Waiting in the Wing

Original demo: https://on.soundcloud.com/grJyW

The grind of living pulverizes new sprouts into a mush, yet I am back here to rescue what I can and maybe make some sense of the past few years. 

To start, my only finished song for the entire year. It's one I wrote about failure.

Waiting in the Wing ©2022

It didn't work out, but we're still friends

Took the leap, found kindness on the ground

You still finish my sentences

I still know just when to leave you alone

Sometimes it's so close that you can't see

Maybe if you let go of the dream

The ground is cold, you're by my side

You see me as I am, half alive

This broken body and battered mind

Never seems to cross the finish line

Sometimes it's so close that you can't see

Maybe if you let go of the dream

You'll find love

was never waiting

in the wing

You still text me just to ask

if you can bring me anything I need

I still reply with a smile

I'm sending cash, I'll see you in a while

The Heartache of Terror

One of the symptoms of my illness is terror. Absolute panic as if you had just gotten missed being hit by a racing car, or the dog was coming at you with teeth bared but then a leash pulled him back a foot away from your arm. And you stand there shaking because you can't believe you are unharmed.

I wake up like this almost every morning, shaking and teary-eyed, and these attacks come on suddenly throughout the day. They are triggered by exertion, by the smallest amount of stress, and if I have any unfinished business emotionally or mentally the despair and sobbing set in for minutes or hours. I crumple to the floor in tears. My limbs are shaking. My hands and jaw shake.

The observer in me says, "You have got to calm this down. You're body can't heal with this much fear running through your veins." Sometimes I find I'm too weak to do it alone and I'm on my knees at the edge of my coffee table, head on my clasped hands, pleading to God or whoever is listening to hold me and make the fear go away. I can't tell you why the dread is so profound but it is.

Lately, my avenue to helping myself has been to ask myself if there is something I can do about whatever is distressing me? Even if I'm so weak I can't take the garbage out or do the dishes, is there still something I can do in the world to release myself?

Sometimes the answer is yes -- go breathe. go sit and breathe and count the seconds. Sometimes it's go listen to a guided meditation and let the voice lull you to sleep for 20 minutes. Sometimes, it's go eat something.  Sometimes, it's call Betsy and see if there is a remedy I can take.

Two days ago it was go call your soul coach and lay it on the line and she says go write a letter. Go tell him the whole truth and be kind to yourself. And so I did, and then I slept on it without sending it. The next day I spent much of the day editing and it calmed me down. By evening, I felt the panic setting in. The letter was done and I was ready to hit the send button and the panic just flooded me. What is it, I asked myself, that is in me that has wanted to hold onto this much internal distress for five years? Considering this rocked me to my core. And the next question: who will I be without this heavy weight that I've used to beat myself up for the past five years? What will I do with my freedom?

I hit send. And I sat there.

Today I feel blank and too tired to even acknowledge the incredible gift I've given to myself. By sending that email all of the past baggage of my life -- that I'm aware of -- is complete. That was the last big thing. Now I have nothing but the present moment. Yes, I would imagine there is residual trauma I'm still carrying from things I'm not aware of, but I have done my work.

And so it's frustrating tonight to find myself shaking and rocking myself back and forth on the couch, in a panic with no life-story reason. It's just panic, like aftershocks. And like all the other times, I find my left hand is pushing on my heart, holding my heart. And I just keep sobbing.

I want this illness to be cleared so badly. I want to feel better. How long can my body withstand trauma before it's too weak to keep going? Why am I not improving? I believe everything I'm doing is good and part of my healing but why have I felt the same way for so long now?

Nothing lasts forever and that brings me comfort. I am impatient tonight to know which way this illness is gonna break, and when. I have done so much good for my life in these last 7 weeks so I have gratitude. Now I just want enough peace to sleep well and feel calm in my skin, and wake up tomorrow like everything's alright.

Returning to Old Friends

When I get anxious I find myself returning to the books and images of my youth that made me feel at home. Today I started rereading "The Sheltering Sky" by one of my favorite authors, Paul Bowles. I found this passage fitting to the imagery of painter Janet Fish, one of my inspirations when I was studying fine art in college.

“One never took the time to savour the details; one said: another day, but always with the hidden knowledge that each day was unique and fatal, that there never would be a return, another time.”   

- Paul Bowles

Fish's attention to detail, the way she bathes domestic abundance in light, is so alive and joyful and absent of dissonance. By contrast, Paul Bowles recognizes the fatality of each moment and in doing so he honors how sublime everything is. It's beautiful, stark, haunted. I think I gravitated to both creators for helping me recognizing my yes to life.

Living by Heart and Body

I have been experiencing illness again, a deep and uncertain illness that has brought me face to face with my mortality and the messages of my heart.

What I have discovered is that my heart wants simple things. She wants to be, and experience, and live. I have visions of places where I want to go, things I want to see and smell, and one person that I want to sit beside again. He is someone I've never been able to talk to about my feelings because I was afraid of my heart.

As my symptoms cycle around, I have come to trust my connection to the divine in my body. I know I live in the heart of God. I have sobbed in gratitude from this knowing, and in grief for the years it has taken me to fully understand. I have come to recognize that the heart doesn't ask you to be perfectly ready or have things perfectly positioned before you live. You live now. You live from your heart the moment you understand what she is revealing to you, and you experience it through your body. There is nothing to fear.

And so I have been taking my medicine and stretching and resting, and also quitting things that don't fit. I have written to the man I want to sit beside and shared how it's been. He wrote a short, direct, warm response and it's like we skipped a few steps, backed into the corner of potential loss. There is love that lives between us, in some fashion.

I said to myself, "Oh, so this is how it is. This is how it's going to be."

Living from the heart is not peak experiences or butterflies. It is being Home, in perfect contentment. It is deep peace. I did not know that.

I am not sure how I will endure the months and months of uncertainty until I can see him, but I know it is not about waiting; it is about living. I get to wake up every morning and take my medicine, and stretch and rest, and feel an overwhelmingly peaceful love in my whole body that brings me to tears. I get to do things every day that bring me Home, knowing that the day when I get to sit beside this man will be all the sweeter for it. Life will be like water.

Living, true living, is only encountered through the heart and body. May I -- and all of us -- live our stories through exquisite taste, touch, smell, and tenderness. When I recover, I intend to continue this new chapter with everything in me, with my hands and my laughter. I will be able to say I have lived.

Saying Goodbye to Trees

There is a tree in my backyard that I've been around for over 12 years. It's a tall pine tree that has nearly outgrown its space in the far back corner of the yard. Its branches extend over the rooftops of garage buildings. It's out of place but asserts itself anyway. I trimmed up the bottom branches and hung a wind chime on a low protrusion. When it's storming I hear the low chimes. It seems happier now that someone is caring for it.

In posts from years ago I considered that tree while doing detoxification. I'd sit outside with my feet in mud baths and just look at the tree. It watched over me. When I had my concussions I would lay outside in the grass beside the tree and just be, taking my cue from its quiet still presence.

This weekend a friend offered me a Reiki session after I did a show with a sub par voice due to a lingering head cold. I have been having recurring throat issues. I lay there on the table and she introduced the session by leading me through a meditation in which I picked a tree to work with.

My brain fell on that pine tree in my backyard. I was happy for a while and then somewhere along the way I realized that by selling my house this winter I will also be saying goodbye to the tree. I will not get to sit and look at it ever again. I will not see it outside of my bedroom window again, each morning as I raise the blinds and see what the sun and sky are doing. I am leaving my tree.

I am so sad to leave my tree. I don't know why but I love that tree in a way that I don't love my house. It's a living breathing creation that has been with me and for me and beside me through the worst of my adult life. Since my session I have this insatiable urge to hug the tree. Yeah, I know, it's a cliche.

I have no idea why my emotions run so deep with saying goodbye to trees. I am hoping there will be answers in my night dreaming. Something about this matters.

The Calm in the Storm

Oh, man, there is a big part of me that wants to delete so many of my postings from the last year. They are clearly stages in a journey of spiritual growth and I look back at them and say, "Wow, You. Wow. It's so different now."

Everything is so different now. I have engaged with this path for a few years, surrendered to much, followed the lead of signs, connections and keys that are handed to me. In many ways I feel like I've walked through to The Other Side of the Sun, as Madeleine L'Engel puts it. The suns burns away what's not yours and leaves you with just you. Still burning.

No, the health/wellness stuff still isn't really solved but I'm in pursuit and I've seen some things miraculously resolve. That's enough to keep me going. No, I can't seem to finish a few songs I've been working on for years, but others are flowing out like a well-inked fountain pen. They surprise me in their devotion and openness. I traveled last weekend and did it with balance and pacing for the first time ever. I came home NOT sick! I totally rocked it. And there have been other things, too -- tender realizations and embodying the teachings from people further along the path -- and mostly I feel a strange clarity and peace.

There is a calm in the storm.

"The universe plays hardball whether you like it or not. You either get on the field with your catcher’s mitt, or you spend the rest of the time sitting on the bench waiting for nothing to happen. Love is all you ever need to believe in. It will change your whole world whether you’re ready or not."  ~ The Awakened Queen

It's not that I don't have doubts about the things I love -- I don't think I'm anywhere near done with this -- but right now I've got more faith than usual. I'm ok loving what I love. This is new for me. And sometimes I think the Universe knows when you just need a break. I have no idea what happens next. I'll write songs and play music like I always do, I'll try to be a decent friend and make my home a place where I want to spend my time. I'll cook and bake and watch YouTube videos. These days I have this urge to master something, put some roots down in my experience rather than in places or what the world sees as security.

Life unfolds like a flower. It is not to be taken too seriously. It's a thing of beauty and it's here to bring you joy.

I'm posting today to mark the moment.

Desire is the Messenger

"We abandon the most important journey of our lives when we abandon desire. We leave our hearts by the side of the road and head off in the direction of fitting in, getting by, being productive, what have you. Whatever we might gain -- money, position, the approval of others, or just absence of the discontent itself - it's not worth it." - John Eldredge

"Why can I never set my heart on a possible thing? - Ursula K. Le Guin

Some say that if you desire something then the fulfillment of that desire is already within your field, that you are just experiencing its opposite. I find this hard to grasp and yet I know it must be true. As logic and law it makes sense.

But living on the opposite side, on the longing side, on the lack side, is incredibly challenging. I find I want things that seem beyond my control to experience or acquire.

So what if desire's fulfillment appears impossible? Then what is the point? What is the point of desire if not to fulfill itself? Why would such a state overwhelm us if its remedy and relief were not available?

I think it has to to with drawing us out of ourselves by drawing us in. If the desire is pure and I am pulled towards something or someone then I am moving out, I'm expanding in search of connection with the Other, which is also the Self. I am drawn, essentially, towards wholeness or oneness. If the desire is not pure, then I am pulled towards its shadow and separation.

To reign in that longing shows a lack of faith somehow. Living in the unguarded tension of the pull, giving it free reign, is an exercise in absolute trust in oneself and the laws of our universe. We must live the longing, and do it whole-heartedly, too. Desire demands commitment and risk. It's a muddy, intoxicating brew and you have to drink it like doing shots.

I am embarrassed to say that when I have a desire and I can't see how I can possibly attain it, that I get mad at the longing. I get mad at the universe. I despair. In the past I've tried to get rid of the desire, ignore it, repress it, judge it, and judge myself for having it.

But desire is just the messenger. It's the love letter, and destroying the letter doesn't destroy the love. Or it's a fear letter, and destroying the letter doesn't destroy the fear.

I wonder a few things. First, I wonder how to tell if my desires are actually pure? How do I know in my clouded state, with certainty, that I desire something for my highest good and for the highest good of those around me? What is the litmus test for this?

Or does it matter? Is the lesson of desire for our life served no matter if we are lit by it or shadowed? I tend to think our lesson is our lesson. We learn what we need to at the time when we need to learn it.

Second, I wonder if in our clouded state we cannot see desire's fulfillment because the answer is not what we expect? It's like that word game of opposites. When you ask people what is the opposite of love a lot of people say hate. But perhaps the opposite of love is indifference or fear. In the same way, maybe the remedy for our desire is not what we think it is.

It's like a plot twist. And the twist only makes sense, and the payoff is sweet, if you read the whole story. We have to commit to the story.

So these days I am reminded to live the longing. The act of surrender is somehow validation of an essential part of myself. It's an acceptance. I offer myself grace. I offer myself Yes rather than No, without judgment, as a fundamental way of living. So trust desire but get curious about whether or not it's a true desire or a trick. It's not the existence of desire that needs to be shaped, it's the shape of the desire itself.

If all opposites exist then it's worth it to desire something that's incredible, that saves us, and brings us closer to wholeness. Desire that. Trust that. Don't separate yourself from that. Risk everything for that because you can't lose. Allow desire to take residence in your guts without fear and without despair, and even without expectation that you know the answer now, but you will when you get to that part of the story.

Shadow box with your ego in search of the divine. She's shining a bright fucking light and desires you, too.