Rethinking the Lasagna
Hello, my friend.
Today, I’m writing to you from a lovely little ocean front home in Waialua, a dreamy town on the island of Oahu, Hawaii. The land here belongs to the indigenous peoples of Hawaii. I am grateful to be here, sorrowful for the treatment of these indigenous peoples, and determined to be a part of the cultural shift to honoring them, if only by naming them first, before I write about anything else. They deserve better than what we are giving them. May we find a way to help make things better, together.
And now, here is the anything else.
For years, I have successfully avoided starting a blog. The impulse to share my stories in this way has nagged me consistently and relentlessly for nearly a decade. I’ve sensed for some time that sharing my words can help others walk their own paths through change, loss, and transformation. Perhaps it will uplift, inform, and entertain, as well. Whatever it means to whomever it reaches is perhaps little-to-none of my business. My job, as I see it, is to write, and give it to the universe.
Today, I completed my first triathlon. I spilled a lot of sweat and tears onto the earth and into the ocean. I came out freer. And I decided to get over my shit and publish a damn blog.
After an epsom soak, two naps, and about a week’s worth of snacking crammed into a 5 hour period, I cracked my knuckles and set to work on creating this website.*
Forty minutes later, I had finally figured out how to update my payment and start the editing process. I used a template for a food and travel blog, impatiently deleting all the pre-fab posts until only one remained. This one. I deleted the text (written in Italian, so you know the lasagna was going to be good), and these are the words I’m replacing the sample article with. I’m sorry that I did not Google translate the recipe for you. If you want it, you’ll have to start your own blog.
I kept the title, because I think it’s funny, and because I’m lazy. The kind of lazy that does a triathlon and then skimps on the title of the blog she’s starting. Just the right kind of lazy, I’ve decided.
I’m perched in bed, watching the ocean from my window, listening to the children playing outside and the soothing hushed crashing of wave upon wave as it reaches the shore and gets pulled back out into the seemingly infinite sea.
Walt Whitman’s poem, Leaves of Grass, was the inspiration for the name of this blog. Onward and Outward. I’ll share more about what it means to me another day. For now, I’ll give this: I create this work with the intention and prayer that it will support the expansion of our human minds, our compassion, our capacity for unconditional love, our recognition of our power and privilege, and our responsibility to be caretakers of ourselves, one another, the earth, and life itself.
I’ll tell stories from my present and past here, and share content beyond words. It may come in the form of photos, videos, music recordings, interviews and storytelling, poetry, audio recorded interviews, recipes, embroidered doilies… for the latter, you’ll have to pay shipping and handling. Everything else is free to you!
My writing will be nice sometimes, mediocre others, perhaps even downright bad a day or two (or ten)!**
I’ll bore some, annoy others, impress or delight a few, and for at least one, I will write something that will help carry them through a dark night of the soul, or offer priceless comfort in the midst of great pain.
This is why I’m writing to you today. To be brave, and to be seen, because my job is not to wait until I’m perfect to share my gifts with the world. My job is to face my fears and serve others with profound love, right where I am, right here, right now. So is yours, but there’s no rush. It took me ten years to make this post. My goal is for it to take less time before my second entry.
With love and intention, I will write to you, and if you find something good here, then please stay. Keep coming back. Share with your friends or a stranger in the elevator who looks forlorn and lonely. Be brave in your world to reach out to those near you with love. Even if it’s just to point them somewhere they may find comfort.
If you feel blessed by this work, and want to help me cover the cost of maintaining the website and domain name, or buy me a cup of coffee, click here*** to give me a donation.
Thank you for your presence, and for receiving. As with everything in life, it’s best to take what serves you, what feeds and uplifts and betters you, and leave the rest without giving it too much thought or energy.
I love you. I’m grateful for you. You are wonderful! Now, go outside and hug a tree, if you can. That’s what I’m going to do.
Until next time,
Breezy Bree
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*I don’t really crack my knuckles, but I do love footnotes. My favorite book full of footnotes is The Mezzanine, by Nicholson Baker. It’s worth a read! Try and get it from the library, if you can. Those are fun places many of us have forgotten to go. Even if your local library doesn’t carry The Mezzanine, and can’t order it for you, go anyway. Walk around until something sparks a curiosity or attraction in you. Rent it, read a bit, and pat yourself on the back! This is a small victory, I think, just to rent a book from the library and read it. And victories are to be celebrated.
**I’m thinking of a quote from a favorite poet/author/orator of mine, Martín Prechtel. He’s speaking to how difficult it is to capture the real beauty of something that has filled us with awe, the futility of writing and speaking in the face of beauty:
”Even if we always fail when we speak, we must be willing to fail magnificently, for even an eloquent failure, if in the service of life, feeds the Divine.”
***The sun is setting over the Hawaiian sea outside my window and I’m pulled outside by the beauty… I’ll add a hyperlink later with options for easy donation. For now, if you have Venmo and want to donate, send to @Brean-Reiley.
Mahalo! That’s Hawaiian language for Thank You. :)