Sunday, December 12, 2010
and this is life
I wish I could show you the pictures I took last night. I may ask for permission in the future but not right now. I don’t post pictures of me, so I’ll not put that pressure on my friends. Let’s just say I’ve fallen in love with them, the friends and the pictures.
I’ve chosen to go to these people for laughter and help and support rather than to curl up inside myself. If something happens that we part, and this is life. There will be much pain.
Last night I took the five year old Kodak EasyShare to the work Christmas party (there’s no delay, when you want to take the picture it takes it). My friends looked beautiful, and something amazing happened, I trusted myself and they trusted me. Souls come out. When I sat at their table to take a picture, friends smiled at friends, spouses held each other. One husband wrapped himself around his wife and yelled my name as I passed. I’ve never been able to take good portraits before. Sure there were some bad ones; a great lot of us had found the bar a couple times over, but I grew a little bit.
This makes me want to take my photos more seriously.
Today and yesterday I sang after a week of focusing on overtime and running and cooking cool meals. My voice is getting stronger, it’s nowhere near a place where I want to ask a professional for lessons again, but it’s a consideration. I want to keep up with it, it sets me free.
I struggle to write as much as I want to, I write a few blogs, and try to get my Julia Cameron 20 minutes of free fall a day. From this freefall I pull rough outlines of things to expand and create. I’ve spent a few weeks working on a poem that has been great to play with, but it is nowhere near shareable. I want my writing to be stronger.
I added an extra half a lap to my run last week and would like to keep that up.
Work is asking for overtime.
And I still need to read, keep the apartment up to snuff (right now it is nowhere near snuff) and cook.
I want to be a good friend to these people who I have been sharing these great experiences with.
Thinking about it has overwhelmed me, I think, I can’t do it, it’s too much, something will need to be left behind. Wah wah wah.
And then I read this by Pixie Campbell:
As the solstice approaches, I'm growing my list of everything to be released. I'll be attending my first sweat in years, since I began having babies and nursing them through, which seems to be another aspect of this transition I've been experiencing between one who has babies and one who is finished having babies. At the top of my list to release at the lodge is that grief. I cry each time (like right now) I acknowledge that I am moving beyond that sacred place. I didn't see it coming when I was in the earlier stages of my mama bliss. It really hit me when I was weaning Ivy back in the summertime.
I too am going through changes that need to be released; I’ve gone from a phone/e-mail agent to a QA. And I’m going from a person with depression, nursing and healing a sick body, to a much healthier person. My day no longer revolves around surviving, but enjoying. I need to take time and realize that, learn how that changes the daily routine.
I was thinking this Christmas wasn’t feeling like Christmas to me, maybe this year it’s a transition time more than a celebration time. A chance to tell myself I can do it. I can experiment with time and commitment and learn. A time to release the old and accept the new.