week 9 - now, with more singing

I feel tired and emotionally porous, and I think I may have to watch a movie or four on cable until I get my legs back under me today, but I am very happy to report that my weekend of S H singing and socializing was wonderful.

I got off to a slightly rocky start at the workshop my friend taught last Thursday; I felt like the awkward and nervous self that does not resonate as really me no matter how many times it manifests, but which I have nonetheless felt trapped inside way too often for over a decade now. I think I have finally worked out, however, that dwelling on that self, picking apart its feelings and reliving its foibles, has been like handing it the keys all this time. I've been telling myself in effect that that is how I am. On Thursday, I moved on to the next thing, to the next moment, instead. It was good practice - I knew there would be many potential snags to simply move on from over the weekend. Come to think of it, aren't there always?

I am remembering now the Henry Miller quote that inspired me earlier in the AW: Develop interest in life as you see it; in people, things, literature, music--the world is so rich, simply throbbing with rich treasures, beautiful souls and interesting people. Forget yourself. I did not have these words consciously in mind over the weekend, but I think I did live the idea. I was absolutely surrounded, much more densely than usual, with rich treasures, beautiful souls and interesting people. As much as I could, I focused on them. When some little moment did not go as I might have wished, when I felt impatient or judgemental, or unseen, unloved or unperfect, there was always something or someone wonderful to turn my attention to. I found myself simply stepping into the next moment, the next song, the next conversation, the next opportunity to participate. I enjoyed several moments my ego would have found gratifying, but I didn't cling to those, either. Forget yourself. I got to connect, I mean really connect, with so many wonderful people this weekend - old friends, newer friends, people I have wanted to know better. I was PRESENT.

And the singing was fantastic. We were so... together. In an ACIM meditation on Sunday night, I was once again struck by the metaphor of unity that our many voices singing provides. There were as many as three hundred separate bodies sitting in that room, but when we were singing we all sat united in the glorious vibration and harmony of the music. It's like another element, like air or like ether, but more alive. You can practically swim in it. And it penetrates every cell, instantly - of all of us together. The spirit of it is not even aware of our physical limitations; it infuses each of us alike and makes us all the same.

I've hardly written a thing on this compared to my usual volumes, but I am wearing myself out trying to write about it at all, so I'll stop. One final word on my weekend, a synchronicity: The little meditative message on the weekend's mandala to color was "Invisible evolution." I passed the progess test. I've made some.

Here's a quick AW progress report:

I did MPs six out of seven days. The day I missed was during the week and I just forgot - I stayed with it through the busy-ness. I only missed one day of yoga, too. No AD this week, but I am fine with that. I started to read over my morning pages. I found this largely tedious, though I also noticed many areas of progress and actions taken, and a whole lot of movement in the right direction. Which is nice. I'll go back and finish reading them, and continue to make notes on my progress as well as what could still use some focused attention.

I did not do the visualization task as such, although when I read it through it occured to me again that what I want is the life I have, with the addition of more playing, writing, and playing out. I have the advantage of being able to visualize playing with the friends I'd like to collaborate with by actually being with them and making music with them. Better than photos, I should think. My banjo date last Monday was very effective in this regard, and that went so well it seems certain we'll do it again.

Again I say, the themes of compassion and creative U-turns could not have been better timed for me. I got to live not only the visualization but also the U-turn mending task last week. I've been taking steps toward retreiving "the one that just kills [me]" and calling a do-over. The workshop may not have been perfect, but between connecting personally with my dream collaborator and my banjo date with his drummer, things really seemed to be moving forward. This important figure in my life - okay, I'll just call him... R - is already talking about wanting to just move back for good. This area is his real home, and his closest friends and family are all on this coast. So that could happen. I need to do whatever I need to do to get myself writing and playing more as well as playing out, and I'm very much looking forward to the process with G and to whatever other surprises unfold, BUT/AND - if that move were to happen, I could potentially get the do-over of a lifetime. The nice thing is, I know - I'm positive - that I'm already headed into a kind of resolution, no matter how the details work out and no matter how much time elapses in the process of this delightful denouement. It's already happening.

I just took out my totem, which I forgot to do last week: It's a little pewter pendant of Lucy Van Pelt (of Peanuts/Charlie Brown comics fame), looking very pleased with herself. Actually, maybe she just looks pleased! Her closed-eyed smile is positively beatific.

I was painted as a Lucy figure in childhood. I either was or appeared like her in many ways, though I sure don't see myself pulling any footballs away from any Charlie Browns. In any case, when I saw this little necklace in the store perhaps fourteen years ago, I recognized it immediately as my totem and knew that I needed to buy it and keep her near me. At the time, it was primarily her crabbiness that I wanted to embrace. I see now that to love and appreciate Lucy in all her vainglory is to love and accept that aspect of my childhood self, and to bring light to some of my murkiest early pain. Lucy has no reservations about self-expression and no tendencies toward self-doubt or -flaggellation weighing her down on her march through life. She's strong enough to hang out her Psychiatric Help shingle and collect her nickels. She's brave enough to stay open to the bittersweet joys of her unrequited love for Schroeder, and to keep trying. Okay, actually she's so obliviously self-absorbed she probably doesn't notice the unrequited bit, but come on. Isn't there something enviable about that? She may be crabby, but in her way, Lucy walks between the raindrops.

I will definitely go back to list my creative goals, because I find that sort of excercise very productive without being painful.

And now I'd better get cracking on week 10...