sigh

 

I haven't really missed M for a few weeks or months. Thats not to say I haven't been thinking about her, occasionally arguing with her in my head. But it wasn't missing her. There are times when I want to know what is going on her life... but overall I have been very sure that she is not good for mine. There is jealousy, envy, anger, hurt, but not missing. Not much any more. 

Tonight while I was making dinner, there was that familiar ache, very very slight in comparison to how it was, but a remembrance of good times. I really enjoyed existing beside someone. I didn't want anything more special than that. I wanted to have dinner and do the dishes, and curl up in bed and read books together, or watch a show. Nothing crazy, just being present. 

I miss who I was, who I got to be, that boy in love. 

I was walking around Target, a little overwhelmed with how many beautiful people exist in the world. It made me wonder why it is so hard to find someone I click with. Why I can swipe a hundred times, and never get responses. Why I can meet a thousand people and no one gives me the same look I am giving them. 

I don't flirt very often anymore. In a strange way, walking the lake and just taking in the beauty of the world is the closest thing I get to flirting. Making eyes, smiling under a mask. And sometimes people smile back. 

There is someone at work who I find attractive, but I don't know anything about them. Maybe that could turn into something?  Maybe that could be too awkward. 

I am reading Rilke's letters, in which he tells the young poet to embrace his solitude, because it is the only thing that is real, and the only way to get to know himself and the world. I have embraced solitude for quite a long time. I spent the entire weekend alone. This solitude only seems to separate me further from everyone else. 

Tomorrow is the first day back in person for the students. My office is undecorated. My notes are not done. So many calls to make. So many things to figure out. There are times I feel like I should take on a leadership role, and other times I am reminded that I have barely just begun at this job (since we went into telehealth immediately after I was hired). 

Oh this unknown future. 

What even is it all about?

On a side note, the show fleabag is mesmerizing. 

An idealistic response to the cynical truth (ecological lens)

This morning as I walked to the nearby lake, there was a glistening in the air that made everything glow. This reminded me of the foliage of Portland, the grassy hills of Ireland, and the cloud forests of South America. Despite the despair in the news, and the constant worry in my head and heart, this end of summer-early fall has been beautiful, as the season turns a trillion new colors have revealed themselves, and the complexity and the contrasts in this ever-changing color palette are mesmerizing. How many hues of green, of yellow, pink, orange or brown, can be layered in a single tree? Now add another tree just behind. A bush. A floral garden. Some creeping vines. Let the sun break through a cloud and transform them all another time, let the wind turn the leaves just so, and the spectacle is renewed, beckoning the gaze, stopping you in place. A dozen times, I was slowed in my tracks this morning, another dozen I stopped completely. 

 

The mind calls me back to the concerns of the day of course, and of the week, and month, perhaps of this generation. I am gloomed over by the news. I am at times despondent in my grief and anger at how we choose to live and co-create this world. And it is that acknowledgement of responsibility that makes it all the more painful, knowing that I am just as liable as the next whose motives I may question. As someone familiar with the history and sociology of humanity, I am aware that all the signs point to a coming ‘winter’ season. A great trying time, during which calamity will occur, and naturally our behavior will change in response. Some of us will shelter around a hearth. Some of us will welcome others with song and story. Some of us will defend our hoarded resources. Some of us will pillage the crucial stores of others. 

 

If it is a continuation of the human story, then we shall participate in a great reckoning that leaves us questioning ourselves and our purpose going forward. Perhaps we will make the necessary changes, perhaps we will bind ourselves to a path that repeats the cycle of despair for another generation. Regardless, we will survive en masse or in pockets, and repopulate and cultivate the land again. 

 

As a therapist, I have been trained to recognize the gifts and survival strategies that allow a person to adapt to their circumstances. The goal, to help make this knowledge conscious to the individual, so that they are able to choose their response, rather than simply reacting to circumstance. In brief, when we are young, we learn strategies to adapt to our environments, and as we grow, we often find that later in life we are still using these same strategies despite the fact that they may have become mal-adaptive. ((This is just one of the ways of thinking about therapy at the micro level and incorporates what is called a “trauma-informed” lens, meaning looking at the responses to trauma,‘survival strategies’ as helpful, rather than bad or wrong.)

 

As a social worker and teacher, I have been trained to recognize the environment around folks, the systems that impact their responses (mezzo/macro levels). For instance, how does the family or the school respond to a child’s behavior? It is often super evident that when adjustments are made to the system, the child’s behavioral response changes. For example, if a child is hyperactive and treated as a nuisance by their teachers, they tend to hate school and become more reactive to it. On the other hand, if a child’s hyperactivity is celebrated and seen as a gift in school, they tend to find ways to utilize this strength to support their learning or add to the school culture. (This is why you’ll hear helping professionals say they take a “strength-based approach.”)

 

This meso/macro level understanding, is why teachers and social workers are able to recognize that environmental factors at a societal level are so important. A cut in funding or policy change to schools, healthcare, immigration, the justice system, etc., will all impact families and individuals we are working with. It is also because of this recognition, that many (not all) of us swing to the left in politics, because we believe and hope that careful forethought in decision making can reduce the negative impacts and potentially increase the positive impacts for individuals and families. Ultimately, evidence suggests that supporting people's strengths and treating them with dignity creates the conditions under which they can thrive.

 

It is because of this knowledge and belief, that I struggle so much with our current society. It feels like careful decision making to improve people’s lives is not only not on the agenda of our leaders, but that actually the opposite is the goal. 

-For what reason did the Trump administration move the American embassy to Jerusalem?  

-For what reason did the congress choose not to provide basic income, or a moratorium on foreclosures and evictions during a pandemic that kept people from working?

-For what reason did the ‘justice’ system protect the police officers who shot Breonna Taylor?

None of these decisions were made with humanity in mind, they were made to uplift some, and intentionally or unintentionally hurt others. (Embassy, promotes Israel’s authority over Palestinian autonomy, as well as fundamentalist Christians. * Congress safeguarded monied interests rather than the majority of folks who have been impacted by the pandemic. * The system enforced laws that protected the police even though they instigated the conflict and endangered the lives of citizens leading to Breonna’s death.) 

 

And further, for what reason are we sending our children back into schools? Sports teams? Part time jobs? Is it because it is our best or because we have stopped trying to figure out something better… Not only have we been duped into not demanding solutions, we have been turned on one another, and made afraid. In our insecurity, we point fingers and blame, instead of recognizing that we all have the same needs and desires and are simply trying to figure it all out. 

 

As I was walking, I was thinking about the dialectic of the illusion and reality of the ‘natural’ around me. The park, the yard, the cultivated or fallow garden.  It is, after all, one of the oldest creations and metaphors we share. Humanity’s adaption of nature, our co-creation, a million varieties across every habitable space on the planet. I always wonder how much intention is put into each plot, each bend on the path through the park. Did a visionary gardening architect sculpt this landscape into this masterpiece? Or was it time and life’s determination to survive? 

 

The students are returning to in-person next week at my program, and our society is headed toward a reckoning. And knowing that the macro is the micro, and the micro is the macro, I can’t help but worry. Not about the spread of a virus, but of the unnatural adaptation we are asking. That like in our society at large, our collective foresight cannot manage the variables, so we will ask the plant with thorns to stop being prickly, and the flower growing pink-orange-sunset petals to stop being so brilliant, and the vine we will say is too choking, and the tree we will ask to stop dropping its leaves or flittering in the wind. We will ask because we are afraid, and then we will demand because it’s painful to feel loss and disappointment, and because we believe power and control are the only way to ensure our enduring, we will fight. The stress will bring out the best and worst of us, our adaptive traits, our gifts, our survival strategies. 

 

AND, perhaps if we slowed down, allowed ourselves to be stopped in place, we could take in the garden as a whole and our place within it. We might be able to see the trillions of colors revealed as the earth tilts away from the sun. And in it, see the beautiful interdependence of our community. Acknowledge the gifts, learn to ask and give, share gratitude for the seasons, the cycles, and also for the survival strategies that allow us to flourish. And instead of demanding and blaming, we might ask each other, what do you need to be a good tenant of this garden? And what can you offer? How can we create a more reciprocal ecosystem? How can I ease your fear and instead leave you stunned with awe and connection? What labor would you willingly commit to, if you could trust that your good will, your energy and your love, would be recognized? 

The seasons remind us that change is natural and necessary. And with all change in life, loss and opportunity. Sometimes it’s painful, I just wish we could stop choosing all this unnecessary suffering. Poor humanity... we have just a few needs and desires, look inside yourself and you will find the same ones as your neighbor and your ‘enemy.’  There is no difference between us just beautiful variation. 7.8 billion in a living garden, there is enough for all of us. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

moments where the veil is thin

 

I had a little too much time off today between all the cancelled appointments. 

So I decided I would talk to a coworker about case conceptualization. And suddenly an hour later she was opening up about her life. And I was questioning what I had said or done to open this door, and remembered that it happens naturally sometimes. That I don't have to stay in my intellectual, problem solving, figuring it all out. Sometimes the floodgates open, because that is something that happens around me. 

I walked around the lake. All the colors were vibrant and amazing. I stood in awe a dozen times, just watching the way the light and shadow played off the flittering leaves. It felt like there were a trillion new wonders to behold. That everything was more than enough.

I attended a meeting for the UU church. It is awkward and weird, and I can't stop enjoying people. Can't stop asking questions. Can't stop pointing out things. Can't stop being myself. And I didn't care, no, I cared a lot, a cherished the opportunity to be myself, not to impress (though I may have), not to challenge others (though I may have), not to look pretty (though I may have)... just to be myself, to talk about the things I love, and love them unabashedly. 

Sometimes, whether I want to or not, everything happens, and I can just stop my self, and adore it. Just stop questioning and challenging myself and just appreciate all that is. And it is beautiful. I swoon for this universe that I am very much part of. 

I am sure I'll screw up tomorrow. I am sure I will sleep anxiously. But emmanuel you know? 

remind me of what left this outlaw torn

We've been back to work for a few days. I've already screwed up a few serious things. Disappointed folks.  Let myself down. Felt out of it. 

Today a child I care about called me from the side of a road, I could hear cars passing by, and she said "this has been my plan."  

And for now(fingers crossed), this is a success. Something to celebrate. Life is so hard, and avoiding the difficult doesn't get us anywhere. But it's painful. 

It's so painful. All the things said, and unsaid. Done and left undone. 

Tonight I wrote a little note about the loss of the normal school year on facebook. The idea of these kids starting a school year on a platform that will never compare to real life is honestly abhorrent to me. I don't know if there is a better way, but if I were a parent I'd be exploring commune living more than ever right now. 

I didn't mean to write the note the way it came out, but as I was writing, I realized it touched on a topic I've been thinking about all day today, which is, how hard it is to have hopes and dreams for children, and know you can't make them happen, but try anyway. 

There is a lot of grieving in a year of teaching, or being a therapist. It comes with highs and lows. And this year... lower your expectations and then still miss the bar. 

But today, I was thinking about parents. I work with parents, it is important that I do. Because if they do not buy in, it is really hard to support a young person who is dependent on them. I got to thank parents today, and remind them how essential they are, how important they are to their child's survival and success... I don't think I could ever oversell the importance, but what I was highlighting was their willingness to try even when everything pointed to failure. They found hope, or faked it well enough, even when it felt hopeless, and by doing so have offered their child a future. 

Not a future free of suffering, but one in which connection and meaning are still possible even though there is suffering. 

It's really awe inspiring. 

I started writing a book a few years ago. A mixture of social studies, my own experiences and values, woven into novel form. The book describes myths and stories over and over, shared as if they are as true as anything else. Playing off the reality of how humans make meaning, we tell stories. The book itself is like a 4th wall break commentary -as most science fiction is. I am not sure anyone will "get it." I am not even sure it will ever be finished. 

In the beginning of the book, the west coast is on fire, the climate becomes a mess, people move from place to place, wars, plagues, starvation, and in the midst of this there are glimmers of hope from which people rebuild. A section I wrote several chapters on years ago (but took out), talks about an incompetent leader who plagued by his own insecurities makes rash decisions that hurt billions. It is weird how my observations of humanity, led to predictions in the book that come true, leads to further observations that I get to include in the book. I write over and over about the ash filled sky, but totally forgot about how humans wear masks. How we survive all odds. So now I will add masks to the story... and hope that the other predictions do not pan out. My mom called it dark. 

But the title of the book (which I have mostly not discussed except on here) is Promethean Vows, in honor of the titan who knowing he would suffer, continued to support humanity anyway, because he had faith in his creation. I think deep within me, that is the name I give to what it means to be human. 

To suffer, and strive anyway, in all the different ways we try, because we choose to. 

It's not an animal survival instinct, its the sacred quality that makes us just a little more profoundly tragic and beautiful. Not knocking animals, they are sacred in their own right. But humans make the choice every day. And it shouldn't be taken for granted.   

I hate the choices we are making as a society right now on almost every level. I haven't been posting political stuff as much these last few years because I am just sick of it to the core. Even the causes I believe in seem so trivial in comparison to the moral reckoning that we must have. "Black lives matter" "Defund the police" "Abolish ICE"  these are some of the shittiest slogans I can think of, and they all point to a basic fundamental that life means absolutely nothing in our society. 

(I know some folks might point to abortion and if that led them to standing up for living children, I wouldn't despise the argument, but that movement is completely callous to those who are currently living, so fuck that.) 

To be a proper lefty in today's world, I should point to the New Jim Crow, slavery, the genocides,  trans rights, etc., but I didn't lose faith in the US entirely until all of those children were gunned down in schools and we did nothing. Black, white, native, latino, asian, boy, girl, trans, intersexed, gay, straight, pan, they didn't even have a chance to figure out what any of that meant! Of course black lives don't matter, immigrants lives don't matter, the poor don't matter, you don't matter, life doesn't matter in this society when children are murdered in schools and no one does anything. 

When I was an immature child in middle and high school, the idea and reality of school shootings wasn't as horrifying to me as it was when I became a teacher. But when I was an adult, when I was in charge, suddenly the reality set in: this is our sacred responsibility, our duty above all others, our time to recognize that yes suffering will happen, but we can do something about it, we must! 

OUR most vulnerable innocent were slaughtered, and we chose to do nothing. 

That is our story, we are a society that when suffering happens, chooses to throw up our hands, do nothing, and say it isn't my fault. 

No wonder we are so fucked. 

I don't know how covid will play out now that schools are going back in session. Maybe we are sending ourselves to slaughter again, or maybe we have been imprisoning ourselves for no reason. But we aren't even really having the discussions that matter, just running scared to the corners we find the most comforting. Same old story. We know how well that goes. 

Where is the discussion about why we even have schools? Chain restaurants? 40 hour work weeks? Traffic jams? Homelessness? The stock market? Health insurance? Police? It's all little whispers that reach the same ears in a loop. I don't need to post 50 political messages a day because everyone on my facebook already agrees with me, and even us well-meaning lefties, do nothing. 

It's funny because as much as I despise Trump, he actually gets it. The story matters. His story is all lies and manipulation and blaming others, and I hate it because he is using the mechanism that matters to do the worst possible things - but he gets it. Fascism is so basic, get the main factions to agree to the story of  "it isn't my fault, it's theirs!" and you can get away with anything. The story matters. We live our lives by the story.  I am not sure the United States will survive this story. I am not sure we should. 

And as for covid... and climate change... and capitalism... 

Will humans survive -yes of course. 

Are people resilient -yes of course. 

But what is the story we are telling?      

Current mood, angsty teen mike?

Freedom

I am amazed that I don't meditate more often. Yes, sometimes I find myself overcome by a meditative state while walking, or suddenly in awe, or in prayer at night, or when I am with someone. But it is such a different state of being. 

I have spent the last few days alone, waiting to find out if I have covid. All my plans seem to get muddled lately. I try to be good to myself -go get get a massage, and it ends up keeping me from my weekend away. 

I try to bring people into my life, and end up feeling alone more than ever. I try to do good, and end up feeling less deserving. Life just feels askew. Everything perfectly crooked, my teeth and jaw, my hips and back, my seat upon the pillow. My walking through this world. My ego and heart are just lonely and disconnected. This is my version of hell and though there are many times throughout the day it feels purposeful, I hate it. I am sad and afraid all the time, and I have to fight it. 

I light a candle, ask the universe for guidance, and it tells me to get out of my head. 

I look around the room and see that I have been trapped inside myself. 

I close my eyes and breathe into the greater universe, see the energy swirling and diving, transmitted from one thing to the next without reservation or pause. I do not see attachment. My feelings don't seem to exist at all anymore. My thoughts melt away, everything is white, and everything is colorful at the same time. I ask myself if there is a "should" in this place? If there is a "good or bad," if there is fear or even love, or want, and none of it exists. It just is. 

The universe is greater than our lives, it is enough, and it doesn't need anything. 

I take deep breaths into my chest and feel the light pour into the places I have blocked, the space of pain, of fear, of not enough. The doubt doesn't exist for moments. I ask myself to remember this, this being present without thought, or seeing and sensing without judgement of right or wrong, without fear of what could go horribly bad. 

I stretch and invite it in. I don't have a need of a partner, but I have a sense of awe of myself and of my body. I don't fear dying or making poor choices, I only desire more of this, because I sense my ego will come back, the enclosure will return eventually. But my soul has recognized a greater truth for a moment and I am grateful. Grateful for the experience, and knowing that my life is but a splinter of a cosmic whole much bigger than myself. A drop in the ocean. 

I play with this sensation, these colors, this light. I try to recall my fears and thoughts, my guilt, my hurt and longing, and though I can bring them to mind, for a moment they don't last. I come back to the awareness of the light, the freedom of it. I think to myself, I need to do this, pendular between the world and this truth, create the groove, deepen it, meditate hourly. 

Behind my eyes the sun lava swirls, cascades, back into itself. Blobs of darkness. My eyes are itchy, my chest less open. I need to breathe again, but the air feels heavy again, things are restricting, and I give myself permission to acknowledge that this is also true. This ego, this body, this state is here for a reason. I get to have both during this life time. I get to experience this.  I try to see the light, but it is gone. The cinnamon smell of the candle is so pervasive, choking really. I wonder if I have called myself back with it. I open my eyes and try to decipher the universe in the flame, but it is just orange light. I am heavy again with aches. I blow out the candle. my jaw is clenched, and mouth sticky. 

I wonder about lunch, and getting my work done. 

another weekend, whats the point?

 Last monday I took the day off. 

I got a massage.

The week went ok.

I got friday off unexpectedly. I did a bunch of chores and paid some bills, trying to wrap things up before heading out of town. 

At 8 pm last night I got a call from the massage place saying that I may have been exposed to Covid. 

I cancelled my weekend plans and stayed up till 4 am watching Lucifer on Netflix. 

I woke up to a call from my mom at about 11-11:30 this morning. I sat around and didn't do anything. 

At a certain point I went out and got taco bell. 

It's hard to know how to live this life. 

I have no symptoms, and is it very likely I didn't get exposed at all, was just in the same space. 

But I won't know until I get tested and apparently weekend testing on a holiday weekend is a little dismal. 

Part of me wants to think this is some existential thing, like I am being kept at home for a purpose. 

Part of me thinks its a punishment, a personal hell. 

Part of me knows this is ridiculous and pandemics have hit humanity since the beginning. Nothing new here. 

But I am lonely, so its easier to distract or fantasize than face the truth. 

Each day is like working at the mall on a slow night, playing little mind games to keep from going crazy. I invite drama into my head when I take walks. 

I look at facebook to provoke a little spark. 

I think I'd be a good husband and father. I like running errands with and for the people I love. I like just spending time. It doesn't need to be fancy. But I don't even have a crush. 

All this time makes me wish I had the brain to write. It would be wonderful to get the book done. But I just don't feel the capacity to do so. I read a chapter, edit a few paragraphs and then move on. 

Maybe tomorrow?

More Lucifer I guess. Live my life vicariously through other people's fantasies.