Monday, December 29, 2003

"Nature does not know extinction; all it knows is transformation." -Wernher von Braun

A particularly apt quote from dear friend and regular Zantales reader, Heij...especially resonant tonight because I'm on a new adventure, in a new place, preparing for a new project -- unlike anything I've ever undertaken. There was a time, not too long ago, I'd have been daunted. The fact that I am not (only maybe a tad nervous) is revealing: all that has gone before was clearly prelude to this. Its success requires that I establish new habits...and lose a few old ones. Could there be a better time than the new year to embark on such a journey?

Tomorrow, I'll clear my head of cobwebs accumulated over the past six days -- no reflection whatsoever on Mom; we had great fun and several fine in-depth conversations on profound topics -- and beat each other's asses in Scrabble. It's just that the city of Las Vegas is an environment hardly conducive to, well, thinking. In fact, the less thinking, the better.

Tomorrow, I'm taking a solo tour of Santa Fe...just me and this New Mexican mountain town I've been told I'll love. Breathe in the crisp air, critical fuel for my O2-deprived brain. Allow the art and the style and the vibration to elevate and inspire my transition into the coming collaboration.

Life is good.

Wednesday, December 24, 2003

"Not all who wander are lost." -JRR Tolkien

Arrived in Las Vegas at 11:30p...four and a half hours from Madre Street in Pasadena to Mojave Road. With holiday traffic, a couple of accidents, construction, the requisite stop in Baker, and rain starting just before Stateline (I will never be able to refer to it as "Primm"), that's not bad time. I've done it in three and change on a clear off-season day.

Unloaded the Camry (Mom has learned not to make disparaging comments about my penchant for overpacking), she and I chatted for awhile, I took a Unisom and slept 'til 10:30, when Mom began to rustle about...the drug was still with me, so I napped again until noon-fifteen. Mom's gone out to run errands with her friends on the transport that takes them about town. I wasn't allowed to accompany them...no insurance to cover a younger mobile woman. So I'm waking up and getting my bearings.

My past lines the walls of Mom's home. Photos of the little family of George, Evelyn and Alexandra...photos of the little family of Bob, Zan and Anna...histories that are comforting and disquieting, familar and alien. My soul's essence is, of course, intact; but I am SO not that precious infant, that sweet little girl, that rebellious teenager, that haunted 20-something with the eyes of a woman who wants so much more. Thank God for the challenges that chipped away at the destructive layers to reveal an elegant truth.

As Stacie read my tarot cards, she saw that I'm a complex woman who's lived a complex life. True enough...and now, the complexities are manageable, functional, even enjoyable. And always entertaining.

Now I embrace the process of life. A Christmas gift to oneself I highly recommend.

Saturday, December 20, 2003

"Brevity is the soul of wit." -Willie S

Ok. I've gotten the brakes fixed (thank you, Mom) and Linda the Dragon has gifted me with the means to purchase a laptop. PLUS all the continued friendships.

The Thursday afternoon tarot card reading by Stacie M confirmed it: I'm one unbelievably lucky girl.

Monday, December 15, 2003

"The best remedy for dealing with a troubling past is living in the present." -Anonymous

I scribbled that quote on a yellow Post-it several months ago -- maybe it's been a year! -- and tacked it to my computer screen. A little Zen gift from dear friend Patrice, who likes to forward such bolts of wisdom; they appear in my e-mailbox now and then, like buoys in the bay, a foghorn in the mist. It is one of those truths that has served to keep me in the moment when the moment wasn't so much fun to be in...and it is one of the absolute facts that has carried me to this place, in which I am, at last, at peace with the past. A fierce and loving warrior in the present. Prepared -- even excited -- to meet the future, because the future is now. Happier than I have been in a very long time.

I shared this while riding to Griffith Park on Friday with my precious Bananafriend, and she impulsively reached over to squeeze my knee; I caught her wide smile, and heard sincere relief from a friend who has seen me through unbearable despair, and probably often wondered if I'd ever break free from the constant undercurrent of misery. She, and so many other friends (you all know who you are), are sweet harbingers of hope when I forget to believe.

My appreciation for the unique roles you each play in my life brings tears to my eyes -- the best kind of tears, that spring from the deepest part of the heart. You make me believe in everything. You are guides and channels, powerful beyond words. You each gracefully embody the Christ-like qualities of unconditional love and generosity and forgiveness, and I celebrate you this season, with the twinkling lights and shimmering ornaments of my gratitude.

Let our gifts to each other be our continuing, evolving friendships. Oh sure, I could use a DVD/VCR combo, and a laptop, and a new couch, and a year's subscription to Burke Williams, and God knows I really need new brakes in the Camry and an ergonomic office chair and computer desk and someone to come clean my house...ah, but those are mere things, and they will come when they come. And I am not diminished without them.

But I would be bereft without all of you.

Please come to me when you are in need. Please let me do for you what you've done for me.

I love you all.

Thursday, December 11, 2003

Favorite Quotes Week presents quotes about change...

"We did not change as we grew older; we just became more clearly ourselves."
-Lynn Hall

"Turbulence is life force. It is opportunity. Let's love turbulence and use it for change."
-Ramsey Clark

"Change not any circumstance of my life. Change me."
-Sri Gyanamata

Wednesday, December 10, 2003

Favorite Quotes Week continues with those about dreams...

"If a little dreaming is dangerous, the cure for it is not to dream less, but to dream more, to dream all the time."
- Marcel Proust

"You've got to create a dream. You've got to uphold the dream. If you can't, then bugger it. Go back to the factory, or go back to the desk."
-Eric Burdon

"Reality is wrong. Dreams are for real."
- Tupac Shakur

Tuesday, December 09, 2003

Since I'm writing other stuff for the next few days, I'm declaring this Favorite Quotes Week

My two Favorite Quotes about love:

"Love is an exploding cigar we willingly smoke."
- Lynda Barry

and

"Love is a snowmobile racing across the tundra and then suddenly it flips over, pinning you underneath.
At night, the ice weasels come."
-Matt Groening

Saturday, December 06, 2003

And now a message from your friendly neighborhood proctologist...

So, I was shopping at the Ralphs on 3rd Street earlier this week, the first time I'd stepped foot in a supermarket since the strike began (because I, as a member in good standing of the Screen Actors Guild, have been honoring my union brothers and sisters). I observed firsthand the dearth of certain consumable goods: no Quilted Northern bathroom tissue, no Viva paper towels, no Diet Vanilla Pepsi. See, I was holding several coupons for such items, including the one that sliced a dollar (which I was eager to have them double) from the price of any KY product. I sauntered with nonchalance up the personal items aisle, ready to surreptitiously snatch a tube from the shelf and slip it into my cart and, much to my surprise and dismay, THE SHELVES WERE COMPLETELY BARE OF PERSONAL LUBRICANTS.

I wondered if it was it a sign that I, um, shouldn't indulge. Or that it's on my partner to procure said lubricant.

Or maybe it's just the fact that times are hard and there are many more people than I'd realized taking it up the ass.

Wednesday, December 03, 2003

"How do I get my heart out of the way?" - Anonymous friend

She made me cry when she asked that of me last weekend, and she said she appreciated the empathetic response.

She's in such wrenching turmoil about her fragile relationship of low double-digit years. She asked me because she knows I've navigated the same rapids she's now riding. She's given it all she has -- or all she can give without losing herself completely.

Her ache is palpable. Her fear is uncomfortably familiar.

She poured out to me her murky liquid feelings, knowing I'd almost succumbed in the same mire and could throw out a sturdy lifeline, or at least point her to the shoreline.

She thinks I'm more than a survivor of heartbreak; she's seen me heal from the damage and pronounces me a warrior and a guide. She's watching me open the door again. Through my (brave, she says) example, she finds comfort and hope. She sees me calm, now; fearless and assured. Smiling and laughing with no visible scars. Conversation unpunctuated by tears.

She wants to believe she can endure, and she believes I have the answer.

She knows me well enough to ask, but not quite well enough to know I don't want to tell her.

Self-protection from the pain of recent years has prevented me from plumbing the deep passion of which I am capable. Yes, I'm letting myself feel again, but ever so carefully. Too careful, maybe. Extremely circumspect, like someone who almost drowned but longs for the thrill of the dive. Standing at the end of the board, toes tightly curled around the edge.

I want to let go, let it happen, let it be whatever it is, let it breathe. I want to freefall without asking permission...come on, I want to say, let's just leap! And if we land in mounds of feathers, we'll giggle, and bathe in joy. If we land on chards of glass, we'll bleed a little, dress the wounds, and get up.

I admit I am afraid to bleed again. But I'm much more afraid to miss the possible joy.

Fucking duality.

I told her there are two emotions from which all others emanate: love and fear. Fear prevents us from being completely alive. Love allows it to flow.

I told her, without love -- chasing it, longing for it, having it, losing it -- life is dry as the desert in July. Not a life worth living; not for me. Not if I have to keep my heart out of sight.

That's why I cried. Her question is my question, too.

I told her, the reply to that query is always the same: if you want to live this life for all it's worth, the answer is...you don't.

And then I told her not to listen to me.