Tag Archives: learn

Crossroad Endurance

I think perhaps I’ll be forever at some crossroad.  Have you ever noticed that just when you think that everything is just about as perfect as it can be, that the world is all sunshine and roses, unicorns and fairy dust, something comes along to set you on your ass?

Without getting into it too much, it seems I’ve again reached that point in my life.

For the last several months, I’ve been doing my damndest to take the advice of one of my best friends.  “Wait,” he says.  “Just wait and enjoy what you have.”

I’ve waited.  I’ve been patient.  I’ve taken each day that I can manage and accepted it for what it is and attempted to enjoy the hell out of it.  I’ve had my ups and I’ve had my downs.  I’ve done everything in my power to set aside the part of myself that wants, and aches, and needs, and simply cannot fathom waiting for something that seems so majorly important to me.

I’ve agonized, and analyzed and philosophized.  I’ve bent like a sapling in the wind and rejoiced when the sun warmed my soul.  I’ve learned where my boundaries lay and how much I am willing to let go of myself for the good of others.  I have found that my ability to care more about others is greater than I have ever realized.

I have learned so many things about myself.  I have uncovered secrets I have consciously and unconsciously buried for beyond time.  I have uncovered hurts and aches and cancers in my soul and have tried to eradicate them, cure them and cure myself.  I have fought with myself and I have fought with others.  I can acknowledge the fact that as all fights are generally wont to go, mostly there are no winners.

I’ve celebrated life and love; I’ve reveled in special moments and intense feelings of beauty and serenity and happiness.  I’ve told myself that I am capable of being the person I wish to be, the amazingly serene, happy, content femme that lives inside my mind.

Is there anything worse than lying to oneself?

Have I lied to myself or have I simply failed to take into account my inherent nature?  I am a powder keg in a world of smokers, a beltless rollercoaster on a broken track of feelings and scabs and loves and hurts.  I am one tough chick who can be hurt by a word, a look, a misunderstanding.

I am so much more than what everyone sees, I am so much less than what I wish to be.

There are so few things in this world that I actively want, that I ache for and crave.  There are fleeting wants and likes and wishes that would be so lovely to have but are merely just ‘things’ and are, in reality, rather unimportant.  So many things I can let go and do without … and yet … I have an ache, a need, a craving that I, myself, am incapable of satisfying.

The wanting and the craving and the knowledge that I am in no way in control is beyond frustrating.

The things I have no control over bother me greatly.  I have learnt that the times in my life over which I have no control are generally those times that propagate the sad, the awful, and yes, the evil.  I have endured things that were easier to bury inside the dark recesses of my mind than they were to deal with.

The circumstances of my life have waged war on my subconscious.  The foul, dank, dusty trunk in the corner has had the lid lifted and the penguins have escaped.  Once content to live together in their sheltered prison, the unruly penguins have been released from captivity and have gleefully wrecked havoc on my tidy mental faculties.

And yet I deal.  I raise my face to the sun and rejoice in the warmth shining on my upturned face.  I wake to the most spectacular sunrises and bless my life for the beauty and the love and the ability to appreciate them.

I have cried out as the bitter cold of reality has doused me with icy fingers snaking a path down my naked soul.  I have rebelled, and railed against the wind, and mentally capitulated and accepted.  I have endured and I will endure.

But I loathe the dealing with things better left buried, regardless of the freedom it now provides me.  I chafe at the knowledge that I am not able to be in control of the thing I want most in this world and I begin to doubt my ability to endure.

I am at a crossroads where I can chuck it all and begin again or I can try harder, try again, try, try, try.  I can attempt to search for that which I feel I need or I can learn to accept, to be, to enjoy and to let someone or something other than myself take control.

I can chase the penguins back to their box or I can revel at their freedom and rejoice in their unrestricted antics.

I can waffle and procrastinate and put off that which drives me to distraction, drives me to a decision – a decision possibly best left undecided.  I can mentally choose to not choose, or I can make what may be the worst mistake of my life.

I am not a waffler or a procrastinator.  I am a doer and a leaper and a scared little girl willing to take on the world and fight for it all.

I am the epitome of oxymoronic … leaning heavily on the ‘moronic’.

I am at a crossroads and I have no control.  The logging truck will be barreling down one of the roads, and I will have my face turned to the sun in abject delight as I crash.

I will not be unlived, or undecided, or unloved.  I may grieve or I may rejoice.

I am at a crossroads and I am terrified.  But in my terror, I will endure.


Cross-country Concern

I waited all winter for snow.  I waited, not without trepidation, for the skiing season to begin.  We purchased season passes for the cross-country ski mountain in the fall, when it seemed like a good idea, when it seemed like it would be a normal winter season.       Skis in snow

The longer I had to wait for snow, the more anxious I became.

I am not a cross-country skier.  I am someone who, in the middle of their life, has begun to try new things, do new things, explore life more than ever before.  It doesn’t hurt that I have the time, the energy and the person with the knowledge to back me up in my new endeavors.

I found someone who not only completes the ‘me’ that I already was, but has begun to broaden my horizons, push my limits, and stretch my world.  I have found with him the person I always was, but hadn’t met and never knew was inside me.

I began to kayak over the summer.  I had to.  It’s really one of his biggest things.  I am not talking about the simple leisurely paddle around the lake kind of kayaking.  I am talking about having your heart in your mouth, pulse racing, stomach churning, thrilled with excitement and terror, downriver whitewater kayaking.  As I have always been in love with water, sunshine and the great outdoors, I conceded to his expertise and jumped in as far and as fast as he would let me go.  I fell in love.  I absolutely adore kayaking and cannot wait to do more, bigger, greater things.  His problem will be to rein me in until my skill catches up to my wants.

I just knew I would love kayaking and I did.  I can’t honestly say the same thing about cross-country skiing.  The last time I went skiing was about a million years ago and it was (pun intended) all downhill. Not only was downhill the type of skiing I had done, but it also explains the type of experiences I had doing it.  Ride the lift to the top of the hill and ski down.  Fall, get up, and try again.  I was constantly cold, wet, and discontent.  Wash, rinse, repeat.

He suggested cross-country skiing and I cannot argue that I am enamored with his other interest, kayaking.  Add in the fact that I love spending time with him no matter where we are or what we do so I decided to give it a try.  He already had plans to obtain a season’s pass for himself and adding me on with the ‘couple’ rate seemed a cost effective way to go.  He rightly assumed that I would give it a number of tries to determine my interest level and latent abilities.  I am not the type of person to just immediately give up without sticking something out long enough to really determine whether or not I actually enjoy something.

So I waited.

And then, oh, let me think … I waited some more.  Each day, each week, each month I waited for the snow to fall, for the mountain to open, for there to be both the time and the opportunity to put on my skis and hit the trails.  I probably should have already mentioned that, in addition to the season’s ski pass, I also was outfitted with … um, well … skis.  And ski boots.  And ski poles.  And gloves.  Hats.  Mittens.  Long underwear.  Seasonal outerwear.  The whole shebang.  Everything the intrepid xc ski newbie could possibly want, need, or desire.  Damnme but I had better enjoy skiing, no?

I waited for the perfect opportunity.  We needed the snow, because you cannot ski without snow.  We needed the time, because you cannot ski while you are at work or visiting in another state.  We needed things to come together so I could strap on my skis and hit the trails.

I waited with apprehension.  My anxiety about being on skis rose with every tease of snow.  I worried about whether I would be warm enough, whether I would be the worst skier in the history of the mountain, whether I would be an inept student, whether I would look ungainly and idiotic in his eyes.  I worried about everything you could possibly think to worry about and then probably some more things as well.

I waited and I worried and I agonized.  Finally the Fates of Snow and Timing smiled (or laughed in anticipation) and the day arrived.  I was filled with hope and dread and relief and excitement.  I was dressed in what I deemed warm, appropriate, and stylish.  He assured me that adjustments to my outfit could be made on future excursions depending on what worked for me and what did not.  He soothed my fears and boosted my confidence.

He put me on skis.

Up the trail we went while I began learning how to move.  I was learning how to go uphill as well as how to go downhill.  I learned about differences and similarities.  I learned what parts of my outfit worked well for me and what needed to be changed.  I learned how to fall, how to get up, how to start and how to stop.

I sucked in knowledge like a shop vac after a remodel.  I learned and I tried and I failed and I tried again.  I asked questions and received answers and got frustrated and became exhilarated.

I fell in love.

I spent all the time I could learning what he had to teach until I chafed at the bit and said ‘enough’.  I sent him away and flew on my own.  I learned that a hill cannot best you that only you can best yourself.  I spent the day trudging up and down the same hill over and over and over again, angry beyond words that I could not ski down it without falling.  I tried and failed and tried and tried again.  I conquered the hill and rejoiced in my achievement.

I fell in love.  I fought and I won.

Only later did I find that I was no longer on the easy path, that through a mix-up of direction and the vagaries of Fate that the hill I set out to conquer was beyond my abilities.

Apparently it was not.

I was in love.

Another winter season is upon us and I again wait with trepidation.  I want to ski, to learn, to fly.  I want to feel the cold on my face and revel in the freedom on the trails.  I want to work, to try, to do, to be.  I want to carry my love into the unbroken whiteness of a new fallen snow.  I wish to marvel at the sparkles of the sunlight glinting off the snow.  I wish to inhale the crisp, clear air and smell the piney scent of the evergreens.

I want to challenge myself and emerge victorious.  I wish to have someone by my side, encouraging, smiling, and cheering me on to victory.

But I again wait with trepidation.  Christmas carols inundate the radio waves.  Vacation plans are made, broken, remade.  The end of the year is nigh and still … snow has not fallen.

I do not know if I again have a season pass this year.  I do not wish to ask.  I am afraid.  Have I not explained that I enjoy this frosty sport?  Am I unworthy of a pass?  I do not wish to give up this pleasure that I have found but I cannot help but wonder.

Have I lost my love?


“May your eyes open to see the infinite beauty of the heavens surrounding the mundane and may your ears open so you learn to hear the angels weeping.  May your lips and tongue learn to taste the nectar of the gods in the unending banquet set before you and may your fingers learn to appreciate the gossamer touch of your lover’s breath.  May your life be a treasure trove of minutes upon minutes instead of a frenzy of rushing to get to the next event.  Each minute, each breath, each gaze of your eye and touch of your finger is a singular joy to revel in and honor, to believe in and experience.”

~Tuesday DangerGirl
penned especially for Marco DangerBoy
with original text written in FangSong 13ptloml

Kindling Love

I was a child beneath her touch, – a man
When breast to breast we clung, even I and she,
A spirit when her spirit looked through me, 
A god when all our life-breath met to fan
Our life-blood, till love’s emulous ardours ran,
Fire within fire, desire in deity
~The Kiss, DG Rossetti

Love is not a solid thing, a thing you find or receive and can tuck away until you wish to play with it.  It is not a teddy bear that sits on your bed, patiently awaiting your arms and your cuddles.  It is not a diamond ring sitting on your finger in flashy splendor, there but forgotten until someone wants to admire it.

Love is a small child, full of life but needing care, feeding, cuddling, guidance.  It wants to roam hither and yon, exploring, touching, feeling, living, all without regard to boundaries or necessities.  Like the child, love must be guided – steered away from those things that will hurt, pointed towards all that is good and sweet and wonderful.  It must be taught that patience is a virtue, that sometimes work, or chores, or life, need come first.  It must be reassured that things will not replace it, that there is no replacement available.   It will meander around, testing boundaries, learning rules.  It will encounter bumps and bruises, pain and heartache.  It should be taught that lessons like these should be heeded.  A child would be scolded for not learning the lesson of the hot stove, should love be less mature?

There is a learning curve in love.  It is silly to believe that love can survive without nourishment and care.  You must take action to keep love alive, keep love in the forefront of your mind and your life and your soul.  Would you let your child roam near the road, or eat berries, or go for a swim without supervision?  Would you think ‘I have nurtured this child for a week, for a month, for a year … she should be able to care for herself now’ and turn back to your chores, your games, yourself?  Do you stop gazing fondly down at your child, peaceful and angelic in slumber – or does your heart stop at the beauty of that face, that peace, that life that you have created?

You cannot shelve love.  It does not exist on its own.  Love will starve without care, without support, without feeding.  Love must be created and recreated to be sustained and to grow.  You can be the leader, nudging it to where you want it to go, guiding it in the direction you wish, but you must have a hand in the being.  It does not exist without you and your efforts.

Love is a fire.  A flashburn of light, a grand beginning of flame.  The flash ignites the kindling but slowly … So slowly and carefully you must begin.  You add a small amount of fuel, tiny sticks from this pile or from that, a melding of air and fuel and fire.  You must carefully set your kindling, feeding the flames of light and desire and love and strength and create an indomitable love, a fire of forever.  You must tend and care and change and create until the fire itself is burning brightly, a testament of your patience and belief and guidance.  You cannot stop even now though, you must continue to fuel the flames, tend the fire, exalt in the beauty of that which you have created.

You must continue to make an effort; you must continue to provide sustenance to your child, your fire, your creation.

You must continue to love.

You must believe.