I enjoyed the rainstorm today. The ocean is still beautiful even with all of the dark clouds, driving rain and raging waves. The rain finally stopped a couple of hours ago so I decided to head down to the beach to check it out. It was great to be in the middle of all of that meteorological action.
I took a short walk and then stood there and stared. The seagulls were hovering close to the water hoping to nab something that had washed up in all of the turmoil. I happened to look up and saw a crack in the clouds. It was amazing how brilliant the sun was and how blue the sky was behind all of the storminess. All of that shine, seemingly absent, but there all along waiting for a crack in the darkness to show itself.
I'm like that I think. I feel like I have all of this potential. Not an extraordinary level of potential - not a Pulitzer Prize kind of potential - but potential to be so much more than I am right now. I feel like the years have taken a toll on me well beyond my 43 years and that there's so much shine and brightness behind the heavy weight of all of the darkness that has taken over me.
Maybe this trip is just the kick-off ceremony to all the goodness that lies ahead for me...that is my fervent hope.
Wow, it's good to feel hope again. Will faith be soon to follow?
Here's a song titled "Something Changed" and it expresses what I feel. (It's originally from the movie, The Ultimate Gift, and that's the only video I could find for it.)
YouTube - Sara Groves Ultimate Gift Track
Here are the lyrics:
Something changed inside me broke wide open all spilled out
Till I had no doubt that something changed
Never would have believed it till I felt it in my own heart
In the deepest part the healing came
And I cannot make it
And I cannot fake it
And I can't afford it
But it's mine
Something so amazing in a heart so dark and dim
When a wall falls down and the light comes in
And I cannot make it
And I cannot fake it
And I can't afford it
But it's mine
Friday, October 24, 2008
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Day Twenty-Seven - Brownies Go a Long Way Towards Good Will
A few days ago, I spent a lovely day in downtown St. Augustine. I got off of the main strip of St. George Street where there are quite a few shops, but most of them are a disappointment. Full of crappy t-shirts, crappy key chains, crappy shell jewelry, crappy Christmas ornaments that have "St. Augustine - 2008" engraved on them. Just tacky.
Anyway, I ended up going down these funny little streets and discovered all sorts of retail treasures and historical sites. They were unique and quaint and - I don't use this word often mind you - delightful! It was fun and peaceful and relaxing.
After that, I came home, changed into my swimsuit and spent two hours on the beach and read and listened to music and stared at the water. It was fun and peaceful and relaxing.
I strolled back to the condo all aglow in the rays of my fun and peaceful and relaxing great day. I was looking forward to doing some creating, having a little dinner, a lot of wine, a fun movie and you know, enjoying the fun and peaceful and relaxing evening ahead.
As I approached the complex from the boardwalk though I heard a loud banging - no, a HELLATIOUSLY loud banging - and I thought, Oh no, they've begun the stucco work on my side of the complex now. Ugh!
But it was much worse.
I got to the third floor and walked towards my unit and it's getting louder and louder. The walkway is shaking beneath me. I unlock my door and walk in and every light fixture and ocean-themed wall hanging were throbbing. It was 7.8 on the Richter scale for sure. DID I MENTION THAT IT WAS REALLY LOUD?! And right above me? Yup, the unit right above mine. Of course, I mean, it's me right? Why should I be surprised?
I tried to call the front desk to find out if it was their people working on something or if there was some other project going on and guess what? THEY COULDN'T HEAR ME! And I couldn't hear them either. Dammit. I sat on the couch for a few minutes thinking, I can do this. I'm sure it's short lived. I'll just suck it up.
Um, not so much. I lasted two minutes and 32 seconds before I marched myself up there to have a little talk with Mr. Noisyman. I knocked and knocked but, of course, he couldn't hear me. So, finally I just marched right in and started shouting at the top of my lungs until someone eventually heard me, and out comes Mr. Dusty Noisyman. First name, Dusty, last name, Noisyman. Turns out he was JACKHAMMERING the tile in the two bathrooms as the first stage of some renovations.
I took a deep breath, pasted a smile on my face and politely explained that there's no way this can happen. It was intolerable. Wouldn't you know it, he was the nicest man! He apologized and explained and we made arrangements for a time that was good for me to be out the next day for a short while so he could finish the jackhammering. I had some errands to run anyway so it all worked out.
The next day I made him a big plate of brownies and you would've thought I had handed him a plate of gold. He's checked in everyday since to make sure it's not too loud. I figure that he's either hitting on me, in search of more brownies or is just a nice guy. I suspect he's just a nice guy. Thank you Dusty.
Anyway, I ended up going down these funny little streets and discovered all sorts of retail treasures and historical sites. They were unique and quaint and - I don't use this word often mind you - delightful! It was fun and peaceful and relaxing.
After that, I came home, changed into my swimsuit and spent two hours on the beach and read and listened to music and stared at the water. It was fun and peaceful and relaxing.
I strolled back to the condo all aglow in the rays of my fun and peaceful and relaxing great day. I was looking forward to doing some creating, having a little dinner, a lot of wine, a fun movie and you know, enjoying the fun and peaceful and relaxing evening ahead.
As I approached the complex from the boardwalk though I heard a loud banging - no, a HELLATIOUSLY loud banging - and I thought, Oh no, they've begun the stucco work on my side of the complex now. Ugh!
But it was much worse.
I got to the third floor and walked towards my unit and it's getting louder and louder. The walkway is shaking beneath me. I unlock my door and walk in and every light fixture and ocean-themed wall hanging were throbbing. It was 7.8 on the Richter scale for sure. DID I MENTION THAT IT WAS REALLY LOUD?! And right above me? Yup, the unit right above mine. Of course, I mean, it's me right? Why should I be surprised?
I tried to call the front desk to find out if it was their people working on something or if there was some other project going on and guess what? THEY COULDN'T HEAR ME! And I couldn't hear them either. Dammit. I sat on the couch for a few minutes thinking, I can do this. I'm sure it's short lived. I'll just suck it up.
Um, not so much. I lasted two minutes and 32 seconds before I marched myself up there to have a little talk with Mr. Noisyman. I knocked and knocked but, of course, he couldn't hear me. So, finally I just marched right in and started shouting at the top of my lungs until someone eventually heard me, and out comes Mr. Dusty Noisyman. First name, Dusty, last name, Noisyman. Turns out he was JACKHAMMERING the tile in the two bathrooms as the first stage of some renovations.
I took a deep breath, pasted a smile on my face and politely explained that there's no way this can happen. It was intolerable. Wouldn't you know it, he was the nicest man! He apologized and explained and we made arrangements for a time that was good for me to be out the next day for a short while so he could finish the jackhammering. I had some errands to run anyway so it all worked out.
The next day I made him a big plate of brownies and you would've thought I had handed him a plate of gold. He's checked in everyday since to make sure it's not too loud. I figure that he's either hitting on me, in search of more brownies or is just a nice guy. I suspect he's just a nice guy. Thank you Dusty.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Day Twenty-Six - I Love a Lonely Day
"The sea was angry that day my friends." --George Costanza
There's a storm a-brewin' and the sea is angry. It's supposed to stay in this funk of a mood until Saturday. Which, in a way, is kinda cool because a good storm by the sea is pretty spectacular. But, it also kinda sucks to have my last full day here with such bad weather. I think what I'm going to do is just hunker down with some good food, wine, a couple of DVDs, and a good book. I'll pretend this last showing of the ocean's power is just for me - a way of sending me off.
Two things I've learned in the last few days:
One, if you're a woman staying alone in a condo complex that has proven to attract looney people, don't ever - EVER - watch The Strangers after dark. It takes the ol' imagination to dark places. I ended up having to fast forward through most of it because I wanted to see how it ended but was too scared to actually watch it. It didn't make for a good night's sleep.
Two, at some point in your life you should experience having a whole beach to yourself. The best way to do that is to go for a walk when a storm is about to arrive. All of the smart people (Yeah, they may be smart but they're crazy too.) were apparently safe and sound in their condos but I don't care if it was stupid. It was worth it. There have been a couple of times in the past month when the closest person I saw was a mere dot in the distance, but this was the first time I truly had the whole thing to myself. It was beautiful.
When I first got here, I was stressed because I wasn't sure how to make the most of being so close to the ocean. It seemed too vast and too consuming to grasp fully. But I learned as the days passed how to just let it be and enjoy it. My solitary walk this afternoon seems a fitting way to wrap it up.
I am blessed.
Here are the lyrics to a song that seems fitting:
TV's off at 1am,
One more day alone again.
The work gets longer every day,
Why'd I have to get away?
But I have found a comfort here....
Solitude can be so dear.
Loneliness is not so blue,
When it puts my mind on you.
I love a lonely day,
It makes me think of you,
All alone, I can easily find your love,
I love,
I love a lonely day,
It chases me to you,
It clears my heart,
Lets my very best part shine through;
Its you.
Lonely people everywhere,
Lucky, lonely, ones who care.
Youve got all you need and more,
Someone to be lonely for,
Someone cries for you to hear,
Take your heart and wipe that tear,
Give them someone they can miss,
Give them love and sing them this.
--Amy Grant
There's a storm a-brewin' and the sea is angry. It's supposed to stay in this funk of a mood until Saturday. Which, in a way, is kinda cool because a good storm by the sea is pretty spectacular. But, it also kinda sucks to have my last full day here with such bad weather. I think what I'm going to do is just hunker down with some good food, wine, a couple of DVDs, and a good book. I'll pretend this last showing of the ocean's power is just for me - a way of sending me off.
Two things I've learned in the last few days:
One, if you're a woman staying alone in a condo complex that has proven to attract looney people, don't ever - EVER - watch The Strangers after dark. It takes the ol' imagination to dark places. I ended up having to fast forward through most of it because I wanted to see how it ended but was too scared to actually watch it. It didn't make for a good night's sleep.
Two, at some point in your life you should experience having a whole beach to yourself. The best way to do that is to go for a walk when a storm is about to arrive. All of the smart people (Yeah, they may be smart but they're crazy too.) were apparently safe and sound in their condos but I don't care if it was stupid. It was worth it. There have been a couple of times in the past month when the closest person I saw was a mere dot in the distance, but this was the first time I truly had the whole thing to myself. It was beautiful.
When I first got here, I was stressed because I wasn't sure how to make the most of being so close to the ocean. It seemed too vast and too consuming to grasp fully. But I learned as the days passed how to just let it be and enjoy it. My solitary walk this afternoon seems a fitting way to wrap it up.
I am blessed.
Here are the lyrics to a song that seems fitting:
TV's off at 1am,
One more day alone again.
The work gets longer every day,
Why'd I have to get away?
But I have found a comfort here....
Solitude can be so dear.
Loneliness is not so blue,
When it puts my mind on you.
I love a lonely day,
It makes me think of you,
All alone, I can easily find your love,
I love,
I love a lonely day,
It chases me to you,
It clears my heart,
Lets my very best part shine through;
Its you.
Lonely people everywhere,
Lucky, lonely, ones who care.
Youve got all you need and more,
Someone to be lonely for,
Someone cries for you to hear,
Take your heart and wipe that tear,
Give them someone they can miss,
Give them love and sing them this.
--Amy Grant
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Day Twenty-Five - Laughter Through Tears
I've been reading a blog the last few months about a 39-year-old mom of two children, Michelle who was very sick with the autoimmune disease, scleroderma. It's a hideous disease - you may have heard of it when Bob Saget's sister died of the same thing years ago. She chronicled her journey with lots of laughter and calm. She died last week after a valiant fight. I never met her but felt like I knew her because her writing felt so familiar in its approach. Every death teaches us something. Hers taught me how to be a better, more appreciative mom. Today's entry had me bawling my eyes out. I hope you take some time to check it out though. It's worth the tears.
Diary of a Dying Mom
On the heels of watching the slide show that was posted on that blog today, I decided to watch another video I had heard about:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T36KFPGkUJA
Soon, I was in a full belly laugh even as I was still drying my tears from Michelle's slide show. Laughter through tears can be one of the most invigorating feelings. It's not something we actively seek out but when it happens spontaneously - purely - it makes us feel like we're really living fully in that moment. That we're letting ourselves feel it all - so much at once.
I remember when Joanne died - we were in shock of course - the sudden death of a loved one will do that to you. It messes with your mind. But we were all sitting around talking after dinner one night not long after the funeral and my friend, T, was there. We were reminiscing, sharing funny stories (Joanne was all about the funny) and laughing so hard even as we cried. Later, T told me that she was so surprised by that and that it was a real testament to our strength that we chose laughter through tears. In doing so we not only remembered her death and how absolutely heartbreaking it was to us, but we were also willing to remember her life and how happy knowing her had made us.
I think that was the moment that I must have subconsciously made the decision to laugh as much as possible. That somehow I knew instinctively that I would need it to survive this horrible tragedy. Of course, I had no idea how much worse it was going to get in the coming years and how much I would come to rely on laughter more than I ever imagined. It was, and still is, my lifeline. I cannot overstate this - laughter is why I'm not dead myself or in a straight jacket.
Clearly, all that my family's been through has done its damage. It's permanent and irreversible it seems. How could it not be? But I'm proud of us. We still laugh. And when we still laugh, we still have hope.
Diary of a Dying Mom
On the heels of watching the slide show that was posted on that blog today, I decided to watch another video I had heard about:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T36KFPGkUJA
Soon, I was in a full belly laugh even as I was still drying my tears from Michelle's slide show. Laughter through tears can be one of the most invigorating feelings. It's not something we actively seek out but when it happens spontaneously - purely - it makes us feel like we're really living fully in that moment. That we're letting ourselves feel it all - so much at once.
I remember when Joanne died - we were in shock of course - the sudden death of a loved one will do that to you. It messes with your mind. But we were all sitting around talking after dinner one night not long after the funeral and my friend, T, was there. We were reminiscing, sharing funny stories (Joanne was all about the funny) and laughing so hard even as we cried. Later, T told me that she was so surprised by that and that it was a real testament to our strength that we chose laughter through tears. In doing so we not only remembered her death and how absolutely heartbreaking it was to us, but we were also willing to remember her life and how happy knowing her had made us.
I think that was the moment that I must have subconsciously made the decision to laugh as much as possible. That somehow I knew instinctively that I would need it to survive this horrible tragedy. Of course, I had no idea how much worse it was going to get in the coming years and how much I would come to rely on laughter more than I ever imagined. It was, and still is, my lifeline. I cannot overstate this - laughter is why I'm not dead myself or in a straight jacket.
Clearly, all that my family's been through has done its damage. It's permanent and irreversible it seems. How could it not be? But I'm proud of us. We still laugh. And when we still laugh, we still have hope.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Day Twenty-Four - Calmer Mood (And a Funny Story!)
I feel a lot calmer today. A situation that I was really stressed about over the weekend resolved itself this morning and it took a big load off. Whew! I took three walks today and my foot was feeling it and swelled up. I've broken it twice in a year-and-a-half and this is the first time in a long time that it's been swollen. Oh well. The walks were worth it. The skies were clear and the temperatures a bit cool, but refreshing. The breezes cleared my head and I'm enjoying life.
I must seem rather manic in my moods.
Anyway, the other day, Bev and I were in downtown St. Augustine and it was hard to find a parking spot. Saturday is hopping during the dinner hour as the restaurants come alive with music and happy hour and good food. We were following (stalking) an old couple to their car so we could take their spot. Here's the conversation that ensued:
Bev: It feels like Christmas at the mall. Having to follow people out to their cars.
Me: Turn on your blinker.
Bev: I don't want to follow them too close.
Me: Turn on your blinker. Ya gotta be aggressive.
Bev: That old man looks angry at us.
Me (said not unkindly but just as a statement of fact): He's not angry, he's just deformed.
Bev: What?! What are you talking about?!
Me: He's got a facial deformity. It makes him look angry.
Bev: Oh! I didn't even look at his face, I just noticed that he kept looking back our way...."He's not angry, he's just deformed." Who says that?
Both of us: HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
It's so sick that we cracked ourselves up this way.
I'm sure he was a very nice man. Sorry Mr. Man! I truly didn't mean it in a bad way - it was just my immediate reaction to try to reassure Bev that he wasn't mad - he just looked mad but couldn't help it.
Wouldn't that be a funny headline though?
Man Not Angry, Just Deformed
Two other headlines from recent events in my life:
Near Naked Woman Steals Man's Grapes
and
Large Number of Caucasian Geisha Spotted in Downtown Area
These things really happened. It's not been boring.
I must seem rather manic in my moods.
Anyway, the other day, Bev and I were in downtown St. Augustine and it was hard to find a parking spot. Saturday is hopping during the dinner hour as the restaurants come alive with music and happy hour and good food. We were following (stalking) an old couple to their car so we could take their spot. Here's the conversation that ensued:
Bev: It feels like Christmas at the mall. Having to follow people out to their cars.
Me: Turn on your blinker.
Bev: I don't want to follow them too close.
Me: Turn on your blinker. Ya gotta be aggressive.
Bev: That old man looks angry at us.
Me (said not unkindly but just as a statement of fact): He's not angry, he's just deformed.
Bev: What?! What are you talking about?!
Me: He's got a facial deformity. It makes him look angry.
Bev: Oh! I didn't even look at his face, I just noticed that he kept looking back our way...."He's not angry, he's just deformed." Who says that?
Both of us: HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
It's so sick that we cracked ourselves up this way.
I'm sure he was a very nice man. Sorry Mr. Man! I truly didn't mean it in a bad way - it was just my immediate reaction to try to reassure Bev that he wasn't mad - he just looked mad but couldn't help it.
Wouldn't that be a funny headline though?
Man Not Angry, Just Deformed
Two other headlines from recent events in my life:
Near Naked Woman Steals Man's Grapes
and
Large Number of Caucasian Geisha Spotted in Downtown Area
These things really happened. It's not been boring.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Day Twenty-Three - Somewhere In Between
The weather reflects my mood today. Not sunny and clear but not quite stormy either. Somewhere in between where it's frustrating and in a state of limbo. There's an undercurrent of threatening stress but nothing so obviously wrong that justifies an actual, all-out bad mood. Unsettling.
I feel my time here winding down and I have mixed feelings about it. Part of me is so scared to go back to reality and get back into the full swing of things again. I knew this trip wouldn't solve everything - or maybe anything - but I hope it did me a lot of good. I realized today that I won't know if it did - or how much it did - until I get back into my life and test it out a bit. That's nerve racking. There's still so much that still seems unresolved in my life and even though there were no big answers to those problems on this trip, I do hope that I'll be able to handle them better simply for having the opportunity to rest.
I'll be sad to lose my neighbor, The Ocean. His company has done me good and I'll miss him. I dread waking up to looking at my awful neighbors across the street back in inland suburbia instead of the beautiful sunrise and ocean waves. I'll miss my walks through saltwater and soft sand. I'll miss looking at shells. I'll miss watching dogs fetch sticks that their master's have thrown. I'll miss the soft breezes.
But there's also a part of me that is excited about going back home and resuming some normalcy. As mundane as it can be, there's comfort in the routine. I also need to get back to Emma. I've asked a lot of her by going on this big adventure and she's been great. So has Greg. He's done a great job "holding down the fort" and I appreciate him for that. It's time for me to get back and do my part.
Mixed-up feelings for sure. But it all seems familiar somehow. Much of my life is lived in a state of feeling hope and resignation at the same time. It can be stressful and unsettling but it is what it is and I have to get on with it. I plan on making the most of the rest of my time here in the next few days. That is yet undefined but...that's life, right?
I feel my time here winding down and I have mixed feelings about it. Part of me is so scared to go back to reality and get back into the full swing of things again. I knew this trip wouldn't solve everything - or maybe anything - but I hope it did me a lot of good. I realized today that I won't know if it did - or how much it did - until I get back into my life and test it out a bit. That's nerve racking. There's still so much that still seems unresolved in my life and even though there were no big answers to those problems on this trip, I do hope that I'll be able to handle them better simply for having the opportunity to rest.
I'll be sad to lose my neighbor, The Ocean. His company has done me good and I'll miss him. I dread waking up to looking at my awful neighbors across the street back in inland suburbia instead of the beautiful sunrise and ocean waves. I'll miss my walks through saltwater and soft sand. I'll miss looking at shells. I'll miss watching dogs fetch sticks that their master's have thrown. I'll miss the soft breezes.
But there's also a part of me that is excited about going back home and resuming some normalcy. As mundane as it can be, there's comfort in the routine. I also need to get back to Emma. I've asked a lot of her by going on this big adventure and she's been great. So has Greg. He's done a great job "holding down the fort" and I appreciate him for that. It's time for me to get back and do my part.
Mixed-up feelings for sure. But it all seems familiar somehow. Much of my life is lived in a state of feeling hope and resignation at the same time. It can be stressful and unsettling but it is what it is and I have to get on with it. I plan on making the most of the rest of my time here in the next few days. That is yet undefined but...that's life, right?
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