Honesty

How much can we really take?

How much should we really share?

Full honesty is more than anyone really wants I suppose...I’ve always said I wanted it, those types of relationships, totally free and honest...but could I really take it? Could anyone? I think it might be impossible.

Those that love me see what I can take, and only give me that much. They protect me. They pat me on the head and let me stay in my comfortable world, or, sometimes they like me to be a party to theirs. I can’t blame them really, I guess I'm the same with those I love. I have a little compassionate awareness about what they can handle, or, more selfishly, what I’m willing for them to handle. Just like every time I visit my parents--I shake them up just a little with all my thoughts and feelings, but not enough to freak them out.

And so it goes...we work around the honesty. We deny it, talk ourselves out of it and don’t allow the difficult truths to be true.

But that takes space, not to mention energy. Next thing you know there’s something there beside the truth--there are arguments and explanations and near-truths where honesty used to be. I think we work around these things, and try and live in the in-between space.

It's not anyone's fault, it's just how it is. We try to make some truths not-truths, we demand everything fit within our worldview and we protect each other and ourselves. It's not a bad thing, but sometimes that protection clouds our vision and knowledge about how to proceed. We keep truth at arms length until we're ready to see it and even then we have to be convinced. That’s what I do. I fight off Truth until he gets his bigger friend Reality to stare me down.

But I'm finding that when I man-up, get some guts and decide to accept difficult truths I’m moving forward, changing a little. It's hard and it takes courage, but when I catch a glimpse of it, and when I quit trying to stop it, I feel a bit of a rush. Hey, I might actually gain some ground and get to go somewhere new....

But wait...not at the expense of my well-being, my comforts and my...it's not going to cost me that is it? That can’t be right....

I've even tried to take some discoveries back. It’s like I want to take my new clothes back, and go back to wearing my old comfy ones. These jeans aren’t that out-of-style, I felt skinny and great in them for a long time--they were my go-to pair...I can certainly still fit into them, right? These new ones cost too much, I can’t possibly really need these...

As it turns out, life is damn expensive. At this point I have no idea what it’s going to cost, and I absolutely hate that I’m required to pry open my wallet and throw down the card without knowing the bottom line.

I feel like I’m on the horribly uninteresting New Jersey Turnpike and I’m at the toll booth. Now I’m from California where freeways are actually free, so I hate that I'm even having to stop. What? More money? Just to drive on this road? Through New Jersey? Haven’t my taxes already paid for this?

It doesn’t feel right--making my way forward is costing me. I don’t like it, and there's no guarantee there's anything better ahead...although...isn't New York City at the end of the New Jersey Turnpike?

Shouldn't life be free...thoughts, feelings, dreams? Well, I suppose they are, but it’s in the living up to them, the owning them, that the price gets high. I never even like to look at things I'm not sure I can afford. And, I always want someone else to see the same value in it as I do, to reassure me that I haven’t paid too much. I hate buyer's regret.

But that ain’t how it works. There’s no return policy, and you can't just spin around on the turnpike. You have to pay the toll first, then you get to see where you go. Never the opposite.

But I am catching a glimpse of something...even from here...a spire...

Isn't that...is that...the Empire State Building?

Money

What is it about money that makes it such an issue?

Is it control? Is it power? Is it freedom? Does it buy these things? Can it buy peace of mind or can it ease stress? Can it bring happiness? It sure seems like we think it can. Sometimes I feel like it has some crazy power--that we shouldn’t look directly at it, that it might corrupt us. Just live with it, but don’t really acknowledge it, try not to really want it...

I thought for a long time I didn’t really care much about money, and most days I don’t. From when I was a tiny girl I always had some in my pocket. Not a lot, but always enough for what I really wanted to do that day, enough for the movies, and even some popcorn there. Of course, I’ve never had to make it on my own, I’ve always been provided for. I’ve contributed, but never had to feel what it’s like to really earn my own keep, or to have to keep the lights on for a family, so I appreciate that I might not know what the hell I’m talking about. I might not even have enough respect for what my lifestyle costs.

It’s not that I haven’t wanted bigger things, better things, or more likely, some relief from an expensive worrisome crunch on our finances...I have, from time to time. But typically, I don’t feel the pull to have more money, I’ve never been someone who wants a lot of things.

However, every now and then, money suddenly becomes something I really, really want. Again, not to buy anything, it’s not about things at all. Instead, I’m wanting to have made a bunch of money. Past-tense. It’s status that I apparently believe will give me a better standing in this culture, in my life or in my relationships. It’s about power.

Weird isn’t it? When it doesn’t, or shouldn’t really matter? Yet somehow, it sure seems like it does. I feel not only like it would silence my own inner doubts about what I can do, but also show everyone else a thing or two about me. But then, I’m not sure it really would, it’s deceitful, isn’t it?

I have a couple of guy friends, already very financially successful, who have recently told me how much they’d like to make more money. One, risking it all on a new venture, even though by most standards he was already off-the-scale successful, said he wanted to really “ring the bell” for his family. I’d argue it was more for his own self--again, not because he wants anything but he just wants to see if he can do it, and I’m sure his family would appreciate him and be very proud. Some people want to see if they can run a marathon, others want to see if they can make few million in a year. Maybe it’s just that.

The other friend just told me he’d really like to make some “fuck-you” money, that it would give him room to breathe and relax, buying him out of stress and worry about the future—college for the kids, retirement dreams, bills, etc. Knowing him, I’m really not sure it would...but he got me thinking about my own “fuck-you” money dreams--what could such a thing buy me? Could I get motivated by such thoughts? I try not to think about it.

I also have a couple friends who get giddy when they find ways to stash private, unaccounted-for cash--not that it's very much or that they’re going to do much with it, but it makes them feel free and powerful.

And more than one woman from my mother’s generation pulled me aside when I got married and told me it was okay to skim a little off the grocery budget for my own mad money. Perhaps this gave them a taste of power or freedom in their time, and they thought I might need permission to do the same.

Another friend insists that she had a different relationship with her husband when she was bringing in full-time cash--he had more respect for her, she says, when she was working. It’s like she was speaking his language, the one of the world, the one I have never been fluent in.

Even now I’m working close to full-time, and enjoying it, but I’m not making much. I’m making crazy too much per hour for a few hours and not nearly enough in the rest. What am I worth? Why do I not care most of the time, but then really wish I had found out every now and then?

It’s scary powerful...maybe I shouldn’t look at it.

Maybe I should be thankful I don't have to.

Closely-held Beliefs

What happens when life doesn't work as it should?

What happens when the buildings crash--When the beautiful, amazingly-constructed buildings I have built and lived in crash--What then?

What happens is I have nowhere to stay. I'm a wandering, homeless person, on the move instead of staying inside.

The buildings are my closely-held beliefs, the unshakable ones in which I've lived my life. They are the no-kidding values and truths that tell me how life works.

I thought those would never change, thought I was safe there.

Yet one by one they've toppled, leaving me alone in the open air.

What's true now? How does it all work? What about shelter? What about fierce weather? From where am I going to get my view? If I want to see beauty and greatness, shouldn't I get back to building again? Won't I find that life will have gone by and I won't have anything to show, I won't have anything figured out?

Am I to have nothing but my wits to get me through another day?

I don't know the answers, but I do have my wits, along with my mind, my heart, my gut--along with my small jobs and routines, the day-in and day-out of life. These things are going to get me through the day, the month, the years, and that might just be okay. Holding up those buildings--the maintenance alone--was getting exhausting.

I'm just going to live. I'm going to do the small things, the ins and outs, it's my only option, it's all I can do. I'm going to show up. I'm going to be there. I'm going to be all-the-way there. I'm going to be in the moment. I'm going to look at the view from down here, instead of from skyscrapers. And I'm not going to let all this rubble keep me from moving, trudging if I have to.

And, although it's a little chilly, I find I'm breathing a lot easier out here--my vision just got a little clearer.

Inspired to Aspire....

Pacific Standard Time

It's where I belong really, the west coast. I've lived in every US time zone and in one crazy Asian one, but, when it comes down to it, I sleep best in PST.

Just got home from a trip west two days ago, but have only slept a couple hours since. Slept like a baby while out there, though only there a few days.

Yes I can adjust to wherever I am. Yes I can live anywhere.

But maybe I'm tied to a place more than I think. Not only do I speak the language and feel the vibe, maybe I actually relax more when I'm truly home. Maybe I exhale and really rest.

This east coast thing is fun, but I have a feeling I may breathe a big sigh of relief when I head west this summer...not unlike the last two times I lived out here. Maybe the east coast knows I'm just a visitor and will never fully embrace it....

Maybe it's holding it against me.

The Shack?

No less than three people offered up their copies of this apparently latest Christian buzz-book to me this holiday season, and at least two additional people I know told me they were reading it...

What the hell?

All of these people know I hate over-hyped, bunk, Christian literature...so I'm hoping it's better than I think....or they wouldn't have mentioned it to me.

Damn.

It's short enough, and I made a promise to one friend...so, here goes.

Back To Work--II...The Inauguration

Yeah, not so much on the writing work these past holiday weeks.

Instead, I jumped on the buzz of flying west to see family, did some wine tasting and hung out with beloved friends.

Maybe I needed the lift.

Now, I actually have nothing to distract me and nothing to look forward to. Maybe I can sit here all night and finally bang something out...

OH YEAH, WAIT--the inauguration.

Now there's a buzz I can work for a few days...AND, not only that, we've got TICKETS.

Tickets might not mean that we're that close to the swearing-in, but it GUARANTEES, I think, that we get to at least hear it. That means I'm going to get to hear every single inspirational, hopeful, yes-we-can word, and hear it live. It's almost bringing me to tears now.
I need it. I need to hear all of it.

I don't go to church, I don't get the emotional lift of being a Christian anymore. I'm hoping for a spiritual lift about my country (if not my religion) that will launch me into the next few years of being an American. Ain't nothing going to change my being an American, and I'd love to catch a new vision of what that can mean. I voted that Obama is just the man to lay it out for me, so I'm going to listen.

PLUS, I'm excited because the city is all hyped-up and full of people who are jazzed to be here and in a great mood. I'm working all weekend and we'll be slammed at the coffee/wine bar. We were today--we sold out of some things and wine flew off the shelves. It's fun to be in the mix.

Absolutely NO ONE I know here is going to the inauguration. Everyone, I'm sure, thinks we are crazy. It seems the locals are staying off the roads or leaving town--Republicans as well as Democrats.

Losers.

Cynical, seen-it-all, nothing-surprises-them, losers.

Get on-board and get hopeful about something for crying out loud, this is history-in-the-making. Yes the crowds are a big fat pain and it will be difficult to get anywhere, I realize that. But we get to have a beautiful, hopeful, talented, young, new president and I for one am going to listen to every word of his speech. I am so hopeful he will be all he can be and do the best he can over there in that lonely house across the river, just a couple miles from here.

God help him.

We're going to bicycle to the capitol, it will be the fastest way. Barriers are already up, roads are to be closed, there's no parking, and the subway is supposed to be hours behind schedule. They're expecting 2-4 million, at least twice as many as have ever congregated on the mall. 10,000 tour buses are expected to park at RFK and Redskins Park--sounds like they're not sure they can even get everyone in.

Maybe we should have rented out our place for a few thousand like some of our neighbors. Maybe we should have taken the money, flown west, watched it on CNN with my parents in Paso, with friends in Vegas, or in a cabana in the Bahamas for crying out loud....

Not a chance. I'm not going to miss this one. I was here for W's first inaugural and that was even cool, if almost too easy. We only had to bike a few blocks from home, brave some freezing weather and a reasonable crowd. We saw him easily. This one should be about ten times cooler--according to the weather forecast and the buzz. It will probably cause me to buy some cheesy Obama coffee mug and sweatshirt once I get there, I won't be able to help myself. I've resisted so far and have only bought them for my out-of-town friends, but it might be required. I get a little crazy about my American history, especially when I get to witness it. That poli-sci/history degree raises it's ugly head at times like this, especially after my civil rights studies....

Anyway...after all that, then, maybe, I can focus on doing some writing work and progress in my own life. After. OR--and this is a stretch--maybe I'll learn to write WHILE buzzed on Obama and history. Maybe I can jot down a thing or two between now and then...

What a concept.