in transit

innocence

2012-01-12T05:46:00.000-08:00

love.

love is innocence

innocence is the counterpart of gods mind.

it's ego,

ego is no difference between the inner and outer.

its very hard to be innocent.

-julie.

from the airport

(10 more hours left here, i've made a new friend at the airport and she is telling me lots and lots and lots and LOTS of stories)

the holidays yo

2011-12-18T04:30:00.000-08:00

So it's been about a month.
And the holiday's are here.

I'm missing my family quite a bit cause, well I'm overseas, and separated from a lot of people I care about.
Last winter I remember running around in the midst of Chicago, freezing my butt off, wrapping little gifts, and saying good bye to everyone before I headed to Christmas in California.
I was living in the ballroom then and Jake and I would DJ Christmas songs over the amp in the living room/ ballroom. I'd spin around in that big wide open space and try to deck out the place with candles and holiday cheer as much as I could.
A year later and I'm here in India, the same song- N'sync Christmas, the one that Jake cracked up at me choosing and then walked out the door to work, is playing here in this little computer room.
Its one of the warmest spots in the village.
The cora (fog in hindi) is so thick right now, like a heavy blanket of midst, and at night time it feels like this surreal dream land and I fell into.

I had to say good bye to this little boy yesterday, along with so many faces I love. I'm leaving the village tomorrow, headed to Delhi first and then off to Thailand to see family.
Every wish I've collected lately seems to do with family, and each time it's like a little squeeze at my heart, a gab at a bruise or a pick at a scab.
Being a wanderer has its pro's and cons.

My good bye here consisted of a sort of dance -band -parade in front of the school.
Neetu drapped a hand stitched orange flower lay around my neck and then all the women said a sort of prayer and smeared this red vermillion paint on my third eye.
I was laughing and smiling the whole time, and then my heart was sort of crying inside.
All these cycles, and people you meet, who amaze you, who you have to say good bye to.

I went to the hotel yesterday and had my last cup of 12 cent (5 ruppee) chai.
I will miss those dearly, and especially my little friend Kajal who lives above the shop.
I wonder where some of these kids got these smiles from, if they know just how incredible they are.

When Kanika, my friend from Delhi, came to visit on my birthday she read a story to the my class 4 kids about a chicken who was always in a hurry, never wanting to help others.
Kabeer, the boy above, raised his hand at the end and said some beautiful truth about how we should help others. One boy Harjot said in Hindi that, the chicken's mother was in such a hurry when she was having the baby that when the chic came out he was also in a hurry for all his life. Cause and effect.
It was so incredible how he recognized how the energy we carry effects other people so greatly, the idea that how you are brought into this world, your circumstances, will have an effect on your nature in life.
When I was born I stayed in the womb for 36 minutes after my twin brother.
I'm not sure what that means, but I know I like my own space and I know I like to be cozy and warm and bundled in my little nests. And solitude finds me often.

" The 12 days of Christmas" is playing and I had to switch it because that songs is just annoying.
Ha. Anyways, it's 6:30, my bones are cold, and I want to go rest in my room.
These last few photos show a few moments from my last days.
The fires I find around school that I huddle into, little Shree's feet on a Rickshaw as we head to the market to get some Christmas presents, and another smile from one of the cheekiest boys at the school.
He teaches me hindi words and then gets crazy excited when I say them, I ask him his wishes and he says to me "you're speaking nonsense, just take the photo." I grab his little cheeks and try to give him a kiss and he runs circles around me.

Happy holiday everyone.
I miss you all.

independence

2011-11-21T07:36:00.001-08:00

I just got home. I'm sitting "Indian style" to avoid these mosquitos that won't seem to leave my poor little legs alone. I swear after India my legs will never look the same, small little circles and indents in places where I can't stop scratching.

I rode the bike to Amrita's house today.
She was one of my close friends here who recently had to stop teaching due to family circumstances.
I showed up a little late and she woke from a nap. Ran around a bit and made some chai. I sat asking her how she was and worry seemed to furrow her brow every now and then.
I didn't bring my camera but I managed to draw her on a scrap of newspaper on the bed.r

Some hours passed and she cooked me dinner with her sister in law. I stood in the kitchen and she practiced her english while I watched her make this vegetable curry sort of dish and rice.

After dinner I interviewed her for the wish book.
This is how it went.

Name: Amrita Singh Date: November 21st 2011

Me: Oh, Singh, this means lion, yes?

Amrita: Yes, how did you know?

Me: Uh, I read it somewhere. ( a book recently on different faiths in the east)

Ok..

1. I wish that there was a day for...
uh for what? anything I want? Just standing at myself, fully independent I want to be. Independent means I just need to earn on myself, not dependent on anybody else. I just don't want to take money from anybody else.

2. This would be good because...
me?...it has somewhere..what to say..secret? It happened somewhere..my mentality, I actually had some problems, that's why I want to earn money on myself. That I really don't want to share, it's family problem, yaar,.

a Amrita smiled her sweet smile all through these questions. I ended with asking her to describe her perfect place, she said:

I'll say I actually, I've never been out of Dhampur, but the peaceful place is at my Mousi's (Aunt's) house.
She gestures to her aunt whose sharing the blanket with me as we're all sitting on the bed and some Indian sort of crime/drama television series is on.

Then she drew her wish;

and she told me

" Everyone needs to fight to get fully independent, everyone fights for this in India..."
she looked over what I had written and added,

"for the mainly, mainly for the girls."

I thanked her and told her how much I missed her at school. It was getting late and she pleaded that I stayed over but I knew I needed to get home.
The road was dark and there are no street lights, but the ride home was short and I knew it.
My path was lit solely by the cars or motorcycles that would pass until I reached the beginning of the mill again.
As I bumped along on the road I sung Disney tunes in my head to try to forget the stories of one of the other teachers villages where girls had been taken recently in the corn fields.
I sung to myself and passed the field and knew of course I'd be fine.

I reached home and now here I am. Another Indian wish and day blowing me away.
Things I have to share.

Again here's the link to this project if you want to help as it continues:

http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/courtneybird/the-wish-book

the field of Infinitive

2011-11-16T22:18:00.000-08:00

it's Novemember.
Happy Novemember everyone.
I just finished a chai during teacher's break while sitting and discussing art with Jyotirmoy.
We finished making a storyboard for this puppet show animation we're going to do with one of our classes. I love working with another mind, they always help remind me to "slooowww down."
Some artists want intsant gratification- sometimes this is very much me. Wanting a result befoe the process, getting so caught up and excited by the idea, the vision in my head and wanting it brought to life right THEN AND THERE.
He told me, "fail twice, succeed third time".
So instead of making these quick drawings to cut out I took a breathe and told myself to give it time.
One time I found a five dollar bill that said,
"Give it time girl, the fine feels divine."

So some things that have been happening.......

first of all, I've turned into a Punjabi dancing Indian. :) and I love it.

We had a Punjabi Dance routine for Children's Day and my friends did not hesitate to deck me out and help me fit in. It was awesome, hilarious and wonderful. A blurry dream, and the kids seemed to have loved it. I got the A-ok sign from one of my little fourth graders named Chavi.

We had a holiday not too long ago and we took the day to drive (or off road rather) to the Jim Corbett forest and Sita Matha Mandir. Which I think translate's to mother Sita's temple. Sita was Ram's wife who he left in this forest/temple when she was pregnant. ( he had thought she had commited adultery, so this place was sort of a shrine to her tragic story.)
The forest is where she went into the earth before death and is now a part of it.
-I think this is the jist of it, although don't quote me!

Anyways it was incredible and bathing in these fountains was this invigorating, extremely laughable experience.

The day's are moving quickly or rather everything is moving the same and more information is being thrown at me. "The Age of Information", that's what Jyoti called our current time period. More future plans coming into focus like the outline of land appearing while being on a ship. Its exciting and nerve racking. I love everything I'm involved with here and it's crazy to think in a less than a month this environment I've grown into will change again.

I feel like I should talk about this project I've been working on because it's important to me and I care about it. And I'm generally very guarded about my emotions and things I care about or am working on. But this project isn't really about just me, (like most my personal work), it's about sharing these things I'm seeing and finding and documenting.
The beautiful lives I encounter.
I'm continuing my Wish Book that I've been working on for some time. It's always just been a way for me to get a little piece of someone, their thoughts and a drawing on paper.

Collecting them and sharing them with others along my travels.
I want to actually get this project more concrete and share with many.
So I'm traveling a little further, - Thailand and China and then back to the U.S. I have a few friends at schools there
I 'd like to show people from all over, different schools, different places, different streets, different bars, different worlds.
You get the idea.

So here's the site if you want to help out or know more:
http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/courtneybird/the-wish-book

Jyoti showed me some of his portfolio the other night, as we sat talking he said,

" We are very lucky we are in this field of art;
it is the field of infinitive."

Sach.
(true!)

dance, dance. danse.

2011-10-12T10:03:00.000-07:00

my body is almost too tired to type.

ringing in my ears from the blaring speakers at a birthday party and my feet tingling from dancing and twirling tiny girls around in circles.
I think I'm mastering a few Indian dance moves, or maybe not, but hey when dancing feels good, it feels good.

i'm just going to upload my favorite photos from the past few days and explain a bit about them.

this is one of my favorite guards. sometimes he pinches my cheeks like I'm 5, then he says "Cooookkiieee" and gives me some almonds.
I can't help but smile.

yesterday was another Puja (prayer holiday) for the Sun God.
It was also a full moon.
I had been feeling funky the day before.
So it was great way to rejuvenate and cleanse.
I felt really grateful to be a part of it, so much hindi I didn't understand, but cleansing and prayer is universal .
My favorite part was when we'd all throw this bark/tea/dirt like material into this fire and the flames would burst up.
Everyone would say "Swaha!" in unison and a handful of fingers would toss these things in. It was like an offering and I'm pretty sure it meant "burn!"
Whatever it meant, the warmth created felt so purifying and it felt nice to watch these things all come together.

i just got back from this beautiful birthday party.
i can't believe the way people treat you here, like gods.
I can't say it enough, how fortunate I am.
I made some new friends, between the ages of 6 to 9 and we danced like our lives depended on it. Towards the end I was thankful to leave because some of the girls would get a bit pushy with each other when they wanted me to twirl them around or be their partner. Haha.
Was a bit awkward, but I'd smile and spin and they'd snap out of it and everyone would dance together again.

Here we all fed him a bite of cake. Part of the ritual. He seemed a bit hesitant and so did I, but I smiled, and again was happy to take part. We had sweets before dinner, which was an unusual treat.

Earlier today I taught my first photo/animation class. This was hectic but good. 4th grade energy and a ton of creativity. Hugs as I walked in the classroom and all these little voices speaking at once.
Then a colorful lunch followed. My cooking experiments are growing and I'm learning less is more. Parsley is a very strong thing, one only needs a little. I learned this the hard way, mais bonne, todo va bien.

ok i need to get some sleep.
Two classes of soccer mañana.

WHOA. life.

2011-10-05T05:53:00.001-07:00

"oh my gooe-ness."
To quote a clown me and my old roomie, Sam, met on the street once.
I tracked him down in the dry cleaners and the second he saw Sam with her crazy magical dread locks it seemed like he was finding a long lost relative and ran at her and hugged her and wanted a photo. Me, her and Vince all stared at each other, smiled, and went with it.

Well anyways "oohh my gooe-ness" is how I feel about the nonstop pace and things that have been happening and passing and flowing and going on here in India.

I've been here less than a month but I swear its been nearly a year.

I'm not even sure how to recap the last few weeks, or where to start.
Internet is patchy and now its like trying to organize and share and show the magic is similiar to trying to fit together this really bright beautiful puzzle. You get stuck on each piece and forget you're even trying to piece something together.

Lets with the founders day event.
This was like a 3 day wedding of costumes and make-ups and dance and samosas and dinners. And so on. I've never felt so beautiful, I think every women needs to wear a Sari, it's like glowing. That's the only way i can describe it. The second night this one boy gives me this smile and hand gesture like "A plus". I felt like Cinderella with my little worn out sandals hidden underneath the gemmed trim of the bottom of my dress.

So as soon as this ended Me and Nisha Mam, Rajesh, Tara Chand, Neetu and their son Sarthak headed out to this Holistic Health camp. Crazy, beautiful, cool names huh?
Most of the talks were in Hindi but Rajesh translated a lot for me and I learned some great ways to lower blood pressure.
1) stroke a cow for 15 minutes everyday for 15 days.
2)take dried cows dung and sprinkle it with urine and put it under the sole of your foot for an hour each day for 15 days.
I loved the way this doctor talked, the peace in his eyes and the soft lull of his voice. In the beginning he starts with, "I have some truths to speak and you can choose whether or not you want to accept these truths." Such a great way to put anything you want to share that may seem , well, I guess extreme.
He also said high blood pressure is due to restlessness of the mind, and all diseases start with what were eating and the medicines we take that we don't need that leave rudiments in our body and start them.

The trip started with a nap on these beds underneath these tall trees, the sun was peaking in from the branches and I felt like I fell into some nice movie. Its moments like these where you're like, what was I even worrying about the other day? Man, grateful, grateful.
I drew Nisha while she napped and then we had this amazing lunch, all organic, that they had grown and cooked there.

We slept outside at some new friends house we had just made and i fell asleep under the stars and awoke to some crazy vivid dreams. A vulpture who had trapped me in his beak, seemed to foreshadow the illness I am getting over. It felt needed, some times your body has to get some things out, and getting better feels so worth getting sick. It's crazy how easily we can take health for granted.

The next day we poured water down one of our nostrils while it came out the other and then sucked water up our nose while it dripped out of our mouth. Haha, it actually felt really good! I was laughing most the time, thinking, "what the heck am I doing?" But it cleared a lot of stuff out.

These moments just continue one to the next, where I can't even react to what's happening it's just happening and I'm just flowing a long with it.

We returned and had two days of classes. Everything is still moving pretty fast but we started break today which meant I got to ctach up on laundry, go to the market and find this little tiny store where people write on typewriters. I think it's a sort of school. I've been itching to get over there and write on one, I love the way typewriters feel and sound, and I started reading this book, Shantaram, and it's gotten me all inspired to start bits and pieces of my book.
One scooter ride later, one letter to a girl in New York, and a few paces down an alley filled with festival noises and I found myself sitting, writing very awkwardly on one.
Eventually I got the hang of it, although the letters are a bit uneven, it looks like I was typing in a car, or during a small continuous earthquake, but no matter, the shaky look has it's charm- wonky, like many things in my life.

Tomorrow we leave for the Ganges River and Rikekesh. It's the first time I'll be really leaving the village since I got here.
Eeek! I've gotten so comfortable, but I'll be with two others and I know better than to have any expectations. Nothing is ever as it seems.
In the best way possible.

hmm, i'm title-less today.

2011-09-18T02:02:00.000-07:00

pocket memories.

that's sort of what i want to call all these beautiful moments i want to stick in a pocket.

last night right near my house was this festival of music with clapping, and singing, and color and beauty. a girl in a pink dress sat on my lap while another girl with silky night sky hair and big eyes translated things to me in excited whispers.
one girl, tried to get me to go up and dance with a few of the men up front, i was tempted but i giggled and decided I'd rather play it safe sitting in the midst of all these beautifully composed women clapping along.

i had my first puja at school today. which was a sort of prayer moment with a man who sang and we all tied strings around our right wrist. red and yellow. then i received a red bindi mark on my forehead and at the end prayed over some warm incense that i then rubbed up to the crown of my head. at the end they gave us all this sweet sweet, bright snack-( below).
so great.

a desk in my room.

me, happy as a clam, next to some new friends asking whether or not I'm married or with boyfriend. this question is usually one of the first asked.
i sigh or giggle and more questions relating my love life always ensue.

my haven.
painting doors
in my little nook.

i've been lighting these candles i found for different people each night.
it reminds me of when i went to the notre damn with my mom in France. We each donated and lit different candle's with the thoughts of those we love in mind.
i hope you can feel it out there people! you're on my mind. wishing the best.
one of the corners i turn to walk to class.

and this you can't see too well but its basically the title for my life.

living my dream for sure.

a plus tard.
x

the day yassin died

2011-09-15T03:42:00.001-07:00

today our driver died.

i wrote the story out to my friend in new york, told him i wish i could record all that i'm seeing with my eyes and then translate it to him, but that i suppose that's what these words are for.

i keep thinking about that Ghandi quote that ram dass uses in the beginning of one of his recordings;
"one lives as one dies".

i even put it in here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ad9tydsizlM

a short i had made before i left.
weirdly foreshadowing.

Yassin picked me up from my train, he would smile and point out the window at things that he thought I should see.
His smile was always on his face and was one of my favorites to encounter here. Some people when they smile their whole face scrunches into it, especially the corners of their eyes.
His was like that.

We went to the center of town
His body was laying in the center of a herd of people. Children on building rooftops looking over to see.
Someone is singing soft hindi music behind me. It sounds like mourning music.
I want to look but I'm afraid they'd stop if I do, so I wont.

I looked down at my little shoes in the mud, i felt so young as Nisha Mam was holding my hand and continually saying Courtney come with me.
They had to find the car, get me out of their as police were everywhere.

Finally we got got to it and piled in. I sat on her lap and I felt light even. I wondered how I turned so young and small.

I guess when you're foreign you acquire this new innocence and curiosity for everything.

The day is grey, more grey then I've ever seen here.
Before we got in the car I saw an orange monkey cross some wires over our heads as he passed from one house above a shop to the next. The shops and houses are all brightly colored and look like decaying castle's. I could reference Aladdin so you get the idea but it's much more vivid and magical then that.

i shared some animations with the other art teacher here.
he said "so you are more of an artist then?"
i laughed and said "well yes i am an artist", he said "well usually animator is commercial and 3d and your work seems to be more"..."personal?" i asked.
he said "yes, its brave, i would be scared".
i said yeah, i guess, but i dont really know how to be any other way.
it just comes out.
because i love what i do.
and i love my life, so my work tends to be about that.

these days continue to surprise me.
none the same.
i have no idea whats coming next.
i think a nap now.

wednesday- the midle of the week.

2011-09-14T09:00:00.000-07:00

Today i took a bike ride to see a banjaree, otherwise known as a nomad. They travel from place to place and set up there dark tents with colorful writing and sell medicines and other magic in little glass jars.
A woman in yellow and black looked at me curiously and helped me with my bike lock as i struggled. Then she helped me enter the tent and nodded in agreement when the old man who owned the tent pointed to the jar with a sandy grey powder in it.
she motioned to swallow so i did. Intense, refreshing and sort of clearing all in one take. Clearing of the senses and of the mind.
I pointed to a jar full of bark looking contents and took a piece of that. Turns out it was cinnamon.
I shared it with one of the servers back at home.

I sent Amanda an email about life as a series of doors and rooms. these choices you make, these doors you find and open and all of a sudden you're in a new room.

michael said, those doors looks like mine. it's like its there but it leads to nowhere, thats where i feel like I'm at. I said they all lead to some where, the all lead to the same place, exactly where you are at.

Every now and then you bump into someone along the way.
maybe you tap elbows or your eyes lock.
or u sit and stare at some clouds.

some rooms have hands to hold and some rooms you're on your own.
but even then you're never really on your own.
you have soap dish friends to keep you company. :)

and someone way over here or maybe over there is also looking at some clouds.

and you look at your wrist, the same as you may any other wrist, but its delicate and small.
and it makes me think of my little sister whose little wrists are like those of a little doll.
its a wonder she's not made of porcelain.

good night wednesday.

the midde of the week.

beginnings

2011-09-11T09:04:00.000-07:00

So i made it here. one crazy train ride at 7 in the morning. it seemed like everyone was looking at me was looking at me like i was painted blue or green. Other-wordly, and I suppose to most people I am.
Different worlds. As foreign as I am to them this world here is just as foreign to me.
It's so interesting how many different cultures and experiences there can be in the world.
I got on the train and one man told another where I needed to get off. This man seemed to be like my guardian. Watching each stop and never holding eye contact long enough to acknowledge my smile. I think this was out of respect and culture.
After a chai tea for 5 ruppees from a man with a hot cooler and 4 hrs of watching villages and people pass, I arrived at a station called Halduar. This, I would find is less than an hour ride from the small village where I am staying.
Another crazy drive and I arrive.

My room is small and bizarre and magical and has beautiful white paint peeling down the walls. This sort of decay has this unbelievable charm and magic to it that Ive always been drawn to. Probably why Ive always been interested in deconstruction.

The food here is incredible. But if you are like most people I have grown up with who think eating with your hands is wrong, well get ready for change. Eating with your hands Is the way here.
And quite honetsly, it rules.

My pictures are out of order, but I'm impatient and want to write and share all I've been seeing. Ive been documenting so much and yet I find myself seeing things that I just wish my eyes could record and transfer.
These children on their bikes, their eyes could stop the sun from spinning around the earth. Its like immobilizing. And the colors of their dresses, the idea "your body is a temple" is truly displayed here. Its as if each women's body was a castle or a present, wrapped in the finest of silks or the brightest of papers. The occasion for beauty is solely dependent on the fact that you wake up breathing.
Quality of life here is something I can't fathom.
For people who would seem to have so little they are so happy. I mean because really they have so much, they take such pleasure in the simple things, simple jobs, simple tasks. Its like their fuel is just love and family.
I cant say this for everyone and of course this is surface level interpretation but the surface is much brighter than some paces of life Ive previously encountered.

This is one of the teachers I work with, finding a loose thread on her shirt. She is stunning like most of the women I work with. And she worries so much about the children. Really it's the sweetest thing Ive ever seen, her sincerity. Asking me how we can best come up with fans for the recital for founders day and how to teach simpler dance moves so that the children will remember.
I am in love with every child here.
"Good afternoon mam".
One group of eleven yr old's I have are the cheekiest little things ever. And they have me rolling on my tummy in laughter. I can't even get mad at them.

today i went to this celebration titled Uman. Its celebrated in Kerela (South of India) for ten days where they celebrate the return of this king to his people. The king was known as someone who was a great giver and before he departed he wanted to get ten days with his people. And so this holiday arose (there's quite a bit more to the myth but in the heat of today that is all I could retain). It is said that there is a moment, when you're facing conflict, or where you are at your most vunerable or truly being tested, that is the moment man has the ability to become god-like. I liked this notion, the notion of shinning or rising to an occasion.

I sat in on a class of 3 to 4 year olds the other day. They went around saying what they wanted to be when they get older. Two said spider-man, about 5 said police, maybe 3 said doctor, and about 20 said Ram or Krishna. (Which is God). Wow, more culture. I love that fact their goals were to become god's. Too bad these little beauties already are little gods, there faces even within mischief shinning with light.

So at the celebration we sat on the ground and were served vegetarian indian dishes on banana leaves-- oh my delicious. Eating with my hands has even become a sort of graceful act....-ha not, but I'm getting there, slowly, I told Nisha Mam as she smiled at me adoringly (like I was 5:) that I would learn how to, and she laughed and agreed.
Then there were games.
I will never forget this 80 yr old little fiery woman in her purple sari pushing me out of the way and running around during musical chairs, this lady was a serious competitor. It had me giggling like I didn't know I could. It feels good to smile this much. Eventually they had to tell her to calm down and I was called back in for a game after she had pushed me away from a chair as the music had stopped. I tried to plea not to go back in and face this sweet little beast but they insisted as they always do. I took second- In the end, Sister Anna, one of the nuns at the celebration, won. She looked very content about this and I was happy to have come after her. I was a bit afraid of sitting on her, as sometimes when I get engrossed in a game I too forget manners and the like. (not like my 80 yr old friend here but hey.)

You wont believe what came next, or maybe you will. Pin the bindi on the woman. EPIC.
I have no words for this, its basically as you can imagine it.
Here's an image or two.

- i really just like the clouds in this picture, there was something about them today. white soft pillows my camera couldn't completely catch.

Well its ten thirty and I teach tomorrow , or float rather, thats sort of how teaching has been- floating around helping. I love it and there are always surprises.
More images to come as this is really the bare minimum.

landed

2011-09-05T22:17:00.000-07:00

so i got into delhi.
to find an old face from high school waiting with her driver to take me to her home.
traffic was crazy but i suppose that was just normal, the way people honk and speed past each other it was like everyone was racing each other home. everyone in a rush and everyone somewhere to be. women in beautiful sari's sat on the back of the men's scooters and i just watched in awe at the length of their hair or the way they sat so calmly in the midst of chaos.

later we took one of these auto's to a little bar where some of kendra's friends were.
i sort of just watched everything happen. in it but not of it.
a girl from switzerland couldnt believe i had only arrived a few hrs ago and said that i had a lucky welcome here to delhi as her arrival and been nothing but hectic.
i agreed, somehow though it felt beyond luck, sort of just faith. because even when it doesnt seem to work out, it does. its just not how you expected and thats where you can trip up.

then today i went here:

he Lotus temple in delhi.

unfortunately i forgot my camera, but i did get a sweet healing/prayer card and i got to walk barefoot on wet pavement into a very silent giant flowered sculptured building.

there were birds inside there and you could hear the women's jewelery jingle as you sat there in silence.
i looked up at the skylight which was a gold gem that looks like the inside of a flower.
a gem in the lotus.

many people asked to take pictures with us, which was funny and sweet, it reminded me of when i was in taiwan with cleo and the same happened at night clubs there.

were heading out soon for some music at this little cafe in Hauz Khas village and then tomorrow morning bright and early i take a train out to the countryside to start teaching.

i'm having trouble typing because i feel a bit slow right now. like molasses trying to pour out of a bottle or walking through snow on a very bright day.
its all very nice, and all very alluring, but at the same time its happening in this slowed down way. like i'm sitting on the remote control and without thinking i've hit pause.
sped up and slowed down all at one time.

well universe and good people out there, wish me luck and send me energy to go work with these children.

august 2011

2011-08-21T22:44:00.000-07:00

i remember the day the sky looked like this.

it wasn't long beforethis moment when i had asked daria to describe love to me. she was laying on my bed and she looked up staring to my ceiling as if there may be some past image or thought that had been imprinted there to help her define it. defining the undefinable . eventually she looked at me and said i dont know bird!

i moved from chicago and i lived in new york for a month. while there this girl below came to visit. we had a ceremony at the beach where i cut off my cast and swam in the ocean. all these things healing, finally my little paw was ready to use. when i took the cast off it looked so foreign. like my hand had grown 100 years. yet in the same way it felt foreign, it also felt familiar. as if i was to wake up in the morning dreaming about my seven year old self to find i am actually 23. maybe i was just confronting the hand i may have one day. my 60 yr old hand.

even these images already look dated. but thats what technology does. you can make a photo look aged and you can create an ambiance from color and lighting. yet the beach was really as light and magical as it looks here. this wonder down here topless and free. my dad asked what sort of beach were you at! i went to the airport wearing my long dress that i love, i decided not to wear a bra that day and he said courtney what are you doing, we're in america, youre going to the airport like that?

yes, yes i am.

about 3 days after this i headed off to a 10 day silent meditation retreat in joshua tree. that was an experience i cant really translate through typing.

for me, someone who is constantly moving, it was really..well it was really hard.

and really good, really important that i sit there and see things as they really are, not as some fantasy and to not escape into a book or drawing.

Vipassana, the technique, stands for seeing things as they really are.

i didnt know much about it before signing up besides that and it was free and i was instantly intrigued.

anything to aid in seeing things "as they really are".

a really wonderful gift that helped ground me before my move to india.

i'm in arizona, i leave in a week and a half.

i bought myself a new sketchbook and today i filled it with little nonsense drawings on a car ride that seemed to continue and continue.

sometimes driving in wide open spaces can be soothing, but i had all this pent up energy and i didnt even know how to get it out.

so i drew.

i drew the rain in my mind and i drew the home in my hand. i drew echoes and i drew a secret door.

i drew the shadows of birds that flew to a field out my window and i drew a compact mirror with a hand reaching towards it that said "i miss taryn."

people can come in and out of your life so quickly but sometimes, there are some people, that are really hard to not miss, really hard to not wish they were sitting next to you making you laugh.

mais bonne, anicca.

thats two languages in one.

french and...well the language of buddha, i forget the name.

basically,

oh well, impermanence.

that word has become a stronghold for me.

something of hope and a pacifier.

two in one.

june movements

2011-06-15T08:31:00.000-07:00

there's not much to say .
no thats not true.
i fractured my hand yesterday.
i'm moving to new york july third.
then california in august for a ten day silent meditation retreat
and finally to india on september first.

ok that about covers plans.
i'm listening to a sonny and cher record because it was $1.99 and the cover ruled.
side one is over and a thud is playing over and over as the record just spins round and round.
typing is bizarre and my hand, as i refer to as a paw, feels more animal like than ever.
its bandaged somewhat like a little pup's might be, and yesterday that was sort of how i felt.

like a little pup knocked over in the midst of chaos which is streets and traffic in chicago.
"ghost bike's" (which are white painted bikes of those who have been killed while riding) litter my neighborhood and i guess i can't say I'm not shocked.
i can now claim that I have been "doored".

on lighter notes, this provoked me to buy new records and cook for myself that night, two things i've been wanting to do but hadn't dedicated myself to in awhile.
go near death experience. i suppose life is like that, rattles you up and say's
"helloooo- breathe, stop, buy some records, cook some food, look around, dont rush so fast."
i get fooled sometimes, i see other's rush so and follow suit.
but a friend emailed me recently and she said,
"own your life- it's yours for the living.!"

sometimes i forget.

how very true this is.

time to flip the record.

light wind at night.

2011-02-17T06:58:00.000-08:00

i'm drinking tea.
its late. tonight i spent some time with floyd.
he read my thoughts. it was so weird to hear. to hear someone else reading my thoughts .
hes narrating my film so we went over the script.
which is a lot of fiction and non-fiction mixed, a blur between real life and dreams.

he made chicken and poured beer into two glasses. i couldnt bear to tell him i was a vegetarian so i took a bite or two anyways.
meat.it tasted like it always does.-
ok, but i'm not that interested in eating it.

im sleepy now and want to drift into sleep. and well. .lately ive been having trouble sleeping. ive been doing so much "next step" thinking with this switzerland thing its been hard being here now. and theres so many great things happening here now.
so i'm trying to be around for them.

so thats what happened with floyd. whats about to happen tomorrow too.right this second my eyes are here and now and sleepy.
so im going to drift into that.
dream of light and dust and all of that just laying on the edge of things.
i just want to run my fingers through it so i can make little trails as if it were on an old piece of glass that hasn't been looked at for awhile.

i want this sound in my ears and to be miles and miles away.

15 minutes

2011-02-04T01:42:00.000-08:00

until 4 am

i should be sleeping as i have class at 9. but i did all my work for it and i'm on a creative kick.

finally uploaded new moments from new york to This site:

www.birdvision.weebly.com

it had been a minute.

and Now im here

back to breakfast this morning

or talking about artistic processes with this one

or how eggs should be cooked

or how yoga is like tai chi yet opposite sides of the same line

mind body soul sort of activity

this is my new room.

its magic.

and this is my roommate. i adore and look up to this girl so much.

i love this photo of her. both her's the her of now and the her at age..4 ? 5? who knows.

she has the same fire and spunk. its incredibly inspiring

check out her work here; http://samjaffe.org/home.html

its 3:57 am

goodnight moon

Back rub foot Rub

2011-01-26T23:12:00.000-08:00

i cant write any more tonight. i just cant.
these are the thoughts that ran through my head after i finished a bio essay for this grant application.

formal writing can be so exhausting. i'm listening to japanese parisian and its like pouring warm liquid all over my soul. like drinking a glass of water after your mouth has become dry like the inside of a cabinet.
i love the way this material shines. i bought it at a fabric store for two dollars a sheet. it doesnt do much but sit in my room. sometimes i tie it around my neck so i can show you. victor came up to the little nest that is my room today. he looked around slightly fathomed, most people react this way to my space. he touched the corner of this and said, "its nice".
i agreed. simple english is beautiful. having friends from france here make me realize the ability to express things with only a few words at times.

i've had to think of so many words today.
i want to detangle them all like the tattoe on my left arm, the one that also looks like a spread open paperclip.
someone pointed that out at a museum, i loved this new perception of it.

my song from gk just came on. he wrote it when i was 18. oh the timeless sound of my heart. love changes but i dont really. no, no thats not true. i change every minute. but some sounds, somethings,..well..its like you can see a million sunsets, but no sunset is the same.
i can hear the same song that was written for me, but every time it is different. so my appreciation for the thing doesnt seem to change or waver.
it comes back and hits me like the day i was 18.
back rub- foot rub

yes please.

2011-01-25T22:16:00.000-08:00

Its peculiar i cant ever remember feeling as sad as i drew myself two weeks ago.
and then at the same time i can.
its like when you catch the cold . you don't realize how bad it is until you're in it. until you really have it. right now i'm laying in my bed listening
to a record called music from vietnam. I rented it from the library
with Vince before we went and saw a film called Great Directors at the Gene Siskel Film Center.
I stumbled across some beautiful things in there.
Agnes Varda who created Cleo 5 to 7 says "As an artist you will have doubt, will experience pain. sometimes you lose it, and you just want to watch and experience other artists work, (films), but even when you lose it, it comes back."
adored that.
Then the other notes i jotted down in my journal that i had to decode after from the dark theater light were as follows;

- Dreaming is not dead, just forgotten.
-Sometimes in leadership people are taking quick answers instead of following through. (-dont do that bird)
-EVERY EXPERIENCE FEEDS IDEAS.
-INVENTION is CREATION
-Being alive in terms of an artist is a gift.
-Fashion changes all the time.
-Reality interests me less than truth.
-Even in a dream one keeps looking for a solution.
-Film like other art, reflects the world.
-I did what I wanted, good or bad....it was me.
-Van Gogh made art/paintings to look for a truth, not for an audience - remember that.

this middle image is from a 69 cent photo i found in a box in a store called JUNK in New York.
i think its one of the most beautiful things ive ever found. i wish this copy could do the real thing in my journal justice.
that boy, he's just looking, in disbelief, the curiosity of age. of greying, of time.

jan 25th. a morning bike ride

2011-01-25T08:26:00.000-08:00

i did visuals at a show again last night.
its always changing. never know how i feel about it because i get very wrapped up in it when i'm doing it.
have the taste of morning in my mouth now. my body feels tired and a bit sore, more from living than anything else. the way its been clenching itself in the snow.

i feel a bit like this right now. kept trying to wake myself up this morning. the alarm clock would sound, the invisible nudge of morning would push my shoulder, the whisper of the day would say. c'mon its 10:30 am, there's a lot of living to do.
but i found myself gliding in and out of sleep. watching myself pass by like houses on either side of a bike ride.

the 23rd.

2011-01-23T22:48:00.000-08:00

i love the things you can see and read just from the small of someone's back.
from the way there hair lays, the posture in which they carry themselves.
its this language of self.
its universal.

its time to disappear into sleep.

as usual.
i took this in new york when i was there, all this beautiful, bizarre, what the heck imagery there.

the answers are in the palm of your hand

2011-01-23T22:32:00.000-08:00

searching. searching.

jan 17th

2011-01-17T08:56:00.000-08:00

i read the other day that..your eyes show the strength of your soul.

its interesting how easy it is to trust someone who is able to look you fully in the eyes.

someone that when you talk to them they can really look into you back.

it is that strength.

its important, i find the more rooted i am, the more grounded i become i can really allow someone to look into me. and how that trust forms, how that person believes in what i'm saying, what i'm doing.

whether it simply be someone on a train, to a friend i've known for years.

"when something evolves, everything around that thing evolves as well."

boston

2011-01-16T20:17:00.000-08:00

i'm in boston

theres not much more i can say

it was impulsive and needed

life is strange

bizarre and beautiful

im learning to swim again

in this sea of life

forgot for a bit

started to get lazy

let my face fall underneath the water

i'm knowing and hoping this season will pass

like they always do

and i'll find myself in swtizerland this summer

old work. new work. repetitive work.

2011-01-09T08:35:00.000-08:00

pauline and tragic beauty.

2. 2006

3. hiding

4.sketch

5. the

queen

5. looking off # 3

6. this one time in france

7. looking off # 4

accidents

2011-01-07T11:17:00.000-08:00

i woke up from my dream this morning feeling like this.

it was so dark, the dream that was.

it was like this painting i made ages ago. there's so much light around

but

the images in my head felt so dark.

cloudy.i was in a car. my car. my red old mustang. the 65. its chicago and its snowy. i'm over near the 6 corners going to damen avenue. My breaks are a little faulty. and as i try to push nothing happens. Well no, they start to slow but not nearly enough in time. I think maybe i wont hit the car in front of me.

but i do.

then that car hits the next and that one the next, and that one rear ends the next til the 4th car hits an electrical wire. There are lots of children and people around the intersection, but noone's hurt.
i close my eyes.i leave. i'm worried about all the lives i've screwed up in the processes. but the light turns green as this happens and i just go.

it feels better to disappear.

but i cant really disappear.

i find myself at a bar later with my friend Ricky. Ali has text me to tell me he's in town. I feel so relieved. I just need to talk to him, to someone. There's something about his calm outlook on life that I adore. Something about this peace in him that anyone would thrive off being around.

i see him. i remember looking at his face for awhile. trying to discern it, its like a dali painting though, slightly moving, melting but not really.

the next minute he's just him again.

and after whats been awhile, people have come and gone, surrounded us and then left us alone he says,

"so then it was just a dream?"

i think hard for a moment and say. well i dont know. the line between my real life and dreams are so blurred these days.

but then i wake up here in thousand oaks and it is.

i breathe for a little while. the taste of that dreams makes me want a coffee. something to completely erase it. ANd then This, above. It's a photo i took with Delaram in LA a few days ago, but it's that light, that moment. I received in an email from a friend in New York.

Who spoke of pleasure, guilt, and all things in life worth living for.

and i let go of the dream. the fear of accidents that may affect too many people.

the sort of accidents i want to create are like these.

these lights that illuminate one thing to the next.

i fell asleep with a bit of too much wine last night.

i felt like an old widow, but it was cozy all the same.

home

2011-01-05T00:37:00.000-08:00

i really cant get enough of this image. and enough in the sense of little sister staring down the camera, older sister blowing nose, and old friend feeling awkward.i love capturing these moments.

explosions in the sky "greet death" just came on.
all i can think about is that dream i had a little while back. the one i was telling nina about earlier tonight.
i was falling off a stairway outside my back porch, i was all clenched up. that initial moment i realized i'm falling to my death. and then i'm falling, for what seems like longer than i should be, and something in my ear just whispers.
let go.and i'm falling, and it feels so
good.
there's no fear really, it just feels so good to fall. and to not care.
to not worry about the crash.
in death there is no fear.
so lately i've been falling.
so softly and so nicely, falling towards my slow death.
and loving every hazy minute of it.

on new years i ended up at this place called the convent collective in san francisco. a bit like the collective i live in but is 4 stories, with roof top musicians for this and an abandoned church next door.
after the magic hour of midnight i found myself in the top of the bell tower of the church looking out at the bay bridge and the tiny lights covering the city.
i attempted to ring the bell as silently as i could, it let out this tiny echoe. like the lap of a lake, like a bell you might here in the morning. in the distance, unsure if you made it up in your head or not.
a friend who i hadn't seen since time spent in Berlin was there.
we watched cars pass, i asked him where they were all going.

he said it's after midnight so probably home. i smiled to myself and thought simply, well yeah, i guess that is the place you find yourself at the end of the night.

nina asked me tonight where that was for me.
home that is.
it took me a minute.
i finally told her there is not one place really.

i am kind of my own home.and the people that i find myself around, the people i adore, that make that place for me, are my home too.
whether that be san fracisco, paris, chicago, or new york.

december 31st

2010-12-31T09:23:00.001-08:00

So it's the new year.

I'm in San Francisco.
My body feels funny, like some parts of it are more awake then others. Like a sleeping mountain, some of the animals start to stir but mainly the core of it is just grounded.
For some reason I think of the dark crystal. I think of the moment when he's in the fog. When things are waking up beneath him.
I'm applying to the European Graduate School. There I go flying somewhere new. I want to stay in one place but each time I think that, I see another opportunity to discover the world and I just can't, I just can't get myself to stay.
Some people think it means I'll never stay anywhere long enough to establish myself. I think that's just what society might tell me. You have to stay somewhere, you have to "build" your life up. Your empire, your contacts, your bussiness, your world.
I guess I'm just not interested in that.
Or I am , but I'd rather build up my world, my contacts, the new strangers who leave lasting marks on my life on a global level.
I'll share my art along the way, but I've realized it thrives off the new, off the travel. That's where my creative energy really comes from.
overwhelming emotions are the raw material for creating anything.
Travel tends to stir some overwhelming emotions.

San Francisco is calm this time.
Calm like being on a boat.
A boat me and my friend Aria wrote stories about yesterday.
www.storiesbysight.weebly.com

i'm sitting in front of a heater, or i was moments ago.
one of my oldest tendencies. finding the warmth and sticking near it.

i love apartments here, they are peculiar because they never get warm enough, so living here somehow tended to feel colder than chicago. I guess when the place you inhabit is never quite warm enough you would remember. Always a slight chill at home. We don't put up with that much in Chicago, its cold enough outside so we create our nests and safe havens inside.

i drew this yesterday while aria played some new songs off his new album.
i think this was right after i heard 'japanses parisian'. which is my song.
if you know me well then you might know why this title is fitting. and if not then maybe the meaning can only resonate all these colors so fully for the one who created it and the one it was inspired by.
like a lot of art.
no matter what, we're going to bring our own sentiment to it. the moment will mean something different to someone else, and those words will strike a different chord in someone else's harp shaped heart.

it's now 10;07 am. i think i'll venture off soon. to a coffee shop. or a small book store. they are
everywhere here. you just cant help but find yourself having wandered into a new little cabinet of
curiosities everytime you walk out the door.
here
here

here

here
here

here
here, is the little house i fell into sleep in last night.

"our job is to realize the world as we see it, not to perform it as we know it."

its the new year.
all things change.
all things full circle.
all things new.

its 9:57 am

2010-11-02T07:57:00.001-07:00

so like many things in life i let this slip away for a while.

it fell under a shelf, or behind a desk.

sometimes you use something and then you begin to use something else, and you forget about the first thing you started, or you lessen it's merit, then it resurfaces- you're confronted with it and you think..oh wow , now i do remember.

i remember what it meant to me, and why i had it.

my neck is cold, i'm in a room that isn't particularly warm. my hair is still damp from a shower and it doesnt help that chicago winter is creeping up.

this morning was the first real gust of it.

as i walked down monroe i thought

"please let me survive winter,

please let me survive winter."

then i thought of the little train who could

" i think i can,

i think i can".

and then i thought, i wonder how many people in the world are as childish as me.

i love it .

a boy just sat next to me.

there is a hum in the room, a hum of a heater, but the air is blowing down on me and its not very warm.

its just soft air.

moderate.

soft air, i like the way that sounds, it reminds me of clouds. or being in a plane, when you look out the window, all you see is soft air.

i've been waking up in the mid morning hours of night. i will call them twilight hours, or magic hours.

they are states between sleep and dreams and time and space.

i whisper what is going on in the state of my unconscious mind to the boy sleeping next to me.

sometimes he responds, usually he just uses touch as a language. its funny how love lets you rediscover this new language of speaking.

it makes me wonder about those who are blind, those who use solely sound and touch to speak.

it also makes me think of my grandpa, whose stroke has left him without words, he understands all but can only use gestures and touch. can you imagine?

something like the little mermaid whose voice was locked away in a seashell.

i asked him a question the other day about dual identity, he reached down and squeezed my hand so tight, telling me everything i needed to know. i told him i loved him, then he squeezed it again, and maybe once more for good luck.

i think he told me three paragraphs of language in that moment. 3 paragraphs of touch.

the boy in my bed tends to write essays in touch. on the nape of my neck, small of my back, leaving letters and sentences in my hair.

i awoke yesterday to tell him a car was on fire and he was the only one to put it out, everyone just watched. it was like a dance, or routine. the fire in the car starts, you put it out, it starts again, you put it out a second time, the flames capture this awful amount of attention, but people are just stumped. they arent directly affected, or their car, so they watch and they let you to continue this cycle, i bite my finger nails.

HEREhere; THIS IS A STORY OF TIME AND SPACE

2010-07-29T00:13:00.000-07:00

here. and there.

this is love in time and space.

stillness

2010-07-10T05:07:00.000-07:00

stillness:
verb
make or become still; quieten : [ trans. ] she raised her hand, stilling Erica's protests | [ intrans. ] the din in the hall stilled.

nodding off

2010-07-10T05:02:00.000-07:00

the people who pass us

2010-07-10T04:55:00.000-07:00

to have everything and nothing

2010-07-10T04:27:00.000-07:00

the girl about to leave

2010-07-10T03:48:00.000-07:00

ma petite souer.

"no matter how far you go, no matter where you are, you can never be anything but yourself.."
Murakami.

nouveaux stills -presque fini clip- scratch massive

2010-04-21T03:42:00.000-07:00

unfinished project..escaping reality.

2010-03-05T04:50:00.000-08:00

(photo/graphic novel)
based on escapism and human relationships....

Innocence inspired by Mary Ellen Mark

2010-03-05T04:48:00.000-08:00

a letter to curtis bailey

2010-02-25T05:07:00.001-08:00

the views from my window x 3

2010-02-25T04:05:00.000-08:00

today on the train

2010-02-23T07:26:00.000-08:00

i was nodding off on the train ce matin. exhausted as usual. in the morning i sent out some emails as i watched lucca- this was my view of the eiffel tower.
id like to start here with maybe 100 ballons, each one with a letter or wish in them, then go to the eiffel tower, and from the top let them all go.
maybe id write every worry that crosses my mind.

im still kind of just an 8 year old stuck in the midst of my own creative chaos making wishes all the time. consequently im a fragment in these cities transcending temporarily- like everyone and the newspapers they read- through it.

Life in A Box

2010-02-18T09:25:00.000-08:00

My latest performance/video/photo project. Collaboration with Virginie Khateeb et Gregory.
Check the link;

http://www.behance.net/Gallery/Life-in-a-box/425396

here and there

2010-01-28T01:41:00.000-08:00

states of imbetween

2010-01-23T11:56:00.000-08:00

the beautiful uncertainties of self doubt

2010-01-23T11:11:00.000-08:00

the weight of the world and all its uncertainties.

the here and now; home at place de clichy

2010-01-23T10:56:00.000-08:00

this is paris. sometimes i feel out of place, i'm not sure of my home. and then i view these homes on benches and my perspective is completely changed again.
someone reminded me to really strip my expectations and ideals of this place away and start at square one; what's really in front of me. the here et now.

holding on

2009-12-25T07:20:00.000-08:00

its funny how i made this 6 mths ago and i can relate to the feeling in a whole different sense. it was late at night, i couldn't sleep, i was thinking a lot about san francisco, disinegrating into memories.

I lost sense of time

2009-09-04T13:21:00.000-07:00

This summer was a blur. 3 mths passed and my life changed.
im moving to paris. heres the work i did before the semester ended. ACTually this was awhile ago, this is when storms were starting in chicago and in my head, i felt like a paper doll. i started to fall apart. thank god storms pass.

restless.

2009-05-21T11:46:00.000-07:00

missing.

2009-05-21T11:17:00.000-07:00

Charlie. watching time pass.

2009-05-21T10:50:00.000-07:00

Music cred: Four Tet.

daydream.

2009-05-19T10:47:00.000-07:00

music cred: Young Tvrks

corey feldman.

2009-05-18T18:09:00.000-07:00

Music cred: Young Tvrks.

2009-05-18T17:38:00.000-07:00

spots like these are where most things evolve...

what it is to watch it fall part.

2009-05-18T17:32:00.000-07:00

human condition times 2.

2009-05-18T17:15:00.001-07:00

the human condition.

2009-05-18T17:07:00.001-07:00

work i've been meaning to share...

2009-04-04T09:00:00.001-07:00

2009-02-16T19:51:00.000-08:00

this is the twenty-eight.

2009-01-17T20:56:00.001-08:00

mus

music cred: jon brion's phone call.
visuals; san francisco's one and only 28 bus.

old work.

2009-01-12T10:17:00.001-08:00

1. humor on the train

2. greying out

3. old age

4. disappear

5. waiting