Life Lessons, Inspired By Converge…

i am one of those people who tend to utilize YouTube as a podcast medium, as opposed to a visual one.

In the midst of doing chores i was listening to a recently-uploaded interview/performance from Massachusetts-based band, Converge; and as with most things i listen to, i began reflecting upon my life.

While i tend to welcome getting older, it’s always strange to see my peers, or people in my age group (who have also been in the punk/hardcore scene) experiencing it as well. There is an obvious wisdom that occurs, after many years of mistakes and life lessons; but to hear (guitarist) Kurt Ballou and (vocalist) Jacob Bannon touch on their lives as ‘family men’, that gave me a bit of pause.
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Even though thoughts about ‘boyfriends’ and ‘girlfriends’ get passed around; as children those conversations tend to be vapid- at least in my mind, this was the case. Indeed, i was teased as a kid for not really pining for boys- or anyone, frankly. At 11 years old, it was assumed by classmates that i was the much-conflated combination of ‘gay’ and ‘asexual’, dispelling the notion always told to queer kids that we are all “too young to know what sexuality is.” i was eventually set up with a boy named Phillip (who looked like Wanye from Boyz II Men), and while i thought he was generally a nice guy, i wasn’t attracted to him in the ways people wanted me to be. There were also particular things he did that would have been nice and silly if we were hanging out as friends, but unappealing as ‘boyfriend material’, such as eat the whole portion of a birthday cake with my name on it.

i was happy for my classmates and friends who were ‘dating’, but it wasn’t ever something i saw for myself, based on what i saw around me.

A few years later, in high school, i developed my first crush. As a matter of fact i developed many crushes- throughout high school, throughout college and all throughout the rest of my 20s- every single one, resulting in rejection. In combination with the internalization of thinking i was stupid and worthless (since i heard that so much growing up); i also internalized that i was unlovable, since not one person i was interested in reciprocated the feelings.

i used to always be told my friends that i’d “make a good wife and/or mother,” but i never really understood what that meant, especially when the people who always told me this had no interest in me, as they were married and/or had kids themselves. i’d also have a few people tell me years after the fact how they had some interest in me; but again, they themselves tended to be in a partnership at the time of their reveal.

i always saw people seeing me as between the binary/dichotomy of a sibling/homie, or sex object. The homies never found me appealing enough to think about a partnership; and the people who saw me as someone they wanted sex with, they either didn’t see me as a friend at all, or used friendship as a means to get to sex.

While i wasn’t hateful or misanthropic regarding the subject of romance, there were times i performed what would perhaps be considered in this day and age ‘incel’ behavior, where i would continually push this futile hope onto the person i had feelings for, despite clearly knowing they were not into me. i am honestly surprised, and incredibly grateful, that those people did not push me away. They were incredibly patient with me, and contributed to a massive life lesson. i have no idea where any of them are at now, but in many ways, i am indebted to them.
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i’ve spent my life never knowing what a romantic partnership felt like.

i’ve always dreamt of having a long-term romantic partner: someone i could have massively deep and massively long, drawn-out philosophical conversations about life, politics, art- pretty much everything you do with platonic friends, except you’d spend much more time with them every day. We’d both come from our jobs and commiserate, eat together, ride bikes together… If we were not with friends or our jobs, it would be us together.

Obviously, this is the most ideal situation anyone who romanticizes partnerships can have. Some would even say it’s unrealistic. That said, i never even got a modicum of this. i’ve been in ‘partnerships’ (if you could call them that); but the primary objective was sexual- something that was not necessarily even a factor in how i ‘idealized’ partnerships.

In the midst of all the rejections there were people who were into me, however, for them it was sexual. As a matter of fact, the first person i ever went out with (when i was 19) was going okay, until it was clear things were about to turn sexual. i left their apartment, and we didn’t really talk much after that. i experienced an incident or two after that, and it led me to start feeling as if, the only way i will know what it feels like to be in a ‘relationship’, was to prioritize the sex thing. No one prioritized romance or emotional bonds at all.

i spent many years not talking about my feelings, because i didn’t know how to express them, or who to express them to.
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In my late 20s, despite seeing plenty of red flags, i asked a man significantly older than me to be in a partnership. With an extremely low self-esteem, i still figured i would receive some semblance of a ‘romantic’ relationship, particularly since he was older. unsurprisingly, i discovered immediately that his priority was also a sexual relationship. He also immediately became possessive and emotionally abusive. There are things he did that violated my trust (such as coerce me to not use a condom); and the moment he threatened physical violence, i woke up and immediately made the decision to leave him.
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It was 14 years before i was with someone else.

That 14 years was both by choice and not by choice. Again, no one has ever shown romantic interest in me. Anyone who has shown interest in me in that time let it be known that it was purely for sexual purposes, so i declined.

i also had to figure out who i was. i had to learn to love myself. i had to learn to like myself.

It was not until the age of 39 (interestingly, the age where the process of perimenopause began) where i first looked in the mirror (after years of not doing so) and saying, “I like myself.”

It wasn’t until the age of 42 where i said, “I love myself.” It was also the age i ended up meeting someone younger, and being involved with them. Despite me being adamant about wanting a long-term romantic partnership (and he being adamant about wanting the opposite), i still became involved with him for reasons not unlike any other time. The ‘futile hope’ still peered though.

As always in my experience, sex was primary for him. He also had patterns of wanting to break me down, then giving compliments. He also had tendencies to ghost.

He ‘broke up’ with me the day before i got hit by a truck.

He visited me in the hospital a couple of times; however, the moment i will never forget is, in the middle of telling me i’m the bravest person he knows, he asked if i was going to get fat, given my more recent disabled body. Months later (while my body was still in healing mode) i received a text from him, saying he couldn’t speak with me anymore. i felt incredibly hurt by this; after a couple of weeks though, i received that rejection as another one of life’s lessons.
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i’ve been rejected so many times in my life, i lost count. My ‘solution’ was to suffer in silence, and withhold whatever feelings i had for anyone (if at all) internally. The other thing i’d learn to do was to stay focused on whatever organizing i was doing; whatever music, art, getting tattoos, martial arts, exercise or any other project i was doing. i stayed occupied because the other choice would be to cry and lament that ‘no one likes me.’

There is such a primary focus on men when it comes to ‘grind’ and ‘work’ culture- with all of your Lex Friedman, Toby Morse and Rich Roll podcasts praising it all as a virtue of sorts; if you focus and work hard, much success will come to you. A question i have is, how much did the need to consume oneself so much in the ‘work’ have to do with a reaction to constantly facing rejection? Also, how many people who aren’t cis men experience this very thing?
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As i was listening to Ballou and Bannon, i started to wonder, do most people actually know what this feels like? A lot of people spend their lives ‘hooking up’. Are most people who do this actually aromantic, but are conditioned in believing that before being coerced into more ‘romantic’ institutions such as marriage or long-term partnerships, one must sew their oats?

How many people get married and raise children with someone they are romantically attracted to, and emotionally bonded with- or are people married because they wanted to know what it felt like?

And even if if that is the case, why do we think marriage is the only option?

i always told myself i wanted kids, because i would treat my kids in the exact opposite way i was treated. But is that a sustainable reason to want kids?
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i’ve spent my life never knowing what a romantic partnership felt like, and to be honest, i most likely will never know what it feels like- not in the way i’ve always imagined it to be. i will most likely never experience being the parent i’ve wanted to be, specially as i am learning to live with my disabled body, which still feels relatively new, even after almost five years.

i understand that with this ‘new’ body, i am even less desirable in the eyes of society, and i have less of a desire to lament said undesirability. Frankly, i am grateful to have survived.

While i wish what happened to me on no one; it has contributed to me readjusting what desirability means, and what being in a partnership means. In these (almost) five years, there’s literally only been one person who has so much as flirted with me, and this was a person who worked at the airport in Fiji. And i know i was tired, but even though he asked me if i was married; i think i recall him even saying he was married.
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In this more recent part of my life’s journey, i am still learning about myself, and questioning everything i’ve been conditioned with… whether it’s about friendships, relationships in general, or my own body. Occasionally i still do battle the tiny “Why does no one like me?” peering from the side of my brain; however, i do have a wonderful life partner, and this experience is leading me to readjust whatever idealizations i’ve long held about partnerships, based on whatever trauma-based defense mechanisms i’ve grasped. i’ve had to do a lot of compromising, which is one of the key components in sustainability of any relationship, be it familial, platonic or romantic.

While there will indeed be people who love you (even if you don’t love yourself); you will not begin to understand the why, until you allow yourself to be loved.

Or even liked.
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There is nothing inherently wrong with having fears or doubts, for some of them are well-founded. However, when you can take some time for yourself, converge all of these fears and doubts, and let them know they have a space to exist- but they can not hoard so much space where nothing or no one else can function, then the work begins.

And we must remember, this is everyday work.

Thanks Kurt Ballou and Jacob Bannon, for inspiring this little moment of clarity.

My Friend Cicely

i’ve cried so much these past few weeks, but right now i am crying in the ways i did when i was lying in the hospital bed after i got hit by a truck, in immense pain. My heart is in so much pain right now, and it is difficult to breathe.

Today (24 September) would have been the day cicely turned 45 years old; however, it was the day of her memorial, after a long fight with metastatic breast cancer. i have seen her every day beside me since the news of her passing. Her not being here physically never felt real, until this day. i dreaded the appearance of this day, because i never wanted her to leave my side. And though i’ve cried almost every day; even though i’ve had chest pains and unstable sleep and unshakable dread this whole time- today specifically feels as if i’ve been hit by a truck all over again.

Despite her currently being in the presence of the ancestors- or perhaps because of it- cicely has become an even greater teacher to me than she was throughout her life on earth.

September 3, 2024 at 11:40 am (and 59 seconds) is when i received the voice message.

“I am at home in hospice; what that means is that I won’t be getting any more medical interventions. I’m… I’m just getting comfortable, and they’re making me comfortable before I die.”

Immediately, in tears, i sent my own message. She responded that she did not want to hide anything from me, but it all happened so fast, as she had a fall and ended up in the hospital.

Within a matter of days, she was gone.

Cicely and i met 16 or so years ago, in Portland, Oregon; a place visually known to many for its beauty, but for so many others (including ourselves), it was well-versed in the art of passive aggressiveness and covert racism. She and i met- two African punk kids, angry about the inhumanity of capitalism. We aimed to do something about it. We immediately bonded over our love for bands like Crass (a band logo she had tattooed on her), and as much as we loved the band, understood they were not immune from critique. Her method of ‘loving critique’ is something she lived by, as long as i knew her.

We never let a moment pass where “I love you” was not shared with one another. We spoke almost every single day, whether it was by phone or voice message. When the longer conversations became a little less frequent (because of the effects of the chemotherapy) we made every moment count.

In a modern society where people do most of their communications through social media or texting, cicely countered that in her desire for deeper connections. You could spend hours on the phone with her. Superficial or brief conversations were antithetical to her communication style. She needed to get to the root of things. She was surgical in her approach to get everything out of you- not out of maliciousness, but because she knew there was more to a person than what we were giving to the world, and ourselves. Whatever answer you had to her questions, she tended to follow it up with a ‘Why?’ or ‘Explain further, what you mean.” It was not always comfortable, but it was necessary.

Prior to becoming an amputee i moved through the world in a way that was less restricted. i experienced less ideation and periods of depression because of it. After the accident it hit me (no pun intended) that most people around me did not move in the same ways. The world instantly changed. i became incredibly isolated, as i learned that people generally did not enjoy (or have time for) hours-long conversation about dissecting politics, films, and other forms of art. The depression and ideation returned in an even fuller form.

Throughout this, cicely was a brilliant light in the midst of an ever-present dimness. Despite her own massive variations in ill health, she was one of the only ones to take time to have those long conversations with me. While she explicitly never wanted me to be sad for her process of declination (and of course i never listened), she always felt just as sad that she could never be as present for me as she’d wanted to be in these times.

*Messages from cicely- 2008 and 2023, respectively*

In a place where people are so consumed by their day and ‘don’t have time’ (for whatever it is they are saying they don’t have time for), no matter how sick she was, when she was physically able to she could find the time to send messages of joy to those she loved. She saw the prioritizing of her friends’ mental and physical health, just as much as she prioritized her own.

As i sat throughout her celebration of life i thought about our many conversations about relationships. While a majority of people in our surroundings consider the term ‘relationship’ to be primarily romantic; how we both defined it extended beyond that. You can have a relationship with a romantic partner, but you could also have one with the bus driver you see every day. We both also understood that the key to maintaining a sustainable organization is the building of relationships.

While we both agreed on this premise, how we approached relationships were different. While both she and i prioritized friendships over romantic relationships, my notion of friendships were that i held very few close to me. i’d always consider cicely to be one of my closest friends- i stopped regularly using the term ‘best friend’ years ago, because it seemed a bit too hierarchical for my tastes. For me, a close friend is someone who consistently has been with me in some of my lowest moments; we have struggled together, yelled together and laughed together. i can tell this person my most vulnerable and intimate of experiences.

At the celebration of life/memorial, i discovered she’s had many whom she’s had this sort of relationship with. I internally laughed a bit, because everything she’d told me about what relationships meant to her made so much sense, seeing it in action, even after her passing. She was poly-platonic and anti-hierarchical in the purest sense.

We both also shared a commonality in that we both bought houses, and were living with our life partners. She was one of the few people i confided in as i was going through the process of purchasing a house. i had been opposed to purchasing a house for as long as i can remember, but she was my cheerleader the whole time, giving me tips and letting me know she would be of assistance wherever she’s needed.

i remember when she first told me told me that she was in the process of closing, then it finally happened.

Five months later, she’s gone.

Another thing we had in common was that as serious as we were about organizing and fighting systems of oppression, we felt just as strongly about laughter and music. We both love(d) singing and dancing, and bad jokes. We both were punk kids, but we listened to anything that sounded good to us.

One of the moments i will always cherish is her recording of ‘Skyscraper’ by Bad Religion, one of my favorite bands of all time (and as she said, “…one of my first punk bands I loved.”). Despite them being one of my favorite bands, it’s been incredibly difficult to listen to them lately, as whenever i do i think of cicely and i break down.

She was music. She was beauty.

She saw the beauty in herself, in a society that would have never deemed her beautiful- as an African woman, as a woman whose body was ravaged with cancer, and as a women who was far from thin. She did not care what society thought, and neither did i: She was one of the most stunningly beautiful people you’d ever meet. Just as she was assured in her femininity (she loved to dress up and proudly considered herself to be a ‘girly girl’), she was just as assertive in the fight against patriarchy. She never saw these things as mutually exclusive. She took up space as a disabled woman (and never allowed for condescension or patronizing/ableist sentiments), and understood the difference between the social and medical models of disability (a subject we would spend quite a bit of time on with each other).

She was the embodiment of ‘the personal is political’. She understood that politics was defined as not only the relationship to labor/class, but also, the relationships we have with each other. Because she was consistent in how she lived, she never had to alter or minimize her language, according to whomever she was speaking with. As a teacher, she uplifted students who were otherwise underestimated by the system. She valued them as much as she valued someone she considered a friend. Even if you held a different ideological or political position, she aimed to figure out why you held that position, and treated you with the same levels of humanity in her critique and questions as she would anyone else, because you are a person, and she didn’t feel the need to use the same tactics as capitalist society to beat anyone down. As long as your objectives were not to harm, she’d come to an understanding about the differences. Her analysis and wit were sharp as a fresh blade, so if you were questioned by her, you better come with a similar sharpness.

Despite (unfortunately) being remote, i am truly humbled and grateful to have been asked to say a few words for her celebration of life. Here were my words:

Text: i’ve sat at a desk and lied in bed for hours over the past number days, thinking of a number of superlatives i could list when it comes to my dear friend cicely; and the only word i could think of is one that has both positive and negative associations, depending on who you speak with: anomaly, that word signifying abnormality; that deviation of what society has conditioned us to deem ‘normal’.

In a world where Africans aren’t supposed to listen to and love punk music; cicely and i met because of our shared love for it; i saw that Crass tattoo on her wrist, and i knew we would be friends forever. In a time when disabled bodies are still being seen as undesirable or unsightly; she exuded a proud femininity, and lovingly and patiently discouraged whatever levels of shame i’ve had around my own disability. In a society that convinces us that having ‘a seat at the table’ is a solution to resolve inequities, she and i (and many of our comrades) have actively resisted these capitalist notions and ideological frameworks through organization and political education, and engagement.

With all of this (and more), cicely only has taken on the characteristic of an anomaly, because we have bestowed that onto her. She was no different than the rest of us-she just made the decision to live fearlessly. i could talk for hours about the conversations we’ve shared over the years and the wisdom she’s bestowed, but i don’t think that’s necessary. Many of us who are here to honor and celebrate her life have a number of experiences so varied, you could patch together a quilt. And none of this would matter, because as we feel blanketed by her wisdom she would pull that quilt off and say, ‘Pull that thing off of you, and be who you really are.’

She was, and is, no different than the rest of us, and this is why we love her. We’ve had every opportunity over the 15 or 16 years we’ve known each other to say “I love you” whenever we could. i am so moved that i got to say it to her in the moments her final physical form was present, and i continue to say it in her presence with the ancestors, as her impact is still evident.

i love you cicely rogers. Please don’t forget it.

She was music. She was beauty. She was sharp. She was wise.

She is cicely. My friend cicely.

And i love her forever. Thank you cicely, for everything.

a self-diagnosis of love…

the winter months are approaching; as it gets darker out earlier, i do my best to prepare myself mentally. it could be anything from taking extra vitamin d, to intentionally eating healthier. one thing that makes me warm-hearted is spending time with my dear cat friend, lumbia. when i curl up to rest she’s right there to curl up as well. she’s an older cat (10, soon to be 11) and though she’s still quite active she loves to live a basic life- eating/drinking, resting and going to the ‘bathroom’. it’s a lot like when we humans get older.

lumbia and i met when she was 2 years old; she came into my life after i ended a very toxic relationship. the more we spent time together over the years i recognized that she is extremely sensitive to the energy around her. she’s really friendly to most humans; however there have been a couple of people she avoided. she is very talkative with specific tones when she is in need of something. she’s also sensitive or allergic to certain things (like fleas), and will throw up when she has an allergic reaction.

she is extremely sensitive to the energy i carry. whenever i’ve been depressed she takes that on. it actually makes me sadder, because i didn’t want to make her sad. whenever i am happy she’s receptive to that as well. whenever i leave she gives this look of ‘you’re leaving AGAIN??!!’ and goes back in a little ball to rest; when i come home she gives me a very vocal greeting, and walks up to me.

a lot of humans just look at cats or dogs (or birds, snakes, mice, etc.) as a ‘pet’ and may not necessarily consider their emotions to match our own, especially if they have been around for a long time. and of course, they choose us. if we treat them with love and respect, they will be dedicated to us.

it’s a lot like us humans.

as a human i am constantly learning about myself and the world around me daily. the older i get, the more i find myself sensitive to energy in general. there have been these feelings though, these sensations i’ve had ever since i was a child; and i had no idea how to articulate these feelings. i though i had always been alone in these feelings, and it was not until recently where i learned it had a name.

ASMR.

autonomous sensory meridian response. anyone who experiences ASMR would know exactly what i mean when i speak about it- it’s that pleasurable tingling in the head (and sometimes shoulders/ arms/ears, fingers/etc.), when you see someone in the midst of a task, or speaking, or writing. there’s not a lot of research on it (as it’s a more recent phenomenon (in terms of its name)), but people have been experiencing this for years. it’s nice to know i’m not alone in this feeling- there are others i personally know who experience this as well. it’s also interesting to know that not everyone experiences this.

i wonder if it’s a defence mechanism which developed for people who were under stress as children- such as abusive households- and these specific things which trigger the ASMR are reminders of a ‘safe space’. is it directly related to the chakras? is it related at all to a mild OCD? do people who have this have a high sensitivity to the energy around them? is it genetic?

i found out today that my sister also experiences this; however i know that not all siblings share this same quality.

in many ways it feels like this special club; these codes which have yet to be discovered are known only by those who experience them. percentages are not known, and there continues to be surveys and films around the subject, to know more about why and how people feel what they do.

http://www.asmr-research.org/

it’s also one of the first ever ‘diagnosable’ episodes not shrouded in negativity; since it is related to the pleasure center being triggered, there is a curiosity without ridicule or malice about it.

watching people create things gives me the sensation; it is not necessarily something i can conjure up myself by will or force. for instance, the earrings you see in the above photos… as much as i focus on (and love) making jewelry, cooking, writing, etc., it has to be others doing it in order for me to be triggered. this is definitely a journey i enjoy being a part of. and yes, i do wonder if cats experience something similar.

as lumbia curls up and rests, i wonder what dreams she has, as her ears twitch; are they good or bad? does she know she is loved, and does she love others, in the way cats somehow do, in their own language? rest away little one, for it’s always a new day for you to explore.

just like for us humans.

every day alive…

i do my best to listen to the universe’s lessons; i do admit there are times i fall into the trap of reverting to a sense of finality based on my feelings of the current state of what’s presented to me.

knowing that i’m here for a journey (with the attempt at little to no expectations- thus contradicting my first statement) i decided to create a new blog page. the name of this site is inspired by my favourite song ever in the whole world, ‘home’ (written by charlie smalls). we’ve become so conditioned to disconnect from the roots which prompt our growth- the community, the skills, the song inside of us- those things we’ve known all along, and have every opportunity to continue knowing about.

suddenly my world’s gone and changed its face
but I still know where i’m going
i have had my mind spun around in space
yet i’ve watched it growing

every day alive… is a good day. every tear that falls, every laugh, every drop of rain on your glasses. every day, there’s a moment to learn from life’s errors, to rebuild bridges. no moment is insignificant. no moment is final, yet every moment is impermanent. welcoming that change is a part of that journey. it took me many years to accept this aspect of my journey, and to ask for assistance when i am lost.

accepting my gifts? admittedly it’s been a struggle, in the context of the society i live in. much of the time i feel like an anomaly, and my way of coping is just spending time alone- but never am i lonely. i always imagined myself to be one of those old cat ladies, living out the rest of my life in a cabin and working in some capacity as a caregiver.

indeed, i’ve come to the point where i actually appreciate the life i live. it has been an intensely long journey after a series of relationships which negatively impacted my life. i decided to take the time out for myself and assure those negative individuals no longer had control over me. growing up in an abusive environment, i began to see my adult life play out in the same way, and i had to step back and spend time alone until i was successful in sincerely valuing myself.

it took eight long years for me to openly even say i LIKE myself. the mantra of “you’re stupid/ugly/worthless” played out in my mind as a child like a bad pop hit on the radio… it only seemed a natural progression to initiate a relationship with a man who was possessive and abusive, out of fear that i would never know what it was like to be in one. thinking there would be an emotional growth, the focus for him was more physical. while certainly i obliged that, and while we also had moments which were truly intimate; i knew that both of us were with each other to fill a void.

i made a decision that i would not do things out of fear, or the feeling of loss. the void would never be filled in healthy ways if i didn’t do this. i have also accepted my desire to not play the game, and the consequences that come with that. because of this, again, i feel like an anomaly. i do not take part in the rituals of finding a mate- the bars, the clubs, the websites. i do not drink alcohol, i don’t do drugs (not even pharmaceuticals), i don’t do the small talk which helps to identify if someone is available at the moment. i don’t dress ‘sexy’, i don’t wear high heels. i don’t wear makeup. i don’t utilize the signifiers that would make me remotely attractive to someone trying to find a ‘girlfriend’.

i have been told by some that i have maintained an innocence very rare in this society today. i’m sure their views are partially guided by the actions named above.

for me, relationships (no matter what capacity they’re in) are very important. i value the time i spend with someone, and the idea of meeting someone to ‘date’ does not appeal to me.

for me, the word ‘date’ has far too many associations with limited relationships. just as a date on a calendar lasts for 24 hours per year (for instance we only get one january 1st per year), a date in my mind implies there’s no interest in building something deeper or more consistent. a date seems to imply (again in my mind) that the attraction to a person was primarily physical, and the purpose for getting together is to have brief encounters of physical intimacy.

this also applies to the word ‘girlfriend’ or ‘boyfriend’. as a woman nearing 40, i want to formulate a stimulating, beneficial, mature relationship with an adult, not a child; someone who is not fearful of displaying his vulnerabilities alongside his strengths. ‘girlfriend’ and ‘boyfriend’ again, seem limited in scope.

it may seem like semantics to some, a crazy theory to others; however, to contrast a date with a ‘boyfriend’ with an actual companionship lends to different imagery. as long as i can remember i’ve never actually been interested in dating, and i always desired a companionship based on a deep spiritual/emotional bond between myself and my partner. this companionship is based on compromise, on declaring needs, honoring independence and on sharing ideas. when this is established, a physical relationship would be a positive addition to an already positive relationship.

as much as i say this, i am going to be honest and say i don’t know if this is something that will happen for me. i think my ‘innocence’ (as others see it) gets in the way. it’s seemingly not a particularly desirable trait, in accordance with societal norms. i am definitely a lot less closed off to the idea of a partnership than i used to be- i used to say i would never let anyone know how i felt about them, since whenever i did it always ended in pain or rejection. still, while i have come to welcome the idea of a partner in my life (and even the rejection that comes my way), it’s still an idea. again, i don’t play the game, nor do i have a desire to. people tend to see my naivete pertaining to the game and are either turned off, or take advantage of it.

so yes, i have come to accept the potentiality of the ‘crazy cat lady’ future. i don’t necessarily see this as bad; i mean, i love cats! i don’t even see the notion of spinsterdom (if that’s even a word at all) being a bad thing, if that’s how one chooses to live. so many of us are dependent on the idea that we get our life from these so-called dream relationships, without taking into account that (a. the focus on romantic relationships negates the fact that EVERY person we encounter in our daily lives is forming a relationship with us, no matter how minute, and (b. the first and greatest relationship we can form with someone is with the self. when you have those two things figured out, i can guarantee (from experience) that the relationships you have with others will vastly improve.

if a person were to come into my life and end up as my companion/partner, that would be wonderful; but it’s not the end of my world if it doesn’t happen.

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i find it intriguing that i’m even writing about this subject. first, it’s something very private and second, i tend to focus on things like sociopolitical analysis (some of which you will get from this blog). there’s this need for me to welcome a general capacity of love in my life right now. just like with sociopolitical theory i’ve always looked at love as this abstract thing. it was always something others could attain, but not me. love was always that flower that was so wonderful to observe, but you were afraid to be cut by the thorns. this “sweet yet painful” sensation was written about so eloquently by the great teena marie:

i am the bird that cannot be caged completely
even though I long to spread my wings so bittersweetly

the action of being in love should allow room for flight; for to fall in love symbolizes engine trouble. that engine is the heart, and the fuel, blood. the blood pumps back and forth to the heart in order to maintain compassion through the turbulence. when you ‘fall for’ someone there may be a tendency to lose sense of self. the heart drives one’s nurturing and compassion for the self. this is all so very new for me, this realization that i have to nurture myself to move on.

i’ve always felt this drive to be nurturing in some way, to care for those who are vulnerable. i connect all of this with letting go- of a personal item of mine, of time… to make food for a friend; to create a song for them, to give them something which has been yours for years, they’re all wonderful things. perhaps this is the role i am to play, as destined by the universe.

i am learning how to make more time for myself, as opposed to usually making time for others. part of living compassionately for others is accepting that you have needs, and that there’s nothing wrong with vocalizing them. you must care for yourself first.

this month has been busy to the point where i haven’t had time to sit with myself; however, i decided to stay up the other night and begin making some earrings. i haven’t done crafts in a serious manner for a while, and it felt good to do so. weaving fabric around and together is quite meditative. there is something to be said for ancestral memory here.

when i think now, i begin to think of home. i think of creativity (and returning to it), of listening to my heart. of finding that surety amongst the insecurity (to once again take inspiration from ms. brockert).

i had a lovely flight and hope that you’ve enjoyed
the change you brought upon my mind

country or city, it makes no difference… to me

as long as i am breathing in your wisdom songs

forever i’m in love and free

this writing here is about letting go… it’s about the ultimate knowledge of even the perception of my ‘innocence’ being a reaction to a society which no longer encourages self-reflection. admittedly i may be running towards finality in some respects, not yet able to see what others see in me; but i do know what i see in myself for now, and i can say i am finally beginning to like what i see.

and it’s starting to feel like home.

peace…