Posts Tagged ‘butterfly’

First One Down

January 29, 2018

I did it.

I got my first paper of the semester written and turned in.

It was a small guy, five pages.

I was a bit resentful of it for a few days.

First, fucking christ, the first weekend of classes was last weekend, give me a god damn minute to have some time off.

Second, I got a notification yesterday that it was due at 4p.m. today.

What the fuck?

Four p.m.


I have a god damn life, I have things to do, and this day, this was my first day off in two weeks, two, and you’re giving me a hard limit of 4p.m.?




So that I found annoying.


I told myself to shut the fuck up and do the fucking work.

I also let myself sleep in.

I was on the phone late last night with my best friend and my God, do we know how to talk, like two highschool girls on a school night dishing all the things, I could talk forever with my friend, it is always so hard to say goodbye, goodnight, until we talk again, it never feels like it is soon enough before we can talk again.

I was going to go to an early morning yoga class, but decided to just let myself sleep and maybe I would catch an afternoon yoga class after I had written the paper, or maybe nothing, fuck it, fuck yoga, fuck it all.




My body had other ideas.

Sometimes my feet are smarter than my brain.

I did miss the early yoga class, but I woke up in plenty of time to hit the 10:30 a.m. class.

I still got up and out of bed thinking, telling myself that I wasn’t going to go, I would use the extra time to write my paper, or maybe doing my Morning Pages, God knows I have had plenty of fodder for writing.

Oh my god the amount of morning writing I have done while I have been going through my recent experiences, so much.

But I am grateful for the outlet, grateful for the pen on the paper, the feel of the pen moving across the lines, the words tumbling out, prayers and affirmations, gratitude lists, longings and dreams and desires, all of it, bumbled down on my Claire Fontaine notebook and then a little sweet sticker next to my entry, a way to mark my heart on the page, a mandala, a rose, a butterfly, a baby bunny, something small and sweet to tell me where my heart lies in between the words the dance of magic and poetry that I sense is still there just waiting for the right moment to spring forth again.

Like Athena from the mind of Zeus.

All the poesie and love and magic, the passion, the words, so many words of love and adoration I have.

So many.


I digress.

See, I think of love and poetry and get lost.

Adrift in worlds of magic and sorcery and the poetics of my life, the romance.

My God.

The romance of it.

Sometimes, yes, it is a little dark, a lot emotional, a kind of deep swooning romance that is historic and deep and has an uncanny beauty writ large in the stars, the blue moon waxing full.

But it is so beautiful and I am so grateful for it, the gift of it.

Seared into me.

Pierced into me.


As such, I was compelled to let myself write, but instead I found myself putting on my yoga clothes and then signing up for the 10:30 a.m. class.

My feet had better ideas than my head.

And I am so glad I went.

It was a terrific class, I got to do a lot of heart openings, as though my heart has not been opened enough of late, but it was good, and hard and painful and when I felt stuck, I just breathed through it harder and thought of the love I had and sent it out into the world.

I thought of wrapping my love around my love, a warm cloak, a blanket, I pictured the sun surrounding me and then held my love in my arms, buried my face in the back of his head and then smelled the nape of his neck and I started to cry in yoga.


Truth be told.

I did not mind.

It felt good, a washing of love, a rendering of myself in the moment, a supplication, a surrender to the feeling, to let it go as I lay prostrate on the mat.

And the sensory feeling of putting my arms around the love of my life and covering him with love was so relieving too, as though I could buffet his heart with my love.

It felt right and good even though it felt sad too, just to have another moment to hold him close to me, even if imagined, even in revery, felt so good and real and right.



Grateful I got out to yoga.

And then did all the other things.

Shower, breakfast, reading, writing, working with a new lady who came over to the house and we met and read things and talked about life and recovery and doing the deal and that was fantastic.

And when she left.

I got to it.

I pulled out my books and notebooks and syllabus and I got into the paper.

It flowed so well and smoothly and just dropped out of my head and onto the page, well, I was a little amazed.

It just came and I edited it and read it and tidied it up and had it sent off to my professor by 3:50p.m.

Ten minutes before it was due.

Thank you.

Thank you very much.

Grateful as hell that I know how to write a paper.

I also collaborated with my partner in another class and mapped out the work that needs to be done for a project in that class.

I have my writing calendared for the next week, mostly next Sunday, but also some writing will have to be done Saturday too, I suspect.


I have all my readings prepped for the next weekend of classes.

I will bring my books with me and again sneak in the pages and chapters when I can, where I can, in between going to and from supervision, work, internship, doing the deal, and all the other things I am juggling.

I will have my books with me and when I can, well, I’ll be reading.

It’s my last semester of my Masters program!

Holy fuck.

I have my first assignment in and done.

One tiny step forward.

One tiny march of faith into the future.

I know not where I am going.


I am assured.

That it will be bright and beautiful and full of love.


Always that.


Let Yourself Off

November 27, 2015

The hook.

He said to me on the phone as we wrapped up our Thanksgiving count down of all the stuff and things.

I am doing just that, letting myself off for the rest of the day.

It has been a day.

I did a lot of work.

I did not go eat out turkey anywhere, I stayed in.

I did make a run this morning to the SafeWay in the neighborhood, which was full of people doing that last minute scramble, and I got what I needed and I got the hell out.

I also went and filled up the gas tank on my scooter.


Full tank.

Got to love that.

I was planning on going out this evening and wanted to make sure she was gassed up, but I didn’t.

My plans changed and I let myself be ok with that.

The fact is I focused on doing some very necessary work for school so that I would not have to have it all on my plate before heading to Paris.

I don’t really have time week days to do sustained writing, I attempt to do a little reading every day, but I keep the big writing to the weekends.

And this being a four day weekend I knew it was going to be my opportunity to get as much done as possible.

I actually succeeded beyond my expectations.


My stated expectations.

I had a moment last night when I thought, hmm, I bet I will be able to knock out my Human Development paper faster than I am budgeting time for, but I wasn’t going to push it.  If it happened, it happened.

If not.

I would still have three more days to work on things.

As it happened, the first paper went off really well and I was done with it and had sent it to my professor by 2:30p.m. this afternoon.

I had a phone call with a friend and ate a late lunch.

I even, shocker, flipped through a W magazine.

One I have had for months and not cracked.

I figure the next time I will be looking at a magazine will be on the flight to Paris.

The rest of my time from here until there is full.

But not quite as untenable as I first felt it would be.

I got the pre-paper anxiety going well this morning and had to do a little praying to get around it but I did and I just breathed and opened up my notebook and opened up my text book and opened up my reader and looked at all the little blue flags of post-it notes and got the feeling for what I wanted to write.

I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth this morning thinking about how I was going to frame the paper and the image of the imago came to mind.

In biology, the imago is the last stage an insect attains during its metamorphosis, its process of growth and development; it also is called the imaginal stage.

Thanks Wikipedia.

I repeated the world out loud, “imago.” that’s it!

The butterfly, was the insect I was thinking of and I used it to frame the paper and it worked beautifully.

Once I had the frame work and the outline and the blue flags all waving at me with direction and purpose, it didn’t take long to hash out the paper and it felt good writing it and reflecting on the things that resonated with me.

I gratefully spell checked, edited, and proofed.


Off to the professor and the TA with a Happy Thanksgiving note and on to the next project.

I tried to do the reading for my Psychoanalytic paper and found my brain was not co-operating.  I put it on pause after reading four pages and not feeling like I retained any of the information.

I decided I would leave the house and do the deal.

I got all geared up, went outside and turned right back in.

It was too cold and too dark and I just did not have it in me.


I made some phone calls so I wouldn’t feel isolated and I sent some messages out, chatted with a few ladies, called my mom, and felt connected to the world.

Then I launched into my Therapeutic Communications transcript.

Which really is not that hard to do, but time consuming, and I suppose, it would be really time consuming if I wasn’t already a fast typist.

It still took some hours and by the end of the transcription my brain felt a little loose in the skull.

I took another break and then went back into it and added the commentary that the professor requested be done and sent it off as well.

Two down.

Two to go.

I don’t know what the rest of the weekend will bring, but I have blocks of time that opened for me.

Some of those blocks have been filled with meeting ladies and doing reading and fellowship and doing the deal as it should be.

Some of that time, like now, is going to be devoted to chilling the fuck out for the rest of the night.

Maybe a French film?

To celebrate Thanksgiving!

A purely American holiday.

But one in which I felt no sense of loneliness in the work I did today to perpetuate my goals.

Rather I felt an ‘all one’ ness.

A gratitude for how it is all connected and wonderful and good and strong.





Graduate School.




This constant evolution of love and growth.

Thanks has been given.


You Get A Gold Star

March 13, 2015


It’s actually iridescent blue, but you know, the idea is the same.

I got my Fiat Lux on tonight after I got out of work on my way to my Thursday night commitment.

I have been eyeballing a necklace there for over a year.

And a ring.

But one thing at a time.

Especially as they are just a little pricey for me.

Not ridiculously so.

And I like that I am supporting a local artist.

Hart Variations

I didn’t actually get the necklace that I had been eyeballing, which was a piece of a monarch wing under glass.

Instead the artist had a new piece in the store, a five point star, I saw it and disregarded the higher price tag.

I needed the star.

It was my validation.

I am my validation.

I validate myself.

And it sure is pretty.



It also goes quite well with the ten other stars scattered over my neck for my sobriety anniversary.

Got to love that.

A girl likes her tattoo’s to match her jewelry.

This girl anyway.

As I said, it was more expensive, but oh, so lovely.

And I didn’t go over my spending plan for clothes for the month, $200 is budgeted and the necklace came to $160.

Officially making it the most expensive piece of jewelry I have ever bought for myself.

It felt good.

It’s nice to be nice to myself.

I deserve pretty things.

I work hard and there’s something right and good about acknowledging this milestone for me.

I’m not buying anything else, I got my “gold” star and I pinned my acceptance letter to the fridge, I feel like I have allowed a little celebratory commemoration to happen for me.

Life in general feels like a celebration of recent.

Even when I have a headache and I am eagerly awaiting the clock hand to sweep to time to go at work, I am grateful for all that I have and appreciate all that I have been given.

It’s been quite a journey getting here and it’s really only just begun.

There is so much more to come.

And tomorrow is Friday.


I will work my full day and treat myself to a mani/pedi before hitting my Friday night gig at Our Lady of Safeway and then homeward bound into the weekend.

My schedule has been changing a little in regards to the recent weekends and I find myself to being directed toward doing the deal earlier in the day and having my Saturday nights free.

I have been writing about it a while in my morning pages and talked it over today with my person and he really felt it was a good idea for me and expressed that he too had thought that might be good for me to do.

I will be keeping things a little closer to home on my weekends instead of dragging my butt up and over the hills to Noe Valley, I’ll just be heading into the Inner Sunset instead.

I spend so much time commuting on my bike that I need an easier weekend schedule, and also, as it was pointed out to me, I do enough, I really do, for my recovery.

I don’t have to martyr myself to a spot and a space in a room in a basement all my recovery, I can explore other options.

Besides I’ve been doing the deal there for ten years.

It won’t hurt me to find another spot to get accustomed to.

And I am looking forward to having my Saturday nights free.

Who knows.

I might even go on some dates.

I’m not actively looking, although the interchange with the Frenchman has progressed to the exchanging of phone numbers.

We shall see if anything else comes of it.

I am looking forward to the weekend too because it will be sunny and warm and I will be traveling over to the East Bay, North Berkeley, for a friends baby shower Saturday during the day.

I am wearing some sandals.

I may break out a sundress too.

Sunshine always does me such good.

I may even go hang out on the beach this Saturday, catch the sunset, or maybe even do a bonfire.

I haven’t done a bonfire on the beach in a while.

I don’t know.

It’s nice to think that I am making space for the good things in life, that I don’t have to always push myself so hard to the next goal, the goal really is to be present and love every moment as it arrives.

It doesn’t hurt to be decked out in stars when this happens.

Even though it took me a moment to have the feelings and allow myself to process the magnitude of what is happening.

My life is really going to change when I go to school.

First, it’s been twelve years since I have been a student.

Second, and this is a big second, I have not been sober for my studies.

I just realized that those two statements were not exactly 100% correct.

I did take a memoir writing class with Alan Kaufmann when I had gotten a year sober and two other subsequent classes with the group of writers, but it wasn’t school in the sense of working toward a specific degree goal.

Kaufmann did heavily suggest graduate school for me though, he thought I would make a great creative writing teacher and in fact, had me run a lecture for the class one week.

Which was exhilarating and frightening all at the same time.

I didn’t know how much I knew until I was teaching the class and then it just kept rolling out of me.

I did a lecture on Nabokov and butterfly imagery in his works.

Funny how I got a necklace made out of butterfly wings today.

I have butterfly tattoos as well.

The necklace fits in with it all.

I am a butterfly.

It may be a cliché.

But I don’t care.

They all mean something to me, again and again and again, I am a human being who has meaning.

I have a purpose.

I have a point.

I get to be of service.

I am a star.


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