my Zen

"Are you doing anything today?"

I recoil in the afghan draped around my shoulders, "I am..."

His face softens, "I didn't mean it that way.  I know it's a snow day... I just wondered if you were going out or... I guess you'll have a phone again today.  You can text me."

The tension in my shoulders releases.  The defensive button clicks off again, "I am doing... stuff."

"I know," he smiles reassuringly.

"I have to go grab my new phone... email said UPS delivered it.  I'm sure just activating it and making sure things transfer will take some time,"  I think aloud.  "Then I have to call the bank..."  I am embarrassed to discuss the laundry list of items I must discuss with my bank... May have to spend time comparing new banks to switch to-

"I'm not leaving right this second.  You can call the bank from my-"  he begins.

"It's okay,"  I smile.  I will really need to concentrate on staying calm while I am on the phone with any customer service representatives.  It takes more time and patience than I can handle with an audience- especially one that will need to leave momentarily with the phone.

He sits next to me and puts his arm around me, leans his head against mine.  I take a deep breath...

The last week has felt like walking under water.  Hormones.  Conversations.  Games.  Music.  Work.  In between travel, food, cleaning, and sleep.

I have been more present.  I have remained in the moment more of the time than off in my lala-land of worry and withdraw.  I trick myself with my practices.  I read spiritual and psychological books.  I rewrite passages into each new journal I buy... I seem to fill a medium sized Moleskine each month- with these reminders, song lyrics, project ideas, to do lists, and endless letters to myself and everyone I know.  Sometimes the journals turn into fact checking sources for my blog entries- to keep the timelines straight, the keep myself honest.  Sometimes I want to turn them into kindling.

...Victor starts talking about something else, and I am suddenly reminded of a blog draft, "Did I ever read you... I was writing..."  I stop myself and start going through my Blogger- as he wanders the apartment, getting dressed.  Of course you heard me talk about this topic before.  I've been working on writing it for nearly three months.  What did you say that even reminded me of it?  I probably just turned the entire conversation around to be about me for no reason- again.  I need to just finish something so there is a product for you to read.  The concepts are worthless to keep droning about... But that is where the process has been up until now.

Sifting through my blog drafts, I am left dreading the prospect of revisiting any of these ideas or memories.  "I do have stuff to do," I start listing the things I have been postponing, "I have to see about meeting that guy in Harlem about music lessons for kids in the city- Are we going to NY this week?  I have to resume conversations about a Community Wellness Day for the spring- So many people to talk to..."  -and I don't want to say it aloud yet, but I need to get out of this job.  It is a wonderful job, and I feel ungrateful saying it... But I need to figure out what I should be doing instead.  

"I haven't heard back about NY," he glances down at his phone.

His phone... The omnipresence of the world at his fingertips.  How is it that I have lived without it for two weeks?

My screen broke...  I dropped it the evening I got home from my last trip to NY- while Victor was away on tour.  It functioned properly for another few weeks before dying... It was a Sunday morning.

Victor and I had argued the night before.  In the morning, I felt like perhaps he would want space, but he had already invited me to accompany him to his gig in Bethlehem.  Even when I insisted upon trying to have the last word before we got out of bed, he did not rescind the offer.  We were simply not our usual affectionate selves.  We were walking on eggshells as we got ready.

When I came out of the bathroom, I found myself alone for moment.  Victor was outside loading equipment into the car.  I thought about being in the car with him for over an hour.  I thought about how I did not want to make him miserable and uncomfortable to have me with him.  Then without much consideration, I picked up my bowl and inhaled some smoke.  Will he smell it?  Will he disapprove?  I know he won't join me- in the morning, before this gig.

He forced a pleasant face on as he walked back into the apartment, "Ready to go?"

"You still want me to go?"  I heard my sheepish little girl speak.

"If you wanna come."

"You want me to go come?"  I was standing very close now.  He kissed my forehead and told me yes, and we walked out the door together.

The moment the fresh air hit my face, I began to feel something or someone offer to take a burden off of my back.  But I made him so uncomfortable last night.  He really hates fighting, and it made us both upset all night... and I should really feel guilty... Then I heard an answer, "Yeah, but there were things that needed to be out on the table- eventually.  If you did not bring them up now, you would have later.  Better to not let the wounds fester.  Be honest, but don't be cruel.  You want to make him happy- So, let it go now.  Your being happy makes him happy.  So be happy."

It felt too soon, too easy, too fast... But as we sat in the warming car, I truly let myself feel relieved.  I watched Victor as he put on his cheap sunglasses- that always seem slightly large for his face to me... and told my judgmental mind to quiet down.  I thought of how grateful I am that he is not materialistic and concerned with having an excessive collection of expensive eye ware.  He started to enter the address into his phone GPS, but it was not working properly.

"We can use mine,"  I pull it out and grimace at the sight of the crack across the screen.   My GPS was working.  As he pulled away from the parking space, I felt my foolish cares fall away, left behind.  I smiled at him.

He looked back at me quizzically.  He turned on the radio... Fiona Apple singing "Criminal" filled the car.  I began to sing along...

 "I've been a bad bad girl.  I've been careless with a delicate man.  And it's a sad sad world- when a girl will break a boy just because she can... Don't you tell me to deny it.  I've done wrong, and I want to suffer for my sins..."  I laughed aloud, "This is perfect."

I saw him slip a genuine, unintentional smile.

"Thank you,"  I touched his hand to my face and confessed,  "I smoked."

"Okay."

"Is that okay?"

"Why not?"

"Yeah... Just seems like an irresponsible thing to do first thing in the morning... But we were going to be in the car so long-"

"-and you don't have anything else to do or think about today.  Just go along for the ride."

"Yeah,"  It melted away my guilt to know he understood.  "I like being your passenger sometimes... And something happened between you going out to load the car and us leaving the apartment- It occurred to me that we could go on with our day.  I could let it all go, and you would let me move on... That made me really happy."

He looked at me with a special kind of seriousness, "I'm glad you're feeling better... It just takes me a little longer to recover."

"I know... But-"  and now I was feeling excited, "It just doesn't seem to ever go in this direction for me!  Usually I get upset at the flip of a coin and can't get back to happy... But when we got into the car, I just knew I could feel better and- then suddenly, I did!"

"Yeah, you switch both ways..."  he assured me.

I sat puzzling at this new awareness, "When I was little, my brothers would do that to me all the time!  They would tease me and make me so upset... Then a few minutes later, they'd want to laugh about something else with me and completely forget about what just happened.  I hated it!"

He squeezed my hand in his.  I smiled and sat quietly... Listening to all the thoughts that I would usually be letting fall out of my mouth, letting them disperse into the atmosphere... Then one worth sharing arose, "I started working on a new hook I like."

"Yeah?"

I took out my journal, so he would see it was not simply something bouncing around in my head.  "I wanna let you have the last word every night... I like the alliteration."

"Oh, you do, do you?" He gave me an aren't you cute-look.  "I have to stop for gas."

At the gas station, I plugged my phone into the charger and suddenly the screen was black.  Turned it off and on, nothing.  Took the battery out, put it back in... nothing.

"I think my phone is broken... fucking expensive paperweight!"

...Victor's GPS was working and got us to his gig on time.   A cute Christmas time village of crafts people and food vendors surrounded a stage and eating area.  As I felt my high begin to descend, I was greeted by a sea of smiling faces, gaggles of grandparents shopping for their families; personalized ornaments, handmade jewelry, gourmet delicacies... a place foreign to my holiday memories.  Somewhere I saw in movies, read about in books- a place where I knew Victor would find a few Christmas presents for his family.

After he played, we wandered and window shopped.  We shared a pretzel stuffed with cheese and vegetables- a meat free selection that he made in consideration of me, no doubt.

Victor and I were especially mindful to not loose one another- since he would not be able to call me.  This state of mind followed us home and over the next two weeks... I could not afford to pay the insurance deductible until I got my paycheck.

Yesterday I made a deposit, called the company... the phone is sitting at my new residence, waiting for me... and Victor has been gone for hours... and here I have been sitting, typing, processing... feeling lucky and happy and grateful... reading Facebook a little bit for the first time in a long time, letting myself rejoin the human race.  It can all get kind of overwhelming.

Sometimes I think about deleting my digital self... cyber-suicide.  There are so many more sites that I need to check out and learn to use- How time consuming... While I also maintain a day job.  While I also write music and learn to play guitar and schedule band rehearsals and correspond with an amazing network of women and let my mind wander long enough to finish a fucking blog post!  ...and that cat box has got to get new litter today... "Your to-do list will outlive you."

So... aren't I lucky?  That God, the universe, mother nature, fate... decided today I got a snow day?

Mindfulness

The trick to living in the present moment... is not getting lost in the past or the future.  And sometimes, the past mingles with the future, in the present- and I realize again... why I wrote another song.  For months I thought it was not finished simply because I could not learn how to play it.
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Rely on Yourself

I always remember- My momma read to me
tales about princes, she read me- all those stories
She told me, baby- Don't you ever wait on him
You've got your own life- You've got your own kin

So don't always look- For what you want life to be
Sight is misleading- showing you what you want to see
First trust in yourself- Not even in me, nobody else
Before you can let 'em in- trust in yourself

(CHORUS)
'Cause you don't need no one- no, nobody else
You've got your own heart, take care of your health
'Cause you don't need no one- no, nobody else
You've got your own mind, earn your own wealth
'Cause you don't need no one- no, nobody else
Before you can let 'em in, rely on yourself

Daddy always called me- apple of his eye
Said I'll always love you- more than any other guy
No matter what you do- I know you'll go far
Knew since the day your were born- It's just who you are

(Repeat CHORUS)
_______________________________________________

I can not even remember when I began writing this song.  It was a rather long time ago... It poured out, and I felt ashamed to play it.  I sat on it for months, not wanting to bother the guys to learn it.  Really, I think I only played it for Victor once?  ...and it was not nearly finished in my mind, even though all the words had been written down.

I had to go back, several times, rearranging the words... like a puzzle.  They were all there, just not in the write order... the right order.  Often my life feels like that... out of order- I was not in a state of mind to understand what this song means to me now, then.

Life is strange.  I could say... "I never imagined-"  But I DID imagine I would be crazy.  I really thought for a long time that sooner or later, I would find myself inside a padded room... Or slowly falling asleep and never waking up, nauseous and full of pills.

It happened once.

When I was two days shy of 22.  I had just moved to New York, to live with a man I met in an America Online chatroom... We had met when I was 16, and he was 25.

Within weeks, it was obvious what a mistake I had made... But I could not go back to York, PA.  I could not figure out a way to go anywhere else.  For months I stewed in my misery... Until New Years Eve, I got drunk and blacked out... I instigated an argument.  I am sure it was my fault.  I can not recall... But I do remember waking up, face down, on the sidewalk, outside our apartment, shivering.  That was his fault.

I had my key.  I let myself in... I fell asleep.  In the morning his glasses were broken.  He said I had done it.  In the morning, I had a bruise on my face... I went back to bed.  When I woke up again, and he was still playing computer games, I quietly slipped into bathroom and swallowed a large handful of painkillers.  I read somewhere that it is a mistake to take too many... Just enough to not vomit before they can work- I hoped.

I laid on my back and went back to sleep.  I heard if you throw up in your sleep, laying on your back, you may choke to death on your own wretch.

I dozed in and out... Each time I drifted into dreams, I said goodbye to the world, and pain, and suffering, and worry.  I finally stopped worrying how upset anyone would be with me.  Surely, I would be given oblivion for my self-sacrifice... an end of being- Release from knowing, feeling... or could it be the punishment for my disregard?

Each time I drifted back in, I awoke to a nightmare... I soothed myself with the knowledge that must be over soon.

But then the vomit... the bile... the projectile spewing failure.  I laid in the tub, with the water pouring down over me... as I wept.

There was no one... No one in the world that I wanted to call, wanted to reach... wanted to save me.

As night rolled on, and my heaving became dry... and my organs ached... I surrendered.  I told Mr. AOL that I needed to go to the hospital.  He ignored me initially, assuming this was the result of a very bad hang over.  I had to confess...

In the emergency room, he stayed with me until I was admitted.  Then annoyed, he went home.  As I drank the charcoal concoction that sucked the poison out of my system, I cried... Not in pain, not in distress... I cried because I was afraid that he would call my parents to come get me.  I cried because I was ashamed and did not want anyone to know.

...In his shame, he did not call anyone.  No one knew.  I did not tell anyone for years...

Now I do not hesitate to share my story.  It was not a plea for help.  It was an immature effort to avoid accepting a failure, to avoid facing consequences and moving on.  I stayed with Mr. AOL for another two years, in denial.  I was afraid to take responsibility for myself...

I am not afraid anymore.  I have a good career- albeit one I am in the effort of replacing, slowly but surely.  I can always take care of myself.  I cook.  I clean.  I work... I am healthy.  I just get very absorbed in other people... I can get lost in other people.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
...and now here again, I meet myself... on the page.  Hello.
Hey.  How you been?
How's it goin'?

I really do enjoy capturing the way that people speak.  I can't do it justice.  One's own voice is the hardest to hear.  I am so busy listening to everyone else.

My mind is a compass, and my life is a map.

I just keep getting lost.

I fall, deeper and deeper.

My memory's always lost in my past

and I can not find a way

to let go of the rest and let go at last

I'm always on my way

Always on my way

Cause when I finally let go-

This is better.

This is better.

This is better... You will leave this place.

I am a singer-songwriter.

I didn't understand what this meant... So I couldn't figure out how to do it well.  I mean, I knew that musicians had to learn to play instruments and sing- well, but I am barely a musician at all... I mean, I didn't put in the training, and my body and mind simply can not process all that practice and a day job... Nope.  I am a singer-songwriter... Who is simply a very slow learner as a musician.  I am too busy processing everything that happens in every day life.  It is so heavy... the weight.  The wait... of life.

Just letting it pour... instead of spilling.
Just take it in slow... when it's moving fast.

Just remember... I'm only learning.

How to let go... and learn in every moment, take in every little last detail, slowly... as if it is for the very first time.  As if you never grew up.  As though you've never had your heart broken.

Oh, the things you will find and you will see.