Beats and Boats, part 1 ... prologue

Beats and Boats, Part One

Wow.

I haven't written in a while, which is regrettable since, just as in the past, these are the best times, the blissful times, the times when my heart is not afraid and this life is blessing me with something that I can only thank God, or the universe, and all you people for, which is peace of mind, and happiness.

These past few years were not easy, but to be honest, few of the things which shape us ever are. What did I learn? So much. I learned how much love can leave a deep wound in your heart. You could say this isn't a new lesson, and in a way it isn't- now after 26 years I have given my heart to many chances, and exposed it to many elements, and it has been worn and beaten into new shapes, sometimes unrecognizeable, sometimes, without a sign of life… but scars are not the only things these wounds give us…

… wounds give us the opportunity to heal, and to experience the beauty and the wonder of that healing. Their scars will remind us for the rest of our lives, not of the mistakes we made, but of the bravery we are capable of. Through it all, our hearts keep beating, even if we wish they would just stop because something in every single one of us, if we're lucky, has this thing called Faith. Whether it be in God, or in science, or in humanity… it pulls us through the impossible dredges of misfortune and consequence… to the other side, where we are given a chance to take a breath of fresh air, and to feel it in our lungs for the first time as survivors, reborn with greater self-awareness, compassion, empathy and strength. It might seem like I'm waxing optimistic, and what do I know about human life… all I know is what I've lived, and in this moment I am thankful, for everything, and I can only hope that you are blessed enough to be thankful, too.

The other day I learned about the monarch butterfly, which I didn't know much about.. except that it was beautiful. I didn't realize It was born to migrate north from wherever it hatched, and something in every one of those creatures told it to go from that one place in Canada, 2000 miles away to hibernate through the winter upon the trees of one forest in Mexico, among the millions of other monarch butterflies. I didn't realize that they would lay their eggs half-way through their journey back, and then die, never to return to their home and that their offspring would be the ones to continue toward complete the cycle. It was a beautiful story about every-butterfly, wrought with tragedy, community and new hope. It was so beautiful it took my breath away.

There is nothing new about the concept of death, or rebirth, or tragedy. The metamorphosis of a butterfly is a universal symbol of rebirth- but what I could not stop thinking about was that relentless desire to return 'home'… however futile that effort may be. Because of their lifespan, the monarch butterfly only lives for two of the four months required to complete the journey, but it continues on, anyway.

It got me thinking about all the places (and people) I have called home in my own life. I look through the pages of my journal and re-live everything, from laying on the warm concrete driveway of my grandparents in high school on hot Texas summer nights looking at the stars, to drug-fueled hedonistic parties clouded by glitter in the Hollywood hills. I daydream of bathing in the waterfall pools of Shangri-La in Maui, and of losing myself in the Vibe behind the decks at Dub War NYC for the first time.

Sometimes, I can't believe that person was me, that this is my life I have been living. As I sit here in my mother's house, I think in the past year I've finally realized that 'going home' doesn't exist, we do not live to crawl back into the womb. We do not find paradise just to stay there, and have it be that way forever, and if that is what we expect, when we return to the places we have been, we will be disappointed. Because just as we are no longer who we once were, these places have changed through our eyes. Life happens in a time and a place, made flexible by our memories, but always changing and becoming something that will never again be what it once was. That said every day of our lives, as we look for home in different places and activities and in each other, we find a different kind of home, often in the most unexpected places. And that is exhilarating.

I am glad I have finally accepted this in my life, because as long as I remember that, everything in the past will always be a part of me- and everything in front of me will be just Perfect.

This is not to say that Big Change doesn't frighten me, it does, very much! Big things are happening, wonderful things, and I am afraid. I have so many decisions to make, and soon. But I have to be brave. Because I think bravery is what got me here in the first place.

It's weird, but I really feel like the past six months have been so good to me, even though I lost my grandmother, who might have been the most important person to me in the world. Maybe it's because I realized, when I was holding her lifeless hand, full of still blood, that I had not lost her, that her blood flowed through my veins and the veins of my family, and that I would love her forever, and that she would continue to live in all the love I would give from then on, and in all the love that my love would inspire. When I cry about my Lola it is not really out of sadness, I am just so overwhelmed… every little thing we do MATTERS, everything we give in this world is immortal, and never lost. That is just the most beautiful thing I've ever realized.

I fell in love again this year. I totally didn't mean to! But he has taught me so much in the five months I've known him, just like those I've loved before him, and at the same time in a way I've never experience before, and never will again. I don't know what will happen between me and him in a month, or a year. I just hope he knows, for the rest of his life, how much I I will always appreciate his being a part of my life, and how much love I will always have for him.

The future is full of uncertainty and I feel like after six months of relatively predictable days and nights someone has hit the fast forward button, and all of a sudden I've got to make some decisions, and fast. It is not a curse to choose between one good thing, and another. In a few days I ship off (quite literally) to Mobile, Alabama to work in a shipyard. I have no doubt that it will be a great adventure. At the same time, I have been interviewing for a more permanent position in New York City. I don't know what will happen, but I know that either way I will be happy. Don't ask me how :)

In spite of this knowledge though, I am still afraid. I remember when I was younger, every time I would approach the last pages of a book I was really enjoying reading, I would experience great sorrow. Sometimes, as I turned to the last page, I would cry. When things are good, it's hard when there are no more pages to turn. I don't know what I am more afraid of, the end of things as they are, or the possibility that I am not yet ready for what's next to come.

But that's silly. We're NEVER ready! I'm really not ready. But there's no turning back, so here I come.