The horse you're on

We had the third session of our course today, and just like last time, a participant said something to me I had such a hard time processing. I couldn't even remember this woman's name, and she came up to me at the break and said, "I enjoy you so much -- and I wanted to tell you, you remind me of -- or rather, my daughter reminds me of you." Then she proceeded to tell me about her 10 year old daughter, and how unusual and bright and connected and *energetic* she was, how she drew the best energy from what was around her. Her name is Rachel, this daughter, and L said that she recently said to her, "mom, you have to ride the horse you're riding. Fight the duel you're dueling."

I found this delightful... and it also smacked me like a paradox. Several participants in this course have given me this kind of feedback, this "you make everything seem possible" kind of feedback. In really amazing, astonishing terms. And yet, I feel like my way of collaborating with my colleagues has been strangled at times, I feel tired so often and not particularly energized or insightful, and I feel like I've wandered through my weeks feeling bleak and bereft. So often on the verge of tears, or beyond frustrated, unable to find the rhythm with the people I'm supposed to be close to.

It's such a weird paradox, and echoes so much in my life -- that I have these full, loving, rich, powerful relationships with people who are at arms' length, but that people in my intimate space get my full, prickly, scratchy, tiresome, tiring self. Especially right now, when I'm playing out the complaints and pains of this move that would normally be inside the partner space on so many people. When I played out the devaluing I was feeling with F, the knotted dissatisfaction in being angry when I wasn't getting what I needed with "safer" people. I don't know how to bring these things together.

I am trying to hear the wisdom offered by this 10 year old. To ride the horse I'm riding. To remind myself of the joy of this move, not the fatigue and endless, ENDLESS difficulty of logistics, not to feel exasperated and angry when people don't see the rawness of it. To be grateful for those who do, and to surpass it. To revel in the opportunity of a year of shivasana, instead of feeling resentful and angry that this is so different than my pdx sojourn three years ago, when I left two casual lovers behind in TO, was full of anticipation about my phd work, and had the opening up of the connection with F flickering at me. I have somehow absorbed a story that there isn't much ahead of me... and I need to look at the horse that's moving and really grab this for the adventure that it is.