tigerlily

i went and looked at a room last night in the upper haight. a beautiful old victorian, very classic and well kept, but not so polished that you feel uncomfortable. six people living there, all ages, all interests. they felt good to me. a full two stories, roof access, washer and dryer. 2 blocks from the haight (which also means no parking EVER). the downstairs room is open...smaller than what i have now, carpeted, low ceilings. i'd have to get rid of a lot of stuff. like...everything. i couldn't bring my beloved loft bed. i'd have to get rid of the giant tree branches that decorate the back of my alter. i don't know where i'd put my cacti, my giant (and i mean like 11 foot giant) venus of willendorf, my art, my sculptures...the precious objects that help remind me of who i am, where i have been, where i hope to go. i'm not adverse to purging myself of useless crap. but i've done the whole "no possesions" thing...and the few that i have now are special.

there are possibilities. i think most of the downstairs would be mine...there's room to put up mirrors for dance rehearsal space. i'd have a seperate entrance. my bedroom windows look directly into the backyard. i'd have room for a desk, a craft table. maybe they would let me transform and beautify the bottom floor into mary-land. maybe not.

i don't think it would matter what the space was like (unless it was some perfect dream come true). what i'm butting up against is that old friend of mine...groundlessness. who here is good at change, raise your hand? i've never lived anywhere else in the city. isn't that crazy? after years of moving around every year, suddenly 7 1/2 years have gone by...and i find i've inappropiately put down roots in a rental unit. all those old familiar markers are gone tho...all my old housemates are gone. friends are moving on with their lives. i'm making big life decisions. it's the seven year itch with the relationship with myself. every seven years, all the cells in your body are completely different than those 7 years before.

pema chodron, my very favoritist buddhist nun and teacher specializes in teachings on groundlessness. she really gets it, sometimes i think almost takes perverse glee in it. here's an excerpt from one of her best books:

"The first noble truth of the Buddha is that when we feel suffering, it doesnt mean that something is wrong. What a relief. Finally somebody told the truth. Suffering is part of life, and we don't have to feel it's happening because we personally made the wrong move. In reality, however, when we feel suffering, we think that something is wrong. As long as we're addicted to hope, we feel that we can tone our experience down or liven it up or change it somehow, and we continue to suffer a lot. If we're willing to give up hope that insecurity and pain can be exterminated, then we can have the courage to relax with the groundlessness of our situation. This is the first step on the path."

sounds great right? ok, now off down the path you go. and then there's that part of me that just wails, "BUT THIS HUUUUURRRRTTTSSSSS!" still haven't quite figured out what to do with that part. sounds great in theory, all that relaxing right into it. i've heard that some people can walk on hot coals and nails too. actually, i think that might be easier.

so since i'm imperfect in this practice, i'm looking forward and ahead to some relief and distraction. we have a great show tonight, full of pasties and titties and silly songs. good stuff. my best friend is coming down from chico, my old housemate will be there too. and then this weekend i'm going to my hometown, to see my family, the wildflowers, the hotsprings, the weeds that are 5 feet tall...the ones i used to hide in and make forts out of when i was a kid. i look forward to familiarity...to the one piece of ground that i know better than any other....those three acres in bella vista that remind me of cowboys and pet chickens, cherry trees and ripe apples, sprinklers, flip flops, grasshoppers and little creek waterfalls. home.

have a good weekend.