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.