this is my 300th post. for some reason, that seems like a really big deal to me, and at the same time, seems kind of ridiculous. i seem to be of two minds about a lot of things lately. duality, causality, context, and synchronicity seem to be the themes running in my life, through my brain, and in the world that i know, right now. and to tell the truth, i've never been more ready to see what comes next.
The first time I got lost in the desert, I was with two of my girlfriends from college. We went to the desert to camp, to see new things, swim in new pools, climb new mountains. We went to the desert to shed old skin, to tell each other sad things, to tell each other hopeful things, to laugh, to cry, and to stare up at the stars, with the asphalt hot against the skin of our backs, on the high-line drive, where no cars were allowed after dark, to pass cigarettes and wine glasses back and forth, to sleep harder than we had slept in months. That we got lost wasn’t so scary, because we were together, and we were experienced campers. What was scary was that we were so close to not being lost, at all, but just couldn’t seem to quite get to where we needed to be. I think the edge of missing the mark, just missing by a hair, is so much harder than being absolutely annihilated. So I felt about being lost. I knew we would eventually end up where we needed to be. I just didn’t know how long we would have to wander.
June in those desert mountains was a beauty to behold. Everything was still flush from the spring, ripening to summer, like a pretty girl after a nice kiss. All the shades of green, hit randomly with pinks, yellows, occasional brilliant orange, and the whiteblack blur of quail startled out of their hiding places said that the desert is far from a dead place. Coming through Wild Rose Pass, with San Solomon Springs behind us, I knew that we had come to a place where we could find what we needed, and leave behind what needed to be left.
Sometimes, I think what you leave in a place is as important as what you take away. I mean that literally, as well as figuratively. We tried never to leave physical evidence that we had been someplace when we were camping, aside from the park-installed fire ring. But we did leave a lot behind, in the ashes inside that fire ring. We each left something we needed to get rid of. For me, it was realizing that a guy I had only gone on a couple of dates with was really bad news, and even though he was the best kisser I’d ever met, I knew that nothing about where we were going was good. God, it was hard to say that…was harder still to hear it said back to me by my sister-friends. But I needed to say it, and I needed people who loved me enough to hold me accountable to hear it.
For fifty-odd days this summer, the temperature has been over 100 degrees. It’s starting to mess with my head. I feel like I’m dealing with the worse case of pms in my whole life, and the period to beat all periods is hours from beginning, wreaking an almighty havoc upon my life the likes of which I have never imagined, much less experienced. Aggression seems to simmer just below the surface, like I could go out and pick a fight with Gandhi or push down a blind kid. I feel aggressive, paranoid, anxious, and maybe a little bit strung out. All the brown lawns and the blinding light of the sun are buzzing in some bizarre bass line that makes my eyes tear up. I don’t even want to drive around my favorite neighborhoods and look at houses…it just makes me want to cry.
I wake up and pray for rain. I go to sleep, and I pray for rain. I wake up and go to the bathroom, and I pray for rain. I toyed with the idea of putting my underpants in a ziplock bag in the freezer, like Marilyn Monroe in The Seven Year Itch. I didn’t do it. And then the other day, I was really in a bad way, and found myself thinking about that trip to the mountains with Kristen and Laura. I thought about the clarity of thought I had on that trip, I thought of what I left behind, what I took away, how I feel right now.
And I realize that what I’m feeling now is a lot like what I felt four summers ago, when we went the long way around the mountain. The difference is that I’m not on vacation, and the bulk of this little sojourn has been on my own, in a manner of speaking. Being in the desert of this summer has been profoundly difficult. It’s also been incredibly beautiful.
Last night, for no good reason other than God's own great mercy (and isn't that the best reason of all), it rained in this desert of a city, parched and languishing in the last month of the longest summer of my life, and the only one I'll live as a 30 year old. As I drove down 281, back to my little house, and my fat cat, I was running the windshield wipers at full speed. And when I got home, and walked through my back door, I could smell my rosemary and lavendar giving up their sweet fragrance, I could smell the ozone in the air from the light show in the clouds, and I was so very happy. I pulled the clip out of my hair (which I can't wait to cut...ten inches for little bald kids is a LOT of hair, and I'm almostbutnotquite there yet), shook the day's tension out of my shoulders, and danced. Rumi, one of my favorite poets, said this: "Dance, when you're broken open. Dance, if you've torn the bandage off. Dance in the middle of the fighting. Dance in your blood. Dance, when you're perfectly free."
I imagined that this year of my life would bring change, mostly internal. I planned it that way. I promised myself that by the time I turned 31, things that I struggled with in my life, for huge parts of my life, would be confronted and dealt with in healthy ways. The list isn't complete, not by a long shot, but I've made a dent. I've allowed myself to start thinking about going back to school, about believing in the strength of my own convictions, of the sanctity of real and profound surrender. I am still who I was on the last day of my 29th year, who I have always been, down to my toes. But I have shed some skin, drug the dead parts over and over the rocks in my path, and left the bits that didn't belong to me anymore for someone else to wonder about. The marvel of all of this to me is that so much of this has taken place inside myself, inside my head, and heart, and soul. Most of the conversations I've had have been just between me and God. To say that I am grateful for this experience, even the things I've said goodbye to in my heart of hearts, would be a gross understatement. There's not a word I know to make it big enough.
I remember when Laura and Kristen and I figured out that we were right where we needed to be to pick up a trail back to our tent. The relief I felt was almost overwhelming. I teared up a little bit. I am tearing up a little thinking about it right now, four years after the fact. We shambled down the switchbacks, trying not to run, trying to conserve our energy, and I was trying not to show how really scared I had been. I drank three 32 ounce bottles of water until I finally had to go to the bathroom. We had to hang our clothes out on the campsite clothesline to dry them, and I was suprised they didn't have salt flakes on them once they were finally dry. But that night, by the fire, and later that night up on the highline drive, we laughed and laughed and told story after story, just happy to be safe, and not lost, and still on our adventure.
I feel like that now. I feel like I have been in the desert. Like I took the long way around the mountain. Like I am most definately not lost, anymore. And I am still on my adventure.
mil besos,
rmg
21 August 2009
most favorite thing
mom and grammy bought me an adirondack chair as an early birthday gift. i put it together as soon as i got it, and literally sit in it every night. best present, maybe ever.
it's a lovely night.
mil besos,
rmg
it's a lovely night.
mil besos,
rmg
10 August 2009
the not-oprah list of my favorite things of summer
in no particular order...
*thighmaster-- i bought one for $5 on amazon.com, and paid $15 to have shipped. i have used this thing RELIGIOUSLY, and am totally amazed. seriously.
*psalm 91.-- i read it at least once a day. this is my security blanket, at the moment. and i revel in it.
*long hot baths with epsom salts
*the dark tower books-- which i read from beginning to end in five weeks, because i love love love that story.
*fiesta dress that i wear to the pool. maybe my favorite piece of clothing, because it's green and has a peacock on it. close second is the wonderful and beautiful gauze shirt mom bought for me last month. it's in heavy rotation, at the moment.
* watermelon-- i can't remember the last time i craved a food, and this summer, i just can't seem to eat enough of this lucious treat. i honestly think that watermelon and the steadfast love of the baby Jesus have kept me sane this summer.
*old movies-- the ones that seem to explain how life is, right at this moment, and the people in my life who know just what those movies are, and just which line to say at the perfect moment. "melrose place is a really good show..."
*my cell phone and text messages-- i know, i know, i know. but my life would be so much more complicated without them. i love my cell phone. it's outdated, doesn't do anything fun, and is probably due for an oil change soon, but i just don't care. i love my phone.
*music-- like a super lot. all day long. all the time. and if i'm not listening to music, i'm thinking about listening to music. this summer's stand outs have been paul simon, emmy lou harris, bob marley (always a summer classic), lady gaga (that hurt to type), the jayhawks, led zepplin, the new pornographers, and (as always) a lot lot lot of bob dylan.
*kiss my face peaceful patchouli lotion and soap--even though one of my besties says that patchouli smells like a dirty hippy's armpit, i just don't care. i love how it smells, and i love these products. it's the simple things that get you through the most mundane days. also, an honorable mention goes out to ZUM bar soap, also in patchouli. i love this stuff.
*jinx the cat--he is the face i come home to at the end of the day, and even on days when i am not my best, jinx is always happy to see me, happy to love me, happy to share my space. he is a huge blessing in my life. i have learned more about unconditional love this summer than i ever imagined was possible, and a great majority of that learning has come while spending time with my cat. G-d knew what needed to happen when jinx came to live with me...
*movie popcorn--i learned that if i'm not hungry for watermelon, and just can't get a handle on what i want, it's probably movie popcorn. weird, right?
*this blog--this has been my mental refuge during this long, hot, incredibly weird summer. it's sometimes hard to remember that this summer has had some very happy and unexpected miracles all over it, because what screams loudest this summer is that a lot of things and people (not just famous ones) have died...i mean, just look at the lawns in my neighborhood. but i know that when i sit down to write, something fresh always comes to take the dry taste away, even if what i'm saying is hard. the reality of writing down how i feel, what i think, what's happening, even if it's veiled or abstract or in third person is just so good to feel, even when the feelings are intense and sometimes painful. thank you for reading.
mil besos,
rmg
*thighmaster-- i bought one for $5 on amazon.com, and paid $15 to have shipped. i have used this thing RELIGIOUSLY, and am totally amazed. seriously.
*psalm 91.-- i read it at least once a day. this is my security blanket, at the moment. and i revel in it.
*long hot baths with epsom salts
*the dark tower books-- which i read from beginning to end in five weeks, because i love love love that story.
*fiesta dress that i wear to the pool. maybe my favorite piece of clothing, because it's green and has a peacock on it. close second is the wonderful and beautiful gauze shirt mom bought for me last month. it's in heavy rotation, at the moment.
* watermelon-- i can't remember the last time i craved a food, and this summer, i just can't seem to eat enough of this lucious treat. i honestly think that watermelon and the steadfast love of the baby Jesus have kept me sane this summer.
*old movies-- the ones that seem to explain how life is, right at this moment, and the people in my life who know just what those movies are, and just which line to say at the perfect moment. "melrose place is a really good show..."
*my cell phone and text messages-- i know, i know, i know. but my life would be so much more complicated without them. i love my cell phone. it's outdated, doesn't do anything fun, and is probably due for an oil change soon, but i just don't care. i love my phone.
*music-- like a super lot. all day long. all the time. and if i'm not listening to music, i'm thinking about listening to music. this summer's stand outs have been paul simon, emmy lou harris, bob marley (always a summer classic), lady gaga (that hurt to type), the jayhawks, led zepplin, the new pornographers, and (as always) a lot lot lot of bob dylan.
*kiss my face peaceful patchouli lotion and soap--even though one of my besties says that patchouli smells like a dirty hippy's armpit, i just don't care. i love how it smells, and i love these products. it's the simple things that get you through the most mundane days. also, an honorable mention goes out to ZUM bar soap, also in patchouli. i love this stuff.
*jinx the cat--he is the face i come home to at the end of the day, and even on days when i am not my best, jinx is always happy to see me, happy to love me, happy to share my space. he is a huge blessing in my life. i have learned more about unconditional love this summer than i ever imagined was possible, and a great majority of that learning has come while spending time with my cat. G-d knew what needed to happen when jinx came to live with me...
*movie popcorn--i learned that if i'm not hungry for watermelon, and just can't get a handle on what i want, it's probably movie popcorn. weird, right?
*this blog--this has been my mental refuge during this long, hot, incredibly weird summer. it's sometimes hard to remember that this summer has had some very happy and unexpected miracles all over it, because what screams loudest this summer is that a lot of things and people (not just famous ones) have died...i mean, just look at the lawns in my neighborhood. but i know that when i sit down to write, something fresh always comes to take the dry taste away, even if what i'm saying is hard. the reality of writing down how i feel, what i think, what's happening, even if it's veiled or abstract or in third person is just so good to feel, even when the feelings are intense and sometimes painful. thank you for reading.
mil besos,
rmg
03 August 2009
3am, again.
"It is looking at things for a long time that ripens you and gives you a deeper understanding."--vincent van gogh
i find myself thinking about romance in a totally different way than i did when i was 20. i'm glad the changeover has happened, to be quite honest. i don't think what i thought i knew about romance was even remotely correct, or that having someone jump through those hoops would have really made me happy. that's not to say that i don't think there's room enough in my life for romance. i think i just mean that romance means different things to me at 30 than it did at twenty...and i'm so glad i know that about myself.
i think if i'd had someone cater to my romantic whims at 20, i would have become pretty petulant and selfish. i mean, does anyone really need to go to four restaurants in one night...appetizers in one, entrees in another, dessert in yet another, and topped off by fancy grown-up drinks at the last? i know at 30, i'd be much happier with a good, non-tedious, honest and energetic conversation over a piece of pie in one of my favorite all-night diners.
at 20, romance would have looked like my favorite flowers on my birthday. at 30, i think romance might look like new light blubs in my vanity sockets, maybe a an extra half-gallon of milk grabbed on the way home, just in case we were running low, or having those horrible new license plates magically appear on my car. at 20, a romantic get-away would have been way over-planned, and under-enjoyed...too much money, too many things to see, too much drama to get there, etc. at 30, i think it looks like a couple of backpacks, a map, a lot of music, and a little money.
at 20, having someone read my mind and and intuit all my needs before i even articulated them would have seemed like a reasonable relationship goal. now...not so much. at 30, i think i have begun to understand that if we can find someone in this life who just really gets who we are, down at the bottom of all our bullshit, and decides to stick around anyway, is something pretty special. all the rose petals and high dollar champagne in the world can't compete with that. that's not something that sells books, or makes it to reality tv. that's not something you can ever cash in and use as a bail out. that's an intangible, a for better or worse kind of deal. that's a bigger deal that a remembered birthday, trite poetry, fancy dinners out, or knowing the day you had your first kiss. i feel good about knowing that, at least for myself. and on days when i wake up at 3am, wondering what it's all about, sometimes knowing that helps me get back to sleep.
mil besos,
rmg
i find myself thinking about romance in a totally different way than i did when i was 20. i'm glad the changeover has happened, to be quite honest. i don't think what i thought i knew about romance was even remotely correct, or that having someone jump through those hoops would have really made me happy. that's not to say that i don't think there's room enough in my life for romance. i think i just mean that romance means different things to me at 30 than it did at twenty...and i'm so glad i know that about myself.
i think if i'd had someone cater to my romantic whims at 20, i would have become pretty petulant and selfish. i mean, does anyone really need to go to four restaurants in one night...appetizers in one, entrees in another, dessert in yet another, and topped off by fancy grown-up drinks at the last? i know at 30, i'd be much happier with a good, non-tedious, honest and energetic conversation over a piece of pie in one of my favorite all-night diners.
at 20, romance would have looked like my favorite flowers on my birthday. at 30, i think romance might look like new light blubs in my vanity sockets, maybe a an extra half-gallon of milk grabbed on the way home, just in case we were running low, or having those horrible new license plates magically appear on my car. at 20, a romantic get-away would have been way over-planned, and under-enjoyed...too much money, too many things to see, too much drama to get there, etc. at 30, i think it looks like a couple of backpacks, a map, a lot of music, and a little money.
at 20, having someone read my mind and and intuit all my needs before i even articulated them would have seemed like a reasonable relationship goal. now...not so much. at 30, i think i have begun to understand that if we can find someone in this life who just really gets who we are, down at the bottom of all our bullshit, and decides to stick around anyway, is something pretty special. all the rose petals and high dollar champagne in the world can't compete with that. that's not something that sells books, or makes it to reality tv. that's not something you can ever cash in and use as a bail out. that's an intangible, a for better or worse kind of deal. that's a bigger deal that a remembered birthday, trite poetry, fancy dinners out, or knowing the day you had your first kiss. i feel good about knowing that, at least for myself. and on days when i wake up at 3am, wondering what it's all about, sometimes knowing that helps me get back to sleep.
mil besos,
rmg
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