A Year In Sparkle : Reflections On My 24th Year

Stepping into 25 with sparkly shoes. 

I’m still all aglow from a holiday weekend of yoga goodness, springtime strolls, champagne cupcakes, and a Saturday night spent sparkling up the dance floor with a tribe of fabulous friends. I’m reveling in the lingering sweetness of my 24^th year, sipping it all in like rose wine, as the dawn of another birthday approaches. I’m contemplating the year ahead – what I want to manifest, how I want to continue to grow and soften into my truest self; but before I jump ahead into rocking 25, I’m pausing to honor my 24^th year of Sparkle.

Sparkle is a dazzling fun spirit guide. She advocates for my lighthearted nature to shine – cheering for authentic and wild self-expression (tutus, sequin pants and heart-shaped sunglasses can be casually worn on Wednesdays). She defends my optimistic, bubbly spirit by whispering Zora Neale Hurston’s golden line, “Show your shine! Jump at the sun!” By intentionally choosing sparkle as my 24^th year’s guide, I’ve cultivated a grander confidence in my spunky, feisty self.

This confidence boost creates necessary boundaries. In the past, I often surrendered my shine to the quick, deflating quips from others. I hesitated and tamed my brightest creative expression. Now, I proudly claim that inner spark. I embrace that fun-loving energy and invite that love for life to shine. I happily attribute my sparkle spirit guide to glittering up this year with wild escapades, riotous shenanigans and soul mate gal friends who celebrate the sparkly goodness of life.

Sparkle hasn’t been all fun and games. Sparkle also illuminates my inner struggles : my fear of failure, my tendency to self-sabotage and my insecure habit of seeking external confirmation from others instead of relying on a foundation of internal validation. Sparkle holds my light and shadow side. This past year, when struggles and questions about my life’s journey arose, sparkle challenged me to deepen my trust in myself, in listening and adhering to my intuitive guide. The sparkling flame in the dark reminding me – and especially in challenge, heartache and confusion – to breathe and be vibrantly alive. Instead of fleeing discomfort, I’m learning to turn inward and compassionately process emotional pain.

By directly addressing emotions, particularly the painful ones when they arise, I’m in tune with the tasks, the places, and the people who feel like a no : there’s a heaviness, an instant disconnect, an appearance of self-doubt, a dimming of my shine. I say yes to the passions, the kindred spirits, the magical cities and cozy local places that brighten my shine, fill and nourish me with energy, and leave me feeling connected to purpose. Trusting my intuition, trusting my feelings – those sparkly and cautionary ones – are gifts from this 24^th year of sparkle.

As sparkle takes a bow, I find that Sparkle leaves me the greatest gift – I feel more like me. I have softened more into being, courageously embracing all aspects of self - the lightheartedness, the sensitivity, the seriousness, the flare ups of anger, the fun-lovingness – and this acceptance prepares for the journey to and through dazzling 25.

Thanks for sharing the journey with me. Wishing you ease and  sweetness for the week ahead. 

Marfa Is A Muse

Swinging toward the stars in Marfa, Texas at the Lost Horse Saloon. 

Photo Credit : Texas Wild Spirit, Ann Sydney Taylor

***

I peer into a glittering pocket of the galaxy. Spellbound, my city eyes gaze at the spectacular dance of stars emerging across the West Texas sky. I lean against the back wall of the observation deck, ears gathering hushed whispers of conversations and soft laughter.

There is a crowd on the observation deck tonight: locals greet the mountain chill with blankets; elderly couples touring the West in RVs nestle on benches; and a few photographers perch near the deck’s rail, positioning cameras towards the deepening dark sky.

We’re waiting for a glimpse of the mysterious Marfa lights. Fascinating settlers and Texas wanderers since the early 1880s, the Marfa lights are rumored to sporadically appear above a desolate plain outside of town, where the lights leap and play across the canvas of a star-studded sky.

There are scientific and extraterrestrial theories attempting to explain the phenomenon, but I haven’t paid them much mind. I like the mystery of the “Marfa ghost lights”; it gives my imagination a welcome chance to run wild. Marfa encourages this liberated imagination. The faraway frontier town gifts creative spirits with the inspiration to explore and create and I’m reveling in the artistic aura of this tiny Western town.    

Marfa’s history has intrigued me for years; I know the tale by heart. Marfa’s history is a Western tale of cowboys and bohemians and mystery lights. It’s a tale first read in the glossy pages of Vanity Fair (the subscription a present from a family friend, a delectable treat for my college self) and revisited countless times in daydreams.

Marfa is the celebrated muse to minimalist artist, Donald Judd_. In the 1970s, as part of the land art movement, Judd reawakened this former water and railroad stop town to international fame when he installed perfectly shaped  cement blocks  across a sprawl of quiet terrain previously owned by the US military. (Marfa experienced a brief economic boom in the 1930s and 40s when the US military stationed its Chemical Warfare Brigades there).

Judd purchased and reused the military barracks and warehouses as galleries exhibiting the artwork of his contemporaries and his own sculptures. Marfa soon became his home and other free spirits followed Judd’s creative trek to the faraway West. Today Marfa is a rustic bohemia home to cowboys and hipsters.    

Marfa also quietly dazzles with a claim to Hollywood fame: it’s the backdrop to the 1956 epic, Giant ( during the filming, James Dean, Elizabeth Taylor and Rock Hudson resided at the downtown Hotel Paisano and visitors are welcome to purchase movie mementos at the gift store, like copies of James Dean’s room key) and Oscar awarded, There Will Be Blood and No Country for Old Men. Despite playing host to film stars and an avant-garde art community (or perhaps in a determined response because of it), Marfa remains true to its Western roots and retains its authentic Texan charm.

The contrasts that define Marfa speak to my imagination and I am lured to experience the town for myself. I fear that the Marfa I find will pale to the one constructed of daydreams, but my time in Marfa confirms my intuitive feeling of this place : Marfa is mystery and magic.   

Throughout my stay, Marfa surprises me with unexpected moments of enchanting discoveries: A low warehouse door slides open to the coffee shop, Do Your Own Thing that specializes in porridge bowls and is the domain of a black lab named Bear. Around the corner, I discover a bookshop of my dreams. Sunlight streams into the wide windows of Marfa Book Company, illuminating the thoughtful displays of poetry anthologies written by Marfa locals.

My friend and I tour and ponder the exhibits in the contemporary art galleries, but the piece that strikes a heart chord is by a local teenager featured at the Marfa Studio of Arts, a non-profit dedicated to providing art programs for youth.  A skeleton mother cradles her bare bone baby in one hand and firmly holds a gun in another. The young artist captures my own desire for a feminine balance of softness and strength, nurturer and protector, mother and warrior.  

There is the delightful discovery of a swing on the back porch of the Lost Horse Saloon, a famous music stop for singers and bands traveling from Austin to the further west. I sip a Lone Star beer while flying off toward the stars, wanting to catapult out into the galaxy.  

The same patch of sky holds my gaze tonight while Marfa memories dance by like those mystery lights who are shy and taking their time. The stars and murmurs of conversation cradle me and I’m lulled into following another whisper of thought.

Places resonate with us for reasons; they acknowledge and entice suppressed or unexplored aspects of our personalities to unapologetically emerge and shine. Marfa is a place that sparks an inner flame. Marfa is a muse that enlivens and enriches my creative self. In the company of writers and artists, in the presence of paintings and books, and in a landscape wild with stories, I remember my innate need for creativity and feel so recharged and alive in my imagination that I understand that writing and artistic expression are essential to my well-being.

There’s a sudden appearance of a golden bulb of light drifting along the sky’s horizon. It could be a car traveling a back road, or perhaps, it is a whimsical being dancing along the foothills. I embrace the mystery; simply being here is enough, a daydream come true and the reality is magic.  

***

Morning-sun snapshot of Ballroom Marfa .   

A magical coffee shop discovery.  

Do Your Own Thing Coffee Shop : Porridge simmers in the back, open kitchen.    

Marfa Book Company  entices with glistening good reads. 

Over the railroad track to downtown Marfa.

Marfa Studio of Arts exhibits pieces by local teenagers. This one strikes a raw heart chord. 

The Chinati Foundation :  Former military base turned into contemporary art exhibit space by Donald Judd. 

Looking through Judd’s iconic cement blocks at the Chinati Foundation. 

Dearest Reader, listen and indulge your inner muse. Travel and see the places that call to you. There’s magic waiting.