who this is for

Another rainbow, from Saturday. 'Twas but a shadow of the one that recently inspired me to give away money, but every rainbow is a good rainbow. Our deck provides an excellent viewing venue--whenever one of these lovelies appears in the sky it always seems to be visible in its entirety over the hills behind our house. Our rear view faces east/northeast, apparently a prefered quadrant. Sweet!

G gave his notice at work last Friday. He embarks on his new adventure full-time in just a few weeks--his last day at the office will be the day before Thanksgiving. Nice timing there. Even at this transitional stage, he is so filled with gratitude he's a joy to be around. Apparently saying out loud to his boss that he was leaving to pursue his dream was one of those moments. He's a changed man! Calm, confident, content... G was already all of these things, but now it's just radiating from his very pores. As he remarked the other day, "I think this is what they mean by 'actualization.' " Indeed.

I'm doing my best to ride the uplifting tide. I feel great, too: also calm and content, also very, very grateful. I've been domesticizing even more, keeping things cleaner, cooking more... and sewing! So far nothing from scratch, but it sure feels good to have finally made the skirt and funky tunic/jumper I wanted out of those dresses I wasn't crazy about, for instance. They've been waiting there for me for, oh, three or four years. I've also been knitting. I only know the two most basic stitches, but I discovered last week that if I use fat needles and bulky, fluffy yarn two strands at a time, basic scarves look funky and very cool. I started with one for G, which he loves and which looks truly great on him. Then I went back to the store and bought a hundred dollars worth of yarn, with which I will make fifteen Christmas presents. Um, cost effective? Yuh. I've made two scarves so far. They only take me a few hours to do. And I shall soon attempt my first sweater.

Basically, I'm relishing my life in all its details. My practice is still suffering after the intense stretch I went through recently, but I'm keeping it up as best I can, trying to stay open to the growth and to all the goodness unfolding. My ongoing additional intensity continues to make social interactions more challenging; that keeps me humble and brings me back to the work again and again. But these are fine times in our happy little home. I am happy. And socially challenged or no, we've been entertaining a lot lately, sharing the joy, such as it is. I am not withdrawing to cope with the sensitivity. So yay.

On the fertility front, a small but significant development: I realized over the weekend that pursuing medical means is simply not for me. In the back of my mind, I've been dreading what seemed like the virtually inevitable round of hormones I'd have to endure. I'd even set a deadline to start the drug that "everyone" in my situation takes--and it was this month, if we didn't conceive naturally. Well, F that. It's not my way. It makes no sense to me. If this is going to happen, it's going to happen. The only thing the drug would do is to ensure ovulation, apart from messing mightily with my already challenging emotional landscape and reinforcing doubt and fear, not to mention causing god-knows-what for physical symptoms. I believe I'll ovulate if I'm meant to conceive. No--it's more than that: I believe that this entire undertaking is in God's hands. The drug and the turkey baster and all those other means may be godsends of a sort for other women, but I now know they are not for me. The relief and the peace are palpable. (A bible verse comes to mind... I guess I won't start quoting scripture, but I just love this image: and thou shalt be like a watered garden... It comes after a bit about God guiding us always.) G supports my decision completely. Ahhh.

Speaking of not quoting scripture, I've been thinking about something I wrote here as I returned after a long hiatus: ...as I've considered returning to my blog, I've thought about finding a way to incorporate here more of the things I actually think about most... Let me just say I want to find a way to be more fully honest about who I am. As I consider my posts since then, I think I'm doing that. And I may need to go a bit further in that direction. The name of this blog is a quote from a bible verse, from the 139th Psalm, actually, which is a significant spiritual guidepost for me. The more I write here and the more my intentions for doing so consciously emerge, the more the name makes sense. So maybe I should be quoting scripture! -- along with all my other sources of written wisdom. I may want to expound a bit on the inner context of my musings here.

In a related vein, I've also been working out who I believe I'm writing for. I don't imagine I have many readers, for starters. And though I cherish the ones I do have, I don't tend to want to give the address out. But I also don't mind the idea of anyone reading who happens to find it. This includes people I know, especially since the group I started this thing to participate in has pretty much disbanded and my raison d'etre has ripened into something new. (Or perhaps has been refined back to its true original intent, judging by the name I gave the site.) I still think it's pretty weird that anyone I know well enough to consider a friend would read and not give me a little wink or a nod to let me know they're reading. And I realize that some share this perspective and some don't. But the truth is, knowing that anyone could be reading has not confined my writing in any perceptible way. So I guess that's that on the topic of lurkers whom I know.

On the topic of Who This Is For, I've realized it's for me, and it's for the world, in the same sense as any other creative endeavor. It's for me because it's an outlet for self-expression. And it's for the world because all our individual acts of self-expression (which is really every single thing we think, say or do) are part of the collective consciousness of Who We Are. So here is a small and meandering offering from little old me, for whomever may find it and gain something from it, anything. I believe that God distributes the gifts we're all giving, and the Holy Spirit takes care of the details of putting what we need to hear before us at the perfect time and in the best and easiest possible way. Some call that synchronicity. However it's framed, I trust this idea. That's Who this is for.

So in keeping with my new, clearer m.o., here's a little something that reached out and grabbed me by the soul over the weekend as I pondered G's self-actualization and material success, along with the blog-related stuff above: (It's from God Calling, an amazing book I recommend to anyone on a path of spiritual opening - )

Never count success by money gained. ... Your success is the measure of My Will that those around you have seen worked out in your lives.

Amen!

Still waiting for word about the possible opportunity to play some rock and roll...

friends and money

Menstruation, boo! At least I succeeded in remaining disengaged this month from the intense yay-or-nay mentality I have indulged on and off since beginning the journey to parenthood. I'm feeling okay; I'm working the trust. I feel a little off emotionally, though - probably just the normal monthly challenges - and I'm a bit blue. Which doesn't help.

When I'm off, it can be hard to be around people. I feel awkward, more intense than usual. People seem to think I'm angry or otherwise negatively oriented at those times, but in truth the problem tends to be more along the lines of hypersensitivity. Ever noticed that your guardedness gets interpretted as hostility? Ever interpret someone else's guardedness thusly? I definitely have, and I'm trying to rewire my reactions. I know that when I feel guarded I need more love, not less, no matter how it looks. It's not easy to turn that around, to offer it to someone else who seems extra edgy rather than condemning them for doing (or feeling) something I do (or project) and don't feel comfortable with.

Of course, sometimes I am angry, or just cranky. Not as often as it apparently looks, but sometimes. And some folks don't seem all that comfortable with me then. Huh! So I also practice extending love and acceptance to angry people, as much as possible. That one's also tricky, but MAN is it satisfying when I remember to do it. In any case, I'm finding that I'm less engaged these days about how things go with other people, in good times and cranky, which must good. I just love them, and I just wish them well. If there are misunderstandings, they'll eventually clear up. And even when things feel awkward, chances are excellent that there isn't a thing there that's worth even a moment's notice. I waste less time and energy focusing on struggle these days, mine or others'. Even if it means moving out of closeness with some friends, which, hmmm... it seems to.

G just hugged me goodbye; he's off to an afternoon of watching football and drinking beer. He doesn't have these problems. Everyone loves him and feels comfortable with him. I didn't tell him about this post I'm writing; I just said, "I'm so glad I have you. You understand me." "What's to understand?" he replied with sweet, sweet irony. "You're so simple! So uncomplex!" God I love him.

He's now being courted by a second company, one with lots of money. Since he's in a part-time mutual trial period with the first place that spotted him, these new guys really had to bug him to even get an initial interview. He thought he wouldn't like them. But he did. And they looooved him. The structure of the job is virtually identical to the first--another version of his dream. As long as our basic needs are met, money is not at all his main motivator. So if they do both end up making offers, he'll choose with his heart and his gut based on where he believes he will feel most happy and fulfilled. But this pleasant new wrinkle does make the possibility of a little more money for us now a bit more feasible.

Even just thinking about a slight increase in household income has already had an interesting affect on the list of things I longed to buy: it got shorter. This reminds me of our honeymoon trip. We opted for an all-inclusive package, and we could basically have whatever we wanted at every meal. It seemed in theory that this might result in gluttony, or at least in ordering the most expensive item on the menu every time, just because we could. But what happened in practice was that we ordered just what we wanted--exactly what we wanted--no more, no less. We'd get whatever looked most intriguing or what seemd most likely to make us feel good. Sometimes it was the expensive entree, sometimes just the big salad. We'd order dessert if we felt like it, but if we got full halfway through, we wouldn't finish it anyway just because we'd already invested the extra five bucks.

The package came with a little card called "The Golden Key" - that's what we handed the waiter instead of money. Hello, metaphor! We decided we'd take The Golden Key home with us. It has helped quite a bit, though lean times can really jam whatever in us regulates the impulse to consume. And we have been through some lean times over the past couple of years.

In a bit of interestingly synchronicitous timing, I caught a show on cable the other night about massive lottery winners. Now, I am most certainly not talking about money on that level coming to us. It's fun to consider the possibility of G signing on with the next YouTube at its inception, but the odds of that are probably pretty steep as well. Still, I had been thinking about the idea of "more money," and here was this television show with a parade of newly rich people showing off what they bought with their winnings and how much they paid for all of it. And I watched, and I squirmed. And I thought, If I won the lottery, I'd set up a fund to perpetuate money so that I could keep giving it away.

Philanthropy. It has such a nice ring to it. How great it must feel to be in a position to make a difference in that way to a large number of people! I mean, how much better than having a solid gold toilet or seventeen really expensive cars. That, on the other hand, seemed to me like it might feel pretty crappy at the end of the day.

I suppose most philanthropists do both. I suppose having a gagillion dollars might change my perspective on expensive things. But witnessing these lottery winners' gleeful over-consumption helped further realign my inner consumption guage. I mentioned my plan for if we ever get in that position to Gerard. He concurred.

The next day, I saw the brightest rainbow I'd ever seen in my life. It made me feel uplifted, hopeful, happy. I always equate rainbows with the promise of peace. I decided in that happy state to write in my journal. And after a few pages I got the idea. We could do it now! Or very soon, in any case. We have so much. In many ways, most of us in this culture live better than kings did a few hundred years ago. All this food, all this comfort. Maybe G and I can help other people more now. Why wait till it's coming out our ears? That may never happen. So I made up a budget that includes a big chunk of giveaway money every month, and I asked Gerard to consider it. He said "You're so awesome," he slept on it, and then he agreed.

I'm so happy. Can't wait to try it out. I have a feeling we'll feel really... rich.

PS - Just read another great post over at 37days about Muhammad Yunus, a recent Nobel Peace Prize winner who has implemented the fabulous idea of making very small loans to very poor people, with wonderful results. Part of the deal is the agreement that borrowers make, the "16 decisions" that they commit to to improve their lives and their community. This is along the lines of teaching someone to fish rather than giving them a fish, and giving them a small loan for supplies to get them started as well. I will definitely look for programs to support which follow this premise!

Of course I also wonder what 16 decisions I could make to improve my own life and community. But that's a bit ahead of me at the moment. For now, I'll give money when I can to those amazing, mysterious creatures with energy and motivation, and I'll see if I can get my yoga practice going again... and work out... and wash the kitchen floor...

random musings

First, the mundane stuff: Does anyone else get a high from paying bills? It makes me feel ridiculously good to write and mail off those checks. AHHHH.

And how's this for a hint that it might be time to start working out again: I went to put on my favorite pants today, which were dryer-fresh and therefore rather snug, and hmm... they seemed a little snugger than usual. So when I squatted into the deep knee bends I typically employ to banish dryer shrinkage, they split massively in the rear. Frickin' frackin' rickin' ruckin' motherscratcher!!! Good thing I got out my sewing machine yesterday, finally giving in to the inspiration I gleaned from my dear Teri's recent lucky find. But problems remain. First of all, no matter how well I do with it, the mending job will be quite apparent, so the days of these amazing funky, flattering pants being presentable are over. And secondly, in ongoing casual wear, how long will the mending job last? I can (and will) stop machine drying this beloved garment, but though their well-earned wear in the seat was a factor in today's incident, my seat itself was equally culpable in this sad case. Goodbye, era of the favorite widewale olive green corduroy pants. Hello, Nordic Track.

In other mundane news, I just never can get over how much light and love and joy our cats bring to my days. I try not to talk about it too much, since it's one of those things that can be irritating to the uninitiated, but OH MY GOD. I LOVE my cats. I love them so much it hurts a little; I have to grit my teeth. Our newest addition to the household is coming up on six months of age and has just figured out that she can leap onto the counters, to, among other very naughty things, pursue her favorite hobby of pulling over water glasses. We are entering a world of trouble. And I could not be less concerned. Nothing she could damage in her playful impudence is nearly as dear as she. How on earth do you parents of human babies manage the intensity?

Speaking of intensity, here's where I'm really at today: I feel I have made great progress in my spiritual work lately, and I'm happy about that, but it's a little hard to take. When I do my ACIM meditations morning and evening, and remember to pause hourly-ish to think about Love and Truth, it feels wonderful--but lately I seem all too often to become a blubbering pile of spiritually porous mush. Yesterday I went to church (Christian Science church, which often synchs up beautifully with A Course in Miracles), and the lesson was all about how we are one with God and with each other. I cried through the whole service. It's joy and it's gratitude--the tears come from a very beautiful place, a place I want to be--but... well, it's just hard to take standing up. I find my edginess and my personal armor wanting to re-engage even more energetically after a day or two like this, which is hardly the point of the work.

It's a kind of backlash, I think. My ego, the fearful part of me, is growing very concerned. And it has every reason to be concerned! Looks like it's losing control of the legislature, so to speak. And that's great. But I really need to find a way to do this work and live in the world simultaneously. That is, in fact, the point. I won't be nearly as much help holed up at home weeping with gratitude for my kitties as I might be bringing some of this light I'm opening to directly to those who really need it. Of course, that may be me attempting to manage affairs which, though ostensibly my own, are in truth better left to the higher powers. But I do know this: I need to find a way to become more loving more consistently in my interactions with others as a result of my spiritual work, as opposed to often more loving and easy-going, but sometimes a big hyper-sensitive, crankypants bundle of emotion. (Sorry, G.)

I actually made the conscious choice to skip my meditation last night, because I thought I just couldn't take anymore. And I haven't done one yet this morning, er, afternoon. That can't be right. Well, I'll go do it now. For me, facing this work is another one of those things that just can't be gotten around. Hey, that reminds me of a sweet old spiritual song:

Rock-a my soul in the bosom of Abraham
Rock-a my soul in the bosom of Abraham
Rock-a my soul in the bosom of Abraham
Oh! Rock-a my soul

So high, you can't get over it
So low, you can't get under it
So wide, you can't get around it
You gotta go through the door

Bawling again...

So while I'm here, one more thought: I've been feeling bad about vilifying that reporter from CNN in my post about the Amish schoolhouse tragedy. And not just because my smart, sensitive, wonderful brother pointed out in the comments that to lump "the press" together as a single entity with a unified focus and methodology is not terribly subtle thinking. I feel fine about the opinions I expressed, but I have realized that to derisively pick on the individual people caught up in the machinations of our culture won't ever do a bit of good. There are ways to express ideas like that without attacking anybody. Next time I'll be more careful.

i heart ac/dc

G accused me recently of being a poseur. We were discussing the rock n' roll onesies we will (sometimes) dress our infant in when s/he arrives: G found a good one on the Cheap Trick website which will be a must, as he is a huge fan, of their bass player Tom Robinson especially. And I've had my eye on a teeny plain black AC/DC number hanging in a wicked cool shop downtown. Picture Beavis at 3 months. Anyway, I don't remember how he led into it... I think he made a funny reference to a song that I was unfamiliar with, of which there are many, and I had to ask him to explain it. "You're a big AC/DC pretender," he said.

He's right. I say I love them because I love one album of theirs, plus two songs - one a hit and one an obscure album cut that is so beautiful to me I think it'd have to be desert island material. But even though we have the album that song is from, I haven't even really checked out the rest of it. Poseur! Moi! Mon Dieu. I took it to heart.

So this morning when browsing in G's itunes library for some listening material to deepen and justify my daily time-drain on the computer, I chose 1979's "Highway to Hell." And guess what. I really do love AC/DC.

It's interesting to me that music like this is supposed to be so heavy and subversive. To me, it sounds exultant. Distorted power chords through Marshall stacks is, in my opinion, is one of the most beautiful sounds there is. And there's just something about these riffs and this rhythm that just makes me feel so joyful. I used to get irritated by the ceaseless puerile sexual innuendo, but now I accept that it's just part of the fun--it's a big part. So to speak. I used to get distracted by some of the fire and brimstone stuff in SH singing, too, but now I see that it's intrinsic to the style. And when I learned to just go with it, singing those stompy doom and gloom tunes became way more fun.

So, gotta just go with it. Check. And I bet I could find other ways to apply this morning's lessons in art appreciation. Like for instance, listen to more music, for heaven's sake. Explore! Start with the stuff you already own. This reminds me of going shopping in my own closet, something I need to do more often: Really get in there! Try to see things with a fresh eye. Mix it up. Revisit stuff you say you love but leave hanging, and really climb in. Open to new perspectives, even if they're perspectives you've been saying you have already. Open more deeply. Life could be so much richer, without having to add anything new.

progress

Things are humming along. Husband's prospective employer is very apparently counting the minutes until the shortest version of the part-time trial period they all agreed on has elapsed so they can begin full-time negotiations. It's true love all around. As G's intuitive consultant (and spiritual advisor), I see very clearly that the only block to all the good that is wanting to come to him now is his ability and willingness to open his heart and mind wide enough to let it all in. So he's working on letting go of as much fear as possible; he's uncrimping his channel. G is my best client. He really listens to what I offer and gets right to work adjusting his thinking. I really envy and admire his ability to make important inner changes, actually. So, wow! A new chapter is about to begin.

Regarding my dream-job prospects, I talked a bit with my special musician friend last night. He/they have absolutely no idea how they're going to proceed for the shows they're booking as a band that more or less broke up a couple of years ago when one member moved to another continent. She's almost definitely not coming back for this project. There are many possibilities, and they like to mix things up. He's not at the decision-making stage yet. But he got all warm and squishy and said my idea of being in the band "just made me so happy." That sounds promising! We have also been talking about writing together. He says he needs someone to bounce things off of in order to write regular songs, and he agreed that I'd be a great person to fill that role for him. He said again last night he's really looking forward to doing something, and talked about how he hopes things will ease up scheduling-wise next semester.

Well, I hope so, too. But again, just to be planting these seeds and feeling very comfortable and detached from specific outcomes feels absolutely marvelous. This is a person to whom I used to give the power to unbalance and unground me. That drove me NUTS. I never wanted it that way and I worked furiously at correcting it for years. So, yay progress. Success, even. And to top it all off, I came up with another idea last night that involved both G and me playing with them which is actually more feasible, and potentially WAY more fun. Who knows? Who knows. Why not toss the dreams out there onto the table and let the larger forces work out the highest and best outcomes for all.

Our tenth wedding anniversary is this week. Time for a nice dinner out and romantic reflections on what a kick-ass job we each did in choosing each other. It's said that 90% of our happiness is derived from our choice of life partner. That figure seems a bit steep, but I can attest to the truth behind the idea!

forgiveness

Yesterday on CNN I watched a flippant female reporter interviewing the grandfather of two of the young shooting victims from that Amish schoolhouse. This gentleman chose to be filmed from the back, so while he spoke we unfortunately could see the reporter's face, stretched as it was into an uncomfortably stiff and sickeningly predatory smile. It seemed she could barely contain her glee at nailing this awesome scoop. And her angle, naturally, was not to inquire as to this man's actual personal experience but rather to exploit his experience to demonstrate her own position. Or maybe that of her producer. Or the one she believed all us viewers must hold. It seems to me that they're rarely really asking.

She started with a reasonable question, what the experience was for him and his family. The man said simply, "Shock." This one word said much more than many words would have, but it was spoken too plainly to meet the reporter's needs. She probed for an emotional vein, asking what kind of girls his granddaughters were. "Sweet," he replied. Again, heartbreaking. But one word answers, though they spoke volumes, only served to unnerve and provoke the shewolf. Frustration flashed across her face. Seeking another channel to the "human" angle, she pointed out that he had not been sleeping, something she apparently knew already. No, he agreed, he didn't sleep last night. She probed, and he recounted the timeline of the night before, which included visiting victims in the hospital and watching first one of his wounded granddaughters and then the other die.

Now the reporter's face lit up, her eyes to my view positively lupine. She'd got it. "And are you angry with the family of the shooter?" Strange wording, I thought, but maybe more sure to get the answer she wanted than asking about his feelings toward the shooter himself. The man began to shake his head before her words were all out: "No... no..." Now we were treated to an expression of disdain, even disgust, disguised as confusion. Her last question sounded rhetorical: "How is that even possible?"

"With the help of God."

A new item was soon added to the ticker at the bottom of the screen, something like, "Family member of Amish victims holds no anger toward shooter." This in itself isn't a bad thing, I think. In fact I wish that sort of family reaction was considered news more often. What bothered me about it was that the reason it was being considered news this time was because it could be discounted as the quaint and outdated view of some backwards religious whack-job who refuses to face the "reality" of his world and his situation. This gentleman's lifestyle choice undercuts our society's ability to see his incredible spiritual strength for what it is.

Of course, the fact that he didn't (and probably couldn't) give in and make what he had to say about his personal strength, or make a show of either his pain or his spirituality, also highlights CNN's bullish indelicacy. If there's no personal ego angle, a story just does not compute. So it has to be chewed up and spat back out in patronizing sound bites, pre-chewed for what are presumed to be infantile viewers.

I read this in an article in the NY Times this morning:

"Rita Rhoads, a midwife who helped in the births of two of the murdered girls, said the father of one told her that God had helped his daughter. 'He said there was a battle between good and evil Monday, and good won,' Ms. Rhoads said. 'He felt that way because the shooter was killed before he was able to carry out all of his plans.'

"Investigators said they believed Mr. Roberts intended to sexually molest the girls but was interrupted by the arrival of the police."

How's that for glass-half-full? I am humbled and deeply grateful for this man's gift of transcendant wisdom this morning, as I safely sit miles away, sipping coffee at my computer.

I was also struck by the fact that the support fund set up by the local community was not only for the families of the victims, but also for the widow and children of the shooter, who are always mentioned by community members as being in their prayers, as well. This is the true generosity of spirit that makes healing after a tragedy like this possible, I think. And it's going on quietly and consistently amid the media's persistent flame-fanning.

"We can not think evil of the gunman," is another quote I heard in that same Isn't that quaint sort of context. That one must be harder. More from the NY Times:

"Lil Nissley, whose daughters had been playmates with one of the victims, said she was at the farm where those fleeing the schoolhouse — the male students and the adult women — had taken refuge. 'Any outsider would have said, what’s wrong with these calm people?' she said. 'I mean, we were crying, we were praying, but we weren’t hysterical.'

"But Ms. Nissley and her husband, David, who are not Amish, said the composure was a matter of culture and training, not suppression. 'Their blood runs red,' Mr. Nissley said."

Culture and training.

The wisdom and real strength that these people are quietly exuding is shining through the murk of our cultural bloodlust and schadenfreude. Their dignity and grace is a bracing call to quiet down; the message their loving actions send brings real hope of healing. This is not about stoicism. If these people are downplaying their emotional experience, it is not to supress or deny their humanness, but to find and to express a deeper truth about what they are--about what we all are. Including all the clueless reporters. And including the guy who snapped and took their babies in a shocking moment of unspeakable pain for all involved.

In the battle between good and evil, good wins. Love abides. My deepest gratitude goes out to the members of that stricken community for helping us all remember that.

dream jobs

Not feeling very write-y, but shoot, some updates are in order. DH, as they say here in blogland ("dear husband" for slow starters like me), will most likely be leaving his relatively secure job at a company he's grown bored and frustrated with for a new and exciting situation someplace else. Thing is, the else place doesn't quite exist yet, in a sense. It's a start-up which is not yet funded. And somehow... somehow? Somehow, despite periodic lurches into fearful, angry fiscal paranoia since I began to attempt retirement into domestic bliss three years ago, I feel nothing but peace and ease and joy at this prospect.

And it's not because I'm cherishing any illusions about how this start-up is is a sure thing, though it does seem very promising. I know he might end up looking for another job in six months. Maybe sooner! But this is what he wants. In fact, he's been clarifying his vision of his perfect dream job over the past several months, listing aloud characteristics of the position, responsibilities, business model, bosses/partners, and philosophy. And yes--this sure looks like IT. So if we end up (temporarily) scrambling, it will have been for the right reasons: he will have taken a responsible risk and started off confidently on the path to his heart's desire, which is branching off just ahead from the one marked "Pay Dues Here." The man eats and breathes his work. Emits it from his pores. LOVES it. Of course this is the thing to do. I feel so happy for him I well up about it from time to time. What an opportunity! So. We will be just fine.

You may have noticed that the title of this post is in the plural. Heh. Well, the other day I got some email indicating that there might be an opening in my favorite band, or an opportunity to play with them, or something. I don't know. It might be nothing, for me especially since I have no professional experience. But the way I see it, I might as well ask for what I want. And I want to play with them, as I have written about here. They love me as a person, and they know of my talents. It could work, theoretically. So what the hell. I just came out and said hey, you should lemme in the band. Well, that was in an email, actually, and I haven't heard back about it.

I did see the guys over the weekend, in a context where it would have made no sense to discuss it. We were having a lovely time at a big SH singing. They're dear friends and I'm so glad to know them. So all I felt was happy, just to be in a position to even talk about it, which I hope we will. But whatever happens or doesn't, I am just so pleased. I feel so relaxed! I'm just so friggin' happy lately. And this comfort and ease has been a long time coming. So who cares whether this specific dream comes to pass? Things are good now. Maybe I'm happy because I'm not attached to the specifics. But I know I'm also happy because I feel so comfortable asking for what I want. I want to say again, this could be a complete pipe dream. But I think I could do it, and just that is pretty fun, I have to say.