santa fe saturday

Having a sweet unexpected morning of walking around Santa Fe and feeling grateful. It’s a crisp day here and the sky is that surreal hue, clear blue. Things don’t always go as you expect, in fact I guess they never do. Tried to go to a yoga class and move and stretch a bit and empty my head but class was full so I went to the Farmer’s Market instead. Walked around talking to my mama on the phone and observed all the sweet people around, holding their friends or their babies in tow, while they looked at herbs and cheeses and dipped breads into sauces or picked funky shaped carrots and sunchokes. Walking around, I appreciated the comfort and familiarity of it all, Santa Fe peeps decked out in their colorful layers and well worn boots, faces tanned by sun.

It was a morning of laugh lines and wrinkle lines, neighbors greeting neighbors. After noon, a warmhearted gypsy pirate man with a ponytail and hat and square toed boots called out “Two for One!” on pastries, burritos and such. Got a free squash and corn tamale and took a seat. Was prepared to just soak in the atmosphere and retreat. Then this girl sat across from me and struck up a conversation about the good fortune of our timing on the food. She was so open and friendly I felt my observant reserve melt and I remembered how I used to be like that a lot more around strangers, meeting people on buses, planes, and trains when I was around the ages of 19 to 24. It was refreshing to be like that again, to not feel so protective of my energy in the midst of the hustle and bustle, a habit I developed from the Boston years. It turns out that she had moved from Annapolis, close to where my parents live, and that we live close to each other here, just down the street from the Co-op.

There was this freewheeling sense in the air, like anything could happen and everything was just right right, just enough.   A grounded earthy feeling when picking out apples and potatoes, that I’m picking out just what I need for the week, and that I will use it all, that it is sacred material.

Sweet “two for one!” man came by with a pitcher and poured us a free chai to top it off!

Then my friend Kathleen stopped by the picnic tables and it was a joyous reunion. Turns out that she is taking her first Craniosacral class this weekend and is in love with the work. I’m so happy to hear this because she is a natural, with healer hands and expansive spirit. I know she will be in it, dance with it, let it move her. It reminded me too of how powerful Cranio is.  Just being around her and hearing her talk, I remembered the depth of that energy that you tap into, this space of rhythms and waves, muscles and bones and organs in the body quietly adjusting themselves like sleeping animals.

All these things I am grateful for. It’s been a strange week of turning what feels like this epic adultish age of 30. Been looking around and simultaneously appreciating all the incredible people in my life and also feeling my heart hurting because it seems that it’s not gonna work out with this one incredible person that I’ve been getting to know… I’ve felt sort of confused, like wait, what? I thought you were the…but no, ok and now, nope guess it’s not happening…

My dear friend summed it up last night: it’s like you’re standing on the banks of a river and this something that you thought was so close, so real, so something has just slipped out your fingers, gone into the water. The water is rushing past and you know you had them for a moment, and then the moment is gone. And you are standing on the banks, looking and looking, waiting for them to reappear…Maybe you even chase after them and fall in the mud. But no. They’re gone. They wanted to go. They had to.

And in the ache, in trying to wipe the mud off your face, you tell yourself all these stories. How it always happens to you, how you can’t believe it happened again, how you always choose wrong, how you must be all wrong…how how how… Oww.

And then you hear a rustle, footsteps. Crack of wood and spark of a fire. And you walk a little ways and see that there are some people gathered farther down the banks. They’re cooking something. Someone makes a joke. Seem like nice people. And you’re cold so…you walk closer. And they welcome you. Mud on your face and all, they invite you to sit with them…and you marvel how it happened, but there it is, here you are.

In the end, my friend said, what happened? You didn’t get what you wanted. You wanted to be with this person and it didn’t happen. But. It’s ok. You’re ok. The scenery has just changed, is all.

— written 1/19/2013

 

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