Perfecto!

I don’t know if y’all meditate or give any credence to getting messages from the Universe, and frankly, I’m probably not interested if you don’t, seeing as what follows might just sound ludicrous to you…but I’m sharing anyway.

I’ve hit that fork in the road where I know I’m not currently doing what I ought to be doing. No, I’m not doping incessantly nor drinking my liver into cirrhosis or boinking my brains out (that point I wish were different). I’ve chosen to ignore those urges I’ve had to write for a living and instead have devoted my time to lining some outrageously arrogant billionaire’s already grossly over-lined pockets.

It’s dawned on me that enough is enough. Time to get my shizzle together…that, and I’m taking inventory of what I can do to take my own personal development to the next level. The complete spiritual overhaul started years ago – it’s not one of those things I can pressure the general contractor (read: me) to get done in six months – and I’m adding a few more things to the “To Do NOW!” list.

The top priority on that list? Let go of perfectionism. Huh? Yeah, I said it. Let go of that pesky niggling mosquito that’s many a time rendered me paralyzed with procrastination. Not that procrastination is necessarily a bad thing, as I’ve found I have a startling ability to focus on something when I’m under pressure – pressure usually self-generated by leaving something to the last minute. I can pull out term papers that have flashes of brilliance and perfectly genius gems that would never have found their way into a paper that wasn’t done the night before (or more often than not, middle of the night before) they were due. I’ve enjoyed operating under the “coal don’t become diamond ‘less there’s pressure” mantra for decades now.

Setting that aside, I’m talking about the procrastination that’s attached itself to *my* projects; the ones I’ve always dreamt of starting but never knew (or dared) how to tackle. You know how they say everyone has a book in them? Mine has been begging to get out and play for years, but I’ve ignored its pleas because I hadn’t the faintest idea where or how to start telling a story and I couldn’t be bothered to tell a story that wasn’t perfectly formed in my womb (brain) before I birthed it (spewing it out in perfect prose onto a pristine blank page). Letting go of perfection might mean I end up with a premature, incomplete, and utterly deformed baby, but hell, I won’t suffer from a pregnant pause/procrastination any longer.

Pardon the horrible mothering metaphor. It’s nearing 1 o’clock in the morning and I’ve put most of my literary natch to bed, and I don’t have the perfecting pressure of a deadline. This stuff gets to get out otherwise it’ll keep me tossing and turning when I do finally turn out the light.

But back to my question about messages from the Universe because that’s really my point here. I’ve perked up and started paying closer attention to what I get to master in the next while and the message of letting go of attachment to perfectionism keeps popping up.

I’m an avid blog reader, and every single blog I’ve clicked on lately has an article on perfectionism. How to overcome it, let go of it, ignore it, and trump it. It’s almost as if someone were taking a metaphorical 2x4 to my head and insisting I take note. Believe me, I’m taking notice.

I started writing *my* novel last night. Fuck perfectionism…and damned if I didn’t enjoy just writing. No worries about plot, about character development, about slinky seductive language as bold brush strokes. Nope, none of that. Turns out it’s mostly mental diarrhea, but I don’t care - I finally started doing something I love.

I’m writing this now because my savvy deserved a little assistance to recognize this top priority on my list. I have a set of cards that are eerily similar to tarot cards, but aren’t. They’re more like message cards. You hold the question you have in your mind/heart, and pull cards. Inevitably the cards you pull are scary in their accuracy. I was playing with them just before I cracked the laptop to type this all out.

My question: what do I do to raise my vibration? Okay, that’s not the whole question, but this isn’t a dear diary kinda moment so there’s no need to give away the whole enchilada. In any case, the four cards I drew ALL had this to say:

“LET GO OF PERFECTIONISM”

Crazy, huh?

Oh, I did have to cave and run this through spell-check. I’m not stupid enough to let go of all my perfectionism.

(Cards
1: Priorities. Let go of procrastination and perfectionism
2: You Can Do It!: Let go of perfectionism and know you’ll do fine; You are a valuable and beloved person; You can fulfill your purpose – you are on the right track
3: Focus On Your Strengths: The more you bless and appreciate your strengths, the more they will grow; Remember to view yourself with love and compassion; Exercise – honor your body
4: Artistic Expression: Do this, it is the key to your life’s purpose and you will find your ideal career.

I still boggle at the perfection of these cards for me at this very moment. I want to change careers to do something I adore (write), and the fear that crippled me most in going for it was that I wasn’t perfect. It’s so nice to be reminded that fear is total and utter bullshit.

Au revoir les desires des enfants... Ciao 2008

I don’t really want to fall prey to the cliché approach of doing a year-end review of good ol’ 2008….but it was one hell of a year. Eh, I can’t do a breakdown of what was what and when it was, but I can say that one of the most profound lesson’s I managed to learn in the past 12 month is that I get exactly what I want – just never in the way I want it.

Take, for example, time of from work. I wanted it badly – oh, so badly. Just some time to relax, kick back, get grounded. I’m pretty sure my craving for that time would have lead me to sell what little bit of soul I have. Well, I got it. Lots of it.

I actually do end up not working the last two months of the year, and don’t have to work the first two months of 2009 – and I still get a paycheck. How’s that? Back surgery. I had the distinct pleasure of experiencing excruciating pain, chronic discomfort, and general misery for a good solid month (and it turned what was supposed to be a sexy vacation into something equating a nightmare – I’ll have to get the verdict from the other party to make it official, but I suspect he’d whole-heartedly agree with my assessment). Not to mention the fun of post-surgical recuperation and physical therapy where I had (or rather have – it’s still very much a present tense experience) to learn how to walk *properly* instead of the duck-like way I had been doing for the last 33 years. There’s also the disturbing haze of opiate pain killers and my now defunct, completely poisoned, and surely permanently damaged liver (anyone care to compare Ibuprophen overdose experiences? Anyone?).

Needless to say the time I have out of the office is now spent mending my body, which still amounts to a whole lotta work – or working out. I got what I wanted, but I didn’t expect I’d get it quite like this.

I admit to spending a good chunk of 2008 craving affection, sexual attraction, intellectual stimulation and lots of sex. Oddly enough I got it – it just happened to come in the form of a very long-distance something or other. It’s not the easiest affair to conduct, but I can’t say I haven’t been satisfied with it so far. I would have loved to have had a geographically convenient lover. Instead, he’s miles (3500 of them) away. So, I’ve learned to take pleasure in hearing him whisper sweet, nasty things in my ear on the phone rather than feel his breath on the back of my neck. I’ve grown thankful for the chance to learn about him during 4 hour phone conversations on a Friday night instead of not talking while sitting next to him in a movie theater.

Nothing compares to actually being next to him, to watch him move, to listen to his voice inches away, to taste him, to smell him, to look up from a book to find his eyes already on me, to hold his hand, or to feel him inside me. However, those experiences are rendered all the more potent and poignant because of the physical distance. I wonder if I would ever know the profound pleasure of being with him if I didn’t know the distinct difficulty of being apart from him. If only I had some witty quip to deprecate this sappy paragraph, but I’ve been rendered a softy. Damn. I guess that’s what caring for someone does to you.

Before I fully embark on creating my wish list for 2009 a little voice whispers to me that I might take a moment to remember that getting what I want apparently comes at a rather high price. Time to cue the music, as I’m reminded by the great philosopher Mick Jagger and his mate Keith Richards that ya can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometimes you just might find you get what you need…..

Righto. What do I need this next year? Hm…. Best tread carefully.

Blah blah blah

Words are phenomenal.

They are rich, lush, fragrant, shiny, hefty, weighty, corpulent, loaded, subtle flexible, shifty, deft, forceful – yet for all their obvious power, they can be muddy, murky, shady, fraught with innuendo and double entendre.

They make it all the more tempting to read between the lines, are found written on walls (how foreboding!). They’re as clear as day and as dark as night.

For all their strength, they can be fragile and seemingly everyone’s word can be so easily broken.

They are the most graceful and soft of things, and the harshest and cruelest of weapons. They are sweet, delicious, succulent and lusty - they are harsh, sharp, battering, brutal, malicious and cutting. They are rapier sharp and ethereal whispers.

Words mean something. Or they can mean nothing at all, mere gaps in between silences.

(This past week has been a powerful lesson in words…words in all their glorious paradox.)

Ratios

My girlfriends make me laugh – granted they also provide a dearth of opportunity to reflect on interesting philosophical questions that I’d probably skip over because who *really* spends their time thinking about the ratio of people one kisses to the people one boinks.

Yup, that is the question du jour. Hell, I might as well just put up the email exchange, because it’s much more to the point than my weak-ass attempts at summarizing it.

From: Girlie friend
Subject: disturbing fact

Last night I was thinking about all kinds of things having to do with intimacy. I was bothered when I thought "who was the last person I kissed but didn't sleep with?"I can remember two in the last 3 years.Only two. The rest of them I slept with. This is driving me crazy... am I such a slut? Or am I too scared of someone kissing me? WTF? The numbers should be more like you sleep with 10% of the people you kiss. For me, it's like 95%.

From: Me 8-)
Subject: Re: disturbing fact

Wow...this is an interesting question and really indicative of what actually *is* intimate to you (of course I'm thinking of my own track record, and I'm stumbling here, too).

Nah, you're not a slut. I'd be a slut, too, if that were the case. The last guy I kissed I haven't *yet* slept with (it's in the cards, it's just a matter of time) and I mean really kissed. (I kiss a LOT. Hell, last night I kissed five different men right on the mouth and none of them are going to be sharing my bed anytime soon if ever.) But the ones I really, really embraced, yeah, I've slept with all of them save one.

And that gets me to thinking that I only really truly share a phenomenal kiss with the men I *want* to sleep with. That for me, kissing is an indication of my desire to share physical and emotional intimacy. Perhaps that's the same for you...and in that case, wouldn't I really want it to be 100% of those that I kissed like that I slept with? Yeah, I think so.

I'm getting to the point where I only want to really share that kind of emotional and physical vulnerability with someone I absolutely want to share my bed with...so my numbers would be skewed. Why bother really kissing someone I don't want to end up horizontal with? It's just a waste of energy...so when you say that you've slept with those men you really kissed, I'm thinking cool...she's not kissing for sport, she's kissing for purpose. Reminds me that I prefer kissing when it has intention behind it rather than just a way to pass some time or make a date less awkward.

Kissing is powerful - it's much, much more intimate than sex. It involves breath and trust and connection and hearts beating next to one another. It's the thing that when you're having sex, actually closes the circle of connection: bodies joined and mouths joined create that perfect circle. It's an essential component of intimacy - it's the beginning and the end of intimacy. To me, it's not a casual thing to engage in, and it's the first step to sharing a deeper physical connection. So with that, I'd say that if you were kissing without the intention of fulfilling that physical connection, then you'd just be a tease and a slut.

From: Girlie friend
Subject: Re:re: disturbing fact

I laughed when you talked about kissing for sport to make a date less awkward... kissing is the most awkward and awful part of a date. There are two moments in a typical date that I hate... when the server brings the check and it's sitting on the table with a big question mark over it and the awkward moment when it's time to say goodbye and collect your good night kiss.

I feel better after reading your thoughts. I am picky enough that I don't kiss around, and when I do share a kiss with someone it is an indication that I am open to more than just that kiss.

xoxo!

Now really, after that exchange, I’ve managed to justify my bedding record, slither out of a pejorative label AND articulate my philosophy on why guys really ought to appreciate kissing more than most do without actually coming out and saying it. Whoops, that cat’s out of the bag.

In any case, it’s stuff like this that makes me happy – and if I get a good giggle out of it, it’s a goldmine.

Martyrdom (no...this has nothing to do with it being Easter Weekend)

I recently had a conversation about sacrifice in a relationship. It seems common knowledge that some sacrifice is required for a successful relationship to flourish, right? Seems like we all have to sacrifice something in order to make the other partner happy, or that’s the conventional wisdom. Screw that. I don’t buy it.

This conversation revolved around my buddy making the off-hand comment that he feels like it’s necessary to sacrifice his dreams and aspirations in order to make his wife happy and save his marriage. He made that dumb-ass comment and I lost it. Really lost it.

It just frustrates me when anyone I care about talks about having to sacrifice themselves to make someone else happy. I call bullshit.

First off, I don't believe anyone can ever make anyone else happy. It is just not possible. No one can *make* me happy because it's really my own perception of life and the things that happen in it that will determine whether or not I am happy. It’s about *my* outlook, and frankly, no one else can ever be responsible for that chemical compound that occurs inside my head/body that helps frame my either pessimistic or optimistic outlook. No one. It is often the case when someone does something they think will make me happy but because of how I see the world and have experienced it, my reaction to their actions is anything but happy. A lame example, but it does serve to illustrate one of my points.

Secondly, I don't actually value the actions of someone who insists on debasing themselves in an attempt to "control" or "manipulate" my feelings - even if it‘s an attempt to brighten my day. It's almost as though I recognize that they don't value themselves enough for their own wants/desires/needs to be important, and so I don't think of them or their needs as important. If they want to sacrifice their lives for someone else, fine, let 'em, but to me that means that their life really wasn't important enough for them to even value it that they had to give it away to mean anything.

Of course I'm over-looking notions like compassion, caring, truly wanting the best for someone else because you love them, etc. I'm simply talking about the virtue of valuing self and *really* being conscious of when one chooses to undertake an action that might compromise the value of their own life because they see a better good in giving that part to someone else.

Listen, I don't know bupkus about how this friend and his wife operate in their relationship, and I’d be an ass to presume that I could have told him anything about how things “really” were in their relationship, let alone be arrogant enough to offer advice about it. So I didn’t. Instead, I offered this one last little toss-it-away tid-bit:

“If you ever find yourself continually playing the martyr in the relationship because it makes things "easier" for you in terms of tension, then perhaps you're not being honest with yourself about how much you really value yourself.”

Martyrdom is for those who fear the responsibility of living fully for themselves.

The Attention Whore & The Banker

Ever have those times where a tidal wave of life lessons just seems to wash over you, relentlessly, so that you can barely catch your breath before the next one comes crashing atop your head?

Melodrama isn’t attractive, but I still indulge in it.

In a round about way, I got another little lesson yesterday afternoon. I have a pretty close friend with whom I exchange emails on a daily basis. A few days passed where he didn’t have the luxury of time to write me, and I didn’t write him (despite having no responsibilities at all that needed tending to and hours and hours that should have been put to better use).

Yesterday afternoon got an email from him with the following (oh, and small preface here: my mantra is “I’m no attention whore, baby!”):

I know you're not an attention whore. You're terribly reciprocal in your correspondence. I don't get a note unless I give one. Fair enough. Keep in mind though that you're welcome to write about the mind minutiae that crops up during your day at the gallery.

Fair enough, indeed.

Got me thinking. Terribly Reciprocal. Shit. He’s right. He’s very, very right. I am so insecure as to offer an explanation for it: I honestly think I’m bothering people when I write emails or phone them, or text them. It’s like I’m demanding that they pay me immediate attention and fulfill my need for validation, and it makes me cringe to do it. Sad thing is, I know it’s not the most emotionally mature of perspectives, but it’s the same one I’ve had since I was four and it’s gonna take a lot of work to break from it. The odd thing is, I’m so fucking delighted to hear from other people. I don’t attribute delight to their hearing from me, however….Whatever. It’s stupid and it’s all mine.

Small life lesson you say? Haha! There is much more to it than that. His email followed immediately on the heels of my having read the following passage from Reflections on the Art of Living: A Joseph Campbell Companion:

“The Christian interpretation is one of debt and payment. Paul was preaching to a group of merchants, who understood the whole mystery in terms of economics: there is a debt, and you get an equivalent payment. The debt is enormous, so the payment has to be enormous. That is all bankers’ thinking. Christianity is caught up in that.” (p. 145)

(The passage actually pertains to the idea of redemption, the fall, and the cherubim guarding the entrance to the Garden of Eden. Christians take it literally, Buddhist’s take it metaphorically, interpreting it as a psychological transformation. I feel like I ought to put it in its true context, but it doesn’t mean I can’t extrapolate what I *need* from it.)

And what I did get out of it is this: I’ve got a Banker mentality, too boot! Double Whammy. Dude, this sucks. I’m all about the Tit for Tat, debt & payment, logging of accounts. I’ve got to break out of the banking box and just start bloody giving already, without keeping tally. I do that in other aspects of my life (I treat, I spot, I listen, I blah, blah, blah…and I rationalize and justify) - but apparently I can’t do that in my correspondence (or my phone calls).

So Tidal Wave of Life Lessons, thanks. Thanks, no, really thank you. I’ve learned something else today. It’s not the prettiest of truths to learn, but damnit, I needed the lesson. :D

If you try sometimes, you just might find...

Actually, had the coolest experience the other day. Despite the coolness of said experience, the day itself was pretty mundane, nothing bad and nothing good happened, it just sort of was. My mood, however, was uber crappy.

I got news that another friend of mine was moving. That makes three in the last two weeks who have solidified plans to leave. I don't have abandonment issues but for some reason it hit me full force that the people I love are not going to be around and I hate that. Worse, I decided to open up an email from my brother with a bunch of new pictures of him playing: in the studio, on stage, etc. and there was one of him back from 1978, an old black and white photo of this beautiful little boy in overalls climbing up on a stool, looking at me with the sweetest expression and I literally started to cry. In the middle of the gallery I started to choke for air. And then the tears flowed. Amazing that my mascara didn't run (I'm such a girl sometimes). I texted him that I loved him and missed him. He texted back that he loved and missed me, too. And the only thing I could think of in response was that I wanted a hug from him. And seconds later, from a thousand miles away, my brother texted me the best hug I've ever had. Odd as it sounds, I could actually feel his arms around me. Okay, even thinking of it now my eyes are starting to well up. Fuck.

I have a tendency to write things down to get my emotions out. No one ever reads the crap I spew, it's just stream of consciousness stuff anyway, but it at least lets me get the garbage out of my system before it starts to rot inside. I typed just moments later that I was in such need of some human warmth at that moment that I was tempted to accost the next man who walked in the gallery and ask him for a hug (I didn't need a feminine comfort, I needed something masculine). About thirty minutes later a man does come into the gallery.

Do you ever encounter people where you just know they're good and there's an energy about them that immediately makes you comfortable? That was this guy's energy. Older, short, balding, merry bright blue eyes, lithe, easy smile, open. I was still in a mood and responded to his questions flippantly. He picked up on it, asked why, and I told him straight out I was just a liar, that nothing out of my mouth was true and that frankly he should be suspect of anything I said. Granted I said it with a smirk. He told me that was the most honest thing I could have said in the moment and that seemed to break me in half. The rest of the twenty minutes we spent talking were amazing. We exchanged information as he'll be back in a few weeks and wanted to catch up with me then. As he turned to leave, he stopped turned around and opened his arms. A long, strong, heart felt hug. Nothing sexual, just this really genuine warmth. It took me several hours to put it together, but it did occur to me that I actually got what I needed the moment I needed it (being held) but only after I had actually admitted that I needed it.

It felt profound. I'm reading "Reflections on the Art of Living" which is a compilation of Joseph Campbell's stuff. The combination of the hug and the reading have got my head in a spin...

I wonder if this is an indication of my state of mind at the moment, but what comes to mind are the words of the devilish prophet himself, Mick J.... "You can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need." And yes, in my head, the words are accompanied by a lithesomely prepubescent boys choir.

Time to beg the doctor to put me on some sort of meds, don't you think?