“The world is full of people who are unconscious, who are half asleep, who are wandering around in a kind of automatic pilot mode without giving serious deep thought to the big issues in their lives. While we live in a society that entirely encourages this kind of behavior – you can’t turn on the TV without seeing soap operas full of people who aren’t exactly being very deep – we owe it to ourselves and our existence to go beyond that level of simply functioning into a realm of where we really relate with the higher forces that are actually all around us, even if we choose not to acknowledge their existence.”
~Jonathan Cainer’s Scorpio week-ahead forecast through June 1, 2008
I’ve often been accused of over-thinking, over-analyzing and over-questioning my life. But in all honesty, I know no other way. This has always been how I’ve processed my life, turning over every rock and exploring every avenue looking for answers and clues.
Even my coming-out process was atypical. Instead of whisking off with some other 20 year old, I was scouring the university library looking up articles for my journalism class. Yes, for me coming out was a semester-long research project filled with articles, interviews and discussions about being gay. I had to have some sort of framework to explain the feelings I’d had my whole life. I needed a context. (Oh, and I made an A on the project and in the class...and eventually did run off with a girl. ;-)
In the course of a conversation last week, I told my good friend Delvora that lately I’ve been asking the universe to gently “reveal what needs to be revealed and heal what needs to be healed, speaking to me in ways I cannot possibly misunderstand.” (These phrases are part of Unity prayers that have always resonated with me.) She pointed out that even in that prayer, I'm still seeking proof of Spirit’s presence in my life. She went on to question whether I’m really open and patient to let my life be revealed or whether I’m still trying to direct when and how those revelations occur. To her, the journey itself is being aware and then letting our experience transpire in its right and proper time. Because as she aptly pointed out, sometimes we are unable to see with clarity what we need in a particular moment, so only as we encounter the experience again, or in time, can we absorb the lessons and learning we need to move forward.
The more I've thought about that conversation, the more I know she's right. At times, I still fail to remember that there's really no separation. There's no distinction between the physical and spiritual realms. It's all the same. I believe we are infinite spiritual, energetic beings having a human experience. So in living in that continuum, all is right and perfect in every moment. I know what I need to know at this particular moment for where I am at this given time.
Much like with that research paper, I still seek context, looking for signs and metaphors to help give me clues about my life. Unlike at 20, however, I’m now more aware of my part in creating it all. I do look for external signs because they are, in part, what I’ve attracted to help me move forward and help me learn. But for me, the only real way to uncover the answers isn’t by looking out there. It’s by safely diving as far as I can below the external, physical world to reveal my truth. And the more I visit that space, the more I understand that it needs no context at all. For what I’ve found there is a free-flowing, ever-present, infinite love that abides within us all. And it goes far beyond any rationale explanation.
I’d always heard people talk about loving yourself. Over the years that’s meant a slew of things to me – from getting a pedicure and buying a new shirt to losing 20 pounds. I’d always equated loving myself as conceit or vanity because I viewed it from a very physical space. Upon discovering Unity, I began to understand that notion a little more, at least intellectually. In my mind, it made logical sense that if there was one universal, loving presence pervading everything then it also resided in me. Yet, there was a part of me that still wasn’t buying it. It sounded too la-la fairytale great. I didn’t know how to love me. I was great at dolling love out to others but what did that really mean…love me?
Over this weekend, I got the reminder I needed listening to Louise Hay’s “You Can Heal Your Life” audio book (I seemed to have jumped right over this little gem before, but I guess now is the time I'm to hear it ;-). I'm finally starting to understand how in my physical life, there is no separation between the Divine love that by default (or rather, by design) flows in me and the love I'm developing for Lara. It’s the same love. Divine love is Lara love. So in loving myself, it is loving the Divine.
As the meditation says, Ham Sa. I am that. I am…
It’s so simple, really. While I’ve been consciously doing this work for about a year now in my journey with the Institute of Subtle Energy Education, something really clicked for me yesterday. I now see that it is through the very act of questioning that I’m more fully uncovering love for myself. I do know how to love me. Everything I’m doing right now is about loving me. And in asking the questions, digging through my mulch and uncovering those shadowy places, I am revealing the life patterns and untruths that have been running my life.
Louise Hay talks about how as little babies, we are pure beings designed to let the world know we are here. We freely express our emotions because we will die if we don’t get love. Yet, somewhere along the way, we convince ourselves we can do without love. We are conditioned to believe what we hear around us and assume that as our truth.
I agree with her. I believe that as babies, we are pure spirit, totally unaware of our physicality. As we grow and develop, we lose touch with that spirit and in turn rely solely on our physicality to process our lives. We think we are just these packages. But we are so, so much more.
A few months ago, I put a three-month-old baby picture of myself on my refrigerator. I wanted the photo of that smiling Lara propped up with shag-looking 1970s pillows to serve as a reminder that I am a pure spirit, a blank slate of infinite possibility, an energy of love. I looked at that little round-faced baby Lara for a while but then in the franticness of my life, I stopped. I went right past her, got the milk and eggs and went about my day.
This morning, I stopped long enough to look at that picture and as I did tears welled in my eyes. That baby is still deep within me. For me, it is only in turning off the TV dramas, asking the deep questions and tuning into myself for the answers that I can return to that little baby Lara.
Standing there in front of my fridge this morning with the coffee I’d just poured, I smiled and thought, “how could I not love that little Lara?”
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Thursday, May 22, 2008
I Am Trying
My whole life, or so it seems, people have told me to relax. Just “go with the flow,” they’d say. To which I’d reply with a doubtful laugh and an, "Oh I know, I am trying."
In my mind this seemed like such a lame response. I really was trying to relax, but I didn’t know how. What did that mean really…to go with the flow? And how on earth did you really do it? In the same way people have marveled over the years at how my hair can be so naturally curly and red, I have been equally perplexed by other’s lackadaisical attitudes about life. You know those people we all want to be more like, who just never seem to get rattled by any of life’s twists and turns. They just continue floating right along, taking it all in stride. (My father is one of these people. I used to think he was just always high on coffee, which he probably was working so much, co-raising three kids and running a small pig farm just for fun. Turns out, I now understand that he’s a genuine roll-with-the-flow kind of guy.)
To me, the word, “try,” itself was a crutch. How, my left-brain wondered, could you try to do anything? You either did it or you didn’t. Could you try to pick up a pen? Try to put on a shirt? But maybe that was my problem in and of itself. Black. White. Right. Wrong. Good. Bad. This was how I had always lived my life, which, as I found, was really a hard way to process the world. It left me no gray space in which to float, roam, flow, relax. Rather, I wracked my brain trying to do it all. Trying to be "perfect." And trying to logically process every last detail of my experience.
According to Merriam Webster, the definition of “try” (in addition to the three legal ones) is: "to extract or clarify (as lard) by melting; and to make an effort to do something." Until now, I’d never associated my phrase of, “I am trying,” as melting or clarifying. I’d always thought of it as the second definition…making an effort.
Oftentimes though instead of living within life’s flow, all of my trying left me flailing about. In my own way, I really was trying. It’s just that I was getting nowhere. So that’s when I began trying a little harder. I began consciously dissolving that lard I no longer needed. I began extracting the corpulence that had kept me stuck. And it was only through that process of dissolving the lard that I could move on to smoother, calmer waters.
Over the past year, I feel like I’ve melted enough fat that one might think I would be shredded to merely bone and muscle. In fact, one night recently in the still, quiet space of my living room, I was having a huge trying moment. Thinking I was going mad, I text messaged my friend Julie Anne, asking how to push through this meltdown. Because in making such a huge effort to keep it all together in my little black-and-white boxes, I still didn’t fully comprehend the importance of such times. I viewed them as weakness. I felt a vulnerability and rawness to layers of myself I hadn’t been previously introduced to, nor did I really want to meet now. In her sweetness, Julie Anne simply replied, “well, what are you melting down?” Her response stopped me cold, and I laughed audibly. I had been completely unaware of my choice of words, yet that’s exactly what I was doing. I was trying.
For as uncomfortable as those moments of melting down are, they are the flow that carries us forward. For it is in the melting down that we are at our most vulnerable. We are forced into submission. There’s no choice but to give into the experience, to surrender. And it is in those delicious moments that we are most pregnable. We are the most open to the bounty of goodness the universe has to reveal to us, and it is then that we are truly swept into the flow of life.
So I say now in confidence and with a heart full of hope, love and gratitude. I am trying, damn it. I am trying my hardest.
In my mind this seemed like such a lame response. I really was trying to relax, but I didn’t know how. What did that mean really…to go with the flow? And how on earth did you really do it? In the same way people have marveled over the years at how my hair can be so naturally curly and red, I have been equally perplexed by other’s lackadaisical attitudes about life. You know those people we all want to be more like, who just never seem to get rattled by any of life’s twists and turns. They just continue floating right along, taking it all in stride. (My father is one of these people. I used to think he was just always high on coffee, which he probably was working so much, co-raising three kids and running a small pig farm just for fun. Turns out, I now understand that he’s a genuine roll-with-the-flow kind of guy.)
To me, the word, “try,” itself was a crutch. How, my left-brain wondered, could you try to do anything? You either did it or you didn’t. Could you try to pick up a pen? Try to put on a shirt? But maybe that was my problem in and of itself. Black. White. Right. Wrong. Good. Bad. This was how I had always lived my life, which, as I found, was really a hard way to process the world. It left me no gray space in which to float, roam, flow, relax. Rather, I wracked my brain trying to do it all. Trying to be "perfect." And trying to logically process every last detail of my experience.
According to Merriam Webster, the definition of “try” (in addition to the three legal ones) is: "to extract or clarify (as lard) by melting; and to make an effort to do something." Until now, I’d never associated my phrase of, “I am trying,” as melting or clarifying. I’d always thought of it as the second definition…making an effort.
Oftentimes though instead of living within life’s flow, all of my trying left me flailing about. In my own way, I really was trying. It’s just that I was getting nowhere. So that’s when I began trying a little harder. I began consciously dissolving that lard I no longer needed. I began extracting the corpulence that had kept me stuck. And it was only through that process of dissolving the lard that I could move on to smoother, calmer waters.
Over the past year, I feel like I’ve melted enough fat that one might think I would be shredded to merely bone and muscle. In fact, one night recently in the still, quiet space of my living room, I was having a huge trying moment. Thinking I was going mad, I text messaged my friend Julie Anne, asking how to push through this meltdown. Because in making such a huge effort to keep it all together in my little black-and-white boxes, I still didn’t fully comprehend the importance of such times. I viewed them as weakness. I felt a vulnerability and rawness to layers of myself I hadn’t been previously introduced to, nor did I really want to meet now. In her sweetness, Julie Anne simply replied, “well, what are you melting down?” Her response stopped me cold, and I laughed audibly. I had been completely unaware of my choice of words, yet that’s exactly what I was doing. I was trying.
For as uncomfortable as those moments of melting down are, they are the flow that carries us forward. For it is in the melting down that we are at our most vulnerable. We are forced into submission. There’s no choice but to give into the experience, to surrender. And it is in those delicious moments that we are most pregnable. We are the most open to the bounty of goodness the universe has to reveal to us, and it is then that we are truly swept into the flow of life.
So I say now in confidence and with a heart full of hope, love and gratitude. I am trying, damn it. I am trying my hardest.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Reaquainted
4.3.08
You’ve seen me around here before, haven’t you? Don’t I look familiar to you at all? Your face searches and scours. Maybe you’ve seen glimpses of me. Fleeting moments of recognition.
So tell me then, who are you?
I know. But do you? Underneath that mane of fiery curls and behind those emerald eyes. Who resides under that peachy skin and bright smile? Do you even know who you truly are?
Don’t shake your head. You do. Yes, yes. You do. You know much more than you think. I’ve watched you deny that well of knowing like so many other parts of yourself. Aspects fragmented by disillusionment of their separateness. When given permission, they blend into one masterfully orchestrated symphony. But at times like this all you hear is the clambering and squawking of the individual tones. The deep, dark droning of the bass’s loathing. The happy-yet-conditional chirps of the flute’s love. The strumming, melancholy undertones of the cello’s gratitude.
But come with me, now. Take a deep breath. Sink into the stillness.
Can you hear it now? The marriage of the instruments into one stream. The more you listen and trust, the more you will truly hear. Just as that unified crescendo marches toward fullness, you too are on your way. Swells and syncopations. Melodies and harmonies. Sharps and flats. Allegro and dolente.
But like any good score, it must unfold one movement at a time. Even through the key changes and periods of rest, you must trust that the cadence steadily moves forward. As you are learning, dearest one, it all adds to the fullness, the excitement. It’s your choice. Hear only the dissonance of solo instruments, or let the ensemble swallow you up and carry you.
Do you recognize me now? Do you sense me moving through the rhythm with you? For I am always here. I was the one witnessing the deliciously sweet sounds of your spirit before I ever saw the glow of your round face. And that is where you can find me now. So, take another look and tell me what you see. Under the beauty of your physicality. Look deeper.
Do you see me?
I am here. I am here in the music of you. Won’t you dance with me?
You’ve seen me around here before, haven’t you? Don’t I look familiar to you at all? Your face searches and scours. Maybe you’ve seen glimpses of me. Fleeting moments of recognition.
So tell me then, who are you?
I know. But do you? Underneath that mane of fiery curls and behind those emerald eyes. Who resides under that peachy skin and bright smile? Do you even know who you truly are?
Don’t shake your head. You do. Yes, yes. You do. You know much more than you think. I’ve watched you deny that well of knowing like so many other parts of yourself. Aspects fragmented by disillusionment of their separateness. When given permission, they blend into one masterfully orchestrated symphony. But at times like this all you hear is the clambering and squawking of the individual tones. The deep, dark droning of the bass’s loathing. The happy-yet-conditional chirps of the flute’s love. The strumming, melancholy undertones of the cello’s gratitude.
But come with me, now. Take a deep breath. Sink into the stillness.
Can you hear it now? The marriage of the instruments into one stream. The more you listen and trust, the more you will truly hear. Just as that unified crescendo marches toward fullness, you too are on your way. Swells and syncopations. Melodies and harmonies. Sharps and flats. Allegro and dolente.
But like any good score, it must unfold one movement at a time. Even through the key changes and periods of rest, you must trust that the cadence steadily moves forward. As you are learning, dearest one, it all adds to the fullness, the excitement. It’s your choice. Hear only the dissonance of solo instruments, or let the ensemble swallow you up and carry you.
Do you recognize me now? Do you sense me moving through the rhythm with you? For I am always here. I was the one witnessing the deliciously sweet sounds of your spirit before I ever saw the glow of your round face. And that is where you can find me now. So, take another look and tell me what you see. Under the beauty of your physicality. Look deeper.
Do you see me?
I am here. I am here in the music of you. Won’t you dance with me?
Just How Toxic Am I?
So last week I was browsing some web page and up pops an add for these detox foot patches. You've probably seen them on TV. The claim is that as you sleep toxins build up in your feet and by using a drawing agent, you can eliminate these at night. Hmm...really?
I scoured the page reading the testimonials, looking at the before-and-after pictures (which were pretty gross) and determined they weren't for me. So I closed the page, went about my online business and as I closed Firefox, I noticed a pop-up add...'Wait! Don't go yet!' it read. Then it proceeded to lure me into ordering a box of these Cleanse Patches for one low price of $29.99. Hmm...really? Well, OK.
So I fired off my order then eagerly waited for my patches, which arrived a few days later. That night, I slapped the detox patches on the soles of my feet with the adhesive stickers. I should have known these things were bullshit when I opened the box because they smelled exactly like mulch to me. (I absolutely abhor mulch. I remember when they'd mulch the flower beds at A&M and I be walking through campus with my friends trying to be cool. It was all I could do not to stop and puke.) Bypassing this little metaphor in the moment, I pulled on my cotton socks, said a prayer of gratitude for my day and life, then drifted off to sleep.
I woke up about 5:45 the next morning remembering why my feet were so hot and itchy. Excited, I pulled off the socks and patches. I got nothing. Nada. Not one little black patch. I just burst out laughing. "Well, I guess all that organic food I buy at Whole Foods is really paying off," I thought. "I'm not toxic!" ;-) Needless to say, I'm now testing this company's 60-day money back guarantee policy.
I tend to look for the metaphors in everything these days. So in looking at this very comical experiment, what I realized was that the only real way for me to detox is to continue moving down this path I'm on. For me, that's using my 'witchy' energy work to reframe the blueprints of my life. In other words, shift limiting beliefs and patterns at the subconscious level then clear that negative energy out of my system. I have been actively doing this level of work for the past year and the changes have been astounding. But that's a whole other series of blogs.
No doubt, I should detox from those late nights of merlot, sunny afternoons of margaritas or baskets of chips. I realize those toxins are pretty temporary, nothing a little lemon water and broccoli can't fix. It's those deeper toxins that really eat away at you. Those are the ones that make you truly sick. You know, the anger, guilt, fear, anxiety, and host of other negative emotions and beliefs we tend to hold onto, falsely believing that they are our truth.
I am well aware that this journey to cleanliness is a lifelong one, and once you begin, there's no turning back. I see now that it takes more than slapping on a foot patch and hoping my toxins disappear in my sleep. The only real way for me to move forward into the life I intend to create is to see and smell my own mulch at times. Acknowledge it, clean it up and move on. And over the past few months, I've done just that. It's not pretty, and trust me, it's certainly not easy. But in peeling off those hot, itchy, stinky patches, I'm finding a cleaner, purer, happier me underneath.
If nothing else, that little reminder was worth the $29.99.
I scoured the page reading the testimonials, looking at the before-and-after pictures (which were pretty gross) and determined they weren't for me. So I closed the page, went about my online business and as I closed Firefox, I noticed a pop-up add...'Wait! Don't go yet!' it read. Then it proceeded to lure me into ordering a box of these Cleanse Patches for one low price of $29.99. Hmm...really? Well, OK.
So I fired off my order then eagerly waited for my patches, which arrived a few days later. That night, I slapped the detox patches on the soles of my feet with the adhesive stickers. I should have known these things were bullshit when I opened the box because they smelled exactly like mulch to me. (I absolutely abhor mulch. I remember when they'd mulch the flower beds at A&M and I be walking through campus with my friends trying to be cool. It was all I could do not to stop and puke.) Bypassing this little metaphor in the moment, I pulled on my cotton socks, said a prayer of gratitude for my day and life, then drifted off to sleep.
I woke up about 5:45 the next morning remembering why my feet were so hot and itchy. Excited, I pulled off the socks and patches. I got nothing. Nada. Not one little black patch. I just burst out laughing. "Well, I guess all that organic food I buy at Whole Foods is really paying off," I thought. "I'm not toxic!" ;-) Needless to say, I'm now testing this company's 60-day money back guarantee policy.
I tend to look for the metaphors in everything these days. So in looking at this very comical experiment, what I realized was that the only real way for me to detox is to continue moving down this path I'm on. For me, that's using my 'witchy' energy work to reframe the blueprints of my life. In other words, shift limiting beliefs and patterns at the subconscious level then clear that negative energy out of my system. I have been actively doing this level of work for the past year and the changes have been astounding. But that's a whole other series of blogs.
No doubt, I should detox from those late nights of merlot, sunny afternoons of margaritas or baskets of chips. I realize those toxins are pretty temporary, nothing a little lemon water and broccoli can't fix. It's those deeper toxins that really eat away at you. Those are the ones that make you truly sick. You know, the anger, guilt, fear, anxiety, and host of other negative emotions and beliefs we tend to hold onto, falsely believing that they are our truth.
I am well aware that this journey to cleanliness is a lifelong one, and once you begin, there's no turning back. I see now that it takes more than slapping on a foot patch and hoping my toxins disappear in my sleep. The only real way for me to move forward into the life I intend to create is to see and smell my own mulch at times. Acknowledge it, clean it up and move on. And over the past few months, I've done just that. It's not pretty, and trust me, it's certainly not easy. But in peeling off those hot, itchy, stinky patches, I'm finding a cleaner, purer, happier me underneath.
If nothing else, that little reminder was worth the $29.99.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Shadow Dancing
3.13.08
Scouring the smoky dark bar, I could see the shadowy figures. Cocktails in one hand. Sometimes the free one held a cigarette. Sometimes it clutched a girl. Mine was shoved deep into my Levi’s pocket.
It’s so cliche, really. That whole notion of having no hand to hold. And for the first time in my adult life, I am experiencing it, which clearly speaks volumes about where I am. I’d say about 97 percent of the time, I’m great with that for I have even more capacity to grasp my freedom and seize new opportunities. Something I realize I love more than I ever thought possible.
But then there’s that fraction of time that doubt creeps in. Like tonight. Especially when you think about the last time you were in this same bar four months prior. Realizing one relationship was drawing to a close, and although I didn’t quite know it in that moment, another was on its heels. It was to be, that experience. And I am thankful for all of it, for I moved to new levels of understanding about myself. But moving through this journey called life, I’m beginning to realize, is really best summed up in that Bill Murray movie, ’Groundhog Day.’ Where you just keep replaying the same scenes over and over. Until the day you wake up. Truly wake up. And realize that there’s a reason people hate reruns. They’re boring and predictable.
After an hour of staring down a sea of lost faces (including that of my ex girlfriend’s ex girlfriend), I’d had more than enough. Options like these are enough to leave a lesbian contemplating the other, darker, straighter side. (But really, even nights like tonight couldn’t leave me that desperate.)
Instead, I realized it’s time to disappear into those shadows. Not those punctuated by the smoky haze. Rather, those dark places inside of me. Those crevices and hallways full of regret, anger, frustration, and fear. For so long, I have filled those spaces with alcohol, girlfriends, and any other distraction I could find. But, unlike four months ago, tonight I found my heart a little more jaded and my spirit a little more determined.
Determined not to emerge until I have brought myself up a bit further from the shadows, ready to let my light shine even brighter. Because for better or worse, this is my movie to produce. I’m not quite sure how it will end. But I do know this much: the smoke has cleared and my hand is enfolded in that of the girl’s brave enough to hold onto it.
Is It Just Me?
4.30.08
So is it just me or is there a sense of restlessness in the air? It's not uncommon that spring evokes this in me. Maybe it's everything in bloom that sets off a feeling that I, too, should be blooming in a very visible way. Eliminate that 10 pounds finally. Get a new wardrobe. I did, however, get new eyewear.
You know the game…I should be moving on to bigger, better, more fabulous things. I should but...I could but...if only…cause then I would...It's totally perverted, really. This merry-go-round of coulda, woulda, shoulda. (There was an episode of Sex and the City titled this, and of course it was hilarious, as they all are in my humble opinion. And p.s., the movie comes out in 31.5 days.)
But maybe it's not the springtime at all. Maybe it's because I am between two full moons in my sign of Scorpio. April 20 dawned the first one and the next May 20. This isn't entirely a blue moon, according to my very wise astrologer. Rather, it's a turbulent rise of anxiousness and confusion, followed by a sudden awareness of my power and sense of self. So maybe I'm just in that turbulent phase?
Or maybe it's really because for the first time in my adult life, I'm really, truly, very much single. In another word, a-l-o-n-e. No prospects, no 'friendly' friends, no dates, no girlfriends, no partners. This is by all measures most unusual for me. Shortly after I escaped the proverbial closet in 1995, I pretty much hitched up and have been that way off and on since. Even though I've technically been 'single' the better part of this past year (since leaving my 8.5-year committed partnership), I was one to always have her ducks lined up. So even if there were no real dating prospects in the picture, I'd cling to this false hope of making some relationship work.
And that's what I realize I have been doing most recently with the latest square peg I was trying to cram into a round hole. I can't even begin to elaborate on how old this is. Insert images here of an air mattress pump deflating an air mattress, sucking every last bit of air to leave only the flat plastic. Oh but don't be mistaken, I was happy to volunteer. It was kind of my thing to take on that role. Well, I see now the utter and complete insanity of my ways.
It occurred to me yesterday while humming to XM in the car that every song pretty much on the music scene for, well, God, eternity, is about love. Seeking love outside yourself. Letting someone else define you. Letting that love be your only reason for breathing, or dancing, or singing. Then having someone break your heart and make you want to kill him/her, or the person you got dumped for…or God forbid, yourself. In this quiet phase of singledom, I now realize the degree to which I have let my relationships define me.
I commented to my very intuitive friend, Julie Anne, last week about how I felt like nothing was going on for me right now. That I was restless. She reminded me that often when we can't see things happening externally, it's because great change is brewing underneath. So maybe it's really just a combination of lots of changes happening all at once. Yet nothing really distinctly palatable.
Right now, I see my life as a movie montage full of events, people, intuitive discoveries, and slap-me-upside-the-head realizations. (I wonder which song would be appropriate to cue here? I keep hearing "I Will Survive" everywhere I go lately...hmmm ;-)
And maybe it's just the cumulative effect of it all that is enough. I am certainly not where I was a year ago or even a month ago. I do see my life as being along a forward trajectory. It's just that in a world of instant gratification, it's hard not to get sucked into thinking the universe should deliver everything and everyone I want to appear in one click of a button. Although, I do realize that sometimes things do happen much faster than what my feeble mind is prepared to handle, which is why I'm learning to be very, very careful...and clear...these days about my intentions. ;-)
So really, maybe it's more like when a car tire is moving so fast, it actually looks as though it's moving very slow. Maybe that's it. Maybe Julie Anne is right. Maybe so much is changing so quickly my naked eye cannot even detect it. So maybe it is just me. And as strange as it is, I'm actually learning to like that concept.
Just. Me.
So is it just me or is there a sense of restlessness in the air? It's not uncommon that spring evokes this in me. Maybe it's everything in bloom that sets off a feeling that I, too, should be blooming in a very visible way. Eliminate that 10 pounds finally. Get a new wardrobe. I did, however, get new eyewear.
You know the game…I should be moving on to bigger, better, more fabulous things. I should but...I could but...if only…cause then I would...It's totally perverted, really. This merry-go-round of coulda, woulda, shoulda. (There was an episode of Sex and the City titled this, and of course it was hilarious, as they all are in my humble opinion. And p.s., the movie comes out in 31.5 days.)
But maybe it's not the springtime at all. Maybe it's because I am between two full moons in my sign of Scorpio. April 20 dawned the first one and the next May 20. This isn't entirely a blue moon, according to my very wise astrologer. Rather, it's a turbulent rise of anxiousness and confusion, followed by a sudden awareness of my power and sense of self. So maybe I'm just in that turbulent phase?
Or maybe it's really because for the first time in my adult life, I'm really, truly, very much single. In another word, a-l-o-n-e. No prospects, no 'friendly' friends, no dates, no girlfriends, no partners. This is by all measures most unusual for me. Shortly after I escaped the proverbial closet in 1995, I pretty much hitched up and have been that way off and on since. Even though I've technically been 'single' the better part of this past year (since leaving my 8.5-year committed partnership), I was one to always have her ducks lined up. So even if there were no real dating prospects in the picture, I'd cling to this false hope of making some relationship work.
And that's what I realize I have been doing most recently with the latest square peg I was trying to cram into a round hole. I can't even begin to elaborate on how old this is. Insert images here of an air mattress pump deflating an air mattress, sucking every last bit of air to leave only the flat plastic. Oh but don't be mistaken, I was happy to volunteer. It was kind of my thing to take on that role. Well, I see now the utter and complete insanity of my ways.
It occurred to me yesterday while humming to XM in the car that every song pretty much on the music scene for, well, God, eternity, is about love. Seeking love outside yourself. Letting someone else define you. Letting that love be your only reason for breathing, or dancing, or singing. Then having someone break your heart and make you want to kill him/her, or the person you got dumped for…or God forbid, yourself. In this quiet phase of singledom, I now realize the degree to which I have let my relationships define me.
I commented to my very intuitive friend, Julie Anne, last week about how I felt like nothing was going on for me right now. That I was restless. She reminded me that often when we can't see things happening externally, it's because great change is brewing underneath. So maybe it's really just a combination of lots of changes happening all at once. Yet nothing really distinctly palatable.
Right now, I see my life as a movie montage full of events, people, intuitive discoveries, and slap-me-upside-the-head realizations. (I wonder which song would be appropriate to cue here? I keep hearing "I Will Survive" everywhere I go lately...hmmm ;-)
And maybe it's just the cumulative effect of it all that is enough. I am certainly not where I was a year ago or even a month ago. I do see my life as being along a forward trajectory. It's just that in a world of instant gratification, it's hard not to get sucked into thinking the universe should deliver everything and everyone I want to appear in one click of a button. Although, I do realize that sometimes things do happen much faster than what my feeble mind is prepared to handle, which is why I'm learning to be very, very careful...and clear...these days about my intentions. ;-)
So really, maybe it's more like when a car tire is moving so fast, it actually looks as though it's moving very slow. Maybe that's it. Maybe Julie Anne is right. Maybe so much is changing so quickly my naked eye cannot even detect it. So maybe it is just me. And as strange as it is, I'm actually learning to like that concept.
Just. Me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
