When not good enough...

is good enough.

Back. From another whirlwind trip in a far off land. Some very sweet and laughter filled sessions with old friends as well unexpected new ones.

During my first yoga session at this new studio, the teacher spoke about having a compassionate heart, both towards ourselves and to the world around us. She also spoke about how maintaining a compassionate heart throughout life, the mundane moments, heartbreak, impulsion, disappointments, stress, onslaught of everyday demands - is perhaps the hardest thing to do - to live from that place of compassion.

While by no means a a new thought - I feel like I've heard many variations of this thought over the years, her words struck me in a different way this time... For the first time in a long time I felt embraced, held in a very sweet and safe spot.

On the flight back home I read the following self description by author Heather Havrilesky: "I am not and was never going to be the relaxed, organized, manicured career mom, any more than I was going to be the shiny, effusive cheerleader or the diligent Gap employee or the virginal good girl, or the wise young lady who dates only responsible, emotionally available guys. I am a disorganized, melancholy second-guesser who rhapsodizes a little too loudly over the pleasures of a cold beer at the end of a long day. I am enthusiastic, yes, and passionate, sure, but I am also fundamentally ambivalent, angst ridden, and conflicted. I am distracted, overwhelmed, and mostly unprepared for whatever lies ahead."

Man, that made me laugh. Because I can very much relate. And to think that we spend, or at least I spend so much time trying to be that first half, instead of just celebrating the reality of the latter.

So this week... good enough, as the first step towards a life lived with greater compassion. :)

Random Thought

So re-entry is confusing. There are moments when I feel incredibly relieved at the relative ease of it all, the normalcy so to speak... waking up, pouring a cup of coffee, not rushing off to work, reading through the paper, sifting through memories, cataloging photos.

Then there are the other moments... of feeling deeply lonely, of just wanting to talk for hours with someone who can relate to the multitude of feelings that can overwhelm. The over the top reactions. The apologizing for the over the top reactions. The resenting having to apologize. The zoning out. The numbing relief of losing oneself in TV, books, shopping or other distractions.

Then there is the juggling of trying to bridge the gap between both worlds. You don't want to feel like you leave an entire life behind every time you leave a place... or at least I don't. I deeply desire some kind of continuum between the different moves or shifts. But the incongruity between the different worlds can be mind boggling. There are some gaps you can bridge and others you can't. They're not always obvious.

Time to heal is what Jane calls it. Its a process I guess... yet it can all feel a bit selfish. Or even unnecessary. Or isolating. It's not something you want to go at alone, but it isn't easy to let people in either. Aspects of what you feel are intensely private, and yet you want those feelings to be affirmed as valid by others. Just so you know you're not crazy. :) Its a lot to ask.

Treasures: Mobile Bay

 

Objects of Obsession 05/02/11

I have been obsessing lately on all things house decor as well as the spring and summer collections of certain designers... yes. I am a little late to the game when it comes to the SS collections, but that is what happens when you lived in Africa circa fall 2010, and the internet connection is about as fast as dial-up circa 1999.

I am in LOVE with the Paul and Joe SS 2011 collection - specially the dress to the right.

Love. Love. Love! Des Petits Hauts. Just wished they shipped. A big thank you to Aurelie for introducing me two years ago...

Yes. I totally bought this as a present to myself for leaving the Congo. Except in angora wool, and calf length, the winter version. And YES, totally AWESOME. Hip hip hurray Helmut Lang!

Life saver for long hauls in the Altanta Airport: Minute Suites !!!

Instead of a car I am tempted to buy this... but I won't. But still... the butter cream yellow leather just makes me want to curl up all day with tea, a silver cigarette holder and macarones.

Smelled Balenciaga for the first time in the De Gaulle airport (again, I've been in Africa for the past 6 years)... yummy!

Also Printemps is the only place I can find at the moment that is selling the Paul and Joe Espiegle shirt in black at the moment... and I so wished I had bought it then and there. Little did I know... sigh.

Gray or Blue

"Are you too nervous to be lovers? Friendship ruined with one kiss?
I know she is your lover but she is nowhere near your heart... "

Jayman

:)

Pandora

I heard a song today that made me feel that feeling...
that feeling of being totally madly on the
precipice of falling madly head
over throbbing beat
in love.
Not the gentle sneak up on
you kind of falling in love 'in love'.
But the 'only two on the dance floor',
kaleidescope of fireworks,
sinking through the floor bliss,
I can't wipe this Pandora's box
of JoY
off my face
In love.

That hovering moment
right before
the perfect first kiss
feeling.

Or the ocean falling
into
your eyes
Intensity

That grazing of the cheek,
500 thousand volts
In.Deep.Over.My.No.longer thinking straight. I AM SOOOO GOING TO PAY FOR THIS.
IN.
LOVE.

Final Countdown (insert music here)

So I have a small weakness for how Italians great each other... with the long drawn out 'Bellas and Bellos", the passionate embraces and just the overall enthusiasm that goes into the entire ritual. Its hard not to feel loved or at least appreciated.

I am not sure where they came from but I felt the need to express it!

I have two and half weeks left in DRC... after three years of living in this place. The nostalgia is beginning to slowly set in for the very same things that drive me bonkers when I am here.

I do not feel like I am going 'home' - rather I feel like I am leaving my home of the last three years... which I realize in and out of itself is a good thing... as I believe it means I invested here. Yet it is an odd feeling to move on, not because one has too: there is no job that has come to an end, no relationship to move for, no better promotion somewhere else... its just what we do. After three years in a place like DRC - one moves on. It is time. Everyone knows it. Its not a permanent option as a 'home', nor should it be really. So one moves on.

Into what? Is the million dollar question at the moment... one I refuse to discuss really... because it stresses me out, because it keeps me from living in the moment, from enjoying the now. Something about turning 30 this year has just made me want to slow down and quit rushing. Possibly because my own mortality feels just a tiny bit more real than it did at 29. :)