It’s like I almost forgot I had a blog. It’s like my life has almost been so full of living back here in the Bay Area that I’ve almost been too busy to focus here. But it’s not really true. It’s just that my attention has been elsewhere. True enough, life here in the Bay Area is rich and full and much denser than how I was living out on that remote island called Hawaii in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.
Ohmigod, yes, life here is different: classes with Ann Randolph and Terri Tate and Body Tales and The Motion Institute and going to movies and concerts and theater (The Golden Gate Men’s Chorus, Chanticleer, Concert in the Redwoods, Concert for Peace, Jennifer Berezan and Nina Wise, the San Francisco Symphony, the Scottsboro Boys, and so many shows at the Marsh I can’t keep track) and playing in San Francisco and Oakland and Berkeley and Petaluma and Tiburon and Spirit Rock Meditation Center and friends, oh, my dear friends, and singing and performing with the Love Choir in Sebastopol and the Wings of Glory Gospel Choir in Petaluma and attending Glide Memorial Church in San Francisco (yes, me attending church service!) and the trails of Armstrong Redwoods and the Marin Headlands and the Sonoma Coast and Point Reyes and all over Sonoma County and the wineries, oh, the wineries and the Golden Gate Bridge … my god, after all these years, my breath still catches when I cross it … and still, yes still writing personal ads and going on dates, ever the optimist, ever the determined, patient one to find my beloved, and the Election, ohmigod, The Election to which I was riveted with results far beyond what many of us could have imagined and the recent reconnection after thirty years of no contact with a man from my youth who, as dear Mary phrased it, “loved me into being” and rocked my world all those years ago and who has turned my current world upside down and inside out and working, too, oh, I almost forgot, I’m working again in Hospice … all of that going on … has put this blog somewhere on the wayyyyy back burner!
Even so, as I ready now to leave the Bay Area for the winter, I’ve been thinking more about returning here to the Blogosphere to write and reflect on what the last six months has been about for me. It is winter time after all; and even though I’m escaping to warmer climes, it’s time to go inward for reflection and digestion and here’s a fine place to do just that.
When I started this blog, it felt important to write, unedited, whatever I was so moved to write, and to let people see it. In all my years as a writer, I had never done that before. Most all of my writing had stayed private. I was fearful of others’ judgment or rejection. So I kept it mostly to myself.
This blog changed all that. I edited nothing, even when I knew what I was sharing was really “out there,” even when I knew some of my readers and friends were turned off or even stopped reading as a result of what they may have deemed over-sharing or TMI, even when one of my dearest friends hinted her caution at my revealing such raw and intimate details. Still, I kept up the exposure. I let myself be seen. Geez, I mean, it is the Internet, after all; there’s not much privacy in these parts. I was challenged to quiet the ever-present internal editor, critic and judge that I so easily projected onto others. I needed to let myself see myself and be seen by others and let go of the fear of rejection or the longing for approval. All of that external response be damned, I needed to find it inside. Don’t be fooled by the past tenses in those sentences … it’s not like the process with the critic is over; it’s an ongoing dance through life and through art. But the dance is well underway and I’m learning as I go to let go and be seen.
And now I’ve upped the ante even more. Now my creative journey has taken a different path, one I didn’t see coming. My focus has shifted in an utterly new and unexpected direction. Now I’m working on a solo performance piece (hence all these classes I’m taking) based in large part on the relationship with this extraordinary man from my youth and what it’s like relating to him now. What I’ve uncovered in the process is that this is one of the big love stories of my life. I never let myself fully acknowledge or own that since it was so short-lived and so unlikely to be deeply requited. But isn’t that exactly what makes for some of the most potent love stories ever?
There’s way more to say and share. This love story isn’t finished. Of that I am sure.
Stay tuned as I head south soon back to Nicaragua where there will be plenty of posts in the making!