What Is the Point?

We were the only ones sitting in the coffee shop. Others walked in, ordered and left again but we were the only two who decided to take a seat and watch for a while. I love sitting at one of two tables in that shop. One gives me a view of the main street and a glimpse of the park; the other, an only slightly-obstructed view of the kitchen and the coffee bean storage room. I love peeking in that room. Huge burlap bags of beans lying around like relatives after Thanksgiving dinner... prone, still and a bit bloated. If I liked coffee, that room would be my idea of heaven.

That morning I had chosen the table by the window. It was a busy day and the lure of passersby was just too appealing. I didn't even pull out my phone or journal, I just sat transfixed by what was moving past the window. He had chosen a table on the other side of the room, but since the room is only about ten feet across we were well within conversational distance. I felt him watching me for a few minutes, while I watched the world outside, and then turned to ask him if this town was his home. It wasn't, we were both just pulled here for different reasons that morning but that was enough of an opening that he walked over and sat down with me. We sat in companionable silence, watching. 

Finally he asked a question. I answered and asked him another question. We vollied back and forth for a while, the traffic on the street temporarily forgotten. He asked what I did for fun. I rattled off the standard response of hobbies and then threw out, "And, I'm a writer." Without missing a beat he said with a bit of a chuckle, "Really? I've always hated reading. I just don't see the point." Without missing a beat, I excused myself to get a refill of my herbal tea. As I made my way past the table and to the door, I held up my watch and said, "I have to go. Have a good day." 

He was left to watch through the window as I became just another figure walking by, walking away. If asked why I didn't stay, sadly, I just didn't see the point.

Being James Taylor'ed

I heard once that when a romantic relationship ended, James Taylor would completely shut the woman out of his life. He wouldn't allow any further contact and even if in the same room with the woman, he would act as though she wasn't there. It wasn't just that he pretended the relationship never existed, he pretended the woman never existed. Poof. Like a magic act.

Now I don't know James Taylor at all. This may be a vicious rumor started by a scorned lover and in reality he's the type of man who donates his free time to soup kitchens. I don't know. He may also buy puppies just to kick them. Again, I don't know. He could do both. People are complicated creatures. 

But in the back of my mind, that story about him has always stuck with me.  It's sort of like being on a jury and the judge having something stricken from the record, you can't ever un-hear what you've heard, especially if it's juicy. And oops, now I've just put that in your head about James Taylor. I'm sorry. If it clouds your enjoyment of "You've Got a Friend" just remember that Carole King wrote the song and as far as we know, she's perfectly lovely. 

When I first heard this about James Taylor, I remember thinking how cruel his (alleged) behavior was. I couldn't figure out what characteristic would even cause a person to act like that. Vanity? Pride? Insecurity? Immaturity? I had no idea. 

Sure, there are some people with whom I've had relationships, romantic and otherwise, that I have no interest in keeping in contact with. However, I wish them no ill will and if we happened to see each other on the street, I have no doubt we could have a pleasant conversation before going our separate ways.  

There are also some men with whom I've had romantic relationships that I can't imagine not being around. The friendships were always strong and remain that way. We aren't in each other's daily lives any longer but we're still close and lend an ear when the other needs it.

Anyway, the point of all this was to say that I think I was James Taylor'ed this weekend and I sort of appreciate it. It made me think that ol' James may have been on to something. It feels liberating... but maybe that's because I'm the one who didn't want the relationship. That's probably a factor.

So, have you ever been James Taylor'ed? Did it help or hurt you in the long run? Have you ever James Taylor'ed someone else? Did you ever regret it?

What Lies Within

In the past few weeks I've been presented with something of which I've been dreaming. At least it appears to be just what I thought I wanted. For some reason though, I feel overwhelmed, uneasy and not ready for it. I've been struggling because I think I should just be grateful, accept and enjoy it, but I can't. Something doesn't feel right and I can't ignore it.

* * * * * 

I've been working with two coaches on two different areas of my life and they've both come around to the voices that we have within. According to them, we all have an inner critic and we all have inner wisdom. The trick to being successful in obtaining our dreams is knowing which one is guiding us. 

One of them told me that when we are conflicted about making a decision, our inner critic is telling us what to do and that's why we don't feel at peace. We might feel sad or depressed, even to the point of feeling physically weighed down.

If we take direction from our inner wisdom, or what some call our intuition, we are filled with a calmness, a sense of harmony and lightness of being. We feel at peace with the decision and 'just know' we're doing the right thing.

* * * * * 

Yesterday I spoke with a friend and she asked what had been happening in my life since we last spoke. I related the situation above to her, including my inability to decide if this was even what I wanted. She said she was going through something very similar in her life right now. 

A couple of weeks ago she started dating someone and although he's a wonderful guy and someone with whom she has fun, she just isn't comfortable in the relationship. Like me, she feels like she should happy and grateful and accepting of the gift she's been given. I've known this woman a little over a year and she has always expressed her desire to find a man with whom she can share her life, but also like me, something isn't right and she can't ignore it.

* * * * * 

I sat for a good long time last night, being still and listening. I thought about what was making me uncomfortable, what didn't seem quite right and remembering what I thought things would be like when offered what I've been offered. Then I sat and listened to my inner critic rant at me, telling me all the 'logical' reasons for why I should just essentially 'shut up and be happy' about it. She had what she felt were pretty good arguments... Who am I to think I deserve more than what I've been given? Do I know how old I am? How many more opportunities do I think I'm going to get? Why not just go with it and see what happens? For crying out loud, just settle and stop looking. Do I know how many people would be thrilled to have what I have? Who do I think I am? 

* * * * * 

My friend said she had decided she was going to give the relationship some time, try to relax into it and see where it went. She has a strong faith and believes that things will work out as they should. I admire that. I have made that same argument many times before in relationships that even going into them, knew wouldn't work. We are told to try, aren't we?

* * * * * 

I continued to sit and listen long after my inner critic stopped berating me. There were a few minutes where all I heard was the sound of my breathing but still, I waited. Finally, I heard it. My inner wisdom spoke in a calm, quiet voice and told me what I needed to hear. This isn't the right thing for me. If this was real, it would be easier, a natural fit into my life and wouldn't leave me feeling like this. I need to let this opportunity pass for the hope of something better, something that's perfectly right for me. 

Yes, I could try it and see what comes of it. I could try to make it right, but in the end, it is still going to be wrong. I will have spent a lot of time and energy on something that wasn't mine in the first place and more importantly, will undoubtedly leave me tired and leery and distracted when the right situation does show up. 

Because it will. I know that. My dreams aren't elaborate or unattainable. They are definitely within my reach. This just wasn't the manifestation of one of them. 

* * * * * 

My heart feels lighter today, I feel perfectly at ease and I slept better than I have in a year. Peace within can't be denied. 

The Blade

There are times when people are out to hurt us. It’s a sad commentary on human nature but there it is. People are not always kind, unselfish or even mindful in how they behave. Even people who are otherwise good, generous souls have moments in which they look for another’s most tender, vulnerable, soft underbelly and … STAB … it with the sharpened blade of callousness and spite.

Whether or not they regret it is beside the point. Whether or not they ask forgiveness is beside the point. They were able to come to the conclusion in that window of time that the pleasure they would feel in thrusting that knife in another’s raw flesh and twisting it meant more to them than the excruciating pain it caused. 

They put themselves first.

But then there are times when we want to blame someone else because we are devastated, disappointed and wounded but if we are honest with ourselves, really honest, we realize the other person may have wielded the knife but we jumped right into its path. There comes a time when we have to take responsibility for the bloodshed being just as much our fault as the other person’s. We can't fall on someone else's blade and call foul. We need to remove ourselves from the potential danger.

There are times when we have to put ourselves first.

Meet Up

I have not been able to get the dream out of my mind. Or, rather, I have not been able to get what I perceived to be the message of the dream out of my mind. It bothers me that I spend so much time alone even though my favorite activities of writing and reading dictate it. When I attempt a night out and go to dinner or a movie, most often times I am alone, such is the life of the single woman amongst happily paired-off and parenting friends. Even at work, many hours of the week are spent alone at my desk, in silent companionship with the sole coworker who works near me. There are entire weeks when I do not spend a single hour in friendly non-work pursuits with another person. Even this upcoming trip to Chicago that I am so looking forward to will be spent alone. Other than a few conversations with James, my favorite doorman at the hotel, I may not speak to anyone else other than to order food or give the taxi driver my destination.

I am introverted by nature. Being around large crowds or boisterous people for extended periods drains the life out of me. I need to be alone after those situations to recharge my battery and begin to feel human again. However, one on one conversations or quiet evenings spent with close friends are like fuel.  I do not require times like that often but I do need them. Humans need interaction, don't they?

All of this was on my mind Friday afternoon when I finished yet another work day without speaking to anyone. I spent an hour or more thinking of ways to meet people in a casual but friendly atmosphere. Nothing came to mind. I had just given up and picked up the book I was reading when it hit me. A book club. I have never been part of a book club but what an ingenious way to combine two things I enjoy, reading books and talking about books. Add to that meeting new book-loving people and it sounded perfect.

I immediately grabbed the MacBook and Googled local book clubs. I swear to you, I have done this at least once a year since moving here and never with any desirable results. This time, I hit the jackpot. I found a rather strong, active book club in Peoria and joined immediately. Of course, luck being what it is for me sometimes, the June meeting was already closed to additional attendees and I will be out of the country for the July meeting but I am determined to meet them in August, if at all possible.

Once my book club registration was complete, the site I was on offered to show me other clubs in the area. I clicked and was pleasantly surprised (read: shocked) by the number of offerings. I immediately joined an independent film club that meets once a month for the sole intent of watching indie films together. Before I could even think about my nerves, I RSVP'd to their June meeting at a theater in Peoria to watch the independent film playing that night. Actually, this sounds like a great first event for me. A few moments of small talk in the lobby, followed by two hours of a great film (no conversation needed) and then an hour or so of discussion of the film (ready-made topic) sounds like a perfect evening.

Inspired by my sudden burst of bravery, I continued to pursue the list of clubs. Many were centered on hobbies I do not have and there were several 'mommy' groups but then my eye landed on a singles club. At first I had no interest in that one either but the tag line was intriguing so I clicked on it. The website stated in several places that this is not a dating club so that made me feel better and I kept reading. From what I could surmise a better name for the club would be "People who want to go to a movie, concert, dinner, museum, hiking, art gallery, festival, or comedy club but don't want to go alone and feel awkward and look out of place, even if only in their own minds Club." But that does not roll off the tongue quite as easily as "Singles Club." I'll give them a pass on that.

So without much hesitation I joined that one too. They seem to have quite an active membership, I have received a warm welcome and the calendar is full of outings every week. I have tentatively RSVP'd to a dinner out with the group next week.

Within a half hour, I had joined and committed to three new groups of people who share my interests and have a desire to meet others. It was quite exhilarating and overwhelming at the same time. I am hard on myself often, actually I am my own worst critic, but this time, I identified a lack in my life and took positive steps toward filling it. I am proud of me.

Living In Mudville

I am not enjoying life. 

That was a hard sentence to write and an even harder thing to realize but it is true. My days are chaotic, stressful and unrewarding, full of conflict and anger. My nights are solitary, emotional and restless. My weekends are a blur of sleep-deprived furious energy moving towards targets: writing x number of words, exercising x number of minutes, cleaning out x number of items… all which are supposed to bring me a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment but only just leave me exhausted.

I need joy.

It was not that long ago that the majority of my days were happy ones. Dark moments would pass through but overall, I was a joyful person. I can no longer say that. I feel like every day is something to endure, to get through, not something to rejoice in and celebrate. This is not the way I want to live. 

I sat down the other day and wrote about what an enjoyable day for me would be like. I was not interested in a ‘shucking it all and lying on a beach’ kind of day, I wanted to figure out what it would take to change the days I am living now into days that I want to be living: a new normal day. What I came up with was not too shocking. I found I need more fulfillment and purpose in my career, and I want to easily find time for the other things that matter, writing, running, spending time with the people I love. The isolation I feel at work and being alone outside work is wearing on me even more than I knew. I wake with an overwhelming sense of dread every day.

Before anyone fears for my mental health or well-being, I am looking at this realization as a positive thing. I have not been in this state of mind for long so I have every hope that I can turn it around in short order. Facing an issue is the first step in conquering it, and I fully intend to conquer this one.  

This is going to be my summer of joy. I am going to identify and work toward adding more light and relaxation and reenergizing activities and spending more time doing the things that matter, with the people that matter. It is obvious to me that things need to change. This is just my declaration that they will. 

TMI

I do not know what types of vehicles my neighbors drive. Why this finally occurred to me after living here thirteen years or why I find it so absurd, I do not know. But it has and I do and I am not sure what it means.

I grew up in a tiny town, not much bigger than the neighborhood I live in now. Times being what they were then, I was allowed to ride my bicycle the entire length and width of the village limits alone. I used to ride by all the houses in town and I knew who was home by which vehicles I saw parked in the driveway. For the neighbors within a block or two, I knew when they should be home and always wondered where they were when their vehicle was not parked outside at the usual time. 

Vehicles were a rather significant source of information in a small town. We knew someone had visitors when we did not recognize the vehicles parked in the driveway. We knew who made it to church that week, who was hanging out at the gas station, and who showed up to the school basketball games, just by driving by and looking at the vehicles in the parking lots. We knew who attended the volunteer firemen meeting, who was a Mason, and who played softball the night before without a newspaper account or hearing about it at the post office. The vehicles told us everything. They may have told us too much.

I do not know what my neighbors drive. I have quiet neighbors, for the most part, and I know a few of them by sight. I have no idea where any of them work, what time they should be home or whether they play softball. If any of them needed a lift to the supermarket or to borrow a ladder, I would gladly oblige but I can limit my relationship to helping when asked and not investing in it the rest of the time. It is a different way of living but I like it.

I will ponder whether or not I should on another day.