I don't know how to describe the last four nights...
Thursday morning started with Yoga, D. my instructor is working on opening my heart space. She says I have closed off my heart space and now she has to work on opening it back up. She reads positive affirmations to me when I take Savasana (corps pose), and I breath in the good intentions and out the bad, then I breath in what I know myself to be and breath out the negative opinions of self and of others. She asked me to come up with three things I want out of life. And so I did... health (mind, body and spirit), family (a husband and children, not necessarily in that order) and peace (or tranquility in my surroundings if you will). She has now asked me to ask myself why I want those things. To be honest with you I am not sure.
Thursday evening was honest and refreshing and so I will keep that way by keeping it to myself but Friday and the rest I will share.
After a very hectic and crazy Friday I was sitting in a backyard with the breeze and a friend. I was in Brownsville, spending the night and visiting about life and all the things two people discuss when opening their third bottle of wine in 6 hours time. We had covered many topics by this point and now... I found myself discussing my marriage and in turn my subsequent divorce. I mentioned the moment that I now know to be the lowest point in my life. I am sure I have clouded the memory of that night four years ago, can't tell you the exact date and probably could not tell you what was discussed for the two hours where I didn't cry or raise my voice. I can tell you what happened when it hit me, I was getting a divorce.
I loved my little house in North Central Austin, my little yellow house with all the pink rose bushes and twinkle lights strung up in the back yard. The Bose speakers that played the music that floated around the 100 or so teracotta pots of plants and purple and pink flowers. The vegetable garden that really only grew a few peppers, some lettuce and tomato, and a various assortment of herbs. The Vitex tree that bloomed every spring. The Chinese Tallows that turned orange in the fall. I loved the big old windows that looked out upon Grover Avenue displaying the people waking buy, riding by, walking their dogs, pushing strollers, running, and working in their yards. I loved the Cresview IGA that I could walk to. I loved the old tile in the kitchen and the bathroom and the carport with the 7 lucky stars and the hard wood floors and now I was upon them.
I fell to the floor at about midnight, near the door to the kitchen, I was in a ball on that dusty hard wood floor sobbing. I was in the tiniest ball ever... I didn't know my body could curl up on itself in that way. I was on my shins, folded over my knees and I was saying something along the lines of... this is my karma, this is what I deserve for the choices I have made in my life, I deserve this, oh god... why? The only thing I remember after that was the weight of my now ex-husband on top of me trying to find a way to comfort me and whispering in my ear, no, no you were the good one, it was me, I was the bad one.
It is quite amazing how we handle things in our time of crisis, the primal reaction to something that we can never train for, never understand or ever want to. I felt like a failure, I thought to myself... this was the one thing I could do right. I could love someone enough, I could be a good wife, I could eventually be a good mom. But what is enough? and when is enough? I told my friend about that night and the wall I built for myself over the next couple of years and how I have been trying to tear it down ever since. I don't even remember building it really, it just happened as if someone called in a contractor and said, please build this for her she is going to need it. I remember thinking to myself you are crazy, but not as crazy as you were yesterday, yesterday you were a whack-job today you are better. I lived on red wine and cheese crackers that I had bought to make Christmas baskets for all of our friends. In January I stared at Christmas gifts that had been ordered with the names of my now estranged nieces and nephews and my already anxious dog now stared at me constantly. I took down photos and memories and maxed out my minutes on my cell phone and all that time the contractors were building that wall for me. I made new friends, spent time at happy hours, tried to pretend to work and all that time the contractors kept building that wall for me. I went to school and internships and all that time the wall... I dated and dated and dated, more than one person at a time and all that time the wall grew higher and higher.
I have told this story I am sure to and innumerable amount of people in one version or another and I am even more sure to people that didn't want to know, but what was amazing this time, on this night, with this friend is that she asked me... If you say you don't believe in God then why did you call out to God? I found this question fascinating. Mostly, I remember the my Karma part, but even so then why did I suddenly believe in Karma and who was I talking to in that moment?
Saturday I drove to the Island for something that I had promised a friend I would do. Although the people could not use me after all he brought me a plate of the most wonderful migas, which I ate sitting on the stairs, using a tortilla instead of a fork the wind blowing through my hair, the smell of salt in the air. I then got in my car and drove to a dead end where I could watch the waves, or as I like to call them the method for instant meditation. I drove back to Harlingen and didn't answer any calls that afternoon, I found my couch and turned on the TV, turned facing the opposite direction and napped.
Sunday I went over to my Grandmothers house where I had a wonderful discussion with my Aunt and Uncle, Carol and Bubba, and my grandparents about Austin and life and the Valley and travel and growing and healing and everything else I can't remember now. We discussed art and Frida Kahlo, we discussed architecture, and death and life and vacation. I felt it coming upon me.
I then headed over to my sisters house to drop off a camera and watched the Cowboys game. Here and there we visited and in that discussion she asked me if I had heard of the book Eat, Pray, Love. She mentioned that it was the book that had been selected for the book club I was a sometimes member of. I had heard about it and I had watched part of Oprah with the Author discussing the book. Obviously I wasn't paying that much attention because I don't remember thinking I must have this book. My sister said to me, what I find the most interesting is how strongly she feels things... she reminds me of you. To which I though... doesn't everyone feel things this strongly? After the game I headed back to my house and sat in front of my computer, I thought about all the conversations I had had in the last 72 hours, enough to wear one out but I didn't feel worn out, instead, once again, I felt as if something was coming.
I decided to get on iTunes and see if the book was available.
I always liked falling asleep to the sound of someone reading aloud to me and so I thought maybe I would listen to the book, read in the voice of the author. It would be like it was when I was a child when my parents read to me or the way some boyfriends would read poetry aloud with my head in their lap and I could close my eyes and just listen. If only I could have found someone to play with my hair at the same time, I would be knocked-out cold for sure. I listened for about twenty minutes when I realized I was starting to nod off... a good sign for an insomniac. I closed my computer and fell asleep.
This morning I woke up at 5:45 so that I could go walking with my sister at six. While we were walking I told my sister about the conversation I had Friday night, the waves on Saturday, the visit on Sunday and that I had purchased the audio book and it surprised me that it was written in exactly the same tone that I was feeling. I asked my sister about prayer and mentioned that as I listened to the words I realized I never had prayer presented to me as the author did in this book, but I had prayed the Mala for meditational purposes once or twice. I found the authors ideas and perspective refreshing. She replied that maybe it was something more for me to explore and shared some personal stories.
I am now fascinated with this book and the idea of further enlightenment.
