Friday, September 4, 2009

because it's warm

I have been working through the whole letting go-ness of life; the defective traits I've assumed over the years need to be gone. Doing this, though, is almost more painful than the acts themselves. My grandma coined a phrase, or at least I think she did, about keeping in your pain. "You stay in your shit because it's warm", she would say. In layman terms that means we keep doing the same crap, because we at least know, beyond reasonable doubt, the outcome would be familiar. That is why our unreasonable selves succumb to our same ol' irrational responses and defense mechanisms - who wants to process something new when we're in pain already?

When I stand back from a situation that I helped create a couple weeks ago, I see that my side of the story was partially to blame. As stories go, there are 3 sides; his, hers and the real one. If I let my inner moron conjure up reasons to blame the other person, citing examples of their behavior via a Large book, or a bad B-movie, I'm searching for the definition of 'fucked' in Websters Dictionary. It's not going to happened. Blaming another person for the exact nature of our wrongs is not taking responsibility for your part in the play, and my inner moron just became your reality.

Knowing and doing are two different things, and which comes first, anyway? The chicken or the egg - and who's the chicken?! I know in my heart of hearts that this feeling, this overwhelming sense of loss and sadness...this too shall pass. I have learned I have the capacity to love and be loved. It's just that I came to realize love as an action has to replace love as a feeling. Love as an action takes endurance and time management - how can I live within the boundaries of loving this person? Now that my mind is made up to commit my head, heart, body and soul to another person, what is the timeline? How patient can and will I have to be? Can I stand and wait for him to hold me and love me as I want? When will this fleeting feeling, that sets off all of those damnedable endorphins, stop and be absorbed by my will to take action?

The philosophizing and questions will soon settle and be answered. I've got to just drag that patience out and let it fester and bloom into the most beautiful virtue I can. Control is not an option - once I give up the control, if it comes back to me I give myself the permission to execute the strangle hold. Mantra of the day: This too Shall Pass.

Thursday, September 3, 2009

Save the Last Dance

Okay...enough of the Dark Side. All of the work we do to mold our new lil' psyches should be rewarded. I was invited to go out dancing yesterday - release this damn current of angst and sweat it off on the dance floor! One of my girlfriends likes to go out and dance - not the dancing of my former 80's-spandex-self, but a cleaner, healthier way to trip the Light fantastic. I will let my lone follower know how this ends up - if all my parts work afterward!
Music is my one release that I can safely say I will never have to give up. It soothes the savage beast and ignites passion when I feel like crap on the inside or want to share my happier self with the World. It's been a good bonding agent with people, as talking about tunes is much lighter and more socially acceptable than mooning about the woe-is-me-ness of life.
I've been succumbing to the throws of iTunes lately, swallowing the fact that someone elses greedy revenue stream is about the only way we can enjoy and share music. Ok, don't think about that - just sink into our earbuds and escape. The fact that Jimi Hendrix and Chopin can share equal space in my head is astounding. I would love to research Jimis' music history more and see if he ever did anything remotely Classical. His lyrics are soooo beautiful - he wasn't just some dude on acid. He was Genius. This excerpt is from a great website that deciphers the meaning and derivation of epic songs.
At the time Jimi wrote the song he had had a huge fight with his girlfriend. When it says "Somewhere a queen is weeping, somewhere a king has no wife." he means his girlfriend is crying and he is loveless. Also, he talkes about clowns and jack-in- the-boxes that have gone away, which means there is no more happiness.
Well, boo-hoo. For all the sappy blokes that think Hendrix was just living in a drug-induced fog, that may be right, but he was an incredibly deep and soulful artist that fed his equally mournful audience a whole lotta Good Grief!

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