This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine...

Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Good, Good, Good, Good Literations

While at the library yesterday the most normal thing happened.  All prior lists of books to read got lost in my memory and I stood staring at the racks wondering what to do.  Frustration began growing as I desperately searched my mind for titles or authors or even subject keywords to input to the catalog system.  Eventually I gave up that ghost and resorted to seeking out recommendations online from Women and Childrens First staff members and GoodReads.com

Since I have piles of lists, spreadsheets, scraps of paper containing titles floating around me like a messy lily pond of literature, I decided to try to organize them further into the lovely good reads system.  Find me there! Shana Rose.  Here's my first review:

Women Who Run with the Wolves Women Who Run with the Wolves by Clarissa Pinkola Est├ęs



This is an essential book for any woman seeking insight to her own intuition.  It's a compilation of literary oral tales informing on the growth and development of women over their lives.  It's breathtaking and I consider it to be a guidebook of the best kind, which I will carry with me until old, old age.

View all my reviews >>

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Dog-gone It

And you wake up again and it's a brand new day. 

I have to make this quick because I'm essentially stealing time on the Comfort Inn and Suites computers in Seattle near the space needle.  I'm here because I just had an interview with a market research group from Portland for a temporary job conducting surveys on the ferry system.  And I'm here, writing, in this stuccoed public cubicle in a hotel full of screaming toddlers because I'm trying to derail an impending meltdown. 

After writing yesterday's post, I continued having a good day until the afternoon came and found me holed up in my dim bedroom still at the computer screen while the sun set and the blue sky darkened to navy.  At that time, cabin fever bit me in the ass and it was time anyway to prepare for a meetup.com group of other "hoodoo gurics" like myself, to learn more about the body's energy fields.  I assured Hadj that I didn't mean what I said the other day about my not being able to meet people unless alone, and yes, surely he was welcome to come with me.  So he took more charge of the directions to get us to Gig Harbor for the meet up and I got dressed after declaring my intent not to shower that day. 

Despite my stinky belly button.

Ew. 

TMI.

We got lost and some where between 4:30 pm and 6:30 pm my systems reversed themselves and sent me hurling into near total loss of faith.  In - like - everything.  In the sun and the moon and the stars and the universe I'm always professing total fealty to.  I just lost it.  I became very, on-my-knees-human, and just - I dunno - blew my wad prematurely, I guess.  And the night didn't end there.  Luckily I was wearing both a too-big knit hat and an over-sized turtle neck sweater and was able to creep my way into both so deeply that only my tear stained eyes showed.  Hadj asked if I was having a hard time looking at him, taking his cue, probably, from my fetal position and I said, "No. I'm having a hard time being visible."  And it was the truth.  Sometimes, I become so fearful and distrusting of everything that I seem to split.  I've read it as our spirits going off, until more hospitable conditions exist, perhaps.  My better part goes into hiding, but from there I can see that I'm royally fucking shit up.  And so, while I'm totally spinning into an out of control fear dive, I'm also feeling totally ashamed of my behavior.  And wish I could disappear with not so much as a *poof*  So that was yesterday. 

I managed to pull myself together though, after some bumbling jargon coming through my tears in attempt to explain my possible insanity to my poor partner.  I told him I still planned to do the seventy minutes of yoga promised earlier and was he ready goddamnit?  We did our yoga, in our cramped kitchen, which is the only room in the house with even close to enough space for both of us to be able to swan dive and fold in half.  He did a great job and I didn't even run my mouth about his alignment.  I re-grounded, opened up, felt thankful again, and remembered what grace was.  I capped my night off with the last of the fried xmas leftovers and two episodes of the guilty-pleasure show, Legend of the Seeker on hulu.com.  Good night. 

I dreamt about two folks getting married in the seventies.  One might have been cheating.  The bridesmaid dresses were lavender and taffeta.  I think the groom was trying to sleep with me - the omniscient watcher of the dream.

So why did I mention my freaking out again today?  Well, I got lost.  Not surprising if you know me at all.  I could get lost in a paper bag if you told me it was foreign.  Yes, I got lost on my way to an interview and despite leaving twenty minutes "cushion time" in my commute, I was twenty minutes late.  I tried for a time to use the teeny-tiny maps I have in my car, and thought to be doing ok, but what I didn't count on was this: Seattle is effing crazy.  And the part of Seattle I'm in, where the space needle is, whatever this neighborhood is called, was designed solely for foot traffic (see what I did there?).  Hadj says it's where the prostitutes used to hang out.  

...I am wearing heels...  Maybe I'll go try to get some business.

Anyway, lewd minute fantasies aside, the point is not just that I got lost.  That's no big deal; it's my behavior! Good goodness almighty my behavior is insane sometimes!  I called Hadj when I noticed I had only five minutes to get un-lost, parked, and in to my interview to ask him to give me a number to call and inform my interviewers of my unfortunate delay.  He gave it to me and I quickly hung up to call.  While on the phone, he texted to say he was at the ready with the address and map-quest if I wanted navigational help.  So my navigator in shining-gigabytes to the rescue, we tried to get me where I needed to be.  That's when I found out that Seattle is designed for people in galoshes and on boats or monorails only. And I began screaming about it in Hadj's ear.  I - of course - interspersed my vocal tyranny with apologies and assurances that I was only screaming near him, not at him.  After I finally found the damn Comfort Inn and Suites, where the interview was being held, I continued screaming about what a trash hole everything in the world is and why didn't I ever get that fucking pony I wanted for xmas when I was five. 

Then I couldn't find my way out of the parking garage for a spell, but at least I didn't lock my keys in the car again.  I felt like a true failure of a human being; so derailed and worn down to a nubbin of stress that I wished again for powers of evaporation.  I also worried that I'd get some kind of karmic comeuppance for my impatience and outbursting.

But now I'm done.  I'm trying to put it behind me.  I've stolen twenty thirty minutes of internet from Comfort Inn and Suites (while also plugging their name...Go Suites!) and I'm feeling ok because: mission accomplished.  Now I'm going to not to get lost on my way to a bookstore where I will bury myself so deep in self help books it'll feel like I've died and gone to where Stuart Smalley lives.  And, if I do get lost, at least I'm not late for anything.
Mistakes are a part of being human.  Appreciate your mistakes for what they are: precious life lessons that can only be learned the hard way.  Unless it's a fatal mistake, which, at least, others can learn from. - Al Franken

Monday, December 28, 2009

"And it's not because of your brains or your personality"

The guided meditation repeats to me that I aught not to be focusing on his words, or on the words in my brain, but only on my breath.  I should be breathing continuously and deeply, so deep that I have only enough space in my brain for the breath.  Apparently, though, meditation is just like everything else and just like work used to be more stiff on Monday than it was on Friday afternoon, I'm rusty.

We have our weekday morning routine down to a smooth science.  After hitting snooze for thirty-or-so minutes Hadj gets up while I resist further the oncoming wakefulness.  He cheerily makes coffee and talks to the animals while I pull on the few remaining strings left behind from the wacky tapestry my dreams weave.  I have had recurring themes of desperate unhappiness or depression lately in my dreams, which has caused me to form some theories about my current artistic discipline.  After waking, drinking our coffees, checking our in-boxes, etc. we dress and take the dogs for a half hour walk around the neighborhood.  Today I admitted that I've ashamedly been wishing for one of the goats down the street to get her head stuck in the fence again so I'd have an excuse to go over and free it.  It was an icy morning which saw us slip sliding around the street in our boots. 

We come home from our walk around 8:30 and immediately put all four pets downstairs.  We shut the door and set up our chairs.  We press play on my i-pod where Jeru Kabbal's Quantam Light Breath meditation is stored.  I then remember to do a series of things which distract me from what I aught to be doing, which is of course, just breathing.  I set the cell phone alarm for thirty minutes if we've not practiced for a few days, like today.  And of course, I'm supposed to spend that time just "breathing in life and releasing what's not needed" as Kabbal puts it.  And of course, sometimes I achieve that goal for only one third of the allotted time, with the rest of the time being spent in my brain remembering this and that or writing this or that.  It being Monday, my thought process resembled a ping-pong ball in motion in a small box.

Beauty was the thing my brain wanted me to write about today.  Beauty and self love and healthy security.  My major malfunction through most of the first quarter of my life was extreme body hate.  As I let go of all those ingrained and detrimental beliefs I see more deep pockets where they're stored.  I realized not long ago that I routinely retreated into myself when a beautiful person entered the room.  I was unable to speak or even look at stunning women (especially), because I would immediately make myself worthless to their attentions.  I had all sorts of degrading mantras that I used to cut myself down as an adolescent and young woman.  My behaviors were in line with my thoughts.  I was not nice to myself.

My first roommate in Chicago did not have the kinds of problems I ever had.  He may have suffered from a bit of the opposite sort of problem, but I don't know if he'd have ever known it.  He saw me one day clearly and said that I was always going to feel like the loathsome, fat twelve year old I'd stored in my brain.  I'm happy to know now that he's wrong.  I may be on the up side of the pendulum swing or maybe this is my happy middle.  The images floating today through my non-meditating mind were ones of eye-catching beauty.  I designed costumes for myself to wear at Burning Man 2010 and imagined myself so radiating beauty that I was noticed among the masses of other pulsing beauties and asked to be photographed.   

In my dream this morning I was not even being deceitful about my body.  The person I saw being stopped for photo shoots was the person I am exactly today.  Not thirty pounds lighter or hard bodied, but soft, with rolls, and pale skin.  The costumes I hope to make up before the event of course did flatter my shape, but exposed it too.  I wondered in my day-dream what situation would need occur for me to again feel body shame.  It's not too hard to conjure something.  And I don't have total assurance that a beautiful woman won't stop me mush-mouthed and dumb again.  I hope I remember that roommate's philosophy though.  It doesn't hurt anyone to tell someone they're cute beautiful.  I'm getting better at doling out and accepting acknowledgments of beauty.  I'm liking how confidence wears on my attitude and it's the kind of confidence I lacked for so long.  I don't need anyone to tell me I'm beautiful.  I'm believing it all on my own.

As I re-read this post before publishing it, I notice something else worth mentioning.  I must have had some strong threads of dignity and self love in me, because I have been able to attract and entertain many very beautiful people as I grew.  So, I'm thankful for a strong and good inner voice which kept me mostly in charted waters and mostly away from dangerous people full of their own versions of self loathing. 

Friday, December 25, 2009

Vow to Keep It Really Real

I am driven toward great heights which will require me to fully understand my own behavior and reactions.  Therefore it has become imperative to me to attune with my cyclical introverted and extroverted phases.  To me, part of this process involves becoming more fully honest in my writing about my behavior.  I am totally honest about my thoughts and emotions, but my behaviors are mysteriously left out unless they seem somehow attractive to me.  What is included is frequently out of context or like a flash flood.

Here's my first admission of behavior: I over state my inabilities when I'm being critiqued for my mistakes.  A simpler way to say that might be: I make excuses. 

For example: I was told not to begin sentences with verbs. 
It sometimes feels like I break this dictum daily.  When I'm called on it, my internal reaction is one of immediate frustration.  Last week I said, "I can't do it! It's impossible! What if there's an emergency? Or if I just have to yell out 'DUCK!'?"

Context: This rule was agreed upon between my partner and I.  The story behind it is that I am trying to break and avoid a habit which I learned at a young age from one of the adults near and dear to me.  Hadj assured me that my progress is apparent and that I obviously can change this habit because I already am.  He called me on my excuse making which revealed the route I take to get around my responsibilities and mistakes.
 
So that example is not so crazy.  Probably a lot of people, especially ones with expectations as high as mine, overstate their own inadequacies when they are frustrated or feeling like a failure.  But, I'm practicing; like when I told you all about my retreats to the closet the other day.  Writing out that behavior simply was not natural to me at first, but it did feel good.  (I'll have to tell the myriad stories in my repertoire about coming out of various closets here sometime.)  I'm just getting used to this sheer veneer.  I don't know if I'll be over sharing, if this practice will accomplish what I hope it will, but I'm dedicated to it.  I'll try to leave the bathroom out of it - which, will honestly be challenging - because I seem endlessly amused and fascinated with potty talk.

Well, this post seems more scientific than I originally intended it to.  I'm going to go write the post I really wanted to write on tumblr - where my more pop/catch phrases/thoughts (pictures, quotes, chats, links) are posted.  It's called 5 year goals.

Thursday, December 24, 2009

Inclined to Thrive

Writers fight a myriad of internal battles that are difficult to translate to other people. For example, they often have low self-esteem coupled with an odd form of grandiosity (John Barth: “It’s a combination of an almost obscene self-confidence and an ongoing terror.”); they are intelligent but in unmeasurable ways; they are highly skilled yet have difficulty finding congenial work in the world; they are easy-going in their lifestyle yet have unusual and non-negotiable needs; they enjoy people but are fierce about alone time; they are likable but peculiar. 
Gail Sher, One Continuous Mistake
"It's like a game of hot potato up there," I said to Jeff, referring to the exchanges occurring between my man and I that are causing us to have the crazy-eyes.  What I meant was that he and I have not had enough of our own personal space and that we've been making each other bonkers.  "Like rabid dogs" my pal, Amanda Sophie, said. 

The potential for space and growth where I am now is huge.  We're on five wooded acres.  We have a pond with newts and/or salamanders!  We live in the large studio apartment above what is known as "the studio". 

On the phone, Amanda Sophie reminded me of something her Grandma said this summer.  Her grandma said, "A marriage is not staring into each others' eyes; it is standing next to one another, looking out into the world."

Also on the property, sharing the dirt driveway, is what is known as "the house."  "The house" is actually a house, but it was built in the seventies.  While assisting with remaking the bathroom I learned that most "middle-class" things built in the seventies were built shoddily and in the fastest, most plasticked way possible.  That is why the house interior needs a lot of re-doing and TLC before I'll be settled with it.

Many things must be done prior to the imagined end point.  It became apparent to us that we really needed more space a few weeks ago, when I started my typical three-week long PMS cycle.  (It's really too long a time for anyone to have to endure the kind of up-and-down that engenders.)  For three weeks I become progressively more withdrawn into myself and must have my own territory in order to be peaceful and pleasant.  Or I get snappy.  And neurotic. 

Several solutions to the cramped cabin fevers have been discussed.  A temporary fix will involve my retreating to the geo-dome that Hadj built for Burning Man this year.  Other, more temporary and crazy sounding fixes have included my retreating to my car, but not driving anywhere, and my crawling into the furthest-back, darkest corner of the very big closet in order to gain the quiet required to keep me sane and kind.

I had an "A-HA!" moment last night when beginning my yoga routine.  I know Hadj values planning and forethought prior to introducing new ideas so I thought my presentation through while I opened up in yoga.  Since this is my blog though, I don't have to do that for you readers and I'm just going to blurt it out.  After all the discussion and changes in plans I finally found the right answer and it is this: I will have the studio apartment as my own. 

I'm going to have my own apartment again! And it's right on the property and it'll be filled with my special brand of golden light and it'll be all my own and I will make it magic and filled with me.  I'm so excited that now I'm dreaming up and up and up the ways that will be in this apartment when it is mine all mine.  Before this answer, all other answers didn't excite me.  They distracted me, filled me with uncertainty and longing for something, but I didn't know what.

In some way, I don't learn things.  What I mean is that my way of learning seems to really resemble osmosis.  Information settles into me, permeates my understanding of the world.  Often times, I am taught simple enough information, but it doesn't seem to set on me and I have to be retold in various ways, until I find a way to translate the information within myself so that it does finally settle on me.  I don't learn information so much as I intuit information.  My ability to read situations and senses is becoming stronger and stronger.

The new situation will evolve.  First we have to terrace the front yard with a giant bob-cat construction tool.  Hadj and Jeff are particularly excited about this part.  I have always enjoyed watching construction crews at work.  Next we will erect the geo-dome, a semi-permanent outdoor structure.  We will then install a chimney space and the new-to-us wood stove, creating a heat source for the structure.  I will be ready, then, to begin inhabiting the intention of the structure for myself.  Phase two will involve gently evicting (with ample notice) the two residents in the house and possibly at the same time beginning to remodeling much of the house interior with found objects, paint, and wood.  As that happens we will gradually move our home from the studio apartment to the house, and I will move my fairy-grandma craft space out of the geo-dome so Hadj can move into it and make it his art-czar space (my name for it).  I will also be redoing the interior of the studio apartment, so it houses my wills, as I move in to it in a new way.

"We're muddying each other," I said to Hadj last night, "like your paints when they don't have the proper containers.  We need that much space because we will fill it."

Some worry part of me is concerned that I am being greedy or pretentious about this. 

Of course I know that's bullshit. 

What I see coming out of this situation is the butterfly I dreamt up in June 2008. 

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

(Admittedly Gooshy) Journal Entry, Tuesday night, 12/15/09

I am committed to getting a decent entry down right now.  The scene is perfect.  It's raining on the roof.  The red velvet curtains are drawn.  I've just finished a challenging yoga practice.  Hadj is next door.  The dogs are downstairs and my chakra music is playing.  Where to begin from there?  I've so much going through my brain and heart these days.  Life with Hadj is so simple, beautiful, and enriching.  I am so optimistic and happy.  We are more settled in.  There's even a routine of sorts involving meals, walks, and meditation.  We get work done and take guilt free leisure time.  We play games, laugh, fart, kiss, hug, and wrestle.

The sex is in a surprising kind of infancy now.  Ever since our stay at my parents there's been a shift that we're trying to understand and go through kindly.  It can be frustrating at times for he and I, but we've vowed not to fret over it.  It seems we are both wonder children.  When we set our minds to something we do it. 

So what else?  We've begun our own holiday tradition, because I was yearning for one.  Since Hadj lacked much of a tradition from his life, ours resembles my family tradition pretty closely.  We lit the menorah today and I sang the song for Hadj to hear.  We have a beautiful and tiny xmas tree with baubles and bells and lights and even presents under it.  Today a package came from my Mommy with treats and goodies in it.

Speaking of Virgos [ed. note: obv. I wasn't 'speaking' it on the page. Mom's a Virgo. I follow their horoscopes and events somewhat closely], here comes this.  Devyn sends me text messages still.  He refuses to leave me and be in peace.  My temper really flares at this topic - to be sure.  It angers me.  Then, however, it saddens me that he'd continue to put himself in such a position.  I want it to stop for his sake and my own and any other person in his life.  I want to write an epic letter which casts a spell to ward him off...I just have not committed to doing so yet.  ...I think that's all I'll say about that.

Oh boy. I hope to remember all this goodness.  I know there's so much life to live that it'll be hard to remember it all, but I feel so lovely now.  My life is unerringly simple.  There's hardly any gossip.  All drama is created by and directed at self.  I'm proud, directed, action-full. 

I don't have, or am not doing, everything I want, but I am happy.  At the dollar store today I wanted to buy all sorts of silly plastic crap for Hadj.  Then I started laughing aloud when I remembered him saying the other day that he'd put "Hannah Montana" on the ipod when he meant "Kill Hannah."  He is so sweet, so real, so full and strong.  My heart is glowing warm.

Even the animals seem to be loving more.  And my grandma... cousins... Mom.
Also! I'm learning so much more about how and were I have held fear.  My yoga - though practiced less frequently - is felt more deeply.  My blog contains new networking avenues and I've even put myself on kindle!  I'm stepping into the creative world I've been imagining for so long.  I'm believing ever more.  I'm saying with confidence and pride "I'm creative" to office employers.  Ah...sighs of contentment.  Now I think I'll have some Mommy-shipped cheese and go to Jeff's sister's b-day party.

Monday, December 14, 2009

Connect the Links

If you look to the right of today's post you'll notice a new gidget/gadget/widget/whatsihoosie. This fancy new dohickie will allow you to do two things with your blog-reading efficiency: you can essentially "friend" me and my blog which helps you and I build a networking community across geographical boundaries and your blog (should you write one and write it on blogger) "dashboard" will contain my most recent posts. It's like a G-reader, but right in your blog's dashboard.

I'd like to sound more authoritatively informed on the pros and cons of Friend Connect, but rather than taunt you with long winded bullshit that's hard to decipher, I'll be honest: it's easy and it doesn't hurt. Also, it's FREE! And it looks nice in my blog sidebar that I have friends and might start a domino effect of friendliness. So in the spirit of getting free things that are easy and don't hurt (how often do get that offer?) go ahead and friend me! I'll friend you back if I'm able and we'll all read late into our respective nights, learning, exchanging, growing with each other no matter how far apart.

Friend me. It'll be fun, or at least, it won't not be fun. My aim in adding this additional networking device is to get the healing word and engaging stories out there to people who might not find it elsewhere, and to add to the lives of those who do. I never knew my life mission would become "to help people," but it has, and this is one of the new ways I'm doing it.

How can I help you? Well, how I may help you will vary and depend solely on what kind of help you're looking for. If you want help understanding how to cope with unexpected viral infections, you may find it here. If you happen to be seeking understanding into your girlfriend's thought patterns, you may find an answer here. If you want to know why women go crazy in the dark months, you'll find help to it here. And so on. Friend me, I'm the sweetest, least fattening, cyber friend you'll have.

Sunday, December 13, 2009

Just Down the Road A Ways

It's been a very fine day. Sure, the dampness of cat vomit on my hand woke me at five a.m. and also revealed one of the dogs on the unsanctioned couch cushions, but that was nothing. I remembered to crawl from the monolith of our inappropriately comfortable bed before it sucked me into crankiness spurred by morning lethargy. The scenery around these parts is beginning to construct itself into my senses. The mail comes very early and the garbage is picked up Friday morning. Cooking and showering render all the windows fogged until the condensation begins to thin and run down the windows to the black metal sills. Willow-kitty is becoming more accustomed to his new doggie housemates and Billie-the-cat has become relaxed enough to snuggle again. I've been baking the same batch of ginger-molasses cookies for three days because I can only bake three at a time in the tiny toaster-oven. I'm unpacking in every possible way, alongside my new partner, inside my new home. I begin with these visible accomplishments as a means of moving forward and assessing the developments within and outside myself (even though I could extensively list all the simple things that visibly excite our progress every day).

You could guess that I did not really know what I was getting myself into. I'll give some more concrete proof on why this is true later, but first, take a look at a statement I happened upon when chatting with Hadj yesterday.
It's like I'm afraid to learn the plan I'm about to undertake because I already do not believe that I will succeed.
We were talking about a detox that we're planning to do as soon as possible from the Healing with Foods book. I had realized, while trying to enjoy a cheese sandwich, that the equation "diet = failure" is ingrained in my being (also, the word "diet" should be taken here to mean "eating plan" not "weight loss plan"). I became thoughtful about this understanding of myself and began to explore it aloud for both our benefits. We talked it through to the positive end point, which was that I have succeeded, by making a commitment, before and that I am committed to do so again. The point of my bringing up the statement I made was to illustrate that I hardly knew what I was doing when I packed up my entire being and trucked it over to Belfair, in large part because I was too busy imagining things and not busy enough reading the facts. So, lesson 1:
Don't be afraid to read the facts. Don't be afraid of failure. Do make a strong commitment to succeed.
Since I promised I'd give more concrete proof of my ignorance to the details, let me say that I really didn't know that Belfair has a population of only about 8,000 with the median age being statistically around 40 and the average income per household being about $3,000 less than the average income for a 28 year old administrative assistant in Chicago. Sheesh. However, Hadj is currently putting kindling into our freshly swept wood stove downstairs and the house smells of cookies. You takes your hits and you takes your misses...

Another realization I had came two days ago in the company of my two new friends, Stephanie and Jeff. I had an insta-connection with Stephanie and was able to talk "on the level" with her immediately, knowing she heard me loud and clear. She was talking about her jobs in male dominated industries and how that has affected her. We got going, and I got to gesturing, and became excited to discuss the experiences we've had as women in a world where so many seem to only learn the (s)extremes about life and relationships. Because of a few exchanges between the four of us I realized that I still have a difficult time revealing myself truly to, or in the company of, men. I become embarrassed and distracted because I don't know how I am perceived. I remembered my akashic records reading, from earlier this year, and returned to those notes today. From that re-reading I was given words to understand that
underneath my embarrassment is the fear of making myself vulnerable to men due to a deep mistrust of them.
I'm excited about this. Inside that same section of my reading was the information I really need to focus on, which is that
I am safe, loved, and can be who I am all the way. My fear of being vulnerable does not serve my goals and I can let it go.
Every day has contained numerous opportunities for deepening the connection between Hadj and I. Things are, of course, not as I had imagined them. The space is not big enough and we are very cash poor right now. We spent nearly the first two weeks stuttering and in shock of our new situation and each other. But this does not negatively affect us. It opens our eyes more and more to our own weak points. Where we shine a light on fear we are able to see that the perceived monsters are just a proverbial drafty window or rocking chair with a coat tossed on the back. We shine light into each other and help sweep out the cobwebs, distrust, and old wounds. I know that this is what good relationships are all about; connection, unity, and a foundation built solely on love. We admit our mistakes to each other and our triggers. In him, I find all the challenges I need to bring me into a more harmonious being with myself. Sometimes he opens his mouth, unceremoniously, and and admits an outright fear or mistrust, and I am so moved that the only thought in my conscious mind is of which eye I want to stare into longest. I find myself brushing his third eye off frequently and feel that he pushes warmth into my heart at every pause.

I love to say this:
it's all happening.
A year ago I seemed to set the terribly lost self I was holding down onto firm ground and found a vision forward for myself. I find proof more and more that all I need do to succeed is to commit. Right now, I cannot see my path as I did months ago. To show how I feel these days, let me again revert to story-telling.

I have a pretty terrible sense of direction (in terms of maps and roads). Some consider me directionally deficient, while I see it as an unconscious desire to take the winding road and arrive fashionably late. Suffice it to say, I get lost pretty frequently. Placing yourself in that understanding, now think to a time when you were going somewhere new and all you had to get you there were written directions based on landmarks. You're reading your directions. You just made a left at the red barn with the big "S" on its front and your next instruction is to drive "a ways" until the road forks, then go right. The sunset is long past and it's dark on this road, but you're excited to reach your destination and have been paying extra careful attention to all the possible landmarks coming down from the horizon. You really don't know how far "a ways" is and wish the country folk could use actual miles once in awhile. It seems like everything is "just down the road" to them and you're used to calculating distances in precise numbers of blocks. But you're pretty sure the road has not forked. You're pretty sure that you just haven't gone "a ways" yet and that the fork will come soon. You keep driving. You're pretty sure and you're pretty happy and you're singing along to your favorite Regina Spektor song. You can see the stars in the black night. There is a sliver of a waxing crescent moon setting to your right. You decide to enjoy it and the feeling of being "pretty sure" turns to certain trust that you're not lost. You're on the right path. You just need to keep going.

Sunday, December 6, 2009

I have gone underground in myself and have found it difficult to write from there. It is beautiful down here, there is just as much light as there is above ground, somehow. The roots are all those nude baby colors, grappling with the rich earth for the space to become grown things.