A Nice Bowl of Puttanesca

One of the things I've learned over the years is that the Universe speaks to me in metaphor -- that is, I've come to believe that certain aspects of events going on around me are a mirror for internal things going on in my life. It's like watching other people act out the stuff that's going on in my head.

I finished my latest CD a few days ago. I've really been trying to focus on myself and rediscover the joy in my life -- I really do love so much of what's going on in my life right now, though it's sometimes I lose track of it. Anyway, I've felt like this latest CD is really reflects the core of what I'm trying to learn -- to relax and enjoy myself and find the things in my life to feel good about, instead of worrying about how to "fix" things. I really do believe that that's the freedom I've been looking for: the ability to enjoy life as it is and to trust it to unfold as it should. I've been working to reach that point that Mary J. Blige talks about -- "I wouldn't change my life, my life's just fine." I've felt like coming to really live that on a deep level is the missing piece I've always needed.

Alex emailed me after listening to the new disc, commenting that he thinks that it's the best he's heard from me and that he can tell that I've really been in a good space. On balance I've felt like things are coming together, like I'm on the brink of the things I've been asking for to finally come into place. So, when Notre Dame's hockey team made it to the championship game, I felt like it was a nudge from the Universe telling me that I'm definitely on the right track and that I'm almost there. There have been other things going on that make it clear that my life is going to change soon, one way or the other. So, the past couple of days for me have been about wondering whether I'm ready to take that step forward, whatever that may be, and feeling like, yes, I'm ready to go.

So when Saturday rolled around and Notre Dame got their asses kicked in the championship game, I tried to downplay it. "Oh, it's not a big deal, it really doesn't have anything to do with anything." When Alex sent me a cute photo of a box of Fusilli Puttanesca he saw in the grocery store because he thought of me, I thought it was oh so cute and was thankful that I really haven't a nasty "Puttanesca!" moment in a while and maybe I'm done with those. Ah, wishful thinking. Rather, they were harbingers of what was to come.

The details of it aren't really important. Instead, just focus on the essence of it -- that blinding anger that says, "After all the fucking work I've done, why the fuck do I have to go through this again?!" Hello darkness, my old friend. In the scheme of things, it wasn't a big deal (and before you ask, I'm fine, everything is ok...), but nothing quite like a steaming shit sandwich to remind you that the job's not quite done.