Just beyond the Milky Way...

 This is a picture of half of a mouth guard that I’m using to help with terrible arthritis in my left jaw. I didn’t even think of arthritis existing in one’s jaw, but it makes sense as a joint, even if it hasn’t had trauma - just from incorrect overuse (overbite), It got so painful that I could barely chew and had to go see a specialist; a specialist usually not covered by insurance, people who are specialists in a field that is considered secondary, like your eyes. A stupid amount of money later, here I am with one of three pieces that are doing nothing but convincing my jaw that all my teeth actually meet. (What is this witchcraft and who are these witches?)

However, instead of going do a rabbit hole of health care in America, aging, and how painfully long I went before I sought help with my jaw, I’m going to tell you a story.

A week or so ago, I had a dream that we were in Nairobi, Kenya flying to the Philippines. My friend Anne had recently retired and become a pilot in her second career, and we were on her flight. We were taxiing through the market in Nairobi (in a giant aircraft! somehow missing all the stalls and vendors!) to get to the runway and I stared out the window, getting lost in thought and started thinking about something else. And suddenly, the plane took off, leaving my soul in Nairobi. I came to realize that I was no longer connected to my body and freaked out. How was I going to reconnect with my body? I didn’t have my wallet, passport, or even my phone. How would my soul get through costumes? The plane landed in Manila and Lara called my friend Helen, who was in Nairobi, to talk to my soul. She was like, “Your lifeless body is here.” And I was like, I know WHAT DO I DO?! How do I get reconnected?!

There is precedence for this logic. When I was younger, middle school and early high school, I would go to bed at night and leave my body behind. I would be standing above my bed and see myself sleeping and then zoom into the night sky. I would fly above Cleveland, then Ohio, the US, leaving the northern hemisphere and the protective magical layers of our atmosphere. I would zoom past the moon, past the planets and their many dancing moons to the edge of the Milky Way galaxy, onto the edge of the universe. And there I would meet some of the patriarchs of mostly Western societies as dictated to young women from Ohio in history classes. Giants made of stars were Aristotle, Socrates, Plato, Jesus, (Christian) God, Confucius, Buddha, and maybe a few other interchangeable “thinkers” that were infrequent visitors that I had recently learned about in art class like Da Vinci or a rando like Nietzsche or Kant. I would be deep in conversations with them all when I would suddenly remember that my alarm would be going off any minute and I had to get back to my body in my bed or my soul would be left out here in the galaxy, among the stars. My soul would be lost; my body would move on without me.

I would say goodbye, and zoom back, heart racing, as fast as I could possibly go (obviously faster than the speed of light), from the edge of the Universe, through the Milky Way galaxy, past the planets and their moons, through the layers of the Earth’s protective atmosphere, to North America, America, Ohio, Cleveland, my community, my house, my bed. The alarm would go off and I would be relieved to be back in my body, in my bed, not lost to the stars.

I did this all the time.

Though that’s not why I grind my teeth at night.

Nothing else has changed.

 A year ago, my coach, 

who was like my therapist but not 

because we were only allowed 10 sessions together 

told me to quit my job. 

To leave my clients behind, let their contracts end.

She told me to go ahead and write. To be a writer.

I cried fat tears for all the things missing from my life.

Writing. I so desperately wanted to write. 

That's all I wanted after a global pandemic 

and a touch of cancer. 

There was a deep and visceral fear that I would die before I told the stories that I had to tell.

This feeling is familiar. The desperation was new.

And still, nothing else has changed.

I took the summer off. 

I let my largest contract end. I played pickleball. 

I drank beers with ABVs of less than 6% with my friends. 

I went to my annual family reunion with the only family who likes to reunion. 

And as I was checking into our hotel in Old Vegas, a character introduced herself.

I met some other characters. I feel like I might know them.

Friends got sick. Friends go better. Friends died.

And still, nothing else has changed.

I joined a playwriting group. 

I started reading more and joined the digital worlds of Kindle and Libby where I could get books instantly and never be bored.

I started physical therapy appropriately as summer came to an end. 

My back hurt. My knees felt unstable. 

Swirling MRIs and second options just told me I had "terrible arthritis" in one knee and "just arthritis" in the other.  

My zombie ACL was almost gone. I am a zombie eater. You'll want me on your apocalypse team.  

And still, nothing else has changed.

I learned that FOMO was really just anxiety in a pink party wig holding a chocolatini or lemon drop, depending on the event.  

I went to West Africa for the first time in 20 years - I was more nervous than I wanted to admit as a member of the alpha mafia. 

Is this why we always travel in groups?

And I took on more clients. Sometimes it was exhausting.

I bought a fancy computer bag to make myself feel better about it. 

I baked more challenging cakes.  

I bought cookbooks. 

And still, nothing else has changed.

I went to a writing conference and my heart was filled with joy, longing and belonging. 

I joined The Dramatist Guild because 

I was a playwright. I said it out loud. I checked a box. I gave them money. I am produced after all.

I pined for graduate school - for an excuse to read and write every day. 

I signed up for a co-working space. 

Now we have kittens who are mischievous.

I hear them climbing on the counters, chasing the flies we call co-workers.

Now I am bike training for the 50th Anniversary of RABGRAI this summer.

Now I have arthritis in my jaw. I cried eating holy basil tofu at Pink Bee with a friend.

And still, nothing else had changed.

Day 18 of 100 days of creativity

 Ok. I'm still working on this piece about who I am. The things that I know are true about myself. What a fun writing prompt.

So I wrote this piece about my community and it didn't sit right. Because they're relationships and they're two-way streets. I was going to then write my community loves me back. That is all a part of love. But that was the wrong approach. I need to acknowledge their love in my relationships.

I love my community of friends and I thoughtfully care for them. I value my friendships so very much. I show my love for them by showing up for each other, participating in adventures together, walking, talking, and having tasty beverages. We dance in ballrooms with masks and joy covering our faces; walk neighborhoods in search of flowers and kitties; talk tearfully on the phone; attend each other's life events. I make them delicious birthday cakes made with their preferences in mind. 

I also love sending mail. It's important to know that you're loved and that someone cares about you. It doesn't have to be in a big, splashy way. I love the colorful, funny, meaningful cards that you can pick out and the brilliant stamps that you choose from. We always got "decorative" stamps growing up. Never just the plain ones. Because again, life is too short to be anything but colorful. Why get boring flag stamps when you could get Lunar New Year Oxen, Coffee cups filled with sunshine, spring flowers, states, famous writers, singers and athletes, landscapes, seascapes, moonscapes, galaxy, other country flags. There are so many beautiful ways to tell people that you're thinking of them. And that you care about them. That you love them. And their love in return is the best gift.

I am passionate and overly enthusiastic. These are both my words and words that have been said about me. I really do wake up filled with joy (also thrilled to know that coffee is in my near future.) 

Day 17 of 100 Days of Creativity

 Prompt: Compose a list of things that are true about you. Sit with each item, making sure you really mean it.

I was working with a therapist last July and we worked on my values at the time. These were the ones that I picked:

Love

Justice

Community

Courage

Creativity

Adventure

Optimism

Forgiveness

Vulnerability

Responsibility

Integrity

I started Justice, Creativity, Forgiveness, and Integrity as the core of my person. These were born into me. And I couldn't tease these out. I also couldn't tell you where they came from. This coach pointed out that these were all how I showed up in the world. She asked me what did I want from the world. I don't know that I've answered that.

This therapist is asking me to do the same thing. Look at my values. And then set goals around them.

The thing is when you go through big things like we all have this past few years, we might want to sit down and rework our values. Do these things still resonate with us? Are they still true?

So composing a list of things that I know is true about me has me thinking about values.

Yesterday I said these things are true about me:

I get my energy from people.

Exercise is essential to me.

I love color.

I love writing letters and cards.

Traveling is very important to me.

These are true. I think the I love letters and cards could be expanded to:

I love my community of friends and I thoughtfully care for them. I value my friendships so very much. I show my love for them by showing up, participating in adventures with them, walking, talking, and having tasty beverages with them. By dancing in ballrooms with masks and joy covering our faces. By walking neighborhoods in search of flowers and kitties, by taking their tearful calls, by going t their life events. I call them. I share with them. I make them delicious birthday cakes made with their preferences in mind. I also love sending mail. I want people to know that I'm thinking about them because I think it's important to know that you're loved and that someone cares about you. It doesn't have to be in a big way. I love the colorful, funny, meaningful cards that you can pick out and the brilliant stamps that you choose from. We always got "decorative" stamps growing up. Never just the plain ones. Because again, life is too short to be anything but colorful. Why get boring flag stamps when you could get Lunar New Year Oxen, Coffee cups filled with sunshine, spring flowers, states, famous writers, singers and athletes, landscapes, seascapes, moonscapes, galaxy, other country flags. There are so many beautiful ways to tell people that you're thinking of them. And that you care about them. And their love and care in return is the best gift.

I'm most content when creating. I can sew all night long. I can write for hours. I can read or listen to music (which I consider a part of the creative process) all day. I swear my heartbeat drops to 50 BPM when I'm in JoAnn's. However, I'm not a crafter who buys things and never does the project. I really don't have the room in my apartment or life for unfinished projects. I might have a few running at the same time, but they're small. If I had space big enough to dedicate to all my projects, that would be a different story. But I don't have that space. 

Day 16 of 100 Days

Prompt: Compose a list of things that are true about you. Sit with each item, making sure you really mean it.

I get my energy from people. When I am sad, confused, excited, depressed, celebratory, successful, or failing, I want to be with people. When I have tough news, the first thing I do is call people to connect. When I had a bad day or a good day, I was to go to a brewery and be around people. Even by myself, I would rather be with people.

Exercise is essential to me. It's my medicine, my edition, necessary for both my physical and mental health. The L4 I broke when I was a teen trying to impress a kid on my street, and ended up doing an endo on my bike, will remind me in excruciating detail how important exercise is to me. My wandering mind will remind me that exercise calms me down. I'm always worse off without it.

I love bright colors. I love bright vibrant colors and patterns. I always have. I am surely influenced by my mother who loved red with unbridled enthusiasm.  For the longest time, the only black pants I owned were the ones that wore as part of my work uniform at the China Lantern. My time in Peace Corps just solidified my love of colorful clothes, glasses, shoes, lipstick, earrings, necklaces, hats, coats, cars, coffee cups, plates, patterns, and life. Life is too short to wear anything but the most vibrant color that you can.

I love writing letters and cards. I love sending mail. I love receiving mail. I want people to know that I'm thinking about them and that it doesn't have to be in a big way. I love the colorful, funny, meaningful cards that you can pick out and the brilliant stamps that you choose from. We always got "decorative" stamps growing up. Never just the plain ones. Because again, life is too short to be anything but colorful. Why get boring flag stamps when you could get Lunar New Year Oxen, Coffee cups filled with sunshine, spring flowers, states, famous writers, singers and athletes, landscapes, seascapes, moonscapes, galaxy, other country flags. There are so many beautiful ways to tell people that you're thinking of them.

Traveling is very important to me and brings me incredible joy. It's not just the language and food and music and culture that I enjoy. I love researching the country, city, and community that we're going to visit. I like to read up on history and learn and listen. I listen to the language, how things are said, the tones, the music, the laughter, the business, the animals. I love to try my tongue at a new language. I love experiencing a new place with friends, with my wife, friends, or my family. It is such a privilege to be able to travel and I'm so grateful for that.

Day 15 of 100 days of creativity!

 I want to learn to sew with a pattern and zippers and buttonholes, with homemade bias tape and serged edges and contrasting patterns adapted to just my body.

I want to learn enough Spanish not only so that I can tell people what I want to eat, how much I want to pay, and where I want to go but also my deepest desires but better than a 5-year-old.

I to run 5 miles effortless any time of day and when a friend invites me to run a half marathon with them I do so without hesitation but am not the person to walk to far ahead of the group while hiking.

I want to always delight in spring, and sprinkles and cake recipes that have moments where I go, wait, why would you do that and I lean into that skepticism.

I want to write things. Some things. Plays, poems, short stories, long stories, life stories that make some people laugh, some people cry and others say I've read better. I want to read better. All of the time.

I want to be at more peace. I want to be grateful for all the things that I've had all the time.

I want to bling. I want my physical appearance to precede me and I want to always have an open and nonjudgmental heart. 

I want to lead with love. I want to figure out what that means exactly too. I want to make sure my community feels this love. I don't want to be naive but honest, courageous, and vulnerable.

I want to create a reservoir of my energy for my family, my wife, and for things that I love. 

I say I want to learn to play an instrument but I don't know that I can do that. I am restless and don't have a quiet mind. I definitely don't have a counting mind. I want to be instantly good at it. I need to build up the same kind of patience to learn music that I would have to learn Spanish. I know that music is the universal language and I want to speak it.

I want to rest. I want to learn to rest the same way that I want to learn Spanish and play the guitar. I want to sit in peace and be satisfied. I want to find a flow that isn't FOMO. My intense fear of missing out has given me a life of adventure. So has money, privilege, and whiteness.

I want to immerse myself in art. I want to create art. I want the hotel in my head to always be open and always be occupied with stories that need to be told by travelers traversing this space and asking me for a minute. When the hotel is open and I'm at the reception, the hotel of stories in my head quickly fills up and if I give it time and space, their stories are told and they move on leaving a soft warm bed for the next weary traveler. 

I want that curiously that I had when I was younger and wasn't so exhausted but life and stressed by the burden of justice. Surely justice needs a break every once in a while too. She must get exhausted from the fight because Hope and Justice are warriors. They're not fragile. They're spirited and weathered. And I want to make space on the park bench that I'm for them to come sit next to me and take a break. I'm confident that they'll kindly decline because they have so much work to do. And because Justice always has hope, she's never tired.

I want to have enough money so that I can retire. So that I can stop working and play my guitar and sing in Spanish. But I don't need more than what my family would need to survive and thrive.

I want to say yes to those things that scare me.

I want my wife to feel loved and supported all the time. I want her to feel close to me like she knows me so very intensely and not the stranger who has occupied my body. I want to feel as much love as I feel for her while we're camping unplugged from everything. When no one and nothing distracts me from living very intentionally in every single moment. 

I want all of these things. 

Day 14 of 100 Days of Creativity

 From the Writers Block: Tell a story that centers around a recipe

Our family's pecan pie is very famous. It's not too runny or sweet. It has a butter and caramel flavor. The pecans aren't mushy. The crust is golden with lightly browned edges. Everyone, with all their animosity and differences, love this pie. Love it.