The Sound of Silence

My daughter has commented on my silence several times lately. "What's the matter with you? You haven't said a word for a long time."

I went out with my new coworkers a few weeks ago, and one of them asked me if I was quiet. No one has ever asked me that before, I told her -- which is true. But it was also true that that night, I was quiet.

There were a lot of things that worried me in my last relationship, but one of the biggest was my boyfriend's silence. He so often retreated to it, and I would wonder where he'd gone, and what was going on with him, and if he was wrong for me because he didn't want to share his inner life even though that's super important to me in a mate.

But lately, with my own silence emerging and causing issues for others, I wonder whether I do the same thing that he did, and if it was easier to fixate on his silence than to notice my own. I don't know.

I'm reevaluating a lot of things about that relationship. My friend asked me if I've been writing, and I told her I hadn't. She asked why. I thought about it, and answered: "I thought I had this great love story to tell. I thought I wanted to tell how worthwhile it is to work through your pain and come back to your body and your heart so you can truly experience love. And now I wonder if it really is a great love story. I wonder if I have truly experienced love.  No, I take that back: I know that I truly experienced loving someone but I'm no longer sure whether I've truly experienced being loved. I read posts like this one, which I found when I was looking to see if I'd used this song before, and it just feels like bullshit.

And that leaves me with not a lot to say, kinda like my friends Paul and Art:

Hello darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence

In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
‘Neath the halo of a streetlamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence

And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more
People talking without speaking
People hearing without listening
People writing songs that voices never share
No one dare
Disturb the sound of silence

“Fools” said I, “You do not know
Silence like a cancer grows
Hear my words that I might teach you
Take my arms that I might reach you”
But my words like silent raindrops fell
And echoed in the wells of silence

And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming
And the sign said “The words of the prophets
Are written on subway walls
And tenement halls
And whispered in the sounds of silence

I talked to a friend today who said that when things shift, you have to reestablish the ground beneath you. I reckon that's what I'm doing. Quietly...

The Only Living Boy in New York

Why this song for this day, you ask?

Tom, get your plane right on time.
I know your part'll go fine.
Fly down to Mexico.
Da-n-da-da-n-da-n-da-da and here I am,
The only living boy in New York.

I get the news I need on the weather report.
I can gather all the news I need on the weather report.
Hey, I've got nothing to do today but smile.
Da-n-do-da-n-do-da-n-do here I am,
The only living boy in New York.
Half of the time we're gone but we don't know where,
And we don't know where.

1) My ipod shuffled onto it and I walked over to see what it was called -- I had no idea. I think the only part that has ever stuck in my head was "we don't know where and we don't know where."

No, we don't.

2) I read an article this week about the fact that it has been 20 years since the release of Larry Clark's Kids -- a movie about teenagers getting high and having sex in New York. Is that possible? I remember seeing it with my babydaddy when it came out and being really shaken by it. Apparently Harvey Weinstein said it was the most controversial film with which he has ever been associated. And now, 20 years later, I'm feeling really grateful that my kids get to be teenagers in Madison, Wisconsin.

3) My only living boy is having some trouble understanding why I want him to spend part of his summer learning and/or reviewing Algebra. I'm just trying to set him up for success, but he doesn't see it that way, and we're both frustrated with each other.

4) And finally, I got a message the other day from an old friend with whom I don't talk to or see much anymore, but the message, about the expansive possibilities with my brain and my newfound freedom to apply it to society's ills (naming improving schools and lives for poor, minority kids), really touched me:

Tom, get your plane right on time.
I know that you've been eager to fly now.
Hey let your honesty shine, shine, shine
Da-n-da-da-n-da-n-da-da
Like it shines on me.
The only living boy in New York,
The only living boy in New York.

Like Tom, I'm eager to fly now, and let my honesty shine, shine, shine...

Bring it, Universe!

El Condor Pasa

When I was at the gym today to teach yoga, I remembered that every year the owner leaves $20 in all the employees' mailboxes to say thank you and Merry Christmas. It's not a lot of money, but I didn't have any plans, so I decided to see if I could take myself to dinner and a movie on it.

This past year, or maybe the year before, I read the book Wild and loved it, so I've been excited to see the movie.

It did not disappoint. In fact, it was positively cathartic for where I am in my life right now, which is at a place of acceptance about being apart from the man with whom I thought for sure I'd spend the rest of my life. The movie helped remind me that this actually happens a lot -- including to the author, who gets divorced from her first husband even though they love each other deeply. It happens, I am now telling myself. It's not just you. You don't have to take this personally. You can just accept that sometimes you get to choose and sometimes you don't.

This song, from the movie's phenomenal soundtrack, is a great reminder of that too:

I'd rather be a sparrow than a snail
Yes I would
If I could, I surely would
Hmm mmm

I'd rather be a hammer than a nail
Yes I would
If I only could, I surely would
Hmm mmm

Away, I'd rather sail away
Like a swan that's here and gone
A man gets tied up to the ground
He gives the world its saddest sound, its saddest sound
Hmm mmm

I'd rather be a forest than a street
Yes I would
If I could, I surely would

I'd rather feel the earth beneath my feet
Yes I would
If I only could, I surely would

For today, I can still feel the earth beneath my feet. It's chilly at the moment, but I can feel it. And that connection is all I need to keep healing.

And I'd be remiss if I didn't report that I also managed to buy myself dinner with the rest of my cash: Chile Verde from Pasqual's, one of my faves...

A Hazy Shade of Winter

The kids buried in leaves -- I promise they're very much alive!

Today was a rough day, any way you slice it. My babydaddy and I usually don't make our exchanges on the weekend, but today the kids came home at noon. I shoulda known that they'd need some time to acclimate, but I was feeling overwhelmed by the crazy amount of leaves in our yard and banking on the labor of three rather than one to get the job done.

Putting them to work as soon as they got home could've been a set up for a tough afternoon all by itself, but complicating matters was the fight the kids had had the previous night at their Dad's. They were both angry and hurt and hadn't addressed those feelings with one another. This made an already tough set-up into a really painful situation for all of us.

But, as usual, even in the midst of difficulty, there were some bright spots:

1) You can't rake up a whole ton of leaves and not have some pretty serious fun jumping into them, and we did both today.

2) I was able to see my part in the difficulty much more readily than I have in the past, and that helped me communicate more clearly with my kids and think through what I/we will do differently next time. You know, live and learn and all that.

3) I don't know about you, but I can't see a whole bunch of brown leaves in a pile (even if some of ours are brighter colors) -- look around, leaves are brown -- and not have this tune playing in my head:

Time, time, time, see what's become of me.
While I looked around for my possibilities,
I was so hard to please.
But look around, the leaves are brown,
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter.
Hear the salvation army band
Down by the riverside, it's bound to be a better ride
Than what you've got planned,
Carry your cup in your hand.
And look around you, the leaves are brown now,
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter.
Hang on to your hopes, my friend.
That's an easy thing to say but if your hopes should pass away,
It's simply pretend, that you can build them again.
Look around, the grass is high, the fields are ripe,
It's the springtime of my life.
Oh, seasons change with scenery,
Weaving time in a tapestry,
Won't you stop and remember me?
At any convenient time.
Funny how my memory skips while looking over manuscripts
Of unpublished rhyme,
Drinking my vodka and rhyme.
I look around, the leaves are brown,
There's a patch of snow on the ground,
Look around...

And I like that song. Especially the original, but the one by The Bangles isn't bad either...

Bridge Over Troubled Water

I got the news tonight that the sellers had countered my offer to buy the house I blogged about a few days ago. Their counter requests that I obtain a bridge loan so that I can remove the contingency of the sale of my current home from my offer.

This is the song that came to mind:

When you're weary
Feeling small
When tears are in your eyes
I will dry them all

I'm on your side
When times get rough
And friends just can't be found
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down

Here's hoping that Johnson Bank can be a bridge over the troubled water of trying to buy a bigger house by myself, on one income, cuz this silver girl's ready to sail on by:

Sail on Silver Girl,
Sail on by
Your time has come to shine
All your dreams are on their way

See how they shine
If you need a friend
I'm sailing right behind
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind

Homeward Bound

I feel like I've had more than my fair share of frustrating parenting moments lately. I think the kids and I have fallen into some patterns that are less than positive and productive and to break out of them, I have to lead us toward a different space. This takes a lot of energy, but I think the reason for the painful times is to gather the strength needed to make the adjustments.

In the midst of a couple of tough days, I got to spend some alone time with my daughter. She chose our activity: going to the climbing gym. I couldn't have picked a more perfect reset button if I'd tried.

As her belayer, I provided her the safety, security and encouragement she needed to climb higher; as the climber, she got to demonstrate to herself and others her strength, her tenacity, and an appreciation for what she could accomplish when I was supporting her in a positive way. She expressed this appreciation repeatedly, and I felt gratified and humbled by the gargantuan task of raising such a strong, capable child.

Marveling at all this, I heard Simon and Garfunkel start to fill the climbing gym, and felt myself filling with gratitude about the home I've been able to create for myself and my children, and the one that my boyfriend and I are one day hoping to create for the four of us:

Homeward bound, I wish I was homeward bound

Home, where my thoughts escape, at home, where my music's playin'

Home, where my love lies waitin' silently for me

Tonight I'll sing my songs again, I'll play the game and pretend

But all my words come back to me, in shades of mediocrity

Like emptiness and harmony, I need someone to comfort me...

And I set the intention that above all else, our home would always be a place where we could all find comfort.

I am a Rock

This morning, when I was dealing with all the difficulties of returning from my fabulous vacation, this was one of the songs to which my ipod shuffled.

Listening to it, I recalled receiving a letter during college from the friend with whom I was just vacationing. In it, she had written the lyrics to this song along with the sad tale of her recent experience with unrequited love.

We've all been there, and it's songs like this that get us through. Looking it up on youtube just now, I found those two cuties in a live performance of this song, where Paul Simon introduces the song by saying: "This song, according to Artie, is my most neurotic song. I don't know whether that's true or not. It's a song about loneliness." It sure is, and the lyrics are instructive of the fact that to some degree at least, loneliness is a choice:

I've built walls,
A fortress deep and mighty,
That none may penetrate.

I also thought about the fact that it was probably within the next year that she met the man who is now her husband -- and has been for 17 years. They have a wonderful, loving relationship and four beautiful kids. That's part of what is so difficult about returning from this vacation -- I came home after enjoying 8 days with my kids and had to return them to their Dad, a man with whom I do not have a wonderful, loving relationship. Certainly, the temptation, in the wake of my divorce, has been there, from time to time, for me to withdraw "I am a Rock" style:

Hiding in my room
Safe within my womb (Is Paul's bed his womb just as my bed is mine?)
I touch no one and no one touches me.

But my friend didn't stay a rock after her loss of love, and look what blossomed. So I'm not going to either. I may be 20 years older now than she was then, but I'm also better equipped than ever (thanks to wonderful friends, lots of therapy, frequent acupuncture and an almost daily dose of heart openers in my yoga practice) to take down the walls, forget about the fortress, and emerge from the womb again.

Listening to the refrain now, I am determined not to be a rock. I reckon there are still some rocky fragments in this soil I'm cultivating -- but it's fertile, it's gets plenty of sunlight and water, and when the time is right, I just know something beautiful will take root.