video

This is hilariously dark, on my monitor anyway, and the fact that G and I are the only ones visible on stage despite our supporting-cast status is also pretty comical (personalized lighting is apparently not prioritized highly when six bands play the same event), but hey, it's something. Here it is: my first rock video!

A big part of this band's deal is old songs done in a rock style. This one's from the perspective of slave who, though he hates to be leaving his girl, manages to sign up for job on a Yankee whaling ship when he learns he's going to be sold.

best kitten ever/eureka

Is she great, or what? That's my little baby kitten girl!

In other news, things with G have been better than ever since our scary breakthrough. He has realized that he's been losing himself, seen clearly how it happened, and turned a corner. I'm sure that as he really gets down to it I will be called upon to examine and improve my ways of relating to him as well, and I'm more than happy meet him halfway, but today he's kicking himself and taking full responsibility. He finally sees what I've been saying all these years about how just showing up and saying what's on one's mind makes things better, juicier, and ultimately much easier. He gets it. Huzzah!

The moment that did it? When he told me that his thoughts had run lately to not wanting to be in this anymore, I didn't freak out. I have had those thoughts at times, too, I told him. The interesting question is, where do they really come from, and where do they actually lead? And so the biggest, scariest thought he'd ever stuffed turned out to be not that big a deal once it was out on the table--just an opportunity, really. A starting point. The world didn't end; it seemed to start over.

For the last few days, he's been delightfully vibrant and present. He's funnier, sharper--his ribbing is deliciously, mercilessly on the money, as opposed to slightly wincing and passive-aggressive. His communication generally feels much more direct and less jumbled, like a burden has been lifted. He's confident and sexy. He feels like the partner and equal I married. I'm reveling in his company; he has taken notice--so this is how I get what I want...

Yes, it is! EUREKA!

He says he needs therapeutic help and that he has a lot of work to do, but he has promised that this marriage could only end, hypothetically, after a prolonged and strenuous mutual effort to save it. He's not going anywhere but further down this road back to himself. So I am now much more excited than concerned. I'll go with him wherever he needs to go. His growth supports and makes room for my own. Bring it ON.

I mean, keep bringing it. Heh.

with the greatest unease

I've been in a transitional period lately, not so sure I have a solid grasp on anything, and therefore less inclined to write. I read a great and timely post today over at 37 Days that got me thinking, though. It likens transition time to the moment in aerial acrobatics when you let go of one trapeze bar and soar for a moment, ostensibly unsupported, until you grab the other--the next thing. This in-between moment may be the scariest, and the time during which things could potentially go most horribly wrong, but it's also the time when we're actually most alive, present and in the moment. True transition crackles with electric life.

G told me a few days ago that he has been experiencing the very uncomfortable emergence of an awareness that he is unsatisfied in our marriage. He said he "wasn't sure if he wanted to be in this for the rest of [his] life." Thankfully, this revelation came within the context of a discussion which included the topic of his general emotional dysfunction: in our one-on-one interactions, he tends to stuff his own feelings down so far that he can't even access them himself with spelunking gear, so I really don't have a prayer. The connection was clear, and though his words gave me a start, I was not afraid. I don't want to be in this as it is for the rest of my life, either. And now we could start on the path out and up. And yet... it's not like nothing changes after a talk like that.

When I got home last night from my weekly singing event, the sensation of fear accosted me suddenly as I stepped onto my own front porch: my guts turned over, my pulse raced, my head felt woozy and I began to tremble. I'd had a feeling like that once before when I walked into my own house; at that time G was having a very brief but intense episode of some mystery illness, and I had known something was very wrong the moment I stepped into the kitchen. But last night, the feeling was more terror than intense unease. It was as though I were being pursued by a psycho whom I somehow knew was lurking in the bushes. Not pleasant.

G wasn't at his computer or in the TV room. And the lights in the bedroom were off--strange for this hour. I went straight upstairs without taking my coat off. I stood in the bedroom door for a moment, listening for his breathing, not wanting to wake him if he was there. "Hi," he said weakly from the dark bed. Phew. I sat down next to him, found his face to kiss, asked him how he was: okay. Just okay. It sounded to me like something was up, but he had obviously been sleeping and would soon be sleeping again if I let him, so I didn't press it.

Rivulets of sweat ran down my neck as I washed my face, and I brushed my teeth with trembling hands. What the hell? I breathed; I remembered the presence of God and my perfect union with perfect peace and wholeness. Gradually my body and spirit quieted down.

Then, this morning, G let me know that he'd gotten a phone call last night: one of his sisters is leaving her husband, the father of her two gorgeous little kids. Out of the blue. He's been mostly away for a few months, in a training program for his vocation. Apparently during that time, though she had never let him know that there were any issues, she thought about herself and who she wanted to be, and the more she thought, the more she realized she didn't want to be with him.

They've been together since high school, something like eighteen years. I felt anger, disappointment, sadness. To me, it seems like the epitome of irresponsibility to simply decide to walk out on a marriage, especially with young kids, without first at least trying to work it out. Maybe she'd find she could be more herself within her marriage, if she only showed up with her new expanded ideas of herself. If she only gave him a chance to meet her wherever she has found herself of late. Maybe the relationship could be refreshed and revived--maybe it could be better than ever--if she brought her bracing truth to the table rather than wrapping it in the cocoon of mistrust and running away with it. To where, I wonder. If she can't find the courage to show up here, then where?

I was afraid to ask, but I did: How did G feel when he heard the news? Awful generally, I knew, but awful because he didn't want it to happen to us? Or did he think, A-ha, I could do that? The latter, I'm afraid. He said his first thought was That sounds easy. Lucky for me, he has enough self-awareness to notice that first reaction and not stop there. He's been thinking a lot about this stuff since our talk the other day, but after that phone conversation he was plunged in even deeper. (Hence my sense of terror upon entering our home last night, I expect.)

"Luckily, I agree with you," he said of my assessment of his sister's choice. "I won't do that." But his fear, and the reasons of family history which make it hard for him--and for his siblings--to know and honor their own feelings, seem so large and unwieldy right now that I feel insecure, shaky, teary to hear him talk about his first reaction.

And of course, his stuff is complementary to mine in many ways, and it has the potential to push some buttons. For instance, I get slammed sometimes for having a "strong personality." And it's not like I haven't learned over the years that toning it down here and there to ease the delicate dance of relating is a reasonable and productive thing to do. I have no investment in making it hard for anyone. There's just lingering frustration about how what I really, truly want is for others to be just as strong with (and for) me. I have no insatiable need to be right or to get my way. In fact, I often feel distinctly uncomfortable and deeply disappointed when I am showing up and sharing honestly--not just my vulnerability and my need, but my strength and my truth-- and another is unwilling to do the same. I want to enjoy the company of others, not just seek validation for my own views and perspectives. Seems to me that's more like being alone. I can tell you that at those times I feel just lonely, lonely, lonely. But in the past, what has really sent me over the edge is when the unwilling party feels their fear and blames me. My strength has frequently served as the scapegoat for chicken-shit wussbags, bless their hearts, who need an external excuse for their own failure to know and assert themselves.

But this is my marriage. G and his siblings may all have chosen strong personalities for spouses, and this choice may provide at least the ostensible excuse for remaining self-sublimating within their intimate relationships, but G chose me. I may be strong, but I have seen what he's been up to from the start, and I have consistently implored him to get in touch with his truth and assert himself, not out of a sense of nurturing support, though I feel that, too, but because I want him to show up! I can't have a decent philosophical discussion or make love with a reflection of myself. Well, I can, but seriously--how boring. Then what's the point of being with another person?

Happily, it's really only within the context of the extra-close one-on-one stuff that his fear can take over. He's very assertive and self-determining elsewhere in his life. He's so excellent. I can't wait till I get to see more of him. But during our discussion the other day, he told me to be careful what I wish for, that he could be a bit of a bastard as he works through some of this stuff. So I told him that that sounded infinitely more interesting than what we've had. Bring it the fuck ON, I said. Bring it on.

So it's on. And I have to tell you: all this quease and unease may not be fun, exactly, but I am aware of the juice between us so much more palpably now, in this in-between time. I really do prefer these tears and fears to the old anesthetizing routines, to the stupefying safety of just swinging back and forth on that same old trapeze bar. I don't know for sure what's next, but I'm so glad that we have let go. We're flying!

another day, another kickass rock show

Well, okay, it was in the dining hall at a local institution of higher learning, and the audience consisted of a few friends, a couple of parental units, a couple of band children, and a decent-sized gaggle of privileged hippies bobbing and swirling about like rapturous lunatics. But, yes, it kicked ass. I do love this rock'n'roll thang.

I am happy. I love my life today. Sure, it'll be swell when G's company has a Major Funding Event, and hoo boy, I do hope I'm pregnant soon. But yesterday I got up, baked some brownies, wrote pages, worked out, put on mascara, packed up the snacks and the rock acoutrements, and then spent the rest of the day hanging out and making music with my witty, warm husband and my favorite friggin' band. As if that all isn't cool enough, after the show I was told how sexy I looked on stage no fewer than ten times.

"You own the stage," one friend said. "You look like you were born for this." Well, I don't know about that, but being really large and often sort of dramatic-looking, I think I just feel comfortable up there. You're supposed to be larger-than-life on a stage. You're expected to be dramatic. No one's going to give me that who-does-she-think-she-is vibe. And I assure you: if anything, I'm toning it down during shows. In real life, I have a lot of nervous energy. I talk a lot, I laugh a lot, and I'm always jangling into people and walls and large objects with my unwieldy limbs. On stage, I leave the talking to the lead dude, I concentrate on what I'm doing, and I don't move much. I gather it all in and direct it.

Maybe that's the life lesson of this experience. It's so hard to embody myself day to day. I'm forever trying to blow through my energy, to expel it so it can't hurt or threaten anybody. Maybe it's time I learned to just ground myself, to breathe, to gather it all in and focus. I know how to do that in many situations, but it's easy to get overwhelmed and forget it all when there are more than a couple of other people about. Well! Perhaps my dream of poise may be attainable after all. If I can manage it on stage, then I must know how it's done.

Poise! The final frontier. As with everything else, it sounds like more than I care to try to handle on my own. But if I stick close to God I'll be okay. Speaking of Which... Starting around the new year, the Voice began whispering, "Be sexy." Oh for crap's sake, I thought. That sounds like trouble. But I always do my best to follow directions from that Source, even, and perhaps especially, if I don't see where they might be leading me. So I've been dutifully wearing my nice things and popping in my contact lenses when I go out. I've been remembering to moisturize and forgoing the hat/glasses/baggy pants/big sweater look. And now, well, now I think I'm beginning to see where I'm being led. And it's not so scary.

progress

I'm feeling better and worse at once. I haven't exactly implemented instant structure this week, since posting about how I know it's time for some changes, but I have, well, made some changes. Probably best not to talk too much about it. In fact, I may tend to talk too much about myself in general. And this strange little outlet can't be helping! At least, not how I've been using it. But for now, since writing here is a way to update friends old and new, I will say that I've worked out and done pages every day since that post, and that both of those activities feel very, very helpful.

As far as the old crap I'm looking to let go of, I've been advised not to focus on that at all, even via trying to stop, but rather to turn my focus to my spiritual practice whenever I notice myself longing to fling myself off the path, in any way and for any reason. That focus, somehow new in the context of this current step, has also proven to be quite helpful. So I'll keep that the hell up.

I've noticed that as my days proceed with my new focus, it's tempting at times to think about how many more such days I might need to get behind me before I enjoy the "results" I'm looking for. Or rather, that my ego is looking for. So it's a helpful bit of synchronicity that I've been attending A.A. meetings in support of a dear one every week. That program is all about dealing with whatever is right in front of you, and gratefully taking things one day at a time. Helpful reminders! Letting my thoughts run to how I might look and feel in a month or a season does nothing but jeopardize the peace I can enjoy right now, if I only stay here.

And did I mention that I talk too much about myself? Well, not always. I'm also pretty alright at listening, and at talking with others about whatever is up with them. But I noticed recently that all this progress--the music stuff in the long strides and this week's new focus more recently--can tempt me, paradoxically, to want to not only cling to the good stuff but also to try to hoarde more by trying to be fascinating and alluring, and blathering on rather boorishly as a result. What could better guarantee that I squeeze my gifts right out from between my own fingers than that sort of B.S., I ask you? Oy. Luckily, I busted myself pretty early on in that unpleasant little phase. And my goal for tomorrow as I go about my busy and socially full day is to open my hands as wide as they will go. Let the blessings flow. In, out, wherever. To try to hold on or collect more is only to limit my capacity for Grace. Hopefully I can spread some good stuff around tomorrow rather than ending up feeling like a blathering boor.

So. How are you?

photographic evidence

Look! Here I am, playing my first rock show:



A pensive moment... I'm pretty sure I'm waiting for my cue to sing, during a quiet and intense tune that I don't play on. (So I'm sort of hugging my guitar.) Funny that the spot is apparently on me, since that interesting character in the (dark) background is the lead dude, and I'm just supporting cast.

I may have some video soon...