Takeoff is my favorite part of flying. You start at zero, waiting your turn to race down that runway, and then BLAM!, you’re suddenly going fastfasterfastest and then you’re in the air, inconceivable so many, many years ago. I love the subtle turn of the stomach I feel; not nausea, just a recognition that we’ve raced to this point and then are lifting off the ground and ending up miles and miles above ground, looking down. Everything below looks like a series of tiny dioramas and the clouds are so close if the windows could open you could touch them. I know what clouds are made of, but to me they look like mounds of the softest cotton balls and down comforters. The air up here is beautiful.
I heard somewhere that a person has had most of their memories by the time they’re thirty years old, and after that, the memories you create are just added to an already overflowing cup. Is this true? Hell, I don’t know. I know nothing about life that is so certain you can trust it with all your being. Besides death and birth. And that’s depressing. The happiness and strength I have been feeling may be fleeting. My cup of memories is filled with a good deal of poison. And if I only have so much to retain in such a memory cup, before new memories are taken for granted, I want to pour out the poison. It will still have been in there, but I’ve then been able to create space for new memories that exhilarate me, that make me feel, that don’t inure me to beauty of nature and people and animals and the other miracles of life everyone should enjoy. I’ve let that poison sit in my cup so long. No more. There comes a time when you have to recover from that poison, when you have to let it go, pour it out, appreciate that you survived. And then feel blessed that you poured it down the drain and, by doing so, you’ve given yourself an extension to fill that cup with memories and joy that you are making memories After Surviving the poison. We’re not ruined, us Survivors, we just need to realize that there is such a thing as Life After Survival. It’s called liftoff.
Tagged as:
flying,
Seattle,
Sexual Abuse
I left for my Seattle trip Thursday morning (it appears all you have to do sometimes for an upgrade to First Class is just ask – whodathunk?) and Flinger was kind enough to pick me up from the airport with her gorgeous children. And here I’m not blowing sunshine – they are not only beautiful kids on the outside, but on the inside as well. They’re so well behaved, they act with love with each other and holy crow, but they are creative. Before the trip someone came up with the name “Summit of Awesome,” and you know what? Seeing friends is awesome, and so is getting to know them better face to face when they invite you into their home. My hosts could not have been more welcoming and kind and once again I have the internet to thank for this. I honestly don’t know where my life would be were it not for the internet, and not just for the friends I’ve been blessed to “meet” and “know.” I have been blogging for five years and I continue to be amazed. The people I know – either in person, just on the internets or even those I don’t even know yet – make me want to be a better, kinder person. If nothing else, they certainly make me a better Buddhist. And as hard as I do try, I’m not a very good one. I have some practicing to do (i.e., compassion for those who, in my mind, are the last people who deserve it).
I came to Seattle at the perfect time in my life. I have been so peaceful and content and grateful these past two weeks. I’m filled with happy, I’m trying to live kinder, be a better friend and person and fill my life with positive thoughts. And it’s especially made greater by the strength I feel so suddenly. Is strength something that just springs up on you when you’re not looking? I don’t think I was looking. I’ve been going to my groups (the sexual survivors group and something called DBT, both in addition to regular therapy), so are these influences strengthening me? Making me less willing to accept bullshit or drama in my life? What has caused this? I feel stronger, tougher. At some point who knows when in the last few weeks, I have become completely fed up with not truly owning my own life, being afraid, living with my past, fraught with regret, pain and sadness. And so this me, this new me, is ready to take complete and total responsibility for my life, for what happens in it, how I allow people to treat me, the standards I set for myself, and to OWN myself. No one from my past or present owns me. I’m in the driver’s seat. I feel alive and I feel such happiness. And I’m not allowing bullshit or drama or negativity to get inside of me and erode myself.
No more. Not ever.
This is all too wordy, but I’ve never felt this way. Ever. And it feels sofa king amazing, this feeling.
Tagged as:
Friends,
happiness,
Seattle,
Strength,
travel
