 Every little girl grows up dreaming of her wedding and the diamond that will crown her left hand. That's the narrative, right? Well, I must have missed this programming because I never found myself using my vivid imagination to daydream about my wedding dresses, chosen colors, nor my desired diamond that would be presented to me as a man asked for my hand in marriage. No, instead my daydreams consisted of becoming an explorer who built dams alongside beavers. I daydreamed about hitchhiking across America with only five dollars in my pocket. I daydreamed about sitting in a Native American Indian Sweat Lodge as spirit animals were greeted and discussed. I daydreamed about milking a cow and learning how to lasso cattle from the saddle of mighty steed. I daydreamed about hoping on a train and riding the rails only to be dumped off in a mountain town. I daydreamed myself hiking the Appalachian Trail with all of my life’s belongings on my back. I daydreamed about wild adventure. And still do today. This proclivity for the wild led to a childhood adored in “tomboy” clothing, dirt under my fingernails, and tangled hair not foreign to being matted in mud. I was a mess and it was glorious.  Is it obvious I learned to walk and escape my crib at 9 months? It wasn’t until third grade that I felt the first pangs of self-consciousness concerning my own lens of life. I began to feel different, separate, and dare I say like a little bit of a freak. I did not blend in well, I was the tomboy in Michael Jordan’s basketball shoes and playing pick-up football with the boys at recess. The girls in my class were braiding hair and playing “wedding” and any attempt I made to hang out as the “wedding party” left me feeling bored and as if I had wasted my precious recess time. Years have passed, but this sentiment stays the same. Sure, there have been some developments along the way (I traded in my tomboy fashion for a feminine elegance and learned to curl my hair), but I am still that wild little girl. And with that, I still feel that same “otherness” that I felt when I was in third grade as I am still not the woman who daydreams about her wedding or the various arenas that fall under “domestic bliss”. Ultimately, I still feel like an oddball… That is until I read a story like Jane Dotchin’s. Jane Dotchin is a badass woman who makes the 600 mile trek from England to the Scottish Highlands by horseback each year. She takes no map and carries minimal supplies…oh, and she is a mighty 82 years old. Yup, she’s wild.
Jane has been making this annual pilgrimage since 1972. Each year, around the same time, she loads up her pony, Diamond, and she sets out on a seven week trek across her country's countryside. She has no practical reason for this trip, meaning that she is not on some mission to retrieve an item or complete some task, but instead her sole reason for doing it is to enjoy life. When asked her reason for starting this tradition decades ago, she simply answered, “I love camping and I love the countryside”. She’s a woman after my own heart. Her story appeals to my own desire to wander and test the instinctive skills of our own survival as she ventures off with only the minimum: a tent, her food rations, a few personal belongings, and her Jack Russel Dinky all piled up on her pony, Diamond. She has no fancy gear. Instead, all she has is the will to enjoy life and set out on the road ahead. I love this detail because it is a stark contrast to our consumerist culture which has transformed the “outdoor lifestyle” into a competition to see who has the latest Patagonia; and instead, our girl Jane is out here ruling the road with the minimal gear that she has had for the past 50 years.  Jane is a badass wild woman because she does not let the rain, her age, or her limited eyesight deter her from her date with nature. Her story is inspirational to all, but for myself particularly it prompts a validation of my own desires as I travel further into adulthood.
As I travel this winding road of adulthood, I still do not find myself daydreaming about my wedding, babies, or other arenas of “domestic bliss”, but the absence of these desires does make me feel that old familiar feeling of feeling out-of-place…or dare I say behind. But, I quickly snap back to my own reality of recognizing that those are not my desires, even if that is for right now. I do not feel pressured by some hypothetical timeline nor do I feel unfulfilled by not having the picture of “domestic bliss”. Because, again, my desires are rooted in freedom, adventure, new experiences, and embracing my own wildness…my own self as I am. Jane’s story is one that we can all gain inspiration from as she is a simple woman doing a simple task…enjoying life. And, she has reminded me that not every girl’s daydream diamond will be found on the left hand, but instead your Diamond could be the one that carries you into life’s next adventure.
0 Comments
At the age of fifteen he fell in love; not with a high school crush, but with the American West. Mark Maggiori was born in Fontainebleau, a commune of Paris, in June of 1977. His childhood was spent in France, but at the age of fifteen his family took a month-long road trip from New York to San Francisco and this is when he met his love, the Great American West. Mark was struck by the National Parks, the vastness of the plains, and the archetype of "cowboy culture". This trip left a lasting impression on him, but its manifestation would not present itself until later in his life. Mark returned to his home country and was formally trained in academic drawing at Paris’s "Academie Julian". After completing his degree, he then decided to take an artistic detour and pursue one of his other loves, music. In 1997 he formed a successful nu metal band named "Pleymo". The band went on to achieve success and through the various opportunities Mark began to dabble in other creative outlets such as photography, filmmaking, and graphic design. During one of his artistic escapades of filming a music video, he met his future wife Petecia Le Fawnhawk. She was on set as set designer as well as fashion designer for the video. The two artists bonded and Mark eventually made the trip to Oklahoma to meet her family. While on the trip, Mark donned a cowboy hat and Le Fawnhawk’s father challenged his apparel choice by stating something like, “If you a Frenchman are going to wear the cowboy hat, you better know the true story of the cowboy”. So, Le Fawnhawk's father urged Maggiori to visit the “National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum” in Oklahoma City. Maggiori went, and states that he felt as if he was “struck by lightning” and shortly after this visit his Western-themed painting career began. Mark Maggiori’s paintings capture the American Cowboy in a theatrical light via billowing clouds, strong contrasting light, and profoundly realistic portraits. His canvases are large and dominating, but provide comfort as the viewer gets pulled into the lullaby that is the beginning of the West. His artwork is adored in the Western art world and he has won several honors, one which includes being named a member of the “Taos Society of Artists”. I found Mark Maggiori via Instagram and upon first scroll, I was captured by his use of light and his gift of storytelling via a stagnant yet dynamic image. His landscapes capture the beauty of the American Southwest that I have experienced and loved since my youth. Several of his paintings remind me of my summers in New Mexico where I would spend countless hours running through fields and then settling only at night under the moon that hovered above our tents. Mark Maggiori’s pieces arrest me with a nostalgia and a longing for simplicity, adventure, and undomesticated wildness. I hope his art sparks these same feelings for you. P.S. Below are four random facts about Maggiori that I couldn't seem to weave in anywhere, but are worthy of your admiration. 1. He has incredible style. And this denotes for me that his incredible taste doesn’t stop merely at his paintings, but extends into any medium he takes on. And this is inspiring.   2. He loves classic American cars. Check out the photo. Need I say more. 3. His impecable taste extends into his architectural design. This can be seen via his studio in Taos. It is an example of living art and a artistic breakway from the cookiecutter homes we find in suburbia. 4. Mark Maggiori has great music taste. I know this because of what he shares via his Instgram stories. His most recent share was from "Hermanos Gutierrez". When I saw that, I was flabberagsted as they are a smaller band and deserve many more flowers. My favorite song by them is "Cerca De Ti". Give it a listen.
The thin chapters of my childhood are littered with the dialogues of family and strangers complimenting me with the confusing phrase, "You're an old soul". The phrase would slip from their lips as I questioned divinity, humanity, purpose, and free will. I'd often shrug my shoulders at the phrase, not knowing whether it was a compliment or some sort of curse. All I knew was that it felt true as I found myself pondering philosophy while dribbling my basketball in the back alley and worrying for the state of my soul while I played in the creeks of the Evergreen mountains. I was pensive yet playful; I was heavy in thought yet light with a sense of impending freedom...I guess that is what makes an "old soul". One of the first times I recall being called an "old soul" came at the age of six. I was belting out Roberta Flack's "Killing Me Softly With His Song" in my Grandpa Danny's cigarette smoke filled apartment. You would have thought I was in the local bar at the Thursday evening karaoke night with the performance I was putting on. I was crooning, swaying, closing eyes, holding my heart while singing with little assistance from the words that danced across the karaoke screen. That song was mine and my aunts and uncles would gather around and cheer me on as I sang that song of ache and abandonment. Even to this day, my Uncle Chris says he always thinks of me when he hears the song or its cover by "The Fugees" on the radio. My status as an "old soul" gained more and more footing as I found myself gravitating toward vintage design and styling, classic literature, and the now dead practice of burning CD mixtapes that were filled with 60s, 70s, and 80s music. I was ten years old dancing to 70s r&b in my bedroom, fifteen years old falling in love with Nathaniel Hawthorne's "The Scarlet Letter'' and seventeen years old driving my 1984 Toyota 4Runner through the Harvey Park neighborhood in order to admire the "California-Style" homes from the 70s. I have seemed to always ache for a time that was never mine, but I loved passionately anyways. When I reflect on all these loves in my life that have contributed to my “old soul” signature, I see a vein of similarity that permeates throughout…creativity, vibrancy, and novelty. When I look at the things that are considered "vintage", I see a break from the cookie cutter templates that we are currently functioning in our times. Architecture was creative and unpractical and I am sure it wasn't cost-effective as it wasn't concerned with protecting the "profit margins". Clothing was bright and colorful while being well-made in contrast to the blah functionality of the "Kirkland" specials that literally everyone is wearing. Our current design and styling is too much focused on "blending-in" and protecting the "practicality" and "comfortability" of everyday life that we have lost the fun and appeal of life. Instead, we are left with overly square homes that are called “modern” in place of the historical home in the new gentrified neighborhood. Instead we are left with chain restaurants and stores which create clones of society in every suburb of America. Everything is too blah, too streamlined, too sensible, too predictable. Personally, I would rather live in a world where people are impractical, fun, and expressive than one where we are minimalistic yet so obsessed with an image that has been developed via consumerism rather than by creativity and/or self expression. And, if that makes me an “old soul”, then I’ll take it.
I see the wisdom in expression, in color, art, and a well written novel that is free of SMUT (if you don't know what that is...google it...I just learned about it from a man I met in the sauna). I love a 70s playlist playing while I play a game of pool in my bellbottoms. I have no desire to “blend in” by assimilating into the trends of today in order to maintain some semblance of social status (which is just consumerism and “keeping up with the Joneses”).
I, instead, desire to move under the influence of self-expression and passion. I love what I love even if it crosses genres, eras, and niches. And by embracing the messiness of our own passions, desires, and loves…we find individuality…and the wisdom in expressing your own soul is what being an “old soul” is. It is the ability to unapologetically embrace yourself as you are, in all its mess and glory…no neat lines or boxes necessary. So, put the cookie cutters down and embrace the paintbrush. Bring color into the gray Kirkland ruled world. Decorate a space with thrifted treasures in lue of the Pottery Barn “latest”. Play the funk song that encourages movement in a calcified room. Stop watching “trend reports” and curate your own style. And please, for the love of god, express your soul in a world that seems to be losing its own. P.S. Read "Why Culture Has Come to A Standstill" at the New York Times if you'd like to further dive into the ponderings of why it seems culture has become so bland. I loved his point about how in the past we seemed to be pushing forward with creativity, but now we seem to only be pushing forward with technology and consumerism.
 She spoke to me in Arabic,
I smiled because I didn't understand. She said my cheekbones and dark features Remind her of her people's land. She handed me the Bic lighter As she assessed the angles of my face. She showered me with compliments like a writer, Slowly and then with pace. Her hazel eyes matched my brown As compliments danced across the counter. As two women delighted in ethnic beauty That visits in the white world that surrounds her.
Reading a book at a bar is one of my favorite indulgences. The moments of indulging in warm plates, cool drinks, and compiled words are the simple pleasures that I love to soak in as the summer unfolds. Today's location: A consistent favorite - Agave Taco Bar in Wash Park. My order: "The Traditional" with a Tajin rim & the Steak Nachos. The book: The Power of Myth Author: Joseph Campbell (1904-1987) was an American mythologist, writer, and lecturer. He is best known for his work in comparative mythology and the study of the human experience of myth across different cultures and time periods. Today's quotes and ponderings:
This book has been a beautiful read so far. Campbell is brilliant and the topic of the book combines two of my loves: literature and spirituality. The quotes above are not all that struck me as I tipsily read with my margarita in hand. No, there are so many more quotes and ideas...but I'll save those indulgences for another post...particularly the idea of the loss of ritual in our world. This is something I think about often because I feel that we have lost the sacred and instead are far too concerned with the base demands of the world: money, property, investments, appearances, etc. When we should be living in consciousness that everyday is a sacrament, everyday is a ritual, and everyday is an opportunity to unite with the divine; we just have to open and participate.
 Mimosas and Marquez = Bliss 100 Years of Solitude by Garbriel Garcia Marquez is routinely listed on the "Greatest Books of All Time". Actually, on this particular list it was listed as number four. It is a literary classic and if you were not forced to read it as a literature major, then I would encourage you to pick it up and dive into the magical realism that is Gabriel Garcia Marquez's Columbia. However, this book review is not about 100 Years of Solitude; instead, this review is about that book's younger and more sultry younger sister, Love in the Time of Cholera.
Love in the Time of Cholera is in fact about love. Marquez plunges the reader into a stream of consciousness narrative that addresses young love, unrequited love, triangulated love, fated love, lost love, and forbidden love. All these loves are witnessed through the experiences of Florentino and Fermina, our main characters of this story. They are destined to meet in the courtyard of a Columbian villa and their journeys carry them all the way to old age on a quarantined boat in the age of Cholera. It is a love story, but not a fairy tale; therefore, it is supremely beautiful. Gabriel Garcia Marquez is a romantic writer who intoxicates you with his words and vivid descriptions. He is a master of the written word and his latin flair drips off each syllable. Here are some of my favorite quotes from the novel: 1. “It was the year they fell into devastating love. Neither one could do anything except think about the other, dream about the other, and wait for letters with the same impatience they felt when they answered them.” 2. “The weak would never enter the kingdom of love.” 3. “In the plenitude of their relationship, Florentina Ariza asked himself which of the two was love: the turbulent bed or the peaceful Sunday afternoons, and Sara Noriega calmed him with the simple argument that love was everything they did naked. She said, 'Spiritual love from the waist up and physical love from the waist down.” 4. “..the heart's memory eliminates the bad and magnifies the good, and [that] thanks to this artifice we manage to endure the burden of the past” 5. “Courage did not come from the need to survive, or from a brute indifference inherited from someone else, but from a driving need for love which no obstacle in this world or the next world will break.” 6. “nothing one does in bed is immoral if it helps perpetuate love” 7. “I’ll have plenty of time to rest when I die, but this eventuality is not yet part of my plans.” 8. “Love becomes greater and nobler in calamity.” 9. “By virtue of marrying a man she does not love for money. That’s the lowest kind of whore.” 10. “It had to teach her to think of love as a state of grace: not the means to anything but the alpha and omega, an end it itself. ” ___________________________________________________________________ Love in the Time of Cholera is glorious, romantic, comedic, and lovely. I would recommend this book 100 times over, after of course Marquez's first novel 100 Years of Solitude. Buy the book here! |
AuthorBrianna is a proud native of West Denver and she is an avid admirer of the arts. Her admiration of the arts is centered around her draw toward the beautiful and good of everyday life. Brianna finds beauty in a well-worn book, in the eclectic colors and textures of a thrift store find, and in the sound of a killer guitar solo whether it be live or through a well thought out Spotify playlist. Her passions are varied and many, but they all center on appreciating the fullness of life. Archives
October 2025
Categories
All
|
RSS Feed