Thought I would never go back. i couldn't go back. It hurt too much. To see everything. The nothing that was left. How could it ever be the same? The New Orleans I loved was gone and there was nothing left for me there. Zip. Zero. Zilch. Finito.
But then I heard the Trashies were going to play. In New Orleans. For Halloween. So I went.
I was so afraid of what I would/wouldn't see... Feels the same. Smells the same. Sounds the same. The only remnants were the abandoned warehouses, the boarded up houses here and there. Oh yeah, and the official tags that hadnt been painted over.
I have to say I didn't go to my stomping grounds but that wasn't what coming back was about. It was the opportunity to experience it differently. Be a part of it in a different kind of way. To love love her again like the grown up woman I am. It was like coming back into the fold after a long time away and I was still welcome. If only I could have remained. I won't wait for so long again to come back.
Friday, December 4, 2009
Friday, September 18, 2009
Falling
Earlier this week I fell out of a plane flying at 8500 feet. 30 seconds of free fall, 90 seconds of floating and then all too soon the ants looked like people and my ass was kissing the ground.
How do I even begin to explain the thoughts and feelings I experienced as I scooted toward the hole in the wall of the plane and looked over the edge? It all went through my consciousness in split seconds: nervousness, fear, incredulity, impatience, but never once a second thought. Sonja (my lifeline) started rocking and we fell out. I do believe I saw "OH SHIT" on my mind's marquee for a millisecond before I was grinning like an idiot (who does that as they fall to their possible death) looking at the fast approaching landscape.
Just as I was getting used to hurtling through the air, I felt a wrenching jerk and for a moment in my heightened state (no pun intended) I thought we had hit something. But how? What? Oh. Sonja opened the parachute.
And then we were floating. We spun around in circles and half circles, dipped and turned. Marvelous! I ignored the nausea I was feeling because I was enjoying myself WAY too much. And who wants to race their vomit to the ground?
We got closer and closer to our landing point and the disappointment I felt that it was almost over grew exponentially. Actually touching ground was the only anticlimactic portion of the entire experience. Where was the cheering and the ticker tape? Sonja unclipped me from the parachute we shared and the grin was back in full force. Wow! I hugged people, I danced a jig or two...
So. If you need someone to go with you skydiving think of me. I'll go. And I have coupons.
How do I even begin to explain the thoughts and feelings I experienced as I scooted toward the hole in the wall of the plane and looked over the edge? It all went through my consciousness in split seconds: nervousness, fear, incredulity, impatience, but never once a second thought. Sonja (my lifeline) started rocking and we fell out. I do believe I saw "OH SHIT" on my mind's marquee for a millisecond before I was grinning like an idiot (who does that as they fall to their possible death) looking at the fast approaching landscape.
Just as I was getting used to hurtling through the air, I felt a wrenching jerk and for a moment in my heightened state (no pun intended) I thought we had hit something. But how? What? Oh. Sonja opened the parachute.
And then we were floating. We spun around in circles and half circles, dipped and turned. Marvelous! I ignored the nausea I was feeling because I was enjoying myself WAY too much. And who wants to race their vomit to the ground?
We got closer and closer to our landing point and the disappointment I felt that it was almost over grew exponentially. Actually touching ground was the only anticlimactic portion of the entire experience. Where was the cheering and the ticker tape? Sonja unclipped me from the parachute we shared and the grin was back in full force. Wow! I hugged people, I danced a jig or two...
So. If you need someone to go with you skydiving think of me. I'll go. And I have coupons.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Ruminations on the finite
Ever since I got back from my scootouring jaunt down the coast I've been feeling less than optimistic and definitely not sanguine. Not to say life isn't still funny. I can laugh at any joke regardless of whether I get the punchline or not. However, my perspective has shifted. Is still shifting.
All that time alone in my helmet, I thought I got it down. The changing landscape was like a balm for my soul that I didnt know I needed until I felt it. The solitude of the coastal landscape far beneath me, the quiet weeps and whispers of redwoods, the scents of lavender and white sage, coming across the unexpected beached boat or Hogwart's Lane in the middle of what seems like no where... I thought all else is small, trivial in comparison to this. I could have ridden those twisting roads forever, my only worries being NOT to steer into the occasional oncoming vehicle and to keep my eye on the gas gauge.
Then it was over. The feeling of accomplishment stayed, real accomplishment because even up until the morning the journey began I wasnt sure I could do it. But the cocoon created by a shared experience disintegrated and I felt a degree of separation anxiety leaving all my comrades. It took me a week or two to return to what passes for normal in these parts. Or at least appear to.
I went to see some shows this summer. I could hardly contain my excitement leading up to seeing Duran Duran and then, a few weeks later, Depeche Mode. Neither of which I had ever seen live. I've been a fan for more than 20 years and was not disappointed.
I have, until recently, been vacillating between in a higher than normal degree of confusion and ambivelency. The biggest contributor being me. Some days I wanted to handle things a little differently that I had decided the day before. Feel differently, react differently. It got so when I took a step I wondered where I was going to land (if ever). Other days my motto was "Leave it alone" until further developments occurred. Even now, as I think about stuff, I still don't know what to think/do/feel. Be glad when all this is done.
Funny thing happened the other day. Someone said to me that they don't remember what my hair looked like before. Huh. It's only been a month since I had long hair.
I see how finite every experience is. It is true that nothing lasts forever. And perhaps that is a good thing. How else can all that an experience has taught be contemplated if it remains infinite?
All that time alone in my helmet, I thought I got it down. The changing landscape was like a balm for my soul that I didnt know I needed until I felt it. The solitude of the coastal landscape far beneath me, the quiet weeps and whispers of redwoods, the scents of lavender and white sage, coming across the unexpected beached boat or Hogwart's Lane in the middle of what seems like no where... I thought all else is small, trivial in comparison to this. I could have ridden those twisting roads forever, my only worries being NOT to steer into the occasional oncoming vehicle and to keep my eye on the gas gauge.
Then it was over. The feeling of accomplishment stayed, real accomplishment because even up until the morning the journey began I wasnt sure I could do it. But the cocoon created by a shared experience disintegrated and I felt a degree of separation anxiety leaving all my comrades. It took me a week or two to return to what passes for normal in these parts. Or at least appear to.
I went to see some shows this summer. I could hardly contain my excitement leading up to seeing Duran Duran and then, a few weeks later, Depeche Mode. Neither of which I had ever seen live. I've been a fan for more than 20 years and was not disappointed.
I have, until recently, been vacillating between in a higher than normal degree of confusion and ambivelency. The biggest contributor being me. Some days I wanted to handle things a little differently that I had decided the day before. Feel differently, react differently. It got so when I took a step I wondered where I was going to land (if ever). Other days my motto was "Leave it alone" until further developments occurred. Even now, as I think about stuff, I still don't know what to think/do/feel. Be glad when all this is done.
Funny thing happened the other day. Someone said to me that they don't remember what my hair looked like before. Huh. It's only been a month since I had long hair.
I see how finite every experience is. It is true that nothing lasts forever. And perhaps that is a good thing. How else can all that an experience has taught be contemplated if it remains infinite?
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