I spoke with an ex the other day. Always informative, I came to see that, even after all this time I had really hurt him. And even after never meaning to, we had always had VERY different ways of seeing what was happening between and around us. We experienced it differently, we remember it differently. And I started to feel like perhaps there are no real "facts" in relationship, or perhaps even in life, just ways of seeing and experiencing things. This realization, once experienced, can take you in many directions.
So today, Im leaning more towards the notion of there being very few absolutes, if there are any at all. The black and white of my experiences are continuing to fade into these amazing shades of grey which contrary to what I anticipated isn't bringing lack of clarity. Actually, it is making me feel very creative:I have had an idea for a while, an idea for a book. I recently asked a good friend to co-write it with me and she agreed. Its a collaborative piece that will hopefully include the work of several wonderful people I know. To be frank, the more I think about it, the more excited I become.
I cant spill more details just yet but all I will say is that after a couple months of development we have agreed upon a working title...
Edible.
Let the games begin...
Read more...
Lately Ive been talking a lot about being the moment. Ive been talking about how your life is all a matter of perception and how if you look at things in a way that is beneficial, you cant fail. I said to a friend the other day that one of my main goals is to be comfortable with being uncomfortable. This year has taught me that it is the nature of things to change. It has also taught me that control comes and goes making it a fleeting sort of illusion. So the premise of this exploration and acceptance is that if Im ok with discomfort then nothing can stop me.
On more than one occasion this month I heard myself saying that life doesnt always give you what you want but it does give you what you need. The people, the lessons, the situations. Pretty much, every time.
But what about when they fall apart? What about when the plan unravels? Where is that cool calm collected go-with-the-flow-ness then? What happens when after a lovely 5 week visit in America, I pack up all of my things and get ready to fly back home to Berlin only to find out not only that my flight is cancelled but that they cannot re-book me for an entire week....
What happens when life happens?
I get to meet myself. I get to stop talking and start walking. I get to have a different week than I planned. I get to see different people and have different conversations. But most of all, I get to practice what I preach.
During this trip so far I have been going through a lot. I've been paying close attention to the way I feel and react with familiar people in familiar situations. I have been trying to notice what is going on in my head, in my heart and in my body. I have learned a ton about myself during this year in Berlin and before I flew to LA this time, I was worried about how I would be. Could I keep up the self observation? Could I stave off the massive self judgement? In moments in which I have, for years, acted on auto-pilot, would I be able to stay with myself?
There have been an incredible amount of feelings, connections and sensations while I’ve been here so far. But the best part is my overwhelming sensation: gratitude. Gratitude for the fact that the sun is shining. Gratitude for the fact that there is so much food in the fridge. Gratitude for the laughter in the living room. Gratitude that my mom still calls me when its late and she wonders if I'm coming home. Gratitude for how fast my friends' children are growing. Gratitude for friends who offer up their gorgeous houses to sleep in and to cook thanksgiving dinner in. Gratitude for the 11 kinds of pie in the kitchen. Gratitude for time to drink coffee and hear my friends’ stories. Gratitude for the fact that I can hug my mom as long and as often as I want. Gratitude that it’s impossible to see all the people I love while I'm here. Gratitude for messages from friends about the first snow in Berlin. Gratitude for new socks. Gratitude for random text messages, just because we can. Gratitude that Emerson and Averie remembered me and weren’t at all scared by my bald head.
Blogging is funny. It’s this interesting way to reach out and share in the digital world. And even though my main goal is being in the present moment, even as I write I will be sharing the past or future. I had a dear friend write to me the other day. He had found my blog after 12 years of being out of touch and used reading every word of it to catch up on who I have become.
And while he has gone on to marry and have children and create a successful career, he was very generous with his impressions of why what I am doing matters. But this “me” on this screen is only the one I write about. The one who can put two sentences together about her feelings. If I'm honest, I spend most days neither able nor wanting to do that. And sometimes I wonder who that girl really is. The one who isn’t particularly inspired or inspiring. The one who isnt all that wise or enlightened. Most days I'm just trying to find a balance between aspiring to my potential and accepting myself for who I am.
I have a lot of friends on facebook. I feel quite certain they couldn't all handle where I'm coming from, most of the time. So there is a lot I don’t share. Not on the internet. That’s what a nice long talk and a good cup of coffee is for. That’s something each one of us should earn face to face and soul to soul. Its something I try not to forget. I’d like to think that these two versions are equally me. It’s the classic case of shot glass and mug. Same contents with different capacities.
So when can we sit down for our cup o joe?
Lately my life is like my hair-do, it’s in that “in-between stage”. I think we all know it. That place after the place of action and emotion. It’s a time before a time when anything is really happening. The period in-between sensation or struggle or any kind of self perpetuating energy from which you feed. Simply put, it’s the opposite of “go time.” This place is more like “wait time” or “just keep your head down” time. And in its emptiness I sometimes find it harder than the hard times.
When I was little my dad used to say, “life isn’t always Disneyland.” I didn’t know what to make of it then. I'm still not sure now. But like my hair, sometimes you have to cut things off in life. Maybe because it’s time. Maybe because it’s the only way to let new growth come through. I spent the last year very much in the struggle of it. Knowing that I just wanted to stay here and fighting to make it a reality. But now it seems it is. I live in Berlin. And things seem to be growing on their own, sometimes at random. But as anyone who has ever made cuts might tell you, the in-between isn’t always cute. And waking up this morning I didn’t like looking in the mirror. The girl looking back at me was neither here nor there.
But the in between is also a place. Just like here. Just like there. And maybe it’s a more honest one then the others. No glitz, no glamour, no frills. Just regular life. Even if this life is happening far away from where it started, its still life.
So, with an open heart, I will try to keep my head down and wait. Try to enjoy this time non time, space non space. Or I could just be honest to my need for adventure today and get the clippers!
Time flies when you're having fun. When you are learning lessons. When you are dreaming dreams. When you are trying to survive and learning to thrive.
Thats the way of it, time. Its times job to fly.
This Summer came and went. Just as fast as it started to blaze, sun high, days filled with BBQ's and open air festivals, it has started to cool down. The wind is blowing, the leaves are changing and as I walk down the street, behind colorful scarves and caps, I can see the difference on everyones face.
Because I never grew up with definitive seasons, before I moved to Berlin I had to rely on other things to let me know that time was marching on. Holidays were good for that, especially birthdays. So the 21st of September has always meant its my Mamma's birthday and the start of Fall.
This year, as much as I wanted to, I couldn't afford to send her a ticket to come to visit me for her birthday. My strict financial limitations making room for creativity, I had an inspiration to make my Mom a video tour of my life and home here in Berlin. It seemed like a solid idea, I just had no clue how I was going to do it myself. (One handed photos in front of tourist destinations is one thing, but a video tour is a different animal altogether.)
So then last week I had a houseguest from Australia who just happened to be a professional film editor. When I mentioned my idea, he jumped at the chance to help. Don't you just love it when a totally unplanned plan comes together?! What a great way to celebrate the flight of time and just Fall....
This is drastically out of order but I have to tell you this story.
I had no car for the move into my new apartment. This seeming handicap gave me two options: rent a car or get creative.
One characteristic of myself that I used to prize in another life was the fact that I was capable. If something needed done, more often than not, I could make it happen. And most of the time I felt good about this all the while unaware that it was making me an island.
The thing about friendship and community and collaboration is that its a two way exchange. Without reciprocity, it just doesn't work. Its quite simple really, when one offers, the other has to accept. This doesn't work when self sufficiency is your top priority. This doesn't work when you are an island.
My idea of independence has been tested often these past two years. And its lovely how many people have stepped up along the way. Showing their true colors in the name of my international move, I have been blessed with generous humans who have been teaching me the value of accepting help.
One thing I love about Berlin is its honesty. For better or worse, you know where you stand. There is very little sugar-coating. It's just the real raw story and you can take it or leave it. So when it came time to move the couch that my friend Eric so generously donated to my new flat and I had to figure out how to get it from his attic to my studio it felt right to ask myself one simple question: "What would Berlin do?"
The answer was clear...
Couch Moving Party.
5 strong men, 3 six packs of Berliner Kindl and 2 Kilometers later I realized something beautiful thats been coming for a long time now:
Im not an island anymore.
Being broke sucks.
I’ve have never been as financially poor in my life as I have been in Berlin. I used to play at it. Say I had no money all the time. But that was a lie. I had credit cards, I had work and I had family close by.
I was talking to a friend the other day about how a mutual pal of ours was “really struggling”.
“She can’t even buy any new clothes right now!”
I used to say things like that. But it’s funny how priorities switch when you go from perhaps not donning the latest fashions all the way to perhaps not being able to buy food.
Believe it or not, I’m not complaining. Because I am finding that there are two interesting things about money: It often gives a false sense of security in a totally uncertain world and it usually creates an insatiable appetite for more. Everything is always changing and no amount of money can change that. And there is always a need for more things, new things, vacations, possessions, and when all that is checked off the list you can always use savings for a rainy day. It can create a never-ending black hole of desire making it virtually impossible to be content with what is.
But one thing I love about the life I currently lead is that despite my conceptual discomfort and my occasional worry about what people think of my efforts, I am currently at peace inside.
Because I have enough. In fact, if I really look at my situation, I am one of the richest people I know.
And so somehow eating noodles is feeding my soul. And I know it’s just a phase. I am doing and learning everything I can and like all other seasons, this too shall pass. That knowledge coupled with the growing love in and around me makes me open to all the things I can already feel are on the way. And what’s more, it gives me the opportunity to enjoy this moment. Right now I am so thankful for this time and space to really imagine myself as free, because I already am.
Since I did it, there have been a lot of questions.
Why now?
Why ever?
A few people begged me not to. Some threatened to cry. Some asked if they could have it when I was done.
I made a lot of excuses for a while. It needed to be hotter. I needed to be in better shape physically... emotionally. I wondered if maybe I was just doing it for the spectacle. I thought about it. I felt it through. I warned all my friends. But I knew the time was coming and the time was coming soon...
Then the time came. On the first day of Summer 2010, I shaved my head
...totally bald.
When small children ask me why I did it, I tell them I wanted to see the shape of my head. "Have YOU ever seen YOUR head?!" When others inquire I tell them it was time to clean out.
It had happened somewhere along the way that my identity had become tangled in my huge mass of curly hair. Certainly not the first thing and probably not the last. But in these last couple of years, I had become aware that my mane had completely infiltrated my self image. And I knew that the only way out was in letting go.
I am still a bit amazed. Im almost use to my reflection. I still wake up in the morning and touch my head. I still try to flip my hair reflexively in various social situations.
But there is a strange feeling of calm inside. I am spending time in my own skin. And frankly, its nice to meet me.
This year in Berlin Summer came early and Spring came late. Following a catastrophically cold Winter it remained frigid and dark well into what should have been Spring. But then, the day after I moved into my new place, it happened. Almost as though Berlin was showing its sign of approval, the sun came out and came on strong. The wind of Spring with the warm of Summer.
Glorious.
One wholly new phenomenon is the Pappel. A soft white flower, its buds bloom like wisps of cotton wafting through the air and filling the city streets. In the absence of allergies, it is truly a magical site. All over is a thin layer of white. Its almost like Berlin snows year round- schnee (snow) in the winter, cotton in the spring followed by the gorgeous changing leaves of the fall. Its amazing to live somewhere with seasons. And every time it changes, I feel new. I say, let it rein.
I used to be a bit of a snob. Much more than I knew. It’s amazing how many meanings we attach to silly things. But this last move (that being more a prayer than a prediction) from one temporary space into a hopefully slightly more permanent one, reminded me how prejudice I can be.
Over the weekend someone asked me how many times I moved last year. My answer surprised even me… 11. I have had 11 different relocation-destinations this year. No seriously. Last year they began with a move as far as Los Angeles to Berlin. And this year, they end with a move as close as a small city block.
I carried my lady liberty and handmade poster from friends about 150 meters down the street to my new, fantastic, garden, studio apartment. My friend Marc had been gracious enough to serve as my permanent address and with that generously came the added load of hosting both me on several “in between lodging” occasions as well all the lovely things I had acquired over a year of living here.
While Berlin is quite diverse and in that way is very forgiving, there are still things that come up in my mind sometimes, things you just don’t do.
But last week I moved one city block without a car, truck or van. My friends came to my aid for the bazillionth time, and together we did it by hand, on foot and with the help of a single previously prejudiced item. Although I wasn’t really aware of it, I had previously designated that the only appropriate use for this item was in the supermarket. But beyond the boundaries of the parking lot of a market or other commercial shopping location, this item was subconsciously reserved for the sole use of homeless people and the like. And so, ironically, in this last push for me to have a home, I was totally saved by this thing used almost exclusively by people without them. All hail the shopping cart.
I think I am more humble now. I am certainly more convinced than ever that I have no business thinking I ever know “how things really are.” And thanks to that shiny thing and some ass-busting work on the part of myself and my dearest ones here, I road that thing proudly… all the way home.
So Im having this little problem with enlightenment.
As I type these words I know that my confusion no doubt lies in my lack thereof. Any enlightened person would probably tell me that. Or tell you that about me. "She is just struggling because she is not yet very evolved." But right now Im ok with that. I am where I am. THIS is my road. And THIS is my place on the road. I can not be anywhere else.
So I asked a guru the other day for guidance. I told him I was looking for peace. I realize that its not as though its lost or I will find it hiding somewhere, under a rock or perhaps behind some gorgeous mountain covered in lush landscaping and happy dancing hippie folks. I realize that peace is not the problem, its me. But Im still searching, working, trying to find a way to be able to rest inside for more than just these fleeting moments I find. I asked him and this is what he said:
"There is no road to peace. Peace IS the road"
At first I let it in. I took the words and let them swim around. Marinate a bit in my highly seasoned mind. Then I tried to let my heart have its turn. Spend some time with the concept, just feeling my way through it. What does it mean and what is the deeper truth...
Beat.
It eats itself!
It reminds me of school. When I was a kid and I didnt know how to spell a word, I would ask and they would tell me to look it up in the dictionary. How in the world can I do that when I dont know how to spell it?
Chicken or Egg?
I understand that Jesus spoke in parables so that everyone could get what they needed out of it, but this is rediculous! I hate cannibalistic concepts!
I wonder if past this frustration there is a way on the other side to understand this and explain it to normal people? I mean, seriously. I want to be free!
Wake up. Bunny slippers. Is there sun today? Turn on the water pot. Check email. Check facebook. Shower. Rummage through suitcase to find clothes. Enjoy coffee. Breath. Layer up. Walk to the train. Insert 2.10. Insert self on train. No seats. Find something to hold. Look ahead. Eye contact. Old lady who doesnt smile back. Punk kids beside me giggle. Did I turn off the water pot? Homeless man selling newspapers. Business man selling soul. Stress anticipation. "Einsteigen Bitte" Hearing deutsch. Hearing spanish. Hearing english. Song in my head. It all sounds the same. Train jolt. He bumps into me. Quick eye contact. "Entschuldigung". Eyes closed. Exhale. My stop. Doors open. People pour in. I pour out.
Where am I going again?
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