I haven't written in awhile-- a solid two years and three months if you will. So much has changed-- I've loved, lost, and lost even more. My dearest father passed away six months ago and nothing can ever be the same. I don't laugh as much any longer and when I do the sound is unrecognizable. The pain has left me somewhat numb and singing, dancing, exercising, socializing just provide temporary respite from the constant struggle.
Is this the rest of my life?
Meanwhile, the Central Coast couldn't be more beautiful-- rolling green hills despite the lack of water, sunshine and puffy clouds, wildflowers in bloom, and the mighty ocean a new hue every morning and every evening.
Who knew this would be my life?
A tribute to my younger days, but lyrics that are hauntingly familiar and so applicable now. I never thought they would be.
"Oh dear Dad/ can you see me now? / I am myself/ like you somehow"
Miss you every second of every minute of every hour of every day. See you in the next rainbow, Dad.
For obvious reasons, it is time for me to actually author a new chapter in my life. The obvious being the adopted Western calendar commencing what is apparently a new year. All of you in the know, however, are aware that there are several "new year" days celebrated by many of us at different times. I'd like to think my fresh start can happen twice a year since my other new year begins in a few months.
Regardless, the first of January 2013 is starting off with questions of actual resolve. Can I leave behind what caused me such a crisis of conscience in 2012? Can I actually author my life to be what I think I deserve, what I truly want? Can I finally let go of people, places, things that did little to enhance joy in my life last year?
Unclear, at best.
In case you had any doubts, here was my New Year's morning 2:00AM "I can't sleep" album of choice:
After a great disappointment, I often indulge in the selfish delusion that I must be the only person feeling so dejected and alone. Who, anywhere in the history of man, could possibly have felt like I do in this moment? The solitary confinement of the corners of my mind are unique barriers that no one else could possible possess in their respective minds. I am an island unto my own self.
I know each of these thoughts to be counterproductive, yet here I am thinking them thanks to what in my heart of hearts I knew must already have been true.
Depending upon just oneself to make it through these periods of pain is never easy. The Central Coast is reminding me of that on a daily basis-- so I need inspiration.
First up, man finds a way to walk again using determination and yoga:
Second, the Central Coast offers so much by way of super fresh produce, even in the winter. I've taken to Valencia oranges as their sweetness reminds me that all cannot possibly be lost if such fruits exist.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Valencia_orange
Third, a simple way to feel special-- fresh raspberries in seltzer water. The raspberries let go of their light flavor and ease into the seltzer water with a delicate sweetness. The fizz also gets trapped in the berries making them so delightful on the tongue.
Finally, listening to this, listening for the high harmony in the background of the second line, listening for something that is just for me and remembering that "I'm amazed that I survived" :
A rainy weekend is improperly spent without an amount of self-reflection, the type of introspection that is simultaneously morose and optimistic. To set the scene, may I suggest equal parts retro British television serials ("Upstairs Downstairs") and college football (must my alma mater lose so abysmally!?), new cocktail recipes (see below!) based upon whatever is available, healthy doses of Motown, ample pages of the novel you are halfway through reading (or writing!), and forgoing coffee for tea rather than rushing to the store to buy more powder.
For self-reflection, let me advocate writing a list of ideas for easy things to change and taping it to the bathroom mirror. Perhaps the list can include practical ideas ("exercise once daily, don't be lazy") as well as philosophical. Introspective thoughts tend to sway to both sides of the pendulum so quickly, from the very forlorn to the maniacally joyful-- a list allows them to be ever-present and reduces mental clutter.
Following such a list, however-- being diligent enough to allow it to guide us! Well--it is a day to day process, much like attempting to create a life that is devoid of either overbearing noise or never-ending silence. The task is no simple undertaking. A rainy weekend is the perfect time to start.
Honey Syrup Hot Toddy (a variation on my classic recipe)
1-1.5 oz honey syrup (recipe below)
2 wedges of Valencia orange
boiling water
1-1.5 oz Jameson Whiskey
nutmeg (grated or to be grated)
allspice (grated)
Pour 1-1.5 ounces of hot honey syrup at the bottom of a mug. Squeeze the juice from both of the Valencia orange wedges atop the honey syrup, and drop the wedges into the mug as well. Pour the whiskey over the orange-honey mixture and muddle using the back of a knife. Add boiling water until it reaches about half an inch from the top of the mug. Stir clockwise twice, and anticlockwise once. Add grated nutmeg and grated allspice to taste.
Honey Syrup
2 parts honey, 1 part water-- you can choose the distribution. For example 2/3 cup honey, 1/3 cup water
In a little pot, pour the honey and water in together and stir over high heat until the mixture is smooth, heated throughout, and one or two bubbles are seen at the bottom of the pot. The Honey Syrup can be used immediately for hot drinks (Hot Toddy) or saved for cold drinks (Gold Rush, Bees Knees).
Drink, listen, watch, read, write, list, and above all, live.
Sugar has made a return to my diet in the most abominable, obtrusive, and occasionally cheeky way. Ice cream, peanut butter, the bright white cubes that dissolve at the bottom of my coffee-- I can just feel the sweetness flooding into my veins until it suddenly turns into sedentary deposits of anger and fat. (The two simply must go hand in hand, right?? Repositories of sugar-turned-vitriol nestled among the blithe joy coursed through by ...celery and arugula?)
I wish that same sweetness that lingers on my tongue remained in my words, thoughts and actions, in my every deed. But too often I succumb to the sharpness and ache, the guilt left behind with the knowledge that I've overindulged, I've spoken out of turn, I've said too much.
So the ache in my head from the sugar I shouldn't have consumed is simply a foil for the ache that follows me into the eleventh month of exodus-- or so it seems tonight.
I'm still under the weather, but I have to say how absolutely overjoyed I am that Barack Obama is still our president. Rest easy-- we can continue to move forward.
Celebratory food? Easy, Three Twins Mint Confetti Ice Cream. Apparently now available in the Central Coast!! Three Twins is organic, super creamy, and the mint chocolate flavor seriously explodes like confetti.
Celebratory music? Well, more like reflective. I suggest the following:
Followed by our President's fantastic Motown breakdown leading up to his arrival at the rally in Chicago tonight. Jean Knight, Otis Redding, Al Green, Stevie Wonder-- ridiculous and amazing.
Fired up, ready to go.
Back to orange juice and sleep and the high hopes that tomorrow I'll wake up without a headache and with a renewed outlook on life because YES WE CAN.
Monday, November 5, 2012
A majority of my Sunday was spent fighting the third sinus-related migraine in three weeks-- the kind of insane headache where my pulse takes root in my teeth and throbs incessantly. Ibuprofen halfway through the pain took some of the poison out, yet even as the headache slowly recedes I'm left feeling weak and frustrated.
What allows for the poison to recede, what draws it out and away from my head? My mind? My heart?
I'm not even sure where to begin or how-- I will say that a cold compress to the eyes, a warm vegetarian noodle soup (don't judge when ramen does the job), and endless episodes of bad doctor-related television can certainly help.
Such rituals of self-indulgence-- believe me when I say not trying to allow these "sick day" rituals to morph into self-pity. It often does, leaving me reeling not only from the slow ebbing of the pain but the endless possibility that I am unable to grow.
