Side note: Paper bags are my new canvas. For everything. They start off imperfect and that makes me comfortable, and ready.

Happy face.

Response to a response

it's funny. because sometimes there is a black hole in certain lifey moments (particularly, the ones involving loneliness) that silently sucks you into feeling like the absolute only one on earth feeling that way. So confidently, and so easily, I'm convinced I am the only one I have, to figure things out..

i've seen 2 faces of solitude: a peaceful one I seek for rest, and a bewildering one- overwhelmed with insecurity. Drown in thought, or drowning in the inability to think anything straight at all..

Funny how all these intricacies we try to rummage through by ourselves, can be unraveled at the seams by the simplest of gestures by one good friend. Something as simple as a text or message from one responsive friend reminds us that we are most definitely- not- alone.

He told her about lifey moments. And then she said,

Let me know next time you have one,

so I can remind you you're not alone in it.

Side effect #1 of me being stressed: Sharp decline in the already weak ability to make decisions.




Exhibit A: Jam vs. Honey





I spent a good while staring, contemplating, debating. jam, honey, honey, jam, jam over honey? little honey little jam? Until I decided I couldn't decide, and had to have both.



I think our minds do strange things when they're on overload...

The bread crumbs left from 2 days of away:

I left for 24 hours, maybe not even that long. These are disjointed tidbits of a mind in the mountains.

**

The Drive: Great songs, great in different ways, and strung together randomly by the mystery that is 'shuffle'....

Inner Light: ‘Arrive without travelling. See all without looking. Do all without doing.’

Blessed to be a witness: Like good questions never asked, is wisdom wasted on the past? Only by the grace of God go I,
go I.
I am blessed to be a witness. So gather ‘round, for today won’t come again, won’t come again.

[The volume’s @ 6]

Sweet mistakes: Bless your sweet mistakes that crumbled you down to your knees, changing you by degrees. So raise to the future, drink to the past, and thank the Lord for the friends he cast in the play he wrote for you.

Scenic world! When I feel alive, I try to imagine a careless life.. a scenic world where the sunsets are all breathtaking

[take it to 7]

I’m flying away with those Byrds.. to everything, there is a season.

Let go: well whatcha waiting for? There’s beauty in the breakdown.

[skip to 10.. my ears kinda hurt but it’s just wrong to listen to this quietly]

Cat Stevens and I- we’re thinking about the world as one, and the good things to come..

**

Elevation got to 3,000:

I yawned to pop my ears so I could hear the music louder and more clearly..
The ipod selected a gem of a song, and the sounds of the Beatles brought that beautiful image of last week to mind:
~ The funeral had just ended, and to continue the ‘togetherness’ of commemorating a loss, we all congregated at gramma’s. A group of the ages, we looked lazy, but no.. just tired. Not much speaking, just together-ing. And then he came in, sat at the piano on that old bench I used to hide important puzzle pieces in to drive my family crazy when I was 7.
He patiently started walking his hands through Let It Be..
And in the instant they all recognized the tune, I saw heads turn towards him, a pause- he kept playing, unaware; and the look we shared on our faces was weighted with acceptance for the present hour, and sad, but knowing, half-smiles.
It was as though that light but heavy song walked into the room with a somber gratitude that tipped it’s hat, and said ‘thank you, for the most fitting words you could find for a moment like this.’

**

Mountain playtime:
Sometimes, I try to strategize my way to a restful soul. Oh foolish! Often, it’s playing that brings the most clarity and calm.. I might say there’s a form of meditation in times of reckless abandon. A new focus, born from a time of unfocused release. It’s effortless, this most natural expression of liveliness..

**

If you haven't got a pen to create....

**

alone was the first and the last place i wanted to be.

"Wherever you are, it is your friends who make your world."

ecc 7:3 ..beacause a sad face is good for the heart.

i am wondering what this fully means..

Not surprisingly, I've been thinking about big-picture kind of lifey things lately. So much so that I've had a hard time caring about the day to day responsibilities that continue as normal. When my state of mind is as it is right now, I find it annoying that we have to keep up with the minor duties of life like oh, say.. our jobs.. while simultaneously musing the greater purpose of living and breathing. But, I suppose the truth is that just because I'm choosing to spend the majority of my time thinking about things more lasting than a patient review meeting, or the rent check, or my insurance claim, doesn't mean it's wise to abandon my place among my duties. ..or sometimes, to some extent, is it?

i don't even know what i mean by "wise"...

sorry i don't think this thought is going anywhere. i'm just tired. i'm too tired to even continue capitalizing my i's.. much less process the mysterious balance between living in the real world and living in the curiosity and idealism of existential thinking.

..if i were to write a movie scene about how i've felt the last few days, it would read as follows:

[Me, sitting at a weathered dining table, quiet, patient, a bit disheveled. I'm staring out the window, hardly acknowledging the presence of anyone else. Real Worlder busily passes through the kitchen for a moment..]

Real Worlder: "Hey Tobin have you figured out what you're doing for dinner? Oh and have you had a chance to phone the cable company yet? The connection keeps cutting out on us. i just can't believe they raised the rent again.. Do you want to go down to the landlord's place tomorrow and take it up with him?"
Me: "No thank you, i'll just stay here and have a cup of tea with my mortality."

..written in a furious fit of thought as i was driving down the 5. Too too much was going on for one day to handle. One hand on the wheel, and the other throwing out the bagel from this brown bag to have something to write on. it was somewhat of a tear-stained trip from LA to home..

We are not meant to be kept in neatly packed boxes of emotional organization and efficiency. We are meant to run wildly through the streets singing Ole! holding hands, falling down and skinning knees, talking about things that hurt, things that are real. I recant what I've said before [see post 'There's Tobin Rambling on Life Again']- I don't believe we're supposed to be able to compress the extremes of life into pre-set frames of convenience. We cannot hope to dodge the intensity of pain born from loss..

For some reason, we do need to cry when one is lost.