sarah helen simmons 22 october 1926 – 28 december 2006

everyday, i still miss her this much. 
every day.

(…it always matters what for.) 

*special thanks to jolie holland for inspiration (and the title of this blog post): Palmyra

©littlebrownbutterfly

i have this little collection of angel figurines. they have lightly travelled with me from miami to LA and everywhere in between. i don’t know why i started collecting them in the first place, save for the fact that i’m attracted to things beyond me and feel a resonance for something i know is out there, but that i cannot see. these angels represent protection and a reminder that something is ever-present, always watching – intermediaries with us, even when we doubt their existence. lately, i’ve been surveying my little collection, hoping this is true. i need a protector. when i was a child growing up, the arms of the deep south protected me – the sky so expansive at night that only stars could live there and only those really really really looking could see how those stars shown and what was written in them.

since i’ve been spending much (most) of my time alone these days, i’ve been on a mission; rummaging through my garage, searching for books of meaning, looking for photos of people and days that have drifted by, trying to find answers where really, there are none. soul searching is good for human beings i do believe, but getting lost in the vastness of one’s mind is the danger, the downfall, the thorn in the crown of that serenity. and so lately, i’ve been driving out to places where those wide open spaces i love so much exist and looking to the night sky, asking the angels for a little help. we all need some from time to time, you know? the moon, the stars and the milky way have proven very worthy accomplices for me in this endeavour: questions being answered, answers giving way to apathy. 

dig it, brothers and sisters. i do.

@littlebrownbutterfly

my best friend bonnie and i took a day on sunday and went to the beach. malibu is beautiful and warm this november and we were playful — laughing, talking and soaking up the california sun. as i write this now, i am on an aeroplane somewhere over colorado, leaving that golden state, my home. i’ve been crying since boarding (ok, since before boarding began-) and there seems to be no end in sight to this rain. the annoyed flight attendant has just rolled her eyes at my request for a third cup of coffee as the lady next to me in 29E sleeps, not a care in the world, save for the occasional turbulence. oh how i wish sleep could be my fate today! instead, i am jacked on coffee, writing and rewriting this pathetic little blog post and pondering my life. with care, i meticulously turn over in my mind what is useful, what actions will get me where i want to be and what i can (finally) let fall away; looking east from the plane window, i wonder how goddamn long this unwinding process will take and if the colorado mountains are lonely.

…

bonnie and i went to the beach to chill, to escape the monotony, to let our minds be free and look for sea shells. this search is an exercise in patience and quite the happy endeavor. i didn’t see many shells on this jaunt, but i did spot some incredible rocks, lying there helplessly, washed upon the shore. picking them up and turning each one over and over again to see the striations and shapes was a project in and of itself. i labored over which to take and which to leave for the Pacific. in the end, i had four rocks, different sizes, all of which could be stacked neatly upon each other to create the perfect mini-sculpture – balance and simple beauty. and so it goes. it is true that as a general “lisa life rule”, i leave no stone unturned. if you are in the path that i happen to be stumbling, mumbling and running down these particular days, i will be picking you up, turning you over and deciding if i should keep you or leave you be. i urge you, dear readers, to do the same with the people, places and things in your own lives. after all, not doing anything will pay you accordingly, but seeking out that which truly makes you happy might just lead you back…to where it is you belong.

©littlebrownbutterfly

oh no here we go again. and by that i mean, oh no here i go again. yeah. i’m in a very odd state of mind these days. like, i don’t care. to further expound: i don’t care what you think. i don’t care what she thinks. don’t care about what he thinks, what they think, what the fucking cat thinks. simply put, i don’t give a shit. and let me just say: it feels GREAT. my dues? paid. my path? it’s clearing up quite nicely, thank you. my new motto: “be with someone who makes you happy.” (thanks to my pal, the sweet + salty rick c. in LA for that lil’ reminder.) 

lately, i’ve been pondering ALL the advice i have been given the past few years. people love to tell you their thoughts, don’t they? what to be, who to be, what you should be doing, who you should or should not be doing it with…and on and on and tirelessly on. ugh. i’m no stranger to (usually) wanting advice or even seeking it in the most random of places. for example, i’ve got this trivet that sits behind my kitchen sink with all sorts of little witty one-liner, advice-y quips from the 70’s. i don’t really remember from which thrift store it was purchased, but when i’m standing there, i usually scan the thing for some insight. but i’ve grown weary. weary of one-liners. weary of people. weary of counsel. as bob dylan so eloquently states, “i ain’t lookin’ for nothin’ in anyone’s eyes”.

i am coming to and remembering that there is nothing outside of me, of us. we make/we create our own reality. what we believe about ourselves is the ultimate litmus test for the experiences we will commence to have when we finally wake up out of our self-induced slumber. there is only what we perceive as the result of what lens we are looking through. dirty window? guess what you’re going to see? angry? guess what you’ll get back? sad? guess what you’ll be? living a lie? guess what you shall speak? i have had the good fortune of seeking and finding those who get the big, daunting, existential “it”. more importantly, i’ve been found by many of these like-minded folks, too. there are those who want to tell you, judge you, curse you. then are there are those who want to help you, show you, know you. the latter are my peeps. the starseeds. i’m not looking for anything from anyone. not praise, not advice, not love, not the answer. i’ve already got what i need – and this? this is my road now.

©littlebrownbutterfly

two weeks ago, i was outside of my office conversing via phone with a friend who lives in portland. it was an uncomfortable conversation about some pieces and parts of my life that were askew, torn, falling apart. as i was standing there in my own private, clouded haze talking, i felt something strange happening. the earth underneath my feet was…rumbling? i looked up. running 20 yards across from where i stood was the most amazing deer i had ever seen; a white-tailed buck with an impressive rack, ostensibly reaching towards the sky. strong. i was breathless, taken aback. without hesitation or fear, i ran to catch him. ridiculous, i know, but in that moment the feeling that came over me was so powerful that running to him seemed…normal. i eventually made it the edge of the brushy area in which he disappeared. i sat down, completely in awe. whitetails – especially mature bucks – are active at night, not at midday. a sign? a message? symbolic meanings aside, an overwhelming sense of peace came over me. it was then i remembered a dream i had just dreamt the previous night. i typically don’t remember my dreams, but seeing this buck made me remember: i was on a semi-narrow, wooded path, walking alone. in this dream, as i came ’round the bend, a deer peered at me, contemplative, yet knowing. all i could see was his head. a buck. impressive rack…the same deer that had just crossed my path moments before.

after years of study in this classroom called ‘life’ (and lessons learned, um, er, the hard way-), i have come to understand that if we are really really really paying attention, the universe will give us little gifts, present us with signs that will shake us, wake us and show us what it is we need to see – what we need to know. in my case, this whitetail ran gallantly by me as if to encourage me to wake up out of my self-inflicted fog and find strength. and this time, i woke up and i listened.

©littlebrownbutterfly

i was i LA a week or so ago and walked up on two ex-lovers having a conversation. i didn’t catch much but i did hear the phrase, “slippery slope” fall from both of their mouths, almost at the same time. it made me uncomfortable, the way hearing something not meant for your ears makes you feel: weird. uneasy. like i was intruding. in truth, no one can MAKE us feel any certain way. we hear, we see, we evaluate and react based on our own (sometimes) uncomfortable set of truths that comprise who we are at any give moment in time.

the feeling of malaise followed me back to austin. i needed a fix. i needed to not feel. i needed a diversion. and so i went thrifting. i made several quick stops at my fave thrift haunts, and finally settled in at St. Vincent de Paul on south congress avenue. i don’t know how long i was actually there, but it was enough time to lose myself completely and the weird feeling i was running from. i rummaged downstairs in the clothes section. i cried. i found a beaten up, vintage white belt that any rock n roller would drool over. i found a tiny, gold metallic clutch that i could sell for some serious cash. up the stairs, i found a 1950‘s incubator light that was meant to be a haven for unhatched chicken eggs, its eventual destiny becoming a super groovy/postmodern floor lamp situated in an empty corner of my house. i smiled. i found this, i found that and i found myself again by the time i left.

©littlebrownbutterfly

a good friend of mine recently posted a photo on facebook. black and white. it said these words: “fear is a liar“. when i was growing up, my parents had an album in their record collection of a band called “Fear”. as was usual for me, i’d sit and look at the cover for hours. devour. i would read the liner notes copiously – labor over them, as if i were studying for a test. the thing that was unusual about this particular album is that it was punk. my parents didn’t really do punk, so as i kid of 14 or so, i was drawn to this record and also completely and totally mortified by it. why was this here alongside glen campbell, waylon jennings, olivia newton john and barbara streisand? i feared the reason. my friend  beth’s facebook post and the recollection of this old dusty memory of mine made me think of all things i am currently afraid of and why. fear of death. fear of being alone. fear of another person. walking on eggshells. fear of wasting life. fear of success. fear of really being happy. fear of failing. fear of fear. it’s the passenger riding alongside you that you can sense, but cannot not see. free floating, all around. i am fortunate to have had a fair amount of lessons with regard to fear, a hard education that not everyone gets. the most important thing i have learned (thus far…ahem, cough cough-) is that fear is simply False Evidence Appearing Real. if i am afraid of something, i need to take a long look at why; certainly, we will all die. alone? we are never really alone and, if we are, maybe that’s exactly where we should be at that moment. fear of another person? walking on eggshells? mmmmm, yeah, no thanks. the truth is, fear can be a good thing, too. it can shake us up and force us to remember that we are in control, a signal to make a change, to move into a place where fear cannot find us. for me, this place is love. “love is patient, love is kind. it does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. it does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs…”. where there is real love, fear cannot exist, cannot enter. but how do we get there when fear can be such a powerful force in our lives…the shadow that no one really wants to follow them, but that you know is there, lurking, lingering? i don’t really know the answer to this, but i do know that love (and it’s counterpart, faith) is exponentially stronger. i have made a commitment to myself: i will be fearless. i will not let fear run me. sure, there might be slips here and there, but on the other side of your fear – whatever that might be – is freedom. find it. face it. do it. fuck fear. join me, won’t you?

©littlebrownbutterfly

i am not really one to have too too too many expectations. but wait – hold on – yes i am. the sneaky thing about expectations is that you don’t know you have them until they are not met. if i have an idea of something going one way and another unplanned (um, unexpected-) thing happens, the letdown can be ov-er-whelming. letdown often leads to pain, to suffering. i’ve been experiencing quite a bit of this lately. you see, i have begun practicing yoga….and oh me oh my — talk about expectations. i thought i knew my body, my mind so well. WRONG! like a robot it seems that i have been going through the motions in my life. asleep at my own wheel. with yoga, there are things i simply cannot do. but the expectation i have of myself is that i should be able to do it all, do it well and do it now. laughable, really. the mind, the body, the breath all must meet in order to perform a certain asana, a specific pose. bakasana is currently the pose that is illuminating my way, teaching me just how impatient i am. reminding me that i need to slow my ass down and breathe. showing me that my expectations of what i should be able to do and what i am able to do are quite the opposing forces. and so it goes in my life. what i thought i would be doing in this little ‘ol life ‘o mine is different than the reality. who i thought i would be with/what i would be doing/when i would get there/where i would be living…and on and on and on. my expectations are set-ups for failure, misery and unhappiness. opposites of what i really want. and so again i come to bakasana and what i will ultimately need to master it: patience, practice, courage and the art of having no expectation. i cannot tell you how many times i have fallen on my face when attempting it: literally. fallen. on. my. face. the lesson has been hard, but aren’t they all? i guess the point is that when we have expectations of ourselves and of other people, we get let down. we fall a little bit from whatever dream cloud we have been perched upon. what i expect will not always be in line with what you do. what i do will not always be what you expect. a fair amount of falling forward is required in this life. if it feels familiar to be afraid, find courage. if your expectations are out of line and causing you to suffer, let them go. fall forward with me. sure, it might hurt, it might be scary and it might even get a little uncomfortable…but don’t expect any of those things. after all, pain is a part of life. but suffering? completely optional.

i have a few (ok, many-) things that i have picked up from thrift stores and random shops all the way from los angeles to austin and everywhere in between. things i love, but things that need to be released, set free, let GO. after all, i bought it all to sell anyway. good stuff. to this end, i am photographing, writing descriptions for and getting ready to sell most of these rad things. things that i have held captive, schleppled around and basically held hostage for too too long.

maybe i’m sentimental. maybe i cling to certain things longer than i should. maybe i’m just a huge pain in the ass. whatever. the point is it takes me FOREVER to make certain decisions — anyone who has known me/been with me/been my friend/is my friend knows this fun little fact. frankly, i exhaust myself. i hold myself hostage to ideals that can never be met and to tomorrows that may not ever come. its funny how we do that. i know someone who is going through a divorce. this person’s marriage partner won’t sign the piece of paper. won’t let it be done. the unhealthy tie remaining intact even though they have both moved on — held hostage. um…yeah! GOOD TIMES. why do we do this to others? why do we do this to ourselves? why keep holding on to stuff that isn’t really ours anymore? i’ve been trying to liberate myself from a lot of configurations and arrangements lately. i’ve been the hostage, the prisoner, if you will. starting my own lil’ biz and liberating myself from the corporate jungle/world of hell is one thing. letting go — really letting go — of expectations of other people, places and things is another. i have taken my share of hostages, too — (oh what fun for everyone!). i have held on longer than i should, kept unrealistic expectations alive. in the slow slow SLOW process of awakening, i now know that sometimes it’s best to let go, set things free. that happens to be many things for me, and maybe for you, as well. but today i’ll start with few atomic era treasures, remembering that only i hold the key to my version of freedom. and i shall be released.

©littlebrownbutterfly

photo taken by amandapandabananafanafofana elmore.