In the last week and a half, I’ve sung for 200+ pre-teens, presented to a group of 20 youth ministers, read a 316-page book in one plan ride. I’ve traveled from L.A. to PHX to FL and back again. I’ve played keyboard, sung karaoke, worn straight hair, worn a bustier, led meditations, cursed out drivers. I’ve eaten 2 cheeseburgers, pigged out on fries, not done a minute of exercise. I’ve drunk beer, wine and vodka and watched girls dance on a rooftop patio of a South Beach hotel. I’ve put my feet in Atlantic waters and my boyfriend’s shower, all in the same 24 hours. I’ve had more conversations about my love life and work life than I have all year. So why, then, do I feel so useless? I feel drained – wiped out. I am unable and unwilling to do anything on my to-do list tonight, which includes the mundane (laundry, packing, cleaning, brushing my teeth, even) and the sublime (writing a sermon, learning a song for a memorial service, lesson planning for the religion classes I’ll be taking over in less than 2 weeks, just to name a few). All I want to do is hear from my boyfriend, watch Steel Magnolias and cry myself to sleep. No – even that would be too involved. I don’t even want to get up off this couch and put myself to bed right now. I want to be in one place, with everything I want within reach. I don’t want to have to move or go anywhere to get everything I want and need. Instead, I go to Arizona for my lover, Hemet and Chatsworth for parental comfort, family dinner for a free meal and niece/nephew time, West Hills for work, Pasadena for singing, Canoga Park for aggravation, Santa Monica for community, Simi for a place to lay my head, Texas for LIFE. And in just a few short days, I’ll be back in North Hollywood for old friends and new digs. Seven months later, and I’m still all-over-the-place. I feel like I’m running in circles, but not getting anywhere. Seven months later, and where am I?
Back in NoHo, back in the classroom, back to my heaviest weight, back to basics. I have gone back to basics this year. From a powerhouse coming-out concert to a slimmed-down life. I may not have ended up anywhere different (yet), but I’ve traveled far to get to where I am.
I am here – free from worries about whether or not I will be taken care of. I know I will.
Here – free to dance and sing without a whole lot of care about what anyone is thinking of me.
Here – playing with my life in a way that says “I care about me, but don’t take myself too seriously.”
Here – in a loving relationship with a man I knew as a boy (him, not me – I was still a girl), marked by a sense of mystery, urgency and joyfulness.
Here – doing what I love and loving what I do, and maybe not making “a living” at it (yet), but doing it just the same, and doing it more and more.
Here – in a home with loving friends who are like family, reconnected through time and space to relearn and see anew parts of myself I have loved and lost, and now love again.
Here – alone, but not lonely. By myself, but more myself than I’ve ever been. Effortless and easy and flowing like a river.
Here – with $620 in my bank account and no happier or worse off than when I had $1,000 or $1.
Numbers. Letters. Degrees and determiners. What are the indicators of a happy life? Days off, time off, get off. Or get on. Off or on, it doesn’t really matter as long as I’m on track in what counts. My self worth, my sense of dignity of myself and others, my love and acceptance of what is, and who is and how the world works. These things are more intact today than they were a year ago. True, I may not be conducting myself with the same care and intentionality than I was when I was learning, but I’m here, and I’m still breathing, and every day I get up and do it all over again. I am here, and I am healthy, and I am doing this. And I’m alright.
I still get excited about things. I still get happy when I’m with people. I still feel the wave of joy through my body often. I am ok. I can reach out and touch that which belongs to me. I can reach out and hold those who I love.
To each be the glory of God. A phrase to sum up how I want to live my life, how I want to be remembered. This is what came to me today as I meditated on my life at 75. There’s a number: 75. More than twice where I am now. That’s hard to believe, and it’s harder to imagine, living a life the length of what I’ve already done. I want it! Believe me – I want it more than anything. To live a long, long, happy life. I can’t shake the feeling that it’s time for me to let go of that plan and really be here each and every day to enjoy what comes, and what counts. I want to enjoy the moments, and make more enjoyable ones for myself. Laundry, bills, dreams and schemes can wait (at least for a little while). Being in the moment to enjoy what’s here – that’s the secret of life. And I want to be here. Not in July, when I’ll be in Texas (it’s inevitable!). Not in June, when I’ll likely be in Scottsdale. Not in May when I’ll be nearing the end of my teaching stint, and celebrating my 32nd birthday. Not even in Saturday, when I’ll be singing songs at a memorial service for a woman I’ve never met. I’ll be here, at 9:39pm Wednesday night, 2/23/11, having just completed the best 10 days that I’ve had in a long time. Warm, tropical breezes; soft, passionate kisses; tight, love-filled squeezes and joy-filled reunions. How much have I allowed myself to really take in and love each and every one of those moments? How well have I bathed myself in, drunk into my soul and relished the pure delight of being alive? Have I let myself be scared, and really felt the fear? Have I let myself feel elated and really risen to the heights? In some ways, I say yes, and in others no. I know I’ve held myself back, teetering on the edge of what seemed a perilous wall back onto which I’d never be able to climb again. But what if I fall and don’t ever get back up? What if humpty dumpty couldn’t get put back together again? Then I guess his insides oozed out all over the sidewalk while his cracked egg shell laid there in pieces. I just hope it was hot enough to cook him, because then all the king’s horses and men who came to his rescue at least could feast off some fried egg before heading back to duty. And God knows I’ve been pretty obsessed with eggs since this whole low-carb thing started.
That’s something I’m looking forward to – being in a place for a while where I have the fridge stocked with my favorite goodies. Being in one place for a few months and living there and enjoying it and soaking it in while it lasts. Because it won’t be long before I’m off to the next place, and who knows how long that will last? All this moving around is good for something – it’s teaching me that nothing is permanent, so I may as well enjoy it while it lasts. Rather than mourn the inconvenience of it all, rather than use it as an excuse for staying detached, instead, I can jump into it, head first (or feet, if I’m not feeling so inclined to mess up my hairdo that day) and enjoy it thoroughly, the way I used to enjoy a slumber party like it would last forever. Like it was my last night on earth.
What if tonight was my last night on earth?
I ordered Thai delivery. My favorites: coconut soup, eggplant chicken and thai iced tea (which she threw in for free, thank you very much). I watched my shows – all three of ‘em: How I Met Your Mother, Modern Family and Fringe. I called some people I had been postponing calling. And now it’s 9:49, and I’ve typed over 2 pages of great stuff, taking myself from sullen and grumpy to happy to be alive.
It’s just like one of my favorite songwriters wrote: I’m gonna be ok. Everything’s gonna be ok. Oh, wait – that’s me. I wrote a song about a year ago, and then another one, and then yet another. And I had them scored. And I produced a concert where I sang my heart out to over 200 people who love me. And now I’m waiting, on bated breath for what’s next. But it’s not gonna happen to me – I need to make it happen. And I do that one step at a time. One song at a time. One performance at a time. One audience at a time. Just like my heart beats, I accomplish my purpose one at a time. And that starts now, and it is now. And it starts here. And here I am, writing about it, on a Wednesday night, seven months later, in a place I never expected to be, with a life I couldn’t have predicted I’d be living, and loving every minute of it.
I vow to hug tighter, linger longer, love louder and live stronger than ever before. And if I die before I wake, I pray the lord my soul to bake, so others around me can feast on my wholesome goodness, and have life abundantly.
