When I first saw Lauren, in the Greenpeace office, I was immediately drawn to her. It was a "haven't I known you somehow?" moment. Our friendship was weaved meticulously from then on. I feel we were spirit sisters of a sort. We shared many passions, dreams, beliefs, were traveling similar paths. Primarily, our mutual love for nature, curiosity about philosophy, and religion, we had many long discussions ranging these topics. Lauren and I both entered a spiritual journey at roughly the time we met in Austin, in 1992, that greatly impacted both of us. This journey was very much connected to a developing awareness of earth, body, breathing, yoga, massage, and how to appreciate the little things, and see the vastness of minutia.

A walk with her in Austin, or a bike ride, often became an adventure, full of discovery of trees, people, secret swimming holes in Barton Springs, and following moon-shadows in the Greenbelt at night. She also had an appreciation for things having their place in her home and car. She saw the spirituality in objects, we were both discovering this, making special altars all around our homes, dried flowers, stones, whatever compelled us. Her creativity derived from this deep sense of the body, that it too is spirit and breathing was a big part of that. For those of you who saw her home in Oregon, you saw how she cultivated this awareness in her decorating. She saw things as little creations of their own, and she'd care for them so, cleaning, to preserve the animate quality. You can see this apartment in the recent photo section of the website.

One summer she came to stay with me for a few weeks in New Jersey, and right when she arrived, she said she would have to clean. I had already cleaned for her arrival, but to no avail. Anyway, I followed her around and watched her clean every corner and jewelry box, amazed by her attention to things. I learned a new level of cleanliness that day, and I often feel her when I now clean, that memory is ingrained into my actions.

Lauren's personality was bright and vivacious, she truly cared for others, her friends and family, making great efforts to keep in touch, and call or visit. I was amazed by how often she called her grandparents, and the long conversations she had with them. She was very close with them, in a way I have never known possible with my grandparents.

Even with strangers, she could engage in very long conversations on the streets, in a grocery store. She guided discussions with piercing questions, making us all develop a new awareness of ourselves. This was part of her wisdom, and teaching, in her questions.

Her fiery spirit also fed quite a temper. I had many fights with Lauren, fighting was part of the package with her, for me, as I too am a bit contentious at times. The conflicts did resolve themselves. Whenever we left each other after a long visit, she often looked at me more deeply than usual, with a sense of love, compassion, curiosity, and appreciation. I wonder if she feared that saying goodbye might be the last time. I do think she had unconscious and conscious anticipations of an early death, apparent in many of her poems and lyrics.

She was a great writer, but did not share her writing much with me and I wish she had. I believe she was a many-faceted genius (boy would she laugh at this). Her poems span immense ranges of thought, philosophical, spiritual, theological, political. She was striving to make something ingenious, to bring something great into this world. And she did often, but rarely realized her own genius, lost in her insecurity and fear of having made no great works. Lauren did recognize her brilliance, many times, I think, like in the journal entry about her and Pippa. She did recognize her beauty, and could dress up and make herself a work of sexy art. He life was a work of art. She lived art.

Her jewelry was quite avant garde, as well as her music, witty, emotional, mystical with intellectual and political commentary. Lauren deeply loved nature, going out on hikes alone, taking trips alone and with friends quite frequently. She loved the smells and small details in canyons and forests, and animals scurrying across the ground. She also had no aversion to decaying animals. Lauren hiked with fervor and strength, I was always striving to keep up. One morning I went for a walk in the NJ woods behind my apartment, she was of course still sleeping. I found this amazing huge tree that had just fallen in quite a remarkable away, across the path but up high, so you could walk under it. I ran back to the apartment to tell her, and she reacted with curiosity and excitement, grabbed her camera and said "show me." So I took her, and now have these photos of us climbing on that fallen tree. She loved it and I loved being able to share such that time with her.

She was appalled by suburban sprawl and its destruction of wilderness. Her disgust and angst over the war in Iraq was also quite fervent. She had great compassion for the people in Iraq and also greatly feared for her brother's safety there. We talked a lot about the war, and what we could do.

As I have mentioned, she feared dying without having accomplished great works. Indeed she did produce many great works, but did not yet gain recognition for them. This is our task.

Lauren wrote about death frequently. She often expressed in poetry or music the theme of a life cut short. This makes me question the linearity of time. Though, I do not believe it was her fate to die so young and tragically. It was one of the many possible paths she could have taken. It was a terrible accident, and she could still be here with us today.

I have known no deeper friendship. We witnessed each other through significant changes from ages 19-31. We affirmed repeatedly that we'd always be there for each other, and grow old together, through all the growth, joys, the breakups, and life traumas, not anticipating this tragedy at all. I have memories of dancing with her many times. She was quite a dancer, in her cute and sexy way. She hated when I told her she was cute, she wanted to hear that she was beautiful, and she was. We also got drunk together several times in NYC bars, I recall, and had quite a blast, silly conversations and lots of laughing, and dancing.

She loved taking baths, and did it more than anyone. Another tribute to her great sense of embodiment. In the last letter she wrote me, thanking Matt and I for the help with her wedding, she called me N-lo, and signed it L-lo, making fun of Jennifer Lopez. I often called her Lola, for the decade during which I was her friend. She was such a beautiful person, I miss her very much. This world will miss her, it is lesser without Lauren, as she brought so much to this place. The blessing that she was, she is still, as she continues to inspire.

Nicole Roskos