in order to assist the growth...

February 28, 2011 Candace Morris 3 Comments



in order to spring up from the frozen ground,
all that blooms and blooms again
require light for their soul.

the growth of watching the leaves drop.
the growth of opening and closing with courage.
the growth of fragile branches holding new blooms.
the growth of rooting deep into the earth when the wind stings.
the growth of trusting the way all things have been set in motion.

it all takes photosynthesis.
and seasons.
four of them.

the biting cold.
the sweet fragrance.
the sun's embrace.
the colorful death.

to the seasons, to the light, to the nauseating spin of evolution.
i submit.

3 comments:

hopes

February 25, 2011 Candace Morris 8 Comments

This weekend I'm hoping for very little and therefore have very little on my plate.  As I nurse many internal complex transitions, I feel almost obsessed with the singularization of a task - and cannot help but think that smearing the most light-filled dove gray paint all over my room will provide a focus for me to rediscover myself.

Le Weekend Hopes
  • Date with The Saint tonight (hint. hint.  let's go here or here)
  • Painting my room (more on this later)
  • Carving out a few hours to reflect and write
  • Connecting with very old friends
  • Sleeping
snow prints 02.24.11

I am exhausted from clawing and clamoring; 
futilely attempting to seize that which slips through my frail fingers. 

It was never mine to hold anyway.

Release hurts.
Like a bitch.

snow 02.24.11


Your hopes for this weekend?


8 comments:

olive jade wigand - 1 year old

February 24, 2011 Candace Morris 3 Comments

Joel's sister Jenn and her husband Brian have this cool kid named Olive.  I love her.  Here's a tribute to her eventful first year of being human.  Please enjoy.





3 comments:

mary-lou retton may not be proud of this

February 23, 2011 Candace Morris 8 Comments

This morning's breakfast.  I chuckled to myself and thought perhaps you might also either be entirely grossed out or also chuckle to yourself.  
the breakfast of champions

I grew up eating Wheaties.  
On the box were athletes of all sorts, but my very favorite was the 1984 feature of Mary Lou Retton, the gold metal gymnast.  She probably did not eat Wheaties for breakfast, even though it was lauded as "The Breakfast of Champions!"  

I can also pretty much guarantee that she didn't eat huge maple bars paired with hard-boiled eggs for breakfast.  I can also guarantee that I will be feeling pretty gross in a few hours.


To be fair
(and not that I need an excuse to eat a donut - but I do confess that they are my gateway food.  You know, the foods that open the door to all other sorts of horrific items the human body was never intended to ingest)

1.  I watched another episode of "Twin Peaks" last night. If you've seen it, you'll know that David Lynch has some sort of love affair with donuts - they are almost a character.  Consequently, I want one every.single.time I watch it.
Well, donuts, and cherry pie, that is.

2. I deserve to eat what I love (with occasion and restraint).



Do you think the protein will help keep the inevitable sugar crash at bay?

8 comments:

my body is an impetuous child

February 22, 2011 Candace Morris 6 Comments

"okay, okay...just stop screaming at me."
"what do you want?! i cannot understand you!"
"shhh, shhh, shhh, it's okay, we are taking care of you."
"dear GOD.  what the hell is wrong with you?"
"this is really unfair. calm down."


No, I am not relaying the phrases I utter to screaming children.  These are the phrases I've uttered to myself over the last week.  Quite unexpectedly, my body broke.  I've therefore had to practice being nice to it.

Many of you know that I am a wayfarer for self-care, for being gentle to one's soul, for quieting that nasty inner-judge.  Though I've grown in this area, I never really had to apply the theory to my physical-self.  I still hear unhealthy voices speaking badly about my body and have always ALWAYS struggled to combine the body-mind (to borrow yoga phraseology) and live holistically.  I've often described my head as my biggest muscle and I still value living cerebrally over athletically.  I continually feel surprised when I see my reflection - thinking that my soul and my body look nothing alike, are shockingly incongruous.  I would like to strike a more soulful balance regarding this.

slightly parted
One way I work on this is in self-portraits, taking photos not just of the parts I like, and not overly-focusing on the parts I dislike...but just letting a picture be a picture.  Letting Candace be Candace for all her guts and glory.

I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker, 
and I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat and snicker.
 And in short, I was afraid."
T.S. Eliot

My body decided to give me this chance.  After I took two horrific falls while rollerskating a few weeks back, I had to gingerly tip-toe around my bruised tail-bone.  Once that cleared up, however, my neck decided it was its turn to scream for attention.  I have never experienced pain like that in my life, and the spasms kept me not only from work and sleep, but also from entertaining any other thoughts than figuring out how to alleviate the pain.  Oh, and I also had (have) a lingering chest/head cold.

Interventions for the week included the following:
  • Ice 
  • Vicodin
  • 2 hot baths/day
  • 4 chiropractic adjustments
  • 1 massage
  • 1 acupuncture
  • 1 doctor's visit
  • A delicious prescribed cocktail of Naproxen, Tylenol, and muscle relaxers
The last one worked and I was finally able to sleep through the night.  I am now only taking Naproxen to keep down the inflammation.  There was no specific diagnosis, but I heard whiplash, pinched nerve, muscle spasm, and pre-flu muscle aches.  Whatever it was, it was despotic to say the least.  My body, for once, required that I pay it the undivided attention it deserved.

Sometimes I thank my feet at the end of the night for all they do.  Often, I sooth my hands with manicures.  I pamper my face with facials and expensive products.  I get my hair done.  I lotion my skin every day.  I do take care of myself, but in most cases it ends up being more about keeping up my appearance than having to do with being intentionally soulful.  The luxury of having and spending money on myself does my soul good, but the disconnect between the physical act of care and the soul's reception of it as kindness is all too prevalent.  

So I decided to treat the pain with deep breaths.  I let my belly release the anxiety of it, to let the throbbing do its thing - that of taking the toxins away from the inflammation.  I had to treat my neck like a coddled 5-year old who doesn't yet know that it's unrealistic and rude to demand so much.  They haven't learned to deny themselves; it's their right to command the attention.  And it will change soon enough.  I visualized my pain as an endearing child that I couldn't resit picking up and hugging.  Who knows if it helped, but I do know that I approached the shadows without judgement or fear and had to be excruciatingly patient with myself - and that, THAT...is fucking self-care.


6 comments:

closet confessional

February 17, 2011 Candace Morris 1 Comments

closet confessions

Click on THIS LINK to read the comments.
This is my confession:
My husband terms this my "morning explosion."  I am really rather organized, but I cannot seem to stay that way daily.  Every Sunday, I arrange my closet, but this was what it looked like last night when I came home from work.  I chuckled to myself, took a picture, and quickly put them all away neatly.  




Our flickr group is alive and well.  Take a 

In other news, I am completely laid low with some sort of atrocious neck strain.  Vicodin and ice packs have been my life the last 24 hours and I hope to be back to normal soon.  The saddest part was forgoing our Thursday night rollerskating.
Sigh.


1 comments:

on temporary tattoos and other Valentine's Day shenanigans

February 15, 2011 Candace Morris 5 Comments

Something very annoying has happened to me.  Against my will and the universe's decision to birth me a cynic, I have accidentally begun to like Valentine's Day.  I found myself wandering the grocery store aisles yesterday with a foolish grin on my face because of all the horrific VDay wares.  Perhaps it's my new-found love of all things kitschy, God knows I'd love to blame it on an aesthetic choice.  But no, as I was driving home and thinking about Joel and Teresa and Clara and my friends and family, I teared up with bursts of love as they escaped from my open-wide heart.

And honestly, I think that's what happened.  
My heart has thrown open its doors, removed the dusty sheets from the furnishings, thrown a fresh coat of pain on the walls
 and decided all are welcome. 

And that is the thrilling danger of amour.

Therefore, in honor of kitsch and kiss,
 we celebrated last night with the following:
photo
a moment of quiet relaxation while my red velvet cake baked

photo

Joel frosting the cake while I made fried zucchini and red beans and rice
(while rocking out to Tina Turner, of course)

my vday loot

my sister came home and set up my gift.
heart peeps, a sweet plant, temporary "love" tattoos, cinnamon candles, and flurp
(which is silly putty you use to make fart sounds.  why it made us laugh so hard, i have no idea!)
I was clapping like the Gob chicken-dance.

photo

then it was martini time
photo
and gift time
(I got T a Frankenstein ring and some candies, her fav!)
(Joel got a NASA hat and one of his fav beers!)

photo

and dinner time
and mustache time
and spontaneous dance party time 
(tina turner song seed on pandora is golden!)
temporary tattoo time

photo
then cake time.

photo

(because they do go so well together).

I don't remember the last time I laughed so hard.

(No wait, it was at the roller rink last week when a 60 year old balding man in a muscle-T figure-skated right in front of me, whilst clapping.  Now that shit was funny.)

Love Thyself

Hugs and Kisses,

5 comments:

the weekend report

February 13, 2011 Candace Morris 9 Comments

The weekend included the following:
the post-skate happiness

Thursday night's post-skate drink.  We had to sooth our battle wounds from a particularly clumsy/raucous time on the floor.  My tail-bone is still hurting.  I also acquired my first "rink rash" which makes me feel pretty bad-ass.  My sister is so freaking much fun to skate with.   You should meet her and try it.

photo
photo
photo
Dinner with friends on Friday night.  It's my new favorite way to spend evenings.

photo
photo
A bit of an angsty Saturday which led to baking bread and cooking a soup of potatoes and leeks.

photo
photo
photo
photo
photo
photo
photo
photo
photo
A strangely peaceful Sunday morning with the Saint.  We tried a new breakfast spot and then walked around the farmer's market.  I picked out a bouquet of tulips for my V-day present, and we strolled arm in arm in the most romantic way.

In the natural ebb and flow that marriage brings, I try to be patient in the ebbs.  We've been in a particularly long ebb and have been working very hard to ride it out soulfully and honestly.  We've done a lot of exhausting work and I would be lying if I said it wasn't grueling and abysmal at times.  I am happy to report that even in the midst of hard work, I am still deeply in love with Joel...and happier to report that we seem to be heading up out of this shadowy valley, cresting the green hill, and finding our love flow easy again.

I love life today.  I hope the same for you, if not now...then very, very soon, my dears.
We all deserve it.


9 comments: