serene

It is 1:30am. My alarm is set for 6am. My body and mind are calm and serene. I am typing in bed, with my wet hair on my pillow. My legs are bent to act as a desk for my laptop. I can feel that the corners of my mouth are turned up. I hear the gentle crashing of the waves. There may or may not be some wetness developing at the corners of my eyes.

I am satisfied. In general. In life. My brain was full early today, trying to work out my schedule of when I am supposed to be where and how I am getting to each. I was constantly pre-organizing my cleanse routine and how that would work for my busy evening and the following two days, away from home. I made it to yoga and the farmers market. I secured the wireless mics to use this weekend.  I did my laundry. I was ready on time when my ride came to pick me up.

I ran late to help for a set-up. I very much dis-like being late, but I knew that being upset at my lateness would not change it. I apologized to the person I was meeting (she was running late too, perfect) and chose my timing and the traffic that showed up. I enjoyed being in the driver’s seat of a car and singing my heart out to the music that was handed to me on the radio.

I got a parking space right in front of my destination, but didn’t know it, and walked the wrong way up the street. Asked two strangers on the street if they knew of my destination and was pointed back to where my car was parked to be welcomed by friendly faces and hugs. I jumped in wherever I could to be of service in any way possible. I counted books and stickers. I checked a microphone. I scooped vegan ice cream. I led people to their seats. I counted empty seats. I loved it all. I was so happy to be of service, I really, really, really was. I love to jump into things, with whatever I got and just be there, for whatever is needed. I was reminded of this tonight. I am grateful for that. The reminder and for the ability to jump in and fully be there to serve.

Next, I went to support an amazing friend who is battling Lyme disease. She was holding a screening for a documentary made on the disease as a fundraiser to help pay her monstrous medical bills. I went solely for her. I wanted to show up for her. I wanted to show up tonight, physically as a presence and I want to show up for her as a support. I know what it is like to not be someone who asks for help. I want her to know that I am here for her. I am support.

On the way home, I checked my voicemail and by the tone of the voice I could tell it wasn’t a skippy happy one. A friend was calling to get clear with me about some things she realized that she had been making up about me. Me as a person and me in our friendship. As I listened to the message, a huge smile spread across my face. I love when people get stuff out. I love when people are honest. I love when people are authentic. Even though she was talking about me and not saying the most pleasant of things, I was so happy that she was getting this stuff out of herself.

I totally understood everything that she expressed. I got where she was coming from. I was so happy that she expressed this to me. I started to instantly respond to her in my head, I was explaining out each thing that she had made up about me. I was not angry or upset.

Then in the middle of my pretend conversation with her, I got angry. I made up that all of my “friends” from that group must have been gossiping. They must all feel this way. Well who cares? I don’t need them. I moved away from them anyway. If that is what they think about me, then f*** them.

I started to cry, thinking that once again, I am the only one that I can depend on. I am the only one that believes in me. Then the song, “I hope you dance” by LeAnn Womack came on the radio. This is the song that most reminds me of my dad. On my birthday one year he gave me a book and CD of this song and it is the song that he and my sister danced to at her wedding. Perfect song, perfect timing. I let the tears roll and all of the anger, all of the emotions roll away with the tears.

Now, here I sit (lay) perfectly peaceful. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what that friend made up. It is what she made up. It is not the truth. I have no feelings but absolute love for her and excitement for her authenticity.

I find it kind of fitting that I tweeted this quote earlier today.

When men speak ill of you, live so as nobody may believe them.---Plato

Whatever she said, whatever she thought, whatever anyone says or thinks it doesn’t matter.  The real truth is who I am being in each moment.  I am the proof.  I don't need to defend who I am with a fight of words.  It is who I am that shows who I am.

To bed I go now, serene with bliss in this life we call life.