I've been San Francisco for the past few days. It's the first time since I left that I haven't had weird twangs from my past life. I've started to make new memories. I'm staying at one of my oldest friends and her house is so comfortable, I feel at home. The first night, I rolled over half expecting to find S and was surprised not to.
I've really enjoyed the brisk mornings and my commute up 19th Ave through the Park, watching the two orange horns of the Golden Gate appear behind the hills of green. Then it's just historic buildings and the bay and a room full of people with interesting activities, learnings from very many diverse backgrounds.
I had some surprising news last night. Shocking in fact, because it hit me like a baseball bat out of left field and knocked my emotions into a pulpy bloody mess. News that makes everything else in my life so small, my recent angsts so petty. The only reassurance I have is that possibilities I know will never exist in this limited reality, must exist in another. It's a second golden ticket from the universe. And the pain and payment for this one is much greater. "The broken mayonnaise jar on the white kitchen floor." A hard reminder that every moment counts. Every infinite moment in the actual past or future. I will not grieve yet. Not for the future that can not be or lost moments of the past. There are moments now - today. And if I am aware, I can make each moment last for infinity.
There is a trick in there. But here, on this longest, darkest night of the year, I can't find it. I have found the faith to be what I am and had it shattered in the same day. That makes my faith stronger and makes me hate it - the strength binding me. It makes the drive for me to be what I am even stronger. That is trick in this ticket. The shattering of what will never be. And because it will never be, I must become what I am. No more hiding in the curtains.
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