Hand in My Pocket

This is year five for this blog, and thus I often have the experience where a song that so totally fits the moment or the day comes into my head, only to find that I've already used it. In this case, happily, I had not.

Let me tell you a little story about how Alanis ended up in my head today. This weekend was supposed to be a yoga weekend for me where a teacher whom I love was going to come in from New Jersey to teach a workshop all weekend. That didn't happen, which left me with a different weekend than the one I was expecting to have.

So I wasn't sure exactly what to do with my Saturday. I still had mountains of yard work to do, so I knew getting out there for at least an hour was gonna be important, especially with snow in the forecast for next week. I also had lots of housework, and the desire to spend some time reading, writing and resting.

Right before I headed out the door to do yard work, I talked to my son, who reminded me that he had an indoor soccer game at 6:30pm. While out raking, I hatched a plan to hit Quarry Ridge to ride in the last hour of daylight, then head to the gym and hit the hot tub before walking across the street to Breakaway, where my son plays indoor soccer. I hadn't initially planned on riding today, but the inspiration struck, and I decided to go with it.

Sunset at Quarry Ridge last night

When I pulled into the parking lot, I saw my Canadian friend's car. I felt a little embarrassed about the note and unsure how I was going to handle it if I ran into him, which I knew was likely because that place is so dang small. I asked the Universe, as I do when I remember, to let my lessons be peaceful, easy and comfortable.

And of course, it was on my first lap that, when I got to the top, he was pausing to take in the sunset, which, as you can see, was pretty dang magnificent last night. But I didn't capture this photo at that point. Oh no. Because as soon as I saw that he was up there, I took off as fast I could on the path heading back down.

That's when Alanis popped into my head with her oh-so-apt-for-that-moment lyric:

I'm brave but I'm chickenshit

Yep. I told myself that it was the right thing to do -- what if he's married, or has a girlfriend, or just isn't interested, or is someone whom, if I took a good look at him or got to know him, I wouldn't actually be interested in hanging out with either? Better to leave it alone -- let him call me if he feels like it.

Even though that was a little uncomfortable, I do think the Universe heard my request, because at another point, I was climbing up a challenging section, and there was some other dude, the kind that don't scare me because there was no potential attraction, watching me and when I made it he said: "Nicely done!" which I thought was adorable and it allowed me to switch back to feeling brave after feeling decidedly chickenshit.

And then I took my still cold in some spots but sweaty in others bod to the gym and climbed into the hot tub, only to find myself sharing it with my son's former soccer coach. We had a nice chat, covering topics that ranged from soccer and kids to divorce and heartbreak, and when I got done showering, he was sitting in the lobby, waiting to ask if I was interested in getting some dinner.

So after my son's soccer game, we did just that. It felt strange to be out on what felt like at least sort of a date, but also kind of nice, in the way exploring new territory that isn't really gorgeous or really dangerous or really anything can feel kind of nice. And I guess it was a date, because he paid and then said he'd had a good time and asked if he could call me to go out again. Sure, I said. Why not? I didn't really feel anything in particular about him or for him, but it was a pretty pleasant evening.

Then this morning, a new guy joined my group for our regular Sunday yoga practice, and a few of us ended up getting coffee with him afterward. And I can't really explain it, but what I felt interacting with him was exactly what I didn't feel last night: charged up, excited, smiling, enjoying the easy banter. He's married, with a wife living faraway in another state, so it's not like I see him as a prospect. I hope that's not the reason I felt the freedom to feel those things -- the curse of the unavailable man. I would hope that's been lifted by now but it's a strong one.

As if all that wasn't enough excitement for one weekend, I also had a nice chat with the New Englander today. He's such a good man. I really love him. But I also now really get what he's been trying to tell me: He needs space to find himself. He knows he loves me but he doesn't know he wants a life with me. He needs the end game undefined, which wasn't working so well with my desire to lock it down and get on with the rest of our lives. This is it though, you know? This day is the rest of my life. And for me, living it when the end game isn't locked down means exploring what else is out there, even if a part of me feels like a traitor or a hypocrite or a bad girl (that's my inner child talking) for wanting to do that.

Lucky for us, Alanis knows all about feeling the range from one end of the spectrum to the other, often in the same moment, and she's here to sing about it for us:

I'm broke but I'm happy
I'm poor but I'm kind
I'm short but I'm healthy, yeah
I'm high but I'm grounded
I'm sane but I'm overwhelmed
I'm lost but I'm hopeful baby
What it all comes down to
Is that everything's gonna be fine fine fine
'cause I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is giving a high five
I feel drunk but I'm sober
I'm young and I'm underpaid
I'm tired but I'm working, yeah
I care but I'm restless
I'm here but I'm really gone
I'm wrong and I'm sorry baby

What it all comes down to
Is that everything's gonna be quite alright
'cause I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is flicking a cigarette
And what it all comes down to
Is that I haven't got it all figured out just yet
'cause I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is giving the peace sign
I'm free but I'm focused
I'm green but I'm wise
I'm hard but I'm friendly baby
I'm sad but I'm laughing
I'm brave but I'm chickenshit
I'm sick but I'm pretty baby

And what it all boils down to
Is that no one's really got it figured out just yet
'cause I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is playing the piano
And what it all comes down to my friends
Is that everything's just fine fine fine
'cause I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is hailing a taxi cab

Having two hands appears to be a theme here, over these last two posts. Yep, I've got two hands. One's in the New Englander's pants er pocket, and the other one's open for exploring what else is out there...