Parachutes

My love with our friends' dog

Every so often in this blog I post two songs in a row from the same artist, and today is one of those times. I didn't check, but I'm guessing that of the times I've done it before, at least one of them has been Pearl Jam.

Today at yoga, our teacher talked about the story of Penelope and Odysseus, where Penelope spent 20 years waiting for her love. She turned away suitor after suitor, waiting for her love.

I did the same thing, though not for 20 years, but for the four years that the New Englander and I were apart. I didn't want anyone else. Of course it got lonely, and of course I had my moments of doubt, but mostly I just felt strongly that he was my person.

What I'm learning is that someone can be your person, like really be your person -- the person you love with your heart, soul and vagina -- and then not turn out to be the person you can harmoniously live with.

On the one hand, this feels kinda tragic. On the other, I know it happens all the time, and I said as much to the New Englander when we were trying to make sense of what's gone wrong with us.

This PJ song, like so many others, sings a version of what's in my heart today:

Why deny all the troubles when combined
With the missing links it don't feel like home now

That your gone all the troubles suddenly explained infinitum
You're always wishing and never here at home

You all the dreams we shared and
Lights we turned on
But the house is getting dark

And I don't want to know your past
But together share the dawn
And I won't need nothing else
Cause when we're dead
We would've had it all and died

I would've fallen from the sky til you
Parachutes have opened now

Heaven knows if there's a ceiling
Come so low with the kneeling
Please know that I got all the friends I'm needing
Before my light go out
As the doors are closing now

And far away will be my home
And to grasp this, I don't know
But I don't need
Further back and forth, a wave will break on me today

And love
Wish the world could glow again with love
One can't see to have enough

And war
Break the sky and tell me what it's for
I'll travel there on my own

And love
What a different life
Had I not found this love with you

It's so true. And if it has to end, and I think it does, it's no less true that my life would have been different - nowhere near as full of passion and adventure and learning - had I not found this love with him...

Inside Job

Yoga: the ultimate inside job

On Friday I had SUCH an exciting thing happen -- unfortunately I don't have a photo or video of it, but I dropped from standing into a backbend!

In Ashtanga this is called a dropback, and I had only been working toward it over the last couple of weeks. When my teacher told me today that she thought I was ready, I was SUPER surprised, but I just decided to go with it.

Maybe the best part of the whole experience was having the woman next to me say to me afterward: "I was watching you and you just went for it without any hesitation!"

It made me feel soooooo good to have been that person: fearless, if even for a moment. I've lived with so much fear in my life, and it's stopped me from so much, and I'm just so, so, so thankful that I've been doing this inside job for 10 years or so now and IT'S CLEARLY WORKING.

Sing it Eddie:

Underneath this smile Lies everything
All my hopes, anger, pride and shame
Make myself a pact, not to shut doors on the past
Just for today, I am free

I will not lose my faith
It's an inside job today

I know this one thing well
I used to try and kill love, it was the highest sin
Breathing insecurity out and in
Searching hope, I'm shown the way to run straight
Pursuing the greater way for all human light
How I choose to feel is how I am
How I choose to feel is how I am

I will not lose my faith
It's an inside job today

Holding on, the light of the night
On my knees to rise and fix my broken soul again
Let me run into the rain
To be a human light again
Let me run into the rain
To shine a human light today

That's me for sure -- shining my human light!

I Am Mine

A little fanmail I found on the beach

Oh PJ. I love you so. And so do thousands of other people, most of them here in Seattle for a different reason than I am this week - to see this beloved band live.

I have a different mission: accompanying my eldest for registration and orientation for college. What a weird feeling it is to be here, at this point, and yet what a pleasure it is to accompany him to this incredible city to prepare for the next chapter of his life.

Each time we come to the Pacific Northwest, we discover a little bit more of it, and this time we got to visit a beautiful beach called Golden Gardens, within the city limits.

My son has loved the ocean his whole life, and now he gets to live in a place where it's just a few miles away, rather than halfway across the country. And I'm happy for him.

With friends at Golden Gardens

It was all Pearl Jam, all the time on the radio stations out here this week.

Here's one I heard that I'm less familiar with than the anthems from my college days:

The selfish, they're all standing in line
Faithing and hoping to buy themselves time
Me, I figure as each breath goes by
I only own my mind
North is to south what the clock is to time
There's east and there's west and there's everywhere life
I know I was born and I know that I'll die
The in between is mine
I am mine
And the feeling it gets left behind
All the innocence lost at one time
Significant behind the eyes
There's no need to hide
We're safe tonight
The ocean is full 'cause everyone's crying
The full moon is looking for friends at high tide
The sorrow grows bigger when the sorrow's denied
I only know my mind
I am mine
And the meaning it gets left behind
All the innocence lost at one time
Significance between the eyes
There's no need to hide
We're safe tonight
What
And the feelings that gets left behind
All the innocent broken with lies
Significance, between the lines
(We may need to hide)
And the meanings that get left behind
All the innocents lost at one time
We're all different behind the eyes
There's no need to hide

Yes, I am mine, and it's a good thing too -- because I'm losing one of the most grounding influences in my life: nearly daily physical contact with my firstborn. Because he's not mine, he's just mine to guide, and I'll have to do so from further away than I'd like, at least for a few years...

Unthought Knowns

This, Eddie, is the path I'm taking today. See it there on the left?

Here in Wisconsin, we don't get 70 degree days in late October all that often, so when we do, I like to try to take full advantage.

This past weekend, I thought I might get to do some mountain biking with my nephew. My sister's family lives close to Kettle Moraine, a pretty fun place to mountain bike but too far for me to go if I only have a couple of hours. But my nephew's bike wasn't working properly, so I was going to go by myself when my sister volunteered to go with me.

Riding with my sister was awesome in that I got to feel like we were playing in the woods together like we did when we were kids, but I didn't get to ride as fast, as hard or as long as I would have if I'd been on my own.

So today I decided to head back to Kettle Moraine and do some more riding. I was mostly alone, but I was lucky enough to have my pal Eddie Vedder join me for part of the ride via this song in my head:

Muddy calves make me feel bad ass in the best way

All the thoughts you never see
You are always thinking
Brain is wired, the brain is deep
Oh, are you sinking?

Feel the path of every day
Which road you taking?
Breathing hard, making hay
Yeah, this is living

I know, Eddie. That's exactly what I think when I ride my mountain bike, especially under conditions like the ones today, captured here: fall colors, just enough mud to make it interesting.

Look for love in evidence
That you're worth keeping
Swallowed whole in negatives
It's so sad and sickening

Feel the air up above
Oh, pool of blue sky
Fill the air up with love
All black with starlight

Feel the sky blanket you
With gems and rhinestones!!!
See the path cut by the moon
For you to walk on

For you to walk on...

Nothing left, nothing left
Nothing there, nothing here...
Nothing left, nothing left
Nothing there, nothing left...
Nothing left, nothing left
Nothing there, nothing here...

See the path cut by the moon
For you to walk on
See the waves on distant shores
Awaiting your arrival

Dream the dreams of other men
You'll be no one's rival
Dream the dreams of others then
You will be no one's rival

Wait, what? I would think that it's by dreaming your own dreams that you'll be no one's rival, and I think that's exactly why allowing ourselves to dream our own dreams is frightening. Because we know we are the only ones who can make them come true.

Speaking of lyrics you have to think twice about, I think the title of this song is genius. It reminds me of, and I'm guessing it may be derived from, Donald Rumsfeld's famous quote:

"...because as we know, there are known knowns; there are things we know we know. We also know there are known unknowns; that is to say we know there are some things we do not know. But there are also unknown unknowns -- the ones we don't know we don't know. And if one looks throughout the history of our country and other free countries, it is the latter category that tend to be the difficult ones."

Yep. But leave it to my pal Eddie to come up with a brilliant expression to connote something deeper and more important than any known that we know by thinking about it: the knowns within our being that are beyond thought. The ones I get in touch with when I'm playing in the woods, with my sister or by myself. The ones I feel when I get to hug my children, hear my lover's voice, or manage to complete my yoga practice even when I feel like I don't have it in me. I do. Beyond thought. I know it:

A distant time, a distant space
That's where we're living
A distant time, a distant place
So what ya giving?
What ya giving?

Me? I'm giving to this world as much time as I possibly can present in the unthought known of my being, and I'm hoping soon to be able to make my work more formally about helping others do the same...

Bugs

Unfortunately, the first few lines of this song are reflective of my reality today:

I got bugs

I got bugs in my room

Bugs in my bed

Bugs in my ears

Their eggs in my head

Yep, my son, my daughter and I all have lice. Yuck! Why else would I choose this song -- maybe the worst ever by one of my favorite bands of all time?

Daughter

Last night my daughter fell and hit her head. She'd created an indoor obstacle course, and the ottoman proved to be more topsy turvy than she calculated. She ended up with a big goose egg on the back of her head, and fell asleep shortly afterward, elevating my concern about a concussion. So I slept by her side, waking her every so often to check to see that she was ok.

I woke just before dawn, reassured myself again that she was indeed breathing, and came downstairs to meditate. I wanted to see if I could work through some of the tough feelings I was having before my kids left today for the week.

As I allowed myself to be with the feelings, I started to cry. At first the tears were for me as a mother -- feeling worried about my child, having to send her off to her Dad's with her injury -- but when the really big tears started coming, I saw that they were for me as a daughter. So many layers of grief about the love and care I craved as a child but so often didn't receive. Pondering this today, Pearl Jam came up on the internal shuffle with this heartbreaking number:

The shades go down it's in her head

Painted room...can't deny there's something wrong...

Don't call me daughter not fit to

The picture kept will remind me

Don't call me daughter not fit to

The picture kept will remind me

Don't call me...

She holds the hand that holds her down

She will...rise above

Don't call me daughter, not fit to

The picture kept will remind me

Don't call me daughter, not fit to be

The picture kept will remind me

Don't call me...

The shades go down

The shades go, go, go...

This isn't about indicting my parents. They did the best they could. Sometimes, often even, the best someone can do isn't enough for someone else. It's no one's fault, but it's part of why every child emerges from childhood with scars -- some are just deeper than others.

One of the difficulties in my marriage was my desire to control the environment in an effort to protect my children from enduring the same pain I'd experienced, and though the desire is natural, it was a little misplaced (it isn't possible or even desirable to protect your child from all suffering), and it made it difficult to parent effectively with my husband.

I had to let go of all that when we got divorced, and now, as we enter the phase when another woman will sometimes be the one there when my child is hurting, I have to let go a little bit more...

Black

Oh Eddie, I don't know if you've ever looked or sounded more beautiful than you do in this live recording of Black, one of your most compelling songs, and the one that came on when I switched on my ipod after getting off the phone with my man this morning.

There's still a little part of me, the part that feels the ache that can't, in this moment, be satisfied as it was this past weekend, that could feel what Eddie seemed to be feeling as he began to sing:

Hey... oooh...

Sheets of empty canvas, untouched sheets of clay

Were laid spread out before me as her body once did.

All five horizons revolved around her soul

As the earth to the sun

Now the air I tasted and breathed has taken a turn

But mostly, like I did when I heard Dido yesterday, I marked the change in my life from the time when my friends and I used to blast this song and scream at the top of our lungs:

I know someday you'll have a beautiful life,

I know you'll be a sun in somebody else's sky, but why

Why, why can't it be, can't it be mine?

It's kind of strange - even though it was such a painful place in terms of heart space, in many respects I recall that early 20s time in my life fondly. One reason is that my friends and I also had a lot of fun, of course -- but the other is that as lonely as it was, that unrequited space felt like home -- it was what my heart knew how to do -- where it felt comfortable.

I may not have as much of that glorious hanging out time that college offered anymore, and more sadly, I may have lost some of the friends with whom I shared that time, but I'm soooooooooo grateful for the growth that has allowed me to reclaim the full expanse of my heartspace and get comfy there. I've never known more contentment.

Last Kiss

I'm up in the wee hours this morning after going to bed early, and although I'm not happy about being awake, I am happy to report that the voice going through my head when I woke up was Eddie's. As I came to, I realized the song he was singing was providing the soundtrack for my dream:

Oh, where oh where can my baby be?

The Lord took her away from me...

It wasn't a good dream, but it was about my baby not being here. When I woke up, I saw that he was not in fact, here, but also remembered that he is there. After a tough day yesterday, before I went to sleep, he'd done everything he could from far away: listened, provided perspective, loved me anyway, and told me a couple of cute stories that reminded me of some of the reasons I'm happy we're together.

I think I'll try to go back to sleep now, grateful that the separation we're experiencing isn't as drastic as the one I was dreaming about or that Eddie is singing about here:

I held her close, I kissed her our last kiss

I found the love that I knew I would miss

But now she's gone, even though I hold her tight

I lost my love, my life that night...

Better Man

I was psyched when my ipod landed on this one this morning, and not just because, as you know, my ears know no sweeter sound than the voice of Eddie Vedder. He's had a lot of looks over the years -- you can see him more significantly shorn than usual in this video which features the crowd singing along -- or view the longer locked man I'm more familiar with (and fancy more) in this video (but be forewarned -- the audio doesn't quite match the video).

I've always loved this song -- I loved it when I was single and feeling proud of holding out for a better man. I loved it during the latter part of my marriage when I identified with these lyrics:

She lies and says she's in love with him

Can't find a better man

She dreams in color, she dreams in red

Can't find a better man, can't find a better man

Ohh

Talkin', to herself there's no one else

Who needs to know

She, tells herself, oh...

Memories back when she was bold and strong

And waiting for the world to, come along

Swears she knew it, now she swears he's gone

She loved him, yeah...

She don't want to leave this way

She feeds him, yeah

That's why she'll be back again

Can't find a better man...

And I love it now, as a no-longer-bitter divorcee who can see that if the person you're with doesn't feel like a great (wo)man, it isn't necessarily because (s)he isn't, but because you're not great together. Sometimes all it takes to become a better (wo)man is to fall in love with someone different, someone who more closely matches your own needs.

You can find a better (wo)man. Or be a better (wo)man. The trick is to let go enough to allow it to happen.

Corduroy

It has come to my attention that I'm doing it again: taking care of other people in an effort to meet my own desire/need to be cared for. I'm pretty sure this is a holdover from my childhood. When I was a little girl and I needed to be taken care of, my Dad was often at work and my Mom was too sick to take care of me. As I got a little older, it was more common that my Mom was at work and my Dad was too sick to take care of me. In both cases, taking care of them was all I could do, but it didn't help me get my needs met!

Everything has changed

Absolutely nothing's changed

Now that I'm all grown up, I really try to sort out what I can do for myself and what I need others to help with. But every time I go through a big life adjustment, such as returning to full-time work, it feels like I'm batting blindfolded for a while again. And that just might be life, but it's also the way I respond to it that is problematic. When I feel my hold on my own life slipping, I turn my attention outward and start to give more to others.

Sure, it helps a little. It takes my attention off my discomfort with the increasing chaos in my own life, and it feels good to give to the people I love. But ultimately, I end up feeling more depleted when I don't get what I need.

The other problem I have is when I zero in on one person as being able to respond to the entirety of my needs. I've done this before in both friendships and romantic relationships, and right now, I'm right smack in the middle of doing it in that latter category. Meeting all of my needs wouldn't be possible if he were physically present, and it sure as hell isn't possible from a 1000 miles away. When we hung up the phone this morning, I cried, recognizing that the pattern I just described was happening again.

A few minutes later my daughter crawled in bed with me, and I tried to snuggle with her -- but she's not really one for a lot of physical closeness. And that felt hard. When I got to school, I saw my friend (who is one for physical closeness), who asked how I was doing. Having learned my lesson this morning, I very clearly stated how I was feeling and what I needed: "Not good. I'm not getting enough TLC." And then he gave me a giant hug and said he was here for me and an endless reservoir. So I lingered a little longer in that embrace, and then I felt a little better. I have to remember to share the wealth of my needs with all my people -- it takes a village for yours truly to get what she needs.

Oh yeah, the reason for picking this song. Make that two reasons:

1) I know no more effective salve for my wounded psyche than Eddie's voice

2) "I don't want to take what you can't give" ran through my head this morning after the phone call. It feels a little ironic that, when I looked up the lyrics, I saw that they were in fact:

I don't want to take what you CAN give

Hmmmm. That feels like a message. About accepting who people are and what they can give in this moment. I think I'll ponder that as I take my corduroy-clad ass off this bed and get to work on bringing the chaos under control...

Wishlist

One of my partners in crime last night was kind enough to create a playlist for her ipod that we fired up during the journey to and from our party destination this weekend, some of which she'd taken from these pages, and some of which will be showing up here in the future posts. That's one of the things I'm enjoying most about this blog -- how it encourages people to share their music with me.

Anyway, so we're driving along this morning, and one of my friends was telling a story when this song came on, causing me to exclaim: "Pause the song or pause the story, but please don't talk over my Eddie!" Fortunately, all three of us find something sacred in this sound, so after my friend finished his story, we drove across the winter scape while this song transported us somewhere else entirely.

So many things I love about this song, but first and foremost, its sound. 

And as usual, I don't just like the sound, but the lyrics he is singing. There are those that are seasonally appropriate:

I wish I was a sentimental ornament you hung on

The Christmas tree, I wish I was the star that went on top

Those that just work for me -- evoking a powerful image:

I wish I was the full moon shining off a Camaro's hood

And those that are brilliantly simple, yet forcefully resonant messages:

I wish I was as fortunate, as fortunate as me

No more wishing over here, if I can help it. I am, in fact, as fortunate as me. Thanks Eddie!

Just Breathe

Driving in my car yesterday, this song came on just as I was pulling into my destination's parking lot. At first I was bummed about the timing -- why couldn't it have come on while I was driving? And then I recognized the opportunity I had to do exactly what my man Eddie was inviting me to do:

Stay with me...

Let's just breathe.

Such great advice. And while there are few things I like to imagine more than staying with Eddie, or any man who proves to be a physical incarnation of what I feel in my bones every time I hear Eddie's voice, the message I'm getting this morning is to stay with myself and just breathe.

Staring some not-so-easy feelings in the face these past few days, in meditation today I recognized and felt grateful for the grounding I now feel in my own body on this earth. Being grounded in my own body allows me to know I'm going to be okay regardless of whether I'm able to access an external source of support in any given moment. And having found this freedom in myself, I'm able to share it with my loved ones, of which, like Eddie, I am blessed to have many:

Oh I'm a lucky man, to count on both hands

the ones I love...

And I don't have to be experiencing a physical incarnation (a hug, an email, a phone call) to feel and be able to trust that love. Just look how much love I've gotten from Eddie through his songs all these years, without a single physical encounter!

Speed of Sound

Yes, this night has been a long one, waiting on the words that just don't come, just like this beautiful man is singing to this packed house in Philly. Lucky them.

Me? Somehow I'll survive. (That's Eddie's lyric too.)

In preparation for a silent retreat coming up in early October (no talking, no eye contact for three whole days), I've been trying to do more seated meditation and have necessarily been thinking a lot about the speed of sound and what's going to go on in this head and heart of mine when I don't have outlets like conversations and blogging and singing along while listening to music. I'm guessing Eddie's voice isn't going to follow the guided meditations at the retreat like it sometimes does when I'm doing it at home on itunes.

Oh well, there is a lot that I love that I often have to do without -- and although sometimes it sucks, it also builds character. I used to hate it when my parents said that, but I reckon it's true.

The End

This song used to make me really sad, and it's no wonder -- the first verse is a heartbreaker:

What were all those dreams we shared
Those many years ago?
What were all those plans we made now
Left beside the road?
Behind us in the road

In this live version, my man Eddie even introduces it by saying "this one's a bit sad." Yeah, it is. But hearing it early this morning, I am reminded that with an ending comes a beginning, and it's the more hopeful lyrics -- still raw and real -- that most resonate:

Slide up next to me
I'm just a human being
I will take the blame
But just the same
This is not me

You see?
Believe...

Alive

I remember singing this song, or maybe screaming would be a more accurate description, with my friend Mary at a Pearl Jam concert (similar to this one) many years ago:

"Is something wrong?" she said
Of course there is
"You're still alive," she said
Oh, and do I deserve to be?
Is that the question?
And if so...if so...who answers...who answers...?

I, oh, I'm still alive
Hey I, oh, I'm still alive
Hey I, but, I'm still alive
Yeah I, ooh, I'm still alive
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

And now, here it is, some 15 years later, and I'm still alive, but she isn't. (It's a year to the day she died.) Something sure feels wrong about that, but it really wasn't up to me to decide.

So today, I'm going to be with my grief, but I'm also going to try to feel the gratitude that I am, indeed, still very much alive, and try to make the most of the time I've got left, however long that may be.

As for Mary, she remains very much alive in the hearts and the memories of all us lucky enough to love her...

Amongst the Waves

Oh Eddie. You must be the male version of Janis. This morning it was your voice I heard immediately after doing a forgiveness meditation. It was the perfect voice, and these lyrics, the perfect words:

What used to be a house of cards
Has turned into a reservoir
Save the tears that were waterfalling
Let's go swim tonight, darlin'

And once outside the undertow
Just you and me and nothin' more
If not for love I would be drowning
I've seen it work both ways

But I am up
Riding high amongst the waves
I can feel like I
Have a soul that has been saved
I can feel like I've
Put away my early grave
I gotta say it now
Better now than too late

Now let Eddie's voice wash over you by checking out the video of Pearl Jam rocking this one in Seattle last year.

And to you, darlin', who will be swimming alongside me, outside the undertow, very, very soon:

Don't forget your goggles.