I Don't Remember

Starting November off with snow on the ground!?!

Stepping out of my comfort zone this weekend, I signed up for a writing retreat.

I learned so much today, day one of three, including a genre that I didn't know existed: autobiographical fiction. It refers to a book that is primarily comprised of made up events and characters that may be based on the author's own experience and self.

When I signed up for this retreat, I was still trying to decide between writing a memoir and writing fiction. It's tricky to write a memoir, because it requires that you remember things from your past, and quite often, like my friend Peter Gabriel, I don't remember:

I got no means to show identification
I got no papers show you what I am
You'll have to take me just the way that you find me
What's gone is gone and I do not give a damn

Empty stomach, empty head
I got empty heart and empty bed
I don't remember
I don't remember

I don't remember, I don't recall
I got no memory of anything at all
I don't remember, I don't recall
I got no memory of anything, anything at all

Strange is your language and I have no decoder
Why don't you make your intentions clear
With eyes to the sun and your mouth to the soda
Saying, "Tell me the truth, you got nothing to fear"

Stop staring at me like a bird of prey
I'm all mixed up, I got nothing to say
I don't remember
I don't remember

I don't remember, I don't recall
I got no memory of anything at all
I don't remember, I don't recall
I got no memory of anything, anything at all

I don't remember, I don't recall
I got no memory of anything at all
I don't remember, I don't recall
I got no memory of anything, absolutely anything at all

I don't remember
I don't remember
I don't remember
I don't remember
I don't remember
I don't remember
I don't remember

It's true. There are a lot of things I don't remember, but a lot that I do remember too, and I have a feeling that the process of writing will unearth some long dormant memories.

When I got home tonight, I wanted a giant glass of wine -- my first sign that I was triggered and did NOT want to feel whatever was trying to come through.

I don't have to do it tonight, but I am committed to standing up to these memories and putting them on the page so that they can help others who have gone through something similar to me...

The Book of Love

This song:

The book of love is long and boring
No one can lift the damn thing
It's full of charts and facts, some figures and instructions for dancing

But I,
I love it when you read to me.
And you,
You can read me anything.

The book of love has music in it,
In fact that's where music comes from.
Some of it is just transcendental,
Some of it is just really dumb.

But I,
I love it when you sing to me.
And you,
You can sing me anything.

The book of love is long and boring,
And written very long ago.
It's full of flowers and heart-shaped boxes,
And things we're all too young to know.

But I,
I love it when you give me things.
And you,
You ought to give me wedding rings.

I stumbled on it tonight on youtube, and it's so perfect to mark this day for a couple of reasons:

1) I talked to a vedic astrologer today, which absolutely felt like being read to from the book of love. It was so affirming, to hear about me and about my life framed in that way. And she affirmed for me how huge it is that I said yes to my love again, that I am learning to trust, learning to rely on someone other than myself. Yes. I. Am. And it feels damn good. I even got to talk to said love afterward, and revel with him in the fact that the stars agree with our hearts, minds and bodies: We belong together.

2) Also, they started making Gilmore Girls again, and after many years together unmarried, Lorelai tells Luke that they should get married, that they've waited too long already, and it's super beautiful:

And I,
I love it when you give me things.
And you,
You ought to give me wedding rings.
You ought to give me wedding rings.

Don't Give Up

Had to be my deer medicine yoga pants this am

I woke up this morning having had an upsetting dream. I was alone in the kitchen of a friend's house -- a friend who was one of the closest friends I've ever had but whom I'm no longer close to -- and I saw an envelope addressed to me. It had a big fat letter in it, and it wasn't sealed, so I snuck a peak at it. It said three words over and over again for pages and pages and pages:

I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you

Oof. In the dream, when I saw it, I went to a place of rationalizing -- hate is not the opposite of love, she just needs to figure out what she is angry about and express it -- but when I climbed onto my bike at 6:25 am, a song came belting into my barely awake head that carried a different message:

Got to walk out of here
I can't take anymore
Going to stand on that bridge
Keep my eyes down below
Whatever may come
And whatever may go
That river's flowing
That river's flowing

And from that I took away the idea that it is time to let that all go. Whatever may come and whatever may go, that river (of life) is flowing. I'm trying, have been trying for years, to become more easy come, easy go. But it's not the way I was formed, so it's a struggle. I looked up the significance of deer -- I love my deer skull yoga pants -- and found this: Deer symbolizes the power in nature that is not easily subdued. Yup, that's me. That's how I'm constructed.

One of my favorite parts of this song is this:

Rest your head, you worry too much
It's going to be alright
When times get rough, you can fall back on us
Don't give up, please don't give up

I'm not gonna give up. That's not the way I'm wired. But I am going to keep trying to rest in the idea that I can let go of what is no longer serving me and settle into knowing I have my people and there's a place where I belong:

Don't give up
'cause you have friends
Don't give up
You're not the only one
Don't give up
No reason to be ashamed
Don't give up
You still have us
Don't give up now
We're proud of who you are
Don't give up
You know it's never been easy
Don't give up
'Cause I believe there's the a place
There's a place where we belong

Red Rain

I stayed home from work today because I'm illin' with a sore throat, cough, and general fatigue. It's no fun, and the weather today's pretty dismal, too.

I'm not giving myself a lot of points for creativity -- rainy day, the word rain in the song title -- but I was nonetheless glad when this song started welling up from within this afternoon:

Red rain is coming down
Red rain
Red rain is pouring down
Pouring down all over me

I am standing up at the water's edge in my dream
I cannot make a single sound as you scream
It can't be that cold, the ground is still warm to touch
This place is so quiet, sensing that storm

Partly because there is something about Peter Gabriel's voice -- it's haunting, in a good way -- a bit like the redness of the rain in these lyrics -- I'm not sure exactly what it signifies, but it's clearly not pretty, and I dig his ability to surrender to it:

Red rain
Putting the pressure on much harder now
To return again and again
Just let the red rain splash you
Let the rain fall on your skin
I come to you defenses down
With the trust of a child

....because sometimes, surrender is the only dignified move to be made:

Red rain is coming down
Red rain
Red rain is pouring down
Pouring down all over me
And I can't watch any more
No more denial
It's so hard to lay down in all of this
Red rain is coming down
Red rain is pouring down
Red rain is coming down all over me
I see it
Red rain is coming down
Red rain is pouring down
Red rain is coming down all over me
I'm bathing in it
Red rain coming down
Red rain is coming down
Red rain is coming down all over me
I'm begging you
Red rain coming down
Red rain coming down
Red rain coming down
Red rain coming down
Over me in the red red sea
Over me
Over me
Red rain

So I'm going to try to let this sickness wash over me, too...