I was pretty bummed last night for some inexplicable reason [read: PMS] so I did what I always do because it always makes me feel better: I called my friends.
Talked to Carl briefly and realized I've been virtually unemployed for most of this year. Of course he gently reminded me that everything would be okay in Carl-speak, and while he always makes me feel better, it also makes me really, really miss him. I miss my Carl.
I got to talk to Bjorn last night while she was driving around in Hollywood, and she had a lot of good advice and reminded me that I'm not lame. I love to hear advice from friends who know me so well. they know my virtues and weaknesses and they really help to guide me in the right direction, which has no set destination. They really help me to just do what I do best.... which is just make things, all the time, in every medium.... and that I shouldn't worry about where I'm going with all of this, but to just keep doing it.
Why? I was telling her I like what I do, painting, and music-ing, and Inter-web documenting... but how am I going to make a living out of it? She said, 'Well Jo, you already are. This is your living. You are living it. This is your life.'
I forgot that taken another way, 'making a living' doesn't directly refer to paying my rent. She reminded me that jobs are just jobs, they come and go. It's your life that's important. She's reminded me of that for years, and I love her for that.
God I love my friends so much. They teach me so much through their love, and without even trying. I remember when Mike was in town, and we drew while my lovely DJ friends played records and blessed my house with their presence.
I was having such a hard time. Then he told me, 'When I feel like I can't draw, I just try to draw things I liked to draw when I was really little. It helps me loosen up.' So we just scribbled like three-year-olds. He gave me five seconds to draw a face with only scribble lines. I kept saying 'I can't do it! I'm so out of practice.' But he just kept saying 'See? You did it! You do perfectly fine without even thinking about it.'
Did I mention I love my friends?
One of Bjorn's suggestions was mapping out a geographical space based on my experiences, creating an interactive map where you click on a location and you get access to writings about my experiences there and links to relevent articles and profiles I've written about the characters I've met there. She said above all, I'm a traveller and a documenter, and it would be a great way of creating a tangible memory network on the Interweb that is also a record of my memories and experience in cyberspace, mapped out over geographical space. I think it's a great idea. I'm going to build on it, bit by bit... I guess I already have been.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
6/20/07 - Under Breath Laugh-Rant
I woke up and I felt really riled up for some reason, which is strange, because I hate it when people are riled up around me.
I can see the pressure building, they get all huffed and puffed and I'm thinking "Oh my god, dude, man... chill." A bead of sweat rolls down my forehead.
But here I am, anyway. I'm shrugging off the rest of the world like it's snow noise and I'm trying to hear what my brain is saying.
You might not know this, but I hate talking about spirituality. I hate talking about buddhism and consciousness and the New Human and 2012. I hate everything I say about it, and everything I read about it, because it's all language to me, it's all just words.
It's like I just realized where all this damn pain is coming from. Since the moment I started writing the way that I do now- I was in so much pain because I couldn't say, because I couldn't speak, I was talking about the importance of connection, and saying what we mean- but it's like I just figured it out-
- it will never happen. We will NEVER say what we mean because 'saying' and 'meaning' are two completely, completely different things.
I hate Eckhart Tolle. Someone put an audiobook of his onto my iPod and I cringe every time it comes on. Some sort of new age chime goes off and I know that chapter 1200 of the Power of Now is about to be 'fa-fa'-ed into my ears by the most self-righteous voice I've ever heard. I hate it when people talk like that. It makes me think of that Ian guy in High Fidelity.
I know I'm using the word 'hate' a lot. You might even logically conclude that I am being curiously 'hateful'. Don't worry. 'Hate' is not the right word. I am just lazy.
I hate talking about buddhism, or higher-powers, or the power within. I know this seems really backwards. If you read any of my blogs this is what I'm talking about, right? It's okay. You can call me a hypocrite, it will only make me feel more human.
Here's the thing I'm getting at, and you know, I know I am right, but my words are most likely wrong- is that whatever these people have to tell you about being ego-less isn't something they have to teach you that you don't already know.
We are each others' golden calves, and that's dangerous...
.... and I think people that write about being without ego have created a whole mass of people who secretly hate themselves for not being enlightened enough. That is silly as shit.
It's all just language, you see me? Someone at some point said 'you are not your ego', and found it to be true, but then people's ears and brains decided that the ego was a bad thing and wrote about it in such a way. Just because you are not your ego does not mean it isn't a part of you, though, right? And it's simplistic and retarded to call a human good or bad. We are not storybook characters or allegorical figures. We are humans... of course you have an ego, or you wouldn't be you. How does the saying go? 'Who is it who knows there is no ego?'
I know but I won't [can't] say. All of this is just play.
Eckhart Tolle speaks for cavemen everywhere when he says the flower was the first thing cavemen found valuable without needing it to survive-
For me, it was the George Foreman lean-mean-fat-reducing-grilling-machine. Mine was blue.
And I'm not even saying 'I'm right and they're wrong.' We're not talking about right and wrong.... that is completely irrelevent. What I am saying is, how about this. And this is just a game...
... how about you are the George Foreman lean-mean-fat-reducing-grilling-machine? How about, you are totally pointless, but pretty neat anyway, like a flower or an electric grill with a drip tray?
Anyway sorry about dissing on Eckhart Tolle. I'm sure he was pretty cool guy, and I'm sure 2012 will be super exciting too. But It's strange, I may be riled up, and I may come off as jaded and disbelieving, but-
- and I say this with honesty, which is undeniably shiny- I have never been happier. I feel so full.
'Full''s not the word. But you know. If I start saying shit like 'I feel so ___' then you might as well just replace every letter in this blog with ______________.
6/12/07 - Patience in Playing the Game
How does it work in chess?
I am a very impatient chess player. I tend to spend the time the other player is deliberating mapping out all possible moves and counter-moves so that when my time comes, it takes me less than a few seconds to turn the tables.
About 80% of the time this works for me, the other 20% of the time, something happens that I didn't quite see... because I'm not perfect, and I miss that kind of stuff sometimes.
Other times, I'm so focused on some intended strategy that my impatience turns into anxiety, and then into complete distraction. I am so preoccupied that I accidentally overlook the trap that my opponent has laid out. That's when I get my ass kicked. That happens sometimes, too.
Patience isn't just a virtue. It's a calmness, and a tranquility. It's the stillness in the eye of the storm and what makes the dancing beautiful when you let go of all inhibition.
It's realizing you could save yourself a whole lot of cuts and bruises if you just move with current and let it take you right where you're supposed to be. It's less like gravity, and more like magic- and it will drop the pieces right into place when you least expect it, because it's always happening whether you can see it or not.
Anyone who's played the game, or put their hands on something with the intention of reflecting this beautiful thing inside has gone through the frustration of trying to say what we mean, or show what we see, or make the 'right' decisions.
The thing is, we inherently understand the nature of things, whether you want to call them rules, or laws, constants or truths. We already know that we know the right moves, instinctively, and without thought.
But if you're anything like me, you often get impatient with yourself and your relationship with time, and you start to second-guess yourself, and get distracted.
What I mean to say is, here I am writing about how things are a matter of time, and I know this, but I'm still tapping my foot and looking at my watch. My heart rate is going up, and my anxiety, and I feel held back, if anything by a self-imposed, imaginary standard or deadline.
But waiting isn't just sitting there and expecting something to happen. It's a wonderful time! It's a chance to reflect and look forward, and to calm yourself and know that whatever happens, you'll know how to get through it. It's an opportunity to think, and more importantly, an opportunity to not think at all, and to just 'be'.
I had no idea how important that was. I always think it's so pointless and unimportant, and that I'm not being productive. But when the ball is in the world's court, what could be more productive than tapping into the part of you that is omniscient and happy, because it is in its nature? That part of you ir more than intelligent. That part of you knows.
And here's the game I've been playing-
- my intentions were set. I would do as much preparation as would be necessary to get into HASTES, the humanities program at MIT that seems like it was designed for me. There I would find the resources to put together the project ideas I have outlined with notes and research in my journals, that are footnoted with references to the pieces of papers lodged in my favorite books to outline striking passages. I know what I want to bring into this world. I know where I can find the resources to make these ideas a reality. And now I'm going to gain access to them.
I know if I stay genuine to what I have always been fundamentally passionate about and fascinated with, the pieces will fall into place around me. All I have to do is move with it, and into it. I also know it's not as easy as it sounds to do so... it takes a tremendous amount of discipline and perserverence to be true to yourself.
I must remember: I will not shape myself for this world. There is a metaphorical lock on a metaphorical door to which I am the metaphorical key. An enzyme for which I am a catalyst. In other words, there is somewhere that I fit perfectly, as I am, and without contortion. And if there isn't, I will make that place. I will make it around me.
It is as in the laws of biology and nature, and physics and human perserverence. It is in my nature.
I should not take things so seriously. I should have fun, yes? It's just a game, after all. This life is just an improvisational play with no rehearsal.
So game. Set. And Match.
- Studying for GREs. This isn't as bad as it sounds, it's actually a lot like filling out myspace surveys, only more useful.
- Going to L.A. in August to reconnect with Dr. McClure my neuroscience advisor, and to speak with Alexia's father in hopes that he would like to write my second recommendation. (And not only that, but have lots of fun seeing my friends again, of course!)
- The big Kahuna: getting my foot in the door at MIT. What does it take to get in? I'm not sure yet, but I will- with Patience- and I know there is absolutely NO hurry. But I have to make the first move.
Step 1: Get a job at MIT. This is what I've been trying to do for the past two months. Any job really, I don't care. I just want to familiarize myself with the environment.
I've been sending out countless applications every day to no avail. I knew it wouldn't be easy, but I was getting a little impatient, and subsequently more and more discouraged. I began second-guessing myself, which in any game is the worst thing you can do.
Fortunately today, I just got my first interview: as a research assistant for the Tsai Lab in the Picower Institute for Learning and Memory. At MIT.
I am trying to be calm. Possible counter-moves:
- I don't get the job. That's okay! I got an interview, and that means I can get more! No matter what, I know what feel right at the right time. Endless opportunities will come along as long as I have the patience to stay calm and keep my eyes and ears open and focused.
- I do get the job. Great! It will look nice on my visitor's form when I tour the HASTES PhD program and fill in "I work for YOU." under 'current employment'.
A million other things might happen. I could be steered in a completely different direction. That's okay too, I am ready, because I always have been! I was born to play this game.
And now that I've said all these matter-of-fact-type things, please, wish me luck on this interview... because if I've learned anything at all, it is this: that these intentions have a way of moving molecules. (It's real magic!)
I am a very impatient chess player. I tend to spend the time the other player is deliberating mapping out all possible moves and counter-moves so that when my time comes, it takes me less than a few seconds to turn the tables.
About 80% of the time this works for me, the other 20% of the time, something happens that I didn't quite see... because I'm not perfect, and I miss that kind of stuff sometimes.
Other times, I'm so focused on some intended strategy that my impatience turns into anxiety, and then into complete distraction. I am so preoccupied that I accidentally overlook the trap that my opponent has laid out. That's when I get my ass kicked. That happens sometimes, too.
Patience isn't just a virtue. It's a calmness, and a tranquility. It's the stillness in the eye of the storm and what makes the dancing beautiful when you let go of all inhibition.
It's realizing you could save yourself a whole lot of cuts and bruises if you just move with current and let it take you right where you're supposed to be. It's less like gravity, and more like magic- and it will drop the pieces right into place when you least expect it, because it's always happening whether you can see it or not.
Anyone who's played the game, or put their hands on something with the intention of reflecting this beautiful thing inside has gone through the frustration of trying to say what we mean, or show what we see, or make the 'right' decisions.
The thing is, we inherently understand the nature of things, whether you want to call them rules, or laws, constants or truths. We already know that we know the right moves, instinctively, and without thought.
But if you're anything like me, you often get impatient with yourself and your relationship with time, and you start to second-guess yourself, and get distracted.
What I mean to say is, here I am writing about how things are a matter of time, and I know this, but I'm still tapping my foot and looking at my watch. My heart rate is going up, and my anxiety, and I feel held back, if anything by a self-imposed, imaginary standard or deadline.
But waiting isn't just sitting there and expecting something to happen. It's a wonderful time! It's a chance to reflect and look forward, and to calm yourself and know that whatever happens, you'll know how to get through it. It's an opportunity to think, and more importantly, an opportunity to not think at all, and to just 'be'.
I had no idea how important that was. I always think it's so pointless and unimportant, and that I'm not being productive. But when the ball is in the world's court, what could be more productive than tapping into the part of you that is omniscient and happy, because it is in its nature? That part of you ir more than intelligent. That part of you knows.
And here's the game I've been playing-
- my intentions were set. I would do as much preparation as would be necessary to get into HASTES, the humanities program at MIT that seems like it was designed for me. There I would find the resources to put together the project ideas I have outlined with notes and research in my journals, that are footnoted with references to the pieces of papers lodged in my favorite books to outline striking passages. I know what I want to bring into this world. I know where I can find the resources to make these ideas a reality. And now I'm going to gain access to them.
I know if I stay genuine to what I have always been fundamentally passionate about and fascinated with, the pieces will fall into place around me. All I have to do is move with it, and into it. I also know it's not as easy as it sounds to do so... it takes a tremendous amount of discipline and perserverence to be true to yourself.
I must remember: I will not shape myself for this world. There is a metaphorical lock on a metaphorical door to which I am the metaphorical key. An enzyme for which I am a catalyst. In other words, there is somewhere that I fit perfectly, as I am, and without contortion. And if there isn't, I will make that place. I will make it around me.
It is as in the laws of biology and nature, and physics and human perserverence. It is in my nature.
I should not take things so seriously. I should have fun, yes? It's just a game, after all. This life is just an improvisational play with no rehearsal.
So game. Set. And Match.
- Studying for GREs. This isn't as bad as it sounds, it's actually a lot like filling out myspace surveys, only more useful.
- Going to L.A. in August to reconnect with Dr. McClure my neuroscience advisor, and to speak with Alexia's father in hopes that he would like to write my second recommendation. (And not only that, but have lots of fun seeing my friends again, of course!)
- The big Kahuna: getting my foot in the door at MIT. What does it take to get in? I'm not sure yet, but I will- with Patience- and I know there is absolutely NO hurry. But I have to make the first move.
Step 1: Get a job at MIT. This is what I've been trying to do for the past two months. Any job really, I don't care. I just want to familiarize myself with the environment.
I've been sending out countless applications every day to no avail. I knew it wouldn't be easy, but I was getting a little impatient, and subsequently more and more discouraged. I began second-guessing myself, which in any game is the worst thing you can do.
Fortunately today, I just got my first interview: as a research assistant for the Tsai Lab in the Picower Institute for Learning and Memory. At MIT.
I am trying to be calm. Possible counter-moves:
- I don't get the job. That's okay! I got an interview, and that means I can get more! No matter what, I know what feel right at the right time. Endless opportunities will come along as long as I have the patience to stay calm and keep my eyes and ears open and focused.
- I do get the job. Great! It will look nice on my visitor's form when I tour the HASTES PhD program and fill in "I work for YOU." under 'current employment'.
A million other things might happen. I could be steered in a completely different direction. That's okay too, I am ready, because I always have been! I was born to play this game.
And now that I've said all these matter-of-fact-type things, please, wish me luck on this interview... because if I've learned anything at all, it is this: that these intentions have a way of moving molecules. (It's real magic!)
6/6/07 - This Tether Life
Oh, this time in my life. In our lives.
I feel like a ball at the end of a tether cord, back and forth and all around. Some days I wake up and I can't stop myself, I'm moving so fast. I'm a whirlwind of productivity; here I'll paint my mural now, and then ten feet away to my turntables, and now I'll read a book and edit my writing.
Now I am going to go for a walk to look at records and pretty things while trying not to buy them, and then I go home to revise my resume, have three friends review it, write and edit several cover letter templates, and apply to five jobs a day. I feel un-fuckin-stoppable. And then.
Down, down and back again. One day, then two, then five. No responses. And then I wonder what I did wrong, was I not qualified enough? Was I not proactive enough? Is my old boss right, am I really unemployable? These things really get me down... these rejection things.
I sit in my home and I feel kicked around, and deflated. Like my intentions were stated boldly into the dark, but the Magic didn't work, and now someone is laughing back at me far away where I can't hear them.
My mural sits unpainted because I am sick with worry about my dwindling bank account. Nick asks me what I did today and I say 'Nothing', but that's never really true... I played records... I didn't do my laundry, or edit my book for more than half an hour, or paint my mural... I just checked my email every once in a while in case someone responded and played records all day and all night. I suppose that's something.
I tried to look for new jobs but I would look at the job descriptions and my chest would hurt, because I knew I would just get excited about it and hear nothing back.
I know that there are other ways of doing it, networking and such, but right now I just feel so deflated. I've got to blow some life into my ego, before I start to think I'm clever enough to be clever about it.
I've got to push.
"I'm proud of you," Nick said.
"Why so?"
"Because you never give up."
I could work as a waitress, or at the record store. Just to tide myself over... but it just doesn't feel right. I quit working at the coffee shop because I wanted to take the time to focus the proverbial crosshairs, and hit the bullseye. To find myself right where I intend to be. Chris and anyone feeling more buddhist than I do at the moment would remind me that I should be here, now. I say things like that to people all the time.
But there's some piece of the puzzle that I haven't quite wrapped my head around yet, which is how to Be Here Now, and also to move... and not forward, or towards something, but to just move.... to dance.
I want to dance. That's what this is about. I feel paralyzed, like someone is teaching me the two-step when I just want to shake my body the way it wants to shake, and to move my feet, and make my body sweat enraptured by the sheer passion of the Movement
They taught us at Kahua to Be Total, and to be present in every moment and the way it feels, its taste, its texture. It comes so naturally, and feels so right.
But how is it to be in your nature in such an unnatural world? It feels like sandpaper against my soul.
I wanted to see if the magic I saw in myself in Maui could work here... and the optimistic part of me thinks it does
the rest of me, it just can't see. Any of it. At all.
I feel so naive, all over again. Like a caged animal wanting to be free. I have been a caged animal, and I have been free. What I want, is to just be that animal existing, having shed the illusion of the cage.
I watched Breakfast at Tiffany's the other week and there was some sort of noble speech at the end when the main character is being accosted for running away from her problems.
Her co-star had said something like, 'You keep running because you don't want to be in a cage, but no matter where you go, that cage will be there, because that cage is your own insecurities, and fears. It doesn't matter where you are, or who you are, you will always be in a cage.'
That probably wasn't how it went. I probably made all that up. But you get the point.
I have tethered myself in place, to my insecurities and fears. But I know what it's like to fly. And I can cut this cord.
Earlier today Nick held me by the shoulders and said "Remember what you told me about setting intentions? You can make this happen, all you have to do is set your intention."
I was crying then, not so much because I was discouraged, but just because I felt so much love for him for reminding me. All of you lovely humans, reminding me.
I can do this. I can get the job that I am passing up all other jobs to get, because I can see it, and it is mine. I am not unintelligent, or incapable. All I have to do is show myself, my real self, and I will find a way.
5/21/07 - Self-Teachings
Things seem like they're pretty hard lately.
I know they're not that bad, and that everything isn't falling apart, all over my head. It may not be that bad, but it still feels like it.
I guess I'm just having one of those times. I feel so lost.
But I was browsing through my blog earlier and found this entry, entitled, "Weren't You Afraid?", and a tear rolled down my cheek, because I was learning a lesson from myself, which is one of the blessings of having a written record of my thoughts.
It's a wonder to learn something from yourself. I think it has something to do with wisdom, which I hope to have some time when I'm old, and my parts don't work.
Part of me feels so far away from the person who wrote that. Slow, can't think thoughts or write words. I hope I come back to myself.
I know they're not that bad, and that everything isn't falling apart, all over my head. It may not be that bad, but it still feels like it.
I guess I'm just having one of those times. I feel so lost.
But I was browsing through my blog earlier and found this entry, entitled, "Weren't You Afraid?", and a tear rolled down my cheek, because I was learning a lesson from myself, which is one of the blessings of having a written record of my thoughts.
It's a wonder to learn something from yourself. I think it has something to do with wisdom, which I hope to have some time when I'm old, and my parts don't work.
Part of me feels so far away from the person who wrote that. Slow, can't think thoughts or write words. I hope I come back to myself.
5/16/07 - Response Letter
A response letter to a friend who wrote me in response to the last blog. I took out names for now out of respect, since I haven't asked his permission to publicize our conversation. I'll stick them back in if he has no problem with it:
______________________________________________
hey _____, thanks so much for your insight, i'm very excited to eventually get a chance to talk to you about such things.
I definitely fluctuate between defining my own identity and disassociating from it. I've come to think of it as a game, but just like winning and losing in games, if I feel like the story I'm unfolding has hit a wall, I start to get frustrated. I am a sore loser.
It's really, really helpful to be reminded to focus on the things I know, but have turned a blind eye to (again). I thank you for that.
As far as conclusions go, I've come to the conclusion that there is no such thing. I have an intuition that there's no answer to our most provoking questions, and the pursuit of such only reveals more questions. So it must be about the inquiry, and the joy and sorrow of it.
I'm okay with that. I just forget I'm okay with that, sometimes.
I empathize with what you went through with _______. The last person I was with (for most of college) lied to me several times about some seriously painful things before I literally couldn't bear to speak to him anymore.
It was a terrible time, my heart was completely broken, I felt my trust for other humans desintegrating, and with every new chance I gave him thrown in my face, I felt more and more like a fool.
Those kinds of things force you to question every little thing about yourself, whether it's reasonable or not. You wonder what was not good enough about you for the other person, what you might have done better, why the person they're with now is so superior to you in quality. You question the nature of human interaction, and whether or not it's meaningful at all. And so on.
Most importantly though, relationship aside, it forces you to look at yourself, and really try and see who it is you really are- the truth of it. Heartbreak might have been the most illuminating thing that has ever happened to me.
Here's a little thing that my life has brought to my attention recently, that I feel compelled to share with you for whatever reason-
- I thought for the better part of the last year and a half, when I was mostly solitary and healing, that I might never be able to trust or love again, or that past events had damaged my ability to do so. Since I've been in this city, I realized that things like that are never beyond our reach or lost to us.
The broken-hearted have had to peel away layers, and have become wiser for it. They realize that love and trust are not for everybody, and everything.
They are gifts that we give to this world, to those who bring it out in us. When we meet those people, no matter how much we've been hurt, there's no way in the world we will be able to help it. We can't help the loving, and the trusting.
I didn't know, but it pours out of you when you find someone worthy of it. I've been quite surprised, actually... it happens when you least expect it... and I know that sounds cliche, but there's truth to it, that's how it becomes cliche in the first place.
I understand what you mean about being comfortable floating in limbo. I have been quite comfortable, and happy-
- I know that I'm on the brink of something, though. Like I'm on the edge of a waterfall, and the floating is about to be pulled out from under me and something wild is about to happen. It's excitement and nervousness, is what it is. The other side to the floating, if I were to be taoist about it.
And yes, your words were a great aid. They came just at the right time. (namaste)
Josephine
______________________________________________
hey _____, thanks so much for your insight, i'm very excited to eventually get a chance to talk to you about such things.
I definitely fluctuate between defining my own identity and disassociating from it. I've come to think of it as a game, but just like winning and losing in games, if I feel like the story I'm unfolding has hit a wall, I start to get frustrated. I am a sore loser.
It's really, really helpful to be reminded to focus on the things I know, but have turned a blind eye to (again). I thank you for that.
As far as conclusions go, I've come to the conclusion that there is no such thing. I have an intuition that there's no answer to our most provoking questions, and the pursuit of such only reveals more questions. So it must be about the inquiry, and the joy and sorrow of it.
I'm okay with that. I just forget I'm okay with that, sometimes.
I empathize with what you went through with _______. The last person I was with (for most of college) lied to me several times about some seriously painful things before I literally couldn't bear to speak to him anymore.
It was a terrible time, my heart was completely broken, I felt my trust for other humans desintegrating, and with every new chance I gave him thrown in my face, I felt more and more like a fool.
Those kinds of things force you to question every little thing about yourself, whether it's reasonable or not. You wonder what was not good enough about you for the other person, what you might have done better, why the person they're with now is so superior to you in quality. You question the nature of human interaction, and whether or not it's meaningful at all. And so on.
Most importantly though, relationship aside, it forces you to look at yourself, and really try and see who it is you really are- the truth of it. Heartbreak might have been the most illuminating thing that has ever happened to me.
Here's a little thing that my life has brought to my attention recently, that I feel compelled to share with you for whatever reason-
- I thought for the better part of the last year and a half, when I was mostly solitary and healing, that I might never be able to trust or love again, or that past events had damaged my ability to do so. Since I've been in this city, I realized that things like that are never beyond our reach or lost to us.
The broken-hearted have had to peel away layers, and have become wiser for it. They realize that love and trust are not for everybody, and everything.
They are gifts that we give to this world, to those who bring it out in us. When we meet those people, no matter how much we've been hurt, there's no way in the world we will be able to help it. We can't help the loving, and the trusting.
I didn't know, but it pours out of you when you find someone worthy of it. I've been quite surprised, actually... it happens when you least expect it... and I know that sounds cliche, but there's truth to it, that's how it becomes cliche in the first place.
I understand what you mean about being comfortable floating in limbo. I have been quite comfortable, and happy-
- I know that I'm on the brink of something, though. Like I'm on the edge of a waterfall, and the floating is about to be pulled out from under me and something wild is about to happen. It's excitement and nervousness, is what it is. The other side to the floating, if I were to be taoist about it.
And yes, your words were a great aid. They came just at the right time. (namaste)
Josephine
5/14/07 - Running
I've been thinking all day about what it means to run. To go. To move toward somewhere other than here, now.
I'd told myself when I moved into this apartment in Boston that I was going to put my roots into this urban garden, soak it all up and become a part of it before moving onward. The half-finished mural in my room was meant to be a testament to my semi-permanent commitment to this city.
Things are so different now than when I first laid paint on that wall.
I had a steady job, and good income. I felt like I was making progress. I was learning new things every day, and even though I was scared and nervous, it was an exhilarating sort of nervousness, without the heavy burden of worrying about how I was going to pay my rent, or what would happen next, at least for a few years. In that sense, it was like Maui.
Then, it seemed like everything fell apart. I quit my job because of awkward circumstances and suddenly the one reason I'd come to Boston had suddenly disappeared from the agenda. But I felt optimistic... the severence gave me time to think, and I'd fallen in love again and the excitement of a new relationship completely consumed me. I became infatuated with DJing, and I felt like I's successfully turned every unfortunate circumstance on its head; revealing a multitude of new opportunities.
And I guess that's where I am now... only my severence has run out, and there really never is enough time in this life to get your act together, at least, I feel like that time has flown by... and here I am... still as lost as I ever was.
I want to say optimistic things, but I don't feel that way. Things are good, I have good friends and a good roommate, a wonderful boyfriend and a new skill that I am learning... but sometimes, especially when I am washing dishes at the coffee shop or making someone a sandwich, I feel a deep sense of sorrow, because I don't know where I'm going with all of this.
I mean, what am I doing with myself. Where am I going.
Sometimes that kind of uncertainty feels good. That's when I feel good about writing about it, when it's exciting like that. I feel a little guilty right now because I don't feel good about it. I just feel really sad. It sits on my shoulder and it will sit there until this- whatever it is- passes.
I'm trying to remember who I was. Amanda had called me last night and we had an impromptu brainstorming session about an underwater fashion show. She calls every once in a while to let me know what is going on in Maui, and how I should be there for it, and that she is thinking of me.
Every once in a while I yearn to go back, and to feel what I felt then. I felt a sense of relief I'd never felt before or after- a great weight was lifted, and I thought, now that I know these things, I will never have to feel worry or anxiety again. I was wrong, because I forgot. Which is as natural as remembering again.
But it got me thinking, about running.
Going back to Maui, or to some other place, some island, or some other place I'd never been to. Late last night, eyes wide open, I said out loud what I'd said on the phone to Carl last week, and what I think to myself every once in a while lately, which is, "I don't know who I am anymore."
Nick was listening, and I think it worried him. I think he thought it might have something to do with him, but it really has everything to do with me and myself, as is the nature of self-conscious ramblings.
I felt the pull I'd felt before, when I left L.A. and ran off to Texas, and when I left Texas, and ran off to Maui. The same pull I felt every time I'd had it with school, and run off to the desert. The same pull I felt when I ran off to the jungle in Mexico, when I had fears that my life had become too mundane. And every time I've run, I've had the adventure of a lifetime.
I've had adventures enough for many lifetimes over, and there will be more to come... because I can't get enough of it. It's just a matter of time, is what I'm told.
Last night I was looking at the ceiling. I'd said what I said: "I don't know who I am anymore."
Suddenly I felt this intense need to run. To just go. Then I looked to my left and saw laying next to me this man, who I love and I felt confused, and for a moment I paused to ask myself 'why'.
Why run? Where am I going? What am I running from? And how many times have I asked myself this same question, over and over again. I thought about it a lot in Maui.
Oh gosh- I remember now. Why I left paradise.
I remember sitting on the grass lawn of the tantra school and staring at the ocean. The sun was perfect warm, and the cool breeze chased all the mosquitoes away and it was.... almost... the most perfect moment.
I remember thinking, I am running. I have run from my problems. They will all be there when I come back. This is why I can't be completely satisfied. It was like I'd gone to heaven too early.
So I came back, and things have become complicated again like they always are, and there is no relief in sight, because I'm not on an island thousands of miles away from the things in this world that reveal to me my own shortcomings.
I wanted to ask myself whether or not I was running away from a problem, or toward something I was meant to experience- but I already know the answer to that. I have this fear that I am not so clever and brilliant as I always thought I would be some day, in the future, when I wasn't quite so fucked up, or lost, or immature.
I do miss seeing the beauty in myself, though. That's what I saw in Maui. The beauty in myself. I'd like to see that again. I know it's there, somewhere.
At work today Tara saw the look on my face and said, "Quarter-life crisis?"
I guess so. She reminded me that everyone goes through this period of depression and feeling lost and having no direction. I thought to myself, I never intended to win the award for originality on this one. I know we're all going through the same things, and when we're old or dead, we all will have survived it. It's not that.
Alexia told me too, this will pass. Nick told me too, these things take time. I am nodding. I know. And then I realize that Tara told me everybody goes through these things so that maybe I will not feel so lonely about it. I think to myself, we are all alone together.
At work today Arie told me about his quarter-life crisis, in the form of a story. It really made me feel better. I really like stories, especially when people tell me about their lives, and what they were thinking and how they felt about it. For some reason I find it incredibly educational, even though when it comes to these things we are all equally lost and wondering.
At the end of this day I still don't know about running, or whether or not I will. I hunger so much for that relief, but I know it just delays the inevitable. Everyone at work said what a city person would say when I mentioned that I was thinking of going back to Maui: "I can see why you would want to go back there, but it's so far away from everything, and from the rest of the world. I mean, it's an island."
I think about meditation, and about focusing on nothing, instead of everything. In a way it's like running. But you always come back, and you come back more whole, somehow. That's how I always felt about it. Running, I mean.
I guess I'm just wondering if there's something to sweating it out, standing your ground, and staying in one place, too. I wish I had an answer so that I could come full circle, but that's not where I'm at-
- I'm somewhere out there instead, walking the scrawling line, wondering what kind of picture I'm painting.
I'd told myself when I moved into this apartment in Boston that I was going to put my roots into this urban garden, soak it all up and become a part of it before moving onward. The half-finished mural in my room was meant to be a testament to my semi-permanent commitment to this city.
Things are so different now than when I first laid paint on that wall.
I had a steady job, and good income. I felt like I was making progress. I was learning new things every day, and even though I was scared and nervous, it was an exhilarating sort of nervousness, without the heavy burden of worrying about how I was going to pay my rent, or what would happen next, at least for a few years. In that sense, it was like Maui.
Then, it seemed like everything fell apart. I quit my job because of awkward circumstances and suddenly the one reason I'd come to Boston had suddenly disappeared from the agenda. But I felt optimistic... the severence gave me time to think, and I'd fallen in love again and the excitement of a new relationship completely consumed me. I became infatuated with DJing, and I felt like I's successfully turned every unfortunate circumstance on its head; revealing a multitude of new opportunities.
And I guess that's where I am now... only my severence has run out, and there really never is enough time in this life to get your act together, at least, I feel like that time has flown by... and here I am... still as lost as I ever was.
I want to say optimistic things, but I don't feel that way. Things are good, I have good friends and a good roommate, a wonderful boyfriend and a new skill that I am learning... but sometimes, especially when I am washing dishes at the coffee shop or making someone a sandwich, I feel a deep sense of sorrow, because I don't know where I'm going with all of this.
I mean, what am I doing with myself. Where am I going.
Sometimes that kind of uncertainty feels good. That's when I feel good about writing about it, when it's exciting like that. I feel a little guilty right now because I don't feel good about it. I just feel really sad. It sits on my shoulder and it will sit there until this- whatever it is- passes.
I'm trying to remember who I was. Amanda had called me last night and we had an impromptu brainstorming session about an underwater fashion show. She calls every once in a while to let me know what is going on in Maui, and how I should be there for it, and that she is thinking of me.
Every once in a while I yearn to go back, and to feel what I felt then. I felt a sense of relief I'd never felt before or after- a great weight was lifted, and I thought, now that I know these things, I will never have to feel worry or anxiety again. I was wrong, because I forgot. Which is as natural as remembering again.
But it got me thinking, about running.
Going back to Maui, or to some other place, some island, or some other place I'd never been to. Late last night, eyes wide open, I said out loud what I'd said on the phone to Carl last week, and what I think to myself every once in a while lately, which is, "I don't know who I am anymore."
Nick was listening, and I think it worried him. I think he thought it might have something to do with him, but it really has everything to do with me and myself, as is the nature of self-conscious ramblings.
I felt the pull I'd felt before, when I left L.A. and ran off to Texas, and when I left Texas, and ran off to Maui. The same pull I felt every time I'd had it with school, and run off to the desert. The same pull I felt when I ran off to the jungle in Mexico, when I had fears that my life had become too mundane. And every time I've run, I've had the adventure of a lifetime.
I've had adventures enough for many lifetimes over, and there will be more to come... because I can't get enough of it. It's just a matter of time, is what I'm told.
Last night I was looking at the ceiling. I'd said what I said: "I don't know who I am anymore."
Suddenly I felt this intense need to run. To just go. Then I looked to my left and saw laying next to me this man, who I love and I felt confused, and for a moment I paused to ask myself 'why'.
Why run? Where am I going? What am I running from? And how many times have I asked myself this same question, over and over again. I thought about it a lot in Maui.
Oh gosh- I remember now. Why I left paradise.
I remember sitting on the grass lawn of the tantra school and staring at the ocean. The sun was perfect warm, and the cool breeze chased all the mosquitoes away and it was.... almost... the most perfect moment.
I remember thinking, I am running. I have run from my problems. They will all be there when I come back. This is why I can't be completely satisfied. It was like I'd gone to heaven too early.
So I came back, and things have become complicated again like they always are, and there is no relief in sight, because I'm not on an island thousands of miles away from the things in this world that reveal to me my own shortcomings.
I wanted to ask myself whether or not I was running away from a problem, or toward something I was meant to experience- but I already know the answer to that. I have this fear that I am not so clever and brilliant as I always thought I would be some day, in the future, when I wasn't quite so fucked up, or lost, or immature.
I do miss seeing the beauty in myself, though. That's what I saw in Maui. The beauty in myself. I'd like to see that again. I know it's there, somewhere.
At work today Tara saw the look on my face and said, "Quarter-life crisis?"
I guess so. She reminded me that everyone goes through this period of depression and feeling lost and having no direction. I thought to myself, I never intended to win the award for originality on this one. I know we're all going through the same things, and when we're old or dead, we all will have survived it. It's not that.
Alexia told me too, this will pass. Nick told me too, these things take time. I am nodding. I know. And then I realize that Tara told me everybody goes through these things so that maybe I will not feel so lonely about it. I think to myself, we are all alone together.
At work today Arie told me about his quarter-life crisis, in the form of a story. It really made me feel better. I really like stories, especially when people tell me about their lives, and what they were thinking and how they felt about it. For some reason I find it incredibly educational, even though when it comes to these things we are all equally lost and wondering.
At the end of this day I still don't know about running, or whether or not I will. I hunger so much for that relief, but I know it just delays the inevitable. Everyone at work said what a city person would say when I mentioned that I was thinking of going back to Maui: "I can see why you would want to go back there, but it's so far away from everything, and from the rest of the world. I mean, it's an island."
I think about meditation, and about focusing on nothing, instead of everything. In a way it's like running. But you always come back, and you come back more whole, somehow. That's how I always felt about it. Running, I mean.
I guess I'm just wondering if there's something to sweating it out, standing your ground, and staying in one place, too. I wish I had an answer so that I could come full circle, but that's not where I'm at-
- I'm somewhere out there instead, walking the scrawling line, wondering what kind of picture I'm painting.
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