your dreams are always coming true.

It's that time of the month. Soul Matters time, that is. I have my meeting with my group tomorrow, and, of course, I've left most of my reflection and work for the last minute. I meant to look at it this weekend, but I ended up blogging about other things. So, back to Possibility. Let's see what I can work out.

First of all, the spiritual practice that they wanted us to do was, in my opinion, dumb. We were supposed to read a poem by Robert Bly every day. And it was a dumb poem, saying that instead of expecting the ordinary, we should imagine that a moose will come out of a pond carrying your unborn child in his antlers.

???

My point exactly. So we were supposed to read it every day for two weeks and see what sorts of things we would start to think were possible. It's meant to get us out of our routines. Personally, I don't think this would help my spirit, so I didn't do it.

However, if I were to explore this concept without the dumb poem, I think I would start to understand that a lot of the things I'm most proud of doing seemed like really crazy ideas at the beginning. Some of the wildest things I've done have been the most worthwhile. And while I'm looking for a job and trying to shape what my life in Rochester with Adam will look like, it's important to think big, not small. There, lesson learned.

The next part is the challenge. I need to brainstorm all the things I think are impossible. I've already listed these things, and I'll say now that I did NOT succeed in creating a home yoga routine, nor did I fast or do anything else, really. Not even close. I did yoga once. And I attempted to fast once. So, there are some improvements I can make. And I have decided that those things are big leaps, and I need small steps. That means meditating regularly, and mindful eating. The point is, I've figured out what my long term goals are, and now I know what small steps will lead me in that direction.

The other little trick I've learned is modifying my dreams. At this point, I think it's pretty unlikely that I'll go back to the woods to work as a trail laborer. And frankly, I haven't been convinced that I do actually want to. But...I am planning on going back this summer to visit, and hopefully see people from my crew. That would pretty much satisfy that dream of mine, but it fits into the reality of other choices I'm making in my life. I probably don't want to spend 6 months in the woods without Adam and without a phone to call him. So I'll go for a week or two, sleep under the stars, hike some trails, and that'll be that.

I don't mean to say that I should compromise my dreams for things that seem more reasonable. I just mean that I will never accomplish what I want if I will only accept one hypothetical result. Part of realizing your dreams is understanding that your dreams are coming true all the time. Even if they don't arrive in the exact package you expected. And that is the heart of possibility. The ability to see everything as an opportunity, every new experience a gift and every new acquaintance as the potential for something grand.

Living boldly means that we embrace all the little moments that will lead to someplace fabulous. Rejoicing in our small accomplishments acknowledges that every step brings us closer to our goals.

I used to feel like I was such a poser because I "pretended" that I practiced yoga regularly, when really I had only been practicing for a few months. I wanted so much at 17 to be a true yogini. But I knew that it would take time. Because I stuck with yoga and still practice, however sporadically, no one could tell me today that I do not understand the fundamentals of yoga and have a true foundation in the philosophy. And so there is no reason that I should have let that keep me from feeling like I was a yogini. My path led me here, and no one can disprove that those few classes I took as a junior in high school helped me along the way. Even at our beginnings, we are undeniably bound for success. That is the whole power of the future and the unknown. No one can really say "You'll never be a true yogini" or "You'll never become a doctor." Because they don't know the future. Maybe today is the first day of your 20 years as a massage therapist. Maybe all that journaling you've been doing for all these years will be a best-selling book in 3 years. Maybe yesterday was your first day as a lifelong bike commuter. The possibilities are truly endless.

This entire month I have been avoiding the theme Possibility because there is really only one thing that I want to be possible: getting this research job. I want to believe so much that it will happen, and I think I've done everything I can to make sure that this dream is realized. But since I don't know the future, I don't know if tomorrow will bring an end to this job search, and the beginning of another, or the beginning of 5 years with a health project in the Dominican Republic. I want to believe that it is possible. But if it doesn't work out, I have to imagine something equally acceptable to do with my life.

I firmly believe in listening to the messages that life sends you. For example, on a date with a guy that I liked, I got hit in the head with a sign. And that sign happened to say "Sign." That made it pretty clear. I also think that the job with St. Joseph's Villa did not work out because it wasn't right for me. When you have to work hard to make something feel good, it's probably not that good for you. I'm also hoping that it didn't work out because I was meant to have this job with the University of Rochester. And if not, I'm going to spend a lot of time working at a coffee shop and re-imagining my future.

I'll wrap this up with a little story from my friend, Brian Andreas. This has always been one of my favorites, and I think it fits pretty well with this evening's thoughts.

Everything changed the day she figured out
there was exactly enough time
for the important things in her life.

And, because I can't help myself, here's another:

In my dream, the angel shrugged & said,
If we fail this time, it will be a failure of imagination
& then she placed the world gently in the palm of my hand.

resolve.

Words color my world.

I don't think I ever could have imagined the poetry that would weave my world together and make it dance in my memory for a lifetime. From journaling as a pre-teen and teenager, to livejournaling as a young college student and then to blogging in The Real World, writing has been my way of making sense of the experiences and adventures that compose my life. No matter where I've been, be it the confused darkness of a family paralyzed by divorce, or the bonnie Highlands of Scotland, writing is compelling, necessary, and important. She is my good friend, and my most trusted therapist.

My love of language, then, is the natural progression of my friendship with the written word. To learn to express myself in more beautiful and exotic words was like discovering a secret garden. I could use these new words with new people, and they would take me to places like San Sebastian, Vieques, and Chefchaouen. I learned more about grammar than I ever had known, and so I became more confident in using my native language to express myself. I find I am always curious about what one word means, and I am fascinated by the posse of other words needed to define one. And so, another etymological lesson:

Resolve. Re-solve. Solve again.
to bring to an end; to settle conclusively; to reach a conclusion.
Resolution. To make a new solution.
finding a solution to a problem.

It's a new year, a new decade. Time for a fresh start. Time to go back to those old decisions and remake them. Resolve to do what is good for us, for our health, for our wellness and our future. We forget that behind every resolution is a decision we made that something was BAD for us. Losing weight really means that we don't want to overeat or to remain sedentary. Quitting smoking, obviously means we KNOW that cigarettes are bad for us. Buying too much, spending beyond our means and wasting beyond our allotment are good reasons to save money and to be thrifty. Part of making a resolution means looking back at all the ugly moments from the last year and finding a new way. How do we make change? How do we start over?

The truth is, New Years is a farce. It is a scheme to force everyone to operate on the same schedule of putting off our resolutions until one day in January. Months in advance, we talk about how we will make changes. "My new year's resolution will be to start running again." "I'm going to finish all those projects I never got around to." The problem is, we can start doing that NOW. We don't have to wait until the ball drops to begin the race toward our dreams. It's like Dick Clark is holding the toy gun, and we're all at the starting line waiting for his signal. As soon as he says go, we can all begin again. But not until he says so. Are we insane?? Dick Clark didn't even say "13" in his countdown! It's time to find a new starter for the race.

What happens if we fall of the wagon in February? Or worse, January 2nd. What then? Is it all over until next year? We're fooling ourselves if we think we only have one chance at this. Personally, January is a horrible time for me to make plans for my future. I'm cold, depressed from lack of sunshine, and generally walking like a zombie till March. I'm hibernating. So I don't need Carson Daly telling me that it's time for a fresh start.

However, I do feel hints of inspiration as I walk mummified through these frozen streets. Yesterday, on a frigid bus ride home with Adam, I suddenly thought about our garden, and what I want to plant this year. Even though I can't put a darn thing in the ground until April, I can still look through seed catalogs and draw up designs for the garden.

The point is, every day is a new day. So hallelujah for that. Maybe yesterday was awful, but today can be completely new. And we should allow our dreams and goals to evolve with the fluidity of each passing day, instead of it all hinging on one cold day just past winter solstice. New Years always creeps up on me, and I find I've had no time during the holidays to imagine the possibilities of the new year. And so I leave that for February. Sometimes even June. No matter what, I give myself the power to decide ANY day that I want life to be different. And if I fail one day, I just go to bed early and let the world remake itself as I sleep. When I wake up in the morning, the day is new, with no mistakes.

That being said, since this is the time of confessing our resolve for change, here are some ideas I have been chewing on:

1. I need a solid, regular, committed relationship with my yoga mat. It seems at this point that the only way that is going to happen is with an unlimited pass to Tru Yoga. So as soon as I have a paycheck, I am going to be spending at least 4 nights a week glued to my purple mat.

2. I need a paycheck.

3. I have been thinking about some lyrics by Ani Difranco, and they've been digging in, so much so that I can't shake them anymore:

"I had to leave the house of self-importance
to doodle my first tattoo
realize a tattoo is no more permanent
than I am"

I think I hold much too tightly onto the idea of what I am instead of oozing with the beauty of who I am. As silly as it sounds, this obsession is currently manifested in the terror I feel in contemplating chopping off my long hair. I have been thinking about it for months now, and still haven't done it, even though I actually found a photo of exactly what I want my hair to look like. The problem is, cutting my hair short feels like such a permanent act. It takes years to grow it long. But I have to remember that it's not a tattoo, it's not a wedding vow, and it's not an infant. It's my hair, and I have the earthly right of doing whatever the hell with it that I please. Yes, it is pretty when it's long, but I also only shower every three days because I hate waiting for my hair to dry. And, as long as it is, all I ever do is wrap it up in a little bun at the nape of my neck. But it's long and pretty, and sometimes I feel like it is a huge part of who I am. If it's gone, who am I?

All that being said, I have a hair appointment today at 3:00. I wrote this because I'm afraid I'll go in and say, just trim it, please. And I think that's cowardly.

More than a few experiences over the past few months have made me realize that this life is really all we have, and the more we sink inside ourselves, the less we will ever know about the possibilities of this world. Having the courage to do such a little thing as cut my hair is part of a huge awakening. If I can't get myself to part with these curly locks, I will never be able to do the wild things I imagine for this life.

When I was little, I used to lie in bed, paralyzed, trying to get myself to get up to go to the bathroom or get a drink of water. I was afraid of the dark, and monsters under my bed, and I would wait for more than 20 minutes, telling myself "Now!....Now!....NOW!" And I wouldn't lift a finger. This went on for months. Maybe years. Until the day I realized that if I had to tell myself to jump, I would never do it. So now I jump before anyone can say "Now!" And it works. That's how I get myself to jump off 20ft. cliffs into freezing cold water. That's how I buy plane tickets (and gear from REI...so bad). But seriously, I deliberate too damn long. I need to trust myself, and know that, as long as there are no rocks at the bottom, I'll survive any jump from any cliff I set my mind to.

So today, my resolution is to chop off my hair. If it's long enough, it will get donated to Locks of Love. The point is, I'm the one saying "Now!" Life is too short to waste on self-importance and fear. So here's to today, and all the possibilities that the rising sun brings.

peter

I remember him standing there like a break in the mist, or the shadow under old trees & I wish I had known then it is the place we cannot go that needs our touch most.

One of Us.

Someday, the light will shine like a sun through my skin & they will say, What have you done with your life? & though there are many moments I think I will remember, in the end, I will be proud to say, I was one of us.

a good reminder

how we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.

[annie dillard]

Life Plan

I asked her what she planned to do with her life & she said she was way beyond that point already. I'm just happy I remember to be there when it happens, she said.

[brian andreas]

signs from above

I used to wait for a sign, she said, before I
did anything. Then one night I had a
dream & an angel in black tights came to
me & said, you can start any time now, &
then I asked is this a sign? & the angel
started laughing & I woke up. Now, I think
the whole world is filled with signs, but if
there's no laughter, I know they're not for me.

[brian andreas]

the whole world is filled with signs. i've always believed it, but this wisdom passed on to me by my mother has never seemed so true as now. a million signs have gently guided me on journeys small and grand, helped me make decisions and choose from a thousand paths that could have taken me anywhere in the world. signs are everywhere, and the more you listen to those little nudges from the universe, the more fun you'll have. i promise.

last night i spent the evening after work with a good friend, savoring food from my favorite little restaurant in rochester and enjoying pleasant conversation. once again i was reminded that, although i loved edinburgh and being with claire, it was good to be back home. home in rochester, with people and places that really make me feel like i belong in this strange new life.

as we were leaving dogtown, we stopped by teen city to get my bicycle. adam laughed at betsy's silly cruiser which i have adopted for the time being, until i can buy my own sweet ride. with headlamp strapped to helmet and handlebars sticking out like bug antennae, he said i was adorable. i'm sure it was closer to ridiculous. i took the compliment anyway. to put it into perspective, adam's sweet ride has bumper stickers, a back seat, speakers for cruising to good tunes, and flashing lights. it's kind of like comparing a harley to a crotch-rocket. without all the macho baggage, of course...

anyway, back to the signs!!! once we were sufficiently equipped with safety gear and had some good music flowing, we took off down monroe ave. i began to pass adam on the sidewalk, only to be completely bombarded by an enormous yellow sign that fell from the storefront 10 feet up. it clipped me in the head (thank goodness for my helmet!) and fell to the ground with that sheet-metal-thunder sound. shocked and simultaneously amused, i dismounted to inspect my attacker. this enormous yellow plastic sign that fell from the sky and hit me in the head, in fact, had the word "sign" on it. so there you have it: a "sign".

the reason why i was certain it really was a sign is that, upon our evaluation of the situation, adam and i fell into stitches of laughter, amused and befuddled by the irony of what had just happened. i was completely unhurt, and could only keep repeating "it's a sign! it's a sign!" as adam took pictures and laughed heartily. he strapped the sign to his back seat and after recovering from our fits of laughter, we resumed our night ride through the rain, still glowing with smiles. he rode home with me, presented me with "the sign" and gave me a nice hug. he rode away, and i brought the sign inside to show betsy and charlie. they were impressed and perplexed, which satisfied me.


i'm not sure what the purpose of this sign was. i know that we really had a lovely time together and it served to reinforce how much joy i think we both felt for the moment. it's not every day that a real sign bashes you in the head, and when it happens, you have to stop and think about what the universe is trying to tell you. i know for certain i will always wear my helmet when riding, and that i will continue to accept invitations to adventure with adam. it seems they are always rewarded with the most curious and mysterious of events. and lots and lots of laughter...

home, sick.

searching boxes underneath the counter
on a chance that on a tape i'd find

a song for
someone who needs somewhere
to long for

homesick
cause i no longer know
what home is
[kings of convenience]

last night there was a confusion between me being home, sick, and homesick. there is a difference, wide and deep, between the two, but i wonder if i can bring them together. i'm intrigued by hearing "homesick" by the kings of convenience today, after that confusion, because the song talks about some feelings that i have about my work that i'm doing and where i want to be. and i know i'm not homesick for michigan, but i could be homesick for california. well, i mean, i'm absolutely homesick for the stanislaus.

so, let's talk about being sick at home and homesick. the former is somewhat antithetical to the latter because if you're home, sick, then you're obviously at home, wherever that is. it is definitely more literal, and doesn't require much of a definition because it is tangible. both being sick and being in a physical space called home are objective (for the most part). but being homesick is entirely abstract, because you are missing a place that physically does not exist. in a way, you can't prove that that place exists because you cannot see it, and whatever your ideas about it, you can't define what it is or what you miss about it. being homesick is in your head, while being sick is entirely within your body.

so at this moment, i suffer from physical sickness. i suppose if i felt like pondering it, i would admit that i miss a place in my memory that no longer exists for me in any physical sense. now that i'm thinking about this...does what i think about place also apply to people? are friends that live thousands of miles away any less because of the space between us? perhaps that is the beauty of communication, because i can still verify their existance through our phone calls and letters. i can't really check in with the trees and deer in the stanislaus to make sure they're still alive and well. i'm tempted to bring in the old addage, "if a tree falls in the woods, does it make a sound?" just because i have no contact with my mountains, does that mean i can't remain connected to it? is it all in my head? who knows.

this is what happens when i take the day off to recover from illness. i make no sense and try to grapple with things beyond my brain's current functioning capacity. i shouldn't drink coffee when i'm this sick...

for peter

"Listening Well"

He had the gift
of stopping time
& listening well
so that it was easy
to hear who
we could become

& that was the future
he held safe
for each of us
in his great heart

you may ask, what now?
& I hope you understand
when we speak softly
among ourselves
& do not answer
just yet

for our future
is no longer the same
without him

[Brian Andreas]

"painting by chagall" - the weepies

Thunder rumbles in the distance, a quiet intensity
I am willful, your insistence is tugging at the best of me
You're the moon, I'm the water
You're Mars, calling up Neptune's daughter

Sometimes rain that's needed falls
We float like two lovers in a painting by Chagall
All around is sky and blue town
Holding these flowers for a wedding gown
We live so high above the ground, satellites surround us.

I am humbled in this city
There seems to be an endless sea of people like us
Wakeful dreamers, I pass them on the sunlit streets
In our rooms filled with laughter
We make hope from every small disaster

Everybody says "you can't, you can't, you can't, don't try."
Still everybody says that if they had the chance they'd fly like we do.

winter hours

i'm finishing up mary oliver's "winter hours", a book of prose, prose poetry, and poetry. it's lovely. and i had to put this excerpt in here:

"morning, for me, is the time of best work. my conscious thought sings like a bird in a cage, but the rest of me is singing too, like a bird in the wind. perhaps something is still strong in us in the morning, the part that is untamable, that dreams willfully and crazily, that knows reason is no more than an island within us."

p. 98.

"half acre" by hem

half acre on youtube...to listen while you read...

i am holding half an acre
torn from the map of Michigan
and folded in this scrap of paper
is a land i grew in

think of every town you've lived in
every room you lay your head
and what is it that you remember?

do you carry every sadness with you
every hour your heart was broken
every night the fear and darkness
lay down with you

a man is walking on the highway
a woman stares out at the sea
and light is only now just breaking

so we carry every sadness with us
every hour our hearts were broken
every night the fear and darkness
lay down with us

but i am holding half an acre
torn from the map of Michigan
i am carrying this scrap of paper
that can crack the darkest sky wide open
every burden taken from me
every night my heart unfolding
my home