Whenever life is running smoothly and by smoothly I mean that I'm not throwing hissy hysterical tantrums when the kids don't follow my plans (obey my orders, however you want to put it), and life is still doing its crazy life dance but I'm centered and flowing and annoyingly upbeat, but then maybe because of or in spite of my pond-calmness, Hamish and Stella magically transform into doe-eyed vegetable eating cooperative huggy bears, which is good, obviously, but. Whenever I'm feeling confident, in control and thankful for all the abundance I am receiving a funny thing happens. I can't think of a thing to write about. Because, and I just realized this today, ding-ding! I've been working under the auspices that I have to bleed all over my keyboard in order to produce a piece of writing worth your time, which means mining my most odious characteristics and embarrassing foibles, since the human condition is a messy affair and I want to document it in all its gelatinous glory. To, you know, bring us closer together. But then I was all up in my own grill like, is that true? And I answered, no, Elise, it's ridiculous. And I was all, well no wonder I've been battling myself on the issue of writing, beating myself into, well, an emotional bloody pulp, wearing myself out over it. So we'll see if this fresh insight garners any light prolific fare. Yes. We shall see.
In a related matter, I've been listening to my new audiobook by Tibetan Buddhist (because you know I like my spirituality over-easty, did I really just write that?) nun Pema Chodron, who is wise and funny and self-deprecating, and she looks a little like Judi Dench, which is a plus, three hours of audio all about getting unstuck and staying with our emotional itches instead of scratching until we bleed, and ah, there's that pesky blood again, and learning to recognize our shenpa, a word so adorable and fraught with profound meaning that I want to buy a shitzipoo and name it that. But then I'd need a playmate for her so I that could name the other dog Prajna, which is another cool Tibetan word and a quality you want if you're looking out for your shenpa. A chow chow perhaps. But then what about shenluk? Another goody which means renunciation. Maybe a sharpei.
In a related matter, I've been listening to my new audiobook by Tibetan Buddhist (because you know I like my spirituality over-easty, did I really just write that?) nun Pema Chodron, who is wise and funny and self-deprecating, and she looks a little like Judi Dench, which is a plus, three hours of audio all about getting unstuck and staying with our emotional itches instead of scratching until we bleed, and ah, there's that pesky blood again, and learning to recognize our shenpa, a word so adorable and fraught with profound meaning that I want to buy a shitzipoo and name it that. But then I'd need a playmate for her so I that could name the other dog Prajna, which is another cool Tibetan word and a quality you want if you're looking out for your shenpa. A chow chow perhaps. But then what about shenluk? Another goody which means renunciation. Maybe a sharpei.
Just lulling myself to sleep at night to the sound of Pema's gentle voice is a healing art, potentially transformative, but she reminds me that true transformation takes time, because we are creatures of habit, and if I don't start cultivating a little self-love now, I will bleed all over the nice wool carpet. Meanwhile now I'm exhausted thinking about walking three dogs at midnight in the winter. And I'm a cat person besides, at least I was when Lulu and Giuseppe were alive. Maybe when the kids are older I'll break down and... No. Right now let's say that I'm a child person, which can be interpreted in a number of sweet, innocent ways.
Woof.
3 comments:
she does look like judi dench, your kids look happy, adorable and perfectly reared in that picture. use that as reference when you're thinking of beating yourself to a bloody pulp.
note to self: kids are all right! thanks my friend. xo
yes, totally identify as usual. i have had thoughts of "i don't have anything to say on this stupid blog, i think i'll shut it down, blah blah blah" because i don't have anything "angsty" enough to say.
then i will have a particularly craptastic day (my sister is trying to get that word into cultural lingo and i love it), and suddenly i feel inspired to write.
i told my sister this past weekend that something is wrong with me: i feel most comfortable in my own skin when i'm unhappy. or at least a little stressed. or we are slightly broke. or whatever. i mean, i feel on the brink of madness, but it feels safer than when things are going well, we have enough $ to live, the kids are getting along.
she laughed at me. which i don't know how to interpret since she's a counselor. :)
anyway, i think it would be helpful to record both the good and the bad here (and for me--i'm really speaking to myself) because then i can go back later and say "oh, my life really doesn't suck as badly as i thought!"
xo
Post a Comment