full

a beautiful bowl of Greek, honey yogurt with juicy mango slices and organic strawberries…

bills paid…

favorite dress and boots on…

it’s a good start…

empty

“Be with those who support your being”    Rumi

Anyone who reads this blog would think I’m manic.  Up one minute, down the next.  I would even think I’m manic..but I live with myself, I know differently.  I’m tired. Very tired.  Consistently tired.

Where does the energy that I need come from?  How does one go about restoring it anyhow?  Like having a plate full of food and no mouth to eat …I am unsure how to even approach this.

Rumi says that I should be with those who support my being.  Maybe I’ll make a list and start there. Perhaps I should add my name to the top of that list and sit with that for awhile.  Really.

deja vu redux

I know that’s redundant…that would be the point

i wish i could say it gets easier

but I would be wrong

dancing in the grey

What is it about the Argentine tango…

I made it out last night for a few turns on the dance floor.  I do love to be embraced by a good smelling man, in a suit no less sans the tie.  And the spins and change of direction of a quick waltz delight me every time.  To dance with someone else, really dance..is a gift.  I felt lucky last night, only good dances.  I didn’t stay too long, having had my fortune early, I left on the good note.

As I made my long way back to the car, I couldn’t help but think about what it is to be a woman alone. I can choose my comings and goings, moving through the world at my own pace. Most of the choices I have made in my life have been necessarily influenced by others. As a mother, a wife, a leader, an employee..whatever..my actions have followed a path that was often laid clearly out before for me.  Black and white. As a single woman, there is much more grey.

There is a lot of grey in tango; it is often used as a metaphor for life. The roles of lead and follow are easily defined and equally permeable.  The best dances have nothing to do with technique and everything to do with connection.  A conversation really.  The best of which is open ended, with no agenda other than being in the dance.  Often I feel awkward off the dance floor, waiting patiently in a chair off to side hoping for that glance, the invitation.  Sometimes the waiting is unbearable, every insecurity magnified.  It is there that being alone is palpable, and the grey becomes stark and I feel obviously solitary.

I choose my singleness right now though.  I am desperate to know what it is to be unattached…not only to someone, but to anything.  I have emptied my plate of many responsibilities and distractions to be here right now and know this freedom.  I am often misunderstood for my choice, and this has caused me to question my motivations as well as my endurance.  Freedom often feels lonely.  But I have been far lonelier. I am always dancing in the grey of my emotions and my actions…it isn’t always easy to live with oneself.  The best of things are often not easy.

Rumi Rumi Rumi

THE GUEST HOUSE                        Jelaluddin Rumi

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice.
meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.

Be grateful for whatever comes.
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.


This being human is a guest house“…How beautiful is that, and true.  Would that I welcome my emotions like guests.  Invite my sorrow to soak in a warm bath, with Satie’s Gnossienne playing softly in the background.   I would fix a feast of comfort food for all of me that is tired and lonely.  And anger, I would sit her right beside me and listen until she had nothing left to say.

I  imagine this into my living now as I have never once considered welcoming my emotions in such a way.  Instead I’ve turned the lights off , kept quiet and waited for such guests to leave like too late trick or treaters.

I will be grateful for all that arrives at my doorstep.  I have done this so often for others, today I will give myself the best of me.

I’ve arrived

Made the switch to wordpress.  Miracle of miracles, I was able to import my entire blog from blogger. Feeling relief and eager to learn the ins and outs of wordpress.

what it is that is with me

this house has many rooms
with windows painted shut
and doors locked
with keys long lost.
in the attic is a suitcase
filled with memories
of memories
not all mine
but somehow in my keeping

in moments I cannot explain
the weight of untold stories
becomes too much
and i
walk
this house
a forgotten spirit
wondering where the others
have gone

once I told my mother
not to expect things
from me
it would easier
for both of us that way
she knows the truth in this
but cannot live it
so she chooses
disappointment
and I live
the way i do

waiting

neap tide

i cannot keep up
with the tides
of two moons
too much push and pull
high and low
i want to be
still water

in a moving river

spring cleaning

turning off the heat
and opening all the doors
cleaning the windows
washing the curtains
dusting..really dusting
purging
purging more
rearranging the furniture
again..
making room
for spring
and new energy


Road Trip

I sit in meditation
body still
at last
but mind
cannot seem to quiet
cannot let go.
of what you ask?
the goal,
I say.
oneness with God
peace
contentment
nirvana
enlightenment
I sit with the hope
of mapping out my path
to such a place
as if it were
a state
not of being
but one with physical definition
it would lie somewhere between
the northern plains and India
I could
and would
take a road trip there
packing very lightly
my favorite dress
and boots
with Luka at my side
and nothing else
but a simple bowl
and I would give them
all away
save for Luka
for the knowing
and the peace of never searching again

one day
i will come to sit
certain
folding  my map
one last time
beautiful and useless
as it is
and find that I
have travelled everywhere
to make it
back to here
with no regret
or hope
with nothing

simply here

one day will be today