8.5.06
3.5.06
my search.
i am searching for my yellow bird, a metaphor i stumbled across in 2006. a yellow bird is an icon symbolic for the one specific thing that inspires inside a person the will to live and to do so in a healthy manner. in essence, a yellow bird is what one lives for, whatever keeps you going. it's an evolution of the relationship between the canary and the coal miner, i suppose. to me, the yellow bird has come to represent the opportunity to truly live. i am unsure which i will enjoy more: the search or the realization.
in 2007, i arrived at the frightening conclusion that my yellow bird could never be a person, as i would only be left with an empty cage. so, thus began my search.
i needed something concrete, something substantial and meaningful to me. something that no other person could take from me, something dependent solely on me. as art has always commanded a rather significant portion of my life, i decided to start there. i experimented with pottery, painting, and photography. i bought a guitar and a piano. i wrote every day for a month. however, in all my art, there was a common theme: birds. and even though i would become completely enveloped by every project, every song, every page written, and though i truly enjoyed each endeavor, i found the fascination they held for me was in their role as a conduit, a means to an end. in fact, none of these outlets were what i thought about in those brief but revealing moments before sleep. so, although i will continue to pursue these interests, i was no closer to my yellow bird than when i started.
so, naturally, i have turned to the only constants in my life: knitting and traveling. in 2003, i first learned to knit while visiting the green towns of rural ohio, so unlike the desert where i grew up. every year since then has been spent either knitting or traveling. they inspire the plans and thoughts that lull me to sleep and preserve my sanity. they are the closest i have come yet to my yellow bird, although i am still looking.
in 2007, i arrived at the frightening conclusion that my yellow bird could never be a person, as i would only be left with an empty cage. so, thus began my search.
i needed something concrete, something substantial and meaningful to me. something that no other person could take from me, something dependent solely on me. as art has always commanded a rather significant portion of my life, i decided to start there. i experimented with pottery, painting, and photography. i bought a guitar and a piano. i wrote every day for a month. however, in all my art, there was a common theme: birds. and even though i would become completely enveloped by every project, every song, every page written, and though i truly enjoyed each endeavor, i found the fascination they held for me was in their role as a conduit, a means to an end. in fact, none of these outlets were what i thought about in those brief but revealing moments before sleep. so, although i will continue to pursue these interests, i was no closer to my yellow bird than when i started.
so, naturally, i have turned to the only constants in my life: knitting and traveling. in 2003, i first learned to knit while visiting the green towns of rural ohio, so unlike the desert where i grew up. every year since then has been spent either knitting or traveling. they inspire the plans and thoughts that lull me to sleep and preserve my sanity. they are the closest i have come yet to my yellow bird, although i am still looking.
about.
simply, this site is dedicated to those things that weigh the most on me: knitting, traveling, the endless pursuit of my yellow bird, and the pointless attempt to outrun my ghosts.
this site is a scrapbook, an outlet, a photo album, a journal... this site changes shape periodically, matching the changes i make in myself. it is a way to cope, a way to remember, and a way to forget. and significantly more, it is a way to keep in touch, to keep myself grounded, to remember my burdens. it is a way to remember home as i travel across the world, explore countries and continents, fall in love, stubbornly try to ignore my health, attempt different jobs, attend different schools, meet new people, face new situations, and create. above all, i create.
i don't know where i'm going next, but i'd really like for you to come with me.
the heaviest of burdens crushes us, we sink beneath it, it pins us to the ground. but in love poetry of every age, the woman longs to be weighed down by the man's body. the heaviest of burdens is therefore simultaneously an image of life's most intense fulfillment. the heavier the burden, the closer our lives come to the earth, the more real and truthful they become.
conversely, the absolute absence of burden causes man to be lighter than air, to soar into heights, take leave of the earth and his earthly being, and become only half real, his movements as free as they are insignificant.
what then shall we choose? weight or lightness?
-milan kundera [the unbearable lightness of being]
this site is a scrapbook, an outlet, a photo album, a journal... this site changes shape periodically, matching the changes i make in myself. it is a way to cope, a way to remember, and a way to forget. and significantly more, it is a way to keep in touch, to keep myself grounded, to remember my burdens. it is a way to remember home as i travel across the world, explore countries and continents, fall in love, stubbornly try to ignore my health, attempt different jobs, attend different schools, meet new people, face new situations, and create. above all, i create.
i don't know where i'm going next, but i'd really like for you to come with me.
the heaviest of burdens crushes us, we sink beneath it, it pins us to the ground. but in love poetry of every age, the woman longs to be weighed down by the man's body. the heaviest of burdens is therefore simultaneously an image of life's most intense fulfillment. the heavier the burden, the closer our lives come to the earth, the more real and truthful they become.
conversely, the absolute absence of burden causes man to be lighter than air, to soar into heights, take leave of the earth and his earthly being, and become only half real, his movements as free as they are insignificant.
what then shall we choose? weight or lightness?
-milan kundera [the unbearable lightness of being]
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