October 17th

29 years ago I was alone in an elevator in San Francisco and the ‘Quake of ’89’ hit. Of course terrified, the lights went out, it didn’t occur to me it was an earthquake. I just assumed the elevator was malfunctioning and I would soon plummet to my death. I survived. And here I am, 29 years later, not knowing I’m experiencing a similar earthquake within, but only realizing once I was out of the darkness. Today I woke up, out of a meditation but also out of a dulled life. Yesterday started out ok, but I was tired, I was in pain, and as the work day became a grueling 11 hour night, I was also succumbing to my darkest tendencies. Doubting, exhausted in my confusion of how to change my life and my patterns, I began overeating. This took me back down to the gnawing shame of self-hatred I hadn’t visited in a long time. And after just a week before, feeling on top of the world. So I collapsed from the high and last night came home to defeat.

I saw a photo today of the Bay Bridge on the day of the earthquake, where a portion of the top deck had fallen onto the bottom, taking with it a life that plunged into the water. I remember seeing that clip on the news back then, and the screams of the people in the cars behind who witnessed the horror. We thought it was the end of the world. I’d even had a premonition in a dream the week before of this very thing. And now it was real. But then it wasn’t, for me. There was death and destruction but I was still here and my life continued. There was another dying last night. And a rebirth today. 29 years later, it is still so hard, I am still the same person but I’ve lived so many lives since then. I am so much better, and weathered and worn, and fresh and new at the same time. Today the top deck of the first half of my life collapsed. That outer layer of artifice and desperation, of suspension, and waiting for things to change, buckled under the weight of my dreams. My dreams are too big to hope. My dreams deserve all my belief. My trust is the Bay I’m diving into.