the muchness blog

May Day - A Dream

I had a dream awhile ago. I dreamt that I was in a cavernous brick pub. There were Christmas decorations everywhere and a live band that played only Artie Shaw. I was the only one there. The barmaid, Dolores, was a blonde dwarf who had to stand on a milkcrate to reach the bar. We got into a lengthy conversation spoken entirely in a foreign language, which made sense at the time.

Dolores was very kind and told me her dream is to sing with the USO. She asked if I would like to hear her version of “Begin the Beguine”. I respectfully declined, explaining that I had a previous engagement with Mr. Burton. She said, “Next time”, and wouldn’t let me pay.

 I stepped out of the pub and directly into the Museum of Modern Art. It was nighttime and very crowded. There was a path on the floor that looked like thousands of diamonds. I reached down, grabbed a handful and was disappointed to see it was actually tiny pieces of glass. I cut my finger, instead of blood there were tiny droplets of liquid gold. The man next to me said “Oh wait, I have a jolly rancher in my pocket.” So he ate the jolly rancher and gave me the wrapper to wrap around my finger.

The first person to approach me was a woman on a 6ft. unicycle who closely resembled Gertrude Stein. She was holding a book and a cigarette in one hand and a spatula in the other, Instead of speaking she squawked and each time she opened her mouth bright yellow feathers came shooting out. She was shaking her head from side to side as she waved the spatula at me.

I heard a beep-beep behind me and turned to see Pee Wee Herman on his red bicycle. He stopped and asked if I wanted some milk and oreo cookies. I accepted.

I glanced over to the far corner of the room and there was a statuesque greek goddess with dark hair that touched the floor. She either looked through me or saw through me. I cannot say with certainty which it was, either way I was not comfortable… Then a tall, thin, impossibly chic young woman purposefully strode by wearing a pale blue satin unfinished evening gown. I realized it was my mother as she looked when she modeled in New York in 1946. She was followed by a rather frantic Charles James, the designer, who had  scissors on a ribbon around his neck, a pin cushion on his wrist and pins in his mouth. He scowled at me, took the pins out of his mouth and hissed,” YOU are TOO SHORT!! as he scurried after her.

Then I saw the giant from Big Fish who kept repeating, “I’m not too tall, I’m not too tall.”

All of this time there is confetti falling like a light snow. A yak walks by. I look out the window and it’s the Via Veneto in Rome. I look again and it’s Rue Ferou in Paris. A book appears with arms and legs and a woman’s head and she says, “Write me.”

At this time a young man approached and said “Hello”. He was carrying a beautiful pink box wrapped with orange ribbon like you get in the Parisian patisseries. I asked him what was in the box and he said,”Don’t you remember? You gave it to me for safe keeping. It’s your heart. I gave you mine as well.” For a minute I panicked because I had forgotten. I thought I misplaced his. Did I leave it with Dorlores? Did I put it on the floor as I ate the oreo cookies and drank the milk? Then I remembered, it was in my make-up bag next  to the Persian Melon lipstick and Maybelline eye pencil. It dawned on me that he was treating my heart with a lot more care than I was treating his, so I made a note to myself to get a better vessel for something so easily broken. Then he smiled and said  ”Chicken for dinner” as he walked away.  I noticed writing on the bottom of his shoes. One said, OLD and the other said SOLE.

At that I awoke with a start. My eyelids flew up like shades that had been snapped open. I thought “Where am I??” and then I thought  ”WHAT was THAT??” It was so real it felt less like a dream and more like I had just been in an alternate reality. Of course I am writing it in a linear fashion but the experience was..well you know how dreams are. I immediately got up and wrote down what I remembered.

I had this dream a couple of years ago when I was in the thick of the darkness. Some of it is obvious and some of it isn’t. To be honest I wanted to write something today and I was at a loss. I came across this recently and reading it, I remembered it.

Happy May Day!

Wednesday, April 17th

Today as I was looking for something in one of my numerous folders that I’ve had forEVER, I came across a New York Times obituary from 2003. It was for Jessica Grace Wing, a composer, who died of colon cancer at the age of 31. I remember crying when I initially read it. She was so gifted, had already accomplished so much and clearly could have accomplished so much more. The last paragraph struck me then and still does. “I think that was her strongest gift as an artist, beyond her innate aesthetic abilities, that she understood the necessity of getting a thing done within a time frame, with certain resources, with whatever means are available to you, and you don’t stop yourself for fear of being imperfect or being judged. You just do it, and it’s as good as it can possibly be with all of your energy and soul and brains and guts and hands and eyes, and then you go on to the next one. And I think that’s an outstanding way to live.”

I’ve been thinking a lot these past few days of those who die too young, of those whose lives are shattered. I think the best way I can honor them is to live my life to the fullest, to embrace all the contradictions and opportunities, to have courage..I don’t know, to stop whining and drop to my knees in gratitude that I am alive, at this time, on this earth, with these people. I have this ENORMOUS gift just being alive and it seems disrespectful, for so many reasons, to squander it.

Sunday, April 7

I had such a great day in the city yesterday. On the train I struck up a conversation with an older Indian woman sitting next to me. She was lovely. I told her I had been to Delhi and Shimla and when I said Shimla her face lit up. I said  I have always wanted to go to Kashmir, on one of its fabled houseboats and when she told me she had in ‘84, MY face lit up! We continued  to talk places; Baton Rouge and New Orleans, Katmandu and Bhutan. Later I had tea in Bryant Park which was transporting. Thousands of daffodils everywhere, so many people and different languages, ping-pong games to my left, the beautiful carousel to my right, the french style tables and chairs..I really felt as if I was in the Luxembourg Gardens or the Tuilleries..and it made me very happy.

I meandered uptown to my mecca, Bergdorf Goodman. I go straight to the 7th floor and the book department, which, sadly, has reduced in size and then I make my way down. I love looking at the beautifully made clothes, touching the fabrics. I love seeing so many stylish women, so many mothers and daughters (I had a fleeting pang because I am neither), so much beauty (and so many facelifts!). One time when I felt particularly peevish I went to Bergdorf’s and felt instantly better..so orderly..so civilized.

From there I went to see a short play festival which I truly enjoyed. I thought all five plays were very good and some were great, including my sister-in-law’s. I felt very inspired. I used to see plays ALL the time when I lived in the city and I miss it. When I was younger I read plays constantly..Sam Shepard and Eugene O’Neil were two of my favorites (because I could relate, yikes). I remember seeing “Night Mother” when I was 24 and reeling it was so powerful. “Night of the Iguana” was another favorite..I have to say though, most of Tennessee Williams and Noel Coward I really don’t like anymore because of the misogynistic undertones.

Point is, I felt like myself yesterday and in writing this it helped me to understand why.

April 5, 2013

This gives me comfort, from Anne Lamott..”We begin to become ourselves when we notice how we are already found, already truly, entirely, wildly, messily, marvelously who we are born to be. The only problem is that there is also so much other stuff, typically fixations with how people perceive us, how to get more of the things that we think will make us happy, and with keeping our weight down. So the real issue is how do we gently stop being who we aren’t? How do we relieve ourselves of the false fronts of people pleasing and affectation, the obsessive need for power and security, the backpack of old pain, and the psychic Spanx that keeps us smaller and contained?

Here’s how I became myself: mess, failure, mistakes, disappointments, and extensive reading; limbo, indecision, setbacks, addiction, public embarrassment, and endless conversations with my best women friends; the loss of people without whom I could not live, the loss of pets that left me reeling, dizzying betrayals but much greater loyalty, and overall, choosing as my motto William Blake’s line that we are here to learn to endure the beams of love…”

Last night I told a co-worker that I had lived in a storage space for awhile. After I said it I thought, “That’s kind of odd.” But then I thought about it, and all of the choices that led me there. I remembered in the few preceding years that I had lost (in order) my best friend and former roommate from AIDS, my beloved Mother after a brief illness, my adored cat, a woman who was like a second mother to me, and, suddenly, my brother-in-law. And while his death was a loss to me, it opened a portal of pain for my sister and their children that was staggering. I was completely undone by grief. It took residence in my body for quite some time.

I realize that many people are grieving and don’t end up in a storage space. And just to be clear, it was a warehouse that also housed artist’s studios. It wasn’t those self-storage units that you see by the side of the road. It was, however, full of my friend, John’s, stuff. I WAS was still getting Town and Country magazine delivered to my PO box which he thought was hilarious.

I realized this morning  !. I have been in some very dark spaces and I have, with grace, gotten myself out of them, and 2. life is messy. My life is messy and it’s part of my humanity.

March 26th - Day one of “Act as if..”

I  first  became acquainted with the idea “Act as if..” in an OA meeting a million years ago, Since then I’ve seen it in many self-help books, and I get it..believe you are that person, act as that person would act and you will become that person. I’ve used that kind of visualization in the past so I know it works.

So today I lived my day as would the woman I want to be. I organized my time so that I gave a little attention to each of the projects I want to complete. And it worked. And I feel good.

Happy First Day of Spring!

I came across this today, something a friend sent me a couple of years ago…

Akhilandeshvari:

“Ishvari” in Sanskrit means “gossess” or “female power”, and the “Akhilanda” means essentially “never not broken.” In other words, THe Always Broken Goddess.

But this isn’t the kind of broken that indicates weakness and terror.

It’s the kind of broken that tears apart all the stuff that gets us stuck in toxic routines, repeating the same relationships and habits over and over, rather than diving into the scary process of trying something new and unfathomable.

Akhilanda derives her powere from being broken: in flux, pulling herself apart, living in different, constant selves at the same time, from never becoming a whole that has limitations.

The thing about going through sudden or scary or sad transitions is that one of the things you lose is your future: your expectations of what the story of your life so far was going to become. When you experience that loss, your future dissolves in front of you.

And of course, that is terrifying.

But look, Akhilanda says, now you get to make a choice. In pieces, in a pile on the floor, with no idea how to go forward, your expectations of the future are meaningless. Your stories about the past do not apply. Your are in flux, you are changing, you are flowing in a new way, and this is an incredibly powerful opportunity to become new again: to choose how you want to put yourself back together. Confusion can be an incredible teacher-how could you ever learn if you already had it all figured out?

Tis goddess has another interesting attribute, which is, of course, her ride: a crocodile.

Crocodiles are interesting in two ways: Firstly, the crocodile represents our reptilian brain, which is where we feel fear. Secondly, the predatory power of a crocodile is not located in their huge jaws, but rather that they pluck their prey from the banks of the river, take it into the water, and spin it until it is disoriented. They whirl that prey like a dervish seeking God, they use the power of spin rather than brute force to feed themselves.

By riding this spinning, predatory, fearsome creature, Akhilanda refuses to reject her fear, nor does she let it control her. She rides on it. She gets on this animal that lives inside the river, inside the flow. She takes her fear down to the fiver and uses its power to navigate the waves, and spins in the never broken water. Akhilanda shows us that this is beautiful.

Akhilanda is also sometimes described in our lineage like a spinning, multi-faceted prism. Imagine the Hope Diamond twirling in a bright, clear light. The light pouring through the beveled cuts of the diamond would create a whirling rainbow of color. The diamond is whole and complete and BECAUSE it’s fractured, it creates more diverse beauty. Its form is a spectrum of whirling color.

That means that this feeling of confusion and brokenness that every human ha felt at some time or another in our lives is a source of beauty and color and new reflections and possibilities.

If everything remained the same, if we walked along the same path down to the river every day until there was a groove there, this routine would become so limited, so toxic to us that, well, the crocs would catch on, and we’d get plucked form the banks, spun and eaten.

So now is the time, this time of confusion and brokenness and fear and sadness, to get up on that fear, ride it down to the river, dip into the waves, and let yourself break. Become a prism. All the placers where you’ve shattered can now reflect light and color where there was none. Now is the time to become something new, to choose a new whole.

I was glad I came across this today…Happy renewal, happy rebirth, happy spring!

Saturday - Day 11

I am making the commitment to write,  something, on this blog each day for the next 10 days. The not drinking has been fine, great actually. Each night , before bed, I have a cup of hot milk with a tbsp. of chocolate and some whipped creme on top. I find it to be VERY relaxing.  The surprising thing to me is that I am sleeping so much, it’s kind of throwing me off.. which is, in part, why I haven’t written. There are things I want to write about which will take a chunk of time..I just have to make it a priority.

I am happy that I have lost 4 pounds..only 6 to go. I have been this weight for awhile and I have been SO uncomfortable in my skin. One could look at me and say You look fine, but it’s not about how other people think I look..it never has been. Frankly, I don’t care. This is about how I feel and my knowledge of why the weight is there. The extra 10 pounds are a physical manifestation of fear and confusion and…feeling lost.

I want to write more about this because it’s important to me but I don’t have the time right now. 

Day Four - Saturday A.M.

A short post. I got home from work quite late last night and I was just too tired to write. I have to be vigilant in not using food in place of alcohol..does it all just come down to sugar??

I could feel my resistance at a certain point last night; not wanting to be where I was, doing what I was doing, hearing what I was I was hearing. The resistance creates such problems for me. I know I have to work on acceptance, acceptance is one of the keys. The good thing is I felt the resistance, I didn’t try to squelch it or not feel it. I made some healthy choices and I got home and drank a glass of warm milk.

Tonight will be late also. I feel good.