Alright Now

Today is the day I began my true exit from the last 11 years of work, the day I let it all go without a fight.

So, here I am sitting in my exit interview when our Executive Director (an adult), says, "I don't understand why you cc'd me on the resume.  It should have been written to me.  I've been here six months, which isn't very long and I don't know you, really...but you should have addressed it to me.  I'm the Director.  So, when I saw it, I just dismissed you and it."

He kept repeating the same thing over and over.  He heard nothing; offered less.

So today, I breathe a bit easier than I thought I might have with this decision.

It feels good.  Really good moving on to the completely unknown adventure of what is next.

Really good.  It's all right now.

On Men

I grew up more or less as an independent soul, a tomboy; a lover of men.  Yes, I adore my women friends, too, but I want to talk about about men.  At nearly 44 years old, I notice some things -- consistencies perhaps -- about men I love, men who are friends, men with whom I work.

They want to know what your drinking, and they want to have some too.  Doesn't matter if it's morning coffee at the office or a long awaited drink in the evening -- they really want some of what you are having along with what they like.

They love to share meals.  Some cook; some don't.  All eat.  All eat almost anything with joy and gusto from a well charred hot dog to an exquisite dinner in their favorite restaurant.

I remember OSFC's charity bake sale in the lobby of our downtown building...almost with out fail, every man who walked by (thin, fat, athletic, buying, just looking...) stopped, viewed the selection, extended and rubbed their belly commenting on whether or not they would buy a treat.  It was remarkable.

They sparkle when you ask them how they are doing; how their kids are; what's new with their love life; about their favorite hobby.  I think we get so hung up in the mechanics of life, we forget to ask and they revel in it when you do.

They love to be touched.  They bear hug each other; slap asses on the ball field; kiss on the cheeks; love being gently caressed, like to keep close touch.

Women rarely express such gratitude for these pleasures in life.  Too busy nurturing, caring, worrying...organizing....judging; themselves and others.  They learn to set aside these basic human responses. It is easy to set aside your more sensuous side with the typical concerns of the day. Rarely do I find a man who doesn't respond to the simple hedonistic pleasures in life.  The difference must be something in the DNA; something to do with survival.

Something in me says: in the offering, in the giving, in the joy of being received, is the life.

I will strive to keep my eyes open: to see my friends as they are...offer drink, wine, caring, comfort to friends; without filtering the seemingly mundane.

Huh?

This afternoon I caught myself once again wondering, "What the hell is going on here?  What am I doing?"

It's not that I don't have a purpose or don't understand the world around me, but sometimes it's simultaneously so overwhelmingly complicated and so obviously simple that it's hard to wrap words around what it's all about.

That's when the ability to focus on now becomes so important for me.

I have no idea what's next; where I want to be...even what relationships I want to have with family, friends, love...

What I can say is that it is all changing -- morphing into what it always has been.  I guess that is the paradox of life....and I am infinitely grateful to be immersed in it.

Spring

Staring at the barrels of two guns at point blank range can do nothing but change you.  But for me, it jolted me out of complacency; set aside my fear.  I can look at you down the barrel of your gun and give you everything I have on my back.  I am left standing there with my heart, my spirit, my courage.

Let's do the numbers:

2 boys with guns

6 people in the neighborhood offering help

a dozen friends spending time with me in the next week

100s of people offering acts of encouragement and kindness

...who knows how many people hearing the story, keeping their eyes and ears open; becoming more watchful of each other

When the doors of courage are opened, everything changes.  When we look at the world with an open heart, we become more a part of it; more moved by it; more responsible for it.

As I look to leave the security of a state job and embark on my next journey, I know that I can be in the world courageously.  To walk with courage is not to lose fear, but to keep fear in its place -- it's to embrace the world as it is and for all it is.

It is to find ourselves within ourselves and begin to quietly walk alongside our true spirit and to offer the world our gifts.  It is to see the gifts of this life.

So, as the noise of the acute fear, raised blood pressure, increased adrenaline subside I am left with a deep and abiding calm.  A deep and abiding need to live this life as it is.  After all; it is spring.  And this year, my 44th, this is my personal spring...my vernal equinox.

life

2 9-mm barrels pointed at my head today...reminding me of who we all are.  Course, brutal, ignorant.

cold

"Talented" is a wonderful thing; but not related to love, warmth, kindness.  

It's cold.  Like a piece of ice.

I guess I deserve that.  

Feeling life crashing down around me like I've lost all that I never had.  

All that I never had.  

Blown away like not so much a grain of sand, a piece of fuzz or an afterthought.

without love, compassion or kindness.

Empty, but not in the zen way that honors impermanence...but in the hollow way of a life less lived.

I'm reminded deeply of the scars of the life I never lived; I cannot live. 

It may be true that I am not enough for you; but these days make me wonder if I'm enough for me; 

if I'm worth 

the thin wisp

of

an incense stick

as 

it burns into

a pile of brown rice. 

And is that a life worth living?

I don't have an answer for that.  I'm alive.  

I think.

rattles

I think there's a different kind of "death rattles" than the ones you hear about...it's the rattling around by yourself...in the cold fringes of the winter.   No energy to go out; nothing but silence staying home.

It's the way death rattles in this world and knocks her unearthly breaths at your doors and windows waiting for you to succumb.  It's the way the silence sears in to your heart and makes you question anything and perhaps everything you do.

It's the emptiness of no children, no life...even though life may scurry around your feet...like rats scratching, stretching, scraping to find the least bit of nourishment...brilliant creatures, misunderstood...murdered by those who don't understand.

Nothing; no nothing is as lonely as being a widow.  Except for, of course, being a human being who pushes love out of their own life.

Maybe I'm both.