from the book i’m reading today:
The Latin word finis has two meanings: (1) the end or the finish, and (2) a goal to reach.
!!! and my post from exactly one year ago: the definition(s) of withdraw.
Category: daily
The edge of the world
They said, “You have a blue guitar, you do not play things as they are.”
The man replied, “Things as they are are changed upon the blue guitar.”
— Wallace Stevens
I went down to the waterfront and ran along the crashing waves for a little while. The sun and the wind layer upon each other, and the white-capped water fades into the horizon. It’s strange to contemplate how close to the end of the world we are again.
The water color, the temperature, the mountains peeking out from above the cerulean, the hazy distance, and Antarctica just beyond our reach.
As I mentioned, I’m trying to listen to Podcasts while I run. Death, Sex, and Money was recommended to me. I listened to how love comes up as a subject so frequently in conversation, no matter the original topic. I listened to how vulnerable it can be, how secrets can be kept from each other in relationships for over 20 years. I contemplated Jane Fonda’s decision between “being with a funny man who keeps you laughing” and “being whole.” She chose the latter. The stories that were most striking included examples of when love surprises us, when love is bigger than we could have imagined, and that it can overcome the clichés. That when given the chance, lovers may be more understanding than you could ever expect. That you don’t have to follow the set narrative that everybody else does, you can decide to go a different way.
The wind sends a cloth of clouds over the mountaintop every afternoon, reminding us that there is something greater than ourselves.
This life is an opportunity to lean in, to face whatever we fear, to calm down the urgency that can lead to unguided action. While still leaving room for the unexpected to unfold.
“The truth is of course is that there is no journey. We are arriving and departing all at the same time.”
— David Bowie
The way through love and life is more difficult to find than the way beyond it, or even away from it. I am no longer sure what parts of the path are fiction that I make up as I go along, and I am no longer sure that there even is a particular reality that I am trying to arrive at. I am no longer sure that it matters to be certain one way or another.
The moment I convince myself that what I’m staring at is definitely the edge of the world, the moment I am certain we will fall into nothingness, you quietly hand me a way to see that on the other side is yet another luscious shore.
“The final belief is to believe in a fiction, which you know to be a fiction, there being nothing else.
The exquisite truth is to know that it is a fiction and that you believe in it willingly.”“After the final no there comes a yes,
and on that yes a future world depends.”— Wallace Stevens
2016
I want to taste and glory in each day, and never be afraid to experience pain; and never shut myself up in a numb core of non-feeling, or stop questioning and criticizing life and take the easy way out. To learn and to think; to think and live; to live and learn: this always, with new insight, new understanding, and new love.
— The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath
A turn of events at the end of the year leaves me even more contemplative and evaluative about the coming days. Immediately after the news, I went for a run. Steady feet, quickened breath, cool and heavy Houston air. I realized again for the umpteenth time how lucky I am, how marvelous it is that my legs work. I haven’t forgotten to have gratitude for it, and I hope I never will.
***
Sometime in the middle of last year, I wrote my 1,000th post on this particular blog. I finished with 154 posts in total for all of 2015. I created a new website, became a New York City subway expert (I can guide you anywhere, really!), and was lucky enough to eat at a lot of new restaurants. I did my first handstand, which has been a goal since 3 years ago. I learned more about cooking. I read a lot of books. I practiced being okay with feeling deeply, instead of fighting it.
Meanwhile, somewhat unintentionally, my writing here has changed. Instead of a hodgepodge of quick notes, it’s turned into a collection of longer, more edited entries. Over dinner one night, a friend encouraged me to publish more. I resist publishing at times because I feel censored in what I say and pressure to edit out imperfections. “Publishing makes you a better writer,” he insisted in response.
So with a deep breath, I’ll try to publish more. With intent. I thought about a few other things that I would like to work on in the coming year(s), and I’ll think about ways to make them measurable:
- Be persistent.
Debbie Millman said, “Expect anything worthwhile to take time.” - Leave room for uncertainty and creativity.
My entries here have become more formal, but I want to retain a balance of whimsy. Don’t engineer the art out of life. Don’t plan a trip so specifically that you miss the chance to wander and get lost. Don’t compose so strictly that there is no room for the improvisation in jazz. Imagine immensities. Even if you’re scared. Even if you’re uncertain. - Be brave enough to find stillness.
It takes a lot of bravery to be still these days. The “fear of missing out” can feel overwhelming, but sometimes the richest adventure can be found in the quietest, stillest moments. - Speak up.
There’s a reason why communication is so important in life. In conversation the other day, a friend and I talked about how “language is the bridge between our hearts.” It’s not always a perfect bridge, and it takes courage to cross it. The times that I have been able to find you on the other side, it’s been worth the risk.
I’m still cautious and working on opening up. I am so grateful to the people who have inspired and supported me. The ones who continue to encourage me daily to reach toward passion and beyond my hesitations.
The only thing holding me back from doing my first handstand was trust in myself. I was strong enough, I just needed to believe that I could do it and let go of all my fear. I still find myself wondering, “What if I mess up? What if it’s not worth it?”
But hasn’t it all already been worth it? Isn’t it amazing? Falling is part of flying.
Paraphrasing Anaïs Nin: the risk to remain closed becomes much greater than the risk to open.
Life is gigantic, and we don’t have much time. It took stepping away from my computer to find the words to finish this post. So let’s get lost together, let’s play some jazz.
Cheers to 2016, and living fully. So it begins, again and again.