Day 12 April 30, 2010

Wednesday the winds from the night before were worse and I stayed behind. It was an odd day of solitude, I spent about 6 hours in silence - reading, writing, thinking, and a nap.

The sound of the winds were inescapable except when I was in Katie's care, which was so hot and hadn't the energy to ask Matt (who was cocooned in his tent) for the keys to open the windows. I think I associate these kings of wind with storms so it was interesting not to have clouds most of the day.

When the sounds of air moving at howling rates across the mesa were too enervating to do anything but to lie still, I was able to compare the changes in speed and the resultant sounds to ocean waves. It was fun to do that, for a while, not the entire six hours. Unlike the ocean tides hitting the shore there was no grand great plan or order, it simply was.

Yesterday's hike to the Arch, pushed my limits hard. It is estimated we hiked around 7.5 miles. With stops and figuring out the trail, whether to take the high route or not, it took us just shy of seven hours. Matt and Meredith had gone up ahead of the rest us during the final stretch, and bless Matt's heart - he not only carried my tent (which was actually his since the one I borrowed for the trip was killed by the wind storm) during the hike, and my therma-rest pad for half of it, but he had set up my tent first thing when they hit our camp site before us.

Greg said, while I was climbing up from yet another river crossing, refusing a hand again, that he was surprised by my strength and determination on this trip but he didn't know why given how it's there in other areas of my life. I responded by saying I was just stubborn. He said stubborn isn't always such a bad thing to be.

Once getting to Jacob Hamblin Arch I was please to see very little in the way of cow patties that had marked most of the hike out. While it has been sweet to see cows not penned in, to see them along the road, and especially idyllic to see that fawn colored mama and calf in a shaded glen on the trail yesterday, one has to wonder about the impact on the land and water we have been transversing. Though fun in a twisted way to see shit piles in various phases of petrification, many looking like interesting sculptures, it is a reminder that this is a wilderness study area and not protected. What is the impact for the native wildlife, the soil, water sources? How does one get a dead cow out of some the places we hiked yesterday - what happens if they can't.

At one point during the hike Katie said she felt she had aged 25 years doing this march in. I rolled that phrase around in my brain, on my tongue but it had no resonance for me. If anything despite the exhaustion I felt, and would feel upon arriving at our camp site, it seemed this whole trip made me feel younger somehow, as if doing something far out of my scope, experience, and comfort zone fed my soul, made me realize how much could lie ahead for me if I so choose. It was an enthralling realization and probably helped to get me the next 3 miles despite feeling completely depleted of resources.

A year onwards

A year ago today, at least in terms of the day of the week, the first Friday of May I arrived here at my cabin - sad, actually distraught, confused. Actually as I type this it is close to the exact time I arrived here. Funny that.

Once again, like last year, like two years ago, like many times, I am not where I thought I'd be. However, I have also been happier in the last year, than perhaps ever in my life. As it's been a year, I will in the next week finally finish posting the journal entries from my trip to Utah last year. I know that I delays writing them because of all that happened after I returned. Though I knew there was a shift between BC and me before I left, I had no idea how big, because she never shared any of what was going on with her, with me. I returned from Utah on Monday with hope and had a glorious almost 2 days of reunion with her before everything fell apart. Friday morning at 6am I was pulling out of her driveway with my car loaded to the brim. Writing about Utah would mean facing everything. And in truth I have faced but it seems I still needed some more time before finishing those posts. Now it's time to fully move on in this other somewhat symbolic way.

When I left Dayton in March 2009 I wanted to shift my status quo, question my assumptions about myself. I have done that a great deal, and continue to - or else I would have never done a lot of what I've done in the last two years. Lived like a gypsy - happily, traveled, rode rollercoasters (literally and metaphorically), walked a 5K in less than an hour, hiked and backpacked for two weeks in Utah, began rock climbing, wrote for internet content mills (and even got a few dollars for it!), journaled daily for over 13 weeks, etc.

Through working off personal loans, and actually paying off other debts- I will shortly have cleared over $6000 off my plate. This is huge. Soon I hope to only owe my student loans, which is a huge amount but so much better. As it turns out I will be adding to that amount as I have been accepted back into graduate school and will be returning in the fall.

So despite some ups and downs of late, what with the anniversary of the ending of the relationship, some deaths, the nail biting wait to see if I got into school, and a stressful but satisfying new job, I remain happy, still growing, and stretching my boundaries of self definition.

One last burst

Some of the last bit of time at the house in New Paltz I was snowed in, not an unpleasant experience in such a lovely place. In addition I lost cable which meant no television and no internet, plus my cell stopped working. Thank goodness they had a landline. Four days of complete silence from outside sources that usually inundated with via cell, television, the web was a nice reprieve. It seemed timely and fine the way things started to go a bit wrong, or rather not blissfully perfect as they had my last few days, the universe way of saying it was time to move onward.I found myself wanting to arrive in Cleveland with little to no laundry, I wanted to end with as many things tidy as possible, and clean, a fresh slate to start my next phase. Not something I have done before but I liked doing that, as well as making the house especially tidy for my departure and the homeowners arrival.

I appreciate my time there so much. It was much like something I have thought about doing for years, eons really. At various points in time I had the vague urge to go to someplace like the to do a session of silence and reflection, or wondered what it would be like to become a Buddhist monk. When on the cusp of leaving C. and deciding to see where things lead with Her Geekyness, I had a strong urge to leave them both behind, to rent a tiny cottage in the mountains or by the beach somewhere in Northern California, to gain some piece for myself. Fear of so many things kept me from doing this. It took five years but I finally got my personal retreat. The place was beautiful, somewhere I love physically, a place with reasonable creature comforts where I could discover and impose my rhythms. There were things I did not expect to discover while I was there.

Years ago I had read about the notion of the daily pages for The Artist’s Way, but there was no way to know how much I would learn about myself while doing them, how much I love writing them, that I missed real journaling. I like, and crave being neat more than I knew. I have had partners who teased me about my piles, who nagged about how the house looked (like it was all on me!), who knew I could be different than I had been. I had forgotten how tidy I tend to be when on my own, when I like where I am. I can feed myself just fine and even be healthy and not gorge, even though there is no one whose disapproval I perceive lurking around the corner.

Something I had not expected to discover about myself was I am a bit more old fashioned than I thought. In my conversations with BC when she visited I realized that I did not want her to ask me to move in unless she was willing to marry me. By “marry” I don’t mean a wedding per se, or getting a ring as much as I mean that I need to know she is asking me because she is committed to the idea of us, to working on our relationship for the long haul. Perhaps it’s a matter of no longer being in my 20’s or even 30’s, maybe it’s having done this too many times before without enough conversation about what we want, how our relationship will look in other's lives, but I need to know that it’s the whole deal. I don’t want to be asked because it’s convenient, because she is lonely, because she thinks maybe she’d like to build a future. I don’t want to say yes for those reasons. I want us to buy the cow, the barn, the house, and go to town meetings. I want a plan, I want things spelled out, I want to know that will we will review things regularly to tweak them, to improve, to repair something that isn’t working.

Would I turn down a ring or a wedding party? Hell no. But it is more about what follows that I want. I want to have a room of my own where we live, even if it isn’t a full room, but I need a space that is mine to retreat to, that I do not share with anyone, where the desk can grow messy without complaint except my own at which point I will clean it. I want to remember my rhythm in the midst of couplehood, I want it to inform that dyad and I want to know when to back down and listen to their rhythm. I want a healthy pairing. I want it to be the soft spot where I land when I return from being in my space, from my travels, my retreats, from work. I want to be held as I grow. I want to hold as they grow. For us to entwined in some places and reach for our own sunlight in others.

In which our heroine rocks

Okay, I am tooting my own horn because I feel good. For over three weeks I have written my morning pages, without missing a day. Sure some of it is me dumping my neuroses on paper but it's better than it just rolling around in my head. This morning I woke after having the most amazing dream; it dripped with rich symbolism and it made me cry with joy at what it showed me about myself. The dream became my morning pages because I don't want to lose it. Ever.

Monday I had a tiny e-article due through this agency I signed up with and I thought I had it half written, stored safely on my computer or on their website. Double no. Instead of panicking, or at least not completely, I got on the stick, did the research and wrote it fresh. Then I received notice that they approved it. No rewrite, no nothing, just approved. Wow. I went to the assignment section and picked another three articles to write.

Yesterday I completed all the work I could do on the database for Greg & Janet, a day early. Today, I wrote and submitted two of those articles I picked up on Monday. They aren't due until March 1st. Who is this efficient person I've become? Seriously it's amazing. I bounced around the house with more joy.

Later while sitting on the couch suddenly in a tiny window pane, level with the floor, was a red tailed hawk settling on a branch. This is the second time while here that I have gotten to see one of these incredible creatures from above. Hawks, specifically red tails, have been showing up consistently, pointedly since March, after I left Dayton. It seems like I should pay attention to what this might mean.

When I was much younger I identified with cats, in many ways I still do. There is a certain understanding with them, a kinship almost. Though a partner, unintentionally on their part, I began an attachment, an resonance with bears, particularly black bears. It seems to fit on many levels.

I just did a search about the meaning of red tailed hawk and the first page I clicked just reeked with meaning, even referencing my dream, goals I have been working towards. The lesson for this totem: "Discover dormant abilities". The red feathers that distinguish them until they reach sufficient maturation. Red was a key color in a piece of my dream this morning. This page talks about kundalini, the unfurling of the energies. Again this references my dream.

Before seeing the hawk, I was so happy from the dream, from delivering work ahead of schedule, for writing two articles in the morning that I felt like I was expanding, soaring. The changes I have been experiencing, the awakenings I have been having are so tremendous. Never in a million years would I have thought that I would be made aware of a bird of prey, that something that flies would speak to me, but it seems like that something has shifted. It seems to fit because as BC pointed said:

"moving from thinking you can do something to knowing you can do something is huge - i am proud of you for taking these steps to make your dream reality"

I am almost at the point that I can say aloud that I am proud of, oh hell I can say it. I am proud of the work I've done; moving from a dream to really practice my chosen craft, something I have wanted forever is do breathtaking

It all feels so complete and full, and yet there is still tomorrow.

Dreams Remind Us

Dreams reminds us of things we have forgotten, often good things about ourselves, they remind us of our fears, they remind us of our freedoms.

A few weeks ago I dreamt I was back in Dayton, packing up things I had left behind. There were other pieces of the dream that were interesting but not relevant and involve others, so they won't be mentioned here. Among the things I was gathering were my tools but to my surprise I found that I had more than I thought. My ex had left me her tools. In my waking state I realized that this meant I had gathered more tools for my next steps, that I had learned something that would help sustain me in the future.

On Sunday night I had another similar dream. This was in the midst of a challenging time, as my faithful readers might recall, I had been having a hard time and though I was not specific in my posts, yes it involved my ex. There was a box, about 3 feet high, narrow, made of wood or a related substance and it was dirty (boxes again!). I decided to clean it of it's layers of grime and became curious as to what was inside. There was a tool box which when I investigated a bit more had a second layer with still more tools. Also in the box were two sewing machines, one much older and one a bit more modern, both appeared to be in working order. I was excited by these discoveries.

Tools, sewing machines - the ability to fix, create, remodel, redesign all in this box, that I was cleaning, returning it's sheen. All in me.

Another dream that same sleep was outwardly less reassuring. My ex was saying things to me, like a disembodied voice. (Perhaps this device was from rereading the fourth Harry Potter.) I no longer remember all the things she said but it was not positive. The statement I still recall was something about how didn't I wish I had found my voice earlier. Well of course I do but I am grateful that I have found it, that I found my strength to leave, to discover the bigger truths about her, about us, about me. What I know is I left when I was able, that in some way we do things at the right time for us, for our development, to satisfy some larger plans of fate and goddesses. This dream reminded me not to regret the months I debated, that I tried to save us, that I pondered and feared the "what-ifs".

My dreams are helpful, even when they make me sad, when they scare, or maybe especially when they do those things. The happy dreams are perhaps what gives us rest, the comforts us to give us sustenance of another sort for the nights our subconscious work us all night long.

The mind is a playground

for healing.

First I want to thank the people who have reached out to me after yesterday's post. It means the world to me.

I had very interesting dreams that I think connect to where I was and where I want to be. They are fuzzy but I want to at least touch on some the images and themes.

• At Sunny and Lindsay's house. There were appliance mishaps. Ones that were supposed fixed but had not been fixed properly. There was leaking water (emotions, tears, etc) and some other random messes I think. The appliances involved were mostly the washer (cleaning, renewing) and the refrigerator (food, nurturance).
  

• Something about moving. There were boxes needing to be moved, emptied. A number of boxes turned out to be empty. Trying to decide if they needed to be kept, who needed them, etc. A corner shaped piece of furniture I was looking for was put in the basement by the others. At first I was a little dismayed because it's not where I would have put it. Reminded them that the shape did not mean it had to going exactly into a corner necessarily,one could be more creative. Decided it was okay there, at least for now, it could always be moved later.

• Upstairs, maybe in the same house in the living room. A lot of free space, airy. I put on music, Nenah Cherry. Sunny came in and I was telling her how great this tune and artist were, I keep turning it up. We both started dancing. Music blended into another artist/tune that was equally good. A guy came in, or maybe it was just that he spoke to me through a door or window - he noticed my dancing was just a bit off, asking how my ankle was. It was only then that I realized that yes indeed I did have this small thing affecting my movement. Rather than stop however I found new ways to move, doing more things on the floor. Somewhere in this sequence Hrana, someone I knew in high school and have reconnected with over the years through Dance New England - growing closer especially the last few months, was also in that bright, spacious living room dancing with Sunny and I.

I woke remembering these bits and pieces, feeling like my subconscious had done a lot of work, that I was trying to allow myself some grace in my pain and my ability to move forward. Empty boxes being the shell of things I had already worked on, the frames I had been using to contain things. Interestingly shaped furniture and my sense that there is more than one way to fit things into our lives. Allowing that some things need to stay buried (in the basement) longer, or maybe it's okay to let them just sit. Dancing, one of my great loves for the freedom, the creativity, the sensuality and the joy it gives me, it feeds those aspects, in a space that is uncluttered, well lit, with other aspects of myself, representations of family and friends. I also woke feeling a little more at ease, more settled inside. So though I was still tired, another part of me was well rested.

Knowing Love and Regret

Since tomorrow starts the school holiday for The Kid, we had an extra family movie night that just wrapped up. Earlier today I went in search of The Wizard of Oz at the nearby library but all their copies were already out. The librarian suggested checking out the movies in the children's section and we discussed what I knew had been seen to try to figure out another decent choice. I found The Last Unicorn, which I had never heard of but had been a favorite of the librarian as a child (evidently she was an young as I thought!).

The first excellent thing about this dvd was no previews, it went straight to playing the movie. What a concept. I almost wept with joy. Another excellent thing, the songs do not rhyme, the lyrics are complex and real, not hokey. Yes the unicorn turns into a beautiful woman but unlike Ariel, she does not give up her identity and hang up her horn. The Kid purports to not like scary and while there are some tense moments (on a kid scale), and the red bull imagery is far from friendly, she took it in stride.

On the verge of reuniting with her kind the unicorn reflects how she is now different from the rest of her species because she now know regret and love. It is interesting that the two are interlaced, it is also a great message, even to an almost nine year old who has now experienced divorce. She and I talked about how all experiences change us and also it is part of what makes each one of us special. While I know BC is happier divorced, there is a flip side because of the changes for her daughter. Though it was a hard decision for me to leave my last relationship there is the acknowledgment of the love that was there and the sense of regret that it did not go in the direction I had hoped.

Is to know love to also know regret? I suppose it is because love and growth always means there is a path we did not chose, because love doesn't stay the same, growth means sometimes we need to say good bye to people, places, patterns that protected us in the past but no longer serve us. Usually I say I don't "do" regret or guilt, largely that is true. But there are some things I do regret in the immediacy of something I did, or while processing something larger that I blindsided myself with; however I do not stew in regret. If something I did or experience produced regret I try to learn from; if love went wrong, I also try to learn something more about how my heart, soul and brain work to see how I can improve. So does the unicorn truly regret permanently, do we? I would like to think that we know regret but we do not live there.

Shifting under my own feet

It's been a challenging day at home today. Felt out of sync with TGF on and off since getting home but we are working it out. Given our time apart and each of us having some epiphanies, it makes sense. We are working out new rhythms and it can be awkward.

The loose ends from NCDC are challenging me a great deal. There was a good deal of confusion and lack of clarity throughout - somewhat par for the course given we all were are on a steep learning curve. I am facing my perfectionism in that I know I did not do the best job I could have even with all that. Or maybe I did but it doesn't meet my expectations. There was a lot trying to be careful of their culture but maybe I didn't do it enough, perhaps I didn't push where I should have to move some things in a different direction. In the end they will tell me either "thanks but we are doing something different next year", or "let's give it another go". I have no control over that beyond the communication I have done throughout, up through today.

There is a stack of things to do for DNE, which starts in less than two months. I am struggling to keep a good flow of work and breaks. I sit in front of the computer and ponder what to do besides work and am not that motivated to surf, play on Facebook, or any number of things. This is good, it really is, but how to use the time instead leaves me feeling a bit adrift. Actually I have read two books (quick fiction reads) in the last week, blogged, did a bit of yoga yesterday morning (finally!), been walking Wyatt with TGF a lot which is nice. A perk of her not working right now is that we have that time together. Today we went to the library and I took out three books that I hadn't read/finished a few weeks ago, plus two totally new ones.

But the awkwardness of what to do with myself with those in between times, searching new patterns, trying to figure out what I want to do now that my old habits aren't working is not an easy state. I wouldn't trade it for all the world but it's itchy, uncomfortable, but also exciting. Antsy state of being. I am trying to view it as akin to a silk moth breaking free - it takes work but the wings will be beautiful!

Make it stop!

Someone come over and turn off the damn tv or at least keep it on Spike! For some damn reason I have stopped on a marathon of Girlfriends where I caught the cycle of the break of two best friends (which of course being television gets resolved in church on this one).

I have watched this show on and off since it first aired though as an over 30 year old white lesbian, I am hardly the target audience. But they are women I have known and sometimes the writing is really good. Besides since Living Single went off the air where else can one see a show about black women.

The issue of friends and the relationships keep coming up, mostly in hard, hard ways. I am definitely looking at what I do that is good, bad, supportive, and where I lack. It's always easier to want others to do x, but the great challenge is to apply those ideals to yourself at least every time you want them done by someone else. I don't think of myself as terrible friend, not at all, but I know I could be better and I know I have messed up recently with one relationship very badly. Rather than beat myself up endlessly (which is my tendency) I am owned up to the mistakes with the person, not that it repairs anything but still it was the right thing to do. In addition I am trying to take all this in and use the experience in the most positive way.

If only I could get away from the Universe's messages for a short spell.