As my dear readers might recall I had been working on rebuilding a friendship with someone from Massachusetts. We had been emailing each other for the last few months intermittantly, with the idea that we would see each other when I was in town. In addition to trying to catch up with Michele, I wrote to a number of people ahead of time letting them know when I would be around. Usually I just grab a vehicle if I can and drive around on the chance that someone would be home. While I like having no schedule and being spontaneous, sometimes I wind up feeling very lonely so I tried something new. This meant putting myself out there, something I find very triggering. What if no one writes or calls? What if they do out of obligation? WTF does that mean anyway? Insecure? Moi?
Before camp I finally saw my daughter (unofficial foster, in my life for about 10 years now). We met and talked for about six hours straight. It was wonderful to catch up with her and really hear what's going on (a couple of emails and phone calls just don't cut it). Unfortunately it sounds like her relationship isn't going to last and her plans for schooling are vague; while her plans to have a baby is still strongly in place. I encouraged her to get some education or training before getting pregnant because it is likely she will be doing this alone. Somewhat to TGF's dismay I said I would help her financially if she goes to school. It won't be a lot, which I told her, but I would do what I could to support her goals.
As usual I stayed with Adrienne but due to a lot of craziness did not get to spend a ton of time with her but it was still good to see her and the boys. Because of the craziness I needed to make plans to stay somewhere else when I returned to Northampton from camp. In keeping with my modus operandi I did nothing about this until the bitter end of camp, staying with my pal Spirit and his housemates for two nights. It was a nice taste of my old life, living with a bunch of folks, sharing things, mish mash of furniture, the smells of a hippie house - ah the memories.
While there I spent an afternoon with friends I haven't seen in at least four years! Ann & Donna moved in across the street from my tiny house in Northampton back in 1995 and instantly we became buddies. Back in December 2002 I flew back to Massachusetts from California to attend the birth of their son. I'm pretty sure I saw them one time since then. In the intervening time they adopted a gorgeous little girl who I had only seen photos of for the last 3 years. We had a great afternoon hanging out, seeing their new house, playing with the kids and catching up. It was so sweet, really was. I must stay in better touch.
The next afternoon I finally caught up with Michele and it was so sweet to hear her voice, see her smile. Wow. Her youngest was in the car, he was a year old when I left so he doesn't have much recognition of me. He is imprinted deeply on my soul as he was the first baby I ever held before being cleaned, blood and amniotic fluid smelling sweet, soaking into my hands, dripping on my pants. When we arrived at the house I was last behind them and heard A (the eldest, the fourth birth I attended) called "Where's Dharma!?!?" So sweet. I got a huge hug from her that felt so good. Next up was A2 who has been slow to warm up during other visits. Not this time! A big long hug. OMG I was in heaven.
Later that night A2 asked me if I had children and I said no (too hard to explain Missy). Michele looked at me and whispered yes you do, meaning her kids. My heart just swelled. We stayed up talking after the kids were asleep and it was so nice, much like old times. The next morning she drove me to the airport and again the conversation just flowed. Mostly from her this time which was fine, the evening was a lot of me. When she dropped me off she asked "when's a good time to visit Ohio?". Again, hope rose and I have more faith that we can rebuild our friendship.
In my overall plans to visit the east more often than this once a year crap so I have great hopes of seeing these people and other much more in the future.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Friday, September 12, 2008
In which our heroine tries to catch up
I know, it's been forever and I have had so many things to write about. So let's play a bit of catch up, shall we?
Camp was wonderful. I froze that first Tuesday before camp officially started, seriously! It went down to about 40F degrees. A tad chilly when one is tenting or in a cabin that has nothing but lumber and bad windows. For the first time I asked for a special exemption of a sort and tented somewhere that was technically off limits. It was so lovely. If I can find the cord that would allow me to download photos from my phone you'll see why I had to have this spot. Sure there was more noise from the bottling plant (did you know they like to back up trucks at 2:30a.m.?) but there were no neighbors, no one (except a chosen few) knew where I was, the view during daylight was gorgeous, plus it was shaded just enough that late afternoon naps were fabulous.
(Finally found the right cord with help from TGF, then struggled to download from phone, but success!) This was taken from inside the tent with my phone before napping in the late afternoon.
I danced more this year than in forever. Almost every night I danced at least a little, most nights a fair amount and several so much that I needed to do a lot of laundry. In addition I danced a lot with people that I never dance, in some cases because I thought I wasn't good enough to dance with them. Also I danced with a more men than usual - Gene B and Gene B (yes there are two of them, weird huh?), Shamou (I so need to buy some of his tunes!) and I waltzed which must have looked quite amusing as he is about two feet taller than me. No I am not exaggerating. John M and I had the best dance, sigh, he is dreamy. I have never danced with Blake because I thought he was outside of my realm with him being most a contact dancer (there are a lot of contact folks at Dance New England), but we had a blast together. Every year I dance with Ken (though I swear we missed each other somehow last year) and it's always so much fun and stretches me. This year was the same sweet, fun, slightly intense experience which took me new places.
I set a new record for hitting the tent: 4:30a.m. Twice that was the time I left the dining hall to head for sleep. Crazy I know but still good.
Other high points beside the dancing, of which there were many (oh but I cannot let it go without saying that Stark spun the most excellent set during the second week that still makes me smile):
- swimming in the lake with Carolyn "Num, num, num" Falk.
- receiving chocolate from my best pal Will
- getting a donut from Jacob, given with a smile
- hearing "shabat shalom" from Adam
- a great community meeting
- watching Spirit dance (yes that's his given name)
- the eyeful of stars that are on display every night
- being joyfully welcomed to the Peace Council committee
- meeting old and new friends
- getting time with baby Mojo
- the "Beach Party" at the waterfront
- excellent food, especially daily fresh baked bread!
- shopping at the store
- getting flowers left on my desk not once but twice!
I am certain I am forgetting a dozen or so other great memories but that gives a taste of why I love this place and the people.
Many more things to catch up on. Hopefully now that I started writing I can continue.
Camp was wonderful. I froze that first Tuesday before camp officially started, seriously! It went down to about 40F degrees. A tad chilly when one is tenting or in a cabin that has nothing but lumber and bad windows. For the first time I asked for a special exemption of a sort and tented somewhere that was technically off limits. It was so lovely. If I can find the cord that would allow me to download photos from my phone you'll see why I had to have this spot. Sure there was more noise from the bottling plant (did you know they like to back up trucks at 2:30a.m.?) but there were no neighbors, no one (except a chosen few) knew where I was, the view during daylight was gorgeous, plus it was shaded just enough that late afternoon naps were fabulous.
(Finally found the right cord with help from TGF, then struggled to download from phone, but success!) This was taken from inside the tent with my phone before napping in the late afternoon.
I danced more this year than in forever. Almost every night I danced at least a little, most nights a fair amount and several so much that I needed to do a lot of laundry. In addition I danced a lot with people that I never dance, in some cases because I thought I wasn't good enough to dance with them. Also I danced with a more men than usual - Gene B and Gene B (yes there are two of them, weird huh?), Shamou (I so need to buy some of his tunes!) and I waltzed which must have looked quite amusing as he is about two feet taller than me. No I am not exaggerating. John M and I had the best dance, sigh, he is dreamy. I have never danced with Blake because I thought he was outside of my realm with him being most a contact dancer (there are a lot of contact folks at Dance New England), but we had a blast together. Every year I dance with Ken (though I swear we missed each other somehow last year) and it's always so much fun and stretches me. This year was the same sweet, fun, slightly intense experience which took me new places.
I set a new record for hitting the tent: 4:30a.m. Twice that was the time I left the dining hall to head for sleep. Crazy I know but still good.
Other high points beside the dancing, of which there were many (oh but I cannot let it go without saying that Stark spun the most excellent set during the second week that still makes me smile):
- swimming in the lake with Carolyn "Num, num, num" Falk.
- receiving chocolate from my best pal Will
- getting a donut from Jacob, given with a smile
- hearing "shabat shalom" from Adam
- a great community meeting
- watching Spirit dance (yes that's his given name)
- the eyeful of stars that are on display every night
- being joyfully welcomed to the Peace Council committee
- meeting old and new friends
- getting time with baby Mojo
- the "Beach Party" at the waterfront
- excellent food, especially daily fresh baked bread!
- shopping at the store
- getting flowers left on my desk not once but twice!
I am certain I am forgetting a dozen or so other great memories but that gives a taste of why I love this place and the people.
Many more things to catch up on. Hopefully now that I started writing I can continue.
Friday, August 22, 2008
Delight
It's been a long few days here at Dance New England, very busy, a fair bit of drama, and lots of hugs. One of the things that I enjoy the most besides actually dancing is watching the people here move. Tonight, just a bit ago a passel of our young adults, most who have been mostly raised coming to camp, came to the dance. This is a new thing.
The teens and those "raised" in DNE often skip our dance or come further into the event when the pull of the rest of world has stopped calling us adults weird or they realize this is not a place they have pull away from everyone five or more years older than them drops away. It's the first full day here and here they were. Dancing, laughing in a rough circle. Working up a sweat as Rob, who just the other day stated he has been coming since he was kicking in the womb (true!), whipped off his shirt. How cool - dancing that hard, the ease of removal no big deal. The music changed from a techno kind of piece into a number from the Nutcracker and what happened is what often occurs when such a piece is thrown in - as if it was choreographed people elegantly drifted in to a ring that circumnavigated the room. The young adults joined, everyone became part of a whole, the music lifting everyone into one mind but many bodies playing with the notes differently but still unified in a directional flow.
Whoops and applause followed. As the music turned bluesy, a rich and thick rendition of the classic Summertime by Gershwin. It was beautiful but I had to write this image before it was gone, not erased but overlaid with the next hundred beautiful moments that could happen before I might write again. I started another entry two days that still has not seen the light of blog. It is after 2am and bed would make sense, but a stop at the dining hall might beckon, or perhaps not.
The teens and those "raised" in DNE often skip our dance or come further into the event when the pull of the rest of world has stopped calling us adults weird or they realize this is not a place they have pull away from everyone five or more years older than them drops away. It's the first full day here and here they were. Dancing, laughing in a rough circle. Working up a sweat as Rob, who just the other day stated he has been coming since he was kicking in the womb (true!), whipped off his shirt. How cool - dancing that hard, the ease of removal no big deal. The music changed from a techno kind of piece into a number from the Nutcracker and what happened is what often occurs when such a piece is thrown in - as if it was choreographed people elegantly drifted in to a ring that circumnavigated the room. The young adults joined, everyone became part of a whole, the music lifting everyone into one mind but many bodies playing with the notes differently but still unified in a directional flow.
Whoops and applause followed. As the music turned bluesy, a rich and thick rendition of the classic Summertime by Gershwin. It was beautiful but I had to write this image before it was gone, not erased but overlaid with the next hundred beautiful moments that could happen before I might write again. I started another entry two days that still has not seen the light of blog. It is after 2am and bed would make sense, but a stop at the dining hall might beckon, or perhaps not.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Little things can make all the difference
Catching up on Twitter this morning (I started this post days ago!)and found this was written on Sunday , (so glad I didn't miss this - made my sleepy rainy morning):
fortryll I swear @dharmawrites is one of the coolest people ever. Too bad Dayton OH is so far from DC!
fortryll I swear @dharmawrites is one of the coolest people ever. Too bad Dayton OH is so far from DC!
Sunday, August 10, 2008
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.
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.
Thursday, August 07, 2008
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.
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.
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
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.
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.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
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.
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.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
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.
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.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
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....
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....
Monday, July 07, 2008
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.
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.
Sunday, July 06, 2008
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.
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.
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
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.
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.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
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!
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!
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
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.
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.
Monday, June 23, 2008
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.
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.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
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.
Saturday, June 07, 2008
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 littl
e 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.
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 littl
e 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.
Monday, June 02, 2008
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.
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.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
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!
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!
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