Posts Tagged ‘instinct’

Second Wind

December 13, 2015

And I have no idea where it came from.

Maybe the adrenalin of riding my scooter through the Mission and over the hills towards the Outer Sunset on a Saturday night.

Oh.

Yeah.

With the left over drunken idiots of what used to actually be a cool San Francisco treat.

Santa Con.

Look drunk hipster santa with drunk elf in fishnets, get the fuck out of the way, I just came from Psychoanalytic class and I am not interested in either your psycho-sexual dramas or your apparent desire to play out the Death Drive in jumping out into the street looking for your Uber, Lyft, taxi or other vehicle of conveyance.

Get ye the fuck back to the North Pole or wherever the fuck in the Marina you came from.

Please.

And.

Thank you.

It could be that I just had a second wind because I had to take the time to run to the grocery store, I slightly miscalculated my food for the week, no biggie, but without something to toss in my oatmeal in the morning, apple, etc, I was going to be a very sad lady.

So.

I dashed in and out of the SafeWay in the Castro, which was happily devoid of trashed Santa’s and drunk elves, although definitely equipped with a plethora of cranky trolls working the registers.

I got what I needed and jumped back on the scooter and actually made it inside my house by 9p.m.

I have no idea how the hell that happened.

I left class at 8p.m.

Happy to make such a quick trip and feeling adrenalin from the mad grocery dash and the defensive driving back home, I used it and threw in a load of laundry, packed my lunch for tomorrow, balanced my check book, opened and hung up a few Christmas cards and threw myself in the shower.

I am still jacked up.

I didn’t have any coffee past 10:30 a.m.

Although I could have used one and I thought about it.

Nope.

This is pure herbal tea and adrenalin.

I suppose I am just getting the end of the semester, almost there, keep pushing through, last day of classes is tomorrow, shot of energy.

I do hope that it wears off before I crawl into bed.

The last two nights I did not sleep well.

And I thought after Friday’s full day of classes and little sleep I would totally have gotten some.

But I was up.

I had a bit on my mind.

Blocking someone’s number out of my phone and the ramifications of how and when to set some boundaries really came up for me.

I didn’t really write about it last night as I was caught up in the spell of Christmas magic, but yeah, I have had some uncomfortable interactions with a person and through my own fault, I fully concede I let them step all over my boundaries, a situation that I could have rectified by choosing to not engage with the person, well.

It blew up.

Not, I suppose as bad as it could.

But for a minute there with the text messages coming in rapid fire and the tone and quantity of them.

I got a little spooked.

I have a history of having dealt with some trauma around a romantic relationship that turned sour and the man who I had dated and lived with for five years, after a rough break up, started to stalk me.

That continued for two years.

I will not say this person was stalking me.

I just felt that old fear come up.

And I realized that I was the person who invited it into my home.

I was mad at myself.

But then.

After the awareness.

Fast acceptance.

I don’t believe I have moved so fast from awareness of a defect of character to acceptance.

It rolled right through me.

I forgave myself and realized that I had failed to listen to my gut in regards to the person a long time ago and that listening to my gut is important.

I have been listening.

I hear rumblings, but don’t know what they are associated with and then I start to have feelings and those feelings I ignore.

So.

No more ignoring.

And then some action.

I did some inventory.

I erased the messages.

Actually I was busy erasing them as they came in.

I probably erased ten or twelve of them in rapid succession, then I realized I needed to call in the troops and I got on the phone and talked with someone, checked in, got my suggestions.

Got off the phone.

Deleted more messages that had come in during the conversation.

Then gave myself a big pause.

Took a big breath.

Prayed.

And organized my self.

Picked up my phone.

Scripted a very simple text.

Word for word what had been suggested to me.

Sent it out.

Blocked the contact in my phone.

I had already taken the person off my facecrack friends list earlier in the day.

Perhaps an early warning sign that something was on the horizon.

I will likely see this person next week.

We swim in the same waters, so to speak.

And I am ok with that.

I don’t believe there will be face to face confrontation, in fact, had the person called, I would have taken it, but the mass texting was too freaky and after one very pointed, passive aggressive, manipulative text, I had no inclination to speak with the person on the phone.

That option went right out the window.

I learned some powerful things and I acknowledged deep in myself that I knew this was coming.

Which may have been why I let it go as long as it did.

Not healthy.

Not for me, not for the other person.

However, I am not, will not, beat myself up for the experience.

In my own limited way, I was trying to be of service.

And the other person, well, I believe, too, was trying to do the best that could be done.

That’s what I believe.

That at the bottom of it all.

We are good people.

Communication sometimes goes astray.

And sometimes I need to have space from a person.

That is ok.

I get to be grateful for the time and the growth experience.

And I hope to rest well soon.

One more day of classes, and I found out my day will end a little early, 3:30p.m. instead of 4p.m., a nice gift for the last day of classes.

Almost there.

One final presentation project and two papers to go.

And.

Like that.

My first semester of graduate school.

I am utterly amazed.

And still unfortunately.

Wide awake.

Oh well.

So it goes.

At least I have a Christmas tree to keep me warm and bright.

And dreams of Paris soon to come.

Did you think I forgot?

Ha.

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Full Moon Fever

November 7, 2014

Is it really the moon being full or is it an excuse to act like a loony?

Does it actually matter?

For instance, having been recently visited by the monthly due I pay for being a woman, I wondered, would I have had as much chemistry happening for me if my body hadn’t been screaming to be impregnated?

And, was it really God’s protection, the rejection?

Would I have gotten carried away?

I mean you don’t have to believe that prayer works, the efficacy is proven and written about and yes, I do, but no you don’t have to, and so it doesn’t really matter that last Saturday when I felt abandoned and went to the loo after ward to catch my breath it was no wonder that there was a small red dot floating in the water.

I believe in hormones, but I also believe in chemistry.

There’s something to be said for pheromones.

Moan.

And sexy seems to be oozing out of my pores at times, as it was so fondly related to me from an outside observer.

“You two are too much tall, dark, and sexy.”

It hit me today.

Whoa.

I mean, ok, it hits me more and more often, but shit, ma, I am sexy.

I know revelation.

What?

“Women would kill to look like you,” a past date said to me once over watermelon radish salad at Maverick’s in the Mission.

I was hoping he would just kiss me again.

I spend too much time wondering if he will just kiss me again.

All the he’s all over the place.

All the moon and the hormones and the chemistry and the pretty faces.

I can have it all.

I was sharing this evening and it really struck me, wait, I do attract god damn attractive people, so I needn’t be shy about asking attractive men out.

I know.

REVELATORY.

Not that I have spent a lot of time to fantasize about any one in particular, but I sacked up, I asked out a really attractive man.

He said yes.

Which means, I know, you are laughing at me, I am attractive to attractive men.

Which means, go for it.

I don’t know if it was the flirting I was doing with one of the vendors at the Bartlett Street Farmer’s Market in the Mission (totally harmless, but fun, I’m not about to date someone who lives in Watsonville.  I mean, where is that anyway?) or it was the late afternoon Americano I had before hitting the market.

Or perhaps that fateful, full, creamy moon rising over me.

It sang me out the door of work tonight and I noticed a lot of heady, giddy, crazy drivers, taxi cabs, bicyclists, happy hour folks being wooed by the great disk in the sky.

Did we all notice it at the same time?

Did it give permission to be sassy and sexy and wound up?

I don’t know.

But that self-same moon followed my home on my bicycle, singing in my blood, urging me on, pulling me forward, down, down, down to the sea.

I wanted someone to go barefoot walking on the beach with that moon bright as neon kisses over my head.

I don’t often want someone to go walking on the beach with me, it seems trite, clichéd, and over done, but tonight, I could almost feel the cool sand on my bare feet.

I could certainly feel the cool air from my bicycle ride in my hair when I got back to the house and pulled it up into a top knot.

I wanted someone’s hands in that coolness, until it wasn’t cool anymore.

And that’s when my little sexy epiphany struck, somewhere between pulling up my hair and folding my clothes (I was super sneaky and got in a load of laundry last night, so nice to squeeze that in early), I could ask out other really attractive, to me, men.

Guys that I might have previously, erroneously, thought, nah, he’s out of my league.

I tried to summon someone to mind and no one sprang fully formed like Athena from Zeus’s brow, but that was ok too.

Just the knowledge was enough.

“You are learning all sorts of things about you.”

That’s what dating is about.

Learning about myself.

As though I haven’t learned enough already, here again, more to learn, more things to sort through and grow around.

Awesome.

I mean annoying.

I mean awesome.

I am learning that I don’t want to date people, men, whom I am not attracted to.

So that dude that I met at Decompression who kissed me with stale Tecate mouth, NOT attracted to.  Don’t give out phone number, even if I said I would try to date and do one a week, there’s no point in going out with someone who leaves me cold.

What else am I learning?

Not to go on super big dates.

Start small.

No big theatrical stuff, start with a cup of coffee.

I sort of already knew this, but I have to stick to my guns.

First date is chill.

Sort of like an interview.

And if the guy interviews well, than second date can be decided upon.

Communication is super important and I have to say what I need.

So.

I am having a whole heap of learning.

Good stuff.

The moon is still full-out there and I am obviously full of myself, but that’s ok, if I don’t get a little full of myself occasionally, who the fuck will?

I might do something wrong, I might go fuck it up some more, but hey, I am living.

The trees in the park, the giant wide trunks, the breadth and circumference of them, the reach of limbs toward the yellow moon of buttery love, they were here before me, they will be here after me.

What care the trees for my foibles?

In the great, grand scheme of it all.

I am just a tiny drop in the bucket of life.

A sexy drop.

But a drop none the less.

 

 

Open The Door To Your Heart

October 26, 2013

To slam it shut again.

I just had something happen that made me realize that no matter how much work I have done and how “good” I understand my own peculiar mental twists and traits, that sometimes instinct, ie fear, takes over, and I turn the other cheek.

I am an idiot.

If I think what just happened was happening and it was, then I got scared and like a bunny dashed off into the night.

How I want something to happen and when it does I flee.

Instinct.

Habit.

Fear.

Working through it again and again and again.

If I could go back I would.

Instead I sent an inept text after shooting a question out into space.

“Please remove my fear and direct my attention to what you would have me do and be?”

If you weren’t afraid what would you do.

I would send the stupid text.

Which was worded poorly, but my ears and my head and I can’t say my heart, my heart knew exactly what was happening, but I was a fool instead.

My head gets carried away.

It believes my heart still needs some saving.

You know, for a fucking rainy day or something.

Get out there, get wet, get in the water.

You might be tumbled upside down for a full minute, but you will pop back up, into the air and sunlight and realize that you were drowning in two and a half feet of water.

That you can always put your feet down on the bottom, it hasn’t fallen out from underneath you, the panic will pass.

The panic is passing.

Both that I did something wrong and did not do the “right” thing as well.

Oh, I know, you all are being very coy here, she’s says to herself.

I was out with a friend having a marvelous day, a surprise day, in a way, I had other plans, plans that I very much was looking forward to and had cancelled on other things to have the time to do it.

But as happens, things change, and my dress shopping with my best girl went out the window and I was suddenly up in arms, but it was so beautiful out and my other friend is at the beach and go, you live out there, see if you can connect.

And we did.

Tea on the terrace, as I like to say.

Talk, tender, funny, sweet, goofy.

Joking about starting another blog because I just don’t have enough time on my hands.

Standing on the back porch to my house I suddenly looked in his eyes and I thought, he’s going to kiss me.

My whole brain went frizzle and my heart sped up, his eyes so blue.

Had I ever noticed how blue his eyes are?

Good Lord.

Then I said something asinine and even while I was saying it, I was thinking, stop it, what are you doing, don’t you want this?

I do.

I mean I am not shitting on any friendship I have by romantically pursuing it.

That is a great fear of mine, fall for friend, possess feelings, oh tender feeling, feelings you damn idiot, grr, and then have them not reciprocated.

I actually asked this friend out years ago, but he said, no, actually, he said yes, then said no after some thought, and stated he wanted to just be friends.

And I was way cool with that.

I adore him.

Grateful to not have lost a friend over an infatuation.

But there it was that moment on the porch.

Did I misread that?

We hung out, got dinner, Thai Cottage, so good.

Saw my housemate and her amazing daughter all dressed up for a Halloween surprise and I decided to go do a Dharma talk and a meditation with my friend who was meeting up with another friend there.

Who I happened to randomly know.

Funny how small the world is.

I actually saw a few folks that I used to know.

And the meditation, a half hour, actually felt like it went by so fast, I could have sat for another stretch and was longing for it, but the talk was good too, so I am not remiss at having missed anything.

Although, I have to say the way my brain just tried to eat itself after having such an endearing space presented to me was powerful to witness.

Feelings.

Whoa man.

I got to that secret sauce, special, warm fuzzy space.

“It sounds like snuggling a bunny,” my friend said to me when I described it.

And it rather is.

I was also able to have some tears drift down my face as I sat in the chair between the meditation and the talk, tears I could not pinpoint directly what they were about, something my new/old acquaintance said about my time in Paris and there they were.

Tears, bright shiny and new.

I recalled that struggling to hold off the tears would only stifle and prolong the pain, so after a brief struggle, that I walked through, the tears, slid down my face, along my chin, down my neck and into the little bowl of my clavicle.

A necklace of tears.

The only true jewels I have.

The pain sloughs away and left me bright, softened, and vulnerable.

Apparently too vulnerable though as I turned away in the car.

I did not mean to.

Damn it.

Compassion.

Have compassion right now, for myself, for the asinine way I was raised and learned and grew, have compassion, for your bright beating heart that gallops so hard to be open and free and so hard to not be alone.

Yet turns, unconsciously at that last-minute, the kiss falling on my cheek, and not where I think the intention was.

I don’t even want to be writing this, but it is my way of making sense.

“I am going to kiss you now,” he said to me.

He said that.

It was like a delayed noise in my head, I thought, what, no you’re not, you’re lying, you don’t want to kiss me, you mean, like a friend, right, like, here’s a nice hug and kiss.

No.

I think what he meant was “I am going to kiss you now,” and kiss me romantically.

A friend does not tell you that they are going to kiss you, they just do.

I turned away and my whole body is lit with wretchedness.

Practice, now, in this moment, being patient with yourself, doll, you are learning.

Ease into the feelings.

Shit.

I guess it’s best that I went to a Dharma talk.

And funny too.

Can I pull myself in and up, like I would one of my little charges, hug myself and say, “hey, you’re ok, there just feelings, have them, they will change,” and then turn my face to the sound of the ocean crescendo and let it lullaby me in my heart.

Maybe he will want to kiss me again.

Maybe the text I sent was not as stupid as I thought, texting.

I should have just called him on my phone and said, turn around, kiss me, I won’t turn away.

Can we try that again?

Please.

Kiss me.

 


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