Friday, April 25, 2014

"This Life" is "Big" and Hard

It was a hard day today, and all I can do with it is count my blessings and be grateful the complaints I have, the fears I have, are the complaints I have.  The fears I have.

Because the fears I have are the fears of privilege, of the position from which money is what looks like a problem.  Of being fortunate, talented, and stable enough to live on my own terms.  My mom and dad did that to me, and I'll never be able to express the fulness of my thanksgiving.  The fulness of my heart.

Today was hard for reasons other than the way I actually spent it.  The way I actually spent it was at an Administrative Professionals conference, which is an event I've been to for some years, and which seems to get better every year.  We had a little fun with writing.  We got cheered on by nice people.  We stretched all our muscles in our seats and ... listened to some music.

Susan Greenbaum was with us.  I've heard of Susan for years, but - oddly enough, given the opportunities locally - have never seen her live before.  Seeing a musician live in a setting mostly geared toward thinking about work and professional development, not a coffee house or club, maybe heightens just how good music is.  The guy who got us to move our bodies a bit heightened just how good moving our bodies can be, and the sealed-in atmosphere of a day's conference has a way of imbuing something almost like sacred time.

I found out today that one of the longest-running stresses in my life, that No-Love Which Dare Not Speak Its Name (on a blog - as personal as I get here, I do have boundaries) - which was supposed to be resolved ... or, at least, which had the chance of being resolved and I hoped would be - is not at an end.

As I sit typing, the sky is GREEN and dark, and the rain is pelting so hard it's making my front living room window pinkle under its bombardment, almost with the sound rain usually makes on a tin roof.

That sound is my dad's sound, a sacred sound.  Rain, and queer skies, and lightning and very close thunder are heightened, and the green air mystical.

I'm also enjoying the hormonal rush of a lifetime, and getting static news, which can be as bad as bad news, when you have to give it in turn to your mom - to your friends and those who pray for you.  Susan's voice cracked a little, but I did not make it through "This Life" ...

I will make it through mine, though.

I thanked her before I left.  "People must say to you all the time, 'you touched me' - but you made *me* touch something myself, and that's even better."  She hugged me.  She has startlingly beautiful eyes.

By the way?  Susan is 4'10".  And she is just huge.  Please watch the vids.  You know who you are, who I'm asking to watch.  I know you usually don't.  But these were the songs I heard after the no-news, and they help.  Plus, the second one is joyous.  Funny.  It'll make you stop crying after the first one.  It was my gift, today.

There's a lot more to life than the problems I have as someone with a roof over my head, the love of a beautiful cat and a dog, and friends and family I will never hope to deserve.  I've sent a link to this post to you all, and every word of this I wrote for you - because I'm not going to want to talk about things right now, because I'm PMS-ing and tired, because you deserve better than my first emotions, and honestly so does the situation.  Whatever my problems are, they aren't those of someone else on the other side of my coin today.  Whatever my problems are, I'm grateful they're not greater ones.  I'm thankful for hope.  And for MY life.

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