Posts Tagged ‘being of service’

All Systems Go

August 22, 2017

Fuck.

It was a busy, full, going on all four cylinders from the moment I got up, day, from early morning until.

Well.

Until.

Right about now.

I just got off an email back and forth with director of my internship, did a bunch of e-mails with some clients, booked some sessions, logged my hours for today in Track My Hours, and whew.

It’s like um, 10p.m.

I got up at 6:30 a.m.

That’s a full day.

I got some writing in today though, I hadn’t gotten as much morning page writing in the last week or so and it was really good to just let go on the page and scrawl away.

I also showered yesterday so I skipped it this morning, giving me a little more time to process all the junk in my head.

I don’t even know what I wrote, only that it felt good to write.

And.

I did a written gratitude list and sent another out to a friend via text.

I’m on a list he sends it to and I like getting it.

Not just because it reminds me to be grateful, it definitely does that, but to see what other people are grateful for.

I am grateful for everything.

My life is beyond my wildest dreams.

Sometimes it is strange and I wonder, how did I get here, but I know there are no mistakes in God’s world and I am being taken care of and having all the experiences I am supposed to be having.

Like being of service to the woman I am traveling with to Burning Man.

I am still having some trepidations about going with someone who is 74 years old, but I also am happy that I get to be of service to her.

It’s a nice to be of service to others, it gets me out of my head, and if you’ve never been to Burning Man it is super hard to imagine and of course, if you’re 74 there’s a different approach you’re going to make than if you are 24 or my age, 44.

How did I get to be 44?

Fuck.

Time flies.

I suppose I will look back in 30 years and wonder how it is that I got to be 74.

I’m going to be old.

I know it.

I also hope to be of service all the way to the end of my life.

I believe that’s the only way that I am going to be happy, by having a useful life, by helping others, it gives me happiness, it gets me out of my own head and I got to do a lot of it today.

I had a few phone check ins, one lady who I just recently met, and got to share some experience, strength and hope with her and although we are vastly different, we are the same person and it was good to hear how relieved she was to know that she’s not alone in her journey.

I got to talk with one of the other women I work with in recovery and I also got to see clients tonight.

And.

I worked with my supervisor.

I also got to go over my review with him, which was really enlightening and I got a better idea of how he thinks of me and what I am doing and that he also, although he didn’t exactly say it, likes me.

We had a great session and I learned a ton from him today.

I often feel as though I am taking a solo masters class in psychoanalytic theory when I am working with him.

I write a ton of notes and I can hear him in my head sometimes when I am with a client.

It’s exciting to work with him, he pushes me, he’s extraordinarily smart and intelligent, and I feel smart when I am working with him.

I like feeling smart.

I have always understood that I was intelligent, but the smart part of that eludes me, I have been mystified most of my life as to what people meant when they say, “you are so smart.”

I haven’t always felt that way.

Smart.

In fact.

I have often felt rather stupid, stupid in love, stupid in my life choices, idiotic some of the decisions I have made, or so I tell myself, but oh, the learning, the learning is so much.

I have such a wealth of experiences.

Mostly because I try to say yes to doing things.

Sometimes to my detriment, I’ll get too busy, I will get to wrapped up with my schedule and I won’t have the time to appreciate what is happening.

I try to find balance.

I don’t often succeed, but I try.

And I’m ok with failing.

Ah.

Who the fuck am I kidding.

I am never ok with failing, but I recognize that I am going to fail and that I will try again and again until it works its way out, whatever it is.

I guess what I am saying is that I live.

I am not sitting on the bleachers, I am in the game.

I am hustling.

Sometimes perhaps a little too much, but I know that it’s what it is right now.

And that all the things I did, mistakes, which were not mistakes, life experiences, travels, moving to Paris, moving back from Paris, trying things out, has led me here.

Right where I am supposed to be.

With the people in my life with whom I am supposed to be with.

Such gifts.

Such grace.

I didn’t expect it to look like this.

But.

I have to say.

It is a beautiful thing.

My life.

So beautiful.

My heart aches with it.

Grateful beyond words.

And now.

One more gratitude list before I retire.

Because.

Truly.

There is that much to be grateful for.

Every day.

Grateful.

Every damn day.

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Money Is Not The Answer

December 5, 2013

But man, that is sure where the brain takes me.

Yes it does.

The real joy, the real passions, the reality of my life usually happens outside the parameters of my pocket-book, but I often, too often, think, it could be better.

So, let’s look here.

The thing is there is no here.

I mean, looking at what I was writing about yesterday and wondering, didn’t you just do this?   Weren’t you just looking like yesterday for some job or thing or career to fix it.

Fix you.

There is no fixing me because there is nothing wrong.

I don’t need to figure it out.

I just need to be thankful for where I am at and what this is about.

Living my life to its fullest.

Walking as much outside as I can, even when it gets cold.

Baby, it’s cold outside.

42 degrees Farenheit flashed on the bank screen at 19th and Judah as I chuffed breath out of my nose and clapped my hands together to get a little circulation going in them.

Being in the sun.

Walking out with the boys.

God I do love those monkeys they have been so ridiculously endearing lately.

I go around and around with the working as a nanny thing and I keep coming back to it.

There has to be a reason.

Outside of the obvious fear based driven decision that tells me that I am not good for much else.

I keep wanting some magic wand to be waved, here, child, do this, sign here, study this many hours a day, pay this bill now, borrow that there, and voila.

Career.

Money.

House.

God damn do I want a house.

I want a house that I can put up a Christmas tree in.

I get weak in the knees nostalgic for a Christmas tree at times.

I have not had one in a few years again.

Moving will do that.

Fear that spending the loot will mean not having a Christmas goose for dinner.

Not that I plan on eating a goose any time soon.

I’ll be house sitting my brain tells me.

Yes, you will be and yes it might not be the perfect time to get a tree, but why not just get one for you anyhow?

I have a box of ornaments that I have hauled around from Madison to San Francisco, still in the peppermint box from the Angelic Brewing Company.

I opened them up this past weekend.

Looked at them and put them away.

I felt depressed looking at them.

But I think I will be more sad if I don’t put them up.

Even just a little Charlie Brown tree on the back porch would fill the niche.

Or a small little guy I can stand in the corner of the room.

I love the way fresh pine smells.

Strands of white lights.

Popcorn and cranberry garland.

I don’t bake cookies anymore at Christmas time, or make fudge or toffee or Brazil nut brittle.

I don’t hang stockings.

I don’t.

I miss it sometimes.

Getting a tree seems like a nice thing to do for myself.

Act like I can afford the expense and I bet I can.

I have some wiggle room.

I slipped another few bucks in the savings account and I will have my return ticket from Paris paid off.

My friend said to just pay it by the date of the return flight and I want to do that, but more than that I want to pay it off sooner.

Then I can start saving for whatever comes next.

There’s always a next.

Surfing.

Traveling.

Something.

Motorcycle.

Stuff.

That is the conundrum.

How to balance the wanting of stuff with the wanting to be of service.

Can I make money being of service?

And how best to do that.

How best to listen to my heart and listen not so much to the brain and to be honest with what I want.

I admit, when I had all that free time last week, I couldn’t bring myself to do any extra writing.  It was like pulling teeth.

Or submitting.

I haven’t done a lot of additional writing recently and that makes me wonder will I actually ever get my shit together in that arena.

I am not trying to beat myself up, I just am trying to not have this conversation any longer.

I would like to retire it.

I would like to say definitively.

Here it is.

This is what I want.

My thinking is quite circular and I really do want someone else to tell me what to do.

Though no one is stepping up to that.

Ha.

Ah.

I know that my life is good and graced and blessed and I have all these awesome experiences to look at and see and I know that I already have lived a life of great magnitude, no matter what the outside stuff looks like, I know where I have been and I know I am willing to take the jump and do it again.

As I watch a friend ponder making a leap I think, what further leaping do I need to do?

What is it that calls to me?

Am I hiding out in nanny land because I am too tired to try something else or that it just comes naturally and like a snowball following the fault line, this is where I am, surrender to it.

I don’t have to make any changes right now.

I don’t have to figure it out.

I have the rate raise I need to get by and live the kind of life that though not extravagant, the few extra bucks will allow me to have a fuller daily life, richer for not having the constant anxiety of living payday to payday.

Faith.

This is what faith is about.

Knowing that I am taken care of no matter what or where or whom.

It doesn’t mean not taking some actions, oh, action has to be taken, don’t get me wrong.

But I don’t have to go leaping about the wild blue yonder trying to make it happen.

I have the space to hold and a place to do so.

Down by the song of the ocean.

Perhaps soon to be scented with evergreen boughs.

Lit with soft white lights.


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