Espresso black.

Saturday, August 30. Favorite cafe at home. Salsa dancing in the back room. Quiet coffee-scent in the front.

Existing as a creative being isn't just about producing vibrant paintings, melodic acoustic songs, or going to poetry readings. Embracing one's creativity is also about finding one's deepest joys in daily moments, about becoming alive and seeing life as more than a schedule and a box.

This week I’ve felt so alive. The only way I can animate such a feeling is this image: when my siblings and I were little, we’d gather in my twin sisters’ bedroom just before 7am on Christmas morning, and then jump and pound on the creaking, poorly laid floorboards that doubled as the ceiling of my parents’ room, “Good morning!! Wake up!” Joy so physical that it borders overwhelming annoyance. That was me this week.

Last Friday I sliced open my hand while climbing a tree in Grant Park. Of course (with my ridiculous desire to always be “hardcore”), I loved it. Monday night I became irreparably grumpy when my bike-greased hands failed to successfully secure the back wheel. Tuesday I bought raspberries and blueberries at the farmers’ market on Adams and Dearborn. Back in the office Tuesday afternoon, I realized my hands were still grimy with bike-grease (in some crevices that defied Monday night’s scrubbing), now covered in bright fuchsia raspberry juice, and scabbing quite gracefully from the tree incident. In that moment, I realized I had embraced summer fully.

Wednesday night I went to BajoFondo Tango Orchestra in Millennium Park. Exhilarating. What performers. I thought I would burst of joy and energy. I went with other life-filled friends, and we danced and grinned like little kids, and screamed and loved it. And dancing tango outside to a live orchestra… nothing beats it. I sucked up my dancing insecurity and approached two of the best tango dancing Chicago men and (defying all tango etiquette) asked them to dance! And I think I did okay… perhaps they’ll give me the ever so slight eye-point-to-dancefloor invite next time we’re in the same room…

Thursday night I made pesto and then laid on a pier with a friend, fell in love with the light-pollutioned pink sky, and embraced the gentle drizzle of rain that skimmed my cheeks. Friday I went to immigration court, met a lovely woman from Eritrea, met genuine-hearted attorney who grew up in a small town outside where I grew up, and had lunch with them. That evening a dear friend and I drove to my home, windows down, listening to mixed CDs from 1994, and took turns holding the steering wheel so we could look out the sunroof at the magenta and Crayola mountain purple sunset, and then the starry, espresso black sky.

Today I woke early, ate locally made jam and toast, yoga in the sun, did everything local possible, made sure the juice from farmers’ market peaches ran down my chin, and picnic-d at a vineyard as the sun disappeared behind a lake and forests. And I write as I drink a Cuban coffee from the perfect espresso cup, saucer and spoon.

Life is so beautiful and colorful and full. I am overwhelmed.

Updates from the Train

Updates on life as of August 17, 2008. Amtrak 5:15 train to Chicago. Drinking ice cold water. Watching the sunset over corn fields (that I hope aren’t producing ethanol) and loving that the air is gold and fuzzy. Like summertime peaches.

This summer has flown past. Today I freaked out because someone’s “out of office” said they wouldn’t be back until August 17. In my mind, I thought it was August 4'ish, and I needed an answer from the person sooner than 2 weeks! When I arrived back to reality and noted that August 17 was today, I felt slightly if not totally ridiculous, and was amazed by the rush of the past months.

I finished Dance of the Dissident Daughter (was deeply challenged by it), Rainer Maria Rilke’s words are etched into my soul, found Elizabeth Bishop, was enchanted by Marquez, and my eyes continue to be opened through Takeover and Words from an Argentine Dirty Warrior.

Summer highlights: daily commuting via bike, moments of live outdoor music, fresh locally grown foods, moving in (second time) to a new apartment and sleeping next to open windows and breezes, late night walks, early morning lakefront runs, homemade spring rolls, lunch at Chase fountain, my summer intern posse (I had three of my own interns!).

So I’m on my way ‘home’ from ‘home.’ I don’t know if I can live in the city forever. Being barefoot in grass while hearing crickets, toads, creeks’ rumblings and while trying to take in glistening spots of stars… it gets me at the core. And – really – is there anything better than locally grown peaches converted to cheap peach jam? Or strawberries and then strawberry butter? I must admit. I splurged and am carrying an ENORMOUS and heavy watermelon and – count them – FOUR jars of jam. Ridiculous…ly amazing! Call me – I’ll invite you over for tea and jammed toast. and watermelon.

I was also reminded that along with my dreams of being a dancer, asylum attorney, human rights worker abroad, history profesora, author, restaurant owner, doula, and/or yoga instructor, I also want to be a…

FARMER.

Really, I do. A farmer. Yep. Bring it. Watch out world – my mid-life career change might land me in a field with tomatoes and watermelons as big as the one I’ll attempt to lug from the train through the station up a flight of stairs to the car.

So those are my current thoughts on life. As much as I’ve been completely awful at staying in touch, I’ve also been awful at blogging… perdoname por fa. Un beso. Chauuu.