Posts Tagged ‘intentions’

I’m Not Real Good

June 13, 2016

With the politics.

I am not real good with the news.

I don’t.

I can’t.

I find myself so overly sensitive and I already am such a raw little nerve, super sensitive to the air and the sky, the wind, the sun, the emotions, the love, the aches, the pains, the joys, the being alive.

All of it.

I stayed off the media today.

I just couldn’t.

It just hurt.

So I took good care of would I could do and that is love.

I showed up for another today and sat and shared and read some stuff and listened.

Then I confirmed meeting a friend in the Castro for coffee and dinner and then another and another and another.

I knew where I needed to be.

Not to express my sadness.

But.

To express my joy.

To be there to support those who have supported me.

Who asked nothing from me except to live happily and joyfully and freely.

To dance and sing and romp and be scathingly fabulous and alive.

I went to sing the song of life and be there to hug and hold hands and be alive with my family.

Some family is your family because of blood.

Some family is family because they rescued me from what I carry in my blood, the shame and rage and hate and ugliness and diseased life that I came from, they rescued me from.

I have had so many stalwart men and women in my life, have a community that extends beyond the boundaries of terror and the scaffoldings of fear.

People who show up and keep loving despite it all.

In spite of it all.

These are my people.

And I am theirs.

I owe them my life, and so much more.

I did what I do best today.

I hugged a lot of people, I kissed a lot of cheeks, I held hands and was just there.

I can’t express the love that I got to be witness to.

And to know that no matter what happens in my life there is always a place to go and a solution to be had for what ever troubles my heart.

For this I am grateful.

Extraordinarily grateful.

I witnessed so much love today and so much life and willingness to keep trudging, to keep doing the deal, to show up for one another.

I am so lucky to know these people.

I am so lucky to be amongst them.

When I can be destroyed by sorrow, terrorized by helplessness, overwhelmed with pain and the grief that I see, the anger, the fear, and then to see the stalwart hearts that muddle through, that keep moving forward despite it all.

How can I not insist on enjoying my life.

Sometimes it feels like a duty, almost an onerous chore.

Then I realized.

How lucky I am to be able bodied.

To be alive.

To have another day to express my love for you.

Love.

Do you know how much I love you?

I hope you do, fiercely, I love you.

Indomitably with great voraciousness.

The smallest interactions, the touch of hands on my arm, my leg, around my shoulders, when I stand here with you, in the sunlight of the spirit and raise my face up to yours to see the tears and also the smiles and the life.

The life.

The resilience.

In the face of horrors and the incomprehensible harm that is done, I can find solace in this kindness that I am so blessed to be a part of.

I was given the gift of life beyond what I should have been.

If life were fair I would be dead.

The fact that I am not is astounding to me.

It is gift that I did not know what to do with when I first received it.

So simply reduced to being thankful.

To be steadfast in gratitude.

To say please and thank you and yes, yes, yes to life, to the gifts that you poured upon my head when it was bowed down in shame.

I am not hear to be rendered helpless in sadness.

No.

I have to go forward, into that bright sun, the brisk wind, to live on the edges of love pushing further in and further outward, the ripples of starlight, the hemispheres of love vertigo in the chambers of my heart, I offer this then to you.

To live.

To create.

To change.

To act.

To not sit with my head buried or my heart obscured.

It might be more painful.

But it is oh so alive.

And that is the duty that has been discharged to me, to live, fully, in love with this reality, no matter how tender it treads upon my soul, I find solace in the knowledge that I have a primary purpose, an understanding that has been passed down, from the experience of one to another, the love of comprehension and the knowledge that this is the only thing I have to do well in life.

The only thing.

The rest falls to the wayside, in the chuff and dander of windblown newspapers peppered with horror and the crestfallen faces of those numbed out to the joy that is present if they could only look up.

I have seen death.

I have born horror in the tissues of my body.

I have been seared with the fire of shame and stilled my own life to swelter in the heat of lusts that were not mine.

I walk through and I refuse to not live this life.

As fully.

As honestly.

Brave and loving as I can.

It may not mean much.

This one small voice.

This one shy heart.

But it is all I have to offer.

And I know that it is no small thing.

To give my heart.

It is no small thing to love.

To be loved.

To reflect it back to the men and women who showered me with it.

It may be the best thing I do.

Love.

I sit here.

In my little chair, at my small kitchen table/desk and send my intentions to you all.

The world of love ends not.

It is here.

It is there.

It is everywhere.

Love.

I swear.

It is there.

Love.

Always.

Just.

There.

 

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Fuck The Pain Away

March 25, 2016

I was sharing with a lady tonight all the methods of grieving.

And I can sustain that one for about a week, maybe.

Add a sexting or two in there and maybe only three days.

Sex is lovely.

Sex is great.

But I can’t fuck the pain away.

I just have to go up into it and through it.

I realized this as I had a grief bubble burst on me today.

I was not expecting it.

And I have to say the relief has been deep and profound since it happened.

And yes.

Ugh.

It was in yoga that it happened.

Yeah.

I know, I know.

I’ll start burning sage tomorrow, shh.

After the happy glow of last night I was a tired girl, but so pumped up and juiced on being alive, I had a hard time dropping off to sleep.

Plus the call of all that moonlight slanting in between the slits of the bamboo shade hanging over the glass door in my room, it was just a lot of being awake versus really sleeping the way I would have liked.

Granted.

I still got up and I did my morning routine and I put on my yoga clothes and got my bag out and the mat and my water bottle.

I had oatmeal and coffee and I wrote some stuff and said some stuff and knelt and got humble, not really, I am so not humble, but it helps to start my day from a position of humility.

Always that.

I may lose that during the day, but always I have to start from the lowering of ego and ask for the help I need to get through my day, whatever lies ahead, I cannot do it on my own.

Alone has never worked for me, even when I think, hey this could work, I could figure this out, I got this.

I ain’t ever got this.

Which is why the taking of suggestions is always so helpful.

I can see that there was a part of me that was suspicious of this yoga thing from all the protestation I have had in my head for the last few years since it has been calling to me, for a long, long, long stupid ass time.

I think I was afraid that I would have feelings.

And everyone knows how much I love feelings.

Insert irony here.

I was walloped, in a soft kind of surrendering way, with the feels today in class.

I was not expecting that.

In fact.

I was expecting to have more joyful, light filled, love filled, ease filled, serenity feelings.

Nope.

I got caught with my yoga pants down.

Figuratively, people, come on.

It was hard, and I knew it was going to be hard after not having gone for nearly two weeks, to get back into the flow of it, but I put myself out there and I also let the instructor know I’d been out with a pretty wicked, only in  retrospective can I see how stupid sick I was, cold.

So.

Giving myself the permission right from the start to take it easy and just gently get back into it rather than break myself trying to do every pose.

I just did what I could and it was enough.

And I did slip into a sweet space, a relaxing into my body, even though it was challenging, rather than staying in my head.

At the beginning of the class the instructor suggested that we pack up those thoughts, people, work, nagging things, school, personal life, and lead them out the door and let them stay there.

Fuck.

I wanted away from my head like nobody’s business.

I had some strange dreams and a tiny little nag of heart sick that I didn’t even realize was there.

But yes.

It was there.

A little left over remanent of having run into the room mate of someone who I have not had contact with in a few months, I actually have lost track, it’s around three months now, I think, could be more or a little less, but there was a time a month or so ago when I knew to the day, the hour, the minute, the last time we had seen each other, the words exchanged.

I could tell you the contents of the last text.

I can’t anymore.

The texts were erased.

No need to go be a tourist in that land.

It hurts too much.

I have scrolled through some photos once or twice, but I can’t quite, I get sucked in and it hurts to see the landscape and the pain in my eyes even when I was laughing.

Laughing to save my life because otherwise I was just going to collapse with the pain.

I have seen this room mate before and been absolutely scrupulous to keep it all about him, about his stuff, no questions asked about his housemate, no mention, not my business, don’t go digging.

And.

Well fuck.

I slipped a little last night and asked him to give the cat a squish.

AW.

Fuck.

I knew better the minute it popped out of my mouth.

Not your fucking place and then, I was just like, hey, give yourself a break, you are human, it was a little mistake and hopefully he didn’t even notice it.

I remember turning with relief to the woman who was waiting to talk with me.

Oops.

Ha.

She didn’t check in today.

Hmm.

Good thing to remember, I’ll see if she calls tomorrow, I may or may not having an extra hour on Sunday now after all.

Anyway.

I think I woke up with a teensy little emotional hangover from the spiritual intoxication I was feeling yesterday and a little chagrin about mentioning the cat.

But.

I didn’t realize it.

Until.

That song.

That one song.

The one the yoga instructor has when we do this one pose, and ha, oh, I just realized this, fuck me man, it’s called a “heart opener,” of fucking course it is.

Ah.

God, you are funny.

The music has a catchy sweetness to it that I have had joyful visions to, the love and feeling of sun, the sound of bluegrass guitar picking, the blooming daisy from my heart, yeah, that guy, usually when I’m in this heart opening pose and I’m suddenly lit up with light and joy and damn.

It feels good.

Today.

I was in the pose and I recognized the song and I heard a part of the chords that I hadn’t caught before, a sort of sweet, sad, melancholic faint brush of regret, that hint that underneath the joy there was this little pool of sorrow–that I can see probably leads to movingly to that opening flower in me.

Pain is the touchstone of spiritual growth.

The flower blooms from a field of pain.

Which makes it that much more beautiful.

I did not hear the joy today, I heard the sorrow.

I did not consciously think these things.

I just noticed that instead of feeling uplifted I felt a bit moored and then I thought of a suggestion I had heard before to send a ball of light towards a person and fill it with love.

I thought of the man I had seen last night, my innocuous Burning Man crush and I was about to send it out to him, and then.

Oh.

I saw his face instead.

I held up that bubble of warm love and light and I pushed it out.

And it collapsed on me.

And I broke into tears.

Face scrunched up, eyes smashed shut.

My entire heart clutched up and instead of light I was drowned in sorrow and salt.

The bubble burst and I just cried.

I did so silently, but it felt like I was being buried under a tsunami sadness.

Then.

It was gone.

I was left, heart very open, thank you very fucking much, wet, face soaked with sweat and tears on the mat.

I sank into the final five minutes of resting pose.

I breathed cleanly.

I sat up.

I said thank you.

I rolled up my mat.

I walked out the door.

Into the sunlight.

Drenched in love.

Having let the final last lingering bomb of grief dissolve off my body.

I got home, took a hot shower and lifted my face with gratitude.

Graced.

All the love flowering in m heart.

Roots griped into the rich soil of sorrow and pain.

Watered with tears and growing toward the sun.

Raised in brightness, raised in brightness.

These are the days to write home about.

These are the days, simple and small and laden with the gifts of living a full life.

Shining out.

A beacon.

I am.

A rising sun.

Shining out in the rising sun.

Cleaned and new.

Bright with hope, promise, joy.

And.

As always.

Love.

Yes.

My love.

Always that.

Always.

Love.

 

 

Retainer

October 9, 2013

I may be going on a retainer for my Cole Valley family.

The mom’s contract with work is closing and seasonal, but she still wants me.

However, her time needs are going to be different.

She asked me what I thought if my hours were smaller but I still was paid the same.

I would say, yes, thanks, because otherwise I am looking for another job.

I don’t want to and I don’t think she wants me to, scratch that, she absolutely does not want me to look for another family to be with full-time.

I cannot make less money.

No.

I am amenable to the idea.

I have worked flat rates for families before.

Although in the past it was pretty much a I start at 8 or 9 a.m. and work until 5:30 or 6p.m. and if I get done a little early I get paid the same amount.  I was basically working 40-50 hours at a set rate, a salary basically.

To not have full-time work and then try to figure out how much is fair, I’m not sure how that will all suss out.  But yeah, I am fine with working less and making the same amount.

I still have to supplement.

It has not been full-time work ever with this family and sometimes that is frustrating, but mostly, it has worked out.  Especially when I am not worried about it.  I keep showing up and the money accrues.

That being said next week is going to be busy.

I am working Saturday through Thursday.

I could say I am working Friday through Thursday, now that I am thinking about it.

I basically have a six-day run.

One day, though, is not really at work nannying, Friday is my re-certification class at the American Red Cross.

Saturday is the overnight.

Sunday is Decompression.

I will be in the Castro for the overnight, then maybe pop over to Decompression for a while, or not, who knows.  Then go back to the Castro at 7p.m. and work a few hours.

Monday will be back to my “normal” work week.

With the addition of the new family in NOPA a half day in the afternoon on Wednesday and a full day on Thursday.

Long board and a wet suit.

I just repeated that to myself when I was writing it down.

Long board and a wet suit.

Every extra bit counts toward that goal.

I will need to get back into the water before I get my own gear, so I will be getting ahold of my friend and seeing if I can catch some more time in the water with him soon.

I could go Thursday afternoon.

Trying to figure it out is not going to help me write this blog.

I was also trying to figure out the yoga as I came home from my day and there was a spare yoga mat leaned up against my door.

My housemate is a fairy godmother.

She just knows.

I hopped on the studio website for Ocean Beach Yoga and I think I can pull off a class this weekend.  Possibly Thursday or Friday.

The weekend is pretty much out.

But I do so want to start doing this and stop talking about it.

Especially when the Universe drops a yoga mat off at my door.

I can take hint you know.

I have plans tomorrow, that hopefully includes some make out, otherwise I would tomorrow after work.

Dinner and discussion with the Mister.

I just got to ask the guy what he wants and say what I want.

We may have different agendas

I can’t read his mind and he can’t read mine and I have just been going on the assumption that he is super busy with work all the time, and you know, when you can’t remember your last day off and you work 12-15 hour days, I feel it is safe to assume that, but maybe there is something else that I am not aware of.

He’s going to pick me up after work and we’ll probably head over to Nob Hill and then grab some dinner afterward.  I have Thursday off with no commitment until noon and I don’t know if that will actually happen as the lady has not called to check in with me once since I met with her last week.

Doesn’t bode to well for that coffee date.

Which is why I made the date for Trouble Coffee, it’s in my neighborhood, if she fails to show up I still am nearby.  And maybe I can go to the yoga studio before my commitment in the evening, or even surf, if my friend’s around.

I will have to touch base.

I know that if I don’t go this weekend the ocean is not going to go away and my chances won’t have evaporated, I just want to commit to going once a week at least in the beginning.

Making new habits can be hard.

I have lots of willingness, but sometimes not enough action behind it.

“Willingness without action is fantasy,” a good friend of mine has said and I completely agree.

I can fantasize about a wet suit and a long board and hopping up on the waves, but the longer I wait to get back in the water the longer it’s going to take to get up on the board.

I have not fantasies about that.

I don’t expect that I will get on my feet for a while yet, but I am going to try.

I can also not obsess about my schedule.

I am going to follow through on the surfing and the yoga.

It is time.

I am going to also not wig out about this week and what my timing is like.

I remember once asking someone how they balanced all the people in their life.

He said he just focused on the one in front of him.

That’s all I need to do.

My intent is to surf and do yoga this week.

However that happens.

And get kissed.

Yes.

Let me give some time to that as well.


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