Reverb10: December 3: Moment

Following a link from Gretchen Rubin at the Happiness Project, I found the Reverb10 site, which encourages us to spend each day of December looking back at 2010 and thinking about what we want in our lives in 2011, through daily prompts. Since I'm nine days late, I'm not going to write about all of them, but I think I'll write now about one that sings to me. 

December 3 - Moment. Pick one moment during which you felt most alive this year. Describe it in vivid detail (texture, smells, voices, noises, colors.)

I sit at the door to the boat, and the people start coming in. The band is starting to set up. The rain is dancing down on the roof, the windows, and the water that surrounds us on three sides. I'm the doorperson; I take the door donations and direct people to the seats and to the kitchen where the food and drink are. People are happy to be here. They're impressed with this beautiful, 80-foot, wood- and window-lined boat, and with the concert series. The windows surround us; the light is falling and the rain makes it feel cozy inside. I'm surrounded by friends and by people who love music. This phenomenon is something I helped create: a house concert series on my (now ex-) boyfriend's boat. We had this vision, and we made it happen, and now, swimming in love, light, and music, I'm happier than I've ever been. Nothing else matters, and tomorrow does not exist. When the musicians arrive and the room fills with guitar and voice, the audience - and I - well up with tears. "If you're not in awe, you're not paying attention" is the phrase of the evening. I'm in awe, and I'm paying attention, and we're all so alive that the air hums with it. This is a moment that all future experiences will be measured against.

Here's a video of Lisa and Erika, the duo who played that night.

Reverb10: December 1: One Word

Following a link from Gretchen Rubin at the Happiness Project, I found the Reverb10 site, which encourages us to spend each day of December looking back at 2010 and thinking about what we want in our lives in 2011, through daily prompts. Since I'm nine days late, I'm not going to write about all of them, but I think I'll start now with the one that sings to me. 

December 1 - One Word. Encapsulate the year 2010 in one word. Explain why you're choosing that word. Now, imagine it's one year from today. What would you like the word to be that captures 2011?

2010: Growth.

Man. 2010 was a doozy. My heart held sway this year (as if that's different from any other year!) but it held me so tightly, that it forced me to look deeply into my own darkness and the darkness of others. It forced me to sit with this deep, howling need, and to look, over and over and over again, into this pit of despair that makes me want to fill this emptiness with someone else's love. I couldn't get out, it was like I was mesmerized, in the old meaning of the term: hypnotized, spellbound. All I could do was watch myself behave badly, claw and grasp my way in a sort-of-relationship that did not suit me, surround myself with imbalance, ambivalence, and shady half-truths that I wanted, so badly, to believe. At the end of the year, eventually, we got out of it, and I'm still in grief. But the growth has been amazing. Amazingly profound. Amazingly painful. Amazingly deep. Amazingly life-altering. I've discovered some deep core of myself that I wasn't aware existed. Some strength that I didn't think I had.

2011: Balance.

I know what I need to have in my life to make me happy. Creativity. Connection. Laughter. Exploration. Nature. Self-Reflection. Physicality. Spontaneity. Honesty. Love. Music. Books. Any of these things can be had, basically immediately, but to have them all, and in balance? That's the challenge. In 2010, I had many of these things, but but not in balance. I stopped meditating, did very little yoga or exercise, ate badly, drank too much consistently, was tense and stressed out, and in my head much of the time. Honesty as hard to get at. It was there some of the time, but there were far too many secrets and nasty surprises for my blood. For 2011, I would like to bring my life back into the balance that I know is good for me, and to not forget what it takes for me to be happy. I want to remember, in this next year, that I need to look out for myself before I can look out for anyone else, and before I do for someone else, I need to do for myself. At the same time, I want to dance with life - a waltz this time, more than a tango. No need for so much intensity and angst that it steals all the light. Life is meant to be lived, and as we grow older, we know more and more what we each need to live well. I know what I need to live the life I want to live. I'm tired of sadness and profundity. I want laughter, happiness, love, and light, and all of these in balance.

It's In the Cards

At the office holiday party, we had a nice young tarot card reader tucked away in the corner of the bookstore who would do a simple, 3-card reading.  Of course I had to partake! I love that kind of stuff. My position on explorations of the divination kind is that regardless of where the information is coming from, it can all be useful. I don't know if the cards (or the palm readers or the crystal-ball gazers) are really tapping into something otherworldly, but I do know that when I've had my cards read, I've inevitably gotten useful information. This time was no exception.

There were three cards - what to hold on to, what to let go of, and what to look at for the future. I'm not actually clear on how she phrased the position of the third card, but it's not that important.

The first card, that reader said (there was no exchange previous to this except for discussions on how I was to cut the cards) told me that I should hold on to my ability to grasp all the complexities of life, and to help people see and understand those complexities. That was kind of a mind-blower, considering that this ability - and support for it -  is something that keeps coming up again and again in all of the inner work I've been doing for years. It's what I try to do on my blogs. It's something I've struggled with, as I continue to get messages from others that I should just think happy thoughts and be happy and that all this complexifying is just a downer. But the cards said it: don't let go of this ability to see life for what it is - infinitely nuanced and mysterious!

Wonderful! After this last couple of years, getting a divine confidence boost like that was nice.

The second card - what to let go of - pictured the Hermit. Uh oh. "You need to stop spending so much time alone." she said. OK. After the breakup, I went into lockdown mode. I shut myself off from everyone except the people closest to me, and my coworkers, who I see everyday. Granted, I've had a bad cold for about the past week and a half and that's intensified it (I think I fell in love with Netflix Instant Play) but for the past two months, I've really not wanted to be around people. This one both rang true for me and also made me squirm in my chair. What? Leave my safe cave and go back into the fray?

The third card made me laugh. "Now is not a good time to be vulnerable," the tarot lady said. Ha ha! That's a good one. Ha ha. Funny. Wait. What?? "Now isn't the time for intense self-reflection," she continued. Alright, now look, I almost replied, I am the queen of vulnerability. I write a blog about my own depression on a website filled with psychologists. I've written about my most intense, opening, often painful moments, on a public blog, for years. I still use Blogger fer godsakes!! And before that, in a zine. A ZINE!! So how am I supposed to not be vulnerable, to not be intensely self-reflective? It's what I do, it's in my bones. My gravestone will have to have a screen embedded in it so I can update my blog from the Afterlife.

But it all made a kind of sense, and the more I thought about it, the more sense it made. So I told myself that, after I got over this @#$%$ cold, I'd reenter the big, bad, dangerous world and make it my bitch. Errr...sorry, my oyster. That doesn't mean no self-reflection or vulnerability or alone time, but maybe it means taking greater pains to reinvent myself, to try new things, and to let go of the past as much as I can without denying my natural grieving process. To laugh more, to let go of expectations more, and to let the moment in more. To be present with whatever's happening, and to meet the people around me with less in my head and more in my heart.

To that end, I'll be adding some new stuff to this blog, shaking things up a bit, and, at least somewhat, participating in the #Reverb10 meme, which is what I was planning to write about in this post before it got hijacked by this tarot card post. But not tonight, I'm off to meet a friend for a spontaneous drink on a rainy night.

We Survived!

Walking at lunch the other day, off to go do some retail therapy to try and make myself feel better about heartbreak, and wondering why emotional pain can hurt so badly that we sometimes wonder if we'll survive it, I had a thought. I remembered other times I've been in intense pain, even the day before, and how I despaired of making it another minute with this pain, and how I did make it. It seems melodramatic in times when we're doing okay to think of emotional pain as something that can kill you, but I think all of us at one time or another have had moments (or longer) of being in such pain. And in this moment, I wondered how many of us have given ourselves credit for surviving those moments. Yes, perhaps the thought that we will die from heartbreak or disappointment is unrealistic, but in the moment, it can feel like the ultimate reality. When's the last time you stopped and congratulated yourself for getting through those moments, and even getting past them, healing, and moving on?

I went to lunch with a friend a few days ago, and she happened to pick a restaurant where I had gone with an ex- (not the most recent one.) We just happened to sit at the same table he and I had shared. My friend and I had a nice lunch, and it was only that evening that I realized: I had had no twinge whatsoever of pain from that old breakup! I almost texted my friend, but held back, figuring I'd already talked her ear off about this latest ending and she was due for a break. But when I realized that I had moved past that painful time and moved on, and that the old memories no longer haunted me, I got a new shot of faith that I will survive the current time and come out alive, kicking, stronger, and healthier for it.

If you're struggling with emotional pain, despairing that it will never end, remember the old pain and give yourself credit for surviving those times. Give yourself a pat on the back or an ice cream or a new book and congratulate yourself for being so strong, resilient, and courageous that you've made it here!

 On Letting Go

I have to let go. I know that. Even as I grasp this situation, this person, the way someone grasps desperately at leaves of grass as she tumbles off of a cliff, I know that my grasping is only doing damage, and will not help either of us. I've become someone I'm not proud of, someone who lashes out with jealous comments and little snipes to ease the pain of loss. Last night, at a very special event that fills me with pride and joy, I was forced to act easeful, happy, and welcoming in a group of others. I was the hostess, I had to be strong and poised, even though that morning I had been weeping, angry, and desolate. After that night, I knew, my new life would start, one that I had to walk into with the same poise and confidence that I displayed to our guests. As I closed that door behind me after a wonderful evening, carrying with me flowers and compliments and a strong feeling of the love and support of the people around me,  I wanted to cry, I wanted to rage, to be called back and to be told that it was all a mistake, that I didn't have to walk away, that I didn't have to let go. Even as I write this, when a car drives up in front of my house, I look, halfway hoping to see that familiar car. The joy of witnessing something I helped create come to a gorgeous crescendo is still inside of me, as is the feeling of love for someone that will never (hopefully) go away, even if our relationship must change.

I just wrote a blog post for Psychology Today about how accepting the feelings of anxiety and terror that I used to have about driving a car helped me finally get my driver's license at age 36. I realized as I wrote that I can use those same skills now, as I make a new life for myself. I can sit with the loss, the grief, the sadness, and even the hope and the good memories, and still choose to move my life in a direction that supports my values of being a good friend, speaking and acting with compassion, surrounding myself with beauty, supporting creativity in myself and others, and generally living a life of integrity. I realize that, in the recent past, I have not acted in accordance with my values, and that, though it hurts to let go, that letting go will actually help me get back to my valued path. At the event where I helped host, I was able to be there for others, be strong, confident, welcoming, and happy even though I knew that every hour that passed brought me closer to walking out of a door that I never wanted to have to walk out of ever again. If I could do it then, in the midst of people and chaos, music and laughter, I can do it now, in the silence of my house, with the light streaming in and the warm breeze. I can let go of wanting life to be different than it is, and I can wish everyone in my life - past present, future and maybe-future - love and wholeness.