The Observation Deck...

Thoughts, feelings & occurrences from the week:

1 .)  I looked up the words 'success' & 'successful' in the dictionary.....(because...you know....I spend my free time reading the dictionary).... (I do). By definition, success is the attainment of wealth, position, or honors...and/or the favorable termination of an endeavor...but nowhere in any definition could I find the word: Happiness.

...now isn't that interesting.

We (in English-speaking countries, apparently) equate success with all these things, but not with happiness. Yet it is subtly implied that success is the highest of all goals, a necessary part of life & that to achieve it is to be happy. But really, by definition...happiness has nothing to do with it. Interesting.

As P______ said, when I told him this: "Oh, no. No. They got it ALL backwards."

I have been frightened, feeling like I am not a success. And by definition, I am not. I am in fact, a failure. I am 28 years old. I have no money, or very little. I have to ask my father to help me out for a while when I need to go to the dentist or the doctor. I am not famous. I have done nothing the world will remember or know me for. I have had many jobs, but none that have lasted long (though much of that was by choice). The last 'honor' or award I was given was in my last year of high school, over 10 years ago.

I have not yet wandered the whole world (though I tried, halfheartedly). I am not particularly brave or heroic. I do not often feel unusually smart, attractive, funny or witty. I am not a 'go-getter.'

But I AM happy.

Restless, often. Yes. Sad sometimes...Yes. Lonely. Yes. Full of wants & wishes & goals I have not yet achieved.

But I am happy. Astonishingly-- in fact that is what's odd. I will be sitting in the yard or in my room & suddenly realize how happy I am. And that surprises me....and that, in turn, makes me smile wider. I am happy that I am happy.

The colors in my room make me giddy. I have a roof over my head & good food & good friends....is that not.......happiness? And is that not, in turn, it's own kind of success?

I have to remind myself that it is all temporary, sometimes. This room will not be mine for always. The landscape will change. Friendships will shift. Time takes it's ever-changing, ever-marching 'toll.' I am only here, now. But even the future 'end' of this stage of life does not bring as much sadness or disappointment as it once might have to me.

I was sad when I had to leave B____ & G____'s. I had never felt so alive & inspired living with two people before. They changed my life. But if I had not had to leave, I would not have met my next roommate, C_______ & found an incredibly generous friend, who supported me through rough times & taught me more about things I didn't know than I could have asked for. She planted seeds in my brain that are still only just budding, and we are still great friends. And while I do not see her or know her nearly as well as I would like, she is part of me now.

Each shift in the wind, brings me to a new life. And another. And another.

And it seems silly to be sitting in the beautiful backyard of my now-home, with good friends inside, the smells of Eucalyptus & sand, the sound of water from the creek tripping lightly in the back, through the underbrush; the breeze playing with my cheek & the trees alike, in the California sun.............and be crying and afraid because I have not attained a tangible means to prove myself 'successful' to the world.

Yet. I have not found it....YET.

And what, truly, is success....if it does not include some pure measure of happiness?

I know many people in this world who are very 'successful' and wake up every day saying, 'Well. It's Monday. Gotta get through the week.'

........and while I admire them for their ability & strength & dedication to be in this society & this world....I do NOT want to be one of them. Even if I could.

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2.)  In the kitchen:

Me:   "Hey...guys? .....Am I...like...the ONLY person you know who regularly listens to traditional French Folk music?"

M & S, together:  "YES."

Me: "....That's weird, isn't it?"

M & S, together: "YES."

Me:  "Does that make me...is that...bad?"

M & S: "Oh, No!" "No." "No...no."

M:    "Actually...it's...kinda cool."

S:     "Yeah. Really cool."

Me:   " Oh."  

" ....Hmh. Growing up......there were many different words that were applied to me.....but I don't think 'cool' was ever one of them. Hahaha!"
        
          .....cool.

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3.) Talked with P_______ about working & being happy in what you do. I have come to the conclusion that in order to REALLY be happy, I need to be productive. And helping others in SOME way. I also need to be able to move slowly & relax & learn to just enjoy the moment. I need a certain level of sleep, water, food & quiet 'me' time, or else the 'happiness' is sporadic & unstable, swinging like a pendulum. And often a result of caffeine amplifying what I am feeling, not actual elation & peace. And, while I need to be productive & feel useful, I also need an equal amount of time to pursue my passions & have adventure/expression time with friends. After that, learning constantly & trying new things helps.

There it is. My recipe for happiness. (Slow down. Be useful & productive. Be passionate & pursue your desires. Learn continually. Take good acre of yourself. Breathe & connect with people). Yep. Sounds about good.

...I'm sure it can be simplified.

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4.) Some days it takes a Herculeic amount of effort to be IN & PART of the world, and not just happily hide in the corners. Some weeks, even. But it's all very good. All of it.

I need to remember that life can be very full. Easily. And that I can also hibernate.

Respecting both of those is difficult to master, but not impossible.

And...isn't the learning process wonderful?

......it's amazing how much control you actually have over yourself, your choices & your own life. No control, really over anything else, but if you truly realize how much control you have over yourself & your life, you realize you don't need any more. Any more would be...ridiculous &  far too much.  :) I control the speed of my life & it's fullness....what an interesting & challenging thought.  :)  (Challenging in the best way).

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5.) So much is going to be happening starting...NOW. Who knew I'd put it out there and...there it would be. (Man, August is going to be a whirlwind). Hey, look...it IS the life I wanted. I just...had to DO it.

             Wow.                                                   ...Cool.  

The Hillary Step...

"...to the left was the Southwest Face, both sheer drop-offs. The final obstacle, about halfway between the South Summit and the summit of Everest, was a steep spur of rock and ice—now called the Hillary Step. Though it is only about 55 feet (17 metres) high, the formation is difficult to climb because of its extreme pitch and because a mistake would be deadly."

   ~  Mount Everest, The historic ascent of 1953


    .....I have often likened how I have felt in love or in life to standing on the precipice...perhaps because I feel like I always am: one after another after another. One choice after another, one moment, one love...one life. One...me. After another. After another. Always standing frozen, or leaping in head on.

Perhaps it is appropriate this entry is about mountains & cliffs. I just completed my first adventure rock climbing. EVER. (Another first in this week of firsts). I did some stupid, rudimentary things. I didn't die. I scraped my fingers & shins & my arms are now shuddering as I type. I was embarrassed at my slowness & incompetence, I apologized a lot & made excuses....but climb, I did. And each time he said: ...do you have one more in you? I thought: No. No, I can't. But something in me said a definite & resounding:   ...YES.

Climb: until I get better. Climb, until I reach the top. Learn how to fall. Learn how to jump. Learn how to trust your partner. Learn to find the tiniest part of the rock & HOLD. ON.

Fight for it.

   ....I woke up this morning thinking of the Hillary Step. A teacher & friend of mine, back in high school, has a band in NYC. They called themselves the Hillary Step. When I asked him what it meant, 12 years ago, he explained it to me like this:

   ' The Hillary Step is....the last section of the climb on Mt. Everest. It's almost completely vertical rock, so most people who would climb the mountain would get to this point & give up. But one day...one guy didn't. His name was Hillary. So...they call that part the Hillary Step: for us, it's the hardest part to face, the deadliest....but once you reach that point, if you can just keep going....you're at the top. And it all becomes clear.'

 Obviously I thought about that for a long, long time.
 I don't climb mountains....not real ones. (Not yet, anyway...though soon, I think). I hadn't thought of my friend/teacher Rob or Mt. Everest in........who knows how long. But this morning, I awoke thinking of the Hillary Step...

At the moment, I am in Ashland, OR. A small town built almost entirely around a Shakespeare Festival & the tourism that goes with it. Second, a college & people who like to ski down the mountain the town is probably named after. I was born here.

I am resting. I am...hiding. I am.......trying to breathe. (I am seeing my mother).

I have only been on my 'grand voyage' into my 'new life' for less than two months. In this time...I have...succeeded in obtaining work in the field I would like. I have been called into audition, found places to dance, am making friends & connections....but I am constantly filled with an overwhelming desire to hide. Most days I literally have to fight the urge to run into the bathroom & cry, in any public situation.

Financially, I have hit a low point. Not my lowest. Not that there's nothing I can do about it: work is coming in summer & I have support, should I choose to call on it....though I would really rather not. But that is not the point. No matter my finances...I feel lost. My hands are shaking. I am just moving forward. Moving forward. Fighting to take the next step. And the next. And the next...

And I am frightened. But... I also know I cannot go back. It's not really a choice: I CANNOT.

I have begun the ascent: to give up now, because my arms are shaking and my footing isn't sure...would be ridiculous. I am aware in this moment. I feel as though I am staring at sheer cliff face, but I am almost too frightened just to open my eyes, to find the next foothold. My mind has been in an endless stream of conversation with itself....sometimes with many selves, always talking, chattering away:

 ...."Well, you know you are too old. You know you can't ever really be what you-- yes! well that's what you said six years ago & if I hadn't listened to you then, we would have had six more years to-- Hey! They are all watching you-- How humiliating! How am I going to EAT??! I'm wasting days and-- well didn't you come here to get on your feet that takes time and-- Why hasn't he/she/they/called? Oh God I'm lonely! No I feel great! God this is liberating I'm....Oh, God I want to cry! I'm going to FAIL! No you're not, you're being foolish..." And on & on...

I hear them & just want to say, "Shhhh..."

Instead, I stand here...staring at the cliff, one foot in a holding pattern, the rope stretched taut, not high enough for a view, my arms already aching...listening to all the voices in my head & all the voices of my friends & all the judgements or praise of the people I meet at war with one another inside me, ranting...while I breathe & gather strength for my next step.

Yes. I am in a very new & strange place these days. Not completely unfamiliar, but for the first time in my life incredibly AWARE of it, rather than just drowning in it:  most days I am joyously alive & happy & calm...but there's a strong air of frantic sadness & desperation commingled in it, that I try not to show, but don't seem to hide very well. If anyone asks me how I'm doing, the voices take over: "I'm great! I'm....great...but I....Blah, blah, blah blah...I'm trying but I and I can't afford there isn't any you know how it goes I always think that what do you WANT from me?! Don't you like me what did I do wrong I can't do anything right ! I-- !"  So...until I can breathe a bit more, I want to mostly just keep to myself. Except, once in a while, I push against the rock, force myself out into the world & take another step...always haunted by the fear that this step could be my last...I could fall at any moment.

...My learning curve has skyrocketed.

I took a chance coming to Ashland. It wasn't planned. Ashland is my hiding place. It is a place of peace, where I can rest in my harness, gather strength & breathe...but I also cannot shake the feeling underneath that the sky is growing darker & the mountain is calling me to climb. But rest is a necessary part of moving, as I am slowly (achingly slowly) learning. As is food. As is breathing.

...I wanted to come here later, but there was a ride, I knew I had the time NOW & didn't know if there would be later. So I said yes. And it felt so good to just get in a car & GO... There was a ride, so I went. Before that, was Santa Monica. I didn't know how I'd get there. I didn't know where I'd sleep. I didn't know how I'd get back. I don't have much money...but I trusted things would work out well. And I went. And mostly....they did.

Take another step.

In the last week alone, I have driven my first stick shift...got a 15 minute lesson in a parking lot from some friends & drove us 5 &1/2 hours up to Ashland. I stalled a number of times. I almost had a panic attack. I probably hurt the car. (Sorry K_____!)  But....oh my God! I drove my first manual!!!

Take another step.

I went to my first festival in a city where I knew virtually no one & no one at all well. I went to my first festival in Los Angeles. I stood there one the beach & cried about things that used to be. And cried about things I was afraid of right now. I wandered all over the streets of Los Angeles, in shoes that were too small. I had to fight a guy off me for the first time in my life. All the while panicking. All the while learning. And I danced. And I danced. And I was frightened. And I danced. I was embarrassed. And I danced...I was lonely...and I danced. I couldn't find my balance. And one good tanda made it better...

Take another step.

I learned how to lead...

Take another step.

I climbed my first rock face...

Take another step.

I learned I DO want to be loved, one day...

Take another step.

I learned where I stand...that I am the one I want to go on adventures with...

Take a very big step & pull.

So much, did I learn. This week. In so many ways. On so many levels. New subjects. New frontiers. Old subjects, repetitions....continually learning about myself. Continually learning...how to climb. And things are still moving. Step. And Step. And find a hold...and pull. Rest a moment, find a step & take another breath...

I can feel the support of all those underneath me, making up the rope that holds me, the shoes I wear, the strength in my arms...my own & all of those who love me...watching from the ground, like spectators. And I also look down & know I am the only one holding on the rope. Full & alone. All at once   ...I can feel someone yelling, 'No! No! Tie it like this... No, the other way: why are you fumbling? This is the easy part!" I don't know if it's a teacher or a voice in my head. I just go inside & stare at the mountain. And I just keep breathing...

Pull the rope, hold on...and take another step.

I have written more in the last two months...than in the last two years. I have created more artwork in the past two months than in the past TEN years. The month before I left Portland, I produced, choreographed & performed in my first dance show. Ever. (People kept asking: So how did you feel it went....and I would blankly stare at them & say...."What do you mean? I did it....?") In two months, in a country that is economically falling apart, I have already secured two contracted jobs & opened the door for countless others...and failed some. Messed up & missed some opportunities. And I knew it.  But all I keep thinking is: you're not going fast enough. You aren't training hard enough. You haven't accomplished anything...but I have barely even begun. But I'm here. And I am climbing. I am holding all these strings together, trying not to think: just grab & weave....and pull.

Take another step.

But perhaps the biggest lesson I have learned, these past two months & this week...is what I want. What..........I want. And am learnign what I don't. Where I'm going....what I want..... this mountain looks nothing like it did, when I was standing on the ground. All I could see was the top....And I could be climbing an entirely different mountain altogether... 

I am frantic. And crying. And held together by skin alone: But the more I climb...the more I want to climb. And I know the climb is glorious. Low as I am, scared as I am...already...I know I cannot go back.

They say the Hillary step is where most people give up. But...they also say the first step is the hardest part on any path. I think.....sometimes...it's that third step that will frighten you: The first was hard...but two steps in you go....I could still go back....I could.....the ground is near. This is messier than I thought...my arms hurt. I don't know if I'm strong enough...!

But the thing is....you've already left.
There is no going back.

And every step.....is the Hillary Step... And every step is the first.

And I can't wait to get to the top....and see the view from there. I know I saw it. I know I felt it.

... just one more step.

Fear.

I...want to write right now.

I mean....I want to work on my scripts. On my book. On...my artwork.

But I can't focus.

Why....does it hurt so much....to be left? Ignored? Rejected?

Maybe...because you care. How can you care about a stranger? And, really, isn't everyone a stranger? Even those you love?

I can say I know someone...but that doesn't mean I can know them. Know, every minute how they will react, what they think, what will happen...what they want. So...why even try? When we are all alone?

What am I so afraid of...when someone leaves? Why should it hurt, if I am not afraid? If it's not fear...what is it? I am not made less, by the change of affection. I am me. Here. Still standing. Tall & proud & perhaps....a little less open then I was a moment before.....perhaps a little more. Silly how it is. It seems everyone else, when they get hurt, they close off. I am the only one that opens. Maybe.

Fear....fear is a funny thing. They say love makes you stupid, but that isn't so. Love....makes you wise. I know it. But the fear....of losing that love. The fear of it being thrown back at you, thrown away, told it's not real....told you are not right, are undeserving, are suddenly (or not so suddenly) not good enough...too good...anything; the fear of losing it....that is what makes us stupid.

We kill people, because we are afraid. Look at other countries...our own country....wars....horrible things we have done to one another, to ourselves....all resulting from......fear. How easily someone or something can be made 'foreign.' Slavery. Genocide. The us & the them. How easy it is to segregate when you are frightened. How easy it is to be afraid, when you do not understand.

Fear. Is a funny thing.

I love. Many things. And many people. And...I am afraid. Always afraid... so I push things away. Then draw them near again. Then push away. Then seek...

Fear.

Fear is a funny thing. It makes you act in uncertain ways. You can never quite predict what fear will make you do........or keep you from doing...in the moment.

This is very specific. And for that, I apologize. But I find I have to write:

I...am a large girl. A strong girl. People, I have been told, often think I can take care of myself. People, I have also been told, also worry because I am kind & apparently gullible & friendly also worry that I cannot take care of myself.

I did not always believe I could. But a few years ago, I knew I could. Situations might not always be pleasant to get out of & I might cry in the end, but...I knew I would avail. And if I died...well, I hoped it wouldn't come to that.

But you can never tell what will happen in any given situation...when you are afraid.

People do stupid things when they're afraid.

A girl who would normally scream or throw a punch or f*ck someone up for saying the wrong thing, let alone for grabbing....in a questionable situation...might find herself...paralyzed in courtesy. Bandying back and forth between an, "I told you to stop!' & an I don't want to make a scene....should I be polite & laugh?

In the cold light of morning, you feel like an idiot. Why didn't I just leave?

Nothing happened. And...many things happened. In the end...I made myself safe. But, in the end....there was the fear the whole time...'what if no one will ever dance with me again?' 'What if no one will ever love me again?' 'What if they talk?' 'What will everyone think?' 'What if I am making a mistake?'

This has been a weekend of fears. And.....overcoming them. And...falling victim to them. Both.

I said some things....I shouldn't have. Because I was afraid. Of losing something dear. So I made sure to get rid of it, before it could get rid of me. Stupid, really. Silly.

But the moment I said it, I also felt less afraid somehow, because I knew that underneath...I deserved to be treated better.

Then came the fear that I had made a mistake. I realized I had said things out of fear...So I tried to 'repair/repeal' the situation, thinking I was in a clearer state of mind...that contact of a different sort...would make all things more solid & healthy...and make it all..right. I think it would have, yes. And because I mourned the possible loss of something beautiful, barely begun.....but really, underneath...the fears kept growing. In every direction.

There is the fear that I'm not worth anything. What am I, anyway? Just a girl. Just a girl.

The fear I would be hurt: well...I am. (But I created that myself. There is no pound of flesh that was taken, no cut made, no wound to heal)... I sit here in a cafe, in the middle of an unfamiliar city, mourning the loss of things that never were, that could have been. Afraid to take a step in any direction. even back outside.

And...in the end.......I realize....that the fear is all I have been feeling. One after another.

I was afraid of a stranger last night. I was afraid of a friend this weekend. I was afraid of...something more. I was afraid of someone more. I was afraid of making a scene. Many scenes. And other people's thoughts.

And I was....so afraid..........of myself.

But sitting here, in a coffee shop on 4th street...quietly crying in the corner, staring at the sky & the sun & the sea...I feel........incredible sad.

I feel weary. I feel worn out. I feel...bruised &...a little lonely. I feel like I'm standing here, torn completely open, underneath & a little bit raw.

I feel......ready...wary....and... very, very sad. I feel...very human. But..... very.....alive. Just...simply....alright. And alive.

And...myself, again....at last.

And for once, in a very long time......I must say.....the only thing I do not feel...

...is afraid.

Hello world. I'm a little sad tonight.....my name is _____________ .

(Deep breath).

Ok.   ....Here we go.