on all kinds of brain crap

on skiing, feeling hyper aware, living an authentic life, and pooping

so the other day while i was napping on the hydrobed, they were playing laurie anderson. which i found both odd and really cool. i mean, what kind of dr's office puts you to nap on a warm massagey hydrobed and then plays laurie anderson?

monk and i went skiing again this past weekend, and upon his taking my poles away from me day 2, i suddenly advanced by leaps and bounds and was able to go down some blue runs. this was very exciting for both of us. but the mogully parts? mean and cruel..

today i came to work and was almost immediately able to get lucky.. i was unable to get lucky all weekend. and by lucky, i mean pooping. I think this means that work brings out the poop in me. how great is that.
i just got back from my twice-a-week dr' visit. more hydrobed. no more laurie.

so a few months ago, i was reading somewhere and somebody mentioned living an 'authentic life' .. and i have no recollection where i read it or why i read it. or even if i read it at all. all i know is that i was struck with it and that phrase, out of everything surrounding it...stuck in my head. it seemed like something potentially very important to know and understand for me.
i've been thinking about it a lot. trying to figure out what, for me, is authentic living.
I have come to the realization that living an authentic life is going to mean different things for all people. it will have a lot to do with how you were raised, what your fundamental beliefs, are, etc.
but for me... authentic living is something akin to who my mother was in the 70's. she didn't not drink, but she didn't drink. she didn't *not* watch tv, but she sure as hell didn't really watch tv. she didn't not eat red meat, but she wasn't a red meat eater. she lived organically, healthy, outdoors, active, balanced. she read a lot, was outdoors as much as possible, careful about what she put in her body while not being a teetotaller or vegan... careful about where she got her food and how it was raised. she rock climbed, hiked, camped, backpacked, cross country skied, snow shoed, swam, read, and occasionally watched mash..or later, dynasty or dallas. (no snob was she!)
and I don't think i just have her on a pedestal next to my own past drinkiness, bad eating, disorganization, messiness, etc. .. ex-boy often thought i did have her on a pedestal. but i don't. ithink she was at her most authentic back then, for example. a little less so now... she's a little more yuppy, a little more obsessive with certain things. a little too busy.
I think i just know that that is ...most honestly...what i consider honest living. authentic living. pure. authentic living is being *present* in your life, being honest in your life, being present in other people's lives and the world. being a *part* of the whole.
I was reading a book last week about potato farming. and genetic engineering in farming, etc. and there were a group of hippie kids in the book that travelled around being activists... disseminating information..etc. and they also belonged to a cooperative living group in berkeley that planted things in old people's yards for htem, and gardened, and ate organically and lived healthy and clean
but,, they also adopted a group culture vernacular and an ideology that turned me off. I often admire a group but am completely turned off by the group dynamic itself. .. the culture around it. the vernacular of that culture. i have felt that way about religion all my life, and most things that require joining a community. i prefer to build my community person by person based on intimacy and interaction and connection. when i was younger, this feeling in me led to a feeling of self righteousness ...and sometimes feeling superior. but a lot has humbled me as i've grown older. i just still find myself unable to join most cultures/communities/groups/religions, etc.
i have never been to burning man, for example. despite knowing a lot of people who have been involved or just gone to enjoy... i've been on the fringe of that community. but just couldn't bring myself to go... something about the community that built up around it.. the lifestyle, if you will. I veered away becuase it seemed to become a lifestyle for people and ... while i'm sure i have a lifestyle that i'm not even aware of. some predefined way of living... i still find i shy away from those that i observe from the outside.
now, i don't think i've ever really lived an authentic life. the way that i define it at least. i've been very honest, and that's a step. with myself and the people i'm close to. but i've , in the past, been messy...disorganized, irresponsible, bad mom to my dog, bad with money, disrespectful of roommates (in my messiness), drank too much.. etc
i worked very hard on my interpersonal relationshps...my closest friendships. and i also built a very strong social network. but that was an escape of its own kind. i partied, i drew my net wider, i learned a lot about myself through a combination of grief (ended marriage) and joy (new people)... but i always knew inside that i wasn't living th ekind of life i really respected. I did not. respect. my life.
part of my attraction to monk was that he lives an authentic life. he doesn't not drink but he doesn't really *drink*. he doesn't really put anything very bad for himself into his body, although he does like cool ranch doritos. he plays video games sometimes, but not a lot.. he doesn't really watch tv. he enjoys the outdoors and respects it. he respects himself. and life. he reminds me a little of my mother. we don't have the same taste in all things. we're very different in just as many ways that we're oh so alike. but, i respect him because he respects himself and his body and others and the outdoors.
and i'm getting better. i'm closer than i've ever been, i think. to living an authentic life. i still lose my balance. i catch myself in denial about one thing or another or lying to myself til i confront myself. or eating poorly . or getting occasionally too drunk so i wake up feelin gthe toxins. the house gets a little messy or i don't watch my finances.
sometimes i catch myself in bad psychological habits. doing things i wonder about my motivations for... realizing they are perhaps questionable motivations.
but, like i said. i'm making more effort than i ever have and it's my goal. my goal is to live an authentic life.
without self righteousness. i remember how snotty i could be to my grandparents about religion, just because i was an atheist. in respecting me i want to learn to be as respectful of others as possible.
I was thinking about something else, in regards to authentic living too. I was thinking about bukowski and my automatic vitriolic reaction to him. i'v ebeen known to rant about the middle class white boys who fall in love with bukowski. who think bukowski is somebody to emulate. and i realize that really came from an anger at something outside me and outside my ex husband, but somehow about that. because he had loved bukowski and Ham on Rye sat on the back of our toilet. because when he was in his early twenties and becoming an alcoholic. and before even ever drank. and he lived in run down places with crack addict blues musicians and there were the whores and the bitter and the novel writing and the depression and dark cynical views of the world. I wonder, if to him...that was authentic living. nitty and gritty and dark. to me it seemed it couldn't be. because he'd been raised as middle class as can be, reading literature and writing and playing the piano and talking to his therapist dad and with a cute blonde girlfriend. small town high school.
so, i've spent a lot of time scoffing at bukowski wanna bes. but i think that was a huge part of what i was attracted to. i was fascinated by people like me who somehow still came out self destructive. cynical. with dark sides that i didn't understand.
i'd had a crappy crappy thing happen to me as a kid, but felt that anger was just another kind of toxin and i let it go. but maybe the hoarding of anger was fascinating to me because i'd pre-emptively let go. before processing.
uh, i'm thinking ahead of myself now. i just lost myself so i probably lost you.
anyway. was that life he led before he left me and became sober... was it an authentic life? or was it its own kind of escape.
we've turned off our cable, and i still will occasionally give in to a toxin or watch tv all night. but i'm learning to let go of crutches and escapism. i hope.
what is authentic living to you? to me, it's being balanced. and living simple. and respectful. (of self, others and nature).
this doesn't mean i'm not a pervert anymore, or any more tolerant of things i sometimes think are just way too full of shit. just so you know.

this morning i had one of those hours where i felt hyper aware of everything around me.. where everything slows down and feels really quiet...like being encapsulated in a bubble that magnifies everything around you. i was aware of the texture of my pants on my skin. .. of the colors of the clothes of the people around me, of how many buttons were buttoned or unbuttoned on a man's shirt. .. of the way paper felt between thumb and forefinger.
everything was just a little bit sharper....yet muted.
it was kinda cool.

also, re: the whole above thing. there's also a purist inside me.. that beats myself up over small things more than it should. becuase i have to admit, there's a part of me that thinks *any* kind of escapism is bad, and sometimes when i'm overthinking? all drinking. all reading. all movies. books. ... they suddenly loom on my horizon as potential negatives becuase...aren't they escape from authentic living? and then i wonder, who am i? do i think that only living a very minimal monk-style (as in buddhist or religious, not my boyfriend ;) living is one that is respectable? and that's just silly. a certain amount of escapism or fun or plunging-into-experience..is good. necessary.

well my brain is tired now and i want to finish my pasta. so i'm out of this brain mush.

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