My Glamorous Life
I drag myself to the kitchen and put on the jug (or boil the kettle as you might say in the USA). I stand there in bare feet and notice all the little bits of cheese on the kitchen floor. My flatmate's son eats a lot of cheese. Or at least, drops a lot on the floor. I sweep the cheese, but I don't want to clean the shit off the back inside of the toilet bowl. I may change my mind after I've had coffee. I've thought about living alone again, but if you work out the cost, you'd have to earn at least $600 a week in the hand to do it. I love my flatmate and her son, but you know how it is. The longing for silence. I'm sure there are things I do that are annoying. Maybe worse than shit stains in the bowl and urine on the toilet seat. It's all give and take.
The jug comes to the boil. I spoon in a massive mound of coffee for the plunger (press in USA speak) and I hold the jug up quite high as I pour in the scalding water. I believe this gives the coffee a bit more punch, and it tends to have that thicker taste that I like.
As I pour I silently count to five, as that is exactly the right measure of water. As I wait for it to do it's thing, I lift my arms up in the air for a bit of Yoga stretching. Not too much of course. My body doesn't quite believe it's out of bed yet. I really do want to go back to Bikram Yoga. I know Birkram is the Magpie Pimp of Yoga, but the fact is, it really works.
I push down the plunger and then pour the coffee (also from a slight height) into a chipped cup I wouldn't usually use. I hate chips. Mum always said "bacteria gets into the chip and you can be poisoned', so if anything got chipped when I was growing up, mum used it for pot plants or pens. We had a lot of pens that didn't work, sitting around in old chipped cups. Lots of pot plants too.
Mum still keeps chipped and even completely broken crockery for when she does mosaics. She has never done a mosaic, but the dream lives on. I bought her a book on how to do them. It's probably under a box of broken crockery. Still. One day.
As I sit here (in bed, cat at my feet) I feel the body thirsting for more coffee. I'm thinking of Lisa, who I'm seeing today. She sometimes works near Auckland, and today she's able to meet up with me for a little while before returning to her client, and then back up North. I have a very late present for her. I can't remember if it was a birthday or Christmas gift now, but it's a metal garden fairy. It's actually really nice as far as garden ornaments go (shh, don't tell anyone I said that).
I am looking forward to hugging her tight. I want to squeeze love into her. I want to stop her pain. I want her sister Julie to come through the operation ok, to not be brain damaged or dead as a result. What are the chances of knowing someone with a brain tumour? In the 70's and 80's there were often tv movies about some kind of struggle with illness. A brain tumour would have been perfect. Sounds so dramatic. Actually, it really is dramatic when you look at how a person changes. How a woman can go from being able to work as a sharp tongued accountant, to not being able to do her own washing.
Speaking of changes, here is where you get to congratulate me! I don't know if you realised, but that awful depression I went through, well, it was triggered by shock and disappointment. The disappointment followed quite a long period of other stressful factors, and I suppose it might have been inevitable. Whatever the case, the symbol of this disappointment was The Painter. Lisa kept saying to me "but it's not really him. He's just a vessel."
Karen Reid, the amazing healer I went to, had said something similar, and also that he hadn't tried to hurt me, he just didn't know how to accept love. A lot of men don't evidently.
Whatever the case, I still had this sadness about it, even though I've healed from the depression. If I thought of him, I still felt humiliated. My mind would just turn in this never ending wheel of 'but why would someone do that?'. I came to realise that someone would do that if they lacked empathy and self love. I notice I have too much empathy for others most of the time, I soak up people's feelings like a human sponge. So it's up to me to find ways of stepping back. I find it really hard. I trust people so easily, and even when someone shits on me, I still look at them and think things like "well, they did have a hard child hood" or some such crap. Everyone has pain to deal with. Some are dealing, and some are in denial, but as long as we're human this is part of the process.
Now this is the hard part. Seeing the mirror or the the reason for why I would attract this kind of experience. How to be real about that without blaming anyone, without creating more guilt or fear. The only way I could really find any acceptance about being rejected in such a spectacular manner was to know that all my prayers were coming true. To know that the Super Soul, or God, or Higher Self was actually coming in to play this game. Perhaps angels were whispering "we're going to have to finish this one early, this is more than you can deal with".
What I perceived as rejection was quite likely a gift. With that in mind, on Saturday I had this clarity when I thought of The Painter. I wondered if he was ok. Yes, yes, I know, me and my empathy, where will it all end?
I texted hello, and the upshot is, we caught up with each other on Sunday. And this is the good part. I could see he was intelligent and funny, great to be around, but there was no 'krong'. Mum and I coined 'kronnggggg' as the term for when you really 'feel it' on an attraction level. If you did a cartoon, you might show the word 'krronngggggggg!' emanating from a person's genitalia to indicate a stirring of interest. I looked at him and pondered the fact that we'd had sex, yet it seemed like a lifetime ago.
So we had this perfectly lovely catch up, joyfully free of krong. I didn't feel the need to go on about how he'd hurt me, nor the need to know why his relationship had recently ended.
I remember writing in my diary that I'd give that one three months, maybe six at the most. I didn't laugh, but I wasn't surprised. I even imagine they might still give it another go.
It was just so good to see this person who I'd built up to some unreasonable level in my own mind, and then see him as he truly is. Just another piece of the limitless Love of the Universe expressing itself in Human Form. Stumbling along. Doing the best he can. Like we all are.
Must be time to put the jug on. ;)
No comments:
Post a Comment