Love My Way

Isn't is funny how someone comes into your life and changes it by ripples and waves in ways he never even intended?  I am feeling grateful all the way to the tips of my toes this morning for a friend and all of the joys and complications he has introduced into my life.

See, he introduced me to his good friend, who then introduced me to her good friends, and all of this is how I ended up eating meals with two very different but equally lovable groups of humans this weekend.  One of those humans got me to read this article.

Such perfect timing.

I have been thinking a lot about love lately.  Wanting it.  Missing it.  Wondering if I am even capable of it.  Wondering if I have it and I just don't see.  And like so many things, the love I am thinking about is a thing constructed of images, curated news stories and formulaic novels.  (I blame you, Jane Eyre, but I will always -- well-- love you.)

I have love.  Bits and snatches of moments of tenderness and connection which can be very satisfying -- if I just pause and live in them.  Like: the other night when the man-whose-status-I-can't-quite-define just held me tenderly through some whacking great cramps.  Like: Friday when I sat at a crowded table for a friend's birthday and really understood what a warm and true-hearted person he is.  Like right now, when I am thinking of my Heartbreak Tour Guide and how much knowing him has changed my life.

I have love, I have warmth, I have sex and sometimes I even have intimacy.  Mostly, this is enough.  What I am still lacking and missing is companionship.  So, the task for my new year is to figure out how to create and define that in a way that suits me.    Let's go.

Karma Train

A wise woman once said to me: "The Karma train makes all stops."  I had just gotten laid off from a job I loved and did very well, and she was reminding me that those who get rid of a good employee might feel comfortable about it now, but soon (very soon, maybe) they would feel the discomfort of their mistake.

I suppose they did, eventually.  But of course it didn't matter much to me by then.  I kept that phrase, though, and I used it whenever it felt appropriate.  Nothing stops the Karma train.

Nothing.

And now the karma train has pulled in to my station.

A few years ago, my grandmother spent some time in the hospital.  While she was there, my dad and I went to her house and did some cleaning.  I took on the bathrooms.  In my righteous enthusiasm, I emptied all the cabinets and I filled multiple garbage bags with things I thought were just taking up space.  Septic system cleaner.  Rug that smelled like cat pee.  Ear cuff shaped like leaves.  (Still scratching my head about that one.)  Multiple tubes of ancient Avon lipstick in various shades of "Unflattering."  By the time I was done, every cabinet was scrubbed clean, inside and out, and things were organized and easy to see.  Oh yes, and the trash pile was full to bursting.

She got home from the hospital shortly before Thanksgiving.  On Thanksgiving Day, I was on the phone with my family and she made a specific request to talk to me.  I hadn't talked to her since she got home.  I kind of puffed up a little, ready to receive her gratitude with appropriate humility.  Instead, she lit into me.  She was upset by what I had done and she wanted me to feel it.  In my gut.  Like a fist.  I can still hear her saying, "You don't do that.  you don't go through people's things like that."  I apologized.  I hung up the phone.  I felt indignant and weepy and chalked it up to her (in)famous lack of gentleness in expression.

The Karma train had me scheduled.

Over Thanksgiving, I invited a friend to stay at my place while I was away.  He was about to move out of town, in that transition where he could either stay at a hotel or couch surf.  Since I was going to be away for a while, I thought it would be nice to let him stay there and take care of my cat in the process.

About a week into my time away, I got a call from the management company about the smell coming from my apartment.  It was so bad, it caused my neighbors to get sick.  I called my friend and found out he had been burning incense and smoking marijuana in my apartment.  To his credit, he didn't try to hide it and he promised to stop.

The next day I got a call from the management company again because the smell was back.  He had been burning a scented candle.  He and I decided that he would leave a few days early.

Two days later, I got home early in the afternoon.  I looked forward to sitting quietly on my sofa, reading , re-bonding with the cat and generally enjoying a quiet couple of days before I went back to work.  I opened the door to find that my entire apartment had been rearranged.  All the furniture had been moved around.  Most of the pictures were moved.  New pictures that weren't mine had been hung up.  My dance practice space had been completely dismantled.  I freaked out.

The apartment was still relatively new, and I had just gotten it to start feeling like my home.  Now it felt like I had to move in all over again.  I certainly couldn't enjoy my last days off.  I would calm down a little then notice something else that would set me off.  He moved my bookshelves (and all my books) and decided to balance the bookshelves by tearing a paperback book in half and shoving the pieces under the shelf.  He dug through my cabinets and pulled out things I didn't want to see and put them out around the apartment.  (My high school diploma?  Seriously???)

I had dear friends to come and help me calm down enough to see how I could put my place back together, and to let me know that yes, in fact, this was a weird thing for someone to do.    He left me a note which I was too livid to read.  I got through just enough of it to see that he thought he was helping me.  Who does this?, I thought.  Who helps by going through people's stuff without their permission?

Then I realized -- Oh yeah.  I do.  Or I did.  The Karma train had pulled into my station.

I get it now, Grandma.  And I am so sorry.