my grandmother's birthday was a few days ago, nov 23rd. she turned 92, and is in great shape, living on her own, doing her thing. i wrote a little something about her a few weeks ago, so this may be a good time to share it...
--------
i'm sitting on the ground at the labyrinth. the sky is gray, overcast, but it's not too cold. the trees have lost almost all their leaves. aiyana's sleeping in the car. i am wrapped tightly in my scarf. perfect time to be quiet and turn inwards.
i'm thinking about her again. i miss her. it started when i walked in the general store this morning and saw an old lady, wearing a green dress, an old tattered sweater, and thick-rimmed glasses. she held the door for me. seeing her sent the pain of longing and recognition all through me. i imagined her alone, in romania, and hoped that the autumn has been mild.
i have so many memories about my grandmother (mamaia). mostly sensory memories. like when she, roxi and i would lie down at night, barely fitting into the single bed. we'd have to lie head to feet so we could all fit. my grandmother's feet were very rough, with thick calluses and large, protruding corns. feet with lots of character. not pretty, but real. feet that hed been through life. my feet are getting to be that way now.
we'd lie there and i could feel my grandmother's soft, heavy body. her clothes, mended over and over. the faint cooking smells that were just part of her. her breath always smelling of garlic (she ate raw garlic every day). safety, comfort, security - home. we'd say "tell us a story", and she'd start. as soon as she finished one, we'd say "tell us another". she'd keep going until we fell asleep. sometimes she'd fall asleep first, but then we'd wake her and say "more" so she'd keep going. she told stories from her life, as a child, as a young woman, as a mother. she'd tell us stories of when my sister and i were babies and she was caring for us. sometimes she'd invent stories, about little girls getting lost and others i can't remember. i loved all of them. i'd ask her to tell them over and over again, even though i knew them by heart.
stories are powerful. other than shared experience, i think they're the most powerful thing to bring people together. now i tell my daughters stories before falling asleep at night. we all lie down and i tell one story after another. when i stop, sena says "another one", and i keep going until i get too sleepy and i tell her "this will be the last". i tell them stories from my life, mostly from the time when i was young, growing up in romania. some stories are funny, most are sad, like the one in which my little yellow chick gets squashed, stepped over, as she tries to follow me around everywhere. i tell them about the times when i was mean, and did things i later regretted.
i want them to know that feeling i had when my grandmother was telling us her stories. it's funny how, after all this time, i get to experience the other side, get to be in her shoes as the story-teller, the provider of comfort and security.
one time, i was maybe 10, i came home from school very upset. i had gotten a bad grade on a test. i knew my dad would be mad at me, and i was scared. i came in the house, and told mamaia about it. i put down my school bag, sat down by the door and started to cry. she sat down next to me, and cried too. didn't solve anything, but made me feel so...not alone. this is how she was.
then, when i was becoming a teenager, just before leaving for canada, i lost interest in mamaia's stories. the more i started to doubt myself, to compare myself to others and find myself lacking, the more unhappy i became and the harsher i was with her. suddenly, i found all these faults with her. she was dirty, her advice was ridiculos, she exagerated too much, etc. she could not do much to please me those days. i'd yell at her a lot, and she'd cry and i just thought that she was weak - it was her problem. i needed to feel that i was right, that i was in control and she was an easy target. those days, i was mostly living out of my head, and my heart was becoming more and more closed with fear and insecurity. i looked everywhere for something to make me feel better, and mamaia no longer had it, or rather, i didn't want it from her. we left romania when i was 14. she stayed.
after many years, i started feeling better about myself, being gentler with myself and others. i've been thinking about mamaia again. especially after having children, i'm appreciating more and more how much she did, being there for us every day, when my parents could not. i regret, of course, how i treated her just before we left. all i can do is hope that she knows that when i was unhappy, i hurt the most the people i loved the most. a constant theme in my life, maybe other people's lives as well.
mamaia is not perfect. nobody is. she's not all goodness and sweetness, whatever that is. she can, for example, tell lies to get herself out of uncomfortable situations; and other things.
she is a soft, heavy woman, who spent a lot of time loving us. she gave us of herself, which is the most you can ask of somebody. that's why old women with thick glasses and tattered sweaters will always stir that soft, powerful longing inside of me.
peace
Sunday, November 26, 2006
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
no.2
(sun nov 11th 2006)
now that i think of it, it seems that no. 2 has been a constant theme throughout my life. it started early in my childhood, in school.
in romania, at the end of each school year, we had a prize-giving-ceremony. first, second and third prize. these were supposedly based on your academic achievement; and maybe a little on your "behaviour", meaning how well you conformed. but there where other factors that came into it, as we all knew: how well your parents knew the teachers, how many presents and favors they did for them, the degree of influence your parents held in the communist party, things of that nature.
nevertheless, the end-of-the-year festivities were something we all took very seriously. it was a great honor to win the first prize. i almost always got the sencond. which, to me, was more of a humiliation that if i hadn't gotten anything at all. at least that would've been more anonymous (although it would not have gone over too well with my parents). but second prize put the spotlight on in a way that made me very uncomfortable, showing everyone that i just wasn't "as good". so every time i had to step up to the make-shift podium to receive my prize (a flower wreath on my head, a package containig 2 or 3 politically correct books, and a bouquet of fresh flowers), i did so trying my best to hold back the tears.
one year, i remember, i refused to go. it was too hard, so i just stood in my room in front of the window, looking at the festivities from afar. it just happened that our apartment faced right into the school yard where the ceremony was taking place. i stood there and felt free to cry for once. my mom and dad felt sorry for me and try to reassure me that 2nd prize was okay; they convinced me to go to the cerremony, which i did with a heavy heart, as usual.
so it could've been that my academic achievement was not good enough to win first prize; or that my parents didn't make enough effort to engratiate themselves with the teachers; maybe i did not have the right attitude to quite make it; whatever it was, the reasons did not matter. more than anything else at that time, i wanted to win first prize, i wanted to be popular, i wanted recognition, and i was devastated each year when i did not get it.
years later, although in not as obvious a fashion, i was still trying to be no.1. just something i had to get out of my system, i guess. so when i got my first "real" job, it was great to enjoy a few months of recognition and popularity, while everyone was impressed with my talents and efforts. that is until someone else came along - she was also ambitious, she was also really good, she was a nice person, good looking, fit, etc. etc - everything i didn't want her to be. she got slightly more attention than i did. i could not believe i was going through this again. there were days i'd come home and cry, wishing all the possible ills on her, wishing that she'd just disappear and let me enjoy some of my own spotlight for a while. when this did not happen, we became friends. i got to know her, got to like her (a lot), got to see what everyone else saw in her. this was a little disturbing. i wanted to hate her - it was much more clear cut that way. it helped that i eventually left the country. that way, i did not have to compete with her anymore. i could just like her and be friends without being threatened.
today, i'm trying to piece all this into a (weird) nap-time story for my 3-year-old daughter. don't know why it's coming back to me at this time. maybe it's all the rain, the way it makes me feel. in any case, i have no idea where the story will go as i am telling it. maybe i just want to voice some of the feelings i left unspoken all these years, in an unthreatening environment (how much more unthreatening can you get than a sleepy 3-year-old?). maybe i want to warn my daughter, plant an early seed, so that through my experiences she may see the waste of competitiveness and ambition; maybe if she lives these things through my stories she will be spared unnecessary pain.
maybe it is just that i needed to realize that there is, after all, one thing i'm number one at: i'm number one at being myself. which sounds a little dumb, so maybe i should say instead that numbers just don't matter so much anymore.
maybe being no.2 was an unrecognized blessing all these years, because it forced me to move on, to keep looking. it made me search for something authentic, something meaningful, and lead me to realize that recognition and authenticity occur together only accidentaly. had i received first prize and the recognition i wanted, i may have felt content to take on the role of "best student", or whatever, pigeonholed by somebody else's definition and their expectations. maybe i would've stopped hurting, stopped searching, in short, stopped living an authentic life. or maybe, this is all about sour grapes.
in any case, what's for sure is that on this wet rainy day, it feels sweet to simply acknowledge these things and to realize that somehow, somewhere along the way they lost their power over me.
now that i think of it, it seems that no. 2 has been a constant theme throughout my life. it started early in my childhood, in school.
in romania, at the end of each school year, we had a prize-giving-ceremony. first, second and third prize. these were supposedly based on your academic achievement; and maybe a little on your "behaviour", meaning how well you conformed. but there where other factors that came into it, as we all knew: how well your parents knew the teachers, how many presents and favors they did for them, the degree of influence your parents held in the communist party, things of that nature.
nevertheless, the end-of-the-year festivities were something we all took very seriously. it was a great honor to win the first prize. i almost always got the sencond. which, to me, was more of a humiliation that if i hadn't gotten anything at all. at least that would've been more anonymous (although it would not have gone over too well with my parents). but second prize put the spotlight on in a way that made me very uncomfortable, showing everyone that i just wasn't "as good". so every time i had to step up to the make-shift podium to receive my prize (a flower wreath on my head, a package containig 2 or 3 politically correct books, and a bouquet of fresh flowers), i did so trying my best to hold back the tears.
one year, i remember, i refused to go. it was too hard, so i just stood in my room in front of the window, looking at the festivities from afar. it just happened that our apartment faced right into the school yard where the ceremony was taking place. i stood there and felt free to cry for once. my mom and dad felt sorry for me and try to reassure me that 2nd prize was okay; they convinced me to go to the cerremony, which i did with a heavy heart, as usual.
so it could've been that my academic achievement was not good enough to win first prize; or that my parents didn't make enough effort to engratiate themselves with the teachers; maybe i did not have the right attitude to quite make it; whatever it was, the reasons did not matter. more than anything else at that time, i wanted to win first prize, i wanted to be popular, i wanted recognition, and i was devastated each year when i did not get it.
years later, although in not as obvious a fashion, i was still trying to be no.1. just something i had to get out of my system, i guess. so when i got my first "real" job, it was great to enjoy a few months of recognition and popularity, while everyone was impressed with my talents and efforts. that is until someone else came along - she was also ambitious, she was also really good, she was a nice person, good looking, fit, etc. etc - everything i didn't want her to be. she got slightly more attention than i did. i could not believe i was going through this again. there were days i'd come home and cry, wishing all the possible ills on her, wishing that she'd just disappear and let me enjoy some of my own spotlight for a while. when this did not happen, we became friends. i got to know her, got to like her (a lot), got to see what everyone else saw in her. this was a little disturbing. i wanted to hate her - it was much more clear cut that way. it helped that i eventually left the country. that way, i did not have to compete with her anymore. i could just like her and be friends without being threatened.
today, i'm trying to piece all this into a (weird) nap-time story for my 3-year-old daughter. don't know why it's coming back to me at this time. maybe it's all the rain, the way it makes me feel. in any case, i have no idea where the story will go as i am telling it. maybe i just want to voice some of the feelings i left unspoken all these years, in an unthreatening environment (how much more unthreatening can you get than a sleepy 3-year-old?). maybe i want to warn my daughter, plant an early seed, so that through my experiences she may see the waste of competitiveness and ambition; maybe if she lives these things through my stories she will be spared unnecessary pain.
maybe it is just that i needed to realize that there is, after all, one thing i'm number one at: i'm number one at being myself. which sounds a little dumb, so maybe i should say instead that numbers just don't matter so much anymore.
maybe being no.2 was an unrecognized blessing all these years, because it forced me to move on, to keep looking. it made me search for something authentic, something meaningful, and lead me to realize that recognition and authenticity occur together only accidentaly. had i received first prize and the recognition i wanted, i may have felt content to take on the role of "best student", or whatever, pigeonholed by somebody else's definition and their expectations. maybe i would've stopped hurting, stopped searching, in short, stopped living an authentic life. or maybe, this is all about sour grapes.
in any case, what's for sure is that on this wet rainy day, it feels sweet to simply acknowledge these things and to realize that somehow, somewhere along the way they lost their power over me.
Friday, November 17, 2006
nothing to say
there's nothing to say
but here i am,
trying to say it
in theory i know
that truth cannot be spoken
yet here i am, compelled
to speak my kind of truth
push-pull,
this is how it is
peace
but here i am,
trying to say it
in theory i know
that truth cannot be spoken
yet here i am, compelled
to speak my kind of truth
push-pull,
this is how it is
peace
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
this is how my past week went
this is a really long posting...in case you have nothing better to do. stuff i wrote over the past week starting with most recent...
tue nov 7th 2006
yesterday i said i needed to laugh. today, i need to cry. and to laugh. and a shower, and some time to brush the huge knots out of my hair would be nice too. but those are optional.
ed was in class until late last night, so by the time he got home, the girls and i were in bed. this morning, he left extra early to vote, so when sena woke up at 6:30 he was no longer there. so i got up with her and snuggled on the couch. my whole body seemed tight and stiff. fortunately, since sena was still tired, i got to stretch a little while she was still on the couch. but soon enough she wanted to read, and then aiyana woke up, and our day began for real. things were ok, but i could feel myself tense, on edge.
my friend jennifer started a new yoga class today, community yoga, where anyone can come, including kids of all ages. i really wanted to support her effort, esp since i thought this was such a great idea. so i planned to go with both my kids and see how it would work out. we made it there by 9:30, just in time to set down our blankets and settle in a little bit. jennifer is very flexible, and of course she did not expect this class to be like any other typical yoga class, where only adults participate. she has 3 kids and knows how things go. she requested only 2 things: that kids don't run around (they could play if they wanted to, sit on their blankets, do yoga w their parents, etc); and that they do not scream.
well, we did ok in the beginning, but as time went on, sena became more and more rebellious, running around and disrupting everyone. i felt bad about this and tried to talk to her. sparing details, suffice it to say that things got worse and worse and in the end i had to walk outside with sena screaming in my arms, without my shoes or any of my stuff, and with aiyana trailing behind me, holding on to my pants. all i wanted at this point was to put sena in the car, but i could not find my key, so things were pretty crazy. then one woman came out and said, it's ok, nobody minds the screaming, don't feel bad, and i was thankful but all i could to is try not to break down in front of this nice lady. then, when my friend jennifer came out to see if everything is ok, i really lost it, and burst into tears. i told jennifer to go back to her class, and she said she'd stop at my house right after.
i finally got sena in the car, slammed the door and let her cry in there. i had so much anger and frustration, all i wanted to do is hit her. nothing else would do. but i could not do it, although i did grab her arm a lot harder than i would've otherwise, and kind of threw her in her carseat instead of putting her in nicely. i started pacing around the car and crying, barefoot in the parkinglot, aiyana walking behind me. i really wanted to hit something, or someone, sena most of all. yet even in my rage, i could see clearly that this was not all about sena, or all about today. sena was the spark that lit the fire in this particular instance, but the feelings that were taking ove me went deeper than what happened today. they had to do with being tired, with still having a hard time being a parent. having a hard time walking that fine line, where you want to give so much of yourself and still maintain some sanity and some integrity of your own person. the funny thing with kids is that there's no perfect formula, no lasting solution. as soon as you figure out something that works, you can be sure that things will change, the kids will outgrow the previous phase and you have to start all over again, figure out how to deal with this new dynamic in the best possible way. being a parent requires so much grace, and some days i feel like i am the clumsiest mother, stumbling around in the dark.
so anyway, eventually, i made it back home. still could not stop crying and was still really upset at sena. could not deal with her, so i left her in her carseat for a while. she wasn't crying anymore, but i could not bring myself to console her, so the best i could do was not to yell at her or yank her. aiyana came w me in the house. i called ed and told him what happened, and he was sympathetic, but what could he do? got off the phone, cried some more. i just had so many tears, seemed like they would not stop. i guess i was feeling sorry for myself. i knew that i wanted something or someone to take this out on, and at the same time, i knew that i just had to cry, because there's nothing to resolve, just these feelings that i have to deal with. eventually, i guess i cried enough and i stopped.
i took sena out of the car and we snuggled together on the couch. i said sorry for roughing her up, and i told her how i felt. she said that she just wanted to run. in retrospect, going to yoga this morning was a bad idea. i feel like i set sena and myself up for what we got; sena's three, so of course she's going to run. and since i wasn't feeling at my best or my strongest or whatever to begin with, i should've just let it go. oh well, i'll know for next time.
eventually jennifer came over and took sena to her house to play with her daughter. this gives me a break, and i only have aiyana to look after right now. she just fell asleep in the car, so i pulled the car into a cemetary and here i am sitting on the grass writing this. i already feel so much better. crying and writing really help me. it's also gorgeous outside today, sunny and warm. my head feels lighter, and maybe i'll even get to stretch a little before aiyana wakes up. funny enough i already miss sena. makes me want to cry again just thinking about her. i want to give her the best i am, but it's so hard to be that all the time. some part of me feels like i'm doing permanent damage to her and to our relationship when i act like i did this morning. yet i also know that it's important for her to see me as a real human being; i don't want to pretend that my feelings are not what they are, and put up a false image for her. i want her to see me for who i am, dealing with good and bad feelings the best i can. i just hope that when i deal with the hard stuff it doesn't get too painful for either one of us.
(later....)
i got to do some yoga while at the cemetary. what a release!!! probably one of the best yoga sessions i've ever had. i didn't even have to think or try to do one pose or another. they just came to me on their own, my body taking one shape after another. i really needed this. i felt so much better at the end, that i started to run around, skipping and flying among the tombstones (is that disrespectful? i hope not). fortunately, it was just me and the dead. aiyana was still sleeping in the car nearby. so i wasn't too self conscious or afraid of looking ridiculos. i felt so good skipping and running around, flapping my arms and twirling. for one minute it was like i was really going to take off and fly, just like it happens in my dreams. what a crazy day!
peace
mon nov 6th 2006
i feel so exhausted today. so heavy...like everything is weighing me down. my head feels heavy, my eyes feel like they just want to close. my body is so heavy, i could just fall on the ground and curl up for a while. blew up at sena this morning, and i feel bad about it. she was an easy taget, and the way i felt, it didn't take much to push me to the point of blowing up.
but somehow we managed to get out of the house and go to my friend patty's house. two other friends showed up, so we were 4 women and 4 little girls. we were helping patty stack some wood in her back yard. being with my friends was really nice, because they made me laugh and by the time we were done stacking, my head felt a lot lighter. the physical work, and being outside also helped. afterwards, we had a great lunch and patty got her hot tub going outside. it would've been really nice to be able to jump in, but by the time the water was ready, aiyana was too tired and needy to let me get in. so i didn't get to do it this time...
we left patty's house and sena and aiyana fell asleep in the car. so that gives me a little break...and here i am writing.
one of the hardest things about this heavy feeling is that i don't feel like doing any of the things that i know would help - like exercise, or whatever, because they require too much effort to begin with. all i want is some quiet time.
it was so interesting being with my friends - i noticed how almost everything i said was negative. i started telling them a story i read about this woman who was abused as a child, and her mom knew about it but she did not stop it. then i asked myself, why am i telling this story? but then the next thing i said was also negative. i kept going like that for a few minutes, till i said: ok, i'm not saying anything anymore, cuz all i seem to get out is this stuff that's going to drag everyone down. and it's such a beautiful day, and my friends were in such a good mood. so i'd rather hang out and enjoy their positive energy rather than get everyone down with my heaviness. then my friend jennifer said, why don't you, for the next 5 minutes, just say all the negative stuff you want to say? and just thinking about it made me laugh so much, that i just kind of forgot, or something changed, or whatever, and things took a different turn.
on a day like today, it's not that i want someone to solve my problem, cuz i don't even know if there is a problem; it's not that i want any solutions; i don't even want sympathy actually; i think that what i mostly need from people is sensitivity and a good sense of humor. maybe a few minutes to stretch, or do something nice for myself. and that should be enough.
fri nov 3rd 2006
these days, i've arrived at a new definition of strength:
Strength is knowing how to laugh / Strength is knowing how to cry.
of course it is many other things as well. but for me, right now, this is the most applicable.
and in a very different vein, here are some things i like:
first, an excerpt from "Thunder, Perfect Mind" (isn't that a great title?)
For I am the first and the last.
I am the honored one and the scorned one.
I am the whore and the holy one.
I am the wife and the virgin.
I am the mother and the daughter...
I am she whose wedding is great,
and I have not taken a husband.
I am the barren one,
and many are her sons....
I am knowledge and ingnorance...
I am shameless; I am ashamed.
I am strength and I am fear....
I am foolish and I am wise.....
I am the silence that is incomprehensible....
I am godless and I am one whose God is great...
I am the utterance of my name.
(quoted in "the Gnostic Gospels" by Elaine Pagels)
------------------------------------------
sometimes, i like to recite poetry out loud to myself. but i only do it with poems i really like, ones i read over and over in silence before. like this one, by Rumi:
A necessary autumn inside each
You and i have spoken all these words, but as for the way
we have to go, words
are no preparation. There is no getting ready, other than grace. My faults
have stayed hidden. One might call that a preparation!
I have one small drop
of knowing in my soul. Let it dissolve in your ocean.
There are so many threats to it.
Inside each of us, there's continual autumn. Our leaves
fall and are blown out
over the water. A crow sits in the blackened limbs and talks
about what's gone. Then
your generosity returns: spring, moisture, intelligence, the
scent of hyacinth and rose
and cypress. Joseph is back! And if you don't feel in
yourself the freshness of
Joseph, be Jacob! Weep and then smile. Don't pretend to know
something you haven't experienced.
There's a necessary dying, and then Jesus is breathing again.
Very little grown on jagged
rock. Be ground. Be crumbled, so wildflowers will come up
where you are. You've been
stony for too many years. Try something different. Surrender.
(from The soul of Rumi, translated by Coleman Barks)
tue nov 7th 2006
yesterday i said i needed to laugh. today, i need to cry. and to laugh. and a shower, and some time to brush the huge knots out of my hair would be nice too. but those are optional.
ed was in class until late last night, so by the time he got home, the girls and i were in bed. this morning, he left extra early to vote, so when sena woke up at 6:30 he was no longer there. so i got up with her and snuggled on the couch. my whole body seemed tight and stiff. fortunately, since sena was still tired, i got to stretch a little while she was still on the couch. but soon enough she wanted to read, and then aiyana woke up, and our day began for real. things were ok, but i could feel myself tense, on edge.
my friend jennifer started a new yoga class today, community yoga, where anyone can come, including kids of all ages. i really wanted to support her effort, esp since i thought this was such a great idea. so i planned to go with both my kids and see how it would work out. we made it there by 9:30, just in time to set down our blankets and settle in a little bit. jennifer is very flexible, and of course she did not expect this class to be like any other typical yoga class, where only adults participate. she has 3 kids and knows how things go. she requested only 2 things: that kids don't run around (they could play if they wanted to, sit on their blankets, do yoga w their parents, etc); and that they do not scream.
well, we did ok in the beginning, but as time went on, sena became more and more rebellious, running around and disrupting everyone. i felt bad about this and tried to talk to her. sparing details, suffice it to say that things got worse and worse and in the end i had to walk outside with sena screaming in my arms, without my shoes or any of my stuff, and with aiyana trailing behind me, holding on to my pants. all i wanted at this point was to put sena in the car, but i could not find my key, so things were pretty crazy. then one woman came out and said, it's ok, nobody minds the screaming, don't feel bad, and i was thankful but all i could to is try not to break down in front of this nice lady. then, when my friend jennifer came out to see if everything is ok, i really lost it, and burst into tears. i told jennifer to go back to her class, and she said she'd stop at my house right after.
i finally got sena in the car, slammed the door and let her cry in there. i had so much anger and frustration, all i wanted to do is hit her. nothing else would do. but i could not do it, although i did grab her arm a lot harder than i would've otherwise, and kind of threw her in her carseat instead of putting her in nicely. i started pacing around the car and crying, barefoot in the parkinglot, aiyana walking behind me. i really wanted to hit something, or someone, sena most of all. yet even in my rage, i could see clearly that this was not all about sena, or all about today. sena was the spark that lit the fire in this particular instance, but the feelings that were taking ove me went deeper than what happened today. they had to do with being tired, with still having a hard time being a parent. having a hard time walking that fine line, where you want to give so much of yourself and still maintain some sanity and some integrity of your own person. the funny thing with kids is that there's no perfect formula, no lasting solution. as soon as you figure out something that works, you can be sure that things will change, the kids will outgrow the previous phase and you have to start all over again, figure out how to deal with this new dynamic in the best possible way. being a parent requires so much grace, and some days i feel like i am the clumsiest mother, stumbling around in the dark.
so anyway, eventually, i made it back home. still could not stop crying and was still really upset at sena. could not deal with her, so i left her in her carseat for a while. she wasn't crying anymore, but i could not bring myself to console her, so the best i could do was not to yell at her or yank her. aiyana came w me in the house. i called ed and told him what happened, and he was sympathetic, but what could he do? got off the phone, cried some more. i just had so many tears, seemed like they would not stop. i guess i was feeling sorry for myself. i knew that i wanted something or someone to take this out on, and at the same time, i knew that i just had to cry, because there's nothing to resolve, just these feelings that i have to deal with. eventually, i guess i cried enough and i stopped.
i took sena out of the car and we snuggled together on the couch. i said sorry for roughing her up, and i told her how i felt. she said that she just wanted to run. in retrospect, going to yoga this morning was a bad idea. i feel like i set sena and myself up for what we got; sena's three, so of course she's going to run. and since i wasn't feeling at my best or my strongest or whatever to begin with, i should've just let it go. oh well, i'll know for next time.
eventually jennifer came over and took sena to her house to play with her daughter. this gives me a break, and i only have aiyana to look after right now. she just fell asleep in the car, so i pulled the car into a cemetary and here i am sitting on the grass writing this. i already feel so much better. crying and writing really help me. it's also gorgeous outside today, sunny and warm. my head feels lighter, and maybe i'll even get to stretch a little before aiyana wakes up. funny enough i already miss sena. makes me want to cry again just thinking about her. i want to give her the best i am, but it's so hard to be that all the time. some part of me feels like i'm doing permanent damage to her and to our relationship when i act like i did this morning. yet i also know that it's important for her to see me as a real human being; i don't want to pretend that my feelings are not what they are, and put up a false image for her. i want her to see me for who i am, dealing with good and bad feelings the best i can. i just hope that when i deal with the hard stuff it doesn't get too painful for either one of us.
(later....)
i got to do some yoga while at the cemetary. what a release!!! probably one of the best yoga sessions i've ever had. i didn't even have to think or try to do one pose or another. they just came to me on their own, my body taking one shape after another. i really needed this. i felt so much better at the end, that i started to run around, skipping and flying among the tombstones (is that disrespectful? i hope not). fortunately, it was just me and the dead. aiyana was still sleeping in the car nearby. so i wasn't too self conscious or afraid of looking ridiculos. i felt so good skipping and running around, flapping my arms and twirling. for one minute it was like i was really going to take off and fly, just like it happens in my dreams. what a crazy day!
peace
mon nov 6th 2006
i feel so exhausted today. so heavy...like everything is weighing me down. my head feels heavy, my eyes feel like they just want to close. my body is so heavy, i could just fall on the ground and curl up for a while. blew up at sena this morning, and i feel bad about it. she was an easy taget, and the way i felt, it didn't take much to push me to the point of blowing up.
but somehow we managed to get out of the house and go to my friend patty's house. two other friends showed up, so we were 4 women and 4 little girls. we were helping patty stack some wood in her back yard. being with my friends was really nice, because they made me laugh and by the time we were done stacking, my head felt a lot lighter. the physical work, and being outside also helped. afterwards, we had a great lunch and patty got her hot tub going outside. it would've been really nice to be able to jump in, but by the time the water was ready, aiyana was too tired and needy to let me get in. so i didn't get to do it this time...
we left patty's house and sena and aiyana fell asleep in the car. so that gives me a little break...and here i am writing.
one of the hardest things about this heavy feeling is that i don't feel like doing any of the things that i know would help - like exercise, or whatever, because they require too much effort to begin with. all i want is some quiet time.
it was so interesting being with my friends - i noticed how almost everything i said was negative. i started telling them a story i read about this woman who was abused as a child, and her mom knew about it but she did not stop it. then i asked myself, why am i telling this story? but then the next thing i said was also negative. i kept going like that for a few minutes, till i said: ok, i'm not saying anything anymore, cuz all i seem to get out is this stuff that's going to drag everyone down. and it's such a beautiful day, and my friends were in such a good mood. so i'd rather hang out and enjoy their positive energy rather than get everyone down with my heaviness. then my friend jennifer said, why don't you, for the next 5 minutes, just say all the negative stuff you want to say? and just thinking about it made me laugh so much, that i just kind of forgot, or something changed, or whatever, and things took a different turn.
on a day like today, it's not that i want someone to solve my problem, cuz i don't even know if there is a problem; it's not that i want any solutions; i don't even want sympathy actually; i think that what i mostly need from people is sensitivity and a good sense of humor. maybe a few minutes to stretch, or do something nice for myself. and that should be enough.
fri nov 3rd 2006
these days, i've arrived at a new definition of strength:
Strength is knowing how to laugh / Strength is knowing how to cry.
of course it is many other things as well. but for me, right now, this is the most applicable.
and in a very different vein, here are some things i like:
first, an excerpt from "Thunder, Perfect Mind" (isn't that a great title?)
For I am the first and the last.
I am the honored one and the scorned one.
I am the whore and the holy one.
I am the wife and the virgin.
I am the mother and the daughter...
I am she whose wedding is great,
and I have not taken a husband.
I am the barren one,
and many are her sons....
I am knowledge and ingnorance...
I am shameless; I am ashamed.
I am strength and I am fear....
I am foolish and I am wise.....
I am the silence that is incomprehensible....
I am godless and I am one whose God is great...
I am the utterance of my name.
(quoted in "the Gnostic Gospels" by Elaine Pagels)
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sometimes, i like to recite poetry out loud to myself. but i only do it with poems i really like, ones i read over and over in silence before. like this one, by Rumi:
A necessary autumn inside each
You and i have spoken all these words, but as for the way
we have to go, words
are no preparation. There is no getting ready, other than grace. My faults
have stayed hidden. One might call that a preparation!
I have one small drop
of knowing in my soul. Let it dissolve in your ocean.
There are so many threats to it.
Inside each of us, there's continual autumn. Our leaves
fall and are blown out
over the water. A crow sits in the blackened limbs and talks
about what's gone. Then
your generosity returns: spring, moisture, intelligence, the
scent of hyacinth and rose
and cypress. Joseph is back! And if you don't feel in
yourself the freshness of
Joseph, be Jacob! Weep and then smile. Don't pretend to know
something you haven't experienced.
There's a necessary dying, and then Jesus is breathing again.
Very little grown on jagged
rock. Be ground. Be crumbled, so wildflowers will come up
where you are. You've been
stony for too many years. Try something different. Surrender.
(from The soul of Rumi, translated by Coleman Barks)
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