Today

(via lost)

           This is what today felt like. If I ever move away from dreamy Southern California, I'm really going to miss this...

Encased in plaster

(via a subtle revelry)

           For the longest time, I used to step over a little black widow spider web as I walked in and out my sliding door to my back patio. It wasn't that I was content in letting the little spider nest at my doorstep, but rather that I thought it was easier to take giant exaggerated steps over my doorstep than to deal with the obvious problem at hand. Until one night I was up late outside spray painting some clay figures I had just made when I stepped barefoot into the spiderweb! After a momentary freakout (like high pitch shrieking, running around in circles/triangles/hexagons, flailing my infected leg around - freakout), I grabbed the closest weapon (my can of white primer spray paint) and attacked with full force. And when it was all over, I was standing before this little web that was flecked with a million drops of microscopic white paint. And in the center hanging from a string was a tiny curled up dead spider entirely encased in white paint. It was all so morbidly beautiful and surreally peaceful. I don't think I've ever had a moment of complete clarity, but that is what I would imagine it would feel like. I had the intention to spend the next morning's sunlight to take photos of it, but it was so windy that night that everything blew away before I could document it. I had almost entirely forgot about it all until I saw this DIY on dipping brightly colored faux flowers in white plaster. They have the same sort of terrible, quiet beauty that my spider had. It's nice to be reminded of the beauty I saw that night in the spiders nest and to be reminded to always look for the exquisite elegance that comes with (the often unexpected) moments of life.

On connection and vulnerability

              Last week I touched on something a bit personal and I thought I should share a little bit more about it, or rather about why I wrote it. Because of Wabi-Sabi's recent one year anniversary (Pass GO, collect $200) the past few months I've had the chance to look back at a years worth of my life and progress. I can even look at what I was wanting, feeling, admiring, thinking about exactly one year ago to the day- which sort of creeps me out but is also sort of really amazing! The thing that I noticed, though, was that most of the things I was writing about were pretty things and neat gadgets, which are all very important to me but say nothing about who I am.  

           I recently read a post from Cup of Jo that was about  authenticity and her struggle in deciding whether or not she should share something quite personal. She writes that her mother told her that authenticity is saying 'This is what happened to me or this is how I truly feel, no matter what the popular belief is about what I should feel.'  This must have resonated with me because it gave me the courage to share one of my own struggles that I wouldn't ordinarily share with the entire world wide web. AAAND THEN (this is the really crazy part), I randomly discovered this Tedtalks on vulnerability. Brené Brown is ammmazzingly poignant, witty, hilariously truthful in this talk about human connection and the need for vulnerability. So let me break it down to a few sentences (if that's even possible):

In order for connection (what gives up meaning and purpose in life) we must be vulnerable.

Connection is the result of authenticity- the courage to tell the story of who we are with our whole heart.

 We need to learn to let ourselves be seen, deeply seen, vulnerably seen.

Ok, so, I'm sort of embarrassed to admit that I jotted down two pages of notes from this tedtalk, but believe me when I say that those little tidbits are just a few of Brené Browns amazingly insightful thoughts. They make me feel so relieved that I did decide to share (an albeit very small) personal experience to you all. Thank you for reading!! **gives awkward emotional hugs**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

bone and flesh

(via knack studios)

“Don't let your mind bully your body into believing it must carry the burden of its worries.” ~Astrid Alauda.

           Extraordinary people find comfort in knowing that they are the master of their own mind. Ordinary people find comfort in knowing that no matter the depths of their emotional despair they will always be commanders of their own body. For me, and for those who also battle anxiety, there is a point in which the horrors of our mind become the horrors of our body. For us, our worries not only consume the mind, but at any time can take over the body- our actual bone and flesh. The worry overflows from our thoughts to our heart (which is a much smaller distance than one might think) and finally to our fingers and our toes. It debilitates our body and paralyzes our movement until we fear even our...breathe.....just.........might............stop. 

Luckily, there are things that can help. 

But still, there is helplessness, despair, weakness, and incompetence in realizing that your own body has betrayed you- and not even a little white pill can make that go away.

The Times

(via refinery29)

         My whole life I've had this really weird obsession with candles. I remember as a kid I would collect every candle from around my house so that every surface in my bedroom was cover with them, then I would turn off the lights, and watch them all burn in the dark. I love the way their little lights flickered, they way it smelled, they way the wax would dribble down the sides (my mother hated that). Since then, I've tried to cut down on my candle-ing. (note: Sometimes, I still sit in the dark and watch a few burn.) Right now, I have a Sandalwood scented candle on my nightstand that I use every night because it's earthly and all-but-sugary smell is perfect for relaxing.

          I just stumbled across this amazing Times scented candle that smells "in a word, newsy, with hints of guaiacwood, cedar, musk, spice, with "a powdery note and velvet nuance," meant to mimic the aroma of black ink on newsprint." I've been known to flip through the LA Times (staying loyal to my coast!) every now and then, and I have to say the smell and feel of the newsprint is a vital part of the experience. So... sorry, Sandalwood candle, if I ever get ahold of this baby you're being demoted from bedside to bathside.

Consistency

(via designsponge)

            Sometimes, when everything around us seems so absurdly uncertain, it feels so nice to have something consistent. Even if that thing is as tumultuous and foreboding as the unruly waves of the sea. This is the curse of comfort.

Insatiable

(via Wednesday)

          George Burns said "I honestly think it is better to be a failure at something you love than to be a success at something you hate." But I say that if you find something you love so much you're willing to look like a complete blundering fool for it, you've already succeeded. Passion, in its insatiable state, is everything.

A nice reminder

(via wednesday)

          I just remembered, that a good friend of mine once told me that it's important to remember that everyone feels the same as everyone else, just not at the same time. That's a really nice thing to be reminded of. Sometimes, she's really insightful- thanks Nicole!!

Happy New Year!

(via lantligt) 

(via tomboystyle) 

          Go ahead, ask me if I made a new year's resolution just like every other totally unoriginal human does on the first day of the year (you know, like when you go on first dates and to break the awkward silence he/she asks you questions like "What's your favorite band?" or "What do you like to do in your spare time?") The thing is, it was about ten seconds till the ball dropped when my sister and I started discussing what our resolutions should be. We were obviously a tad short on time and we didn't want to make the usual vows to increase the number of laps we run a week or decrease the amount of unnecessarily spent dollars, so I decided to decide tomorrow (obviously, I didn't resolve to stop procrastinating).  To be honest, I don't think I have ever made a real New Year's resolution in my life, but there I was the next morning, feeling pretty empty and unsettled because I wasn't starting off my year with a kick ass declaration on how I'm going to improve my life. Then, I remembered that exactly one year ago I had written a letter to the new year of 2011. 

Dear 2011,

    While you're visiting for these next dozen months, we dare you to challenge us, to terrify us. We'll welcome irritation, inspiration, exasperation. We won't let fear paralyze us. We promise to follow our OWN instincts, rather than the instincts of others. We vow to break from what we feel most comfortable with, all for a chance to say to ourselves, "You know, that really wasn't for me after all.." We resolve to always do what we are most afraid of. We will overlook what we cannot love in others. We swear to never tell ourselves our lives are in shambles, when the train has not yet reached the broken track. And most of all we will never overlook a chance to start from scratch, because arrivals and departures aren't the only times to make new resolutions!

          I think that was a pretty damn good resolution! And as it turned out, 2011 was a pretty good year for me- by all means I pray that it's not the best year I'll ever have and I doubt it will be the worst, but it was a pretty decent one. I "found myself" a little more, I learned how to keep my chin up, and I figured out that faking it till you make it actually does kind of work. Remembering where I was exactly a year ago and realizing where I am today is almost inconceivable (totally and embarrassingly cheese balls, I know- but also kinda true). And, it's not because of some quickly forgotten promise I made to myself, it was because I kept making new promises after I forgot the old ones. Usually (I said usually, as in not always), if resolution has left our thoughts it's because it is no longer relevant to our lives. It's time to make a new set of commitments for our new challenges.
         Like I said, I usually don't make real resolutions... but, I guess this year I resolve to constantly resolve. So, yeah, today I made a small resolution- one that I know I won't keep (or probably need to keep) till the end of the year. And, if on February 7th I want to make another change in my life, I'll make a February 7th resolution to do so. The point being, I didn't challenge myself because it's the first of a new year and blah blah blah, but because it's today and any old day is a good enough day to make myself a better me.

Thanks for a fantastic year!

(via dinner a love story)

         

          Okay. Before I say anything about the holidays I have to mention that it has been a year and four days since the birth  ofmy blog! Big thanks to all my readers (the far and few!). Lately, I've been sort of falling of the wagon with things, and it's nice to be able to look back at my first post about the meaning of wabi-sabi, and my intent to use this blog to help me live by its mantra. It's time to get back on track, folks! ...and on that note, on to my thoughts about this Thanksgiving (p.s. here is last years thanksgiving post- that whole last year bit felt weird!!!)

          Lately I've been on a total Wes Anderson kick, but I'm particularly obsessed with Fantastic Mr. Fox... again. I watched it for about a week straight when it came out on dvd, obnoxiously quoted scenes, and started to say What a clustercuss!!! Now that the holidays are rolling around, it's been on my mind a lot (and, yes, the same symptoms ensue). At first, I thought it was peculiar that that movie would remind me of the holiday because there are obviously no apparent alludes to Christmas or Thanksgiving. But then, yesterday as I was sitting at a tiny undecorated table with my mom and sister it hit me. As I quietly ate our Thanksgiving meal that tried so terribly hard to be American (made of turkey aand ham, white rice, corn, Hawaiian crab salad, an assortment of Japanese pickles and kimchi, rice balls, and stuffing), I realized that Fantastic Mr. Fox and most other Wes Anderson films (especially The Royal Tenanbaums!) reminded me of the holidays because they are all about families, and dysfunctional ones at that.

          Holy turkey did I have an unusual Thanksgiving! My sister, mom, and I visited my Bachan who now lives in downtown LA (little tokyo, of course), but lived the first half of her life in the country side of Japan. She's not very American and doesn't understand our Thanksgiving holiday very well... needless to say, it hardly felt like Thanksgiving dinner at all. Thankfully, the tides turned after the meal, when we began to ask her about her childhood and where she grew up (very mysterious things to us since we can hardly make sense of most of the stories she tells). She told us about our family in Japan, where they live, and even showed us loaaads of old pictures.

          Somewhere over the weekend, I read this really simple but honest quote: “The small things of life were often so much bigger than the great things … the trivial pleasure like cooking, one’s home, little poems especially sad ones, solitary walks, funny things seen and overheard.” This year's Thanksgiving was definitely not what I'm used to nor anything I'd prefer, but just like all of Wes Anderson's uncomfortable and unorthodox families, we always seem to come to terms with our family's uncouth quirks and even somehow learn to cherish them.

And, just like the movie goes, there's something kind of fantastic about that, isn't there...

A Handy Tip for the Easily Distracted

(Miranda July: The Future on Nowness.com)

    Moving. Class. Boxes. Storage. Learning. Growing. Organizing. Work. Cleaning. Packing clothes. Packing seeds. Homework.  When I want nothing more than to distract myself with pretty things, September is brimming with lots of not-so-fun things to do. I guess right now is the perfect time to take a quirky tip from Miranda July...

Birthday wishes

     To my wonderful, quirky, talented, tremendously strong, hilarious, charming (the list could go on for ages), and of course beautiful sister... happy birthday! We'll be at your surprise birthday party by the time you read this, but we all adore you and love you! Happy, happy birthday Dana!


      On an equally important note, tomorrow is my mother's birthday. So happy birthday also to my lovely, amazing, marvelous and beautiful mom!! Love, love, love you guys!

Brown, but spottless

     Hey y'all! I haven't gotten around to a new post in over a week. Typical Erika, I know... but I've been busy doing small town things on my "Burwell family visit vaca" (which explains my y'all slip). Soon enough I'll post little snippets of my adventures and maybe even a few poorly taken pictures (in Erika land, bad photography is unavoidable...trust). For now, here's a snap shot of a few brown eggs we plucked from our chicken coup this morning. To my disappointment, I learned that my grandmothers hens never lay spotted or blue-ish eggs. Apparently, you need a special breed of chickens for that sort of thing- who woulda thunk?

To hold y'all (there I go again...) over till the next post, here are a few nifty things floating around the web:

A seriously  cool hammock park in Austria

I looove children's books- the really good ones are more profound and poetic than most grown up books! Here is a list of recomended children's book (none of which I have read, and all of which I will)

If you haven't already figured it out, I ADORE teacups...Can you tell which is porcelain and which is paper?? I couldn't...