Posts Tagged ‘beach’

Turn On The Heat

November 3, 2017

It’s cold out there.

The rains are coming.

It’s November.

Hello.

The chill in the air, with the almost full moon rising, was spooky and intense, bright and crisp, fall is here, winter is coming.

I hopefully will be getting a car soon, as I noted that there is rain in the near forecast.

I don’t have the time to do it before the rains start and I have some homework yet to do, but I’m pretty decided and as soon as I have the down time I will be getting my butt to a dealership in the East Bay.

Soon.

Not soon enough to save me from some more cold scooter rides home, or wet rides home.

I am still debating riding in to work tomorrow on my scooter, even though there is some rain in the forecast–it’s off and on and not 100% rain all day.

There are windows of time when it’s not raining and they both fall around when I would be going into work and when I’d be coming home.

I get to come home early tomorrow, both of my clients cancelled and instead of trying to squeeze in a consult, like I did tonight when my client cancelled, I decided to take the night off and just come home.

Take a hot shower.

Wash the week off of me.

Cook myself a nice dinner.

Be cozy.

Reflect on my life and the last six months.

My God.

The last six months.

So much love.

So much change.

Some quiet and private.

Some big and public.

Lots of internal change.

Loads.

And just extraordinary amounts of gratitude for where I am in my life and the people I get to spend time with.

I am so lucky.

If the rain stays away and the cloud cover is not to bad, it might be a great night to go down to the beach for the full moon.

It will be full at midnight tomorrow, but I suspect that it will look full when it rises, I thought it was full tonight as it was coming up.

I had to check online to see when it was complete.

Tomorrow.

Midnight.

The witching hour.

Magic.

Love.

The ocean.

Dancing on the beach.

Wrapping myself up in love.

The full moon reminding me of you.

Of promise.

Of joy.

Of laughter that falls from my mouth.

How sustained I am and how loved.

My life is extraordinary, even when I am tired, like I was today and a little bit in H.A.L.T.

Hungry.

Angry.

Lonely.

Tired.

I was hungry since I didn’t have the best lunch, not a bad lunch, no not at all, just not the lunch I’d planned, as the container that my chicken soup was in broke in my scooter basket and I had chicken soup all over my school books, shoes, and paperwork.

Sigh.

Tired.

As I went to bed late.

Not horribly late, just later than normal and up a little earlier to help the mom out at work by coming in a half hour early.

Lonely.

Well.

Sometimes a girl gets lonely.

I was listening to Coleman Hawkins today, late afternoon, at work, the mom had all the kids and I was at the house waiting for an important delivery and doing food prep and cleaning and household stuff.

The music moved me.

The view moved me.

I danced by myself.

Dreamy and slow, folding the laundry, looking out the window towards downtown San Francisco, dreaming of being in another’s arms.

Angry.

Well.

It passed.

But it was there for a little bit.

I got boonswoggled into a playdate/babysitting gig, without compensation.

I felt manipulated, annoyed, angry, pissed off, victimized and aware that, in the passive aggressive text, I had been played.

Or so it felt.

And I knew that I was tired and I knew that I was lonely and I knew that I was hungry, so I prayed and asked for it to be removed and I asked myself what my fear was, and I asked if I needed to manipulate through withholding my honest response, and I asked myself to see the situation with perspective and wait for clarification before getting more pissed off.

Which I’m very happy for.

I also had a snack.

Which fucking helped.

And I took some ibuprofen, too much carrying the baby this week in the carrier, which is how I started out my day, so I was a bit sore and tender all day too, which helped.

Then I had a talk with the mom and we divided and conquered and, yes, I will, in a way be baby sitting–I’m just going to call it an extended play date, but it is for a charge I have already had, who I love so dearly that I am more than happy to help and that the mom is taking two of her three kids, so that I will just have two to take care of, instead of the four I thought I was going to be saddled with, and it doesn’t happen til next Wednesday and fuck if I’m going to be upset about it and carry it forward.

Thank God for spot check inventory.

Also.

Thank God for getting home and making myself a nice hot meal, pan-fried Japanese sweet potato with garlic and pulled meat from a roasted chicken with melted butter.

That along with turning up the heat in my studio and realizing it’s Friday tomorrow and I have wonderful plans for it and I’ll get a paycheck and my health insurance stipend and really, there are no problems.

None.

Just love.

Abundance.

Perspective.

Joy.

And the nearly, almost, not quite, but soon to be.

Full moon.

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Just Keep Writing

June 19, 2017

Very, very, very few hits on the blog yesterday and today.

Of course.

It is Father’s Day.

Folks have things to do, people to see, loved ones to celebrate.

I sent my dad warm thoughts, it’s how I can show up today, loving from a distance.

I did try last week on his birthday to call the cell phone number I have for him, but the call did not go through and I took that as the time is not now.

I may never have the time for my dad.

I have acceptance for that, some sorrow, but mostly acceptance and a kind of peace around it.

There are times that I have wished for more from my father, but I have always known, despite not having much contact with him through the years, that I was loved by him.

Who am I to say that how he expressed his love was not the right thing for me?

I cannot choose how people express their love.

I have a certain idea how it should look, but my ideas are often wrong.

So often wrong.

It’s rather ridiculous.

But hey, I’m trying.

I may fall, but at least I know that I am trying.

And I love.

So, so, so hard.

My God, I love hard.

And it may not be what someone wants either.

I have tried being softer and kinder and easier with my love, for myself, for others, to not squeeze too hard, to be gentle, to be flexible and have deeper perspective and appreciation for all forms of love.

I’m not sure where I am going with this ramble, just that I am glad for my father and I hope he is well and I love him.

I do.

So many kinds of love, so much vastness of feeling.

So many memories.

Some easier to recall than others.

Grateful for them all.

Grateful for today.

It was a good day.

I woke up earlier than I was planning, but then again, I hadn’t planned on staying up late last night, but the cup of coffee I gleefully, rebelliously drank with my friend at the anniversary party last night had its way with me.

I was going to let myself have eight hours of sleep.

But the light in my room woke me up and I knew I would feel better if I got up and got myself going.

So I hopped up, put on the yoga clothes and went to the studio down the block.

It was a great class and I was very happy with the teacher.

Then a nice mellow, slow morning.

Met with a lady, did the deal, did some laundry, did some shopping, did some cooking.

And.

Holy cats.

I read some fiction.

I read a book.

In the sun.

On the back porch.

It was sunny in San Francisco and the beach was packed and the parks were packed and it was Father’s Day all over the place.

I did go down to the beach for a little bit, but when it’s nice out, and it was, it was over 80 degrees, the beach gets really bombarded and add a national celebrate a parent holiday and the traffic and people were off the hook.

I sat in a dune for a while and enjoyed the sea and the sun, but after maybe twenty minutes I just decided to go back home and read on the back porch.

I knew it would be quiet.

And it was lovely.

I definitely got a few freckles today and I got warm in my bones.

It felt nice to put up my feet and relax a little.

The next week is a busy one.

Aren’t they all?

But.

It does make the time go faster and I’m excited to be seeing clients now at the internship.

I also peeped the weather for the next week and it looks gorgeous and sunny and the June gloom that is so often the weather in the city for the summer seems to have abated and I am grateful.

There is so much in my life to be grateful for.

So much learning.

As I navigate through my days I see where I have stumbled and where I have been selfish and when I am not being of good service to a situation.

I can make things about myself really fast.

I catch it more often than I have in the past, but I am always a bit chagrined when I do it.

I get to recall the feeling in my body when I hurt someone or make something about me when it really has nothing to do with me, out of fear, that’s usually where I am acting from, fear.

Fear that I won’t get what I want or I will lose what I have.

And the fear is baseless.

Groundless.

Silly.

I have been given so much and I have so much, that to live in any kind of fear is a kind of waste, a superfluous worry of time, when I could be enjoying the sunshine, the daydream, the revery of sitting still in the back yard and feeling the warmth on my skin where I am caught and held in perfection.

I am human, but that is an excuse.

I have to also change when I see things in myself that I don’t care for, I can’t wish them away.

I can, however, pray about it and hope to be of better service in the future.

Remembering how it feels when I have done something that doesn’t serve another because I am in fear of not getting what I want.

Ah growth.

Painful growth.

I heard it said once or twice, though, that pain is the touchstone of spiritual growth.

I definitely grew a little today.

And the pain is not as tender as it has been in the past, but it is there so I chose now, in this moment, to remember what I felt and what I was feeling and to not let those fears get in the way of enjoying my day.

The sun.

The soft warmth.

The dreamy.

I do like the dreamy.

Please God.

Don’t let me fuck up the dreamy.

 

Wanted Woman

May 27, 2017

It’s nice to be wanted.

It really is.

It’s nice to be pursued.

It’s nice to be courted.

But.

To a point.

Today I was asked to nanny by four different people.

Four.

Three separate families apart from the one I work for, and all from the same spot.

I was a little overwhelmed by it, I was also very tentative about saying anything about my availability.

What availability?

I mean.

Yikes.

One mom who asked has asked before and it has always felt a little like I was getting manipulated into doing something even though I was fairly closed mouth about being able to do anything, I also feel like I must be circumspect and respect that the families are all after one thing, that which will work well for them and their children.

And I know from over a decade of being a nanny that it’s hard to find a good fit for your child, I am asked for referrals all the time.

All the time.

It takes a lot of showing up to be good.

And.

I have a lot to give, but let’s be honest.

There is only so much Carmen-nanny to go around.

Word has gotten out that my family will be gone for a few weeks in July and that I might be helping out my previous family.

And it’s true.

My current family will be leaving for a few weeks, but my internship won’t be going anywhere.

And yes.

I did tell my previous family I would love to help them out with a date night, I miss the boys and it would be sweet to have a night with them.

But.

I am in no place to suddenly pick up a lot of hours.

I will say, though, it is flattering.

I also got to see the another family I briefly worked for end of last year and get a lot of hugs and how are you’s and catch up.

Part of me wants to say yes, of course I will help, I love your kids, I like you.

But.

I love me to.

And Carmen has needs.

I want to make sure my needs are getting met before I go off and make promises to help when I will just get resentful.

No.

I don’t want my summer to be a resentful making time.

I would rather do a lot of yoga, hang out with friends, go on dates, get some extra hours in at my internship and maybe take a long weekend somewhere.

Maybe not even all that far away.

Somewhere by the sea.

Somewhere closer by then Paris.

Somewhere I just lay around in a big hotel bed for a weekend.

I still have my flight voucher for $480 to use before October.

And.

I just had a moment today, not a big one, but a kind of soft warning bell, oh hey, don’t forget, you’re also going to Burning Man and I haven’t done any prep around that.

I still need to replace my playa bike.

I need to find a ride there and back as well.

I have some supplies that I need to replace, a battery charged air pump for my blow up mattress, and of course since I’m not working at all this event I will need to probably procure another cooler for a longer run on my food and figure out a shade structure.

I didn’t have a shade structure last year, I figured, four days in and out, I’ll deal, but this year I’ll be there for the full event and I want to be in a nice space for myself.

Also.

Since school starts for me the weekend prior to Burning Man starting, literally my fall school semester will start and I will leave class and head straight to the playa.

That night.

If not that afternoon.

Depending on who I ride with.

Anyone want to give me a ride to Burning Man this year?

Yeah, seriously, hit me up.

I suppose I will put my name on the ride share board again and see if that pans anything out.

I don’t have to know all the details yet, but there’s planning that needs to be done for that and May is almost over, June will be really rolling into being at my internship and taking clients and July, the family is gone for three weeks.

That three weeks feels like the golden times.

I could not work at all.

I am getting paid for the time the family is away.

I could just do my internship and hide from all forms of nannying.

I don’t want to let myself get bogged down in helping out too many people.

Even if all I do is yoga and take long walks on the beach, just some good solid self-care.

Ah.

I am done with the worrying.

Tomorrow has a lot going on and I want to get up early and go to yoga, stretch out as much as possible and get in my body, meeting with my person at Tart to Tart, grocery shopping–the cupboards are pretty bare, and a dentist appointment to deal with before I try to figure out what July looks like.

I have today.

I got through the week, the jet lag seems to have faded off.

I got to see some friends and fellows tonight.

I had a great day at work.

I was pursued and though I couldn’t respond in the manner that was being asked after, I gave no promises as to my availability, only confirmed that the family will be out for a few weeks in July, I could thank those that asked after me.

And.

I can appreciate that I am appreciated.

That people want me to work for them.

That I am wanted is a gift.

A gift that I do not take lightly.

So with much gratitude.

I bid adieu to Friday and hello to my three-day weekend!

I am so ready for it.

Seriously.

Swim Suits

April 3, 2017

And sun hats.

I pretty much lived in those two things all day.

And my sundress.

And some flip-flops.

Pretty nice weather.

Beach weather.

Building sand castle weather.

Wading in the waves with bright yellow plastic buckets to scoop cold salty water for building more sand castles.

I worked today and it did feel a little strange, but I rolled with it, to have my family come out to me.

The mom wanted a day at the beach and was super kind to suggest that we just meet in my neighborhood instead of having me commute in and then we could all head to Ocean Beach together.

Again my start today was later than the noon start we had talked about.

And that was fine.

I got some more homework done.

I couldn’t go to yoga.

I tried.

I signed up online.

I set my alarm.

But.

When it went off there was just no way, I was exhausted.

Exhausted.

I gave myself another hour of sleep on my alarm and rolled back over, I was out, there was no brain activity, no rumbling early morning ruminating, I was dead to the world.

Even an hour later I could have slept more.

I figured I was just tired from the long week, even though my days weren’t full days this weekend, it’s still work on the weekend and not much rest for the wicked.

Not that I’ve been wicked.

Maybe a tiny bit naughty.

In my thoughts, people, not in my actions.

I wouldn’t mind being a little naughty in my actions it just wasn’t on the menu today.

Fortunately I had enough time this morning to wake up slow, to enjoy my breakfast, to have a big creamy unsweetened vanilla almond milk latte and take some time to write my morning pages and sort out my day.

I did some homework, some grocery shopping, and a little food organization and prep before the family got to me.

We met at my house and I suggested where they could park, down on La Playa and Judah, and I walked down to Java Beach Cafe to meet with them and help them carry all the goodies to the beach.

It was very sweet to be with them.

We had a picnic in the dunes.

We dug holes, collected shells and sticks, and dashed in and out of the water.

I was super grateful for the straw fedora I had grabbed at Other Avenues when I had grabbed some groceries earlier in the day.

And the sunblock.

It was a sunblock kind of day at the beach.

It isn’t often that the weather at the beach cooperates.

There was a moment when a bit of fog and mist rolled in, but it didn’t stick and it was really a nice day for being at the beach, sunny, but not too hot.

I was with the family until about 5 p.m.

Then I came back here, roasted a chicken, made some soup, and decided I needed to get right with God.

Hopped on my scooter and took a ride up to Quintara and 20th and got some recovery on.

Back home, hot tea, my fedora hung up in the closet, grateful for the day and the service and yes, grateful that tomorrow is Monday, I made it through the work weekend.

My schedule will go back to its regular hours tomorrow and I’m good with that, I want to get back into my routine before school gets going next weekend.

Four days of work, three days of school.

Then two days off.

I’m going to hang out with a friend on Monday and I have a therapy session on Tuesday, but other than that, nothing.

I’ll get to yoga, make up for this weekend.

I just couldn’t do it, my body was really sore from yesterday’s class and I have a stress injury in my left shoulder that flared up, I’m going to not beat myself up for not getting in today, the fact that I went and did the deal is enough.

Fuck.

The fact that I worked is enough.

I did enough today.

The days are a bit of a blur, I will admit that, they keep rolling along into each other.

The sunrise.

The sunset.

The routine of my days measured out in cups of tea, words scrawled into notebooks with black ink pens, the shift of my heart as I hear the birds sing in the morning and the spill of golden sunlight through the back door of my studio.

I felt like I was moving through honey soften time this afternoon when I got back.

Just to sit outside, shaded up under my fedora, the sun freckling through the straw brim when I tilted my head back, still in sun warmed air, ravens perched on chimney tops, silhouetted against the bluer than blue California sky, my feet up on the wrought iron chair, to be still, I got my break, I got my refresh and though I worked today I was able to have a measure of quiet in my own skin time too.

I need these breaks.

I need to sit still and watch the sky.

To feel the big heavy imprint of azure press itself into my heart, to be glossed in sun, it is glorious beyond my reckoning.

I’ll change out of my swim suit and sundress soon.

My fedora has been hung up for another day.

But.

I may give myself a few more moments in my garb to appreciate the beautiful place that I live, Outer Sunset, Ocean Beach, San Francisco, California.

My home sweet home.

Luckiest girl in the world.

So.

Damn.

Lucky.

Cozy Little Christmas

December 26, 2016

I was talking to the moms earlier and she expressed how sad she was that I was alone at Christmas.

I assuaged her.

I almost laughed, I haven’t felt lonely, despite, yes, spending the majority of the day alone.

I never felt lonely.

Sleepy occasionally.

I actually napped.

A lot.

I don’t nap often and it always feels rather epic when I do.

I blame the malingering cold.

Not enough to knock me completely flat, but definitely, defiantly still there, sitting on my chest with a nasty proprietorship that I am about done with.

Ha.

I foil you cold.

I signed up for a yoga class tomorrow, get out of my body.

I figure one more big night of sleep and some warming up and stretching will make me feel a lot better.

I didn’t get to the studio at all this past week, the weird hours at work, the onset of the cold, the holiday stuff, I got behind and nothing quite worked with my schedule.

Speaking of schedule.

I have been in contact with the new family I will be starting with on January 2nd and since I’m in town this week I’ll be meeting with them to go over the stuff and things and sign my new contract.

It’s for reals.

I am grateful for the week off.

Even with the stupid cold.

I will go to the MOMA.

I may go the DeYoung and the Legion of Honor too,  haven’t been to either in a while.

Maybe one day a ride over to Sausalito too on the ferry, it’s been a while since I have done that as well.

And as I let myself listen to a last few Christmas carols I really am reflectively happy.

Yes, I had other plans.

And I’m ok with the change of them.

I’m not upset that I spent Christmas by myself.

I’m good company.

Really good company.

I got myself a new dress for Christmas.

Oh god damn it’s cute.

From Hell Bunny.

Thank you Christmas bonus.

I don’t think it will get here in time for New Year’s but it might, not that I don’t have a dress, I did let myself get a dress from Ambiance the other day.

Two dresses at Christmas, so nice to do for myself.

I had a nice morning writing and drinking cafe au lait.

I opened cards and gifts from family and I talked to my mom on the phone and chatted and messaged with other friends and dear hearts.

I made turmeric spiced garlic brown rice and I roasted a pork roast.

Oh my god.

The roast.

I very infrequently buy pork or steak, it’s just spendy for me and if I get meat, I typically get a chicken, I can stretch a chicken into a weeks plus worth of meals, but you know, Christmas.

So I picked up a pork roast at the SafeWay the last time I shopped.

And what with the Adobo my darling friend gave me from Puerto Rico and the persimmons Santa sent me, fuck me, I made an amazing pork roast.

I seasoned it with sea salt, black pepper, the aforementioned Adobo, Spike, a tiny bit of tarragon and then slow cooked it for an hour and a half.

While it rested I made the rice.

Then I sliced up some persimmon, layered them over the top of the roast, added a tiny bit more salt, and yes, raw organic cocoa.

While the rice was cooking and the roast was resting I went for a walk down to the beach.

The waves were heavy and crumbling and loud.

There were a few folks out with their pups and one surfer trying to paddle out past the break.

I walked for a while.

Then perched in the dunes above the beach.

I was not sad.

I am not sad now.

I reflected, rather, that I have done a lot for myself, with the help of a lot of friends, over this past year.

I dis-entangled myself from a love relationship that was woefully not working.

I went to New York in May and saw all the art and things and friends.

I went to New Orleans and saw all the art and the things and made new friends.

I went to Burning Man, briefly, yes, but I went and saw all the art and the things and made new friends and saw old friends.

I rode my scooter all over the city.

I mean all over.

I successfully got through the first semester of my second year in a three year graduate school program.

I saw Mike Doughty and Paul Simon live.

I started doing yoga.

I finished a two year plus job with grace and love and got referred kindly to my next position with rave references.

I comported myself pretty damn well.

I told lots of people I love them.

I do, you know.

I sat up in those dunes happy with myself, alone, but not lonely and it struck me so resolutely how lonely I felt last year at Christmas with the man I was in love with and then the year prior with an old boyfriend, alone on Christmas as he chose to spend it with another.

I was not in pity for myself, I remember walking that same stretch of beach tears running down my face, in a white dress, my hair in braids, the wind so cold, the sun bright, brilliant, but cutting.  I took a picture of myself in the dunes that year and all the responses were the same, my god how beautiful and all I could think was my God, I’m in a relationship and alone on Christmas, my God how lonely I am.

Alone.

But not lonely this year at Christmas.

I came home from my happy gambol along the beach and lovingly put the roast in the over to sear at a high temp for a half hour and carmelized the persimmons and my goodness, my house may have never smelled better.

I read for a while then pulled out the roast and dug in.

It was beyond description.

So good.

And I had saved a Rau Raw Chocolate drink to have with it.

Best Christmas dinner ever.

Seriously.

I had a sliced persimmon after dredged in sea salt and raw chocolate, cinnamon and nutmeg, and a big mug of Bengal Spice tea with cashew milk.

I was full and happy and warm and cozy.

I read for a little while longer, so many wonderful new pleasure reading things to get through, then.

I had a thought.

My how nice a nap might be.

So.

I did.

Merry fucking Christmas.

I curled up underneath my grandma’s afghan and watched the Christmas tree.

I drifted off, warm, safe, held.

Wrapped up in love.

Alone?

Yes.

Lonely, no.

Loved and taken care of.

Loving to myself and to others.

The best Christmas miracles are always the little ones.

Seriously.

So, mama, don’t be sad that your baby was alone on Christmas.

I had a beautiful day and when I reflect on all the people who love me.

Well.

I am surely blessed.

So very much so.

Wishing you and yours the same.

Always.

And.

Forever.

 

 

Last Christmas I gave you my heart.

But the very next day you gave it away.

This year I’ll give it to someone special.

I’m Willing To Do The Work

June 27, 2016

God.

God damn it.

I laughed at myself.

In the bathroom, peeing out the iced coffee from Java Beach and all my out and about in the neighborhood today.

I never left the three block radius of my house.

Wait.

Not true.

I did go grocery shopping at SafeWay down on Balboa and Great Highway.

But really.

I stayed put.

I had some ladies to meet today.

One who flaked.

One who didn’t.

I had a coffee date with an old friend.

I cooked for myself.

I got some groceries for a friend who is housebound with a foot surgery and can’t walk out the house yet.

I did the things that make me feel good.

Even when my friend brushed sand off my face and I thought for a minute, fuck, he’s going to kiss me.

But he didn’t.

I can’t date him and we talked it out in the dunes out at the beach and had a nice time just getting all the story out there and watching the waves roll in and out.

It was brisk but sunny.

And the Pride was still happening and the Parliament happening at Stern Grove, it was sort of perfect, no one was down at the beach.

Not that many folks in the neighborhood.

It was a soft, cottony, cold, foggy, swathed in morning and it took me a minute to get the yawns out of my head before I headed off to yoga.

It was warm in the studio and I drifted through the work out and it was great.

I got to the final resting pose and I think I actually experienced that illusive condition that the teacher is always alluding to.

My mind free and quiet.

My body at complete rest, totally supported by the mat and the earth beneath me.

I felt grounded and rooted and also, completely free and free floating.

It was utter bliss.

It didn’t hut that I was able to do some poses and sequences that I have not been successful with and I tried with one pose that is super challenging for me, Crow pose, and though I didn’t come anywhere near nailing it, I got to get closer to it and committed to trying to do it, and yeah, I fell.

But.

I also laughed.

Grateful that I can laugh at myself.

“That’s the great thing about you!” My friend exclaimed as I was talking about some dating disasters I have been through over the last six months or so.  “You can totally laugh at yourself, that is so refreshing, you have no idea.”

Perhaps I don’t.

Perhaps I don’t have an inkling at all.

I mean.

I am fucking grateful that I can take my shit with a grain of salt and also that I have experience and perspective and information to move forward with.

I was yelling, or talking loudly with God, praying from the toilet seat as I peed, “really, I’m willing to do the work, I am.”

My friend who I had dropped groceries off to had suggested, in regards to a disaster of a relationship that I was super quiet about going through, he was stunned that I hadn’t said anything before today, that he hadn’t known anything.

“Dude, you mean _____________?! You were hanging out with him?”

Yup.

“I had no fucking clue.”

Yeah.

Well.

Nobody did.

Then I ran down the story, sans the drama that I felt going through the experience, but I got the bones of the narrative out.

“Ok, so here’s the deal,” my friend broke it down, “you either think that you’re not enough, so you settled, or which is worse, that you knew you were better than this but you weren’t willing to do the work.”

Ouch.

Ouch.

Ouchity, ouch, ouch.

And yet.

There is truth here.

I wanted to deny it.

I wanted to say it was neither.

But the truth is that it was both, I felt both not enough and also that I was enough and more than enough, and I knew I wasn’t being treated well, but I sort of blinded myself to the information that I was being given and went tripping merrily down the rabbit hole.

I realize that I need sustenance more than flash.

Although.

Flash can be exciting.

It doesn’t last more than a week or two.

I like sexy, who doesn’t?

But.

Yes.

I want sustenance, I want substance, and yes, ha, I am wiling to do the work.

Which means what?

Fuck if I know.

And.

I am ok with that too.

I am ok with having fun.

But, yeah, I do want the more permanent thing, not just the glittery and the sparkle.

I suspect that there can be both substance and glitter.

It doesn’t have to be a lot, but there should be sparkle, truly what doesn’t do well with a little bit of lacquer?

Painted heart.

Painted hussy.

Painted face.

Masked behind the sexy and the glitter and the ribbons and gewgaws, the flowers sequined and spattered with light shine, the musicality of stars, the glitter box full of hearts sprayed metallic shimmer, is the plain of my soul.

Lighted and a fire.

“You are so beautiful,” he said looking into my eyes, “the more I look, the further into your heart I can see and you are so beautiful.”

I don’t believe it was a line.

But it was our last goodbye.

Beneath the sheets our limbs entangled, his hands in my hair, on my face, holding it just there, it was a goodbye, in hindsight, although in the basement of my heart I knew, I still let the moment spin out, basking in the moment and the reverence.

The sacred.

And.

The profane.

Floating gossamer like, a small spider web of hopeful desire sticky on my hands that brushed it away to go forward into the routine of my days and weeks.

Those days and weeks tumble into months now and though I can share the story with one friend on the beach and take the tale to another over coffee and catch up, I know now that they are just that, stories, narratives, tall tales from the neck of my life.

Floating out and above the skyline.

Like.

Heart shaped balloons.

Loosed at sunset.

Beautiful to look at.

But.

Illusory and fragile.

Shot through.

And.

Glowing in the sorbet sunset to melt into the sky, buttery indigo flamingo pink and puce punk back lit.

The change is this.

Instead of running across the dunes, stumbling, in fear, trying to catch something I can never touch or capturing something that cannot be caught, I stopped chasing.

I just sat back and watched them float away.

Still and silent.

Glowing inside and outside with the sunset.

And the few small grains of sand I just brushed from my face.

A soft smile.

The warm embrace of an arm around my waist.

The pause.

The goodbye.

And the hello again to knowledge.

It’s all just information.

How I use it.

That’s my choice.

I’m powerless over the rest.

Alone.

But.

Not.

Lonely.

And.

Most.

Certainly.

Not unloved.

Oh no.

So.

Loved.

Seriously.

All the time.

This vast.

Vast.

Ocean.

Of.

Love.

 

The Art Of Being

April 13, 2015

Still.

Staying put.

Not going anywhere.

Well, maybe for a walk on the beach.

But not with a blind date, I cancelled the date.

Just me.

The sea.

My white dress blowing in the wind, my red-painted toenails awash in the tide flowing up onto the beach.

“You look like an angel,” she said, giving me a hug.

I ran into a lady from the Outer Mission who had done the long, hour-long, probably longer, commute via MUNI to come out to the beach today.

I recognized her from a way off, standing facing out to the sea, the sunlight playing over the planes of her proud face.

Beautiful.

We chatted for a moment, then she went her way and I went mine, walking further down the beach toward Sloat.

I reflected on the day, the weekend, the dating over the weekend and the decision to delete my OkCupid account.

“You’re gorgeous! I’m sure you’re going to be drowning in dates, you’re totally going to be taken care of!”  She exclaimed in my little kitchenette as I was plying her with experiences I have had recently over the past few months of online dating and the like, while she was sharing some inventory.

“It’s not about being gorgeous,” he said, “it’s not about that, you and I know that, that’s an ego feeding proposition and it does nothing for you.”

“I agree,” I replied.

It’s, cliché, but it’s what’s inside that counts.

I realize that I get a distorted idea of who a person is online, just as I assume, they do of me.

I want to be seen.

“Oh you’re noticed,” my ex-boyfriend said, “I feel like I need to constantly mark my territory.”

Interesting.

Not that I notice.

I only seem to notice when it’s not appropriate to what I want.

Which is also telling.

“It’s about acceptance,” my friend said as the date from yesterday disappeared down Judah toward the Starbucks on the corner.

“You know you can always reach out to me,” she continued, “now that I am retired, I really like seeing women in the fellowship and talking recovery, you know I’m on Facebook, just reach out.”

We hugged and I got on the N-Judah.

Sometimes I tend toward creating drama when there is no need for drama.

I don’t need to be dating.

“Oh, I get it,” he said today on the phone as I was walking up the dune at the end of Judah and Great Highway, “you want to be coupled up.”

“Yes,” I said, sheepish, embarrassed, “but,” I added, “I don’t need to be, I get that, I’m not looking for something to complete me or someone to fix me, or…”  I drifted off, the view of the ocean taking my breath once again.

“I know you understand that, it’s natural, we’re experience junkies, being in a relationship, being a couple, is an experience and you want to have as many experiences as possible in your life time.”

He paused as I caught my breath, I almost started to cry with relief, “every relationship is God’s, every one of them, what ever one you are in, friend, sister, daughter, employee, it’s God’s.”

Of course.

I know this.

Yet I needed to be reminded.

And.

Good gravy man.

It was a comfort to hear that it’s natural to want to be in a relationship with a lover, to be a couple, to be dating someone, committed to a person.

I have this idea, which I realized only while talking to my person, that I have shame around this desire.

That I somehow don’t deserve this very basic human experience.

Well.

Damn it.

Let’s change that right now.

What action can I take?

Let me fucking do it.

Oh.

Wait.

Pause.

Breathe.

Be still.

Know that there is a God.

And I am not it and be quiet.

Let the moment seep into your skin.

Let the smell of the ocean wash over you and carry your salty tears off onto the wind.

Turn your face to the sun like a flower, float down the beach like an angel, gorgeous in forgiveness.

For therein lies the true beauty.

Forgive myself.

Grieve and let go.

That of course, is the hardest thing for me, the letting go, the soft, yielding surrender.

I don’t have to be forced to it.

I don’t have to be beaten into it.

I can accept, kind and gracious the gift of not being ashamed of my life, my experiences, my heart, the way it beats when a Jim Croce song comes on the stereo and I am transported to a soft summer night rife with the smell of chicken on the grill, the barbecue searing the air with smoke and charcoal, the smell of cut grass, being a little girl in a sundress and running around the yard.

Or I can struggle some more.

I choose not to struggle.

The yielding to the better life, the actual goodness that I know and have in my life is so abundant and prosperous with love and sunshine and oh, god, glory.

I live a glorious life.

I do not need to create drama.

I do not have to do anything.

I can be still.

Thus I sat when I got back from the Ocean Beach walk.

I meditated.

I sat in the sun in the Adirondack chair in the back yard.

Then I ate some dinner on the back porch sitting at my housemates wrought iron table and chairs, curled up basking in the sunshine falling from the sky and lighting every crooked passage of my heart.

Sear out the shame in sunshine.

It’s ok to be human, child, girl, woman, this is how you get to live.

Not how you have to live.

But get.

This graced gift, my life.

Listen to some music that fills your heart, sit in some sunshine, sip some spicy ginger tea, read a book, watch the raven’s fly over the back yard, delete the things in your life that don’t work and surrender to the breath that draws your beating heart forward into the golden land of the sunset.

Or

At least the Outer Sunset.

The Week In Review

November 3, 2014

“Oh my gosh, I so relate to that,” she said, “I self-sabotage all the time.”

Hmm.

And then.

“Oh, I won’t date a woman who blogs,” said a friend today that I ended up hanging out on the beach with this afternoon, “too many people seeing my foibles, all one-sided, nope, I couldn’t do it.”

“You need to stop writing about dating.”

And I wonder.

Maybe I do.

It may be time to stop the self-sabotage, to not air the laundry, clean, dirty, or otherwise.

“You can write about me all you want,” my friend told me last night as we sipped lemon ginger tea and got caught up on each other’s lives–he’s back from the radical sabbatical and it was good, very good, to see him.

It’s hard to watch friends through struggles and he has been there for me through a lot of them.

There is a lot I don’t blog about, I think, I do keep some things, lots of things, to myself, for myself, by myself.

I could write all about my friend, but it is not my place, so perhaps, yes, I should not be writing about the dating too.

Not that I had a date today to write about.

I spent the day having Sunday service down by the sea.

It was so beautiful out today and I had a new white dress to wear.

I woke up earlier than I should have, all things considered, even with it being Daylight Savings time, I still was up late last night.

However, the sun was up and it was all blue skies and the brain started up and I just decided to get up and brave the day.

Even without having a thing planned, which can at times cause a kind of frantic feeling in me, I have a hard time sitting still and I have spent much of this past year trying to find that balance of not working too much and getting in some fun and some relaxation time to, because, ultimately, it does make me such a better worker and person in the end if I do.

Breakfast, coffee, hair in braids, new dress, flip-flops (which made me smile a bit, it’s November 2nd and I am in flip-flops), write for a while, sit for a while.

I went out into the back yard and sat in the big white Adirondack chair and the sun beamed benevolent and warm and the birds rustled over head, ravens, and songbirds chattered, gulls squawked, the ocean surf rumbled, and once in a while the N-Judah would grumble past.

I sat soaking in the warmth and the love and I got quiet.

The frazzle and dazzle of the week siphoned through me and I was still.

I realized I did a few things this week that I could regroup around and rethink, especially in regards to self-care, late nights, some really late nights for me, both Friday and Saturday, with early wake ups and no naps, a few nights when I did not get to my blog, which is like its own version of sunshine for me, I need to do it, it feeds the art monster in me, drinking an energy drink on Friday.

Oooh.

I know, I am so subversive, drinking a caffeine bomb.

However, it’s true, I don’t really drink them, I don’t do artificial sweeteners, I don’t chew gum, I don’t drink diet sodas, so what was I doing drinking a sugar-free Rockstar on Friday?

I knew, even as I said yes, I should have been saying no, or at least, yes, I’ll have a water, thank you.

But I did it anyway.  I want to keep up with the cool kids you know.

Then again.

I also did some spectacular self-care for me–went and got the mammogram done, which I was dreading and it wasn’t so bad, did grocery shopping, sent my mom a birthday card and got her birthday present, I need to drop it in the mail tomorrow.  Called mom, I try to call my mom on Sundays, it still amazes me that we have re-established a relationship, I feel ridiculously blessed by it.

I bought myself a new dress, I don’t clothes shop well, so this was really big self-care and as I took it out of my bag last night to hang in the closet my friend made a comment and I said, “I don’t even know why I bought it, I have no idea where I am going to wear it.”

“You’ll figure it out.”

And of course.

I did.

To the beach, to the beach, to the beachy, peachy keen, lovely beach, that place wild and wooly right out my back yard, just blocks away.

I packed a lunch up for myself–large kale salad with 1/2 an heirloom tomato, broccoli, carrots, 1/2 an organic Hass avocado, kalamata olive oil, apple cider vinegar, Bragg’s amino’s, 1/2 a tart apple, two hard-boiled eggs, and of course the ubiquitous persimmon (they won’t be in season much longer so I have stacks of them in my kitchen), a bottle of water, a blanket from the housemate, my camera, and off to the beach I went.

I climbed up and over the dune at the edge of Great Highway and Judah and walked down toward the sea.

I found my spot.

Spread out the blanket.

Sat down and breathed deeply all things good and salty and sea.

I felt it all loosen in me, the sun warmed me, I felt doused in love and light and I unpacked my lunch and ate it under bright cerulean skies, laughing at the confused sea-gull who was watching close by and was none to happy when after much patience he finally scavenged something from my lunch–the persimmon top, and disgusted with his findings, flapped off  in a huff to better pickings.

Beach Picnic

Picnic

 

 

Kite

Kite

I took some photos and called a friend.

Who, as luck would have it, is it odd or is it God?

Was right down the beach at Noriega and Great Highway.

He made his way to me and we sat and talked about shoes and ships and sealing wax, cabbages and kings, dating, family, recovery, Ocean Beach, life, travel, work.

It was so good.

He gave me some lovely perspective and I felt unburdened and lucky and blessed to again, come back to this simple, sweet, serene life I lead.

My Sunday sabbatical complete I was able to come back to the house, write some more, meet with a lady, do some reading, eat a wonderful dinner, sit in the last of the sun and drink copious amounts of cinnamon tea.

I downloaded my photographs and felt that despite a rather tumultuous week–all in my head, mind you–I had gotten what I needed and relaxed here, finally, at the end of the week, the edge of the world, down by the sea.

Sunshine

Sunshine Day Dream

Right exactly where I am supposed to be.

Happy

May 16, 2014

I just said it out loud a lot today.

“Happy.”

And I was.

Nothing special.

Nothing new to report.

Unless you count the fact that I wore a sundress in San Francisco.

I was pushing my luck, two days of heat and the third usually means cooling off and heading into foglandia.  But I risked it and though I did have to don my sweatshirt for the evenings bike ride home, I was able to go through the entire day with a summer dress on.

Happy.

Happiness is a state of contentment for me.

I used to believe that happy meant excitement, expectation, exhalation, high highs, roller coaster emotions, drama.

Not so much anymore.

Happy.

Sitting on a fresh painted green picnic table in Alamo Park Square just below the tennis court surrounded by old trees, rose bushes growing profuse and decadent, with my little girl Thursday in my lap as we watched the butterflies flitting about the sun.

Happy.

Riding my bike to work in a sundress.

Make that really happy.

I did joke earlier that I was tempting fate, that it would probably snow since I had decided I could rock out a summer time frock.

Practice for the trip to Wisconsin.

Practice for the music festival I am going to over Memorial Day weekend.

Need to get my ducks in a row for that, camping equipment, arrangements, and details.

My friend is out-of-town in Canada on a family matter and I have not heard back from her yet as to when we will be leaving and what I need to do to prep for the festival, but having been to Burning Man a few times I am certain I will be able to piece together what I need.

Happy that I am allowing myself to go out-of-town on Memorial Day weekend for a girl road trip with one of my dear friends.

I get to listen to music outdoors for four days in a row.

That is really happy.

Very happy with my hair cut.

Calvin must have taken four inches off and I was a touch sad at the loss of length, but man, it looks so much better and prettier.

So much so that I ended up giving a Solid Gold business card to one of the mom’s after today’s music class.

We have similar hair and she loved my cut.

Happy to get a hug from the Music Together teacher.

It’s nice when your presence is acknowledged by the person running the class and it’s nice to have mom’s that treat me well and it’s so lovely to have little children crawl into my lap and share with me their joy too.

Happy.

Pushing the stroller in the sunshine through the Pan Handle park to and from the music class, walking through dappled shadows, smelling fresh-cut grass, which always reminds me of summer.

Happy to have brewed extra coffee this morning so that  I could bring some in a glass Mason jar, with my tea cozy wrapped around it, and make iced coffee at work, to sip on the way to music class.

Happy.

Today’s music destination?

France.

We sang lullabies in French and the free dance was to Edith Piaf.

Lovely.

Happy.

The smile of the barista at The Mill who took my order and made my iced coffee for the walk back to my charges house.

Happy.

To hold the door open for the disabled man coming up the stairs and to be patient.

With myself and grateful to wait, to know that there is nowhere to rush off to, nowhere that I needed to be except right there feeling fine.

Happy.

That I am not going to get up early tomorrow and try to start the scooter to take it to work and rush about if I can’t get it started to ride my bicycle to work in the Castro.

Nope.

I am going to wait until Saturday to deal with it.

I don’t have to get up and try to force a solution when I have all day Saturday.

I really mean all day.

My early afternoon commitment was cancelled, she’s off to New York for the weekend and I don’t have to be anywhere until 7p.m. on Saturday.

I will take the time to address the scooter when I am not feeling rushed.

Happy.

To hear the laughter in my life.

Happy.

To laugh at myself.

Please show me who I should be with, popped out of my mouth this morning in my meditation and prayer time.

You know what I heard, which caused me to burst out laughing.

“You’ll know when he asks you on a date.”

Oh Jesus.

Duh.

And moving on.

Happy.

To not care right now I am so relaxed and softened and pretty exactly where I am with who I am.

I don’t know when I have felt this free and easy in myself.

I suppose it’s the culmination of a lot of different things, a lot of work, a lot of surrender, a lot of following other folks suggestions and ideas and a lot of taking action and not living in fantasy.

Happy.

I don’t have to figure it out.

Happy.

I am getting myself to embrace my authentic self further and have some fun.

Yes.

I am getting my hair colored soon.

Hehe.

But I am not going to do the big reveal yet.

I did, however, share with a dear angel of mine what I was going to do.

“Oh my God, that is going to be amazing,” she exclaimed, eyes wide.

Yes.

I think so too.

Happy.

Butterflies, blue skies, begonias, bright eyes, big hearts, robin’s eggs in the grass, beauty all about me, love, beachy skies, overblown rose bushes, pig tails and sparkles in my hair, summer dress, and travel plans, Burning Man in three months, friends going to Burning Man for the first time, getting to live in San Francisco, faith, godliness, trees, the smell of cut grass in the hot sun.

Hot sun in San Francisco.

Happy.

Happy.

Joy.

Joy.

Repeat.

Sunshine and Horses

March 24, 2014

Rainbows and Unicorns.

Walking hand in hand on the beach with you my love.

Or horseback riding as the case may be.

Today I went to Mar Vista Stables out by Fort Funston here in San Francisco, down by the sparkling blue Pacific Ocean, and went horseback riding with some dear and darling girlfriends.

“Like lady friends, like romantic?” My housemate’s daughter queried me, later after they had all left.

You know you’re in San Francisco when a seven-year old girl is making those kinds of assumptions.

“No, friends who are girls,” I said, “girls who I love, although not in a romantic way, woman who are very dear to me.”

“Same thing,” she said and went back to her chalk drawing on the cement patio in the back yard.

And she’s right, it’s all the same love.

Just a different facet of it.

I am blessed with some amazing lady friends, not only did I get to go dancing with a great group of gals on Friday, I got to have a second wild adventure today with another wonderful set of women.

I really am lucky.

And I got to cook for them due to unsuspecting events that unfolded on the ride.

Our time at the stables ran over, there were incidents.

My horse bucked a bit, nipping the hindquarters on the horse in front of me who promptly kicked back, causing my horse to rear and startling the hell out of the rider in front of me.

Who admitted while we were riding down the cliff’s edge to the beach, “I am terrified.  If I wasn’t over the weight limit I would have asked for the pony, I am only doing this for my girlfriend who used to ride.”

Brave boy.

He wasn’t the only person shaking.

One of my friends got tossed out of the saddle.

I did not see it happen, but suddenly the horse was galloping and then another was running and the guide behind us dashed forward slapping the side of his horse with the leather reins bunched up in his right hand to spur her forward.

She was fortunately not injured, but very rattled.

Who wouldn’t have been?

And amazing, cliché as this sounds, despite the nerves and adrenalin, she got back up in the saddle.

Bravest act I have seen in some time.

I would have probably walked back.

Fuck that.

Another incident occurred shortly thereafter with another rider who slipped out of his saddle–it hadn’t been well secured and he just slipped right out and suddenly the horse is running wild and galloping with out its rider.

It was intense.

And somber and I believe we all realized that we were on huge animals, 1,000 lb beings that could have tossed any of us over at any time.

There was more than one sigh of relief when we crested the cliff’s edge on the way back to the corral and shakily climbed out of the saddles.

We all sat and compared notes, noticing that the group was really too large for the number of guides we had with us, the horses were exhausted, and that it was not the experience we had been expecting.

No one, ultimately was hurt and we all left hungry and ready to relax.

There had been birthday reservations made at the Beach Chalet, but after all the separate stops and starts and the getting back on the horse, literally, we had overshot our time and the reservation had been lost.

My friend was quoted a forty-five minute wait and I piped up that I couldn’t make it that long, it was close to two pm and I would be an idiot and not friendly with anyone if I had to wait another hour for food.

Split pea soup to the rescue!

My friend asked the car load of ladies what we wanted to do and I suggested we could come back to my house, I had just cooked up a big batch of soup and would happily host, or their were plenty of restaurants in my neighborhood.

My dear friend opted for soup at my place and we are back to my little studio having tea and chatting and I whipped up a big kale salad with all sorts of goodies and heated up the split pea soup and we all had a meal together.

I felt like not only did I get to help my friend celebrate her birthday, but I had for the first time had a little lunch party at my house, it felt like a housewarming.

I had bought flowers yesterday and I had a room full of ladies who lunch and it was just divine.

Soup and salad and tea.

Sounds sort of suspect and silly, and normal.

Perhaps it sounds bland to you too.

But to me, it was joyous and uplifting and I felt surrounded with love and I was able to provide sustenance and nourishment with love for my friends.

I got to reflect back to them the kind of women I felt them to be and feed my friends.

I used to host great big house parties and dinner parties, and I wouldn’t change those experiences for the world, they were fun and I will always savor the memories–the big jambalaya feast I threw one summer at the house on Willy Street in Madison, or bbq in the back yard at my place on Gorham Street, all the Thanksgivings and Christmas dinners–but this was sweet for its spontaneity and cheer.

We all got cozy and the drama of the horseback outing sluiced away to be replaced by warmth and laughter and sharing about our lives.

The clock ticked down and ladies left and I had leftovers later for dinner, savoring the food that I had gotten to provide my friends with, the spice that I like the most is salt, but this was flavored with love and it blew sunshine all the way through me as I sat outside in the quiet of the back yard with only the ravens overhead and the sound of the ocean shushing in the background.

My life.

My love.

My ladies.

All down by the sea with me.

What a spectacular little weekend I got to have.

It might not have been rainbows and unicorns.

But it was damn close.

Horseback

Horseback riding, Mar Vista Stables


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