The other shoe does drop

Recently I had hoped Apollo the Magnificent counted as the third in the deaths that touched my life. TGF said she thought a feline didn't count, though I hoped it would. Over a week ago my best friend (human companion of Apollo) lost his father, after a long illness. I have met Greg's parents a number of times over our 20+ years of friendship. We have had many a long conversation about our relationships with our parents - the joys and challenges. His dad was not young, having just recently celebrated his 88th birthday, but still losing a parent is losing a person who has always been there.

Another friend and I were talking about setting boundaries with our parents and she said that doing so would wipe out the hope of something different. I suggested that it could also be viewed as opening a new door in the relationship. Many years ago I set very specific boundaries with my father and in turn, I now realize, it completely shifted our relationship. As I distanced myself and laid sharp, short boundaries in terms of time together, in some ways I got the father I had wanted as a child - one who spoke of missing me, of being proud of me, he became more expressive of his feeling towards me.

For a long time I muttered that it too little too late. That is still true in many ways. However I am learning to be grateful for the small pieces of the dream father that he is able to give me. I still yearn for that close relationship some of my friends have and I suspect I will always. We never stop wanting on some level the magical parent that we never will have. But once they die, we have less. We have a closure whether we want it or not, they can no longer change, once gone there is no way anyone but ourselves can fill that space that begs more still more. Only we can do the work that accepts, not loves, but accepts what we have in our parents.

Several years ago my father was in the hospital and the doctors where having a hard time stabilizing him. In the shower before a harried drive from Massachusetts to New York I sobbed; not because I was afraid of losing him but because I had no idea how I felt. Many years before I practically prayed for his death so I would not have to deal with him, in youthful foolish thinking that if he was gone my work would be done. Standing under the spray I realized that if he died, it would not mean that he would not continue to shape who was was, it would not mean all my issues with him would die as well. I realized over the course of the next few days that I had more control in how I handled the wounds, not him. I learned I would mourn him, I might even miss him but I would rally just fine and I would keep working on making peace for me.

Well that's what I say now. When it happens I may laugh remembering this post and my hubris about what I can handle. In truth we don't know how we will handle the loss of a parent. We can ponder, imagine, and hope; but there is no surety in these theoretical ponderings.

In which our heroine indulged in a fantasy

Now, now, get your minds out of the gutter. Well this time anyway {grin}.
I went to get my hair cut, going back to this lovely Aveda salon (a big treat) for a trim and brow job (again, read carefully without your mind in the red light district, for now).

I had debated forgoing this extravagant foray but my bangs grow so damn fast and I'm heading out of town and, well as Glamour Girl says - I'm vain and shallow. Most of these folks I only see once a year, if I'm lucky, so I want to try to look decent.

This is a new salon in a complex that is only partially built, mostly empty, that bills itself as a live/work complex in the relative countryside of Clayton. Near the salon is a large cafe that was empty both times so I have no idea how it stays in business.

Anyway, last time I sauntered over and bought a flavored latte to go, something I don't usually get. Today I strolled over, deciding to sit a bit and flip through a magazine while I sipped my vanilla nut latte and nibbled a chocolate chip cookie.

So how is this event, getting a haircut a fantasy? When I go there, I imagine that I am a lady of leisure, getting just a little primped because it's my standard appointment, versus the one where I the full service: a massage, a facial and who knows what else. Oh, maybe getting my gray hair colored! In my fantasy it's just the first stop of a day that includes drifting hither and yon, shopping, browsing, meeting friend for lunch before heading home to browse expensive catalogs, check my email which is bursting with witty notes and invitations to wonderful parties.

In reality my splurge with tip came to less than just the haircut would cost me in Berkeley. In truth I came home to walk the dog; finish ripping up carpeting, tact strips, and staples off my hall stairs- working up quite the sweat; doing my push-up program (more on that later); tending to animals, ignoring laundry and working on Dance New England. Glamour my ass.

See? Total fantasy.

It's been forever

I swear I haven't forgotten about this space I just have been busy, distracted, and tired. So here are some tidbits.

Remember I was bemoaning my friendship status in California? Well Jennie and Liz threw me (and Glamour Girl who was in town for an interview) a potluck. Did I mention that? I should have and I'm too cranked to go back and see if I did already.

There was a huge yarn stash sale up in Englewood and I got an awesome haul of haul for practically nothing. Enough for three adult sweaters, a ton of accessories, and a shawl. Plus I have been doing some knitting and hope to knock out a bunch of stuff in the next few weeks. Pictures of things later.

I have been continuing to work out sporadically which is a good thing (more on that later, another post probably). However my arm is still messed up from when Wyatt pulled me down back in April. Not fun!

Still reading more than I have in years, still not enough for my ideals (same with knitting and a million other things) but progressing nonetheless. More on this later too hopefully.

I leave for the east coast for Dance New England in less than two weeks and my to do list is enormous.

The big news is we adopted a new kitten, or rather he claimed us. We were walking Wyatt on the Green almost three weeks ago and heard this pitiful crying. Stopped and bounding across the street comes this little guy who runs up to Wyatt and rubs his face. Yeah, we are suckers. His name is Casey.



He adores Wyatt and Marcelle almost looks like she could be his mama. Atticus also plays with him.



So that's the super quick and brief update. There's been a ton in my head and I have been a very bad blogger but I hope to change that soon.

In which our heroine contempletes an alternate reality

My temp gig this week has been cushy, really cushy - as in my reception desk has granite counter. It has been incredibly slow in terms of actual work - as in I have picked up the phone maybe ten times in any given day. there is a fully stocked kitchen - as in oatmeal, yogurt, sodas, trail mix, canned soup and even some fresh fruit.

Everyone has been very nice. I realize that the woman I'm covering for has tasks that I am not trained to do but it seems like a really nice gig - as in makes me think of getting a job like this one. A steady paycheck, paid vacation, and insurance, feeling kinda tempting right now. Until I think of really being here every day at 8am until 5pm. That just doesn't feel like a healthy way to live. Granted it would be a short commute to this investment management firm (I know!) but it would mean being out of the house 9.5 hours a day. Everyday. That's when I think back to my plan to find more conference planning gigs, build my doula business, and go back to grad school. More appealing but less secure. But less commitment, have I mentioned I have a commitment issue? Truly it's the main reason I don't have a tattoo - though that may change by the end of summer.

TGF pointed out two contradictory things - 1. I did work full time when at Smith College School for Social Work (for 2.5 years and 2.5 years before that at another job); and 2. once one gets out of the habit of that 40-hour a week thing it can be really hard to go back. Well it's been going on nearly a dozen years since I worked day in, day out. So yeah, it would be hard. And yeah, if I had to I would but I would probably wind up bouncing around from job to job, because like I said I have commitment issues.

Oh, I'm getting taken out to lunch tomorrow by two of the staff. Can you believe it? I mean I'm just a one week temp! It's crazy. It's great. So M.S., anytime you want to take a vacation, just let me know. Really, anytime.

Losing ties

I have been putting off this post because well, it's hard. While at camp I emailed my father to wish him a happy father's day. In response he asked me to call him at a specific time. This cannot be a good thing, I thought. It wasn't. My family isn't big and isn't particularly what you would call close knit but there are a few members that I feel close to without the benefit of lots a contact. One of these people is my cousin Judy (who I wrote about here). Her husband had taken ill, very ill. My father forwarded me the emails so I was able to catch up with the daily reports.

By the time camp was over he had been moved to hospice and was on a morphine drip. He passed away a few days later. It is hard to imagine her standing in their home, hosting parties and David not there. I know there is a time in my life that they weren't married but it is outside of my memory. Reading his obituary I am sad that I did not know him better all these years. I wish I had known that Judy & David originally met at about 12 years old and reconnected years later to spend four decades together. I wish for so many things.

Last week (or was it longer ago) my father called to update me on Judy as he had visited her while she was sitting shiva. He also said he really couldn't imagine her without him. But the other piece of news was that there had been another death. While Penny was not family in a blood tie way, she was family. Mike and my father have been friends since high school, or maybe it's earlier I no longer remember. Mike met Penny and they married about three months later. When I was young we spent lots of time with Mike and Penny. I held their children when they were newborns, played with them as toddlers, and loved on their dog - a basset hound named Penelope.

Penny and I re-established email contact when my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. I spoke to Mike over the phone when my father was in the hospital in October. It was the first time I had spoken with them in easily twenty years - it was comforting to hear his voice unchanged with the New York accent fully intact despite residing in Atlanta, Georgia for over a decade. In the last dozen years or so Penny had had all sorts of odd physical ailments but rallied and maintained her sense of humor. The latest problem was her digestion had randomly failing, creating blockages. When asked what killed her by someone, my father said "stubbornness". In a way it's true. She put off going to the hospital because she was tired of going, of being poked and prodded. She waited too long. Literally there is no time in my life that exists without Penny's presence, without the memory of her laugh, without knowing she would do anything for me.

There is an old wives tale that says deaths come in threes. So I waited for the shoe to drop. Greg and Janet's amazing tuxedo cat has been terminally ill since April. Friday they had to put down the handsome, rambunctious Apollo, he was 16 years old. I asked TFG if this could count as my three. She said she didn't think it worked that way. I am holding out hope.

It's official, people in my world who die are not the age of my grandparents but are the peers of my parents. It means my parents and other people I love dearly could leave me forever. How did that happen? In many ways I don't feel old enough to be in this place. But I am. It has had me reviewing all sorts of thing about aging, moving on in one's life in positive ways, about commitments, ties to family that have nothing to do with contact, ties to people that are not blood family who's loss devastates a piece of your soul. So many things have been floating around my mind and it's hard to be coherent or elegant about it. I have put off writing about all of this so what you have is this stew of facts and thoughts.

Everyone, hold tight your memories, call the people that mean the world to you, take the risks that scare you, don't drown in regret, enjoy the moment.

Down came Humpty

Well I was feeling all good and stuff. But yesterday the cranky came upon me and this morning is feeling like it's taken permanent residence. So much for the "balanced" me Andi saw that first Sunday back from camp. The crabby, uneasy me is back in town and has making me (and TGF) miserable.

Some of it is, I think, not enough physical outlets. I am missing the opportunity to dance like I haven't missed it in years. Thought about going down to Riverscape in downtown to check out the free Zumba class, but it's already warm and muggy out. Being unmotivated has left me ignoring DNE work, abashedly shirking home improvement projects, and my knitting lies in heaps in a various bags. The only thing that remains consistent is the two of us taking Wyatt on a walk for at least 30 minutes every day.

I just feel like blah. There is much to do, but instead I am aimless and worried. Yesterday while chatting while drinking a yummy Green Tea Mango drink at Boston Stoker after scoring some cheap vintage yarn (for the second time in a week!) I said to Dawn maybe I would assign myself a weekly blog assignment by going through my bookmark folder titled "Writing Ideas". Assuming the links still inspire of course. Sounds like such a good idea, right? Yeah sure. Maybe next week I will be brimming up with ideas and spouting off posts right and left.

Okay, my goal for today is to do DNE work. Really and truly. Yeah the Appalachian Festival is today and so is the Cajun Festival but it's dark out and not inspiring. Tonight is the July Porch and Patio party which I was so looking forward to but now...well not so much. The rain has just started....

Scenes from a temp job

2:04 So bored. Once again while feeling like I will lose my mind I wonder if I could use the time to meditate, or at least focus on breath but the atmosphere and lack of activity leaves me feeling like I will explode. Probably perfect time to concentrate on breath and ignore the "lite" radio station, snippets of conversation from my coworkers, the people coming and going on the other side of the plexiglass windows. Instead I am writing about how painful it is to have almost nothing to do since 8:00a.m.

2:18 Tried it. Focused on breath, where I was holding tension. Very distracting environment, knowing I might have to answer the phone at anytime. But hey I tried.

It's me, it's you. Nope, it's me.

Various sources say different things about dreams - all the players are you, or all the players are someone, even if not the person they seem. I find that it is often a mix because quite frankly I usually prefer sex with others rather than by myself and I just can't see me turning me on that much, even in a dream. I will own that some of the scenarios are fantasies of mine but that is not the same as wanting to make love to myself.

Last night I had a hard time falling asleep, not uncommon, especially these days; but what is more uncommon is it felt like I had two separate dreams, interrupted by a period of wakefulness, that seemed like a part of one and two. At least I think there were really two dreams that fell on either side of lying awake analyzing the dream.

The dreams involved trying without any success, to reach my friend ACL. The dream was about her because I feel out of touch with her, though it's only been a few days since we had contact but I know this is going to be a common state. We met while at NCDC and connected very deeply, talking for hours at a time, dancing together and just being quiet. She's a busy woman and I hope to be, so this is all the way things are. Also life at camp, whether NCDC or DNE, is not real life and one can connect with people (like ACL and JE) very deeply but it is not a state that often is continued when one reenters the rest of their life.

It is also not about her at all but is about me. I had some absolutely deeply powerful times at camp and headed home with a desire to find time to at least attempt those states while in my "real" life. I wrote about the meditative states, the deep emotions that I allowed myself to sit with while there. What I didn't write about was how very often being at camp (apparently either one) I often feel more connected to my body. I eat better thanks to the amazing cooking of Charlie & Marion along with the rest of their cooks. I am outdoors more. My wardrobe is more me than it can be say tomorrow when I have a one-day temp stint at a medical facility where I think I will remove my nose ring or change it for a stud. But perhaps the biggest piece at camp is dancing. At NCDC I danced more at the evening boogies than usual. Even better was Wednesday night where I got to that place where I stop thinking about my lack of technique, stop bemoaning how much training has ebbed away, stop caring about what I look like and just move. Explore what my body can do, go deep inside and just flow, play. It was an amazing, amazing night for me. I danced so much my legs got wobbly. I danced so much I was high. Tired in that perfect way.

Since I have been back I have stretched, done some yoga and spent far too much time on tribe.net searching out links, events, anything to middle eastern dance more than any other subject. Sure I love middle eastern dance, but it's not all I want to do. I signed up for an essentially dead Hoop Ohio tribe in vain hope (something I want to learn). There are far too many yoga tribes for me to figure out where to go and I'm still not sure what I think of yoga. Perhaps I just need to find the right form of yoga. I did really like the place I went to in Brooklyn NY a million years ago. I desperately want more money flowing into Green Jay so we can catch up on bills but also so I can go DO things like this.

In The Women's Book of Creativity another chapter I recently read spoke of how to carve out time alone, for meditation. Of course she like so many others talk about a separate room, or a even a corner of a room. I am not sure how to designate such a space and I suspect part of my block of imagination is that I'm not sure how much I would use it so how can I claim such a piece of real estate in our home. Clearly this is an excuse because of course I can, the bigger question is will I use it and if I don't will I feel like I have failed. The true answer is I will use it occasionally in all likelihood and that any use is a success, non-use is simply an opportunity not taken but not failure.

So while my dreams were about missing a connection with a new friend, they were even more about worry about my connection to myself. I guess this makes this post meta-navel gazing - writing about a blog (a high tech form of n.g.) in which the entry is all about how I want to be a better me. Yeesh.

Notes from Women's Creativity Book, part II

Okay it's been awhile and I did keep reading but then I stopped, then I had to return the book to the library. Blah, blah, blah. You know how this goes. Long ago I had written notes which I'm going transcribe here and potentially add more since the reading I did the other night sparked much pondering.

Ealy talks about women being more process than product; how when close to completion we tend to lose interest and not finish, or that sometimes we rush through the end. She offers seeing the completion before starting which seems like a good idea except perhaps I'm more product oriented but lack the discipline to get there. I imagine the end result - garment finished, fit body, renovated home but need to spend more time how to get there rather than by inspired by the end concept.

I am annoyed by the references to "gifts" women specifically have in terms of creativity. It feels just as sexist and simplistic as saying men have special abilities or constructs that allow for creativity to blossom.

Ealy begins talking about solitude being necessary for creativity. I get that and found in reading The Peabody Sisters of Salem a great example of the specific difficulty for women who have children to do their art (Sophia is the sister I am thinking of). I also get that true solitude is hard to be comfortable with in this culture. The united states is not geared that way as a nation.

Now I wrote the above about solitude about two months ago, before my trip to California where I carved out a great deal of solitude and allowed the feelings to flow, worked on staying with harder emotions and not just running back to work or finding people to randomly talk with to divert me. It was a powerful and important thing to do. It is a goal for me now to find ways to create that in the rest of my life. I have always loved being alone in my home, wherever that is, but it is not the same as being silent. Silence is something to be avoided, at least for the most part in my past.

Since retrieving this book the other days from the library I read the chapter titled, Quieting the Inner You. Rather apt given my goals, no? She talks about "creative concepts always being available but we have to learn how to listen to them" (I would change to learned how to listen for them). This is akin to conversations I had with ACL (sorry about typing that wrong last time, though with this spelling I think of the knee ligament that frequently is a source of pain. I know. My mind is a scary place. ) about psychic messages, about being able to "tune in" and hear/see things. We both believe that everyone has the ability but few people actually spend time accessing it, and actively seek to make that a stronger piece of our lives. This is parallel to what Early says. Of course accessing these powers, or flow is all part of the same process whether one uses it for design, psychic tuning in, writing, etc; it requires a silence, an attention, a clearing, a willingness to feel.

Clearing my mind is a hard task but I have learned a few things that work. Ealy references a breathing/counting pattern that is similar to things I have used. Another technique I learned is from Birthing From Within (great, great book) that is called something like focused inattention. Yes, I should look it up, maybe later. It involves focusing for a moment what you see, feel, hear and going to the next sense sensation. I find this works for helping me fall asleep when my mind likes to spin convoluted webs of stress and regret which make me anxious. Instead I let the thoughts come and ask myself to go to the next physical sensation I have: the breeze on my leg, the sound of rain hitting the window, listening to my dog pant, noticing the pull of the sheet as TGF shifts position. By the time I have done this a few times, an unrelated thought may wander in and I can cast it off using this process. The idea is not to dwell on any one thing, not to spin from that initial sensation or thought but to move as gracefully as possible to the next and the next, letting the mind float and skim, not bogging down in any thought regardless of how hard or happy.

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!

Sitting in the in-between

Returning from camp is often an odd time. When on the east coast I always add some days before and after to hang out in Northampton. Before is pretty easy but the after is something else. An odd time of not being in the intensity of camp, not home, but somewhere that was home once. Just not any more.

This is my first time playing with this odd time on the west coast. During camp I connected deeply with a new friend, AKL, and we rode back the Bay Area together. From camp we went to Kings Canyon Park to experience the giant sequoias before heading to Alameda. They really are amazing, the colors and textures engaged me so much. On one hand I was glad to just be there, but the other hand craved a camera so badly. AKL wasn't ready to come back to home and the rest of her life, hence her volunteering to drive me even though she lives in Santa Cruz.

Yesterday she slept in while I wrote, read and just sat. We went to catch some breakfast and talked for about 5 hours straight. Crazy right? But really cool to talk so much, to "process" with someone new where it doesn't exactly feel new. But then it was time for her to head back to the rest of her world and I was alone with little option to be anything else, unlike camp where I could retreat and reengage almost at will.

I read before sleep, tossed and turned as usual and woke much earlier than I would have thought - 7:10am. It's been a really slow day, so slow that I just got dressed about 20 minutes ago. Just sat in Jennie's robe all day which was nice. Did laundry. Ignored all the straightening I could do in order to just be in this in between place until my pal Maria comes to pick me up in about two hours.

On and off all day I have felt randomly antsy, anxious to be home, nervous about reentering the rest of my life and how to integrate my experience, how to make the changes I know I need to make. Unreasonably feeling a bit hurried to connect with TGF. We both had such a good experience being apart with less communication - can we remember how to take space in this new way once back together? Can we reinvent our relationship in the ways we spoke about? I do think we can, I believe we have the commitment to make this work better. It's been such a hard journey the last year and some of the connection has been put aside in order to cope with the stresses. Now, with this time apart, both of us sitting with our shit it's like something incredible has opened up. But with that newness comes fear of remembering the state where we went deep and learning how to bring it forward while together.

It all feels on the verge. Everything. Connecting back to my work at DNE, needing to finish up NCDC work, working on building my doula business, feeling that with some more internal work I can figure out graduate school - though it may look very different than what I had thought. Still having lots of teary moments and learning to relax into them - trying not to think it's not deep enough, that's it's too small a motion to count, without thinking I should stop it since it's not a "real" cry. Like right now, the tears are back as I type and working though my feelings that it should look different. It just is. Just in the in between not crying and what I imagine is "real crying. Not really being in California because I'm waiting so hard to go home. That California is no longer home, that home is some mysterious place that has little to do with location and more with connection and how one chooses to experience where they are in the moment. A few days ago camp was home. Home is is so much about meshing with people, finding the specialness that exists right when you look at a street, a mountain, any vista that a space presents.

Home really is what you make it, not where. I am much more fluid about finding home in space and people than I think some are, and even more than I knew I was. The last two weeks have been such an incredible gift. Thanks Universe.

I believe I found the answer

To a question posed by a dear friend about a year ago, by reading a book on that same friend's shelf.

For those who are not familiar with this piece of my story (and I don't expect any of you to be) I moved from Massachusetts to California because my partner at the time got a job out there. Nine months ago I moved from the left coast to Ohio because of a pull of family, unfinished business, and most immediately a job (versus chronic unemployment in California) of TGF. While prepping for that move, and dealing with grief about leaving the coast and fears of the land of Ohio (much whining about these things was done on this blog, sorry about that), my friend expressed concern about this apparent pattern. (I don't see it as a pattern so much as the path I'm on.) She asked while we Google chatted, "where do you want to live?". I have pondered this question a lot (sorry I never told you Jennie) and have been sitting with it. It occurred to me that I don't have a particular drive to live in any part of the country because to me it's all filled with possibility. As soon as I rule out a region I may lose something incredible that was supposed to be part of my journey. Today I am at Jennie's house, wearing her bathrobe which is soft and lightweight which makes me realize I need an article of clothing like this of my own, sitting on the couch, reading Stephanie Pearl-McPhee's "Casts Off". All in all it's a very light hearted book and a bit silly but it has some great quotes. The that reached out to me this morning is this:

One's destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things." - Henry Miller

I am not a particular fan of Henry Miller's work, having never sought it out however this sums up the answer that has been swirling in my head for a year. It is always about how you live a place, not as much where it is. Yes, yes, there are places that may be intrinsically better for us hippie, lesbian, alternative, witchy-jewish-buddhist types than others. Certainly Ohio was never on my list of places to visit for anything much at all let alone become a resident, yet that is where my path has led me and already it has offered me so much concretely and ethereally. It has challenged (some) of my assumptions about such place, it has been refreshingly friendly and accepting. I have made friends and almost a peace with my coastal biases and snobbery about the middle of the country. If I had not made a commitment to my partner, if I was not optimist and conscious, I would have never made this move. I would have never allowed myself to be open and trust my intuition that flowed through me when we happened on our neighborhood. The gratefulness I feel for that day when my body vibrated on something in the air in South Park that said "this is where I can feel at home", I would have lost something amazing, something I didn't think still existed - a true neighborhood, one that was not insular but accepting of new residents, eager to bring them into the fold and say "you belong here".

So Jennie, while there are places I have lived that I have loved and feel connected to, and in theory I could find a number of new places to make home in the decades I hope to have before me, there is no one place that has absolutely everything I want. There are still other places that I may harbor a desire to inhabit to deeply experience however I do not need to have a plan to find them, I do not need to be sad that I may never claim them as home. My mantra is that I hope and will work to always find what I need wherever my journey lands me.

Where there is peace there is battle

It’s familiar feeling, it’s not comfortable, but it’s a known quality. The feeling is one of disturbance, of boundaries being pushed, old fears haunting, struggling to rise to a challenge that can’t be met in the moment. This feeling is one that always comes up for at dance camp, and it’s a bit of comfort to know that it doesn’t need to be in my usual community, that the places that hold my hurt, that my terrors can be mined in more than one place. There has been a welling up of tears that are more in my body than in my eyes that has come and gone since yesterday – this is physical/emotional place where that bottomless pit is uncovered and wants to rise like lava.

My lesson seems still and always has been how to release, but I learned to shut down tears so long ago and it’s so ingrained and feels almost innate not to cry and yet I long to be able to have it erupt naturally and ebb downward without the fear that I will dive into that it and never emerge. Even when crying I hold back much of the time because while the fear of never returning from a place that feels like it could verge into never ending hysteria; while not as strong as when I was younger the vestiges of it still exist like valve that only allows so much flow at any given time.

Crying just doesn’t feel safe; I think that’s what it comes down to for me. There are times when I have really tried to figure out how to make it safe. I suppose therapy could help, or maybe just making dates with myself to have feelings in silence, no tv not even in another room, no surfing the web or driving when the tears come. Allow myself times to just be with the feelings. There have been those moments but I still find myself saying okay that’s enough, or feeling like it’s not really a deep cry, only surface so it’s time to stop. Many years ago my uncle told me that my father used to tell me from another room to just stop crying if I woke up from a bad dream. I guess I really internalized the message to just stop regardless of whether I was done or I had received the comfort that was needed. It seems a really long time to still be in that place.

I am sitting on a rounded deck shaded by sequoia and California oak trees with a small body of water that we call Zen Lake. There is an outcropping of reeds and some exposed rocks just a bit from the land edge. Birds are singing, and occasionally a frog bellows a call, butterflies flit by. A camper is sitting here as well, playing his guitar. There are classes going on but any sound from them is muted. Every once in awhile the water moves as some creature stirs, but mostly the surface is very still, the faint breeze barely impacting. The location is remote, no cell service, it’s quite a drive down to main road, small as it is. The elevation is about 4000 ft after being at about 10 feet above sea level in the Bay Area. In many ways it’s the perfect place to let the tears fall but I am always caught between wanting to let it happen regardless of location and not wanting to attract attention. But then I am caught be a small bird landing on a reed and think how beautiful it is here and wonder how I can feel this type of peace, even with the swirl of emotions, more of the time in my “real” life.

Being somewhere like my camps it makes me think about what I want to refocus and how I would like to shape and mold myself. But once home I am more often swept up in the day to day of life and don’t take the time that is needed to do those things. It’s an ongoing struggle but as I get older the time is less and right now I am feeling more urgency to move forward the ways I am stuck and to heal those old wounds and keep evolving more actively to who I want to be instead of sitting on the sidelines wishing for something that I only think is beyond my reach.

Better, worse, the same

Okay all my friends in California have not deserted me though damn it felt like it for a bit there. Ruthie is picking me up from the airport, which is too delightful, as getting Ruthie Time is never easy. Still staying at Jennie's until I get to camp. Which I have no idea how that is happening. Almost had a ride but Owlswan is heading down on Wednesday and my friends have put together a potluck (you know, the holy lesbian gathering for all occasions) that night. Would have been nice. Oh well.

My mood rises and falls like the frigging bouncing ball of song. I can't believe that I'm leaving in 2 days for the left coast. Seeing friends will be great. It's a little exciting and also nerve wrecking getting prepped for this camp. The location sounds lovely. The lack of technology access is cool and daunting at the same time. No cell service, minimal access to dial up, which will be tricky since our database is web based. Did I mention no cell so conversing with my database guru is gonna be hard! Stress much? Also TGF and I are used to talking everyday when apart. That may not be possible which is just odd, not bad, just odd.

Did I mention TGF gave notice at her job? Yeah, and I won't be here to celebrate her last day. Oh and then there is the little matter of her needing to job hunt. So there is that as well.

I'm going to miss my knit groups, especially Sundays since that's kind of my baby. I will miss three Tuesday nights, and two Sunday - that's a lot of knitting chicks time gone.

Better stuff. Got my hair really cut this time unlike two months ago. Really like it. Still not absolutely perfect but SO much better. It seems like a silly thing but having "good" hair does make things better. Does everyone feel that way? Probably not but I bet more folks feel better in general if they feel like their hair looks good.

It's been really hot for a few days which has been a tad hellish. I am not used to that sort of weather after six years in the Bay Area. Today is much cooler, a bit rainy, kind of a sweet early summer day. I'm sure the heat will be back but I am going to enjoy my trip to the other coast where it should be more temperate.

Need to do laundry, pack, decide what knitting to take with me, make lists, work on getting DNE under control before I disappear for two weeks. I always feel like I need to clean the house, change the cat litter, grocery shop, and do all the laundry in the house before I leave so TGF has little to do. It's just not practical though, but I always try and stress myself. Crazy huh? Especially since even if I did it all, she still would need to do those things several times before I get home. But today I am succeeding in doing very little excepting eating everything that isn't nailed down.

I keep forgetting to tell you

Some folks (okay like 4 out of my 7 readers) have told me that they are having problems reading some of my posts. Yes, yes I know you told me way back in mid-late April but I was distracted.

If you are still having problems the solution is to stop reading me in IE, which I think sucks anyway and switch to Firefox. Using both browsers recently I discovered the problem is with IE (shocker I know) because it reads just fine in my browser of choice.

I'll write again soon, maybe with knitting or neighborhood photos! But right now I have to eat something before I go work with my postpartum family.

Feel a bit sorry for myself and a bit lost

So I have been on this email list/community since 1996 or 1997. I took a break at some point for probably less than a year and rejoined in November 1999. Met a lot of folks from there, it saved my life when I first moved to California and it's how I met TGF. There have been many ups and downs over the years, however I am mostly not feeling connected to it for about a year now. It's been feeling a bit like I'm on the sidelines, jumping up and down, saying things like "Look over here! ", "I'm here too". Not pleasant.

The latest was that I wrote, about two weeks ago, on there that I was going to California and wanted to see folks. Not one of my friends/acquaintances from out there wrote me. Not.One. Two folks who have joined the list since I left the west coast have written me. Seriously. Yesterday I wrote the local smaller list, asking for a possible ride from the airport, jokingly asking if someone had a car they weren't using, and wrote "again I would love to see as many of you as I can". Nada. The silence has been deafening. I have tentative plans to stay with my good friend Jennie, which makes me SO happy but damn. You know? It's not like this is the first time I've written or had contact with most of these folks. I've only been gone about nine months by the time I fly out there but it feels so far away right now.

Seriously I think it may be time to leave but I have developed such connections with these folks. I've met probably about 30 people from this list that has hovered between 110-200 people in the last few years. That's a large percentage. Some I've never met but spoken to on the phone, or just because of the on and off list conversations consider them friends, worry about them, cheer them on, all that stuff. It's had to imagine my life before November 1999 (my first go round I was pretty silent on list and didn't really get to know folks). But I am feeling more than ever it might be time to say goodbye and it hurts like hell. However right now the bad/hurt place is louder than the fun/connected place.

The idea of leaving makes me feel really lonely. It makes me wonder if the bonds and friendships were all in my head, one-sided. All that good stuff. While I am building relationships, and starting what could be some fabulous friendships here in Ohio, the idea of being without this resource, this lifeline is scary and SO lonely. And it makes me question if I'm really the good person I think I am, or wonder if I have fucked up somehow and no one will tell me, or leads me to thoughts of "they were just putting up with me". Good times here this morning I tell you.

On top of all that I am deep in NCDC registration land, heading to camp on June 13th and it's all new there. It's not like going to DNE which is a lot like going home to welcoming arms. So I'm having anxiety about that, finding a ride down to camp and back again, where I'll stay in the Bay Area after camp, contemplating being away from TGF for two weeks where I will probably have limited contact because there isn't cell phone access at camp and they only have dial up.

Yep it's good times here in Dayton this morning. What the hell else can I feel anxious about?!? A zillion things but I don't want to drive away my three readers so I'll stop now. Maybe I'm just PMSing which makes all this feel bigger and more horrible than it really is. Yeah, that's my story and I'm sticking to it!

A quiz - just because

Inspired my amazing friend Andi, and because I'm not overly inspired to write since I've been sick for a few days....I give you a quiz result!

For an unscientific test I'd say it was pretty accurate. As always I find it hard to choose between two extremes in answers because so often it depends on my mood when I encounter the circumstance they are asking about. I tend to prefer scaled answers rather than the more black and white type. But oh well.

You Are An ENFP

The Inspirer You love being around people, and you are deeply committed to your friends. You are also unconventional, irreverent, and unimpressed by authority and rules. Incredibly perceptive, you can usually sense if someone has hidden motives. You use lots of colorful language and expressions. You're quite the storyteller! In love, you are quite the charmer. And you are definitely willing to risk your heart. You often don't follow through with your flirting or professed feelings. And you do break a lot of hearts. At work, you are driven but not a workaholic. You just always seem to enjoy what you do. You would make an excellent entrepreneur, politician, or journalist. How you see yourself: compassionate, unselfish, and understanding When other people don't get you, they see you as: gushy, emotional, and unfocused

What's Your Personality Type?

Wow it's been a long time!

So many days I thought of things to write, hoped to write but was busy, exhausted or otherwise unable to write. Sad, I know. No real excuse.

To catch things up I offer you tidbits.

I totally put off writing about Passover! Shame on me. We were invited to a neighbor's sedar - so cool. It was my first one since I left the east coast, far too long. The best brisket I have had in 20 years. Okay, granted I hardly eat the stuff but let me assure you it was supreme. It was fun, easy going. I wanted to write a whole piece about the difficulty I have going somewhere besides my family for this holiday but the time is long gone now. Oh well. Thanks Loni for a lovely evening.

My best friend Greg and his amazing wife Janet are leading an artist's tour in Morocco come fall. If only I drew and had the money I would SOOOOO go. I have an unreasonable draw to that country. These two have traveled extensively and are some of the most enthusiastic, positive, and creative people I know. They have the ability to find joy in the most mundane of locations or events in a way that lifts your spirits. If you are in New York, Greg is having a small show of some of his work at Tabla Rasa Gallery - go!

Yesterday was my last day at cubicle hell. My co-temp worker made it so much better as we had the best conversations. However unless we win the lottery I will probably head back there after I return from my California job. Speaking of that job, the learning curve with their new database, modeled after DNE's database which only launched last summer, has been steep. It's good beta testing for online registrations for DNE as that event is much bigger than NCDC's. Between cubicle hell, NCDC and very early DNE business life has been full.

I have lots of new yarns (well lots by my meager standards) and some updates on projects to show you but that requires taking photos and well between rainy days, being tired, and no batteries, that simply hasn't happened. But I have been knitting, never fear. In fact I began a local "Craft Night" at Night and Day Cafe. I posted information on Ravelry - you may have heard me mention that community once or ten times, as well on a neighborhood list. It has been a lovely blend of two communities that I love a lot. So if you craft anything vaguely portable, come on down - Sundays starting at 7:30pm.

Spring has been absolutely gorgeous and I took some photos about two or three weeks ago, but well they are still sitting on the camera so Have no idea if they are post worthy.

TGF has been struggling with her job. A lot. She is moving towards looking for something better and soon. Send good job juju her way, 'kay?

Oh a bit ago I wrote about beginning my doula business again and I met with my first potential client Thursday evening. Just getting that far is a bit thrilling you know?

I am still reading way more than I have in years (except for school reading, which well we won't discuss graduate school right now, alrighty?). Haven't touched The Woman's Book of Creativity for awhile (perhaps that's part of my blogging problem).
Spinning Straw into Gold has redeemed itself a bit, particularly the section on The Seal Wife. Perhaps this section has appealed to me because it's about, in part, life after child bearing and reclaiming identities that were put on hold during those years.
Stephanie Pearl-McPhee's Knitting Rules was quite good, as in enough to buy some day. Last week I borrowed Talk to the Hand - I am laughing out loud! I loved her first book, Eats, Shoots and Leaves. I am totally enjoying Lynne Truss's writing style, her values, and damn she is just so funny! Last week I began The Omnivore's Dilemma - wow is about all I can say at the moment. I am blown away by the takeover of corn.

I will make a commitment to try to be better at staying contact, I promise you my loyal three readers! There is still so much more to report.

Oh! I have to tell everyone this bit of news. My bbff (best blogging friend forever!), Jbeeky received the news that she can go receive her baby from Taiwan this summer! They should be home in August. So I have another child sweater in the planning stages. I swear I started crying when I read the post on the red eggs. Made TGF look at the photos Jbeeky's new daughter and she said "OMG I'm in love!". I SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO want to meet them at the airport when they land back in California. Seriously folks. I know I've never met her, never even spoken to her on the phone, but I feel like I need to there.

Okay, now I am really going. Need to do laundry, walk the dog, and get ready for SEX at a closing LYS.

What's in a name?

In my work for "the man" I have been privy to a lot of unusual names,sometimes it's just the spelling that is a little different.  But clearly some are interesting references to totally other things.
For one thing it can be a way to tell folks how your little came to be here.  Chianti  Chardonnay  Vodka  Tequila  I don't know about you but I would have some problem with Vodka. The rest, well, at least have a flow about the pronunciation  that at least makes them interesting.  Also the traditional spellings were used so that makes things a bit easier on the kid.  In the stacks of applications were also names that most of us associate with places, things, or well just not names:
 LaQuinta - I could swear this is a motel chain.  If names help determine your future, well let's not even contemplate this poor child's potential destiny.  Clinique - hm, except for the fact that this name was given to a girl I would think someone was raising a potential drag queen.  Touche - complete with the accent.  Think about how most of use this french word in conversation.  Very weird to go around calling your child the equivalent of "good point!".
British - I get London, Asia, India, Cheyenne, and others.  But British???   Not surprisingly I saw: Eunique (I figure the parent thought adding the "e" give it that unusual edge), Princess, and Precious.

However "MyQueen" just tripped me out.  Can you imagine the parent saying:  "No MyQueen, Yes MyQueen"?  Doesn't that set up one hell of a twisted power balance!  My friend Andrea would be surprised at how many other spellings there are for her name:
Aundrea
Andrey'a
Andria  The other piece that is interesting in the naming I saw was the abundance of vowels, or sometimes missing vowels, and apostrophe's. Do you think that Sh'ron and Sha'ron are pronounced differently? Seriously I pondered this one and I realize I have a hard time hearing certain subtle differences in speech but I really think these would sound the same said by most folks.  Then there are the ones that almost sound like another word: Creola - crayola
Ta'Jeana - tagine
Jiaria - giardia

The siblings sets of names could be truly daunting.
Terrence is the brother of Terraca
Christine is the sister to Christian
Johnnie (m) is the brother to Johnnae (f)
D'Angela is the sister to Angelo D.
Trevon is Jevion's brother
Jay'Veon is brother to Jay'Quon
DaMiyah & DaMahnii

Twins:
Amauki (f) & Amaurion (m)
Mykiana(f)  & Mykala (f)

Mom Lennette liked the doubling up of letters so much that she named one of her children Leannettay

I realize that I sucked at pronouncing words and names, so much so one would think English was my second or third language but there were some that totally stumped me.
Quovozio  Kozon   Nyiarrha
Elijhnane  Tylexcen Dazjha

Sibling sets:
Shawn (m), Shantil (f), Shanell (f), Shaniece (f) & Za'niya (f)
Emprise (f), Se'Marion (m), & Ricae (f)
Ta't'Yannah (f), Tai'Shawn (m) and Tae'Jon (m)

This is just a taste of the names I scribbled down while plugging away at data entry where my rate went from 70 applications to 120 a day. There are more but I suspect y'all would get bored.

On a more serious note even a quick reading of these applications was depressing - all these single young women with children, their lives in a total standstill by parenthood.  Many of these women had their first child at 16, the youngest I processed was 13 but 14 and 15 were not unusual to see either.  One woman was 21 and already had a 7, 4, 2, and 1 year old.  My heart broke when I saw files like this, my body ached with idea of the burden.  Many of these women have had between 2-5 men fathers for their children and are not receiving child support (well at least they didn't report it).  There were many who were only receiving child support for some of their children, rarely all.

This gig also brought out the latent sociologist in me.  Hourly I formed questions about the naming traditions in the African-American community that I was seeing over and over.  What traditions are they borrowing from?  The use of "Jr" and "III" is still quite common and interesting considering the father's apparent non-involvement.  Some of the spellings seem phonetic but are non-standardized.  There's a system for this sort of thing that I cannot find a reference for - you know that one that spells "fish" something like "ghosh"  (I am sure about using "gh" for "f"). The doubling up of vowels, dropping of vowels, odd consonants, use of apostrophes - mind boggling I tell you.

Weather or not

Moving to California I knew I would miss autumn, and I did. Moving to Ohio I had hoped I could get a touch of that season.  Luckily fall here is rather pretty, still nothing compares to New England for the array of colour, the sheer mass of trees lighting up the hills and mountains.  However I deeply enjoyed the arboreal display, the particular shade of blue that only seems to appear in October and November in places where the air crisps while the leaves crackle under your feet.

But oh the spring!  While it was a delight and a wonder to have things bloom just about all year long in the Bay Area, it has been such a sweet pleasure to have the emergence of green, the slow developing budding of flowers, trees, and bushes after a good winter.

The straggly bush outside turns out to be a lilac which has burst forward with lovely blooms.  In Massachusetts I had a small stand of them between my house and my lovely neighbor, Beth, who was terribly allergic to the scent.  Every spring I inhaled deeply and she held her breath if she had to walk by them.  Having one in front of the house here is like a little treasure.

Some time I believe in March I saw my first cardinal since I had left the east coast.  I had forgotten how pretty they are, how they help mark the change of weather.  A few weeks ago I was pining for the red-wing blackbirds that darted in the rushes along the Bay but soon was thrilled to see robins again.  I still miss the blackbirds and the masses of grackles but there is something soothingly familiar about the plethora of robins that dot the greenway near my home.

Last week I found half of a broken robin's egg, in that lovely light blue that is tinged just a bit with green and speckled most delicately.  Immediately I remembered being about 8 when the family had traveled to Virginia to visit some friends.  It was one of the first times I had felt like I was "in the country", since I was raised in NYC.  Walking in the yard around their farmhouse I found a robin's egg, a whole one, that had either been stolen from the nest or one which the mama bird knew wouldn't make and had kicked out.  Cradling the egg in my hands I brought it inside to show everyone.  I carefully placed it somewhere safe so I could bring it home with me, back to my concrete homeland.  I no longer remember how long I kept the egg but it was prized item in my room, one that connected me with another life; one where children had yards, where nature was right outside your window, where the seasons bombarded all your senses and you couldn't forget what month it was.

Last Thursday I took Wyatt for a long walk. There were no injuries this time, thanks for asking. My shoes were really bugging me and finally I just gave in and took them off.  It was so delightful to walk barefoot on the concrete pathway and the soft grass of the greenway.  Though it was often warm enough to do that in Berkeley it didn't happen often at all.  I have walked barefoot in NYC, on the streets, in parks and I love doing that because the ability to feel through my soles is something that makes me feel just a bit more alive, just a bit more connected to place.  It reminds me to pay more attention to my body, how my feet are placed against the various surfaces I encounter, the way feet are shock absorbers but always there is a wave of vibration that runs up your body- harder or softer- but always there as all your weight for a brief moment is resting on that tiny surface area of one's foot.

Saturday we had a little bit of lots of weather.  In the morning it was gray and raining at a good rate.  We left the house, I had thought it was merely sprinkling.  I also thought I knew where I was going, I was wrong on both counts.  With my pants melded to my legs, my coffee lid offering more rain water than coffee, we turned back to put on dry things.  By the time we left again the day had changed - bright, sunny, and toasty warm.  Returning home again TGF was quick to discard her socks and sneakers because she was positively baking.  In the late afternoon it turned gray and
drizzly.  By evening the wind was roaring through as it has been doing a lot - I love that -  and the temperature seemed to drop a good  degrees every hour or so until we had to go around shutting windows and doors.  I have heard that people from other areas are baffled by east coasters and midwesterns' obsession with the weather.  This weekend makes a good case for it being about being prepared and totally sane, not the least bit OCD, not even a little bit.