Dark matter

Each December Jesus and I celebrate another birthday, and shortly thereafter, the passing of another Gregorian year. Per usual in the warm sun on the beach in Naples, I sat with my journal on my lap to reflect. I’ll spare you the drama-filled fruits of that labor, and instead share some thoughts I’ve had since. Also, because I managed to skip 2014 entirely, I decided an entry was due to the blogosphere. Tonight I sit in the crowded waiting area of New York’s JFK Airport with my laptop, right here, on my lap. NYC still proves to be a fascinating place that I’m thrilled and terrified by. In a nameless bagel shop the face of the old Jewish man donning a kippah/yamaka clipped onto his almost absent, orange-colored hair reminds me of loneliness. An impassioned sound bite, “…decent to one another…,” from a middle-aged black woman to a much older white woman, touches my heart. I’m reminded of the humor surrounding the inimitable life in NYC from a knowing glance, followed by a half-smile between two strangers on the M86 bus as they remove their fogged glasses, steamed with rain and heat. As an outsider I feel the raw experience of humanity here, and it’s no wonder that it has always been a place of writers, artists, lovers, rich and poor, young and old, stylish and plain. I always feel good to get away, even if each moment may not feel good. When I’m outside of my day-to-day, I tend to dig deeper into my darkness, and sometimes unveil difficult feelings I’ve left unattended. Other times, I am able to unlock a sense of joy that has lain dormant. I always return having changed a little. I may feel renewed after experiencing inspiration or deep rest. I may feel relieved to be back home after a challenging emotional encounter. After this quick trip, I’m feeling edgy and still in need of a break. December felt full and yet uneventful. It was my first birthday that I just let pass. We rode a scooter all around town, visiting the sights of our remarkable city and ate homemade chili in my kitchen. Christmas and New Years came and went with little more than a family meal and a fireworks show. January, however, has descended with a bang. The annual burst of anxiety about the status of my current life choices beckons an oppressive onslaught of rhetorical questions: shouldn’t I be farther along? Happier in my relationships? More at ease with myself? This anxiety is followed a most unwelcome and embarrassing, almost ferocious anger. The intensity swallows up the cordial, easygoing parts of my personality and nudges out any hopes of restful nights. Even new episodes of Downton Abbey aren’t enough to soothe my soul. Visceral shame tugs at my gut. My heart swells with worry. I wonder if maybe I'm just not cut out for this kind of work, or worse, that sustained contentment in a relationship is out of my reach. My mind, however, takes charge, reminding my body to breathe deeply and to remember that it’s only temporary. P.S. On our visit this weekend to the Museum of Natural History we saw the show "Dark Matter" at the Hayden Planetarium, hence the chosen title. Nothing like a little ride through outer space to ground you in the present.