pale fire

Ah, how I love Ocean Beach.

I had a really long meeting today and was so exhausted when I left work but as soon as I stepped out of our building, I saw the gorgeous sky in the distance, and reminded myself that the ocean is just 20-some blocks away, I could still drive there and catch the last light. And I did.

I only stayed for a little while but it was enough to give me a space to breathe. Just a few minutes, in a place that you love, is all. Took a photograph for you, because it was too lovely, and I wish you could have seen it.

And here is another inspiration for the day: Nabokov's words, a gorgeous facsimile from a poem in Pale Fire. I haven't read this novel yet but I've always found comfort in his prose, and this one is no exception. I love the part about his eyes taking photographs because that is what I aspire to do as a writer -- take mental pictures of a moment, and later, try to recreate it with words, as truthfully as possible.

from pale fire, nabokov


All colors made me happy: even gray.
My eyes were such that literally they
Took photographs. Whenever I'd permit,
Or, with a silent shiver, order it,
Whatever in my field of vision dwelt--
An indoor scene, hickory leaves, the svelte
Stilettos of a frozen stillicide--
Was printed on my eyelids' nether side
Where it would tarry for an hour or two,
And while this lasted all I had to do
Was close my eyes...

-- Vladimir Nabokov, from "Pale Fire: A Poem in Four Cantos by John Shade"

rain light


Last Saturday, it rained for the first time in weeks. It wasn't the heavy rain we had longed for, to counter California's lingering drought, but it was much welcomed nonetheless. I met up with an old friend, a fellow Capricorn, whom I haven't seen in a long time, and we had coffee and brunch to celebrate our birthdays. We also went to one of my favorite places in the city, the backyard garden at the General Store, and its lovely little greenhouse.

This greenhouse just makes me so happy. But it was especially magical that morning, surrounded with twinkling fairy lights and misty rain on the windowpanes. If I wasn't feeling cold, I could have stayed there longer, just watching the rain.

I decided to treat myself for my birthday and spent a long time mulling over which item to buy, since I pretty much want everything in the General Store. In the end, I picked a beautiful hand painted mug by LA-based artists Kat and Roger (you can see photos of their pieces here). It may have been a bit of a splurge but it is also something that I will take delight in using everyday, when I drink my coffee or tea, and a reminder to surround myself with the things that I love.

I always pick a poem to welcome the new year, and for the past week I've been gathering some pieces, but none of them felt right. Then I read this poem and I instantly knew it is the one. I love its quiet sureness, how simple and profound it is at the same time. The first four lines really touched me to the core. (You can listen to the audio here).

Rain Light

All day the stars watch from long ago
my mother said I am going now
when you are alone you will be all right
whether or not you know you will know
look at the old house in the dawn rain
all the flowers are forms of water
the sun reminds them through a white cloud
touches the patchwork spread on the hill
the washed colors of the afterlife
that lived there long before you were born
see how they wake without a question
even though the whole world is burning

-- W.S. Merwin, from The Shadow of Sirius

I was first introduced to W.S. Merwin through reading his translations of Pablo Neruda's poetry when I was still in college. Although he won the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry twice (1971 and 2009),  he is one of the lesser read poets of our generation. I'm really looking forward to reading and sharing his poetry this year.  Also, I found out from his interview for The Kenyon Review, that every line in Rain Light is composed of nine syllables. Isn't that amazing?

first days



“Let us dream of evanescence, and linger in the beautiful foolishness of things.”

― Kakuz┼Ź Okakura, The Book of Tea

On the first day of 2014, I wrote a postcard to myself from Half Moon Bay. I simply wrote how I felt in that moment, how luminous the light was, how the ocean was so majestic, it seemed as though it contained everything that is good and true in this world. I wanted to remember that day and remind myself to be present, and to always hold dear those that are important to me.

I didn't make any resolutions but my main wish for this new year is: to take better care of myself. I tend to do so many things all at once, and try to be there for everyone, I often forget that my body needs to rest, too. (Most especially, sleep!)

So yes, here's to a year of being kinder to ourselves, in all ways that matter.