when life changes… February 10, 2009
When your life changes, you do things you have always done..and then you do new things. You meet new people. You feel liberated. Sometimes you feel sad and long for what was familiar. And then you decide to knit on the couch and watch a Lebanese film ~ to heat up left overs for the 3rd time ~ to feel empty and full at the same time ~ you listen to italian music from the 80s ~ and then copy a quote a dear friend sent you:
“Ce qu’on apprend dans la vie, c’est la grammaire du silence, la leçon de lumière. Il faut du temps pour apprendre. Il faut tellement plus de temps pour s’atteindre.“(Bobin)
and you try not to think too much about what will happen next. because thinking too much gets you confused and depressed and lost. and then you remember that you wanted to be lost for a little while. you wanted to turn in circles in the middle of tall trees — a sort of meadow that has no specific paths. you hate paths right now, even though you know you need them.
and then you wonder how much you will tell the world about what you are going through. and you feel like things could be worse…
freedom has a price. you don’t yet know what it is. you are redefining your world, your self. the world right now is a white sheet of paper on which you can draw and write and sing, dance and jump. even your tears will decorate parts of it…but that’s ok. it’s what you wanted.
The Check has finally been Cashed January 19, 2009
It goes without saying that today, more than EVER, this amazing speech of Martin Luther King Jr.’s has a new meaning. The time has finally come, it took too long…but it has finally come.
Happy Birthday Dr. King!
My Eyes January 6, 2009
Correspondences in space and time with strangers who become familiar beyond the daily societal habits of one’s life. We become each others’ confidantes and audiences with eyes wide open and dreams of poetry. Attracted to a way of writing, to an intensity of the soul that we somehow are not afraid to expose. There is an element of time that exceeds all boundaries of awkwardness and expectations. Silence which allows each of us to be genuine, to “think before you speak”, to dig just a few steps deeper into the hallways of our inner world. Opening doors that lie invisible in the rushed daylight.
In the peaceful darkness of contemplation, however, I peak over to the right, take a few steps, place my hand on the rusty knob of a redwood door and open it as though it had always been there. I don’t know that I had never seen it before. It opens slowly and I have to push it harder — the loud squeek almost frightens me as I look around to make sure I don’t rattle too many neighbors. I expect to find total darkness, spiderwebs and dust. I enter and my heart beats too loud. The moment I let go of the knob the room begins to brighten as though someone had placed a rising sun inside it. Reds and oranges and yellows taint the high-ceilinged walls of this now bright and happy room. I take one more step and the heavy door slams shut behind me. I am no longer frightened. A calm rushes over me and as I stand in the middle of the room, I can no longer move my body. My arms are heavy and try as I may, I can not lift them.
It is my eyes. All my senses gather in my eyes. And their abilities are multiplied…I am transfixed…almost floating.
I think I must be dreaming but it is daytime and I am awake. And I am writing.
Colors dance around and through me. Images appear and disappear on the walls and ceilings. Words shoot through my throat, my knee, my abdomen. Ancient history and universal infinity discuss the meaning of the word “path” with Buddhist philosophy near the window. I hear mumblings of multiple conversations around me and I catch words here and there. My eyes listen — they feel — they taste — they touch — they smell. I close them. I take a deep breath. I smile and open them again. I am on my couch, listening to the hissing of the heater and the bells of the cable car. I close my eyes, hoping to return to the happy room. I don’t. I open my eyes and I am here. I am writing. And the only word I can end this sentence with is: POTENTIAL
Trailing up the Hill December 27, 2008
If you want to subtly experience what it feels like to distort your thinking just a bit you could either smoke some good weed, eat some magic mushrooms or you could simply spend a few weeks on your back unable to get out of your house. You’d have to set yourself up for that unless you do it cleverly like me and break your ankle.
I really thought that I would do a lot more writing during this forced time of respite. I also thought I would watch more tv. I am happy (and proud) that I didn’t watch so much tv. Instead I read quite a bit, looked through old journals I happen to have lying around, spent probably too much idle time online and did a lot of thinking. Not focused thinking. Just random thinking…
As I look back I was unaware that I was thinking so much. Since December 5th I’ve only been out of the house 4 times. That’s 4 days out of 21 days. One time was a quick doctor’s appointment. Twice I went to school and saw colleagues and students. The last time was a nice day spent with my good friend C. I lie. I just went out about an hour ago. I finally put on my regular street clothes (damn, my jeans are feeling tighter!) and hobbled half a block down to our grocery store. It felt like a big event.
It was then, when I hobbled back up the hill that it hit me. If you can believe it: I had a brief but powerful moment of epiphany. I suddenly saw myself from above, walking slowly up a hill and said to myself: Girl, you’ve been living in another world for 3 weeks. And it is high time for you to return to THIS world. This isolation distorted reality for you by a couple of degrees. Or did it?
Perhaps THAT is what a prisoner feels like when he is released and the heavy metal door shuts behind him as he steps onto the pavement of “freedom”. Free to do whatever he wants. I imagine this has got to be an epiphany and life-affirming moment and depending on the person, that moment could be very short-lived or long lasting. Or I imagine that person who’s been in the hospital for weeks or months with some life threatening ailment, an accident…and is given a second chance at life. What it must be like to walk out the sliding doors of that hospital.
These moments all fall in the same category. And for my own split moment I got it. I got that one’s mind and soul can get sidetracked, can enter a different sort of dimension. That one can get so self-absorbed that one forgets the daily cycle of life, the color of the sky, the sound of one’s shoe on the pavement. It can be good for some, dangerous for others. It depends.
As for myself, at that banal moment of trailing up that hill…it was a good moment. I got excited again. I remembered that I have a day-to-day existence that does not entail pillows and blankets and tv remotes and soreness on the back of my head (I think I have flattened the back of my head). And I look forward to resuming that life again soon. Looking forward to my walks at Crissy Field…to driving my car…to how life can be simple and wonderful when every basic need is in place.
For a moment, I forgot that. But then I remembered. And I thank myself that a measly little broken hairline fracture is all it took for me to remember.
It’s not over yet. I am still stuck at home most of the days. But soon it WILL be over.
Crazy thing is I think I will sort of miss that disguised spiritual retreat…
Everybody’s got to learn sometime December 24, 2008
Watched “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” for the second time yesterday. A really good movie (if you haven’t seen it yet)…this song really stuck to me all evening…I really like Beck’s version of it.
