2011

So many ways to start this post. 2011 was a rough one, no doubt, and usually when I have a tough year, the New Year is more about reflection and recovery, and less about celebration and joy.

I haven't actually given 2011 much reflection. In my mind it almost doesn't deserve the attention. That's not really fair, since a lot happened this year. As I've been watching the social media stream of people's celebrations of the New Year, it seems like everyone had things to celebrate, let go of, and struggle through this past year. I get the impression that 2011 was tough for a lot of people.

I'm not very good at short stories. And 2011 felt like an epic chapter of my life. It was a year where the resolution I always make: "Become more vulnerable", took turns I was not expecting and at times brought me to my knees with pain and pure terror. Sometimes, becoming more vulnerable hurts like a mother fucker.

I was homeless twice, and thus learned how to become ok with asking for and receiving help, affection, and space. I learned how much I am truly loved by more people then I imagined. I also learned who my true friends were, and learned to let go of the ones who made my hard times harder, rather than trying to support me.

This year I learned how to take care of myself emotionally. I completed the breakdown that began in late 2010, suffering physical pain, depression, stage fright, and panic attacks. I stopped singing and playing guitar for a long time. I learned to ride the panic attacks out, to be aware of what they were and allow the shaking to happen, and then to get up and go face what triggered them with all the awkwardness, grace, courage and laughter I could muster. I learned to recognize them, and I learned to talk about them to people who wouldn't judge me for them.

I found a therapist that taught me some new ways of processing my pain, and a new awareness of my body. I quit therapy in favor of travel, which turned out to help me more.

I ate a lot of 1 dollar grateful bowls at whole foods.

I struggled with staying, in a city I didn't want to be in, in a job that isolated me, with co-workers who wouldn't communicate, working with a product I loved, and a person who I loved but couldn't connect with. There was some healing that happened there, and it was enough. 

I lived in one of the most positive, honest, caring houses I've ever lived in, and learned how to cook a bit better in the process.

I completed two of the biggest projects of my life, passing on leadership to people who I trust and continue to mentor.

I finally got away from marketing and sales. Sometimes I miss it. Not very often though.

I finally saw Big Sur. I would have stayed forever.

I gave up on Tahoe.

I found a job that fit me, in Point Reyes, close enough to travel to Oakland, surrounded by trees and animals, far enough to remove myself from the things that were overwhelming me: Too much noise, too much violence, too many people. Now, when I go back, it is a happy kind of thing, rather than a stressful kind of thing, and feeling less attached to Oakland, I've spent more time in the City than I have in the past. It also helps that I have money to spend.

I was arrested the night Oakland took over the ports for the first time. I was sitting on the ground, holding a stranger's hand. I came to stop fires and talk people out of throwing rocks. I was told by my arresting officer that if I did not put my face on the ground I would be hit until I did. I was not resisting him. I find riot police to be terrifying, tear gas to be painful, prison to be heartbreaking, and non-lethal weapons horrifying. The occupy movement gives me hope, but also causes me anxiety. When I hear riot police are present, I want to throw up. If I go to another protest, I fear my anger at being threatened will over ride my ability to see police as human beings.

I quit looking for romantic love. Not just in all the wrong places, but pretty much entirely. I am so loved by my friends, I truly enjoy my own company, and I've grown to respect myself in a way that I never have before, and all of that only makes me feel more independent, less needful.

I am powerfully content. I am deeply happy. If this is peace, I will soak it up and store it in my bones.

Being here washes all the noise away. I have a frog who serenades me at night. He has yet to tell me his name. I leave the window open and listen to the tree outside, the birds singing their songs, and I wake up with the sun. I stand on hilltops and enjoy the view. I climb rocks and trees, I scream into the ocean, and then I scream out of it, I run in the sand, I listen to the sound my feet make, I pick up rocks worn by the waves and sticks covered in moss, I find caves to sit in, and I follow deer trails through the brush and along the cliffs.

To ring in the new year, I invited friends to come out and celebrate with me. They came with food and laughter and their love for each other and for me. We had a bonfire on the beach, where we burned and let go of the worst  of 2011, and set our intentions for 2012 on fire. We hummed Auld Lang Syne because we didn't know the words. We watched the moon set in bright red. It was the best New Year I've had in a long time. Maybe not the wildest, but definitely the best. 

My life is beautiful. My work is enough. My own company is enough. I have just enough things. I have more housing then I know what to do with. I have enough even to have a little extra to share. Welcome to 2012. Este sera mi ano.