Waiting

"The only thing I can say is that it takes place-or the best of it takes place-in a sort of vacuum. On the worst of mornings. On the least likely of mornings. When you expect nothing to happen. When the page is blank. When the mind is blank. Even in a state of depression or melancholia. And, then, only with good luck...

Oh, don't misunderstand me. I think you have to be sitting there. You have to 'wait' in good faith. You have to go to work like anyone else, or I do anyway. I have to go to work at nine o'clock. And in that sense you force it. You've got to start in some way...You have to have a routine and live up to it and then hope for the best." - Walker Percy

He's talking about writing, a truly difficult process. But this applies to all of life.

It takes that faith of waiting, which seems to be much of life: waiting for love, for creativity, for realization of dreams, for change, for security, and so on. Sometimes these things come, sometimes they do not. Sometimes the waiting is days, sometimes years. I hate waiting and yet find the process has been transformative in so many situations. Like working towards love and marriage with Dan. It took years for my heart to be fully ready... much pain and soul searching to get there (and saintliness on Dan's part in staying with me for years while I was uncertain). But in the end, marriage has been a wild celebration of the best years of our relationship. It's been the freest, safest, most healing, holistic time of my life and I know it's because of all the groundwork laid... and because of who Dan is, which is oh, so right for me.

I am thankful daily for the rewards of waiting. Would that I remember this when I am stuck in that agonizing, hellish process again (as I have been for fifteen years now in terms of my creativity and calling).

In the meantime, I guess I'll show up, as Percy says. I'll start so that I am there when something happens.

A Long Lapse

So I have managed to avoid sharing my writing for months on end (despite good intentions), yet again. You have heard from me only once... not nearly enough to hear anything, really. And yet, I have been writing. Writing up a storm as I have for over a decade now with my library of journals. This past weekend, Dan & I sat in Samovar Tea Lounge in the Castro (a favorite haunt of ours) and wrote for hours. It was cathartic.

So why do I still avoid sharing any of it with you? I suppose it always feels like a commitment I am not ready to handle. As if putting it out there will somehow mean I am accountable to every word or expected to keep 'putting out', as it were. There is much fear and self-loathing involved whenever I think of sharing anything closest to my heart even as I love to open up the inner recesses of my soul to others.

I don't know why I avoid. I only know I do to a fault. I am ready to stop that and share some of the myriad of thoughts and impressions that flow through and from me every day. I could write novels of thought if only I had the time and will. This life is too full and thrilling and tiring to begin to say all that stirs within.

So I start by saying I will try to be here, even if a just occasionally. Don't believe me if you like. I am not sure I even believe myself. But I have to put this out there to anyone who might be reading (maybe no one?) I will attempt to put at least a few of the writings I am doing on my own time - or at least write a few additional words here.

Life is too short to remain silent and keep the endless waves of emotion, thought and life to myself. Thank you to those of you who let me share these things with you in person. But I do know deep within, always have, that I must share more in writing.

Here's to release.

To Journal or Not to Journal

I have journaled extensively for almost fifteen years now, having in recent years contemplated putting excerpts online. I can't expose everything publicly or then where would I release my endless thoughts? I always have more to say, however, and thus find this opportunity to journal in addition to my own handwritten journals one I cannot pass up.

What shall my first entry be, you ask? I suppose I could write about my past weekend. That's a place to start. It began with a leisurely day Friday, May 21, meeting with various friends throughout the day - Elena, Pam, Julie - for meals and coffee (at my place or in cafes), heart to heart talks and catching up on our lives.

The evening provided Dan & I excellent free seats at the San Francisco Symphony's Beethoven festival with my former housemate, CaSandra. CaS is now employed with the Symphony in their HR department and can get free tickets at any time. This concert was Beethoven's Symphony No. 7 (the second movement was particularly gorgeous and a favorite of Dan's). After our deliciously filling, authentic Italian dinner at "Il Borgo" - toasting with a warm glass of chianti to our friendship and the night - we went to our concert, savoring the rousing flow of the Symphony and the guest pianist, Jean-Yves Thibaudet. We occasionally had to break the reverence with our own colorful jokes, then attempt to cover our laughter during the quiet moments.

Saturday provided a leisurely morning with a three hour conversation with my Anita... always good for my soul, though we never can begin to say it all. How thrilled I am that we can go to NYC and Boston this Fall and see her and sweet Dave. I didn't want to have to wait too long following the wedding.

Sherri joined us in the afternoon and we headed out to Pier 30/32 to meet Vic, and eventually Natashia & Giorgio, for the first band at the (free) KFOG festival. With Vic waiting all day in line, we bypassed the miles long line to head straight to the front of the stage for a rousing Robert Randolph & the Family Band show. Wow! The spirit was in the house! People are calling him the new Hendrix and I have to say the shoe does fit. With 70's funk, soul, gospel, blues and rock, he and his band tore it up! Everyone, from the hippies/granola kids on one side of us to the drunken middle aged trucker guys on the other side, was completely caught up in their riotous, spirited sound and Robert's truly inspired steel guitar work. "Shake the goose bumps off me, man!" the guy behind us kept shouting after the opening number. The best part was to see the joy with which he played: so infectiously exuberant and part of every moment was he, that in watching him, you desired to celebrate music and life with as much zest as he did. The clouds flew by over head, allowing the sun to send its rays down on us intermittenly, while the water of the Bay behind us and the towering Bay Bridge next to us, created an outline surrounding us of a perfectly free moment in time. I am glad we went... and no ticket price for all that.

We took Sherri out for a birthday dinner & drink at The Last Supper Club following the show and then spent a cozy evening at home, just Dan & I.

Church was excellent on Sunday and Dan & I had a leisurely day following with naps, walks, a rooftop pipe smoke (Dan smoked the pipe), recipe browsing for the week, making dinner and watching TV. And with that, I must rush off.