A year ago....London calls, and home beckons...

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"And in the end, we were all just humans drunk, drunk on the idea that love, only love, could heal our brokenness." - F. Scott Fitzgerald

The dishwasher hums.  The washing machine churns.  It’s a Saturday night and I listen to him lull her to sleep.  A year ago this weekend I was in London.  I was leaving Noely, Tree and Simon at a train station as I took the journey to Hackney to end the last night, in the wee hours of the morn, in Johanna’s kitchen with her and Amanda.  Things have changed.  A lot.

A year ago at this time I was on an incredible spiritual journey.  I was deeply in therapy; I was working with a Shaman.  I had made a difficult conscious choice to change my life.  At whatever cost that came.  I had decided that I would be alone, for the rest of my life if that is what it all would mean, to find the only true love that I could ever really hold on to.  Myself.  A year ago today, I decided that although I was broken, I was not unfixable.  A year ago today, I decided to rewrite my story.

And so, surprisingly even to me, I did just that.  I took all of my broken bits, beautiful moments, tragedy and confusion and pieced myself together again, one stitch at a time.  Had I met him any sooner, I would’ve blindly walked passed him.  I wasn’t ready.  Not for him. Most certainly not for her.  I was only beginning to grasp the concept of letting go of all that which I could not control.  I was only beginning to grasp that this, all of this, was about so much more if I could only allow myself to see it.

To seek peace – at whatever cost seems like a strange concept really.  Shouldn’t it just be a natural state?  For many perhaps.  Not for me.  It had never been my way.  I always thought too much, felt too much, saw too much.  The majority of my life had been spent trying to save other people all of the while feeling completely selfish in doing what I wanted.  To clarify, some may have felt shorted by me, however I could never find a way to express that it was just that others needed me more.  Until I guess the moment arose that I realized perhaps I needed me more.

I dreamt of London last night and it wasn’t until I sat down to write tonight that I realized the timing.  A year ago today I was in the flurry of a soulful hurricane.  Myself, everyone around me igniting.  Everything I touched kept leading others and myself on a path.  In no grammatical eloquence I can only say it this way – it was the trippiest time of my fucking life.  The Universe was this orb following me.  Pushing me.  Putting me on airplanes, and in circumstances that tested everything about myself that I was supposed to learn and show others.  It was a release and absorption all at once.  The noise of it all was deafening.  

It would be a lie to say that I haven’t been distracted a bit over the past many months.  Of all of that.  The intensity.  The spirituality.  I have him now.  And her now, and my focus has shifted.  But it’s brought about challenge.  Another journey.  Another path. 

Tonight however I am consumed with that time.  The urge to remember that it is about so much more. I hold things within myself again, like I used to.  My back aches for no reason because I don’t know how to release.  I don’t know how to express love and confusion.  I don’t know how to show gratitude with all that I have but to acknowledge and embrace how far I have come.  I don’t know.  How do you hold on to who you have become and release the only thing you have ever known about yourself?  If that even makes sense.

Each night, when I go to sleep, and each morning when I wake, I feel peace.  For both I do with a boy who has decided to hop on my crazy train and embrace the fact that I talk to the Universe, drink too much wine, have more plans than we could ever have time for, buy way too much shit for his daughter than necessary, have long philosophical talks with most of my ex’s and dance randomly in my kitchen.  For that, I would trade nothing. 

However tonight, I wish he knew me a year ago.  Although he was to meet me only a couple short months later, I wish he knew me, as lights burnt out as I walked passed them, as I sought comfort in the stories of strangers, as all of this was unfolding, the finding of me so that I could finally know him. And maybe tonight, I miss me a bit, because she hides sometimes in the shadows of the now…but she is there, fire in her belly, passport in hand….ready…and perhaps the her of then is my clarity of now.  I don’t know.  I’m still learning.

A year ago tomorrow Amanda and I rode in a cab to Heathrow.  She said to me, “You’re a really beautiful person you know, I wish you believed it….” I cried and said, “I wish I did too.” Perhaps now, I believe it a bit more.  All of these things that I’ve done.  All of these things that I have seen.  They are a story within a story.  Perhaps even tonight is too and a decade from now it will be told in a different way, in a different version, with different people around.  But tonight, embodied by a year ago, I am wrapped in the blanked of my now and it is worthy of acknowledgment.

Thanks for listening.  

Sunday Meandering Thoughts

Age is irrelevant my ass.

I hate when people say that cliché shit.  You’re only as old as you feel and what not and not.  Here’s the thing.  I feel 23 on most days and mentally definitely feel more comfortable vibing there but I’m not 23.  I’m 37.  I have a god damned frow brow crease thingy for Christ’s sake.  It’s legit.  So….yah, I’m getting old and regardless of what I tell myself, it’s the evitable. 

Can I hang with the cool kids, talk pop culture, crack witty jokes, tweet my ass off….sure – but here’s the difference between 23 year old Tarah and 37 year old Tarah.  1.  I see absolutely no reason to stay up past midnight unless I’m having a deliriously fun time.  Nothing good ever happens after midnight (well some things….).  Trust me. 2.  I have a mortgage.  Nuff said there.  3.  I no longer look 23 when I wake up.  It takes hours of adjustment to light for my eyes to remotely make a formation that resembles someone that is awake.  4.  You can’t bounce a dime off my ass anymore and my tits are like a National Geographic cover – and both those things alone in my 20’s got me VERY far.  5.  I have a deep propensity for not reacting.  Reacting to everything in your 20’s creates most of the fun.  Hence, my life isn’t nearly as entertaining.  6.  If I eat more than a salad I have to run 4 extra miles at the gym and do 80 Zumba classes to burn it off (so I haven’t actually done a Zumba class but I hear it works).  In my 20’s, I drank about 8 cans of Coke a day alongside fried salami and cheese sandwiches weighing a solid buck 10.  7.  You couldn’t pay me a million dollars to ever do a hallucinogenic again.  I’m far too smart.  I won’t elaborate on what I did in my 20’s.  8.  Things hurt far more in your 30’s because you’ve lived through a lot and life and lives become more and more important.  9.  In my 30’s I have to give a shit what people think of me.  For my godchildren, for my career.  In my 20’s….I didn’t.  Whether I should have or not, it was liberating.  10.  Finally, I live my life as if there’s still a chance that I will have all of the things that I wanted: aka a child….and there’s a really good chance I won’t but that’s what happens when you think you’re still 23 and the world is your oyster – closing doors for opportunities perhaps you should’ve thought about for a few more seconds before closing.

So, what are the good bits about being older?  Well, there’s a hefty ration of things that suck but a few things that make it all worthwhile are: 1.  Calm and Forgiveness.  A lot more calm and forgiveness.  2.  Being able to afford a mortgage.  3.  Being ok with going to bed before midnight and resting securely that you’re not missing a fucking thing.  4.  Having ‘been there’ and giving advice with absolute confidence.  5.  Having National Geographic tits that make for lovely late night fodder as you and your lover try to slap each other across the face with them.  6.  Selflessness.  I don’t care what you say, you know nothing of this until your 30’s and serious shit starts to go down and except for rarities, nothing serious happens in your 20’s.  7.  Blowing off the gym because you’re totally cool with enjoying life instead recognizing that laughter and love creates a far greater high.  8.  Those rare moments when someone tells you that you’re beautiful because you’d almost forgotten.  And, for a moment, you feel like you’re 23 again.  9.  Crying once and moving on.  Not crying for days.  10.  That if I decide to have a child, I have a million options – most of which don’t include a white picket fence and a tuxedo but I’ll kick ass with nonetheless. 

I wouldn’t change my 30-something-year-old mind for my 20’s but at times I wish I could go back with all the knowledge I have now.  I would’ve made for one stellar soul to contend with.  Now, well now I just waffle between time and space, telling myself that it’s all ok.  I am, after all, still that girl.  Regardless of the shell that now covets her.

And there you have the ramblings of my mind this evening.

Thanks for listening.

You Don't Know Shit in Your Twenties: Act - Don't - React

I'm pretty sure I spent the majority of my twenties being reactionary.  Every emotion, every thought.  It became an acquired discipline as I got older to just fucking breathe.  Let things go.

In my twenties, everything was so monumentous.  It was so defining.  I had no idea, the older that I got, things would just 'be what they are'.  They would ebb.  They would flow.  They would change and evolve and except for myself and my reactions to it all, there wasn't a lot that I had control over.  That evolution creates a sort of serenity.  A knowing.  A peace.

There are no answers.  I spent so many years of my life plaguing myself seeking reason.  Sometimes there is none.  And as you progress in life you begin to realize that resistance to the belief that you are exactly where you are supposed to be regardless of the discomfort, is futile.

So you succumb.  You succumb to realizing that not everyone or everything will ever be as good as you want it or them to be.  You succumb to realizing that sometimes, there are 0 answsers, only acceptance.  You succumb to accepting that love doesn't come in the form of a neat little package and most certainly, serenity doesn't come in disregarding the voice within. And you succumb to the fact that all of that, in it's annoying, uncontrollable everything, is all good. 

And so you learn to act.  Not react.  You learn to be, not be provoked.  You learn to judge little and accept more.  You learn to become situationally aware because you realize that it isn't all about you and your moments....it's about much more.  It's about two wrongs not making a right and a peaceful nights sleep knowing you did good that day far out trumping demon's the day after.  It's about just doing the next right thing for you and those around you - because well, that's what we're here for. 

And so you learn to age with grace instead of combat.  Because it makes more sense that way.  And as much as I spent so many years arguing against my future - I feel ok now....because I finally began to listen to it.  Find quiet.  Find gratitude.  Act.  Not react. I didn't know that for decades.  I do now.  It was worth the wait.

That's all.

Thanks for listening.

You Don't Know Shit In Your 20's - Sex

Ok, we might as well cover the good stuff first.

It's simple. Whatever good sex you think you had in your 20's won't remotely compare to the sex you have in your 30's and beyond. I could end the topic there as anyone over 30 understands my point but to enlighten the younger generation, I'll share some insight.

It's a well known fact, women reach their sexual prime in their 30's. I presume there are a million hormonal reasons however I tend to vibe more for the cognitive. Mentally, we are just in a better place. We get our bodies, we've overcome a magnitude of neurosis and we're good with what we want, how we want it and we have no problem communicating it. I assume this goes for most men as well.

In your 20's there seems to be more of a groveling gratitude and haste to sex. In your 30's...not so much. It can become a bit more of an art form as you've been honing some skills and well, let's be honest, you've now had years of practice (sorry Mom). Many men have told me over the years that women can't have 'casual sex' as we're 'emotional creatures'. My retort is simply the stare of complete boredom as I realize they haven't a clue.

Women can have casual sex - most especially as they age. It's never really been my thing as I'm more of a serial monogamist but there have been a few mishaps here and there - a girl has needs too. But here's the thing, as we age, we become well aware that emotional fulfillment doesn't exist in a quick romp and we are quite in tune with the fact that a sexual connection doesn't equate to a life partner so we are adept at taking those moments for what they are - a moment and not a reason to veer off the path of soul mate hunting. We lose the drama and fantasy of our youth.  It's refreshing. 

I remember in my 20's thinking...Ohmagodthisisthebestsexeverrrrr...meh, not so much. Those who carried the title then have now fallen quickly of the pedestal of lovers of yore because as I've gotten older, the people that I have chosen to be with well, are older, and they just know what they are doing. And, they have done it well.

Sure, do I miss my ripped 20-something year old bod flashing in the moonlight - absolutely.  However I'll take wisdom of my body and mind and some softer curves and corners any day.  My lines are my history, and my history is sexy. 

So there, you have it.  Sex only gets better after 30.  Something for the wee ones to look forward to. 

You Don't Know Shit In Your 20's - Prologue

Last summer Becky and I were sitting on the beach. We were talking about our lives, 'aging' as it were and what not. What we concluded was that for all we had believed, we actually didn't know shit in our 20's and it was only now, in our mid-thirties that we were coming into our own. As we sat there and laughed we talked about how perfect a book would be summarizing all that we had believed to know, to only evolve later into more definitive truth. The good, the bad, the ugly. So, this is the beginning of an attempt to document conversations and revelations within myself and amongst friends.

Now, let me qualify something. There are loads of 20-something year old's who know a great deal. Many are old enlightened souls and know more than most. This is a generalized statement about myself, my friends and not an opinion of the entire 'Generation Y, Echo Boomers, Millenials' or whatever the hell they are called now. So take it all with a grain of salt. When I write, I write about my personal knowledge and experience. I won't pretend to determine the aptitude of an entire generation.

So, this is the beginning...The opening of the door to let the free flow of thought commence. I presume some topics I will have a lot to say, others, well it might be one line of insight. Someone has to document this stuff - might as well be me.

More to follow....thanks for listening.