part of a nutritious breakfast
two-thirty in the morning
and my gas tank will be empty soon
neon sign on the horizon
rubbing elbows with the moon…
~Ani DiFranco, Untouchable Face
Some things don’t change much.
After an interesting evening, I re-read this post from last August. Yeah, it’s still true for me.
So many thoughts…and yet it is time for bed. More to come tomorrow, methinks.
I woke up this morning feeling pretty darn satisfied. Life is.
Specific thoughts:
1. Last year at this time, I was still waking up most mornings feeling depressed. Porky’s little face greeted me and licked away my tears. Now, I’m still greeted by licks, but I’m smiling. I have a solid sense of my own efficacy.
2. I cleaned my whole apartment yesterday from top to bottom; it really needed it. I’ve noticed that I wasn’t upset or anxious that it was less-than-perfectly-clean for so many weeks. Before, I would have jumped out of my skin before I would have let it get so dusty. I think this means I’m more content with being an imperfect person.
3. There have been some things going on in my personal life that are patently uncool…but while sitting at work on Thursday, I thought of the jellyfish, moving along where the currents go, in a way being an embodiment of letting go and just living what happens…and that made me laugh about my circumstances, which, in truth, are not that big of a deal. I then remembered Pema Chodron’s teachings on “no big deal”…the good, the bad, the challenging, the infuriating, the delightful… all of it really being “no big deal”.
4. In addition, I woke up this morning remembering the advice I got from a pagan friend when I was dithering about leaving my husband. “You’re a Witch. Act like one.” It was exactly what I needed to hear way back then…and exactly what I needed to remember today.
So yeah. Life is…and that is good.
Da Capo
By Jane Hirshfield
Take the used-up heart like a pebble
and throw it far out.
Soon there is nothing left.
Soon the last ripple exhausts itself
in the weeds.
Returning home, slice carrots, onions, celery.
Glaze them in oil before adding
the lentils, water, and herbs.
Then the roasted chestnuts, a little pepper, the salt.
Finish with goat cheese and parsley. Eat.
You may do this, I tell you, it is permitted.
Begin again the story of your life.
As I learn to keep more still, to let life unfold instead of forcing certain happenings, I find myself freaking out every once in a while. Am I going to wake up ten years from now, regretting that I wasn’t more demanding, more inclined to force my way through situations? Is my attitude going to get me into some sort of unforeseen trouble? Will I wake up at 65 wondering what the fuck I did with my life, lamenting that turning point in my late twenties when I decided to stop running?
I guess I’m most concerned that I’ll wake up one day with large regrets…but that’s a worry that’s not really grounded in my own identity; it more closely describes the experiences of my family of origin, particularly my mother’s experiences. *I* don’t really have any regrets thus far, at least none that come blaring into my headspace right now. In my quiet moments, I’m not terribly tense about what the next few years will bring. Because of my upbringing, I relate constant tension to investment, particularly emotional investment. Thus, this lack of tension makes me my gut uneasy, and I wonder if I’m really getting the hang of having a healthy attitude, or if I’m somehow checking out and just not caring as much as I “should”.
I comfort myself with reminders that I’m a person who knows, in her heart, when big decisions need to be made, when life’s little irritations are truly large issues, when there really is a monster under the bed. I remind myself that I’m a girl who is covering a large distance with small steps. Thus far, my comforting statements are true. I think getting acquainted with my fear of the unknown is helping, too. Instead of grasping for something to give the illusion of security, I’m becoming better at just dealing with uncomfortable uncertainty.
So I guess, for me, the difference between this state of patient observation and my previous states of unhealthy settling is a freedom from obsession and attachment to outcomes. As soon as those words hit the page, I can think of at least 100 times in the last week that I was consumed with attachment and obsession… and that elicits a smile.
What fun it is to be a work in progress.
Let’s see…what’s been going on…
1. My last semester of grad school started this week.
2. I’m in Chicago this weekend to officiate a friend’s wedding…I can’t imagine anyone wanting me to make *anything* official, much less something as significant as a wedding…but my opinion doesn’t seem to hold much weight.
3. My current currency is poetry- I’m reading it, writing it, thinking about it, talking about it, reading verses aloud. Life is better this way.
4. I’ve released some old attachments, and that has allowed me to let go of some stubborn grudges. Again, life is better this way.
5. I’m cultivating fantastic friendships; I’ve also, quite accidentally, stepped into something decidedly romantic. Relations feel much healthier than this time one year ago.
I guess that’s enough for now. I should probably write out my thoughts on other important topics (i.e. health care reform) but I am really tired, so it will have to wait.
AUTOBIOGRAPHY IN FIVE SHORT CHAPTERS
by Portia Nelson
I
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk
I fall in.
I am lost … I am helpless.
It isn’t my fault.
It takes me forever to find a way out.
II
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don’t see it.
I fall in again.
I can’t believe I am in the same place
but, it isn’t my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.
III
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in … it’s a habit.
my eyes are open
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.
IV
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.
V
I walk down another street.
“Case in point: men should pay for the first date. I’m sure this angers some dudes. They’ll complain about how this isn’t fair. How, if women want true gender equality, they better start paying up. Basically, I fully expect plenty of guys to bitch and moan and complain. I cannot stand men who complain about women. I mean, sure, you can’t live with them, and you can’t live without them, amiright? But let me tell you, successful businessmen never complain about how hard it is to make money, they just do. Mountaineers don’t complain about the summit. Chuck Yeager didn’t complain about how high he had to fly. Likewise, it just isn’t manly to complain about women the way Augustus Gloop complains about not enough chocolate. This world is nothing without women. It would be an absolute flavorless, pointless void. Men don’t complain. We bravely endure, pursue, and woo.”
- John De Vore, Mind of Man: Who Should Pay for the First Date?
I just realized something gigantic.
Always falling for people who couldn’t commit/who were emotionally distant was *my* commitment issue- I used to do it because I was scared of a real, both-feet-in-for-both-parties relationship. A real relationship would require bona fide work, which is much harder than the drama of the chase.
Huh. Epiphanies- they sneak up on me sometimes.
Gentleman Suitor writes:
LOL
I used to work at a nightclub/ record store. Their motto was: our prices are high but our selection sucks & we’re not happy ’til your not happy.
I got the same feeling when I read your profile. your inner forces tearing at each other. past present future your hopes and dreams and definitely what is expected from you.
But you were able to get it all written in there so that shows some honesty
and you genuinely love that lil puppy, he is super cute too.
oh my question… Are you really serious about those age brackets you wrote?*
we because I’m curious now that I thought about you and your words.
I respond:
Sadly, you likening me to a metaphor in which my prices are high but my selection sucks doesn’t really endear me to you.
And yes, I am serious about the age brackets.
ToasterStrumpet
PS- You’d probably do better to leave the pseudo-romantic “your inner forces tearing at each other. past present future your hopes and dreams and definitely what is expected from you” out of your future emails to girls. You’re only going to get dumb chicks who fall for community college lit professors with that shit.
I don’t have the energy to pretend to be kind anymore. Soon, I’m going to cease being a person.
*- Gentleman Suitor is 39. I specify that I am not interested in men under the age of 28 or over the age of 34.
It has become apparent to me that this is not the point in my life during which I should hang onto that which is not working, be it an idea, a practice, or a relationship. Sentimentality isn’t getting the job done here- I need to radically assess what enhances my life, what detracts from it, and cut the fat so as to make room for better, more robust opportunities.
I need to be a better CEO; the ToasterStrumpet corporation deserves it.
On June 5th, I will have spent a year and a day as an independent gal. I can’t believe I made it this far. Pandora was right, though- it has changed me, moved me more toward center, planted my feet firmly on the ground.
The challenge has shifted, though, from one of abstaining through unhealthy desires to abstaining though already pretty damn whole. I would say for at least the first 9 months, my desire for a relationship was a desire to complete my self through another person. That desire was really strong, as it was extremely hard work to birth a solid, substantial me. Now, I feel pretty damn solid, pretty damn substantial…and I still have two more months to go. I feel this work is the capstone- I get to learn the meaning of fulfilling a vow to myself simply because I made it. It is the work of becoming a woman who keeps her word, especially when she’s promised something to herself.
This year has been a form of walking meditation- I am more present to each and every twinge and desire to lose myself in relationship, to build flying buttresses around my house of self, and even the occasional desire to build that self into a fortress instead of a home. The desire to wall myself off has been great, and I’ve had a few missteps, potentially confusing friendly faces with those that are not so friendly, and vice versa. Each triumph and tumble have helped me learn.
Right now, I’m focusing on tending my garden- making it a beautiful place, pulling the weeds, confident that eventually I will feel ready for visitors….but not yet. Not just yet. 
