17 April 2008

too deep or too wide or too fumigated

this is fascinating: i have woken up, naturally, around 7 a.m. all week long, let's be honest: i was never an earlybird. in fact, getting up early isn't something i crave. i am one of those people who shoves their lover out of bed, and says, "don't come back without cafe." sweet, really sweet. but this week, i've been rising early despite the hour i go to sleep. granted, i've been overwhelmed with stress, a chattering mind, a muddy flow of never-ending thoughts paired with never-acting's unbearable. so when i roll over in bed, i just start in on myself. on answering interview questions i haven't yet been asked. on my grocery list. on your birthday card i still haven't sent. on what i'm going to say to the doctor. on trying to calculate the current status of my checking account. on whether i drink prune juice today. on the aches and wails of my body. on what he said to me yesterday that i'm still trying to understand. on this & that & everything in between. it's borderline insanity, i swear.

this morning i got up out of bed because i realized i was probably agitating paul with all my movements and heavy sighs. that and i was basically writing letters in my head so i figured i would get up and write something on paper. virtual paper.

i have a few thoughts: (ok we all know that's a lie. i have a million thoughts, but here is a few!)
- i wrote my friend an email this morning, & now that i read it again, i think it was actually an email to myself. and i quote: " i wish so much for you that you could find something satisfying, a position that you felt moved you forward. i wonder what words could be spoken to us in this season of "draught." your work is not your value. that's one that might hit me pretty hard. what else? am i spending my time listening for the wisdom of this season, or am i eagerly chattering, on and on and on, in my own head? i am so hard on myself----it's overwhelming at times."
- i have a friend name heather who i like very much. she's been an acquaintance for sometime now and i'm beginning to think we'd be very close if we were a bit more intentional. she said something about relationships last night that i hope i never forget: "each ebb is tough, but every time it makes the flow longer and smoother, and that much better." Alas, we must experience both!
- when i was composing letters in my head this morning (or was that my heart?) i wrote a little letter to paul about helping me out of the deep black boxes i tend to get trapped in---the stephanie box is what it's labeled on the outside, but of course, i can't see that because i'm deep within. anyway, i found myself asking paul if he'd be willing to climb down the internal ladder of that box & remind me it's not too deep or too wide or too scary. and it reminded me of a scene from the kite runner when the wealthy little brat boy and his dad really connect for the first time. they have escaped afghanistan, which is being taken over by communist USSR and they are entering palestine via gasoline tank trunk. Rustic for this pretty little boy. Well, as the boy is climbing down the ladder, the dad collects what will be his final specimen of afghani soil---it's a beautiful moment for him, and then, he follows his son down into the belly of the tank, and the boy rests his head on the father's leg, complaining of the suffocating smell of fumes, and the father places his "indiglo" watch before the child's face and holds onto him tightly and says: "i'm right here. don't forget, don't be scared, i am right here." then he asks the boy to recite some Rumi to sooth them both.

i tell you this story for a few reasons. perhaps we all need a person in our life with an indiglo watch and the confidence that we will find our feet on the ground again; someone who sees us, even in dark spaces. perhaps we need a companion when we fall too deeply within ourselves to still have perspective and love at the capacity in which we need it. yep, i said it, we need love. i will be the first to admit it. and most of the time, we need love right where we are, not where we should be, or have been, or might be in some distant future day. right here. right in this black box. come down here, please. remind me that it's not too deep or too wide or too fumigated, even for me.

thank you. thank you. such gratitude i have for you.

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