Monday, April 28, 2014

"I don't think that there are any limits to how excellent we could make life seem."


I'll eat all of the words. 
The right words. 
Have them embossed into my aorta. 
Stitched into my left ventricle.
Holding six different reems of paper.
I devour these.
Some of them are good enough
to be printed on my arteries.
With these words, they can graffiti my pulmonary vein.


Who knew four feet could make such a difference?


I want to tell you all the things. All of the things that make me feel alive...

Lately I feel more alive.

It's finally sandal weather. My favorite time of year, Spring. Where
new breath and new life are found every moment if you look for them.
And the sandals. The sandals are the easiest shoe in life.
Maybe they make us feel closer to Jesus or the rest of humanity,
with so little between our soles and the Earth. It just feels right.
But I have high arches - and my ankles swell when I wear them.
It's painful and unattractive due to my dainty ankles becoming kankles.
I have decided that the pain is worth it. The sandals.
And the dirt. And the Earth. And the pain... makes me feel alive.

Music makes things make sense for small amounts of time.
And I've realized that I need to be inspired frequently.
I need to be inspired and reminded of the fact that
there are things bigger than myself.
Reminded that we aren't alone and that we are capable of being
more. Reminded that we aren't limited. The options are endless.
And creativity, just like life, has no rules. I need to be reminded
that there are no rules. That God made us to be different
and have different thoughts, preferences, needs, and
aesthetics. Also - I will see Twentyone Pilots every time I am
near them until either they or i die, whichever comes first.

I've never been good at climbing anything. There is evidence of this
on the shelf in the music room at my grandparent's house
on one of those family VHS tapes.
i distinctly remember this because of my short blonde bob and
overalls hanging on upside down to the lowest tree limb for dear life.
while all of my cousins were all the way up in the tree already.
i just swang there upside down trying to figure it out. and this
is how my relationship with climbing trees has forever been.
but it's time to change things up. while the trees may have thought
that they would forever elude me, theyre only half way right.
i was alone walking in the cemetery
and this came over me - go to that tree and try to climb it.
and i did. well, i tried. i realized that one reason i can't climb is due to
my lack of problem solving and critical thinking skills. where does
my hand go?! how do i get my foot up there? damn that hurts my
knee. so i struggled. and climbed up about four feet. i stood there
in that tree. and i didn't take pictures. i didn't call anyone.
i didn't instagram or tweet. i just breathed it in. the fact that i am
alive and alone. and the fact that four feet is a completely different
perspective. from four feet away life seems a little more doable.
I can be alone. I can climb a tree. I can climb a tree alone.
At least four feet. One of my objectives is to  become a proficient tree
climber this year.

It is terrifying to do something so scary. I know that sounds dumb.
But it's just a fact. For the last three years I have wanted
 to do Krav Maga.  A collection of circumstances that have led me to
this desire.
             -I used to watch UFC with my cousins sometimes.
             -No one has ever fought for me.
             -I've never fought for me.
             -I've always been a feminist.
             -I have this strange urge to inflict pain
              on other people but I really cant take it.
             -Although theologically I consider myself a pascifict
              and follow the teachings of Bonhoeffer, MLK, Gandhi
             -If a man ever hits me I want to be able to hit him back
             - I want to protect other people with my life.
             -The movie Enough with JLo made me want to be prepared
               to marry a psychotic liar who wants to kill me
             -I want to be as badass as I think I might be
             -My goal is to be able to take a punch and not cry.
             - Also to learn self defense.

So i started Krav. Full of fear. And I still am.
I HATE DOING THINGS IM BAD AT. One of the things I'm bad at
right now is not being a fatty who hates sit ups and running.
I hate cardio. I HATE CARDIO. So Chachi went with me.
The first time with Chachi I was pissed. And thought I was going to die.
But the high afterwards was awesome. And we practice punching together.
The second time-  alone...I sat in the parking lot for ten minutes
- trying to tell myself that I never needed to go in.
that no one needed to know that I wasn't going  back.
But i forced myself to go in alone. And of course i showed up
to the class of people who had been in Krav for YEARS.
All 15 of them had been in it for years and I was the only new person.
These huge men made of boulders and one small woman made
of iron and steele... then me - chubster in a tyedie shirt with glasses and a nose
ring smiling and saying "hey guys" as i wave. I have not been more
out of place or uncomfortable. but i did it anyways. 40 minutes of
looking like the fatest idiot ever and feeling like death.
I almost got punched in the face by the chick at least 5 times.
She kept apologizing but I knew it was my fault
i went alone. it sucked. and was terrible. but i loved it.
 i love the fact that i now know what 360 blocking is!
even if i don't do it right! and I know a bit about a fighting stance!
and a bit about "inside the fences". So there's that. I like to hit things!
And i'm fat. So I'm the fat girl who shows up alone.
I just keep telling myself - you'll have to be alone your whole life
and you have always wanted this. And it's true. It's enough to show up.
Maybe boxing classes after Krav. I need to commit.

I have always loved to sing. I've played guitar, piddled around with
keys, and bought a djembe even though i only played it once.
I am notorious for starting things and never perfecting them.
I just quit and move on to something else - enthusiast, i am.
Playing a song and quitting. I just hate practicing things. I've always
thought I should be naturally good at things. So more Uke for me.
The thing that sucks about ukulele is that it never sounds sad. and
in that respect i wish i hadn't left my guitar in Bolder. but none the less,
I shall learn more Uke songs this year and be comfortable enough
with playing it in front of my friends at least. Play it enough to
have Phil say i'm decent.

People don't know this. And i don't know this. But what I enjoy
is the slow life. The life with feet in mud. hands out windows.
fingers skimming the lip of water in any form. i love the sound
of people running on gravel. squirrels yelling at each other.
and when dogs sigh as if they've gotten bored. i love finding
the only spot of sunshine that hits my mom's steps through
the window and easing into yellow tented rest. i like having
two hours to stretch, dance, and wake up each morning.
the life of siestas. that's the slow life. pure life. sitting outside
in a chair and reading a book, always drifting off. laying
on the ground and drawing until i rip it up and start again.
more of these. and less hurry. less stress. less of less.
more slow. don't get me wrong - i thrive on no sleep,
no time to make good choices, laughing, drinking, being loud,
being more tired than awake, and rushing to the next thing.
but at my best - at my most awake, i am a slow being.
slowly walking up the mountain before jumping off of the cliff.
running my hand through the grass before setting a fire.
and feeling the mud in my hands before throwing it
onto the face of my loved ones. i love the slow life.

I'm more alive lately. Maybe it'll bring me to broken ankles
with busted eardrums stuck in a tree alone in Spain. Either way.
i like it.