Staying quiet when I can and speaking to those who know/understand when I cannot.
I should not be as entertained by this as I am but Michael Cera has been my mumbly Canadian boyfriend in my head since ‘07, so.
Red line train to Glenmont.
"I still really, really love you…love is stronger than pride…"
1. It feels good to be “Auntie,” to hear people who can remember when you were a toddler say that your little niece is just like you were, or looks like you.
2. It is also nice to be in a house with pictures of your family on the walls, to walk in and already be a part of what happens here because look, there is a picture of your mother, your brother, your nieces.
3. This is a long way of saying I really missed my family.
4. Part and parcel don’t make a whole. I forget sometimes. (I am more than my inventions, this little disconnected life I live most of the time.)
5. “Old dirt road…knee deep snow…watching the fire as we grow…”
6. Still dreaming of a real vacation. Feet in sand and blue sky, etc etc.
7. One day soon. I hope.
8. “Old dirt road…rambling rose…watching the fire as we grow…well, I’m sold…”
9. Being back in school means less time for leisure reading. I miss it.
10. I like the idea of creating a life (I actually think it’s vital—a fully inherited life is not your own) but I’d like it to be …related, connected.
11. Of course Buddhism says there never a moment we’re not interconnected. I know it’s true, intellectually but it can be hard to feel. (Because I’m not very mindful.)
12. “Unpacking the bags and setting up…planting lilacs and buttercups…”
B-roll from my latest work, “Tears On a Plane.”
the tiny costs accumulate by day, then month, then year and I wonder what I am really losing in this exchange. it feels like an unfortunate kind of alchemy but I’ve learned to override that feeling in order to get by. but. it all costs something. an advisor this week told me about her own time spent in the wrong occupation (typing up technical manuals) and what an energy drain she felt (“It was starting to change my personality.”) and then went on to discussing other things but I was stuck thinking on compromises and what they do to you over time and the tolerance that grows in spaces it shouldn’t.
so many years spent saving up grief to spill it all on the anniversaries-
her birthday, her last terrible day in June.
the Dhamma helped tremendously in bringing me to recognize that I wasn’t saving her that way, wasn’t relieving any terror she might have felt,
wasn’t changing a thing about what went on while she was alive
but just making myself ill in the here and now.
some moments of grief are unavoidable, and they come over me with no premeditation; I miss her spontaneously and completely; it is potent without being saved or concentrated; it just is, so I learned that I don’t have to prove anything to myself about what she means to me by falling apart on significant dates-the depth of feeling is always there. what I can do instead is take care of this living thing I call myself (the extension of her that I always have access to) and keep her in my heart. that is plenty, and anyway it’s all I can do.