Is it possible to have a quiet mind?

I feel as if perhaps I live a life on a rollercoaster. Writing the previous post finds me sitting many miles in the air somewhere in between the two coasts of the US, depleted. I look at the sun and the clouds and search my ability to regain my optimism of yesterday afternoon- I was filled with thoughts that this weekend would change my life and extreme excitement to see my mother.

Now I sit here with the fear of work not progressing and longing to run. As if running could sweat out the toxic thoughts. Its a common occurrence after a B depletion- a workout can return me to neutral. 

Just two days ago, Thursday 1am, I basked in my charismatic glory in the taxi ride home. Recanting moments of befriending strangers and their captured attention as I talked. I was funny?! I was irresistible! Not wanting anything- I was content, confident and self-assured. I even wondered if part of my audience had told Carter that I was spectacular, for Carter, the mansion’s owner, wrote me off upon our initial hello. Upon my exit, without a conversation in between, he asked if a common friend had my number looking at me as if I was something ….and that was just the icing on the cake, I was pursued heavily all evening …capturing glances from one suitor as I spoke to another …. However, flattered, the smiles and laughter at my stories by the couple remain my favorite night’s memory.

I thought of my tanned skin and thanked the island for the way it is has changed so much more than my appearance. 

NOW, I wonder if I am crazy. I feel anything but magnetic. Invisible even– as the “stewarder” managed to pass me and my outreached hand each drink service and garbage retrieval.

I feel trapped in this plane … I normally love flying but my bags are crowding me as are my thoughts. 

I have been blogging for two weeks and I look at these posts, the emotions are extreme … I realize this is what my mind knows and I ponder, looking at the girl next to me who is managing to sit listening to her music with her eyes half-closed for this entire 4.5 hour flight, whether some people simply have a quiet mind? I have consummed 2 coffees, lettuce, water, diet sprite, finished a book, two magazines, two blog entries, and listened to spanish podcasts ….

Perhaps this hyperactivity, is why at 25, I truly believe I have managed to have quite a life. I do however lack an ex-husband or children and a part of me is searching for her lost child. Lately, I am feeling small, meek and simple. Only affected by the kids on the playground. Another part of me dons a suit, pointed stilettos, a controlled voice, and an independent aura. 

Perhaps, this discrepancy is also the reason I don’t have an end vision with work, a purpose. Perhaps I tasted responsibility too young, and the pitfalls of success were made apparent before true business success was had. This coupled with my disease, the culprits behind the redirection of my life plan, the CEO who would start a nonprofit. 

I suppose I am not too far off from that, but the vigor and appetite is suppressed. I worry if a man will be be threatened by my success, I long to be supported and not solely independent, I fear being a cougar. Clad in prada and dior, surrounded by Paul Evans and le corbusier, hirst and hiroshi kukimoto, horses …

I think of horses, being active, nature, cars, wind in my hair, a house and discovering my ability to nurture and love.The stirring of dormant characteristics- worrying, disciplining, teaching.

 

My tastes, my lives, my emotions, all extremes. My internal conflict with work I believe is the recognition that perhaps achieving “success” makes my life of nature, at best, a solitary future endeavor. 

 

I write this now and truly examine that fear ….I see its silly … 

 

Future post- my future, my vision, my purpose

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The cadence of a routine and a handsome foreign encounter

This morning I stood at my row of windows, watching the sun’s reflection on the soothing ocean. The beach speckled with footprints, but with no one in sight. This beach is unswimmable and as such, is most often empty. I contemplated my evening as I leave tomorrow for new york. Perhaps I shouldn’t go to skibow class. Perhaps I should run now instead of my normal routine.. My dog whimpered anticipating his morning walk, which would take place either way. 

I thought about whether I would swim today and decided to put my bikini bottoms on under my shorts, stuffing my small top into my purse. The decision was made. I would grab my towel, dog, sketchbook, two phones, book and credit card. Man, how I love my mornings. And yes, I still am going to work ……

I smiled at the tranquility, at the ocean, at this jewel of a life I have here. I feel like it is my little personal belonging, and only I have ownership. 

I go to starbucks at that hotel next door, and peruse the spansih paper. Practicing my spanish did not make the cut for this mornings activities (writing this did) and I would not be purchasing it. As the cashier said, “good morning, what would you like” I said “grande americano,” my usual. The barista excitedly retorted, “I am already making it!!!!” I smiled. The joy of familiarity in life. 

I now lay on the beach by the hotel, playing with the sand beneath my toes. There are few others here- but as I approached, I know that it is mine. In a few hours, it will be littered with locals and the hotel guests, distinguished by their white chairs, their sign of superiority. When I came on Sunday I helped myself to a white chair, pleased that no one said anything. I still am a gringa I suppose.

So I will lay or sit here every morning. My activity varies between emails, practicing spanish, writing, reading, and swimming, yesterday swimming with my dog (ps he is 4 lbs). I wish I could shove all of the above into the hour I have here. Its a moment I long to hold on to …..

 (Side note: three attractive men just came to jump into the ocean after their working out. My dog, went over and nuzzled up to one as he lay on the beach. His wet swim trunks acting as a cold reprieve from the hot sun. I laced my top and took off my shirt. The intention was to grab my dog and go into the ocean. I said I think he likes you better than me. And the man looked up, his eyes pierced me with their lightness against his latin face. He smiled and had teeth like a movie star. I can’t recall the last time I saw real teeth and thought about them as something so beautiful- smiles, yes- teeth, no. “No hablo ingles.” He said to me. I searched to say what I said in Spanish- now it comes easily, however then I stumbled. To write for me is one thing, to say, another. He spoke to me and I would answer. Not sure if I was answering a completely separate question. I asked him if he lives here and I think he said no he works and exercises and then later something about in front of el bombero-fireman?) After a few strained moments I ventured into the water, holding my dog on my shoulder. I don’t really know what was said as he walked towards me in the water, but I realized, he was asking me to take his number. Asking me if I come here everyday as if now, he would join me. At this moment, I melt ….I leave to new york tomorrow, but I assure you, I will be here in the morning …) Could I fall in love with someone who speaks not a word, and I mean Nada ingles?

 

the cadence of routine to be continued .. Time to swim and go to work. 


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Changing directions

It is Monday afternoon, and after a weekend of reflection, activity, turning off my mind and productivity, I am in a much different place than last week. A rather productive Sunday afternoon tending to my overwhelming to-do list sufficed to give me a light-hearted energy today. Of course, I am back to procrastinating . . a coffee would do wonders to reverse this temporarily lag. Regardless, I do need to note how great it felt to tackle so many things this weekend. I look at my weekend to-do list, complete with 8 categories: $’s (obligations and bills and monies owed to me- stressful always), relations (a list of approx. 17 people whom I owe phone calls or want to send a quick email to in hopes of providing these friendships with their necessary sustenance), family (same as above directed to family members), Big picture (taxes, writing, learning spanish, budgets), errands, apartment (stuff to buy as I just moved), activities (haircut, playa, yoga, run, party) and work (referencing two full pages of work to do’s) and I am proud to say this list achieved + 50% completion. I tend to have a problem throwing away these lists as I look at them as if they were awards, badges of success. Logically, I now write them in a book. 

So my Sunday night ended with a satisfaction, my Monday morning a relaxed can-do mentality and my current mood, back to normal. I reread my entries from last week and feel as if I must be on rollercoaster for this weekend was a reprieve from the crazy energies of last which I have since learned were linked to the new moon. 

So, now my thoughts are floating in new directions–

I think perhaps, I don’t want a relationship (the antithesis of what defines my normal desires) 

I also am utterly excited to see my mother next week in California (i have purposely not for almost two years) 

I wonder have I turned a new corner? . . . .

Why I only like unavailable men

I cannot hurt them. See a-ha moment.

I am definitely falling into a funk and I am pretty sure it’s because I am seeing two available men. They are not the ones. But i like them. My inability to confront and hurt (directly) them has reduced me to a ballerina stuck in a music box, spinning, the bells and chimes of the melody neverending.

An a-ah moment

I am at work. Overwhelmed. 
I sat here searching for tears- forcing them. I went outside. As the rain poured, I stood with my skinny Capri cigarette watching the rain. Moments before thinking about how I wanted to run, run away, and how an actual run would have to suffice. The rain now inhibiting that plan. 
I wanted to fall, melt onto the pavement. I had this feeling yesterday. Before another binge.  Was tonight destined to be the same? 

Watching myself from the outside, hearing other’s advice should I choose to share. How easy it should be to overcome this . . Telling myself I always do. But, yet these moments exist. I am overwhelmed. I think about going home and falling into a sleep, an escape. Killing the possibility of making the 1am flight to New York to make it for Matt’s proposed sailing trip tomorrow. Feeling horrible. Thinking about Anya’s email, the guilt. Thinking about Perfect’s dad and how I offered to help. And have failed to. THinking about the many people waiting on things from me- emails, phone calls, visits, time  . . and realizing how I procrastinate. How I am frozen in time . . . Realizing what the proper action is and the simplicity of it.

Prioritize. Smile. Enjoy the moments. The days will go on. You will enjoy the island this weekend. Don’t add extra stress about needing to return to New York. I realize that my hesitance, my internal stresses were heightened when I thought about how I would make Matt feel. The guilt.

And thence came the moment . . . the realization of my hold-up, a common thread linking so many of my problems. It’s the “WANT”. I want to do more than my capacity allows. I want to be everything to everyone. I hide and punish myself when I am not. To the outside world, I am busy or flaky. Internally, I am in prison, suffering for my lack of production. When two friends both want to do something conflicting, I do nothing. I do nothing when I think I may hurt someone and I end up hurting them more. Why? Where does this stem from?  . . . It’s amazing how my capacity for certain stresses has no limit. While others, mostly when they affect other’s emotions, are paralyzing. 

 

Hmmmm . . .

Fight or flight

“The “fight or flight response” is our body’s primitive, automatic, inborn response that prepares the body to “fight” or “flee” from perceived attack, harm or threat to our survival.” – MInd/Body Education Center

Do you fight or flee? I think life often dictates our response for us. However, last night I recognized my flight response in full effect . . . and while it was subconscious, it required conscious action, hence the recognition. 

Background:  I live in two cities. I have two separate lives. WIth the exception of my dog and my work, the components of my life fail to transcend their locale. Perhaps, that is why I have been seeking continuity . . . 

My home- New York, my new home, a Spanish-speaking Island. I go back and forth, bi-monthly. However, each trip to the island is extended . . My life here makes me happy. I doubt if I will fall in love here, but the continuity, the routine, the warmth, and like in Cheers, it’s where “Everybody knows your name.” For a newbie, I found these elements a relief from the stressful, obligatory, exhausting life I CREATED in New York. Yes, the life I CREATED. I too, have the power to create a New York life that is balanced. However, in the island it was effortless to do so. New York requires a spring cleaning of friendships, routine, belongings, and an introduction to simplicity. New York offers many things however, that are pretty amazing. So, my double life actually creates an inherent balance. 

So, last night . . 

At dinner I was silenced. Exhausted from the prospect of wine. In conflict because I wanted to order champagne and pay (knowing that I had to go to an event and acknowledging the wine would impede my ability to do so) However, as I knew the owner would pick up the bill, I couldn’t bear to ask for champagne. However, common friends came fifteen minutes after we were already served a bottle of pinot grigio and ordered themselves a bottle of champagne. I realized that there was a fancy activity before, I wondered as to what it was, why I was excluded. I figured it was for something specific. I sat exhausted. Trying to understand the Spanish, but following nothing. Pretending as if I was engaged. Trying to say something to counter my obvious mood, yet without understanding the conversation, I found myself mute. 

As I arrived at the later event with the common friends, a woman I know said hi to me wondering why I wasn’t at the fancy activity. I had no clue. I thought about whether I wasn’t sophisticated enough, or pretty enough, or was I too pretty, too young, too foreign? I looked around at the familiar faces, the smiling faces from the gym, the woman i thought were destined to be great future friends, and MiCarino who likes me SUPER. The “friends” all engaged, i stood in their peripheral, alone. I had nowhere to go. I realize that loneliness transcends locales.

 I longed to book a ticket to New York. My flight response, in full effect. I wanted to disappear from here. I want to run from potential conflict with MiCarino, escape to New York, impose a freeze in hopes that it will fix itself. Run from the knowledge of a potential superficiality in these new relationships that have warmed me and made me love this island and disengage from my old life.

I think of what waits for me in New York- Matt Damon, one great friend, many stalled friendships whose truths have been exposed from my geographic distance, new friendships still in their inception, parties, beautiful people, energy, culture, central park, cabs, food, smiles, low-key glasses of wine, a TV!, decisions and avoiding the weekend with Matt, or the conflicting weekend with the friend, making plans, obligations, stress . . . 

 

In short, my double life, an inherent tool, for my flight response has a catch. You can flee from both places, but when you return you will be forced to fight. 

 

I suppose its time for me to fight my stresses. Say hi to my subconcious.