It’s true what they say. The adult world is boring. People forget how to live. What it is to live. And why. People forget everything. People convince themselves that life is about obligation and compliance and how well you can fool everyone into thinking you love doing what you always despised.

I mean, I’m not a child. I know the adult world has immense beauty. Being fully formed – that’s a beautiful thing. Full of all your cognition and self-awareness and walking that trapeze line towards wisdom. Those are incredible things. Not giving a shit anymore and feeling confident to exist as you are, that’s a great thing. But standing still in the same place and being forced into the same mundane banalities day after day after day…that’s always been something I’m angry at our society for. That they think that any human life is worth just standing behind some cash register. That people think the classism and bullshitism we all subject ourselves to constantly is a passable way to live. That any person feels justified in employing people to do soul killing work. Mind numbing, bumbling work. Yeah, yeah, yeah I just sound like an idealist. But I just wish people respected one another’s humanity.

Wasting time. I used to obsess on this feeling of wasting time it would drive me crazy. Which is why I started sprinting at a fast speed. This feeling was literally consuming me. I think I’ve learned how to control that feeling a little bit more – simply because I am no longer in charge of my life. Jamie makes decisions for me and for that freeing reprieve I am grateful. I can only do what I can do when I can do it. And I can no longer beat myself up about it in any other way. Anything that I AM able to get done seems impressive to me, because I’m a mother after all. And a single mother at that. It’s unexpected, those strange gifts you get given. I never thought losing control on my time would be such a psychological blessing. Then when he IS down for a nap, I feel a fantastic pressure to move and accomplish in my little moments to myself. And then I feel proud that I was able to do something while he napped rather than frustrated that all day went by and all I got done was this little thing. Strange gifts children give you, if you look for them. Perspective, mostly.

The weekend though, was a marvelous thing. Dripping and folding and twisting with rain. Lecture at the Waldorf school on Friday night on Social Harmony. Beautiful people discussing conflict, not being afraid of it and how to understand and validate everyone’s needs in a situation. The term “needs literacy”. Beautiful thinking people in a beautiful place. Saturday playing with Jackie. Walking in the rain through the farm, bouncing through puddles and laughing at strange somethings that were happening all around us and all within us. Lovely, thoughtful girl she is. Laughing bundle of joy Jamie is. Sweet, chilling, burned at the edges, contrast filter high kind of afternoon. Where all the jolting sights of autumn come crawling towards you with cold fingers and gravel pathways. Then Bryan’s ridiculously great party. Unexpected and bounding, feeling young and fervent. Meeting random new people and dancing around with a colander on my head. Dance on the first floor like sudden joy of old high school dances. Like I could be a real person. This winding mansion of a home he shares with ideals and truths and all these wonderful notions. 8 people sharing a house under the name – The Philadelphia Service Co-Op. Trying to live cooperatively and consciously for a reason- sharing expenses, buying things in bulk, trying to live green, doing community service projects, deciding things democratically, hosting dances and parties and trying to create a community. All of these amazing pockets of my life that have opened up now that say it’s ok. It’s ok to think that the way we live our lives is weird. That society is weird and we can do better. All these things I wish I knew were out there waiting for me in high school. All these places and faces and opportunities for people to say it’s ok. I think so too. And we can make a better world. All these places to tell me I wish I had known I wasn’t alone. I went to school in the squarest place. But it formed me and it made me push against it and one day the world lifted it’s veil and said – just kidding. You’re not alone. You can come out into the light – there are lots of us trying to walk the red line.

Then Sunday. To church this wonderful sacred home of a community of smiling faces that look right through you and love you because you exist and trust that you have a clean and clear heart simply because you’re a human. To a lovely visit with Mr. Bush in his sweeping and swelling beautiful apartment tucked up in a back pocket of Russell Hall – this swollen building I cling to with such a gorgeous love. And such honesty, and such recognition and such easy conversation and such listening and such hearing and such reverberating of important words off of handmade clay sculptures and vividly beautiful paintings. And that sense that I cannot hide from him. The nearly immediate confession of “Josh called me and told me you’re living with your mom.” The way he looks right into me and knows me. Sustenance. A relationship I am ever grateful for. Jamie playing with candlesticks. Then a spontaneous roadtrip with mother to Chester, NJ. To absorb the fall foliage, to get out of the house, to drive, to see, to explore. The trivial thrill of new streets, of new bricks, of new street signs and lamp posts and new names that make you feel like something worth exploring is found. Tumbling home in the dark. Catching up on all those lovely TV shows I didn’t get to watch. Bumbling to bed so full of all the things this life is offering me right now.


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