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| The heart with a mind of its own.(Be present.) | The mind with a heart of its own.(It's past.) | The dream that is your waking life.(Go there now.) | |||
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Brave Demons Don't Shop
Dearheart/Braveheart I met Leah a couple of years ago in one of my classes (histology maybe?). She is a brilliant student, now in graduate school, funny as hell, athletic, beautiful, Native American. We are not the kinds of friends that hang out together outside of school, but I am glad that I still see her at the gym from time to time. She and I always take the opportunity, when we do spot one another, to talk to each other. I ran into her yesterday, as I was "resting" between sets of chest presses by doing declined sit-ups on the board. She came over. She said, "So you're sticking with it?" (meaning my exercise regiment). I told her that I was, but that with the days being so beautiful lately, that it was harder and harder to get to the gym. (Chop wood. Carry water. That's what I have to say about committment.) She always asks some question about the weight loss progress, and, oddly, from her I don't mind it. She's very unobtrusive and straightforward both in her questioning, a combination that I don't possess, so I appreciate the hell out of it. And I guess too that she is so fit herself that I don't have to brace myself for the inevitable "How did you do it?" or "I wish I could do the same" kinds of comments that I get from most other people. In the past, she's asked what I weigh--and no beating around the bush with her, she said, "What do you weigh?" And I had to answer her as honestly as her question was put to me. She's asked what my starting weight was, and that I answered too, even though I am evasive with most people about the specific numbers. I guess I'm more honest with her in part because she started out her questioning one day--very early on--with the story of one of her sisters who is struggling to lose weight and last lost about 75 lbs. so I know that she probably sees my journey with more sympathy and understanding than do most people, and I appreciate that. "What size are you now?" she asked. (I told her that I was an 8--though The Gap thinks I'm a tight 8 and Old Navy thinks I'm a six (!). We talked about The Gap's tendency to try to save fabric and ruin your self-esteem all in one pair of jeans.) She was impressed, as she's about my same size (clothing-wise and weight, although she's about four inches shorter than I am). Then I asked her what was going on in her life. She told me that she was going to Africa in two weeks. I was, like, "Africa? How cool is that!" She is seriously just picking up and going to Africa. She says, "I got my passport and visas." She looked a bit worried, so I said, "You look worried. Is it that you don't want to go, or is it some political situation in Africa?" Turns out that she's worried about JFK Airport in NY. I almost laughed at this. Here's a woman who is jetting off to Africa by herself and backpacking it around from country to country, and she's worried about an airport. I love that. That's the kind of thing I'd worry about. (I seriously once almost passed up a trip to Australia because I was worried about fitting into airplane bathrooms.) I have actually been to JFK, so I told her that it was fine to navigate--big and confusing, but there were signs everywhere, and she should just use her four hour layover to find her gate, then go wander and look at all the amazing international airline counters, an activity that I found to be a cultural event in itself. She still looked worried and asked a few specific questions. I told her about the shuttles, about the information kiosks, about the Hare Krishnas, the usual stuff you need to know about any airport. And then, since she was working, she had to run off. Can you believe it? Africa. She is so damn brave. This Day Max asked me as I dropped him off at work this morning, "What are you going to do today?" And the question nearly sunk me. I have so much to do, and, faced with it, I just wanted to go back to bed. My life these days seems suddenly empty and I don't know how to fill it up. All I know is that hours and hours of shopping everyday is not cutting it. (I know, it sounds like the dream existence, but I was in some store about a week ago, and I looked for once at all the other shoppers, and they were all women, all in their late 20's to early 50's. The ones young enough to have children all had them. They were all pushing around their carts like they were in a daze, touching clothes that I would never wear, picking up ugly home decor items that I would never even glance twice at. And I looked at them and thought, these women seriously have nothing to do but shop all day. I thought, they think you're one of them. I used to hate to shop. I really did. (But it's one of those things that I can actually do by myself. And since I spend so much time by myself, when I want to get out of The Cell, I go shopping.) And now? I am still looking--always looking--for clothes that fit whatever size I am this week. But it's not like I willingly bring new things into my house. I mean, seriously, the place looks like a motel room, with the bed and desk and chair. And that's it. And I love it that way. I haven't brought in a single piece of new furniture since I moved in last August. I piled my beloved books in a corner rather than risk a bookshelf. I haven't brought in one item to decorate the place--with the exception of the things I find on my walks and put on my altars, but those are things I didn't pay anything for. And no shopping was involved. But now? I shop. And I hate it. And I'm going to stop. And I'm going to go to a museum or two. By myself. You're Whining Again. Why Don't You Go To The Studio Instead? Fu's pieces are still a worry, and I'm a rat for not facing them down. I'm a rat for running away from them because they're not going to say what I want them to say. And this entry needs a list, but what am I going to be grateful for? Shopping? Yeah. Right. If That's All You Find To Be Grateful For, Then You Need To Change Your Life. All right, all right. I am grateful. I am grateful for Max and Ladas. I am grateful for lychee nuts. I am grateful for Oliver. I am grateful for Natasha Atlas. I am grateful. I am grateful for sunshine, for solitude. I am grateful. I am grateful for Dottie and all her crew. I am grateful for all of it. I may still need to change my life, but I am grateful for the life that I do have right now. I truly, truly am grateful.
More lies:
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