Scattering Seeds of Peace and Happiness in the Soil of an Aching Heart

For a lightening second, I thought I didn’t have anything to say this morning.  But then I realized it wasn’t that… it’s just that I feel very depressed and I feel ashamed to admit it on the page.  You know how human beings get… we always want to appear like we have it together and all that junk.  Why is that?  So others will love us?  I think what it is, at least my version… I have a deep seated belief that if people witnessed me in a state of need, desperation, helplessness, lonliness, they would all feel deeply repulsed and leave me wildly, ridiculously alone.  Which, of course I don’t want…

I’ve been left alone like that.  Not because I exhibited any of the aforementioned undesirable qualities, just cuz that’s how it worked out… but still, a two year old mind doesn’t quite comprehend that.  So it’s taken me about a quarter century to unfurl enough to once again find access to the ability to open my valve of “less attractive emotions”, such as sorrow, anger, loneliness, etc.  But now that it’s open, Jesus, it doesn’t seem to want to close.  Yes, that’s a bit of an exaggeration… but not a vast, chasmatic one.  Lately, it seems, I am on the verge of tears every single day.  Why did I bother putting on eye make-up this morning?  Maybe just for the dramatics of letting it run wild down my face in black and copper rivers?

Anyway, I feel the dull ache of tragedy perched like a weighty, rabid elephant in the center of my chest.  What’s a seniorita to do?  The divine message from A Course in Miracles invited me this morning to pray to God, asking for happiness and peace this day.  I thought to myself, “Heck, why not?!  You only live once… I’ll give it a shot.”  So I did.  And here I am, at ten oh eight on a sunny morning, aching, turning life over and over and over in my mind, examining it from a [limited] multiplicity of angles and I can’t say that I’m not happy and peaceful… but it’s not the down home, stereo typical happiness and peace they teach you about in Hollywood movies, woman’s magazines, or even in public school.  It’s a happiness born of honesty, humility and acceptance.  It also helps that it’s a sunny day, and I had a good bike ride to Hudson Bay Café.

Last night was date night.  Usually, on Thursday mornings, I ooze enthusiam about impending date night.  I wake up feeling like a kid whose destiny is to visit Disney Land on this very day.  (Time out, because Karen just texted me and asked me if I fancied having lunch with her, since she’s in Oakland… That’s music to my heart.  I guess there IS a God, and this God character truly DOES support my happiness and peace.  Not that happiness and peace are contingent upon external circumstances… but the company of good friends is some sort of soothing balm, any way you slice it.)

Time in.  I am always excited about date night in the morning… but by the time it arrives, around six pm, I am usually short on inspiration and wishing that we could spend ma-ma-money, $$$, cha-ching!  It was my turn to choose last night.  Earlier in the week, I had been sincerely thrilled and inspired by this.  I imagined us spending the evening working on the huge, joint painting we started near the beginning of our relationship and haven’t touched in at least a year and a half.  I imagined giving attention to our long forgotten relationship altar on the hearth, sharing a luxurious, extended love making session, maybe going outside and drawing on our sidewalk in chalk pastels, riding bikes to the cemetery in time to soak up the sunset…

But six o’clock rolled around and we were two mildly pathetic messes.  I could hardly move, but I suggested trying out this seductive looking taqueria on Grand Avenue, across the street from Lake Merrit.  Mykael seemed pretty enthused about this.  Personally, the thought of getting on my bike and pedaling through the clear early evening seemed almost impossible.  But what’s that saying from Alice in Wonderland?  Do six impossible things before breakfast?  Well, if breakfast comes and goes, you can still do one or two impossible things before dinner.  Hey, don’t knock it, it’s better than doing ZERO impossible things before you hit the hay…

I just changed seats here at the cafe.  I traded my autonomous little table for a big, uncomfortable chair with a concaved back.  But now I am sitting next to a priest.  He’s pouring over his bible.  I bet he’s writing a sermon!  I find that thrilling.  Even if he’s gonna preach bullshit, I don’t care. I’d bet my own mixed bag of a life that he has at least a single, sincere bone in his body… if not twelve or a hundred… Because something in his heart is tickled by the Holy Spirit.  Tickled enough that he’s giving himself over to the feeling and offering it back out to like-minded, hungry souls.  Even if he’s clogged with dogma, he’s doing his best to reach inside and find that which is greater than himself and give it away!  I want to do this.  Oops, now my eyes sting.  Prepare for the impending black and copper rivers…

Anyway, the bike ride to the taqueria was way less impossible than I imagined it would be.  We flew downhill the whole way, and I got drunk off my ass on cool, spring air.  Unfortunately, the food blew.  But I was such a good sport about it, which is far from something I can count on about myself.  Hooray for me!  The highlight of the journey was seeing a grown man sucking on a dum-dum lollypop and reading the paper while he waited for his take-out order.  What is it about adults licking lollypops in public?  It just seems so… so… so overtly sexual.  So telling and vulnerable and innocent.  Plus, his existence looked wicked simple, something I wish I felt more often.  (I wonder what the priest next to me is thinking about.  I keep trying to peek over his shoulder and read the scrawl of notes he is jotting down on his white legal pad.  Yeah, a priest would NEVER use a YELLOW legal pad for Mother Mary’s Holy Sake… only virginal white…)

Another highlight was a very ROUND, fierce, punk rock woman in skin tight black leggings, tattooed arms and stiletto heals!  Yeah, the taqueria was getting tons of traffic.  Every time I pass it, it seems to be buzzing with happy face stuffers.  Usually that’s a sure fire way to know if a place is good… But I have to say that though eclectic and highly interesting, the contingency of Oakland folk who walked through the door in enthusiastic pursuit of dinner have very LOW standards and poor taste.  Surprise!  But I tried to be nourished by the fascinating company more than the stupid, flavor and soul-less veggie tacos I inflicted upon myself.

Mykael ordered two fish tacos, rice and refried beans.  Is it just me who is turned off by his lack of interest in making veggies an integral part of his meals?  He ordered and I flooded with disapproval.  But I’m sick of making a stink about his choices, so I shut the hell up.  He was disgusted by the fishiness of his deep fried tacos, but he devoured them, regardless. (Though he drowned them in ketchup to try and disguise the raunchy flavor.  God, I feel like barfing just thinking about it.)  Then at home, he confessed that he felt uncomfortably full and wanted my sympathy.  Really?  How on earth did he expect me to muster sympathy?!  What the hell did he expect???  I am the totally wrong person to offer sympathy for overeating garbage and feeling bad about it.  If you don’t want to feel that way, don’t eat a pile of heavy crap.  Being someone who has a history of overeating, I now execute much self discipline and inspired mindfulness around my eating habits and I expect others to do the same… but they don’t.  As far as I’m concerned, his choices suck and I feel agony about it, not sympathy.

Especially because again he had no interest in sex.  I guess I wasn’t that inviting either… But I feel so heartbroken about this.  The more he doesn’t want to have sex, the more rejected and disappointed I feel, which compels me to close and brood, which creates less invitation for intimacy.  It’s a vicious cycle.  How can I be happy without being well fucked?

I know, I know I can… but… I still feel like crying about it.

Woops, let me end this on a note of happiness and peace… A Course in Miracles teaches that in extending blessings to others, we make them available to ourselves.  That ain’t really so far fetched… So I wish YOU the kind of happiness and peace unbounded by the craggy circumstances of this world.  The kind of happiness and peace that are carried like tiny, hopeful seeds on a divine breeze that wafts right into your heart, right this instant!  There they land and take root, drawing nourishment from the goodness and beauty that lives in you.  And before you know it, they are flowering, fruiting trees, stretching their leafy arms all about your holy consciousness providing sweet shade and juicy fruits to the masses.  Amen.

I Can Do Anything For ONE Day…

Today I have accepted my role in “God’s plan for salvation”, as a course in miracles fondly phrases it.  Yikes.  They invited me for this ONE single day to relinquish all my lofty, flavorless carrots and instead, rest.  Rest into the peace that is always nestled sweetly in the core of me.  I can leggo of all the shallow pursuits of future happiness and peace… just for ONE day, right?  I mean there’s always tomorrow for me to fixate on whether or not I want to choose Mykael to grow old with.  There’s always tomorrow to sear myself into the grill of regret around breaking up with E*.  And tomorrow too, I can neurotically ruffle my own feathers to a bloody pulp over financial concerns!  But for one day, I can totally recognize the implicit perfection in this strange and beautiful slant in which I have somehow, strangely come to believe myself to exist.  Just for today I can relax my belly, rest my guts and simply BE.  It won’t kill me…

Or maybe it will.  God’s plan for salvation does include ego death.  Oh well, shhhhhhh… don’t mention that part to my fearsome little sheath of illusory identity.  Maybe she won’t notice till it’s too late.

The thing is, I don’t know what to say as one dedicated only to full surrender.  I wonder if I was truly surrendered, if the “Holy Slave Driver” (I’m teasing.  It’s a way to poke fun and call God names.  We have that kind of relationship.  The kind where we give each other noogies and serve as the divine butt of each other’s jokes… Don’t worry, it’s all in fun!)  But ahem, because would the Holy Slave Driver even have me here, indulgently plinking away on the keys?  I hope so.  Because here I am, and it feels non-negotiable.  Besides, there is so much to discuss.

I might as well tell you… wait… God?  Is it okay if I talk about you know what with them???  Well, I just dropped into deep meditation for a sec, and God said YES!!!!  Would you prefer that I refer to God as “All Pervading Light” today?  Does that make you feel more comfortable and at peace?  APL… that’s what I’ll call God today.  Just for the sake of setting your skeptical mind at ease.  Semantics, man… Who cares?  The heart of the matter is that there’s something good about all of this existence as we know it business…  Shoot!  All that effort to take care of your frightened mind and I forgot what I was gonna tell you!  I think three threads wish to be expressed through me today.  1) An update on my relationship to my Relationship.  2) Rock climbing as a perfect mirror.  3) The first scratch on the surface of the topic of women’s body image  4) The Guru who lives in my back yard.  Will I be able to knock out the whole baker’s quarter of a dozen?  Maybe not… but thankfully, I am still a subscriber to the concept of time and space and that means that there is such an ingenious invention of a thing called “tomorrow”, not to mention “the day after tomorrow”!!!  As I see it, in relation to writing, this is a great thing, because I LOVE writing SO MUCH.  I sit here in prostration to my keyboard, to my glowing screen, music pumping into my ears, the angry scraping groan of the coffee grinder pressing its way into my ears too, and my heart folds open like a fast motion video of a lotus in bloom.   This is the meaning of life for me. (APL, is it okay that I said that?  Does it groove with my role in your plan for salvation???? SAY YES, damn it.  Please say yes!!!)  (I bet that my open heart is a stellar indicator that APL is saying yes… Don’t you think?)

So last night was “date night”.  Mykael and I have recently started the practice of taking turns planning it.  You see, week after week we were finding ourselves in this lackadaisical place of “what do you wanna do?”  “I dunno… what do YOU wanna do?”  Which inevitably meant the most mundane evening in which I cook dinner, as I do every single night of my APL given life, and then we smoke a little pot and watch a movie and maybe have sex.  Honestly, I love these activities.  Especially in the dark, cold breath of winter.  But now that spring has sprung, we are both ferociously wanting to come unstuck.  So.  It was my turn.  The days leading up to date night, I was flooding with sweet inspirations like sitting outside on the patio at Caesar, sipping wine and sketching each other.  Wandering to the top of the hill in the cemetery and watching the sun set, splurging on a hot tub at piedmont springs, practicing orgasmic meditation on each other… But then the day came and I was over tired and also feeling all my doubts about the relationship and suddenly, my inspiration was nowhere to be found.  Shoot.  Blast it!  I just wanted to be taken out to dinner.  I was beat and didn’t want to generate.  Just to be treated like a purring princess, sitting in the waning evening sun, sipping red wine, nibbling on crunch, salty things, squishing and chomping on sweeter more enchanting tidbits.

I have been judging myself for this, and trying to pretend it’s not so, but last night, I just let myself be honest.  I want a man who takes me out on the town.  I want a man who wines and dines me, takes me to the ballet, the theater…  Mykael ain’t makin’ much money right now, nor has he been for the two year duration of our relationship (let alone ever)… so if I want to be wined and dined in his company, it is ME who’s footing the bill.  If I’m footing the bill, to me, that equates to less money that I have to buy myself simple things like RENT.  Like work clothes, a second hoodie (since I wear the SAME one every day), blah, blah, this is the scarcity based monkey chatter that I subscribe to on most days.  But not today!  Because today I accept my roll in APL’s plan for salvation, yo!  Tomorrow, though, I might just sink back into the pit of my dreams of scarcity and fear.

So anyway, I felt so full of resentment that if I wanted to go out for a frivolous night on the towne, it was on my dimes and nickels (and bears oh my!).  So I shut down, became pouty and punishing and then date night got canceled.  I felt simultaneously devastated and relieved.  Mykael I would venture to guess felt PISSED and HURT, since I heard a symphony of doors and drawers slamming from his room shortly thereafter.  Then he went into the kitchen to make himself pasta (which I refuse to eat 99% of the time) with asparagus.  I was starving too, since we ate an early lunch and then worked out and now it was seven pm… But I was too devastated and disappointed to forage through our scanty pickins in the fridge.  Oh, no, wait, I did end up standing, blinded by the light of the open fridge a few separate times, closing the door in a state of rigid overwhelm and pacing back to my bedroom… where I turned in restless circles before flopping down in a dramatic heap of anguish on my bed.

I don’t understand how his reserve tanks always seem to have SOMETHING in them, but Mykael eventually came in and flopped down on top of me and told me that I really needed to eat something.  THIS GENEROSITY IN THE FACE OF MY WRATH AND CONDEMNATION????   Where on earth does he come up with it?  I was humbled.  Even still it was difficult for me to give it up and open.  But I knew the alternative sucked ass… because I’d been living it for the last half an hour.  So I gave it up and proposed dinner at the Boot and Shoe service, down the hill from us.  Incase you don’t know, they make hella gourmet, bomb-ass pizzas in a cute, infernal wood oven.  The ambiance is A#1.  Dim, moody, bustling.  All the wait staff is young and hot and friendly as hell.

TO BE CONTINUED.