I am here, I am here.
I’ve already seen the bottom, so there’s nothing to fear
I know that I’ll be ready when the devil is near.
I am here, I am here
All of this wrong, but I’m still right here
I am here. I am here.
I don’t have the answers, but the question is clear. 
  Let me ask you. 

“I am Here” — P!NK
Beautiful Trauma

I have to apologize for the rambling nature of this post.  As I re-read this the 100 times I always do before hitting publish, I see that I am all over the map with my blathering.  It seemed to make sense as I wrote it, but on reflection I see that I failed to make many of the connections between the ideas that were in my head.  They were definitely there, they just didn’t seem to make it all the way from my brain to the keyboard.  Nonetheless I am going to post it as is.  Why?  Because that is the beauty of a personal blog.  I don’t have to please anyone or be perfect – just honest . . . . with myself.  So, if you can stand the aimless wandering thoughts, please give it a go.

I have been listening to a lot of music lately.  Actually, music has become a much more significant part of my life over the past 2 years or so.  It has helped me get physically stronger as I cycle to amazing playlists created by my amazing CycleFierce tribe; it has helped me cope with sadness, invoking tears when I would certainly rather not shed them – I almost never do.  Music has opened pathways to a certain awareness, sometimes mindfulness, that I might not otherwise have perceived.  It has brought me great joy as well as great sadness when I hear something truly appropriate in a particular moment.  So, I guess you could say that I have developed a new appreciation for music, its melodies and lyrics.  I have always been moved by music but it is somehow different – more intense now.  

This morning I heard the lyrics from P!NK’s “I am here”.  I’ve heard them before.  Many times in fact.  But today they struck a nerve.  As with most songs, you can interpret the lyrics in many ways but for me, today, it meant only one thing.  That is that I am – in fact – here.  Right here.  Right now.  The decisions I have made before are in the past.  The mistakes I’ve made, my drop to the bottom is history.  I hope I have rectified my mistakes in some way and I truly hope I haven’t caused too much harm as I’ve tried to claw my way back up to the surface.  Nonetheless, they are part of my history – not my present and not my future.  And I am here now, not there.  And that, of course, is the struggle. Being here now.  Not there now.  

The trouble is that if our decisions are truly in the past and we should live here and now – with mindfulness of the present moment – then how can it be that all these Karen’s keep popping up sometimes obliterating any chance I may have of being mindful.  They have certainly grown from my past and in many ways are not going anywhere. 

I could argue this notion with myself endlessly. 

My decisions have most certainly made me who I am – one Karen or another – and left a thread behind for better or worse.  But how can I really be here, now, in this moment, without any pretext, when one of those prickly little threads has picked me up and dumped me right here.  It seems impossible for me to stay here and “just be”, when some of the baggage weighing down those threads seems to hover around me, showing up here and there, without notice.  

As I’ve written before, so much of our life undeniably leaves deep tracks in our mind, heart, and soul.   This idea is a difficult one for me because the contradiction is clear.  We are here now, in this moment, which has never occurred before.  Some would say that each situation is fresh and new and can be met with absolute purity.  But can it?  Surely these remnants influence our movement into this new fresh moment.  And how do we overcome the propensity to let past experience continuously influence present moments?  I face this dilemma all too often, knowingly or not, and it is inherent in my ability – or inability – to be in the moment – here and now.  

Another way I tangle up my brain about this is through my expectations.  It is nearly impossible for me not to look ahead to what comes next.  To ponder, ad-nauseam, my next move and anticipate how the current situation will play out.   Again, this is an example of being unable to live in the moment and can be pretty damaging.  After all, you know what they say about assumptions – they make an ass out of you and me.  Sometimes I see myself expecting behavior that is based solely on the prior reactions of others.  How unfair is that?  And truthfully, it can become a self-fulfilling prophecy.  As I set my expectation, I behave in a certain way.  Often this produces the very reaction I “expect” but really want to avoid.  Sometimes there is just no winning . . . .

Accepting the impact our history has on our current existence is, of course, easiest to recognize when it involves something beautiful.  Like the joy I have experienced in my life.  And I have had much joy.  There is no doubt of that.  I have felt love, exploded with laughter, watched pure sweetness and seen true natural beauty.  And so I have to recognize the notion that these threads of sweetness and beauty are still there too, right along-side the ugly.  

So what do we do?  How do we temper the past, all of it, and its influence on the future.  I’m actually not sure we can.  But I am bound and determined to try to live each moment as purely as I can.   

So many yogis – and I have many in my life – can easily do this.  They meditate – you’ve seen me try this one. . . . .  unsuccessfully.  Read about that fiasco here. Or at least check out the photo below for a good laugh ….. 

What I love about these P!NK lyrics is the image that they elicit – that the darkness looms around us always, as does the light.  To the extent we are able in any given moment, we can choose one or the other – darkness or light.  And there is really no wrong way – no sin.  Just your way.  I guess the simple trick is to let go of the predispositions that exist within us from our history – or at least acknowledge them and give them the back seat now.

I am trying so hard to let this go and approach each moment as just that – a moment.  Not an event that I’ve seen before.  Not a feeling I’ve felt in similar situations.  Not a tasteless meal I’ve seen served up before at the Kitchen Table.  But a new moment that I can address purely and with current mindfulness.  Hmmmmm. Isn’t that a daunting challenge?  I’m not sure I’m up for it in every instance.  But how nice if I caoukd pull it off even a little bit every now and then.

In any event, all the mistakes and the joy, now embedded in my path and permanently threaded through my tapestry will stay with me in some way forever.  (See Fabric, my earlier post on weaving the tapestry that becomes your life.) My current hat trick is to let those threads go enough to move forward.  Not to discard them but keep them where they are. Leave them there so I can be here now. I think that the people I have surrounded myself with – and they know who they are – are a good start to pulling this rabbit out of my hat. Still. These words . . . . they are so timely.

May the light be upon me.  May I feel in my bones.  
That I am enough. I can make anywhere home.
My fingers are clenched, my stomach in knots.   
My heart it is racing, but afraid I am not.  
Afraid I am not.  
I am here.  I am here. 

More of “I am Here”
— P!NK,  Beautiful Trauma