Saturday, June 18, 2011

Slowing down and skipping the light fandango

It is so nice to slow down in every single aspect of my life. Having been on a 20 year whirlwind fast forward (there being European cities I have visited that I have negative recollection of), this slow down is much warranted and very welcome. It's really nice to feel good about myself. I have not had this much good honest consistency for the longest time.

I used to think the light of my fandango fantastic life was never going to stop. I never held on to much because I could always get it again, I was the opposite of mindful. I remember once in a therapy type situation someone sharing about a friend of theirs who would always exclaim when on vacation or visiting a new place "OMG I CAN"T WAIT TO COME HERE AGAIN". Not much wrong with falling in love instantly with some of the beautiful things that Mother Nature throws our way, the problem with that statement was that the exclaimer hardly ever visited any of the places she most ardently wanted to get back to. She skipped over so many magical and wonderful moments. Never smelling the roses because there was always tomorrow and 100 even sweeter roses.

I was just like that. Always waiting for the next time. Next time every thing will be different and it will better for sure. I damn near lost myself trying to achieve a really super good time, next time. After giving California 3 years 3 months and 21 days (oh that sneaking number 3 and all of it's many denominators) which felt like a never ending eternity of loneliness. My mom's trips were often partially fast forwarded because there was always the next trip I would beg and plead with her to take. Come back and save me from myself. Sporadic times with friends were mostly half hearted efforts because there was always next time and it would be super great. Um, duh I was never ever giving today a chance. I didn't smell any roses, I drove over any roses in my direct line of site, repeatedly as I drove home from work angry and frantic each day. Every single day rushing home to sit anxious and alone on my couch to wait for tomorrow. Resenting my wonderful and loving dog because she needed to be walked each morning and each night. Giving up at work because I worked at company full of circle talkers and people who resented my organizational skills, in fact they made fun of them. I gave up on the one thing that I always had, the thing that I was always guaranteed to gain solid honest self worthiness from. I gave up so much in trying to find myself. So much was skipped over waiting for tomorrow when everything was going to be better, ok, right, happy and fun. Tomorrow.

One particular thing that used to kill me about my mental mind fucking routine of the past few years was all the rushing. I rushed EVERYTHING. I needed/wanted/demanded whatever item/person/challenge/obstacle/drama was MINE, ALL MINE, to create/own/oversee/manage/live. Oh yes I was always RIGHT. Talk about a dichotomy of mind fuckery at it's glory. Off on, off on. Katy Perry nailed me in Hot and Cold so my best friend once told me. We were joking in our usual witty sarcastic way, he was DEAD ON though and it stuck in my mind. Nothing was ever good. There were no tomorrows. I dreaded everything, every single moment. I over thought, I over did, I over compensated, over expected, could have easily over dosed and stopped the pain of waking tomorrow (remember the tomorrow I most ardently craved and was rushing to?). Those tomorrows almost did me in. I could be over the moon floating on air and then fall off my moon cloud most ungracefully in a matter of moments. I missed so much of my own life rushing home to resent one of my greatest loves ever. I flew past you on the highway so not to wait one single second for someone to get in MY way. I shopped and cooked and honed my culinary skills, but loneliness was my only dinner companion. Even when I was out with someone else, person A, B, or C, loneliness and misery were still sitting next to me ordering the special.

It's such an easy way of life here and I no longer feel the rushy rush pressure of myself or anyone else. I love what I am feeling from head to toe. I love losing weight without even thinking about it. I LOVE not hating myself in a bathing suit. I'm not faking floating on fake air with fake people these days. I'm not trying to fit in with anyone or anything. I've met some really amazing people who contribute directly to the real greater good; I've finally found honest interesting caring people and a culture where I'm not scared to be me. I'm not hiding anything from others or myself. I love floating in the ocean here; I feel like the mermaid who took Neptune for a ride, in fact maybe she's me. I feel a peace growing, albeit slowly and way more maturely. There is no goddamn way in hell I am going back to hell ever again. I will never ever allow my mind to eat itself. No more Hanibal Lectoring myself. I am feeling demons guilt and haunt leave me. There is no comfort in that depressed dark place I used to call home. The slow release of the hell and hate makes my mornings happy, my walks with Gert are now one of the best parts of each day for me.

I like what this island is doing to me. I'm not rushing anymore. I feel an open sky, a super high ceiling and no rush to find tomorrow. I'm listening (and learning so much!) and praying and breathing and eating and enjoying. I drive cautiously and respectfully. Life here is happening all around me and I have no desire or pull to skip out on my own life in search of that expectation filled tomorrow. I love slowly washing the dishes while gazing across a blue green sea with Buck Island about 1/2 mile away. I love my proximity to nature of all kinds, plants, animals and views oh my! I love having people to have lunch with, grab a coffee with, have conversation with. I missed these small little social happenings so much. Baby steps (Thank you Dr. Marvin) towards a quieter happier me. Definitely not hating tomorrow, not scared of it, no dread or knots in my tummy. The no need to rush for anything mantra is starting to create a little private beat in my head. There is no screaming though; no desire to over run or over write myself. I'm not competing with empty promises to myself and others and I'm hard pressed to allow the thought of losing this strength.

It feels so good to write and think and create again. Being on farms, around lots of animals, getting dirty and sweaty while praising and sustaining the good earth below my feet, having direct contact with everything from 1 inch baby lizards to gorgeous thoroughbred horses who loving roam free at an eco-camp I might be spending lots of time at hopefully in the direct near future. Ahhhh sustainable living, Eating what you grow right outside the back door; taking only what you need from mother earth. No hating, no hurting, the evil dichotomy of me has ceased to run the show. Frantic is not on this island. No way is she allowed in, I told customs keep crazy away from these shores. I have no desire to step back into that dark misery ball my life turned into. None zilch zero. I'm really not lying to myself anymore. There is no absolutely no reason to rush tomorrow and the truth is very plain for me to see. I hated who I was and I'm no longer of who I am. I don't hate me anymore, not by a long shot.

A Whiter Shade of Pale
Brooker / Fisher / Reid of Procol Harum

We skipped the light fandangoturned cartwheels 'cross the floor
I was feeling kinda seasick
but the crowd called out for more
The room was humming harder
as the ceiling flew away
When we called out for another drink
the waiter brought a tray

And so it was that later
as the miller told his tale
that her face, at first just ghostly,
turned a whiter shade of pale

She said, 'There is no reason
and the truth is plain to see.'

But I wandered through my playing cards
and would not let her be
one of sixteen vestal virgins
who were leaving for the coast
and although my eyes were open
they might have just as well've been closed

She said, 'I'm home on shore leave,'
though in truth we were at sea
so I took her by the looking glass
and forced her to agree
saying, 'You must be the mermaid
who took Neptune for a ride.'
But she smiled at me so sadly
that my anger straightway died

If music be the food of love
then laughter is its queen
and likewise if behind is in front
then dirt in truth is clean
My mouth by then like cardboard
seemed to slip straight through my head
So we crash-dived straightway quickly
and attacked the ocean bed

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