11 December 2009

The Light in the Piazza

Tonight I took myself out on a lovely date: octopus carpaccio and a glass of pugliese red wine, followed by the theater. I finally saw The Light in the Piazza, and it was lovely, lush, lyrical. And of course I was overcome with waves of nostalgia as my mind wandered back to Firenze, where I, too, first fell in love. What a time of wonder and discovery it was for me… so much hope, and joy, and light. And though it had to end, I wouldn’t trade one moment of it for the world. Some of the lyrics in the show spoke to me so vividly:
“This is wanting something, this is reaching for it,
This is wishing that a moment would arrive.
This is taking chances, this is almost touching what the beauty is…
This is wanting something, this is praying for it,
This is holding breath and keeping fingers crossed.
This is counting blessings, this is wondering when I’ll see that boy again.”
Well, not that boy—his ship sailed long ago, quite literally—but someone new. My heart is still full of hope. But until that time comes, I will continue taking myself out on dates as I did tonight!

01 December 2009


"They are spectacular whilst in full bloom, they brilliantly colour the landscape for a few weeks but, soon after, when they begin to fade, there is a long, slow deterioration for at least a couple of months."


on sunflowers. rings true on so many levels… when I read this my head spun for a moment, with echoes of memories of a fleeting and faraway time.

but I am here, now, and all is well in the world because I am living my dreams.
Ende der Geschichte. :)

24 November 2009

la città eterna.

For some reason, when November comes around, I am always drawn back to my first visit to Rome...

22 November 2009


As I walked home today, I reflected on just how blessed I am, and was overcome with gratitude. There are so many things that we take for granted. A beautiful body, an open heart, a sound mind, a pure spirit, for starters. Grace, so much grace that my cup veritably runs over with it. I know that I have earned it (if not in this life then in the last!) and yet that it is a gift from the universe to me. I must do the best that I can, here, now, with what I have, and trust that all that is destined to come to me will come.*

15 November 2009

glorious autumn.

Through a lace-trimmed window...

Down a lovely little street...

 In a small, neighborhood park...

Along a Victorian row...
Wouldn't it be lovely to live there? :)

05 November 2009


"Amatevi come compagni di viaggio, con questo pensiero d’avere a lasciarvi, e con la speranza di ritrovarvi per sempre."

—A. Manzoni, I Promessi sposi

26 October 2009

shadows of love, or some semblance thereof.

It is [and has always been] about the experience. Let go, and don't be afraid.

So I had a rather startling and yet obvious thought tonight: I was dwelling on the heaviness in my heart, on the void that I have felt since the end of my first love, shadows of which have lingered on. And then I asked myself: what is it that I truly miss? Is it him? Am I not over him? It's not about him. It hasn't been in a long time. Perhaps it never was. What I miss is how I felt, who I became when I was with him. It's about me: about who I was, who I became, who I wanted to be, who I became instead, who I then wanted to be, who I am, and who I want to be[come].

I have not yet been able to separate Stella from Elliott, from "Stelliot"; and I must, for the time has come to move along. It's not about him any longer, it's about getting the most out of the experience, receiving and honoring the gifts that it has given me by letting go and retaining all of the wonder, the openness, the grace, the courage to love again and more deeply.

So what is it that I want to take away from this first love? What gifts has it given me? Firstly, it gave me a glimpse of what love can and will one day be, a small taste of the wondrous future that the hand of destiny has in store for me. If not for this experience, I would not have known anything of romantic love. It also helped me to open my heart and to truly wear it on my sleeve for the first time in my life. It taught me that I am open and genuine, and that my heart is full of hope, and that this is my true nature. I even learned from it that I am funny! I learned that I am a rock for others, and must extend this to myself. I began to know who I am in relationship; both the positive and the negative.

And it taught me not to cling, not to fight destiny, to be honest with myself and not to romanticize. It taught me that I cannot wish or will another to change, and that I cannot be angered or hurt by the incapacities and the limitations of another.

And lastly, most importantly, I am learning to let go of all of the hopes, dreams, expectations, projections, idealizations, romanticizations, to break free from their fetters, and to walk forward alone, just me, just Stellina. A new little star that is no longer dependant upon any external source to be her strength, her rock, her shelter, her support system-- for she knows that it is all within her open, genuine, hope-full heart.*

31 July 2009

magnetic poetry!

composed on the fridge last night, in Wesley and Alan's apartment in London:


after the autumn
those dreams would come
like a sweet flood
     like a sound from far away

only a wise lone heart
could see rose & gold
in the dark
     once our hour was gone.

06 March 2009


What a momentous time this is in my life. I see many possible pathways before me, and will choose one within the next month or two (or few...), one which may very well be the beginning of my professional career. Whether it is pursuing a PhD, or teaching, or even working nine-to-five, it will be the next step along my journey. And the fact that all is still so open, so full of potential and possibility is so exciting! This openness can also disguise itself as a dark sort of uncertainty when fear enters in, yet now I am peaceful, hopeful, expectant, trusting. For I know that I am always in the right place at the right time, and that the challenges that I am facing are necessary for my own growth. I accept them, and am learning to welcome and embrace them, for they are the means by which I am tested, by which I test myself.

And thus, although some doors are being closed to me, I shall not worry--for others are being opened. I could be in any one of so many positions next year. I have many options, many talents, many skills, and must only apply myself now in setting the pattern for what is to become the next chapter of my life.

Today I had a wonderful thought: who & where & what I am at this moment in time is the sum of all my past experiences, and thus in a sense each and every one of those experiences was necessary to bring me to where I stand now. I see the tiny building blocks coming together. And similarly, some day in the future, I will look back once again and see how all of my life experiences from this point on converged serendipitously, carefully choreographed by the will of God (through the semblance of my own will), to bring me to the precise place, identity, state-of-being that I shall then inhabit. In retrospect I will see how the pieces came together to form the whole, and all of my inconsequential worries about the 'uncertain future' will be remembered wisely with a chuckle and a knowing smile. I will wonder how I ever managed to worry about the graceful path that lay before me, simply because I couldn't see beyond the horizon. Thus, here and now, I have faith that I will be where I need to be, doing what I need to be doing. Quello che deve venire, verrà. *

01 February 2009


Outside a blanket of snow covers the chilled earth. And yet, this morning, I was greeted by the chirping of birds outside my window. I drew back the curtains and observed. Two cardinals perched upon a long branch in the fir tree; chickadees dashed about in circles, finally landing on the yew hedge below. They sang to me, "even in the midst of winter, spring will come again." It is not as far off as I make it out to be. The ice will thaw, as I will let go. It is inevitable. And thus I must stop fighting the flow of nature. I have witnessed the winter of my grief in ebbs and flows of peace and pain, and though the snow lingers still, this, too, shall pass.

Now, I am ready. Ready to let go. To let go of the fear, and to fly. To leap from my branch in a brilliant flash of red and to call out to the past, "we will meet again, but then I will be changed." And not merely that: all will be changed. I will be a new person, and this will be a new earth upon which we walk. Well-trodden streets will curve into new alleyways, and familiar sunsets will take on a new light. A light that will reflect in my eyes for years to come, when these tears have long passed.

I am ready.