Posts Tagged ‘principled life’

You’re So Busy

March 5, 2016

Yes I am.

But you call me anyway, ‘kay?

That was the last thing I was expecting tonight, I was just going to go grocery shopping after doing the deal and getting my ass to the church on time.

“Dear God, get me to the church on time,” was the mantra I was repeating to myself today at work.

I just knew where I needed to be tonight and I needed to be amongst my people.

It’s Friday, end of the week, and yet the beginning of the work, really, tomorrow I’ll get up earlier than I do when I have a work day, but there is much to do and places to go, people to see.

And I have a routine, a set of morning practices I like to do before I head out the door and maybe it seems crazy to get up 2.5 hours before you need to be somewhere, but that’s my deal.

At least for tomorrow.

Sunday I’ll sleep in.

Maybe.

Heh.

I texted a friend, coffee, tea, movie, hang out soon?

And of course we’re all both crazy busy and sure, but maybe in April?

Yup.

So.

Mister, I’ll give you a call, let’s do coffee, let’s ok.

Let’s just do it

Let’s just not worry about the homework and the work work and the recovery work and the life, let’s just let life happen.

I can always squeeze in another person to see for a cup of coffee.

Especially when they sparkle at me.

“What is wrong with guys, don’t they see how beautiful you are?” He asked me a year ago, sometime right after my ex broke up with me and I was saying something about a bad date and or not being asked out.

“You’re crazy gorgeous, and sweet, and you have the biggest heart, if I wasn’t dating someone, I’d totally be taking you out,” he said, giving me a sympathy hug.

Cue conversation tonight in front of Our Lady of Safeway.

He’s not dating anyone anymore.

I got the “we should have coffee sometime, well, I know you’re super busy,” he started to cut himself off before I even had a chance to respond.

“I am busy, but we should have coffee anyway,” I said, and touched his arm.

“Let me get your number,” he said, then we both realized that we had each other’s numbers already.

Hilarious.

Small world.

Nice to have a surprise at the end of my week.

Especially after the touch of turmoil yesterday.

It was almost like it didn’t happen, it, I’m being obtuse, the date, the not nice, and the amends.

But that’s how it works, when I do the work, and I clean up my side of the street.

I am absurdly grateful that I was able to come clean to my behavior and make the amends quickly and with some modicum of humility and clarity around my actions.

I woke up this morning in a restful state, actually having had forgotten to set my alarm.

When I looked at my phone to see when my alarm was going off I didn’t freak out to see I had slept five minutes past my alarm, nope I was just happy to be awake and not have any text messages on my phone.

In fact, I sort of forgot all of yesterday had happened until I had made the bed and was kneeling down to do my morning routine.

Holy shit.

My head has been quiet all morning.

No upset stomach, no tears, no drama.

onice to wake up with a fresh, new, clean slate.

And here’s the funny shit.

By the time I had sat down to write my morning pages, onto my second cup of coffee, washed my breakfast dishes, I was in my head about, hey, well, ok, maybe that wasn’t the worst, I could try dating via Tinder again, I mean.

I.

Um.

Fuck.

That is crazy ass shit right there.

I just am a sucker for punishment.

Then I thought, hmm, I think I am just trying to create something to divert me from a big school prep weekend.

Like I could sneak in a date in between doing the deal with my person tomorrow, yoga class, class research for a paper, writing said paper, writing another paper on Sunday, grocery shopping, cooking for the week, oh yeah, making sure I keep caught up on all my school reading–classes next weekend–laundry, recovery, and um, heh, getting my eyebrows waxed and a mani/pedi.

Sure.

I could fucking slide a date into that mix.

Well, maybe for the guy that peeped my number tonight.

I could squeeze in a quick cup of joe.

Ha.

But no, not going to go on some date with some fantasy person on a dating site.

I realized while I was on the app that one of the things I was doing was actually looking for guys that I might know and some how short cut to the chase.

But that’s not how it works, and it’s so much better in person.

I mean.

I am not stupid, the man tonight is interested.

Whether or not it actually happens, I can say without a doubt that there is interest and chemistry, oh, yeah, and he’s one of my people, which is always compelling to me.

And if you don’t know what that means, suffice to say, it means that we have a common language and solution to a spiritual malady.

So.

Instead of re-installing the app on my phone.

I did a coloring meditation instead.

How nice was that?

So nice.

Suddenly.

I stopped and got silent and just colored and the sound of the pencil on the paper, the sudden down falling patter of rain against the outside windows, the feel of the paper under my hand, the colors on the paper and how they spoke to me, this here, this combination of indigo and violet against a lush soft pink, reminds me of sunsets at Burning Man.

I was present and quiet and focused on just being in the moment.

Instead of being in fantasy la la land.

I was at home in my heart.

At my little sky blue table, super saturated tropical colors whirling out onto the page.

I lost track of time.

It was delicious.

And it helped me stay present all day long.

With the boys, with the family, with myself.

With my principles and life and love of self.

Knowing that there was only one other place to get to and having gotten there, seen friends, checked in, got accountable, claimed my fucking seat, and spoke my bit, I am all good.

Happy, joyous, free.

And wildly grateful that I have the option to grow and love.

Better.

Stronger.

Truer than the day before.

Grace.

To have it and know it.

Luckiest girl in the world.

Fucking believe it.

 

Wake Up!

February 25, 2014

I yawned as my friend said something, zoned out, tuned back in, laughed, drank some more tea, tried not to watch the clock.

Watched the clock anyway.

It’s challenging being social on a Monday evening.

I can do it.

I have done it.

I just turn into a pumpkin really fast.

I have my little routine, the things I do after work, the work that resumed today in full, a two little boys hand full, my goodness they are huge, it’s not like I haven’t seen them in months, just a few days, and they are huge, and energetic, and yup boys.

No break for me, not a nap that over lapped or a down moment.

Although there were sweet quiet moments.

Revel in this, I thought to myself, as the warm sun beamed down on me, one of the boys asleep in the stroller, the other making a big deal about figuring out how to zip up his sweatshirt.

It was just a moment of quiet, of not being engaged.

Yes, being present, that is what I am paid for when it really comes down to the nuts and bolts of it (although really, I feel I am paid because I have a gigantic capacity of love for children, which amazes me again and again, where does it come from and how deep is it?  Perhaps I won’t ever get to know the answers to those questions, better for me too, I suspect) my job is to watch and be alert and present.

To the ever-present dangers of little boys.

One little boy who is one, who I want to say is still a baby, but he is no baby, he is a boy and boy howdy is he all about letting me know his opinions about what he wants and when.

The other is nearly two and so smart and dear and precocious, and when he’s occupied with something, sand box shovel, or zipper, he can get really occupied.

So, I let him.

I just stood in the middle of the sidewalk and let the sun fall on me warmly, so much nicer than yesterday’s cold chilling fog I was riding around in for hours, listened to the birds wax in the trees, the quiet of the street with no cars, the smell of jasmine blooming in the planters in front of a house.

I looked at the way the tall palm tree on Beulah street feathered out its fronds against the sky and sighed deeply.

Stop sometimes and just be present.

It was a great day to get reunited with the boys, the day was sunny, warm, and the park was full, but not too full, no waiting in line for the swings, no struggles over sand box territory or shoving to go down the slides.

When my alarm woke me up this morning I made a snap decision to take a shower, which I would normally do  in the evening on a Monday (yeah, that’s right, I have a schedule for showering.  Shut up.  I just notice that some days work better than others timing wise, that’s all) and I got up and threw myself underneath the hot water, after raking the brush through my helmet head hair.

I was a bit disgruntled, looking back I could almost say I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, grumpy for no reasons.

I noticed it when I went to make my bed up and do my morning readings and such.

I paused and ask for some direction and said, help me show up today and just enjoy what is happening today, not worry about tomorrow, or wish I had done something differently yesterday, just show up for today and enjoy it.

Something, somewhere, God, call it what you will, I have my own secret code word for it, God, heard me, and I had a beautiful, balanced, day, being present and showing up for it.

In fact, it wasn’t until I was writing this blog that I recalled how grumpy I had awoken.

Nice, when that happens.

Nice when I am heard and I go out into the world to try to do my best to show up.

Nice.

Yeah, it’s a bit shabby as far as an adjective goes, but sometimes simple, is sweet, and it was a nice day.

It didn’t blow the socks of me or want me to radically change anything in my life, which is actually a radical thing for me, not wanting to change something RIGHT NOW, because I am uncomfortable.

Oh shit.

Ha.

I just realized that I walked through a bunch of discomfort and I came out the other side, mainly because I just showed up.

It is a constant awakening, I realize.

Always this coming to.

Nothing is wrong.

Nothing ever is.

It’s how I show up for it and what I do when I get there and not letting the getting there rule my brain, but to take basic, simple, tiny, really, god-awful slow steps, to grow.

And looky there, I grew some this past week.

I also had an epiphany, helped by the counsel of said friend I was having tea with this evening before heading home.

I am going to ask that my friend who is selling me his scooter keep the title to it until I pay it off.

Thereby having a secured loan.

He had offered to hand over the title already and the scooter and I had asked that he not until I have every thing all lined up, all my little ducks in a row, the safety course, the helmet, the insurance, my licence, that I be entirely above-board with it.

And here, is another place to practice that growth and honesty.

I don’t want to even think about screwing over my friend in regards to continuing to pay him for the scooter.  I can secure the loan by asking him to hold onto the title until it is all paid off.

And that is what I will do.

It’s getting easier, this whole living principled thing, it really is.

Just have to wake up to it and even when I do with my cranky pants on tight and high, I can start right over, even if it’s just minutes since the alarm went off.

I can always choose to be present.

Awake.

Alive.

How lovely.

How.

Ahem.

Nice.

Nice, Like Nice With Cheese Butter On Top

January 24, 2014

“Say cheesebutter!”  I urge one of my charges when I take a photographs of him.

It’s a word he made up.

“Cheesebutter, it makes everything better,” I smile and take his picture.

I am going to 850 Bryant tomorrow after I get up and do my daily routine and make sure that I am all nice and calm and serene and in a good head space and spiritual and shit.

And I am going to be nice.

Nice.

Nice.

That was my decision tonight when I was talking to someone about the red light incident on Tuesday and how I did a lot of writing about it and began to not only have forgiveness for the cop but actual compassion, hey, how much fun can it be doing his job?

I mean, my job?

Loads of fun.

Today I went to two different parks, was told I love you by my charge, had my hand-held as we walked through the Pan Handle park, got hugs, had her request that I sing “Hush Little Baby” to her, had her fall asleep in my lap in her rocking chair, had an Americano at the Mill, walked all over NOPA, took fabulous photographs of street art by E. Claire Bandersnatch,

Bandsersnatch

Bandersnatch

Bandersnatch

Bandersnatch

Bandersnatch

Bandersnatch

 

went to Bi Rite for an apple and a bag of Holler Mountain Stumptown, had an amazing lunch with my lady, who slept two hours and twenty-five minutes, and then we capped off the day with a play date at Alamo Square Park and ran into a friend from Music Together class.

My job does not suck.

That cop, he has a job I would not want to have.

So, compassion for a person doing a job I don’t want to do and am really grateful that I don’t have to do.

Plus, as I was sharing with a woman who told me that the same night that I had my ticket incident, she hit a pedestrian in a cross walk, did not see him coming and he flew up over her windshield.

Now that makes one grateful for a ticket.

I did not get hit on my bike ride, in fact, I realized, I was slowed down, I was slowed down tonight riding that same route back home, slow, stopping not “running” any reds, and what do you know, I got to see three cops pulling over another person with a traffic infraction and listen to sirens wailing for another accident down the road.

None of these had anything to do with me except that I slowly, and cautiously rode past them.

So, tomorrow, grateful that I have a day off during the week, I  don’t normally, when I can actually go and spend time standing in line for room 145 at 850 Bryant.

Show up.

Suit up.

Let go of the results.

I know I was at fault and I am just going to go pay the fine.

I don’t have to be right.

I can just be happy.

And nice.

What if my only purpose was to go spread some good cheer at 850?

How many folks resolve to be nice when they go to 850?

I don’t believe all that many.

And I am not going to go and be nice because I think I am going to get off the ticket, I don’t think I can, I ran the red.

Granted, yes I was at a full stop and yes, I did look both ways, and yeah, the light was going to change, but was I in the wrong?

Yup.

So, be the adult and sack the fuck up.

Then I thought about my friend who had his bicycle stolen off the front of a MUNI bus.

I didn’t have my bike stolen.

I got to ride it to my awesome job today.

I did not get hit by a car in an intersection on foot.

I did not spend the last two days in the psyche ward at General.

Loads to be grateful for.

Oh, and like, hey, I have a three-day weekend!

I will pay my ticket then go on up to the Castro to see Barnaby, who just happened to have a cancellation in his schedule and will fit me in to touch up the stars on my neck and add two more for my anniversary.

Yes.

Afterward a manicure.

After that?

Well, I will be in and around the Castro neighborhood, then over to Our Lady of SafeWay to see some fellows.

Then if I have it in me, dancing at Public Works.

I’ll have it in me.

Unless something else awesome comes my way, which it might, you know, I have some special good feelings, like with cheese butter on top good, about tomorrow.

I will get to sleep in tomorrow.

I will take a leisurely hot shower, eat an awesome breakfast, drink really good coffee (I went to Bi-Rite!), write for a while, then take a sunny ride through the Pan Handle, then on down to 850 Bryant to see what happens when I show up and have accountability.

Life, I suppose.

A really good life.

A life built on responsibility, showing up, taking actions, letting go of the results, a faith-based life where I go despite the fear of financial insecurity, because I can afford it and ultimately, the money is not my money, it’s just this energy that I have been given to spread about me.

I shall spread it cheerfully.

Like a warm golden pool of cheese butter over grits.

I am going to love it up tomorrow at 850.

I might get obnoxious with it.

I will have fun with it.

I am actually, haha, kind of looking forward to going.

I will make sure I have a book to read and I will pay whatever I have to pay, and then you know what I will do?

I will fucking leave.

That’s the best part of it all.

I don’t have to stay.

I did not do anything to incur a real “visit” there and I haven’t in just a touch over 9 years.

That, that is what is really nice.

Like, cheese butter nice.

 

 


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