simply writing

dating :)

I realize as I read my friend's blog...that I have been going way too fast.

She posted pictures of love notes from her husband.
A simple gesture of their initials scribbled inside a heart, in pencil, on the backside of paper scraps.
It only takes 1 minute to slow down and to remember why I begin and end each day with my husband.

Instead I've been shouting to my him, "I....love....you....!" from a moving vehicle.
That vehicle is me.
He does not hear it.

The other reason I know I'm going too fast is cuz I have not posted a blog in weeks.
Now let me clarify, when I say - going too fast - it is not a productive kind of speed.
It involves searching the classified ads for used rock climbing shoes, re-organizing my car (which is a joke), scrolling through Facebook, examining my skin for blemishes, and the worst offender - scanning celebrity photos on OMG.com.  This is how I know that I'm avoiding my own soul. Celebrity gossip is the antithesis of spirituality.

So it ought to be no surprise that Lydia came hissing up from the basement yesterday.
Hers is the voice of escape, of entitlement, of self-loathing and of isolation.
She fears everything.
"You are a writer who is not writing.  An artist who is not painting.  Everyone is in your way.
You are a failure.  You should run away...Run....Get OUT!"
She loves Radiohead, Ryan Adams, and the soundtrack to Requiem for a Dream.
She relishes the empty belly and she takes pride in her own ribs.
She is smug and rarely speaks.  She is a watcher of people and she writes it all down in her notebook.

I have not heard her screams for a long time.
She wants out but does not know there are no bars.
They are painted on her eyelids.  The cold of their steel is in her own palms.
She makes herself sick because she is afraid of everything.  She wants an excuse to stay indoors.

But I know her.  I know what she is.  She is me.  And we are in this together.
So I take her cold fingers, and we walk out into the sun.
We look up into it and let the waves roll over us, all the while keeping eyelids up.
I breath in my nose and air fill my chest.  It goes down into my empty belly and swirls.
Tears slip and the top of my head tingles.  My ears relax and my shoulders are untied.
"God please take this.  I don't want to run away.  I'm scared...I'm scared...I'm scared.  I'm sorry."

Ugh...and this is how I stay.
I stay and there is more work.  There is always more work.
But it is work I chose.
I want to be a mother.   I want to be Andrew's partner.  I want to be a writer.  I want to be a painter.  I want strong muscles.  I want to be a teacher.  I want to give all that I have.

Pepper and Sophie

Sometimes I just get empty, but life keeps demanding.

So I go to the source.  Now I wish I could say:
No more celebrity gossip.  No more laundry.  No more Facebook.
From now on I will write and paint and love and see it all the time.  The great reality will never again be forgotten.

But instead, I am simply writing this blog.

At the end of the day, I went to an FTR meeting.  I told the real story of my day.  I brought my kids and they watched a movie in the other room.  They interrupted the meeting.  They are kids.  They were being kids.
Afterwards my Mom picked them up in her little white tic-tac of a car.
I went for a run with my group through downtown streets and the moon was a magnolia petal floating over pink mountains.
With my sweat also trickled out the last bits of acid and I felt smooth.
Thank you to that group for holding space for me when I needed it.

"You can get through anything in life by simply breathing."

~ Aunt Lucy (one of my best teachers)