Big Girl Buddha Pants

Begin Again.. and Again.. and Again...

2011-02-07T21:26:00.000-08:00

Last week in yoga class during savasnaya it hit me how far I have gotten away from my practice... hard.

It has been a busy few months, spending as many nights in strange hotel rooms as I do in my own familar bed, the new job, which has as many triumphs as it does challenges, a new home, a new roommate who is a dear old friend, and trying to find a way to balance that with finding enough time for my love and the friends who bring so much joy. I've found my practice falling by the side at a time when I need it the most.

I find myself getting agitated about things that I used to let go, clinging to my perceptions of how life should be, instead of relaxing in to how it is. Cranky and short tempered and not present. I don't like it, but I am trying to hold myself in a place of non judgement, while taking the steps to get back to where I was.

So last week, while snowed in in my hotel, I found the time to sit, and it was so unbelievably uncomfortable. Every place my thoughts wandered was full of criticism, full of longing, full of pain.

And I know it will get easier, as before. Sitting, and practicing through out my day, will become what it used to be, a way of life, and not something I need to be reminded of.

But I can't help feeling like I've let myself, and the people who loved the peaceful and kind spirit that I miss so much, down.

But I suppose it is a process and one that I will re-start as many times as needed.

So here is to another start.

With metta.

Memories don't go away

2010-12-21T17:59:00.000-08:00

I should have more to say and I do have more to say, but December has been exhausting, including a four day hospital stay. I'm fine, but it was scary, and a reminder I need to slow down and pay attention when I'm not feeling well. That may not have solved anything this time, but it could have. Had it not been for the heavy narcotics and antibiotics I was getting every four hours or the concerned looks the doctors gave as they called in every consult imaginable to try to figure out why the antibiotics weren't helping the infection, I might have found the disconnection peaceful. But instead I vacilated between heavily drugged and terrifed. From here on out I pledge to remain a little more connected with what my body is telling me.

So because of that, and the fact that I'm still reeling from another more recent four day invasion of my safety net of an atmosphere, I'll only leave you with this...

Je vais bien ne t'en fais pas

2010-11-10T18:34:00.000-08:00

367 days

2010-10-22T14:51:00.000-07:00

Today would have been my ten year anniversary with the ex, and instead I sit and wait for a plane to take me from Detroit to New York, to get in to a car and travel to Connecticut and present to a group of physicians...

It has been 367 days since everything I thought I had, that I wanted, came crashing down.

367 days that I never thought I'd survive, days that I spent growing in the most painful way possible.

367 days where I learned that you can never take your friends for granted, because they will be the ones to offer to cuddle up in bed with you, or pull you out of it when you can't even remember how to put on your shoes, let alone where you left them. Your friends will come over and clean your apartment, pick out your clothes and understand when "I just can't" means you really can't, or when it means you just need the extra push. I learned that family is incredible, and the comfort of those who have known you since the moment of your birth, is worth more than gold. That the ones who will rage the loudest at your defense are the ones you might have thought always thought he was the best part of you. I have learned that the kindness of people you barely know can lift you up. I have learned that you should go after things that you want, even if the idea of getting it is just as terrifying as not. I have learned that love is possible again, and it might be scary and it might be hard, but it is worth it. But most importantly I learned that a relationship, that an expectation of how your life should be, does not define you. I have learned to stand on my own two feet, to look in the mirror and be proud of the person I have become, and for that I am grateful.

I owe the ex our security deposit on our home together. After he broke up with me and I received the deposit in the mail, I decided I deserved it. Not because he broke up with me, but because I was caring for his cat and our dog. I know... I know... but in some way it was justified in my mind. And believe me, the cat, with all her kidney issues, has cost me close to a thousand dollars.

But now that $400 is only the difference between me and a pair of Loubitons (ok and paying down a bit of debt), well, I realize I never should have kept it in the first place.

And I'm stuck. Will he think that I am sending the money only to hurt him? Will he be angry? Will it cause him pain in any way?

I could easily rationalize not sending it. I accumulated a bit of debt when we lived together, neither of us being able to afford the lifestyle we preferred to live, and me having the significantly larger paycheck and credit limit. But sending it will help me, I will no longer have that debt to him hanging over my head... but I'm not sure if that's selfish.

And what I want to do is this; give the check to his father when I bring his stuff. Tell him to send it to him, or give it to him the next time he is in town. I'll include a note and tell him to read it only when he's ready.

And I will say- I forgive you, I forgive me. Someday you will wake up, look at the person you love, and think, this is why it happened. You will think of where you are, compared to where you were before, think of how much you have grown, how you felt pain you didn't know you could ever feel, and then felt joy and love, made all that sweeter because it grew from pain. And you will know that it is all ok. That the ways we hurt one another, while awful, led you to this. You would not know the sweetness of true love, if you had not known the pain of a true love lost. You would not know what it is like to do things that terrify you, because you had not known that you were a survivor. You would not know what it is like to wake up every day thinking this very moment is a gift, because you hadn't woken up wishing this life away. Perhaps you've already had that moment, perhaps you have forgiven me and most importantly forgiven yourself. And while my greatest fear when you left was this, that you would become hardened to me, and we would not be friends, I understand and respect your wishes. I wish that someday you will dance at my wedding and hold me with a smile in your heart, but I know that is your choice. I want you to know I will always answer if you need me and know you probably never will. You will always have a friend in me.

365 days

2010-10-20T08:00:00.000-07:00

Planting Flowers

2010-10-17T18:28:00.000-07:00

I spent today working in the yard, my yard (well soon enough, not that I am in any hurry for my darling brother and sister-in-law to leave). It is something I had missed after my year in the apartment.

Moving took a lot out of me, with emotional land mines buried everywhere. There are several boxes waiting to be deposited at the ex's father's house, things he had asked my mom to store from his childhood, because he felt they would be safest there. Part of me feels as if it is a bit of betrayal to send them to where he did not want them, but the other part of me knows that things have changed, and as much as I have a severe distate for those who try to hide their past, his past is not mine to store.

And there were so many things that I came across that I had not discarded, because when I moved in to that tiny apartment, I believed that our lives would be rejoined in a year on the other side of the country. So packing became an agonizing lesson that life is not always what we think it will be, but that it will certainly go on.

As I closed the door to that empty apartment, I looked around as I did a year ago when I first saw it. I opened that door as a woman scared because the man I loved was leaving, nervous to live all by myself for the very first time, and essentially prepared to put my life on hold for love. I shut the door as a woman stronger than I ever imagined I could be, taking the first steps in to a new career, a new love and a very beautiful life. I don't regret the past year, not any of it, but I am pleased to be done with it.

And as I sat planting the peony (my favorite) bush in the backyard, and the 50 some bulbs of tulips, crocuses and anemones in the front, I realized life is a little like planting bulbs in the fall. You dig a hole, plant a seed, cover it with dirt and hope like hell that you did it right. Sometimes you are fairly certain you did, it is hard not to spot the pointed end in a tulip bulb, but with the tiny rock shaped anemones, well you just have to try your best, and hope it all works out. Only time will tell. Spring may come and my front yard could be filled with an amazing array of purple blooms, or it might not.

I can only take comfort in the fact that last fall I planted the seeds the best I knew how and what I thought was a giant mess turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to me.

Let's hope my garden yields the same results.

Green Grass All Around

2010-09-15T17:18:00.000-07:00

My life has been full of trying to remember new people, new jobs, new directions and new hotel room numbers. My head is spinning with new,new, new.

I suppose its no wonder that sitting here in a lovely hotel, after eating a fantastic dinner, that all I want is the comfort of the old.

That's what we get, we want change so desperately, we claw at that damn door until it opens, and then we sit on the other side wondering why we can't have the things we left behind too.

I am lucky, I get to live with one foot firmly rooted at home and one foot traveling throughout the US. A marriage of my favorite things.

But right now, when everything is moving at hyper speed and the closest thing to consistency is my hotel room and the closest thing I have to real time human connection is the daily note I receive from my housekeeper, well, I want to slow down.

I want to wake up next to the cute boy and not have to hop out of bed to hit the road, I want to spend a Tuesday night staving off the fall chill with a bonfire in a friend's yard.

I know... I know... I wanted this... I still want this... But it also makes me appreciate those that I love so much.

I can't wait to kiss the cute boy's face, squeeze my bestie's hand, laugh hysterically with the favorites and cuddle with my sweet pup.

Perhaps that's the lesson here, I wanted to leave it all behind, instead, I've come to appreciate it more and I still get to keep it.

Life is so very sweet.

Cha Cha Cha Changes

2010-08-25T12:47:00.000-07:00

I've been surrounded by emotional land mines this week. Packing up my apartment and preparing to move, I have become insanely jealous that the ex managed to leave me with everything from our past.

If I have to see one more photo...

But then I remind myself that I would rather shoulder the full burden then have none and I can breathe a little easier.

At the same time I am packing my apartment I am also packing up my office. I got the dream job, they called about two weeks later to tell me they had another opening on the medical practice side. I have waited for almost two months on pins and needles while they moved through the internal applicant process.

I got the call on the way home from Alpine Valley. It has been a week of utter disbelief.

I will be working from home and my region will be Massachutes to Maine. The company seems incredible, my new boss fabulous, and the pay wonderful.

But it has been bittersweet, lots of tears shed with my current boss. Our CEO grabbing me today during a starbucks run and telling me that I am respected and well liked and will be missed, and not to sound big headed, but in a company of 10,000 employees, that feels really nice. My boss's boss calling me today to tell me that everyone is worried because I do so much and it will be impossible for one person to replace me. I will miss this place, and it is just all happening so fast.

In 10 days I will driving to Indiana for two weeks of hotel living, orientation and meeting my new team.

I have been demanding change and it appears I got it, so I think it's best to shut up and love it.

If you do not understand your past you can not comprehend your present

2010-08-18T15:31:00.000-07:00

There's been so many times in the past year that I stop and think "what a difference three (six, eight) months makes" as every day I realize just how much I have healed.

Until earlier this month when I asked the ex if he was unable to take his cat permanently (as he had led me to believe was the plan all along, I only knew otherwise because of a friend), could he at least take her for several months while I was moving some things around in my life. I elaboarated, wished him well, told him how happy I was to be feeling so whole and healed, how I wasn't angry, how I missed my friend, but understood, and that the cat was not a way to get back in to his life.

I waited a week for this response: I am unable to take the cat. I wish you luck in finding her a home. I am not whole or healed. I think it is best we remain nostalgic seperately.

Holy ton of bricks. The plate I was holding in my hand seemed to throw itself across the room and hit the wall. The blackberry clattered to the floor. The amount of rage that was coursing through my body was unbearable.

Every terrible word I could think of came to mind: pathetic, useless, irresponsible. And I wrote them all down. I told him why he hadn't healed, why he wasn't whole. I lashed out at him hiding from his past. But before I hit send I took a deep breath (and broke another bowl). And decided to sit on it.

When my father died I carried so very much anger around inside my heart. I raged because I could not tell him how I felt. Until one night I dreamt of him, I screamed, I ranted, I cried. And I woke up laughing. Finally I had said what I wanted to say and I could move on.

A week ago I dreamt of the ex, I looked him in the eye and told him exactly what I thought of his decision to leave me with all his memories, responsibilities (both financial and mammilian), his cowardly actions. I held his face and said "look, I need you to understand that I still wish you well even after all this, how can you have hardened yourself to your past like this." And he understood. And I awoke feeling once again pieced back together again. There is no need to say it to him.

Susan Piver makes reference in "The Wisdom of a Broken Heart" about how sometimes trying to speak to an ex is like throwing punches that never connect. Even though my punches had slowly turned into hugs, either way they would never connect. And I don't need them to anymore.

I saw his beautiful brother at Phish in Alpine Valley, after the mini heart explosion happened, we talked, with me constantly grabbing him for a hug, and it wasn't until I walked away and grabbed the cute boys hand that I realized it never occured to me to ask how the ex was. Its not that I didn't care, I wish him so much peace, I just no longer need to know.

Wow....

2010-07-29T13:13:00.000-07:00

I spent last Sunday in the Emergency Center with one of the bff's holding my hand as I went from crying that my life was a wreck to laughing hysterically that my legs were melting after the pain medication kicked in.

I was there with cellulitis, in my cheek, which was so swollen H remarked that I looked like the elephant man in that Cher movie. (I think this is when the crying started)

The pain was comparable to when I woke up screaming with dry sockets and the ex had to cut darvocet in to tiny pieces so I could have enough relief to make it through the night.

I'm healing now, feeling better, struggling with a three week excercise ban from my physician. But still feeling the dragging effects of dealing with an infection like that. I could sleep for days if I could get away with it.

Health is temporary, illness is temporary. But it was such a blessing to have a friend like her to take care of me.

As for the cute boy- well I'm rocking out with my giant biosphere... to be honest I'm still not quite sure where things are, but think we both want the same thing... happiness... and I'm ok with this... I think...

Finding a Container for Love

2010-07-12T09:22:00.000-07:00

Irisha, one of the bloggers at the group blog, An Appropriate Response, recently wrote an entry regarding dharma in relationships, inspired by a Buddhist Geeks podcast.

I haven’t listened to the podcast yet, between Buddhist Geeks and Lama Marut (if you haven’t checked out his podcasts- do so- my runs fly by because my heart is kept so light listening to him) I have quite the backlog. But it is there, and soon I will listen.

She writes about authenticity with her partner, about dropping expectations and fear of loss and simply dealing with what is at hand in the relationship.

Which is a beautiful thing to do inside the container of a loving relationship.

But what happens when there is no container? Or at least not one that you are really sure is there.

Because there is nothing there, I’ve been able to spend time contemplating what I want. Things with the cute boy are going well, he makes me smile, he tells me he loves me, I even caught him nuzzling Daisy the other night when I went to brush my teeth. But he refuses to say we are doing anything more than hanging out.

I’ve brought it up and he gets quiet… and awkward… and just looks so darn vulnerable and cute I have a really hard time pressing the issue.

And I’ve been telling myself that I don’t need a label. That labeling is what causes expectations and pressure. But the thing is I do.

I am struggling trying to balance what my practice teaches me about life and what I need in a romantic relationship.

I know I am difficult in love; I need space, so much space. I need to do my own thing and rage and cry and laugh and love in a very, very large container. I need to get lost in a book, a class, a conversation, even my own mind and not worry that my partner will feel disconnected. Some people would like their container to be Tupperware, I prefer mine to be like a biosphere. Completely self sufficient... But I still like knowing at the end of the day I have a partner who will support me and hold me up if I ever need it, that there is a hand to hold and a loving smile when things go terribly wrong.

And I know a label does not create this. And so I’ve struggled with it. I have spent time both on the cushion and off contemplating what I want. I wanted to be sure of what I was saying before I said it, to know that I really could follow through.

What I wanted to say was this: I realize I went in to this saying that I didn’t want a commitment, that I’m stubborn and impossible and can tend to lose my head in love and I absolutely do not want to go through that pain again, but I realized no matter what kind of ground rules are laid down, when this ends, it will hurt, even if I pretend we are nothing serious, because we are. And it’s ok if you don’t want this, I can’t be mad if we want two different things, I love you and we will remain friends no matter what. But for my own sake, I can’t continue in limbo.

And of course, though I’ve been planning the conversation for the past two weeks, it came out jumbly and wrong and left the boy confused on what I was asking. And when I clarified, he asked if I was giving him an ultimatum, and as much as I tried to argue that I absolutely was not giving an ultimatum, but merely a choice, I know the truth.

And he asked for time, which was a relief, even if he had responded the way I wanted in that moment, I would have felt like I pressured him in to it.

And I realize I could lose him over this. And I am so torn, am I trying to control, to shape, to write a story? Or am I merely asking for what I want while remaining comfortable if I don't get it? At what point do we stop just letting things unfold and try to bring some sort of definition to the path?

I don’t know, but could sure use some words of wisdom.

Your Girl is Lovely Hubbell

2010-07-08T19:28:00.000-07:00

I've come to realize something these past couple of days... or maybe it's just that I've had to deal with it more this week, but in spite of all the anger, hurt and terrible words that have been said...

I really miss my best friend.

Summer of Lovingkindness

2010-07-06T20:05:00.000-07:00

Mahala Mazerov, who writes the beautiful blog Luminous Heart, has proposed a summer exercise called the Summer of Lovingkindness Invitational. A way to get us Buddhist (and not so Buddhist) bloggers (tweeters, artists, musicians, livers, etc.) to feel the love a little more.

I was the first to sign up.

I need some lovingkindness in my life.

And it couldn't have come at a more perfect time. But then I realized I was committed to writing about it, and when I wasn't feeling it, how could I possibly write about it?

And today I have just felt so hollow, empty. Without love or kindness to the incredible people in my life who offer it to me and even less so to the people who don't, who teach me so many lessons that I have to learn.

I spent the better part of my evening with friends, sitting pool side in the 95 degree weather, just wanting to feel "right" and not being able to find it.

I came home and sat, thinking a maitri practice might help me cultivate the bits that I knew were buried in my heart. And I couldn't, it didn't feel right, the ex was in the wrong place, now in the spot of someone who caused me harm, and the people I feel the most love for were not lighting that spark that causes such warmness in my heart. And then his face came to me, the sweet boy who I so adore who I have not seen in a year. He is the son of the ex's cousin. I carry his photo around in my day planner because I miss him so.

And my heart exploded. The amount of love that I felt is enough to carry me through the next week, which will be tough, having his energy once again in my space. I feel it already and I don't even think he has landed.

And when I finished my sit I saw a very sweet tweet from Mahala wishing me lovingkindness and a facebook note from the ex's cousin saying this: G told me yesterday that he misses you... He just adores you and hopes that he can see you sometime : ).

And my heart (and eyes) became so full they spilled over.

One Teeny Tiny Baby Step at a Time

2010-07-06T10:56:00.000-07:00

Fuck.

I mean I knew he’d be coming home. He may have completely ignored everyone who loved him for his 27 years here, wrapped up as he as in his own self, but he still has family. Of course he’d come back.

I guess I figured I’d have warning. And that I wouldn’t get the news from one of the bff’s because he called her to hang out.

And I am so very torn. I want to tell her not to see him. I want to employ every method I know to guilt her in to ignoring him, like he’s ignored her for the past six months. To get her to realize he only cares when he needs something...

But my heart breaks when I realize that if she says no his feelings will be hurt. He will feel shunned in the place that is his home, no matter how much he doesn’t want it to be.

And so it goes, one heart will break no matter what.

I’d rather it be mine. For nine years I put his feelings first. Even now, after he’s accused me of never supporting or accepting him, it will be no different.

I can’t stand to see him hurt, even if his disregard for my feelings allows him to feel ok reaching out to one of my bff’s, even if that kills me, I won’t do the same.

But some days I wish I could...

Love in the Time of Facebook

2010-07-01T15:20:00.000-07:00

Facebook I think it’s time I quit you.

When the ex and I broke up we remained facebook friends… for a while… and I resisted the urge to spend hours looking at his photos or seeing what he was up to. Until it just became too much that the new love in his life commented on his every… single... status...

(ed note: I hate treacle, I have fallen head over heels for a man who makes me smile so much my cheeks hurt and I still cringe a bit that there are photos of us on facebook, so this is not a judgment on her overzealous commentary, it is a judgment on my stone cold charcoal heart)

But I’ve digressed. We hit that point, I de-friended. I needed to stop seeing eveidence of his happy new life in my newsfeed. Hard to move on when you're being smacked with it every day. I left our photos until he told me that he could no longer be my friend (in real-life folks, obviously the facebook de-friending was what did us in, because if it’s happening on facebook…) and was blaming the whole break-up on me. I hung up the phone and spent the next three hours untagging and deleting every photo of him and of us. Why? I didn’t want him to beat me to the punch and be the one left in a million photos with just myself tagged. And it felt strangely cathartic, nine years of my life erased in just three hours of work. (ok and countless hours of therapy)

And I’ve stayed away for the most part. I am trying to keep on the middle way, not wildly swinging from high to low (yes it has been a tough few weeks for that).

I wish him peace and happiness, but I know that if he even occupies one pinhole of space in my heart it will soon bloom like a mold on a damp summer day.

And I simply cannot.

And today I logged on to facebook and there he was, in my news feed; because mutual friends had commented on his page.

And for a minute I got caught up, I looked at photos and caught my breath at his face. After ten years of following his illness through his looks, (he would very rarely share when he was unwell) I know, and I don’t want to know. While I wish him health with all my might, he is not mine to worry about.

I read his status updates and felt a tinge of rage in my heart that he told me he did not have the money to take the cat and yet he spent two weeks in Yosemite.

I felt tears sting my eyes at his utter disregard for the strain (financial and emotionally) that he has left with me.

And then I began to breathe again. This pain is temporary. Tonight I will be wrapped up in the arms of the cute boy and we will once again spend hours talking about nothing and everything. I will smile and my heart will be so full in a bed with my three loves. And this won’t matter. Because truly; nothing is happening. And no matter how it feels in this moment, this pain is not knowingly caused by him.

And I smile and close his page with a silent wish for him to be well and to live with ease.. and so I heal and I carry on and I do the same.

But facebook, seriously, not freaking cool….

I've Been Unfaithful

2010-06-24T17:35:00.000-07:00

Bless me Father, for I have sinned... I've been cheating on you. I've been absent because I've been working with my brother on a news blog for If It Was My Home, about the Deep Horizon oil spill. Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere, but I think it's important to understand what's happening in our oceans and to report it out in a way that can help people wrap their heads around what appears to be an inconceivable mess.

So check it out, tell me what you think, share it with friends. The map alone has had over 2.5 million visitors since its inception. I credit my amazing brother for coming up with a simple way for people to comprehend the magnitude.

But now that it's up and running, I'll be back. Tomorrow even!

2010-06-22T09:14:00.000-07:00

I didn't get it...

And so I am trying to take comfort that my boss broke into a happy dance and my co-worker across the hall is equally thrilled....

And to think of how reassuring it was to hear that they would love to hire me if they had two open positions and that it was difficult and I would be a great fit and so on....

And how it was so very sweet for the cute boy to tell me that I'm #1 to him....

And to remind myself that everything (yes everything, I even mean the ex) in my life I have been able to look back on and understand my path.

But I can't help thinking this was a very inconvenient time to move into the window office.

Breathe in and breathe; All I can do and have faith, so moving forward at peace with that. I guess I can't get all the good stuff at once anyhow ;)!

Today I Like.... YOU!

2010-06-17T09:19:00.000-07:00

I still want to talk about anger, and the way what I was trying to say didn't come out right last week. But I'm still mentally exhausted from Tuesday and also working on another blog about the oil spill and the long standing repercussions and how 20 billion dollars is a huge amount of money but not enough for the 100's of years (and that's conservative) of clean up efforts that this will take.

So instead I'm giving you this, which appears to be a cop-out, but really is how I want to start my days. Including the adorable onesie pajamas (sorry cute boy, this is what I'm rocking out to bed in from now on) and the counter stand (ok, confession I stand on my bathroom counter regularly, I also sit in my sink, and dance pretty much every morning).

And keeping with the spirit...

My 5 Things I Like About Today

1. My creatures; waking up to the pup snuggled behind my knees and the cat on top of my head like a hat, that much love at 6 am is a treat!

2. The weather; it is amazing out, not a cloud anywhere, low humidity and a perfect breeze

3. Leftover Chinese for Lunch; enough said

4. My hair (owing to the low humidity); my curls are under control today

5. I'm cooking for the first time since October, when I made dinner for the ex in Seattle; the cute boy is coming over for tuna steaks and other goodness, I'm excited but semi terrified I've forgotten how to cook...

So be well and think about all the things that add the sparkle to your day!

Sigh

2010-06-16T13:31:00.000-07:00

I'm home from Indiana. My voice is still recovering after talking for nine hours and I still feel pretty exhausted. But I have a good feeling about this. Trying to remind myself that even if I don't get it, I am still one of three nationally recruited candidates and that is impressive. We'll see if that still carries me if I find out I haven't gotten it.

I always seem to have "good" meditation in hotels. (I know there is no good or bad meditation, but come on you know what I mean) I wonder if it is because there are so few distractions? Or at least no cat attempting to eat my mala and no pup trying to eat my meditation cushion and one me trying to fight the giggles at the crazy creatures.

I suppose this is a plus for a job that will have me constantly on the road...

Reckoning

2010-06-08T05:57:00.000-07:00

A person isn't who they are during the last conversation you had with them - they're who they've been throughout your whole relationship.

Rainer Maria Rilke

Smack me upside the forehead please... I've not been a very graceful, bodhichitta filled, woman.

I was not going to be bitter or angry, I became angry. Everyone tells you anger is healing and you need to be angry, you are entitled to your anger, if you're not angry you are not dealing. And so I got angry. And maybe it didn't seem like real anger, there was no yelling, no screaming, I never said anything at all when he is brought up, but it was there bubbling under the surface, causing me a lot of pain. I allowed his actions to shape my thoughts and allow my blood to boil and to feel a rage that had long been quieted. And worst of all I felt that I was entitled to that anger, that I was entitled to hang a sign around my neck that read "woman wronged". Bullshit... In doing so he clung harder to the corners and the cracks of my heart and my brain. I don't know if once again letting go of all that anger will let go of the tiny pieces of him that still hang around, but I do know it is the right thing to do.

I must remember that his actions are on his karma and my responses, even if he never sees them, are on mine.

Bonfire!

2010-06-01T12:38:00.000-07:00

My burning karma in effigy form

The thing about burning karma is that when you have a big old burning man style bonfire of it things are bound to ease up eventually.

Things were so very dark, I couldn't possibly see a way out. I was talking with my boss today who asked me if I ever thought it would be possible that things would be this good again, I laughed, because I didn't.

And they are, things are so very very good.

I have made it to the third stage of the interview process for a consulting company that would allow me to work from home when I am not traveling. I would be taking all of the pieces of my job that I love and eliminating the pieces that I find hard to handle. In addition the very substantial pay increase would have my personal goal of making 100k by the time I'm 30 practically met at 26. Next step is a lengthy web presentation which makes my heart flutter because I know I can absolutely kill it, presenting is what I live for in my current job, but it also scares me to no end because now I WANT this.

There's the possibility of a week long trip to LA at the end of the month to film another commercial, (yep, I'm famous, don't tell) made sweeter by the fact that one of my favorite people on earth made the big move there on Saturday. So in addition to an all expenses paid trip to a fantastic city, where I get pampered and treated quite beautifully, I will get to see someone I wasn't planning on being able to see until September, who makes my heart burst with love and happiness.

And things with the cute boy are good. A pretty nice day spent together yesterday and some sweet conversation. Made sweeter by the fact he seemed genuinely happy that this new job would not be taking me to a new state as previously thought.

I have been blessed with amazing people to spend my days with and amazing opportunities to make me grow. And I'm doing it all while firmly rooted in the present with great attention to my practice.

No I never could have dreamed that things would be like this, the reality is so much sweeter.

Oil Spill

2010-05-28T09:00:00.000-07:00

Because I think it's really important to be able to put things like the oil spill in perspective and because it's not every day my brother gets a shout in the New York Times (ok it probably is, he's successful and brilliant and continually blows my mind with how intelligent he is) check out this.

And so it goes

2010-05-27T20:34:00.000-07:00

He does not know what to make of her, this girl with a corner office who reads Bukowski and Voltaire, who talks too much of Buddhism after a few too many glasses of wine. He doesn't know her history, doesn't know that her life has shaped her to flee from a man who finds nothing wrong with being drunk, not just drunk, but staggering drunk, at 5 on a Thursday afternoon.

He has not yet found out that she finds that sort of behavior only acceptable at 2 am, when the bars are closing and everyone is being deposited home by the safety of their cabs. He doesn't know, because she hasn't told him, and because he hasn't known to ask.

And yet she leaves with him anyhow and curls up with him on the couch and he puts on "Born Into This" and when he sleepily questions, "who is this Bulowski fellow anyhow", she replies "a misogynist drunk and I love him so". And when he asks, "is this why you like me so much," he falls asleep before he hears her sigh, "perhaps".

He doesn't know that her thoughts have drifted to a balcony in a small town in Italy, where she read Bukowski aloud to a man who knew her story because he lived it with her, where they laughed at the good fortune that the kind Italian grandmother who lived in the room below did not speak English and did not know the words they were speaking to one another. And later they giggled more at their struggles to keep the creaky old bed from squeaking too much, because even she could interpret that.

He doesn't know any of this because she has not let him. A burn victim will always be timid around a flame.

And when she leans in to kiss his sleeping lips goodbye and smells the sweet scent of liquor in his sweat she wonders if this is the last time she will say goodbye to him, if she'll ever let him know her story, if he'll ever think to ask.

Because it is that sort of evening

2010-05-27T19:49:00.000-07:00

Oh, yes
.
there are worse things than
being alone
but it often takes decades
to realize this
and most often
when you do
it's too late
and there's nothing worse
than
too late.

-Charles Bukowski

Today I am Happy

2010-05-18T07:30:00.000-07:00

I came home to a box of my things on my front porch, with a note tucked inside from the ex. I was surprised at how final it felt, how much it hurt. This is what I wanted, to be done, forever. So I was shocked when I realized my heart was racing and I was crying.

But after a long hard run in the rain, a decently lengthy sit, and a glass (or three) of a delicious red wine, things were better. Shifting my focus back to being grateful for what I had, and what I currently have, and not being so concerned with what I don't have, with what I lost.

And while the run helped quiet my breaking heart, and the wine made my brain slightly fuzzy enough to lull me to sleep, it was the time spent in meditation that brought me back around.

And tonight I hang out with the cute boy and this weekend I'm heading to Chicago to drink champagne with some women who make my heart full, things are good, I just have to let them be.

Today I am Sad

2010-05-17T11:20:00.000-07:00

The cute boy and I have been talking about going camping, something I love. Being outside for any extended period of time, especially if it involves hiking and my pup is a good thing. And now, with the help of thyroid meds, I have the energy to do a lot more than lay around on the beach.

Only catch- the ex has a good chunk of my gear. Back in August when he moved out, we decided it made the most sense for me to leave my stuff in Seattle. We both assumed (I thought) that I would be living there soon enough and I had committed to monthly trips to see him. It made sense that my gear be in there and not here.

And then when he ended things I asked him to send me my things, and about a week later I got my hiking boots, my adventure pants, toothbrush, shampoo and some other random things I didn’t really care about. The expensive things; my down bag, my fantastic thermarest and my chacos, were not sent. And so I asked him to send the rest, and I kept asking right up until he declared the whole thing my fault and said he couldn’t speak to me any longer. And each day I’ve come home expecting a box of my things. And six weeks later it still hasn’t happened. So about a week ago I sent an e-mail, short and to the point. Asking him to simply send my things, that I hope he’s well, can’t and don’t want him in my life, but would like my stuff back. So far it has not arrived.

And the thing is, picturing my stuff in his apartment sort of kills me. I know exactly where in the closet it is, because I helped him put it there. I helped him pick out the furniture, the shower curtain, the dish soap. Sat on the floor and drank good beer with him and we laughed at the ridiculousness of ikea directions, then rolled around on that floor until we were laughing so hard we were crying. The linens on his bed are my grandmother’s, the pillows are ones we slept on when we first lived together, until I could afford better ones that he insisted I keep. The wok he uses to cook I bought for him. The dishes in the cabinet, the glasses he drinks from, the silverware he eats from, all of that is from our life together. And so the only thing there that I still have claim on, I want back, out of there, forever. Maybe then I won’t feel so damn tied to him.

And I was doing so well, I am doing so well. But today I am nostalgic and emotional and I would do a lot to have our old life back. Even though I know the man that I miss no longer exists, he has turned in to someone that I, like so many of the other people he just left behind here, no longer recognize, nor care to want to.

Who he is now saddens me. I know unequivocally I could never love a man who had that much ugliness hidden in his heart, and I will constantly second guess myself and future love for never seeing it. But today I miss who he was, I miss what we were.

I want it to be May four years ago when we were making love in Paris, drinking ridiculously fantastic red wine by the sea in Cannes, reading Bukowski on a balcony overlooking a vineyard in Assisi, I want it to by May three years ago when we giddily looked at houses and spent our first few nights making a bed on the floor, cooking meals together and spending every night wrapped up in one another, May two years ago when he graduated from college and we had one of our best parties and even though it was outside and the thunderstorm was intense, we were surrounded with so much love it was beautiful, I want it to be May one year ago when I was afraid because he was leaving, but so very proud of the beautiful man I loved.

Not this current May, where my heart is impenetrable, and I am rapidly losing faith in love, in people, where I am second guessing everything, and possibly driving away the cute boy who thinks I’m something special, because the person who knew me best in this world thinks I’m not.

Tomorrow I imagine it will be different, but today this is where I am.

And so I did....

2010-05-14T06:01:00.000-07:00

"They say time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself."

-Andy Warhol

I know a Change is Gonna Come

2010-05-13T11:46:00.000-07:00

I have reached what is probably my peak in office real estate. I was awarded a corner office with windows that are practically floor to ceiling. It is an office unlike any I will probably ever have again in my career, honestly I think it only goes down from here.

And I deserve it, I know that, the consensus in the office is split on that, but clearly some people agreed. I've worked my ass off at this job, pulling 60 hour weeks and at times 14+ hour days. When the ex used to complain I would explain that I was doing it now so that someday I could sit back and raise our children and enjoy our life, I would have paid my dues for this organization and would have earned the right to be a part-time employee who put in her hours and went home to love her husband and family.

And when that future burst, I poured myself into work because I had nothing else to do, the thought of going home to our life without him there to greet me was enough for me to stay at the office long after the sun had set. Sometimes I came in on weekends too.

Long and short I've produced some excellent work and taken on projects that even I am a little take aback at the results of. I've presented to upwards of 300 anesthesiologists without batting an eye, pitched an idea to the CEO which changed the way we train our new employees, chaired twice as many teams as my co-workers and maybe even made a bit of progress with some of our scores.

So yes, I deserve the fabulous corner office.

So why am I procrastinating so much about the move?

I asked my secretary to schedule the move a couple of weeks out, claiming I was too busy to think about it right now. And that is semi-true, but not completely. She called me on it, which ended in a ridiculous show of me sitting on the floor fetal position declaring, "but I HATE change". I believe I also threw in there that I didn't actually still like the ex, but couldn't handle change so I stayed with him. Which led to my secretary spitting out her water and telling me, "whatever helps you sleep at night". Ok, she's right on that, I did love the ex with every bit that I had. But no, I do not, under any circumstance, do well with change.

I'm gonna try to sit with that, because this change is a good thing. I should accept it, hell be happy about it. Why am I greeting it by digging in my heels and coming up with a hundred reasons why it shouldn't be?

Here and Now Is a Very Good Place to Be

2010-05-12T08:20:00.000-07:00

Oh, I have been the laziest blogger, meditator and yogi the past three weeks. But definitely having a fair amount of fun... The cute boy and I have stepped it up a notch and so I'm battling a lack of sleep due to opposite schedules, been seeing more of my favorite people and not as much of my not so favorite people and in general really enjoying myself, started baking again, started eating a bit again.

Unfortunately the me who has had some issues with eating in the past has cringed at the numbers going up on the scale, even though my doctor told me last week I needed to gain ten more pounds to have a healthy BMI.

But even with all the fun that's to be had, I am missing my practice. Having some trouble remaining present, when I really want to be present for this. Sometimes I wonder if all my time spent begging the ex to come back to earth, to be in the moment with me, was part of an anchor for me, if now that I don't have that I'm destined to be floating off in space. I guess I know the answer to that, my practice is my anchor, not anyone or anything, merely my breath. My favorite thing about shamatha/vipassana is that the only tool needed to practice will remain until I no longer need it.

So I need to get my ass back on the cushion to root my mind in now. Because in all honesty I'm having a blast. I've laughed more in the past month than I have all year, smiled so much my cheeks hurt and experienced such a ridiculous outpouring of love for those people who stuck by me through all of this.

Promise you'll be seeing more of me this week.

Powder Keg

2010-05-02T13:32:00.000-07:00


International Small Arms Traffic Blues

My love is like a powder keg
My love is like a powder keg in the corner of an empty warehouse
Somewhere just outside of town
About to burn down

My love is like a Cuban plane
My love is like a Cuban plane flying from Havana
Up the Florida coast to the 'Glades
Soviet made

Our love is like the border between Greece and Albania
Our love is like the border between Greece and Albania
Trucks loaded down with weapons
Crossing over every night
Moon yellow and bright
There is a shortage in the blood supply
But there is no shortage of blood
The way I feel about you baby can't explain it
You got the best of my love

Letting go feels good. I gave my all and it wasn't enough, and life is far too short to live waiting for something that will never come.

Turns out I didn't need to untie the knot, it is dissolving all on its own.

Ramblings

2010-04-25T17:34:00.000-07:00

I've forgotten to take my thyroid medication for a couple of days this week, which has resulted in a massive crash today. This is probably combined with the late night junior high style make out session with the cute boy last night (sorry Andy- totally PG), but today I am so exhausted I can barely move.

I can't believe I functioned like this for so long, that I resisted medication for three years because I didn't want to believe I had to actually rely on a pill for the rest of my life to make me feel "normal". It was a slow decline, I know that, but feeling the brain fog and physical exhaustion come crashing back in makes me want to smack my old self upside the head and smack my current self for being so darn forgetful.

I sometimes wonder what part this played in my relationship with the ex. If he was a little ticked that the girl who was always up for an adventure would rather lay curled in the fetal position under twenty blankets and nap. I guess that is something I will never know, I don't think it is something I really need to know anyway.

I stopped by my mom's office the other day and realized she still had a picture of the ex and I on her desk. It was taken at a family party shortly before he left, I am sitting in his lap, and we are laughing and looking at one another like we are the only two people in the room. I felt like I had punched.

I asked her to take it down, which was met with a long pause and then she told me, "I know I should, but he was like a son to me", oh mom...

So I told her. I told her the things I had not told her to spare her feelings towards him, so she could go on thinking he was the man we all thought he was. I told her that for the past three months he had been telling me that he hoped that someday in the future our paths would cross and we would be together again, that he was terrified to be alone with me because our physical connection and attraction was stronger than anything he had experienced since, and finally what he said in our last conversation. She was quiet for a moment and then sighed, "no, I suppose he is not like a son to me, I raised my children to be good human beings."

I imagine the next time I stop by her office that photo will be gone.

I didn't want to go there, I didn't want her to know, much in the same way I always speak highly of him in front of everyone but my very closest circle. And so most people don't understand why I could barely function for so long, why I stopped eating, why every time his name was mentioned I had to leave the room. That is ok with me, I don't need to influence their opinions of him. My goal in all of this was to handle myself with grace and class. I think for the most part I have managed this. Even the tirades to the bff's were short-lived and quiet. It is gut wrenching when someone you love becomes hateful but worse yet if you allow your own heart to become hardened as well.

And so open and raw it stays.

But that doesn't mean I am not protecting it a bit. I was asked to assist in planning a fundraiser for the ex's father's political campaign. One involving his friends, our friends. My first thought was that I had to do it, it would look terrible if I said no. My feelings towards the ex have no impact on how I feel towards his father and I support his campaign and know he is the right person for the job. But after sitting with it for a while I began to think of what impact it would have on my own heart... I am finally feeling on stable ground, my heart and my head are in their right place, it took a lot of time to get here, could I risk that just to avoid looking bad? And the answer is no, I can't. So I crafted an e-mail in which I attempted to graciously decline. I hope what I was trying to convey came across, but I gave such little detail I am not sure it did.

This is all so rambling and not well written, I'm blaming the thyroid and lack of sleep, but things are good, even if my brain is betraying me a bit today. Off to a long sit, some study and a very early bed time.

Be well.

Grant that I may not seek as much to be Loved as to Love

2010-04-17T15:27:00.000-07:00

After a long awful winter of a whole ton of navel gazing (not necessarily bad, I learned a lot, grew a lot, and it really reinforced why I need to practice), I'm really starting to feel on solid ground again.

Which means I've been getting back in to the world that I so adore, and feeling pretty darn good about it.

This morning I was up at five to volunteer for an event my mom had at the zoo. Moms has probably got the best job in the world, she works with newly diagnosed breast cancer patients to provide them with resources and whole heaps of love. And while she is a bit of a control freak (hence me working like hell to get rid of those tendencies), they make her incredible at what she does.

The idea of getting out of my bed at 5 am to go stand in the snow (yes snow, ridiculous as I was throwing long johns over my Thursday sunburnt shoulders, but alas, this is the mid-west) was awful, but I've been in need of some karma yoga, I've been a little too focused on myself the past couple of months, it is time to put all this compassion talk in to practice.

So I spent the morning with a bunch of sassy cancer survivors and their supporters setting up breakfast for 500 walkers. Talk about a reminder, these women were feisty and kind and just so full of love. I've been a bit of a drag, focused on my own lessons of impermanence and these women have had to face it with their own lives and are still shining.

And then came the best part, moms and I had also volunteered to guide the walkers at division points, so they wouldn't get lost. Which meant we got dropped off (clinging to the back of a golf cart no less) in the middle of the zoo about an hour before the walk started. And we had the ENTIRE place to ourselves.

I know, I'm a nine year vegetarian, and a huge proponent of animal rights, but I love the zoo. I know there are people out there who have huge issues with keeping animals in captivity for human enjoyment, I get that. But I also know that my cousin had an internship there and was amazed at how much work went in to making sure the animals were in a proper habitat and were well cared for. The education the zoo provides to both children and adults inspires me. Sometimes we need a reminder of the beauty of what we are working to save.

And so, in true Magpie form, I ran around the zoo like a spider monkey. I spent time with the snow monkeys, laughing as they came to the edge of their enclosure, studying me in my bright orange hat and huge puffy vest, almost died of fright when a tiger stared at me and let loose a bone shaking roar, and I meditated with a gorilla. Yeah, you heard that right, a beautiful silver back that took my breath away. I don't think I had any other choice but to sit my butt down on the cold pavement and be still. And he (she?) stayed staring at me until I was done and had whispered a quiet "thank you" and then he walked away. I had no idea I was crying until I tasted the salty tears that had pooled above my lip.

The whole morning was incredible, all of those people braving the cold, because someone they love has been touched by this disease.

All that love and connection before ten am was quite a treat. And it has continued throughout the day, from the farmer's market where I had an unusually long chat with my favorite Amish farmer while buying my cheese and eggs to the nut butter seller promising to set my favorite honey peanut butter aside for me next week because they are always sold out by the time I drag my sleepy head out of the house, to the new friends Daisy and I made at the dog park.

It has been a truly beautiful day, in spite of the bitter cold and overcast skies.

It is true, when you worry about taking care of other people instead of yourself, the world begins to take care of you. So I've signed up for some other volunteer work, most excited about the weekly shift in the community garden, dirt and sunshine have always soothed my soul.

I think I may have turned a corner on this whole grief thing.

And for the "other" magpie- the cute boy and I are hanging out again tomorrow :).

Flooring the Thunderbird into the Unknown*

2010-04-14T19:15:00.000-07:00

Life has been really busy the past couple of days, it seems that now that I am ready to shake off the cocoon I was healing in, the world is ready to greet me.

Things still feel raw and I am still carrying a whole ton of miss around in my heart, but I am also carrying a whole lot of love for the people who stuck by me through what might have been the worst winter of my life.

Seems fitting that spring is the time I'm feeling so refreshed.

And so I've been doing all kinds of good things, "game night" with the girls, which included far less games than ridiculous stories and tales of my recent exploits back into the "real world", (glad you ladies are able to laugh at my expense), grocery shopping with the bff (which means one of these days I might get around to eating again), beers with a cute boy, that turned into four and a half hours of really unexpected awesomeness, tomorrow dinner with friends that include both me and Daisy, and lots of yoga, sitting and mindfulness practice.

And in what might be the most exciting development, I found a Shambhala meditation group not terribly far from home, and on Saturday I'll be joining them. I nerdily called my mom and said "I might have found a sangha!" I'm not sure she had any idea what I was talking about, but in true rock star mom fashion, she declared "I am so very happy for you," and meant it.

I am still trying to land a job on the West coast, even if it means I'll constantly be fighting zombies in my dreams due to that awful print, I will at least have a co-fighter in one of the bff's, and other friends to keep me joyfully irreverent (see comments on this post). But I am getting the notion that I can't control that change either. I just have to trust that the process is happening exactly as it should be, and take joy out of the here and now.

And while I'm not quite ready to let him go, I'm letting the struggle go, and making room in my heart for the people who want to be there and who don't need me to change to fit their ideals.

Interestingly enough doing that has begun to make me realize that the change I am so desperately craving is happening to me, even if it is not happening in my physical world just yet. I am the kinder, more accepting, happy me, the one I used to be, the one he was so angry at me for letting dissipate for a while. I wonder if this would have been easier if he had simply asked that of me, instead of holding it against me and making me feel as if I was doing something wrong for so long. I was... but I didn't know what.. And the truth of it is, yes, it would have been easier, and it would have stopped all this damn suffering, but he didn't, and so that is not the way things were meant to be. I can forgive both myself and him for this, I pray that someday he can as well.

*fabulous title of an equally fabulous podcast by Lama Marut

and in totally unrelated but equally awesome news @JohnCusack declared me sharp with trolls via twitter on Monday, while I have no idea what that means, I've decided to interpret it as his declaration of love for me. Just saying.

Elegy

2010-04-11T16:58:00.000-07:00

In a workshop a few years back I was assigned an elegy. I wrote of my father, who had the most striking blue eyes I have ever seen. They were light and soft and shone with such heart and wisdom and pain. My brother has those eyes, and the brilliant mind that comes along with them.

My Father Had the Bluest Eyes that I Have Ever Known

Your oceans
are reflected in those of my brother
and sometimes I stand stunned
looking, not sure if you are really gone.

If I had known 46 years could be
erased with a typewritten note
and a bottle of pills,
I would have crawled back into
my mother's womb at the moment of my birth

and mellowed,
until you vanished.
To walk out nineteen years later
a grown woman.

Never having known what this feels like.
and never knowing
the sound of your voice,
or the oceans in your eyes.

And when I close my eyes at night
I know that I will dream of seas
I have not traveled
and the oceans that will live on in the eyes of my children.

I've been writing again, inspired by the elegy I wrote for my father, I wrote one for love. The ex has the richest brown eyes I have ever seen. They hold so much love and yet so much anger and pain. Looking into them I felt as though I was looking straight in to his heart.

And so here it is, rough and not yet re-edited a million times over, as I like to do before I share. But it is simply straight from my soul to his, since he will never read it, I will send it out the universe with love and hope it lands in its right place.

My Love Has Eyes of the Deepest Brown

Your brown eyes
are as rich as the soil
that the seeds of our love was planted in.

The same brown earth
that would become a desert
after love had withered from our touch.

The earth that holds a memory
to be twisted and torn
in whatever way we choose.

And if I had a chance
to live it all again
knowing how my roots would die
I would do it all the same,
to have a chance of a lifetime in your arms.

Because when I close my eyes at night
I know I will dream of lands
we have not yet traveled
and of the brown eyes that have shone forever in my heart.

Miss You in My Life

2010-04-10T12:53:00.000-07:00

Feeling a bit beaten down this weekend. The anger is gone, a lot of the sadness too, but I feel as though I'm walking around with my right arm missing.

I'm taking all the right steps, doing all the things you are "supposed" to do. But even though I spend my waking hours continuing to try to cut the knot that binds us, my dreams are filled with his face. We travel to all the places we dreamed of, we are in the future, in our past, and last night in the house we shared, in the bed we shared, and it was simple, the way our love used to be. I woke up to Daisy licking tears off my face I did not know I was crying.

And so I sit with it, because I don't know what else to do, because there is nothing else I can do. And I am trying to soothe my soul with my favorite things; morning yoga, the dog park with daisy and sunny afternoon cocktails with friends, but there is always something missing.

I think there may always be something missing...

Zen of Zombie

2010-04-08T18:53:00.000-07:00

Thanks to my love of elephant journal I stumbled across this little gem. I'm not sure how to handle this... My top fear in life is the zombie apocalypse (just because it hasn't happened yet, does not mean it won't), and one of my greatest loves in life is yoga. Combining the two gives me an odd sense of terrified joy.

Fodder for nightmares at the least.

My fear of zombies is so great it caused one of my bff's to spend her dreams defending me from them while I slept, terrified of her zombieland poster. It also caused me to guess that the ex did not actually know me at all when he suggested I watch the same movie, he clearly forgot the nights he spent holding me after I woke up screaming for a week straight after Shaun of the Dead, yes I said "Shaun".

In related news, this guy kind of has a point. Perhaps this is where the fear comes from?

And sadly, since switching to the custom domain my comments seem to have vanished.. love me...

Back in the Saddle

2010-04-07T20:14:00.000-07:00

My monkey mind is sitting high in the saddle

I am currently re-reading Shambhala: The Sacred Path of the Warrior, the first time I read it was at Karme Choling, and my monkey mind was on fire. After my recent run in with a fit of rage that I thought was long gone I felt it was time to pick it back up again, anger does not look pretty on me, even if it does provide me with a twisted sense of strength. Finding it is settling in much nicer this time. Things are striking me in different ways as my beginner's mind begins to work with the monkey and not against, my highlighter is on fire.

Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche writes about how meditation is like sitting tall in the saddle of a moving horse.

From the echo of meditative awareness, you develop a sense of balance, which is a step towards taking command of your world. You feel that you are riding in the saddle, riding the fickle horse of mind. Even though the horse underneath you may move, you can still maintain your seat. As long as you have good posture in the saddle, you can overcome any startling or unexpected moves. And whenever you slip because you have a bad seat, you simply regain your posture; you don't fall off the horse. In the process of losing your awareness, you regain it because of the process of losing it. Slipping, in itself, corrects itself. It happens automatically. You begin to feel highly skilled, highly trained.

The warrior's awareness is not based on the training of ultimate paranoia. It is based on the training of ultimate solidity- trusting in basic goodness. That does not mean that you have to be heavy or boring, but simply that you have a sense of being solidly rooted or established. You have trust and constant joyfulness; therefore you can't be startled. Sudden excitement or exaggerated reactions to situations need not occur at this level. You belong to the world of warriors. When little things happen- good or bad, right or wrong- you don't exaggerate them. You constantly come back to your saddle and your posture. The warrior is never amazed. If somebody comes up to you and says 'I am going to kill you right now,' or 'I have a present of a million dollars for you,' you are not amazed. You simply assume your seat in the saddle.

It's got me thinking.. because one of the things about being sick is it gives you quite a bit of time to think. It is next to impossible to not be present when you're running a fever of 102 and every swallow brings tears to your eyes.

And so for the past 72 hours when I was not drifting in and out of sleep, I was contemplating Saturday's conversation with the ex.

Ya know, the one where he placed whole heaps of blame and anger on me. As if I hadn't done enough for the both of us. In one breathe he was telling me that I had to forgive myself, in the next he was telling me that I had broken us beyond repair.

I didn't throw blame back. There is plenty to go around, but I've found that game a bit too messy for my tastes, and quite honestly I no longer seek to be understood by him, only to understand the source of his anger to me. I only could offer what I felt, which is love, unfortunately (perhaps fortunately) I can not make that go away.

It was not enough for him, but it is enough for me. And a testament that while I can not get off the horse, I can remain firmly in the saddle. My rage has settled, I am sitting tall. Feet firmly planted in the ground, mind reaching towards the sky. I may spend the rest of my life forgiving myself each and every morning, but it is ok, because I am willing to now.

I was so worried about dying after losing my roots that I failed to notice I was growing my own.

So tell me, have any of you emerged from heartbreak worse for the battle? Or do we all grow when our hearts are crushed?

Lisa Simpson Love

2010-04-07T10:33:00.000-07:00

Wish I could say I found this myself, but I discovered it courtesy of Bitteroot Badger. And yes, somedays I do feel this way (and other days it's more of a "I'm NOT a freaking Buddhist") especially when talking to my mother. Anyhow, too fantastic not to share.

A Change is Gonna Come

2010-04-06T19:45:00.000-07:00

I'm sorry for my abscence, I've been ridiculously sick...again.

So that means so far this year I have had H1N1, Bronchitis, beginning stages of Pneumonia and strep.. twice. The first was strep type C, apparently the kind horses and cows get... not typically humans, especially not humans who have absolutely no contact with barnyard animals (not even eating them!), the verdict is still out on what kind this is, culture should be in tomorrow.

Thing is, all of them have been brought on by some sort of heartbreak from the ex. If that is not reason to cut him out of my life completely, I'm not sure what is...

And well, I don't really have a choice, he's in love, and not with me, so there will be no further contact.

Didn't know you could break a heart that's already broken...

I was so sure that with time apart he would come to realize that I was the one for him... even with all my talk of understanding the impermanence of love, I wanted this to work.. and instead I'm stuck with Outkast on repeat in my head "If what they say is 'nothing lasts forever', then what makes love the exception." Yeah.. its not. Hard lesson learned, I had really thought I got it.

So, I keep moving forward with the physical actions of moving on. Selling the gorgeous pearl necklace he bought me for my birthday this year, the diamond earrings he bought me for Christmas a couple of years back, the sapphire ring for our 5th anniversary, and so on...

I've applied for a million jobs that hopefully will take me anywhere but here.

I deleted all the photos of us together from my facebook account. Talk about removing nine years of your life. Facebook really should have a "delete all photos of" button, instead of making me take several gut wrenching hours looking at each one and hitting the delete button.

I hope the emotional end will catch up. Eventually it has to right?

Still, I am trying to trust the process and enjoy the ride. And trust that these deep emotions are allowing me to tap in to something greater than I ever knew.

I think they are.. I am able to look at a friend crying over her heartbreak and feel a true sense of compassion for her suffering, instead of dispensing sage bits of wisdom about moving on, I can offer love...

If that is the change this heartbreak causes me, I am better for it.

I think I can wait this out, I have prayer, my practice and compassion on my side. Pretty sure that means I can't lose.

Navel Gazing With the Ex

2010-04-01T20:50:00.000-07:00

**Warning, I really don't like how unkind I am in this post, but in my quest to remain authentic in my feelings and at the very least on my own blog, I'm leaving it up, with a minor edit, but not without feeling really bad about my anger, especially directed at someone I don't even know... Damn Buddhist/Catholic guilt**

Remember when I was all "oh the ex and I are friends, things are good, look how mature and great we are." Yeah I may not have been writing about it because I was afraid of judgmental stares from my 4 (hey where did the 5th go??) followers. But we were, and it was good.

And then I get this: "I hope you understand but a lot of things are coming up about our relationship that I need to deal with so I need space, I hope you can respect my request as I need to honor myself." ... via text...

Ummm, WTF???

We're doing this again??

The thing where everything is going well and out of the blue the ex completely emotionally shuts me out? Again?? I mean I was just beginning to accept that we were done, but I was happy to have him in my life still. I was stabilizing my heart and was making my peace.

And then he pulls this. He's back with his ex (the one where he cried and told me he was so sick because he knew he was making a bad decision and he had rushed into it far too quickly and he needed to be on his own and figure his stuff out.) He hasn't told me that, but I know he is, much in the same way I woke up on his birthday screaming his name. I've been blessed with a creepy gift of knowing things I don't want to know.

And so I texted back, stating that I would honor his request but hoped he would respect mine too and call me first so I could talk to him before he shut me out... again...

And much like the last time he ignored it, followed up by an e-mail again stating that he had things he needed to work through by himself so he could forgive me. Of course there was no insight as to what I needed to be forgiven for. He asked that I communicate through e-mail, stating that he knew we would be friends in the future but he needed to do this on his own...

Cry me a river. I don't want to be angry at him, I have tried to look at the root of all of this as so much of my anger with him before was masking sadness and fear. But this time it just feels like rage.

How could I have expected him to be different? He pulled the same thing he continues to pull and each time I let him back in. He asks me to respect his requests while completely ignoring mine, he shuts down, he claims he needs to deal, all the while burying his head in the sand (and a hipster mullet).

And so I am back to not eating or sleeping. Rage is not an emotion I am comfortable with, and one that I hope will pass quickly, but in the mean time I am simply sitting with it. It pours out of me every time I hit the cushion and in and out with every breathe. I am having a full on dinner party for this demon.

I think I need to get off this emotional roller coaster, stop being a victim of his pinball emotions. Can I actually be friends with someone who refuses to be friends with himself, let alone show me any sort of decency?

I know the answer to that... but I don't really like it.

Shift in Perspective

2010-03-28T10:25:00.000-07:00

The tattoo is finished. I now have a visible mark that mirrors the one on my soul, that is as permanent as I am. Which is to say, not really permanent at all.

I think my dad would love it, him with eagles on his shoulders, and me with magpies by my heart.

Spring always reminds me of him, perhaps because it is a time of re-birth for so many things on earth, and because I am hoping his energy has been re-birthed in another being and he is free from suffering.

The ex used to talk about how my father's suicide was intertwined with my karma. For so long I fought against that, feeling that it was placing blame on me. Like, "I screwed something up in a past life, so he had to die?? WTF." I realized a while back that's not what he meant. My father and I both had lessons to learn, I'm not certain if his suicide taught him that lesson. I don't know if he regretted it at the end, if as he was dying he thought, "I made a mistake."

I hope he didn't. I hope his last moments were not filled with regret. Not because I believe that suicide is ever the answer to anything (and let's not even talk about the implications on karma), but because I wish that his final moments were filled with the peace he was lacking in his life.

But I am learning my lesson from his death, brought back to the surface after the break-up. Re-grasping the understanding of impermanence and how wanting permanence leads to suffering. I am relaxing in the notion that I can't make anything stay, it is not my right to, and wanting to make it so will not lead to mindfulness.

However I am still struck by the idea that now that all the pain, confusion and heartache have faded, I am left with a profound sense of loss.

But what exactly did I lose? For 19 years I had a father. While imperfect, he had a heart the size of Texas and a mind that shone with brilliance. He bought me my first flowers, my first car, and ice cream when I didn't make the freshmen year cheerleading squad. I will always remember his booming voice calling "Magpie's here" when I entered his house. Even at the end, when his wife had left him, and there was no one there to announce it to. I will forever be grateful for his acceptance of the ex, with his dreadlocks and vegan ways, for my father pulling me aside and telling me that this was one I should keep around.

And he taught me things; how to bake bread, that algebra might actually be useful in life so I ought to learn it and why you shouldn't follow recipes but follow your instinct.

He also taught me that always chasing something better can ultimately destroy you in the end, that alcohol can be just as dangerous as heroin and that it really never is too late to start over.

I am as grateful for the lessons he taught me, both in a "do as I do", and "don't do as I do", way.

Granted those lessons haven't always stuck, I never discovered a purpose for anything beyond basic math in my "grown-up" life and I did wonder about what else was out there instead of being present in my current life. One of those things almost destroyed me. (Hint, not math, although my bank account would disagree)

And I am grateful to have learned that it is not too late to start over, 46 was not too late for him, 26 is sure not too late for me. It is ok to come to a wall and re-evaluate and make changes, it is not ok to run from it by swallowing a few handfuls of pills and leaving a note in your neighbor's mailbox.

So, perhaps a shift in my perspective is in order. I was given 19 years with a father who showed me unconditional love and taught me so many things. Focusing on what I lost blurs the focus on what I was given.

Lama Marut refers to this as "changing your backstory." He has a pretty fabulous podcast on the subject. The idea that we can have some control over how we view our past, not as victims, but to be grateful for all the teachers who have given us the opportunity to be forgiving, to learn compassion, to know what buttons are easily pushed, gives me joy and peace in my present day life.

Thinking this is a lesson that is applicable in other areas of my life as well...

Ditching the rules

2010-03-24T07:02:00.000-07:00

I'd go ten to one that if my monkey mind had a face it would be this one...

Saw a show last night with the ex's cousin. Graham Colton, Stephen Kellogg and the Sixers and Needtobreath. It was unexpectedly awesome. Not that I don't trust her opinion on music, its just I wonder about bands who lack spaces in their titles. I'm sort of the opposite of cool when it comes to stuff like that. I can rock a jean skirt, leggings and pumas with the best of those hipster kids, but make sure things are grammatically correct.

I forgot how much I dig live music. I was blessed with a glorious monkey mind. Zipping every which way, I have about a ten second attention span. I would bet had I gone to public school about ten years later I would have a prescription to ritalin and and ADD diagnosis. But I went to private school and escaped before most kids like me were given labels. Thank goodness. Because instead of ritalin, I meditate, I practice mindfulness, and when all else fails I shut my office door and have a dance party and just give in. And I used to see shows, a lot, I forgot how totally awake the whole thing makes me feel. The monkey mind stops swinging from tree to tree. I'm present. I'm not thinking about the next ten seconds because I'm completely in the moment.

The band doesn't even have to be particularly good, although last night's were, I just need to feel the bass vibrating in my stomach and a throaty voice to focus on, and its all over for me. Need to do more of this, the things I really love to do that make me feel so very awake.

I almost didn't go (though I am so very glad I did), I just wasn't sure about the rules on hanging out with the ex's family members (I'm pretty sure there are rules, there appear to be rules for everything). At the same time I don't quite get the whole cutting everyone off thing that happens so often after a break up. I love his cousin, I would think she was awesome even if she wasn't related to him (perhaps even more so). So I don't quite get why everyone makes comments that I'm so mature and handling this like a grown up by seeing her. Hmmm... I mean last time I checked I was sort of grown up... and the whole maturity thing, call it equanimity and I'll tell you that's how we Buddhists roll. But I almost wonder if it's the opposite of grown up, if it's not my inner toddler stamping her foot saying, "but I like these people and I don't want to pretend that they never existed!"

But I guess bottom line is ex thinks it's cool, he knows I have nothing but love for him and his family, and it makes me quite happy to talk to people I love, no matter who they are related to. So I'm not going to worry too much about the rules and focus instead on just loving and being present for life. Whether I am "supposed to" or not.

One is the loneliest number

2010-03-21T21:18:00.000-07:00

Ok, I realize its been over a week since I've posted anything of merit (my blood gushing pass-out does not count). I'm sorry to the six of you who read this.

It's just that I've been a little (lot) down this week, and I really didn't want to turn this into a blog where I whine about how much of an idiot I am and how much I miss the ex (I am and I do, but that's not the point). So I haven't written. Because that's pretty much been the running narrative that's been going on in my head. And no matter how much I've been trying to kick it, it's not going anywhere. So I've given up the struggle for the time being. That's not a knot I'm ready to untie I guess. And Daisy made her point pretty clear when I picked up the phone to text him and she growled at me. Point taken, phone down. Daisy doesn't growl... ever... so when she does, I listen.

Now that the apology is out of the way, let's get down to business.

I've always had an incredible group of friends. Many of them have been around since my high school days, some of them even longer. But lately I've been feeling a bit alienated. Some of it is self imposed. I know this. I can't bring myself to go to the same smokey loud bar, where everyone gets too drunk and brings out too much drama. Since the ex has left I no longer feel the same about it. I want something more. He used to be that for me, the drunken nights were just a fun bonus. But now that it is my only bit of human connectivity outside of work, I've found it empty. And I've tried to schedule more one on one time, dinner dates, coffee plans, etc. And it just really hasn't worked. I guess if I'm not the girl who can take shots like a champ, I'm not the girl they all want around.

Fine, I get it. I guess I'm not holding up my end of the bargain either. I'm not the girl I once was, but it was a lot easier to whoop it up on a Saturday night when I knew the other six I got to spend with my best friend talking about politics, religion, our hopes and fears. It was easier to go out and not worry about connecting with someone else when I had that to come home to.

And I guess that's what I'm craving, connection.

Don't get me wrong, I do have that still, one of my favorite human beings was in town this week from Chicago and it was fabulous. Lots of good conversations and laughs. And I spent this afternoon with another great friend enjoying the sunshine and our goofy pups.

But its a lot further apart than it ever used to be.

And I'm lonely.

But at least at home I can pretend that I'm there by choice. Because I find that I'm lonelier still out at the bar surrounded by all the drunkenness and the drama. There I'm reminded of what's missing.

But being lonely is tough. And not something I am used to.

So I'm searching for a sangha. Which is harder than I thought. The closest Tibetan practice center is 45 minutes away. Which I realize is not that far, but far enough. But I've been going it alone for too long. Thich Nhat Hanh refers to the practitioner out of a sangha like a tiger who leaves the mountains to go down to the plains- vulnerable to slaughter. Interesting, as I am feeling far more vulnerable than I ever have.

And at the same time I am looking for jobs out of state, while anxiously awaiting the results of the FSOT. I guess all those things that I thought were keeping me here just aren't worth it anymore without the ex.

I didn't know it was possible to feel so entirely uprooted without ever leaving home.

`Cause one is the loneliest number that you'll ever do
One is the loneliest number, worse than two

Don't say I never taught you anything...

2010-03-18T19:32:00.000-07:00

I learned a very important lesson today.

When you have something that looks like a blood blister in the corner of your mouth and you think "huh, that's sort of impossible, it has been AGES since I have done anything with my mouth that could warrant such a thing, and who gets blood blisters in the corner of their lips anyhow?" Do not, under any circumstances try and squeeze it.

Because it is a blood blister (its origins are sheer mystery). And the squeezing of that blood blister will result in a torrent of blood so large that it will look like a murder occurred in your bathroom... by Dracula... you being Dracula.

There will be blood all over your favorite gray t-shirt, your pretty light green rug, all over your crisp white hand towels. There will be so much blood you will end up sitting in the corner of your bathroom, head between your legs, praying that you don't pass out and die. And then you will pass out, but not die.

And when you get up to look in the mirror you will have blood covering your teeth and face and kind of wonder if this is what a vampire looks like. And you might have to return to the corner of the bathroom.

And then you will cry for an hour because you miss the ex, because he knew how horrified you were of blood and always bandaged your wounds so you wouldn't have to look at them.

Not that any of this happened to me tonight, but if it did, it would have been a very valuable lesson.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have a murder scene to clean up.

And I do apologize for those who came to my blog in search of bits of Buddhist goodness and found me talking about my near death experience. Back to dharma soon, the monkey mind is refusing to be quiet this week.

Why I am (and am not) a Buddhist

2010-03-13T19:22:00.000-08:00

The ex and I have been communicating via e-mail (hold your judgments bff's). It is actually quite nice. I don't have any expectations or notions of control, I just know it is nice to hear what is going around in that brilliant mind of his after hearing it daily for nine years.

He referred to me as a Buddhist in an e-mail last week. Which led to a firestorm of e-mails between us, with me declaring "I am not a Buddhist" and with him stating "call yourself whatever you want, you are in fact a Buddhist."

Ugh, I hate it when he's right.

But the thing is, I'm reticent to place a label on myself. If you've been reading along, you know that my labeling of myself has caused me much suffering. If you haven't been reading along feel free to catch up here,and here, oh and here too, better thought- just read the whole damn thing. This blog would me more appropriately titled- "Magpie learns labels are EVIL". But no its called "Big Girl Buddha Pants" after realizing that I had been mishearing that Ben Folds lyric wrong all along. So clearly the ex is on to something here.

But first let me present my arguments:

1. I am not perfect (shocker!!) and I don't want to become the face of Buddhism to my group of friends. Shockingly, for as liberal of a community that I live in, I am the only practitioner in my circle. It's not that I hide my practice, but I fear judgments during the times I climb off my Buddha-box (my Buddhist equivalent of a soap box) and get down and dirty in the cycle of gossip and other un-kind behaviors. Which unfortunately I do at times. Ok, ok, I get it, I'm supposed to look at others judgments not as theirs but as judgments I place on myself. I KNOW this, but I don't always remember to practice it. And quite honestly, I highly doubt they would judge me, they haven't seemed to thus-far. But I still am fearful.

And the winner is: ex-1 magpie-0.

2. I don't like labels of any sort. I think they work to separate us from one another. I guess what I'm getting at is that I don't view Buddhism as something outside of me. And so I don't really want to put a label on it- like now I am Buddhist, before I was Catholic. I am at the heart of it, a human being who wants to reach enlightenment, and who wants to continue to love all beings and help them reach enlightenment as well, this is not that far off from who I was a year ago, I just didn't know how. That's the part that Buddhism plays, it gives me a vehicle to do so (the mahayana vehicle at that!). I know that I acknowledge the lineage of many and feel a part of them all.

And the winner is: I think I'm going to give this one to Buddhism.

3. I have a strong connection to a Creator God. The ex states that feels this is implied in Buddhism (but what does he know, he practices TM). I feel that it is expressly not implied in Buddhism. (But what the hell do I know, please feel free to comment if you have thoughts one way or the other on this!) I've written about how my Christian upbringing plays a part in my practice before. I've also referenced John's question, at Sweep the dust, Push the dirt, "Can Christian Practice and Buddhism Mix". And the truth of it is, I don't know. I think they can, I mix them in my own life. But a part of me feels that declaring myself a Buddhist means renouncing my Christian beliefs.

And the winner is- I don't think anyone wins this argument, not even faithful trusty Buddhism...

So I get around this by saying I am a Buddhist-in-training or a student of Shambhala. Because if you're a student of something, you can't quite be it, right? I don't want a first year med student coming in to my hospital room declaring that he is a doctor. But the truth is, that first year med student is going to be a physician (well hopefully), and I can call myself a student all I want, but I am working towards enlightenment and practicing every day. And maybe someday, many many lifetimes from now, I will become enlightened.

So I guess ex you can win this argument along with the many you've been winning lately, although I'm still on the fence about irregardless, I am a Buddhist. But I am (and am not) a whole lot of other things too.

Hunger Fast

2010-03-11T18:07:00.000-08:00

Sarah Silverman took to her twitter today to declare that getting married in this social climate is stating that you are against equal rights. It made me laugh, not because I am against gay marriage, I strongly believe everyone should have the right to marry, but because it sounded just like my (faux) stance in the great break-up fast. My latest declaration was, "I will not eat until everyone on the planet can eat, otherwise I am promoting world hunger." I kind of think not getting married makes about as much sense.

And meh, maybe that's just my way of poking fun at the state I found myself in. My friend Fred describes it as "acute anorexia". Fred has a way with words that can make your brain melt even when he's just talking about the weather, but he was pretty much spot on.

I put on a skirt last week while getting dressed for work and thinking it was one of my old size 8's, thought, "not bad, I must not be as devastated as I thought", because it wasn't "too" big (as in, I wasn't rocking the homeless chic look that had become my signature until I went clothes shopping)... and then I looked closer and realized it was one of my new size 4's.

Oh. I barely had enough money to buy new suits in a size 4, I sure don't have enough cash to spring for 2's.

It's not like I ever said to myself, "you're not worthy of eating." It was that for a while I just simply couldn't. And if I did, I would usually vomit immediately after.

And after that, when I began to feel hungry again, I still couldn't get past the chewing part. So I bought jugs of Naked Juice and containers of Stonyfield whole fat yogurt. And beyond a couple of dalliances into the world of veggie burgers and french fries (yum) that's pretty much what I've been living on.

Ick, I guess I need to take a closer look at my new found declaration of compassion for myself. Yeah, I have forgiven myself for the things I did wrong, but maybe I should start feeding myself too. That's one of those basic human needs that I seem to have been denying myself.

***Brother- time to stop reading, I'm going to mention boobs***

But let's be honest, while I am loving my skinny body and take perverse pleasure in the fact that I can count every rib (not just the freak rib), I am hating my complete lack of chest. I bought a new bra the other day, a 34A. Yes... me, a 34A. I don't think I was ever an A, I think I went to sleep one night flat chested and woke up with giant C's... I was tortured in 5th grade because everyone said I stuffed my bra. I literally came home crying every day. There was a time I stood in a bathroom stall and listened to one girl tell my whole pom squad (yeah I wore sequin spandex and shook pom poms in 5th grade, so what) that she saw kleenex fall out of my dress that day. I hated junior high and I hated my boobs.

That is until I got older and realized that they sure made up for a lot. Bad hair day? Throw on a fitted v-neck tee and no one even noticed my head.

I miss them. And my sweaters miss them. I think a large majority of the male population misses them.

So I bought a box of cheerio's, and have committed to eating at least one bowl every night for dinner. Might not sound like much, but it is a start. And when I let them get all soggy I don't have to deal with my strong aversion to chew. Maybe all that milk and fortified food will make my boobs grow again. At least it will probably keep me from shrinking further.

And in the process I can show myself a little more love, which is the point, right?

So if I'm showing myself a little compassion and get my old friends back I think I'm in good shape.

All paths lead to the same end.

Egotripping at the Gates of Hell

2010-03-09T17:08:00.000-08:00

I've been feeling anxious the past few days. Trying to understand what about, as if I didn't know already.

I've mentioned how this grieving process reminds me so much of losing my dad. But I wasn't really prepared for the anxiety to settle in this time around.

After my dad committed suicide I was struck square in the jaw with the idea of impermanence. Hearing the Flaming Lips "Do you Realize" on the radio was enough to send me into the hazard lane and sit, head between my legs, trying not to vomit. I missed the whole rest of the song, only focusing on the line "do you realize that someday everyone you know will die?" Yes, Wayne Coyne, I do realize, and I don't like it. I couldn't face anyone without the very real understanding that someday they would be gone; my best friends. my mom, hell even the local newscasters would die. I became so focused on the end I forgot about the journey.

Which is probably what got me to this spot in the first place.

I've written before about how I didn't really learn the lessons of impermanence the first time. I succumbed to panic attacks and trying to control, I thought that I could somehow go through life without ever having to admit that nothing is permanent, no matter how we want to make it so.

Last weekend at Karme Choling, Susan Piver said, "All love ends in heartbreak, you might as well relax." Good lesson, but easier said than done. But I'm trying, sitting longer, taking more time to myself, being open with my emotions, and trying not to judge this anxiety too harshly. It is there because this is uncomfortable, it is uncomfortable because the best lessons often are.

So yes, Wayne, I do realize it's hard to make the good things last. It doesn't mean we shouldn't try. But it also means sometimes we need to let go and just let the love in our hearts exist without any attachments. Because that's the best kind of love there is.

Cast of Characters

2010-03-06T11:44:00.000-08:00

So I've decided to get a little more personal (ha!) in my blog. By that I mean I may occasionally write a little more about the crazy people (and animals) who keep me company in the day to day and sometimes bail me out of financial crises (thanks brother!).

So I thought ya'll might like a visual taste of them as well (ok all three of you who read this). But in the interest of anonymity (and because I wanted to use paint) I couldn't just go throwing their pictures around on the internet.

So here they are, in no particular order of importance, and probably in no way representative of what they actually look like.

The Ex

The ex doesn't actually need an introduction, does he? If you've been reading along you know that he is the man who broke my heart, probably after I broke his. (that sounds wrong, like I'm angry, I'm not, sometimes life needs a re-set button, even if it hurts like hell) But here he is anyways, I hear the beard is gone, but I don't care, I liked it, so in my world it stays.

The BFF's

I am blessed to have many wonderful friends in my life, but these two, C-Monkey and H, have kept me going at times I just wanted to stop. I met C-Monkey in the 5th grade when she came running up to me saying "Hi I'm C-Monkey, do you want to be friends?". This overwhelmed the nerdy, socially awkward (time does not change everything) me, I'm pretty sure I avoided her for at least a year. H and I met in high school, she dated my step brother, I thought she was a skank and she thought I was a biatch. I was wrong, she may have been right.

The Brother and Sister-in-Law

My brother and sister-in-law are probably about the awesomest married couple I've ever met. And yes, he does have that long of a torso. Us birdie people were blessed with really short stubby legs but an impressive amount of height. Full disclosure I'm the shortest in the family and come in just under 5'8. I played the part of the responsible sister up until the break-up. Now I call him when I run out of gas, need money, food, beer, a laugh, I'm hoping bailing me out of jail is not next. However since sister-in-law is a lawyer I think I'm set.

Em- Cat, Master of Disaster

Em-Cat is actually the Ex's cat. However somehow she still lives with me. In my studio apartment. With a dog. I'm sure you can imagine that most of the conversations I have with the ex begin with "are you going to take your damn cat???" Thankfully the ex believes in karma and has begun to realize (4 months later) that ditching me with his cat probably was not a nice move. So someday (hopefully) she will live in Seattle. I will admit I am a little sad about this.

Daisy Dog

Daisy dog is a 1 year old shelter mutt who is an in the flesh representation of my monkey mind. If she is not trying to lick the inside of my ear during meditation, she is chewing on my mala, or trying to sit in my lap, or eat my meditation cushion. I love her to pieces. The ex and I adopted her shortly after the coolest dog on earth died (seriously she wore ninja turtle t-shirts and had no problem farting and leaving a room). I'd like to say she is totally my dog and has no interest in the ex, last time he was home she growled and wouldn't go anywhere near him, for like ten minutes, then she was all "Magpie who?? The Ex is here, hooray!" and mourned for weeks after he left again. She carries his sleep shorts around in her mouth. Oh well she can deal with that, she is so not moving to Seattle.

And finally....

Ok.. this looks nothing like me, and since this is my blog and I don't actually care about being anonymous (I am on tv ya know) I'll give you this-

It's me, on a Jackalope, at Wall Drug. If you have ever been within 3,451,720 miles of Wall Drug you have seen the giant billboards advertising free water at Wall Drug. I never found it, but I found a jackalope. Incidentally in neither of these pictures am I wearing my big girl Buddha pants. I am however wearing my adventure pants while riding the jackalope. They are adventure pants because I once fell and ripped a hole in them (and my leg) thereby saving the ex and I from being mauled by a bear. It's a true story, even if it doesn't make sense.

If you didn't get a shout-out and think you play a huge part of my life (and really want to see what I think you look like in paint), let me know you're reading this gummy heads and we can talk.

What happens when the places that scare you are everywhere?

2010-03-05T16:51:00.000-08:00

I'm reading Pema Chodron's "The Places That Scare You" while simultaneously exploring in therapy that a lot of things scare me. And instead of putting on my big girl Buddha pants when confronted with these things, I freeze, or sometimes run, and sometimes I pretend I never wanted it anyways.

Chodron writes:

"A man's only son was reported dead in battle. Inconsolable, the father locked himself in his house for three weeks, refusing all support and kindness. In the fourth week the son returned home. Seeing that he was not dead, the people of the village were moved to tears. Overjoyed, they accompanied the young man to his father's house and knocked on the door. "Father," called the son, "I have returned." But the old man refused to answer. "Your son is here, he was not killed," called the people. But the old man would not come to the door. "Go away and leave me to grieve!" he screamed. "I know my son is gone forever and you cannot deceive me with your lies."

At what point did my ego become a self fulfilling prophecy of samsara?

I was told a long time ago that it might never be possible for me to have children, so I decided pregnancy was creepy and really, who wants stretch marks anyways? When the ex started talking marriage, I broke out in hives and changed the subject, because both of our paths have shown that marriage does not equal permanence. When he started talking about moving to Seattle, I stayed put, pretending it was because my life was too tied here. I BROKE UP with him because I was worried he would not want to be with me once he was out there. (WHO DOES THAT???)

And I'm not just scared about the ex.

I once ran 8 miles on a broken foot because I was terrified people would think I was a wuss if I didn't finish a race.

My therapist says (I really do enjoy starting sentences with that) that these are very immature reactions for someone as mature as I am... but aren't our reactions sort of us? Yikes.

See I built up this story in my mind of who I am, it goes like this: Tough, independent chick. Has a killer career, does not need a man to make her happy. May get married around 30 (but never before), adopt a cute little Asian at 35. Will live in a loft in a big city with big city friends and run marathons and charities on the weekends.

HA

I think this is what the Buddha taught when he said ego leads to suffering.

Because I sure have suffered at the hands of my ego.

That person that I was so sure I was, I don't think I actually want to be. Sure I love big cities, but I also love teeny tiny towns. I want to have children, stretch marks and all, and I wanted to marry the ex. Who the hell would've cared if I hadn't finished the race, even if all my bones were intact? I don't even know if I like running. (yep I said it)

And so I'm not really sure who I am these days, maybe having the roots ripped out from underneath has caused me to realize there is no true sense of self. I am just a vessel and these things that I hold so "true" in my mind could use a little more flexibility.

As a side note my therapist also suggested I might be rigid... ouch.

Irregardless of whether or not Irregardless is a Word- You are still a Dumbo

2010-03-04T12:22:00.000-08:00

I'm copying and pasting an e-mail I sent to the ex today. He knows I blog, he knows that when I'm not writing about Buddhism I'm probably writing about him, or how my Buddhist practice relates to him, or how my father's suicide reminds me of him, or how pretty much breathing reminds me of him... yeah, the ex is perceptive like that.

YET somehow he has the self control to not search the internet to find it (I know this because I have ZERO visitors from the Seattle region), so I don't really feel that bad about re-posting it here.

Backstory- last time we talked he used the word "irregardless". I scoffed. Irregardless is not a word. For one tiny moment it made me feel quite smart, yes dear ex, you may be in "doctor school" and perhaps be a far more enlightened, karmically evolved being than me. (In my world there is a scale and at times I feel closer to the bottom than the top of it, I mean he might eat meat occasionally-blech, but I kill bugs and don't always feel bad about it). But me, I am a Grammar Queen. As an English major and a writer, I pride myself on still being able to diagram a sentence with the best of them. I know my stuff (this is not an open invite to point out all the grammatical errors I have in my blog).

And then today I found this.

Shit.

And so began my mea culpa:

Today is National Grammar Day, and Grammar Queen that I am was reading about grammar. Because I love it, I would marry it if I could, I would conjugate all day with grammar. I would have little nouns and adverbs running around. I revel and rejoice in the fact that there is a National Grammar Day, I will be spending tonight diagraming sentences instead of cramming for the FSOT.

And then I came across this little gem:

http://grammar.quickanddirtytips.com/irregardless.aspx

FUCK

I was wrong... you know me, you know how absolutely unbearable that was to type... I WAS WRONG.

Irregardless is a word, an informal word, and quite clearly a double negative, but it is a WORD.

However I still don't think you are using it right, so there.

Keeping calm and carrying on, even if others are bastardizing the English language,

Me

So now Ex- you can never say I didn't admit any wrong doing. When I make a mistake, I right it. Even if I want to stick out my tongue and say you are still a giant idiot even if irregardless is a word.

But that wouldn't be a very good display of my Buddha-nature now would it?

Wednesday's Wisdom

2010-03-03T15:10:00.000-08:00

"Until you’re forced to pick up all the pieces of your shattered heart, you won’t know how big it really is."

I'm borrowing this from Becca's blog for two reasons:

1. I'm too brain dead from studying for the FSOT to come up with original thought.

2. I believe it, its why I am a student of Shambhala, and goodness knows I'm learning my heart is bigger than I ever knew.

I think that's good enough.

So much love I'm giving it away for free

2010-03-02T18:37:00.000-08:00

Then, what is love?

yes, that appears to be the truth of it.

Lessons in Maitri

2010-03-01T20:24:00.000-08:00

I don't think it would come to anyone's surprise that I have a bit of a problem practicing loving kindness with myself. I seem to be able to feel compassion for even the person who I feel has been most egregious to me, but I have trouble mustering it for myself. Perhaps this is because I think my actions are on my karma, that I can't control how others behave but I can control how I do.

Well I worked on that this weekend. I wrote the story of the ex and I, beginning, middle and end. In third person. I looked at my actions as an observer. I thought about what I would say if the me in the story were my best friend. Putting space between it helped. I could acknowledge those feelings without judging. If it were my best friend I would pull her close and tell her that you cannot practice the lessons you don't yet know.

It is a start.

And last night as I was sitting in my hotel room in Boston (why I was in Boston and not spending my last night at Karme Choling is a story for another day), I had a pretty intense realization.

I start my sitting practice with the prayer of St. Francis... weird, I know, but you can take the Catholic out of the church... but what the prayer says is synonymous with the Dharma. We should be seeking to love and not be loved, to understand not to be understood. This is what the Buddha taught, it is why I practice loving-kindness meditation.

I got into a conversation with a woman at Karme Choling about this. She referenced Christ's time teaching in the mountains and the idea that he may have been exposed to Buddhism there, maybe, or maybe it is just reinforcement that all righteous paths lead to the same ends. I'm pretty sure you can say that Christ was already enlightened.

I end my sitting with a dedication that includes the Lord's prayer. I know, weirder yet, right? Some people would say that Christianity has no place in Buddhism. In fact this guy even wrote a whole blog entry asking about it and I'd say the 44 commentators all had some pretty strong feelings both ways about it. But I would like to think the Buddha and Christ would disagree. But I am no teacher, nor am I anywhere close to enlightenment, it just works for me.

As I was saying it, the words, "forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us", struck me. I have always looked it as- if I am to ask for forgiveness, I must be willing to forgive others. But maybe the way that I should look at it is- I offer my forgiveness to others, offer them compassion, as I do that I should do the same for myself.

And right there I began to really to forgive myself. How can I be so willing to forgive others and not start with myself?

And so with that the teachings of one helped reinforce the Dharma of another.

Pretty freaking awesome.

I am Ready to be Home Now

2010-03-01T11:50:00.001-08:00

I'm sitting in the Boston airport right now, about three hours too early for my flight. I think after all the getting lost I wanted to be certain that I did not miss my flight home.

It feels like I have been gone for months. Three days at Karme Choling and I feel like I have had the kind of growth it normally takes lifetimes to achieve. I am finally beginning to undo some of the knots I have tied for myself and it feels right. Being there solidified my practice for me. I am learning to stabilize this very tender heart of mine. I am so glad I went, there were times I thought it was crazy to fly to New England to attend a program called "The Wisdom of a Broken Heart". I thought that there was no way my broken heart was making me wise, it was making me act crazy, irrational and just plain not wakeful. What on earth could my practice have anything to do with the fact that some mornings I couldn't drag myself out of the house. Silly me, it has everything to do with it.

Sitting in my hotel room in Boston last night I was able to talk to the ex and feel at peace with the way things are. He has a girlfriend now, and while it hurt like hell to hear, I was able to not fall to pieces. I returned to my breathe for a minute, and was able to be happy that he is happy, although while I was returning to my breathe he was continually asking if I was still on the line. I don't think I could have done that a few days ago. I finally dropped the story and the judgments and simply felt the emotions and appreciated that I could feel them, after feeling numb for so long.

That being said, I am looking forward to my apartment and my little love furballs. It will be nice to be back in a familiar place, even if I feel my roots there are gone, I'm exhausted from airports (and missed and canceled flights) and driving hours through the snow in the mountains. And on this trip home I will have my eye a little closer on my carry on to make sure it doesn't attempt another trip without me!

Wish me a far less eventful trip home than my one coming here! :)

Vermont or Bust

2010-02-25T19:06:00.000-08:00

The open heart is a fearless one

I've been thinking that when you lose everything it makes you a little reckless. Kind of like what Janis is saying when she sings "Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose."

Well honey I'm nothing if I ain't free.

I've lost the two most important men in my life, both of them just walked away. My love wasn't enough...

Kind of a heavy load.

And it has me thinking about permanence. Or I guess the lack thereof.

When my dad killed himself I remember lying on the floor of my room thinking- ok, if it all ends tomorrow, that's alright. My therapist has used the term despondent. I guess that fits.

This time around I feel the same, but I wouldn't classify it as despondent. I would say its a kind of fearlessness.

I'm headed out tomorrow into a big old snow storm, flying there on a tiny plane, then driving from Boston to Barnet, Vermont, all on my own. These things all scare me, but I'm doing them anyway.

Next Friday I am taking the Foreign Service Officer Test, and secretly hope I'll somehow make it through, and they will place me someplace equally scary, although any foreign country where I don't know a soul, is pretty much placing me on my edge.

I was scared to move to Seattle with the ex, scared that it would be too much to place that much faith in him, that much faith in me. Maybe it was the right move, maybe it was the wrong one. But it is the choice I made.

And I'm not going to be held back by fear anymore, because the thing is, when you look the things that terrify you, straight in the heart, they really aren't that scary, it is the not facing them that is truly frightening.

It is the not living in the moment, the countless hours of wondering what should've been and what could be, that is samsara.

I get it now, but I wish I didn't have to lose it all to learn it.

When you've got nothing, you've got nothing left to lose.

Weather

2010-02-24T17:17:00.000-08:00

eek

Trying not to think about the three feet of snow New England is expecting tomorrow and Friday. Its not that it matters, its not like I am going to cancel my trip to karme choling, and its not like I can control the weather, although as a reforming control freak, I can bet that I have tried. Maybe this is what is meant when said "the journey is the goal", but in this case, I think I'd also like to add a surviving at the beginning!

Don't Believe Everything You Think

2010-02-23T18:15:00.000-08:00

(I can definitely feel the love towards glaciers in Montana, and maybe even the hike to get there)

Ugh, I'm having some serious trouble getting myself to sit tonight. It was an exhausting (both mentally and physically) 13 hour day and I have so many things running through my head and am dreading the monkey mind that I know will come. And I'm judging myself pretty hard for it.

Yep, I think I just hit a wall with my practice, the thing I always got down on the ex for. It blew my mind that he judged himself so harshly when he did not meditate, I used to rant away that this was not the point! (ok yes, I was placing judgment on him for placing judgment on himself, I get the ridiculousness of that) And here I am doing it to myself. I don't like how much I see him in me, not because he is not an incredible human being (recent actions aside, but hey, its really only my own feelings that I place on those actions that leave such a bitter taste in my mouth), but because I just can't handle thinking about him anymore.

I can't possibly have any tears left to cry, I can't possibly understand that it was my illusion of permanence that is causing this suffering, and while I can believe that everyone else (both good and bad) was put in my path because of my karma, I want to believe that he is just an idiot. Who has made a really bad decision.

But deep down, I guess I know that's not true either, he simply made a decision, neither wrong or right, that has had some serious impact on my life.

Its just for whatever reason when I sit, there comes a point that I gasp for air, choking out a silent sob, and as much as I try to gently let it go away, there is a very real feeling of loss that sits with me, and I can't help but to place judgment and think it is a very bad thing.

So I guess that means I need to sit and come back to the present, where everything on a day to day level really is ok. This is all ok, and unfolding exactly as it should.... And my practice is simply that, a practice, I don't have to be perfect... And I probably never will be :)

Update: I feel this needs to be added to after a pretty rocky metta meditation, no judgments on this, it just simply is what it is. I seem to have the most trouble cultivating compassion for myself. I have forgiven the ex for everything (yep, its a bear not having my anger to carry me through), but I can't seem to forgive myself for any of the actions that I took during the course of those nine years, at least tonight I seem to be having a lot of trouble remembering that I deserve loving kindness too.. Yuck.

But at the same time, tonight I found this blog. If you can't tell I've been on quite the quest to read the writings of female Buddhist bloggers. There's quite a few fabulous ones out there. But it seems that I always seem to stumble upon the perfect one to fit what I'm struggling with. And maybe tonight I'm not quite ready to completely forgive myself, but perhaps tomorrow I can start again...

A Hipster I Can Dig on

2010-02-22T19:38:00.000-08:00

Yep, my plans tonight involved coming home from therapy, drinking some chai and watching His Holiness the Dalai Lama on Larry King, because I am just that cool that I like to get my dharma while drooling over an old man in suspenders. But alas my broken cable box decided that it wouldn't pick up CNN tonight. Hey that's samsara right? Silly me and my attachments.

Instead I found this; Hipster Puppies Are, Like, Much Cooler Than You . I have a serious distaste for all things hipster (ok let's put my motorcycle boots and dalliances in Buddhism aside for a minute). And when I say serious distaste I mean the mere thought of a hipster mullet will send me racing to the bathroom to hurl whatever meager calories I happen to have eaten throughout the day back out. But hipster puppies? Yep, I can get behind that.

So enjoy (and hey The Frisky is a pretty rocking site all on its own), because puppies in general are pretty much cooler than you (and me too), but hipster puppies take it to a whole new level.

May your pup never be too cool for you ;)

Dharma

2010-02-22T10:31:00.000-08:00

Sometimes when you come across the truth of something, it seems to open up the floodgates of a million things to come smack you in the face to reinforce it. I'm not certain if its because we become more receptive to it or if its the world's way of backing up our lessons. But anyhow courtesy of Tricycle's Daily Dharma comes this. Which pretty much solidifies Saturday's thoughts.

If compassion becomes my truth, I won't have to work at hiding it away.

Let Your Loss Be Your Lesson

2010-02-20T19:52:00.000-08:00

I've always prided myself on being authentic. In part because its not exactly something I can get away from. I wear my (bleeding) heart on my sleeve and every emotion crosses my face like a movie being played out on screen. I decided a long time ago that instead of fighting it, I just needed to embrace it. Perhaps this was my first bit of Buddha nature coming through (ha).

But there is a line I sometimes cross, when being true to my thoughts causes suffering to others. There are times when honesty is NOT the best policy. I struggle with that. The ex has told me in the past (although not the far enough past for it to have any resonance with me, of course I WANTED to hurt him after he hurt me), that my honesty can be cruel and painful. But what has resonated with me is that I think I hurt a very dear friend, who has kept me from completely collapsing to the ground and giving up during this time. And the truth is, its never ok to hurt someone just because they have hurt you (hey ex, ya hear that, I am growing!). The whole compassion for all beings thing doesn't have a footnote of "but only the ones you feel are deserving".

Anger and vindictiveness does not look nice on me, even when it comes from a place of pain, in fact I'm not sure that it looks nice on anyone.

I'm recognizing this, and hey that's the first step, right? Admitting you have a problem, at least I think that's what AA says. And in the process I am trying not to judge myself too harshly for it. Its hard and its a process. Much in the same way I am trying not to judge this current state of heart ache I'm in. And if it is as Pema Chodron says, "this very moment is the perfect teacher", well then I'm listening this time.

I can't promise to never lash out again, but I can promise to try never to let my words cause pain to anyone again. I will try to forgive and let things go. When I feel that I must be honest and share my feelings, as is necessary sometimes in a relationship (lover or otherwise), I will try to do my best to frame it in a way that will cause the least suffering.

I think this is a pretty good start.

Fittingly through the joys of my Franklin Covey planner comes this week's quote. " We should be too big to take offense and too noble to give it." Abraham Lincoln.

And hey H- this one's for you. I love you, I don't know that I could stand to face the sun coming up every morning if I didn't know that you would be there to hold my hand and keep me away from the flame when I needed it. Thank you.

And on a totally unrelated topic- I saw Avatar today with my brother and sister-in-law. Absolutely beautiful, but far too violent for me. My mom laughed at me when I told her this, reminding me that children have gone to see this and loved it. My response? "I'm not desensitized to violence like kids these days, you didn't let me play with guns, video games or watch scary movies, its not my fault." Kudos to mom for her awesome parenting skills and for not desensitizing me to these kinds of things.

One of the Better Reasons I Have for not Sleeping

2010-02-19T09:04:00.000-08:00

This is what happens at the foot of my bed every night, hence the reason I wake up stiff every morning. But they are too sweet to move :)

Your Dosha Says No Hummus

2010-02-18T18:47:00.000-08:00

I've always found that I express myself through written word a lot more clearly than through speaking. When I talk I get all jumbled up and words switch themselves around and nothing comes out quite like I planned, part of this I blame on the great thyroid fog that lasted three years because I (stupidly) refused to take medication and part of it is I think my mouth works faster than my brain.

But what I'm getting at is, I used to write, a lot. In fact at one point in my life I wanted to attend Columbia College and get a degree in poetry and then an MFA. Probably a smart move not to, poets don't seem to be getting big offices and secretaries these days, not to mention a pretty decent paycheck.

But somewhere along the line I stopped. Having this blog (and I'm sure the heart ache as well) has started me up again. I'm writing non stop. I'm not really ready to share any of the new stuff yet, I like to re-edit and re-think things before I let them go out into the universe for consumption, but thought I'd share this.

I wrote it in 2005, about the ex. I got a lot of flack in my writing workshop about the opening line, most people didn't understand it. Our conventional romanticized ideals of love don't let us believe that we could ever fall out of love with our soul mate and still consider them the love of our lives. There's an article in this month's Shambhala Sun that puts this into far better words than I could, but its what I was trying to convey. The article is not printed in its entirety, but because its a re-print from a 2008 article, you can find it on this guys blog.

Your Dosha Says No Hummus

We fell out of love years ago, 2 years, 6 months, 4 days to be exact.
If I remember things right.
But somehow we work.
And still you hold my hands and kiss my cheeks
and I know you're the one I want to spend forever with, however long forever is.

Sometimes you just get lucky.

My father's dead, yours is an ass, we've spent more on the dog
than we have on ourselves, the house is caving in,
and there's enough dust to kill my brother the asthmatic who chains smokes.
I yell, you laugh; you laugh, I yell.

But still we work.

I went through hell and you came along for the ride.
I don't think I'll ever know why, but you saved me.

You say strange things like "your dosha says no hummus" and I know what you mean. I can cook a mean aruveydic, vegan meal, although I am none of the above. You call me bi-polar and I smirk, reminding you that with our genes, our children don't stand a chance. If what they say about all this genetic stuff is true...

But above all you give me faith that everything that is wrong will someday be right.
Because together if we can work, everything can.

I gave it to the ex on Valentine's day many years ago, he asked for it in one of our last conversations, said he had lost his copy and would like to have it. So I sent it. I've heard nothing. But that's ok. Its the perfect summary of our love, imperfect, impractical, yet awesome. And sending it out into the world is enough. I'm very lucky and blessed to have had that, and maybe our forever was only nine years. And maybe that's enough too.

Today I'll Leave the Wisdom to the Wise

2010-02-17T17:01:00.000-08:00

“Persons of strong character are usually the happiest. They do not blame others for trouble that can be traced to their own actions and lack of understanding. They know that one has the power to add to their happiness or detract from it, unless they themselves allow the adverse thoughts or wicked actions of others to affect them.”

“If you want to be loved, start loving others who need your love. If you expect others to be honest with you, start by being honest yourself. If you want others to sympathize with you, start showing sympathy to those around you. If you want to be respected, you must learn to be respectful to everyone, both young and old. If you want a display of peace from others, you must be peaceful yourself. If you want others to be religious, start being spiritual yourself. Whatever you want others to be, first be that yourself. Then you will find others responding in like manner to you.”

“If you want to be happy, learn to live alone and to plunge into introspection about every experience — good books, problems, religion, philosophy, and inner happiness. Contented, self-chosen, habitual seclusion is the price of real happiness.”
Paramahansa Yogananda
HOW TO BE HAPPY ALL THE TIME

(or as I lovingly refer to him - Yog-nanana-nanana, to the tune of Master P's make em say ugh)

Reckoning

2010-02-16T19:08:00.000-08:00

you can doubt anything
if you think about it long enough
'cause what happened always adjusts to fit
what happened after that

It hit me yesterday in therapy (of course I'm in therapy, isn't that the status quo of every American these days), that what I really want is to challenge the ex to a debate. Or a trial even. To say ok- you say you don't love me the way you should, let me present exhibit A- is this your writing stating that I am your rock and the love of your life?

And when defendant states yes, but that I was not spiritually inclined enough for him, I would launch my rebuttal with exhibit B- we attended church as regularly as most 20 somethings do, we lit candles in the Sacre Couer and went to mass in the Basilica of St. Francis. I would keep going until every argument he could make had been challenged to its core and he was left with nothing but to accept that what we had was beautiful and wonderful.

remember when it was just you and me, stepping up to bat

I want him to remain true to what we were, to not write a story in his mind and to his new friends, to minimize so he can cope.

and win or lose
just that you choose this little war
is what kills you
and either/or it's that this war
is maybe also what thrills you

But I realized this morning during meditation that I can't control what he thinks or the doubts he has written in to our story. I could present everything and he could still walk away.

I don't care how fast you run
just tell me, baby, that when you're done
with your little marathon
you still got cab fare home
'cause the finish line is a shifty thing
and what is life but reckoning
and, you know
you are still the song I sing
to myself
when I'm alone

And I felt so relieved.

I can't control this, so I don't have to.

I'm off the hook. If he chooses to come back, I'll be here ready, but if he doesn't that will be ok too. It has nothing to do with the actions that I am taking now.

And that feels really damn good.

Signs in Grammar

2010-02-16T08:35:00.000-08:00

I swiped the ex's dictionary shortly before the big move, mostly because I like words, and I'm an English major, so I felt compelled to own a dictionary, even if it was his.

I stuck it on top of my desk next to my thesauraus (yippee-- total English nerd).

I used it for the first time today to make sure I was using the correct adverb for misanthrope. I don't think this bodes well.

Oh Valentine's Day, I Tried So Hard to Escape You

2010-02-14T19:46:00.000-08:00

I desperately wanted to believe that today was just like any other day, that it held absolutely no bearing in my life. That it is all just a stupid corporate day to remind us about what we should be doing every day anyhow.

I almost did it. Until I was standing at the checkout of Trader Joe's buying cheap champagne (to replace the super expensive bottle of Malbec I dropped in Holiday's parking lot) and was asked if this was for my "valentinextravaganza", I smiled politely and said, "yes, if by that you mean drinking the full bottle by myself". Followed by an awkward pause where the check out guy felt compelled to follow with "sorry, you're just beautiful, I figured...".

Yeah, welcome to the club. I can't tell you how many times I've been faced with the question of "you're beautiful, smart, fantastic, why are you single?" in the past few months. I've come up with two responses to this- I happen to have fallen head over heels in love with the wrong man, or I am distinctly unlovable. And I have a very hard time placing any fault on the ex's characteristics, which only leaves me with option two.

I am smart, have a killer job, I am kind and loving to a fault, I am damn good catch, but for whatever reason, it didn't catch with him.

I found a letter he wrote me last year, where he said he could not imagine loving anyone else, spending his life, or raising his children with anyone else. And now he tells me he just doesn't love me in that way. And the thing is either he was lying then or he is lying now. I don't know which is the better option, but both weigh incredibly heavy on my heart.

I know you're wise beyond your years, but do you ever get the fear
That your perfect verse is just a lie you tell yourself to help you get by?

Buddhist talks at Samuel Hoffman's Deli and a new tattoo

2010-02-13T21:15:00.000-08:00

I met my brother and sister-in-law today for lunch. I can't imagine two people better suited for one another. We got into a lengthy discussion about Buddhism and spirituality in general and while there were moments I contemplated knocking myself out with my coffee cup, I think he finally got my stance on the whole thing. Well that or we agreed to disagree, I'm still not sure. I never really am with my brother, and I'm quite ok with that. Shockingly our agreement came on the lesson of karma, that sometimes there are lessons you have to learn over and over again until you get them right. My brother's views on why this is are different than mine, but what fun would things be if we always agreed?

On another note I got a tattoo today.

magpie tattoo

I think dad would love it.

Its not finished yet, but I think you get the idea. The birds are for my dad,the cherry blossoms to remember that life is short and fleeting yet oh so beautiful, and there will be a bee by the top cherry blossom, well for bug, who saved my life then...

The thing is I keep saying that I'm different now but I don't look it. I do now. And maybe it will always be hidden beneath a t-shirt, but I'll always know its there. The ex will never see it and in some way that makes me happy. After nine years I had every freckle, scar and mole memorized, I can only imagine he did the same. And now there is a part, right by my heart, that is brand new, for me, not for him.

It is a reminder that there are always people to love, lessons to be learned, and moments that should never be taken for granted. Its a reminder to live when he chose to die, and when the other "he" chose to let love die (and is there really any difference?). Its something I'm quite proud to carry on my skin and teachings I'm hopeful to always carry in my heart.

Today is about self preservation, not self improvement

2010-02-12T18:14:00.000-08:00

So after a day where THREE different times I was asked by people I had not seen in a while how the ex was, one of them actually holding up my hand and asking what was taking this foolish boy so long to declare his undying love for me, I have settled in for some wine and old love letter reading. Purposefully skipping meditation (yes it gives me peace, no I have no room in tonight's plans for peace). And a little bit of computer playing (but definitely keeping my thoughts away from his facebook, as much as I love seeing that the "new- ahem older, me" has coined the phrase chaiaholic). But I'm digressing.

Right after the break-up I read this blog, it made me feel better, that maybe I'm not the only one to feel like this. Well tonight I found this , and am happy to know that love can be found again... right now I think I will never love again, but maybe it is simply that I will never love in that way again, and that's ok.

So excuse me while I go catch up on some happier news.

We're all just taller children

2010-02-11T17:32:00.000-08:00

I always figured the ex was my gift for my dad's death. Some sort of weird present from the universe to keep me from ever having to endure having my heart ripped wide open like that again.

But I came across this the other day in my reading-
The idea of karma is that you continually get the teachings that you need to open your heart. To the degree that you didn't understand in the past how to stop protecting your soft spot, how to stop armoring your heart, you're given this gift of teachings in the form of your life, to give you everything you need to open further. -Pema Chodron

And I'm starting to think maybe my father's suicide was a lesson that I didn't learn. Yes I overcame it, and the only reason I did was because I had him to hold me up and teach me that love exists. I was faced with two options that time, to hold on to my grief and die or to live and overcome. But I overcame it by stitching my heart back up and letting it become hard. By trying to exert some control in a world where I was devastatingly aware that I had no control. I became a planner, refusing to live in the moment, I became desperate for a fast forward button on life just so I could know that everything would work out alright in the end. I tried to live with a heart that was half dead and half angry.

This above all things is probably what made the ex stop wanting to work on our love. It's not that I blame myself entirely, it took two people to make that choice, he could have talked to me about what was in his heart, but he made a choice not to. However I do have a lot to forgive myself for, I'm not there yet, but I hope to someday be.

And so maybe this is my chance to learn the lesson that karma was trying to teach me the first time around. Once again I have lost the thing that I hold true. But this time there is no one to hold me and help make me right. I am in it alone. And this time I am not going to try to stitch my heart back up. I will leave it open, raw and painful as it might be. I will learn from this, but I will learn the right way this time. I will not take love like I once had, and hopefully some day will have again, for granted. I have no choice, the past is gone, and the future is unknown and far too painful to dream of without him, so I will live with a slate wiped clean and very much alive.

They say you always have a choice, but I don't think I do this time.

in the end, We’re all just taller children.
in the end, We’re all just taller children.
in the end, We’re all just taller children.
in the end, We’re all just

if you don’t slow down, what’s the point of winning
if you can’t let go, you just keep on spinning
if you don’t slow down, what’s the point of winning
if you can’t let go, you just keep on spinnin, spinnin, spinnin round

A heart Cracked

2010-02-09T18:45:00.000-08:00

Today I had to go visit a patient that was going through severe alcohol withdrawals and was acting irrationally. On a day to day basis I see many patients who are behaving irrationally, unfortunately when you are ill, it tends to bring out a side of you that you never knew existed (sort of like being heart broken). I can handle that, but its the addicts that scare me the most.

They remind me so much of my father. Broken people, broken dreams, broken promises, broken lives. And I just have such a hard time with it.

But sitting in his room talking with him I realized, behind every addict is a human being, just struggling to get it right. And maybe my experience with addiction gives me a sort of empathy that you can't teach. Maybe having your heart cracked wide open with grief is the only way the light gets in.

Perhaps this is why I'm exploring my spirituality again. I've always thought of myself as a pretty spiritual person, behaving ethically and practicing loving kindness, hell I was in love with the world. I practiced the golden rule. I prayed my heart out and on occasion attended church. I've always believed all paths lead you to the same place and that heaven and nirvana were one in the same.

But there was always a bit of a sticking point with the ex. I think he didn't feel that I was spiritually inclined because my spirituality did not fit in with his narrow views of it. But on the same accord he never truly invited me in. He learned Transcendental Meditation on his own and then was frustrated when I didn't understand it. Eventually he invited me to learn, but it was through a friend of his who went out of her way to make me feel uncomfortable and so I elected not to. I am sure she had her own views on me and our relationship, but the truth is, they were views he let her believe. I wish now that I had stabilized my heart more around her and learned. Not because I think it would have saved our relationship, I don't feel comfortable spending a lifetime with someone who holds against you those things he will never say, but because I think it would have helped me through this very difficult time.

Instead I am exploring Buddhism a little more closely. I've always believed that there were many teachers put on this earth to show us the path. Buddha being one that I, quite frankly, could get behind. I have been reading every text I can get my hands on. I've begun meditating, and am shocked at the impact it has on my life. The ability to be in the present moment is something I've struggled with for so long, I'm always thinking of the next step. I'm experiencing true wakefulness for the first time in my life.

In two weeks I will be getting on a plane to Boston and renting a car and driving to Karme Choling to attend a weekend retreat taught by Bodhisattva Susan Piver called "The Wisdom of a Broken Heart". I am hoping this time, with my heart cracked wide open again, will help me gain more insight into love for all beings.

I keep repeating that I want to get back to me, but at some point I will have to accept that person no longer exists, much as the girl who had a father very much alive, no longer does. But perhaps this new me will be even better. And I won't so desperately feel the need to close my heart back up.

I have lost my mind

2010-02-08T07:14:00.000-08:00

“City girl” by Teegan and Sara

I cried so hard that you pushed me further away
Screamed so loud you called the police on me
I got so city girl on you, I get so sad that sad gets to be
So scared that all my feelings they up and leave me

I got so city girl on you
I go so crazy I don't know what to do

I look so long I get obvious
I look so hard I look obvious
I work so much I miss the sun shine away
I sleep so little, watch the stars fade into day

I get so city girl on you
I go so crazy
I don't know what to do

I get uncertain promise, I'll be perfect from now on
But all my promises they're out the window once you're gone
And you pack your bags you say I love you but I cannot stay
So I started smoking thought the signals
Would scare your wolves away

I got so city girl on you
I went so crazy I didn't know what to do
I got so city girl on you
I went so crazy I didn't know what to do

I cry so hard that you push me further away
I scream so loud you call the police on me
You pack your bags you say, "I love you but I cannot stay"
So I started smoking thought the signals
Would scare your wolves away I got so city girl on you
I went so crazy, I didn't know what to do

I got so city girl on you
I went so crazy, I didn't know what to do

Does losing love mean you lose your mind too? In my case, yes. I feel like I’m living with ten different versions of me and none of them are the me that I loved and want to get back to so desperately. The ex made a comment after a particular terrible conversation (must STOP calling, texting, e-mailing, sending carrier pigeons), that he never knew who he was going to get when talking to me. It made me laugh out loud, seems like I never know who I am going to get when I wake up either.

Sometimes I’m this wrathful little creature so full of rage I’m literally trembling, behaving like a wounded animal and lashing out at everyone and everything that comes across my path.

Other times I am so heartbroken I’m not certain I can make it, or even want to make it to, my next breath, let alone my next hour. I want to spill my emotions to everyone I meet, to let them know that I am so unbearably sad, I feel that if I re-hash and re-explain that at some point it will all make sense.

And then there are the days where my heart is doing battle to overcome this. Where I meditate and sit quietly and try to be present. The days where I realize anger is not the path and neither is blind pain. These days come more frequently now, but I am still not me.

I wonder how long this will take, will I ever be “me” again? Or will it be a new me, that I don’t yet know? I’m not sure, but I am sure that my poor heart is so unbelievably torn apart, and I need to get it back to good.

Same old me to the naked eye

2010-01-18T18:11:00.000-08:00

When I lost my dad to suicide seven years ago I remember catching my reflection and being surprised that the face staring back at me was mine, not because I looked different, but because I didn't.

Losing the ex is causing that same reaction. Sure if you look closely my eyes don't have the spark they used to, my smile is markedly absent, but I look almost exactly the same on the outside. Which is shocking, because I feel so entirely different on the inside.

Maybe this is why so many women cut their hair after a break-up, because they know they are changed now and want to show the world just how new they are. But I don't think a hair cut would do it. My great love has gone, the love that made me strong, that got me through some of the hardest things I've ever had to overcome, is gone, and I feel so unbearably brand new.

It makes me wonder, how many metamorphosis we go through in life on the inside. How many times will my world be rocked to its core with me standing staring at the pieces of my life laying in shards around me and I will have no choice but to pick them up and start again. I've been standing here shell shocked for long enough, its time to let go of the past, the broken dreams and promises and figure out who I am now that I've been changed. I'm not sure I want to, but I'm not sure I can't either, and so just like I did seven years ago, I will start fresh, and maybe someday recognize that face in the mirror again.

What a difference a month makes

2010-01-17T19:21:00.000-08:00

I was playing it pretty cool when he was home. I really thought I could do this, I thought I could be in his life and be ok. But the thing is, I was deluding myself. I thought he wanted this, and I still think he does.
But he's telling me he doesn't. And so that I have to live with.
And I keep swearing to cut him out of my life. But I just can't.
Wednesday night I woke up screaming "Ian, NO" and spent the rest of the night in my bathroom throwing up. After some way too honest conversation with him I discovered he was sleeping with someone else the exact moment I was screaming his name, sort of ironic really.
And I'm not sure what that means, but I know it means something.
But for now I have to be strong and find a way to get him out of my life.
Its just so hard when everything in my body, my heart, is telling me this is so wrong.

It appears I am willing to make the same mistake twice...

2009-12-20T18:18:00.000-08:00

I had dinner with the ex-boyfriend on Friday night. He is in town for the holidays. I have not seen him since the break. Dinner was good, not weird at all, I'm not sure what I was expecting but it was so much better. Dinner led to a friends holiday party, which led to him spending the night... Fully clothed of course, but it was late, and it was nice to have a familiar face in my bed.

Trying to remember to protect my heart, but its so easy this time around. But I have to remember that this happened for a reason, and I really don't want to make the same mistake twice.
That being said, he spent the night on Saturday as well, and after multiple glasses of wine... things weren't so chaste.

And ironically he is becoming a distraction from the rejection of the other guy, which is exactly what the OG was supposed to be for me... funny how things work out.

Its not you... it is most definitely me

2009-12-17T17:13:00.000-08:00

There's this point in High Fidelity when John Cusack's character says "only people of a certain disposition are frightened of being alone for the rest of their lives at the age of 26", and the thing is, I am beginning to think I am of that disposition.

I've worked my ass off for everything that I've come by, what I have I've earned, and I find it hard to believe now I'm supposed to sit back and wait for the man of my dreams to bump into me at the bar, or lock eyes with me across the cantaloupe at the grocer. Do I even believe in that sort of thing?

Six months ago I had it all, a boyfriend of eight years who I adored, a cute little house downtown, a dog, a cat, an amazing job, and dreams of even more.

And now, I still have the dog and cat, but in a cramped lonely studio apartment. The boyfriend now lives a new life in Seattle, and we are navigating the tricky course of "just friends", and the amazing job is on the edge of the chopping block due to perpetual budget cuts. I lost it all in a twenty minute phone conversation.

And I'm not sure that having a man in your life means having it all... but it means having someone to come home to, and someone to hold your hand when life gets shitty, as it often does, and that's a lot, not everything, but a whole lot.

I want that, or at least someone to take my mind off of things for now, is that too much to ask?

In this city it appears to be....

So four days post getting dumped by a guy I wasn't even dating (yes, that actually is possible, when he discovers a mere 10 hours after leaving your house that he is in fact in love with someone else), its hard not to start to question if its me. He actually said "I don't want to say its not you", followed up with a very long awkward pause. Which leads me to believe, it is in fact, me.

I take issue with this, which is probably part of the problem.