slippers

People say that living with others involves a lot of compromise. I learned recently that living with myself involves compromise too. There's a certain amount of self-acceptance I haven't allowed myself to engage in until now. my faults my particular challenges I've tried to gloss over with faith. I've been looking at faith as a panacea for all my other problems Maybe it's not maybe these have to work themselves out in their own particular spheres of existence. the editor. the analyst. the emotional girl-child the crone my ticking brain and its corresponding muscles and joints. wedges of flesh. bones in dresses and highest heels

all these
the shoes I fill

maybe one day I'll glance down and see only one pair. they'll be encrusted with rubies. that'll be the day I go home.

living itself is a compromise

thankfulness.

fullness of Love that makes me wonder how I could continue another moment. how my day to day life could survive the explosion. the heat. the gravity. how one could experience divine providence, even for a moment, and ever resume the task of living. pick up a pen or let words pass, any of them. makes you regret the moment it does. presses tears from the eyes. from your gut strings and heart pearls. from the part of you that beats and is still living. to remind you you're living. the string left unbroken. the possibility of arriving still intact.

why I love Dallas

I was invited to play cello for a televised Sufi celebration in Dallas a few years ago. Play and also recite a Hazrat Pir poem in front of about 500 people. I was so nervous when I got off the plane I had to sit down (and almost vomited). It was an incredible honor.

The night of the performance was probably the best in my life. The spoken word was flawless, or at least it felt that way. And my two cello pieces - some of the best playing I've done. My instructor was there, present with me throughout the experience. I met his wife, his children. I felt carried throughout the night by an unseen force. What needed to happen did without my interference. I had a purpose that I filled and filled well. I even mingled during the reception. I practiced my Farsi. I floated.

That was when it happened. I was standing in line to get more food when a fit of laughter erupted from me. I couldn't stop it and didn't want to. At that moment it struck me how unbearably lucky I was to be there - how unexpected, how beautiful, how brilliant the whole thing was. I was so thankful I didn't even try to hold onto it - any longer than I was supposed to.

That's what love is meant to feel like. Unfathomable joy. Joy you didn't even know to ask for, because you couldn't imagine its existence.

Joy that can't help but express itself in rapturous giggles, even though in doing so it draws stares.

yes

The story of Andy and I is a fun one to tell. In it's retelling, I'm reminded how my life has been riddled with signs. And how, in some ways, I've never been left without internal guidance. It would also serve as the perfect segue between my relationship with David, and what followed. But I'm not going to tell it. Not right now anyway.

Right now I'm interested in one of two or three incidents. This first, roughly five years ago, happened in my studio apartment in Decatur. This time, I was crying because I felt I'd done nothing to deserve all the goodness in my life. I felt blessed but unworthy. Do I deserve it? He didn't say anything but wrote one word on a piece of paper, ripped it out of his journal, and gave it to me. I take that word with me wherever I go. It's become a mantra whose repetition I hope resonates throughout my life. Yes was the word he gave to me because I couldn't give it to myself. Yes - a mighty word. A Godly word. A word of absolute affirmation and acceptance. A word closer to love than love itself.

the science of uncovery

We work at being seen - forging exteriors that mirror an image we have of ourselves, our hopes and desires. We hide the rest. The rest is what I'm interested in. The rest is what makes Psychology so intriguing, and spirituality, and physics. It is also what renders our approach to modern science so utterly inadequate.

Response to Erin N.

You bring up a few really good points here:

Compulsion isn't the same as dicipline.

This is something to really think about. Especially when it comes to habits. If you are doing something compulsively, even if it's a "good" thing, it has limited benefit for you because you are or have become at some point, a slave to it. It ceases to be a choice you made in other words. No real discipline. This happened with me and meditation. Once it became habitual it began to lose it's real meaning and purpose for me. I fight with this all the time. It's still healthy for me. It still works for me, but I have to constantly remind myself why I started doing it in the first place.

Chaos and impulsivity are not the same thing as sponteneity.

I used to really want to be spontaneous. People who were spontaneous seemed so keyed in to the moment. Whereas I was always stuck in my head, thinking about the past or the future. What I came to realize is that people who are truly spontaneous (not just carefree and impulsive) were people who had knowledge. They knew what needed to be done at that particular moment. They knew what the moment demanded and were able to respond. On the outside it looks erratic almost. Random. A person following their whim. But I don't think this is the case. It's not a matter of doing whatever comes to mind rather, doing what is right that particular moment and situation in time. The only problem is, how do you know what's right and appropriate moment to moment? And how do I come to know?

I refuse to start the change process where I am.

I NEED TO HAVE this evening. I NEED to sit in my chair and relax, feeling like my house in order.

It's funny how in some ways we know completely what needs to be done. We know what is wrong with us. We know. Get a person drunk enough and they'll confess. I've seen this. We know our weaknesses to some extent, yet we're so ineffective when it comes to self-medicating. Why does it seem impossible for us to create change in ourselves?

Of course I have answers to all these questions :) and a poem:

Deep down
we all know
what is there
and what is not.

It wouldn't be so obvious
on the outside
if we weren't always trying to cover it up
make it what it's not

Fingers self-consciously
tugging down the hem of a skirt
move to absolve the legs
of their imperfections.