Miles from Nowhere

Among many other lessons, children are powerful teachers about what it means to be in a relationship with another person. It means that you won't always get your way. It means that sometimes their mood will bring you down, or yours will bring them down; it also means that sometimes their mood will bring you up, or yours will bring them up.

Simply put, it means that sometimes it will make it feel easier to be on this earth, and at other times it will make it feel harder. And this is true with almost all relationships. But one thing that feels different to me about children is that even at its hardest and most uncomfortable, having children always makes life more worthwhile, and this is something to fall back on during the hard times. Having children is the first job I remember wanting as a little girl, and raising them feels like the most important job I'll ever have. I love my children dearly, and feel lucky to be able to enjoy them most of the time, but even when the joy isn't at the surface, I never lose sight of pure goodness of the relationship and its mutual benefit for parent and child.

Not so for me with romantic relationships. In these I find that even in my current relationship, where the goodness and the joy are much closer to the surface, that I go through times of profound doubt about the benefit to myself and to my mate about being in a relationship. I don't feel the certainty I feel in my relationship with my children, though I do seek it in ways that society suggests one can find certainty in a romantic relationship: desire to cohabitate, to marry. Meeting with reluctance on those fronts, especially as deeply into a relationship as I'm in now, makes me feel really uncomfortable and filled with doubt about its "rightness" -- something I never, ever question in my relationship with my kids.

It makes me wonder what would happen if I just chose not to doubt its rightness, rejecting the need for certainty and the fear that arises when it can't be found. I try to do that, but inevitably, when I get too uncomfortable or too scared, I listen to the doubts and they take me further away, to a safer, less vulnerable place. A place without the same lows, yes, but also without the same highs. And I really think that's the primary difference between loving a child and loving someone romantically -- I'm not afraid to love with my whole heart when it comes to my kids. Fear doesn't drive my decisions in that role in the same way that I sometimes allow it to in my lovelife.

I read someplace once that the only people deserving of unconditional love are children. And I get that. If this weren't true, those who were abused by their mates wouldn't have a reason to leave, even in the wake of being mistreated. And so another complicating factor, apart from the guardedness that comes from wanting to protect yourself -- or maybe part and parcel of it --  is ensuring that a relationship with another adult has agreed upon values and expectations that allow for the creation of boundaries within which both partners feel safe and capable of getting their needs met.

Given this, I think these are my quests in the coming year: to choose love -- for myself, for my children, for my partner -- but also to work on coming up with those agreed upon values and expectations and boundaries that will help bring a measure of stability -- and maybe equally importantly -- to continue to work with being ok with the uncertainty and the impermanence of the human condition.

It's unusual, I know, for me to blog on for so long without getting to the song choice, so without further ado...

Soon after my daughter got back in the car after a fun-filled day of downhill skiing with my boyfriend a couple of hours north of Madison, she started to complain about having to ride in the car. Granted, she was more frustrated with this than usual because a broken DVD player meant not being able to watch her beloved Garfield.

Upon seeing a mileage sign on the side of the highway saying 112 miles to Madison, she remarked: "This sucks. We're 112 miles from nowhere and I've got nothing to do."

And the irony of the statement struck me as Cat Stevens voice began to sing inside my head:

Miles from nowhere
I guess I'll take my time
Oh yeah, to reach there

Look up at the mountain
I have to climb
Oh yeah, to reach there

And of course, the thing that is so hard to understand as a child, maybe because it's pretty damn hard for adults to understand it sometimes, too, is that it's not about where you're going. It's about where you are. Right now.

Learning to be ok with that, not attaching too much significance to a particular destination or vessel:

Lord my body has been a good friend
But I won't need it when I reach the end

...that's our challenge as human beings, I reckon:

I creep through the valleys
And I grope through the woods
'cause I know when I find it my honey
It's gonna make me feel good

...to realize that it's not all about feeling good. It's about feeling, and being ok with whatever that feeling is:

I love everything
So don't it make you feel sad
'cause I'll drink to you, my baby
I'll think to that, I'll think to that.

Miles from nowhere
Not a soul in sight
Oh yeah, but it's alright

Here's the part where Cat Stevens is grappling with the values and expectations and boundaries bit that I was discussing above -- only he, at least in these lyrics, is choosing the easier, but less rewarding (in my own humble opinion) path of shutting out others:

I have my freedom
I can make my own rules
Oh yeah, the ones that I choose

As for me, I choose to make some of the rules, and to learn, little by little, step by step, that my ability to make room for others' needs and to live by their rules (at least the rules of theirs that I can accept), is ultimately going to lead to a greater freedom than being alone ever could:

Miles from nowhere
I Guess I'll take my time
Oh yeah, to reach there.

I should know. I am a mother.

Eskimo

My new backyard, under 18" of snow!

Having received an absolute dumping of snow the week before Christmas (complete with two snow days!), on Christmas morning I was able to go cross country skiing with my boyfriend.

It was a gorgeous day -- so sunny -- and the snow glistened as we skied. It was absolutely beautiful, and this song was playing inside my head much of the time:

So I look to my eskimo friend

I look to my eskimo friend

I look to my eskimo friend

Never hotter than when he's out enjoying one of his favorite sports, indeed, I looked to my eskimo friend over and over again during our adventure. And then later that day, when my kids came back, I looked to him in a different way.

A way in which he may be less comfortable, but can also be quite joyful -- as fellow witness to the wonder that is my children...

Closing Time

Ever since I posted the last Closing Time entry, I've been feeling like a bit of a traitor. Because although that was the version in my head that day, there's another song by the same title -- this Leonard Cohen song -- that just plain kicks the ass of Semisonic's:

And I swear it happened just like this
A sigh, a cry, a hungry kiss
The gates of love they budged an inch
I can't say much has happened since
But closing time
I swear it happened just like this
A sigh, a cry, a hungry kiss
The gates of love they budged an inch
I can't say much has happened since
But closing time, closing time

I know I've gone on about what a masterful poet my man Leonard is in previous posts, but dang:

I loved you for your beauty
But that doesn't make a fool of me
You were in it for your beauty too
And I loved you for your body
There's a voice that sounds like god to me
Declaring, declaring, declaring that your body's really you
I loved you when our love was blessed
And I love you now there's nothing left
But sorrow and a sense of overtime

I just love the way this man makes sense of love and loss:

And I miss you since the place got wrecked
And I just don't care what happens next
Looks like freedom but it feels like death
It's something in between, I guess
It's closing time
And I miss you since the place got wrecked
By the winds of change and the weeds of sex
Looks like freedom but it feels like death
It's something in between, I guess
It's closing time

Kinda gives the phrase a whole new meaning, doesn't it? And as I step over the precipice of new home ownership on La Crosse Lane this morning, knowing I am making a great move for myself and my family, but not knowing exactly what my family will look like, I'm grateful I've got Leonard Cohen to help me mark this auspicious day...

Picture

I recently read an intriguing article in The New Yorker about Kid Rock, an artist to whom I had never really given much thought or credit. But as presented in the article, here is a man who struggled with his identity, who wanted very much to be part of the movements that appealed to him (namely hip hop), but in the end realized that he could only really truly be himself. Sounds a lot like the rest of us, doesn't it?

One of the songs they mentioned was Picture, a beautiful, twangy duet with Sheryl Crow -- a decidedly un-hip-hop kind of tune:

[Kid Rock]
Livin' my life in a slow hell
Different girl every night at the hotel
I ain't seen the sun shine in 3 damn days
Been fuelin' up on cocaine and whisky
Wish I had a good girl to miss me
Lord I wonder if I'll ever change my ways
I put your picture away
Sat down and cried today
I can't look at you while I'm lyin' next to her
I put your picture away, sat down and cried today
I can't look at you, while I'm lyin next to her

[Sherly Crow]
I called you last night in the hotel
Everyone knows but they wont tell
But their half hearted smiles tell me
Somethin' just ain't right
I been waitin' on you for a long time
Fuelin' up on heartaches and cheap wine
I ain't heard from you in 3 damn nights
I put your picture away
I wonder where you been
I can't look at you while I'm lyin' next to him
I put your picture away
I wonder where you been
I can't look at you while I'm lyin' next to him
I saw ya yesterday with an old friend

[Kid Rock]
It was the same ole same "how have you been"

[Both]
Since you been gone my worlds been dark & grey

[Kid Rock]
You reminded me of brighter days

[Sheryl Crow]
I hoped you were comin' home to stay
I was headed to church

[Kid Rock]
I was off to drink you away

[Both]
I thought about you for a long time
Can't seem to get you off my mind
I can't understand why we're living life this way
I found your picture today
I swear I'll change my ways
I just called to say I want you to come back home
I found your picture today
I swear I'll change my ways
I just called to say I want you to come back home
I just called to say, I love you come back home

And ever since I looked it up on youtube the other night with my boyfriend, it has been floating in and out of my consciousness. It makes me think about a couple of things. One, that the picture that we have of another person is our picture -- it may or may not match up to the picture that person has of himself or herself. Perhaps even more profound is the thought that the picture that people have of themselves sometimes doesn't always match what's really on the inside.

For these reasons, I'm finding it important, like Kid Rock and Sheryl Crow, to do my best to put the picture away. To really, truly, to the best of my ability, see what is really there, both deep inside myself and deep inside the people I love, and from that place, rather than either of our pictures, come together in love...

Happy New Year

This song seemed like an odd choice for my internal ipod to shuffle onto while I was brushing my teeth tonight. After all, it's not New Year's yet. But as I found myself singing these lyrics:

Happy new year

Happy new year

May we all have a vision now and then

Of a world where every neighbour is a friend

Happy new year

Happy new year

May we all have our hopes, our will to try

If we don't we might as well lay down and die

You and I

It began to seem more apropos. You see, tonight is the last night that my kids and I will all sleep in our current home. As a result, we are feeling a mix of excitement and sadness. I found myself consoling my son earlier, and explaining that life is filled with mixed-bags -- when we say goodbye to something or someone, we lose something, and this can be extremely painful. But we also gain something, immediately, and that's space for something new.

Maybe that's what these Swedes are singing about here? Kinda sorta?

Sometimes I see

How the brave new world arrives

And I see how it thrives

In the ashes of our lives

Oh yes, man is a fool

And he thinks he'll be okay

Dragging on, feet of clay

Never knowing he's astray

Keeps on going anyway...

But I think my favorite thing about this song coming to me is the harbinger that this new year in this new house is going to be happy, and it's going to involve lots of new neighbor friends. And so, we welcome this transition to our new space, a home that, among other perks, holds more space for others to enjoy along with us:

Happy new year

Happy new year

May we all have a vision now and then

Of a world where every neighbour is a friend...

Private Dancer

Out in Washington D.C. on a business trip, I had the opportunity to hear Mira Sorvino speak on the subject of human trafficking, something I previously did not know much about. It's apparently a huge problem, and does not just involve bringing foreign people into the United States for sex or labor (which is bad enough), but also Americans being thrust into servitude of various varieties. You can learn more by visiting The Polaris Project.

Although there is a technical distinction between prostitution and sex trafficking (the latter involves no choice, the former a questionable amount of choice about whether to engage in the sex for money trade), the stories she told, particularly about sex trafficking, brought to mind this song:

Well the men come in these places
And the men are all the same
You don't look at their faces
And you don't ask their names
You don't think of them as human
You don't think of them at all
You keep your mind on the money
Keeping your eyes on the wall

I'm your private dancer
A dancer for money
I'll do what you want me to do
I'm your private dancer
A dancer for money
And any old music will do

I wanna make a million dollars
I wanna live out by the sea
Have a husband and some children
Yeah, I guess I want a family
All the men come in these places
And the men are all the same
You don't look at their faces
And you don't ask their names

I'm your private dancer
A dancer for money
I'll do what you want me to do
I'm your private dancer
A dancer for money
And any old music will do

I love Tina Turner, and this song, and although what is described in this song is depressing enough, it barely scratches the surface of the soul excoriating experiences (that's a Mira Sorvino phrase) of the victims of human trafficking. Here's hoping my awareness of the problem can help in some small way to bring an end to it, though I don't yet know how.

Perhaps it is enough for me to continue down the path of setting myself up to offer relief to victims of sexual abuse through yoga and compassionate communication. It definitely feels like there's a link there somewhere...

If You Leave Me Now

Ok, so judging by my internal jukebox, sometimes I'm super strong and sometimes I'm just a sap from the 70s, because this is what I seem to be playing today:

If you leave me now you'll take away the biggest part of me

Ooh ooh ooh no baby please don't go

And if you leave me now you'll take away the very heart of me

Ooh ooh ooh no baby please don't go

Ooh ooh ooh girl I just want you to stay

A love like ours is love that's hard to find

How could we let it slip away?

We've come too far to leave it all behind

How could we end it all this way?

When tomorrow comes then we'll both regret the things we said today

If you leave me now you'll take away the biggest part of me

Ooh ooh ooh no baby please don't go

Ooh girl, just got to have you by my side

Ooh no baby, please don't go

Oh Mama, I just got to have your lovin', yeah

Change a couple of the lyrics -- from girl to guy and Mama to Daddy -- and that's what I'm talkin' about, you super cool dudes with feathered hair from my childhood!

Ok, one more change. I feel like part of what I'm doing right now is trying to be ok with what is. Accept, rather than resist what is happening or not happening.

And although the possibility of losing my boyfriend to his potential migration back East is heartbreaking and terrifying, I can rest assured that it wouldn't involve losing the very heart of me or the biggest part of me. If I didn't know that, deep down, I wouldn't be able to love him with such a fierce abandon in the first place...

Closing Time

With the closing time on my new home drawing nearer, it's not too surprising that this number's been on repeat inside my head recently:

Closing time
Time for you to go out go out into the world
Closing time
Turn the lights up over every boy and every girl
Closing time
One last call for alcohol so finish your whiskey or beer
Closing time
You don't have to go home but you can't stay here

And although the lyrics are not about closing a mortgage loan on a new home, they are about going home, and more specifically, about going home with your person:

I know who I want to take me home.
I know who I want to take me home.
I know who I want to take me home.
Take me home

And although I know who my person is, it's just me moving to my new house, with my kids, at least for now. And that brings up a whole lot of feelings, most of which aren't easy or comfortable. But I'm doing a pretty damn good job, if I do say so myself, of just being in that uncomfortable place, and my boyfriend's doing a pretty damn good job of being there with me.

Plus, that's not all there is to it. There's also the excitement about the new place, including the awesome space to both do yoga myself and practice with and teach others:

Closing time
Time for you to go back to the places you will be from

Sort of a strange lyric, but that's what yoga's all about, really. Getting back to our essence.

And I'm sure not all the sadness is related to man issues, either. Some of it is parting with this sacred space that held me and the kids after I left my marital home. This house has been good to us, and I trust it will be good to the next lucky people who get to call it their home, too:

Closing time
Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end...

Dark Side

This song has been playing internally on and off over the last few weeks. This is partly because it's one that gets stuck in my head after I hear it, and partly because the questions posed in this song are some I've been grappling with lately in my romantic relationship:

Oh oh oh, there's a place that I know
It's not pretty there and few have ever gone
If I show it to you now
Will it make you run away?

Or will you stay
Even if it hurts
Even if I try to push you out
Will you return?
And remind me who I really am
Please remind me who I really am

Those are my favorite lyrics, those last two lines, because to me that's the greatest gift love has to offer: a reminder of our own loveliness. I've talked about this is previous posts, and I've mainly been talking about me needing to be reminded of who I really am.

But I'm feeling pretty solid in that now. The old me, when going through a rocky phase of a romantic relationship, would be tempted, and often would, break up with my boyfriend. But I'm not feeling that this time around.

Because like Kelly Clarkson, I know that:

Everybody's got a dark side
Do you love me?
Can you love mine?
Nobody's a picture perfect
But we're worth it
You know that we're worth it
Will you love me?
Even with my dark side?

Like a diamond
From black dust
It's hard to know
What can become
If you give up
So don't give up on me
Please remind me who I really am

I'm not giving up, and I'm not running away, either:

Don't run away
Don't run away
Just tell me that you will stay
Promise me you will stay
Don't run away
Don't run away
Just promise me you will stay
Promise me you will stay

Because as frustrating as this space we're in can be sometimes, I have to believe in the power of love to help make us into the people we want to be, the people we are deep inside. How could I believe otherwise? It's through the power of love that I know who I really am, and now I get to focus on bringing it to the rest of the world, for which I am extremely grateful...