Dangermond.org

“I need you to trust me.”

* * * *

Dear Sty:

I trust you to be who you are and I am still learning who you are.

Love, me

I am known to admit that placed in a room with ten men in tuxedos I would go home with the waiter every time. That could be because I’m attracted to the dreamer, the magic bean buyer, the pray-er. My second husband was want to say that the most moving thing he ever witnessed in his life was a goat giving birth and he described the event as if it happened long ago in a gypsy fable.

So it is that despite all the knowing, I’m moved by this Sty who was playing the drums in church this morning and whelped up when Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah was being sung, as he was playing it, drumming on the cymbals with his finger tips and wiping tears simultaneously. Such a dreamer. A magic bean buyer.

Before experiencing the rock n roll church in Destin this morning for my first time (more on this later), we were walking in Bay Town in the chilled night air and happened upon a four-piece raggedy band in what looked like a makeshift manger. Heading up the band was an older woman, with a weathered face and hair too long and too white, singing:

Now here I go again, I see the crystal visions
I keep my visions to myself, it’s only me
Who wants to wrap around your dreams and,
Have you any dreams you’d like to sell?
Dreams of loneliness,
Like a heartbeat, drives you mad
In the stillness of remembering, what you had,
And what you lost and what you had and what you lost

You can change aspects of yourself – those dynamics that become knee jerk to such a degree you think they are too ingrained to wipe away – you can change these things about yourself, I tell you this from experience – it takes work, it takes practice, it takes desire. But, it can be done. Then there are aspects of yourself that you know do not have any rational value – who you are attracted to, who you attract, what you value, what you don’t.

I was watching Family Feud in the hotel room and the question was, “What would you say you did as a living to a woman to impress her?” #3 was CEO – I just shook my head – nothing would make me run away faster than CEO. Nowhere on the list did it say artist, musician, writer, poet, dreamer, hope-er, wisher, seer.

The qualities that carry me over the threshold into lala land.

Shel Silverstein wrote an Invitation:

If you are a dreamer, come in,
If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar,
A hope-er, a pray-er, a magic bean buyer . . .
If you’re a pretender, come sit by my fire
For we have some flax-golden tales to spin.
Come in!
Come in!

I think the difference in me at this time in my life is that I know what moves me, but I also know now I can enjoy my life without trying to place another human being into a role that was actually devised by someone else for some other set of circumstances in some other time – a role that I never really cottoned to, to begin with, for myself or my partner, and so it is freeing to hold what is dear and yet not contort to conform to what I should be with this person and who this person should be to me.

“As is,” is how Sty says he comes to me. “You gotta take me as is, baby.” As is, it is.

I’m on a mission, as a ferryman and the stacking evidence against this operation – two clogged toilets due to rain, a property tax bill that has no available funds, the truck that needs not only three new tires, oil change ($750) but news of more to come (starting with brakes $400), minor illness, and being asked and asked and asked – is propelling me into this assignment with one part urgency and the other loss.

More will be revealed. Meanwhile, I need to call Tyrone …

Aren’t we all waiting to take that big leap into the abyss? Come on, the thought has crossed your mind. I feel that is what I’ve done. I let someone come into my life who I knew was just passing through and sometimes it feels overwhelming, sometimes it feels just right, sometimes it feels manic.

But mostly it feels refreshingly new. For me, at least. Here are two people attracted to each other who do not have to do anything but enjoy that simple fact – because it’s rare at a certain age – and because it’s precious.

I’ve walked down the aisle three times and each time, at the threshold, I felt a noose tighten around my neck. This has no noose. It has no tendrils. Its only prescription is to enjoy. It’s sort of like a day on the beach that is magical. It may not be the same kind of day tomorrow, but you can really dig your toes into the hot sand and listen to the crashing waves right now and suspend time.

The heart’s desire is ephemeral and loyal – those who make it in, don’t easily find their way out, but then why would they want to?

DAY 606 RACHEL DANGERMOND & TIN DANGERMOND

I came back from San Francisco three months before the 2005 Federal Flood. A couple of years later, I watched a documentary called “Trouble the Water” and in it, a fairly large Black man is wading through flood water up to his chin carrying an elderly woman up high over his head to safety. He said, “I always wondered why I was here. What God wanted from me. And now I know.” I can barely say that without crying. I had that same divine clarity the day I met my son. I was 50 years old and all of the life I had lived was held together with vague meaning until it crystalized in his eyes. I knew in an instant that I was born to be Tin’s mother.

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Warren Easton’s marching band is parading around the neighborhood making Carnival almost unavoidable, but that’s alright because honestly, let’s just get in and get out. Again, Mardi Gras is early this year – February 17 – and I’m barely recovering from the holy trinity of Hanukkah/Christmas/Kwanzaa not to mention New Year’s.

My friends are all going nuts it seems with more couples splitting up than hooking up, and I have to say all of the madness makes me wonder if people ever really figure it out. I know there are those in long-term relationships that have no thoughts of anything else – and yet for my couples that are like that, I’ve had one of them die within a year of cancer diagnosis, and another die of a stroke. What?

Right, which is why during these times of chaos that are no different from any other time of chaos, it’s about laying some ground rules. And ground rule number one is be kind and compassionate to yourself. Number two is keep yourself nimble and flexible because just when you settle into that good old knowing, something you don’t know is about to slam through your window. And three I’d say is learn to be present.

The best thing I ever learned to do is to not care.

I know – that sounds horrible doesn’t it? But I had a real issue with caring too much before and I say this because recently when Stanley got a little jealous he said it was because he cared too much and I said, hmmm. Too much? Nah, there is something else going on. There is fear. Similarly, I just had this conversation with a friend whose perfectionism in her job has led her to having her soul vaporized. How can I stop caring so much, she asks. Caring too much isn’t bad, fear is what is bad. So let me rephrase that, I learned to not fear what was going to happen next.

The best thing that I ever learned is to not fear what happens next.

Now I do have to tell myself this several times a day sometimes to make it stick, but remembering it has given me the ability to make myself present, to not worry about work and whether this project is happening or this client will be around tomorrow, and it certainly has helped me with matters of the heart because I truly believe in what will be, will be. What is meant to be. Or more to the point, what is.

I know it sounds detached that I am cool with my lover moving to Destin, but I am – I have a busy life – filled with motherhood, working, social justice projects, race reconciliation projects, friends, and my biggest love affair – me time. I need time for ME at the end of these raggedy days – time to go to bed early, time to take hot baths, time to read on my sofa, time to take long walks with my dog, time to garden.

So don’t let the smooth taste fool you, I’m still a sentimental softy on the outside, a woman who cries at weddings, funerals and even recounting stories of my life or listening to you tell me yours, but I’ve become hardcore in my “core” and that means you and events cannot rock my world – because – in the words of Maya Angelou – life don’t frighten me at all.

A friend stopped by the other day and left me with a very poignant saying: “Se rascan las pelotas mientras la mujer trabaja.”

Translation: He scratches his balls while the woman works.

That fully informed a conversation that was had around the table at a friend’s daughter’s sweet 16 birthday party last night. And it has a lot to do with why I’ve realized how convenient a lie it is that women need to be partnered up. What man who walks into a house that is homey, that has good smells coming from the kitchen, clean clothes folded in the drawers, and flowers blooming in the garden doesn’t want to cozy on up and live there.

But I digress.

I was thinking as I started writing this post about teaching myself to fly because I feel that up until recently I’ve been a master at tying myself down, anchoring myself to stone, burying myself in other’s expectations, and seemingly afraid to fly. Yes, I’ve done my work – there is the Tai Chi, the QiGong, the meditation, the zen, the Aikido, and the walks and endless talks with myself about how to be, and how not to be. And yet, I forgot to ponder the art of flight.

We were watching a heron take flight over the bayou and Tin said to me, “Aw, I wish I could fly.” And I said, “Aw, I wish I could too.”

And why not? I dreamed last night that my bindi was left of center, that my panties were not folded just so in my drawer, that details were skewed and needed to be put in fine order. This is a clear sign that three weeks of Tin out of school, endless eating, too much champagne and wow, I’m not going to be able to fly away because I’m laden with weight.

What better time to think about being weightless than the day before 12th Night? Tomorrow, the Joan of Arc parade announces the beginning of Carnival season here in New Orleans. I have two 12th night parties to attend. Yes, you’d think I’d be throwing in the towel but no, I’m going to at least give a nod to the season and then I’m going to step back and take a much needed recovery.

Mardi Gras will be here before you know it – but I can’t keep the pace of the holidays like I used to – so I am going to fly away from here and it and all of those boulders that want to weigh me down. I’m going to study flying – in my drifting thoughts, day dreaming flights of fancy, back to work somnambulism, cracking manuscripts, Zumba moving, morning walking, Aikido falling, energy flowing and breathing exercises – this zephyr heifer needs to get up up and away.

E N G A G E.

2014 was a year that was a pivotal year for me and this household. This was my first full year in the Spirit House and they say that a house is truly not a home till you break bread with loved ones at the table (multiple checks), experience death and loss (my friend, Dina Ann LeBlanc May 29, 1964 – June 5, 2014), welcome a newborn (Stella) into the world, plant something in the ground, and start a new relationship.

I’ve gone from creating debt, to just getting above it, to just beginning the journey of getting out of debt – that was the money cycle.

I overscheduled in 2014 which was similar to 2013, 2012, 2011, and pretty much any year you could pick out of my life. But I am getting better at saying no. Or at least I think I am.

I planted a vegetable garden. I planted palm trees and ginger. I planted a satsuma tree and a pear tree.

We celebrated Tin’s 5th birthday here on his trampoline, we celebrated Mardi Gras, Father’s Day and Mother’s Day and held a seder, put skeletons out for Halloween and lit the menorah for Hanukkah and the kinara for Kwanzaa.

I took in a roommate for a few months, which affirmed my faith that living alone is what my soul needs now more than ever – particularly at this stage of raising Tin.

And as luck would have it, I met a man who fits nicely into my life. Stanley. He says there is a “comfort” between us, I say there is a knowing between us. He is moving to Florida in a week or two –  that’s not so far away. He needs to be there, and I need to be here. Proving you can be sweet on someone and not have to follow their dreams.

Did I mention I love road trips? He’ll be 4.5 hours away on the beach.

Who doesn’t love the beach?

Stanley and I went to the beach in Gulfport to celebrate the New Year. I realized that more than the big events – the DEATHS, the BIRTHS, the CELEBRATIONS – there are the moments (witnessed as fleeting) where memories unfold that punctuate our lives. My Yogi tea zen dropping was this:

I will not hit you with a bunch of superlatives, but I will say I let Stanley come to me and going away with him was one of the most memorable New Year’s eves I’ve had in my lifetime – and keep in mind, one of my marriages happened 25 years ago on New Year’s eve day, so there are big events within which I compare.

FIREWORKS on the 1st – then a slow steady flame throughout 2015 … I’m grateful for the way this chapter is unfolding.