Friday, March 25, 2011

It's been a while/at the dawn of hope

Ah, Winter. That time in everyone's life where things seem to slow down to a snail's pace. Probably one of my most favorite times of the year, to sit inside and read, to work on knitting projects, to bake breads and muffins. This winter I tried a puzzle (but gave up on it after too many long absences from dogsitting), got back into my arts and crafts, made a lot of homemade soups and tried very hard to do sun salutations on a regular basis (which requires I be home, which means I spent more time at home; which is new and different).

My world has slowed down somewhat, and it's strange, it took me a long time to notice it and stranger, I'm noticing it takes me a long time to do anything these days. I used to gulp at life like a fish out of water, clumsy, awkward, uncertain, but lately, I've become very methodical, extremely careful and begun to savor everything I encounter. It is a lovely change that perhaps age has brought to me, which most people would shun and be angry over, but I am grateful to slow down and lose that coltish skittishness I've always had.

Another move looms on my horizon and all I can say is I hope it will be a good one, I'd like to have the things I need and want, space to unfurl, a place to truly feel home, where I can wake up every morning free of bother. It's been a very long time that I've tolerated things in my current place and borne the brunt of her unrelenting obnoxiousness. I wasn't sure how I was going to escape it, but some good friends extended an opportunity to live with them and now I am moving again.

There is a man in my life who has been so many things to me, the moon, he is. It is an indescribable feeling to have discovered him and be discovered by him. He is full of contradictions, something I recognize. We have shared long talks, books, music, movies, photography and culinary magic. It is a strange thing, because he lives far away, so it is hard, and there is the large shadow of the future looming over us, except we enjoy it day by day and try not to prick the joyful balloon with pins of doubt. It will go the way it will go and we hope for the best. It's hard enough without asking questions that only lie in the future, anyway, the future is always a lie believed.

Then there is my writing, which has settled into a dry desert. I haven't met with my writing partner in a long time. I don't know why. She is busy. I am busy. I should be more worried, but I know myself, I am finally in a place where I know myself, I need lapses and lulls, I need time to mull and ruminate over the next thing and then when I am ready it will come. A thunderstorm of words. Until then, I am slowly editing the pieces that are close to completion, taking out words, tightening screws, reading and getting caught up in the story and starting over to examine it closely. It makes me proud sometimes, when I see how solid it is, how well it has all held up, how clear it is. It may not be much more than a puddle of words, but at least it is not murky. I still feel that I am close to finishing this project and that means I can move on to something new.

As much as I love Winter, I am ready for Spring, ready for the warmth, ready for the sun, ready for new life and new things to emerge. As much as I am loathe to change, I see it is arriving and I am ready to embrace it fully.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

"part 1 of...infinity."

I got there early. I am generally always late. Not for any real reason other than trying to do everything. That day, I didn't want to do everything, I just wanted to reach that point and more than anything I couldn't be late for it. So I got ready. I prepared. And I left when there was nothing left to do.

When I got there, it was jarring. Being somewhere different, even though I'd been there before, it was jangly and uncomfortable. I was not just on time, I was ridiculously early. I couldn't remember a time I had been so early. I had a book and I sat and read, even though the world around me clanged and bellowed, I had to pass the time and I passed it by reading for a bit. And then, when I couldn't read anymore, because the dissonance and noise had become less jarring and obnoxious, but the sound of it clamored at my ears in a building crescendo, I got up and walked around and still I was early.

I watched people for a while. I saw them seeing me. I looked stunning, as stunning as I can look, tall, taller from my boots, long coat, long hair made straight, fully made up, eyes rounded by nervousness and panic. When I saw myself in the bathroom I didn't recognize that girl because who I am every day isn't perfectly put together, but I wanted him to see me at my best. I saw in their eyes that I was stunning, they saw me and their eyes widened in interest, the stare that goes beyond a glance, then they saw me seeing them seeing me and their eyes snapped away, but they came back to study me in the briefest moments of passing. I felt uncomfortably in the spotlight, but I would not cower against the wall that I favored because I had to be in the right spot to see his face, to watch the moon descend into my world.

So I let the people pass me and ogle me and I let the time crawl by. I stood in the way of everything and waited for him. A million questions had tromped through my mind, but in that moment, when I saw his face, my mind could not ignore that I was not just smiling that rarely given, but biggest smile of my smiles; I was also grinning. And I could not make it stop. I could not hold up the stoic mask of indifference that I carry for everyone, that blank look that keeps everyone away from me.

I don't know how I knew it already, but even at first glance, I saw he was just like the moon, his face seemed brighter and more open than all the rest, the slackened faces of wearied travelers whose baggage awaits them, his was a stark contrast to theirs, a bright wide clean face and in it was a smile. And I didn't have to pretend it was a smile just for me, as I do sometimes with the moon. He was glad to be here and glad to be seeing me too.

It was a lovely moment of confirmation, that all we had hoped for was there and even more we couldn't imagine yet could be possible. We collided, the world fell away, and it was clumsy at first, those initial gestures, they make me smile in remembering, because it was so awkward and uncertain, to be standing next to each other, finally, after so much had happened already, this one act should be so easy, but it was rife with the awkwardness of unbridled pleasure, extreme joy, and gladness.

What I like about us most is that nothing comes easy, that the first time we share something together it is never an instantaneous flash of glitzy perfection, we build up to something that feels natural and we lead each other there with care and the occasional clumsiness of eagerness, misunderstandings and moments of trial and error until we get it right. When it's easy, when things fall into place, you lose the chance to build something solid, you rest on your laurels, you don't go out of your way to be magnanimous. And even more amazing, for me, to give what being magnanimous requires and not have it feel like a chore is what is even more astounding.

He stayed here for four days. He let me lead him through my worlds, tasting and glimpsing what my life is like, learning me, our bodies finding a rhythm, his arm across the back of my seat on the train, his body strong and solid and warm, a body I missed after his departure, his smile eager and kind, his face full and open, his words curious and captivated, he gleamed at me, shone at me so brightly it took me days to recover, it's taken me weeks to digest it enough to write about it here.

Before he left I realized that I felt as comfortable with him as I would feel alone with myself, unfettered by the mental anguish of everyone's expectations and demands, free of concerns, at peace.

Given all that, I should be terrified for what's ahead, for the many difficulties and long stretches of absence. I have never been anything but scared to lose that which I want most. And yet, I feel no fear, no worries, no concerns. I puzzle over that until I realize that every day brings some satisfaction that quells every nagging thought. He is a wonderful man, he is the moon, and I am pleased to have met him and to learn him and he is not just enough, but actually beyond it, he is bountiful and generous and kind and I am pleased.