Here. Now.

29 05 2013

It’s three years later.

Really, it’s six years later.

I spat something onto this page back in 2010, in a faint-hearted attempt to renew my creative juices.  They drowned again.


But something is different this time.  This time, I believe.

I knew I’d sit down this morning and write something, something REAL.  I drank the coffee, I turned on Radio Paradise, and I waited.  I filtered.  I took in my environment, heard the sounds around me, smelled the fragrance of cut grass and last night’s dinner in the sink.  I waited.

And it came.

Ray LaMontagne had to point out the obvious to me.  He had to tell me to be here, now.

So here I am, on my couch in an affluent Los Angeles suburb, in a townhouse decorated in a reflection of the pristine madness that whirls about in the minds of my husband and myself.  I am in a traditional Indian nightgown, purchased for me by one of my husband’s aunts.  I am under a godawful, somewhat smelly fleece blanket named Moishe Greenberg that resides as a permanent fixture on our couch.

But more important than my location on google maps, my wardrobe, and my current physical comforts: I am HERE.  NOW.

I am married, to the sweetest, weirdest, goofiest man in the world.  I have a wonderful life, filled with constant love and laughter.  I am healthy, and getting healthier every day.

It is May 29, 2013.  Wednesday morning.  Thousand Oaks, California.

When I’m done writing this, I will put in a load of laundry.  I will do an hour of cardio.  I will eat a healthy lunch, and then I will go to work.

But most importantly, I will live this life.  THIS life.  On THIS day, in THIS city, with THESE circumstances.

It finally hit me this morning, when Ray sang those words to me, that I’m HERE.  I’m done searching.  The life I’ve always wanted is the life I have.  It’s the life I love.  I’m free of all those self-constructed roadblacks.  All that dead weight is gone.  I’ve gotten out of my own way, and now I’m free to create, free to destroy, free to scrap a song idea and start over without that crushing self-judgment tearing me apart and my first stumble along the way.

All of this came from a re-reading of all my previous blog posts.  I saw that girl from so many years ago from a different perspective.  I saw her from the outside.  I tapped on the glass.  I tried to tell her to just open her eyes and look around, and she’d see what she was searching for.

But it took hearing Ray LaMontagne saying those same words to THIS girl for them to sink in.  I’m here.  Now.

And I laughed so, so hard when I read this post:

And I saw the first comment.

I’m here.

(Okay, enough aloofness for one day.  The laughs begin again tomorrow.  But for now, I have a date with a washing machine and a workout video, and this seemingly mundane life which is so far from mundane.)