Posts Tagged ‘Sigh’
More silence (it has now been two weeks since the “I can’t talk to you yet. I’m not ready.” text message).
I am trying to implement my friend and teacher’s advice to “try not to suffer my suffering, but rather witness my suffering and try not to stop it or interfere with it. Suffering resisted becomes agony, so don’t try to control.”
Similarly, I have been reading some stuff written by Pema Chodron from her book “When Things Fall Apart.” I actually saw her speak about three years ago with my friend that died of the brain tumor. It was one of the last things we did together when she was well enough to leave the house and whatnot.
Anyway, some of passages that have spoken to me are below:
“People get into a heavy-duty sin and guilt trip, feeling that if things are going wrong, that means that they did something bad and they are being punished. That’s not the idea at all. The idea of karma is that you continually get the teachings that you need to open your heart. To the degree that you didn’t understand in the past how to stop protecting your soft spot, how to stop armoring your heart, you’re given this gift of teachings in the form of your life, to give you everything you need to open further.”
“I used to have a sign pinned up on my wall that read: Only to the extent that we expose ourselves over and over to annihilation can that which is indestructible be found in us…It was all about letting go of everything.”
“Most of us do not take these situations as teachings. We automatically hate them. We run like crazy. We use all kinds of ways to escape — all addictions stem from this moment when we meet our edge and we just can’t stand it. We feel we have to soften it, pad it with something, and we become addicted to whatever it is that seems to ease the pain.”
““To be fully alive, fully human, and completely awake is to be continually thrown out of the nest. To live fully is to be always in no-man’s-land, to experience each moment as completely new and fresh. To live is to be willing to die over and over again. ”
Who hoo! I’m fully alive…by dying over and over again. Kind of like “life’s a bitch and then you die…and then she’s nice for a little while just long enough to suck you in…and then she turns bitchy and you die again.”
That stated, new precedents for the upcoming days/weeks/months:
1) Unless I update otherwise, the deafening silence continues and could possibly go on for the rest of my life. In that case, it will hopefully start to hurt less eventually. Maybe in the new year?
2) Let’s not talk about this anymore. I might start an anonymous blog and drag myself through the whole thing there, but for now – and for the sake of my poor dad who is vicariously heartbroken for me – there’s no real need to discuss this further. It’s completely out of my hands, and I just have to accept that.
Although it may be nothing more than a weak attempt at justification, I’m going to stick with the old Desiderata wisdom “and whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.”
In other news….how did your “Black Friday” go? Get involved in any interesting stampedes or fist fights at a Wal-mart?
I just Googled my own blog to log in and finish up my little Haleakala story…and I found this very inhospitable warning that “This site may be compromised.”
There is nothing I hate more than problems with the blog, especially because:
a) I super dooper suck at all this internet stuff. I am a straight up, bonafide, short bus riding Internets idiot.
b) I don’t know anyone who is good at WordPress and the like…even people I can hire. I am a straight up etc. idiot and so is everyone I know. (Sorry everyone I know, but unless you’re holding out on me, you know it’s true. You can’t fix this “site may be compromised” crap any better than I can. And if you can….my god, CALL ME!!!)
c) I am FINALLY – for the first time in four years – making a little money on the blog…and now this!!!! Nooooooooooo!!!
Karma, I am a good person. I have supported a kid in Burkina Faso for over four years and she doesn’t even answer my letters. And all things being equal, I’m too broke to send $50 a month to that ungrateful little… (Oops. Maybe that’s part of why this is happening?) I remember people’s birthdays. I write thank you letters. I give to the Salvation Army at Christmas time. I am friends with (almost) all my exes. I stop at crosswalks. I have only killed only one animal (recently. Again, maybe why this is happening. If it’s any consolation, I was mortified when I saw the spray of feathers blow out from behind my Jeep) with my car and that was entirely the animal’s (a myna bird) fault. I mean, who sleeps in the middle of the Hana Highway and expects to live!?!?!
So anyway, I’m being punished and that’s all I’ve got.
Meanwhile, totally panicked, I Googled this scenario (what else is there to do when you’re a total idiot?) and see things about how hard it can be for non-techie people (um. me.) to fix this stuff.
(***Short pause while I lay on the floor and throw a full kicking and screaming tantrum a la a toddler.***)
So here’s the question I have for all of you: how the hell do I figure out if phishing or spamming pharmaceutical sites have added “invisible” links out to themselves? If they are invisible, how do I see them????
This could be a new Buddhist koan:
- If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound?
- What is the sound of one hand clapping?
- How do you see an invisible spam link to a pharmaceutical site?
For me, this is my worst internet nightmare raised to the power of a root canal and multiplied by watching paint dry. I HATE this stuff. I don’t understand it. I get panicky. I cry and semi-hyperventilate. I see dead people. I may get hives. Perhaps I’ll run down my street screaming in the middle of the night hoping someone will come out of their house and come help me find these invisible links.
***short pause again while I Googled the question I pose above. FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK all over again.***
The worst part?
I’ve learned enough to be dangerous.
It was suggested I go to a site called “Bad Neighborhood” and have it scan this here wideawakeinwonderland.com for suspicious links and it found TWO. To the following:
Found on: www.technologyreview.com/computing/21705/page1/
Anchor text: Foundation Medicine: Personalizing Cancer Drugs
Found on: www.technologyreview.com/computing/21705/page1/
Anchor text: Foundation Medicine: Personalizing Cancer Drugs
Now to go drink something alcohol-based. And a lot of it. And hope the sunrise brings with it some good news or at least the name of someone (way) smarter than me…
Because I’ve been feeling a little bit crazy.
Thank god it’s over – although Mercury is still in retrograde until the end of the week, or so I’ve been told – and hopefully I’ll feel increasingly less reflective and straight up funky (funky in an ‘off’ more than a cool George Clinton kind of way) in the days and weeks to come.
Until then, it’s been good for me and my guitar. I still haven’t quite gotten into the groove of the electric yet – mostly because I don’t want to make a bunch of cacophonous noise and piss off my neighbors – so I am still mainly focused on and working out my ‘stuff’ on the acoustic. On the upside, my ferocious calluses are back, and I get better every day. Case in point: last night I decided to come home and figure out a new song, and I can play it pretty expertly today. It’s not terribly complicated, but still.
Did I ever tell you why I took up the guitar?
Well, Melissa Etheridge and a bad breakup with someone who had introduced me to Melissa Etheridge’s music: to this day, nearly two decades later, the Brave and Crazy album still hits me where it hurts. Certain songs knock me straight back to being a 20-year old girl standing in the snow in Switzerland.
Specifically, there is a particular song “Royal Station 4/16″ on that album, and it’s all about a painful breakup…and trains. I lived in Europe at the time, and I had met this person on a train. A lot of our history took place on or around trains, and his remaining life was greatly shaped by them as well. This insight and irony is all in hindsight of course.
Anyway, I came back to The States and these lyrics were in my head, “I got this whiskey to take care of my lips. And I’ve got these long, cool, steel strings at my fingertips. But I ain’t got nothing to soothe my aching soul, except this screeching and screaming iron to tell me where I got to go.”
I’m not much of one for whiskey, and there aren’t many trains in South Central Pennsylvania, so I tried to convince my dad to buy me the long, cool, steel strings and the guitar they were attached to…and he did. Perhaps justifying that gracious and generous gesture on his part, I still have that guitar (although the neck is bowed and it’s tough to play), and I actually turned out a half-decent player in the end.
Here’s the inspiration, as played live much more recently:
My old love would have appreciated her hair in this performance. It irritated him they had tried to “pretty her up” in the subsequent albums. This is all before she came out of the closet, of course, and her label was no doubt hoping to water down her inherent dyke-iness. But I digress…
I completely admire her live performances (some of the best I’ve ever seen. As the same man once summed it up, “She doesn’t talk much. She just rocks.”), there is no denying that harmonica contraption is not flattering. Kind of reminds me of that big orthodontia thing – what is it called? – headgear?
Lord, to have to wear head gear. The only fate worse was the giant metal exoskeleton if you had scoliosis. Do they still do that? I remember being checked annually in gym (we had to bend over and touch our toes and they would study our spines), and the gripping fear that – on top of every other adolescent challenge I was choking on already – I would be chosen by scoliosis as well. Happily – and thank god – that was never the case or I might have just given up the ghost altogether and jumped off a bridge or something. I’m kidding…mostly.
Anyway, I don’t quite have her pipes or talent (at all), but maybe I’ll work on this song all the same…minus the harmonica, of course.
And writing this is harder lately.
I’m okay for the most part, but I don’t quite feel like my snarky or comedic self. What I’m inclined to talk about are the parts of me that don’t feel fine, but then I’m not sure I should. First, it’s a downer, and second, it’s probably not that interesting.
I feel like a 13-year old girl: wildly emotional and way overly eager to analyze everything. I live and die by small gestures or tones of voice. It’s like e. e. cummings once wrote, ”
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, or which i cannot touch because they are too near
Tom Petty had it right – “The waiting is the hardest part” – yet I continue to wait. It’s been nearly two weeks here in limbo, and I suppose I’m getting used to it. On the upside, I’m getting things done: working through the edits on the latest book, dealing with other tasks and obligations, building my business. I have two new clients and that’s comforting.
It’s also a huge honor. Listening to people share their stories and their pain, being present as they look up at you hoping for some relief or some help. The most miraculous part is that what I do does help, to the extent that one woman showered the top of my head with kisses after the session was over. It’s a real blessing to assist others in a process that alleviates their pain, especially when you are so raw with your own.
So I’ve been busy. Whenever my mind starts to go off into the weeds of panic and fear, I just force it back on the thin, overgrown trail of work and goals and focusing on those things I can control. This too, shall pass, and until then I will do my best to keep blogging and hopefully find something funny or at least useful to say.
In the meantime, enjoy one of my favorite Ani DiFranco songs. I’ve been working it out on my new – $40, which also included an amp, stand, and tuner. If Craigslist were a sport, I could medal – electric guitar. It’s not what I wanted – what I REALLY want costs $1400, and the knockoff (as it were) is still $300 – but hey, it was cheap, and for now cheap is the name of the game.