Honesty

I think there should be a dating book called Brotherhood of the Traveling Balls. A comedy of errors of sorts warning women to the dangers of guys who haven't yet learned how to be men. The title comes from my firm belief that all of the men I've dated in the past decade have in fact shared a pair of testicles.  My scientific proof comes from the continual observation that they cannot be brave or honest. One couldn't tell me that he wanted to see me more and didn't like taking a backseat to grad school. He acted out with other women and accusations instead. One couldn't tell me that he has deep seated issues with commitment and behaved stunningly when I told him that I didn't want anything to do with him if he's not working on that. Several have called and texted inappropriate things- blocking numbers isn't a resume skill. One wanted an interior decorator and someone to carry his shit in her purse (my name isn't mom, douche). One tested my willingness to stand by him through some tough stuff by ignoring me, calling me needy, and talking to barely legals... Because nothing says stand by me like eff off.

I'm not saying I'm faultless. I am a pain in the ass. I am messy. I am demanding. I am random and have a laundry list of idiosyncracies. I am ambitious and some times self-doubting. When things in my own life get difficult, I want a calm and compassionate man by me. When I have amazing things to celebrate, I want someone who can be happy for me. Any time, I want someone who won't mind emptying the dishwasher, talking about Campbell, internal combustion engines, or potty humor and taking meandering walks... and there you have it, I'm a pain in the ass who won't settle for anything less than a man.

 I have plenty of work to do and don't need any distractions :)

Jumping over tigers

We had a little visitor this week. A wild child, whose crazy, curly blonde locks seemed to be alive with her constant motion. Brave and uninhibited, she ran around the house chanting, singing, and hollering. Why? Because she's 3 and visiting family... A new house with a pet, different toys and a whole new audience to entertain/ envolve in her merrymaking. It was a blast. I let the stress of the stuck proposal get to me more than I wanted to, but I still thoroughly enjoyed watching Wonder Pets, seeing the Disney princesses at work on the little people farm and driving a jeep made out of building blocks. That's the great thing about creativity, it knows no bounds. If you don't have something, you make it out of something else. Mind = blown.

One particularly poignant moment came mid trip. She had gotten a stuffed pig from the zoo and had him playing with the little people pigs- he looked more like a mastodon than a member of the family next to his porcine brethren. There was a wind up tiger- maybe Shere Khan from an old happy meal- who was threatening the three little pigs (well, two little, one gigantic pigs). She separated from the story, moving the tiger slightly and then began running circles around the tiger and jumping over it, back and forth, round and round. Laughing and shouting incoherently.

In my favorite stories, tiger represents fear. Tiger stories are about blood, pain, death and terror. Anansi Boys and The Jungle Books have plenty to say on the subject of tigers feeding on fear and flesh...

I'm taking a page out of Em's book. I'm relearning how to laugh at fear. How to run dizzy circles around it and leap it... How to dance around it and mock it instead of hoping in vain for it's absence.

Superlatives

I'm sick of living a life of too _____.

Too loud.

Too fat.

Too lazy.

Right now it feels like I'm running in place... Too stuck. Too stupid. Too tired. Too ridiculous. Too idealistic. Too simple. Too stringent in schedule. Too sensitive. So over it.

Suspension of belief

Some times you let things go to hell in a hand basket. Some times you don't realize you can stop its trajectory and bring it back home or right its path. Some times you have to admit when you feel stuck or lost. Some times you wind up on your knees.

I'm at one of those junctures. Realizing I need to do 3 things: pray, breathe, and move. 

A prayer of thanks and a prayer of assistance. Move into an open space to give & receive blessings because you aren't alone in this... And some times your fountain of self belief needs to be fed by the well and wealth of those who have come before you, know you and believe in you. 

Breathe life into your work. Breathe in the love and encouragement you are receiving. Breathe in the pain and consternation of those you see and breathe out empathy and love. Hard comes in all shapes and sizes, but stop believing it comes in degrees. Heel digging on perspective only leads to a divide. When you breathe you aren't thinking of the breaths you will take tomorrow or how many breaths you will require over the next week to stay alive. You just breathe. Now write that way.

Move. To open yourself, as mentioned above, and to free yourself of your own stories. Moving stirs the ghosts of the past and the haunting of self limiting beliefs. "I am _ because I always have been" needs to be escorted to the door by evidence to the contrary. The fight is only over when you finish... Because impossible and stopping are not an option this time.

Calling BS

I was once told, whilst saying something self-deprecating, that I wouldn't talk to a friend like that... That I wouldn't allow someone else to talk to me or my friends like that, so why was it ok for me to be nasty.

I have students who go through the whole can't becomes won't and turn into terrors or withdrawal instead of ever asking for help. These are the kids who monopolize my preps and lunches as I have to call home and chase them down for extra help... I don't let them quit on themselves, so how could I ever conceivably think that it would be ok for me to do everything I advise them against.

I can't means I refuse to try.

I quit means I refuse to see the opportunity I've been presented with.

It's too hard means I'm not willing to orchestrate a concerted effort to sustain baby steps for the duration.

I don't care means I refuse to see the gifts and lessons that have presented themselves to me.

We do difficult things. The world that we choose can be rife with challenges and opportunities calling themselves hard work.

So I'm calling BS on my self limitations and behavior as of late. I have miles to go and standing still any longer is not an option.

22 weeks of grace: welcome

I have a lot of stuff visiting right now and I want to throw a tantrum. I want to run away or build up walls to block them out. I want to find something to placate this awful feeling burning at the exact center of me or tear it out.

Instead, I'm being gentle. I'm breathing. I'm taking time when I need it and where I can get it so as not to fall into destructive patterns. I'm asking for help where I'm stuck.

I'm not shooing away the ghosts. I'm welcoming them and asking what they need to teach me.