Truly, Madly, Deeply

Gratitudes

 Herself speaks.

Typically in November, Facebook abounds with a month of postings about gratitudes, in keeping with the Thanksgiving theme of the month.  I did not participate this year, because I am (as is no doubt obvious) still quite mired in my own personal morass. Nevertheless, it occurs to me that if I take a moment here and there to reflect on the things for which I am in fact truly grateful, perhaps I might find a way out of the mental quicksand in which I so often find myself floundering. 

Let's do bullet points:

• Moments of meaningful purpose at work
• A hug that feels both genuine and unrushed (especially because, in this culture of youth and thinness, and in my current state, I feel so very... untouchable)
• Occasions when I can pay a genuine compliment to a stranger
• Undivided attention, and feeling heard
• Being outside, to enjoy trees, animals, nature
• Taking a walk or a hike with good company
• The right words, at the right time: to give them, or to receive them. 

These things seem small, but they are not. At all. As I grow older, the fewer things I want, and the more intangibles I long for. These are the things that are the most important to me. The things that quiet the rage and the grief within me, that bring me momentary tranquility. That lessen The Void. 

I am grateful for the moments of Peace that I can find. And for the people who bring them to me. 

Eels and Lobsters

Let's reminisce about Oceanside with a few sea creature photos. Behold, the eels and the lobsters. Nice. 

The Safety Box and the Switch

 Herself speaks.

Sometimes, I feel sorry for my car.

I have many things to do. House things, volunteer work things, family things, work things. I do a fair amount of running around. One of the few times that I have a moment to myself, is when I am moving from Point A to Point B during my day: in other words, when I am in the car. It's a rare time of reflection, when I can contemplate the thoughts or feelings that I have suppressed due to lack of opportunity to allow them the proper space for air. And unfortunately, the thoughts and feelings that surface are, inevitably, the hard ones. Especially if the drive is long and the road is quiet. 

There are the ones that make tears come to my eyes. Or -- thinking of you, bar exam -- rip a scream from my throat. Or drag a wordless wail of sorrow from the depths of my soul: the pain of loss, the grief of knowing that I cannot have simple things that I long for. Only in the confines of the four walls of my car, alone, with the buffer of the wind surrounding me and the highway rushing past, am I safe to let go. 

My car has heard so much. I am sorry, car. No one should have to listen to that kind of human noise.

Inevitably, I arrive at my destination, and my moment to myself ends. There are likely People at my destination, and obligations, and things to do. 

Time to flip the switch. Turn off the Feelings. Dry my face, leave the safety of the box, and enter the world once more. Composed. Ready. 

We do what we have to do.

Visit

 Herself speaks.

I was finally able to make my pilgrimage to Oceanside and spend a few days with Cherished Friend. 

It was delightful.  In this world of ever-increasing uncertainty, it is so comforting to find him to be Himself, as he always is. My most Cherished Friend. 

I struggled a bit to stay in the Moment during the visit. I am more aware than ever of the ephemeral nature of everything, and I had to reign in my mind and keep it from wandering into the not-too-distant-future when I would be leaving again. I also had a hard time with keeping at bay, what can be described as Fear Fleas: tiny little biting worries that would pop up into the conscious, attempting to distract me from the joy of being in Oceanside.  You are boring. You are needy. He will grow tired of your presence and will be relieved when you go. You rely on him too much. You are all take and no give. 

What do you have to offer a person like him? Why does he even put up with you? 

Only he really has answers to those questions. I hope, though, that despite all of the Very Hard Things I have been struggling with this year, he has nevertheless been able to see that he is, as always, one of my most favorite people on the planet. That listening to him talk about what is on his mind, is one of my favorite things to do. That I value his opinions, his thoughts, and his company. I don't have a lot to give right now, but I happily give what I can to him. 

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I already miss his soothing presence. I try not to think bitterly of how I would just do so much better on a daily basis if I saw him more often, because that is not To Be. I'll just have to carry little pieces of the moments in Oceanside with me, and hope they will buoy me through. I'll think about my Cherished Friend sitting in his chair, and I'll look forward to the next visit. And I hope that he will look forward to it, too. 

Friend

Barbara Manatee

Barbara Manatee. And baby manatee.