Introducing the 2016 Bucket List

Today is significant.  It marks the first day of spring.  It's a day spent looking to the growing light as a sign of good things to come.  It represents fertility, possibility, newness in everything.  And of course, it's gotten me thinking.

I've been talking a lot lately about bucket list items.  About things I want to do now, in the future, in my life.  About reasons I have not to do these things.

I am more free than I have ever been and (likely) will ever be at any other point in my life.  No family at home, no responsibilities and requirements and rules and expectations.  Nothing, really, to say that I can't.  Nothing other than fear.

But here's the thing about fear- I'm fucking sick of it.  It's been ruling my life, my decisions, my expectations for the better part of my existence.  In the biggest way at home and my whole concept of identity.  So many things I didn't do because I believed- in my core- that I just wasn't that girl.  Leave those things to the daring ones, the brave ones, the reckless ones.  Leave me here in my safe stability with my wise choices and rational decisions.  Safe.  Such a bullshit idea.

So I've come up with a new list- a new selection of activities that I hadn't thought of at the beginning of the year- my life hadn't been flipped completely upside down back then.  These things are things I want to happen now- before life goes where I can't see it going yet, before I end up in a completely different place again.

1) Run a full marathon.  The Philadelphia marathon, specifically.  I did the half marathon in 2014 and it was, at that time, the hardest and most rewarding experience of my life.  I can't think of a better time to do something so crazy and brave as double that.

2) Go to Martha's Vineyard and Greece.  Both are yoga retreats, both are relatively expensive, both have the potential to be life altering in the best way possible.  Part of me is still thinking the old thoughts: this is not what responsible people do.  They don't spend their savings on vacations when their entire financial future is the most uncertain it's ever been, when their home life gets torn apart and they're emotionally wrecked.  But the other part- the part that is becoming- says why the hell not?  What real, valid excuse do I have now?  So yeah- I'm going.  And it's going to be amazing.

3) Publish something.  Probably just an article, probably not the next great American novel.  But still- something.  Writing here everyday isn't enough.  I want people to read my writing.  I want all these experiences and epiphanies and revelations to mean something to others.  I want my voice to be heard.  So, yeah.

4)  Sing.  A friend of mine plays guitar and said recently that he and his friend were looking for someone to jam with them.  I've never sung in public before.  I've auditioned, maybe twice, for musicals but I never thought myself very good and therefore never pursued it.  I haven't suddenly come to the conclusion that I'm a world class singer and the the world needs to hear my voice, but I would like to try actually singing.  Even just at a coffee house, even just for a few songs.  Just because it's a fear that's kept me from ever trying it- and this list is all about staring my fears in the eye and going 'that's bullshit'.

5)  Live, actually, truly, like it's my last day on earth.  Say yes to all the stuff I used to always say no to.  Try foods I've been too scared to try, go to places I've been too scared to go to, hang out with people I'd normally dismiss.  Like I said, I feel like this is a significant time in my life.  I'm an adult, I have enough money and wherewithall to do what I actually want to do (whereas I could only dream about that stuff when I was younger) and I have nothing in my life that would prevent form trying all this stuff out.

Freedom means nothing to lose, right?  Well after such a life-changing loss I am free.  And I'm going to act like it.

Lakshmi

Last fall I did a circle that asked us about authentic abundance.  We were told to look at our lives, how we lived them, what we spent our time/money/effort on.  And we were asked whether or not that matched what was truly important to us.

I thought about my home- the sterile environment where we watched tv more than anything else, the layout of the livingroom where that and the couch were the only things that stood out- no books, no color, no me.

I thought about my time- the bulk of it spent sitting in traffic while driving back and forth twice a day, everyday.  I thought about that feeling of being trapped in a car and being powerless to do anything about it.

I thought about my spirituality.  All these new ideas and beliefs changing my life, turning me into a better person, a better version of myself.  And I thought about how hard I had to work to hide that everyday.

It was one of those moments where things were illuminated clearly.  I couldn't ignore or deny anything.  I could, and did, believe I could change it while still keeping my life mostly as was, without disrupting everything.  I believed life could change in only the ways I wanted it to.

Now, on the other side of everything, things look very different.  I look at my home- or the apartment I'm slowly, gradually turning into home- and I see books and games and pictures and color.  I see a space where friends come over all the time for conversation and genuine connection.  I look at a space that is me in almost every way I can make it me.

I look at my time- walking back and forth to work, to yoga, to karate, to everywhere.  I look at the fact that I literally haven't touched my car in three days because i'm waling everywhere.  I look at the sun and the sky and the trees and the people walking their dogs down the street.  I look at how much I'm doing to take better care of the earth and I feel significantly better about myself as a human because of that.

I look at my spirituality.  Not only time spent engaged in circle, ritual, meditation, prayer, all of it.  But also at all the conversations I'm having every single day with people who see me and love me more because of all this.  How I'm literally wearing my beliefs on my sleeve and getting understanding and appreciation and respect for it.  How I'm not hiding, at all.

And I'm not saying that the heartache is gone, or that I won't be destroyed- possibly even tomorrow- by a memory or a doubt or fear that could floor me.  But I am saying that just for this moment it's kind-of nice to realize that so much of my life is more me.  It makes me think I might be on the right track with all this.    

The Letter

She'd handwritten the whole thing just because it felt wrong not to.  It ended up being a lot shorter than she'd thought or wanted.  Apparently polishing off an entire bottle of wine by herself wasn't the best way to finally get over the hump and finish the damned thing.  Though she had finished it, and in the end she consoled herself that was enough.

She walked to the post office, grasping it in her hand, feeling her feet hitting the pavement and her heart beating out of her chest.  She could have just driven there- it would have taken her a third of the time.  But for the same reasons she couldn't type the letter she couldn't drive to the post office. This was a declaration, a decision, a powerful, important moment.  This meant something.

She held the folded paper and ink and stamped envelope up to the slot and paused.  For a second, the fear returned.  Words like "wrong" and feelings like fer and pain jumped to the surface.  Another one of those moments in an endless seas of moments lately that felt unreal.  Life didn't work like that- like this.

But she took a breath, pushed her feet into the ground beneath her and shoved her hand forward.  The letter slid into the slot and stuck, the tilt too great for it to topple over into the bin.  She pushed her fingers, hugging the lip with her pads.  The letter slid forward and down.  And it was done.

She breathed out, swaying slightly on her ever-so-firm feet.  It was a moment, no denying it.  It was a benchmark that would stand out in her story.  It was a letter.  And it was mailed.

Distraction

A friend recently reminded me that life can't be all self improvement.  All this conscious focusing on changing myself, not reacting to things the way I always do, catching myself feeling so damned sorry for myself I can scream and not giving into it is exhausting.  And perhaps there's nothing wrong with sitting on my ass, drinking a glass of wine and watching tv.

Bed

I've always slept alone, when I really think about it.  Sure, there'd be the mornings where I'd wake up and you'd be there- but it wasn't really what they mean when they say that.  Mornings are made for teeth-brushing and coffee making and dog walking.  Not lounging, and snuggling and sharing tales about the day.  And the kissing goodnight routine didn't make up for that.  Most nights, there wasn't even a ritual to goodnight- too tired, too dead to snuggle or kiss or talk.  So sleeping alone now isn't nearly as large of an adjustment as I thought it'd be.

In fact, it's better.  Because my furry little companion, my Buddy, sleeps with me now.  No longer confined to his little house where he'd sit alone trying to find comfort in the blankets left for him there he can now roam freely on that large, soft bed.  He comes and goes freely, without fear of being on furniture he's not allowed on, of tainting anything with his allergen-producing scent.  And when it comes time to turn out the lights he snuggles up next to me, his tiny little body warm and comforted by my shape and the covers he can freely settle into.  So really, when you think about it, I'm less alone now than I was before.

The Walk

One foot in front of the other, that's what they say.  Without destination, without regard for the end- just treading the path.  Step, breathe, walk.  One foot in front of the other.

But that itself isn't enough.  We need more.  We need to enjoy the journey.  Revel in being lost, take in the view, soak it all in.  To truly walk, to truly be on the path, we have to let go of the walking and tap into being.

They say they're simple steps, much like the instructions for walking.  Notice the body as it moves- the muscles tensing and releasing, the bones holding us up, the heart pumping, the lungs pulling and pushing air, the swing of the arms and sway of the hips.  Go inside.

Notice the air around you- the scent, the temperature, the density.  Stop and smell the roses, feel he air, listen to the birdsong.  Bring the attention and focus back to the simple cues.  Notice when the mind has drifted and bring it back.

Notice the change- whether internal of external- it makes no difference.  Simply becoming aware of it when it happens is what opens the door to a greater understanding,  increased awareness, different steps.

The destination doesn't matter because there is no destination.  You can't follow instructions.  You can't plan it out.  You just have to walk.
                                                                                                                                                                    

Grief Follows

I recently saw a horror movie called "It Follows".  It's an interesting premise- a sexually transmitted demon (you'll never look at STDs the same way) terrorizes a young girl after an ill-advised tryst with a guy she doesn't know all that well.  The demon can only catch her (and kill her) if she stops moving- so long as she keeps going it moves slowly enough that it can't get her.  If/when it does, she's dead.  Game over.

This seems to work the same way.  When I'm moving- working, stressing about the minute details of reality, keeping up with the demands of daily life- I'm ok.  Genuinely ok.  Functional, professional, responsible.  I keep moving and I'm fine.

But when I stop- when life quiets down, when the world stops moving and I have space to think and feel- I'm caught.  The grief which is always just a couple steps behind me catches up.

It happens in unexpected ways- the fact that the last time I was here I was worrying about getting home.  Home.  Something I no longer have.   A stable base replaced by a strange apartment.

The memory of the way he used to play with my hands- marveling at their size and how small they felt in his.  The feel of him playing with my hands- holding me, laughing with me, loving me.

The picture hidden in that pile of books I can't find a place for.

Ten years of memories.  Ten years of sights, sounds and feelings that go so deep I feel them in my bones.  Deeper than conscious thought.  Deeper than rational timelines and facts- this happened.  So deep that when I get on the mat and dig into my hip I'm only starting to scratch the surface.

And I know- I KNOW- this is normal.  This is how it works.  It's gonna come up, I'm gonna be devastated.  And then, like everything in life, it will pass.  I will breathe again.  Life will move again. I'm not dead, it's not game over- I keep moving.  Until the next time it catches me.  The next time.

I Am The One I've Been Waiting For

What magic is there when we- ourselves- come to represent all that we need in life.  When we answer our own prayers.  When we manifest for ourselves what we so desperately need in life.  Wouldn't that be a miracle?

New Look

When we look in the mirror, what do we see?  Is it a reflection?  An honest, clear vision of what is?  Or is just reflecting ideas... Mirages.  Something that looks real enough, if we want to believe in it, but isn't actually there?  I wonder...

A friend of mine recently said that a new haircut and wardrobe wasn't going to change anything.  That whatever I might change was only skin deep.  He's got a point.

But wouldn't it be nice if it was more than that?  If my new outside was really just matching the changes on the inside- outward signs of what was deeper beneath the surface?  I'd like to think so...

The Witches' Hut

There was no hut, really.  Maybe there used to be, or maybe it was just a story- the local folklore built it up over the years.  Something like that.  Whatever it may have or may have not been in the past doesn't really matter to the story- but suffice it to say it was place people hung out at.  The first time I went there there was nothing but the outline of a house marked by a few stones dug into the ground with some logs they'd dragged into arranged in a loose semi-circle around the bonfire.  That's what people do when there's nothing else to do: they make bonfires and hang out in the woods.

Doesn't mean it wasn't a thing, though.  Hanging out at the witches' hut, meeting up at the witches' hut, party on Friday at the witches' hut- these were a part of life.  And there was something to that, I realize.  Being the kids who hung out at the witches' hut,  Part of our identity in some way.  Certainly nothing I though about or recognized at the time, but there was something to that.

There were some great stories, too.  The time Eddie got so shit-faced he tried to make out with the birch tree.  The epic showdown between Ben and the log that scratched him which he proceeded to hack to pieces with his hatchet until it caught in the wood and he started cursing a blue streak at the new injury.  But my favorite by far was the monster.

Of course I don't believe in monsters anymore than I believe in witches.  I like horror movies and I can't get enough of demonic enemies but when it comes to real life that stuff ends when you leave the movie theater.  Or so I thought, until that night.

I was walking to the witches' hut, of course.  It was particularly dark- dark moon or new moon or something like that.  Not a light in the sky, just my cell phone.  It wasn't scary, though- I could walk there with my eyes closed and not miss  step.  But I heard something behind me.

Thinking it was Eddie or Ben or maybe Sarah I turned around, but nothing.  I waited for a sec, just to see.  Nobody came.  So I kept walking.

Then the breathing- like somebody barely able to breath through really stuffed up nostrils, like when you got a really bad cold and it takes effort just to inhale.  And something else, too.  A kind-of guttural 'uh' sound.  Nothing too overt, just there, just behind me.

Now I knew that somebody was messing with me.  Eddie and I were going to a midnight showing later and he must've been practicing.  I knew what to do- I hopped off the trail to the left to go around the back, past the main clearing and in through the overgrown passage.  It was my fail safe if somebody was was following that shouldn't have been following- be a druggie looking to rob me or just some asshole looking to sneak up.  I even started laughing thinking about the sound Eddie would make when he took a gut full of brick.

I rounded the large tree, pulled the rope I'd set up there and let the brick fly.  I heard it release and then I heard the sound I'd been looking for- direct hit, no doubt about it.  I turned around ready to laugh my ass off and stopped dead- nothing.  No one there, no collapsed form on the ground, no Eddie holding his gut and cursing- nothing.

I wasn't freaked out.  I wasn't.  You'd think I woulda been but I wasn't- just figured it was me making shit up in my own head or something.  Like real life was too boring without playing a trick on myself.  I couldn't organize it- where that sound had come from and why I was so sure I'd heard the brick hit.  But whatever- the mind plays tricks on you, that's what they say.

And I could already seen the blaze from the bonfire so I kept going, no worse for wear, just kinda puzzled, really.  Until Eddie teared into the clearing a couple of minutes later.

Now Eddie doesn't believe in anything- anything.  And he is NOT the kind of guy that gets spooked.  That's why he sometimes goes overboard on the practical jokes- he legit doesn't get why it might be too far.  But when he came running full tilt into that clearing looking like he'd seen a ghost I was worried.  And when he described hearing that same sound- like somebody breathing who couldn't really breath- I damned near shit myself.

Now, he claims that it tried to grab him- that he felt claws or something.  I think he might've just said that last part because Sarah was already all over him, saying she was scarred and so worried for him.  I kept waiting to see a knowing grin or something- some indication that he was doing it to get laid.  But he never let up- just spent the whole damned night staring into the fire looking somebody sucked the color out of his body.  He didn't even want any beer- Eddie always wants beer.  He wants beer when he'd in the middle of drinking it.  But he just sat there with the bottle in hand, staring into the fire like his life depended on it.

We didn't leave till the sun came up, and honestly I was ok with that.  If Eddie was spooked, I was spooked.  No arguing with that.  And when they cut down all those tress and started doing construction on another housing development I don't even think he was all that disappointed- he never felt like hanging out there anymore, anyway.  He said it was because it was lame and we were stupid for doing the same damned thing every Friday night.  But I knew, even though he'd swear on his mother it wasn't.  I knew it was because of the monster.

Acceptance

This morning I felt myself changed.  Lighter, stronger, firmly ok in spite of everything.  I know I can't count on this- things could change at any moment.  But in this moment, the only one that's real, I'm fine.

My breath is easy, my brow loose, my body rests without holding onto anything.

My mind shifts focus slowly, like a light breeze.  No pressure, no fear, no resistance.  Thoughts, images and memories come and go.  I can accept and let go without fighting.  Easy.

It's the thing we're always chasing- that ability, that moment, that epiphany.  Seeing the world changing around you and standing perfectly still in the middle of it.  But like all the things we so desperately seek it only comes in the quiet calm.  When we stop seeking and just are.

And for this moment, just this one moment, I am.  And no matter what happens next I know that I can be.

Calm

Traveling through a densely wooded Forrest- so smells I can't distinguish them.  Some are dense and warm.  Others are light and cool.  Some remind me of comfort, home.  Others speak of danger.  I am lost in the sea of them, carried on the gentle sway of scent.

Reality

I haven't lived in an apartment since I was in my 20's and I admit, I kind-of thought I outgrew it.  My future held  large homes with yards that needed maintenance and neighbors taking their kids to soccer practice- not a downstairs neighbor screaming at an imaginary enemy or a broken radiator.  I thought I'd moved past the cheap Ikea dresser that takes hours to put together (not to mention a lot of cursing.)  I was beyond eating left over pizza for days because I didn't have any money left to do legitimate grocery shopping until my next paycheck.  I was grown-up, secure, home.

And yet, here I am- broke once again, asking my friends to help me schlep all of my belongings up old, creaky stairs and trying to remind myself that i'm strong enough to face it all again.  I've been saying throughout this entire process that this is the hardest thing I've ever done and facing reality dead-on hasn't done anything other than make that statement more true.

But what I try to remind myself of, what i'm trying to believe in every cell, every membrane, is that this is the testing ground of the soul.  This is the make or break time that defines my character.  This is the lesson that stands out above all others, and which serves me more than any of the others.  This is the thing that I can talk about on the other side of saying "if I could get through that, I can get through anything."

I am made of tougher stuff than what I am facing down right now.  This will not break me- this is how i will break through.

Dark Moon

They say that getting lost is the best way to find yourself.  that when you emerge from the dense woods you are a changed person- better, stronger, more skilled and able to face down bigger and more frightening obstacles without breaking a sweat.  But from the middle of the forest the woods look rather dark and frightening and you can't help but want to turn back every other second.

But when you're lost you can't turn back- the past no longer exists as a path you can travel, there are no breadcrumbs now.  The only way out is through.

That's where I am.  In the dark, remembering how easy life used to be, and praying I have the mettle to make it out of the forest alive.

Friends

We emptied two full rooms and then some.  We filled a large truck and then some.  We lugged all of it up three flights of stairs- long, hard stairs.  And we did it all in less time that I could have ever imagined in my wildest dreams.

I'm still in shock, on quite a lot of levels.  It's going to take a long time to process everything that has happened, and even longer to try to figure out what comes next.  But I do know this: my friends are absolutely amazing.