Cat Skinner Club

Love letter to a lady

"Music Pink and Blue II" by Georgia O'Keefe

Darling bright-eyed woman,

Have you made any resolutions yet at the start of this new year?

If you have not, may I suggest something to you?

I watch you every day. I see how much you give of yourself to everyone around you, tirelessly it seems, and I admire this so much.

I wonder though if there is enough to kindle the fire within you?

The resolution I would like to suggest, as someone who loves you from your soul to your toes, is to challenge yourself to set aside time at least once a week to do something entirely for you, and entirely for your own pleasure and amusement. Find a quiet cafe to read. Take a class. Try singing lessons. Learn to paint, or sculpt, or make pottery. Unlock the mysteries of that fancy camera you’ve been eying. Train for a marathon. The possibilities are endless, but this much I know:

All these people who you are so good at loving need you to take a step back and fall in love with yourself all over again. Because chances are, even if you think you feel pretty good, you’re probably not giving yourself the attention you need. The kind of attention that only you can give to you. It’s not so easy to do this. Not for any of us.

Maybe it’s because it’s hard to shift that focus inward, or maybe it’s because you spent too much time in there during periods when it was cloudy or messy or trying to make sense of the world, but it’s time now to re-discover who you are.

The people who love you will be cheering you on from the sidelines. Don’t worry about them. Your love is so great that they have emergency gas cans full, and they’re happy to see you take a little for yourself.

Happy New Year. Make it your best year yet, and I’ll be there to kiss you at midnight in 357 days.

Reading, Writing…

I have a couple more resolutions. I hope you will permit me this sounding board.

In 2010 I want to read more, and I want to write more, and I want to create a special place where both of those things can happen.

Right now, I’m tucked away on a vinyl couch in Starbucks, looking out on the snow falling at the corner of Church and Shuter. St. Michael’s looks particularly pretty today, and my solution to some serious restlessness was to change up my atmosphere. The music is a bit too loud, but at least it’s good. Ray LaMontagne. Perfect, actually. I love the snow, and I love winter, and I love feeling entirely alone in a room full of people. Strange, non?

The desire to write more has been here for awhile, but I’m always bogged down by the question of what to write. Snapshots of the inside of my head are interesting only for so long.

When I was in grade four, my love of writing was kick-started by an awesome teacher named Mrs. Fabris (oohh, now Starbucks is playing Nick Drake. Purr…). One of the awesome exercises she did was make a huge pile of pictures she’d collected from old calendars, magazines, and books. We had to close our eyes and pick an image, or sometimes study them and select one, and then we had to write a short story about the picture. I’d like to start this again, somehow. It took all of the second-guessing out of the scenario. Perhaps random iTunes suggestions would work too (Lucinda Williams. Seriously, I could stay here all day.) or random people who catch my eye on the streets.

Also, I’m sad to say that I barely read anymore. I miss this incredibly, but I have rarely had the time to dig my claws into a good book. I’d also like a good reading list, so please feel free to share any recommendations.

I miss my  TTC commute, which was at least thirty minutes of guaranteed reading time. Audrey Niffeneger has a new book. Perhaps I’ll ease into my reading plan with that.

Kinder, gentler

A plastinated human from Gunther von Hagens' Body Worlds

If I don’t include the horrible way I’ve been eating over the holidays, I’ve made some pretty excellent changes in the kinds of things that I eat, and was doing really well with going to the gym fairly regularly.

This is a slippery slope for me, because it kick starts some serious body-image obsession, and some not so healthy patterns of thinking. I’m consumed with guilt because I’ve been “bad”, even though it’s the time of year when everyone does this kind of thing.

I never weigh myself, but over the holidays I got on a scale, and though I was happy to see that I’ve lost about ten pounds since the last time I’d weighed in, I still have about ten to go before I’m happy with the numbers. Next, I will measure myself and compare to some earlier measurements.

Rather than feel proud of my success, I start to think about how I can axe those last ten pounds quickly. Anyone who knows anything about nutrition and health knows that there is no healthy way to quickly loose weight. I know this too, but sometimes I just don’t care.

I see photos of myself, and can see the difference, but all I fixate on is how much further I have to go before I’m satisfied.

New Year’s Resolution Number Two:

I will treat my body beautifully, and stop comparing myself to other women. Nutrition will be important, and exercise, and I will know that I look the way I’m supposed to because I am mindful of these two things. I will not do stupid things to myself for the sake of being smaller than I currently am. I’ll check in daily with my journal to keep myself on track – not weighing, measuring, or listing food that I’ve consumed, but writing about how I think and feel about my body.

Face Value

As cliche as this sounds, with New Year’s Eve approaching, I’m thinking about resolutions for the coming year. I’m proud to say that I’m generally good about sticking to the ones I make, and I think that this is because I really try to give them some thought.

One of the biggest issues that I’d like to tackle in 2010 is my inability to live in the moment. The happier I am, the more I find I’m looking over my shoulder to see what kind of bad is coming my way. In fact, I don’t think it would be a stretch to say that sometimes, hopefully subconsciously, I create problems because the peace and calm scares the bejesus out of me. I fear settling deeply into happiness in case it should suddenly come bursting apart at the seams.

Ridiculous, right?

I don’t want to allow fear and self-sabotage into my love life. I’ve been mostly successful at forbidding these things from clouding my professional life, and I’ve realized some pretty incredible success as a result.  After wishing so hard for this kind of happiness, I would like to receive it gracefully, and graciously.

So, resolution number one:

I will endeavor to be present each day, and accepting of the love I am given, free of doubt and fear.

On Faith

Christmas day. Last year, I made a silent wish that in a year’s time I would be sharing the holidays with someone I love. That wish came true, but I find myself unable to completely immerse myself in the joy of such a thing without worrying that I won’t have this kind of happiness next year.

Yesterday I had to explain to a six-year-old why, after the cruel tutorial from a classmate, Santa does exist, and some people just chose not to believe in him. I asked her to look into her heart and decide what she believed in, and she nodded solemnly and said “I believe in Santa.” Of course her affirmation was made real by the collective efforts of family and grandparents, and the magic unfolded before us all in a way that made me believe again too.

What good is faith without people to share it with? People to add their collective hope and dreaming into the well, to fill it with possibility and imagination? I believe this collaborative effort is required to breathe anything into life. To take dreaming and hoping and make these real, you need a community of dreamers, feverish in their dedication and their faith.

Faith;

1. Confident belief in the truth, value, or trustworthiness of a person, idea, or thing.
2. Belief that does not rest on logical proof or material evidence.
3. Loyalty to a person or thing; allegiance: keeping faith with one’s supporters.

I have an abundance of faith that the path I am on is exactly where I need to be. I have faith in its possibility and ability to survive whatever the world throws at us. I have faith in the power of love. I have an “It’s A Wonderful Life” sized abundance of sweetness and real, pure love in this relationship. Enough that I brought everyone to my extended family holiday celebration, and introduced them to nearly all of my people.
This entry continues on Boxing Day morning, at my parent’s home. My family home, where I lived my entire life before venturing out on my own. We’ve crashed here, and my mother is now busy in the kitchen, putting together an epic brunch. I’m battling guilt over all of the bad-for-me things I’ve eaten in the last week, but I know the onslaught is not over yet, and so I’m steeling myself for more over-indulgence.
After my last relationship ended, I decided not to bring anyone home to my family until I knew it was the real deal. I didn’t want my poor parents to have to bond with anyone, only for it not to work out again. I realize there is no way to predict the future, but as I watch my mother, and more remarkably my father, filled with delight I feel a little knot forming in my belly, that is the product of so much hope and fear.
I want this so badly. Not just because of the love I feel, but also because if we can succeed at this, we will inspire so many people. We are like pioneers, forging our way across uncharted land, making our own rules as we meet new hurdles. To witness the love and acceptance and inclusion over the last three days has only further convinced me that this IS possible. That despite some complication and difficulty, there is a way that all of this can work, especially with a loving community to support us.
However, if we don’t believe in this ourselves, there isn’t very far to go at all.