First page of the perfect moment archive.

quotes you will never see crocheted on a pillow.

Posted by jessica on May 15, 2011 with 6 Comments
in I Lift My Eyes Up, Thoughts and Feelings
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I have been reading this beautiful book, Codependent No More (Melody Beattie). It sounds rather dry and textbook, I know, but let me assure you, it is not. It is life-giving; it is marrow to my bone. Yesterday, I read it down by my stream, with the sun streaming righteously upon my shoulders and my legs all tucked underneath me. It felt like a perfect moment, actually. I believe in those, you know. Again, I mean. I believe in those again. And it’s such a wonderful thing to believe.

But, anyway.

There are some quotes from this book that I want to jot down here. And no, they will probably not ever make it to a pillow, but that’s okay. Not everything that is beautiful and alive is pretty, if that makes any sense. So, here goes:

“Relationships are like a dance, with visible energy racing back and forth between the partners. Some relationships are the slow, dark dance of death.”

And that’s okay. No, it really is. I am at peace with this fact. It doesn’t mean that it didn’t hurt like hell at one point. It doesn’t mean that I still don’t cry and miss…something…even now. But the fact that some relationships die is not just a part of life, it can even be a good part of life. There will be new things that grow out of that death. There already are. Should I quote that grain of wheat Jesus talked about? The one that, unless it falls to the ground and dies, will remain alone? Well, I just did. But, some relationships die. And this is okay.

“Detachment is not detaching from the person whom we care about, but from the agony of involvement.”

This is a tough one to get, I think. But I am learning that love lets a person live and be and, well, in a very real sense, lets them go. Love is not a cage in which you have placed all your favorite people and subsequently cast them in the play called YOUR PERFECT LIFE. Nope, deciding to love someone is a dangerous, heartbreaking journey. It’s wild; it’s good. It’s better and worse than any of us can ever imagine. There is no script. Certainly not one for you to feed to others. And I have this much control: about 120 lbs worth; about five feet and eight inches worth; about the size of a beating heart and a brain that forgets directions worth–that’s how much control I have. And that’s all the control I need. And therein lies the freedom that I want.

“We’re so careful to see that no one gets hurt. No one, that is, but ourselves.”

I don’t need to take care of other people. I don’t need to rescue other people. I did this for a long time. I did this with the guy I was with. And during our dance of death, I was so afraid he’d make even worse decisions, should I leave him. The crazy thing is that he had made just about some of the worst decisions that were available to him already. With me “by his side.” So, no. I cannot take care of anyone. Certainly not any better than God can. And by that, I mean actually a whole heck of a lot worse.

“Live and let live.”

Self-explanatory, I think. More of the same. Take care of me. Let the adults around me take care of them. Hello, freedom, you’re looking lovely today.

“When I repress my emotions, my stomach keeps score…” -John Powell

Um, yes. Haven’t we all felt this? Our bodies having visceral reactions to whatever it is we’re feeling? Our bodies get it, I guess. And those feelings go somewhere. Anyway, I am trying to let myself feel and not judge, and then move on.

Bam.

you make everything alright

Posted by jessica on Oct 28, 2009 with 1 Comment
in Thoughts and Feelings, video
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So here’s another song.

And yeah, that new-to-me green sweatshirt is something I have a hard time not wearing lately. I’m like that, you know. Get something new and I want to wear it again. And again and again. A couple weeks ago it was this blue and white plaid shirt that a friend gave to me–I literally wore it three days in a row, had to pack it to go to another city and so forgot about it, but then rediscovered it as I was unpacking and put it right back on again.
But not before I asked my roommates if they remembered this (as I held up my plaid shirt for them to see).
You mean the one you just wore last week for like days and days in a row? they asked.
I took that to mean that yeah, they remembered it.
Anyway, this song is called You Make Everything Alright.
Though maybe that’s hyperbole because nobody ever does, you know. Make everything alright. There are some people who come close but even they hurt you sometimes. Still, it’s nice to escape into songs about perfection. Because every once in a while, there are moments–glimpses–of just that. And you close your eyes and tell yourself that this, this is finally a really good scene in your story. And you try to build a little house right there because you don’t ever want to move from that spot. But eventually the fluidity of life catches up with you; one day you go home to that house you worked so hard to build upon that one perfect moment and see that there is an eviction sign and the people who lived there with you have already taken their things and gone.
And now it’s your turn to go too.
And hopefully you’ll see them in the next perfect moment.
And you’ll try to not to be too surprised to see them in those painful moments too.
Because they’ll probably be present in both kinds.
Because it takes all moments to make your story.
But this, this is a sweet song–a happy song.

karaoke and typhooning

Posted by jessica on Aug 31, 2009 with No Comments
in Performance, Thoughts and Feelings
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It’s true. What they say about musical theater people and karaoke. Um, we love it. Can’t get enough of it. And the feel of that microphone gripped between your fingers? Amazing. And all that swanky reverb that makes those high notes seem just effortless? Divine. Seriously, three of us stepped into the place because you [...]