Yesterday I tried something very different for me. I spent the day, or the better part of it, letting everything mean what it could, letting every word sink in (the best I knew how to) and every gesture be pure. The day lasted only in the present. I can't explain it any other way because time felt as though it stood still, but yet there was movement in time. I felt moments occur and expire. Yet the weight of them gave them a quality of endurance. It was an amazing experiment. I told myself at the beginning of the day and again throughout (because I am an old dog, and these are new tricks) that I would really hear things, and really see things and really feel things. I never do that for more than an instant. It's always been scary. To feel for a moment the truth of someone else terrifies me of all the moments after. All the other truths. All the connection.
So, in doing this...I had a great day. It felt authentic. I really got that I was cared for. And I really heard what my friends were saying. I felt what their hearts held. I still haven't learned to expect them to be there tomorrow...but that's a milestone I may be just a bit closer to reaching.
My blog of 27 February wigged most of my friends out. I sent it as my birthday email, and they translated it to be "heavy" and "sad". And for me, it wasn't sad. And I am just a heavy person. I don't do light in real life. I do light in work life, but the reality is that my mind lives in what some consider heavy places. And a birthday for me is a milestone. I wanted to make my mark on the door...I am now 6'3" in handling my history, and 5'4" in being able to label a few boxes that make up my past and my now. It wasn't meant to be sad...it was meant to cross over, build another bridge, and be off for the next year of my life.