Remembering Softens Me

Before I get too hot and heavy into any pressing, earth shattering topic, I need to tell you that I did a modestly dopey thing yesterday.  I copied and pasted the WRONG contents into my blog entry.  I accidentally pasted a duplicate of the previous blog… so if you read the same blog two days in a row and were left wanting your money back, feel free to go back to yesterday’s entry and get the REAL scoop on sacred syllables and menstrual blood at 3am.

And now back to our show.  I saw Eric (my ex-fiance) for the first time in over a year yesterday.  (We saw each other ONE other time since we broke up a little over two years ago.  Last April we shared a brief afternoon promenade through Rockridge.  The single moment from that day a year ago, still alive as though it will never die, vivid as a dream burned into a ravenous, wide mind is us wandering slowly down the quiet streets bursting with pregnant gardens and hearing a chorus of shrill, persistent bird voices.  Naturally we looked up and right in front of our faces was a nest of hungry, scruffy looking baby birds, beaks wide canyons of bottomless hunger and mom perched on the edge of the nest poised to regurgitate mouthfuls of sustenance to her screaming babes.  Dreams.  Doesn’t that strike you as a soft lucid image from but a dream?  Wandering aimlessly about the warm, spring sun drenched streets with Eric after not seeing him for an entire year is dreamish enough… but then the camera panning so randomly instantaneous to focus right in on the intimate living room of a family of birds going about their business without regard to our presence… think about it.  That’s indubitably the stuff of dreams.

And speaking of birds, seeing Eric yesterday for the first time since last April, I felt like a bird with no place to land.  For five years of our lives, we were each others’ home; a source of perpetual, unconditional refuge.   I had this idea before seeing him yesterday that he’d be SO radically different, and I would be too.  But it wasn’t quite like that.  To me, there was something so fundamentally the same about me and about him and about sharing a slice of time and space.  Except my perch was gone.  So instead, I flew in an endless slew of sacred circles, which rippled with beauty around the silent truth of the ISness of the moment.  Life is a twisted mess if you ask me.  And if you asked me WHY it was designed that way, I’d say as impetus to never give up on digging and diving beneath all the smarmy twisty-ness to find the real shit.  You know… The All Pervading Hallelujah behind the paradoxically sheerer than sin and denser than thou curtain that enshrouds our minds and our hearts and mischievously conceals the holy secret of the ONE.

All this to say… All this to say that I am still grieving the choice to ditch Eric.  God, I am noticing that life is NOT anything like it is in the movies. Did YOU ever notice that? Resolution and happy endings.  Real life feels more like a perpetual chain of making messes and then cleaning them up, making messes and then cleaning them up. (Or sometimes just leaving them to fester for a good while…)  But beautifully, like a poetic dance between the omniscient mess maker and the omnipotent mess cleaner-upper.  I always wonder WHY God would have invoked a world like this (assuming that God would do such an atrocious thing, which could be entirely missing the cosmic mark…shrug… but I digress.  I can imagine Omnipresence witnessing all this fantastical duality as if it were an ingeniously executed improvisational dance performance that strangely simultaneously shook and shimmied and twirled its way through Forever, and also erupted in a single flashing blink and was over before it began.

I feel guilty for expressing feelings and memories about Eric, since Mykael reads my blog.  But this is my truth and my mind and my life and I must express.  I must digest and grieve and transmute.  That’s just the way it is.  When I was “doctoring up” my tea at the condiment table (which is actually a miniature organ turned table by being covered in a single, thick sheet of glass…) (I’m at Gaylord’s today) I watched myself take a slurp of creamed and honey-ed up tea off the long handled spoon, gaze off in the distance, allowing the sensual experience of the combination of flavors to hit me.  My head was cocked to one side, like a bird listening intently… and then I felt myself nod, hesitate and add a splash more sweet, and a dash more cream.  It reminded me of the moment that Eric said he fell in love with me.

We were friends for a couple of years before we became “romantically involved”.  Then one day, the gears started shifting.  We went on this date to Stone Ridge Mall in Pleasanton, because we discovered that we had a mutual history with “pre-teen mall mania”, and neither of us had been to one, I mean SERIOUSLY [biblically] been to one since.  So we took BART out to Pleasanton one feverish spring afternoon.  (Sigh, spring is the BEST time to fall in love, now that I mention it.  Mykael and I fell in love in the spring time, too.)  I had made some knock-you-on-your-ass-strong pot banana bread for us to nosh on, so that our mall experience would be guaranteed to be nothing less than the maha of magical mystery tours.  We ate it, and then went to lunch at Fresh Choice!  (Can we PLEASE have a moment of silence for Fresh Choice?!?!?  Really.  Shhhhhh.

Okay.  Thank you.  That should suffice.)  The salad bar had two sides to it.  So, just for fun, (which we had no shortage of together) we split up and each went hunting and gathering on opposing sides of the bar.  Something you should know about me is that I take choice making VERY seriously… So I spent a copious amount of time deliberating about what to load up my plate with.  At one point, I felt his eyes burning into me and I looked up to meet his captivated face.  I had been tasting a spear of jicama to see if I indeed fancied inviting it onto my colorful plate full of oh-so-fresh choices.  After biting into it and taking it for an earnest ride around my masticating mouth, I nodded in nonverbal affirmation that it indeed belonged on my plate.  Eric had witnessed this arduous jicama deliberation process and according to him, that was the moment he fell in love with me.  Don’t ask me… I don’t quite get it… all I know is I remember this, and remembering softens me.  AMEN.

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2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. souldipper
    Jun 18, 2010 @ 05:05:01

    Hey Athena Grace…I want to put you on my Blog Roll and I have to confess I don’t remember how to do it. Dang it. I take pride in my computer skills and I have done it before. I’ll get it. Oh, I hope you don’t mind my linking you in my last article.

    And speaking of jicama – I’m going for some RIGHT NOW!! I have two in my fridge and they may not survive past the weekend. And that’s STRAIGHT!! :0

    Amy

    Reply

  2. Rosy Moon
    Jun 18, 2010 @ 05:58:26

    As always I’m smiling at the end of your blog. It is a satisfied smile conjured by the ways you see and translate life, thank you- and I did read the same blog twice!!!

    Reply

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