Does anyone ever “talk” or think herself into happiness? Well, I am not so sure. There are patterns of experiencing “it” for me, things I trust to comfort, please, soothe, inspire me. And then, sometimes, those things don’t. At times, happiness feels as elusive as embracing water. The tides come unexpectedly at times, or are absent when expected.
I think I think too much about my tasks, about the timing of them, about what would maximize their feelingness, their “special-k-ness”, that they don’t evolve naturally. I over-produce them…wanting to airbrush them into “some ideal.”
During my weekend with my little sister (and dad) in Portugal, massess of mixed emotions occupied my physical and emotional centeredness. The middle wouldn’t hold, and for about ten days, no center existed for me. Thrown out of my regular routine, but also continuing to work either at a conference, or at the office, as well as pack in travel experience, and all the expectations I pack into them, well, I just got plain tuckered out. Feeling weak, and stressed about loose ends that fire-cracked into the frontal lobe. A german gas bill that I didn’t know wasn’t being paid these last 8 months that required my immediate attention, a somewhat philosophical debate about the structure and process of an important clinic at work, a parking ticket, living spaces that now feel sticky and messy and cluttered, a lack of writing and reflection and alone time, a lack of peanut butter.
One night, after the best dinner I’ve had with my dad and sister in, well, EVER, feeling rather pleasantly full on connecting humorous
conversation, and delicious wine and food, my sister and I attempt to locate the wonderful pool to skinny dip. Well, it was located on a green terrace down a brown path, and after 5 minutes of trodding in Portugal darkness, with a towel wrapped around my skin, and fermented grape juice butterflying through my capillaries, the rescue party was called off. The next day, however, under completely sober circumstances, I threw on a bath robe and declared it high time. The spectacular infinity pool might have something to do with it, looking over an ocean view…Rather Out of the Blue Beckoned!
My sister came in tow, and as I threw off the robe in broad daylight and streaked across the lawn, I feel both trepidation and freedom, and my nipples. Seriously, once you hit that water, your nipples feel you. And you them. AFter a little re-acquaintance period, a loosening osmiated…
why do swimsuits exist? All they do is restrict your assets and exemplify your insecurity.
I don’t swim well. At all. But this wasn’t about performance. Or really pleasure. But about letting go. And I did…as successfully as I could in that moment. And to share it with my sister, with whom I do not orbit, felt, odd.
“Wasn’t I suppose to be doing this with a boy?”
It was just as it was meant to be. And, “with a boy” may make the next list, or might not need a list for the occasion at all.
But I do know this…it’s not that I think “too much.”
I feel too little. …I am what I am, patterns, repetition, spontaneity, shadowed with triumphs and tragedies beyond measure, future-spun sugarplumed.
Feel. More. Trust More. More Yes……Maybe I should put that on the next list?