the sun, remember?
It's that glowing yellow thing in the sky that tends to disappear from the Northwest around October. It's back! It's making everything so shiny and warm and I find myself feeling kinda disoriented...
Could be sleep deprivation. I've had the unbelievable fucking honour of sleeping next to SK for several nights in a row now and the absolute thrill of proximity keeps me buzzing late into the night and wakes me, still buzzing, early in the morning. It is not uncommon for me to slowly drift up from sleep at 6am realizing she's there. Often she's awake too and there we are, 6am, dark sky, staring at each other, lit as we are by the tiny glow from an outside light. Staring with total amazement and gratitude to find ourselves waking up together. So fucking incredible. *She* is so fucking incredible.
I started this blog in December in the middle of eviserating my relationship with CB and extracting myself from it, like a baby stuck in the body of a dead mother is cut free, pulled into the air, allowed to live. Part of that process was about redefining myself as a single person and attacking this so-called pattern of swinging from relationship to relationship. Needless to say, it's a little more than ironic that I now find myself totally crazy about SK -- I've checked and rechecked myself around this. It feels so organic... it feels so organic and so good and so real and so right, it seems insulting to the universe to equate it with any fucked up old pattern, any kind of robotic, rote behavior. Ridiculous.
And frankly, I'm starting to question the validity of this idea that I've got a pathological pattern at all. I think I have *had* some kind of pattern, but it isn't some static thing. It's like an old, rusty, rattletrap car rolling down a hill, picking up speed, gaining momentum -- and as it rolls and rides and bumps it shakes parts and hunks loose -- they fly off -- nuts and bolts and mirrors and lights and fenders and doors and the steering wheel and seats until nothing is left of this pattern but the wheels on the axles -- carrying me smoothly along, coasting off into the future. There was very little left of the pattern with CB. There is less left now.
I've been clinging to this pattern to excuse or explain my behavior rather than look honestly in each moment at every action I take, every choice I make. This no longer feels right. I'll talk to my counselor tomorrow about it. She's so great, I want to know what thinks about it all.
Could be sleep deprivation. I've had the unbelievable fucking honour of sleeping next to SK for several nights in a row now and the absolute thrill of proximity keeps me buzzing late into the night and wakes me, still buzzing, early in the morning. It is not uncommon for me to slowly drift up from sleep at 6am realizing she's there. Often she's awake too and there we are, 6am, dark sky, staring at each other, lit as we are by the tiny glow from an outside light. Staring with total amazement and gratitude to find ourselves waking up together. So fucking incredible. *She* is so fucking incredible.
I started this blog in December in the middle of eviserating my relationship with CB and extracting myself from it, like a baby stuck in the body of a dead mother is cut free, pulled into the air, allowed to live. Part of that process was about redefining myself as a single person and attacking this so-called pattern of swinging from relationship to relationship. Needless to say, it's a little more than ironic that I now find myself totally crazy about SK -- I've checked and rechecked myself around this. It feels so organic... it feels so organic and so good and so real and so right, it seems insulting to the universe to equate it with any fucked up old pattern, any kind of robotic, rote behavior. Ridiculous.
And frankly, I'm starting to question the validity of this idea that I've got a pathological pattern at all. I think I have *had* some kind of pattern, but it isn't some static thing. It's like an old, rusty, rattletrap car rolling down a hill, picking up speed, gaining momentum -- and as it rolls and rides and bumps it shakes parts and hunks loose -- they fly off -- nuts and bolts and mirrors and lights and fenders and doors and the steering wheel and seats until nothing is left of this pattern but the wheels on the axles -- carrying me smoothly along, coasting off into the future. There was very little left of the pattern with CB. There is less left now.
I've been clinging to this pattern to excuse or explain my behavior rather than look honestly in each moment at every action I take, every choice I make. This no longer feels right. I'll talk to my counselor tomorrow about it. She's so great, I want to know what thinks about it all.
posted by reasonably prudent poet at 3:29 PM
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