I’d like to tell you that everything I know about love is in the right hand drawer of that table from India book-ending my living room. . .
I’d like to tell you my heart will outlast every other organ in my body.
~ Maya Stein (from Still and Always)
Yesterday evening, so exhausted, I simply wanted to close my computer, lie down. I got up, looked out the window. My only thought, I’m waiting for the moon. It’s been a long day, and I still have much to do. Waiting for the moon seems appropriate.
I’m in a hip season. You know what I mean. The season between the crowds. The one when winter’s not quite over and spring’s not quite here. The time sprinkled with moments feeling good, inviting to the bones like an Indian Summer day, but not necessarily fully defined. A time perhaps where you can tend to things undone without distractions, but you’ve got a hump to get over. In between time. I typically travel in the hip season. Feel sparked with anticipation. And in a weird way, that’s what’s happening now. I’m traveling fast toward the next chapter of my life – work, home, community – and not quite there, yet.
I love solitude, but my life’s felt isolated since moving to Florida 4-1/2 yrs. ago. Being friendly and talkative, I have wonderful encounters with shopkeeps and random strangers. Have a tiny group I gather with for dawn at the bay on occasion. But there’s no one for lunch or afternoon fun. That click bumping acquaintance to friend not happened, organically or otherwise. + my husband and I are so so so different, it’s often difficult despite love and caring. Community’s key for me, so it feels hard. But this week I crossed some energetic line to where I see what’s ahead more than what’s been. Can appreciate how my intuition’s refined. That I learned to share my vulnerabilities, take off my clothes for you. Be grateful the difficulties pushed me to think differently about myself, and my place in the world. Sorta like getting a charge from the Universe. I’m not sure if you’ve ever felt that, but it’s a learning curve for me.
Yesterday I was in the recording studio. My goal, audios of these blogs, and something I wrote to help creatives get past stuck. I’d googled, found page after page of fancy websites of fancy spaces with rates double-triple my budget. I talked to a friend who created her own audios. The time and patience required too counter-productive to my larger goals. Asked another for a referral from her son who studies production. All I need is a room, professional equipment, someone who knows what they’re doing, I said. The next morning, head in my hands (I knew I was supposed to do this) I googled once more. Top of Page One: Rock Garden Recording. Simple website. Rates exactly what I can pay. I looked for reviews. Found a newspaper blurb, “St. Pete’s best kept secret…in business over ten years.” He answered when I called (a rarity, I learned later). Practice, we’ll work thru it, I can help with music, schedule two hours for now, he advised. I felt lucky.
This was one of those things we think will be easy, until we do it. Jeepers, I’ve read on stage in front of hundreds of people, presented to small and large groups. I’m an expert reader of stories to young kids. And it was not easy. Pacing, consistency, breath in the middle of sentences. My voice naturally between hypnotherapist and actor, the right modulation. Not too much or I sound cartoony, too little or I sound flat. Striving for intimacy, on the edge of a conversation tho we know I’m reading. The right inflection for intent. Such as I don’t mean it as a sigh, I mean it’s difficult but good. And no flat fades at the end. The re-records right tone to be woven in. My two hours wiped me out. He says I’m a natural. I have 61 blogs to go. He’s my guy.
Because he‘s my perfect coach. He took care of me with the right kind of head-heart nurturing, and honesty when I said, ‘Hey, I’m older, what does the young dude think.’ Answered he got into it because he couldn’t find someone with their heart in their work when he wanted to record his own music. + (I LOVE this) he volunteers odd jobs, even scrubs toilets, just to sit in, listen as the Florida symphony practices in the best auditoriums. And he’s the guy who records them. He’s like-hearted.
I posted my waiting for the moon on facebook. Someone responded, ‘It’s not like you’re asking for the moon.’ I hadn’t meant it that way. But now, I think perhaps I am. Because I sure fired the rockets. I say, let’s all shoot for the moon. Imagine that.
Have you ever gone for something that felt really big?
Was it a good ride?
Another small journey. Getting to Wise.
A Writer’s Life.
A secret: I’m big on editing. Expect 4 today.
A favorite: Yellow tulips. Just like the ones in the picture.
Photo: Tamara Linse