Erasing J’s holiday info off my desktop – info including dates, hotel, and flight numbers – brought tears to my eyes. As did a number of things this morning; everything from J’s final posts on FB to random memories of the last week popping into my brain. All this heavy duty emotion inspired some sappy song lyrics which I can’t read through without triggering a waterfall. It may take some time to record that one.
Seeing someone for a short holiday after years apart is a little bit like being by someone’s deathbed. You try to squeeze in everything in a short span. You say ‘I love you’ more often than usual. You reach out to hold the other person’s hand every other minute. And you tear up even when you try not to, because thinking of life without that person breaks your heart in two.
Been thinking of my defense mechanisms. How I’ve told myself for years that not seeing J or other people I care about is okay. They have their lives and I have mine. How I’ve convinced myself that online communication is the same as being there.
How I’ve fooled myself into thinking I don’t care so much.
Part of me wants to fall back into that: to focus on the future, to ignore the years between passing, to overlook the lines in J’s face and my own. Another part is unwilling to do that. To sleep through another decade before I see J again. That’s what it feels like; like part of me has slept for years and only woke up when J and I first hugged. She doesn’t want to be mollified. She wants to mourn.
So I’m yo-yoing. Making plans to take a walk in the beautiful sunshine today and crying my eyes out that I have to do it alone.
And smoking. To yes, numb it out a bit. Straight up avoidance. Let the wound scab over a bit before we pick at it too much.
My sorrow doesn’t taint my memories of the last week. It makes those memories sweeter, and the pain deeper in contrast. Catch 22. Between a rock and a hard place. Whatever. It’s ambivalence personified. And it’s sitting smack in the middle of my lap. That’s where I feel it: deep in my core. Happy to have seen J and so very sad, too. It’s a stone in my stomach. And it’s too achingly beautiful to smash. J’s name is etched on it, and it resides in sunshine land filled with happy memories.
It’s almost a shrine. Holy ground.
Makes me wonder how many other shrines like that I carry around in me. How many other people I’ve lost along the way that would trigger this type of reaction.
How deep it goes.
There’s probably an underwater labyrinth in my brain filled with that type of thing. I’ve had to leave a lot of people, a lot of places.
It’s nothing I want to map out.
*sigh* I’d better get my shoes on soon and out into the sunshine. TRY to lighten my mood. A brisk walk is what’s called for. Get my blood pumping, my heart rate jumping. Half my sorrow is getting stuck in time, and that’s what’s happening. I’m imagining a future of not seeing J. My brain isn’t focused on the now. It’s dithering off in some maybe time, and it’s a negative maybe time, to boot. Wrenching my brain from negative to positive seems too large a task, so all I can do is bring myself back to NOW. It’s not happening NOW. It may never happen. Calm down and stop putting energy into it.
Break the cycle.
…..There’s one sure fire way to avoid every negative thing my brain wants to throw at me. Create in the now what I’ll need in the future to sidestep it all. Tricksey. But not impossible. Good Goddess! That means taking up the balls and juggling again. Spinning some magic. Dancing fast enough to create a solid foundation. Projecting movement while standing still. Finding that groove , grabbing hold, and letting it pull you.
I get the sense I’m making this harder than it should be.
Try to hold a handful of sand. You’ve got to cup it lightly, just allowing it to sit in your palm. Apply too much pressure and the sand slips away. Same principle. If I try too hard, I’ll fail. I have to walk this one lightly.
The flowers I bought for J’s visit have faded and died, like our brief time together. I purchased new flowers to take their place. These new flowers…have to say the bouquet I made is one of the ugliest I’ve ever seen. I bought two batches of blooms. One was a bunch of stiff, paper-like flowers and the other was a bunch of floppy-headed flowers. They don’t mix well in my vase. The floppy flowers flop, and the stiff flowers stand like frozen soldiers keeping watch over the table. And yet..my eye is drawn to them. Because for all the haphazard mixing of the two types of blooms, for all the crudeness of my attempts to ‘arrange’ flowers, they’re still flowers, and beautiful just as they are.
Can I transfer that sense of beauty to myself, my art? Can I hold it lightly enough to really capture what I see and taste and smell and feel and hear? Can I mix opposites, make a mess of things, and still see beauty?
I’ve had a lifetime to master this and I still feel like I’ve barely made any progress. That’s so disheartening. But that is past talk, past regret.
….I’m asking myself if I’m really up to this. Staying focused, staying in the now. Working towards a future, not immediate gratification. Because every DAY I’ve had the opportunity to do things differently. And so far, I’ve not been able to follow through very well.
No tight fisted vows will pass my lips. No promises that from this day forward such and such will be different.
I’ll just let this be.