Category Archives: Lessons, Life,

it rained all night and i slept through the lightening and thunder. it was a blissful sleep. i woke up to find a scathing comment about my blog: “stop ruining my city with your AWFUL blog”. whoa. wait, whaaaaaaa?! i hadn’t even had my first fucking cup of coffee yet and i gotta deal with some hater? GREAT. i was taken aback and to be honest, it hurt – like being punched in the stomach by a stranger you don’t know, for no reason. and so, for those of you who don’t know me, here’s a little background:  i’m a peaceful, loving person. i’ve spent much of my life seeking a new way of living, a way that is not the typical “warrior culture” mentality. in short, i like to just be nice, be kind and surround and seek those out who want the same existence for their lives. drama and conflict aren’t my jam and this little ‘ol blog is my creative expression on this pale blue dot.

i started ‘the trouble with lisa’ at the suggestion of James Pennebaker, a professor and Chair of the Department of Psychology at the University of Texas. i was at a psych department party at his house a few years ago and found myself crying on his couch about a few twists and turns my life had taken that i hadn’t quite, um…expected/accepted. i’d never met Prof Pennebaker before, but we took an immediate liking to one another and as he counseled me that evening he told me to write – to write for my life – that it depended on it. i was so low and so down and sad that i really listened, really heard what he was saying.

and thus the trouble with lisa.

what i understand now (that i didn’t then), is that there are people that are going to “get” you and there are people that simply won’t. the trick is to find your people, find your tribe. another of my mentors – the amazing Douglas Drane – puts it like this: 99% of those you encounter won’t get you, but 1% will – and that 1% – they are your people. 1% may not seem like a lot, but it’s enough. these are the ones that really matter, that will lift you higher, will inspire you, enlighten you and see you – really really really see you. know what i mean?

although her words stung, i understood that she wasn’t one of my people. i felt relief at this understanding and quickly sent her a message of love and kindness. it seems like maybe she needed it.

in the end, she’s helping me understand that it isn’t how you handle praise, it’s about how you handle criticism, disappointment and negativity.

she helped me. and i hope that somehow, someday, this awful blog will help you, too.

;o)

peace out.

©littlebrownbutterfly

and there, in the kitchen, doing the dishes on a friday night – it became so clear, if only for a few seconds. all was revealed so suddenly, so lovingly and mightily that almost every single thing on this pale blue dot (and beyond) finally made sense.

…

no one knows anything – do you get this? really really really get this? i didn’t. i’ve spent most of my life thinking that other people knew some great, awesome, badass secret that i did not and probably never would. but he and she and them and they are all trying to figure it out, just like you, just like me. it’s really amazing if you stop to think about it: i don’t know what demons you deal with daily, and yet here i am, sometimes thinking i do (and, uh, getting it wrong most of the time-). i don’t know what makes your heart sing. i don’t know what devastates, moves, shifts, scares, flatters, scatters, what really fucking matters to you. and you don’t know what frightens me, tightens me, drags me down or drains me down.* all i know is that it‘s the judgment of our situation/current state of affairs that catches us and keeps us feeling weighty, ultimately serving no one, especially that better version of ourselves we wish to become. someone much wiser than i shared this nifty lil’ notion on the subject: a rock is heavy and conversely, a leaf is light. the leaf floats down the river with ease but the rock remains heavy, unmoving, until the water eventually erodes it away anyway. uncertainty is the rock, but it can also be the leaf if you let it. trust the flow of the river, of life. go with it. resistance is what causes pain.** magic lives in the space of non-judgement with no fear or real concern about where we currently are, for it is exactly where we need to be: standing in the kitchen, standing alone, floating along.

catch my drift?

*dylan reference (of course-).
**i could be totally wrong (of course-).

©littlebrownbutterfly

i’ve been in roughly 800-1000 relationships in my life. ok. that’s an exaggeration. more like 400-500, but whatever. not the point. not the point at all.

every single person i have ever been with has led me to where i am now – emotionally, mentally, spiritually. we are all learning something from each other, all the time. that’s the deal with relationships – education at its finest. oh yeah.

anyhoo, it’s always a weird trick to navigate the endings of relations for me. i’ve never really been the girl who says her goodbyes at parties. i’d rather slip-out-the-back-jack quietly and see ya ‘round sometime. but i’ve gotten far enough down the road to know that every person we spend our precious time with is important. we leave little bits of ourselves with each encounter and little pieces of us are taken, too. so, in an an effort to walk my walk, i’ve written a goodbye letter to all those i have loved. a thank you letter. a letter to say au revoir the right way. a letter by which to leave a relationship with grace and with dignity. i’ve had a lot of practice (ahem) and i think i’ve finally gotten it now. too many goodbyes. too many broken hearts. but a lot of learning.

please feel free to use this letter when need be. verbatim. it will help you. it will help the other person. it would help me if i were on the receiving end. and send it via mail if you can: fuck texting, fuck emailing. send a letter; trust me on this one.

hi.

lisa

and there you have it. 
i hope it serves you well sometime.

@littlebrownbutterfly

i guess i’ve always been a wanderer. staying too long in any one place for any length of time is hard for me. a gypsy in some prior incarnation, i’m certain i was. so, true to form, i recently took a little road trip a to visit one of my best gal pals, josephine. i desperately needed to smell a new city, cast my eyes upon things i’d never seen before and most of all, drive. my mission: to wander, to ramble a bit, to be lost and absolutely nowhere for a little while. i took the long way. i listened to music: beach house, interpol, fiona. dark and moody. i thought long and hard about the place i was driving away from and about things my mind had conveniently chosen not to think about because they hurt too much. i reached houston with a heart that had been wounded, but a heart that was healing. 
i was happy.
…

josephine and i set out on a thrifting adventure bright and early the next morning. she was excited to show me all of the good spots in her adopted city and i was glad to have new thrift shops to haunt. almost immediately after arriving at our second store, i came upon a random assortment of vintage maps. i remembered maps like these from the summers of my youth – my grandparents would take me on long trips across the US and in the glove box these maps would live, stuffed haphazardly, never to be folded correctly again.

aren’t our lives a bit like that? like maps that have roads set out before us, clearly marked, ready to be taken? but what if…we don’t? what if we don’t take those specific, clearly marked roads in life? what if we are wanderers? what if left and right and right and left don’t make sense to us? what if we long to travel on paths that have not yet been created? what if do and don’t and no and yes aren’t part of our vernacular? what if our particular road doesn’t fit neatly on the page? what if the maps are all wrong?

my mother has always said to me, ‘lisa, always take the high road”. of course i know what she means. but my high road and your high road might be different. where i choose to roam may not be where you choose. your place of enchantment may vary vastly from mine. but that’s okay. if you see somewhere you need to go, go. i’ll understand. if you can’t see the path clearly, even better: wing it. make a new one. and if you feel lost, use your heart to guide you back to where you belong – it’s what we gypsy wanderers use all the time. 

for c. 

©littlebrownbutterfly

let go just to hold on tighter/look people you don’t know in the eye because sometimes you want to really know someone/get high so you can get through the day/listen to sad sad sad songs so you can feel happy/forget because sometimes it hurts too much to remember/imagine yourself in a different place with a different life/fuck so you don’t have to feel/laugh at inappropriate times/remember random things/lie to yourself about why you’re alone/pretend you’re happier without him/dream of driving away/smile at strangers/look back/look forward/look around to see there’s really nothing there/wish that you could change the past/hope that you can change the future/listen to your head/listen to your heart/remember it a different way than how it really happened/cry/take life too seriously/wonder how you got right here right now/give away your loose ends/breakdown/tune out/wander around/give up/keep going/resign yourself/understand yourself/freak out/settle down/stop?

©littlebrownbutterfly

 

1- hanging out with peeps that are negative, emotionally draining or just plain fucking exhausting to be around. why do it? people will try to bring you (drag you-) to the level on which they themselves operate – but only if you let them. so don’t.

2- talking about other people’s personal business when it has nothing to do with you. you’re an asshole if you think nobody regards this as gossiping. keep your side of the street clean and so will i. thanks!

3- worrying about things you can’t control (e.g., other people, eventual outcomes and when your ship will finally come in). let me expound: worrying is a waste of your precious time. stop.

4- sabotaging yourself. look, you have to be your own best friend. be nice to yourself. take a fucking epsom salt bath or something. go to dairy queen and get a dip cone. quit beating yourself up all the time; it’s uncomfortable to watch, ok?

5- projecting. it isn’t pretty. when you project your bullshit on me + i project my lifetime of mistakes and lame choices on you, the circle game starts. step outside of the circle. better yet, don’t start drawing it in the first place. you’ve got better things to do, right?

right?

@littlebrownbutterfly

it’s funny how we acquire things, how material objects make their way into our lives. i was having dinner with a friend the other night. as per my usual weird, clandestine self, i had a mission for later in the eve that i needed to do/wanted to do and was obsessing about completing:  a rogue “trouble with lisa” stickering attack. destination? the local, rad skate shop of which i am a big fan. i like their brand, i like what they do in the community and i wanted my blog sticker somewhere on their property. delaney said sure, of course, she would drive. her car was, um…full of…stuff. her grandfather had died a couple weeks before and she had just arrived back from helping to clean out a lifetime’s worth of belongings and memories. as i got in the front seat, she handed me a box. in it, parts and pieces of her grandfather’s life. i felt lucky. i felt sad. i felt heavy. i couldn’t wait to see what was inside.

the box contained what you might expect from a man born in the 30’s: photographs, a knife, old-timey binoculars and lighters: lots and lots of lighters – zippos, my fave. i love zippo lighters. i have a thing for them. i’ve long known about vietnam soldiers engraving theirs with pithy and terse sayings as a means of comfort as they confronted war and death in a far, far away land. now, sitting in this car on some random street in austin, texas, i studied each in the box with contemplation and care. delaney told me to take one, her only caveat that my choice be without her granddad’s name or initials. i understood her request and was happy for the direction – and honored that she would let me have something of his, someone i never knew, yet someone so dear to her. my fingers instinctively found and wrapped around a vintage zippo, camel logo on one side. its rounded edges were comforting, the patina, perfect. i fell in love. i knew it was the one. it was mine.

i will never know the man to whom this lighter belonged. one can only guess that because of its well-worn condition, it was a favorite of his. i can use it. i can light someone’s cigarette with it. i can tell someone the story of how it came to be with me. i can appreciate it. i can appreciate that once, it was someone else’s and that it found me, i found it. i like when things come easily, when events seem meant to be. it’s in these moments that the universe conspires with us, for us, because of us, and magic happens. i’m hoping stories like this will continue to abound for me this year. i’m looking very forward to lighting your cigarette, too.

©littlebrownbutterfly