A Healthy Ecology Is The Key To Renewed Engagement

03/31/00 Friday ~8:15 pm

I left home this evening intending to try to see this guy’s installation at the M.C.A. Graduate Gallery on Poplar by the Circle K.  That was perhaps an hour or more ago.  When I got to the gallery, it was closed, so I went to the park.  It was way too close [to dusk] even to think about walking the trails, so as a result I’ve spent an hour fitfully walking, walking, walking on sidewalks and on the green.  I so want to connect with people — and yet, I don’t.  I say I crave connection, but yet I mostly seem to want to be left alone.

I’m still falling in the pattern of wanting to connect, yet not wanting to, of broadcasting my interest and then skittering away like a frightened beach crab at the first sign of interest.  Ironically enough, here it is 5/3/2010, and I am wrestling with the desire to do just that yet again, with another potential friend (or whatever) that I’ve recently met.  Why do I step outside of myself at all if I’m just going to run away whenever I do get any interest?  Why am I so terrified to commit myself to relating to anyone, to make a friend and keep one?  Why is potential intimacy so frightening that I feel the need to flee when I see it coming?]  I can’t figure me out sometimes.  Why do I crave connection, yet fear it so?  Why do I strive to be noticed, yet run away at the first sign of potential interest?

Steph. seemed to think that planting flowers would help me get past my block against reaching out.  To some extent, that theory seems to work for me.  If I can commit to putting seeds in the ground, watering, and attending to their needs, if I can nourish a seed to produce a plant, then I am not totally socially inept.  I always thought that I chose to relate to plants because they were somehow easier and required less involvement than people.  Now it turns out that engaging fully with plants has become the key to my renewed engagement with people.

05/03/10 — Ironically, again, I have been working in the yard today, laboriously hand-mixing dirt and peat, papering expanded beds in two places in our front garden.  Yesterday, Hi and I worked for four solid hours in the hot sun. We moved and partially organized all of our pots and trays, from beside the garage to behind it, where they will be less noticeable, raked and mowed the edges of the now exposed area, mixed soil, and eeked out half a dozen or so mini beds beside our garage.  It was a very productive day.

As plant-oriented as I have been in my mind, I’ve always carried with me my father’s reluctance to get dirty.  When I can somehow overcome that reluctance, my heart often opens and I find myself feeling more connected, more grounded, more alive than my day-to-day existence would ever allow.

More and more lately, I find myself engaged physically in maintaining and uplifting our personal environment.  I spend the heat of my days off sorting, washing, folding or culling our clothes.  I rake, mow, plant, expand beds, one day I even cleaned out Chris’s old 280Z.  (We are one step closer now to starting it and potentially selling it!)

As I get more physical and more engaged, I become more grounded, more at peace, and though I most of the time work alone, I have become more social, more engaged, and more emotionally and intellectually connected with people around me.  Though I have been a lifelong loner, and have long struggled with my intimacy issues and my difficulty with making and keeping friends, physicality and engagement seem to be bringing me out of a decades long social coma.  It’s been perhaps 10 years since I’ve written regularly, and now I’m actively keeping a blog.  A new friend coaxed me out to an open mic at a local coffee shop.  The first couple of times, I went to see him again.   Now I’m feeling drawn to continue going for a much more long lasting reason: I feel like this blog is beginning to reawaken in me the desire to write more seriously than just one offs and personal rants.  Now I feel like if I continue going out and engaging in the open mic environment, the next logical step is for me to read, or sing, or otherwise perform.


6 April 2000 Thurs. ~9:30 am

(Written on the back of a Wild Oats receipt for a $3 cold deli meal)

Spontaneous poetry from a night of frustrated sauntering through the park:

Always wandering, always wondering

Never listening, always craving

— One day to be full.

Always surface, never substance

Always truly be alone.

03/31/00 Friday ~8:15 pm


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