incantation I

barn owl takes flight

grand libraries. white candles.
silver rings. a portal.
blooming tea. book binding.
milky pages. ink. film spools.
midnight colored anything.
murakami reality. oliver poems.
kaleidoscope camping.
baroque acoustic. filthy bass.
wine on rooftops. folklore.
the wild. augury. revelry.
letters by hand. apothecaries.
smoke plumes. spirits.
a cabin by the lake. unkept hair.
room-sized paintings. postcards.
crackling vinyl. dancing tails.
a silent flutter of wings in the dark.

voyager’s guide to Sheringham

Sheringham sea gate

This is a guide for the voyager (me and you), curated from notes in my travel diary and camera. I hope this is the first of many.

Welcome to Sheringham, an English village twixt sea and pine (it even says so on their seawall). Enjoy and explore.

What to bring

Your trusty boots. The shores are pebbled, the streets are cobbled, and the jagged climb to the cliff requires steady feet.

A scarf. The North Sea seeps into your bones.

Pennies for the arcade. If you’re lucky, you might bring home a rainbow-maned troll.

Fiction. Johnathan Livingston Seagull to earn your wings.

Sheringham Beach Cricket
Penny Arcade
Sheringham bunting

What to do

Make a pebble tower offering. First, stop at the chip shop. Stroll down to the sea, chips in hand, nibbling away. Be sure to save a few for the gulls. Balance beach pebbles (at least eleven high) and set some chips on top. Watch a gull collect your gift on-wing.

Greet the winds above town. Climb to the cliff at dusk. Twirl in the currents as twilight cloaks the shore. Watch the lights in the houses turn on.

2nd Hand Books & Antiquarian
Bookshoppe
Twilight over Town

Watch the winged seafarers from the shelter. Discover shearwaters, skuas, eider, scoter and the mighty arctic tern (the farthest-traveled animal on Earth). Seabirds live dangerously. Resolve to brave the gale winds. Delight in the easy float of a gentle breeze.

Take tea with page of poems. Tea grants access to the place between time, where language is supple and spry. Let violets fall from your mouth. Play with some words while your insides are warm and fuzzy.

Ride the steam train to Holt, home to the coziest noshery of your life. Munch on flapjacks & fridgecakes at wobbly wooden tables. Sink your spine into threadbare cushions while bitty disco balls twirl above. (Could it get better? Never.) When you’re good and full, walk over to the secondhand bookshop. Scale the four winding staircases (some are hidden behind closet doors) and tuck yourself into the esoteric section. Consult geomancy journals for the nearest ley lines. Draw a map on the back of your hand to remember.

Tea Fever

Steam Train to Holt

Disco balls above

oraculum for the new year, 2013.

Oraculum 2013

oraculum
1. a divine announcement
2. a prophetic declaration
3. an imperial rescript

January first, two thousand thirteen. I present to you my oraculum. Held in glass and kept on the bookcase in my bedroom, I can greet my intentions each morning, and thank the little oracles echoed in my day before sleep.

I’ve spent many December 31sts scribbling my resolution list in notebooks, planners, or odd slips of paper. I’d remember them for three-ish weeks, until they lost themselves; buried behind pages, underneath the stacks of the everyday.

My intentions, though admirable (learn origami! read the tarot! become a yogini! write a book!) waned to shadows on the edge of my periphery. I frustrated myself.

Why wasn’t I capable of achieving good, honest goals? Why didn’t these things matter to me a month into this whole new year thing?

It took me a good two or three glasses of wine before I realized I was speaking the wrong language twice.

Goals and achievements are the language of metrics: measurements, quantitative assessments, production parameters. I don’t even use measuring spoons when I’m in the kitchen. It’s a pinch here, a dollop there, a feeling for when it’s right or ready.

A feeling. Yes. A state of being. That’s what I’m seeking in this new year. A gorgeous, resonant handful of those, please.

Instead of asking myself what I wanted to achieve, I asked what I wanted to feel, and how I wanted to move through this year. It began as a hand-scrawled entry in the journal.

Then I read The Alchemist.

The fable lit my way. To communicate with the world, I must learn to speak the language of the world. Omen. Metaphor. The layer cake meaning of all things.

I needed a divine declaration, spoken not with words on paper, but with symbol.

I spent my afternoon collecting the curios which spoke to my new year, and placed them inside a glass jar so I could easily view my little terrarium of oracles.

Oraculum, 2013


quartz: clarity
magpie feather: fearlessness
golden key: access to the secret world
humpback whale: ecstatic expression
blackbird feather: channeling
mood ring: merry-making
melted marble: revelry
freyja headpiece: sensuality
heiner luepke photograph: earthen grace
owl: otherworld flight

I’m ready for you, 2013. Let’s dance.

If you really knew me, you’d know…

Minister's Treehouse: Biggest Treehouse in the US

I met a teepee-dwelling, wild-horse-breaking son of a Minister cowboy at the biggest treehouse in the United States. He was fixing his pickup and building a fire in tandem when we met. His father built the treehouse. I climbed it with a twin soul.

I share my birthday with Salvador Dali. Fanciful departures from reality are a cosmic gift given to both of us.

I’ve seen 276 species of North American birds. My UK list is 94.

My camera family rolls fifteen wide. Two of ‘em are digital SLRs, the rest are film. Analog forever.

A humpback whale taught me the magic of personal photography.

I was born a creature somewhere in the deep forest beside an eternal festival.

I taught myself to design n’ code websites out of necessity — my Neopets market shop sold rainbow & invisible paintbrushes, obviating the need for a kickass storefront to echo the beauty and rarity of my stock. HTML was allowed in the edit box. I made it snow to the sounds of S Club 7 on my storefront page.

My Neopets shop served as better preparation for my current career than my college degree in Geography. Neopia Central was where I trained in entrepreneurship, web design and development, and interactive graphic design alongside my Cybunny named ArmedInn0cence (a decorated Battledome contender), and a peace-keeping Kau named DaffodilDream3r.

Cabin cozy is a lifestyle choice I support with my entirety.

I played the french horn from ages 8 to 18 in concert/symphonic band, and was the drum major for our school’s marching band. I wrote my college app essay on the transcendent beauty of synchronized music and mass body movement.

In another dimension, I’m an herbologist with a courtyard keep.

I was blessed by a barn owl at sundown on a cliff over the North Sea in Sheringham, England. Fo real.

Secret libraries are at the top of my potential house requirements list, followed by a hammock loft with a pillowed floor and a sturdy rooftop for sunsets & sunrises.

Electronic music is the most beautiful math I’ve ever heard, and I’ve got an unbridled voracity for new sound. Sonic gluttony is a dear vice of mine.

I’m always scanning my periphery for beautiful light.

I come from a farm family, where I learned the art of the Full-Love Bear Hug.

This post sparked by
Alexandra Franzen.

in which I start a blog and thank The Internet

How does one thank The Internet?

This omnipresent entity in my life has delivered an education so perfectly mine, I want to thank it. Honor it. Have it over for pad thai & whiskey gingers.

Of course, it’s really the folks behind screens across time and space I ought to be thanking. Humans are excellent in that way. They taught me how to develop websites, design graphics, bake puddle cookies, throw hoop tricks, take photos with all my cameras, navigate by seasonal constellations, and make galaxy playdough.

For free.

Because they could, and because they knew, somewhere in the infinite expanse of cyberspace, there was a me who wanted to learn.

THANK YOU, kind human. This playdough is magnificent.

Beyond the practical education is where I get all teary-eyed with gratitude. There’s a handful of digital citizens I’ve lovingly lurked around for years, without whom I’d be twice as lost and half as awesome.

Who they are and what they’ve taught me:

Jamie Beck.  She’s living proof of one of my best loved theories: you can create your own dream life through photography.

Jessica Hische.  Freelance creative careers are immensely fulfilling as an authentic, talented member of the art & design community.

Susannah Conway.  She teaches me about the freedom in vulnerability and the art of sharing your life.

Danielle LaPorte.  Self-realization is a practice, not a moment.

Havi Brooks.  Secret names for everything is a wonderful way to live. Asking for what you want is how to actually get what you want, even if you’re asking the air.

Jessica Mullen.  Daily gratitude will always, always, always  remaster your mind. Lifestreaming is a process of loving your life out loud.

Nikki Pamani.  It’s okay to be awesome on a regular basis. Also: Life is usually ridiculous and mostly hilarious. Celebrate accordingly.

Alex Franzen.  She took me under her technicolor wings and led me on the magic neon carpet ride of digital entrepreneurship. True Life: I was a Franzian minion. (& The Weissness, too!) Her brilliant tutelage made Youngblood Sourcery possible. There aren’t enough thanks in the multiverse to give my sensei.

Hillary Weiss.  She’s the word-weaving half of Youngblood Sourcery. Together, we make digital magics of an assorted variety, and IRL mischiefs of an unprecedented volume. She’s taught me too much to attempt listing, though if I had to sum it up, it’d be filed under “Ways to Be a Magnificent Friend” and “How to Keep Shit Real.”

I want to practice being a photographer, painter, digital creator, muse, curator, and writer.

Most of all: I want to share my journey and gathered learnings. Somewhere, out there, there’s a you who wants to figure it out, too.

This is me signing up for all of it.

Welcome to my treehouse in digitopia. Hi mom!