I've fallen...

I wasn't supposed to fall in love.

But somehow I did. It caught me off guard. I didn't just fall in love, I let it envelop and embrace me. I not only fell in love, I felt in love. 

With a city...

A city that continues to hold so many spaces for me to discover, to be safe, and to heal. 

A city whose light has taught my eyes to see things from the perspective of love, of understanding, and of compassion.

A city whose beauty has shown me to see the sparkle, the depth, and the meaning in moments, not in things.

A city whose vastness showed me my own beauty, creativity, and potential.

A city whose places welcomed my crazy, my hurt, my tears, and my stifled feelings.

A city whose people gave me an opportunity to fall gently into the places in which I've always belonged.

I fell in love because I wasn't supposed to fall in love. I had fallen in love with the lies that told me I didn't deserve to feel. I like kicking these lies' assess. I'm a rebel like that, I guess. Those lies told me I was incapable of finding joy, purpose, and beauty in life. I guess I'm glad I don't follow the "supposed to's" and the "supposed not-to's," because I discovered a secret treasure. I discovered my own heart, and my heart holds way too much love to ever be told that it cannot love or be loved.

Unfortunately, my love is not monogamous. I haven't just fallen in love with a city, I've fallen in love with beauty, with love itself, and in all the small, meaningless silly details of life. I've fallen so deep that I'm swimming in it. It surrounds me, and the city is just the beautiful space in which I can explore the possibilities for now. 

Inspiration knockout

Rarely a day passes in which I am not creative. Creativity is a part of my livelihood. What I didn't realize, or perhaps just didn't connect was just how profound this actually can be...

I've always admired the antique lace and crocheted tatting that mother saved from my great-grandmother. I have used this in several of my artistic creations in the past few years. Other than thinking it was beautiful, and a cool vintage tribute to my great-grandmother, I never thought much about it other than of its uniqueness. It set my clothing designs apart, but that was about it.

Tonight I held a few pieces of this lace, one from the cuff of a sleeve, one trim from a petticoat, and about 6 inches of trim off of a corset cover. I stitched the ends together, gathered them in the center and made three beautiful, antique flowers to accent my sister's wedding garter. I held the large rosette in my hand and looked at it in the palm of my hand, still connected to my needle and thread. Suddenly, I envisioned what these pieces might have looked like over 100 years ago when they were first made. Then I realized that my 29-year-old hands, busy with creative energy, were touching the same pieces of lace that were held in the hands of my great-grandmother, Frieda. She died when I was 4, and my memories of her are mostly comprised of stories and sparse snapshot-like memories. But then I realized it was deeper than that. I felt connected to generations of creativity. Suddenly, my usually steady hands started to tremble a little bit, and I felt the tears well behind my eyes and fall down my cheek.

I saw that I wasn't just holding lace, or flowers, but I was actually holding the hand of my great-grandmother through our shared creativity. All of a sudden, art transcended time, and I sat awhile with my great-grandma. I've never considered how deeply rooted my creativity is in my spirit until tonight. I knew my parents were creative, and that I must have learned it from them. Tonight I understand it much deeper. When I stared at the yellowed, time-worn lace in the palm of my hand, I saw the hands of a woman whose heart I share. Creativity is in our hearts and is shown in the work of our hands. Thus, through the things I create with my hands, people can see into my heart...and into the hearts of those who came a long time before me. It's more than a tradition, family value, or even genetics. It's a connection, a connection that only hearts understand. Thanks for hanging out with me tonight Frieda. Come back again soon. Love, Mandi