Catch Me If You Can

November 15, 2019

I was trying to explain how I feel to someone new in my life. She seemed lost. I could see it in her eyes, she just stared at me in silence.  She was struggling. Trying to understand me.  Attempting to respond with the right words.  She was failing, for me and for her.  And it hit me.  People like you and I live in many worlds.  We live in this life, in our old life, in a life we wish we could have.  In the future.  In many versions of the future.  In the dreams we have at night.  In the invisible world.  The list is long. (Click to tweet!) When you meet someone new, what can you really say that could capture who you are now?  You are many selves.  The old self, the current transitional self, and the future self are all overlapping.  You are also occupying many lives.  Your past, present and future life.  It’s like you can jump from one world to another in one sentence and they can’t catch up.  Sure you can slow it down for them.  Sure you can tone it down by talking about one world at a time.  But it will feel as if you are sharing only a small part of you.  Your conversations will fall flat.  And this is why it feels so lonely after loss.  You see, your loss has added multiple inner worlds and you live in them simultaneously.  So you go out every day thinking everyone else also lives in many worlds.  And they don’t.  They don’t know how to travel with you. It took me many years to understand what the empty look I got from others was all about.  They are not judging.  They are not hating.  They are just trying to understand what we are telling them.  And they can’t catch up sometimes.  Not because we are smarter than them, but because we are no longer living in a linear way. You jump outside of time and space a hundred times a day after loss.  You go in your memories.  Then you go into all the possible futures.  Then you come back in your present.  And you do all of this fast. The saying, ‘Catch me if you can.’ takes a whole other meaning for people like us.  With many worlds, Christina P.S. One of the worlds I live in every day is the TEMPLE WORLD, from my book Where Did You Go?  I hope you come and spend a weekend with me in Northern California so we can travel outside of time and space together. REGISTER HERE: https://www.1440.org/programs/faculty-led-programs/personal-growth/self-discovery/temple-journey

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The Field Amidst The Two Houses: A Short Story

November 8, 2019

And then there is this knowing that affairs, even the love kind, are not blameless. They foil with the future the way God quickens  our destiny without caution, just like the rain dawns in the midst of a summer’s day dampening the exposed ground. At the cottage down the hill a wasted senile man is sitting,  hair uncombed, its oil brims out, his eyes lingering between  closed and open. But go back fifty years, he is dancing  in our house, this same one. After his beers  find their way to his mind, a lion swimming.  Maybe drunk. Hard to say if he ever feels the lion.  All he wants to do is toss me around,  make me a lioness. Make me his. I run away.  Like a scared cat.  Oh I was once a fool moving life around  like a puppet show using love as my strings:  Whatever you are thinking of doing,  you better stay right here. But his voice was full of burpings and profanities, none of them carried love,  so I forged on: while his brother was waiting  for me to brace the field amidst the two houses.  As I look back at it now it is clear how lost all three of us were.  But this could not have been undone.  He was only lucid two hours a day,  no burps and beers early in the morning.  And when his beers walked in I walked out,  where the field opened up like a gateway to another life.  Journeying to his brother’s arms, his hot off the pot stew,  his doting eyes, his bed and white sheets waiting for me like a bride.  But now it’s a ghost house that resembles the love nest he built just for us,  away from his drunken brother.  He has been gone for half a decade,  buried under this cross I carved out the day after.  And while I do not understand the yearnings of death, still I think there's a reason why we got found out that summer night,  and both died. Him from his brother’s hand and I from a broken heart.  In the midst of sitting old, I glance across the field  I still see him standing at the door waving at me.  Oh we are not forgotten, we are not past.  Call it sin. Call it lust.  His love, his laughter, his waiting.  Then the old man moves from the chair  and I come back to this drunken life.  Far away from him.  With many lost loves, Christina P.S. This may be a fictional short story, but the loss we experience in life is complex and spans our whole lives sometimes. Lost loves. Lost identities. Staying in unhealthy relationships. Living life with regrets. 

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I Would Remember

November 1, 2019

When all is said and done I would remember the snow outside the doctor’s office.  The unknowingness in my children’s lives.  The struggle to be inside a new chapter after. I would remember the stars.  The lake.  Loneliness on the deck.  The decade that was born from the grief.  My dogs. The girls growing and finding out how much they lost.  I would remember the pale colors that surrounded me.  The lack of interest in a regular world.  The stories I told myself and others.  The mailman.  The houses I lived in. The moves.  All the people I met. You. I would remember you.  The tragedies I was told about. Everyone else’s pain.  All the things I carried. Mine. And not mine.  The writing of the letters.  This letter.  Writing to you. To us.  The words that got me through it all.  I will remember being afraid always.  The panic in all the nights before.  The noise inside my head.  The changes.   The gifts. The becoming.  Being reborn while being alive.  The early mornings. Coffee.  The courage to live while letting go of all the things that were no longer here or mine.  The sunrise. The sunrise. The sunrise.  I would remember how unexpected, all of it was.  How long it felt, while there.  And of course I would remember the miracles.  The rocket launches.  The conversations.  But most of all, I would remember me.  The girl who didn’t know herself.  Until the world saw her.  Until you.  Now it’s your turn.  Go on.  Go into the future and see yourself. What would you remember about your life after loss? With lots of memories, Christina  PS. Have you read WHERE DID YOU GO?

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You Can Call Me Georgia

October 25, 2019

Something magical happens when you stop caring about what others think of you.  You start to taste a level of freedom that questions all of your past decisions.  It changes your interactions with people.  Your conversations with your boss.  Your friends.  The whole ecosystem around you.  The other day, I met someone ‘important.’  Semi famous. He was so used to people being excited around him.  Half way through my conversation I noticed that he was nervous.  And I noticed something about myself too.  I was a little bored with our conversation.  I didn’t care about his fame.  I was ready to be done with our meeting.  I had no interest.  Of course I didn’t show it to him, but he knew. He knew.   It is hard to hide indifference.  That evening, I sat on my favorite chair at home and started to process what happened.  You see, I had spent my whole life trying to prove my value, my worthiness.  I sought validation from everyone.  Especially people with influence.  But now, it is like someone just took the ‘I care what others think’ feeling out of my heart.  I could suddenly hear all the way inside the universe.  When you don’t need to be somebody else.  It is like sitting down inside your own body. And marveling at yourself.  And if you are thinking what does this have to do with grief and loss.  Well, everything.  Grief hides the true you when you are in pain.  It is so much easier to please the world and copy what is out on display vs what is hiding inside of you. (Click to tweet!) For me, 2019 has been a year of unexpected evolution towards a self that I can respect.  I think of women like Georgia O’Keefe, Yayoi Kusama, Sophie Scholl, Harriet Tubman. And I am running towards them so fast yelling, one day I will become.  I will become like you, relentlessly yourselves.  Abundantly unique.  Ridiculously indifferent towards anyone else’s opinions about the way you lived your lives.  Who will you become when you stop caring about what others think of you?  What shall I call you?  You can call me Georgia.  With many names but one inner view, Christina P.S. Join me this March in Northern California, it will be a life altering, life bending adventure with not only the people in the room but with the people we loved and lost. REGISTER HERE: https://www.1440.org/programs/faculty-led-programs/personal-growth/self-discovery/temple-journey

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