Live Deep

This summer has been one of balance--losing it, finding it, perfecting it. At the beginning of the year, I felt like the group of friends I had was perfect, and that I could hang out with them 24/7. Close as family. Unfortunately, this city is more transitory than most, and the dynamics of our close-knit group shifted and withered. Maybe it's just me, but we have become threadbare. There are only a few of us left, and everything has changed.

Like the young girl in the previous post, I found myself become sarcastic, short-tempered, and even caustic. It felt like I was falling, inches away from hitting the pavement. But at the last minute, I caught myself and balance was restored. I stepped away from these friends for 48 hours. No phone calls, text messages, hanging out, absolutely no contact with the outside world. I did things that needed to be done: pedicure, volunteer work, cleaning, reading, and just basic soul-restoration. Then I rejoined society. It wasn't a perfect re-entrance to civilization. I still felt raw inside, but the healing had begun.

Since then, balance has been key. I don't hang out with my friends for hours on end every single day, like I used to. I alternate between a day with myself, and a day with them. Every day, I have a list of six things I do to keep myself grounded: start the day off right, volunteer work, study PMG, read a worthwhile book, run, and practice the piano for half an hour. Doing these things makes me feel like I'm not just stuck unemployed on an island wasting time. I'm helping others, establishing uplifting habits, and developing new skills! It's hard to feel down in the dumps when you know that you are progressing every day.

Since my 48 hour soul-restoration, I've really started to climb. Thoreau has been in the back of my mind constantly: "I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately, I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, To put to rout all that was not life and not when I had come to die discover that I had not lived." I don't know if Thoreau would think that I'm sucking out all the marrow of life, but he's dead and I'm still alive (that has to count for something, right?). And I'm trying. Hopefully that's good enough.

Yesterday was a pretty typical, succulent, put-to-rout-all-that-was-not-life day. I went to the beach to do some volunteer work and then sat on a bench in the shade to read and watch the tourists get skin cancer. When drowsiness began to overtake me, I went to the mall to pick up photos from Longs and read in one of the mall chairs. When drowsiness began to overtake me again, I wandered over to Barnes and Noble. I read poetry until the section next to it (photography) was vacant. I sat down in the aisle of the bookstore with a book on Annie Griffiths Belt and devoured its 200+ pages until the security guard asked me to leave (two hours later). So I went home and finished my own book and had some QTG (Quality Time with my Grandparents).

I guess I'm stressed that I don't feel enough stress in my life, that I don't have a job or school or anything to keep me on edge. I bet in 10 years I'll look back on this summer and wish that I could live like I am right now. I can see 30-year-old Me shaking my head at my 20-year-old foolish worries. I can't seem to just sit back and enjoy this (gift?) syrupy summer.

I'm trying to let myself enjoy this. I am now beginning to feel lucky, not idle. If I choose, I can go on a reading spree and devour books in different locations all day. Time with my friends has become more valuable to me. I don't have rose-colored glasses on, but things are settling back into perfection.
Add to that list: Playing with color film at Waimea Bay.