Plus or Minus Five

Five years ago, i first hit the “publish” button on the shiny new blank slate of a WordPress blog.  My stated purpose:

“In a classic sense, i’ve done remarkably well – especially considering i was voted “most likely to be found dead in a gutter” in the ol’ high school popularity poll.

There is, however, a tiny, perhaps moving, boundary i crossed somewhere along the way – averting a likely path into the world of “one bad damn decision after another”.  Part of what i am doing with this forum is to try to understand how that happened…

Parenting two rather extraordinary young adults who share some of my genetics (The Girl, 21, and The Boy, 19), i want to understand how i got out of The Park.  So that i can help keep them out of The Park.”

Those young adults are now 26 and 24, and it is five damn years later.  And still rather extraordinary young adults who probably still share some of my genetics.  And are not in The Park.

Strangely enough, i found myself spending New Year’s Eve doing exactly the same thing i did five years prior.  House dance party, hosted by a friend that i have now known for over 30 years.  Wrote it up in my third damn blog post.

The words i wrote five years ago:  “And my body feels it today… there are certain muscles one only uses for dancing.  Or maybe for…well…horseback riding?  In any case, i was a bit out of shape to survive 4 hours on the floor unwounded.”  Could have been written this morning.  Or afternoon, seeing as i didn’t wake up until after the sun was riding high in the winter sky.

Once again, i danced for fourfuckinghours.  In a smallish costume (due to thermal management interests more than showing of my rack).  And once again, i am feeling it today – in a very good way.

This year, i rang it in with Studley.  Reflecting by the fire pit, it occurred to me that i could pin myself to the exact same place five years prior.  Seven years prior?  i’d met him at a New Year’s Eve party – and it was a casual “drive by” hug that he delivered at midnight that brought us together as friends, and later, as lovers.

Studley:  You know, in five years from now?  You will be retired!  You are planning your last day of work for December 31st, 2017.

daisyfae:  Holy shit!  You’re right!  And i know EXACTLY where i’m gonna be!

Studley:  I’ll plan to be your designated driver.  Pretty sure you’re gonna need a babysitter that night…

And it was off to dance for another couple of hours… Seeing faces i’ve seen for 30 years, and faces i first saw at the November dance party.

i seem to collect good humans in my life – from those amazing childhood friends, to the good people who continue to wander in on a remarkably regular basis, i don’t like to let such people get away from me.  Looking back through the comments?  Some of my regular blog readers have been with me for almost all of that five years – and i am astonished by that fact!

Here’s to old friends – in real life and in the ether of the internet…  And to adventures ahead!  Happy New Year!  Thank you for stopping by – i’m not nearly as sure of what i’m doing out here as i was the day i started, but it feels right.  And so…

and away we go...

Cleaning house…

The house of the heart.  Good to keep it tidy.  While excavating my office last week, i stumbled upon an ancient e-mail from my dear friend Yoda.  As i perform inventory on my soul, this was timely…

So much held in a heart in a lifetime.  So much held in a heart in a day, an hour, a moment.  We are utterly open with no one, in the end—not mother and father, not wife or husband, not lover, not child, not friend.  We open windows to each but we live alone in the  house of the heart. 

Perhaps we must.  Perhaps we could not bear to be so naked, for fear of a constantly harrowed heart.  When young we think there will come one person who will savor and sustain us always; when we are older we know this is the dream of a child, that all hearts finally are bruised and scarred, scored and torn, repaired by time and will, patched by force of character, yet fragile and  rickety forevermore, no matter how ferocious the defense and how many bricks you bring to the wall. 

You can brick up your heart as stout and tight and hard and cold and impregnable as you possibly can and down it comes in an instant, felled by a woman’s second glance, a child’s apple breath, the shatter of glass in the road, the words “I have something to tell you,” a cat with a broken spine dragging itself into the forest to die, the brush of your mother’s papery ancient hand in the thicket of your hair, the memory of your father’s voice early in the morning echoing from the kitchen where he is making pancakes for his children*. 

i am becoming more than comfortable with my future as a solo act.  A life lived fully, punctuated by remarkable friends, my smart and fabulous children, delicious lovers and even assorted members of my family – if only for comic relief!  Keeping collateral damage to others at the bare minimum.  There will be heartbreak and joy, delight and disappointment. 

What is a roller-coaster without ups and downs?  A commuter train… and nothing more.

Time to clean the “house of the heart”.  Fix up the guest rooms, set an inviting table – but make myself comfortable with a good book, a bottle of wine… and the demons in my head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

* Best American Essays, 2005, page 28, Brian Doyle, Joyas Valadoras.