We Always Become

I recently discovered that I am the woman of my dreams; that I am my own outcome. What a relief, for me and everyone else involved, too.

I invite you to tally your day and make a list of how you are the man/woman of your dreams. Just today. Only include the things you did, or thought, or noticed – not the things you didn’t. You can forgive those ‘what ifs’ or those ‘should haves’ to simply being human. I promise you. The day could not have gone any other way than how it did.

So, tally up.

Here is how I was the woman of my dreams today:

 

I saw a movie with my mother. We shared popcorn, and a smile.

I wrote a kick-ass cover letter for a job application – straight from the heart.

I sang loudly in my car.*

I cried inside my open heart.

I took a walk along the river and paused: to watch without expecting to see. I bore witness to ducks chortling, and the sky changing.

The kick-ass cover letter I wrote was lost somewhere in Word, and I messed up the online application so I am locked out from applying for a dream job. I acknowledged that I am doing the best that I can. And that I will continue to, trusting that what comes back is exactly what needs to. Thank you.

I have my 12-gauge shotgun (Amelia), my yoga mat, and a pink hand-knit sweater in the backseat of my car.

In meditation, I felt that I am enough, right now. That despite popular opinion, there is nothing else to achieve, because then there would always be more (which is less).

I heard raw guitar, and saw hair dance, at my first metal show. I danced, and stomped (I’m not sure that is metal-dancing-etiquette), and felt soul. I felt how we are still one.

 

Bow-bom-wow.

 

This moment is the outcome. How full and how perfect –

 

yes, and thank you.

 

 

*(See Gaslight Anthem, 1,000 Years; or really the entire Get Hurt album)

Belonging

 

Holy shit, snow is white.

Snow is white.

This is where my more logical friends, who call my Pollyanna, will say that I’m going a little crazy.

 

Why didn’t the coast guard save the hippie?

He was too far out, maan.

 

Come, take a swim with me.

**

Trees are rooted. They dance, they bleed, some of their wounds never heal, rings of age define their growth. They are life, and life happens around them, and through and on them, too.

**

Snow falls on them, like it falls on the wild brown grass and the stocky sagebrush. Like it falls on the road, and the person walking on the side of the street, and the car driving through time.

It is white.

I hate winter. I started hating winter my freshman year of college in Vermont. When my first boyfriend dumped me for another girl, and I was trying to fit in, and it was -20 every day for a month, and the cold air seeped through my dorm room windows every day, and I couldn’t find belonging no matter where I reached – not at the kegger parties, nor singing to Disturbed with my roommate, nor the snowshoeing excursions, nor the classrooms where everyone had a hand up – not in any places where I thought I belonged.

**

White is my favorite color.

I stood on a bridge arching over a river a few weeks ago. There was ice, and snow, and a searingly cold breeze. I felt my skin prickle and – look at that – I felt. It wasn’t cold or unbearable or painful or thought. It was, just, … felt.

I love white because it is empty and full. It is a duality. It contains everything and nothing.

It is any possibility; it is no different than this moment; it is reality.

**

Every (this) moment is different.

Every (this) moment is beautiful.

Every (this) moment is infinite.

**

Look at that: Today, I love winter. 

**

Holy shit,

snow is white.

 

Snow is white.

 

 

A Thought

I was walking across the parking lot the other day, toward a Whole Foods. A bald man with a Dakine hoodie walked the other way toward me, holding a sandwich and laughing.

The distance between us collapsed and he looked at me, still grinning and amused. When we passed, I smiled and asked:

“What’s funny?”

He responded: “You must be thinking that I’m really hungry, to start eating my sandwich while walking to my car.”

The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind.

So, I had to laugh with him.