I like what I like

people's stories
reverence
gritty music
equilibrium
dancing

I just had a moment when all of the above came together. I was listening to a recent episode of a favorite podcast, about an old southern trader/storyteller, and the segment ended with a Tom Waits song I love. I was in the house by myself, crazy-dancing with my iPod, and something important fell into place. I had this deep sense of okayness within myself, about myself.

That sense has been missing for some time. I have felt like a fringe-dweller much of my life, and that imagined state of being has intensified lately as I've been presented again with several opportunities of varying intensities to work through loss. It's not instantly apparent how loss can move a person closer to the edge of things, but it can and often does, at least for a while. Dealing with big grief and other changes—the death of my gran whom I've cared for steadily for nine years, quickly followed by being released from my joy-filled calling to work with the young women of my church congregation, and then two of my best-beloveds moving off the continent in two different directions—I've at last come to feel like I'm wearing some sort of emotional Michelin Man suit. When and why did I put on this gobby insulation? Or was I shanghaied? It's a swollen barrier that dulls the impact of my interactions with others. Yesterday I had lunch with a terrific group of women whom I adore, and then later spent time in the temple doing something I care deeply about, but a lot of the good stuff just bounced off me. I feel keenly enough what's going on inside the suit, but outside? Seems I'm pretty numb.

Numbness unfortunately aggravates the perception I already wrestle with of being an outsider. This perception may be a true reading, or a false one—likely some of both. It's surely the case that for me grief is married to loneliness, and their offspring are persuasive thoughts like "I don't fit" and "No one understands." Honestly, it's not a pity party; it's more just plain ol' desolation.

BUT. Just now, as I was twisting and flapping around to Tom Waits, giving myself a break and a stretch, this weighty and lovely sense of me-ness snuck into the suit and overtook me. I caught myself smiling, for no reason. Smiling flirtatiously at no one and nothing in particular as I danced past a mirror.

I don't think I'm like anybody else I know. If I didn't work so hard to look for common ground with others, the difference would become screamingly obvious. I admit I'm an odd mixture of dark and light. I don't want to say I'm a lone wolf. I don't want to say I'm socially retarded. With others, I'm more like oil on water. Or, to be more appetizing with the analogy, oil on balsamic. I'm there and I do my thing, but I can't ever seem to blend.

But it's okay. My body, that forgetfully smiling image I saw in the mirror, Tom Waits, the Spirit—they're all telling me it's okay.

And it isn't true that no one knows me or comprehends my history. I am known and loved (as you are), even when I feel strange or like a stranger here. Someone (capital S) knows the solution to the problem of Me. And likes that I like what I like. And IS so that I can become what I am. And doesn't demand that I blend, not now, not ever. With that as a comfort to my mind and heart and even my limbs, desolation becomes passé, and I can keep on dancing.

It's hard to deal with grief. And I know for certain that it's hard to deal with someone who is dealing with grief. I have empathy for people who have had to deal with me as I have lately swung like a pendulum from one emotion to another. I'm tired of grief. Anyway, I don't look good in the fat insulated suit. If I don't locate a zipper soon that will enable me to ease out of it, then I'll just have to find something sharp to pop the bulging thing. It's taking the bump out of my hip-shake.

Pin your ear to the wisdom post
Pin your eye to the line
Never let the weeds get higher
Than the garden
Always keep a sapphire in your mind
Always keep a diamond in your mind

Got to get behind the Mule
In the morning and plow
Got to get behind the Mule
In the morning and plow
Got to get behind the Mule
In the morning and plow
Got to get behind the Mule
In the morning and plow