For the love of Vespa

Today was an interesting day for me.

I accomplished so many things – so many check boxes were fulfilled – yet felt so utterly unfulfilled for the day.

I had an amazing little re-bonding experience with the Vespa, as we first rushed to an open bank to handle an online discrepancy before it closed thirty minutes later, and then, when heading home, first took a small detour loop to see one of my childhood favorite spots, and then continued along a road just to see what came next, where it went…

By the time I was out of the main city congestion and buildings blocking the view 45 minutes later, it was clear that the forecast only hours ago was utterly incorrect: the sky was a dark, dark blue, with clouds and rain approaching from what I guessed was the North (I wasn’t entirely sure where I was st this point – the road had just kept on going, and wiggling around all the while).

The pace of the storm was slow, but the rain was definite.

This will hurt, I thought to myself, considering how it would be to be caught in this storm.

I needed to get home as quickly as possible.

So, when I found myself somehow crossing under a convenient highway, I turned off my ever-going road, and headed onto the highway, back to town.

Now, this was our first trip in a month-ish, you see, as I haven’t been going anywhere but to pick up things, which means I use the car every time (and that’s already rare enough as it is).

So, we had a slight struggle to start in the first place, but got it worked out.

With little surprise, after almost an hour of riding – albeit easy riding – and then getting in the highway, the Vespa decided that it needed an immediately rest to re-energize.

I pulled to the shoulder, strategically placing us underneath a set of overpasses, in case we had to wait a long while, and the rain arrived while we were still waiting for the Vespa to regroup.

After a few minutes, though, with a bit of encouragement and coaxing from me, the Vespa was ready to go again, to get us the short remaining distance home.

So, we arrived home safely, took a victory photo together to celebrate our exploratory outing, and then I rushed inside just as the rain began to pour.

As we all say in German, “Perfect timing.”*

Then, I checked off a bunch of boxes, including cooking and eating real food and a real meal, making another gorgeous mala, continuing one book and beginning a yearly-ish reread of another, making and having golden milk, and doing some more henna… while the floor shook from lightning, and the deluge continued off and on outside.

But, the biggest thing I realized, is that I miss having someone care about my life… I felt a clear desire to be heard, and recalled how helpful a journal always has been at such times… a journal is not only always there to listen, it accepts me exactly as I am, and helps me to work through any issue, and celebrate any victory, and allows me to cry all I need, without ever growing impatient with me… a journal is, in many ways, even better than having a person to ask how my day has gone, what I did today, and how I feel about it all…

Yes, I wish someone would hold me close, pet my hair, and murmur sweet nothings to me, as I share about my day as much or as little as I desire…, but journaling and then snuggling up with stuffed animals somehow seems to get me by every time, so I’ll rely on them again tonight… and hope that I will have the real life person option quite soon, surprisingly soon…

So, yeah… thanks for being my journal tonight – the one who always has room for me, and always is ready to hear anything and everything I have to share…

P.S. Do you ever feel like the person you are becoming, while it is true to yourself, does not quite fit with the life you have been leading, pursuing…?

….

*Yes, we use the English phrase, the English words, even though we are otherwise using German to speak… is that not ticklingly delightful?

Post-a-day 2020

So, pain…

What is it about pain that, when given to us, we so terribly want to give it back?

It is like when we purchase something from the store, but then we discover, upon arriving home, that it is actually spoilt… we take it back to the shop, saying, “Pardon me, but this is utter rubbish, and I want to return it, thanks.”

Except, at the shop, they’re likely to accept the return…

With pain, we do not do well receiving the dish without a strong desire to dish it back – perhaps not immediately, but, eventually, we always seem to want to throw it back into the server’s face: How dare you serve me such poison?!

Is it something about our experience of being so terribly unloved, that we feel we must somehow prove that we are worthy of being loved…?

Or that we are so afraid of being hurt even more, that we feel a need to put a hard shell forward and attack, showing strength that we hardly have… all just to cover up our degree of pain…?

Are we afraid to acknowledge what we might have done to be not true to our highest selves, such that someone was even able to cause us pain in the first place…, and so we avoid looking inward, and throw it all outward and back to its source instead…?

Are we embarrassed that we weren’t enough of something… to have the pain to have been avoided…?

Is it that we feel we are worth so much more than being treated as we were, but we don’t know how to show it…?

Do we really want someone else to experience the suffering we experience in life?

Plus, if we all seem to want to return pain for pain, would not the person who inflicted the pain on us in the first place have received his or her own dish of pain from somewhere else beforehand, thereby propelling him or her forward to continue the pain?

When we are angry at someone, it can seem impossible to ‘turn the other cheek’, as we were all told growing up…, to offer up yet another place for the person to inflict pain on us…

But, what if we consider someone we love dearly, perhaps more than we love ourselves…?

What if this person were hurting us…, and what if we knew this person’s extreme suffering that induced the outward actions of hurting us…?

In such a situation, I believe it would be somewhat easy to offer my other check… Go on, hit me – I know you need to do that right now…, and I am here for you, however you may need.

In Frankenstein by Mary Shelley, the monster says that his outward evil actions are the result of his intense suffering.

“I am malicious because I am miserable.”

My heart ached for the poor creature, as he told his tale of woe, and how humans had been so dreadful to him, simply because they were afraid of him, and how they gave him no chance… they gave him no love of any kind…

What could happen if we approached all of our own pains inflicted from the outside in this way?

Would we no longer be longing to throw it back at the giver, but, instead, be aching to help ease the giver’s intense wounds of the heart that had him or her do us harm in the first place?

When I think of my own desire to cause pain to those who have hurt me, it is intense pain that propels the desire… how must people be suffering, if they are dishing out pain so freely and actively?

How lonely they might be…

Funny… (and by funny, I mean something else, of course) I suddenly find myself wanting to go hold and hug and comfort the person who last hurt me, to apologize… for what?… for my desire to make him suffer…, for any role I played – that I believe I played – in hurting him some already, though very differently than I was hurt…, for every thought of ill will I have had toward him…, for all the pain he must be in to have hurt me as he did… and I want him to experience being loved truly and cared for, to experience that he is not only worth it, but absolutely enough just as he is…

Yes.

Wow.

And then, another comes to mind… I am not by any means at a point of actually wanting to do this myself, but I can see how much that person must have been lacking in love – how miserable that person must be, in some level within, whether aware of it or not – in order to cause such misery to others, to me… it is almost heartbreaking…

Just, wow…

Okay.

I think I have found my new mentality to practice in life right now… how to offer up my whole self and never be hurt, by bringing love to the table… patience and pure, true, and free love.

Like free hugs… only better.

Like Michael Jackson’s constant serenade to me as a child, we can heal the world, make it a better place for you and for me and the entire human race…

I’ll start with my little corner, and see what happens… hopefully, we light the world on fire with this love, it will be so profound, so powerful… so true.

Post-a-day 2020

Dreams are my reality*

These dreams feel so real, so vivid… I can almost smell in them… and yet, they are so good, I wake up from them with a seeping feeling of sadness at the loss of them – when I awaken, they end, and I return to a lesser world than the loveliness that was my world five minutes ago.

The tips of my fingers still tingle, and the sides of my arms, too, from the touch of hands and arms in loving embraces.. I can feel the residual pressure on my chest, and the hands in my back… such embraces are filled through and through with satisfying, tactile love…

And, though they are not real in terms of taking place physically, they are exactly what I most need and want, and my mind allows them to be real, so far as my brain is concerned… we already know that watching something being done activated the same parts of the brain as actually doing that something… my mind knows I want this physical expression of love in my life right now, especially considering my current experience of physical isolation, and so it helps to take care of me, to give me what I most want and need… to love me…

And so, tonight again, I suspect, I shall have some more such dreams, and I will encourage myself to be glad of it – it is a beautiful blessing for my mind and brain to take care of me, and I want to respect their efforts with appreciation and gratitude, and to let go easily of my letdown upon waking and discovering that my world has suddenly transformed from exactly what I wanted…

But then…, what I want truly is possible…, so perhaps, one day, it will be my physical reality, and not just in my head anymore.

Now… that would be amazing…

Fingers crossed(!!!).

*Bonus points for knowing the song and singing along!!

Post-a-day 2020

The return of the cold

Today was really cold… And it was raining… And I only have my bike (Vespa) now…. so that kind of sucked.

But I bought – at long last, though out of immediate necessity today – a rain suit, so that helped tremendously…, but it was still cold out there, riding.

Burr…

Fun fact: My body is getting closer and closer to working normally again… though I was spider-crawling up the stairs, and sliding down them this morning, I was able to do almost the whole workout today at the gym, and my knees feel almost normal now, as I am getting ready for bed.

I mean, I won’t be able to run in the morning, and I probably still won’t be able to squat all the way or rest on my knees for another several days, but I at least will be able to walk without hobbling or being in pain.

So, that’s really cool.

It’ll leave my only main issue as going to the bathroom: every time I have to pull down it up my pants/underwear, it’s like a hammer to my bruised right leg… burr…

Also, another fun fact: I got a hug from a new person today… and it was lovely to have. 🙂

I love hugs, and I’ve kind of been wanting, possibly needing, hugs this week…, so this was perfectly timed and somewhat out of the blue, making it all the better and more loving.

Makes me wonder how I can be more loving to those around me on the regular… hmm… I’ll think on that one tonight while I do some henna… yes…

Post-a-day 2019

Love you long time…

Waiting on an unknown kid to return the borrowed keys that now need to open a door for me, I chitchat with the coach whose keys they are.

I turn as a kid enters, see that he is beginning to hand the mass of keys back to the coach, and I say, somewhat smirking-smiling, “You’re the one I’m waiting on for these keys?”

It is one of my students.

He hands the keys over while I am saying this, and he gives me an affirmative answer, along with a small chuckle and a reasonably large smile.

Just as he is beginning to show his pearly whites and adorable little grin, I notice that he is about to run into me… no, that isn’t it,… without any pretext, he has simply stepped toward me, arms outstretched and he now hugs me, sweetly, while telling me that he misses me.

(Remember that my teaching ended last week, and this was my first day not being their teacher anymore.)

“You wouldn’t have even had class with me today,” (they have a sort of rotating schedule), “so you haven’t even had time to start missing me.”

“I know, but I still miss you.”

I love being in the classroom with kids, but I also really love being in this kind of relationship with them, where they speak comfortably yet still entirely respectfully to me, and interactions are more like real life, and less like a staged hierarchy of nonsense rules of society and propriety (mostly totally due to arbitrary age decisions).

I love kids.

And I love offering what I have to share that can help them move forward on their respective paths to glorious adulthood and making a beautiful difference in this beautiful world.

Yep… And I also love hugs…

Post-a-day 2019

Grazingly uncomfortable

A few years ago, I was talking to a male friend of mine about one of the other guys at dance, and how I couldn’t figure out if he noticed that he would end up swiping the edge of my boob whenever we danced together (partner dancing).

He informed me and the other females present that a guy always knows when he has touched boob – it is like radar… whenever boob touches any part of a guy’s body, it immediately alerts, “BOOB!”

And so then we were all wondering if the occasional faces that the guy we’d been discussing would make – an almost embarrassed, pursed-lip, laughing expression, like a little boy who’s snuck ice cream before dinner, and his favorite aunt calls him out on it, but they both know she won’t tell Mommy (and probably just will steal a bite in exchange for her nonverbal agreed-upon silence in the matter) every so often while dancing with me were because he noticed that he’d touched boob, but hadn’t meant to do so, and so now didn’t know how to respond appropriately, but did his best to ignore the event (with his face totally betraying him).

Because we really couldn’t figure out why he always made those faces when dancing with me…., but this seemed like a reasonable and likely solution to our quandary.

The specific guy was an actual well-known friend, and so we all agreed easily that he was not at all intentionally malicious in any way with the boob grazing – he was just not that great with the body management while staying on beat and all in the dancing.

I don’t remember if I ever verified this theory – aka tested it time and time again, when dancing with the guy – but I have a sense of being rather convinced of that being the case, even now, years later, so I’m thinking I did check that he always made those faces just after what seemed like an unintentional boob graze.

Now, the reason this has come up tonight, is because of something that happened tonight.

When giving me a side hug tonight, a long-armed guy’s arm went a little too far around my back – about half an inch, I guess – and his fingertips, ever so slightly, grazed the outer edge of my breast.

When it happened, I naturally pulled strategically out of the hug, from years of practice in removing myself from any sort of uncomfortable situation, intended or accidental.

I didn’t say anything, though, because I found myself wondering first, Did he notice that?, which was almost immediately cut off by the memory of what my friend had told me years before: “BOOB!”

And then I wondered, Was that intentional?

????????????????

And then I didn’t know where to go with it.

He’s a tall guy, so misalignments can happen rather easily, as they happen with extreme height differences…, but he’s a tall guy, and he has been a tall guy for some time, and ought to know how to manage such things by this point in his life… but he’s also really not a ladies’ man, and so might not be too accustomed to hugging girls in the first place…

After the fact, I feel almost embarrassed that I was too embarrassed for him to bring it up, to tell him in some way that I disapprove of the behavior, whether it was intentional or not – I didn’t have to be mean to him at all, but I think it would have been valuable to inform him either way to be cautious in the future.

Yet, it was not so natural a thing to me that I even considered saying anything at the time… I just moved away from the incident altogether, for fear of discomfort.

I didn’t want to embarrass him over something he had neither intentionally done nor known about.

I was embarrassed for myself at the prospect of pointing out that he had touched me inappropriately, period.

This is something for me to work on for myself – I want to be comfortable to speak up and conscious enough to do so, whenever anything like this might happen.

And I want all people to be encouraged to do so themselves, too – I want us to be happy and comfortable in our own skins, and to be able to express, in a useful and beneficial way, what doesn’t work from other people’s behavior toward us.

Yeah.

Post-a-day 2019

A hug of love

Tonight, at an event, I came across a student whom I taught for a grand total of eight days, and whom I haven’t seen since those couple months ago.  When she saw me, her delight was noticeable instantly, and her desire to hug me was almost palpable – she was almost shaking with the anticipation and desire, similar to a puppy wagging its tail as it waits desperately to be pet and loved on by its human.  When she saw that I was okay with her hugging me, we hugged.  It was a real hug, and not the common ‘meh’ version that feels like a required pleasantry instead of a genuine gesture of care for someone.  She cared, and it was for me.

I almost began to tear up, but for the intense joy and ease that filled me and flowed out of me afterward.  In that teaching job, I was incredibly myself with the students, and this was the kind of impact I left after only a single week.  This impact, where a student can hardly wait to hug me upon sighting me, and declares fervently, “We miss you,” despite our having not seen one another in months, was clearly a powerful one.  And I am grateful for the grace and strength I had to provide it in being myself.  I was truly honored tonight.

Post-a-day 2017