29-27 weeks of grace. Patience

I am not a patient person. I don't like toiling, pining or doing anything else that seems like a shitload of effort especially if the reward is hidden or nebulous. The fact of the matter is that I think putting up with discomfort is ridiculous unless there is one hell of a pay off. 

The past few weeks have been an exercise in patience and judgement. They've pretty much been a game that I unwittingly played into and unfortunately both parties lost.

There isn't really any comfort to be found. The moral of the story is to listen when someone tells you something and move on when someone can't give you what you need.

There is a lot of letting go happening in so many areas of my life. Letting go of wants and preconceptions. Swapping one set of future ideals for something I love and want more... And realizing that I was let go of. Calling it rejected doesn't feel right. Calling myself tossed aside or cast off makes me a victim of someone else's whims and I choose to see this as a gift. I was let go of. I'm dropping the story of how or why or what specific moments felt like... releasing all of that drama and simply being with the absolute truth of the matter. And now, I can be open to something nourishing, sexy, kind and unafraid of loving me. It's an emptiness, but it's an open, calm, graceful place and I am grateful for it.

I will be patient with myself, trust my path and the world and enjoy the beauty that shows up.

300 words

I'm in my usual grad work spot this evening. It’s bustling. There’s this pulsing of nerd love and friends catching up over far too caffeinated and far too expensive hot beverages. It all feels too fast and frantic: these people are in a rush to squeeze everything possible out of their weekend. It's a fall evening. One of the best sort and if I wasn't here, I would be in my back yard, bundled up with the lap blanket from my alma mater. I'd be looking up at the stars with a cup of tea or warm cider and thinking about someone who told me that he thinks of me every time he has a beer in hand and a clear night to appreciate... or multiple someones who’ve claimed real estate in my psyche.

I'm having a week in which I don't feel particularly blessed, though I have plenty of proof to the contrary from people who have flattered me/ loved me up/ taken care of me from across continents and in all sorts of ways in all sorts of locations. The rub is I feel like I'm coming up against a lot of truths that I wasn't ready to accept and a lot of challenges that I still don't know if I can meet. I did some serious work over the past week with the two people I entrust with everything. They told me to listen. To actually find stillness. To stop the frantic and panic. To find the calm. To listen to what came out. I did. I heard it first last weekend and I didn't know what to do with it... then, it came up again later this week. It's logical, it feels amazingly true, but it scares the hell out of me. Fortunately, I've been told time and time again by people who I trust that if things aren't ok it simply means that they aren't over yet. I'm trying to have faith in that, faith in them and faith in myself.

300 words. That's approximately how much I changed one draft to another- over 7 hours of work to change about 300 words, but they made a significant difference. It’s not perfect yet, but it’s closer…I've framed my life in terms of this small, but potent idea. 300 words from others- the small gestures. The returned messages. Telling you how amazing you are or simply sharing a day. It's a simple ritual- a communion of shared desire, openness and respect. Missing it... the lack of words or misplaced or abused words... that little neglect left untended breeds contempt, distrust and disillusion.

For me right now, it's the little, the steps, the bobbles, the moving forward or at least not veering to absurdly far off path (unless the reason is too delicious to pass up) that is what adds up. Finding the quiet. Jamming out to whatever comes on the iPod. Having that cup of tea, or that drink with a best friend. 300 words-ish (maybe 508). That's what can save or break you. 

Letting go.

I hate letting things go. It feels like a failure on my part. As though I have some extraordinary super powers to tip the hands of fate or control things completely out of my influence, I feel like there must have been something I could have done.

Maybe there was... In some cases I know there was, but that time has passed. It's over and being self flagellating is doing nothing for me.

I'm moving on.

30 weeks of grace

Between a long weekend of parties and school starting again, I haven't had a moment to write. I've been too busy doing.

I'm still having huge doubts about teaching Bellyfit. I think of all of the things that could go wrong, realizing, of course, that if I don't endeavor 1, nothing will go wrong and 2, nothing will be gained. Precarious. I don't like regrets.

List for the week:

1. Pumpkin clause. Done Tuesday & Wednesday so far.

2. Yoga and Bellyfit. Done Wednesday & Thursday so far.

3. Stay within calories for the day.

4. One studio/ email.

5. Sew a seam

I'm waiting for my committee's comments. Fingers crossed.