The Waking

Under the glow of a blood moon at 2am in the middle of the desert, after 10 days spent almost entirely on my feet, tromping up a dirt road incline in my mother’s vintage cowboy boots, a thought crept its way into my sleep-deprived brain: I would not rather be somewhere else.

For most of my adult life (and hell, most of my youth too), I have longed to be somewhere else other than where I am. Be it the city I live in, the party I’m late to, the person whose company I am objectively enjoying, my brain has regularly operated under a subconscious desire to be Somewhere Else. Much of this is owed to a dreamy disposition; most of it is due to one of those irrational beliefs I have lugged around my whole life like so many of us do: Once I have X, my life will begin.

So many years have been spent under the agonizing feeling that because certain things have not yet happened, my life is on hold until they do. Perhaps you know what I mean. That subconscious feeling that your life is happening, well, Somewhere Else. The place you aren’t.

This year knocked that belief flat out of me, for a number of reasons. From a strictly circumstantial perspective, it has been arguably the most challenging year of my life, some of which I’ve written about here, most of which I haven’t. Most of the material things I relied on in my life either disappeared or were severely compromised; relational fractures galore, both active and passive; a number of servings of humble pie.

On my birthday last year, I got a treatment at a Korean spa that I’ve dreamed of for years, in which my entire body was scrubbed so aggressively about 3 pounds of skin came off (apologies to the squeamish ones in the back). I had just gone through an extremely painful personal experience, and felt it was the right time to, well, shed myself of it. Absolute strumpet for meaning that I am, I wanted to walk into my new year with new skin, untouched by what had hurt me.

This year, in continuing the trend of new-to-me-wellness-treatments, I got acupuncture with one of my oldest and dearest friends. After a brief interview, my acupuncturist placed 6 or 7 needles all over my body, before telling me not to wince because she was about to “stab me in the heart.” You can’t make this stuff up!

And then, she left me alone for an hour, needle placed dead-center in that ever-hopeful heart of mine. Of the many experiences and images that rose to the surface, one favorite line from the cherished Babette’s Feast burst forth: “Through all the world there goes one long cry from the [acupunctured] heart of the artist: Give me leave to do my utmost!”

In the midst of so much pain, confusion, frustration, anger, and all around hullabaloo (I won’t even attempt to go beyond my cul-de-sac of personal experience there), my life is happening, to me—right here, right now. Not somewhere else. This was the first year I felt that way. So many questions that have historically loomed large—those lurking behind my faulty belief that My Life Is Happening Somewhere Else—have burst into flocks of starlings. The cry of my heart—“God, give me leave to do my utmost!”—does not require perfect circumstances, a certain zip code, what I think I want, or what I think I don’t have. It simply requires repeating.

In my post-acupuncture bliss, I walked down Wabash Avenue to meet another friend for dinner, at one of those old Italian joints absolutely radiating old world splendor. As is typically the case in the Loop, my map app stopped responding. One of my favorite poems rose to my mind’s surface, and I recited it to myself as I headed in what I knew was more or less the right direction.

Eventually, I arrived at the restaurant, and was soon surrounded by platters of pasta and more wine than I’ve ever seen in one place. As our waiter brought me my celebratory bowl of surprise gelato, candle ablaze, my friend stood up and bolted through the dining room, loudly instructing the entire restaurant to sing to me. And, can you believe it, they did. A room full of 100 strangers sang to me and wished me well. What else could I wish for, blowing my tiny flame out?

More.

Here are a few places you can read/watch some of my work from the last few months:

Housecats (short film!) — My first short film as a Writer + Producer! Featuring myself + my real-life mom talking about death on our real-life bathroom floor. That’s cinema.

Ahoy, Mateys! (short story, Heartland Society of Women Writers): Takes place on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disneyland; hacks away at how what we think & feel is often at odds with what we say & do (same as it ever was, baby!).

The Intrigue of Human Error (essay, Inkwell): My staunch argument against ChatGPT. There is a 10K word version of this essay that exists in my drafts; you have been warned.

A Review of My Chapbook (New Verse Review: A Journal of Lyric and Narrative Poetry, written by A. A. Kostas): An incredibly intelligent, thoughtful review by local Substack legend A. A. Kostas. Pairs nicely with a cup of coffee and a copy of my chapbook.

All About Love (Conversation, Dear Pal): My dear pal (& fave poet) Hannah Cruz & I having a conversation about love poems (including our own & Paul Simon’s), love, myths, & death, or as I like to call it, a Normal Tuesday Night.

Good Friday (poem, Phenomena zine): One of my favorite poems I’ve written is in this gorgeous first edition, limited run from Phenomena zine, handmade & printed in Chicago.

Right Time (poem, but this time on a diffuser): In a vote-for-the-existence-of-the-Internet, a fellow poet dropped me a line and designed a diffuser that features a sonnet I wrote published earlier this year in Identity Theory.

Poetry Challenge: 3 wonderful poets and writers + myself run this IG page, and for the 3rd (maybe 4th? idk, time is a flat circle) year in a row, we are doing a poetry challenge which is really more of a long-distance-writing-group where we post writing prompts and commit to writing a poem a day from October-December. If you are looking for a low-pressure, high-reward addition to your ~writing practice~, boy do I have news for you.