precipitating events

Love, pretty things, soulfood

Trying to stay present. Soak in all of the glorious sensations of new love. Let go of my instinct to recoil when a man sings my praises. Silence the voices in my head ringing the warning bells of, that’s what they all say.

Somewhere deep down I’m confused as to why the beginnings are filled with eloquent soliloquies about how I’m an angel and so much of everything that they’ve ever wanted. The ends come riddled with stone cold projections about things that I have never been. We both know the truth, and it’s not their version of the story most of the time. But, I let go these days. Remember.

Today, the place that I live now.

Today, I dig claws into my reservoir of optimism, syphoned and over tapped some time ago. Just a woman naked under the full moon of lust. Dancing for heavy rains of abundant care. Prayers that this time, he really means it.

Tempering my heart with intentional inner dialogue: even if it doesn’t work out, I will be a better person for loving.

Just here, now, balanced on the edge of fear, attempting to translate this visceral feeling that somewhere between our mutual words of adulation is an incredibly viable promise of lasting love, and still, me, searching for words.

Living in incredible awe of you, of me, and the phenomenon of falling in love. Kissing good night my attempts to rationalize magic. I am so sorry for doing that to you.

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so what if he dies

Love, soulfood

The best thing that ever happened to me was that my grandmother, my best friend, my confidant, my hero, died when I was 19 years old.

I was gobsmacked by the reality that just like that poof your entire world can crumble. The person who I had ran earth shattering loving energy with since the moment I was born was gone.

I spent the next couple of years in chaos. Trying to find the meaning of life, trying to find a way out of my own pain, trying to find a way, period. Through sex, drugs, rock and roll… okay more like jam bands, and a baby. I decided that I would love harder. I would love bigger. I would not let things go unsaid. I wanted for my people to know that they were my people.

What I was really doing was trying to live with no regrets. Out of a hedonistic need to build pillars of “I did the best I could” around my shattered heart, in anticipation for the next heart break that was inevitable.

What I didn’t know at the time, was that I wasn’t strong enough to love like that. 
I allowed people to mistake my tenderness, my surrender to love, my willingness to stick things out as weakness. I allowed myself to be mistreated back into a place of shelter. A calloused place where I questioned the wisdom of my generous trust.

I lived in that place for years. There that I had no one to face but myself.

And then one day, this beautiful man floated into my life. His magnetism, is his own. He sucked me right in. Much to both of our surprise he was my soulmate. A mirror. A challenge. Embodiment of the pulse in my veins. My favorite person to be in the ring with. We did what you are supposed to do in a good relationship, we healed eachother. Well at least he healed me. Pealed away all of those layers of defense.

We have seen our share of bad days. Terrible days. Drag out, fetal position, rip your heart out days. But for everyone of those there was a repair that lasted ten times as long.

No walls. Honesty. Brutal often. A free exchange of being. Predictable, steadiness, presence.

And I lost him too.

The second best thing that ever happened to me was that I lost my best friend, my life partner, the father of my child. 

Ju and I are still in heated debate about my right to have not handled his sickness well. Debate about whether or not I was an asshole to a sick dying man that I put out on his ass. We may never resolve that debate. I may never stop being defensive about it. But, because there is no other way I’m going to lay down that sword. Instead, just saying this. I don’t have the capacity to be totally selfless. I held onto resentments. I felt sorry for myself. I didn’t handle it well. I was bad to you when I shouldn’t have been. And mostly I’m sorry to myself for all of the crippling guilt that I have held onto about that.

There I was, destroyed and somehow liberated. Like an inmate up for parole who wasn’t sure that she could actually live on the outside.

Thank you for that too. Alone. Wounded. Confused. That’s where I do my best internal work. This time that shit was deep, and I came out the other side as a profoundly better person.

Reminded that life is not about attachment to outcomes. It is about the moment, the process. Journey. Not destination. How many times I said it and finally life beat that shit into me. Adversity is the greatest teacher if you are open to the lesson.

As I embrace the fact that as time ticks on I will have the loss of many more to add onto the list of excruciating pain that I am grateful for. Reminded. I am made of water. Fluid. Accommodating. Moveable. Unable to be crushed, just displaced. Eventually reconfiguring, flowing through. Nothing more, nothing less. Just am in this form, on this earth, with these people until I’m, we’re not.

I think I might go ahead and do a couple of things with myself while I’m here.

 

 

 

Visiting Home

Love, soulfood

Every year because I’m nostalgic as shit, I sit down and write a birthday post. I reminisce about such and such and how it made me feel so and so. We all leave wide eyed, mouthing-over share much God damn. This year you got a taste of that, okay I huge whiff, but it wasn’t really reflective as much as it was let’s all cry for Reagon and her poor little crushed dreams. Sorry ‘bouts that, some days that’s the best I can do.

 

Last night after two cocktails (because I am astoundingly sober and legitimately have a ½ a drink limit) I was scrubbing away at my house as I often do reflecting on my adulthood. Trying to wrap my head around the fact that I’m t-w-e-n-t-y n-i-n-e. I know I know, just a baby. Which I’m sure will feel more true in another ten years. At the moment it feels like I’ve lived 1,000 life-times in the last ten years.

 

I’m not here to attest, another year wiser. Because though it’s cumulative, every year has been different. Each a new lesson. All cataloging themselves in my mental rolodex of this shit feels familiar. Let’s look at that a little closer shall we.

 

19- Grief and despair shape shift from week to week, weak to weaker.

 

20- Ignorance and determination are bed maidens, and sometimes they’re all you’ve got.

 

21- Love will fill craters of inconceivable depth. Hopeful innocence painted the most tender year of my life – Ever.

 

22- You are your mother’s daughter. Can’t and slow down quiver in your presence.

 

23- Ignorance is not bliss, girl. You keep your eyes wide open and steel your heart.

 

24- Loneliness is the most foreign, carcinogenic lump in a rejected throat. And still you will swallow.

 

25- Well I’ll be damned you are fucking physically beautiful. That’s yours. From you, for you. Guard that with your life.

 

26- Run. Explore. Quit. Just go. Eternal love holds your hand when you cross the street of change. You’re still strong and beautiful, that’s enough.

 

27- And you’ll be wrong, like you’ve been before. And you’ll be right, like you’ve been before. What you’re not great at is caution. And I don’t know that I want you to be.

 

28- Why hello love, my old friend. Intricately woven, the fibers sang family, finally. It was all I’ve ever wanted. I pulled that blanket up to my eyeballs and lay in that bed all year.

 

29- You are just a girl. A woman most days. You are not in control, but you wont stop grasping for stability. Balance there is hard. Love, sadness, power, grief, joy and there you are stuck to the side of the drain like a wad of fallen hair. It’s all swirling around you, hurling down the drain. Hey Mom look! It’s a tiny tornado.

 

I love a real storm, when everything falls silent, the sky turns purple, the flatness of distant rain hits your nose. It still finds me in the desert, I inhale deep and let out a thrilled- it feels like home. Watching, hell chasing tornados, is what you know. But don’t you forget that you are just a girl, and it’s undiscerning, vicious, lethal.

 

Twenty-nine, man, and only twenty-seven days in. I don’t know if I should sound the alarm, hide in my bathtub with a mattress pulled over my head or drag a chair out to the front lawn open a beer and take in the show.

 

“Jesus Christ, look, the crazy neighbor is out on the lawn again”.
Heard.