I recently found the Twitter account of an actor whom I adored, (and yes, it is a verified account, not just someone pretending to be him.) This actor is ruggedly handsome. The characters he plays are quirky and challenging, but humorous, and lovable in their faults. I smiled at the thought that I might be privy to his occasionally charming witticisms. I even fantasized about sending a direct message that spoke of my decades long crush, sending him my number, perhaps cajoling him to a coffee date.
So, I clicked "Follow."
For the last 24-36 hours, my twitter feed has been practically held hostage by this man's rants. He is aggressively anti-abortion, and was on that soapbox until Boston yesterday, at which point he began to spew racial fury and intolerance. While I personally support the right to bear arms, I don't agree that any individual citizen carrying a conceled weapon would have avoided the unfortunate tragedy at the marathon.
I completely respect the fact that his twitter is his place to voice his thoughts and opinions on the political atomosphere in our country. But on a day like yesterday, when the sadness of the state of our society is weighing heavily on me, I am uplifted and healed by messages of comfort and caring. Tweets that address the immediate problem of finding missing loved ones, or opening your house to those who find themselves stuck in Boston unexpectedly. I want to hear about humanity banding together to help make each other strong in the face of overwhelming hatred and fear.
I mourn, selfishly, that my little fantasy is shot. I pout (slightly) that not only will I no longer carry a torch for this handsome stranger, but that it will be more challenging to enjoy and care for his quirky characters. But the knowledge of who this man is, what he chooses to stand for, is something I cannot ignore or forget. There will be no more imagined coffee dates, no more fantasized witty flirtations, for who I am and who he is should never been in the same room together, lest there be a very vocal confrontation.
So, I clicked "Unfollow."
These are the ways we grow and learn. These are the silly lessons of the internet, where we must face the wide range of human opinions and decide with whom we will stand. I will offer support and love. I will send my energies out to the spectators and cheerleaders who were taking a day out of their lives to encourage the runners, and the hundreds who, after the explosions went off, ran towards the danger to offer a helping hand. It is a small thing I offer, this intangible message of love from the other side of the country, but it is what I have to give... and I belive it to be a wiser, more compassionate choice than standing on the bodies of the fallen, ranting for further legislation or retaliation.
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Monday, January 07, 2013
Snow on the Mountains
I think the hardest part about the end of a relationship is that everything reminds you of what is gone. Puts an exclamation point at the end of "EMPTY!" And the urge to share the little commonalities doesn't stop just because the person is no longer there.
Yesterday, driving home from work, there were think low lying clouds obscuring the mountain tops to the East. I wanted so badly to call him. The boy loves snow boarding. So much so that for one Christmas, he bought me gear and took me to nearby Mountain High. After a daunting hour or so of abject failure on my part to surmount even the tiny 10ft of "bunny hill", I fell, cracking my head hard on the ice below me one last time, and tearily declared myself "DONE." I sat drinking in the resort bar while he took a run down the mountain side. We did ultimately redeem the day overall, and the picture I took of him at dusk on the mountain is still one of my favorites. However, we never attempted to teach me snowboarding again.
Each year, as the snows hit, he would talk about "definitely getting out there this season." And each year, whether it was lack of money, time or follow through, the snow remained unseen, the mountain unvisited.
When we broke up, one of his complaints about me was that I had no interest in sharing snowboarding with him (while his new "friend" was making her Christmas list of the gear she wanted, so she could hit the slopes.) I thought it was an unfair complaint, as I was NEVER a snow girl, and he knew that when he moved in with me. (I was raised in FL, people... I don't speak snow.) Yes, there is valid complaint that I gave up without really trying much. That I refused to take part in something that was important to him. However, I was raised in a family where separate interests (even separate vacations) are considered a plus, not a minus. So I was fine with him doing it without me... I WANTED him to make snowboarding friends, hiking friends, extreme sports friends. I just didn't expect him to fall for one of them.
The view of the mountains brings all that back to me in a quick instant burst of thought, and yet still I long to call and say, "Have you seen the clouds? There'll be snow on the mountains tonight!!" For I know that thought would bring a smile to his face, and I do so miss his smile.
It is a million little things, you know, that seem hollow without the sharing. When I see a husky come into the shop, when our favorite TV show is on, when I rent a movie at RedBox, when I hear "Brown Eyed Girl" all punk-style... my hand reaches for the phone, to call, to text, to connect. Having to still my own hand, find the inner strength to resist the drug I want so much, lands deep in the core of me, a rock tearing through my heart, thudding heavily in the pit of my stomach.
Many people, dear friends, tell me that I should feel happy, lucky even, that I no longer have an unfaithful, untruthful partner. But all I can feel is the cold grey of those mountain clouds and the loneliness of unseen snow.
Monday, December 03, 2012
A Lone Reflection
a·lone: adj Separated, apart or isolated from others
lone·ly adj Affected with, characterized by, or causing a depressing feeling of being alone; lonesome.
Alone is a state of being. Lonely, a state of mind. They should be easy to differentiate between. They should be two separate things. But sitting here, on the ending side of a 6+ year relationship, I cannot always find a way to separate the two.
This time last year, I had completed the Spartan Sprint in Malibu, and felt empowered and invigorated. This Saturday and Sunday, that race once again took place, but I could not participate. I needed to work and make money, but to be very honest, it is more the fact that I cannot yet run it without him, and I'm certainly not in the place to run it with him (even though he participated both days and invited me along.)
I lost a lot of myself over these last years. I feel like a shell of the vibrant girl I once was. Reading some of this blog's archives, I hear her sweet laughter and confidence bubble forth through her tales, but she seems a stranger to me now. Where once, I dreamed of being unattached, proud of my independence, now I sit in a dark quiet room with cats and a computer for company and I dread the empty silence.
I do have moments. Crystalline insights and moments of connection where I feel that vibrancy start to cut through the clouds. This morning, I was feeling exhilarated and alive as I drove to work, promising myself that the worst of the darkness was passing and that I was well on my way to survival. But somewhere, in the dreary smallness of my day, amidst forced holiday retail cheer and a million commercials about kissing and "forever love", the bubble burst and the tears and confusion settled in like the storm outside.
I used to be ok being "alone", but I have not yet conquered the deamons that accompany "lonely."
So here I am, trying to connect with my age old touchstone, writing. Perhaps this blog and I will once again be on regular conversational terms. Perhaps I will return to my keyboard and let my fingers express the snippets of thoughts as they pass through my cluttered brain, purging feelings and fears, hopes and heartbreaks, leaving what is no longer needed here on the page. Perhaps bit by bit, I'll uncover that courageous girl with the sparkling giggle and a glint of hope in her eyes. And with her for company, how can anyone feel lonely?
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Honoring the Temple Gaurd (repost from 2005)
Was just telling a friend this story the other night, so I was quite pleased to come across this old blog post in which I captured it more clearly than I can now.
Honoring the Temple Gaurd
written May 27, 2005
Once in a while, someone will come along in your life that you just “KNOW”. I don’t know the way you all think, but for me, this is experience is what I call “Knowing your Tribe”. We recognize our own.
Let me take a moment to explain some portion of my cosmology. I do believe in Past lives. I believe that we, as our ‘highest selves’, chose/design some aspect of our current lives, and this includes some say so in what souls we will encounter. I do believe that certain ‘souls’ show up in repeated lifetimes. (and by soul, I don’t mean that I am the exact same entity who was in a previous life time. My theory- and it’s only my theory - is that, in a universe of finite matter and infinite time, the mathematical combinations of particles of matter and energy will begin to repeat, or come together in similar combinations. These combinations, carrying with them a “cellular memory”, would account for “past life remembrances” or “deja vue” or that feeling of “knowing someone before”. The flaw in my theory is that the “timeline” of my memories vs. the amount of matter/span of time, would have repeated or similar combinations happening in a regularity that is inconsistent with the mathematical probability of such.)
Wow… I really didn’t want to get into all that, because it’s not really the point of this post.
This post is about ONE person I’ve met in this lifetime. At a party… about 3 years ago.
Friend’s birthday party, out in Marina Del Rey ( a portion of town I almost never go into, because it’s far west and south of where I usually like to drive). I didn’t know most people at this party, but that hardly stops me from being a social person. The bottom floor of the gorgeous house had a dance floor with DJ, so naturally, I spent a great deal of time there.
Occassionally, I would come upstairs to the kitchen to refresh my drink. On one of those trips upstairs, I began to notice a tall, dark, handsome stranger. It’s not so much his looks that attracted me as the fact that he was constantly manipulating a pair of those metal charm orbs (I think they are Chinese in origin- you probably know of what I speak. Metal, about an inch in diameter, and people typically have both in one hand, moving them around each other in a meditative sort of way)
He was approximately 6’4”, my guess is 270lbs. Dark dark chocolate skin. Enormous eyes. Bald, except for the very top of his head, where two thin, long braids sprouted and draped down the back of his head. He oozed an aura of unquestioned authority and strength, but at the same time, seemed infinitely gentle. He didn’t seem to be talking to much of anyone, but watching everyone. When I looked at him, I could see him, in another outfit, standing against a brick wall of heated mustard brick (does anyone else have those moments, where you see someone, not as they are right now, but perhaps as you’ve seen them before? You blink, and the image is gone.) then suddenly we were back in the kitchen, and I smiled at him. I trusted him instantly. In my head, I dubbed him “the Temple Guard”
I went up to him, commenting on the ever moving orbs in his hand. We talked about meditation and focusing the mind. Always he referred to me as “My Princess”. I laughed and pointed out that I’m a Priestess, not Princess. And he smiled and said “Of Course, My Princess.”
Over the rest of the night, we would pass each other occasionally, and finally both ended up on the dance floor, where he again, stood guard (it’s the best way I have of expressing that). I felt protected, I felt watched over. He danced with me at one point, fully holding my weight with one arm, while never missing a beat with the Chinese orbs in the other hand. By the end of the night, I let go of my vision of myself as priestess, and for a moment, truly felt like the Princess he saw in me.
We left that night with no exchange of numbers ( I can’t remember his name, although I do think he told me at one point). He called me “My Princess” and I called him “My Guardian”, and we understood in those names there was an endless amount of love and respect.
I think of my Temple Guard often; remember his quiet strength, and wonder where he is, in the vastness of this Universe (and LA). Today, I’m wearing a headband that says “Princess”. To me, it’s more a joke than an attitude… but for one moment, in the mirror today, I saw the word, and thought of my Guardian, and wondered if somewhere, he was smiling.
Honoring the Temple Gaurd
written May 27, 2005
Once in a while, someone will come along in your life that you just “KNOW”. I don’t know the way you all think, but for me, this is experience is what I call “Knowing your Tribe”. We recognize our own.
Let me take a moment to explain some portion of my cosmology. I do believe in Past lives. I believe that we, as our ‘highest selves’, chose/design some aspect of our current lives, and this includes some say so in what souls we will encounter. I do believe that certain ‘souls’ show up in repeated lifetimes. (and by soul, I don’t mean that I am the exact same entity who was in a previous life time. My theory- and it’s only my theory - is that, in a universe of finite matter and infinite time, the mathematical combinations of particles of matter and energy will begin to repeat, or come together in similar combinations. These combinations, carrying with them a “cellular memory”, would account for “past life remembrances” or “deja vue” or that feeling of “knowing someone before”. The flaw in my theory is that the “timeline” of my memories vs. the amount of matter/span of time, would have repeated or similar combinations happening in a regularity that is inconsistent with the mathematical probability of such.)
Wow… I really didn’t want to get into all that, because it’s not really the point of this post.
This post is about ONE person I’ve met in this lifetime. At a party… about 3 years ago.
Friend’s birthday party, out in Marina Del Rey ( a portion of town I almost never go into, because it’s far west and south of where I usually like to drive). I didn’t know most people at this party, but that hardly stops me from being a social person. The bottom floor of the gorgeous house had a dance floor with DJ, so naturally, I spent a great deal of time there.
Occassionally, I would come upstairs to the kitchen to refresh my drink. On one of those trips upstairs, I began to notice a tall, dark, handsome stranger. It’s not so much his looks that attracted me as the fact that he was constantly manipulating a pair of those metal charm orbs (I think they are Chinese in origin- you probably know of what I speak. Metal, about an inch in diameter, and people typically have both in one hand, moving them around each other in a meditative sort of way)
He was approximately 6’4”, my guess is 270lbs. Dark dark chocolate skin. Enormous eyes. Bald, except for the very top of his head, where two thin, long braids sprouted and draped down the back of his head. He oozed an aura of unquestioned authority and strength, but at the same time, seemed infinitely gentle. He didn’t seem to be talking to much of anyone, but watching everyone. When I looked at him, I could see him, in another outfit, standing against a brick wall of heated mustard brick (does anyone else have those moments, where you see someone, not as they are right now, but perhaps as you’ve seen them before? You blink, and the image is gone.) then suddenly we were back in the kitchen, and I smiled at him. I trusted him instantly. In my head, I dubbed him “the Temple Guard”
I went up to him, commenting on the ever moving orbs in his hand. We talked about meditation and focusing the mind. Always he referred to me as “My Princess”. I laughed and pointed out that I’m a Priestess, not Princess. And he smiled and said “Of Course, My Princess.”
Over the rest of the night, we would pass each other occasionally, and finally both ended up on the dance floor, where he again, stood guard (it’s the best way I have of expressing that). I felt protected, I felt watched over. He danced with me at one point, fully holding my weight with one arm, while never missing a beat with the Chinese orbs in the other hand. By the end of the night, I let go of my vision of myself as priestess, and for a moment, truly felt like the Princess he saw in me.
We left that night with no exchange of numbers ( I can’t remember his name, although I do think he told me at one point). He called me “My Princess” and I called him “My Guardian”, and we understood in those names there was an endless amount of love and respect.
I think of my Temple Guard often; remember his quiet strength, and wonder where he is, in the vastness of this Universe (and LA). Today, I’m wearing a headband that says “Princess”. To me, it’s more a joke than an attitude… but for one moment, in the mirror today, I saw the word, and thought of my Guardian, and wondered if somewhere, he was smiling.
Monday, November 26, 2012
Pondering Past Thoughts
So much has been happening in my life lately, and it caused me to reflect on a post I wrote back in 2005. So I went serching through a million locked down livejournal posts till I found it.
Heroines for the 21st Century
written March 8, 2005
Motivated by my own comment to mamaluna about the new breed of Amazons.... i sought some guidance/comfort in the wisdom of the tealeaves.
Reading No. 16
Every man's life is a fairy tale, written by God's fingers. ~ Hans Christian Anderson
You are the hero of your own life, not a problem to be solved, but a mystery to be lived. It's not the agony of the quest, but the rapture of the revelation
My own hero..... my own true Amazon warrior (with 2 whole breasts). Can it be a call I answer happily? Rise to the occassion and embrace? I see all these wonderfully empowered women, each of us smart and savy. Able to look at what is going on around us and say "This works" or "This is unhealthy, and I don't want to play that game anymore." We are healing and moving forward at what soemtimes seems to be a lightening fast pace..... and while we have each other, we simply cannot find a "partner" that will move at that pace with us.
Perhpas it's not meant to be. I've theorized before that as the human race moves forward, we step further and further away from monogomy (a state i believe has been trained into us by society and is not genetically what we are designed to do). Perhaps as we leap and bound away from accepted roles of wife and mother, we continue evolution, returning to the warrior state.
You know, all i've read by the modern gurus & elevated minds, they talk about the higher self, being a being of love..... but they don't really focus on marriage, or even life long partnership. There is an element of Bhuddism that seems to be the enlightened but unattached state. Unattached to material things, unattached to wants and desires. And what is a life long relationship, if not built (on some level) by wants and desires.
which takes me back to my longing for a new Avalon, for convent life..... unattached to the material, embraced only by spirituality.... tending gardens for the goddess.... each silent day a testimony to balance and bliss.
can we be on the path, returning to the Temple Priestess.... sacred in body and mind. sexual, sensual, yet sacred? Unhampered by earthy drama. And if that's where this is headed, then I shouldn't be upset by it. I should embrace it. Dance with it. Rise above the daily bullshit and see that this is the path put in front of me, and walk it with dedication and joy.
Alone,
Unhampered
Unattached
Heroines for the 21st Century
written March 8, 2005
Motivated by my own comment to mamaluna about the new breed of Amazons.... i sought some guidance/comfort in the wisdom of the tealeaves.
Reading No. 16
Every man's life is a fairy tale, written by God's fingers. ~ Hans Christian Anderson
You are the hero of your own life, not a problem to be solved, but a mystery to be lived. It's not the agony of the quest, but the rapture of the revelation
My own hero..... my own true Amazon warrior (with 2 whole breasts). Can it be a call I answer happily? Rise to the occassion and embrace? I see all these wonderfully empowered women, each of us smart and savy. Able to look at what is going on around us and say "This works" or "This is unhealthy, and I don't want to play that game anymore." We are healing and moving forward at what soemtimes seems to be a lightening fast pace..... and while we have each other, we simply cannot find a "partner" that will move at that pace with us.
Perhpas it's not meant to be. I've theorized before that as the human race moves forward, we step further and further away from monogomy (a state i believe has been trained into us by society and is not genetically what we are designed to do). Perhaps as we leap and bound away from accepted roles of wife and mother, we continue evolution, returning to the warrior state.
You know, all i've read by the modern gurus & elevated minds, they talk about the higher self, being a being of love..... but they don't really focus on marriage, or even life long partnership. There is an element of Bhuddism that seems to be the enlightened but unattached state. Unattached to material things, unattached to wants and desires. And what is a life long relationship, if not built (on some level) by wants and desires.
which takes me back to my longing for a new Avalon, for convent life..... unattached to the material, embraced only by spirituality.... tending gardens for the goddess.... each silent day a testimony to balance and bliss.
can we be on the path, returning to the Temple Priestess.... sacred in body and mind. sexual, sensual, yet sacred? Unhampered by earthy drama. And if that's where this is headed, then I shouldn't be upset by it. I should embrace it. Dance with it. Rise above the daily bullshit and see that this is the path put in front of me, and walk it with dedication and joy.
Alone,
Unhampered
Unattached
Sunday, November 20, 2011
A Spartan Thanks
Yesterday, I ran The Spartan Sprint. This is not the place to go into what it is, or why I ran it. No, this is a letter to a single woman whom I encountered.
Dear Spartan,
You may not remember me. I am quite sure that I did not factor into your race the way you factored into mine. I was the woman sitting crumpled in the mud at the foot of the last obstacle, crying quietly. You asked if I was ok. I lamely replied, "I'm just tired." It was an excuse befitting a 3-year old child, and I apologize for it. I was not entirely in a clear-thinking place. Had I had more wits about me, I would have said this:
"I'm so goddamn tired... tired of not showing up to my life. Tired of having lofty dreams and goals that I'm too lazy or terrified to pursue with the vigor they need. I'm tired of failing. I did not train for this the way I should have, and yet through some grit and determination, I've made it this far...to the last obstacle. But I'm not sure I can climb this wall. And I'll be dammned if I'll quit within site of that finish line. Each time I rally the physical strength to attempt it, and fail, sliding back down to this muddied grass, I waste precious energy. And I'm not sure where that energy is coming from, or just how much more I have. I'm overwhelmed by the frustration, ashamed that I'm sitting here, and just before you arrived I took a particularly spectacular face and chest plant on the wood that knocked the wind out of me, so I'm in a fair amount of physical pain as well. But all that is nothing compared to the screaming voice in my head that is telling me over and over that I shouldn't have even tried becuase I ALWAYS FAIL. That voice is so loud that I fear you can hear it, even over this cheering crowd."
So thank you Spartan, for being one person out of hundreds who stopped to ask if I was ok. Thank you for taking time out of your experience to check on me. Please excuse me that moment of human fear & frailty. Know that after you left, I took a breath, regrouped and climbed that wall a 3rd and final time, and finished my first Spartan race. I hope your race was an amazing experience. I hope you had fun, but also that you found within yourself a place of power, of strength. I hope you surprised yourself with all you could achieve. I know I did.
Dear Spartan,
You may not remember me. I am quite sure that I did not factor into your race the way you factored into mine. I was the woman sitting crumpled in the mud at the foot of the last obstacle, crying quietly. You asked if I was ok. I lamely replied, "I'm just tired." It was an excuse befitting a 3-year old child, and I apologize for it. I was not entirely in a clear-thinking place. Had I had more wits about me, I would have said this:
"I'm so goddamn tired... tired of not showing up to my life. Tired of having lofty dreams and goals that I'm too lazy or terrified to pursue with the vigor they need. I'm tired of failing. I did not train for this the way I should have, and yet through some grit and determination, I've made it this far...to the last obstacle. But I'm not sure I can climb this wall. And I'll be dammned if I'll quit within site of that finish line. Each time I rally the physical strength to attempt it, and fail, sliding back down to this muddied grass, I waste precious energy. And I'm not sure where that energy is coming from, or just how much more I have. I'm overwhelmed by the frustration, ashamed that I'm sitting here, and just before you arrived I took a particularly spectacular face and chest plant on the wood that knocked the wind out of me, so I'm in a fair amount of physical pain as well. But all that is nothing compared to the screaming voice in my head that is telling me over and over that I shouldn't have even tried becuase I ALWAYS FAIL. That voice is so loud that I fear you can hear it, even over this cheering crowd."
So thank you Spartan, for being one person out of hundreds who stopped to ask if I was ok. Thank you for taking time out of your experience to check on me. Please excuse me that moment of human fear & frailty. Know that after you left, I took a breath, regrouped and climbed that wall a 3rd and final time, and finished my first Spartan race. I hope your race was an amazing experience. I hope you had fun, but also that you found within yourself a place of power, of strength. I hope you surprised yourself with all you could achieve. I know I did.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Trying to capture the new, in just a few words
Hello all. Don't know if anyone still reads this. Don't know that many people who did to begin with. For a while, I had a stride, writing well and often. But life has a way of changing and this blog no longer fits me.
I haven't worked with a feral cat community in quite some time, and I've been dating the same guy for... eek.. 5 years this May, so the "Catch Neuter & Release" moniker isn't really appropriate anymore.
I don't sit at a computer, so my writing time is limited but now special to me. I left the entertainment industry and dreams of becoming a star (or at least a working actress) far behind. Now, after several years in school and internships, I'm considered part of the animal welfare industry (I know... shocker for a cat lady such as me.) I'm different. I'm quieter. Some times I'm heart broken and resigned that I left the life long dream behind me. Other times, I'm still and smiling, believing that this new path I've chosen in is fact my soul's true work, and while I don't have a clear direction in front of me, my internal compass has me moving forward in the right way.
I'd like to start journaling again, start blogging. Putting thought and belief out there to the Universe. I've had that feeling for months. But I'm always stopped when I try to contemplate a new title. Something catchy perhaps, easy to remember (or at least, easy to google). Something fun, which in a few words, captures who I am, who I am becoming, and what I face on the path.
defining oneself is never easy work.
I haven't worked with a feral cat community in quite some time, and I've been dating the same guy for... eek.. 5 years this May, so the "Catch Neuter & Release" moniker isn't really appropriate anymore.
I don't sit at a computer, so my writing time is limited but now special to me. I left the entertainment industry and dreams of becoming a star (or at least a working actress) far behind. Now, after several years in school and internships, I'm considered part of the animal welfare industry (I know... shocker for a cat lady such as me.) I'm different. I'm quieter. Some times I'm heart broken and resigned that I left the life long dream behind me. Other times, I'm still and smiling, believing that this new path I've chosen in is fact my soul's true work, and while I don't have a clear direction in front of me, my internal compass has me moving forward in the right way.
I'd like to start journaling again, start blogging. Putting thought and belief out there to the Universe. I've had that feeling for months. But I'm always stopped when I try to contemplate a new title. Something catchy perhaps, easy to remember (or at least, easy to google). Something fun, which in a few words, captures who I am, who I am becoming, and what I face on the path.
defining oneself is never easy work.
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