This was the last amazing line of an email from a friend of mine recently who had had a sad day in response to something the day before and somehow it just seemed kind of gorgeous so I'm sharing it with you all (with her permission).
It is reminiscent of that moment after crying when all you can do is put on the kettle for tea or wash the dishes. Somehow these things are OK after that, simple kind of lovely, definitely comforting.
I haven't written because upon my return I was suddenly given two university modules to teach and have been reeling with preparations and teaching. Had a kind of scary therapy session in the middle of one such day because I was So tired that I was clutching the chair. She asked me, the therapist, if I could like to lie down, No, no I said...realizing slowly how vulnerable I feel when tired and how my response to tiredness of that order is to Do More. Terrifying memories of being with the crazy babysitter that held me hostage and realizing: I Can't Go to Sleep. And this is still there, along with whatever body memories of sexual abuse. Must remain vigilant at All Times. Truly scary.
And as usual when saying it, letting it out, it somehow diminished a bit. But here I am staring at her staring at me realizing I am Still stuck there after all these years, stuck in that room with that crazy woman and before that with a delusional and sick man, That room, it's horrifying. And so like No wonder I have 'abandonment issues' which when stated that way sounds So lame...but yet, even though I sleep way better when I'm alone than when I'm with anyone else, I still fear being alone, even Though in my childhood, alone was one of the best options.
It's this thing, it's this...I keep Waiting for the Perfect Parent. STILL! I am incredulous about this. I am 47 for godsake. 47! How the fuck did That happen?
OK, so OK, so OK...
This is where I am.
And I am looking the motherfucker right in the face, I am, and that is Something. It might not be Everything. But it is Something. I feel this will move. I do feel it will. I do. I never have before. Let us pray it is so, that it will move.
And then as for My Life, I have begun teaching and in the first week I enjoyed it, especially that the group looks like the city I live in (diverse racially and culturally), and these are working class kids or poorer than that and they are studying theatre, which is moving beyond belief as none of them have been given the easy ride ticket through life, that much is Crystal clear.
And then now today, the kind of blmph feeling arrives of: oh, you're just a teacher now. Even though I did a lab, even though I have work published, even though, etc...the 'teacher' mark is a hard one to shake, as some sign of failure of not-quite-there-ness and as my husband has received a wonderful grant and is going off to be a Real Artist, I sit around worrying about being Just a Teacher...never mind I haven't had even the slightest ability to write a grant proposal in the last months due to grieving, never mind that...I'm not a Real Artist because I'm teaching two university modules.
Christ on a stick.
I mean really...
But OK, so like it's crazy I know that...but still, but still, but still...I do fear losing my way, not giving myself the time I need to create, getting so caught up in students' needs (which I do So Quickly) that I lose sight of my own work, etc. etc...and yet I the fact is I don't Need to do it this way and I can do both and I do need the money...
On the good news side, the lab we did this week was amazing and there's some new exciting work coming out of it that has to do with sacred and with celebrity, two big topics of ours that have now merged into something quite interesting...the acid test is always the second lab...was it a fluke or are we onto something, we'll see.
Oh and the woman I'm teaching with on one of the modules is kind of great, perhaps a new friend, definitely an ally and that seems like a gift. One of those gifts that comes along synchronistically when you're doing the right thing (note to self: it is actually conceivable that you are doing the right thing and these little narratives you make up wherein you are a loser no matter What you do may in fact be like wrong...shock horror)...
I am also applying for a residency that would give me time to work on a huge writing project that I don't know if I could accomplish any other way than stuck out in the woods in a studio 2 miles from the Atlantic...so if you believe in this kind of thing, please pray for me. I could really use the break, for so many reasons, not only the writing project but also the affirmation of my work, of my writing of all the time I have spent for decades creating stuff...it'd be nice.
And before I sound too churlish a note of gratitude For the teaching work which will pay the bills for a few months and in this economy that is saying something, and for the university where I am teaching that actually pays a living wage and does not exploit their VLs...this, for those of you who don't do this kind of work, is rare.
And since I'm asking for prayers, let's add one of my students, who is 37 a 'mature student' who was born and bred in one of the most deprived areas in this city and still lives there with her 15 1/2 year old son. She told me and I know she is right "It's a long way to fly [to get out of there]." Helicopters over head at night a son who is afraid to be outside and she wants to be a teacher and get her son and herself out of there. A prayer for her too. She said to me as we were traveling in to the university, "You are living my bliss. It makes me so happy to see that and gives me hope." Damn, what can I say to that? Here's to this student, that she can find what she's looking for and make that flight.
And here's to me realizing that I alone can't save her, because every fibre of my being wants to rescue her from everything and of course I can't and of course I want to and of course it's not up to me but of course I think it is...
Welcome to why for me teaching is so damn hard...
Except of course when I'm just teaching and we're grooving and it's all going beautifully and then it's a gift and fun and something else, something so special. Seeing students in different parts of a room remembering something from their childhoods for an exercise, looking so gorgeous all engaged and so still. Watching them have fun with an exercise I've invented and getting it...pennies dropping, aha moments, etc. That's incredible shit.
Maybe this is the deal: it's about creating those moments...whether in my work, in my teaching, writing, life, in meetings, whatever...allowing myself and others to have the 'aha' moments, the prison breaks, the sudden extraordinary awareness...or as a hero of mine Joseph Chaikin once wrote (and I still have on my bulletin board all these years later): "To express the extreme joy of being alive in any given moment is practically impossible - and really worth trying."
Amen.
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