Beautiful Truth

The Invitation

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.


It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.


It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain. I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it.


I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic, to remember the limitations of being human.


It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another in order to be true to yourself; if you can hear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul; if you can be faithless and there for trustworthy.


I want to know if you can see beauty, even when it’s not pretty, every day, and if you can source your own life from its presence.


I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, "YES!"

It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up, after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done to feed the children.


It doesn’t interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.


It doesn’t matter to me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you, from the inside, when all else falls away.


I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.


--Oriah Mountain Dreamer

Some Unlikely Wisdom

Something happens to many in my generation upon turning 25. Apparently, it's the new crisis age that demands self evaluation and bouts of irrationality. Today, however, in the midst of struggling through another day of nothing, I had what can only be best described as an epiphany of sorts. I remembered a conversation in which I said something to the effect of….I'm not sure when I'll ever feel like I'm grown and have it all sorted out. Hell, most days I still see myself as that seventeen year old kid, with more money and not living at home. So the question became….when do we grow up, when does "real life" start, when does all this work and all these plans mean anything?

I spend most days looking forward to the evenings. I spend most work days looking forward to the weekends. I spend most weeks as countdowns to the next big trip or event or pay day. I spend most months at markers between birthdays and holidays. If I can get through today, then tonight will be good. If I can make it through the week, Sunday will be great. Once winter is over, then I can enjoy the outdoors again.

And really, it's bigger than that for all of us, isn't it? When I find my dream job, then life will really start. Maybe if I get married, then life starts and I'll feel like an adult. Someday when I have a family then everything will be in place. Once I get out of school, then I can get around to my goals. Ask anyone who has children…..they want the family, then they want the babies to be older so they can interact more, then just let us get through their teens, and so on. One day you wake up and that baby is 21 and has something like a life of their own and you wonder where all the time went.

We spend most of our lives looking forward to the benchmark events that we think will finally bring about the happiness we've been searching for. But the reality is, I think, that happiness is laced throughout the journey through those events. I spent far too much of my teens thinking I'd finally be happier once I was out of the house and on my own. Now I look back and realize there are so many things I could have enjoyed more had I taken the time to find happiness in the experiences I was in the middle of. Not that I had a miserable adolescence. Far from it. I've been lucky in a lot of ways. But how much more robust could all of that been had I not been so pre-occupied with what comes next?

So, now the hard part. I know what I should be doing, but how to execute? And even more challenging, how do I find anything worth caring about from nine to five?

We shall see…

What is Real

Of course everyone is talking about basically one thing right now. It's sad, and it's a loss. But, thousands of people die every day, and many of these are preventable. I'm not here to re-hash rumors and gossip about the situation. But I would like to focus on a couple of things:

Every. Life. Matters.

Read that again.

Life is fragile. Death is real. Pain is real. Life is hard.

There are few things that ease that kind of pain. But I've found that, as much as I hate to admit it, I'm comforted by something I learned years ago in church. And that's love and the power it holds over our lives. People often re-live their most painful moments over and over again. They get stuck there. A heart breaks and can't be fixed with a couple of words or sentiments. Love isn't easy, nor is it cheap. It's one of the greatest things that can happen in this world, and it's priceless. Again, it isn't easy. It's always a fight. Either to hold on at all costs or the deeper pain of just letting it go. I still haven't fully learned which is best. But here's the truth: it's still worth it. The possibility that love is real and tangible is worth fighting for.

I don't know the details of today's "top story" and this isn't where I'd like to speculate. But I do know this….

We are still here, you and me. And the real question is what we do with that truth. What do we do with the life we still have and the air that's still in our lungs?

We are certainly strong. But we are also certainly fragile. Please be careful…with yourselves and with each other.

Control....Under Glass on a Silver Platter

How altruistic.

Lessons that I (and others) have tried to pound into my head for years……trust yourself, follow your instincts, guide your destiny, make wise choices, learn from your mistakes.

Always, always go out the window. Generally because I can't simply accomplish the easiest one. Learn. From. Your. Mistakes. I think that, somewhere, if I could just do that, the rest would come to me more easily.

Advice, when unsolicited and free, is generally worth exactly what you gave for it. The good stuff is what you get when you swallow your pride and ask for help….which I'm also not very good at doing, at all. That free advice, many times, is of little help and, more times, puts one is worse position than the freefall at which one started.

But…..it's easier than original thought and true self evaluation, isn't it? And it oh-so-conveniently relieves oneself of personal responsibility. My boss told me to do it, my friend thought this would be a good idea, it's the way my family has always done it, it worked last time. And with the removal of personal responsibility comes the removal of personal freedom and identity. Those choices belong to the others, not you. Oh, and it didn't work last time, did it?

Fast forward a bit and you're left doing a brief, yet horrifying survey of your existence and wondering how the hell you ended up here. What happened? There's a struggle to identify that one, defining moment where everything started to unravel. But that moment is nowhere to be found. Because it doesn't exist. Instead, there are smaller, seemingly insignificant moments that, when strung together, offer a sobering explanation. But wait, those moments were orchestrated by other people, weren't they? Then it's not your fault, but life dealt you this crappy hand that you've, ahem, "played to the best of your ability."

Bullshit.

Refer back to lack of responsibility and, in turn, freedom.

It then serves to reason that the truly successful, and happy, people in this world were able to do something different. Read that again. Happy. They found their direction and followed it, unapologetic-ally. They controlled what happened to their lives and how they responded to the few things they could not. The idea certainly has merit.

Recap and a Look Forward

Here is where I wax sentimental. So if you want nothing to do with any of it, I suggest you stop reading now and do something useful with your life.

This year was a roller coaster....full of small victories and excruciating pain. We lost Stuart....my mentor and one of the best men I've ever known. I still miss you, and I'm certain I always will. We lost others whom I hadn't spoken to in years, but who were integral parts in making me who I am today. You will not be forgotten.
I managed to fuck up a relationship that I could have instead made better. I've wondered if there was more I could have done, sacrificed, accepted, changed, or felt. But in the end, I gave up. I wish I had something better to say, other than I'm sorry. I hope that with time we can move past this, but more than that I hope you find what makes you happy. I wish I could have handled things differently. But you know, better than anyone, that I have to do things my way....which is usually the hardest way possible.
I found out that my mother is, quite literally, dying right in front of me and there's nothing I can do about it. I wish we'd been closer as I grew up, and that you'd told me what was going on six years ago when I could have been a better daughter. I know you're always trying to protect me, and I hope I can forgive you before it's too late. I'm trying.
My job took a spectacular nose dive into depths of stupid I didn't know existed until now. But now I find out how much I've really learned in my time there and what I'm really capable of once I know where I'm going.
But there was also some good. Here's to small victories for many, the facing and conquering of personal fears and demons, and the accomplishing of personal goals. Three long time friends welcomed new babies. Anniversaries were celebrated by many. I know it's early, but I'm so proud of you guys for following your hearts and having the strength and courage to see it through to this point.

But now, looking forward.....

This year has already, it seems, been ordained as a year of change. Here is where I find out what I really want, pinpoint my passion, and what I want to be when I grow up. I'm certain that my job, living situation, and outlook on love, friendship, and what really matters will never be the same. I will find out what I want to do with my life, and who I want to do it with. Maybe not this year, but I now know more than ever what I don't want, which is a far better starting point than I've ever had. All the experiences of the past twelve months have given me a solid sense of direction in the midst of chaos that I could never have had without them.

Thank you from the deepest parts of my soul to those of you were there for me through all the hard times this year. It's easy to hang out when things are good. But it's immeasurably more meaningful when you're there for the tears. I love you guys.

This New Years Eve was, I think, one of the best on record. Despite being surrounded by strangers, I was comfortable. It was, for me, something out of the hidden chapters of a story I wish I'd written. But if it's any indication of what's coming up, I can't help but be excited.

A Bit of Light Reading

At the advice of a friend, I went back and read some of my previous writing. Nothing from here. From way back. Before MySpace and Facebook, before high speed internet was common, before I had real challenges, before I became so jaded.

It's amazing how important and critical every single thing can be when you're sixteen. High school bullshit is the end of the world. Your world. Which happens to revolve around that one guy that never deserved your attention, let alone your whole heart. But everything is new and crazy and wonderful and terrible and exciting and scary and it all matters.so.much. You know everything, and nothing. You know exactly who you are, but you're more lost than you'll ever be. Love is a storybook. It's poetry and beauty and late night phone calls that last until morning and tearing your heart out to make sure it's still beating. It's when part of you still believes everything ends up like the movies. I'm now convinced that Disney gave us unrealistic expectations of love. And Hollywood did nothing to correct the problem, but made it so much worse.

One entry reads as follows: "Things with *name removed to protect the guilty* are definitely over. Just admitting that kills me because of everything we went through. Looking back on how I felt about him just blows my mind. Part of me keeps hoping something amazing will happen and we'll get back together, forever this time, but I know that's stupid. He's hurt me so many times. But somewhere I know that if he showed up and wanted to try again, I would. Because I love him."

The second worst part of that entry is that it occurs nine months into my new relationship that I was so desperately trying to make into something is desperately wasn't. The absolute worst part of that entry was: but I love him. He lies to me about everything, but I love him. He disappears for days without a word, but I love him. He tells me I'm not pretty, really, that my red hair and great eyes are the only things that make me special, but I love him. When the fuck did love excuse horrible?

But he said he wanted me. So I stayed. I prayed that things would change and happily ever after would one day magically appear. I allowed myself to be in an emotionally unhealthy relationship because I was scared I wasn't worth enough without him. I believed I mattered more because he wanted me. I gave that authority away, to another person, which is just flat-out appalling, and far too common.

Did I say this was before I was jaded? I meant that I could pinpoint the moment it happened. For those of you who have wondered how the hell I got this way, there's your answer. There's always one that ruins it for everyone else. In preschool it's the kid who eats all the paste. In high school, it's the kid who somehow cheats on the open book test. In work environments, it's the person that always shows up late so everyone gets watched. In love, it's the first one who breaks your heart. The shining moments of glory and sins of the first love will forever be the standard by which all others are judged.

I counted at least four times in that particular journal, which spanned about a year and a half when I had "finally figured out what love was." And I'm pretty sure each time I had no fucking clue. And I'm even more sure that even now, almost ten years later, that I still really don't. Maybe it's not a constant. Maybe it's something that changes with you, and the key is finding that person who will weather those changes and still find ways to amaze you.

A Commentary on Abnormality

The weather today was crap-tastic. Actually, it's some of my favorite, under the right circumstances. Those being ones where I can stay in bed all day, watch movies and eat soup. However, today I had to be at work.

There's something surreal about knowing your job will end in exactly ten business days. Oh wait, make that nine. What little motivation once existed to be productive or even look busy is gone. One on Ones with your team? No point. Listen to calls? Not so much. Work on projects that have been in progress for months? Nope. Everyone is going to different teams and that stuff is being handed over to admins. So what's left? Production? Ha. Like we've had any deals to work in months. You can always just mess around online and check out web comics and the like. I found the end of the internet, by the way. It's here: http://satkobes.smspurga.ru/c2h4cn.html

Minor distractions throughout the day include, but are not limited to: meeting with not one, not two, but three directors and a manager just to see "how I'm doing." Nothing like reminding me repeatedly on a daily basis that my plethora of contributions don't mean a damn thing. Oh, then there's gossip about the party on Saturday. Who got trashed, who looked like shit, I can't believe they're married to that, did you notice so and so wasn't there.... And the beginning of what I fear will be a neverending line of conversations that start with "So, I've got this friend that you should meet. I think you guys would totally hit it off." Note to my friends: if you ever seriously do that to me, I may never forgive you.

So the resulting situation: I'm at work, I don't give a shit about my job, and I want to be at home.

And then.

I'm at home, with my bed sitting right there, looking kinda lonely and rejected. Why? Now I want nothing to do with bed. I want entertainment. Maybe it's because I wasted eight hours of my life today and don't want to do it anymore. NOW I want to be productive. This isn't new. My mother often lamented the fact that I am mostly nocturnal. So, a little from column A, a little from column B, but I still have nothing to do.

So, my observations.

1. The grass is not always greener somewhere else. It's human to never really be satisfied with where you are, but this is ridiculous. I know better. It will not be fun to call that person up and go hang out. I know I'll be miserable the entire time. Then I'm just using them for my own amusement, which isn't really a nice thing to do. And, since I wouldn't be having a good time, the bad Karma would be squandered on something that's not really worth it. But here's the progress I've made.....I resist the urge and don't call. Hooray for maturity.

2. I still, STILL, have not learned how to spend large amounts of time with myself. As an only child, you would think I'd be used to that. Did it all the time. Maybe that's why I hate it now. Maybe I just hate who I am now more than I did when I was a kiddo. I'm not so sure I'd be friends with me. And that, I've decided, is A Big Problem.

3. I will never understand why I want ice cream when it's freezing outside. Never.

4. I'm a spoiled brat.

5. I must be getting happier. I don't really have anything to write about. I've found that I can only be creative and expressive when I'm not doing so well. Here's where I apologize for wasting your time if you were hoping for something substantial. I'm taking requests, if anyone wants me to wax philosophical about their favorite topic or argument.