Aubergine

tiny, powerful

I started this tiny journal on March 1, just a few days after Lisa and I decided to end our marriage.  I wanted to have a place to create some focus in the midst of the emotional turmoil that I knew I would be experiencing for a while.  I set an intention to write in it twice a day - once in the morning, before getting out of bed, and once in the evening before sleeping.  The morning would be about creation.  I remembered reading an interview with Elizabeth Gilbert a while back, and she talked about a journal she kept after the end of her marriage where she asked herself, over and over, "What do I really really want?"  The list changed every time she asked the question, but she began to see some patterns which allowed her to focus on the life she wanted to create for herself.  So each morning, I ask, "What do I really really want?" And then I list the 5 things that are most pressing for me right then.  In the evening, I record my gratitude - 5 things I was grateful for that day.  On bad days, this is really hard, but also when it is most needed.  It helps me to clear my mind of all the things I regret, or that didn't go the way I wanted, or that hurt, and take into my dreams only the things that brought me joy, or peace.  And I can always summon at least 5.  Sometimes there are many more.

I've filled about 2/3 of the book at this point, and last night I read through the whole thing from the beginning.  I haven't managed to write every single morning and evening, but I haven't missed very many days.  Some days I only do either morning or evening.  The creation list is on the left page, the gratitude list is on the right.  When I do record both morning and evening, it is interesting to see that sometimes the gratitudes directly relate to the morning intentions.  Some of the entries are cryptic, and I can't really remember the event or interaction that prompted them.  Some are strongly evocative of a particularly good or bad day.  There are definitely patterns forming.  I'm often grateful for sleep, for deep connections with several people who mean a lot to me, for finding and exercising my strength and authenticity, for books, for the times when I face something hard or scary and come out OK.  On the creation side, I long for simplicity, for the time and emotional space to move at my own fairly slow and introspective pace, for deep connections with good people, for feeling centered and grounded, for continuous growth, for the courage to set and maintain my own boundaries, for peace and joy.

I've been having a particularly hard week this week, drowning in sadness and feeling lost and lonely.  It has been a good week to re-connect with my little journal, refocus on what I want and what I am grateful for.  And it was good to read through the last couple of months of entries and find that I am following a steady path, even with all that is swirling around me.   And to remember that all I need I already have, right here inside of me.

vows

It is a Hindu wedding tradition for a bride to put red bangles on the day of her marriage, red being symbolic of life and joy.  If her husband dies, the bangles are broken and all other symbols of the marriage are removed. 

I put these red bangles on one day in January last year, when I was in Rishikesh, a quiet symbol of a vow to myself to find my joy again.

Today is the anniversary of a marriage that has ended, and my left finger no longer wears the symbolic reminder of those vows.  But I'm still seeking my joy.

when I didn't have my camera

You looked up and caught me watching you from across the table.  Your smile started in your eyes and then warmed your whole face like the sun coming out from behind a cloud.

I was in the back of a pickup truck with a group of volunteers just after dark on a cold, windy night, way out on an organic farm up the coast. There was a light shining on the clouds at the crest of the hill above the farm, like headlights from a giant's car.  It wavered and grew, teased by the clouds scudding along the hilltop.  As I sat there wondering about it, someone asked, "What's that light?"
"It's the full moon rising."

Driving back down the hill through a stand of eucalyptus trees, standing in the wind in the back of the truck, the moon has cleared the hilly horizon, but is hidden behind a small dense cloud, creating a bright white aura that we glimpse through the branches.  Just as we exit the tree tunnel, the moon breaks free, lights up the neighboring clouds, the sky, the hills that roll down toward the ocean, and our upturned faces.

She was sitting at the other end of the dining room table from me, energetically discussing divorce and the ethics and emotions of separating entwined lives.  The baby was nearly asleep, relaxed against her chest, spine softened into a deep C, the way only baby spines do.  One tiny hand was wrapped up in her long dark hair at her neck, and the other arm was flung around her in a hug, small head tucked in against her collar bones.  She supported him steadily with one strong arm crossed under his bottom and one hand on his back, fingers splayed to cover the breadth of his chest.

At the barn dance I'm standing near the fireplace, facing down the center aisle between two rows of dancers.  This dance involves the lead couple reeling down the line as part of the pattern, a complicated series of spins back and forth across the aisle with each other and each dancer in line from one end to the other.  A mother is carrying her young son in a piggy back ride for this dance, coupled with a man across the line.  When they reach the head position and start the reel, she doesn't set the boy down, but does the reel bent over to balance him all the way down the line.  When they reach the end she bounces to shift him higher on her back and pulls the his arms up over her head so that when she joins her partner's hands to form the arch for the next formation, the small family is joined for the rest of the dancers to pass under.

getting the blood moving

Because I was having a bit of trouble getting going this morning, I kickstarted myself by putting on some Nine Inch Nails and Tool (loud, because that's the only way you can listen to that music) and then dancing around the house. 

I woke up both cats.  Now they are both sitting in the middle of the floor in my room, looking balefully at me.  "Mama.  What the hell.  That's LOUD."

Look, you guys.  I'm the one with opposable thumbs around here, and I'll listen to the music loud if I want to.

turning away and toward

I have been finding it so hard recently to come to this portal and write about my life.  And yet, doing so seems somehow necessary.  But where to start?  Just start, my therapist would say.  And so.

I am getting divorced.  There is no way to ease into saying that.  There are sideways ways I could come to it and I have tried them all out in the seemingly endless times I have needed to announce this change in my life to all the people I interact with in all the different aspects of my life.  But it all boils down to that statement, whether I say the words, or I just see it dawning in the eyes of the person I'm talking to.  Divorced.  It is so final.  And yet not at all tidy.  It is the hardest thing I have had to face in my life thus far.  And I both do not want to talk about it and I need very much to talk about it.

Healing, I think, is a very personal journey.  And for me, healing requires talking and writing and painting my way through it.  And yet, dividing two lives that have been joined requires the healing of two people, and that means that I can not talk about my personal experience without involving hers.  And it feels unfair to write openly here about what for her is private.  But I will do my best to write my way through and also protect her privacy.

Elizabeth Gilbert wrote about this conflict a bit in her book Eat, Pray, Love, and I liked the way she handled it.  I have no interest in airing the disputes or the fights or the pained words, or creating a list of where we tried and where we failed and what was whose fault.  I'm interested now in healing and moving forward.  The decision is made, the marriage is over.  Now I have in front of me a whole big life, and I want to step into it.  With big, confident, brave strides.  I want to inhabit my life fully, all the way out the very edges.  Live bigger than I ever have before. 

In the last few weeks I have found that I am both reaching in and reaching out.  I seem to know intuitively what I need to heal, and the process feels so authentic that I'm surprised at myself.  I have gone through painful breakups before, and I dealt with them so differently.  I isolated myself and fell into deep depressions, I drank too much, I wound up in bed with people I didn't even like because I was lonely.  I just sort of expected that I'd walk some of that path again before I pulled myself out and moved on.  But I haven't been doing those things.  I have created a safe, soft, nurturing space for myself in my home, for when I need to retreat, but also I am reconnecting with people I have been out of touch with for far too long, as well as opening up and inviting new people with new energy into my life.  I realized how lonely I have been these last couple of years, and have simply decided to change it.  I have had hard conversations with Lisa and found my strength and courage and truth and words to express them. I have found a deep well of love for myself that has allowed me to hear the voices of doubt and fear and hurt, and hold them, then let them go.  I am letting myself see how people respond to me - with interest and respect and attraction and affection - and am slowly learning to trust that, not question it.  I'm letting people take care of me, and also feeling clear about how I need to take care of myself.  I am remembering what it feels like to fully inhabit my skin.  I am a sensual and curious and affectionate woman, and I have kept that strongly under wraps for years, for what I believed was the good of  my relationship.  But I lost a part of myself that way and now I'm finding her again, and I really missed her.  I am saying no when I need to, and feeling comfortable with my boundaries.  I am facing some big decisions in my life that are scary and daunting, but not allowing myself to feel pressured to make any decisions before I know completely what I want.   I am learning to trust my intuition and my ability to feel my way to the right decision and then to say it clearly.

Is this the balanced place that I always seem to be seeking?  Was I always just working to hard to find it, when all I really needed to do was make some space, be still and feel it?

9 true things about me and one lie

This is my 300th post to this blog.  Wow.  I know I haven't been posting a lot here lately, but I'm going to work on that.  I miss writing here.  I've been taking a writing class since January in the format of Natalie Goldberg's writing practice, and I'm having a lot of fun and getting more confident with my voice and style.  I'm also writing about a lot of personal stuff that I don't really want to post to the web, but some of it is stories that I would like to share.  So look forward to seeing more of that around here in the coming weeks.

For now, here's something fun.  Nine of these things are true, and one is completely made up.  Which one is the lie? 

1. I used to be a competition tap dancer.

2. When I was 18 I rebuilt the engine of my 1959 Chevy Bel Air.

3. I didn't learn how to walk until I was over a year old and rolled off the changing table, breaking my arm.  The next day I got up and walked across the room.

4. In fifth grade I played the saxophone in the school band, and later I switched to flute, but really I just wanted to learn to play the drums.

5. I only had 3 wisdom teeth.

6.  I used the train of the wedding gown that my grandmother made for my mother to make a corset that I wore under a red silk dress when I got married.

7. My first word was "cat."

8. From the age of 2 until I was 9 we lived "off the grid".  For some of that time we had no electricity.  We were on well water and disconnected from the city sewer and garbage systems.  We raised goats for milk and chickens for eggs and grew the bulk of our vegetables in our garden.

9. My first job was in the Morgan Hill Public Library when I was 15 1/2.  I worked there until I moved away for college.

10. I have a BA degree in fine art.

I found my daffodils...

In Highgate Cemetery East, where we spent a few lovely hours wandering around and taking pictures. We almost got locked in, though, which would not have been so lovely. Luckily we wandered back toward the front gate and one of the gardeners saw us and unlocked the gate so we could exit.

I wanted to see the West cemetery, which is even older and more overgrown (though parts of the East cemetery were so overgrown it is hard to think that's possible) but it is only open for guided tours, and only once on weekdays which was earlier than we arrived. Next trip...

The sun has held out nicely for us this week, and we have put off all the museums in favor of things we could do out of doors. Today it seems the rain will finally arrive, so to the Tate we go.

going down the list

I'm packing for a trip.  I'm procrastinating on packing more than I'm actually packing.  I'm very excited for the trip, for the destination, for the company, for the time away.  But I just.don't.want.to.pack.

Partly, I think, this is because I'm packing wintry clothes, because I am going somewhere cold (London) and outside my window it is SPRING!  I want to be in spring, not winter.  And I can't find my gloves. 

Back to it.  But this is what it looks like in my back yard, so you understand my distress:

Although the high temperature for the day we arrive is forecast to be 47 degrees F, I hope to find at least a few daffodils signaling English spring.  And I will try not to think about the additional 21 degrees of warmth that I'd be basking in at home.

Things I'm grateful for today

1. A yoga class that started in shavasana, and the teacher telling us, as we watched our breath, and I watched birds wheeling in the sky high above the skylight, that we have done our best.  Whatever is happening in our lives, we have done our best.  A truth I need to hold and which brought a few tears. Surrendering into uttanasana.  Feeling my warrior strength.

2. Plum trees along the roadsides that are frothing pink into spring.

3. Being courted for friendship (so nice to feel wanted) from someone whose company I so much enjoy. 

4. Hearing Natalie Goldberg's fierce way with words and writing.  What are you afraid of? What do you really mean to say? Go. 10 minutes.

5. The company of good women, talking about real, true things.  Being seen and heard and liked, just as I am.

I'm still here

I haven't forgotten this blog. I have some things going on in my life that I don't want to talk about here.  Not yet anyway.  Maybe later.

I've been housecleaning here today, updating books and music and photos and rearranging.  Poke around the sidebars for some new stuff.

I'll be back soon.