A Postal Emergency/The Shadow of Your Dog

Sunday night...writing early with just a few minutes before I take two of my three girls out to dinner for their birthdays. Fun day so far. Dreamy Mike=fun and he brought his guitar and sang me new songs he'd just written. And that was Day#2 of having a man serenade me. Last night Christ and I had a blast working on music together. I made a luscious chicken curry that I served him with toppings on the side: coconut, raisins, sunflower seeds, chopped banana and mango chutney.

Yesterday woke up so sad - had been trying to forge a new possibility with Patrick, finally be friends but he's having no part of it, it seems, as evidenced by silence after silence. And I hate the way that makes me feel, like a penny waiting for change - that familiar feeling of pounding on a door that refuses to open. So Saturday started out ugh with a sinking feeling in my stomach (that whole "something isn't right" feeling you get when you wake up happy and then realize you're sad). Determined to turn it around I vowed to put on my best game face and do happy. Went to WW and even with the travel lost 2.2 pounds which gladdened. Then struck up a conversation with a humming patron at Starbucks as she and I waited for our lattes. Turns out she is a singer too - we compared notes, shook hands and made plans! Great voice lesson and then grocery shopping for dinner with Christ. It was a federal holiday weekend so Saturday was designated martini day. Stopped at the liquor store for Grey Goose and as I was leaving a woman brushed by me, in a hurry. As I left the store I saw her stride away and then, on a whim, she whipped around and asked me, in an agitated voice, "Do you know ANYWHERE I can buy stamps?" "The post office?" I asked. "It's closed," she said frowning. I thought but couldn't come up with anything and then said, "Do you have a postal emergency? You seem upset!" "Yes, I have to get a letter posted to my attorney today!"

And that's where the whole "making a difference in peoples' lives" kicked in. "I have stamps at home. Hop in my car and I'll get you some." She was young and lovely with an accent I couldn't place. "Netherlands," she offered. "What are you doing here?" I asked. "I'm a singer as is my husband." She described her specialty in Handel and I told her I adored the opera Alcina, one of Handel's best. And I, of course, told her I was a singer too, albeit a different genre. We had a lovely chat on the way to the house. She helped me with my groceries, loved the house, petted the cats, I got the stamps and off we went again, me delivering her back. And the ride back? Amazing. I boldly offered to sing her a song. She listened intently and was mesmerized. Then I said, "Your turn, sing for me." And right there, in my little Ford Fusion, I was treated to my own personal concert. She sang the most beautiful aria from Handel's Giulio Cesare (Julius Caesar). Her voice swept through her enormous range and, though her high notes were in the stratosphere, they weren't shrill - her voice had a rich darkness to it. Handel is noted for his ornamentation, those Baroque little trills and flourishes that make his operas very different from those written by the Italian boys. I adored it. Then my turn again - I sang her Autumn Leaves in French and she said I have the absolutely perfect voice for French singing - the quick light vibrato (tremolo) that French singers like Edith Piaf are famous for.  And of course Josephine (her name is Josephine) and I exchanged information and she is someone I look forward to getting to know better. So, how much fun to make two unlikely acquaintances of two professional singers all in the same day!!!  I'm so glad I put my game face on and decided to act happy even though I wasn't.

And grrr...sometimes I hate that I promised you honesty. Thinking it's absolutely normal to massage our image so that people will admire us and aspire to be like us. Landmark tells us most human beings are ALL about looking good - it consumes most of us. And yet, that's totally fake and ultimately not fulfilling, right?  Being real, warts and all, is definitely where it's at - took a long time to figure that out. So, just days after writing about attachment and being free of it - swimming in the sea of possibilities when you stop clutching, I hypocritically reached out to an unresponsive Patrick and all but begged him for face time - dinner once a month - to be in his life in any capacity. Reminds me of a French song I sing that is tragic and pathetic - Ne Me Quitte Pas by Jacques Brel. The last verse:

Don't leave me

I will weep no more

I will speak no more

I will hide myself there

To watch you

Dance and smile

And listen to you

Sing and then laugh

Let me become

The shadow of your shadow

The shadow of your hand

The shadow of your dog

Don't leave me

Don't leave me

Don't leave me

Don't leave me

The singer deteriorates and by this last verse, he begs his loved one to let him be part of her life in any capacity, curled up in a corner of his beloved's life, not making a sound, just watching her live her life and content to be nothing more than the shadow of her dog.  

So, texts and e-mails unanswered - a silence in return that felt like shame. Then anger that errupted, culminating in "fuck you's" and "damn you's" and insults to his character. Now that's a way to engender love, right? And of course, I meant none of it - was hurt and lashed out cruelly - tried to get a rise out of him - anything. Nothing though. He is firm in his good-bye apparently. I miss him terribly.Will miss him terribly.

All for today. I have the monster list which got huge while I was away. A mountain of mail to go through, bills, client deliverables, self care. Never ending.  Tomorrow I'll talk more about reality. Your challenge today could be putting on your game face with a smile for everyone, even if your heart hurts. Maybe you, too, will meet professional singers and have a concert in your car - or the equivalent!

Peace,

Sarah