I had a very difficult weekend. I am in a new relationship, with someone who I think is just peachy (hence, the relationship). But he moved away and we are dealing with the stress of being apart when we don't really want to be. I called a buddy who is also doing a long distance thingy, and he said some things that were really helpful to me. I thought I would share some of it, partly because I don't want to forget what he said, but also partly because it might be helpful to others. This is some powerful jou-jou. Take heed.
He said "when given a choice, always choose strength." You might notice from reading my blog that I am constantly swinging from feeling like I'm weak to feeling like I'm strong. And I wonder which one is really me. Well, both are me, just one is powerful and amazing and one is not. Powerful amazing me is the one that everyone adores. Weak snivelling me is nothing but a whiner.
He said "you can take a bunch of small steps instead of a great big one." I am feeling weak and overwhelmed. I feel like I have a major life decision to make, and I feel like there is some urgency to it. I'm scared that I might lose the relationship if I don't rush to be by his side, scared that I'll lose myself if I do that, scared that I'll just fade away into memory. I don't have to sell my house right now. I don't have to quit my job. I don't have to leave my life behind and go chasing off after someone. He may be worth it. I think he probably is. But instead of creating a major upheaval that will stress me out, I can tiptoe in the right direction.
He said "accept this time apart as a gift." I have had some relationships that haven't worked out, and I've analyzed them a bit. I was just as much to blame in those failures as they were. What did I do wrong? In almost every instance, I threw myself aside. In some cases, I did it with very little respect for myself and my previous boundaries. As the newness wore off, I ended up getting disappointed when he didn't turn out to be the person I thought he was. I ended up resenting the sacrifices I made in order to be in the relationship.
Since I've been alone, I've been working on savoring that time. Now I'm not alone, not really. I have love, even though it is far away. There is enormous comfort in that. There is also some pain in that. But the sweetness outweighs the bitterness, I think. And I have time to choose what my future looks like.
I did another song contest: Tucson Folk Festival. Thanks to the judges for selecting me as a finalist for the second year in a row. What an interesting day it was. No, interesting is not the best word for it. I'll change it to hilarious. Because if it wasn't funny, I would have died.
Checked into the hotel as a pack of Hell's Angels arrived. Imagine a lobby full of big, leathered, men, some hairy, some not. Most tattooed. Most carrying guns and/or knives. Later, a group of classic car owners arrived. And, I am told, a marching band, in uniform. The strangest bunch of folks, all in the same place. So interesting!
But, back to the contest. I arrived, checked in, and drew fourth in sequence. This was excellent, because last year I drew first and I felt that it was not a great placement in the order of things. Number four is a much sweeter spot.
Group number one came and went. Group number two came on...seconds into her performance, I leaned over to my friend Peter and said "that's the winner, right there." Turned out, I was right. She did win the contest. Group three came on. Group four...that's me. Got up. Felt good. Tuned. Sound check. Nice. My introduction was good, funny, representative of me. First chords were strong. I felt good.
And then, it happened. The fake nails I had put on (because I had broken my natural nails earlier in the week) snagged on the strings...and got stuck. I lost a beat. I think I might have said "crap!" I don't remember. I finished the song, frustrated but still feeling like I had a chance. Before I started my second song I tore off the remaining nails and threw them dramatically over my shoulder.
Well, you know, I entered this thing with a much different attitude than last year. I entered with the assumption that I wouldn't win. I was doing this to be a finalist, and that's what I did. I walk out with several great stories, new friends, and a powerful lesson that natural nails are indeed the best nails for me. (grow, nails, grow!)
On the upside, I played a full set on the Plaza stage, with Peter and Mary Danzig backing me up, and it sounded great. Hot, even. Another fine performance, played on the radio and immortalized on CD. I couldn't be happier with it.
I do Bikram Yoga as often as I can, as it helps me stay fit without having to do too much. Lately, however, I have been very disappointed in myself. Since the broken arm, I haven't exercised as much, and I've had a harder time staying away from foods that are bad for me. I need to get myself in gear. Things don't fit like I want them to.
I know that a big part of that is that I don't have anyone here taking care of me, and my most recent boyfriend was very good at that. He had strange eating habits, though, and I have a real difficult time sticking to the diet that he started me on. Granted, it worked very well. Imagine a 2-year juice fast. The problem with consuming mostly juice is that, when you go back to solid foods, you tend to go back to your original shape. But I don't want to. I am really struggling with that, and I find myself in the dumps about it. More than I'd like.
Because I'm a bit bigger around the middle than I want to be, I've been hiding a bit. Not going out. Not exercising as I should. Finding excuses to stay at home and be mostly inactive. I know, intellectually, that this doesn't help matters. There's a part of me that is feeling at a complete loss, saying "why bother?" It's hard. It's not that much fun. Why do I need to be skinny, anyway? Who cares? Juice tastes horrible, and the texture is worse than the flavor. Yoga takes so much time, and there's the garden to take care of and so many other things to do. If I allow myself to think like that, the whole situation gets worse. I start comparing myself to others, wondering why they are going places while I am not, well, it must be because I'm a total fatass.
Not helpful.
I drag myself to yoga, and I sweat and I try and it is completely empty as an experience. It isn't helping. I'm still growing exponentially.
And, then, I dragged myself there tonight. I dragged myself and the same old attitude to class, and I'm not sure how it was different, but it was.
First of all, I stood close to the middle. There were no people right in front of me. I could see myself very well. I wore yoga clothes that fit, so I didn't look like a rooster in a sock. I didn't chicken out of any of the poses. I gave it my best and tried to do the best form that I could, even though my depth was not great.
I got to camel. Usually, camel pose makes me feel a little bit sick. It is a backward bend. You sit up on your knees, legs about 6 inches apart. With hands on hips, you bend back, tipping the head back while lifting the chest. In the last part of the pose, you grab your heels with your hands and push your hips forward. It is a scary posture, and I usually have trouble with it. Tonight, I decided I would do everything but grab my heels, as I'm unsure if I can put that pressure on my arm in that position yet, and it is precarious enough that I could fall. I concentrated on leaning back, and I refused to listen to the voice in my head that was telling me to stop.
And then, the instructor said "good job, Jen."
It was amazing, what those three words did for me. That little bit of encouragement was enough to send me through the rest of class, billowed by feelings of self worth. I realized that no one has said any encouraging words to me in yoga class since I broke my arm. Yoga classes have been pretty impersonal, and I don't know if it has been because of where I stood in the room, or the number of people in the room with me, or me chickening out, or what...but not one instructor has said a word to me since January.
And it carries over into my life. In my work, I tend to be somewhat solitary, and my coworkers don't know what I do. They don't see when I am successful, and usually only interact with me if there is a problem that needs to be worked out. They don't see my accomplishments. They don't really have a reason to talk to me, most days. I'm not sure I've ever been praised by my coworkers for my bird programs. Most of them have never seen me do a program.
I didn't know when my arm would heal, so I didn't book a lot of gigs this spring, and now I'm finding that I have very few performances in the next couple of months. This was in the year that I was supposed to say yes to everything, but no one knows who I am, so they aren't asking.
I live alone, and I don't hold myself accountable for much. I have many unfinished projects. And I usually never tell myself "that was done well" when I finish something, or take the initiative to start something that should be done.
I realized, while leaning back into camel pose, that I NEED praise. Honest, heartfelt, productive encouragement. Not correction or challenge, but positive reinforcement for what I'm doing well, at the moment that I am most brilliant.
I should know this, because this is how birds are trained. If the bird does the good thing, like jump from the perch to your hand, it gets a treat, and you say "good bird! Good!" And it comes to love doing it because it loves the treats so much. You don't punish the unwanted behavior, you ignore it, saving the treats for the good behaviors. Punishment often causes the animal to fear you, which is one way to motivate an animal, but it isn't the best way. Punishment backfires.
But back to me. When there is no praise, I think I I feel like I am doing something wrong, because the trainer ignores the bad and only treats the good. No treat? Guess you didn't deserve one. And then, just like an animal in training, I pander, hoping to get the reward. That's when I get super annoying to other people.
Some of my trainers know that I work for treats, and they are experts at doling them out. And I will follow them to the ends of the earth.
Some of my trainers don't know that they are trainers. And if they don't understand training, they get Jen with the attitude problem. Jen who seems to be dragging her feet. Depressed, sullen Jen. I hide, and get ignored more, because no one knows I am here.
There are some things I have to do if I want to feel successful in my fitness, and at work. I need to get caught working my butt off. I need to be more visible with my success, and it can't be that I simply tell people what I did. I need them to see it. I need to get out and play more gigs for more people. I need to invite my coworkers to see me do that bird thing I do. And I need to be more firm with myself, and instead of rewarding myself for getting away with laziness, I should give myself an "attagirl" when I pass the candy basket without taking a handful of chocolate. I should take a moment and take pride in the things that I do right.
That will be the hardest, because I'm not used to generating that. It sure is easier when someone else does it for you. Like today, when the instructor noticed my camel pose, she transported me to another world in three words. I need to learn how to do that for myself, and to believe it.
I remembered this morning, for no apparent reason, a passage from Macbeth:
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
I'm pulling together a bit of a progressive jazz setting for it, with piano, bass and a lead instrument, probably mandolin. Oh, and drums, too. We'll see how it goes. I've always been fascinated by Shakespeare, and have worked on his texts before. It could be really interesting to pull together a project of Shakespeare-inspired works. I could probably fill half a CD as it is right now. Several years ago, I started setting the text of the "rustic play" from A Midsummer Night's Dream, with early instrumentation and small vocal ensemble. I've also set the fairy lullaby from the same play in an a capella arrangement. And I have a song inspired by Gertrude's speech in Hamlet, at the death of Ophelia. And his sonnets could be set pretty easily. I could really just write one tune, and plug in sonnets interchangeably as I desire. So if I'm feeling silly, it could be "My mistress' face shines nothing like the sun..." or if I'm feeling depressed, "When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state..." I suppose that would be cheating.
I'm out of my arm sling and back in the real world!
Got the news that I am a finalist in the Tucson Songwriting Contest at their Folk Festival. This would be year 2 for me in their competition. I think I blogged about last time, with the lost luggage and the bird pooping on me and all the good things that happened, too. I think that it is going to be great this time. I don't know how it will go, and I've learned a thing or two about the results of these things that I am a little less attached to the outcome. It will be all about getting exposure, and playing a full set on the Plaza Stage, which I will be doing the day after the competition. I need to figure out whether I should fly or carpool. I have some friends who are also going and it makes sense to drive when there are so many of us. But if we have to caravan, it probably won't work out. It is a long drive. I'll check airfare rates and see how it goes.
I had a plan that was thwarted by the broken arm. The plan was that I would bank everything I made at the Cincinnati gig (which I had reduced airfare for) and use it for my next trip. I ended up not really making any money, just broke even, so there was no extra to bank. Nothing for the next gig. But I'm not overly worried about it. You never know what you'll get when you put it out there.
My good friend Mary is pulling together an awesome idea to do an environmental CD, with multiple artists. I would like to submit something for it, and came up with some cool ideas. I had this vision of a greasy, smoldering beast, devouring everything beautiful and pooping out money. I think this monster may make an appearance in my lyrics. We'll see how it goes.
The painting project has resumed, now that my arm is out of the sling. I have started a mural in the living room, inspired by Klimt's Tree of Life. It already looks amazing, and I can't wait to move to the next phase. It is emerging as a beautiful picture, and it is tying the room together in a way that I really didn't anticipate. It is lovely.
I suppose that is all that is going on. I should mention that I went to Folk Alliance (my second year) and it was wonderful this time. Last year was a little harrowing, because I was overwhelmed by it all. This year, I surfed the action like a pro. People remembered me, and I think I'll have gigs out of it. Overall, very rew
Thinking tonight. Thinking about who I am, really. Deep down, when all the pretense is stripped away. What makes me tick? Is it so different from what makes everyone else tick?
I found myself saying to a friend the other day, that I get so tired trying to be strong all the time. What if the truth about me is that I'm small...and I just try to puff myself up all the time and appear to be successful, brilliant, smart, engaging, generous, etc. Or maybe the truth about me is that I really am amazing, and the smallness is a moment of weakness, a chip in the finish, that should be buffed out?
What if both are the true story of me?
I remember talking to a friend, way back when I was in college. I had broken up with a man I thought was my ticket to happily ever after. I was talking to my friend, feeling confused and alone, and I said "I don't have the slightest idea of who I am." I'm not sure I know any better now, though I have moments.
I feel amazing when I am hard at work and things are coming together.
I feel invigorated when I am holding a challenging yoga pose, or when I hear music that makes me smile.
In moments like these, I'm not thinking about who I have to look like I am. I'm just doing what comes naturally. Maybe when I start to worry about it, that's when I cease to be me.
Just some thoughts.
Be yourself, friends.
2012. I have declared it the year of yes. I will say yes to everything. (Within reason)
For example, if someone says "I want to move into your house rent free," I don't think I'll say yes to that. Or, "I'd like you to set yourself on fire," um, no. But I have decided to move towards what I want when presented with the opportunity, instead of waiting for permission to take it.
The fact is that Yes has gotten me into some trouble. It has made it difficult to do things like keep up with my blog.
My boss asked me, "Will you go part time at work, to save the company money?" Yes. Now I have a problem called "less income." But I also have an opportunity called "time."
A friend of mine asked me, "wanna try roller derby?" Yes. Now I have a problem called "broken arm." And an opportunity called "assistance." I have been forced to ask for help, and every time, magic happens. Someone has my back, almost all the time. I didn't know that.
Another friend asked me "will you go out with me?" Yes. Now I have a problem called "boys." Not a huge problem, the way I see it.
Another friend asked me, "will you work for me to promote my music?" Yes. So far, that's not a problem, but I anticipate the problem will be "shyness and frustration." Because I do get stage fright sometimes, and I forget to communicate. The opportunity? Sticking with something that moves me, making new friends and reaping the rewards when the stars align.
And after Yes, which implies invitation, I am going to try creating my own invitations to action. But for now, it's baby steps. It will be the Year of Yes.
Bring it on.
I have this dream of taking off for the holidays...going somewhere warm. I typically get a break for the holidays. My day job gives me the week between Christmas and New Year's off. A great chance to take off. And I never have. I keep saying "this year is the one. I'll do it this time." But it doesn't ever happen.
I suppose that's not entirely true. I did go to Las Vegas last year. It was really not what I had in mind. But the opportunity was there, and it was warm there.
No, I'm thinking exotic. Mexico. Greece. Or places even more exotic, where other traditions are observed. But if there are warm beaches, even better. The winter hasn't even started yet and it is a bit of a drag. The constant feeling of having phlegm lodged in my sinuses, my chest. I can feel it when I breathe. It's like something is in there, sharing each breath I take, stealing some of it for itself. Like some sort of breath tapeworm. This is the way that winter feels in my body. I also lose my sense of smell when this happens. It is dreadful, because I love smells. I love the scents of cinnamon, coffee, pine, crisp mountain air, food cooking.
It's part of why I do Bikram Yoga. On the day I signed up, they made me fill out a form of personal information. They wanted to know why we came. I wrote "to find my own loveliness." But that's not the only reason. I love the heat. The ability to spend just 90 minutes per day in a really hot room is refreshing. I could spend the whole day in there. There is nothing about it that is too hot or stuffy for me. It is just right, and the tapeworm recedes someplace hidden, giving me my lungs back. Sometimes, I can even smell again. Maybe that's not the best thing, because people really sweat in there, it doesn't smell good. Like really stale socks, old towels, steeped in the juices of a hundred different people.
As much as I'd like to escape the oppressive lack of oxygen, this year, I have work to do. I can't really get away. And I can't really spend the money. I'll stay home, and I'll crank up the heat in the house. I will be working on projects that need to be done. The bathroom, in particular, which has had a slow leak under the sink that I didn't discover until this fall. I have no idea how long that has been going on, but the underside of the cabinet is gone and the floor beneath is covered in black slime. I discovered it when I found myself thinking that it smelled like my Grandparent's house in there. I didn't want it to smell that way, so I investigated. Opening the cabinet to discover...whatever it was...we, I thought uh oh, this is going to cost a bit. I've been checking prices on new bathroom cabinetry, and it isn't cheap. Do I hire someone to do it? Do I try it myself? I have a friend who owns a cabinet shop, and they have seconds and returns. I hope they have something that will work. I'm going to find a cabinet and install it myself. That's what I'll be doing with my week after Christmas, I think. Measuring twice, cutting once, fixing all the holes, filling in the gaps in the tile, painting walls. Making my nasty little house into a pretty place again. Sitting in the hot room at the yoga studio. And...repeat.
My life is full of things like this. Little smelly places that I've looked past because I didn't have time for them or didn't feel like thinking about them. Some of them have been festering for years. I need to root them out. Get rid of what's making them reek and let them sit for a while, open and empty, to reacquaint myself with their character. Then fill them with things of value or beauty that truly belong in those spaces.
It's a transformation that began years ago, I know that. And I don't think it is done yet.
I wish you insight for the holidays, which will incite you to action that will make your next year perfect, whole and complete.
I talked yesterday with an old friend, someone I've known since college. We see each other only once in a while, but I always enjoy our visits. He's very smart. Back in the day, I used to think of him as "the God of Music." To say he is gifted doesn't even scratch the surface. He is one of the finest accompanists I have ever worked with. He asked me about my husband, and I reminded him that we split up, almost 2 years ago. He nodded and said, oh, yes, I remember now. They had been roommates, a long before I met either of them. He said he figured that our differences in values would eventually be a wedge. He was right. It was quite possibly the most honest conversation I have ever had about it, and completely lacked the anger or hurt usually associated with the ending of a relationship.
And I've been thinking about love a lot. About where it comes from, who has it, who doesn't, how to get it and keep it. What my beliefs about love are. I'm inclined to think that love is everywhere, and if you are open to it, you'll see it. I just wrote a song that I think sums it up.
Love is Everywhere
Jen Hajj
11/30/11
It’s in the melody of your favorite song,
The harmony as others sing along,
It’s in the voices of the choir loud and strong.
Love is everywhere
It’s in the soaring obligato of the horn
It’s in the slow and steady heartbeat of the drum
It’s in the hollow sadness of the requiem
Love is everywhere
Love is Everywhere Love is Everywhere
You don’t have to look far to find it, cuz it is everywhere
Love is Everywhere Love is Everywhere
You don’t have to look far to find it, no.
It’s in each work of artistry, finely wrought
It’s in lessons of the classroom, wisely taught
And in the many things we once knew, but forgot.
Love is everywhere
It’s in the picture wall, it’s in the frame,
It’s in the target that you shoot at, it's the aim,
And in the space between the letters of your name.
Love is everywhere
Love is Everywhere Love is Everywhere
You don’t have to look far to find it cuz it is everywhere
Love is Everywhere Love is Everywhere
You don’t have to look far to find it, no.
It’s in the faces of people that you meet
It’s the joy in you, the joy in me greets.
Love is Everywhere Love is Everywhere
You don’t have to look far to find it cuz it is everywhere
Love is Everywhere Love is Everywhere
You don’t have to look far to find it, no.
I've been in relationships before where people have remarked, "yeah, Jen, I know you're married, but you basically act like a single person." Well, I'm not married anymore. But anyway. I ask them to elaborate on what they mean, and they say "you do pretty much what you want to do, and don't seem to need, have, or want the support of your partner." On the one hand, I celebrate that. On the other hand, I think, "ouch." That seems kind of, well, harsh, don't you think? I don't need or want anybody?
I came into dating in the 90's, and there was a lot of feminist sentiment in the air at the time. Most of my friends at the time were lesbians, and I really embraced the notion that I could have my own life, my own style, my own money, my own career. I didn't need to try to attract a man to take care of me. It was almost as though that would be a bad thing, to have someone take care of me. My attitude was bad, I recognize this now. I feel really bad about the male bashing that took place during that time of my life. Men are not evil and awful. They are just people, doing their best. Just like me.
When I think about it and put myself under a lens, I have utterly failed at relationships. Is it because I "act like I'm single?" No. This behavior is a "late stage" lashing out. I think I do need and want support, but if I don't have it, I can get by without it. I'm not going to waste my life waiting around for it.
There is the concept of being "single"---which most people read as "available." Then there is the concept of being "single" as in being a whole and complete individual, without need for someone else to fill in the gaps. I strive for the latter, and I believe that I have my moments. How do I pursue that fully, not melding myself to someone else's ideal? I want to be single---an individual. And I eventually want to form a relationship with another single person. Where it goes from there, well, I can't say.
I think I have some ground work to do. I don't think I am ready. I can give love. I tend to accept people at face value and I treat them as kindly as I know how, at least until they give me some reason to do differently. I don't know how to receive love. I don't know what to do with it. Do I have to give it back? Do I have to be physical about it? What do you want from me? I distrust offers of love.
I have a friend who had a baby this year, and I had an epiphany while watching them over the Thanksgiving holiday. I see how much love is pouring out toward that child, all the time. What does the baby do about it? She drinks it in. She grins and laughs. She knows that she is loved. There is no pretense. The baby is just doing what she knows how to do. She isn't expected to do anything about it. She soaks it all in, like a sponge.
I want to learn something from that. There is love all around me, and I don't have to do anything, except acknowledge that I am loved.
|
RSS Feed