1. Grounding myself in the stable, graceful version of myself that delights in every play on light and touch of skin. But the desperate, belly-aching knocks and I don’t realize it’s happened until it’s over. I’ve resolved to end waking up with the guilt. -bee

    Gold -Wake Owl

     
  2. The light clothes naked trees and a drift of baby calves chase each other along the fence line. The donkeys stare as I cry for I’ve discovered my eyes. -bee

    Almanac -Volcano Choir

     
  3. Papa and me, circa 1991.

    I hear a voice, you must learn to stand up
    For yourself cause I can’t always be around.
    He says, when you gonna make up your mind?
    When you gonna love you as much as I do?
    When you gonna make up your mind?
    ‘Cause things are gonna change so fast
    All the white horses are still in bed
    I tell you that I’ll always want you near
    You say that things change my dear

    Skating around the truth of who I am
    But I know, Dad, the Ice is getting thin .

    Winter (Tori Amos)

     
  4. Water droplets, Saturday morning.

    Freshly showered and piled underneath fuzzy blankets with a jolly mug of green tea, the J. Crew winter style guide and a copy of the New Yorker. Taking pleasure in creature comforts will be one way to get through the long winter.

    Noticing beauty when it happens around me and sometimes on my own skin— especially when it happens on my own skin— will be another.

    Winter (Daughter)

     
  5. Bushwick, Brooklyn, NY.

    Another weekend, another overdue visit.  Shared confidences, giggles, rolled eyes. We eat cookie batter from spoons for breakfast, and ramen noodles for dinner. We prance around half-naked like 13 year olds while we get ready for a night out on the town. A moment of silliness memorialized on camera before we head to Manhattan.

    She’s Lost Control (Joy Division)

     
  6.  
  7. Crossings, Pilgrimages
    (View of NYC from George Washington Bridge, Bronx)
    I’m increasingly transient these days, pinballing from place to place. Fearing stasis, I turn to the crowd and ask it to move me along. Two nights ago, I found myself literally carried this way, swept from hand to hand atop a sea of screaming, euphoric people. Crowd surfing at a rave is one way to lose yourself and forget your problems; visiting friends across the Eastern Seaboard is another. Boston, New York, Newark, Philly, all in the course of a bus trip. 
Today, an old college friend will lead me around the streets of the City of Brotherly Love, a place I’ve never visited, with her fiancee, a man I’ve never met. And then we will meet another friend, now a Ph.D candidate at Princeton, for dinner. Tomorrow, a harder visit: I will see a friend who is cooped up in his personal hell, and remind him that he is beautiful, and loved, and that he can kick the drugs and start again, start cleaner, start better.

    And elsewhere, upon my request, someone I love begins the bitter process of opening old wounds and finally having a real conversation with his parents. 

    We are all moving towards something, even if our patterns resemble nothing more than crazy zigzags.

    Hinnom, Texas (Bon Iver)

     
  8. A late night drive home windows down, stereo up. Dust, grit, and cold air. Tonight absolutely every sound sunk in. I bled every word and screamed them out loud. -bee

    I Can Feel a Hot One - Manchester Orchestra

     
  9. Yesterland Farm -Canton, Texas

    Despite the pumpkin picking, cinnamon sugar pecans, old fashioned sasperilla, and hay rides conversation was strained. Peaceful places typically don’t excentuate my loniliness. So much simple pleasure wasted. I hope my memory is marked by the colors instead of the spaces. -bee

    The Tailor - Blitzen Trapper

     
  10. A fresh deer carcass rots by the side of the road, its head thrown back in permanent agony, bones already tearing through its hide. Horses pace in their corrals. They sense a storm brewing. I should turn back. But today is hill day: six miles of steep slopes, followed by a mile-long upward climb and, to finish, several miles of flat, forgiving country roads.

    The cloudburst comes when I am still four miles away from town. Sprinting wasn’t the plan, but plans change as quickly as the weather. Lightning, thunder, flying gravel, oncoming traffic, and sheets of roaring water compete against the thing that’s driving me forward (hubris? heartbreak?). The cards are stacked against me: I’m soaked, I’m running against the wind, my phone is about to die, my legs are jelly. But I’m laughing. This is what I came for.

    Sneh Ko Marg (Laura Marling, Mumford & Sons, Dharohar Project, provided the perfect soundtrack)