Category: honesty

adulthood · authenticity · fear · honesty · progress · San Francisco · self-support · work

Sans Cape

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

For an unemployed person, I’m mighty busy, and double
booking, or booking right after another.
So, I was honest with the painter yesterday and simply
emailed her to tell her that I was feeling a little daunted at the thought of
modeling for 3 hours after working a full day – I’ve been so tired, guys,
normal people hours are weird – I almost
wrote “wired,” which I suppose they are too. My caffeine reduction experiment
tanked last week at the temp job with a return to 3 cups a day, but I’m trying
again, and yesterday was only two.
A friend of mine said, when I told her on Monday night that
I was thinking of canceling Tuesday’s modeling gig, that there was no way that
I could cancel with this woman, the artist, that I had made my commitment, and
that it was less than 24 hours notice, and that it would affect my
“reputation,” and that if I didn’t want to model ever again than it was fine for
me to cancel.
Whoa.
So, considering that this woman is someone I go to for
council in other matters, I took what she said, not to heart, but to left
ventricle maybe. But it didn’t sit well in my left ventricle. I am/was tired, and was not really going to be emotionally or
physically available to do what needed to be done. This date was set up over a
month ago, when I had no idea I’d be working 9-5 in SF. I went to sleep on
Monday night contemplating lying to the artist, and telling her that I had a
stomach issue, and couldn’t make it. Then, I let it go, and went to sleep.
I woke up, and decided to just be honest. So, I wrote the
artist an email, said obviously I made my commitment to her and would be there,
but was there another way.
You know what she said (of course you do), she said, NO
PROBLEM. “I’ll paint instead.” And we rescheduled for a weekend evening next
month. “No Problem.” Once again, I’m shown that when I’m 100% honest, it
usually goes better than I could have imagined. I tried my very best to let go of the results after I sent the email
yesterday morning – I brought all my modeling gear with me, and said to myself,
if I have to, I have to, and I will – … then I habitually, compulsively,
checked my inbox to see if there was a response. Then… I remembered that I was
“turning it over,” letting it go, and I was actually at another job that was
needing my attention.
And so it went for about 4 hours. I even left for
lunch. Ha! I even let myself take my little breaks and walk around downtown, to
relieve my poor spine of compression for a few non-sitting minutes. I let
myself take care of myself, basically, even though I didn’t know what “the
future held.” That’s sort of new. Usually, I’ll clamp down – I don’t know
what’s going on, what’s happening, what will happen, I better stay here, worry,
consume, agitate.
Nope. I took a walk. I wore a dress yesterday even, I think
I’ve worn it once since I bought it, and I looked nice. I looked presentable. I
looked Molly. Only nicer 😉
I come back from lunch, there’s an email from the artist,
and, I guess I spoiled the surprise already, but, NO PROBLEM. I can’t stress
enough what a relief that was. I was able to leave work and go to meet up with
some of my peeps for an hour, we even sat in some 15 minute meditation, which was
unexpected. I was able to come home, play with my cat, … attempt to get to bed
at a decent hour.
I haven’t told my friend who chastised me for considering
canceling that it all went well. I know that she’s human, and as another friend
said to me recently, We can only see as far for others as we can see for
ourselves. And, I “get” what she meant, that it’s not okay to cancel last
minute – or rather, it’s not ideal, but it had to be asked. So, I will have to
tell her – and maybe when I’m done with this set of work I’m doing with her,
I’ll move on – she is helpful in a lot of other ways, and again, she is human.
She has her own history, and beliefs and patterns. Whatever it meant to her to
arise such a virulent reaction, really doesn’t have much to do with me,
honestly. I’m glad I’m able to see what was mine, what was right for me, and do
what was right for “Human Molly,” not “Super Molly.” I may look good in tights,
but the cape is a little much.
One of the reasons I didn’t want to do the gig yesterday was
that I wanted to continue to apply for work in the evening. I didn’t do that yesterday – I sat
on my couch and read this book I’m reading. Man Seeks God. It’s actually hilarious, and informative. But one
thing that came up at my workshop on this past Saturday was my answer to my
question for the group – What, honestly, is your favorite creative block – or
put another way, what is your favorite thing to do instead of being creative?
In the past, I’ve written facebook, or t.v., but this time,
I think I got a little closer to the heart of it: Reading about other people’s
lives instead of living my own.
Yep, that pretty much fits about all the manifestations of
what I do instead of living my own – that’s what facebook provides, this book
I’m reading offers, it’s what t.v. or movies do. Let me witness someone else’s
life, instead of participating in mine.
Sure, there’s a time and place for it all – I’m not going
Luddite. But I’m glad to be more focusedly aware of what it is I’m doing when I
decide to read for 3 hours, instead of send out one resume.
That said, today, I commit to creating a teaching resume,
and sending out one job application.
I also commit to taking a spinal decompression walk. 😉 

adulthood · change · family · honesty · intimacy · life · love · relationships · willingness

A Fair and Balanced View

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

There are a few things that are hard to reconcile. For
example, prefacing your poem to your family by saying it’s mediocre as you did
not have time to edit the first draft – and after reading it in public at the ceremony at school, having people come up to you afterward praising the poem
and asking how they can get a copy. I gave a woman my card.
It’s hard to reconcile my view of where and how I am in my
life with the clouds of pride and support that beamed from my family and
classmates on Saturday, graduation day.
It’s also hard to maintain a stoic, stark, medieval view of
myself when I have women around me who “want what I have,” and a woman to call
who reminds me of the length and breadth of this process of school, and indeed the last 6
years.
A fair and balanced view. How to achieve that around
ourselves, whom we hold to such impossible standards that we’re always falling
short. Or at least I do.
Because I’m not
falling short. My measuring stick is broken and outdated and subjective.
Not much has “changed” outwardly over the last few weeks as
graduation occurred, and it’s hard to know if much has changed inwardly, but, I
think it is, slowly. I think my awareness of my rigid and flagellating stance
with myself will begin to bring change with it.
I also decided to change my workshop to sliding scale,
instead of a set fee. I had the thoughts to either cancel the whole thing (as I
had/have only one registered/paid participant), or to host at my house the few
who said they wanted to come, or do it in the city anyway.
I chose the latter, partly because I want the experience of doing it in a more “formal”
or official setting. I still want to share these tools, and help others
to learn whatever they need to learn from this. And also… I’m worried if I just
cancelled it, people might show up at the event the day-of, and be disappointed 😉
So, we’ll see what happens with that. It still may just be
me and my one registered participant. And if that’s the case, and I eat the
rental fee, so be it. Not ideal, but my ideas about how the workshop should be
are obviously not working, so instead of edging toward “fuck it” and not do it,
or toward “you MUST” and do it for the set fee, I’m finding a middle way. – That feels
like progress.
Also, I got to talk with my mom yesterday at the ass-crack
of dawn when we’d dropped my brother at his flight at SFO, and had a few hours
to kill before her flight. So, we grabbed some coffee and sat in Terminal 2 in
those Ikea-looking tangerine-colored winged chairs, and we talked.
I decided somewhere mid-conversation to tell her why I’d
stopped talking to her on the phone for almost a year. I didn’t “owe” her the
explanation, but I did want to share why. I reminded her of that last
conversation we had, and how she “hi-jacked” the conversation (a term she used
about her behavior when I’d finished). How suddenly a light and fun and mutual
conversation jumped the tracks, the shark, the point, and careened head-long
into “My Mom’s Issues.” I told her that I don’t feel able to hold the space for
that stuff for her anymore, that it feels inappropriate, but that I didn’t have
the words or wherewithal to tell her that in the moment. And so, instead of putting up a boundary, I put up a wall.
And it’s held. She said she had to just accept that we’d communicate
via email and text, and that that had to be enough. And for this year it was.
Seeing her, however, I really was reminded of how much I miss her. And she said
to me after I’d shared what went on with me, that if I felt able, and it sounds
like I feel more able now, to tell her that she’s hijacked the conversation to
let her know. And we’ll see if I can.
We both know we’re still in new territory. Our relationship
has swung the gamut from oversharing, overly enmeshed, over identification all
the way over to not talking for months and months, several times. We’re still
finding our center in our relationship, as I suppose we’re each finding our
center within ourselves. Back to the fair and balanced view. The Middle Way.
How can I hold the contradictions? How can I allow for
myself to be vulnerable without a hard shield of protection? How can I see
myself as a simple, or simply complex, human, with assets and liabilities? And, how can I allow others that same
generosity?
Dunno.  😉  But I think I’m trying. 

acceptance · adulthood · change · courage · discovery · forgiveness · gratitude · grief · honesty · intimacy · kindness · love · meditation · progress · recovery · sex · sexuality · sobwebs · spirituality

Somewhere New.

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

For several months now, I’ve been working on a particular
area of healing. For those of you who have read the “Savage Love,” then “Savage Beauty” blogs, you know that I’ve been working on healing my relationship with
my sexuality, and my past behavior and experience in this area.
This is likely going to be a little heavy – for which I’m
not thrilled, but I’m honest – so if that’s not what you want today, I’m sure Cyanide
& Happiness will provide some levity
today.
On my way back from the sweat lodge this Sunday, I was riding
with my friend who was running the lodge. I told her that earlier this year,
and late last year, each time I’d “go in” via meditation or shamanic journey
work to ask what I need to do next to move forward, I was presented with the information
that I needed to work on this stuff – sexual trauma and other murky stuff. I have been. Working
with my therapist on EMDR for a little bit (though I’m not seeing her
currently, due to finances), and in these other more alternative ways.
And most of all, through my thesis.
Basically what my thesis trails is a path through my sexual
history. That story parallels my mental breakdown, and my parents’ divorce, but really,
what is being excavated and brought into the light is all of that. The
“highlights” or representative incidents.
Over ages 16 through 24 (a little earlier than 16, but
that’s when it really took off with a very chicken-or-egg tag team with my drinking), is a napalm blanket of sorrow, shame, and
dissociation. When riding in the car with my friend on Sunday, I said to her
that I hadn’t “been in” to ask for a while if I’m “done” with this particular
set of work or not, and wondered if maybe I was, but/and as I found out a little this morning, there are still
some corners left to sweep.
I am grateful that I had the courage to put all of what I
needed to onto paper in my thesis. But, I’m also aware that it goes much deeper
and further than the stark, strobe-like glimpses that I give you, the reader.
And this morning, in meditation, I began to psychicly clear out some of the
cobwebs. (I just accidentally wrote “sobwebs,” which I suppose is pretty accurate
for this morning.)
In fact, I did something pretty literal to sweeping out – in my mind’s
eye, I walked through and into all those situations I remember, and
unfortunately or not, I remember quite a lot quite vividly apparently — more
than I thought I did. I walked through these times and places, into these
couplings and actions, and burned sage there. I carried this sage through all
the circumstances I could remember, and asked them to be cleared of any energy
which is no longer needed.
There are the few where there was kindness,
and the kindness will remain, but there are the many that were out of a sense of obligation, or resignation, or force; or just wanting to feel better; or just wanting to feel anything other than what
I felt. There are those that are truly tragic, and require some extra doses of
compassion and witness, instead of repression.
I don’t know what may or not come of this work this morning.
It was sort of “unbidden;” I didn’t have the intention as I closed my eyes for
meditation this morning to do any of that – but I guess the Powers That Be had
that intention for me, anyway.
One thing I asked for aloud in the prayer circle in Sunday’s
sweat lodge during the final prayer round – the one where we get to pray for
ourselves, out loud so others know what we need – I prayed for healing around
physical intimacy. And that’s where the majority of my tears came on Sunday. My
relationship with my body, my femininity, sexuality, sex, intimacy, being
present in my body when being intimate – all of this needs healing. I’d still
rather hide within my body – offer you it, but not what’s inside it; assume
it’s really all you want from me anyway, so I might as well just give you only
that out of spite – even if you in fact want more. But, hiding within myself doesn’t work
anymore. Beating myself out of my body – or having someone do it for me – doesn’t work anymore. Not being present
is painful now. And not voicing my physical needs to a partner is another way of hiding.
I don’t really know what to do about it yet. I know that I
don’t do what I used to. But I feel like I’ve swung to the opposite side of the
spectrum – from the vixen to Betty Crocker, as I’ve put it. But I know opening
these doors, clearing these wounds, being willing to treat my flesh with care,
and being willing to meet all of you with all of me are mile-markers of
progress.
I’d like to be done with this work. I’d like to declare
myself fit for duty. Maybe it’ll always be an ongoing process, maybe it’ll come
to a place of plateau. I don’t know. But apparently I’m ready to clear the
sobwebs, and arrive at somewhere new. 
acceptance · adulthood · change · friendship · honesty · progress · self-care · self-support

R-E-S-P–…oh you know the rest

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

Things I have the power to change:
my hair color
my perspective.
That’s the list for now. Sure, it could be really long, but
that’s what occurs to me at the moment. I haven’t, in fact, changed my hair
color in a few years – after the blonde debacle, and subsequent re-browning –
and, it sort of feels that i haven’t changed my perspective all that much
lately either.
I met up with a friend in SF yesterday, as I went about my
day flyering the city (note the gazillion workshop flyers on the lampposts of Hayes
Valley), and basically, she told me that although she could see that this was
important to me to talk about – where I am in my life, basically, … or rather,
my opinion of where I am in my life –
that she just couldn’t process with me anymore. That she herself, as I well
know, is in a similar position, going through similar changes in her life, and
I guess she’s just fed up with the whole “Let’s figure it out” routine. And so,
she told me, gently, that I’m still in the problem, and not the solution, and
that until I start to do things or see things differently, of course it’s going
to be painful for me.
I was both disappointed, and heartened – our friendship is
that strong, that we can let one another know when we’re being crazy,
basically, and that the other just can’t bear witness to crazy right now.
I have a few marching orders, work I’m doing with a woman
one-on-one, that I can proceed to progress on, and that’s where the change will
come. But, for now, my friend is right – as Jung said (loose paraphrase): we cannot solve the problem at the
level of the problem.
So, if all I have at the moment is my ground level view,
it’s better for now to stop reporting back from the (perceived) bleak front lines, and do
the work I have in front of me which will help me to get a foothold up and out.
Perhaps this all sounds sort of vague, but it’s all I got.
I was reflecting this morning on respect – that something
that I can change is how I respect myself or don’t. Who am I to disparage
myself for not being x y or z? How would I react if a friend came to me and
“should” all over me? (You should know, it should be different, you should have
figured it out already, you should be better…)
I’m realizing that all the time that I spend in lamenting
this situation is time I’m spending beating myself up, and treating myself
unkindly – and without respect. What would it be like to respect myself – to
look at myself from an outsider’s view? To congratulate myself on my
accomplishments, take real stock and account of things that I have done and
talents that I have. What would it be like to take a more well-rounded view of
myself? Would I ever disparage myself as
in the above paragraph? Discounting all that I am? No. Because here are a few
reality checks – a) I’m human – guess what, I come with assets and liabilities. b) I’m hosting a workshop that I’ve
dreamed up, crafted, advertised and implemented all by myself today. (with due
thanks to all my helpers!) and, c) I am poised to graduate from graduate school. I didn’t
make it to my college graduation. I got
high as fuck after my high school one. This time, I’m showing up – period. I’m showing up
entirely differently.
I’ve changed. I have
become someone worthy of respect – most emphatically of my own respect. If I
can begin to take ownership of feelings like that – or rather facts like that – then I can begin to move from the
problem into the solution. I do not need to know anything about what “will
happen.” What I do need to be very careful I count along side of the things I
have “to work on,” are the things that are worthy, lovable, respectable about
myself.
Because in the end, I’m the person with the power to change
my perspective. Because I will inform others’ interactions with me, Fate’s
interactions with me, by leading by my own example of realistic, balanced, and earned respect. 

faith · honesty · integrity · surrender · time

The end is nigh

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

I just like that phrase. So gothic and epic … and Mayan.
Just kidding.
(p.s. Following yesterday’s blog and some other recent
ones, I start to wonder what is TMI or inappropriate for this forum. But,
although I may have walked up to the line, and even then, I may not have, I
don’t think I’ve crossed it. So – onward!)
My school inbox is being flooded with emails about
graduation regalia, thesis submission costs, thesis filing information,
invitations to the end of year event, etc. You’d think there were something a
brewin, eh?
May 12th I graduate. That’s about a month from
now, and I’m stoked and terrified. Not terrified, just unclear.
In an effort to get more clear, today I’m going to be taking up a
suggestion. A time map. You may call it a schedule. Part of my fear is based on
my inability to take action – or not an “inability” per se, but a fear, simply
of taking action. What if I try my best and fail? What if I turn down underpaying jobs and end up broke
anyway? Shel Silverstein was a wise man
when he wrote the poem “Whatif.”
So, to combat vagueness, and the three P’s (Perfectionism
-> Procrastination -> Paralyzation), I’m going to work today to create a
schedule for myself to include things like revenue generating time (i.e.
looking for work); creative time; and grocery shopping(!).
Because without any structure of a 9-5, I’m not doing much
of anything with my days. Sort of floating along, with class punctuating the
vagueness (and homework not). I don’t like it. I feel then stressed in the 11th
hour, and I don’t have to. So, I’ll work with someone today to create a plan
that includes play and self-care and work and effort and the scary things that
elicit the above questions.
In a stroke of unexpectedness, I got an email from a gallery
owner I know. I’d emailed her nearly 6 months ago to ask if she had any
part-time work available and had never heard back. She emailed me yesterday
with apologies. This, is something of a surprise, and I’m coming to notice
“surprises” as little “G-d shots” as it were. She said she’d love to chat in
person. Not sure that she has any work, but that’s not the point.
I mentioned to some folks last month that I would sweep the
floor in an art gallery. I would adjust spreadsheets. I would do whatever job
would get me into a world of art, artists, creativity. And, suddenly, here
appears my acquaintance. I will follow up with her. Little actions produce big
results. Is it a coincidence that I’m finally taking some action around work
and this email comes in? Maybe.
I’ve decided that I’m not going to the interview at the job
I have no interest in today. Mainly, it’s just f’ing dishonest. I’d be lying my
ass off to get a job I don’t want. I had the recent experience with the modeling guild
of lying and having it coming around to bite me – I think I’ve learned.
Furthermore, despite other people’s vocal fears to me which run along the lines
of “Just take it,” that is not my value. Not my personal value system, or the
monetary and energetic value that I have to exchange.
This surely produces fear (TAKE THE CRUMBS!!!), but fuck the
crumbs. I’ve been like Hansel and Gretel in the forest leading myself to the
fiery pit of someone else’s oven by following crumbs. I don’t need the crumbs. I need
the wiser idea of the stones on the path – the firmer, more appropriate, more
honest way of being.
I have help to lay these stones if I avail myself of them,
and so, I’m asking for help on the baby steps today. Feels a little silly to
ask someone to sit with me while I make a map of my time, but I haven’t been
able to do it on my own, and I need help. So, I’ll ask, I’ll receive, and I’ll
change. G-d willing. 

authenticity · commitment · honesty · self-care

The Befogged Crystal Ball

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

You know that tired where you feel all dehydrated? Blech.
But, what must be done, must be done, and I have to head in
to SF in a little while to meet up with a lady friend/teacher of mine. After
that, this afternoon, I’m heading to North Beach to live model for a friend’s
friend. This is sort of a trial run, agreed upon in a safe environment – one
where I feel safe at least, not that the
modeling guild wasn’t, but this woman is a more known entity. I’m not getting
paid – as she’s basically agreed to see me and see if I ought to try to pursue
this more, and for me to see if I want to try to pursue this more.
I had a moment in February when I was still considering whether or not
to drop out of the modeling guild – before I’d been on any gigs – when we had
live models in our painting class. And it was just so cool. It’s just really cool. Here are these people, and
suddenly, they’re art. It’s fascinating and enticing to me, and I called a
friend and was like, I don’t know what to do – if I continue with the guild, I
have to rent a zipcar to get to the outlying gigs (as I’d lied on the
application and said I had a car – as I knew that’d be a requirement – but I
don’t, and that was coming around to bite me). Paying the cost of the rental
really cut in to any money I’d make modeling, and it was beginning to feel like
an exercise in self will, rather than the attendant “ease and flow” that can
come when things are a bit more “meant to be.”
So, I dropped out of the guild, having not been on a single
job, but having had a lot of good learning from doing the audition as well as
the training sessions. And my friend put me in touch with a painter friend of
hers, female, who uses live models and would be willing to see if this is a
good fit for me or not. Then if it does go well, so the line goes, she’ll let
her other painter/drawing friends know about me.
We’ll see. The nice thing about this one is that there isn’t
as much pressure. If I need to stop, then I will. If it’s too physically
grueling, I’ll learn that. It’s really f-ing hard to stand still for 20 minutes, and then do that for 3 hours in
increments. It’s not all standing hopefully – some is sitting. But the “good
ones” can do a lot of standing, I think. But what do I know. We’ll see.
I’m also in the process of learning how to pull my life-line tendrils out of San Francisco and root further into Oakland, in a “bloom
where I am planted” effort. So, I may or may not be going in to see my teacher-friend weekly any more. I don’t know yet. I’ve been seeing her for more than 3
years now, we’ve been through a lot, she’s seen me through a lot, and there’s
fear and sadness about changing the nature of our relationship.
I went over a friend’s for dinner last night – here in
Oakland, surprise! – and we were talking about how hard it is to end, or
change, relationships that aren’t “bad.” There’s nothing wrong. No one is to
blame. It’s just not working any more. My SF teacher and I have had the
conversation before, that soon enough, I might want to find someone to work
with over here in Oakland, but each time, I’ve said Nuh Uh, I still get so much
out of meeting with her. Which is true. I still, to this day, get so much out of meeting with her. But the commute is a killer
and it’s dragging me down. An hour and a half to get there, to meet for an
hour, and then an hour and a half back is … not an efficient use of my time,
and despite my trying to “make it work” and let it be “okay,” it’s just not.
And, I’m finally becoming willing to take action around this change.
It is weird to change
the nature of a relationship, from one that is more mentor/pupil to potentially
just peers/friends, without rancor or dishonesty or blame. There just isn’t
that, and so it gets to just be sad, but also freeing as I get to be honest
about my needs and what I’m available for.
I’m not sure if I’ll “pull the plug” today. I don’t know if
that’s the most nurturing thing for me to do today with the end of school coming, and this woman having
watched me go through all that it took to get to school at all. But, I’m approaching
the place of accepting that this is necessary, and that I’m willing to make the
change, though I’m scared of what happens then.
As someone said to me recently, “I have a crystal ball, but I just don’t know how to use it yet.” 
gratitude · honesty · joy · love · poetry · school · time

Cacophonous Joy

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

Yesterday, I finished my draft of my poetry thesis. It is
dark, and humorous, and sad, and scared, and thoughtful, and loving, and aimed
toward health. It represents a period in my life, which I’m glad to recognize
as not current, even though the feelings may arise as current.
This is a memoir of sorts. It chronicles a period of time
which, I see now, I do have a degree of distance from, in order to be able to
write about it so fully. I know too it leaves gaps and holes, but I don’t mind
– it’s show, don’t tell, right?
Yesterday, I sort of fell apart around 3pm, as I knew I
needed more time to edit it, little visual changes and some word sorting here
and there. But, I was also supposed to be at class from 4-6:30, and be at a
poetry reading/open mic at 5:30 – 9. How was I to be in so many places at once?
Well, I couldn’t. And the reality of that fell on me at
about 3pm. I made some phone calls; I was told that my main job right then was
to finish my thesis – perhaps you remember some of the craziness when I hadn’t
turned one in, and may not have been graduating in May? Yes, the thesis was my
main job – all other things were secondary.
I spoke briefly to a few friends, wrote emails of apology to
my class teacher and to the organizer of the open mic, and got back to work. I
was not to use the club of
self-flaggellation on myself, I was told. I was not to think that I’d done it
again and over-booked, and I’m a bad person, and here was this opportunity to
put my work out, and I’ve missed it.
I had one job. Thesis.
So, I left those internal critic voices at the door.
Strangely enough, when I did, something miraculous happened.
I finished my thesis. I sent it in multiple document formats
for maximum readability; I cc’d and bcc’d to ensure maximum accountability of
the documents. I sent it off. It was now out of my hands.
I called two friends, let them know that I had sent it, as
I’d told them 3 hours before that I would. And I felt relief. I felt relief as
though it were that cartoon image of someone getting hot, and the thermometer
level inside them fills up with red from the bottom all the way to the top and
bursts out their head. I felt swallowed with relief.
I told my friend, Now, I’m going to drink some water, make a
nice healthy meal, and watch a Disney movie. – That was going to be my celebration. She found that
hilarious: “I’m going to drink … some water.” How times have changed.
So, I did, but as I was cooking my chicken and broccoli and
yummy organic pasta, I had my iPod on shuffle, playing my joy into the kitchen.
And Metallica came on. And for why, who cares, it was that moment. I began to bob and jam and jump around
as I stirred that chicken. Then I abandoned the chicken to just rock out in my
kitchen to the raging flare of electric guitar and passion.
The song finished. But I wasn’t done. I placed my delicate,
hearty, thoughtful meal on a plate, and went into the main room of my studio apartment. I
proceeded to happy dance. That thermometer level radiated out of me and I
DANCED – I shimmied and kicked and ska danced and booty danced and jumped as
very high as I could. I waved my arms like a lunatic and smiled till all of my
teeth shone bright.
This was more than relief at finishing a project for school.
This was pride and gratitude incarnate. This was my joy at having released a
clog in my emotional arteries. I’d moved something. Something big. And I danced
until I couldn’t dance no mo’.
I have released something big here – truth, despair, hurt,
trauma – I’ve let it go. And I’ve opened it to you. I’ve let it have its own purpose outside of my
experience. I’ve given it, and myself, life. It feels like I’ve surrendered
something I’d been holding on to. The clogged artery metaphor feels pretty apt.
But more, it was my throat, my voice, constricted by these stories – and now
that they’re out, birthed, something new can be said, or seen, or felt.
I am humbled by the process of putting this out into the
world. I do hope people enjoy it, or get
something out of it, or find their own voice through reading it. But the
personal gift I have gotten, I could not have predicted: the grin of sheer
bliss as I tucked into my bed last night. … and woke up with again this morning. 

art · authenticity · courage · honesty · love · maturity

Occupy Life

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

Don’t worry, this won’t be a political diatribe.
As perhaps you’ve been garnering from some of the recent
writing, I’m becoming more open to be available to my own life. To occupy it,
as it were.
This has happened slowly, and is still a work in progress.
But I remember back to the “Life of an Asparagus” blog, about beginning to
sense that some of the seeds I’ve been sowing over the last few years are
beginning to peek through, and show me their colors and flavors.
I’m excited by this prospect, and still, afraid of it. Will
the asparagus be green enough? Tender enough? Snappy enough? Will I, as I begin
to show you more of who I am, and what I have to offer, be enough?
The un/fortunate truth is that I don’t really have a choice
to pull the emergency brake here, and say, WHOA buddy, let me make sure that
this is all kosher and “molly-approved” before I put it out there to you.
When I’d been contemplating The Cousin (*not my cousin*) a while ago before we ended, I said to a
friend that I felt like I wanted to put him up on a shelf, to pause him and our
romance. I wanted the time to figure myself out, get “well,” get fixed, and
then take him back down and continue the romance, with me as a whole, well
person.
Problem is, life isn’t like that, and people aren’t like
that. I don’t get to put anything on hold – others, myself, the world, school,
my finances, time – so that I can get a better handle on it.
It’s a constant game of changing the tire while the car is
in motion.
Constantly evolving means being willing to give up control;
to give up the demands for the future.
In all of this “lifeness” that’s going on, however, things
are changing, and have changed, and I find myself at a different place than I
had been, having arrived here somewhat circuitously, but somewhere where things
are, where I am, different.
I haven’t had to pause the world for me to get here. I’ve
had to, in fact, jump on board with the fact that this train is leaving and
will continue to leave, and I can ignore the fact it’s moving, or I can enjoy
the view. And more than that, I can let myself be shaped by its movement.
That “letting myself be shaped” has been the hardest part.
Or one of them. To accept that I’m not exactly sure what I’ll look like, who
I’ll be, and if I’ll or you’ll like me on the other side of it. But keeping my
eyes closed to the brilliance that is outside and inside, well, it’s kept me
pretty lonely and forlorn. And in the end, it’s not fair.
Who am I to shut my eyes to what I’ve been given, what
others are offering me? To the love that is being offered me – the help, and
the hope, and the encouragement, and the desire I’m told for more… of me. Who
am I to deny that?
I begin to think about this, and write this today, as I
start to recognize this new path of thought and action. One which, although I
may not be taking all of the action steps that are suggested, I’m becoming open
to taking them 😉 I see their merit – I see that these actions are helping me
to fill out my life, like an underinflated balloon that could be buoyant and
loved, if it only let itself get full.
Perhaps that analogy fell flat. But, I think I’m
understanding what it means! It means that I’m changing. It means that I’m
becoming more available to my life, and to my gifts, and to others. It means
that I’m beginning to choose community and vulnerability as opposed to
contraction and “safety.”
I’ve had to tell a
few more people a little more about what I’m doing, and what I like to do,
because those were the indicated responses. (I write, I sing, I act, I paint.)
Every time I tell someone one of these things, there is the reactionary twinge
of fear and the cavernous echoing “NO!!!” … but, I do it anyway, now. And every
time I do, I’m staking one more claim to my own life, and allowing it to open
up to me as I open up to it.

anger · courage · honesty · integrity · life · school

Adaptation.

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

In the movie Adaptation,
Charlie Kaufman struggles to adapt a book for the screen. His struggle at
adapting the book becomes a part of the screenplay, and in essence, he writes
himself into his own movie. At this, he says, “Oh no.”
I have decided what my thesis will be – it will be my blog.
At this, I say, “Oh no.”
Unfortunately, due to all the everything else I’ve been
working on, my thesis draft due date came and went. Not that I didn’t know it
was due, but more that I had no idea what on earth it would be.
It wouldn’t be poetry – as that’s not at all what’s coming
out in my writing right now. It wouldn’t be the watercolor language and visual
art – there’s not enough time, and I’d want to develop it and experiment with
it more. And so, like Charlie, so consumed with the struggle of artistic
production that the drama of that struggle became his body of work, so it is
with mine.
Or, at least until my thesis advisor rips me another one on
Monday.
This, is part of the problem of the honesty and visibility
of this type of artistic forum – you may recognize yourself in these pages.
But, so be it.
To catch you up on nearly a month absence from this daily
blog, … well, i’m not entirely sure how to do that. But, I will say that I did
miss this. I know that my ego loves it, but I know too that I love it – and,
some of my friends love it too. I like this style. It works on the level a
friend suggested I write: “You should write the way you speak.” I don’t know
how to do that in “poetry,” but I know how to do that here.
The requirements for the thesis are as follows:
The thesis should be a minimum of
48 pages of creative work. In general, most theses average between 60-100
pages. The thesis should consist of the best work you have written while at
school. You are encouraged to write a thesis that is risky, investigative, and
confident.
I’m pretty sure that the work I do here is investigative,
confident in its honesty to my wavering confidence, and risky perhaps in the unabashed woo-woo spirituality of it. And, likely, risky in that
I let you know much of how I process the world, with all my foibles, fears,
shenanigans, and humor. – That feels
pretty risky (and thrilling) to me.
So, after a series of tense emails between my thesis advisor
and myself, in which I was accused of “not taking this seriously enough,” I
will be meeting with her on Monday following my submission of the first 3
months of this blog.
The irony, and the motherfucking craw sticker of her
accusation, the thing that wounded me the most, was her assumption that I
wasn’t doing any work.
On poetry, no, she’s right. On every other goddamned thing,
for fuck’s sake, YES. I have been working my ASS off to address, face, and work
through every goddamned thing that is holding me back.
EMDR with my therapist: check. Working one on one to get my
financial life in order: check. Clearing out the boxes from New Jersey that
contain the diaries of a madwoman and a sad child: check. Seeing a holistic
chiropractor to address physical manifestations:
check.
The truth is, I have been doing A LOT. And when her email
came through, as raw and vulnerable as I’ve felt with all these processes going
on, I was thrown WAY overboard. Suddenly, what someone else thought of me meant
more. Suddenly, I felt that all of my current work was worth bunk. That my
experience was being invalidated.
And that, for me,
dear reader, is my very worst trigger. To feel that my experience is not valid,
that what is happening for me is not important, or indeed is not happening at
all, is a VERY old, and VERY strong catalyst into despair.
Did she know any of this? No. Did I let her know that I was
unsure about my thesis? No. Does she have any idea whatsoever of any of the
other work that I’m currently doing? No.
So, is it reasonable, therefore to assume that from her
point of view, I wasn’t doing much? … Yes. Stupid perspective, Yes. 
It still hurt. And I’m still showing up anyway. I’m going to
hand in the work I have. The work that I’ve written here since November charts
a course, not of my daily lunch, but of my daily struggles, successes, progress,
hope, and failure. Of my relationships, my loneliness, my gratitude, and my
attempts.
This blog is the best
work I’ve done while at school, because, ultimately, it has the very most of me.
Thank you for reading, and welcome back. 🙂