Welp.  Ain’t this a kick in the head?  Oxymoronic perhaps.  Yep, all that we ever had was exactly what we always wanted and what we need now is exactly what we never had.  Enter the spin…

Let me be real clear here.  I do not (repeat, do not) fully understand the state of the world right now.  I deeply bow to people far smarter than me in many regards during this very intriguing demand on our world & lives.  But, per usual, I have a quip or two.

There is so much we can get to know right now.  And none of it is unprecedented.   We made our intellectual, physical & emotional beds a long time ago.  Believe me, I am laying in mine.

The world is in constant motion, despite our never-ending and desperate grip to maintain its crazy cadence (oxy & moronic again).  A virus pandemic to be taken seriously, yes.  The real fear – though and I think — is the reality of facing ourselves.  No wonder we are all in a panic.

We had grown accustomed to two-click conversations and shorthand stories, short-of-ourselves.  We had become full-to-the-beast of our ugly and brilliant egos to remain distracted and scheduled and quick-with-answers.  This was the pace that had been set.  It had been the norm, and without it, we are discovering  ourselves lost and wandering within the silence.

This virus we are all fighting has been our dormant destiny, and the pressure that we feel against our chests and late-into-the-night is showing-up masked; it hides itself as a need to remedy the unknowns and to relieve intense stress and pain from ourselves and those who we love so dearly and deeply.  But the real squeeze had already been resting around our minds, bodies and hearts; its newly found strength does not have to suffocate us.  With some wisdom and courage, we can see what is really going on here and can learn how to breathe again.

Here is what is going on with me…

I have made quite the life of being alone – the kind that people tilt their head at.  They question the intensity to which I meditate, the extent to which I remain silent and the frequency to which I walk alone in the middle of the night.   This has been my output for quite some time.  What I had not fully recognized, however, was the input that was active on the other side of me.  The strength of my isolation had always been balanced with prevalent and repetitive connectivity. And now, under this new light and circumstances, my previous life equation feels unresolved and unbalanced…

busyness + a need to be needed + tasks + deadlines + clarity + outings + gyms + routines + happy hours + hugs + high fives + perceived freedom  =

an ability  to create, to be peaceful, to be grounded, to disconnect, to be silent, to be alone.

The things that had always added up now feel deconstructed.  So here I am, a person deemed a deep & quiet introvert, struggling in the midst of seemingly getting what I have always wanted and needed.  There is something for me to learn and to develop within myself if I can deconstruct the worry, the fear and the sadness that literally feels like its coming in waves against my intellect and intuition.  If I can hold the patience to reconstruct this at a deeper and far more integrated level, I just might be able to note the allegory the world is writing for me, and for all of us, right now.

Your life equations likely look and feel different than mine, but I am guessing they, too, have been disrupted.  It might be worth a thought, a recalculation. The moment we think we have it figured out, will very likely be the moment we don’t.  But, that might be right where our solution (a.k.a peace) lies.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I never know exactly when its demanding hint of colors will hit, but it is louder and more definite than anything I have ever known to resist.  It can break my heart open and unhinge the restraints of time.  It can get me pulled over and running toward its safety every time.

And every time– I can’t even.  I can’t even take in the beauty of its colors on the water, nor its uncandid reflection back into itself.  I can’t begin to understand how something so incredibly complicated can feel so desperately simple.

And then I can’t even-

believe that I am 43 years old.

I can’t believe that I live the life that I do.

I can’t fathom the fact that people around me are dwindling in age or within joy.

I can’t accept what he just said or what she just did.

(and quite honestly, I can’t appreciate what I just said or what I just did)

I can’t put rest to the sadness of losing of an uncle; the loneliness for a best friend is even worse.

The can’t-even canter of this conversation is (insert life).

But it (the sunrise) helps me. It gets me back to loving something that will be steady and ready enough to welcome me back into its every day.

Its equally stunning counterpart will lay my head down peacefully, no matter all the things I could not even.

 

Love is so lovely.  I have fallen-in more than a dozen times and divided by 4…

I fell in love in Adams Morgan once upon a time in my life.  We kissed in the Potomac and held hands on the Metro.  I grew fondly intellectual, over pizza and red wine. He made me salmon and I noted all the ways I would love beyond him…

I fell in love in Wash Park, CO & uninhibited in Larimer Square.  We hit the Rockies and circled the Red Rocks.  I widened my horizons, over screwdrivers and fried foods.  He made my house a mess and I noted all the ways I would stick out love with him…

I fell in love in New York City, under layers of deep friendship.  We teased out high school crushes and looks of adoration.  I stretched out my heart, over two shots of whiskey and wedding cake.  He let me let him go and I noted all the ways I would stay in love with him….

 

 

 

 

There are things that become like breathing, I think — things that once seemed so hard and now simply feel like waking up or drifting off to sleep.

My respiratory list includes, but is not limited to, the following:

  1.  6 miles at an 8:47 & 45-minute workouts at age 43.
  2. Coffee-in-hand presentations on no sleep.
  3. Good mornings & I love yous that resist a grumpy mood.
  4. Stops on the hill to note a sunset  (dinner can wait).
  5. Walks in moonlight and on ice.
  6. Ladders, roofs & ferris wheels.
  7. Giving worry & fear a hard no.
  8. Typing with long nails.
  9. Owning a cat.
  10. Loving everything I am….

I don’t twirl hair or bandwagon girl-energy.  I flip headlights on otherwise-silent roads and send lyrics to consider.  I dance at the best moments and offer humor at the worst. 

THIS. IS. HOW. I. BREATHE.  

While preaching ‘know thyself’ seems like the right thing to do, our identity might actually be craving some subjectivity.   The objective rules of the world should, at times, be met with a courage for sentience.  It might be the only chance we have to uncover our incandescent being.

Pennies cannot beg good luck, and well-kissed quarters won’t always transport wishes.   It is a harsh and beautiful truth;  rules, hopes and prayers don’t always enjoy the rollercoaster of life.  

No matter how well we believe we know ourselves and the circle of life, we are in constant motion and within change.  We are in between what we want and what is; we are intersected between what we need and what we can do.  We tilt, we whirl.

Our identity is infinite.  This just-almost-and-barely circle of our distinctive faith remains open to challenge & threat & objection.  Yet…we are perfectly balanced in agility & brightness and harmony to ride the ride.  We are luckily-destined to become separate and disembodied for the purpose of further knowing and greater healing.

We can discover ourselves in mystical retrograde, just as a ferris wheel changes directions. Moments of backward and opposite gesture are nothing more than an observation wheel into who and where we are at within this exact breath.