On Being Here

I want to write about how lovely today is, how terribly windy it was on my drive in, but how eerily clear the 10 was and how it made me almost forget how many hours I've spent on that road this year.
I want to tell you that after I leave work there is a family & dinner waiting for me and lovely heart-felt presents underneath a tree wrapped in a string of popcorn & cranberries.
I want to tell you that I'm not going to be lonely and that this was "one of the best years...ever!" and that "I can't wait for what's next!"
I want to tell you that I'm sorry our Christmas postcard is a little late this year but "don't worry! it should be arriving shortly"

You know that I can't.

Though today is still lovely, and the freeway was clear, there is no family dinner or tree or best year or postcard coming.  It's just how it is right now.

And while I keep encouraging myself, hopeful for the inevitable "it can only get betters" next year, I must confess that most days it leaves me feeling orphaned and drained, pulling myself up by my own bootstraps and reading inspirational quotes trying to desperately flounder at the surface of the metaphorical ocean of life.

I'm sorry these aren't the most positive feelings, especially on such a meaningful day.  They are honest though, so I guess there's that.

Non-Resolutions

I want to spend less time worrying about the things I cannot control (which is most every thing) and more time being at peace/belonging to myself.

I want what's important to you to be important to me too.

These are not my resolutions.

On Want

I wanted to write about the nature of wanting and then I talked with a good friend last night about all different sorts of wants and decided I want to tell you about how most days I think I could be very happy on a ranch, running around with horses and dogs and maybe some cows or something.

I do not know why I think this.

Except for yes, mostly I do.  I like to think that I would be "good" at living the simple life.  Simple for me = less noise + more quiet + less electronic shit + more outdoors goodness.  I like to think that a big move, a change of scenery, a different pace equals simple.  I suppose it's not that easy, though, right?

When I reflect on my current state of affairs, sometimes this doesn't seem too far away.  A sense of an ending in this weird but achingly lovely city doesn't necessary seem imminent, but at the same time I can't rule it out entirely just yet.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that (you guessed it): I don't know.  Maybe the more I admit this the less terrifying it will become. Eh, probably not.

When the Rain Comes

The building I live in is old.  Also, there is a storm happening. (Right now!)  And I found myself tossing & turning in bed as the curtains flapped wildly against the screen, convincing myself I couldn't close the windows because I have never closed them since moving in and why would this morning be any different?

I will refrain from turning this into some sort of philosophical metaphor for old things and leaving things open or forcing them to close and just say this: I was able to shut the windows.

Everything was still okay.

On Not Knowing

One of the first things I will confess to you if we spend any amount of time together is that "mostly, I know that I do not know." Sure, I have my opinions and beliefs about why things work they way they do (or don't), but these are my opinions and if you want facts, maybe you should consult a book or Google or better yet go straight to the source (if/when possible).

I am also one of the more passive people you will meet and would go to great lengths to keep the peace versus actually addressing an issue I may have with someone. Chink in the armor? I suppose.

All that to say, the more people I meet, the more things I learn, the more I realize how little I know about my neighborhood, the city of Los Angeles, the Golden State, and I suppose life in general. It is a gentle, humbling reminder that I am a little piece of a great, big universe. "And that makes things right."

Even when it doesn't feel that way all the time.

On Maybes

I came across a truly lovely quote the other day, via Dallas Clayton's Instagram. (I wish there were another word for this, but alas I digress)

We reserve ceremonies for the definite. The "yes" and the "no," but there is much to be said for the potential of a brave and well-timed "maybe."

Let me tell you what I know about ceremonies and it will be short because I do not know much. I have attended some; been a part of a few and they are good and strange and formal and impermanent all at once. I have yet to be involved in a ceremony that honors the "maybes" of the world. I suppose I would be involved in a lot more if maybes were reason enough to celebrate.

In a few months I will be a part of a ceremony for the definite no. Perhaps if I were more excited about maybes I would be dealing with less of these formalities. Or not.

All I'm saying is I'm excited for more brave and well-timed maybes. For once.

But check back with me tomorrow.