Stewing In My Own Hella Succulent Broth

My fingers tread light this morning.  For the past few blogs, they have been leaden.  Two days ago, Benedetta, one of my few cherished friends here in Italy, told me that she needed to distance herself from my “situation”, because… I forget exactly why… but basically, it was too much for her.  

 

I don’t blame her.  It’s too much for me too.  She told me I was “stewing in my own broth”.  Which translates to subconsciously choosing to stay in suffering because it’s familiar and safe.  

 

This stirred my (brothy) pot.  On one hand, I felt hurt, because I honestly feel like I’m doing the best I can to keep my nose and mouth (if not my whole head) above water in most moments, while living with a relentlessly heavy, broken heart.  Another part of me felt relieved and loved. Like she cared enough to say what was hard to say, and stay connected, instead of writing me off and moving toward “better feeling” relationships. I felt so fucking vulnerable.  I need Benedetta.

 

Need.  It’s not the most flattering facet to bring to a relationship.  But the truth is, I DO need her. She is the mother of a three year old (boy), with another baby on the way.  She is challenged by her marriage. And yet she navigates the challenge from a high spiritual octave, using it as fuel to grow herself and find “It” inside.  This is the kind of company I want to keep

 

Honestly, I’m tired of my song and dance, too.  Tired of hearing that I am unhappy. My stories are starting to chafe me.  So? Where do I go from here? Fake it till you make it, kick your heels up, get your saucy groove on for no reason Delight?

 

I was listening to Matt Kahn’s lastest vid this morning.  Which of course was timely as fuck. He said that Life is dishing up hearty portions of rapid transformation right now.  He said that despicable circumstances are Life’s way of initiating us into the integrated realization that WE DO NOT NEED OUR CIRCUMSTANCES TO CHANGE IN ORDER TO LIVE IN JOY, PASSION, FREEDOM and LOVE UNBOUNDED.  

 

Hearing this, my heart burst into a loosened shower of tears.  It was almost six in the morning. Giordano was fresh out of bed, and lay with me.  He pulled me close as I cried. There was something exquisite about the moment. It was so honest and pure.  I was not blaming him for my pain. He was not in my line of fire. There was no drama. Just me breaking under the weight of my struggle and the gravity of my longing.  He, a warm-bodied and silent witness. I feel closer to him for sharing those wordless moments.

 

I cried for feeling relentlessly uncomfortable.  For the grief of whatever is dying inside. My spectrum seems to span from bland and lifeless, to hurt, to crushed, to furious.  Am I stewing in my savory broth by writing shit like that? No. Just reporting the weather, with the intention of driving the Graceland Starship to revelatory spiraling galaxies infused with deep, surrendered breaths.  

 

I want so badly… I ACHE in fact, to fully embrace the divine rightness of my Path and Choices.  This endeavor has been an opus for me. Giordano might perceive me as lazy… laying in the fetal position on our folded-out couch in the evenings… But if he only knew the blood and sweat and tears flowing on the inside as I press on to digest this unprecedented life experience.  

 

Listening to Matt Kahn, I touched the tight bud of a Possibility inside me.  The possibility of living anchored in unconditional joy and inner freedom. Can you imagine???  It almost seems unfathomable from this dot on the perceived straight-assed line of my life.

 

But I guess, in Reality, my life is anything BUT a straight-assed line.  It’s a blazing, twisting, grinning spiral of sacred stardust. Part of me already lives in this awakened place.  I am just integrating this state of being, as I clear cumbersome, vomitous buckets of cellular debris from my field.  Heck, YOU might be doing this too. Hooray for YOU! Trust me, I know what hard work it is. Hooray for US!

 

I have been heavily flirting with the notion that I was dropped by Grace and God– a state of consciousness I have not abided in for this long… in a long time.  

 

I’m jealous of people who eat croissants.  Fuckers! My digestion is too sensitive to dump such crap in this body.  God it’s not fair.

 

I digress.  As it turns out, I was NOT dropped by Grace and God.  The hella illustrious Manuela Forte agreed to council Giordano and I, on a pay as we can, IF we can basis.  She said God has been so damn good to her (she didn’t say “damn”, because she’s not a spiritual sailor like Athena Grace.), that she can afford to be flexible.  She just feels Called to help us. This is ANOTHER thing I’m more jealous of. Way more than eating croissants, in fact.

 

I’m jealous of Beings who are so spiritually aligned and fully Given to their dharma, that they LIVE in a streaming state of Grace and Abundance.  I wish I was like that. I guess in a way, I am. I always have what I need. But my consciousness still feels headlocked in survival, and too often, I feel like I’m wandering lost in sketchy neighborhoods.

 

Anyway, I spoke with Beautiful Manuela, via facebook video chat, last thursday morning.  It was a turning point. Like listening to Matt Kahn, I found the location INside, where ALL IS WELL.  Where I am love. Where everything that I am living is Holy Perfection.

 

She wanted to meet with me alone first.  I didn’t understand this, but I trust her.  And yup, it felt so right. Giordano and I will speak with her together soon.  I THINK SHE CAN HELP US… to focus our energies and intention on healing ourselves, so that we can truly evolve AND FUCKING COMMUNICATE LIKE ADULTS and love each other.  

I’m on my knees in gratitude.

 

Now, can I just tell you how desperately I WISH that I had kept my Mom’s recipe for minestrone soup???  (I mean the *actual*, neater-than-Thou, handwritten on an index card recipe that she busted out on those cold nights, when she felt a burst of inspiration to feed everyone in her group house, her favorite, simple, nourishing meal.)  Regret-stained longing is burning me on the inside. I didn’t LOVE her minestrone soup. It seemed pretty plain to me. And it had pasta, which I usually picked out, which was a pain in the ass. But being in the first trimester of pregnancy, and being disgusted my almost everything… Oh her soup sounds fucking heavenly.  Sure, I could freestyle something in the ballpark. But I want to measure shit in cups and teaspoons, according to her gorgeous script. (Which is totally NOT my style, by the way.)

 

If I let myself, I could cry about this.  But I need to pay for my tea, and get my ass to the swimming pool.  I miss my mom so much. Manuela said my Ma is working so hard from The Other Side to help me get free.  I could cry about THIS too. In fact, I AM!

 

What an Epic Fucking Journey this Life is turning out to be.

 

Sending you ALL MY LOVE.  Seriously. Because if your blessed life is anywhere near as messy and challenging as mine these days, YOU NEED IT.  

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Write or Die.

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Write or die.

 

It’s like that this morning.  Write or die. I’m marveling at how displeasurable life can be!  Even in a cafe brimming with the cutest little pastries and cakes in the world.  

 

The heating in our house is broken.  We just have an impotent wood stove in the living room that nips at the heels of hypothermia.  My body is always tense and shivering. Giordano says there’s something wrong with me, because he and Serena do not suffer as I do.  This really isn’t helpful. He’s gonna fix the heating someday. If he ever makes it back from the all-consuming Epic of The Olive Harvest.  And if we can ever come up with a thousand euros to buy the used stove he found.

 

I could get deep into the horrid nuances of my current psycho-emotional existence.  But I think it would make me feel even worse. Plus, I’m not sure if it would add value to your life.  Which I aim to do. I’ll just encapsulate it by saying that my heart and soul feel sick. And my body feels perpetually nauseated.  

 

But I’m trying really hard to be strong and triumphant.  And to connect with community. Yesterday morning, Benedetta invited Serena and I to her house for a late “American Breakfast”.  You know, pancakes. And eggs. She has a sun who is six months older than Serena, plus, like me, she’s growing another. She’s married to an american man.  She also invited another family who has a three year old boy and a brand spankin new baby.

 

An older version of me might not have gotten off hard on the event.  I was never a fan of the intense chaos that is little boy energy. Or lite, surface conversations.  But yesterday, it hit my spot. I guess when you are starving, any food is champagne and caviar. (Not that champagne and caviar are even good….)  It just felt so damn nice to be with people. And to see Serena being with small people. To sit around a table and share food. Strange, exotic food, that I would never feed myself.  

 

PEOPLE!  I love them.  

 

It must suck for Giordano to feel me destroyed every day.  I’m sorry Giordano. I really am. I just don’t know what to do differently.  I’m doing my best to maintain my yoga practice. And have sex with you in the middle of the night once in a while.  I’m gonna brave the freezing cold weather, strip down to a now unflattering, sporty bikini and immerse in not quite warm enough water, so that I can do laps and hopefully enlighten my cells.  I eat damn healthy, even though I find food mostly repulsive. I am reaching out to friends near and far for connection and support. On paper, I’m doing everything right.

 

But in real time, I still feel hopeless and broken and disgusted.  

 

Maybe this is the stuff Revelation is made of.  All I can do is fall to my knees and beg God to breathe with me.  Atheists, hold your blasphemous tongues!!! This is Athena Graceland.  A land informed and inspired by the Greatest Love Imaginable That Pervades and Transcends All. Ha!  Such Unsayably Magnificent Being hardly flies in the face of my excruciating inner life right now.

 

But somehow, what I’m living HAS to be right.  HAS to be good.

 

I totally don’t understand.  

 

All I understand is my love for and devotion to Serena.

 

All I understand is that I must go on.  

 

All I understand is that despite how shitty life feels, I am deeply, profoundly loved.  

 

All I understand is that I have to go to the grocery store now and get seventeen euros worth of disgusting food, because even though I find food repulsive, I am a housewife and I must fulfill my duties.  

 

Thanks for listening.  May my honesty set you free.  

 

XOXO,

Athena