/destroyer of my poor clutch, about a lot of things, but mostly about Los Angeles and people's perception of it.  I mean, traffic comes to mind for a lot of people, but also a sense of superficiality.  Like it's this shallow place with no real culture.  Which frightened me when I first moved here, reluctantly, for love, so many years ago.  

So I decided, while in traffic, because I'm allowed to make decisions like this, that the misconception might be a good thing.  Because, really, there is so much depth to this place.  I think that the soul of L.A. is actually protected by its shiny, superficial veneer.  It's like, that's what the rest of the world sees and it's too bright to see through, but we get to live behind it in this glorious place.  Where there is culture and architecture and music and literature and art and some of my favorite museums in the world. 

Other cities, they're self explanatory from the outset.  New York is obvious.  It wears its heart on its sleeve.  We see it.  I can think of so many cities that are what they seem, Prague and London and Paris and Florence.  But Los Angeles, I don't think it gives away too much.  I think you need to live here to understand it.  And it takes some bravery to make that decision, because, yes, it does seem pretty hollow and disconnected from the outside.

But those who really love it here, who have a relationship with this city, do so because of its depth, not because it's the L.A. that the outside world sees.  But because of the meaning, the real meaning that runs through the city and keeps it alive.  I do think that the oxygen of Los Angeles has long been creativity and true pioneering.  And I'm not trying to talk anyone into moving here (well, maybe one person), but I think L.A. deserves a bit of credit.  Or, maybe, just this small love letter from me.

I will tell you a couple of secrets, though, for those who want to see inside.  In this city, a breathtaking canvas covered in irises by the hand of Van Gogh hangs at the Getty.  The sound of Beethoven rolls over the hilltops.  And a girl sits in her car, in traffic, watching the sunset on Sunset Boulevard with delicate tears in her eyes and her heart is so full and she is happy.

Uncharted Territory

I'll tell you what I did this week.  I managed.  And I managed well.

As for outings this week, I managed, amidst some serious work days, to do my favorite summer staples.  Played badminton in the park.  Walked up to the Farmer's Market at night.  Went to brunch with Jessica and Bethany at our usual spot.  Swung by the Hollywood Bowl with AT&T, for, literally, about ten minutes.  

It was Filipino Night, which I was looking forward to, but I don't think we were invited.  I mean, it was Filipino night, and Filipino night only.  And we sat down and listened to one and a half ballads, which I swear I couldn't figure out if we were at karaoke or a concert, and then we left, probably to everyone's great relief, ours included, because we were the only ones not singing along anyway.    

It was nice for me to speckle my week with outings, though, because I do think that otherwise I could have easily been overwhelmed by work at times.

But I think, really, this week was less about discovering uncharted territory in LA and more about discovering things about my own self.  Who knew?  After this long being me, there is still so much to learn and overcome.  

I've had this vivid sensation all week of being very much on my own.  Which has been both good and petrifying at the same time.  It's not true, of course.  I am not on my own and have a glorious support system always and especially when in need.  But, then again, aren't we all, ultimately, on our own?

But, never you worry, with a few deep breaths here and there to prevent any full-fledged breakdowns, I found out that I can do it, which was the great discovery.  Because I've often felt like I could lose it when faced with certain challenges, just let go of my grasp and sink to the floor in a puddle of tears.  That's the old familiar brink I found myself on a couple of times this week, but, lo and behold, there is a new me!  

First, I had a near math panic attack at work the other day, the likes of which I haven't seen since my college Physics course.  I had to learn just about a million equations, percentages, projections, trends, and more percentages, which for some is just another day at the office, but for me, well, me + math = panic.  So I was hearing someone speaking and writing things down trying to compose myself when, mostly, in fact, it sounded like gibberish and I was just writing away filling several sheets of paper up with numbers and stuff.  

At the end of it all, the phone hung up, back in it's usual spot, it was me, at the desk, staring into a colossal sea of papers with numbers on them that I hardly even remembered writing, thinking to myself, that's it, I'm just going to pay someone to do this for me every month.  But then I caught myself, and shifted, and had a new thought.  No.  Never mind.  I will learn this.  I want to be someone who understands this and can confidently do this every month and be someone to whom others can turn for guidance.  I will master the numbers!  They do not scare me! 

And the face-off began.  I sat there looking at my scribblings.  I gave myself as much time as I needed, and slowly, ever so slowly, like really, really slowly, I pieced it all together.  It took me translating it all into actual word sentences and writing it out that way.  But, in the end, I saw what the equations meant, and where the numbers at hand had come from and what I was doing and why I was doing it.  And I really couldn't believe myself, for a minute there.  It's quite a beautiful thing to change your own ingrained responses.  

And then, we were having some technical problems with the computers and nobody seemed to know what to do, so I just decided to figure it out and got all resourceful and found the right person to call and he had me fiddling with plugs and various components in this master plug box in the back room, and we had success!  And the thing I love about figuring that out is that I will always know what to do when that problem arises in the future, and so it will be with every next problem I learn how to resolve.  And, god, there's really nothing I love more than feeling competent and invaluable in any given situation.

So, I changed a lot this week.  I mean, if you told someone that you saw me doing math and fixing computers, they might not believe you.  I guess somewhere along the lines, though, without knowing it, I decided that I no longer only want to do things I know I am good at.  I want to face and become good at the things I fear and have long avoided.  And then I will know more things and feel even more competent.  This is good.  I like this new plan, whatever part of me devised it.

It's funny, though, to think that you can so long identify with being a certain way and one day just make the decision not to be anymore.  What control we have over our very own beings!  It's a damn near miracle, really.  They weren't kidding in elementary school.  Only I always thought it meant something else, like, astronaut. But, it's true, you can actually be whatever you want to be!

Hollywood Bowl

This past week, I found myself tethered to a gentle undercurrent of post-vacation depression that I couldn't seem to shake.  Which, I'm always prepared for when I return from a trip.  Because, well, it always happens.  And it's not because I don't love coming home to LA, god, how I do, it's just that I love the freedom that comes with traveling so very much that it's always tough for me to see it go.

It's fitting, really, that I'm writing this post on the 4th of July.  Because it's the holiday of freedom.  And there is nothing I value more.  Which is why I'm always acting like I'm on vacation.  That's when I do feel the most free.

In any case, I was slowly adjusting to being back in the responsible world, when I remembered that my first Hollywood Bowl show of the summer was on Sunday!  Oh, now that made me happy!  And then I looked at my tickets to see who was playing and it was Ben Harper.  And I was just like, Ben Harper?  I don't even like Ben Harper.  Why in god's name did I get Ben Harper tickets?

To my credit, it was probably that I just tend to buy tickets for all of the Sunday shows because they usually end up being some of the most memorable and unique.  Even if I'm not familiar with the lineup for the evening, I always leave having discovered something new, and truly affected.  The Sunday shows tend to be a full blown experience.  Like, I've been to Mexican night and the Highlander Fling and African night.  Dancing in the aisles, smiling and filled with music under the Hollywood sky.

I decided, with the Ben Harper show, that I would just decide whether to go at the last minute.  And it wasn't until I was in the park playing badminton with my AT&T friend that I just stopped and looked at him and was like, come on, let's go to the Bowl!  Because, I realized, I'd go to any show there and be happy.  I just can't resist it.

So, off we went, spontaneously, with a bottle of white wine and plastic cups.  For the record, AT&T doesn't like Ben Harper either.  

The second we walked into that amphitheater, though, I just felt all the stress of not being on vacation fall away from me, like a cloak I left with the usher, and I was free once again.  Blessed be for that night!  I mean, we were sort of chuckling together at moments in a tacit, nope, still don't like Ben Harper sort of way.  But being out there on the hillside, the air saturated with the sound of the percussions, back in my old spot, I was a happy girl.

Hollywood Bowl, I love you.  I know I've said it before, but a piece of my heart has made its residence in those bleachers.  And I can look back and recall so many sweet fleeting moments of being so very overflowingly full of gratitude and just looking up at the stars and planets and often the moon, saying, thank you life, thank you life.

I found my freedom again that night and I realized something about myself too.  That's why I live so fully in the present moments, digging into each experience like it's all I've got.  It's why I always want to be out exploring the world and its offerings so much.  Because I will get depressed if I start to feel like I'm living to get somewhere, or just trying to make it.  

And every experience, technically, during its duration, is all I've got.

The adage goes, there is no time like the present.  In actuality, there is no time but the present.  And I've always managed to live knowing that, or at least been able to quickly catch myself to remind me of that fact.  And in the present, you are always, unquestionably, in truth, completely free.

Colorado

I went to Colorado for a long weekend for my friend's wedding celebration.  How wonderful that was! In just so many ways. There is far too much to express about that trip, but a short debriefing is certainly in order.  

First off, in leaving LA, I was so confused.  I think I thought that airports were always open.  But I found myself sitting at the Burbank airport at 5 in the morning, unable to check in anywhere, gates up, no one around, just trying to stay calm and assume that all would work out.  Then, I found myself watching the security checkpoint employees test the sensors.  One guard just kept walking back and forth through the metal door frame, and it kept beeping.  So, I guess it worked.

Funny, watching the world set up to operate.  It just made me realize, we set up the systems.  It could have been done any way at all.

So, I was sitting there, wondering how this was all going to go down and, ooh, the lights were turned on! The airport appeared to be opening for business.  Systems in place.  Security scanner working.  Let's play this game we invented!

Also, I think I may just be the most approachable person in the world!  There were all of these airport employees around, yet everyone kept coming up to me and asking me questions.  Where is the United terminal?  Is the coffee shop open yet?  I was very amused.  Fortunately, I knew all of the answers.  Probably because I'd been there since the airport opened!  I mean, everyone already seemed to know me.  At one point, I got distracted by the magazines and Hollywood mugs at the newsstand and, at least five minutes later, a coffee shop employee that I'd already bonded with came up to me and told me I'd left my carry on bag at the coffee counter.  Oops.  Can't take me anywhere!

Well, to the rest of the trip.  How perfect!  I arrived at DIA and it just felt so familiar to me.  Memories of all of the trips I took out of that place.  It was nice to know an airport so well.  We have a lot of history together.  And I just felt so comfortable there.

Then, approaching Denver in the Supershuttle.  That city, it's like a miniature version of a city.  I found myself saying, perhaps I have found myself in a small diorama.  It's like, all plains, and then, all of a sudden, about a six building span of a city is just sitting there, in the backdrop of the Colorado sky, which, I must say, is like no other sky I've known.  There's something about it.  I could recognize that sky anywhere.

It felt good to return to my home state.  And I was not sad.  More than anything, I was so joyful about life and the fact that I've forged my way forward and stayed the course and moved outward.  Returning really just seemed to reinforce for me how much I have discovered.  How far I have travelled and how much I have experienced.  

Even at the various wedding celebrations (lovely, all of them), I found myself faced with my past.  All of these people I've known and engaged with throughout my life.  It was like a continual stream of memories, laying themselves out like a slideshow of what I have known, where I have been, what I have experienced to get where I am, to become the person I am now.  That was unexpected and remarkable.  Especially for occurring in the mountains that raised me.  LIke, the land was saying, you were born of this place, and, look, let me show you how you've become who you are.

I was deeply affected.  In the best way.  It was like going back to the tribe after the vision quest and having that moment when they say, we give you our blessing.  You are on your own now.  And the ties are severed.  

And my life is my own.  But I will always know where I came from.  It was the first time I've ever gone back to Colorado and felt that distance.  As opposed to a yearning.  I was just happy to be in a place I knew so well in my heart and to feel the honor of living.  

Also, on a more material note, I had one of the best meals of my life!  And it was a combination of the food and the company, but, oh, how good that was!  I got to see Zooey and we went to dinner at this tapas place called The 9th Door.  Amazing.  Seriously amazing.  I mean, it pretty much blew me away.  

Everything in Denver is so close, it being a diorama and all, so we walked over to the restaurant from the hotel somewhat late Sunday night.  A dark, large, open restaurant with just enough golden red light.  We ordered the most perfect variety of small dishes; peppers filled with goat cheese, fried artichokes with aioli, patatas bravas (necessary at any tapas place) with three dipping sauces, a cheese plate (the best part of that being the honey, blue cheese, almond combination) and, the stand out dish (in our humble opinions), the mushrooms in wine sauce on a potato pancake.  The flavors that night were incredible!  So many.  So perfect.  Oh, and we got a carafe of sangria because that's just par for the course and, well, also my favorite!  

Having that meal, that long evening, just reinforced my love for life.  And for its every little element.  From the sweeping experiences that carry us through, to the minute and intimate interactions with people, to the moments of deep understanding, to the savoring of one bite of mushrooms in wine sauce.

So, although it's an abridged version (there's just too much to say), that weekend was truly a celebration of love.  And where we've come from and where we are and where we are going.  And every component that makes our time meaningful.  And that feeling of a life so full, overflowing really, with beauty and sadness and experience and honesty and care and connection and everything that is supposed to be and ever was.  That feeling was bound to me, and I to it, over the weekend.  And it was a true celebration.  And there was love.

Angels & Kings

I really have not had the time this week to be free and explore.  The new job has had me learning so much and has quite absorbed me.  Which, I guess, is an exploration in its own right.  And I do love it, I truly do.  

I'll tell you what, though.  If you've never been to Brentwood, you should most certainly go!  I've been spending my days at the Country Mart, which is this huge barn like place filled with fancy shops and lovely restaurants and dining al fresco.  It's kind of the best.  You've got to see it to understand, but, I'll tell you this, I'm glad that I have that place in my repertoire of LA.  It's pretty cool.  Open air and families and people and hustle and bustle.  I like it there.

Although, to be honest, it's made me nostalgic.  I've sat there watching all of the families, and the kids after school buying candy at the candy store, and a strain of sadness runs through me.  Longing for the freedom of my childhood.  When I wasn't trying to make it in the world, when I didn't even know what that meant.  And, I've been feeling a little bit lonely, too.  Just, in a new setting, new job, new people.  And I must remind myself that I always end up settling in well to new things eventually.  And my life is good.

Aside from all of that, work, I did manage to make it out this week into Hollywood proper, which I was not expecting.  My dear friend Zooey surprised me with a phone call that went something like this: "Hey, I have a surprise for you!" "What sort of surprise?" "I'm in LA!"

Well, now, this is a friend that I met years and years ago at my good friend's wedding.  We clicked and have stayed in touch ever since.  With letters and the longest phone calls in the world.  Like, running out of batteries phone calls.  So, at this point, we know each other well.  But we hadn't actually seen each other again since we met, like, seven years ago.

So, here he was, in Los Angeles.

When he called me up, I was already in my pajamas and well into a book, but, like I told him, he's lucky because I was willing to put on normal clothes and go out for a drink simply because it was him.  Usually, once I'm settled in for the evening, I won't budge.

So, we met up with the intention of going to get my beloved weird cheese thing at Loteria, but the place was closed, and so we found ourselves nearby at Angels & Kings.  Which I told him was owned by Justin Timberlake, because, well, I thought that it was.  That's what I'd heard, anyway.

We went there for a drink, and found it surprisingly loud and brash, what with the hard metal music playing, but enjoyed ourselves nonetheless.  Although, we just could not understand why Justin Timberlake wouldn't just play his own music at his bar, or at least something like his.

Well, then I discovered, with a small bit of research, that it's actually Pete Wentz's bar, and then it all made sense.  And we probably would never have gone there had we known.  Well, who knows, it's not like we're Justin Timberlake fans either, but I'm glad we went.  It was a fun Hollywood night with a good friend.  Out of the ordinary is fine by me.  And with a great person, it's even better.

It kind of doesn't matter where you go or what you do when you're with someone you understand so well.  And love being with.  You could just go anywhere and be happy.  And we were, metal music and all.  

Also, the timing couldn't have been better.  Like life was bringing me the most unlikely visitor to remind me that I have such a wealth of friends and love.  And I am never alone.  And that in my life, no matter how many changes occur, I have always been surrounded by beautiful relationships and experiences.  And it will continue to be that way, because no matter where I go, or what I do, I will always be me.