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I barely notice the little pad of paper that sits near the base of my monitor on my work desk. It simply resides there now with the assorted clutter that comes with the clerical nature of accounts payable, neighbors with a few staple removers, paperclip chains, old and new post-its, cheery colored flags and paper that reproduces like single cell amoebas.

When I do notice it, I realize that when I'm at work, I have very few creative thoughts. That was interesting to acknowledge. I work at a start-up, so the duties I have are at least a job and a half or two jobs. I'm never done. It's just a matter of accepting what it is and deftly managing all my superiors and co-workers who need various things from me. Not sure how deftly I do that, but know I'm drained at end of day. 

My direct supervisor is on maternity leave and her manager oversees our little team and he is mellow, nice, thoughtful, smart and very good with people. Not a blamer, just shoots straight to how to handle whatever.

On-leave manager is very A personality. Gets angry, speaks with anger, drills people. We are really hoping the baby mellows her. I'm going to his 60 day birthday party tomorrow night. My co-worker and I went in on a gift. She is a full-fledged accountant and has stepped up and done great work. I don't think she'll get yelled at anymore. But we don't know. I'm sure I will. So we went big and bought the baby a Tiffany silver spoon. We joke endlessly with each other that when on-leave manager comes back and gets angry with us, we will visualize the spoon and project it into her brain, wear pendants with spoons on them, have t-shirts made with silver spoons, wear spoon earrings, spoon hair accessories and on and on. Remember we spent too much money on you for direct reports? We don't mind at all.

So, my creative right brain at work, has to be partners with lefty. It's all about organizing that works for me, creating a schedule and procedures to get through my various loads that work for me-not what on-leave manager thinks it should be. Forming relationships with all the people in the organization that I need information from. Righty is busy figuring out how to live in society not forming words that touch people and express that deep longing in my soul. Maybe those words are being stored by Lefty, would be nice.

I haven't meditated in ages, but I do yoga almost everyday. I walk several times a week. I have a boyfriend which is another way of growing. Getting this relationship in middle age has been very cool. Lot to be said about that timing, perhaps another time.

We hiked a bit at Mt. Shasta a few weeks ago. I never knew that area was so mountain filled. Incredible. Loved the whole spiritual vibe, we saw a cloud ship, the majesty and beauty and peace overflows the mind. We stretched ourselves and discovered in each other that we're good hiking partners, reasonably good athletes, love pushing ourselves, can't wait to get out more. Have talked about getting a small tent.

I didn't go to Burning Man this year. I missed it. Now I miss the after affects, the processing of all the experiences. I'll try for a ticket next year, I have no idea how the process will be.

I do get tired of people saying it isn't what it used to be, it's this or that, some people who have never gone have very vocal opinions. I say, it changes like every thing changes. Younger people will go and become loyal. Some will never go back. Old timers will eventually stop going. It's evolution and life. When you're there, you start experiencing it. That part I think, does not change.

No matter the red tape, the logistics of managing 55,000 people in the middle of a desert, no matter the rules or lack of, or whatever...it is being there, with 55,000 people, building your home, having your mind blown by art, nature, music, being solitary and hearing your own voice with 55,000 people. There is work, yes, building camp, keeping it clean, keeping food supply eatable, keeping your body going in the heat, getting along with your people, seeing yourself as you are, without the comfortable crutches we are so accustomed to back in default world.

Yeah, I missed it. Here in the bay area, so many people go, I see the dust covered cars here and there and my heart shatters for a minute then reforms.

I'm having brunch with J later this morning. After his therapy session on Wednesday, where he said he 'was beat up pretty bad and well deservedly' he wrote me a lovely invitation to brunch. His therapist has known him a long time and she called him out on his latest behaviors towards me.

I admire him a lot for going through with therapy. He is proving to be both old & new school. He really wants to change some things about himself, behaviors that stem from childhood, father issues, environmental, etc.

It was a lonely couple of weeks for me. People here on LJ seemed to understand me. The real-time friends I spoke to, depressed me, they all had similar reactions. Was I being too sensitive? Was I asking for too much? Men don't like to do this, or that. This is how it is with men.

What I heard, was that if I wanted this man and relationship with a lot of good qualities but others I wasn't comfortable, with, I would have to change.

Don't get me wrong. I always want to be more tolerant, handle things differently. But even J knew he had worn down my patience. He admitted he was passive aggressive and knew exactly what he was doing/saying. He admits he can be controlling and childish. He wants to change and be better for himself and me. He is firm in his resolve that I am for him. He said he's never known a woman like me that stood up for herself. He thinks I'm a sort of super female/ as in Superwoman. So that's lovely.

I can see in myself where in the past, I valued what my friends thought and advised more than what my gut was telling me regarding men. And I tried to change myself to accept what I didn't want to accept. And got no where by doing that of course. 

I'm looking forward to brunch. I've missed him. I'm bored with myself. I want to enjoy life and a close friendship/relationship again. It was a lonely few weeks especially with the gentle friendly suggestions and advice that I am too difficult for any man. Just some of them I think.

I have so many aches and pains in my body. 51 years on this earth. Is this normal? Am I withering down to a creaky crabby crone?

To the yoga mat!

Chilly early Saturday morning, family time with the cats (combing session) laundry churning downstairs, sun slowly melting fog away, reading all over the net and finishing Ann Patchett's State of Wonder. I have 2 more novels waiting for me, and fingers crossed, am hoping my first newly renewed New Yorker arrives today.

I've been starved of good reading, this past week I could feel the difference. I sleep differently; dreams are bits of the novels, bits of life's situations, bits of amusing nonsensical typical dream like things. During the day, I think of my characters, form questions that I wish the author had answered, wonder casually what will come next.

I will not miss what has become a pattern the last several weekends. The baggage mudslide that hits midway through the evening and I wonder what the hell am I doing wrong and then he admits its all him, and I agree, at least 95%. Of course, will miss the missable things. 

Feeling a bit miffed and slighted, also questioning why. That questioning of course, is a very healthy thing to do, to inspect one's thoughts and emotions. Still annoyed though. Space between thoughts and emotions is freeing. Space is created when one meditates and practices yoga, in our own bodies and minds. Creating space is so good and it's hard, because you have to S L O W it all down and step back.

J and I are on a break, because I think it will do us good, to communicate but not be together; it's the result of alot of his actions. He's got a macho streak, swath, freeway in him that translates to some inconsiderate behaviors. And this he knows, and is admirably working through this.

So, this weekend he's having a BBQ? Seriously?  It's a rather significant event, it's the first gala he's had in a year and a half, first party as a single man.

I really really really love this:

  “Here's all you have to know about men and women: women are crazy, men are stupid. And the main reason women are crazy is that men are stupid.”
― George Carlin, When Will Jesus Bring The Pork Chops?

No offense anyone.

Amazing times these are. Americans in the street peacefully protesting corporate greed, corporate rule; fighting for their homes, education, jobs, a living wage, a place to peacefully assemble. Finally, Americans in the street. Watch the videos of peaceful Americans being beaten by cops while politicians rail against human abuses in other countries. Are you watching? Are you awake? Turn off the corporate news, log online and read what's really happening. Visit your nearest city's occupy home. Americans in the street.

I didn't think this would happen in my lifetime. Now I'm honored. My heart is breaking for the demonstrators who are being beaten and robbed of their essentials needed to camp, to occupy. But I also know, because I've been there, that their humor, their will and their love is 'unbeatable.' Solidarity.

Amazing times. No job for so long. Living my life, staying responsible, getting to know myself, doing more with more people, recognizing and being happy with my own humanity, my own occupation.

Confusing and lovely times.  People walking into my heart. Me, actually being able to step into theirs.

I participated yesterday at Occupy San Francisco’s ‘foreclose Wells Fargo,’ my 3^rd Wednesday demonstrating.

I feel like this movement is the revolution I’ve been waiting for my entire life. It resonates on every level of my being.

The action took place during morning rush hour.  Tuesday night I couldn’t sleep at all, tossed and turn and thought. Partly the humidity of October in the bay area, partly many things on my mind, such as feeling something being born or recognized in myself. I’m going through a metamorphosis of some kind, which is also something that I’ve been waiting and seeking my entire life.

What started at Burning Man has continued and multiplied and become some sort of fractal presentation of myself, where everything I see and touch and think is related and relevant. For instance, what does freedom really mean to me? And having it is frightening and exhilarating, partly because of the disappearance of walls and structures, so many veils lifted; and if I have it, I must also gift it to everyone in my life. No more grudges, jealousies, feelings of lack.

So these thoughts are in my head and I’ve been trying to capture their forms into words.

Back to yesterday. I donated a big quilt to Occupy SF, I had bought it at a thrift store for Burning Man, stuffed it in a huge pillowcase type thing for a cushy seat, that  I never brought out of my tent, since the shade structure wasn’t as large as it was made out to be. 

I couldn’t fit it in any bag but a big garbage bag; I couldn’t take a sign, because it would rip the bag, so with a few essentials, holding the squishy bag to my body, I half trotted/ran to the Bart station since I was going to get there about 10 minutes late. I rode into the city with the morning commuters; it’s only a 15 minute trip. I got to the encampment, the quilt went to a young tired young guy, they pointed me in the direction of the march about 2 long blocks away, and in between waiting for lights, I ran to catch up and get in the midst.

Chinese, Filipino, Spanish and English were the languages of the day. There were infants and senior citizens. We basically surrounded Wells Fargo headquarters by picketing at each entrance, 2 main entrances, and 2 back entrances for employees. People sat in front of the doors, and inside the revolving doors, volunteers who planned on being arrested. The rest of us picketed. Around 8:30 is when the eleven people at the employee side door got arrested, they were released a couple hours later and came right back, they were just a few blocks away.

That and the back entrance eventually had a very small presence, we focused on the 2 main customer entrances, no one budged, no one got arrested, no customers got in. We shut the bank down from 9 to 12:30, as planned, then marched around it one more time. There was lots of traffic support, lots of good media coverage. Like most, I took pictures and posted on FB in real time.

For me personally, getting up at 4 because I couldn’t sleep, sipping coffee at home, then sprinting to Bart and then the march, then marching and chanting and singing, well, that’s a lot for an early morning.  My head and heart were thrumming with adrenaline and passion and solidarity with so many different people who participated.

I went to a McDonalds a block and a half away a couple times to use the restroom and bought another coffee. I had a banana at some point, and then bought protein bars at a Walgreens.  The energy was electrifying, the speakers were amazing. Naomi Klein showed up which was cool.

After the action was done, I walked back to Occupy SF. I really like being there. I also love that I’ve gotten involved while this movement is small because I’m meeting people, I’m meeting my people, we’re all our people I think.

I recognized a guy I had demonstrated with for the last 5 hours and introduced myself and we talked. He’s a software guy, lost his job, very into the movement. We were closest to the Federal Reserve building, standing on the edge of a circle of people who were discussing something intently, in the democratic way of the Occupy movement. Others were sitting around on tarps, the various tables for libraries, food, etc., were south a little, and the people sleeping were closest to Market St.

A new friend I met last week was nearby on a tarp playing his guitar, we waved and he came over and we all sat. I pulled out the sage I had brought for the march but didn’t light, since we were picketing, there wasn’t enough space to really burn it.

We talked and talked about life and the various actions and how the cop that started the aggressiveness last week was paid off to start something.  The guy with the guitar is a gifted singer and musician and free spirit with very good energy.  He left after a while and the tech guy and I leaned in to the meeting to listen.

They were discussing the letter they had just received from the city. The city was offering them a building, but with the thousands of homeless people in San Francisco who are arrested and moved constantly, they felt that was simply a fear tactic on the city’s part.

There was discussion about permits. Some thought they should apply for a permit for every different aspect the occupation offers, such as a library, food, first aid, etc. But it seems that was dismissed when the person with the letter said that’s not what the city was asking; they could apply for just one permit.

Since they can’t have tents on the sidewalk there is a lot of discussion about moving and scouting out parks. That’s a little sad, because being in front of the Federal Reserve building is amazing, being on Market, the bus drivers beep like crazy every time they go by, which is frequently, drivers honk, it’s a very symbolic place to be, if not totally practical, although the Bart station is right there too.

They discussed staying there which they can do, no one is moving them; they just have to do their cooking away from where the main group of people is and to eliminate wood-things that can burn. When we lit my sage, many people came by and made jokes to my guitar-playing friend about being careful for having a weapon. One of their group is in jail with a $50,000 bail for hitting a cop with sage.

They seemed to decide that a park would be best because they want to be self-governing, not told what they can do. It’s all about participatory democracy. Some felt they can do that on the sidewalk, as it’s their city, public property. But others like the park idea since they’re anticipating more joining the actual occupation.

They had been discussing for 2 hours, intelligent words and ideas coming out of every type of person imaginable, some living there, some donating their time and influence and resources.  They passed around a sign-up sheet for those that wanted to answer the letter from the city as it was decided that they wanted to answer all communication whether they agreed to it or not.

The next task was to scout out parks and decide which one they wanted to occupy.

It was very interesting, very powerful and encouraging.  It’s not all peace and love, but it is people speaking their truths in turn, respectful of letting each voice be heard.

I really like if not love, being there. I’ll be there often, until I’m working again.  I know for a fact if I was 20 years younger I’d be sleeping there a couple nights a week.

Occupy Oakland has a completely different vibe that I am not into on any level. I joined their page on FB but I don’t agree with their actions nor their ‘demands, ‘nor their very high opinion of themselves as an organized group. I don’t want to demonstrate with them either, because of the history of violence; I don’t trust them. My nerves and ethics just don’t fit into that model.

Oakland politics are filthy. The police chief just resigned under pressure from the mayor. People here are so mistrustful of the cops, and the same old voices are saying he resigned just when the occupations occurred, I suppose they think he would have swept them out of the park. I don’t agree, but he’s out now.

The SF group discussed the cop situation and determined the cops on the ground are there to protect them; they’ve gotten to know each other pretty well. It’s the layers of authority above the cops on the ground that they mistrust. I agree wholly with that. It’s nice to see the cops moving slightly to the music and chanting and singing during a protest. They can’t help it. Plus they know which side they’re on.

 So for this movement, my heart is in San Francisco.

 

 

 

Yesterday what I thought was blue was a low grade panic that escalated to full blown despair. I worked through it all. After the yoga, sage, a very hot tub, a pill, some wine, a long long chat with a beloved friend. Then finally sleep and today much better, just the heavy bones feeling of the adrenaline leaving. It's all good though. It's damp and gloomy outside, I stayed cozy. I wrote a poem.

I’ve surrendered.

 

My heart doesn’t behave like a door or window that I want ajar

just this much and no more.

 

Once opened, it yawns hungrily and claims more

and becomes so vast,

I occupy my heart

instead of it nestled in me.

 

How disturbing…how exhilarating…

I lose my balance.

 

Everything comes in.

 

Salty sea water

in which sometimes I surf, sometimes I drown

but just for a time

before I plunge up for air.

 

Dry metallic desert dust

envelops me; chokes and blinds me,

yet polishes me like white marble.

 

Bees and hummingbirds bring gifts:

a glittering tiny stone, small bones from recent feasts,

a scrap of paper, once part of a love letter.

They play a whispering magnificent symphony.

 

An ancient and nascent wind blows.

It cushions and lifts me on a journeying draft.

 

It caresses my cheeks and kisses my lips

and murmurs in my ear

 of past adventures, inviting me

to love further.

 

Free, revealed

seeking you

and me.

I woke feeling a bit blue this morning, in truth, I went to bed feeling a bit blue. I think I suffer from a feeling of lack, when good things are happening, I fear they'll stop. I see it, which is good. Because a lot of things are beautiful right now;  I'm a bit off balance. I'm not sure that's a bad thing though. I need my time in silence.

I meditated and did some practices and could feel strength pouring into my core. I just downloaded several new yoga practices, I may just do yoga all day. I've cleaned a bit,  done laundry, will chat with parental units, then get on the mat. I feel like being very quiet.

Yesterday I went to my neighborhood library branch and returned Jonathan Franzan's Freedom. What. A. Read. He is a brilliant writer. The library was closed due to lack of funding. The main library is downtown, but I'm not in the mood for the ugliness of downtown today.

After a lot of yoga, I'm going to start rereading The Savage Detectives by Roberto Bolano. That will keep me busy. I want to read 2666, but will try to find a used version since it will take a long time to read. Last time I read Savage Detectives I was transported, inspired, confused, entertained, renewed. It's an amazing book. Anyone read it?

Regarding the burning man blog post and the ephemeral relationships that are created on the playa, and then disintegrate in the real world…

I think burner buddies sounds too much like fuck buddies, but that’s not the part of the article I focused on.

I like how he says that there, we learn to say yes instead of no, but when we come back we start saying no again. I hadn’t heard it put quite that way before; I love that theory.

I think it’s true and I think the goal, mine anyway, is to keep saying yes, shouting yes, whispering yes, doing like the village people with my arms and making the letters Y E S.

Occupy Wall St. came at the perfect time of course. In the midst of actually being with the demonstrators, reading about NY and all the other cities, seeing the movement begin and then spread and spread and spread on FB gives me that YES feeling of burning man, where anything is possible, and the doing is more important than the outcome, just say yes and see where it leads, there is tremendous trust.

It seems to me to be the definition of freedom, of open heartedness.  A way to really live the principles we learn in the desert that seeps into our skin like the dust. It’s always a question of how do you carry that home, how do you keep all that fire and wind and dust and heat and love and YES alive in your heart when you’re slowly overcome by work or no work, money issues, health issues, relationship issues, life.

This is a really good way. My heart is in it for the long long haul, whatever happens. I’m drenching FB with photos and relevant articles about Occupy Wall St. I marched this past Wednesday at noon. We had almost 1000 people. It was great; down Market, to City Hall, through the Tenderloin, to Union Square and back to the Federal Reserve building. The cops cleared the streets for us. We saw people of every ilk, residents and tourists, every color, hanging out of buildings, employees in the banks waving at us. There was such energy.

Saturday the 15^th should be huge. If so moved please share in some way whatever information you can or join or donate. I think most of us here are the 99%. Mike check.

Empty hangers everywhere! I keep shuffling them from closet to closet, some hang, some live on the floor. I think I went from about 10 to 45. 45 empty hangars! Who took my clothes? I have no clothes!

I wrote something this morning about accepting autumn's arrival:  I've kissed summer good bye until we meet again and I welcome autumn! I look forward to the trees dressing in their flamboyant finery then shaking it all loose in the rain and the wind.

Maybe it was the picture of the trees in their gorgeous fall wardrobes, their finest costumes and the long dances they'll perform in the winter storms.

I heard voices:  I need clothes. Now. Today.

It's been years since I shopped for more than one article of clothing and that was usually at thrift stores. So today, I went shopping!

TJ Maxx and Old Navy, nothing extravagant. But I got some awesome buys on 2 dresses from Max Studio, one of my favorite stores, ($29 and $36 from $118), a pretty top to go out in, a fabulous pair of shoes that I just wanted, 5, yes five bras, 3 t-shirts, a warm surprisingly nice and fitted fleece type jacket, like a snug pea coat,  and a super cheap pair of cute earrings.  And I feel great about it. Everything is washed and drying.

I threw out my old bras, and stuffed some shirts that were still hanging yet I never wore into a bag for later donating.

I made some calls regarding the harassment at the last job and finally got to a top person at the temp agency who hadn't heard the story. I promptly received a call from my new recruiter. We'll see what happens there.

Tomorrow in NY will be a huge protest. I'll be in San Francisco doing my thing. Every body counts.