Tuesday, December 22, 2009

Dear You,

You don't read this blog, thank the Heavens, but I will still say this: "Happy 41st Birthday." Sure it's not until the 27th, but really, enjoy.

RCL is someone who has been an inconsistant constant in my life for six years. I so adore him. He has seen me at my highest and has sadly had to endure my lowests. That said, I just love him. We had the perfect night the other eve. A dinner at my pal's restaraunt and then a most sublime concert, collectively serenaded by Robert Francis, my new favorite.

I really wanted to share him with you, because he's good, but maybe not quite good enough? He told me once that I possessed the "trump card." I questioned what that meant and he replied that it was my wit, charm and sense of humor, I had it all. Such a compliment, right? But alas, I still don't quite make the cut for this bloke. Attraction plays a big part in life and relationships and maybe that's where we, ahem, I fall short. Nevertheless, I so appreciate this man, about to be 41 years wise, for having dealt with and even enjoyed my silly company. If you know him, please don't tip him off to this post . . . if you don't, know that he is great. He helped me conquer heartache, even though he plows mine more than occasionally. He is a good soul. If only he would give himself a great gift this year . . . perhaps me? Or at least my companionship.

(weird post, eh)

Sorry, but this cyber template often doubles as my processing platform . . .

Monday, December 21, 2009

Reminders from Pema Chodron

1. No more struggle
Whatever arises, train again and again in seeing it for what it is. The innermost essence of mind is without bias. Things arise and things dissolve forever and ever. Whatever happens, we can look at it with a nonjudgmental attitude. This is the primary method for working with painful situations.

2. Using poison as medicine
When suffering arises, we breathe it in for everybody. This poison is not just our personal misfortune. It's our kinship with all living things, the seed of compassion and openness. Instead of pushing it away or running from it, we breathe in and connect with it fully. We do this with the wish that all of us could be free of suffering.

3. Regarding whatever arises as awakened energy
This reverses our habitual pattern of trying to avoid conflict, trying to smooth things out, trying to prove that pain is a mistake that would not exist in our lives if only we did the right things. This view encourages us to look at the charnel ground of our lives as the working basis for attaining enlightenment.

Excerpted from Three Methods for Working with Uncertainty, Pema Chödrön, Shambhala Sun, March 1997

Saturday, December 19, 2009

the speed of life

Today, like many other days, I felt baffled and perhaps even sad. But sadness has no place in my life, at least I would like to think that. I have people who love and adore me, who respect me, who enrich my daily presence and who simply move me; every day, each day. So why the frown, right? Yeah, I'm trying to wrap my brain around that too. Today I saw Mikey, as I have the pleasure most Saturdays. The menu for this morning's fast breaking was turkey bacon, a Fuji apple the size of a small child's head, and two hard boiled eggs, salted. The cuppa coffee Mikey presented me could not have tasted any better, and temperately sublime. So far, so good, yes? Yes

A man I consider to be a love of my life, on many complicated levels, left 2 compact discs for me to pick up from Fayes. Dated and titled, I couldn't wait to get home and download the music. One disc, a hand crafted mix appropriately titled "mixed bag." The other, a disc of many, many albums. One I already have, others all new. I love new music, old too, but new to me . . . it does feel like Christmas.

And then shopping, in my neighborhood. I found the very earring I was searching for for one of my best girlfriends. Score. Then, Creativity Explored. Wow, this place makes me want to be an artist, in whatever incarnation that might mean. I bought some art, some beautiful wrapping paper and cards so spectacular, they deserve frames. Check marks to the list.

Then laundry, finally! And the sweet company of Molly. She always knows just what to say and when. Her effervescence, her wit, her candor and wisdom make me want to breathe deep breaths. And when I'm with her, I do. We scrolled through an old photo album I found for her at Urban Ore. About half of the pictures had handwriting on the back telling us, the audience, where and when each photo was snapped. The snowy hiking adventure, however, was a trip without a date. Maybe diligent chronological mastery came later for this photographer. Maybe he was scrap-booking when the last roll got developed. Maybe from that point on, all snapshots got a name, a title or at least a location. I can't wait to see and read the stories that Mol will create for these people. She is a story teller, a crafter of time lines and histories. She is an author in real time who gives voice to stories not yet told nor imagined.

Then home. A rather soiled apartment can't house clean laundry. So, scrubbing, wiping, dusting and vacuuming only seemed fair. New sheets, a made bed, I could fall asleep now. But I won't. Tonight I get to see Kim and Ron. Tonight, the sadness that continues to shroud my head like a faint veil, will undoubtedly be lifted. We are going to see an old friend from high school. Past and present, I love when worlds and time lines collide.

And then this sadness, before Kim is even here, has been dissipated yet again. Perhaps momentarily, like my other sweet distractions. Words from Adam. Adam had open heart surgery about a month ago. His humor and his heart are fully intact. It's Adam, who has successfully, for years now, pulled me out of ruts; be they boy based/heartache, career trials and tribulations and plain old self loathing. He is my mentor. That's the word I use to describe him to people, because he is more than my friend, more than a supporter. A mentor, by definition is: "a wise and trusted counselor or teacher." These words ring true, but barely scratch the surface. I am working on compiling a book of Adam. It will include all the letters he has sent me over the years, the decorative discs of theme songs and anthems he sends my way. It will boast newspaper clippings, a ticket stub, a receipt and other papered trails of his teachings, his inspirational text and his creativity. It is, in some ways a reference book and someways a bible. How else could I interpret "The Book of Adam?" I so look forward to completing it, and making sure there are many blank pages to fill, as I have one constant in my life; mail from Adam.

So tonight, I will bid you adieu and say thank you. Thank you to those who showed up for me in more ways than one. Thank you for allowing me to show up and be with you too. Sadness comes and goes, and now it is gone . . . faster than the speed of . . . light.