That’s all I have to say this week. Mesmerizing.

So, what’s the alternative? It’s infinitely harder than the next bauble in your match.com lineup, but infinitely more creative. You step out of the fantasy of romantic love and have a real relationship with your beloved—through your brokenheartedness. That’s right. You reach out through your vulnerability and meet your beloved on real terms. This is Simmer-Brown paraphrased, but it’s exactly my attitude toward love. For better or worse, though I adore romance, I have little trust in it. Maybe it’s because of loss early on my life, but I need my beloved to see the whole me and love her. With romantic love, especially the sort that grows too fast, I don’t feel seen at all. It feels inflated and unreal. Unsurprisingly, I’m not sure how my mean, ugly and needy parts will be tolerated. But there’s also an uneasy feeling that my sweet, beautiful, strong, and nurturing parts aren’t seen either. Instead, as the object of romantic infatuation, I just feel like a giant screen for another’s projection. It’s not a great feeling at all, though sure, the attention and roses sure are nice.

Simmer-Brown’s words were a relief to me because I ache for romantic love to crack open, for the real work and love to begin. Yes, it’s true I’ve tried to force it in the past. Not to hurt or to end the relationship, but to get into the creative work and real love of getting to know the beloved. It’s not for the faint of heart.

As Chögyam Trungpa, Simmer-Brown’s teacher, said (my paraphrase), “There’s not a lot of originality or creativity in the romantic story. Romantic love is a fantasy. Real relationships are infinitely more interesting.”

My word. Yes. I’m not saying I’m good at it. Not at all. In one relationship, my boyfriend complained I wasn’t going deep enough with him, sharing enough with him, and he needed that. “What did all my meditation and yoga give me, if not this?” he demanded. I didn’t tell him, because I couldn’t, that I was avoiding this depth, that I couldn’t share it, because if I was true to it (myself) I would end the relationship immediately. I needed a few more months to honor it, as the unhealthy attachment was strong. There were things I liked about the relationship even though it wasn’t meeting me on the deep level I wanted and needed. So, I get it. It’s hard. And I’m far from perfect myself.

“We have a fear of facing ourselves. That is the obstacle. Experiencing the innermost core of our existence is very embarrassing to a lot of people. A lot of people turn to something that they hope will liberate them without their having to face themselves. That is impossible. We can’t do that. We have to be honest with ourselves. We have to see our gut, our excrement, our most undesirable parts. We have to see them. That is the foundation of warriorship, basically speaking. Whatever is there, we have to face it, we have to look at it, study it, work with it and practice meditation with it.”  —Chögyam Trungpa

~Jon Kabat-Zinn

In all Asian languages, as you may know, the word for mind and the word for heart is the same word. So when you hear the word ‘mindfulness’ if you aren’t hearing ‘heartfulness’ you aren’t really understanding. It’s got this tenor of spaciousness of heart.

~Jon Kabat-Zinn

Life on earth is a whole, yet it expresses itself in unique time-bound bodies, microscopic or visible, plant or animal, extinct or living. So there can be no one place to be. There can be no one way to be, no one way to practice, no one way to learn, no one way to love, no one way to grow or to heal, no one way to live, no one way to feel, no one thing to know or be known. The particulars count.

~Jon Kabat-Zinn

I smiled. Very auspicious. My word, those shirts are about twenty years old now. When I got off, I said to the guy, “I like your shirt.”

He said, “What?” then, “Thanks,” with a smile. His accent was francophone West African, which made me smile back.

George told me the other day that Z is Nadia’s (his niece) favorite basketball player. Or was when she was two, and still lived in Cleveland. “She would say on the phone, ‘I am sad because Z is sad. The Cavs lost.’ Where is he from, anyway?” George asked.

“Žydrūnas Ilgauskas? Georgie!! He’s Lithuanian!” George has listened to my mother telling him how closely related Lithuanian and Hindi are since we were 10.

“Ohhhh. Well, I don’t think I even knew his whole name. I just knew Z.”

I see. Still, that Nadia has good taste in ball players.

That night, walking across 17th Street, we ducked into the Rubin to avoid a crazy storm. When it passed, we headed on toward Curry Hill for dosa. By the time we reached Sixth Ave, a gorgeous rainbow spread across the sky.

So many colors, morning til night. What a lovely town.

But if her shining was not for him, who then? He had never known a woman who lit up for nobody in particular, who just did it as a general announcement. Always, in his experience, the light appeared when there was focus.

—Toni Morrison, Beloved

..

One of my favorite pictures ever. One of my favorite people ever. Not sure who took it or when, as it was before my time. Twenty-two years to date, and I still miss him.

“I think the behavior of men has changed over the past decade or so. I know that things never really change. But somehow I find that men are way more annoying now. I don’t remember it being like this when I was a kid. Men were scrappy and ill-behaved, but now they are way too into themselves and sanctimonious and a bit precious, while at the same time being rudely obvious about their sexual predations. And it is kind of sickening. They are all namby-pambies who think the world of themselves.”

Oh dear. A bit harsh, but a bit accurate as well. Not all men, of course, but it does seem the modern trend. I have to say this amused me to no end. As it did the ten or so girlfriends I thought might enjoy it. And now, you.

Any self-defense in the comments will be savored.

The site isn’t done yet, but “The Gorgon’s Haircut” is one of my favorite features of Josh McKeon’s site. I can’t say favorite, because his paintings are amazing.

It’s a flipbook. Click the top left image (maybe give it a sec for all to load), then click the right arrow key through ’til the end. You’ll love it.

It was definitely a week of the little things getting us by. So pretty!

So, I was feeling both sick and cranky this morning, but I dragged myself uptown for a meeting anyway. After I put on my Valentine’s shoes, it was hard not to smile. Ya, all day. Across the board, women love them, men think they are ungodly (with the exception of the artist I’m helping with his website. He liked them, twice). I’m wearing them with dark colors, so it’s not noisy. Just festive. You know, for Valentine’s Day. ;) (Wow—that yellow with the pink. Noisy.)