thecreatrix

2012-01-28T16:10:00.004-05:00

Now, weeks later still, I am aware of this idea of saying that I have something that I want. Extending my mind into the having experience of it. As I walked in the January yet springlike weather I let my mind go forth into the having of money to pursue whims and pleasures like paints, pants, coconut milk, and a vacation to puerto rico. It felt new like the idea of having in my mind first, was just breached. I can fan my mind out into some situation or circumstance. I can say yes I have this! Yes, I am now in Puerto Rico and I love the beach and the calm, warm air of this beautiful street and walkway where shoes are not necessary. I like the steady feeling of being here without doubt. The knowing that money comes easily to me. Not because I labor for it necessarily. I may do nothing at all for it but because I am aware with the tenderest tendrils, of having it. That deft experience of having it. I feel the sensation of having what I have asked for. I feel the avenue of its invention. why not? And I like the culture here and I like the culture of deciding that i have something. i am not waiting to get it right anymore, i am just having what I am wanting. It is the shortcut. It is the next step to simply have it first. There are so many areas where I can simply have what I want because I have stopped reaching forward, for the thought of not having or reacting to the circumstance that says no, it has not yet arrived. I think about it from the having perspective. I feel like I want to just write it over and over again, feeling it against my fingers for exactly what this could mean. It is such a nice way to interact with all those desired elements of myself. it is literally right here. In this word, in the reach of this next thought.

2012-01-27T13:07:00.003-05:00

viastylefiles

The next day, mom and I went on a walk down crane neck rd and then onto the beach. I saw a soccer ball. a good one. In perfect shape with stars all over it. Adidas. We kicked it ahead of us, alternating as we walked on the stones. There was a movement of a mass of starlings. When we got close to them sitting in a tree above our heads they giggled and tweeted so loudly i felt like I was in India when I was, years ago with Eden in the hotel across from the temple where the birds sat in trees squawking. There is a house being built, perhaps nearly finished on the Connecticut side of the peninsula of Crane neck. It is a massive and beautiful house. For a couple in their sixties. I imagined that mom and dad would be friends with them. I like the idea of them finding good, loving friends that are new. Friends that just appear, seemingly out of nowhere but who really arrive in response to a call made that is deliciously allowed. We walked back and past the path, down to the water so I could feel it. I wanted to get in the water but even though it is warm for January it is not warm. I kicked the soccer ball some more and then stopped and left it. I ran into a feeling that was fifteen or so years old. It was me in Long island having thoughts of freedom and I newly realized or remembered that it is all there is. my life is about these foot to ground moments when the moment itself, the architecture, the sturdy physicality of it, the perfect ring of life itself against this moment and the things that are happening within its giant container are revealed.It felt good to run into that thought. We went to flax pond. The interior of this waterway on Crane Neck and mom sat on a stump and I squatted and did some yoga positions. The moment kept expanding. we could see the house from almost all the places we walked. It was funny how big it was. Showy. The birds too. Flying, expanding and contracting as a unit, in flight. I had a strong thought about a given area of land being something owned communally by people who cared about that beautiful line that holds both human and nature. Not a nuisance to the neighbors but something people are excited to create and explore. A ridiculous dream. No. But something still coming into being. I saw that beautiful home,next to another one,Just as large as the other and thought. "what if there were these people who were friends and conscious and interested and okay with life happening on a continuum". I enjoyed the thought, the unfolding of it. I thought of that being why people move to Vermont and live in rural communities and also why Susie and Les decided to live on a commune. For the stillness and the there-ness of it. we walked home and talked briefly about what was in store for the next ten years. I realize I want to write more easily. More simply.

2012-01-17T09:46:00.000-05:00

viavineetkaur

I was just in NYC with my parents and sister. What a time! What stands out the most was the burgeoning expression of more of my emotions. Instead of trying to control my image, what people think of me, I just allow who I am to emerge moment by moment, as I feel it. If I am annoyed, I allow it. If I am happy, I allow it. It moves pretty quick. There is this beautiful whole, generally very delicious experience of me as a result. I hold onto what I don't want less. I approve of myself more and I see more of who I truly am.

Portlandia

2012-01-05T14:51:00.006-05:00

2011-12-29T08:51:00.001-05:00

viawierdfriends
I am getting ready for some special guests for the new year's week-end. I am thinking about the shape of this beautiful house that is often, nearly like a large boat and how it will hold all of us. I have noticed with previous guests that the two, large back bedrooms have a quality of being deep and far apart from one another. With the closets between them and the lake lapping and roaring behind they seem like they are both afloat in their own world of space despite being quite close together. I appreciate this secret space that is both surprising and delightful. My intention for these next two days of getting ready is to have fun and feel lucky. I want to be open to my beautiful friends. I anticipate feeling lots of love. Picture me having what I want. I know you will.

2011-12-27T09:54:00.002-05:00

viaffffound! Now, days later and after xmas. I am at the Patloves. We had the best food. xmas eve dinner included bean tacos from scarlet runner beans that Susie and Les grew, guacamole, Will's hot sauce, shredded lettuce from Susie's hot house garden and a vinegary cabbage salad that I realize I like to suck the taste of. It was really good. For xmas dinner we had lamb from the Patlove homestead with chimichurri, yorkshire pudding, potato and turnip au gratin with Gruyere cheese, Prosecco, Cabernet Sauvignon, etc. It was wonderful food. The cookies I brought in red tins with winter scenes were a hit. Chocolate dipped biscotti and almond crescents. I made the cardamom cake for xmas breakfast with two sticks of butter and a cup of coconut oil. It was good but the flavor of the cinnamon instead of cardamom reigned. I will work on that. I think the best moment was at the breakfast table. In a flash, I noticed that the perception of moments are open to being adjusted--from the inside, like a a cosmic motor of a grand clock. I can shift my perception of things like a deep micro turn. A great ease of once hidden movement is easily revealed--all the options of what I want to see and know and feel laid out like a shop selling the wares of mind and life. It was beautiful and brief. Life's skeleton, so clear.

2011-12-22T08:46:00.000-05:00

viaffffound
12/22/11
Here I am. The last dream I had when I went back to sleep just because I wanted to lay in bed longer involved Liza Minelli telling me that she was impressed with my art. Thanks Baby. Meanwhile, Eric was taking some dead leaves off of a hydrangea garland I had made. We were in a middle bedroom that you walked through to get to the farther part of the house, perhaps another bedroom. The bedspread was white. Now, awake and happy to be so, the sky is blue with clouds stretched almost lazily about. It is nearly Christmas. I love this week before Christmas, this doughy time that I can burrow into. I am often asking for help from my helpers, my dear non-physical friends. I feel so much more clearly the presence of this life support, really. It has always been there for me and now I get to allow it. Yes!

2011-12-20T17:41:00.002-05:00

I can post here any damn time I want, in any format. Instead of copying what i write in my journal to here, just write here. That sounds swell and good. it will, of course, be a little less controlled but what the hell, that is me. Cheers!

2011-10-23T11:16:00.000-04:00

10/23/11

viaffffound!

I want to acknowledge that I have not written here in a long while. But I want to, so I will again.

2011-08-01T11:34:00.000-04:00

viabliss

July 15/11
A day of my greatest good as Paul calls it. I can let go of the idea that I am tied up in a knot of frustration. It is not helping me anymore. It was feeling relieving for a few moments there but I am now getting a picture of what I want, allowing and having what I want easily. The smell of lilies and other, yet unknown flowers carried by the wind and sun is so pleasantly present right now in this summertime, this well of july that I have descended into. Slowly, like there was some afternoon I spent meandering down a sloping hill, now in the farthest land of July. I can untether myself from some supposed work. It is really inspiration, pleasurable movement and varied, spectacular specifics. Black raspberries are appearing fully ripe on wild bushes around the yard and along the bike path. I would like to make a good dessert for Susie and Les when they arrive tomorrow. They are coming to see the art show. I think they are going to love it. Maybe I will bring a drawing to cover the grey electrical box panel that is literally, oddly and yet not so visible to me, in the middle of my paintings. Hours later, I sank not just into July and summer itself but into impulses and activities that i had intended to have and do. I feel like time just swept by and I was filled by the delight of having interests and the freedom to pursue and play with them. It has been a seriously awesome morning. I have really made space for myself. I let myself do everything I wanted to so. I feel fulfilled. I posted on all three of my blogs; I watered plants; supported the tomato plants; made a chiropractic appointment; did yoga outside; listened to music; and hung out with the cat. The backdrop of feeling to the activities was one of ease, integrated wealth, and being psyched.

July 29/11
In my breezy, shaded room at noon. I can see the trees moving in the summer wind.

July 31/11
Back in my room, making decision after decision to feel better, more at ease. More loving to myself. I am celebrating the idea that I have clients who I can charge money for my services with such ease. I can ask! I like that I can form a thought into a physical question of someone. A specific asking of what I want...it is a wonderful, simple manifestation. I celebrate it. I celebrate my unique abilities. I see the value of doing just that. In this moment and in the big picture, from a distance. I am laying face down on my bed, lifting and lowering my lower leg. just flopping my foot against the soft foam of my bed. It feels good for my knees and all my joints.

2011-07-31T14:33:00.003-04:00

jerk off

Jason moved the inner dial of his locker as he eyed the girl down the row from him. The school light was bright, broad, and never welcoming first thing in the morning. Her name was Tory and her breasts were huge. She had been the first in their elementary school to wear a bra. Every guy’s mission the week she got it was to snap it and suggest that she wanted some. It was the first collective wave of hormones that any of them felt. It was bad for her, Jason assumed, but so good for them. He was sure there had to be something she got out of it. Look at her now, he thought, still sort of working it. Her white sweater was like a bunny and he wanted to pet it.
He had jerked off at home but he might go to the bathroom and do it again. He touched briefly on the subject of how many times a day with some guys: a lot was the overall norm. She was hot. There were definitely others, a lot of others. Almost every girl had something about her he wanted to whack off to. The shyness of some, bitchiness, even homeliness was hot. He couldn’t escape it.
This was the time for it he heard. His parents had given him a talk in eighth grade that was awful. How that was helpful, he didn’t know. They didn’t seem thrilled by it either. Just one of those mandatory things that parents and kids had to do, he concluded. Jason spotted Paul.
“Hey man, you skippin’? Jason asked as they grabbed hands in a routine shake.
“You have any?” Paul asked, suddenly rapt. “My parents totally took mine and I haven’t gotten more.”
“Yeah,” Jason said.
“Well then, let’s go,” Paul responded all a glow.
They went to the woods behind the second parking lot. Jake and Kim were there. The morning was cold and they all had hoods up around their ears. The air turned white as they exhaled. Jason took out his Marlboro Reds and gave one to Paul. The others were already set. Kim was cute but a little scrappy and tough for his taste. He would do it with her if he had to, of course.
“I am so tired,” Kim said. “I have gym first period. Ugh! I am really not interested in being a sweaty hog today, and it is like totally weird to take a shower in school.”
“I’ll take your shower,” Jake said. “Get me in the girl’s locker room and I’ll spend all day there. In fact, maybe I’ll live in a locker, be the girl’s locker room mascot.”
“Maybe you could be Miss Cucina’s little bitch, Jake?” Kim added, snickering. “She’d totally like put a leather leash on you and pet you during swim practice.”
“Oh yeah. I could keep her clean by licking her, maybe catch a taste of tit here and there. Hmm...yum.” Jake added laughing. The boys laughed and Jason imagined Jake actually doing it. He would be the one guy in school to try to go through with something like that.
“Freak,” Kim said as she stubbed out her cigarette. “I gotta go work it out,” she said as she mimed an aerobic arm movement.
Jason noticed the cover the woods provided, and the strong hiss of the trees against the wind. He felt connected to something in the outdoors. He imagined for a moment living only in the woods. He heard of a tracker who lived in the woods near his house, all year long, even in the winter. He killed animals to survive and drank raindrops off the leaves of trees and shrubs. He had even pulled some crazy stunt at a power plant that had previously polluted the river in town, and the authorities were never able to find him.
It was that kind of stuff that made life exciting. Jason went out and searched for tracks in the woods a few times. He thought he found some but not with the detail or the ease he expected. The smoke felt good in his lungs. It pumped him up a little, got his mind racing. He wanted a lot out of life. He wanted to feel like he did on the back of his uncle’s motorcycle: exhilarated. His uncle smoked, and Jason had asked him for one once. Uncle Jay just looked at him like, “uh, no, dumb ass, you’re never getting one from me.”
By the time he got to math class, he was ten minutes late. It wasn’t ideal but he brushed it off. Mrs. Dillard liked him and he could get away with a little here and there. She ignored his walk past, to his desk. She handed back tests. He got an A. He didn’t listen to most of what she said. At certain moments he got interested in an equation but for the most part he looked out the window and thought about girls, the woods, getting out on the road somehow. As he was leaving at the end of class, Mrs. Dillard asked him to stay back.
“Listen mister,” she said in a serious whisper. “This is the third time you have come late to this class and you smell like smoke. I am not going to let this go unnoticed next time. Do you understand?
“Yes” he answered with a sincere nod. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” He noticed that she appreciated something about him and he registered the feeling of being charming. Mrs. Dillard had a huge ass. She wore a flowery yellow dress and as she walked her ass moved on an axis that most other asses just couldn’t. Jason was awe struck by it. He would see what he could do about not being late to stay on good terms with the woman. In a quick wave of fatigue he imagined lying down on her, every area of her body the perfect cushion for a long nap. What period was left for him to arrive late to? Goddamn classes. They took up all his time and they weren’t even all that interesting.
As he walked out of room 302 he blindly walked into Karen. She was a year older and cute as hell. His arm touched her boob. Oh fuck, he thought and maybe said.
“Sorry,” he said as he bent down to pick up a piece of paper that had flown up and out of his stuff. She walked away without saying anything but a quick “whatever.” He watched her round the corner of the hallway in the perfect jeans. The girl had an unquestionable attitude, not like regular girls. What was it? He headed to the bathroom. He could still feel her breast on his arm, the exact quality of her sweater even through the canvas of his coat. He brushed a dark blonde mass of bangs out of his eyes and moved.
He hustled through thick crowds of people pushing to their next class and up to the bathroom on the fourth floor. It was usually quiet up there. He punched the door open to find Larry Johnson at the mirror. He was a huge boy who Jason could tell was on fourth floor for the privacy. He hoped that Larry would get the fuck out of there before he started. He couldn’t do it with him there. He heard him leave, the door close. The hush of the bathroom in the busy school in and of itself was titillating. He saw her profile as she rounded the corner. He had a photographic memory for every inch of a girl. He even saw her look at him as she rounded the corner─an invitation in her eye. Whoa! There was a spark that set off a feeling he had never had before. It was like a sharp hot that made him come earlier and harder than he ever had.
Oh Jesus. The bathroom stall was plain like an army hospital. He felt older for a second like he lived by himself or he was from another country. He cleaned up, pulled his pants on, washed his hands, and looked in the mirror. He looked littler than he remembered being, his black hoody and canvas coat hung on him like he’d shrunk. He didn’t have acne, he wasn’t fat or skinny. He could tell that some girls liked him. There was power and desire building into a small city of sexual commerce inside of him. Maybe this year he would do it for real. Maybe even have a girlfriend.
As he moved out of the bathroom he spotted Larry against the wall, down the hall, waiting. He mustn’t have finished. Poor guy. Jason stomped down four floors to his English class with Mr. Pomfrey. The guy was definitely gay. But it was cool. No one held that against him. He was enthusiastic; a pretty good teacher. Jason sat next to Paul. They slapped hands and slid into their desks. The class was reading Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad.
Jason had appreciated parts of it. It was about distortion of freedom and passion, he heard himself think.
“So, who wants to start with telling me what this story is about?” asked Mr. Pomfrey. He leaned casually against his desk, clearly interested. Jean, one of a few who answered often, especially in English class, raised her hand. Mr. Pomfrey paused and scanned for a new hand. Jason raised his hand on a distant whim.
“Yes, Jason. What did you think of it?” Mr. Pomfrey asked.
Jason felt odd and hot like his throat and mouth had become small. He could feel Paul smiling mockingly at him but he spoke because at that point he had to.
“I think it was about a man who had left society,” he squeaked at first. He cleared his throat and continued. “He did some awful things, but he touched things that the ones coming after him didn’t understand at all. He was kind of like a terrorist.” Jason spoke the last part in swift conclusion.
“Good. Yeah. Interesting,” Mr. Pomfrey said. He looked at him a little gleam to his eyes as he walked away from his desk and into a fuller discussion of the book. It had worked, Jason thought. What he said may have made sense. Paul looked at Jason and scrunched up his face and bobbled his head like “oh, look who’s so smart.” Jean gave him a questioning look of disapproval. He smirked with satisfaction at having said something appropriate at the right time in English class.
“Anyone else?’ Mr. Pomfrey asked? “Yes, Jean.”
“Yes. I think the story is about terrorism because Kurtz is abandoned by his people. His actions are unconsciously a result of questioning the purpose of war that he himself once employed. He turns to the voice of the wilderness for his answers and as a result he exhibits a mix of his own power and horror”
“Good.” Pomfrey says.
Jason tuned out the conversation about the book and got a flash of how smart Jean was. She is smart, and tight, he thought as he played out a scenario of seeing her as a sexy woman, in like Vegas or something. Maybe she’s in a woman’s business suit at the bar, secretly desperate to let it all hang out, and he is at a conference, a bra salesmen. He sits next to her and asks her if she wants a drink. Hours later they are in a hotel room and she is finally, worked up, hot, and wanting sex.
He looked over at her in the classroom, up front along the row of small desks. Who was he kidding, she’d never be seen in Vegas. Would he even go there, he wondered. His desk felt tight up against his body, his legs constrained. The veneer of its wooden top made him think of a high chair and baby food. Maybe on a motorcycle. Yeah, he could see himself riding in on a motorcycle, the dark city would welcome him with its lights aglow. He squinted and was back in the classroom. Mr. Pomfrey concluded class with a last, teacherly comment.
“It is your job to pick up the nuance of a story, guys. Start by feeling the concepts of the stories before the details. You are not going to like every book and that’s fine. The entirety of a book may not speak to you, but in some way it will, even if it’s in a sentence or an image.”
The bell rang, and he shouted over the friction of bags, notebook sand voices,
“It is your job to find that one little thing you like and make it bigger. If you haven’t finished the book, do. We start Romeo and Juliet on Wednesday.”
Jason had gym next. He thought of the girl’s locker room and imagined being there to see all the girls in various stages of undress. He thought of seeing Karen in there. Maybe he’d talk to her sometime? He had kissed four girls in his whole life including Jenny when he was three, and over the summer he almost felt a breast. Maybe Karen would be his next level? How could he meet her formerly, he wondered? He wasn’t comfortable talking to girls. Running into a girl was one thing. Initiating conversation was a whole other world. He’d have to play it cool, of course. She could be way out of his league. He couldn’t tell.
“Hey dude, you want to go outside before your next class?” Jake asked him as he mimed smoking.
“Sure,” Jason answered.
They went to the neighborhood across the street from school out the south entrance. He might miss a little of gym, but fuck it. They rolled on their skateboards and lit cigarettes mid-ride. Their jeans hung low and their legs dropped heavy into their boards. This was what they envisioned themselves being. They stopped up in the little park at the top of the street, went past the bench and into the wood there.
“You know that girl Karen? She’s a junior.” Jason asked.
“She hangs out with Dalia and that whole crew?” asked Jake.
“Yeah,” Jason answered.
“Yeah, I know her. In fact, I did her once this summer.” Jake retorted.
“What? No you didn’t, you liar. You did not?
“Yes I did, lil’ bitch.” Jake punctuated with a mock slap of Jason’s face.
“You have not done anyone and I know that for a fact.”
“You do not know that,” Jake continued with his fake attitude. “Alright, so I didn’t do her,” Jake said, his words long like silly putty and his eyes squinted, “but I might sometime soon, any day now.”
“Don’t do her, okay?” Jason said. “I am kind of interested and, in fact, I am staking my claim right now.” Jason said as he stood up from a squat.
“Whoa. Make a move today buddy. Let’s just say if you don’t make a move today, I will,” Jake answered, cigarette in his mouth and his hand reached out to seal the deal.
“You asshole. Today? I’m not ready to do it today.” Jake said as he got up and moved back toward the street.
“Today man, or I am going for her. I’m not kidding,” Jake’s head cocked to the side, “Let’s just say you’ve inspired me.”
“You shit. I got to go to gym now and because of you, you little prick, I have to figure a way to talk to this girl without sounding like a fuckin’ idiot. Thanks. Enjoy the rest of your smoke. No really, don’t get up” Jason said as he dropped his cigarette into a drain at the corner
“No problem buddy. I am on your side, just encouraging you to evolve, get out there, meet people,” Jake called from the woods.
Jason skated all the way to the front entrance of the school, put his board under his arm and ran to Gym. He was fifteen minutes late. He put on shorts and a t-shirt and met the rest of the class on the bench next to the basketball court.
“You’re in Shwartz,” Mr. Pallamo barked, “Center.”
“What? I’m not a center.” Jason responded.
“You’re late─you’re in. Anthony you’re out,” Pallamo confirmed as he motioned to Tony Morano, the center for the Varsity team. He jogged off and shot Jason a pitying glare.
Jason threw on a pinny and ran to play a sport that had always scared him. He felt naked in gym shorts as he ran uncomfortably around the court to get open. Mr. Pallamo yelled things at him and his body burned. Sneakers against the yellow wood made ridiculous sounds. Jill Pont was playing a forward position and kept trying to get him to play correctly. She threw him the ball and he dribbled it. He felt like he’d been drugged. Mr. Pallamo blew the whistle and he was called for both traveling and double dribbling.
Tyke Rogers, one of the tallest guys in school, was the other team’s center. He got the ball and made a fast break before either team knew what happened. Jason’s teammates were a mix of uninterested and annoyed kids who, with their body language, seemed to blame him for their discomfort. The game lasted an unreasonably long time. It was not where pleasured lived. This is hell─ where dreams are devastated, where life is pummeled. Gym ended and Mr. Pallamo took him aside, his stout frame and hairy legs exposed throughout the year.
“Okay mister. You want to screw up your life by smoking and skipping class or coming late, that’s your problem but when it is on my time, no way!” His sweaty forehead made him look presidential and oddly knowing.
Jason took a short, strong breath. It wasn’t a big deal to miss class, he thought. Goddamn teachers make it all so important and it’s fucking not. He couldn’t talk to Mr. Pallamo about it. He couldn’t or wouldn’t burden this guy with one more thing. It might make his head explode. Maybe he should push it and ask him about sex, right up front like. Buddy up to him; ask his advice on how to court a woman. Oh shit, Mr. Pallamo probably had a wife. Why wasn’t he sneaking off to have sex with her instead of wasting his time trying to get him in line? Was he going to get in real trouble for being late or could he continue to get away with things by not caring in the way the others did? It’s not like the kids who followed rules were any happier.
“It won’t happen again,” Jason said with his head down and his hair dangling in his face, his white body exposed more than seemed right. He felt younger than he was, or like he had overslept for a week or more.
“Your damn right it won’t or else there’ll be consequences.” Mr. Pallamo pushed.
Oh, c’mon, he thought. School sucked the desire, the interest, the inspiration out of him. He felt like he was folded inside one of his desks, unable to move. In the light of the matte gray of the lockers he changed back into his clothes, the surface of his skin still moist from the game. Greg Tolle elbowed him and said, “nice game” in a mocking tone as if it was his one chance to feel more powerful than he ever had. Greg was a dork, but with his friend Bob by his side, who appeared uncomfortable being in on anything, Greg was at the top of his game.
“Shut up, man” Jason said back to Greg.
“No, you shut up, burner. At least I come to class on time,” Greg said as his curly hair wobbled with conviction. Bob lingered at the end of the row of lockers and watched his shoes.
It was time for lunch, and Jason moved slowly like an animal at the zoo. Was it even worth seeking this Karen girl out? Maybe she wasn’t even all that hot in the first place? His mind moved like cement and it felt like all he could do was complain about some ethereal lack of freedom. He ambled to the wide steps that led up to the library adjacent to the descending steps of the cafeteria. At the sight of the steps he lit up. It was rumored that two juniors, Joan and John actually had sex in the cafeteria during second period the week before. Joan was hot too, Jewish hot. Every time he really thought of it, he could barely believe that the miracle of sex existed. He would have to pursue Karen or else Jake would, simply for its prank value.
Down in the cafeteria, Jason found Paul and Big Don and the three of them got their usual odd mix of a meal: cookies and orange juice. They went outside. The sky was clear. They sat on the curved stone bench that enclosed the outside eating area. Groups of kids sat at tables and for a moment Jason thought of the place as an outside café in Switzerland he went to last February with his parents. The playing fields were close by and the green of the soccer field was wet with a sogginess that had earlier been frosty. The sun was warm for November. Jason scanned anxiously for Karen. She was a junior. She could have the rest of the day off for all he knew.
“What are you guys doing this week-end,” Big Don asked.
“I’m going to this all-day fucking seminar called Open Heart thing that my dad is making me do,” Paul said. “He found my cigarettes and now he feels like we have to heal, make a connection, something. I really don’t know,” he said as his eyes reared open in exasperation. “It is ridiculous. Speaking of cigarettes, can I have one Jason?” he asked. He slumped forward a little as though someone might have heard.
“Whoa. That’s really crazy. I hope you don’t get brainwashed,” Big Don said. A strong, cool wind came through the eating area as the first of a line of clouds came in to cover the sun. Napkins flew off a table and a few groups put their collars up. Others went inside.
Unchanged by the shift, in just his extra large T shirt, Big Don said, “We are having my parent’s 25th wedding anniversary this week-end and I have like fifty cousins, aunts and uncles that are coming and their all staying in our house. I am sharing a bed with my brother and it is not going to be pretty. It is going to be insane.” He shook his thick head side to side in consternation.
As they walked toward the second parking lot they spotted Mr. Pratt, their intro to biology teacher. He was standing near the entrance into the woods, oafish, and menacing.
“Fuck. What do we do? We can’t get in there with him standing right there,” Paul complained.
“We are going to have to off him,” Jason played. “Today, Mr. Pratt goes down” as he galloped side-to-side behind an oak tree and pretended to take aim.
“Dude, this is serious. If I don’t get that smoke in I am gonna kill someone. I need the tension release.”
“Paul, I think you might need to get laid; you seem really stressed,” Don laughed and put his hands to Paul’s shoulders. He pretended to give him a massage and smirked along with Jason.
“Get the fuck off me, dude. Shit!” He jerked Big Don’s hands off his shoulders. “Seriously, what are we going to do? That guy is just waiting to bust us.” Paul said.
“I have less than fifteen minutes. Let’s go up the stadium steps. We’ll jump the fence and get to the south entrance neighborhood.” Jason decided.
The three boys lumbered up the stadium steps as though gravity was something very foreign. Once at the top they scouted for the easiest exit. They decided upon a part of the fence that was warped; awkward but lower. Jason went first. He put on his gloves, stuck his wide toed boots in the small diamond holes of the fence, and hurled himself cleanly, up and over.
“Well, that was fun. It’s easy. You can do it,” Jason offered, surprised by his lightness.
Big Don went next. His big body made the fence dip even lower and as he made his way over, the pocket of his pants caught the wire and ripped.
“Shit. Not too bad though, considering what could have happened,” Big Don said as he landed with a thud and examined the damage. “Its all you, Paul. Don’t fuck it up.”
Paul scrambled up. He struggled the most out of the three as he changed his feet and hands up and tried to get the best hold.
“Shit, I’m scared.”
“C’mon Paul. We don’t have all day, buddy,” Jason said as he looked up and down the street they had come upon.
“They’re…they’re…they’re coming,” Jason suddenly stammered. His throat started to close as he thought about what he saw.
“They’re coming!” He said more surely and with the direct intention of getting Paul to hustle over the fence as he spotted girls back from lunch, heading up the street toward school. Paul didn’t know what Jason meant, and in a panic he somersaulted over the fence and got hooked by his sweatshirt. He landed on the ground but was unable to move from his spot. He was in shock. Jason could see as they came closer that the girl with the perfect jeans, Karen, was on of the girls. Oh my God, Jason thought as Paul jerked manically and tried to get free from the fence.
“Calm down,” said Big Don. “You need to get a hold of yourself.” He ripped Paul’s sweatshirt from the fence and took the hood completely off and into his hand. Big Don laughed heartily and in a high pitch for such a big guy. Jason was pale and unequipped to make his move. What would he say to her as she passed?
“Let’s go, Jesus, you guys, that was fucking traumatic. I am never climbing one of those things with that many jagged points again. I could’ve been punctured, and who is this they people? I thought there were zombies coming or something,” Paul rambled as he oriented back to the moment, the group of girls closer.
“Give me that,” Paul said to Big Don as he grabbed the detached hood. “Don’t you think that was a tad hasty?”
“Whatever. You were freaking out. It was the best I could do.”
“Shut up you guys. I need to ask this girl coming toward us out or Jake is going to, and I think I am going to do her soon,” Jason said. He squeezed the words out between his tight lips.
“Do her? What?” Big Don said.
“Shut the fuck up right now, dude,” as the girls came even closer, “Yes, do her,” Jason hissed.
“Afternoon ladies,” Big Don said easily.
“Afternoon boys,” Karen melodically chanted. “Have a successful venture over the fence? Just don’t get caught,” she said as she eyed Jason, seemingly aware of their earlier interaction.
It was three on three and Jason didn’t know how to act, what to offer or what to say. The boys stood like they should be whistling and averting their eyes as the group of three girls passed, but instead they stared dumbly and Karen looked back and stopped and said, “What?”
“What?” Jason said back as an odd echo to her what.
“You were staring at me like you were retarded and I am wondering what you want.” She said
Big Don and Paul looked at each other with wide eyes nearly ready to pop into naughty laughter.
“Uh...I...um...you want to go out sometime, maybe this week-end? Saturday?” Jason blurted. That was it, he thought. The two other girls had the vibe of “oh my god, let’s go” and the space of the street became short and long simultaneously. He felt hot again with the attention focused on him. Had he really asked her out? Why didn’t she speak?
She looked him up and down, her hips perfectly rounded in her pants. They had a future, he could tell. Her eyes went from disapproving to a look of resignation. She kind of wanted him, he thought. Like he was weird and that was interesting. Their connection was taking longer to establish than anyone seemed comfortable with.
“Hey, ahh...Jason, you want to go and have that...ahh...you know?” stammered Paul as he jerked his head to the side. He clearly wanted to have the smoke he had journeyed so far for.
“Give it a second,” Big Don whispered.
Like he was just out of a trance, Jason said, “Yeah. Okay Paul, let’s go have that smoke. Karen, I’m going to give you my number if you want to go out this week-end or some other time. Just give me a call.” He handed her the piece of paper he had just written on and again felt the possibility of their connection.
She grabbed the paper, her friends already headed back up toward the school. Jason was doing his best to contain the energy of the interchange without blowing it, and he was right on that edge.
“I’ll think about it,” she said as she headed off up the street, her head still turned toward him, waiting for a move that would give her a definite reason to say yes or no. And then she turned fully as she swaggered like she owned the street, the school, maybe even the town.
Once she was up over the first lip of the long street, Big Don shoved Jason hard and said, “yeah, you motherfuckin’ daddy. She sure as hell was thinking about it.”
“Fuck. Jesus. I don’t even know what happened there,” Jason said as they started moving.
“She is like a whole other category of girl. I gave her my number, right? That happened.”
“Alright, give me a smoke, now!” Paul said. “I’m just gonna smoke on the street. I can’t wait. That almost put me completely over the edge.”
Jason handed him the whole pack. He had just burned through the center of the sun. He might never be the same. His physiology had changed. It was possible that his dick was bigger, his chest hair more ready to grow. He had become an inch more a man than he had been that morning, even five minutes prior. Life was magic and under his control. He opened the top couple buttons of his canvas coat.
“You have a light?” Paul asked manically.
Jason handed over his lighter. The boys jogged to keep up with Jason’s newly confident pace. As they topped the first slope of the street, Paul lit his cigarette and they could see Mr. Asbury, the school’s infamous chemistry teacher as he rounded the first bend.
“Put it out Paul,” Big Don commanded.
“Oh shit, I just got it lit, man.” He bellyached. Paul dragged on it a quick two times and threw it through one of the holes of the cagey fence.
“Mr. Asbury, how’s it hanging?” Jason initiated with a revived demeanor as the teacher approached
“Boys,” his head nodded formally. “Heading to class? You don’t want to be late, do you?” Mr. Asbury asked. He looked at his watch. His glasses stretched widely around each eye, and his slim fitting gray suit, unflinchingly conservative, made him seem even odder than expected. Mr. Asbury rushed past them as though suddenly he was not a teacher but am international man of mystery. He even trotted away a little further down and then crossed the street nearly out of view
“Maybe he’s got a hot date?” Paul said.
They watched him run up the hill perpendicular to School Street and then a distant light flash as he hunched over like he had just lit a cigarette.
“Whoa! We don’t have to worry about getting caught smoking by Mr. Asbury now do we?” Big Don said, squinting as to confirm the event as fact.
They would all probably have him for chemistry next year. That was the class Jason could anticipate cutting into with extracurricular activities of whatever level of sex, drugs and rock and roll he was up to at the moment. Freedom was undeniable from his new vantage point. Everything he wanted was at least a possibility and whether Karen called him or not, that wasn’t the point. He had balls enough to ask, and he was going to ride the wave.
The boys skipped an extended smoke to get to class approximately on time. Paul admitted to feeling better after his few, quick drags. The three of them walked in equal stride. Spanish class was next, and Jason thought of his hot Spanish teacher, Ms. Margoles in her knee length skirts with a slit up the back. She hadn’t a clue what it did to them. Talk about hot for teacher. Jason would spend class imagining a scene. Mexican Riviera, Karen in a bikini on the beach where the waves roll in. He would watch her every little move. He would think about being lucky, and she would turn around and give him that look, that look that gave boys something to reach for.

2011-07-19T12:26:00.000-04:00

viatumblr

7/11/11
Monday. Another steamy day--just the way I like it. I was so easily eager and happy on my walk as I almost always am at 9 in the morning. Everything possible. I did just what i wanted to when I got home. Updated my blog and transcribed my writing onto the computer and sent it all to Annie. I was hungry for lunch by the time Will got home at 10:45 after having gotten a tooth pulled. I wandered around a bit, trying to unhook from the idea that there is something specific I need to do while fishing for some inspiration. By the time I got on the money integration call I was right in the center of it all. I asked my question or made my comment first. It was about being at work and feeling angry and finally allowing it. Not trying to cover it up allowed me to feel relief. That general feeling of truly letting go. Feeling re-infused with power and grace. I got more of the story as I chatted with Paul about it. I realize that as I focus on what I prefer, law of attraction does the work of arranging my life into just what I have been asking for. Supreme delight! I pass though the anger, a big fat dose of it, unscathed, and certainly better for it. I really do feel the relief and the ease of knowing more and more what I want, like, appreciate. Ahh...

2011-07-15T10:54:00.001-04:00

viaffffound!

Sleep

The thin sheet wrapped around her legs like a comfortable, white cocoon. On her side, she looked liked a caterpillar. The morning had come, she could tell, because she was awake and thinking. Being asleep could still pull her into itself though. An ice cream truck on a beach, in someplace like LA, and a bum nearby asking for ice cream from a cute girl serving it, and the feeling was of a cross current of being little and happy but also possibly out of control or tempted. It made her only slightly mad as she moved into her legs that were barely hers, still so early.
Bugs fussed against the brightening sun with persistent sound, and from her sleep she could hear them. The room was intermittently dark and light with the flap of the curtain. Chris had left a few hours earlier for work, and she slept on, in a period where sleeping on was heavy, but also light, in a way that nothing could be as precisely as it was in that moment. It was comfortable. She thought of Chris, already gone to work, and the haircut she had given him last night. It was interesting how it had happened.
She had gotten home later than she expected with all the groceries in paper bags held tight against her body. She just barely got into the door without dropping everything, and when she got in, candles were lit in three corners of the front room. Chris set them up, she thought.
It was so quiet, and when he turned to look at her through the framed opening, from the dining room table he said, “She’s gone and I am okay with it.”
“Who’s gone?” Cecilia asked as she let the paper bags down along her side and onto the floor.
“Ms. Prastle. You know, the woman who owns…owned...the grocery store on ninth street that I love so much. She died. I found out this morning. I’ve made a lot of progress since then. I can still kind of feel her.”
She gave a pouting, “I’m sorry” look to him, having heard the stories of daily meetings with the woman he loved, like she was his own grandmother. He came over to get the bags.
“The funeral is on the ninth. Will you come?” he asked.
She nodded yes, her eyes on him to let him know, of course.
“What’d you get?” he asked as he peered inside.
“Fish! We can celebrate her life...her death...or whatever all this is…with fish. Yeah? “She said.
He moved slowly into hug her, and she knew her very emotional husband would be with this for a while, rarely able to take things lightly. His blue linen shirt was predictably damp with sweat when she touched his back. Cecilia watched his face and saw the light reflected in his eyes, just a little buried back in the dark brown of questioning.
They cooked buttery white fish with lemon. The spinach shrunk to almost nothing and it was delicious. There was couscous, and after dinner, chocolate. She noticed the sharp detail of eating. Once it was over though, she could kind of not handle anything. The candles still burned, as they offered their soothing glow. She watched them, silently, and she wanted them to tell her what to do next. She deferred to Chris. He had spread out across the couch. His position indicated he was just getting going into it all, some series of thoughts. He had feathered his nest and she knew he would be there all night, pouring over ideas. Organizing them like a wardrobe. Why did she want to kick things?
“I’m going running,” she said on a whim.
“What’s going on, you need anything from me?” he asked, apparently aware from the couch that he hadn’t really seen her yet.
“I’m mad,” she said.
“Okay,” he answered.
“I want to be more excited but I feel so out of it, and that pisses me off. Arrgghh! Why can’t I just relax and settle into some project or something? Goddamnit!”
“You want to cuddle a little?” he asked.
“yeeaaah,” she said long, and relieved.
She got on top of him and wanted to let go of all of her weight. He moved a little and then she adjusted, and they couldn’t quite get cuddly comfortable. She thought it might happen like that--so unable to please herself. He lay back on his side without her and she sat up. Cecelia let her face well with tears from disappointment, of not finding relief from some trouble within her. Some imperfection haunted the balance that would be enthusiasm if she wasn’t so out of sync--and so the relief of crying was helpful. Chris put his pure, loose hand on her back. He looked comfortable and she liked him so much for being there so often even if he couldn’t make it all different.
“I am either tired or wired,” she said.
“I’ve seen you feel balanced,” he reminded her.
She noticed that Chris’s body was easy, like he wasn’t fighting with it. He could do things, make things happen without moving, without talking while she felt she had to move around a lot to make anything happen. Lately, she was tired of it. Hurrying around wasn’t working after years of having done it so senselessly. At the grocery store she had walked right into a woman and made her drop a basket of blackberries. Cecilia had even stepped on a few once on the ground. She could see that the death of Mrs. Prastle was like a calling to Chris, into something way below the surface. Maybe she would follow.
“Yup,” she shot up, “I’m going running,” at once sure that anything other than full movement of her body would result in an intolerable frustration. I want to feel clarity she said on her trot down the stairs from the second floor apartment into the young night. The sensation was immediate. Out the door, she continued. Twilight was sure, and the sight of black trees against a glowing, deepening dark was instantly, and forever kind. She gave in quickly. She remembered nature’s gentle, immediate whip. Though she lived right inside the city, all trees, contact with anything green, blue, even pink or purple probably even orange, which was rough and simple, whatever grew or blew in, was nature. She hooked into it the second she allowed it.
Cecilia ran down the first block, past the local grocery where they would buy eggs, milk, butter, lottery tickets, and rent movies when they didn’t want to go far. Al, the owner, was a funny southern man. He always said the same, “thanks hon’” at the end of every purchase, and never really looked up, preoccupied with running a business it seemed, but sweet, she could see, all the same. Sometimes she wanted to smooth his sweaty hair over his bald spot, unzip his sweat suit, and pat his surely hairy chest to encourage him to relax. Just in her mind she would do it.
There was a little patch of woods to the left up ahead. Sometimes she imagined a fairy community living amidst the green of it. Big enough for all of them because they were small, and with a dark drain nearby, she imagined that their underground neighborhood extended for miles under the activity she could see.
Nature could collapse. The thought burst forth. It could defy the normal sense of a city, everlasting and imperturbable without a human perspective. She ran over a bridge that crossed a canal and felt the subtle bounce beneath her running shoes. Her thoughts were finally pliable and of the mystical scale that was her real life. Anything less was just a glint of real life. But she couldn’t always maintain the momentum of something larger. When set loose into the uncomfortable jungle of the lesser ecstasies she felt locked out from even that little glint. Hardly front page headlines, she took to unhooking from the rigor of being upwardly mobile. She had recently quit her job. She needed to take off, get it straight again, sleep. Stop trying so hard.
She had on her running clothes: a light reflective shirt that shimmered in the glare of car traffic. She also blended into the night with dark, tight, breathable pants, as she moved from street to sidewalk depending on the character of the neighborhood. She would occasionally mitigate running into skipping or galloping, slipping through slender spaces between parked cars at a moment’s notice.
Night had become its darkest, and the city, it’s brightest, in selective sections. Her body was one idea, totally unified. How could she ever go back? She noticed the cautious walk of an elderly woman near a stoop up ahead, bent forward. As she ran by she saw that it wasn’t a woman at all but a middle-aged man, who, as she passed, smiled, and flashed a shiny penny he had apparently just found.
The never-ending surprises were not to be stopped, not by anybody. She could coordinate with ones as perfect as the penny man or as seemingly bumbling as the woman with the blackberries, and the only difference was how she felt. Lucky or stupid, she created the spirit of events. Could she finally get that? Her breath was invigorating, and temporary moments of fatigue as she ascended or turned a corner were brief.
Cecilia rounded the last corner and was on the final section of her regular running loop. She would arrive home and Chris would be in the same place, motionless and self absorbed, as he should be, of course. And she would maybe do the dishes, find something on TV, do push-ups, anything to finish up the day fully before bed. Outside the apartment, a locust tree hung heavy with orange flower-like blooms. She picked one, hanging bouquet. Her heart was full of blood and energy and calm as she unlocked and opened the door to the apartment. She spotted a flash of Chris’s bear body move past the rectangular window of the dining room to sit at the table in what they affectionately referred to as the “chow house”, next to the kitchen.
“Will you cut my hair?” he asked. “I want you to just really go for it. If you feel like going nuts, do it. I am completely open to it.” He sat, facing away from the kitchen, at the table, with a towel wrapped around his shoulders. Cecilia looked at him as he sat there, determined to receive.
“I’ve got a spray bottle and everything so just hose me down and go.”
“Did you find the hair scissors?” she asked.
“Yes, of course. This is the real deal, Ceil’.”
She walked to him, each step closer to her new subject of attention. She took off her sweaty, reflective shirt; put the flowers on the table; looked at his hair, picked at it, just in a bra. She pulled his hair on the left side up into her fingers and snipped.
“You really don’t care what it looks like?” she asked.
“Yeah I care what it looks like but I know from how I am feeling that you are going to be inspired to greatness,” he answered.
“Okay,” she said. She snipped more, in tiny bits only, afraid of making a larger commitment.
“Oh, c’mon, go for it,” Chris said, determined to have something really happen. He smacked her leg enthusiastically like a horse flank.
“Alright,” she said as she lifted her legs, toes to the floor, one foot at a time.
“Yeah, do your excitement dance.”
She cut one whole side short and then moved to the other. She always wanted to give Chris a mohawk. She got the buzzer and without a word of exchange buzzed the sides to a half an inch; a soft Mohawk where the hair in the middle lay to one side. With his tempered style─ it would be just what everybody needed. She left his hair longer in the front and on top. The back part, near the crown of his head fanned out like a male bird’s feathers, ready to mate.
She finished. She pulled the towel off his shoulder and brushed hair off of him. She turned him around, took her hands to his cheeks, and kissed him.
“I hope you like it,” she said as she looked into the rich dark of one eye and then the other.
He touched his head, and fingered the strange textures. His eyes widened and lips turned in with fear.
“Me too,” he said. He got up to check himself in the mirror. She stayed behind.
“Oh shit! It’s crazy,” he said.
Cecilia sat at the table and wondered if he hated his hair or if the feeling of something new was the thrill he had anticipated. She felt free not to care about his reaction. In fact, she was softly enthralled by it all, and sat with her thoughts open like a deck of cards across her mind. The dining room seemed like a holy place, meant only to please its occupants. How had she not known it like that before? Her arms were crossed and her fingers sunk into her damp skin on either side of her breasts. She took a breath that inflated her chest. Her ribs expanded, and her bra became unreasonably tight. She unhooked it and wriggled out of it.
“So do you like it or what?” she asked like an eleven year old might, not quite caring about anyone else. She stood up and leaned against a wall in the dining room. She brought her face to her hand, still sweaty, looking nowhere. And then he appeared, slowly at first, in just his boxers─ the ones she had bought him for his thirty fourth birthday. It was him. It was the him that would appear out of the bathroom, from a night’s sleep, after a party, into her life.
“Com’ere,” he said, his body like a vacuum.
She moved herself right up against him. Her face came close and they smiled and kissed each other, thirsty deer at a brook.
“You love it?” she asked easily. “Your hair?”
“No, I hate it,” he said, “but I love you.”
“You don’t really hate it honey,” she said as she looked into his eyes, sweet in the way she could be. Cecilia touched his face.
“You are just not comfortable looking like a freak, are you?”
“No...but I am a freak…you know?” he said normally, beautifully.
She liked how he towered over and around her. He was complete, like an animal. And all the moments that she had loved him slapped together, and landed into her body. It was easy to make love up against the wall for twenty minutes or so. They changed positions only slightly, and saw clearly into one another without static. Cecilia remembered the most ordinary and comprehensive sense of herself. She was a lover, comfortable with love. She came with love, a focused floodlight, and always brighter on the heels of something not quite right.
She would have to make peace with that, perhaps, over and over again until it was something she could take for granted. She would not push so hard next time. Sleep longer and more easily in the morning, she remembered herself thinking. And there she lay, more comfortable upon awakening than she had the day before; the soft bed, a sure thing. Could she lie there, drifting in and out for hours? Perhaps not. But maybe even just for now, she would release back into the pleasure of something so clearly comfortable. Sleep, like love for Chris, enduring and definite, could be her friend. The spaces of dreams would show her the way.

2011-07-11T10:41:00.000-04:00

7/4/11
Last night after much discussion and going back and forth we went to the fireworks on top of Jake and Kristen’s roof. Eric was there but no Chris and Hiroka. The fireworks were beautiful and I did a lot of oohing and ahhing and I love you to particularly designed fireworks. There was a new kind that produced maybe 5 to 7 small fireworks that lingered as an image and then floated for awhile, all together. Eerie and beautiful. We woke at 10 am today. I had the slap pie that we made last night for a 2nd breakfast. Blueberries, strawberries and rhubarb with a mixed grain crust on top. Last night, the crust was the consistency of hot cereal but since it has been in the fridge for the night it hardened and formed up properly. I awoke to the daily rampage for the July wealth integration. It was a nice way to awaken. Just sitting on a blue, heavenly lounge chair bouncing a bit, listening to Paul talk about the normality of being wealthy now.

7/8/11
At the gallery for my shift this hot afternoon. I slept strangely last night, the cat pinning me to a certain spot with his long, wide body. A dream about pounding some bald person’s head over and over again in deep anger at not getting what I want. I woke up, angry at the sun for being so persistent. Oh well. I kept going back to sleep and allowing it to be a new, nearly refreshing starting place—even as I complained, I noticed a newness, a resignation. A thorough realization that I feel it is true that I do not know how to make money in a way that suits my personality despite all my fits and starts. So sweet and sincere. The true awareness that here I am, and it is fine…or it just is.

7/10/11
Sunday. The most beautiful day of the lilies blooming so far, and perhaps, ever. After a full day relaxing more around what-is in a way that I don’t think I have thus far, I feel soft. I feel like I can move forward from here with less effort than has ever seemed to be required. Summer has officially become itself. I am here. I am thinking of the beach. When I think of what I want to do it often involves the beach. Jamie is going to her beach house in North Carolina. John has already left for his family house in Nantucket, and later this week Nick, John and other friends will go to camp on the lake. I am looking out on the lake. Doug and Christine’s American flag is flapping playfully in the breeze. One dream I had before I woke was that Lillie had taken pictures of herself and friends. Honest, innocent portraitures like each of us looked as a happy child.

2011-06-28T12:53:00.000-04:00

6/27/11

Just before the lilies bloom en force, a foggy, luscious morning and now a clearing, bright blue sky. I have my individual call with Paul this morning. I am excited to focus on pleasure. Inviting in the idea that I have already made a powerful decision for wealth and well being, over and over again. I love the feeling of clicking into place that such a thought brings. I feel the truth of it. The easy repetition of it. The newly available ease of remembering that I have made the decision to be wealthy, and so it is. It unfolds for me. Right now as I write these words I acknowledge that I did not always know how to write words or even form sentences. I am doing it now with regularity and ease. it feels really good and sincere to celebrate such an effortless feat.

6/28/11

Listening to Pavement, having heard Julia say she listened to them when we visited her in Montreal. I am also eating a strawberry rhubarb tart that Will made yesterday. It is really fucking good. A lot of buttery flavor. Made mostly with rice and teff flour. Very fine grained, unlike a wheat dough but good in a way that I didn't acknowledge fully last night when I ate it before we were going to watch Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1. We didn't end up watching it. We went outside and Will sat on the lawn while I raked the heavy top layer of cut grass into piles. Just a few layers of it since it is such a large lawn. I want to be at my center right now. In the middle of the summer. At the heart of this moment, of my love for my life, at the delicious understanding that all is well.

2011-06-27T11:32:00.000-04:00

Christina has an idea

Christina has an idea she has been working on for the past two days. There is a colored drawing of a boy cardinal. Picture his masked face and irreverent flittering─the rowdiness of his red feathers, his undulating whistle. He is the epitome of boy, somehow different than the rough masculine of the blue jay or the certain man caw of a crow. Christina rolls the thought back and forth across her mind, revels in the delicate control of thoughts. She can watch them expand like a pop-up book, more real than any others.
She lives in New York City and she has arrived to the retreat center just two days prior. It is a rustic setting in the Catskills. An early summer ease has set in. She has come with her friend Rebecca. They are both regulars to this kind of thing; reaching for revelation in an extended weekend’s time. Clearing the mind has made its way from a hobby to a rough riding passion. It starts and stops in jerks. She is here to point to the door of clarity and fortune. Can it be, Christina wonders?
At breakfast she uses the tongs to transport pieces of fruit to her plate. It is morning. She is on retreat. Her white pants are made of thin cotton and she wonders if anyone can see her underpants; and if so, what do they think of them, or her. Her underwear has a wide band and rides low on her small hips. They are tan and are probably not visible. She sits with Rebecca and two other men, Ben and Chris. There is immediately a sexual consideration. Not a tension necessarily, but a curiosity engendering desire between and within the sexes. This always happens.
Christina plays it cool, doesn’t show so much this time. It makes her smile because for the moment she knows she is not working sexy anymore than is naturally exuding from her. That is right. She eats a strawberry. It is fantastic; an expression of its fullest potential. She feels alone in her celebration of strawberry, rides that line of it being an act of independent, womanly beauty, and even dips it into cream. Chris sees her and is struck by it. The quintessential woman is, perhaps, what he is thinking. She struggles slightly with wanting to be wanted and then drops it. She sees Chris close up like a house in winter without her response and he seems only slightly embarrassed.
She drinks her black tea with honey and milk, the color of her skin. The windows are propped open, and the trees outside are dark green. Blooms are exotic, almost tropical despite being in and of the northeast. She eats yogurt and granola, breathes, and smiles freely at the two men and Rebecca. It is not her job to please others she thoughtfully remembers. There is a consistent temptation to amend everyone’s thoughts without knowing how. Each friend, stranger, man, woman desires a connectedness that elusively but truly originates from the inside. And so they are all there, rediscovering. They spend the rest of breakfast talking about assorted details of their New York lives.
In meditation of the first day she sits on a cushion in an open walled wooded cabin, up on a low ridge. The room is full of twenty participants. Each body a plot of land with neighboring plots all around. Rebecca sits across the room, somewhere out of sight. Christina is surrounded by a spectrum of men and women, eagerly seeking. How could we have lost this most basic connection? It seems illogical that the foundational premise of feeling comfortable with one’s self should be deferred for so long.
She stops thought. Her buttocks soften against the large, round pillow. It is time for calm. She opens and closes her eyes intermittently and it pleases her to choose the openness and then the closedness without the teacher telling her when. She inspects the details of each state for the sheer pleasure of it. In a moment of open eyes she watches a pair of cardinals. The girl seems womanlier than the boy manly. She considers boy, and a freedom he has to be unpolished and irreverent.
Freedom thrives in boys. It is like a boy as old as thirteen, perhaps even older, living in a man, has a reserve of playfulness that is unlike any other. Why is shethinking it? Boy is an archetype, not just man but boy too. Even for women, there is boy. It is a sparkling feeling that comes over her, of invention and peace. She can see an extended set of details about the presence of archetypes and she has added unto it. That first time of meditation, that first day, is the beginning of an idea.
The second day begins with little more than a struggle for clarity. She is back into assessing scenarios of how humans are disconnected, perhaps without purpose, and she feels unconsciously irritated. She sees many things, including Rebecca smiling, flirting with several men and Christina judges her. It doesn’t feel good to miss the movements of summer even for one moment of one day. The doorway to clarity is darkened, inaccessible, and in the back somewhere. She fights against the sunlight with its bright reach between branches and full leaves. She eats with Rebecca alone for lunch on the second day, and from an empty heart reproaches her for flirting with Tom.
“So what?” Rebecca asks.
“Well, we are at a retreat center. Don’t you think you could cool it just for the three days we are here?”
“What are you talking about? Are you serious?”
And it is clear that she is not at all clear but confused and a bit lonely.
“It’s only been two days and I actually kissed him...behind the yoga pavilion, Christina...last night, if you must know. Are you the slut police here to lock me up?” Rebecca asks with a wild expression, her hair frizzy and big from the heat of agitation.
Christina’s long, dark hair hangs heavy around her face. She feels a sudden desire for wildness and recognizes jealousy as tears pearl and stream down her face as they make subtle rivers through her make-up. She considers the value of her own wild nature.
“Oh shit...I’m sorry,” Christina says as she moves her hand roughly against her nose. “I am really pissed today and I don’t even know why. It’s this feeling...of being...oh fuck...” she says disappointedly.
She looks at Rebecca, into her multi-colored gem eyes. They are encouraging.
“I don’t feel free like I want to.” Christina says.
It is normal in this context to cry with a friend, even with a new stranger, away from the rigor of one’s daily life. She notices passersby, understanding. Perhaps even envious of some discovery or emotional movement she is making. Rebecca touches Christina’s leg and the two women assume the female posture, allowing emotion room to roam. As she lets the tears of feeling lonely, not for her man at home or anyone but for the most direct connection to herself, the sun in patterns through the dark hall catch her attention. After ten minutes of tears, the two of them assuredly hold hands and walk out into the bright sun.
There are groups of people stretching out along the sloping lawn in various positions, enjoying the sun. It looks natural and at once staged like it is a theater of people, practicing happy. It is the layer of distance from full throttle joy that she feels momentarily annoyed by. The two women assume their sunning stances. Christina is on her back with her knees bent, a mint green tank top, and off-white button down sweater against the grass.
She relaxes into her breath and considers the possibility of being purely selfish. What would that be like and could it satisfy? It’s all about how I feel, she reminds herself, each breath finally able to touch inside all the cells of her body. She can feel Rebecca close. She is so beautiful, Christina notices─with her olive colored, vanilla scented skin. How does she do that? Infuse her skin with such exquisitely orchestrated vanilla? Christina remembers how she put vanilla extract on her skin in high school. She loved the smell and was unclear as to the difference between that and a vanilla perfume. She still is.
Christina knows that the nose has receptors that make a powerful link to the limbic system in the brain, and subsequently, a direct link to emotions. She feels free to smell summer again, roused by the contact with the sun. But of course, it is something deeper. She can smell the pine from the nearby forest; the lingering smells of lunch from the dining hall; and in intervals, with focus, the tiny bouquets of wild flowers from the woody fields. Here she is. Back a bit from the desert of her fears and into the fresh, moist summer. She reaches out for Rebecca’s hand and squeezes her to let her know that she is more back than she has been in a while.
Smell is always a doorway to clarity. She imagines having a smelling statue of Rebecca that she carries in her pocket to remind her of connection. She sees putting it on her bedside table, to her nose before sleep. Perhaps another statue is of a deer with a wild, musky scent that represents innocence. The scent of innocence goes directly into her brain to remind her that she is as close to god as she can be, right from where she is. The idea is further along, somehow, although what it is she is still not sure.
Instead of meditating in the pavilion the afternoon of the second day she decides to walk into the woods along the winding paths. Maybe she will rendezvous with an animal? Maybe there will be something that brings her even closer to life? She leaves her shoes in her sleeping quarters and walks with tender feet along the soft switchbacks, up toward one of the three ridges. Christina’s mind is soft and open to the freedom she seeks. She feels the dirt and stones and calculates the perfect contact so that the earth is almost inside of her.
She listens to the worship of bird sounds in and out through the trees. She does again think of cardinals and how the boy cardinal is something she would also like to have with her often as a smell, along with Rebecca and the smell of a pocket size deer. Her idea crystallizes as she walks into the woods, off the path and toward a high valley that becomes her destination. She suddenly sees that there are several ideas at once and she is in a place to accept them all.
The first is a crisp watercolor of a cardinal. It is called “boy for women” just like she had seen earlier. It is a special perfume that allows women to have access to the feelings of a boy. What is the exact aroma? She cannot quite tell. Earthy and at once floral; she doesn’t know about these things but it comes through purely, nonetheless. In the wild there is clarity. It is a perfume for women so any one of them can remember the gift of irreverence that is boy.
The idea stops there and what seemed like a room of ideas is suddenly odd and unsure. She lies down in soft grass and breathes to find joy again. The sound of birds quickly returns although smell is still distant. Oh yes. The second part of the idea is the smelling statues: one for each animal. To be closer to them from where we are; in rooms, on trains, not necessarily where an elephant, a giraffe, or a snake lives. And that is satisfying, Christina notices. To have an idea that she can walk into and build upon over time. Not everything need be known right at once, of course, but somehow she must trust first in order to think it through.
What is it in the boy or the wild animal that a woman might want? Christina feels a little self-conscious considering it. She hears voices of a man and a woman coming up the path, turns on her belly, and crawls like an army man into the close, dense wood. She settles behind a cedar, invisible, still able to look out and listen. She touches the long strands of bark and inhales the odor. Oh, that woman...and that man. She recognizes them.
The woman is blonde with blue eyes but with dark skin like she is Latina. The man is short, attractive with dark hair, and very muscular like he works out. It is such a pleasure to see people without being seen, Christina realizes. Not constantly, like a peeper but once in a while, to recalibrate the social self. She gets the idea that boy for women is also girl for men, woman for boys, and man for girls. Although it could be skewed into something inappropriate, Christina knows better. There are gifts from every age and every sex.
This is who she always wants to be, she realizes as tears well in her eyes. Open. She could feel alone and silly but she perseveres with staying alert to what she has become. She watches the woman who Christina thinks is named Lily and the man who she doesn’t remember his name, undoubtedly flirting. He is trying so hard to impress her, she can tell, by his body language alone. She is the queen. He’ll do anything for her and they probably just met yesterday. It is funny how people can be strangers and act immediately, unconsciously in the most intimate manner. It is unmistakably beautiful to be human.
Christina’s openness continues to ripple through her and she feels tempted to keep her post behind the tree for years to come. As the woman and man move through the field and up the path, Christina gets back on the path to head down, slightly less available to magnificence but still finding pleasure. The movement from open to close emotionally is as normal as eyes blinking. She must make peace with it, and remember to hold the open for longer because it feels so good and she knows that it is right.
Each foot upon the piney path is like a distant prayer. Again, it is not bliss but is it worth piling on disappointment when there is contentment? It is best to stay ready for more of what she could love rather than rushing in with some agenda of it all never being enough. She sees that she is tired of that. The ground thunders a little. A harder rush, and then laughing; she turns to see the muscular man and the woman, Lily, running like moose stampeding. She steps to the side and as they pass Lily looks at her like they are friends. It is a second’s share of the wildest womanly pleasure and the most dazzling interchange of, perhaps, all time.
They pass out of sight and there is quiet. The moment is entirely Christina’s. It pulses soundlessly around her. Will she be guided? Not by what others have concluded but by what is in the moment happening. To know that she can know what is what, moment to moment, is suddenly her deepest wish. She moves down the path and thinks of joining the last part of the afternoon meditation. Would she know anymore about the cardinal, the smelling statues, the ideas that come and go without conclusion? These thoughts could have a future.
There are endless observations of things that before had little depth. She comes to the last part of the path before the meditation hut. She listens to the swollen silence of her human friends focusing as she looks toward the dark, wooden, rectangular frame. Christina’s dull impulse to be good for others is overtaken as a shell under waves. Her heart beats unusually strong for the still moment as she watches a robin swoop and land on a Japanese maple in front of the entrance. Matronly, and ubiquitous, there is a buoyant weight to his reddish breast.

2011-06-24T14:17:00.001-04:00

6/24/11
On my walk just now, I sorted out some thoughts. I realized that one of my main interests is pleasure. So, I courted it heavily. I pursued it but, I suppose, softly. I reached for it. I asked for it to be there. I padded around for it, knowing I had put it within my grasp. Oh pleasure, how I absolutely adore you. You are very present for me. Things, thoughts, ideas I had been holding uncomfortably, in contradiction to my pleasure—as I placed myself newly in its sights—fell away enough for me to see how small they are. The discomfort in my knee is temporary. I courted pleasure and we are now dating, on the reg. Everywhere I look, there pleasure is--In the strong breeze, in the raucous harmony of the crows on the ground and into flight, in the long stretches of thought about who I really am and what I like. My body’s health, vibrancy and well being is real and vast, just over the small hill of this present circumstance. I see myself in pleasure’s pink sky, its buttercup-filled field. I love who I am with pleasure on my mind. I love the idea of pleasure. I let it filter my every thought, every image, every movement. I don’t have to change or fix, simply gaze at things through this idea.

drawer

2011-06-21T10:35:00.000-04:00

via ffffound!

feeling the spacious,
hidden drawers of my being.
not seen but believed.
it’s so far inside.
It is never over. never not done.
I am getting everything I’ve asked for.
the sky just turned a perfect pink.
I like the quiche we made,
and the pants I am putting on.

2011-06-20T10:34:00.000-04:00

viaffffound!

6/13/11
The day after our emotional and dotted with beautiful love between us anniversary we made tuna with olive oil, capers, anchovy paste, feta and tomatoes in the car while it rained. Then, as we went out at Oak Ledge, along the path right up against the water I noticed feeling tentative about my movements. Over the day I felt clearer about my desire to feel sure. I think it has felt even clearer today as I walked and noticed my knee but also felt like I can do anything I want. I have always loved my ability to move freely, endlessly, rambunctiously. Relaxing over and over again is essential. To thrive, I relax. It is what I command all parts of me to do. This is my true work as a human—Relax!

6/14/11
I got a chiropractic adjustment this morning from Heather Rice. I feel like I am letting in the calm and balancing I have been asking for. Also, Will and I did our second day of oil pulling. Fascinating folk remedy that involves swishing sesame or sunflower oil in my mouth for 15 or 20 minutes. So simple, bizarre and interesting. Like with all the miracle cures, people claim all kinds of awesome shit happens. I like the space it has created for me to think more purely of my well being—just swishing this thick, viscous liquid around in my mouth, relaxing. Truly strange and awesome.
Here in the afternoon, weeded huge burdock and thistles sharp but easily able to lift up and with its single root. I look over the area and see how much more, endless amounts, there is to pull. It must be little by little, in inspired spurts. As I sat hidden in the thistle I heard the neighbors. I sat deeper into my thistle jungle and got back to work. I felt the not wanting to be seen amidst something I don’t think I can complete or understand. It’s an innocent situation, really. I just feel shy. I did think about it. I leaned into the possibility of being easier about it, caring less what anyone thinks about me. As Will painted in the garage and I looked around at how messy and imperfect it all is, I felt the option of not having thought about it at all. So, if someone came up to me and made a comment about the mess or disarray, I wouldn’t even really know what they were talking about. I saw 2 large crows sitting idly, maybe feeling their beaks against the bark, in the black locust—the blossoms at their fullest. The crows must have enjoyed the scent. The brief, beautiful scent.

2011-06-19T12:12:00.000-04:00

Lime Rickey

Billy and Karen were the talk of camp for the third year in a row as the couple most likely to get married when they were old enough. Janie stood in line at the camp store. She was Karen’s favorite camper and had heard all the stories of late nights and secret rendez vous’. The smell of the camp store drew her into intimate pondering of what she would purchase. A Lime Rickey and Spree or Cola and a Butterfinger? She would decide that soon enough. It was who to take to the dance only a week away that would take her clearest efforts.
Would Greg ask her? Would they spend the rest of the summer falling in love? Or would it be Tony? She and Mike took diving at 11am every day of the week. Maybe he was the one she wanted to take? The factors were overwhelming. She chose the Lime Rickey and the Spree. She imagined eating one sour Spree at a time as she wrote a letter to her mom and sipped the Lime Rickey on one of the rock’s overlooking the lake in the senior’s section. Karen had shown her the spot. It was perfect for private reflection. She would sort out her connection with one of the three boys for the dance there, and that was final.
Janie told Ilana that she was going off to write her mom. She understood. There were those moments when being alone with a drink and candy was better than any other. She had sheets of rainbow stationary and matching envelopes her mom had given her for that express purpose. She propped herself on the rock with a view 15 feet down over the water lapping against the shore.

Dear mom,
Thanks for the package. I got it a couple days ago. The food will last for a while, I’m sure. I especially love the cheese balls and so does my whole cabin. I hope they don’t eat all of them! Camp is good. It’s hot here. How about there? It’s only a couple hours away so it must be the same. I’m excited to see you at parent’s weekend. Say hi to dad for me. Let’s go to McDonald’s when you come, okay? There is a dance in a week and I am deciding who to go with. I’ll also have to decide which outfit to wear too. Anyway, I’m sure it will be good.

Love Janie

She had asked Karen if she could come to the spot for the first part of rest hour. She got special favors and was privy to a private world as Karen’s protégée. She wouldn’t tell her mom about it. She didn’t even think to. Friends, especially Ilana, got jealous sometimes but that was just too bad. Maybe Karen saw herself in Janie. It probably wasn’t going to be Mike. They were friends and they laughed a lot but there wasn’t that special ingredient that made it totally obvious that she wanted to go with him. Greg on the other hand, and Tony, for that matter, did have that special something that made the thought of being at the dance exciting.
She had been to other camp dances. The first was with Paul, the second with Sam. Janie and Sam had walked to the top of the stairs, the one that leads to the main dock after the last song, near the boathouse. They had held hands for a few moments as they walked leisurely out from the dining hall. Janie felt her dress on her body as though it was made of magic cotton that tickled skin. Sam’s hair was dark and mop-like. He was simple and it was like their bodies spoke the common language. They kissed a small kiss, her first, and it was natural and nice. Sam didn’t come back to camp, but maybe they would meet up again, maybe even at Disney World or something.
Tony was tougher than Greg. He was quicker, a good athlete. They had that in common. In fact, they were both captains of their sport’s teams. In Baseball yesterday, Tony led his team to victory. We almost beat them, Janie recalled. It was close and she imagined they could beat them in volleyball. More of the girls on her team liked volleyball over baseball or even soccer. It seemed easier. They felt more comfortable on the court than on the field.
She folded the letter into the matching rainbow envelope and headed back to the Juniors to put a stamp on it. She would spend the remainder of rest hour in her cabin. Maybe even talk to Ilana about her options. Camp was quiet after lunch. Almost everyone except a few counselors and junior counselors were hanging out inside. Some people showered and as Janie walked by the girl’s showers she smelled the dreamy scent of someone’s shampoo. She moved down the path and the woods caught the strong summer light in its leaves and branches. She felt like a normal girl and at the same time like the dirt and the trees and all the buildings.
She opened the creaky wooden door of the cabin to find all her friends on the floor playing cards. The mail had come and a care package lay spread open with tons of candy, snacks and games. For a second, she felt like an outsider; like the girls weren’t her friends at all. That in just half an hour they had formed a bond that she could never join.
“Where have you been?” Tracy asked. “Linda was really mad that you weren’t here. She went out looking for you.”
“What?” Janie asked as her heart raced.
“No,” Hannah said. “She is joking. Karen told her that you could go onto your rock and think about who you wanted to take to the dance.”
The girls all laughed, even Ilana. Janie felt stupid like a spell of luck had broken. It was the quick turns of emotion between friends that she was never prepared for. Suddenly she felt each girl including Tammy who she knew the least, on her lower bunk reading a book as someone she might have offended or who she might need to make apologies to. She slunk over to her own top bunk, each other girl aware that she was disturbed. Oh well, she was sure they were thinking. It is what she would have thought had she not been at the center of it.
Down at the ultimate Frisbee field for the afternoon sports session, way down past the arts and crafts building and closest to the farmhouse, Janie encouraged her teammates. She was practiced at encouragement from having played sports her whole life. It was easy just like it was to run or throw or catch or hit. It came naturally to want to win, not at all costs, but to win nonetheless. They were playing against Greg’s team, and as she watched his toss she liked him less. He didn’t run hard, or try, or seem inspired by the game. Right then, she knew she really liked Tony.
Karen was the cabin’s junior counselor. She liked to go out, and she sometimes stayed out late. One time she brought back fries from McDonalds for her and took Janie back to the counselor quarters. Janie laid on her belly with her knees bent and listened to stories about canoe rides out on the lake, past the swamps and under the little bridge to town. Even better than the taste of the salty fries was the feeling of mystery beyond the bridge. What was over there? She imagined rowing with a party of boats into the swamp along with Tony, amidst the lily pads. They would laugh, and the anticipation of the penny candy store in town would be like knowing a secret.
At Dinner she sat with her cabin, again in a comfortable place in the shifting circle of friends. Dinner was meat loaf and dessert was ice cream. There were green beans as a side, and always rolls. She looked around for Tony. He lived in cabin 12; about four tables over. He was making large movements with his arms as he entertained his friends. She felt the length of her long, blonde hair. She smiled as she eyed Karen coming toward the table. Karen came up to the back of her and casually touched her head and hair. She addressed them all.
“I heard that boys from cabin twelve are planning a raid on one of the girl’s cabins some time this week.. Maybe even during the campfire tonight.”
“What if it’s ours?” Ilana asked. “I don’t want to get shaving cream or shampoo all over my clothes or in my bed.”
“Oh my god,” Deb said. “What do we do? Maybe just play it cool or maybe we should get them first?”
All ten girls blabbed loudly in smaller groups as they imagined scenarios and planned for retaliations that would or wouldn’t be necessary. Janie was thinking about Tony. She was surprised to be so determined but the dance was closer every minute that passed, and she could feel desire in her to get the relationship underway so as to make sure that all the things she wanted, including a boat ride with a boy would happen before the summer was over She whispered to Karen that she was going to him as she watched Tony move to the buffet table for more food.
She touched his back as she saw Karen do to Billy and said,
“Hey, what’s up?”
He turned around with mild surprise.
“Hey. The meatloaf is good today. Seconds?” he asked as he stuffed a whole roll into his mouth.
“Yeah, right” she said as she rooted around for something that she could possibly want off the buffet table. Yes, a packet of honey for later when she wanted something sweet, maybe along the path in the woods after a game. He turned away from her again and she looked back at her cabin’s table. The girls were still chattering wildly about the possible raid and Karen was busy talking animatedly to Billy. Tony didn’t seem to get what was going on at all. She had to do something. So she hit him on the back to get his attention.
He swung around, and gave her a look like he was choking and then swallowed with a loud gulp. “What the hell? I almost choked. Jesus Christ,” he said, sincerely scared.
“Sorry Tony, really sorry. You want to play tennis tomorrow during free period?
“What?” he said still shocked. Then he seemed to understand that she was asking him for a tennis date.
“Yeah. Sure,” he said as he rubbed his throat. “Senior courts? 4 o’clock. You’re not going to try and kill me again are you?’ he queried comically.
Janie laughed as she backed away, and a stunning tingle ran through her body. As she got to Karen back at the table Janie launched into all the nuances of the event. Halfway through Karen closed her eyes and tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Billy and I just broke up,” she said as she got up, walked out of the dining hall and out of sight. Janie looked at the table of girls. They were completely unaware of the heartbreaking event that had just occurred. The hall was emptying; her table of girls scattered and found their way casually to the exit while Janie was left to decide what to do. She barely believed what she felt she must do. She had never really talked to Billy. He was older and handsome and she was just a kid, but it now seemed crucial that she find out what was happening. Karen’s life was at stake.
She looked frantically through throngs of boys, old and young. He was a head counselor of a cabin in the midgets. She headed out on the dirt road that led there as she eyed the groups moving that way. Maybe he was with her now? Is that how it worked? Do you separate immediately once you break up or do you pour over evidence together of what happened and why once you decide to break up? She intuitively felt that it was the former and so she ran. Ilana spotted her right as she was heading out.
“Where are you going this rest period?” she asked snidely.
“Somewhere really important. Trust me,” Janie shouted, but she could tell that Illana didn’t understand, was jealous or something, even from the running distance.
She moved down the hill, through the Midget’s tetherball court and came to cabin 6, Billy’s cabin. She walked around to the back where the counselor’s quarters were. She moved a spare wooden block to just under the window and peaked inside. She nearly fell over but then steadied herself, using her arms to prop her chin up on the outside sill.
Janie saw hairy legs and sneakers and then heard the loud springy movement of the bed. It was Billy, that was for sure. His head suddenly came into view and she heard a moan like that of a whale she had heard on a CD of under water sounds back home. His hands were over his face and he looked like he was crying. Could he be? What was he doing, she wondered. She had never seen a man cry before. But that would explain the whale tone. It was a deeper, stranger cry than a girl’s.
There was action mounting throughout the midget’s section and she was no longer certain that there was anything for her to do. She slowly retracted her face from its peaking position and like a gymnast lowered herself down. Janie felt naked knowing that boys cried and felt emotion like girls. Once off the wooden block she felt like she couldn’t just arrive out from behind the cabin. She would have to make her way through the woods that connected the midgets and the juniors in order to avoid being questioned or seen.
In pink shorts and a matching pink and green striped shirt Janie waded into the dark green forest. In her white Keds she slid down the hill made of layers of wet leaves from previous seasons. The sound of kids playing became softer. The woods were temporarily her own. It felt like when she would walk into the area of the outdoor chapel before eleven on Sundays but this time there was no one else around. She thought for several hard minutes about the campfire tales of the crazy man with a hook for a hand. Could he be here during the day? Maybe he was sleeping. She kept extra quiet.
As she came nearer to the juniors she regained a sense of safety. Janie saw the open space of it, the cabins arranged like in a village. Maybe she could stay in the woods for the rest of the summer, get someone to bring her food from the dining hall everyday. A sweet sadness distanced her from her body as she stared out from the woods. She liked being alone, seeing the bigger picture from afar. She wandered out from the woods behind the bathroom and spent a few minutes inside.
She looked in the warbled image of herself in the mirror and wondered about how it would go with Tony tomorrow. Maybe she should abort the mission of going to the dance with him in light of what was happening with Karen and Billy. Could she really hope to create something better than what they had? When she returned to the cabin there was no one there. She was not entirely shocked by it. Everything had been turned upside down and it was likely that everything crazy happened all at once.
She sat on her bunk, and swung her legs. There was a roughness in her, up at the surface. Was she really going to sacrifice her hopes for the perfect dance for someone else’s circumstance even if that person was Karen? In the stillness of the smell of the empty wooden cabin she got up, went outside and circled around back, toward Tony’s cabin. If she got caught she could pretend she was looking for Linda or Karen. She now had a little practice at being sneaky and felt newly adept. She wondered if it was right. Maybe she should be less determined?
Oh, forget it! Janie thought which she didn’t often. She was a good girl but the dance was close and the summer short. She should just go for it. She approached the side of his cabin so no one who passed could see her. It was the nearest cabin to the lake in the Juniors section and she could hear the rough tumbling of the waters against the rocks. A line from her camp song played in her head.
“On the shores of Quacumquasett, deep among the pines...” The side of the cabin was low into the lip of the land and she didn’t need a prop for peaking. She silently gasped when she realized that Tony was directly in front of her, reclined as he threw a tennis ball against the ceiling of his bunk and caught it. The cabin was full of the boys talking. Janie convinced herself she was no different than a rustling pine as she remained naturally unnoticed, and listened.
“We’ve each got a can of shaving cream. Cabin six, baby!” said Arthur Rich. He was the tallest boy in the juniors and a natural ringleader of naughty behavior.
Janie couldn’t believe that she was getting information about a raid on her own cabin firsthand. To find a way to prevent it was her first thought. Was she more of a help listening to all the details or in the cabin blowing their cover?
“Just the outside off the cabin or inside also? In between sheets, inside food? Let’s make a decision,” stated Greg.
She was unable to see what to do and felt her best move was not to make one at all. The boys bantered back and forth about the possible details and throughout Tony just bounced the ball against the bed like in a trance. Janie momentarily lost her balance and stepped deeper into her left foot and onto a crackly twig. Tony’s ball slammed into his palm one final time and he jerked his gaze to the window. Janie dropped to the ground one hundredth of a second later. He had definitely seen her, she thought. Their eyes had locked for a fleck of a second, she was sure. She made her way on her belly underneath the cabin to restrict the chance of being caught.
Oh shoot, shoot, shoot, she thought as she heard footstep against the wooden floor above. She heard the heavy door slap shut as feet trotted down the wooden steps. Janie pulled her legs further in against her body and on a whim she gathered a damp, green tarp close to her to as she scooted up against a cement structure. Under the wet plastic covering, her mind cleared. Several other sets of feet came out of the cabin and in her stillness she could hear the shuffle of boys against stony dirt. There she was again, alone.
“Tony, was it a spy? Arthur asked. “Was it someone from cabin six or what man?”
“I just looked under the cabin and I swear...Oh, well, I was wrong,” Janie heard Tony say.
“We have to do this soon before something goes wrong,” said John. “ Tonight,” he said in a strong whisper.
She wondered if Tony was protecting her. Maybe he hadn’t seen her. She was completely covered. She realized that she might have to scramble down the hill toward the water and then go back to her own cabin in order not to be spotted. This was not her normal camp day. She didn’t even realize that spending time outside of the allotted schedule was possible. Despite no one being aware of her, she felt easily at the center of something. Under a tent, wet, and hidden in the play between cabins, Janie felt pure.
Once the boys had returned to their cabin she crawled slowly and quietly out from underneath. She stayed low to the ground until she had reached the edge of the hill that led down to the lake. She had a feeling, as she looked though trees and to the movement of the water, that she was older. It was both instantly familiar and new like she was a baby. Her skin prickled and some sensation low in her body waved through. It felt both lonely and wonderful, and as she side slid her way toward the shore, the fishing pier nearly in view, brightly colored row boats dragged away from the water, and she noticed Tony coming out from behind a tree.
How did he get all the way down there? She was shocked by the way he was walking toward her, rushing like he had to pee.
“C’mon, let’s go,” Tony said as he reached out his hand for hers. “I saw you under the cabin. I saw you. You can’t fool the Tonester.”
“I thought I was perfectly hidden. Darn it. I was afraid you saw me.”
“Well, you can’t get past Tony, but you were great.”
There was something in his tone that she loved. Like she wanted to kiss him sometime? It was odd, even a little scary.
“How did you get down here so quick?” she asked.
“I ran. None of the guys saw me if that’s what you think. Let’s go into the boat house to make a plan.”
Janie had only been there during their cabin’s special night when they had gotten pizza. What would her mother think? There was a confident swell to the blue water of the lake. She had never seen it move in such patterns. Janie let him grab her hand and they ran across the waterfront. There were a few rest period swimmers with their heads down as they gathered laps for the end of camp swimming awards.
He was tall and his ears stuck out unashamedly from his head, she noticed for the first time as they mounted the white wooden steps of the beautiful boathouse. There was scuba gear along the back wall of the lower deck and she remembered a dream she had of using that kind of equipment to play a sport on the ultimate Frisbee field. As they passed the first window of the office room with their hands apart they saw that the waterfront director Todd was inside at his desk. Tony signaled Janie to get onto her knees and they crawled toward the rear stairway on all fours to the backside of the boathouse. The area was swampy. It was a side of camp she had never seen before.
“What are we going to do now? I think our planning session backfired,” she said.
“Well...” Tony said as he paced in the mud. “I don’t know. Let’s see...my cabin is raiding your cabin...and there’s nothing you can do about it.
“What? Is that why you brought me here? You think I would just let my cabin get raided? I’m not your captive if that’s what you think. I’ll just run in there to Todd and tell him everything that’s going on. It’s just that easy.”
Janie was not one to be pushed around and, in fact, she found it easy to talk to boys in that tone.
“My captive? What do you think this is? Survivor? For whatever reason, being here with you seemed more interesting than planning a damn raid.”
“Oh,” she said.
Janie looked down and noticed her Keds in beds of mud. The sound of lake reeds along the back bank were loud against the silence between them.
“Well, I’ve never been around this side of camp. We have about fifteen minutes left in rest hour. She checked her Swatch. Want to explore? We can pretend we are on Survivor if we want.”
They looked at each and laughed.
“I hate that show. How about we pretend we are on Gilligan’s Island or something,” Tony responded.
“I’ve never seen it,” Janie said as they walked along the sometimes wet and mushy, alternately rocky shore at the backside of camp.
“I’ll take you through it. You be Ginger and I’ll be the doctor.”
“No, let’s pretend we are ship wrecked but not based on a show or anything. You are a famous baseball player and I am a country western singer.”
“So, what do we do?” he said as he pointed his pretend rifle and shot a rabbit. “I’ll pretend I just got a rabbit and we are going to eat it,” Tony said as he scrambled out onto a comfortably rocky shore that jutted out unexpectedly. “We can build a fire and cook the rabbit. You get the herbs and stuff.”
Janie looked around, entranced by the invitation to pretend, but also struck with anxiety. No one knew where she was. What was happening with Karen? Maybe she needed her to be there, a shoulder to cry on. The raid was nothing in comparison to what she might be experiencing. Then again, it was Janie’s chance to explore on her own. Still mixed, she bent down and pretended to find herbs and such in the shrubby material at the edges of the outcropping. She noticed the distinct firmness of lichen on rocks against her fingertips.
Then there were voices, and Janie froze as a deer might. Tony was bent down in the faux preparation of a fire for the rabbit roast. The voices were coming further inland, almost above them, and they made a quick decision to move behind a rock set in the water. The water was up to their ankles and they both sat into the water against lapping waves. Janie couldn’t hear much but she saw two seniors, Sheryl Thomas and Dan Dode as they scrambled down the bank.
She and Tony peeked around the rock on one side, one at a time and saw the two as they fumbled for one another.
“What are they doing?” Janie asked.
Tony was suddenly stiff and odd. He avoided eye contact as he responded.
“They are making out,” he said.
Janie looked at him and he scrunched up his face and said, “Let’s go.”
He openly walked out from behind the rock. Their pants were dripping wet. Sheryl and Dan unlocked from one another with a shock.
“Excuse us,” Tony said as he grabbed Janie’s hand and announced to them that he and Janie had just been snorkeling. He turned them back toward the boathouse and marched forward.
Sheryl and Dan continued to look surprised by the two juniors who had appeared out from behind the lake rock. Janie looked back and gave them a quick, innocent smile and wave.
“A lot of really interesting fish,” she assured them.
They snuck back over the steps of the boathouse. Nobody noticed. As they trudged up the long stairway toward the dining hall, on the last few steps, she breathed heavily and her hair, stringy and long. Janie noticed the two of them: enthusiastic, a little dirty and wet from having sat in the water. She felt the thrill of being connected to a boy, and then a pang of loss sprang forth like a fire when she thought of how it could end.
“Hey, you want to go to the dance with me on Friday?” Tony asked casually as he made it to the upper deck of the stairway.
Janie smiled, breathed in as her eyes opened wide. “Yes,” she said with no regrets.
“Cool,” Tony answered. “I guess we should get back. Check out the damage.”
“Yeah,” Janie said like her mother might, as she eyed him for having been involved in something naughty.
She knew the possibility of a raid during the bonfire still loomed. Maybe it was just what everyone needed. Shake things up. She bit the sides of her nails at the thought of it, and then under the canopy of trees along the path she saw Karen. She sat in the newly installed wooden gazebo with the red stain.
“You go on ahead, Tony. I’ll see you at the volleyball game later...and Tennis at 4pm. I’m gonna talk to Karen.”
They looked at each other and slapped hands awkwardly and laughed again as they crossed paths to move forward. Bare ground surrounded the canopied benches and made Karen look little or young. Janie ran to her, and as she approached the opening, became shy, like she didn’t know what she was hurrying for. When Karen saw her she smiled, red faced, and patted the seat beside her.
“Why aren’t you at the cabin?” Karen asked.
“It’s a long story,” Janie replied with a smile. Karen looked over her shoulder to get a last glimpse of Tony as he trotted down the path to the junior’s.
“Well...” Karen said with an encouraging curiosity, “You’ll have to tell me all about it sometime.”
“Are you okay?” Janie asked, “He’s probably not doing too well either,” she added, as she pulled her lips in on each other to emphasize the lowness of the moment.
“Hey, we had a lot of fun, you know? Three years of dating during the summers,” Karen said; a little lilt to her tone.
“That’s good,” Janie said, again unsure how to proceed.
“I am okay, you know,” Karen said convincingly, a familiar warmth to her tone as she moved a little closer to Janie, even pulled her close. “I told him I thought it might be better that we see other people, make a little space for new things and eventually he agreed.”
Janie pulled out from the bright colors of Karen’s warm summer skin.
“You mean, you broke up with him?” Janie said with a shock. “How could you do that?” she asked, disgusted by the idea that Karen would hurt someone as she remembered the sound of Billy’s cries.
Karen was very still, looked up as though to heaven, and said, “I don’t know. It just felt right.” Karen rested her chin on her hand and eyed Janie.
“But isn’t love forever like you said Karen,” Janie asked, still very hurt by the monumental disturbance one woman could create.
“I guess. I don’t know. I just know that something told me it was time for it to end.”
Janie could then see that Karen felt guilty or sad but not fully. Her eyes continued to sparkle.
Janie flashed to the thought of her mother coming for parent’s week-end the following Friday and was relieved to realize that the sensibility of her mother would be near. Her mother had never caused such a stir. How could one girl be so bold? Had she herself ever been that? She looked around at the surrounding trees, felt the wind, and knew she had and would be again, often.
“It’s okay,” Karen said.
“We are probably getting raided tonight,” Janie said.
“Well, what should we do? What can we do?” Karen asked.
“We’ll figure it out,” Janie answered.
In the dining hall, toward the end of dinner, Janie savored her fruit cup. The little cherries were her favorite. With one in her mouth she watched Ilana show Karen a complex lanyard she had made in arts and crafts. Ilana had been the only one to finish, and Janie saw the pride in her face at having done something special. She liked seeing Ilana happy but only when she had something special going on herself. It was true. But could it not be true? Could she simply be happy for friends? Janie scanned the activity of the dining hall. With the cherry still sweet against her tongue she noticed the special quiet that could come from watching everyone at camp all at once. Even with all the noise and the anticipation of things that might or might not happen, Janie felt entirely at peace like she was all alone in the woods.

2011-06-19T11:08:00.000-04:00

12/3/10
Wow. I just had a delicious emotional journey. I felt contracted, wrong, not good enough, etc. I walked out Sunset Cliffs rd. and I started to cry and release and then get angry and pushy, wanting a feeling of control I felt I had no access to. I played with hating the things I couldn’t control. I sat in the woods by the water for this and then walked again. Still adrift, poking at anger to see if I could find something there. I really didn’t like the feeling of wrong that I had found myself in before. Then I asked if I could appreciate where I had just been. Where I am. The exact and so very specific me having this experience, being this person. It was the specific quality of what I have been focusing on, what I want, etc. that I was thinking about. It brought a lot of relief to consider this and notice that I really do love this person that I am. And from there, it is not very far from the person I relish being. They are not that different. Not that different at all. Really. I walked home. I realized that I had dropped into my legs fully, my hips, knees, muscles, feet. Very nice, full feeling. Then I thought of exactly how I want to feel as I write stories. I want to write emotional journeys: Tales of whatever level of empowerment in beautifully graphic and varied details. I went with the cat to the front yard and sat in a chair. I noticed that my desire to have subtle and specific sensation was paramount. I looked out at the lake. I relaxed. I felt the cool air. Saw the colors, savored, praised. I had access to my whole mind. I could, as I do now, feel the still intelligence of my body—so willing to show me relief and satisfaction. Everything I have ever wanted is within range. It is what I saw and felt.

4/20/11
A day after the first roller derby bout of the season. Scott and Jen, Lauren and Matt, Becky and Sara, Miki and Christine were there. It was especially thrilling to see Becky whom I haven’t seen in two months. A deep thrill. A cross section of friends. In the bathroom I squealed without sound at my fortune. At the surprise of feeling meaningful, delicious friendships. Relief and delight. And then we took Eric home so he could go to jake’s ugly sweater birthday party, and we met Scott, Jen, Lauren and Matt at Duindo Duende. We were planning on having chicken and waffles but they were out of it. So, we ordered a delightful string salad, pork buns, and a cheeseburger. Ahh…It was perfect conversation. Ease almost completely amongst all of us. Getting into my warm bed was ecstasy by the time I got there. When I worked earlier in the day I had a renewed interest in writing. Like I could and I had to. So, here I am. Certainly, the highlight of being at penny cluse is my outfits. Oh my, my outfits. So unique and almost always comfortable. Doing yoga just now. Crying and angry I discovered the reason to be angry. The reason is again, that if I have decided I can’t do, be or have something I want there is a reason to be angry! It’s not true that I cannot. Ever. I can, and the anger is what draws me back to the possibility of what I want. The flow and the energy of it.

3/20/11
Spring! The full moon was last night. Very big. WE went outside on the lawn, The snow shrinking. I felt how beautiful this land is. How rich it is. How I can become more aware of it, more sensitive to its power and presence. I imagined going outside more deliberately every night. Having rituals. Being more involved in the land. I guess it is the same as being engaged in anything directly and creatively. I simply can be writing more elaborately. I do so love what I write here. In little spurts, I love so much. It is true. And, right now. It is mid morning. I am in the sunroom. The sun is shining. Spring is both here and becoming. I am basking a bit in being here. I just thought of going to Kripalu. The distance from now to April 3, when I leave. Such a nice, plump distance.

4/26/11
My mom’s birthday. A week-end of being at Anne’s house in Virginia for Easter. How wonderful! Hannah and I snuggled a lot. We all went on luxurious, hot weather walks. I bought Luke a book and he wrote the diary of a wimpy kid entries. He is a great writer. In the backyard, on the afternoon of Easter, we all set out chairs in a circle and spontaneously started a game of catch with a soccer ball. So fun. Anne and I walked in talked in the 80 degree heat the morning that I left. It felt good to connect with the non-mom part of her. It is a big part. She is hilarious.