My first apartment was a loft one-bedroom in a building that had a wrought iron gate with an intercom. The intercom was so cool. I could buzz people in. Oh, those were the days. Technology was raging back then. My apartment was on the second floor, it’s window visible from the central courtyard. The bedroom was up three steps just inside the entryway. From my bed I could look over a half wall into the kitchen.
I never, ever cooked salmon in that kitchen. Or brussel sprouts, broccoli, or eggplant. That last one was simply because I never warmed up to eggplant.
The living area was at the end of a long hallway that ran past my bedroom and the kitchen, dumping into a square box of a living room that breathed only because of a double height ceiling. It was made cool by one brick wall. I loved that wall. Couldn’t hang a painting on it, but it made me feel hip.
This was no dorm room.
My idea of a great house plant was a cactus. My love affair with the cactus (I have a tattoo of one on my left oblique) was because it never let me down – meaning I couldn’t kill it, and it wasn’t indigenous, so, again, it made me feel hip. Having one in my home was essential, although according to feng shui principles, prickly plants in the house equals no happy house.
Feng shui was only cool in Asia back then.
While shopping at the mecca for furnishing one’s first apartment, Ikea, I purchased a cactus for my first ‘home’. I probably also ate some meatballs. And then wondered why I had to blow my nose a thousand times and likely considered the rash to be the result of nerves about moving into my first grown-up home.
I lugged my 2 foot cactus through the wrought iron gate, up the outdoor stairs, into the entryway of my rehabbed warehouse apartment building, and clutched it tight as the persnickety elevator bounced up one floor. Once inside my rockin’ single chick pad, I brought it to its new home, on the floor against the counter area that separated the tiny galley kitchen from the living room. It shared space with one dark blue velvet couch, shaped like a giant sea shell complete with ottoman, and one futon.
Who didn’t have a futon then? C’mon, you know you did. There were stores that sold nothing but futons. We must have all had one.
An aside…I have to share a most hilarious story about my futon. Technically, this wasn’t my first apartment, but it was my first one that wasn’t a studio – a kind word for prison cell. Studio does not equal apartment. It equals compartment. I didn’t have to furnish it, I simply had to grin and bear it. But it did come complete with a killer view of a beautiful city park; my floor populated with women who, when having their hair colored, asked for a particular shade of blue. I loved that place.
My college roommate, who I have recently reconnected with and comments here under the name Pineapple Chick (another epically hilarious story that I will share one day), and I painted the town beer and retired to my cell with takeout omelets. Please, don’t ask.
The cell had one chair, albeit the coolest ever – my Dad’s wing back chair that I have to this day and cherish like no other possession, and the futon. So, after we scarfed down our omelets in and around 3 AM, we chose not wash our faces, but did disrobe. Completely. Then we face-planted the futon, moons to the ceiling and passed out fell asleep. Covers? They’re for sober people.
Ahhh, morning. As the sun peered into my abode, so did the window washer.
We awoke to the squeak of squeegee on glass. With the help of an imaginary crane, we lifted our heads and looked out the window, directly into the face of a very happy man. His smile was as broad as our backsides, which he had ample opportunity to digest.
Perhaps we should have taken notice of the piece of paper slipped under my door announcing his early morning arrival, and suggesting that the shades be lowered to insure privacy. I consider it a gift from us to him. He had the look of a man who had just received a present. Happy, happy, all the way around. Karma points banked. Cha-ching.
But back to the cactus…
There it sat, in a place so imperfect, given the potential for harm. There was no warning that one could round the bend from the hallway and run smack into hundreds of needles.
It was in this apartment that I had my first date with The Genius. Sometime soon after that date, we were making dinner (baked chicken with tarragon – I cannot believe I remember that) and hanging out in my whopping couple hundred square feet when I noticed a third guest.
A supremely tiny snail which clung to an arm of the cactus. I was infatuated. I had many pets growing up, but this was my first grown-up pet. And here he lived for weeks before I noticed him! Hence, the reason why cacti are good plants for me to nurture. And I use the term nurture loosely. Very.
We were on our knees staring at this tiny, perfect little being. So fragile. So clingy. Such a breath of fresh nature in a city.
I touched him with the very tip of my index finger. He fell to the dirt.
So dead.
I scooped him up, with my pinkie, and cradled him like an infant. I’m certain I thought, Our first pet!
I saved that little dead snail. On The Genius’ birthday, the first one we celebrated together, I had a small, silver bird cage made, the snail captured inside, strung it with leather, and hung it on his neck. We were on a date in Los Angeles. Six weeks later we would be engaged.
We proceeded on warp speed while that little snail bounced, trapped in its cage until it was tossed in a drawer.
This memory came flooding back at sunrise today. The tall dude had crawled into my bed at some time during the night. As my alarm quietly buzzed, I stirred and sensed his presence. A dim, early morning light made its way into the room, illuminating his angelic face. He was on his tummy, me on mine (I still sleep moon to the sky), our heads turned toward each other. I studied him.
A perfect way to start the day – grateful.
I turned on my back and looked out the window at the foot of the bed. Literally at the foot of the bed. I have a large bed crammed in a compact room. The curtains were parted, framing the hills in the distance; still dark, shrouded in fog. As the light strengthened, a figure emerged on the glass. A thin leaf, perhaps. Or a thick pine needle.
A minute later I saw the belly, (technically a foot), and then the horns. A snail. A tiny snail. Just the perfect size for a tiny, silver bird cage.
And then I remembered what I wrote in the last post – I have to move less like Jagger and more like a garden snail.
And then I remembered the snail I hung around The Genius’ neck.
That moment seemed so empty to me as I lay in the bed watching the snail not move.
It was the first time I felt (and acknowledged?) regret. Had I slowed down, paced myself with the snail, I might have made a different choice in mate. Maybe not better, but different. Which implies a shot at better. Maybe he would still be laying by my side, wearing not a snail around his neck, but me.
I looked at the tall dude. You know what I felt. It was so very worth it. Best investment ever. The dudes are a perfect fit for me.
But I definitely felt some regret.
On Sunday I decided I was going to make this week all about the magic. In every encounter, every interaction, I would seek magic. So, the memories of our first pet were pushed aside for the here and now, without losing the message sent by the snail.
Slow down.
I’ve been hyper-conscious of staying present, and allowing my natural happiness and joy to diffuse any negativity that may stumble in my direction this week. (I couldn’t possibly attract it, being so positively charged and all…) This effort would most certainly result in Unicorns jumping over That Man and galloping off into a solar eclipse hung from a rainbow.
Instead, it’s been a peaceful week dotted with small but memorable moments of joy. Brokering dude peace, introducing new vegetables and surviving, sweeping the floor each day. A spectacular swim under ink-black clouds parting to show a bottom heavy moon, and one in the morning as the fog lifted and the birds banked the hills en masse, always one in the group fighting to take the lead. A few encounters with The Genius that were just part of my day. A chance to live having let go.
As each hour ticked by I felt more grounded. More grounded than I’ve been in a long time. The most accurate description would actually be most grounded ever.
So I must be on the cusp of something massively magical. I’ve earned it! I touched elbows with The Genius at the local Christmas tree lighting ceremony and did not care. Not didn’t flinch. Not skin didn’t crawl off and run away. Simply did not care.
Something big is imminent. I’m ticking things off my to do list, staying in the moment, eyes wide, waiting for the big it to unfold.
But, so far, it’s been just fun. Simple fun. No big hassles, lots of play for the boys and me, and for just me. It’s been a really balanced week. Easy-going. I even was fortunate enough to experience a hike from Mill Valley to the German Tourist House with a most delightful kitten, taking in that Marin wonder for the first time.
Did I mention I managed to sweep the floor each day?
As tonight’s post percolated in my core, I lamented that I didn’t have some sparkly magical moment to share that would prove to the world that focusing on finding magic results in experiencing big magic – hilarious encounters leading to remarkable connections, then shot off to ponder the neon signs from the Universe…at dawn the moment of realization. None of that Hollywood happened to me. Just a lot of little perfect moments.
Capped off by finding this quote on Wildspeak when I took the time this evening to refresh my memory on the messages of the snail:
“Life isn’t always about the big events, but instead, the smaller moments where you notice a great sleeping position, a new way of preparing dinner, a tendril of life shooting out of some local soil.”
Before turning off the alarm this morning, I lay as I woke; on my stomach, my right leg bent at the knee, left hand under the pillow which held my head, right hand under my right hip bone, face turned to the side, and I thought to myself,
This is the best sleeping position ever.
And now, as I get ready to assume that position again, I thank the snail, for this pace suits me. It’s helping me to see what needs to happen more clearly. What my priorities are and how I am going to achieve my goals. It champions the quiet magic. The magic of Winter. The weeks have slowed. The clouds and rain have rolled in. I’m remembering more of the little details. Laughing at the smallest of funny moments.
And the absolute best part?
I’m okay with slow and steady progress. It’s a more comfortable pace. It gives me a chance to ponder. And absorb. Learn.
This is so new to me. I’ve had my struggles with slow.
I bet I look back in the not-too-distant future and see that all these tiny moments of magic led to one colossal magic juncture with a choice to be made. This time, no regrets.
Love yourself,
Cleo
Photo Attribution:
Cactus photo transmitted from Flickr.com under Creative Commons License Some rights reserved by Gabyu — Gabriel
I was very fortunate that one of my “kittens” was an older friend who had been through a divorce, raised her daughter alone, and then found a wonderful man in her 50′s. One of her pearls of wisdom was this, “The opposite of love is not hate, it is indifference”. When I could finally be in the same room with my Ex and didn’t care how I looked or what he said, I realized that I had reached indifference and it was wonderful. Of course she also told me that her ex could still make her blood boil when he acted like a lousy dad and I can attest that is true for me too.
D,
I’m grateful The Genius is an engaged father. And I’m grateful that I’m at peace. It’s so much easier to see magic when anger isn’t in the way, no?
Thank you for being here, D.
Love yourself,
Cleo
For me, that desire for constant and speedy change is a sign of my trying to control the outcome and no matter how virtuous the desired outcome, it doesn’t always work and sometimes speed and forward-focus actually works against achieving the outcome. On the other hand, letting change happen at its own pace and generally letting go of the control is hard, wretchedly so at times simply because it is tantamount to surrendering to the universe and when you (well I) am trying to get away from an undesired situation, that surrender feels like such a big risk. And yet, when you can genuinely do it, it is like such a big, clean breath inhabiting your soul. Enjoy your “season of the snail” !
R,
Yes, trying to control the outcome and wanting to jump ahead to where I feel it will be all settled. But it’s all settled right now! When I have loose ends I want to tie them up. But loose ends are like dancing arms. Sometimes they need to be left untied to dance the night away.
Thank you for taking the time to comment. And for being here. You rock.
Love yourself,
Cleo
You just described me to a Tee, RedGirl. My mantra of slowing down – and for everything in general these days – is Be the Change you Want to See. It encourages me to look at who I am and how I’m acting (pushy? impatient? irritated?). Then I work to breathe and accept it’ll all happen the way it’s supposed to. Being the control freak that I am, it’s my daily battle. Following the snail kittens here – thank you!
And as you prepare to possibly downsize your abode, it’s wonderful that you are remembering all the fun in small apartments! I had a most fabulous studio with 12 foot ceilings and an enormous bathroom and a HUGE clawfoot bathtub that took 20 minutes to fill!
I am now back in apartment land after losing my home to foreclosure. But it all worked out and I LIKE it here. So much less STUFF to clean and store and worry about. I also like the fact that I can pick up and relocate….anywhere! (but my daughter is grown–it’s very different when you are a parent.)
After my divorce, I created a meditation altar and created mindfulness for myself. Magic IS everywhere and LIFE is magic! You are rockin’ it out, girlie!
I am jealous though of those who can sleep on their stomach! My chest prevents that and makes massage a little uncomfortable. Someone needs to invent boob openings, like the ones they have for your face.
Enjoying everything you write. Thanks!
L,
Thank you for taking the time to comment and to draw this connection that I didn’t see! This is an example of how we create our experience here. My look back may be so that I can draw from that time to create my future space. Although, I’m super hopeful it’s not a studio! I’m excited to simplify my world so that I can love, create and breathe.
Ha! I’ll take your boobs! Lop those puppies off and send ‘em my way –
Love yourself,
Cleo
I loved this post! I could see every detail. Have you heard the song called “Snails” by The Format? Great song. Could be your new theme song. Hang in there, girl.
H,
Cool song. Thanks for sharing it and for the kind words. It felt good to revisit that time in my life. Thanks for reading my words, H.
Love yourself,
Cleo
Hi C!
Squeegee Man!!! I even remember the flowy, mottled brown tunic and harem pants (am I dating us?!!?) that I purchased for our pre-omelet tour. No, not a three-hour tour, a pre-omelet tour!! Not only was that crash pad hip… We were hip!!!
From Wildspeak…. My new go-to book on life! “It is easy to lose a connection with snail, because it disappears from time to time, and because it doesn’t have an imposing energy.” I’m pretty sure that is my path…. I adore the initial keywords of snail, although I might strike hermaphroditic from the sticky note. Sticky notes…. An incredible wallpaper for off-campus housing…. Circle back around the park once more, Jeeves…
Cleo, this is where snail is leading you… You don’t always need imposing energy. Often it is more than enough to observe and digest the energy around you. You can glean worlds of knowledge while sitting quite still. Taking it all in. Thoughtfully. Snail energy celebrates this. Take time to smell the roses. Walk in the rain under a clear bubble umbrella. Look at the sky reflected in a puddle. Close your eyes and feel the cool water between your toes. You are the Queen of Energy, now you must extend your reign over Snail Energy. You are learning how to wait patiently, full of virtue. You are listening to the footprints of your life by pressing your ears to the ground like the Indians have always done. The air contains too many disruptions of sound waves, whereby the ground is solid and true. You will hear the hooves of the thundering horses long before you see them. You have been trusting the earth and its pure signals with each hike, swim and star gaze. You instinctively know how to slow down, now you must remember to do so.
“Knowing how to endure waiting and delay with calmness, without annoyance, is a skill that needs to be gently trained and developed. Snail energy is a champion of patience. It patiently waits for the rains to fall, sealing itself up safely in the meantime. It knows that its own journeying will take time, and snail energy is okay with that.” LOVE that Wildspeak! You are sealed up safely right now, slithering along the beach feeling each grain of sand with your feet… leaving a scent trail, which others will follow. Your last post was incredible; you described your dream snail!!! Now you just have to wait for him to catch up to you…. The Energizer Snail!!
How often I have wondered at the magical bond between us. Two totally different animal totems dancing together in unison… as we close down the club in our catsuits!!! Therein lies the lesson, we both move at different speeds, but arrive at the same time and place. If a train leaves Chicago at 5 p.m. and is traveling 72 mph and raindrop leaves a cloud at 6,000 feet…. There is no ultimate prize for speed, in fact the opposite may be true. The rewards you are gaining from your slow journey are (I have to say it!) priceless! Climbing rocks, exploring caves, stargazing from sleeping bags on the beach are the new, slower you Cleo! You are storing energy for a spectacular spring! Are we too old to do quarter shares??? xoxox!!!!!
P,
It’s never too late to do a quarter share!
“There is no ultimate prize for speed, in fact the opposite may be true.” One of many nuggets of wisdom in your sublimely crafted comment. Along with remaining gentle, supple, settled even if so much around is unsettled.
The new, slower me. It’s so much less exhausting!
Thank you for taking the time to comment, P. So many will resonate with your words. You, m’lady, are magical.
Love yourself,
Cleo
Cleo, I just read your entire blog in one sitting (ok, it’s taken me 3 days and a lot of lost work time, but I consider it worth it). Sitting here, on a rainy East Coast winter afternoon, I just have to say thank you. I was led to your blog while I was procrastinating and capping off a day/week/decade/lifetime of feeling unhappy and unfulfilled. I’ve had my moments, but it’s clear I lost my way and needed to be guided back. So thank you for showing me how. First, developing my sense of self-worth. Unlike you, I never had a period of sustained success and happiness. I always felt like a fraud, even though I had the outward trappings of success. Funny enough, it was when I was at my fattest and after a VERY underwhelming one-night stand that I stated to a good friend of mine, “I’m done dating. I just want to be on my own. Be happy.” And that night, I met my husband. Like you, we moved at lightening speed. We were friends for 2-3 months first (which I patted myself on the back for until just this moment), but when we fell, we fell. I remember being scared at first and trying to slow things down, but I didn’t have the self-confidence to draw boundaries. To tell him I needed to go MUCH slower (despite my false bravado while we were friends). And we were off, then on, then off, then on, then married, then last year we had our first child. It was 10 years ago last May that we started this journey.
We’ve been in couples counseling (It Works! Sometimes!) since the summer, and the transformation has been incredible. We have gone from endlessly hostile exchanges completely devoid of love and affection – unless he was putting on a show for my parents or our friends – to a genuine attempt on his part. And yet, I still felt like we were in a funk. And he just wanted us to “move on” because “we are better now.” And my funk continued. I started eating like crap. Sleeping poorly. Resenting our daughter’s existence because it meant I was tethered to him for life (one reason that I was committed to working on our relationship rather than hightailing it during the worst of it was because I knew, even before finding your blog, that we were now a part of our lives forever, and divorcing would just make our interactions worse, not better, and there’d be no escape).
And then, I decided to stand up for myself. Tell him my needs. I had told him, and he pretended to hear me, but he didn’t. So, I wrote him a letter. That letter made him angry. He tried to focus the conversation on the parts that made him angry, but I held strong and pulled him back to the parts that were about my NEEDS. This was before reading your blog. So, life was better than before – no hostility – open at least – and he had paid attention to and respected my needs, even though it was very difficult for him. But I was still unhappy, still in a funk. Then I found your blog. This was 3 days ago. I was mesmerized. Everything you wrote has been aching to get out of me for the past week/year/decade/lifetime. So thank you for saying it more eloquently that I was able to. For saying it out loud. Last night, he made a snide comment about my family at dinner to our daughter (who is 14 months, so couldn’t consciously understand, but it still hurt me). I calmly asked to please not mock me in front of our daughter (I realize now that I should have said that it hurt me when he mocks me, and he should NEVER do it). He tried to deny that is what he did – focusing on whether or not he had actually mocked me, telling me to lighten up, but I held firm, and asked him not to do that anymore. Yay! Boundaries drawn!
This morning, he woke up after getting to little sleep. I had gotten too little sleep as well (thanks to being mesmerized by your blog), but got up with our daughter and started our day so he could sleep in. He walked out 30 minutes later, and started getting angry with me about how we needed to sleep more, about how both our days were now ruined, how I needed to go to sleep earlier, etc… Blame blame blame all directed at me. I stayed calm, and told him he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t just wake up and take a sh*t on my day like that (I’m still working on getting more zen, but at least I was calm). He remained angry, and went back to bed. Later, after he woke up again, he was in a better mood and tried to pretend what happened earlier never happened. Fake smiles, fake come hug me, I’m fine now. I just stood there and told him again that he couldn’t treat me like that. If he was tired, it was his problem, and he needed to take responsibility for it. I hadn’t kept him awake (he was doing his own stuff last night) and what I did with my nights were not his problem if I got up and got on with my day like an adult. This time he heard me, apologized and gave me a hug.
So, I just want to say thank you. For showing me how to draw and maintain my boundaries daily, moment by moment. Always asking myself, “Does this feel good?” and if no, can I reasonably ask the other person to stop doing that – or can I do something to make it feel good?
And as I sat here, writing my own blog post (sorry!), I just got my own gift from the Universe. A long-awaited call for an interview that I had been waiting for for over a year. (I applied a couple of weeks ago, but I had been waiting for this opportunity since at least last May). So, yay! Keep doing what you’re doing.
– Your new faithful reader and loyal supporter. I look forward to continuing to witness your journey and cheering you along.
J,
That was MAGIC! You recognized that you deserve to have boundaries and needs and you stated them. That’s like giving your soul a colossal hug, a massive dose of You Matter! It’s possibly the single greatest thing you could have done for yourself. And then, rinnngggg…opportunity calling!
I’m so grateful you took the time to comment and to share your experiences. Those who read your words will see the snowball effect of choosing to respect one’s self, establish boundaries and take care of needs. Then, voila, confirmation that you’re doing what feels good and what is right. Your relationship improved and you manifested a nice reward so that the mind gets a little payday as well.
I am so psyched for you. It’s late, and I’m toast, but I’m whipping my pom poms around like a JV cheerleader.
Thank you for your kind words, your commitment to digest 160,000 of my words in a few days, and your spirit. You rock. I can’t wait to hear more…
Love yourself,
Cleo