Weekly Words: "Whistling Swans"

"Do you bow your head when you pray
or do you look up into that blue space? 
Take your choice, prayers fly from all directions. 
And don’t worry about what language you use, 
God no doubt understands them all. 
Even when the swans are flying north
and making such a ruckus of noise, 
God is surely listening and understanding. 
Rumi said, There is no proof of the soul. 
But isn’t the return of spring
and how it springs up in our hearts a pretty good hint? 
Yes, I know, God’s silence never breaks, 
but is that really a problem? 
There are thousands of voices, after all. 
And furthermore, don’t you imagine (I just suggest it) 
that the swans now about as much as we do
about the whole business? 
So listen to them and watch them, 
singing as they fly. 
Take from it what you can."

- Mary Oliver

Happy weekend...

It's been a weird week back here in Boston, and I'm looking forward to a relaxing weekend of staying local and really enjoying that extra hour of sleep. I'm also working on getting back to sharing some posts about our time away in Peru, thoughts on self-care routines for the fall and a few of the delicious recipes that we've been cooking since returning home. In the meantime, here are a few things that are on my radar:

• Taking in the most glorious sounds with Spotify's playlist "The Most Beautiful Songs in the World." They're the perfect tunes for a quiet candlelit evening or a moment in solitude.
• Making my way through Voracious, Cara Nicoletti's awesome set of recipes inspired by life and literary stories.
• Shedding my summer skin and embracing fall thanks to SunPotion's Wildcrafted Shea Butter. It's a thick concoction, but after warming the butter between your hands and giving a good massage, it's truly nourishing and has helped me steer clear of any fall itchies. 
• And finally, two parts of wonderful poems on grief from Mary Oliver that, when juxtaposed, have been greatly on my mind this week:

“Someone I loved once gave me
a box full of darkness.

It took me years to understand

that this, too, was a gift.”

— ("The Uses of Sorrow")

“And I say to my body: grow thinner still.
And I say to my fingers, type me a pretty song.
And I say to my heart: rave on.”

— ("A Pretty Song")

Happy weekend...

Happy Friday, friends! I'm looking forward to crossing about ten things off of our wedding planning checklist this weekend, and downshifting after a quiet, yet busy week.  More on that next week. Here are a few things I've been loving this week:

• Grooving to Mac Demarco's new album, "Another One," which plays like a hazy lazy summer day.
• Paring down my beauty routine to the basics these days. The other night we hosted a dinner party, and I pulled my hair back, mixed this fragrant facial oil, this delicious balm, and a bold lipstick and felt utterly radiant. Talk about a summer glow.
• Beginning to pack for our  honeymoon and still loving this Italian honeymoon travelogue in the NYTimes. There's something that it captures about that whimsical still-drunk-on-love in the early days of marriage feeling that I love reading about. 
• And finally, a quick few lines from Mary Oliver (as always) to take us out for Friday:

"As long as you're dancing, you can
Break the rules.
Sometimes breaking the rules is just
Extending the rules.

Sometimes there are no rules."

Happy weekend...

Happy Friday! It has been one hell of a hot summer week, and it's capped off this evening with a spectacular rare Blue Moon. Full moons are a great time to remember that life is full of cycles - in our relationships, jobs, and chapters - and having an awareness of the ebbs and flows that naturally occur can help you honor and be present to the shifting phases you experience.  I hope you stay cool and have a great weekend. Here are a few things I've been loving this week:

• Grooving to the sweet jam "What You Don't Do" from Lianne La Havas. 
• Lightening up my summer moisturizing routine because oil + sweat = grease. A few favorites include: Weleda's Wild Rose Milk, John Masters Organic Vanilla & Blood Orange Body Milk, and Farmaesthetic's Nourishing Lavender Milk. 
• Loving the appearance of stone fruit in the farmer's market. Last summer, my favorite thing to do was make grilled stone fruit open face sandwiches. Divine. 
• And finally, St. Augustine once said "You aspire to great things? Begin with little ones." Here's a poem from Mary Oliver that brings personal perspective to the notion that we should be patient in our journey to becoming who we truly want to be:

"Things take the time they take. Don't worry.

How many roads did St.Augustine follow before he became St. Augustine?"

Making Space for our Thoughts

This weekend, I had the pleasure of finding some alignment in my intentions and my actions. At the end of the week, I set a goal to better begin my days with a slow start and to disconnect from my cell phone. Over the weekend, my fiance and I were fortunate to attend a retreat in preparation for our upcoming nuptials, and spent the majority of the three days without phones or internet - completely present to the moment and each other during this part of our journey. 

It's no surprise that we are all more connected to devices than was even possible a decade ago. To some extent, our over-connectedness has been wonderful - we are able to keep in touch with loved ones, and even virtually cross oceans. We can attempt to be more productive than ever, with the flick of a finger on a keyboard or screen. But often, having a phone glued to our hands and eyes can prevent us from truly  being in the moment, and letting ourselves listen to the organic thoughts and emotions that naturally arise in our minds. 

“I’m as guilty as anyone of using my phone as a crutch, either to avoid talking to people I don’t know at a party, or to stave off boredom while waiting for a friend in a bar. I’m also easily distracted by the various pings and vibrations coming from my iPhone, and often find myself drawn into an endless loop of checking alerts, reading my social media streams and replying to non-urgent email and text messages. Often, I can’t resist sneaking a peek at the screen during movies or other outings. And as much as I hate to admit it, I’ve occasionally been so preoccupied by a text message that I’ve almost bumped into someone on the street.”

— Jenna Wortham, "Trying to Live in the Moment (and Not on the Phone)"

I've noticed lately that my craving for what I've deemed "updates" is something that I'd like to step away from. These updates surround anything from buzzing text messages and emails to the change in weather or the status of a train delay. They are things that keep me constantly in motion, plugged in, and often, tuned out.  Quite often, things like true introspection, personal insight, and awareness can get lost in the mix of digital noise.

One way to begin cutting the electronic cords in our lives is the begin the day without them.  For many people, their first instinct in the morning is to reach for the phone, even before getting out of bed. While sleep experts herald the positive effects of limited screen time before bed, I wonder if we could all also benefit from limited attachment before we arise. It might allow us to begin our day slowly, and let our first thoughts evolve from a sleepy subconscious atmosphere to a more gentle focus on daily intention. This type of practice encourages true inward listening, and doesn't allow noise to disrupt the mission we set around our daily purpose. 

I've made it my goal to begin disconnecting at the start of my day, just as I've worked to limit my evening screen time exposure. I'm working hard to remember what David Whyte says in his poem on beginning the day intentionally, "In that first hardly noticed moment in which you wake, coming back to this life from the other more secret, movable and frighteningly honest world where everything began, there is a small opening into the new day which closes the moment you begin your plans." 

Interested in beginning to reset the way you arise? Here's my challenge to you:

• Set an attainable goal for a certain number of days each next week that you'd like to invite yourself to wake up quietly and not peek at your phone. You could start with one day or three, but make the goal one that isn't too easy but not impossible to reach.
• Consider a method of reminding yourself to do this. It could be a note next to your bed, a reminder with your morning alarm (again, no peeking at that email once you turn off the alarm!), or a reminder from your bedmate.
• Think about what might get in your way of reaching this goal. An important part of reaching a goal lies within personal accountability. For example, I worried that using my phone to wake up and remind me to start my day slow would push me to begin looking at messages. In order to prevent that, I chose to print out David Whyte's poem, which moved me greatly, and place it next to my bed as a moving reminder to start slow. If you're interested in a similar practice, I'd also recommend "Why I Wake Early" by Mary Oliver or "The Waking" by Theodore Roethke. 
• Before you get out of bed, take a few deep full body breaths and set an intention for the day. It could be an intention around how you want to feel, what you want to explore, or what gratitude you might want to incorporate in your day. Whatever you do, avoid thinking about your "to-do" lists.
• Consider a quick 5-15 minute meditation to allow yourself the time to make even more space and let those intentions you set truly marinate. 
• Finally, begin your day, and take notice of how those mornings that you incorporate this act differ from the others. Make note of changes in how you feel at the start and end of each day.

Weekly Words: "April"

"I wanted to speak at length about
the happiness of my body and the
delight of my mind for it was
April, night, a
full moon and –

but something in myself or maybe
from somewhere other said: not too
many words, please, in the
muddy shallows the

frogs are singing."

- Mary Oliver

Weekly Words: "Walking Home from Oak-Head"

There is something
about the snow-laden sky
in winter
in the late afternoon

that brings to the heart elation
and the lovely meaninglessness
of time.
Whenever I get home - whenever -

somebody loves me there.
Meanwhile
I stand in the same dark peace
as any pine tree,

or wander on slowly
like the still unhurried wind,
waiting,
as for a gift,

for the snow to begin
which it does
at first casually,
then, irrepressibly.

Wherever else I live -
in music, in words,
in the fires of the heart,
I abide just as deeply

in this nameless, indivisible place,
this world,
which is falling apart now,
which is white and wild,

which is faithful beyond all our expressions of faith,
our deepest prayers.
Don't worry, sooner or later I'll be home.
Red-cheeked from the roused wind,

I'll stand in the doorway
stamping my boots and slapping my hands,
my shoulders
covered with stars.

- Mary Oliver