Sunday, August 17, 2008

Raining Maitri Part 1

My friend TD and I "i-chatted" (or something) on FACEBOOK today.
What the hell is this? Or should I say what fresh hell is this?
In some ways, it's like that nightmare I used to have in college where every boy I had ever kissed suddenly converged at a party all at once and they met and shared stories and realized they'd all slept with me and as I turn around in slo-mo, I see them all staring at me.
(I must say, and I don't want to break the mood, that OVERALL I'm friggin loving it. Ya'll got to do it. Seriously? Phillip S??? Crazy!)
Back to the cautious mood...
Tonight we're dealing with insecurity, fear, happiness, self-acceptance. All of it. For good. We're figuring it all out.
Cause you see...some of you know too well cause you actually have to deal with me, I'm a woman who hasn't written in like months and I lost my one day a week nanny/love Rosa (Saint Rosa) (Am I giving you any idea what this woman meant to me???) and it has been summer. Summer. Summer. Summer. HSM2!
Moms? High five. Summer sucks. Slap. Slap. Slap.
Oh yeah, back to TD, a mom friend on Facebook.
So TD and I were i-chatting and she was talking about how she feels/fears she'll have to get a "real job" (she's of course had the very real job of mothering her son) but she feels she'll have to get another job and then she won't be able to pursue her dreams of having a production company.
I totally get where she's coming from. It feels like there's so little time left you just want to get there.
I live it too. I teach yoga classes, looks like I might be selling Arbonne, doing whatever it takes to try to pull something together financially but damnit that's just not the whole of it. Not the whole of who I am. There's a much bigger picture. I want to write and direct films. Nothing in my life except the words that I type here resemble that possibility in any way. (Chew on that.)
I will be a director. I am a writer. Baby steps. Whatever. Being on a time table? What-ever.
We think we're chasing this dream and it's part of a different life and once that dream comes true we'll have this "other" life: the dream life.
it's really hard to see that there's just one life. All ya get. You better get busy living, or get busy dying. All the little things, the seemingly abstract things are all on "the path." It's all to pursue the dream. When your dream is living. Live it all up. It's messy. It's funky.
It even smells funky. (I'm in the throes of potty training.)
But it's human and divine.
Let me ask you this?
Do you see how we always seem to default to the position, to the observation, to the analysis (sweet analysis) that beats us up the most?
I'm unlovable.

Well that's mine.
Go get your own.

And how is beating ourselves up getting us any closer to our dream?

Earlier this year, I decided to try to get some more yoga classes going. I rented a small space for a couple hours a week (I pre-paid for three weeks) in a cool dance studio in North Hollywood. I was very excited. I emailed everyone (everyone!) I knew and invited the clients I already had and put up posters and made some calls.
Very excited.
First time: no one shows.
That's ok. It was good to have a practice run.
Second time I email, call, but no one shows.
My clients don't show.

My best friends don't show.

I'm fucking bombing at YOGA.

Oh yeah. This was gonna be grist for the mill, this was going to be good meat to chew. The ego does luh-huv to chew.
And mill sometimes. Mill the grist. Grist grain. Wheat. Whatever.
So I'm in the car, driving (milling) to the third class and I know, I KNOW, no one is coming to this class.
I am raining shit on myself.
I am worthless. Stupid. I'm humiliated and I have to go cancel this time with the studio and everyone there KNOWS no one came to my class.
What is wrong with me?
And I was rushing to get there in the car, in the damn traffic on the 101, in the shit rain, when...WHEN...
i was struck by the idea that "This is my life." It was like a whisper and a slap in the face. It was new information yet something I always knew. "This is my life."
Why in MY life would I do this to MYSELF?
My beautiful self.
I must take a commercial break and say that prior to this incident I accepted for certain, partly from watching "The Secret" (say what you will, it changed me, I highly recommend the DVD)--
I accepted that my life is entirely my creation. I already believed this. And that is a joyful thing. A burden at times and a challenge every other time? Yes. But joyful. It's Good News my friend. Good news.
"Ain't that news? Ain't that good news? Man, I know that's good news." (That man can sing. We are soul brothers.)
Okay, wrap this up. Mama's glass needs a re-fill.
My friends, my sentient and holy beings:
Don't do this to your self!
Love yourself!
I love you!
Every single one of ya!
Make this YOUR life.
Speak YOUR life.
Live YOUR life.
Claim YOUR life.
Your life is this world all around you.
Very vast too. It's nice that way.
And you created it.
You continually re-create it.
Make it exactly as you want it to be.
Did I want to live in a world of humiliation, shame and judgement?
Ok. I don't.
Just like that.
Snap! Snap! Snap!
This is your life.
Joy. Joy. Joy.
End of story.
I walked into the dance studio with my head held high. So, the yoga classes didn't work out. Okay. That's the end of the story. Don't need to add to it.
And guess what?
The people at the dance studio were lovely. And warm. They treated me as I would like to be treated (hhmmmm...).
There was no judgement on their side. It didn't work out, they said. They actually SAID that.
End of story. They wished me luck and I went on my merry way and that was that. I was a changed woman for it.
And it hasn't left me. I can still, when I remember to, just click into that. Into that feeling I had in the car.
When I feel some daily (ok, minutely) insecurity or embarrasment or God forbid, judgement, I can step back and say: "Your Life, Woman."
I project traffic on the fucking freeway and I'm stressed and running late: "Choose Your Life Riley." (I know.)
I eat like shit all day and I'm fat and I'm a lousy mother and aack! the house is a mess?
"Fucking Sue Me, This Is My Life."
So...I'm leaving it there people. Part Two of this strange saga manana!
Check out a little thing I found tonight. She's eloquent and one of my heroes:
Love you.


Anonymous said...

first of all, thank god you are back.

and thanks for saying it out loud for all of us. how did you get to be so smart?

love love love from one who loves you and herself, as much as she possibly can.

more more more, said the baby.

Anonymous said...

Glad you're back.

Sophia said...

you are back, baby! TAKE YOUR SPACE... I'm takin' mine. :0) love you madly! xoxoxoxooxoxoxo

Stacy (mama-om) said...

okay, WOW!

I am a new reader.. I found you via HollyWouldMother.

First, you got a good laugh from me with your I Quit post, and then I got a swift (but loving) kick in the ass with this love-your-life post.