I love knowing that there's not a goddamn thing I have to be or do in this world. What freedom! How refreshing!
It's been seven weeks since my classes began, the semester just about halfway over. And it took up 'til this week - I'm surprised it held out so long - What is this? Progress? - for me to have my first genuine freak-out. That moment that comes where I begin to doubt myself, where I begin to wonder what the hell I'm doing. I curse myself and wonder why I'm wasting my time and energy. I wonder what the hell's the point.
It's a phenomenon that occurs once I've elected a course of action. It's been this way for as long as I can remember. Whether it's a job, a person, a social-something. An inner storm arises and rages. One of fear, obligation, enslavement. Voices of ineptitude rise up. The notion that there's no going back. The idea that I've made the wrong decision. The anxiety is paralyzing, and I most always project these things on to the situation and the people involved until I scare myself so much - and in such a variety of ways - that I quit and run away. These life decisions that I make call forth one venomous and gnarly mind-stream accustomed to attacking itself.
On top of my school work, I recently started the Power 90 program again - which takes some dedication to working out every day, and staying conscious of what I eat. And with all of this, I find myself following a routine of sorts that for the past few days, began to feel a little jail-like. The egoic chatter, "But I don't WANT to do this. I CAN'T do that. I DON'T KNOW HOW to do this." It's very loud. Very annoying. Very dream-defying. And very un-true.
As I laid on the floor in frustration, the mind trying to come up with a myriad of new escape routes, I was able to sink down in to Presence and find shelter there.
This shelter I find sometimes, this Presence, it tells me so many things. Always blessed with reminders, I'm given so much. I'm reminded that life is meant to be fun and full and rich, nothing to be endured, nothing to dread or want to flee from. That I am free in any given moment to walk out the front door and never come back. That I am free to take these books and set them on fire if I want. That I'm free to stick in my mouth whatever sweet, fried, poisonous thing I choose, that it's my call. That my inner world is my domain, my own holy kingdom, and that if I'm experiencing anything short of straight-up bliss, it's up to me to straighten out - because not only do other people not have the power to change my experience, it's not their responsibility or, even less so, their desire. That truly, there is not a soul outside me that cares how I experience the days of my life as strongly or as sincerely as I do. That at some point in the future, who I think I am will be dead and gone, and these dramas that I concoct for myself will evaporate, gone forever, their insignificance apparent, none of it mattering much. This Presence, it encourages me to get real, and to ask myself: Why are you doing these things? Why, exactly, are you in school? Why, exactly, are you trying to get fit? Who are you trying to impress? Just what are you trying to accomplish? What experience, what emotions are you going after? This Presence, I like to call it God, suggests that any reason that feels stressful, any reason that has me feeling enslaved, is a clue - a bright, shiny, blessing of a clue that tells me it's not something that's sprung from my heart, it's something I'm doing based on fear and/or the perceptions of others. What moves me, what exhilarates me as I keep going, as I live these days - only that is true and worthy of my time. There are no have-to's in this world. It's never about anything or anyone else. To believe otherwise is a mistake. It's innocent, but confusion, still - which I'd be wise to remember the next time I start getting pissy with the circumstances before me.
As I answer these questions for myself, as I get real with what I'm doing, as I sit down to study, as I sweat my ass off working out, as I love the ones I love, it's clear to me that it's ALL because I want to. There's not one instance of my being coerced. Just imagine! I'm here because I want to be. And if the time should ever come when that's no longer true, I can always choose again. There are never any chains - I love knowing that! I do these things because they make sense right now. I do them because I'm the only one in charge, the only one able to save me, the only one that cares like I do, the only one that's listening, the only one capable of knowing my Joy or feeling my High. Knowing this, how could I ever see myself as anything less than free?
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Sunday, February 12, 2012
in times like these
Writing is always helpful in times like these. It's the actual posting of what I'm writing that I worry over. And a post like this in particular.
Silas's sister unexpectedly died last week. Her funeral was this morning. I've not been to many funerals in my day, thankfully, but I've gotta say, it was the most beautiful and inspiring one I've ever attended. I was fortunate enough to have met her a couple of months ago, so when I sat in the church and listened to all the kind, funny, and wonderful things her family and friends said about her, I had a very real sense of how true they were. She seemed like a very cool lady, and that is saying the very least.
I sat in the back row with my mother, and from across the field of heads and shoulders between us, I could see Silas with his non-mournful, life-revering pink sweater up front. I kept my eyes on him much of the time, willing him to turn around so he'd know I was there. I wanted to be up there beside him, holding his hand. As he went up to speak about his sister, I wanted to whisper in his ear that he would do great and that I loved him. But instead I just listened to the stories. I closed my eyes and listened to the songs and prayers, and stifled my tears, lips quivering.
At the cemetery - the kind I hope to be laid to rest in some day; lots of trees and little ponds - I stood with Silas and his friends as the casket was lowered in to the ground, and as we got to pet the little dove before Silas released it, and the others as they followed to the sky. It was lovely. The whole thing. Silas and his brother did a great job of making the funeral a celebration of her life, and of keeping the focus on the quality of it, the way she unabashedly lived it, not the untimeliness of how it ended. They did a great job of honoring her and I'm so glad I got to be there.
For days now, I've been in a funk, feeling disconnected, out of place, lonely - wanting to cry, but not. I squelched them at the church, I squelched them at the cemetery - so as soon as I got home and had the chance, I took Grams's car up to the park so I could let the tears out. I couldn't keep them anymore. I sat in the car and screamed and cried and had many words with the Creator. And as I left there I did feel better. But still, tonight, I walk around the house feeling like I could start crying again at the slightest provocation. The tears are right beneath the surface, I can feel them. It feels like anything, at any moment, could nick me in the most innocuous of ways, and I'll be bawling again.
It's a little embarrassing to admit how self-centered I am. Instead of focusing on Silas and his loss, I'm focusing on my loss of Silas. I'm thinking of how he doesn't seem to need or want me around anymore. I'm thinking that I should have been there with him today, beside him every step of the way, not like some random mourner sitting in the back row. I'm thinking that I lost him and it's all my fault. I'm thinking how terribly I've let him down. And then after thinking all of that, I think what a selfish bitch I am for thinking these things at all. How dare I be sad at a time like this! My loss was self-imposed, after all. His wasn't.
So what do you do? What do you do in times like these? These are questions I asked God in the parking lot today. I promised that I'd listen. And these are the answers that I've begun to hear this evening:
You keep crying until you don't need to anymore. You sit down and write. You listen to your favorite music and you sing, or close your eyes and sleep. You count your many, many blessings. You take one breath at a time, one moment at a time. You remember that you always make it from here to there - you always have, you always will. You love from afar, if need be, and know that Love is not capable of being diminished. You act with selfishness or fear until it takes its leave of you - and you forgive yourself and let yourself off the hook when you realize that it has. You remember that there is not one right way of doing things, and that you're always doing the best you can - even when you're "not." You remember that you are loved and never alone, even if it sometimes feels that way. And yes, until you don't need to anymore - and that time will come - you cry.
Silas's sister unexpectedly died last week. Her funeral was this morning. I've not been to many funerals in my day, thankfully, but I've gotta say, it was the most beautiful and inspiring one I've ever attended. I was fortunate enough to have met her a couple of months ago, so when I sat in the church and listened to all the kind, funny, and wonderful things her family and friends said about her, I had a very real sense of how true they were. She seemed like a very cool lady, and that is saying the very least.
I sat in the back row with my mother, and from across the field of heads and shoulders between us, I could see Silas with his non-mournful, life-revering pink sweater up front. I kept my eyes on him much of the time, willing him to turn around so he'd know I was there. I wanted to be up there beside him, holding his hand. As he went up to speak about his sister, I wanted to whisper in his ear that he would do great and that I loved him. But instead I just listened to the stories. I closed my eyes and listened to the songs and prayers, and stifled my tears, lips quivering.
At the cemetery - the kind I hope to be laid to rest in some day; lots of trees and little ponds - I stood with Silas and his friends as the casket was lowered in to the ground, and as we got to pet the little dove before Silas released it, and the others as they followed to the sky. It was lovely. The whole thing. Silas and his brother did a great job of making the funeral a celebration of her life, and of keeping the focus on the quality of it, the way she unabashedly lived it, not the untimeliness of how it ended. They did a great job of honoring her and I'm so glad I got to be there.
For days now, I've been in a funk, feeling disconnected, out of place, lonely - wanting to cry, but not. I squelched them at the church, I squelched them at the cemetery - so as soon as I got home and had the chance, I took Grams's car up to the park so I could let the tears out. I couldn't keep them anymore. I sat in the car and screamed and cried and had many words with the Creator. And as I left there I did feel better. But still, tonight, I walk around the house feeling like I could start crying again at the slightest provocation. The tears are right beneath the surface, I can feel them. It feels like anything, at any moment, could nick me in the most innocuous of ways, and I'll be bawling again.
It's a little embarrassing to admit how self-centered I am. Instead of focusing on Silas and his loss, I'm focusing on my loss of Silas. I'm thinking of how he doesn't seem to need or want me around anymore. I'm thinking that I should have been there with him today, beside him every step of the way, not like some random mourner sitting in the back row. I'm thinking that I lost him and it's all my fault. I'm thinking how terribly I've let him down. And then after thinking all of that, I think what a selfish bitch I am for thinking these things at all. How dare I be sad at a time like this! My loss was self-imposed, after all. His wasn't.
So what do you do? What do you do in times like these? These are questions I asked God in the parking lot today. I promised that I'd listen. And these are the answers that I've begun to hear this evening:
You keep crying until you don't need to anymore. You sit down and write. You listen to your favorite music and you sing, or close your eyes and sleep. You count your many, many blessings. You take one breath at a time, one moment at a time. You remember that you always make it from here to there - you always have, you always will. You love from afar, if need be, and know that Love is not capable of being diminished. You act with selfishness or fear until it takes its leave of you - and you forgive yourself and let yourself off the hook when you realize that it has. You remember that there is not one right way of doing things, and that you're always doing the best you can - even when you're "not." You remember that you are loved and never alone, even if it sometimes feels that way. And yes, until you don't need to anymore - and that time will come - you cry.
Monday, January 16, 2012
all that's left is love
The morning brought with it changes today - inner shifts, realizations. With a lone conversation, with words I wrote, with inevitability, it hit me that Silas and I broke up.
We've only been in each others' lives for just under a year; it isn't as if we were some long married couple. We hadn't even shared a Valentine's Day. But what a soul can do for another in such little time! Nothing's tidy or without its flaws, but I think our time was as close to pure as it could be. As close as two humans could have it be so.
Our friendship isn't over - but the course we thought we were traveling, is. And I think that's what my tears were about. The visions of what could have been. As much as I try to live in the present, I can't keep those dreams from appearing - and some of those dreams were sweet. These are what the tears let go of.
Such a gorgeous mirror he is! Such a teacher in he I've had, and have!
Byron Katie was once asked about her thoughts and emotions, and whether or not she cries sometimes. And she said she cries quite often - but only experiences her tears as Love, as gratitude. No longer fooled in to believing her stories about what she's experiencing, without any judgments, nothing but Love is left. And I get that now. I refuse to judge neither he nor I for what we did or didn't do; I couldn't, because I just don't see it that way. There's nothing either of us should have - or could have - done differently. So, when those stories and visions arise in the mind, as I'm sure they will for awhile, I'll just say "Thank you."
Just Silas-tears come to say "hello."
Just Love doing what It does.
We've only been in each others' lives for just under a year; it isn't as if we were some long married couple. We hadn't even shared a Valentine's Day. But what a soul can do for another in such little time! Nothing's tidy or without its flaws, but I think our time was as close to pure as it could be. As close as two humans could have it be so.
Our friendship isn't over - but the course we thought we were traveling, is. And I think that's what my tears were about. The visions of what could have been. As much as I try to live in the present, I can't keep those dreams from appearing - and some of those dreams were sweet. These are what the tears let go of.
Such a gorgeous mirror he is! Such a teacher in he I've had, and have!
Byron Katie was once asked about her thoughts and emotions, and whether or not she cries sometimes. And she said she cries quite often - but only experiences her tears as Love, as gratitude. No longer fooled in to believing her stories about what she's experiencing, without any judgments, nothing but Love is left. And I get that now. I refuse to judge neither he nor I for what we did or didn't do; I couldn't, because I just don't see it that way. There's nothing either of us should have - or could have - done differently. So, when those stories and visions arise in the mind, as I'm sure they will for awhile, I'll just say "Thank you."
Just Silas-tears come to say "hello."
Just Love doing what It does.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
questions (for what they're worth)
All I say are stories - none of which are true. I communicate with language, a tool of the mind: a fictitious and fleeting construct. A powerful thing - but not so much, compared to the Awareness in which it appears. So, just know that, as I say what I say. All that I can tell you comes through my filter, and is only worth what you say it is. But in the hopes that it sparks or stills you, just in case it resonates, I say it; I ask the questions.
I hear that there's a Divinity you're looking for, and are afraid that you've not found it. You've read so many books and have heard countless teachings. You have made your advances. You've taken steps toward, and have humbly welcomed different religions in to your heart and mind. You've opened yourself up, you've prayed for illumination. But in spite of all your searching, you're still feeling lost. And after all this time.
I don't make light of your feeling lost. And I'm not trying to change or make your mind - or save you, not really - as if I had that power! No, you experience what you perceive, and what you perceive is nothing to be argued with. But there's nothing wrong with questioning things. Is there?
Who or what is the God that you're looking for? The Alpha and Omega? The creator of the Universe? God, as ultimate God, ruler of All There Is - wouldn't it seem that that definition of a God would have to be infinite - in-finite, as in, limitless - and wouldn't that include you? How could there be something that the Limitless is not? I don't think there could be, by definition. And is the God you're looking for all-loving, all-knowing - the kind of God you'd want to look for and worship? By that definition, do you imagine that He or She or It would purposely hide from you, demanding certain ways of being, with all sorts of expectation? Sounds terribly human.What could an all-encompassing God need or expect from it's limitless Self? Which you can't help but be a part of, using that definition. What do you fear? Do you imagine yourself to be alone? Do you imagine there is some state of being you need to attain, some place you need to get? Why would that God have you anywhere other than where you need to be? The God that you're hoping to find, fearful that you haven't - do you imagine that He or She or It doesn't know exactly where you are? Don't you imagine that He or She or It knows exactly what He or She or It is doing? Wouldn't you imagine that you're a part of It's limitless Self, completely known and loved for being exactly as you (It) are supposed to be?
I can't ease your worry. I can only ask you what I've been invited to ask myself. I can only suggest that you look at the love (ease of being) you feel in those moments of Now in which you have the presence of mind to simply rest in Awareness, without the stories you're prone to telling - including the one where you're in need of finding God. I understand the desire for answers, for wanting to make sense of things, and the fear that you never will. Those desires appear - but also do they go.
I'm just suggesting that God, the ruler of All That Is - Existence itself, in other words - just doesn't need from you a single thing, and certainly wouldn't want you to be afraid you've failed for not providing it, or for somehow acting wrongly. All that Life (which includes you) could ever need, is provided to Life, by Life, in any given moment. It's a grace that we're a part of. How could the Limitless exist any other way?
Friday, January 13, 2012
upon further reflection
I typically don't turn to my writing in times of distress, because focusing on the problem only begets more problem. This is not a space I come to complain, or to speak of life's misfortunes, for the simple fact that I believe in the power of our thoughts and words. I believe that what we focus on, increases. And the more often I'm able to remember that, the better off I'll be.
Since I published my last post, though, there's been a feeling nagging at me, suggesting that maybe I didn't live up to that ideal yesterday, that maybe I was a little too whiny or negative. I don't think those thoughts accurately represent me, and it's just not what I want to put out there. Because all of my so-called troubles are only stories. Stories that disappear when Grace would have me investigate them. While it's true that certain stories appear from time to time, and it's true that I get swept up in them, there are other truths just as compelling, and probably much more accurate, that are far worthier of airtime.
So I'm balancing out what I left here yesterday, from a calmer mind, and with more stories equally as true, if not more so:
The fact is, I am doing AWESOME. As a friend pointed out to me, I am in uncharted territory and there is no map for me to follow. I have been doing the best I can, the best I know how, and I am right on schedule. My success is staggering. The idea that I've made no progress is ludicrous. I had a great first semester back to school. I finished a social skills training class. I've reconnected with all my friends this year, made new ones, went out and had fun. I rendezvoused with Life - and that's all I wanted to do. It has been a successful year. And that's all there will be in the future. It won't ever look just the way I hope or imagine it to, and that's cool. That It is there at all, that I am there at all, is what matters. The Rendezvous is what matters. The openness to All of It is what matters. Not the way it looks or the time it takes to unfold.
I'm going to stumble from time to time - and after each (ultimately) insignificant fall, I will stand myself right up again. I will never have the answers, and that's okay. All I need, is to be cool with that. And Life has shown me time and again that I have that capacity.
Since I published my last post, though, there's been a feeling nagging at me, suggesting that maybe I didn't live up to that ideal yesterday, that maybe I was a little too whiny or negative. I don't think those thoughts accurately represent me, and it's just not what I want to put out there. Because all of my so-called troubles are only stories. Stories that disappear when Grace would have me investigate them. While it's true that certain stories appear from time to time, and it's true that I get swept up in them, there are other truths just as compelling, and probably much more accurate, that are far worthier of airtime.
So I'm balancing out what I left here yesterday, from a calmer mind, and with more stories equally as true, if not more so:
The fact is, I am doing AWESOME. As a friend pointed out to me, I am in uncharted territory and there is no map for me to follow. I have been doing the best I can, the best I know how, and I am right on schedule. My success is staggering. The idea that I've made no progress is ludicrous. I had a great first semester back to school. I finished a social skills training class. I've reconnected with all my friends this year, made new ones, went out and had fun. I rendezvoused with Life - and that's all I wanted to do. It has been a successful year. And that's all there will be in the future. It won't ever look just the way I hope or imagine it to, and that's cool. That It is there at all, that I am there at all, is what matters. The Rendezvous is what matters. The openness to All of It is what matters. Not the way it looks or the time it takes to unfold.
I'm going to stumble from time to time - and after each (ultimately) insignificant fall, I will stand myself right up again. I will never have the answers, and that's okay. All I need, is to be cool with that. And Life has shown me time and again that I have that capacity.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
shaken, stirred, and settling
Two weeks in to the new year, and I've given no real thought to resolutions. Usually, I'm excited by this symbolic time of change, struck giddy by thoughts of all the potential paths my potential selves might possibly embark upon. I eat that stuff up. If there's one thing I'm good at, it's wandering through daydreams. The harnessing of them, that's another story - but one that doesn't serve me in the telling of it...so I'll refrain.
Instead of looking towards the future, though, I've been looking back at the past - the freshly complete holiday season, specifically - and am grateful the flurry of all that social activity is over. Don't misunderstand: I had a blast. Every invitation I accepted, every connection that I made, every night of fun with friends will long be treasured. But in order to have those experiences, those nights, I had to endure the hours and days beforehand that were tainted with nervousness and dread. I felt the fear. I did it anyway. But each time was like the first time. Some times were easier than others...but none of them were easy-easy.
I attended Nick and Cody's wedding reception, of course. I got to hang out with Emre several times; got to see his house for the first time, and meet his girlfriend. I spent an evening with Emily by the light of the Christmas tree, talking and laughing. The house was full of family on Christmas day.
The most difficult times, however - and therefore the most rewarding, I might add - were the ones I spent with Silas. The lunch where I met his brother and sister for the first time. The limo ride with several other couples to look at Christmas lights throughout the city. The New Year's Eve party awash with strangers. Don't these all sound like lovely things to do? Don't these all sound like wonderful ways of spending time with a lover? They were. And by the end of each outing, I'm the one wishing we could stay. I'm the one that has found some drinks, nice people to chat with, and am loving the vibe. But beforehand, and for some time after arriving, it's uncomfortable to say the least. The very least.
I'm thankful to Silas for the loving presence he is, for the way he coaxes me out from behind the mental walls I've hid behind. I'm thankful to him for all the new friends he's brought in to my life - for not one person he's introduced me to have I not been charmed by. I'm thankful to him for his patience - and occasional annoyance - as I try to weasel my way out of commitments or a new found world. I love the way he sees Life and goes to grab it at every opportunity - and how he invites me along for the ride. I'm thankful for him. I love him. His Energy.
But as thankful as I am for all he's given, I don't always feel safe. Or accepted. Or like I'm where I need to be...or with whom I'm supposed to be. Or if I'm even making progress at all. As much fun as I always end up having, each time is like the very first time, and I'm getting tired of it. I'm tired of the conflict it gives rise to, both inside and out. When will the "faking it" turn in to "making it?" When will the guard be let down? When will I know what Silas knows? When will the pieces start to fit? When comes that rumored coming-together?
We've broken up, but fortunately, we're staying friends. I'll keep taking my steps. He'll keep taking his. And we'll see what happens.
I need to find out how realistic my expectations are - of myself, of Silas, of life. I've called the woman who led my social skills group. I need to get back in to counseling. Soon.
I'm thankful to Silas for the loving presence he is, for the way he coaxes me out from behind the mental walls I've hid behind. I'm thankful to him for all the new friends he's brought in to my life - for not one person he's introduced me to have I not been charmed by. I'm thankful to him for his patience - and occasional annoyance - as I try to weasel my way out of commitments or a new found world. I love the way he sees Life and goes to grab it at every opportunity - and how he invites me along for the ride. I'm thankful for him. I love him. His Energy.
But as thankful as I am for all he's given, I don't always feel safe. Or accepted. Or like I'm where I need to be...or with whom I'm supposed to be. Or if I'm even making progress at all. As much fun as I always end up having, each time is like the very first time, and I'm getting tired of it. I'm tired of the conflict it gives rise to, both inside and out. When will the "faking it" turn in to "making it?" When will the guard be let down? When will I know what Silas knows? When will the pieces start to fit? When comes that rumored coming-together?
We've broken up, but fortunately, we're staying friends. I'll keep taking my steps. He'll keep taking his. And we'll see what happens.
I need to find out how realistic my expectations are - of myself, of Silas, of life. I've called the woman who led my social skills group. I need to get back in to counseling. Soon.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
party not over
To celebrate Nick and Cody's Vegas wedding back in October, there was a reception at an Addison pub last Saturday night - and it was awesome!
I could speak of the nervousness I had leading up to it. I could speak of the screwdrivers I had before even leaving home. But I won't. I'll speak on what matters, which would be the blast I had.
There was so much I loved about it, but one of the best parts of the night was getting to know Nick and Oliver better. Since it was my first time hanging out with Oliver, catching a ride with he and Simone turned out to be perfect. I got the chance to talk to him and get a better sense of who he is. Not only who he is, but who they are as a couple - and I gotta say, there was a blessed ease. I liked him, and our threesome's dynamic, immediately. Feeling cool with both of them made going up those stairs to the loft where the party was that much easier.
Several people from our past were there. Some of them I was closer to than others, but all of them were fun to see; catching up was nice. Drinking to the toast her friend gave, meeting her groom, and seeing her around all of her friends, was nicer.
The evening was spent up and down the stairs, in the bar and out. Up in the loft: drinking, chatting, laughing. Downstairs, out front: smoking, chatting, laughing. It was cold out and rainy, but there were a few covered spots - one with a swing, on which Simone and I frequently sat - and swung. On one of these trips outside, I had a little one-on-one face time with Nick, which I was glad about. His candor and joyous boisterousness were a combo, charming and disarming; not that I wasn't already diggin' him on Cody's behalf, but I was completely won over.
When the party ended and we hugged our goodbyes, Oliver and Simone and I climbed in to a cab, but after some mishap over a house key, we returned to the pub, our party unexpectedly not over. It allowed Oliver more time to throw darts and have some more drinks, Simone some more time to sober up, and me to - well, laugh or marvel at whatever goings-on caught my attention. Mostly, though, I just watched their husband and wife dart game. They were so cute! The way they kissed every now and again; how Simone danced before her darts. I was so happy to be there with them.
Cody is my oldest friend; I've known her since we were 12-years-old. It blows my effin' mind we've known each other for 18 years. One, because that makes us as old as we are, and that I've been alive long enough to know someone for 18 years! Two, because that's a long time for a friendship to last - and not everyone is so lucky. Cody and Simone were more acquaintances than friends in high school, and on one of our trips to the smoke-swing, Simone mentioned to me that she hadn't realized back then how genuine and good-hearted Cody really is. Being one of the "cool" kids - which Cody was - I guess it gave her a mystique that others took to be who she was. We both agreed that what makes her so cool - because she still is a cool kid - is that she's real underneath the ideas people would have about her. Appearance is nothing she cares about.
It was the kind of night that I've been having more and more of lately - and I know there are more to come. It was the kind of night where I let myself connect with people that I love and who love me. It was the kind of night that I used to imagine, though nowhere near as well, in those years I confined myself to my room. It was the kind of night that, even via the memories that linger, makes you smile and laugh so hard, your jaw hurts.
There was so much I loved about it, but one of the best parts of the night was getting to know Nick and Oliver better. Since it was my first time hanging out with Oliver, catching a ride with he and Simone turned out to be perfect. I got the chance to talk to him and get a better sense of who he is. Not only who he is, but who they are as a couple - and I gotta say, there was a blessed ease. I liked him, and our threesome's dynamic, immediately. Feeling cool with both of them made going up those stairs to the loft where the party was that much easier.
Several people from our past were there. Some of them I was closer to than others, but all of them were fun to see; catching up was nice. Drinking to the toast her friend gave, meeting her groom, and seeing her around all of her friends, was nicer.
The evening was spent up and down the stairs, in the bar and out. Up in the loft: drinking, chatting, laughing. Downstairs, out front: smoking, chatting, laughing. It was cold out and rainy, but there were a few covered spots - one with a swing, on which Simone and I frequently sat - and swung. On one of these trips outside, I had a little one-on-one face time with Nick, which I was glad about. His candor and joyous boisterousness were a combo, charming and disarming; not that I wasn't already diggin' him on Cody's behalf, but I was completely won over.
When the party ended and we hugged our goodbyes, Oliver and Simone and I climbed in to a cab, but after some mishap over a house key, we returned to the pub, our party unexpectedly not over. It allowed Oliver more time to throw darts and have some more drinks, Simone some more time to sober up, and me to - well, laugh or marvel at whatever goings-on caught my attention. Mostly, though, I just watched their husband and wife dart game. They were so cute! The way they kissed every now and again; how Simone danced before her darts. I was so happy to be there with them.
Cody is my oldest friend; I've known her since we were 12-years-old. It blows my effin' mind we've known each other for 18 years. One, because that makes us as old as we are, and that I've been alive long enough to know someone for 18 years! Two, because that's a long time for a friendship to last - and not everyone is so lucky. Cody and Simone were more acquaintances than friends in high school, and on one of our trips to the smoke-swing, Simone mentioned to me that she hadn't realized back then how genuine and good-hearted Cody really is. Being one of the "cool" kids - which Cody was - I guess it gave her a mystique that others took to be who she was. We both agreed that what makes her so cool - because she still is a cool kid - is that she's real underneath the ideas people would have about her. Appearance is nothing she cares about.
It was the kind of night that I've been having more and more of lately - and I know there are more to come. It was the kind of night where I let myself connect with people that I love and who love me. It was the kind of night that I used to imagine, though nowhere near as well, in those years I confined myself to my room. It was the kind of night that, even via the memories that linger, makes you smile and laugh so hard, your jaw hurts.
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