What a trip.
Four months has seen a dizzying collection of highs and lows, or recrossing bridges, of reality bitch-slaps, and lessons in remaining flexible.
It's been an intense trip down memory lane, stopping by to visit family, friends I haven't spent time with in 16 years, to take a brief peek at life in the Big City, to go to my hometown of 29 years, to test the waters of life outside the realm of comfort, predictability, or some might offer, common sense.
I was leaving the number 2 most expensive city in the country to try to make a foothold in the number 1 most expensive city. This was quite a leap of faith, but the one thing I was sure of was that I didn't know the outcome.
Three layoffs in basically six years in SF had put me roughly $30,000 in the hole. To be clear, I didn't squander money on ANYTHING. I didn't go out drinking, never bought clothes, didn't go to movies, shows, or a gym. My one extravagance was eating carry out food for many meals. Since the only readily accessible market was an overpriced Cala which had crap selection and high prices, I could easily justify 5 bucks for a burrito or 10 for a full chicken dinner. The ingredients alone would have cost me more than that.
Where'd the money go?
Credit card debt resulting from having to put my COBRA healthcare payments on a card. At $300+ a month, they add up. Add to that $100 dollars a month in co-pay for three scrips, $200 dollars in vitamins, added to around $1500 rent and utilities, well, there you have it. I could have just let the healthcare lapse and return to Ward 86 at SF General, but I would never be insurable again. I couldn't burn that bridge in good conscience.
On a side note, the macabre ghoul in me found an astonishing irony in naming the AIDS ward at General 86- as in washed up, done. I am nowhere near ready to be 86-ed.
Well, if I am to be completely disclosing, I did afford myself an extravagance or two. I drastically increased my collection of sacred objects--Ganeshas, Buddhas, crystals, Thoths, Jesuses, Hermeses, books, incense, tarot readings. At the time I was going through a very dark hour of the soul: a job that was disappointing, underpaid and emasculating, a period of depression and shadow exploration made more baffling by concurrent internet hacking and self-medicating substance abuse. I needed a tangible, visible reminder of the deeper truth, the beauty, the spirit and Path that guides our lives. These reminders kept me sane. Well, as sane as I have ever been...
Another nicety I afforded myself, was the insistence that my staff feel appreciated for their hard work. We were all working for next to nothing, I making significantly more than most. If a $6 box of tangerines could make people feel appreciated, I could justify it. Not that I had anything to spare, but I felt I should offer some of my comparative bounty to my coworkers. I'd do it again. They're worth it.
Funny, makes me think of my first Friendster testimonial from my roommate and good friend, Mike. He said, paraphrasing here, "Craig's the type of guy who'd give you the shirt off his back--even if he didn't have one." There is truth to that and I am trying to be better at self-preservation.
Back to my freeform narrative.
As layoff number three was hurtling toward me, I, with only about $2,000 in the bank and not sure how I would pay the next month's rent, decided to do something crazy. I wanted to prove to myself that I still had some of my inner fire and passion, and that I still had it in me to do an AIDS ride. There was no way I should have been able to do this. I was in awful shape, exhausted, undernourished, depressed. I thought, "Okay, these things I know. But I also know, as old Nicksie would say, 'And I am stronger than you know'; I had the fortitude to push on, past exhaustion, sadness, loss of hope. And my body, while muttering "What the FUCK are you doing to us?", took me down almost 600 miles of California roadway, over mountains, past historic hurdles of shyness and avoidance, into a new chapter of my life. Along a roadside of surf, missions, artichokes and cilantro, I found a Craig who would entertain the thought that he just might be lovable. My path collided with a mirror who was unconditionally loving, funny, troubled and working it out. This event changed my thinking.
When it became clear that I would not be finding a job in SF with enough time for me to meet my financial commitments, I rethought an offer from family and friends to give New York a shot. Reticent in the past to do this, I knew it would be a challenge to meet a social circle or to find a job at a level that I could afford to live on. These challenges were still there, but this time there was also the mirror from the ride. I needed to see what was there in this individual, to see why we'd met.
I know a lot of my friends would get all, "OOOOOH, Craig's in lovvvvvvve. He's moving because he's in lovvvvvvvve." This is a sort of helpless situation as the more one denies it, the more "Me thinks he doth protest too much" rears its ugly head.
I feel I am being honest when I say the mirror was not the reason for the move--it was a nice perk, and a chance to squelch the 'What if...'
If I had stayed in SF another month or two instead of moving without finding a job, I would have had to move back to CT anyway to avail my brother and his family of their beautiful offer to live in their home as an active part of their family.
By moving earlier, I was moving from a position of power, as opposed to moving according to circumstance and necessity. And, hell, I would get to learn if there was anything to Mirror Man. I'm always up for a good learning, not one to shy away from a hard lesson.
I arrived in Ridgefield, CT a beautiful Revolutionary War era colonial town, full of Frosty WASPys driving SUVs and residing in 10,000 square foot homes. Where deer and fox trot across your yard on a daily basis. Where multicultural diversity means Europeans with blond OR brown hair. Where pedigree, salary and ideology amongst the majority bear striking similarities. I think I did spy one East Indian family. Must have been an anomaly to keep the census statisticians on their toes.
I don't mean to sound down on CT. I LOVE Connecticut. It is my roots. My New England roots go back 14 generations. I lived here 29 years.
It's gorgeous here, the people are genuinely kind, I love the seasons. It's just not my world anymore. This was glaringly evident when I went passed my old home. It looked abandoned, fallen, as if it has stopped being a place of life after my parents were gone.
Living in rural CT in a town without public transportation, it was a largely isolating experience. This in NO WAY negates how grateful I am to be here with my unconditionally loving family, who have been supportive in every way.
After one of my recent blogs, a friend from CT took umbrage at what they thought was my being dismissive or looking down on CT. Absolutely not the case. If I were in a relationship, or had friends I could get to, or was making $200,000, I could be quite happy.
Hell, Harvey Fierstein lives here. When telling him I was feeling like Daffyd from Little Britain, he replied, "Honey, Ridgefield is full of queers..." Other than the one Saturday night I went to Stop and Shop and saw suspiciously well groomed men, and tanned, muscled women with frosted mullets, I don't think I ever saw any of the rainbow brigade.
To sum up CT, I have LOVED reconnecting with my niece, nephew, getting to really know my sister-in-law, spending time with the bro, letting Fugee run in a forest full of turkeys, fox and deer.
I know I have caused them concern and stress, particularly during the period where I was realizing I couldn’t stay in the job in NY, and it was exhausting trying to make them understand what it means to be me. "Just suck it up" in the realm of HIV could be a significant liability to my health. I am healthy, but my appearance can make the reality of living with a chronic condition which could turn terminal seem remote. It's not.
As it became clear that the job description of my New York nonprofit was not quite in line with expectation, coupled with my inability to find housing, I couldn't justify being set up for failure, having to work back-to-back 13 hour days, paying $450 a month for a train ticket, and significantly overstaying my welcome at my family's. They never made me feel so, but I know they wanted their lives back.
When it was at it bleakest and I couldn't see options, I was as depressed as I have been since finding out I was positive or when my parents were dying. I was unraveling and felt trapped. I reached out to friends for advice and you know, it was merely voicing my gut instinct. I've been good in marketing because I have a good gut instinct. And I am learning not to second-guess it. When life provides a different outcome than anticipated, roll with the punches and maintain the humor. I have always had an inner voice saying, “Craig, do NOT recross bridges. Find your authentic Path and follow it. Others may not make sense of it, but you will go where you must.”
One friend was saying to just be in the Now. I said if Eckhart Tolle had been visiting Ridgefield, I would have made it a point to punch him hard, right in the Now. When depressed or hopeless, the Now is no comfort. Sorry, Eck. I have since regained the sense of humor, as inscrutable as it may be for most.
As I affirmed my commitment to release attachment to expectation, I was continually reminded of a favorite quote from my friend Danger Angel. "How do you make God laugh? Tell her your plans."
I felt like I had been fighting the flow for four months. I was trying to dig my heals into the riverbed of a swift running current. My destiny was to keep moving.
My gut told me to return to San Francisco. To liberalism, and public transportation and friends and burritos. To bike rides through the Headlands, and dog parks, and clear bright skies.
To stay in New York would have required a fire in the belly I didn't have. It would have required a seriously diminished quality of life for a significant amount of time. I would have to have been not strong, but inflexible in my decision and mindset. For me, this would be a recipe for disaster.
Life was challenging my assumptions, requiring me to be fluid. To quote Lao Tzu, "Water is fluid, soft, and yielding. But water will wear away rock, which is rigid and cannot yield. As a rule, whatever is fluid, soft, and yielding will overcome whatever is rigid and hard. This is another paradox: what is soft is strong." I had to regain the Flow.
It's funny how your state of mind can filter how you see the world. One day as I was bustling through Grand Central to get to my 6:15 train, all I saw in every direction was haggard, exhausted, angry looking folks hurrying from point A to point B. It bummed me out, thinking "Wow, there's gotta be more than working to afford your Fendi bag..."
The next day, my sense of humor returned, and I saw the absurdity in the situation. It's not nearly as serious as we make it out to be. Important, yes, but not always serious. God has a sense of humor. Just look around.
So I return to SF to a job, which sounds like a new adventure, an arena I haven't ventured into yet. I look forward to learning, having consistency, stability and my circle of friends.
If I had it to do all over would I do it differently? Absolutely not. Like I said, I am releasing my attachment to expected outcome and will continue to sign up for the advanced level classes/life lessons.
I know some of my overly personal relatings concern some of you, others think, "Who Cares?" But I also know that my words, my attempts at being brutally self-reflective, have touched some of you. These humble words are offered for you, a recap of Craig 101.
I end with a quote from one of my favorite books, Hesse's Siddhartha:
"The many-voiced song of the river echoed softly. Siddhartha looked into the river and saw many pictures in the flowing water. The river's voice was sorrowful. It sang with yearning and sadness, flowing towards its goal...Siddhartha...was now listening intently...to this song of a thousand voices...then the great song of a thousand voices consisted of one word: Om -- perfection...
From that hour Siddhartha ceased to fight against his destiny."
The Dance, the Song, the Flow, the Lessons. Perfection.
Release, let go and grasp. Paradox.
Happy for the highs, the lows, the in-betweens.
Thank you, Life, and all the fantastic players in this dream we call reality.
