to replace nostalgia with welcoming

19 July 2004 - 09:09

<<--unravel * reintegrate-->>

Today must be an auspicious day in the stars, for me and for Becky. For the first time in more than two years, I have a job with regular hours and normal pay. Perhaps I am heralding in a new era of stability.

The past two weeks I've been living at Becky's apartment, with my kitten, Foo, and her two kittens, Klickitat and Alameda. I've been supposed to be finding a job and completing a writing project for a friend, but I had a terrible case of procrastination. When that hits me, it is truly debilitating. It affects every area of my life: I don't call friends; I barely eat; I don't do the work I'm supposed to do, like calling jobs or writing. It didn't make sense to me until I picked up a book on the topic that says some people procrastinate out of fear of separation. This is the longest I've been separated from Kale for nine months (he is away on business for a few weeks). Before this, we never had more than a few hours apart. I think subconsciously my logic was, if I let my life wither and die like a flower in a closet, he will come back and take care of me. I've developed a certain amount of fragility from living 3,000 miles away from where I grew up and being poor for so long.

In the shower two days ago when the world was turning into rainbows, everything changed. My meditation for the past two weeks has been, How would I live if I truly trusted the universe? In the shower a voice came over me and showed me that if I lived in that eerie state of trust, everything would be different, I would move differently, I would speak differently. Do you ever meet anyone who is completely vulnerable, who puts every ounce of herself out there like a gift, like a miracle?

I believe the universe will never disappoint, that I, myself, even will never disappoint. So I had better start acting that way.

I am nostalgic for every past event in my life. Even terrible ones, days when our van broke down in San Diego, and I didn't know if we could fix it, and we were hungry. The reason I am able to long for these moments is I know how they end. I think the only way to enjoy the present moment fully is to trust that it will end in a way that fulfills you. That's when -- as I've said before -- the present moment and everything around you becomes your lover, all that you need, the way home.

<<--unravel * reintegrate-->>