absolute, relative, and random.
in I Lift My Eyes Up, Loved Ones, Thoughts and Feelings
as anxiety, date, dogs, dough, flux, instructor, kind, kneading dough, life, love, measuring stick, mom, personalities, perspective, random conversation, self, sleep, spirit, stick, way, while, yoga instructor
I just spent a while looking at the classifieds.
Yes, folks, I’m gonna get myself some kind of job.
The kind that pays money.
It’ll be nice.
I got all teary-eyed at the end of yoga tonight. My teacher is so kind and I love listening to what he says. Tonight he was reminding us about our relative self and our absolute self, and the difference between the two.
“We are all very aware of our relative self,” he told us. It’s what we look like, what we do, our personalities and things like that. It’s often what takes all of our attention–but it’s not all of us. There’s our absolute self, too. What’s eternal. Our spirit, our soul. The part of us that will never go away. We want to act in such a way to nurture our absolute self, as well as our relative self–since our absolute self will be with us forever, while our relative self is in flux.”
Oh Timothy the Yoga Instructor, thank you for that.
For reminding me about who I am, not just what I do or even what I look like.
Like I said, it made me cry a little. And it also put some stuff in perspective. Like my anxiety lately. It’s gonna work out. Life, I mean. And I’m eternal–and so beyond just what I do here on this earth. Like, that is not the only measuring stick we have, I mean.
So, the most random conversation I’ve ever had with my mom to date occurred yesterday while I was kneading dough.
Me: I love kneading dough; do you love to knead dough, mom?
…My mom thinks for a bit…
Mom: No. I love dogs.
And that was the end of that conversation. Though I did laugh about it when she left the room. It’s not like the two are mutually exclusive. Maybe it’s a stretch, but I’d say a heart has enough room in it to fit both the love of kneading dough and the love of dogs.
I’m pretty sure I manage to do it, at least.
I think my absolute self could stay up a while yet, but alas, my relative self is demanding that I sleep.
Relative wins out on this one, guys.
trying.
in Thoughts and Feelings
as afternoon, anxiety, bench, blank spots, book store, bookstore, Colt, door, hole in the wall, home, horse, horse race, horses, house, husband, marriage, morning, park bench, post, race, race horses, restaurant, show, signs, stage, store, tee shirts, today
I had to go back to the house today.
I knocked on the door, because even though it’s my house, it’s not my house. Not anymore. And it’s strange, because it still looks the same. Except for a few blank spots on the walls, I mean.
And now there’s that hole in the wall, punched clean through. I remember that night; I had spent that morning and afternoon by myself at the book store in that city that has the famous horse race. Louisville, right? I just remember that’s all they talked about on their signs and their shops and their tee-shirts. It was racing and horses and horses and racing and don’t you want to send a post card home about this? Because surely there aren’t any people that do anything other than race horses in this town.
But I went to the bookstore. I piled myself up high in books that all were trying to help me save my marriage. I read one, at least, from cover to cover, willing it to make a difference. I didn’t even care that the man next to me might look at the book I was pouring over and know. This was too important to be shy about.
I had a show that night and I was dealing with this new-found anxiety on stage. I held Colt’s hand and suddenly I wasn’t acting so much anymore. I squeezed his hand because I was terrified. I didn’t know if my husband loved me anymore and this made it very difficult to sing and dance and act in front of thousands of people, actually.
After the show, all my friends went out. They ate and drank and laughed and I found an obliging park bench outside of the restaurant. I called him and he answered and could barely say two words. “What’s wrong?” I asked him. “I’m just so tired…” he told me. “Well, do you think you could wake up? I think I need you to wake up and talk to me; I’m scared tonight.” I said.
“I’m really really tired…” he said, his words starting to slur.
And then he said he was going back to sleep and that was that. And I sat on that bench and I was very alone that night. I couldn’t go back into the restaurant; I wasn’t up to it. I didn’t trust myself to arrange my features to look happy and I wasn’t okay with people knowing that I wasn’t. I called Christian and talked to him; he listened and I felt some strength from that.
The next day I called him again, asking if he was feeling better, less tired today, while I was walking in the drug store, looking for some lotion to buy. He wasn’t. Nothing helped, he said. And then he told me that he punched a hole in the wall the night before, he was so angry.
And then I made plans to come home to him shortly after.
I had read a whole book on marriage from cover to cover, after all.
Maybe that would help.
It didn’t, but I’m glad I tried.
I’ll never regret trying, at least.
I’ve never fought a war, but…
in Thoughts and Feelings
as anxiety, brother, David, fact, fear, heart, Merry Christmas, nice, post traumatic stress, post traumatic stress syndrome, random stranger, skinniest person, skinny, syndrome, thoughts/life, traumatic stress syndrome
I think I might have post traumatic stress syndrome. I mean, there are parts of me that have been around forever. Things that I am used to, that I even like now. Like the beauty mark in the middle of my forehead that causes random strangers to accuse me of playing with hindu tattoos. Or [...]
