A sharp couple of weeks

Orangelina before the rain

Despite batting around .950 these past weeks (which would be extraordinarily good for baseball) and also despite finding the world’s most delightful tenants for the Ranch (seriously), having the cutest lizard in the world in the honeysuckle and the sweetest cats and a kind, handsome husband, and intelligent, loving children, and the monsoon starting with lots of excitement, lightning, and sweet rain, despite being the animating force of one of the genuinely most enjoyable lives ever lived, I’m a little bit blue. I know this is wrong, because no one so fortunate should ever be sad, but it’s hard to use logic to heal sorrow.

I’m having the same old trouble in a very narrow line of life; I cheat the suspicious processes of love, and I pay later.

I do this all of the time; I deliberately get involved with people outside of their normal ability to interact. If I’m interested in someone, I slip past their mental security guards, I ditch the door-watchers of their souls, I flow like smoke through their vents, past their common sense, and there isn’t honestly much they can do to resist.

In those circumstances, when people find me standing next to them, sparkling with a rather unusual excitement and zest for life, they might spontaneously do things that they don’t normally do; they branch out, they unbend, they confirm or expand on the story written on the inside walls of their palaces or their shacks… they love me back, we have a glorious time together. But.. there is often a time limit. Sometimes people come to resent the intimacy that they’ve granted me. Sometimes they are upset by things that I say/do/feel. And of course life is always simpler without magicians in the room.

And it doesn’t make me angry when I’m shut out, and it’s not even really confusing, and it doesn’t devalue the closeness that maybe I stole; it just hurts, because I’m the dog outside the door.

For some reason, I think of my university career, which ended abruptly after two years; I’d refused to listen to anyone, and I started as a freshman by taking entirely higher level courses (professors are happy to sign the waiver cards for students who are obviously up to level) and at the beginning of my junior year, they said that I couldn’t get a diploma, ever, until I’d gone back and taken all of the tedious introductory sessions, and I said, “I’m not doing that, ever”, and it was over.

And it doesn’t really change anything; it doesn’t go back in time and ruin any of the joy I had, at 16, sitting in on advanced discussions on literature, or psychology, or architecture. It just means that we all lost an opportunity, but life is made of potential, and it’s not like “when one door closes, God opens another”, a phrase that almost makes me insane with rage against stupid- the doors were always there, always available.

It’s just that the only way some people can see them is if they’ve had a shock.

At times like this, when I’m heart-sore, I try to be proactive. I reach out to people who love me (but they aren’t always available) I cuddle my cats (but I can’t always find them) I sit under the sky (which is, thank God, always above me).

It just takes a bit of time. As ever, I throw myself into my work, and I review the many ways in which I am fortunate, blessed, surrounded by love and excitement.

But I can’t help the ache.

12 thoughts on “A sharp couple of weeks

  1. Wow, Kate! Jung wrote about the “Collective Unconscious”. I love your sharp edged reflections and feel moved by them. Maybe we are sharing a few neural pathways. Sometimes I feel like you are writing from my mind. I think that creative people experience “life” through a different “filter of perception”. A risky but wildly exciting ride!

  2. Sometimes, often because of early life experiences, people can’t believe or accept that they are worthy of attention or love and so they pull back or resist. They may initially let their guard down but then self-doubt creeps in and they end up pushing people away. Those of us who love the people who come into our lives with joyful enthusiasm sometimes get hurt when this happens. Despite that, we persevere because that’s who we are. Love and enthusiasm travel out from us like rings on a pond. I’m sending some your way. <3

  3. Yes, life may be simpler, more predictable “without a magician in the room” but how boring that would be. I cherish our friendship and your enthusiasms. Also a bit glad to pass the honor of “Oh, Alma” along to “Oh, Kate”, though I can’t yet give it all up.

    • I can’t even think of the last time I did anything actually offensive, other than calling Paula Deen a pig on Facebook, and calling on Southerners to stop tolerating her style of sugared and buttered racist crap. I annoyed a lot of Southerners, but they ought to suck it up and help stamp out the Paula Deen mentalities that exist in comfort among them. Arizona is packed with heavily armed redneck racists in bunkers, and yeah, as a native resident, I consider it partly my responsibility to make sure that they don’t infest society outside of their bunkers. And, when possible, to help stamp them out.

      But other than that, as far as I can tell, I’ve just been working hard, and trying not to put myself forward. I find it so pointless to try to not offend people, when they will take offense over God knows what, at seemingly any random time. I just try to keep my head down.

  4. I don’t know quite what to say to this post other than I am feel honored to have you as a friend. I could say something like, well, into each life a little rain must fall la la la la la la…but I am not like that and it wouldn’t help you. Once you posted that someone in your life felt bad or irritated about you writing about being happy and that they could not find happiness (which is a choice.) Maybe you made just one someone happy today because you are feeling down. Love you, girl.

    • I love you hard. I think of you every single day, not just because of the Memorial Prickly Pear and the SuccuRing.

      (Also, very slow to get the joke, what a great thought, that someone else could find a scrap of schadenfreude/joy in me having a sad day. Ha! I think of myself when I hear Roger Miller sing Do-Whacka-Do, how it looks from the outside, “ridin’ down the street in my big Cadillac, girls in the front, girls in the back, way in the back all my money in a sack, hands on the wheel, shoulders right back.” What a hilarious comparison with reality. But sometimes my life looks like more good luck charm and less hard work from the outside.)

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