What is seen

A man sharing his orange slushy with a woman. An anxious mother followed my her young daughter, several paces back. The nervous boy, clearly from out of town, with his fanny pack up around the middle of his chest, cluched to his side. The endless stream of boys and girls in the first flushes of hormones, giggling off of eachother. Kids buying trinkets at the cheapo vendors in the atrium. Metro employees getting dinner before heading back to work and office workers getting dinner before heading back to an empty home. The pregnant young woman - a girl really, with her distracted boyfriend who is chattering away to someone on his cell phone. The two kids walking by with matching green casts on their right forearms. The improbably tense woman with her shoulders all scrunced up and hunched over, walking by with a Victoria's Secret bag on her arm, sexuality hidden. The teenaged boy with the hot pink hightops and beige checkered shorts buying some piece of cheap jewlery, thanking the vendor and walking off with his purchase - for a special someone perhaps? The hugely muscled man walkikng by, pulling his rolling backpack. The guys, too cool for school, lounging at their table, sunglasses on, hat askew just so. The toddler girl in the stroller in line infront of me, with her hair in twists and the biggest smile on her face, brining warmth and joy to all humanity around her. The military man with gray hair, holding the door open for the woman behind him, leading the man infront of me to hold the door for me, leading me to hold the door for the woman behind me. The old man with the pita pocket dinner reading the evening paper alone at his table. The large man who works at the novelty t-shirt booth, in his jean shorts and plaid multicolored shirt, ever so carefully refolding a pile of garishly colored tie dyed "I 'heart' DC" t-shirts as he answers questions for a group of boys about the merits of hats vs. hoodies. The young man, typing away on his phone, watching the world go by. The man who gets up and heads home.

On being present

I had a really deep, meaningfull group today. There was a time for me to really speak up and give voice to my emotion and to be seen, in the context of seeing another person. I felt really, really present, and felt that i could really be there for this other person. It was a really (i'm using "really" a lot here, yes?) meaningfull experience, and i'm quite happy to have experienced it. And the exceptionally cool thing was that my hips felt looser afterwards than i have ever felt them. Yay for good work!

Spring is coming

and I can't wait - can't wait to get out and run again, to bike to work, to keep windows open all day...

3/12/2008 Dream

I'm out in public in a crowd of people and this announcement come on that the olympic volleyball team will be playing a re-match, but that they must pay some amount of money for each play in the game. at which point George Bush comes on the loudspeaker to say that he'll start the process by giving all the money he has in his pockets to the volleyball team. I see him just over there on the sidewalk talking into a microphone, and see that pulls out a wad of bill and some loose change and puts them into an envelope. I know that i'm tasked with taking that money up to the whitehouse where there is an observer on the roof who will take the money and hold it. I go over and collect the money from him. as soon as he stops talking on the microphone, people start ignoring him, even though he's the president and people are walking right by him. we both start walking towards the whitehouse, and i make a comment to him that doesn't he remember me - i was in some parade of some sort. And then he's gone, and i arrive at the whitehouse and go through the check in process - i have to sign in on the official, ceremonial log. but it's taking me a long time, because i only have a fat red permanent marker to write with, and my handwriting is all childish. As I'm writing, someone makes a comment that I must be a republican, to which i reply - why would you think that? and they say that, i must be, because - look - I'm running an errand for George Bush! to which I say, no - i just have empathy and compassion for everyone. and the person says - everyone? and I say - everyone. and then i finish signing in, and we dash up the stairs - it's a race, really. there is a guard leading the way, and we're running higher and higher up the building, through working spaces, until we get to the final escalator to the attic - it's mostly archives up here - there are some workers doing something, but they mostly ignore me. and i'm running past the file cabinets to the final stairs that lead up to the very top of the building, and i see out of the corner of my eye a photographer steps out from behind the bookshelves to take my picture as I cross the "finish line", as if i'm performing a ceremonial duty that should be captured for posterity.

3/11/2008 Dream

I start at a mall, where i run into a coworker who happens to run into me. later i find myself at home - IH is there, and i'm in my bedroom and there is a strange person sitting up in my bed. He has on an HB Woodlawn t-shirt - my high school. i start talking to him and it sounds like he has had a lot of experiences similar to mine. but just as he's starting to talk about his t-shirt he gets up and is instantly replaced by a different person - but the setup is the same, as if i'm supposed to thing the person has not changed. the new person picks up the conversation in the same place as the old guy, and starts talking about HB as if he had gone there. but i grill him on it and it quickly becomes clear that he never went to HB, that it was a ruse to try to get me to be comfortable with him and to let my guard down. Then the co-worker from before shows up, and it becomes clear that he had subliminaly planted the seed in my mind when we were talking before that i had to be home at 6:30 - which i was. and it turns out that he's much smarted and clever than i had realized at work. it turns out that he's part of a group of people that have been watching me and monitoring me from a little ways off, but now it's time for them to come in closer and take a more hands on approach to monitoring me. i don't understand all this. then this guy goes into the bathroom and starts setting up the monitoring equipment - he's drilling holes in the floor and the walls to run cables and wires, and i'm getting frustrated that he's damaging my house. i see that a main bundle of wires in coming in from outside and being routed through the holes in the bathroom. i look out the window, and see the bundle of wires leading away from the house - only, they're not going to a normal telephone pole like any other wire - they're leading up into the sky - way up high and out of site. i have no idea how far up they go. and now i'm really worried about these people - they say they're here to help me, but they don't seem to really _see_ me. IH and i go downstairs to the dining room, and IH makes some sort of comment that distracts the two people for a moment, and i know i must get away. i tear off out of the room - through the door, through the kitchen, to the outside. it try to latch the door closed behind me, but it won't lock - i just suceed in slowing myself down. just as they guy bursts through the door after me i jump up onto a wheelbarrow type of thing and launch up into the air, and am suddenly gliding up off the ground - i glide up until i'm about 50 feet off the ground and then turn around and hang in the air and look down at the people - it's clear they don't have this power to come after me, and that i may be able to get away. i also have the power to reach down and pull IH up with me, which I do.

The bubble

At the end of my street is Hoffman-Boston Elementary School. Thirty two years ago I attended both nursery school and then Kindergarten from 1975 through 1980. I've been doing a lot of internal examination and exploration of myself over these past few years, and have just recently come to recognize the core thing I struggle with was with me from nursery school, if not earlier. How fortunate is it that I find myself living one block from this beginning? Is this the gift of my second marriage, to have led me to this neighborhood, to leave me here, by myself, to do this hard work? It was K who found this house, almost by accident, and it required my first marriage to dissolve so that I would need to move here. When the way forward is not clear, go back to the beginning. Go back as far as you can and sit there, look around, remember what it was like to be very young and to be in your own world.

I remember being two or three years old, attending Hoffman-Boston - going there for the mornings, and at some point transitioning to staying for both the morning and afternoon sessions. I remember being a quiet kid, keeping to myself. There were several "stations" in our classroom where a kid could learn to do things - like tying a shoe, or buttoning things, or zipping things up, or polishing silver (and what was that all about?). But the station I spent most of my time was the clay table - where there was grey clay you could play with. And I would spend all my time there.

I recall going to recess, and I had this game I would play. I had a belt that had a magnetic clasp, where if you twisted it a certain way, as if you were opening the clasp, it would make a clicking noise. So my game was that I was a secret agent or a spy of some sort, and I was on a mission. But if I were to get into trouble, I would make this clicking noise on my belt, which would be the signal for my friends to come running and rescue me. I had it in my mind that my friends all knew about this, and were in on the game, and I could see them over there, climbing on the jungle gym. So I clicked my belt. But of course, they were too far off to hear it, and I hadn't really told them about the game or the clicking belt. But in my world, I had, and they were part of the game. And of course they never came running to rescue me.

During snack time we would all to to the refrigerator and get milk to go with our snack. But I never liked chocolate milk, and for some reason that was all the classroom ever seemed to have, so I would have to run over to the main office refrigerator to get my plain milk, and run back to class. Now, the building our classroom was in must have been the original schoolhouse for the area - it's a small three or four room building. Over time the new school was built in a U shape around the old schoolhouse, but the two buildings were never connected, so to get to the main office you had to go outside, and into the other building. One day the class was going outside to have snack time. Everyone went out and down the hill to sit in a picnic. But I had to run to the office first to get my milk. Not wanting to be late and miss anything, I ran down the sidewalk connecting the two buildings. But I tripped on something, and fell, sliding on my hands and knees and getting pretty badly torn up.

From this early age I was creating my own world, all inside my head. I think I did this because the real world really didn't make sense to me, and no one seemed to be explaining it to me. In _my_ world, however, everything made sense. I was a part of a rich, vibrant reality. As I grew older, this reality stayed with me and served me well. When I was old enough to ride a bike, I would ride down to the park and spend hours playing in the stream or exploring in the woods, all by myself. I was never lonely, because in my reality I was never alone - I was always part of a larger universe.

I have a vivid memory of third grade - I was in math class, and was wearing a red plaid flannel shirt. And in my world, I was a lumberjack, and were it not for this class I had to take I would be doing my lumberjack duties down at the saw mill. I remember talking under my breath to the lumberjack dispatcher about how, as soon as I got out of class, I would come back to the saw mill and get back to work. I knew this was not real, but at the same time it was quite vivid and real.

This world I created for myself suited me quite well - it made sense and was a safe, fun place for me to be. And, as a child, my world paralleled quite nicely with the "real" child's world, so there really wasn't any real problem. However, as I grew older, I never left that world. The real child's world gradually became an adults world. But here I am, existing inside my child's world still. What this means to me is that in order to really "be" in the adult world, I must translate what I'm seeing and experiencing outside of this "bubble" I'm in, and recreate it inside of my world, because, you see, I'm the only real person inside of my world. This has been my place of existence, and for me to really be a part of the adult world, I find that I must take what I'm seeing outside the bubble, and recreate it inside the bubble, and then interact with this fiction I've created. Can you imagine how much work that is? Have you ever played the Telephone game, where a message is passed from one person to another and another and so on, and you realize that over time the message has become corrupted? What if you only interacted with the world through a game of telephone, where each interaction outside of the bubble passed through this prism - you'd be reacting to something that resembles reality, but isn't really.

From time to time I've been able to step outside off the bubble - to truly exist in the world. But I've never been able to stay there - I've always had to return to the bubble to survive. But now I can no longer stay in this place. I must come out and live in the world. If I am to have any chance at emotional survival, I must be born. And yet I fear leaving this world, this rich place where I feel most creative. I really feel the uniqueness of looking at the world through this prism, of seeings a little differently, from a different angle. I would like to bring that out of the bubble.

I've come back to the beginning. My house is a physical representation of the bubble - a rich, vibrant place where I am most often alone. And yet, I cannot stay here - I must move on. I have been brought back to the beginning, literally parked right outside of where it began, like a construction office trailer outside of a new building. A necessary to do work, but never meant to last.

I can see the bubble now. I can even feel the bubble. I can feel it clinging to me, this too large adult sitting in a child's world. I can feel the clingy fabric of that world press against me as I try to stand and stretch - I'm just too big for this world anymore.

When you're with me, and I don't really seem there - it's probably because I'm not. I'm in my world, and to be with you I have to make this real time translation between "out there" and "in here" - it's a lot of work! Anyone who has learned a new language might recall trying to carry a conversation on in that new language, only, you're not speaking Spanish in your head, you're speaking English. And you have to take those Spanish words, change them to English to understand what's been said, and then take your English words, translate them to Spanish and pass them back. That's an involved process!

I can feel the bubble. I can reach out and touch it, see the edges, feel what it's like to step outside, and feel what it's like to be inside and overwhelmed with translating. Sometimes I'm here with you, sometimes I'm just not able to be there. But I can see and feel that boundary now. And that's a new thing.

Did Harry Potter's adventures never happen...

Harry Potter is introduced to us as a tortured soul - his parents viciously murdered while he was a baby, left on the doorstep of his aunt and uncle who never wanted him, abused as a child by his uncle, hated by his aunt, tortured by his cousin. Forced to live in a closet, trapped as a creative soul, abandoned to the world.

So... what if everything that happens in all the books are Harry disassociating to an alarming degree - finding a safe place in his head where he has an identity, where he has power, where he is finally seen, where he has control over his life. I posit the following: Harry is still trapped under the stairs, kicked, abused, unseen, forgotten.

What if.

Checking in

For the first time in quite a long time i have a viseral feeling that i'm going to make it. The world begins to make sense in ways that are surprising and exciting. Which is not to say that there is not work left to be done... but... none the less, the mountain is not insurmountable, the journey is not impossible.

thoughts

My good friend KR gave me "The Tao of Pooh" by Benjamin Hoff to read - for some reason it had sat on my self for many months until he said that it's a quick read, which prompted me to crack it open. And, really, it's a great book which I highly recommend.

I found the following, which seems particularly apropos to where I am right now...

"In the story of the Ugly Duckling, when did the Ugly Duckling stop feeling Ugly? When he realized he was a Swan. Each of us has something Special, a Swan of some sort, hidden inside somewhere. But until we recognize that it's there, what can we do but splash around, treading water? The Wise are Who They Are. They work with what they've got and do what they can do.

There are things about ourselves that we need to get rid of; there are things we need to change. But at the same time, we do not need to be too desperate, too ruthless, too combative. Along the way to usefulness and happiness, many of those things will change themselves, and the others can be worked on as we go. The first thing we need to do is recognize and trust our own Inner Nature, and not lose sight of it. For within the Ugly Duckling is the Swan, inside the Bouncy Tigger is the Rescuer who knows the Way, and in each of us is something Special, and that we need to keep.

For a long time they looked at the river beneath them, saying nothing, and the river said nothing too, for it felt very quiet and peaceful on the summer afternoon.

"Tigger is all right really," said Piglet lazily.

"Of course he is," said Christopher Robin.

"Everybody is really," said Pooh. "That's what I think," said Pooh. "But I don't suppose I'm right," he said.

"Of course you are," said Christopher Robin."

1/31/2008 Dream

I'm lying in bed, and i wake up and realize that there is something amiss in the house.  i'm not sure what it is, but i think someone has broken in.  i get out of bed, go into my office and grab a wooden log that has been carved into a short bat.  i also grab a sledge hammer, and the go downstairs.  all seems quiet and still, but when i get into the kitchen i see that there is a little light peeking out under the basement door.  I open the door and see that the bathroom door at the foot of the stairs is closed, and light is coming out from under that door.  i quietly go down the stairs, with the bat in my left hand and the sledge hammer in my right.  i put my hand on the door handle, and, gathering my breath, pull the door open.

 

just on the other side of the door is a large threatening man, standing there without a shirt on.  behind him is his son, and looking to my right, down by the furnace, is the man's grandson - a small child who is playing around the push mower.  i call out to the child - be careful - the blades are sharp and you'll cut yourself - but he dosen't listen, and falls on the blades, cutting his chest and arms.  but i can't worry about him, because now i'm in battle with this intruder.  i swing the sledge hammer at him, hitting him in the chest, and then i slam the door closed again and lean against it so he can't get out.  somehow i manage to hold the door closed and open the door to the outside.  the, stealing my will, i pull the bathroom door open again and try to corral the man and his son out of the basement - out the door i just opened to the outside.  I'm eventually able to manuver them out, and i slam the door closed behind them.

 

looking around i try to figure out how they got in - i see that there is an old wooden porthole/panel that was long ago painted shut, but which they were able to pry open and crawl in through.

 

i try calling 911 to report the buglery and assult, but am not able to get them on the phone.  i go outside and into the street and happen to see a police officer driving by, and am able to flag them down.  They agree to take my statement and to do an investigation.  the start at the front of the house, at the place where the front yard borders the street - there is a guard shack of some sort there, and the intruders have left their tools there - evidence that they were trying to get into the guard shack first.

poetry is...

"To me, poetry is somebody standing up, so to speak, and saying, with as little concealment as possible, what it is for him or her to be on earth at this moment."

 -  Galway Kinnell

Arlington Dancing with the Stars

This is old news, but finally figured out the direct post options, so here I am! I'm dancing with Ingrid Morroy who is the Arlington Commissioner of Revenue. This is a charity event in a knock off of the real "Dancing with the Stars" show. We're dancing an East Coast Swing - earlier in the evening IH and I danced a Waltz, although I don't have video of that.

The Bowl

 

XSFJ

Sitting outside of group - wish i could write more interesting things. Feeling nervous about going in because i haven't told them about the engagement being off. And i'm realizing that when i think about being present it's usually about where i am with the relationship. And what i really want to know is where i am with myself. Where is my emotion at this moment... I keep hoping that if i do some external activity or trip or thing that i'll be present. That if i keep moving i'll find it... Maybe that's the wrong way to go about it for me.

1/8/08 Dream II

AL an i are going to go canoeing - she's going to meet me at the launch point, which is an hour drive south down the potomac. I get there first, later in the day on saturday and do the paperwork for the rental. At first the guy rents me a single seater, but i remind him i have someone joining me. It's now two hours before the place closes (7pm) and AL still hasn't shown up yet. I call her, and she says that she's on her way. Even though she dosen't say it, i realize that she rented her own canoe at the put in place up river, an hour drive away, and she's trying to canoe down to meet me. There is no way she will make it in time, and also she's going to end up in the wilderness after dark by herself with no provisions on the river. I try calling her back, but she has either turned her phone off or is out of cell reception. It is clear that she won't be here in time to use our reservation for tonight, so i cancel with the guy to the deak. Even though i just made the rental, the cancelation fee is $119 (out of the $200 original rental). This sucks, but has to be done. I keep calling and caling and finally ge through and ask her what she's doing? She says that she was going to paddle the entire way down, in fact was going to paddle the entire length of the potomac. I tell her that it took me an hour to drive here, so there's no way she's canoeing here by tonight. She didn't realize that.

PART II

Now AL and i are driving somewhere, but she needs to ship some stuff, so we stop at a UPS store and she goes in but i wait in the car. It takes her forever it seems, and traffic is getting worse and worse. Finally i drive off, just to get some movement because i'm tired of sitting and waiting. I drive down the road a bit, and traffic is pretty bad, but i manage to cut across and go into a residential neighborhood. I drive though there and come to a pedestrian bridge that goes back to the downtown place where the UPS store is. I get on a bike and ride back to the store, and call her on my cell on the way. When i arrive she comes out and is clearly distraught. The clerk comes out and explains that while she had said the cost from the store would be $5.50, there is an 80 pound box that she wants to ship, which costs $4.40 per pound, which ment the total cost was very expensive, and AL either didn't have the money for that or didn't want to spend that much. I ask what's in the box - it'ss audition videos and head shots to send to hollywood for her dream of acting. I realize that she can't stop her dream just because of this - i say, what if i pay for the shipping, even though i don't know if i can afford the cost either.

on being present

i'm sooo not ready for marriage - i have this completely skewed picture of what i expect marriage to be like. somehow my mind is using marriage as a place to just stop working at being present - expecting the marriage relationship to externallly cause being present to happen to me or for me. like after i get maried i can just let go and not have to work at that part. and, believe it or not, being present is _alot_ of work for me. i think i slip away very easily and that it's hard for me and the people around me to tell when i'm mentally and emotionally left the building.

i have this mental image of marriage as a bubble over me - when i slip away, it's like i'm vaporizing into a mist, and the bubble of marriage contains me in one place at least. and i think maybe what i've been looking for is a "perfect enough" marriage that is tight enough that this bubble is small enough that even though i've still atomized, the bubble is holding me tight rnough that it at least appears that i'm still there. that's the image of the marriage taking over being present that i have. and cheryl and i did an exercise where ahe got her face right up infront of my face to simulate being in that tight bubble. i mean, she was inches away. and it was great for maybe 30 seconds - i couldn't help but be present - it was impossible to disconnect. but it was impossible to see anything else either - it was complete tunnel vision. and it felt awful after 30 seconds. just miserable - because i completely lost myself f there was no mental or emotional room to move.

so - this is where my mind is about what marriage is. and i'm sooooo not ready to be married in that place. until i can have a better image of what marriage is - or rather, until i can keep doing the work myself, i'm not ready to be married.

1/18/08 Dream

At an informal restaurant and there is a woman my age sitting with me. She has tanned skin so her eyes stand out on her face with their brightnress - they're really quite striking and stunning - she's really quite georgous. And i'm talking to her and she says that because her eyesa are so stand out, it makes it even harder to tell people that she has a problem where her contacts pop out all the time because her eyes are a little oblong, which makes it hard for contacts to stay attached. Because people see her eyes as so striking, it's hard to tell them that many times she can't see because the contacts have come out and they're expensive to keep replacing. I'm thinking - well, can't you just tell people that you have this difficulty? And she's saying - for example - they just fell out now.

Winter Color

 

Next steps

Time to check in - IH and I called off the engagement so that we can step back and make sure the roots of the relationship are good and to make another stab at being present and true to ourselves while in an intimate relationship. I also have closure work to finish left over from A & K that I thought was done, but isn't.

1/9/08 Dream

It's winter and i'm visiting my old boy scout camp, which it at the top of a mountain. there is snow on the ground, and the path up the mountain is pretty rough from the winter. there is a park ranger type person driving up the path in an old WWII jeep, and he's trucking through the ruts and pot holes. i get to the top of the mountain and there is a developed area at the top - there's a gift shop and a trail outfitters (lands end actually) up here, and a very nice view of the lakes off in the distance.

And then I'm watching some sort of commercial for condoms, except that it's pretty explicit in showing how they work. and then there is a follow up commercial showing what happens if you don't use condoms - it's a sped up process showing the woman getting pregnant, then giving birth, and then it's my child i'm watching being born, and then he's a toddler, and i'm giving him some of my water from my water bottle, and then he's a preteen all of a sudden, and i say - hey - when did you get so big? and he just looks at me and says, "i don't know", and then he walks away.

Dark night of the soul

There is a woman that i love - her name is IH. I love her perhaps more than i have truly loved another woman. I am compatible with her in many ways and on many levels. I love to do things with her, from movies to dancing to running to watching tv to visiting with family to being with animals. We have deep difficult conversations. And i am afraid that i am trapped in the past, unable to move forward because of this link i have to these two past women to whom i had made an unbreakable commitment, and was then left by myself inside of this now empty covenant. How dare they just walk away and leave me to figure it all out?

I feel more viscerally alone tonight than i have ever felt before.

1/8/08 Dream

I'm in the backyard of a house that i believe is my own. i have the key to the house in my hand - it's an odd looking key, not like a normal key. my sister is with me as is Baxter, and we go for a walk through the neighborhood. I look up the hill and see a new housing development just over the ridge - they're huge houses - bigger than mega mansions. one of them is being maneuvered into place - i guess they're built off site and trucked in. but the person driving this new one into place is not very good at his job, because he keeps lurching forward, with the house all swaying about on the truck.

so my sister and baxter and i wander off down the neighborhood. we walk through all sorts of streets, and eventually make our way up the hill to the new development of houses. i see the one house that was lurching along, still in the middle of the street. most of these houses are unfinished, and the one that has people living in it doesn't really look complete. there are people in there, but they're all hanging out in a room right by the front door - they haven't really gone inside. it's like they're living outside of their house - and i can see that the inside is cavernous. the unfinished houses all have these massive four car garages right in the middle of the house - most of the houses don't have their shell on, so i can see the framing and into the core of the house. and these garages take up so much space, leaving this huge empty cavern inside. i have to really scramble and crawl up an embankment to get up to this place, and am eventually driven off by a construction worker who says that i don't belong here.

my sister and baxter and i keep walking, and eventually come to an upscale hotel - we walk through it, and it's all modern and fashionable and very quiet. we get to the workout room and go inside. there are a few people here working out. my sister finds one of the machines and tries it out, but i see that there are windows here with shades on them, and pull the shades aside to see if i can see where i am. i've let go of baxter and have set my backpack down and unpacked it a bit. i don't really settle down into a workout though. finally the manager returns to the room and says that we can't stay here if we're not guests, and that we have to leave.

because i had started to unpack, i'm awkwardly carrying my stuff now. my sister and baxter and i are trying to find our way back home, but i just can't find our way - i have they key to the house, but i don't know where i live! i'm sure that when i see my house i'll know i'm home, but i don't even really know what it looks like. i have the feeling that i'm one or two streets over from where i want to be, but these neighborhoods are confusing and the streets don't seem to go where i think they should.

i eventually come to a really tight neighborhood and realize that as i walk further into the street, it's turning into a house. and as i wander through i'm finally in someones house. there is an older mother type figure in the house - she's pretty quiet. we get to talking and she says that she used to break dance. i ask her if she still knows how to do this, and she says yes. i'm excited - i say, well, could you teach me? and she says yes. i'm not holding onto baxter at this point, and i'm not sure where my sister has gone. baxter gets into one of the closets and is rooting around and i have to go pull him out. it's time to go but i'm still in the kitchen for a moment, and someone from the woman's family walks through, and i make a comment about her teaching me to break dance, and the woman give me a look like i wasn't supposed to tell anyone else about her past history of dancing, because it's her secret and she hasn't told anyone.

Struggle

I put enormous weight on wedding vows - when I make a vow, it's forever. I make that vow in front of my family and friends - the elements that make up my core. Being divorced has put me in a place where I'm struggling to reconcile my unbreakable vow with a situation where those vows are impossible to fulfill. How can I walk away from an unbreakable vow and still maintain my integrity?

Warm days / the good, the bad, and the ugly

Perhaps the way to get started again is to just get started again.


This will be a year of transitions, and I'm afraid I'm not starting it very well.

and now my mind works very hard to shut this conversation down.
all the other things in the world that are much more pressing or interesting push their way forward
isn't there paying work to do?
the floors are clean. can't do that again.
and the laundry's in the wash, so that's done
perhaps i'll look out the window for a while?
maybe my eyes will just glaze over and i'll get stuck

so much has happened, so much is happening - lots good, some bad, some sad.
My grandmother passed away before thanksgiving after struggling for a short time with lung/bone cancer. That's the bad.

oh boy, let's shut down then! that would be fun
don't let the eyes focus!
look - is that dust and hair on the desk? must brush it off then! that's what we'll do!

fuck off brain.

maybe i should put the shower curtain in the wash?

fuck off brain.

the dance studio i worked for fired me for not coming back to teach a 2 hour dance while i was in maine helping to take care of my grandmother. That's the ugly.

pick at my hands, stare out the window

yeah. ok.
i got engaged :) That's the good :)

That's all i can do for now.

Maine sunset