Yes, that's an apt description.

 I Will Not Die an Unlived Life
by Dawna Markova

I will not die an unlived life.
I will not live in fear
of falling or catching fire.
I choose to inhabit my days,
to allow my living to open me,
to make me less afraid,
more accessible,
to loosen my heart
until it becomes a wing,
a torch, a promise.
I choose to risk my significance,
to live so that which came to me as seed
goes to the next as blossom,
and that which came to me as blossom,
goes on as fruit.


"I am groping to understand what it might mean to truly love my life, to find out who I am beyond the economic necessities of being a mind-for-hire.  I want to stop running from my own tiredness, from the fear that if I am not accomplishing something, I will disappear." ~Dawna Markova, I Will Not Die an Unlived Life:  Reclaiming Purpose and Passion 

Yup.  I'm right there with you, Dawna.

Self-Inflicted

Some rights reserved by BenSpark

Thorn's post from Wednesday is very timely for me. It has me thinking, not only about how I spend my days and my time, but also about how I talk to myself about it.  She writes,

"Without a sense of compassion, it is much more difficult to risk the mistakes that are necessary to our learning process...We have to come to comprehend that we may cause those around us to experience fear, or even pain. There is a cost to this desiring, but the cost for not pursuing our desires is even greater...Who are you to not step toward your destiny? Who are you to hide from the world?"

I've been noticing that I'm not giving enough time to myself. This noticing is not a calm, "Oh...huh!" kind of noticing; rather, it's a violent, "I hate that I'm always doing things I have to do!!!" and a "How lazy that you don't get up an hour earlier to write!", a noticing that feels like a knife-wielding temper tantrum. I fuss and then berate myself, not only for not taking care of my needs, but for fussing. Dare I say it? I'm violent toward myself. I don't extend compassion toward myself.

I can definitely see how this makes it next to impossible to create, to desire, to manifest authentically. I can see how it is way too risky to just let it flow because, well, later I'm likely to come crashing into my head-space, stomping and wildly thrashing, beating myself up.

Just noticing this, in this moment, is freeing up some of this energy. I can allow it to be real and imperfect and manifested- that is an option. Getting hurt in the process is possible, but it doesn't have to be self-flogging.

Huh.

Cold and Silence in the Early Dark

Some rights reserved by Leah Makin Photography

Today, in church, we talked of transience. After, during silent meditation, a vision: I was sitting, covered in crows, self as a bare-branched tree...until they all flew away, and I was both gone and free.

Gone and free. Just like that, the past is cast off, leaves in a strong wind.

Something is shifting and changing. I can feel a bit of me cracking, allowing room for expansion. The world is returning to the core, and as I follow suit, I find my core to have expanded in unimaginable ways.

More ready than ever to risk with the promise of transience, I can't hold onto...what? What I've loved? What I've despised? What I cherish and recoil from? I can't even hold onto myself, it seems. Best to just acknowledge and let it fall, loving each piece as it flies off to a more suitable environment.

Tonight, walking to work, I stopped to look at the dwindling light. Daylight savings is over, and another sort of savings begins...the saving of words, of heat. The keeping of silence and breath. In the expanding dark, a breath is a sigh of relief.

Some moments are best understood without words, though we do our best to describe them.

The Genius of Little Moments

Talking with Alex about relationships via Google chat:

Me:  you know, it can't be forced

i think it's just what you can stand, on a day to day basis, potentially forever

Alex:  haha probably about the wisest thing you can say about a relationship

Yearly Prayer

Some rights reserved by onkel_wart

 As we head into the season of slowing, I want to remind myself of what I hold dear, and what dearly holds me.

I wrote this poem last year, a response to a particularly moving class I was taking for my MLIS degree.  I think it's an appropriate prayer to repeat for this upcoming year...maybe it will become a yearly missive...and maybe my desires will change, as all changes with the touch of years and seasons.

Desire
or, A Prayer for a Well-Worn Life


Gimme gimme gimme
more tactile experiences,
more open, less closed, fewer back-alley heartaches.


I want what matters-
you know- glitter and shit.


I want to look you in the eye to see what's hiding.


World, please please please smack me in the face with
the breath and
the blood and the
bone of it.


I desire a bumpy ride with good conversation.
I'll take the good ones, but want to know the wicked ones better.
Traitors, start the line at my door.


I want to live sugar cubes and meatloaf and sassafras,
taste more poetry on my tongue,
touch the pupils of open, fearless eyes.


So life? You listening?

Bring it.

© 2009 L.M. Dziemiela

The Wedding

I officiated my second wedding this weekend, and it was just lovely. Though I do get stressed out about having a big part in a couple's big day, I still love doing the work.  There's no better feeling than a

I did shed a few tears during this ceremony; the bride's friend read the following poem in such a heartfelt way, and I couldn't help but get a bit misty-eyed:

Love
by Roy Croft


I love you,
Not only for what you are,
But for what I am
When I am with you.


I love you,
Not only for what
You have made of yourself,
But for what
You are making of me.
I love you
For the part of me
That you bring out;
I love you
For putting your hand
Into my heaped-up heart
And passing over
All the foolish, weak things
That you can’t help
Dimly seeing there,
And for drawing out
Into the light
All the beautiful belongings
That no one else had looked
Quite far enough to find.


I love you because you
Are helping me to make
Of the lumber of my life
Not a tavern
But a temple;
Out of the works
Of my every day
Not a reproach
But a song.


I love you
Because you have done
More than any creed
Could have done
To make me good
And more than any fate
Could have done
To make me happy.
You have done it
Without a touch,
Without a word,
Without a sign.
You have done it
By being yourself.
Perhaps that is what
Being a friend means,
After all.

To all that risk love and choose to see hope...make those temples grand and glorious!

In the best of circumstances...

“Love takes off masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within.” ~James Arthur Baldwin

If you want to be open...

It's been said to me, at least once, if you want to be open, be open. I think the same must go for being vulnerable.

It's so hard to just let things...happen. To really feel things, to really be present, to tell the truth even when it isn't pretty, even when it's going to hurt someone...most of all, when it's going to hurt you. It's a struggle to let enough of life in to be opened and changed, because opened and changed doesn't always mean feeling good. It means feeling real, which is not automatically feeling happy.

Math

I need a solution, not an equation- instead,
A breath, a kiss, a lingering twilight
Not concerned with addition, not fooled by subtraction.

Thoughts on Intimacy

An adult view of intimacy:  knowing oneself deeply, and allowing interactions with others to have depth without letting oneself be reworked/refashioned through the lens of another's perceptions.

Maybe this is the only way we can truly be in relationship with another...we first have to be in right relationship with self.

Life Earthquake

Everything has been shifting, and new opportunities are popping up all over the place.

I'm just trying to hold on and enjoy the ride right now. 

I think the Universe needs to hear me be grateful for once.

I just heard something pretty craptacular.  Instead of griping, I'm going to focus on what I'm grateful to have in my life.

Thank you thank you, Great Big World, for:

- my lil' dog- she brings me so much joy
- my full-time job, where I'm appreciated and allowed to expand and grow
- my roommate B, who is boombastic and really fantastic
- moonlit nights on the library campus
- people who tell it to me straight
- certain people that have been very cuddly as of late :)

Everything is swell.

Writing

I Said to Poetry
by Alice Walker


I said to Poetry: "I'm finished
with you."
Having to almost die
before some weird light
comes creeping through
is no fun.
"No thank you, Creation,
no muse need apply.
I'm out for good times--
at the very least,
some painless convention."

Poetry laid back
and played dead
until this morning.
I wasn't sad or anything,
only restless.

Poetry said: "You remember
the desert, and how glad you were
that you have an eye
to see it with? You remember
that, if ever so slightly?"
I said: "I didn't hear that.
Besides, it's five o'clock in the a.m.
I'm not getting up
in the dark
to talk to you."

Poetry said: "But think about the time
you saw the moon
over that small canyon
that you liked so much better
than the grand one--and how surprised you were
that the moonlight was green
and you still had
one good eye
to see it with

Think of that!"

"I'll join the church!" I said,
huffily, turning my face to the wall.
"I'll learn how to pray again!"

"Let me ask you," said Poetry.
"When you pray, what do you think
you'll see?"

Poetry had me.

"There's no paper
in this room," I said.
"And that new pen I bought
makes a funny noise."

"Bullshit," said Poetry.
"Bullshit," said I.


In the middle of the night I dreamed a poem about the Queen of Cups.  I don't remember much of it, just that her cup was fashioned from the salt of oceans and tears...yesterday, I wrote the beginning of a poem about the Queen of Swords, discussing the strength of the grass as it meets the scythe.  Lines are bumping out of me clumsily, while I brush my hair or do the dishes.  Lines are whispering in my ear while I fasten necklaces and put on rings.  They keep knocking, and I'm starting to write them down so I recognize them when they come to the door again, in another form.

I'm writing on a blog for the Unnamed Non-Profit and I'm also in charge of creating a blog for the library I'm working at part-time. I just wrote my second wedding ceremony, and I think it's quite good (and that's rare- I usually think my writing is rather banal.)  I'm also beginning the first stages of a children's book- S and I are going to collaborate on it, and I'm very excited.

I remember asking the Universe for more time to write. At the time, I assumed I would be writing poetry at 6am or midnight or whatever time the passionate and poetic sit down with their Muse for the Serious Business of Flowing Metaphor. Instead, my Muse hangs out behind my desk, likes Earl Grey Creme tea, reminds me to use fewer commas, pesters me to find upbeat facts about mental illness and encourages me to find interesting things to write about libraries. Yikes bikes! Still, it seems that this work has primed the pump; let's see what comes out, shall we?

I know it's Sunday because I've...

- woken up snuggling a little Yorkie
- made some coffee
- went to church
- had Earl Grey Creme tea while doing a crossword with B
- lit some honey amber incense
- watered the plants
- started some laundry
- answered some emails

I am now off to do yoga, change out laundry, and meditate for a while. Then, on to work.

Life is...life.

Harsh But True

"Sometimes when people get what they want, they realize how limited their dreams were." ~Joan Holloway

Where the Streets Have New Names

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.



I can't tell if T was a "I walk around it" pothole situation, or a "I fell in because it's a habit" pothole. Either way, I think I'm progressing toward walking down another street.

In the back of my mind, I still harbor the illusion that all this self reflection and personal work will yield an easier life. I'm starting to see how that isn't true, and how, instead, it's yielding a more flexible me to respond to an unpredictable and unstable life that is not always bad or good or easy or safe or hard or scary. It really just...*is*...and all this work is changing my responsibility toward it, in that it is changing my ability to respond.

Or something like that. :) Here's to eventually walking down a new street.

Taking the Opportune Moments

As I get older, it is easier to do the right thing for the right reasons and harder to do the right thing for the wrong reasons.

It's just...life is too short to spend time caring more about how I'm perceived than how I'm feeling. Yeah, I might not make everyone else happy anymore. Yeah, I might have to cut some ties and walk away from some reindeer games...

But ultimately? This is the ship I've been charged with sailing, and I'm going wear the shit out of my pirate hat. :P

Bizarre

I'm not sure why I feel more lonely now that I live with someone...but I do.

I think it's that whole "I'd rather be alone than lonely" thing.  I'm not yet used to having a roommate, I need to process, etc. etc.

Still, it's an unexpected feeling.

Tidbits and Snippets

What a bizarre week it's been. I'm still in limbo in so many ways.

I moved out of my apartment on Tuesday, spending most of the day with T, who didn't phone it in (as expected) but actually worked his ass off moving my stuff all day. When I did a final look at my empty apartment at 10:30pm, I actually teared up- it was disconcerting to leave that tiny little haven behind, so empty and white and hollow. It was also weird to say goodbye to T. Change is hard, even when it's a change for the better. I'm not sure why I mourned that night, but I did, feeling pain over letting go of that which couldn't/wouldn't serve me. I've outgrown a lot of things in my life, and it's time to leave those cocoons...but readiness doesn't necessarily make for an easy transition.

Since Tuesday, I've been staying with my gracious friend K and her cat, Bruce. I've been going to the gym and reading and napping and just generally taking a break. It's been lovely, aside from the allergy-med-induced insomnia. I even went to a laundromat for the first time in years; who knew old biddies could get so possessive about their dryers?

Yesterday, I had a long lunch with S at Spice Island Tea House. The food was delicious, the conversation intimate. I walked away feeling more sure-footed and rooted, which is exactly what I like about talks with S. It is very rare that nurturing is reciprocal.

Today, I'm going to work at the library until 7pm, and then most likely go shopping for some things that will be immediately necessary at the new apartment tomorrow. Hopefully tomorrow will include brunch and a smooth move into the new place. Keep your fingers crossed that I'll have a bed in my room on Sunday night!

You Can't Stop; I Can't Stay

I saw this in today's Sunday Secrets:

I really wanted it to be a statement about leaving T...but it isn't.  I remember being out with him once, early on in the relationship, the first time he got really drunk- he said that he didn't want to "bring me down with him".  I remember my reply was "Don't worry, you won't."

He's slowly but surely fucking his life up in many directions, that's for sure- and it's quite possible that he will sink.  But I'm not afraid of how I could be impacting that.  In a flight emergency, one has to properly secure their own oxygen mask before assisting others, right?  Well, I'm attending to that, and that translates to getting the fuck out and not fighting to get a mask on someone that doesn't want to breathe.  I can't force him into my lifeboat.

It is my job to make sure I take care of myself.  Amen and Blessed Be that I have learned that lesson well.

From Holy Hell to Holy

"I believe holy is what you do when there is nothing between your actions and the truth." - Staceyann Chin

"The world around you is being exchanged for things. For some of you, the days of your life are being exchanged for things. And still the hunger isn't satisfied. The desire still calls. The desire is deeper than wanting. And eventually you will know, deeply know, that it was not a thing that you hungered for, it was your own becoming. And it requires an entirely different process to feed that desire." - Cynthea Jones

I'm having a hard time distinguishing between hunger and true, life-changing desire. I'm not sure what I want. I'm not sure it's ok to relax where I'm at, to stop pushing myself toward something I'm not sure I want but that I'm told I should need.

Let me explain.

I just spent a lot of money on a master's degree, and I'm not working in my field. Well, that's not totally true. I am working part-time as a reference librarian, but I am not actively pursuing full-time library work. Why? Librarian positions in Pittsburgh are being cut right and left due to budgetary woes. In truth, Pittsburgh really isn't the place to be if you want to be a librarian.

But, I like Pittsburgh.

I applied for positions in other cities earlier this year, but I've stopped applying since I started my full-time position at Unnamed-Non-Profit. Frankly, I have precious little free-time now, and I don't want to spend it on lengthy application procedures for jobs I'm lukewarm about that are in cities I'm not really excited about. I'd rather spend my time enjoying how happy I am with my life, exactly as it is...and a big part of that happy is my current job.

So that's where I've been, emotionally. Then, two weeks ago, this peace was suddenly shattered by the idea that I'm not doing enough to get a full-time job as a librarian. I started hearing more and more from friends that have gotten positions and are moving to new states. I found out about a position open at the library I currently work at, but it was not advertised and only one part-time employee was considered (obviously not me). Currently, I am in a sudden funk, thinking that I should be looking for a job, any job, as a full-time librarian, that I might be deluding myself that I'm actually happy right now as is, that I'm going to never use my degree, that it's just fear and laziness that's keeping me in Pittsburgh.

Honestly, I'm 99% sure this is just a reaction to what I think I should want, what is good for the person I'm told I should be by that little voice in my head that is lead around by Want instead of Desire. I don't feel like I'm performing up to snuff, even though I am rather happy. For that voice in my head, happy is never enough.

Truth be told? I could be lead around the world by true Desire- by my calling, by a dream that had to be fulfilled. I would and will and do follow my bliss to the best of my ability. Do I think that being a librarian is my Desire, is a key to unlocking my passions and true calling? No. Do I feel that being a librarian is a key factor in following my bliss? No...in all honesty, no. Following my bliss, living my truth, has more to do with my spiritual life and practices, how I conduct myself, my relationships with others, etc. than it has to do with library science.

I'm doing my best to live what Staceyann Chin would call a holy life- I want authenticity and a connection between who I am and what I do. The person who would uproot herself from a city and community and a job she was happy with to pursue a position she needed to quiet demons in her own head? That's not the person I want to be.

And yet, I wonder if all of this is an elaborate justification.

Eventually the pendulum will swing back...

I'm a pretty harsh taskmaster.

I spent a good part of today berating myself for not getting up early to do pushups and situps and yoga. I spent a good part of yesterday telling my therapist about how I feel like a hypocrite for not living up to my own standards regarding relationships. Generally, I spend a good part of every day feeling like I should be doing more, producing more, getting farther, being kinder, arriving earlier, sleeping less, writing more...and the list goes on.

The problem? Well, aside from the anxiety, it's that I'm starting to bore myself. The dishes are always done and the bed is made and I've counted my calories I have it all together but all together is a freakin' snooze-fest. Perfectionism is stultifying and stagnating. Still, I know total chaos isn't much better...so what's a girl to do?

Balance is a bitch.

More Ink?

I can't believe I am saying this, but I am seriously contemplating getting a tattoo on my inner wrist that says the following:

"Is it true?
Is it kind?
Is it necessary?"

I was pretty certain that I was done with tattooing after my back piece...but this idea keeps floating around my head. I also want to get "Know Thyself" tattooed underneath my labyrinth.

I will sit on this idea for about a year, methinks. That's enough time to see if I seriously want to add anything to my body art.

After a patently poopy Wednesday...

I'm feeling better today.

Yesterday wasn't my best day. I had the beginnings of some sort of sinus infection/head cold/intolerable illness that gave me a mild fever and a horrible headache, and I also stumbled upon some news that reduced me to a little ball of green-eyed monster. I spent the day physically, mentally, and emotionally miserable.

Upside? The Physical: I got some rest, and I feel better today. The Mental/Emotional: I was very aware of the jealousy and really examined the thoughts that got me to that place. All this mindfulness work actually works- imagine that!

And, after the moment of understanding...

Five steps forward, five steps back. :/

And now, a bit of the over-personal rambling...

After dating for as long as I've been dating (15 years) I find it tempting to mentally create the perfect partner, to pine for a person who is the sum of all the qualities I can cherry-pick from previous partners. "Eventually, someone will show up that is as kind as _________ and as sexually adventurous as ____________ and as emotionally demonstrative as ___________ and as handsome as ____________ and as interested in spirituality as _______________" etc. etc. etc. and really? It doesn't work that way. Well, I truly hope it doesn't.

This post is sponsored by a very interesting conversation I had with S today over breakfast at Square Cafe*. She and I were having a long and deep conversation about romantic relationships, and she commented about how confident I am about what I deserve and who I want to be with romantically. My off-the-cuff response was that I learned to have high expectations of relationships after living with J...and I couldn't believe I said it, out loud, and that it was true...just as true as all the muck I had to wallow through to get out the other side of the long, dark tunnel of pain that was also our relationship.

Of course, there were many things that were non-optimal about the relationship...but there were good things, too. As with anyone, there were broken things and not-so-broken things and amazing, shiny things. To ignore any of it would be to not experience the full, bittersweet picture. In many ways, I will probably never have as good a partner as J...and in many ways, other partners will far surpass him. He is human, after all, just like me. I (like everyone else) am a piece of cake, a pie in the face, and all the stages in between.

I like my relationships this way. I like complex flavors, the depth created by some darkness, the moon peeking out from behind constantly moving clouds. To use a food metaphor: I find milk chocolate cloying; instead, I prefer the bitter of a good piece of dark chocolate. The taste encourages me stop and think; it gives me pause. I don't gobble it up right away because I want to taste all the nuances.

I think I would be bored to death if I found exactly what I was looking for in any area of my life. I also suspect that my sometimes-desire to find this Frankenstein Monster of Perfection is based in my fear that I won't be able to negotiate the choppy waters of Not Exactly What I Want. In truth, I'm pretty good at determining what differences I can tolerate, but I fear that I will end up somehow compromising on things that really matter, living in the dark tunnel instead of sometimes traveling through it, carrying out valuable lessons learned.

When I let go of that fear, I can see how exciting the unknown is, and how exciting each unknown person can be. What will I learn? What depth will be added to my character from our interactions? How will I be changed?

That last one is a biggie. Allowing myself to be changed...not just by another person, but by the living of life...that's sometimes hard. Who am I kidding, that's most-of-the-time hard. I have a sneaking suspicion that all of this fear is rooted in my denial of impermanence, specifically the impermanence of me, of this construction I call Self, of this shifting dance of I and me and mine. She changes everything She touches, and everything She touches changes...and that, to me, translates to groundlessness.

Scary? Exhilarating? Both?

Sweet Fancy Moses. Now there's the Work.



*Having said all of this, I think this post wasn't only prompted by my breakfast conversation but also by this post. It moved me to tears when I first read it, and has been on my mind for the past few days.

Movin' On Up...to Friendship

It appears that my time in the Hag Hole (aka my wee basement abode) is coming to a close- I have signed on a new apartment that I will be sharing with a friend, B. It is going to be more cost effective to live with another person, and I will have the added bonus of having a person around to talk to, make food with, watch the dog, etc. I feel positive about the change, though I must admit some anxiety about moving to a new place and discovering all the previously hidden potential problems (leaky faucets, crappy neighbors and the like).

In truth, it's time for me to get less literal in my quest to carve out space for myself. My Hermit year fast approaches, and it feels totally appropriate to make this transition now.

More on this later!

Take-away messages from last night:

1. If you don't want to do something, don't do it.

2. If you are upset, stop consuming alcohol.

3. Logical grievances appear ridiculous when aired while drinking.

Holy Shit, What a Quote!

Anaïs Nin blows my mind.

"I, with a deeper instinct, choose a man who compels my strength, who makes enormous demands on me, who does not doubt my courage or my toughness, who does not believe me naive or innocent, who has the courage to treat me like a woman." ~Anaïs Nin

A Good Therapist: Worth Her Weight in Gold

I saw Annie (my therapist) today after not seeing her for about a month. It was great to report that life is good and that I feel healthy and centered.

I must admit, I do feel pretty darn fantastic. Not a manic-fantastic, the type that comes on quickly and is usually centered around circumstances, but a deep-in-the-gut fantastic that feels more like acceptance and quiet joy. It's been two years since I started therapy, and my life has changed dramatically. Though it hasn't been easy, therapy has been one of the (if not *the*) most rewarding experiences of my life.

Anyways, I spent most of my therapy session thanking Annie for being with me during such an important time, and for never giving up on me. She has been such an important piece of all the work that I've been doing, work that probably wouldn't have progressed very far if I hadn't had her around, prodding me to look deeply into my shit. I will always look to her as a person whose presence in my life was pivotal and integral to my growth.

Huzzah, Annie! You rock, and have helped me to rock, too!

Rattling About In My Head

"Is there another destiny for you? Do you choose a road that will take you to a place foreign to your own becoming? This question is sincere, it is not meant to deceive. No matter which road you take, you will become; but all roads do not lead to your becoming. If you think they do, it is you, not I, who is given to deception. All of your roads will end in death. Not all roads lead to life." ~ Cynthea Jones, "Six Seeds" (Diana's Grove's 2010 April Mystery School packet, p. 4)

This quote is haunting me, and I know why. I'm trying to split my time between a road that leads to life and other roads. I would say I'm about 75% on the road I want to be on, and 25% of me is hanging out elsewhere. There's an obvious need to pause for an integrity assessment.

Heads Up!

Yes, I have pulled a disappearing act. I've been rather busy as of late, trying to juggle a brand-new full-time job (that's hosting it's annual conference next week, yikes!), a part-time job (wherein I work 8:30pm-midnight two weekdays and 6pm-midnight on Sunday), and a new relationship. Life is good and very, very busy.

So, if you miss me, shoot me an email. I probably miss you too! :)

A Proper Update

So, where to start. I guess I'll just start at the beginning, and when I come to the end, I'll stop.

Two Main Areas of Recent Change: Employment, Men-Folk

Employment:

I've been working part-time nights at a local university library, and I absolutely love it there. The environment is laid-back, my coworkers are awesome, and I'm gaining valuable experience in another academic environment. I can't say enough good things about working for this library.

I will be starting a full-time job on April 5th. No, it isn't a professional librarian position...or any position in a library. I will be working for a grassroots mental health advocacy organization as an administrator. Part of me feels weird that I finished a graduate degree in library science and am at another administration job...but to be fair, there are no professional librarian positions to be had in this fair city, employment has been difficult to obtain in other cities, and my heart is really set on staying in Pittsburgh. I feel really good about taking this position because 1) the organization seems interesting and the work is important 2) I will gain valuable non-profit administration and event planning experience, and 3) it's work I can feel good about at the end of the day. When I take my ego out of the equation, I am very pleased with how things turned out.

My overall plan is to keep working part-time for the library while working full-time, which will have me putting in 53 hours a week. This may be too exhausting (the library hours are pretty late) but I'm going to give it a shot, and hope that it is doable.

Menfolk:

After almost 2 years without any serious commitments to anyone, I have a boyfriend. Yes, people, I am exclusively dating someone. It is worth noting that I am not so freaked out by this change, as it is pretty sudden (we only dated for a little over a month before deciding to make it an official relationship) and we both have the normal sorts of baggage that people pick up in the "risking-loving-losing-loving again" game that is part of life as emotional and sexual beings. I suppose I just feel more stable now than I've ever felt before, and that stability is located inside of me instead of being buttressed from without. I'm confident that I'm going to keep to my boundaries and hold to my non-negotiables, and that also adds to my general feeling of calm.

So yeah...again, She changes everything She touches, and everything She touches changes...sometimes slowly, and sometimes faster than one expects. :P

Lou Andreas-Salomé on the nature of relationships...

"Whoever reaches into a rosebush may seize a handful of flowers; but no matter how many one holds, it's only a small portion of the whole. Nevertheless, a handful is enough to experience the nature of the flowers. Only if we refuse to reach into the bush, because we can't possibly seize all the flowers at once, or if we spread out our handful of roses as if it were the whole of the bush itself -- only then does it bloom apart from us, unknown to us, and we are left alone." - Lou Andreas-Salomé

Conscious Choice

Ask Much, The Voice Suggested
~ Jane Hirshfield, After ~

Ask much, the voice suggested, and I startled.
Feeling my body like the trembling body of a horse
tied to its tree while the strange noise
passes over its ears.
I who in extremity had always wanted less,
even of eating, of sleeping.
Agile, the voice did not speak again, but waited.
"Want more" --
a cure for longing I had not thought of.
But that is how it is with wells.
Whatever is taken refills to the steady level.
The voice agreed, though softly, to quiet the feet of the horse:
a cup taken out, a cup reappears; a bucketful taken, a bucket.




Some friendships are priceless, as they allow me to not only talk plainly about that which I am normally silent about, but also help build and expand upon my feelings and ideas, bringing coherence. My friendship with JH is one of those friendships. Talking on Monday night about moments of transition, moments that decide a path or a life, he used a metaphor that I really like: if one is riding a bike up a hill, coming to the crest, and needing to decide whether or not to continue down the other side of the hill, knowing the path would take off into the forest and most likely out of sight of the main road, what can be decided? It is possible to turn back at the crest, to ride back to the main road...but if one doesn't, if one continues down the path that leads out of sight of the pack, it can be done just because that's where the momentum leads...or it can be done with conscious choice.

This conversation couldn't have come at a better time. I've been feeling more than a bit alienated and lost lately- definitely like I'm off on a path through the forest. I can see down the hill in front of me, and I've been feeling like I couldn't do anything but just continue down the hill because the momentum was already carrying me down. Without thinking about my ability to choose, this ride was starting to feel overwhelming and scary. Thinking about choice, and remembering that I've been choosing this all along...well, it makes it less scary/more empowering. It reminds me of my purpose. I am hanging out in the air, reaching for the next trapeze bar, with purpose. I am choosing to grab the next bar, even though that means being suspended in the air, uncomfortable and uncertain.

Good friends and conscious choice for the win :)

She Changes Everything She Touches...

Post Reclaiming Initiation:

Everything feels different. It seems appropriate to move with that energy and to let old forms die. A new beginning, a new chapter, a new blog.