Mumford & Sons - I Will Wait (Official Audio)Laurie Cabot: Monday, August 27: Wear Brown. Plan a party or a date. Carry a pebble you find.
DOITGIRL. So I went out to dinner with that man I used to date last night because I want to heal wounds and be mature and not blow up every bridge with men I dated or anyone in my experience/life. The more conscious we become the more behavior like that- holding grudges, anger, blame, hate even, aren’t in alinement with love, and we don’t feel healthy or whole when we behave this way. A friend of mine from Virginia texted while we were out, and I told her who I was with and she said, “So you dont burn bridges like me,” and I guess I was glad I hadn’t, only because that agony of “hating” someone and dreading seeing them or being pained to hear of them, that’s a much worse way to live [“the only thing harder than letting go is holding on”- lori mckenna] and I still have some of those wounds with my big ex, only the pain, the remorse, not the hating, not the hating. But I have burned a ton of bridges, I told my friend, ones I wished dearly that I’d kept, even if I couldn’t walk it the way I once did- frequently, met halfway in love, in intimacy, I didn’t have to torch it foevermore. Forever is a really long sad time when it means never talking to someone you loved ever again. I told her how I’ve not only burned bridges I should have kept, I’ve stormed the castle, set flame to everything in site. As soon as the rejection or betrayal happened I was like Drew Barrymore in Firestarter. SO Proud. SO hot-headed. SO victimized. We are each walking bodies of energy, and we can start an energy storm- dark or light- whereever we go, Our choice. Fear or Love. Anyway, so last night was mature but hard, I wanted to lean into him sometimes the way it used to be so easy, but I didn’t let myself, kept the wall up. And there was a time or two he was laughing and would lean to rest his head on mine but I froze up, still protective of myself. Our knees touched at times only because he’s so tall and we were folded into a tiny bartop table. We ate at this little tourist dive on the strip where we had eaten on our first date and we were all promise and mystery, so it was sort of a fitting bookend, and a blind man played piano right next to our table and it added to the melancoly of dinner with an old lover, and my heart was dove-tailing at the diligence and love of the seeing eye dog curled by the singer’s side and he was singing Otis Redding, lovelorn Otis Redding. And his silver-haired old friend in a dinner jacket showed up and sang deep baritone harmonies and sipped a glass of red wine. It was nice, there were moments where we were in sync and on the same page and moments we weren’t. The chemistry wasn’t there the way it was when I could show him affection with abandon, just a dull ache from me, I think. There was this moment too, where he started to ask about a mystical-looking ring around my neck and I started to tell him, but I said, “do you really want to know,” and then he decided he really didn’t- “no,” he said, shaking his head, laughing me off. We sort of threw a few jabs at each other, which doesn’t feel good, really, he once said “there was a lot of hurt between us,” and he was right. He definitely thinks my Goddess devotion is flaky and “not realistic.” That’s probably the thing that made me hurt the most, but anything that makes you question your beliefs is good because I find it ultimately strengthens them, havign to re-examine them from time to time is important, I think. But then as soon as I started to really relax and allow myself to enjoy the time, he looked down at his phone, said, “Oh we gotta go,” then he straightened his back, signaled the waitress and as we crossed the floor the blind man called goodbye to us in between versus. He felt us leaving, his energetic senses so heightened, “good night,” we called. Idling in my road we hugged goodbye, and I went in and got in bed and had to tell myself that someday I will meet someone who understands me completely, and loves me like shout-it-on-the-rooftops love, for who I am, not who I might be someday or who I once was. Not just for weekends or winter or stay-in-nights, either. The whole real deal again. I’ll feel one day the way I felt six years ago when I met my fiance in an Alphabet City Bar. Crash Bang Boom, done. Up all night talking in the dark, just holding hands and kissing, under a window in the moonlight, planning our whole lives together. [“We’ll get a dog.” “No, we’ll start with a cat.” “Both.” “Ok.” “And a truck-” “Yes! I’ve always wanted a truck!” “We’ll move downtown. A big apartment by the river.” “Sounds perfect.” ] I’ll feel that again. Me and this man, last night, we rode the carosuel by the sea, we went round and round together, going nowhere, getting nowhere in the air, and the creepy cranky old carnival music was playing, it was chilly, my cheeks were pink, and he had a tiny little girl in a pink tutu next to him and I was on a horse next to her warm and friendly mother, and we were reaching for the rings, you know the whole point is to get the brass one. And my friend was adamant to get it, he was pulling 3-4 rings at one time with his long gangly arms. He’s competitive. An Aries. Needs to own, win. It was hard enough for me to grab even one, but I managed to get one every time around. And finally, there it was, waiting for me at my turn, there was the brass ring. I got so excited, I couldnt believe it, I cried out in joy, and then it just slipped through my fingers. I dont know why Im stuck on that moment but I am, it felt like it was on freezeframe so I would really pay attention. My past life samscara, the source of pain I’ve carried since the beginning, is that I don’t finish things. I’m all talk, all promise. No delivery. People lose hope in me. I woke up with the ring slipping through my hands, that tiny terrible movie, playing over and over again in my head. It reminded me too much of all the promise Ive felt and pressure Ive felt for my potential in this life so far, that I can get so close to the brass ring but never quite grab it, like my wedding ring. I got so close to marrying a man I deeply loved. I got so close to having a family. I got so close to a very successful career in journalism. I got so close to finishing my last book, I had even had a great New York Editor. The last movie my fiance and I ever saw together was my hero Nora Ephron’s last movie before she died, Julie & Julia, and he had already called off the wedding we were just spending all this terrible limbo time together, still best friends, and everything was painful, knowing everything we did was for the last time, and when we walked out of the theater he was crying, I asked, “What’s wrong, besides the obvious?” and he said, “I want you to write your book, I want you to finish things, I want you to accomplish something,” and we were both crying. “I know how much you love Nora,” he said,” and how much these movies mean to you, you can do something like this, but… you don’t” he said. See, he knew me, saw me. To lose that is devastating. We were just sobbing in the hot Venice sun, on the sidewalk. And I’m crying again remembering it, remembering Tim and Nora, two forever lost loves. And I get so close to these men I have dated, i mean to close to somethign real, but like a fire I can start but not keep burning, like the book I cannot finish, like a yoga pose I can get into but not stay, it doesnt come true, I dont come true, we dont. That’s what that brass ring symbolized to me and even as we were walking back to his car, him laughing saying it was more fun that he’d thought it would be, I think he’s always suprised that he likes me, because he can only think about reasons why we don’t work- and we are so different, polar opposites, him solar me lunar, yin yang to the extreme. But as we were walking back I couldnt help but think he was thinking about me missing that ring and that paralled our story, that me and him just never came true— I didnt live up to my promise. And maybe that’s because I haven’t lived up to so many promises. The ring has slipped through my hands so many times. I’m so afraid of going around and round in life and never getting it. I’m so afraid of always getting so close and letting it slip through my hands.