Trust II

He showed.

The small-town girl did NOT get taken by a fasting, Ramadan-practicing, city guy out to make a buck--he was just a few hours late.

Sometimes I don't want to be right, or smart. I just want to be, and hope things go like they're supposed to.

This time, it didn't bite me.

Truthfully? It almost never does.

Trust

When he came to the door yesterday, I stuck out my hand and introduced myself. He stepped back and said he could not shake my hand. I instantly knew I had somehow offended and apologized. He said he was fasting. I must have still looked confused, because next he said, "It's Ramadan," like of course I would know that a person fasting during Ramadan would not or could not shake hands with me.

So, not knowing enough about Ramadan, perhaps I was at a disadvantage when we began to talk about price, but I did okay. I had a couple other guys coming for estimates later, so I just wanted a number to compare with the others. He saw it differently. He was very calm and unrushed, as though he could take it or leave it, but leaving seemed ridiculous to him. "You seem a reasonable person, I'm sure we can negotiate something. Call the others and tell them not to come. I brought my tools and I'm ready to start now." Well, I needed the yard cut before the party Saturday, so it did make sense, if we could agree on price. I finally got a starting number from him. I then threw out my number. Of course he went halfway, but I stuck. Finally he agreed, but with a couple of stipulations.

"Since we can't shake hands, go like this," he said smiling, and made a fist and brought it to his chest. I did it, and we had our deal.

He finished the front yard, then wanted us to go for the 15 bags of mulch he needed. As he was following me in his truck to get it I made him run a light. Worrying I may have caused him to sin during Ramadan, I wondered if he thought of his religion as I used to think of mine when I was practicing it--I always wanted to keep a clean slate, to keep the lines of communication open between me and God, I wanted to stay "in God's will," especially on a religious holiday. I hoped that if he worried about such things he'd blame the traffic light on my careless driving and not on himself.

When we got back to the house he began cutting and trimming in the backyard. He wasn't moving really fast or anything, but it was hot, so I asked him if he'd like some ice water. "It's Ramadan," he said again, obviously, as if I should of course know that fasting means fasting, even from water.

"Not even water?" I said. He shook his head. "Damn," I thought, "Christians at least allow themselves water when they're trying to deprive themselves...."

It grew hotter, and later, and although he'd agreed to take away all the clippings, he didn't have enough trash bags, and he'd used all the mulch on the backyard. I thought that he could have made it work, but regardless, now I needed five more bags of mulch, and he needed trash bags. He suggested he would come back this morning to spread the mulch I would provide, to finish the clean up and take away all the mess. He offered to leave one of his tools to show that he would show up, but, could he have the money--all of it, although the job was unfinished?

I said yes and not to leave anything, but told him my husband would say I should have withheld part of the money to ensure his return. He said, "Trust me."

I said "I will trust you, only because I don't like NOT trusting people. I don't like to live that way. I'll see you tomorrow, 8:30 am."

Kevin did comment on how trusting I was, and when he left this morning, he asked me to send him a message when the guy came back. It would save him texting me to ask because he would be wondering....

It's 10:00 am now, and I have five bags of mulch and a big pile of clippings in my yard.

I should have asked him to chest thump with me.

Rain in Summer

I'm feeling happy about my new city.

As I sit here in my second story window there is a morning rain coming down. Not a light rain, and not a thunderstorm, but a heavy rain that looks like it might stay awhile. It's August, and where I'm from, it almost never rains in the summer. I find it nice though, a great relief that we're escaping some of the sweltering heat for which DC is famous.

One of the things I like about living in many locations--and one of the things that makes it a challenge--is observing the differences between the places. Differences in weather, in culture, in the way people approach life. I could believe I am on another planet if I focused on the differences between here and Las Vegas. My life is similar, I even go to some of the same places--the gym, Trader Joe's, Asian restaurants, etc., but even those places, and the people in them, are very different.

People here wear suits everyday, and dress very conservatively. They're not hip and they're not trying to be hip--the polar opposite of Vegas. It's like they have a uniform or dress code to follow. The suits all look the same during the week (no hip European cuts) and even young women dress a bit like Madeline Albright (Do scarves=power?). On the weekend it's workout clothes to relax in, and Tevas are the shoe of choice with shorts. Ouch.

Besides commiserating about the Redskins all they talk about on radio is politics and politics. There's nothing resembling dance club music when I walk into the gym, and no one seems to be there to show off their latest plastic surgery results. The hot moms that workout in the mornings are covered up--t-shirts and baggy shorts! They're not even trying to get attention for themselves--they're just on maternity leave and can't wait to get back to their power office. There's hardly anyone listening to iPods and NO ONE is talking on their cell phone in the gym--just isn't done. There's talking heads on every monitor, not talk shows or reality TV.

My conclusion is that this city is full of really important people, and I'm probably going to have to find some unimportant people with which to hang around. Or, maybe I'll try to put all my new-found smarts from reading the Washington Post every day to good use and talk to them in their language. Of course I'll need an important job, and apparently, I'll have to get some cards printed....

But change is nice, and people here are nice. Maybe in a serious, workaholic, buisiness-like way, but they're polite. They say hello when you pass them. They ARE hip, they're just operating on a different scale, one that measures DC power and prestige. Several of our neighbors came out to meet us within an hour of our arrival, and invited us to a block party. (At the party, I was asked for my card--like everyone has a card and would bring it to a BBQ!). We lived in Vegas for three years and didn't know a soul that lived on our block. (I blame the garage door opener--it is single-handedly responsible for the breakdown of American community.)

The architecture is nice, the city is old and beautiful. Big trees, charming rowhouses, classic beauty--not like anywhere else we've lived. I forgot how much I like it here--and I haven't even mentioned the parks, museums, monuments and memorials I've started visiting again. George Washington ate and slept at a tavern a few blocks away for crying out loud! I guess I shouldn't be surprised, his house in only a few miles down the river.

Rain in summer is a nice change.

Yikes!

I'm taking an online writing class where we are required to do assignments and then post them for the class to read....

So, PERFECT STRANGERS are reading my attempts at writing--and COMMENTING!

Here, in what I like to think is my circle of friends, I feel scared enough writing my true thoughts....but that may be an illusion of control. After all, this is the world wide web!

Day One

It's day one of my new writing life. Not really, I've been writing awhile. But it's the first day here, in this new city, in my new creative space, that I woke up, detoured only to make coffee, then marched down the hall to my desk to start writing. It's the plan for my life here--make writing the first and most important thing, rather than the thing I do if there is time left at the end of the day.

We've taken a month to get settled, and only Monday did I finish painting this room the warm colors I felt would help me find my silent voice. Yesterday was spent clearing obligations from my desk, then today, up and to the pen, journal and computer. Of course there were the ever-present distractions, email, a dog who wants walking, and even my husband was around this morning, and shouldn't I have breakfast with him? But I've decided what life here is going to look like, and I'm going to give it my best shot. Up to write in the mornings, work in the afternoons and evenings around people that will hopefully offset the intense introspection and discipline of the morning.

I've never done this--make some work of mine the most important thing and not let anything stop me from doing it. I know plenty of people who do it every day. They completely clear their life and everything falls behind the goals they set, and guess what, they achieve them! Instead I've always felt my way through life, making sure I was being real and right and taking care of those I loved, and then, maybe do a little work for someone else and then myself. Not bad, but I need to balance it out. It's a bit hard for me, I don't want to live my life like these people I see, who often end up after years of working to find they don't really know themselves, their families and have nothing left but their work. But I am consciously exercising my will and discipline to give my first few hours a day to this which I have always wondered about and desired to do, only with the full belief that it will not be a distraction from real life but a huge part of knowing myself and what really matters.

And I'm going to try really hard not to let anything stop me.

Collections

I’ve spent the past week getting rid of my stuff. Yeah a lot of it was junk, but there were some treasures in there. They just wouldn’t fit into our new little house. They weren’t functional for our new city lifestyle, they’d just clutter up the place, keep us from getting the most out of living in the city. So we had to make some tough calls, and let loose of things we’ve collected from around the world. Truthfully, I feel better.

I think most of us spend our lives trying to collect—people, experiences, things—but they aren’t really ours, and they don’t last. Times and people change. The second we start thinking of some place, some thing or someone as our own, it loses something, we lose something. We aren’t supposed to own or touch or name or define everything, we’re just supposed to do our living in the milieu of it all. We’re to enjoy and fight and live and observe and experience and absolutely be engaged with all of it—but we aren’t supposed to hold onto any of it, or use it to get through life.

But we DO--all of us have had experience with holding too tightly, hanging onto someone or some time in our lives, the past or the future. It’s the stuff dreams are made of. We use these things, along with countless other addictions, to get through the hours, trying not to feel the emptiness, pain and difficulty of the present. You would think that the answer would be not to get too attached to people or experiences and live as though you could take it or leave it all—but that is not the answer, trying to live above the pain. Feeling pain is a requirement for living life. I don't know, maybe the answer lies somewhere between feeling all the pain and joy of every attachment, while still maintaining the ability to throw it out when the time comes.

Kind of a bummer really, seeing life as a constant managing of one’s attachments, fears, commitments, highs, lows, emotions and pains. But, if we can see it as being a part of a much bigger LIFE that one gets to observe and feel and be a part of, maybe it can be freeing. We’re there to feel and know beauty and pain, and it IS real, if just for a moment. We’ve got to have the faith to believe it's real--even when ordinary. That’s better than defining, owning and holding onto a good moment, not willing to move from there, afraid it might be too long before the next one shows up.

Alone

I am struck by the aloneness of our existence--we really do almost everything alone. Yes, we get married and we have partners, family and friends, but inside our own brain we decide what we will and will not do. I heard someone say that even when we fall in love we are very alone.

I think we are especially alone when we deal with issues of faith. It’s lonely because no one can tell you what to believe, you have to decide what you’ll swallow. Even if you throw in with a bunch of people or mentally agree with a stable, storied religion that’s been around for centuries, it comes down to you living with the doubts or fears or expectations of it all. Can you buy in? What are you willing to stomach? What do you hope for? What can you expect? Can you sleep at night thinking the world works this way? We manage it all by ourselves.

I used to have a lot of faith and religion, but I gave it all up—too much false certainty in it. Now I have no religion and only a tiny bit of faith, but it’s real, and it’s my own. I know because even though it’s pretty new, I doubted and questioned it hard the other day, and it held. I tried to set it aside and take a look at life apart from the new view of it I’ve gained in light of my new faith, and there was no view at all. I have nowhere else to go.

It took some work to build my faith. I made the choice, alone, to believe God is real. Now I’m choosing to believe that the little bit of faith I’ve built is real, even though there’s no way I can defend it. I think coming through my little faith crisis alone strengthened my faith and now I own it. So I’ve decided to put my head down and continue with my indefensible way, and unlike when I was in Christianity, there’s no one here cheerleading. No one is telling me to just accept it, telling me it’s THE way to live. It’s all on me.

I guess the trail I’m on only has room for one, maybe it’s real steep and narrow. I have to go it alone in this journey of faith and love and all things real, and that’s okay. It’s alot harder than just accepting a doctrine or a belief system with the comfort of a bunch of other people accepting it too, but its working for me. To me it’s incredibly freeing to realize that I get to decide. For me that’s better than being pulled or pushed along by religion, or waiting and hoping someone will help me out.