Love

"Love is real. 

Real is love.

Love is feeling, feeling love. 

Love is wanting to be loved. 

Love is touch. 

Touch is love. 

Love is reaching, reaching love. 

Love is asking to be loved. 

Love is you. 

You and me. 

Love is knowing we can be. 

Love is free. Free is love. 

Love us living. Living love. 

Love is needing to be loved"

- John Lennon

I fell in to love today.  

I hadn't realized that I didn't know what it really was to fall in to love until that moment. 

The moment I looked in the mirror and said I'm afraid. 

I'm afraid to fail. 

I'm afraid to commit myself. 

I'm afraid to let go of controlling how it all will go. 

I'm afraid to ask of someone else to let me see myself in him. 

And I let myself be afraid. 

And I saw what it looks like to be alone. 

And what I had done thus far to make sure that the me I truly am was kept alone. 

To be safe. 

And it was dark. 

And it was frightening. 

And there was no one. 

But me. 

And I was beautiful. 

I was untouched and unscathed and as calm and peaceful and free as a fairy. 

And then I invited myself to come out in to the world. 

And breathe in the life around me. 

And to stop hiding in that dark, frightening, alone place. 

And I took my hand and guided myself into the light. Into the warm, open and energetic place. 

And a flood of hope and peace and care surrounded me and embraced me. 

And I looked at myself. 

She smiled and said 'I love you'. 

Then she melted into me and I no longer saw where who I am ended and all of this fear and aloneness began. And then I noticed that I wasn't afraid and I wasn't alone. 

I'd accepted love as company. 

And she and I, now one, opened our eyes and saw that everything around us and every one was love. Like a mirror, reflecting an untouched, unscathed, peaceful, calm and free being. 

Because love doesn't get harmed. 

It is always at peace. 

It is always calm. 

It is always free. 

And it is always there waiting patiently to be unlocked from the dark, frightening place we keep it hidden. 

Fearing we might lose the one thing we can never lose. 

Because we are love. 

And love is free. 

Free is love. 

We can give it and give it and we never lose. 

Because It's all there is. 

It is the source of everything. 

It is the place where we begin, where we grow and we thrive and when we are gone we let it go to be in the world where we found it when we arrived. 

Love is a gift we never lose.  We are free to be and use that gift whenever we choose. 

It never fades. 

It never dies.

So I fell into love today, right into it. In the most remarkable of places. Right there inside me and everywhere...

Wanting, asking, needing to be loved.

The most beautiful thing that we are entitled to as human beings. 

No need to fear. 

Just open your eyes. 

Courage

                            Tough 

                            adjective 

                           (of a substance or object) strong enough to withstand adverse conditions or rough 
                           or careless handling.

1. You're tough.  He said.  

   Tougher than nails.  

   Tougher than dirt.  

   Tougher than leather.  

   Tougher than diamonds. 

   Tougher than the rest.

   
   

   You withstand.  You fight.  You win.

   
   

   Except when you meet your greatest adversary.  

   The one thing that provides the most adverse conditions and the roughest, most careless handling. 

   Then you realize you aren't really all that tough at all.

   Because the most adverse, the roughest, the most careless and unhinged hate comes from YOU, from within yourself.

   
   

   The house you build in your head, the one that gives you the most support to bust through, to be brave, to counter all the "No's", all the challenges, all the mishaps turns in on you, shuts you down and tells you you're only tough because you can't really handle much of anything.

   
   

   
   

   Then you become Brave.

   
   
   
   

        Brave

        adjective

   
   

        ready to face and endure danger or pain; showing courage.

   1. 
      

      You find it in you to combat yourself.  Your made up protective and angry self.  That never gets her way and never finds what she needs and can never say what exactly it is that she wants.  You take on courage.

      
      

      
      

      
      

      Courage 

      noun

      The ability to do something that frightens one.

      Strength in the face of pain or grief.

      
      

   
   

   
   

   
   

   
   

   or better yet, the ability to face your fears with your whole heart.

   
   

   And your heart is big.  And it picks you up and carries you.  It fights the toughness.  It asks for support.  It lets you push on through tears and shallow breathes.  It lets you find the beauty in not knowing.  It lets you be free to find the ones who'll listen and hold you and make you see that there's everything to be had and nothing lost.  

   
   

   It let's you look in the mirror and tell yourself that you love you.  Even though the tough guy tells you to shut up and fix the mess you are and all the messes you've made and called your life. 

   
   

   Because courage is the thing that brightens up.  

   It's the thing that lets us shine through the darkest desert night.  

   It brings light.  

   It guides the way.  

   It lets us fall and scrape our knees and make terrible dicisions and fall apart.  

   
   

   Then, it picks us up, dresses our wounds and sends us out to meet a new moment. 

   
   

   So, in times like these...and there will be many.  Call on courage.  Be brave and let your heart spread wide across your chest.  Without it we cease to exist.  With it, we live, thrive and begin again.

   
   

   
   

   
   

   1. 
      

      
      

This is about what is

So Audrey's been off the radar.

A lot has gone down.  A lot.

What all that was isn't important.  What's important is how I'm emerging.  That's what I'm about to share.

I am going to take on a model and I'm going to explain it now so no one gets confused.  Not that your a confused bunch of readers.  Actually, just so you get it.  So there's nothing to figure out.

First I'll give you what was.
Then I'll give you what is.  In sequence.  One finding after another.

Into the write-o-sphere...

What was was a lot of hiding.
I was hiding who I am.  I was hiding my discontent.  I was hiding my uncertainty.  I was hiding what I wanted.
That is not going to work.

Now...I'm out, and proud.
What does that look like?
I'm a lot more mischievous than i led on.
I'm just as candid.  There's just no filtering or shape shifting or figuring out who I'm supposed to be or what the other party wants from me.
I'm sharing it.  I have no idea how it's going.
I have no idea what will be.
I have no idea about anything.
I have a ton of reasons why that scares me and I'm giving them up to just do it.
Just be it.
Just take it on.
Just screw up and make a mess and make choices that don't work and take risks and fall down and skin my knees and repair my bruises and enjoy it.
Not fight it.
Not break down and give up.

What was was a lot of pushing.
I was forcing myself to move ahead.  I was fighting myself.  Telling myself to toughen up, move on, and take it like a champ.
That's not going to work.

Now...I'm forgiving and loving.
In a distinct moment I understood that the only thing between me and all of it is me.
I have no grievances with anybody else.
I have no judgments for the way things are and aren't.
I'm actually aware that the way it is and the way I am are just fine.
In fact, they're better than fine.
I am a fine piece of work.
I am a fierce force to be reckoned with.
I am a woman who does and gets and is and wants and creates and lives.
And I have no excuse to choose to judge this.
I have no excuse to say I'm wrong.
I have no excuse to say I'm not enough.
I have no excuse to say I'm not good enough.

What was was a lot of wishing and hoping.
I was planning without saying what I wanted.  I was pretending I don't deserve to make those kind of statements.  I was waiting to get there and it to be the right time.

Now, I'm committing.
I feel it in my bones when I'm not where I want to be.  I feel in in my blood when I'm not doing what I said I was out to do.  I feel it in my heart when my heart isn't in it.
I am asking.
I am saying what shows up and what is collapsing down inside of me.
I'm letting it out and letting it go.

I have no idea what will happen.
I have no idea who will be there.
I have no idea about anything.

I trust the process.  I trust myself.

I can't even describe the moment I realized and stopped intellectualizing.
I can't even describe how much weight disappeared.

And then how violent I realized I was with myself.
Violent is the word.
The perfect word.

What was was I was manhandling myself.
I was throwing myself down, kicking myself and telling myself I deserved to treat myself this way.
And then I was picking myself up, combing through my hair and putting on a pretty dress.
That is not going to work.

Now, I'm hugging myself. I'm declaring that I'm a beautiful work.
There's nothing to prove.  There's nothing to win.  There's nothing to gain or lose.
It just is what it is, and it's breathtaking.

And in this space I find this:
There's two ways to say what you want.  Well, I'm sure there's many ways, but there are two that I go to and I'm relinquishing the prior.

The first, we make lists that we painstakingly cultivate, predicting a plethora of fantastical ideas and fairytale happenings that can only be proven unattainable.  That can only make us small.  That can only hold us back.  That can only give us reason to sit back and say 'well, that's not for me'

Or...

We can say what it is that we want.  Trust the process.  And get it.

Do I have it all?  Yes.
Do I want more?  Yes.
Will I have more?  Yes.
Is life absolutely amazing the way it is?  Yes.
Will I have more to share?  Yes.
Am I content?  Yes.
Will I make it?


I already have.

We are excited to announce preparations for Project Love, Me. 
Project Love, Me is a movement to develop self-love and happiness for all. 
Our first step in developing the project is the following survey. 
It's 10 questions and takes 20-30 minutes.
Please show yourself love and fill it out with your whole heart.

Thank you. We love you.

Love, Us

http://www.surveymonkey.com/s/VJCXD2J

My burn bio

Well hello there.

I'm R------ (for pen name purposes, Audrey).
First burn.
First Kostume Kult camping.

So. Flipping. Excited.

A little something something about me:

I'm a Gemini, with an outward pretty, pressed, and perfectionic demeanor.
She doesn't sleep in tents and always keeps it perfectly placed. So perfect. So so perfect.

And then there's the other.
The wild child*, The Mad Max.
Let the wild rumpus start.
* She's getting a super amount of attention these days.
Totally psyched to let her run wild in the desert.

Dirty. Sweaty. Open. Free. And fully self-expressed.

Requesting an appropriate playa name that reflects that.

I'm loud and quiet.
I'm cool and hot.
I'm super normal and totally weird.
I'm an anxious fool and a cool, calm, and collected little lady.
I'm a gamine ange nu and a bit of a deviant.
I'm a hopeless romantic and a she-ra man hater.

I. Am. A. Fairy.

I'm not French.
I might as well be.

I say what I think.
What I say is.
My world is in the stars and on earth and in me and in you and outside of us and around us and everywhere and everything.

I have a wild temper.

I love food.

I am afraid of fire.
I love to watch things burn.

I'm all about now. And now. And now. And pay as little attention to then. And then. And then as possible.

I'm an artist AND a scientist.
I can be smart as f*{k and gullible as ever.
I can be in the clouds and obsessively calculated.

I pretty much looooooove costuming.
I'm thinking lots of devil/angel/fairy/evil sprite stuff for the burn.
Glitter and wings. Pointy ears.
Red lipstick and false paper eyelashes.
Mud and dirt and an oily glow.

I used to be a pro ballet dancer.
i think it was for the Tutus and drag queen makeup.
i pretend it was for the classy art.

Nothing too fancy.

I am ready to let it out and let it all go and take it all on.

Out to find and to love the grey area.

I want to be scared out of my mind, jump, and land on my feet.
Because I do.
And I'm ready to challenge how far I can take that.

Oh, and I don't know how to swim.

PS I'm writing this in my medical office, wearing a JCrew sundress, a cashmere cardigan and penny loafers.

There is an actual penny in the front of my shoes.

Well, alright.

I'm going to Burning Man.
Challenge Accepted.

XxO
- mad max?

Hope.

Hope.
An expression of believing.
An expression of what's possible.
An expression of excitement.
A need.

We hope.  Some of us, myself included, more so than others.

I'm sitting at my laptop on a gorgeous sunny May Day, dedicated to mothers and my phone rings. 
One of my oldest friends, calling to see how I'm doing.  How I'm holding up.  How I'm dealing.  
      Mixed with telling me how she's doing.   how she's holding up.  how she's dealing. 

It's interesting how celebrations can create responses directly opposed to what they're meant to create.  

Today we celebrate motherhood.  
We thank our mothers, our grandmother.
We smile upon our friends and family members who have taken on the astounding responsibility of being a mommy.

                       and, for some, friend and I included, we hope.

Before that call I was sitting here lamenting my mother's death.  
Wanting to pick up the phone or drive to PA and take her to lunch.  
We'd likely get sandwiches as the local diner or sit in the back yard sipping sun tea.  
She'd likely tell me about my brothers, my dad, her friend Kathy, her mom, the people she sees during the day, the way she experiences things, the way god plays a role in everything she thinks, does, and says.  
             Never a word about her, though.  Just what other people mean to her. 

That was my momma.  Selfless and perfect.  

I was sitting here thinking about the death of a new mom I know.  Someone who battled sickness through and through, until her body failed her...leaving behind a 6 month old son.
She, I know, would have been an incredible mother going forward, had she had the chance.

I was sitting here thinking about the myriad of times I have seen that love is possible and then found it not to be so...
               at least not then
                           ...or maybe at least not with him.  
A possibility of love that transcends pain and suffering, that creates a bond where all is open and communicated and supported and soft and adventurous and quietly powerful.  

A possibility of love that picks you up when you're down and supports you to find your own way up.

A possibility of twosome that creates and excites and works it out when it's not so great and celebrates every moment of when it is, simply wonderful.
  
A possibility of having that person who'll help me become a mother.  
              To give of myself to create a human being that will grow and become everything his or her  
              little heart desires
                    who will learn to walk and run and GO...
                    and fall down, and sit still, and, sometimes stop...because we all do, sometimes.  
              A human being that will suffer and hurt and fail and express and thrive and win...

                              and it'll all be perfect and my love and I will watch it all.

As much as the above sounds bittersweet...it's all based on hope.

It's all based on believing what's possible and never letting whatever comes at you stop you, NO MATTER WHAT. 

Even the things that might make you want to say that hopefulness breeds disappointment.  
          That hopefulness is for fools.  
          That hopefulness puts you on the path to failure and acceptance of what really may never be.
          That hopefulness is stupid and you'll never do that again.
                That you want to slam the doors on the things that hurt you
                        that didn't go the way you planned
                              that didn't let you be seen for what you can offer and how much you want to give.

Those things are just hiccups.  
None of them are sentencing death to a dream.  
None of them are saying that even those particular situations won't ever truly be.
        It might just be different than you've expected.
        It might just be a space of waiting...of timing, which we are all capable of acknowledging.
    
Frankly, if you want it...be there for it and hold on to the hope.  
If a setback shows up in front of you and you use that as a reason to throw in the towel...well, you really didn't want it in the first place.  
              If you did, you'd wait for the clearing, for the opening, for the space where you can take it and 
              run with it---into whatever beautiful field of possibility that's appeared in front of you.  

Use Hope.  

Really, use it...and let it use you.

Use it to drive you.  
Use it to steer you to streets and cities and whole new worlds that would never be if you gave up.
Use it to express yourself, passionately. 
Use it to forgive yourself and whomever you want to blame for stifling what you're up to.
Use it to create love for those upsets and challenges.
Use it to create good from every experience.
Use it to further you and catapult you into showing yourself how god damn in love with yourself and your life you really are.  
Use it to believe.
Use it to create.
Use it to breathe and love and jump and fly and open your arms wide to let it all just come to you.

Because it will.  

Anything you hope for...Anything you believe is possible...Anything.  

It's all yours.  

It's just a matter of time...

  - Audrey

Wide awake...

I have had a dream, over and over, for years.
It wasn't always clear what happened in the dream...but something was preempting waking from my rest with my arms reaching for the ceiling, left arm extended and the right arm running it's fingers gently up and down.

A light touch, or a tickle, soothing and warm.

I was attributing this to some sort of nervous twitch or a longing to be touched in a gentle way and then the dream clarified itself.

I woke clear and feeling a deep rooted longing to fall back into that place.

I have a fantasy in my REM.

It's likely not entirely a fantasy, but it's felt like one juxtaposed with the paralleled experiences I've had in the real world.

Behind closed eyes I dream of being safe in someone's arms.

The dream is simple.
I wear a short blue dress and no shoes.
He wears a grey shirt and tan slacks.
It is warm but i don't know where we are.

He smells like a man smells after he's been sleeping.
That smell that's hard to describe. That you bury you head into your pillows to remember when he isn't there and can't seem to get rid of when he's gone forever.

I smell like grass...or spring. Fresh and light. Earthy.
Sort of how I'd think I'd smell from what I see in the mirror.

Fresh. Light. Earthy.

All that happens is a hug.

I settle my head into his left chest with my hands snuggly interlaced in front of my chest, elbows down towards his belly.

His arms hold me with strength.

Just a safe, unmoving hold.

A hold that has touch and warmth and safety and love.
                          Deep, quiet, real love.

I stand still and close my eyes.

This is when the faces flash. 5 or so, none I recognize.
                   The last is fuzzy.
The prior are so clear that I feel if I saw them walking down the street, i'd say hello as if they are old familiar friends.

I open my eyes back in the hug and lift my head, look up at him, catching the shadow of a face blocked out by the brightness of the sunshine.  I squint and turn my head down towards his shoulder.
My eyes close again.

I wake up, reaching.

It's that deeper subconscious yearning for someone who has the strength to hold onto me and let me just stay.

It's so hard to believe in that possibility when everyone appears to be running away.

Too busy.
Too wounded.
Too superficial.
Too lost.
Too mistrusting.
Too indignant.
Too driven.
Too damaged.
Too old.
Too young.
Too different.
Too self-absorbed.
Too self-reliant.
Too unfamiliar.
Too scared.

It's possible still, and so, I believe.

This surfacing into my consciousness I begin to see it's only a matter on time.

Today I feel calm and completed in my past.
Today I feel ready for my future.
Today, in the present, is a day filled with awakening
      preceeding a future that might just be filled with
               Spring days, bare feet, blue dresses,
                           and a man in grey Tees that smells like it's morning.

Because I'm letting you go

"I've never had a friend like you", he says.

"Well, dear, it's because we are in love."

"Yes, that's true."

"But you're getting married."

"That's true too."

So it goes between us two.  Misfits until we found each other. and then you went off and I stayed and played and asked you what it all meant.

You reassured me that it meant that I hadn't found it yet.

But I had.

I was afraid of you.

You know my secrets.  I've washed my wellies in your dishwasher and I've fed your shoes to your dog.

I've stolen your girlfriend with every intention of making her feel insecure, with hopes she'd give up the thrown, next to you.

I wanted to sit there.

I'd never have to fix your collar or tell you you drank too much.
I'd never have to guess what you meant or what you were thinking, because you tell me.  You always have.

I don't regret a minute of knowing you, but I do regret all those times I thought I wasn't good enough for you.

You have horses in your backyard and a house in Morocco.

I have nothing.

You know how to give and receive and be present and loving.

I'm afraid of everyone.

You brought me flowers because I got my heart broken.  You told me I was the one everyone waits for.

I didn't believe you.

                                                       You stopped waiting.


You're going to marry her.
I'm going to be there to celebrate.
It'll be the first wedding where I don't even see the bride.

There's been 2.  2 men in the many who've made me realize that they do exist.

That love isn't all movies and fairytales.

That I'm lovable.

I did this though.  I pushed both of you away.
The first, I was young.  I didn't know what love meant.  I told myself he wasn't enough.

he wasn't.

but you are.

Maybe the 3rd time is the charm.  Maybe the next one who comes back to me after I tell him to leave will work.
Maybe then I'll stop quizzing and judging and creating all the reasons why this is doomed and I prefer to sleep alone.

Maybe then I'll find the strength to ask him to stay.

I missed you when you left.  Every thing I owned reminded me of you.  Every man with a good suit and a smashingly kept hairdo.  Every girl who looked happy made me imagine you.  Every one.  Every last one.

I didn't even realize I gave up then.

I did.

You are like light. You are like french macaroons with a cafe ole.

You are the love I never got to have.
And we would have been perfect.

It's time to move on.  It's time to believe again.  It's time to give up giving up.

You gave me that.  I realize all this because of you.
I love you more today than ever,
                    because I'm letting you go.

Because I'm just fine

Everybody knows there was a hurricane in NYC this past week...especially those of us who live here.  Everybody does not know that Audrey has been feeling a complete mess of late and, essentially incapable of a self-preserving thought, much less actually caring for and loving herself.

So it takes a natural disaster does it?
I suppose sometimes it does.

The fact is Audrey would love a break.
She's been creating all the things she can have in this world.
From nothing...not just Landmarked out "from nothing I am the possibility of..." crap, but actually from nothing.

This chick has made it.

So she's solo and struggling...there's no permanence in that.
She's fostering real bonds to take into the rest, the amazing future she's setting up.
She's growing to believe in her true beauty and her soul that tells it like it is.

So shut up if I hurt your feelings...you need a reality check.

Enough about me...because I'm fine.

It's amazing how people we care for, the ones that pushed us away, come out when the weather threatens us.
It's amazing how selfish people become.
It's amazing how much people want a pat on the back and a hug.

No it isn't...BECAUSE THEY DO, naturally.

I love New York.  I really do.

But why does it take this sort of horrible shit to bring us together?

We do care.
We are allowed to be selfish.
We all need a pat on the back...and a hug.

I walked through a dark and and desolate downtown Manhattan to and from the hospital this week.  On Friday morning, as I trudged over the Brooklyn Bridge into the newly rising sunlight warming up an otherwise tired, cold, and worn out southern point, a woman coming from the darkness caught my eye, smiled, and said, "Have a good day".

I will, thank you and I'll continue to pass this on and wish the same.

I've come to realize that, despite attempting to shed all remnant of my suburban skin, I've kept my most precious attribute.

I love people.

I trust them and I care for them and I see them in a way that suggests that there's good there.
There's always good.
In fact, it's the root of all of us, whether it's covered by cemented walls of bitterness and hostility, it's there, right at the center.

I make a lot of interesting choices about the people I try to get to.
      like a friggin' Mother Theresa half the time.

I want people to let out there good and let my good in.

I know I have to protect myself and I have to try to stay away from the ones who don't seem to have that in them.

Oh well.

I find it so hard to believe that they can't get there, that it's that difficult to let me in.

So, it did take a hurricane.

It took a hurricane to realize that I can do that and I can be there for people and reach out and go for those connections and, they may just turn away and that's fine.  It's no reason to stop, just a reason to say, "OK, that happened, looks like this one just needs me to be less aggressive and really probably needs a pat on the back and a hug even more than I do".

A heavy weight left me this week.  I started realizing a rejection really doesn't have ANYTHING to do with me, nor does it make me any LESS lovable.

It just means that sometimes we open our arms and people are too stuck in it and miss the chance to feel loved.

So I hopped in to help at a relief collection today and just enjoyed giving.  I'm going to keep this feeling.  There's no attachment to the result, to the thank you...to the acknowledgment.  It just feels good to give and to see a brick or two fall away from those New York accumulated walls we build.

God love you New York.  You're the toughest and most rewarding love I've got.

We'll get through.

AudreysThinking: Acknowledgement

AudreysThinking: Acknowledgement: It's time Audrey acknowledge herself. It's an interesting characteristic I see in a number of women I hold very dear. We're true and bold an...

Acknowledgement

It's time Audrey acknowledge herself. It's an interesting characteristic I see in a number of women I hold very dear. We're true and bold and exciting and successful, but we fail to acknowledge these things at the most pertinent of times.
It's interesting being a woman in Manhattan. There's a fine line that breaks a number of us and reduces us to the mere shells we inhabit.
When it comes to relationships, we're in a pool that exists nowhere else.

We wake up in the morning hopeful. We forgive and forget red flags that show us that we won't be able to be ourselves if we want to try and make love work. Then, we realize it doesn't work anyway.

That's not true.

It does.

It's a matter of owning who we are and being ourselves in the most trying of situations.

Professionally, we excel.

We hold our own in a way that astounds our suburban family and friends.
We work tirelessly to gain recognition in a man's world.

And we succeed.

Then we try for love.

We ignore that the men of Manhattan arrived here with the same goals and aspirations. They come here from places where school buses and soccer teams and family dinners are the norm. They come here from families who encourage, but haven't an inkling what it's like in a world where being good at something gets us nowhere.

We have to be great.

Women prove themselves and find solace in the accomplishment.

Men prove themselves and feel an emptiness.

It's a generalization. I know.

But I speak from the next decade. The 30 somethings.

I speak from the lot of us who get resigned to thinking that happiness is a myth.
A figment.
Something only reserved for a select, lucky few.

It isn't.
It's a matter of trust.

It's a matter of realizing that your perfect match is a perfect her. Or him.
It's a matter of understanding that, in the end, it's the person who sees you through the sadest and darkest of times and loves you for who you are.

Simply.

I've dreamt about a dreamy man who's the kind of handsome that Hollywood ignites. Who's the kind of success that Forbes 500 puts on the cover. Who's interests engulf mine. Who's story may be sad and difficult, but has produced an exceptional man.

I also recognize that I sleep 5-6 hours a night and the other 18-19 hours I spend in the world.
Where men are grown up but ever-living little boys. And I, in turn, am just as much a little girl.

He probably won't be able to match a suit.
He probably won't show up confident and sure.
He might have a preoccupation with star wars or batman or some other endearing and genuinely juvenile distraction.
He might pout or get quiet when he doesn't know how to respond.
He might be selfish and silly about things that he really has no control over.

But I'll love him.

For all of that.

And his success.

And his failure.

And his attempts. Just because he tries.

That's what we're missing here.

We miss accepting being human. The one true quality that makes us lovable.

The older we get, the deeper our past. But it's just a past.

It's over.

Again I land at vulnerability.

The key to ever present and powerful being.

And love.

It's what makes us available to connect. It's what makes us refreshing and new.

And the silliest part of it is that it's simply just us, as we are, as we're able to share.

Love.

I believe in love in Manhattan.

Admiration, the most sought after income in the universe

"I admire you."


Who doesn't want to hear that?  Someone expressing that your way of being inspires and strikes them with a sense of awe and a desire to be...you.


Have you ever experienced someone's admiration when you were being inauthentic?


Notice how you felt anxious or uneasy, or maybe you felt relieved, if you're as inauthentic as that would suggest.  


It's all because admiration is something we all want from life.  We look at magazines, print and television ads.  We read biographies.  We teach children about the fantastic people in history that have changed the world and stood for something and created something truly beautiful in their time here. 


Everyone wants to be admired for something.  Some people want what the world defines as BIG dreams and BIG ideas.  These ideas are only BIG in scale.  That doesn't make them more admirable.  


Let's say there's a little old man who lives alone in a tiny apartment.  He pays all of his bills on time, he always keeps his space neat and clean.  he has no family.  He leaves his apartment every day to get his coffee and his paper, sits in the park or in a cafe on rainy days, reads the paper and then heads to the market to get the items he needs to make dinner.  He spends 2 hours cooking every night, sets the table, puts on his favorite music, enjoys every bite, cleans up, writes in his journal and gets to sleep.  On Tuesdays and Fridays he does his laundry at the laundromat and on Sundays, he goes to services at his church.  He gives $10 every week to the church fund and in every place and thing he does, he makes sure to make eye contact and smile at every person he encounters.  


He's someone who does what he does and is on time and pleasant and wanting to connect with others.  He gives of himself because he wants to, not because he's bound to get something from it.


As humans, we forget that this is real and true and beautiful.  We likely see this man as someone who is boring and lazy and introverted.  


We would rather talk about people who have done amazing things.  BIG scale things...


I have two perfect examples as to why this is completely and unfortunately despicable...


Audrey Hepburn.  


My pseudonym's namesake.  She was beautiful, charming, talented, strong, and generous with her time, giving to charity, working with children in Africa into her elder years, being a glorious mother.


Audrey Hepburn was hospitalized twice for trying to commit suicide.  She was married twice to horribly abusive men.  She was sick, anorexic and perfectionistic.  


I still admire the prior list.  The latter proves her to be a story.  A story we only share the good parts of.


Steve Jobs.

He gave us Apple.  He gave us amazing technology and devices that allow us to be more effective and connected and give us the time to truly live in the world.


Steve Jobs had a terrible relationship with his family.  He was despondent, dominating, and rarely around.  His work was his life.  They were just fluff.


I still admire the prior list.  The latter proves him to be a story.  A story we only share the good parts of.


Admiration is the most sought after income in the universe.
Everyone who takes less is always second best.  
In order to be admired, we must allow ourselves to be seen for who we are.  
We must present our inauthenticities and admit that they have driven us to our need to be admired.  


At the end of the day, false admiration won't make us happy.  Simple self-love and contentment will give us the true self that we need to carry on living a life we love with hope and happiness.


Food for thought...  


Your welcome.
XOXO, Audrey

And...GO

It's been a while.  I was busy.  I was also confused.  I'm neither right now.
I spent some time opening my mind further to new ideas and I am now ready to share them.
It doesn't matter how my day goes...or yours for that matter.
In actuality, it's just a day.  It's just 24 hours, 1440 minutes.
It's just this happened, this didn't, he said, she said, blah blah blah.

My further idea says this:

So what?

Did you enjoy it?

Because, if the answer is no, you've failed at life.

OUCH, Aud!  Did you get hurt or something?  Did you get told your don't know it all.

Nah. I didn't. I already know I don't, but I do know something that I stand for, for the rest of my life.  I've stood for it forever, but I've never had it defined.  Now I have, and I'm proud of myself.

I live.

I don't get resigned to whatever it is that certain someones believe is "the way it goes" or that is "fine for now" or who "aren't getting any younger".

In my life I know I'll aspire professionally to all the possibilities I believe in. In love...I will too.  I'm sure it will be unconventional the way it all goes down, but I will.

I tend to get stuck.
I tend to allow for it.  All of it.
I tend to accept him for his shortcomings, while he derails me for my accomplishments.
I do.
It's terrible.
I know.

I'm not a masochist.  I was just occurring like one.  I'm actually a forthright, bra burning, simple person-hating, femi-nazi bitch.

Yep, I am.

I'm also a delicate, quiet, gentle, and passionate person.

Yep, I am.

I'm also a woman who doesn't need anyone to help her, but would love for an offer.

Yep, I am.

I'm also a girl who still likes printed tights and thick wool sweaters that drown my femininity and my "grown-up-ness"

Yep, I am.

I'm also a woman who will use my legs to drop jaws and shut simple people up so I will be heard.  and I will WIN.

Yep, I am.

I'm RECENTLY  a woman who loves herself.  Who knows exactly what she wants and gets it.  A woman who rolls out profanities ablaze when she doesn't get what she's asking for.

SERIOUSLY?  Yep, you bet I am.

Because I've given.

I've always been the shoulder to cry on, or the friend to "have your back" or the one you can bounce your ideas off of.

That's a sound board.

I'm a human being.

I'm worth so much more than being some one's bobble head while they rant and rave about the travesty of their "Do not resuscitate" life.

Forget it.

They'll have to juice me to get me to leave.

I am taking a stand to ignore ignorance.
To ignore negative thoughts, feelings, expressions, and energy.

I am taking a stand to NOT foster the negativity.

So here's my advise if you'd like a friend like me:

1.  You don't like your job?  quit.
          * If this isn't possible, you've created your hardship by not budgeting to have a cushion to get the
             hell out.  YOU DID THIS
2.  You're not in love with your significant other any more.  get out
         *  Marriage is a choice.  Choose wisely.  You'll be fine if you're alone.  In fact, if he really does
             drive you this crazy, you'll be better.  If you just want to bitch and nothing is wrong SHUT UP.
3.  30 is not old.
         * if you truly believe it is, you need to cheat on your spouse, do some LSD, and frigging live your life.  Not that these things are necessary for living, but 30?!?!.  I still get pimples.  Old people do not get pimples.  I also have 5 years until I reach my sexual peak.  The only people who are old at 30 are men.  they're 11 years past their peak and likely screwing a chick who's got at least 14 years to go.  (they're so on the same level.  I mean, it's scary how much they have in common).
4. Crying. Talking, Expression.  Freaking out.  and BREAKING DOWN.  are a really real part of living.
          * if you're not invested in your life enough to be hurt when things don't go your way, you might as well die and get dirt thrown in your face.

Seriously.  We get this shot.  Why not live every day like you could burst at the seems with presence and excitement and a drive towards your dreams?

Cynicism.  It'll be my plea for not guilty when everyone drops like flies and I'm still chillin, being happy.

Get over yourself, your story, your baggage.  Get over what keeps you where you are.  and...


GO

I will give you a reason and you will like it

So I go to a therapist. I'm not afraid to admit that. I am a New Yorker. We all go to therapy.

I started going because I had no idea who I was. I had lived the first 28 years of my life behind a tutu matched delightfully to a brazen, self-righteous, semi-sociopathic masochist.

How the hell does that work?
Well...
I thought being blunt and hurtful was a good tactic for letting people know they did me wrong. My MO was to take the punishment of being ignored and belittled for months, years, decades in a few cases, and then finally, out of nowhere, sweet, innocent, caring and loving Audrey went ape shit.
I got into an argument on the street with a guy who had treated me like I was a pet, one that he kicked when he got home from a bad day, for way too long.
We were standing on the corner of thompson and spring and i just snapped. the venom that started pouring out of my mouth was cold, ruthless, and violently heartless. Then, he shoved me, and walked away.

A 33 year old man shoved me.

This, I will sheepishly admit, was not the first time I had provoked and been man-handled, but it was certainly the last. The next morning I set up my appointment.

I had no idea what was wrong with me. Now I do.

Nothing.

I was giving the benefit of the doubt to people who take. Narcissism was a HUGE turn on. It still is. The idea that I could handle it. That I was so tough and emotionless and cool was like a drug.

I really did not care what his or her deal was because we would never have to be close.

I could "love" him and leave him or gossip, work on my snarky sarcasm with her and, at the end of our encounter, not give a shit which way they went.
But I was being false. I did want to be cared about. I did want someone who listened and told me stories, good, bad, and ugly stories, and just put themselves out on the table.
I wanted to be able to air out my dirty laundry too. That stuff has made me who I am. Who, I've realized in the past two years, is an amazing person.

The hard pill to take is that i am still drawn to people who are looking for motive.

They are not hard to find.

A person who trusts is 1 in a great many. A person who doesn't is a dime a dozen.

I like to listen. I like to be a soundboard and watch what people do and say. I can tell when they are coming from an honest place. I can tell when they are not. In some instances, even when they can not.

This gets me into trouble.

People do not like to share.

They create this storyline about the listener. Freud coined it transference.
Since I have this lovely tendency to listen and hear, this transference shows up in a lot of colorful ways.
I have been accused of thinking I am above the talker.
I have been accused of being codependent, a martyr to save them.
I have been accused of being a know-it-all.
I have been accused of pushing my agenda.

The reality is, I am just listening.

I used to give advice because I thought that was what the other party wanted from me, but I never thought my advice was any good. Another person's life is not my life and it is not mine to change or help them with.

I have no idea what kind of crazy trauma and drama and mishaps and beliefs she has running through her brain, making her need to own whatever she is saying or whatever reason she is giving for the words she uses.
All I have is a point of view. It is not my place to try and make that someone else's point of view. I do not intend for a word of mine to be heard. I am used to that anyway.

Shrinky says its my semi-sociopathy. I'm not mentally ill, but I sure as hell can detach like I am.

It is a real part of me that I am completely and blissfully content when I am completely by myself.

I can not say that I do not love company, but I do not need it. I much prefer living in my headphones and burying my nose in a book to talking to strangers. I want to get a dog, a snobby impersonal dog and walk him as far away from other dogs and people at the dog park because, well he doesn't want to talk to strangers either. That's my kind of dog.

But...

Here'a the rub: I have learned that I can not stop the conversation when it gets hard. I fight to the bitter end. The completion. The resolve. (I have suffered through 10-20 cold wars at this point).

I am trying out a new approach to that.
I am creating a possibility that I can have those conversations and sift through the resistance and the transference and just get to the nitty gritty of it all by just asking what they are gaining.

I will admit a selfish gain on my end from this: I like to watch people figure it out.

I do not want to figure it out for them, nor do I want to walk away.

I want to have relationships with people where they feel like they can trust me and see that I am not judging and that I actually do not see anything wrong with anything about them.
Even the stuff I ask them about.

It is just a question. Nothing more.

It is difficult to figure out how to do this at times. My current conundrum is someone who likes reasons, but does not want to discuss what those reasons do for him. He will likely bolt because he is mentally accusing me of one of those prior accusations I listed, or a new one...I just don't care. I'm still asking.

In a nutshell, those reasons HAVE to be doing something for him, otherwise, what is the point of having a reason?

If I say I can not go skiing because I'm afraid of hurting myself, I have a reason. That reason keeps me safe and my knees intact. Maybe I am missing out on a real high in "nature".

Eh, I hate being cold anyway.

I have a reason. It is a silly reason but I have it and my safety is the benefit there.

If I said I can not learn Italian, because I do not want to know what those sleazy guys who sit at my morning coffee shop are saying about me, I gain by not having to know and being able to pretend they are complimenting the intelligence I exude, despite their obvious gestures towards my ass.
Ridiculous. But I gain something from that reason.

If I said I will never date a blonde man because I'm not attracted to them, I gain nothing from my reasoning. I cut out a whole slew of men who are likely tall enough to compliment me in 4" heels and probably have a place to take me on Nantucket this summer.
No gain keeping this reason up.

These are silly examples but they are real, humorous reasons I actually operate under. I've kicked the last one out because I want my options wide open (though tall dark and handsome is surely going to be where it's at...I jest).

I'm on that trip this week. I am trying to examine my reasons, and see where they bring me and what it is I actually gain from them. If there is nothing of value, I am dropping them. At the end of the day, they are only holding me back.

Over n out!

XO Aud.

IaMuNoRdInArY: Swing open up your chest and let it in

IaMuNoRdInArY: Swing open up your chest and let it in: I have had a dream for years but I didn't realize it was a dream until last night. I have woken from my rest with my arms reaching for the ...

IaMuNoRdInArY: I'll listen for you not to you and we will learn t...

IaMuNoRdInArY: I'll listen for you not to you and we will learn t...: I've had a lot come at me of late and it's triggered some serious reflecting. It's not really about what's right or wrong because there is ...

I'll listen for you not to you and we will learn together

I've had a lot come at me of late and it's triggered some serious reflecting.
It's not really about what's right or wrong because there is no right or wrong.

It's about listening.

I'm sure it's something we can all attest to at one point or other, thinking that opening our ears to someone who has something to say and then thinking our words of wisdom will help.

I've learned that sometimes the best wisdom we can bestow is to listen differently.

We listen TO each other but we don't listen FOR each other.

Listening to requires being present and hearing and trying to give our own two cents.

Listening FOR means we are hearing not only what is being said but also who the person is who's saying it.

It feels good for ME when I can impart wisdom.

That's about me.

I have to get me out of the way.

When someone is asking me to listen, he is telling me HE wants to be heard. Not just his words but WHO he is in saying them.

I can spend all day rationalizing what I think will be helpful to someone else, but that's what I think.

Again, that's about me and my agenda and my trying to run someone else's life.

The best kind of support I can give is seeing him and listening to where he is coming from.

An attack will never create resolve.

My judgment and opinions are an attack.

It's better to come from this place:

"what I see from this is this (insert example), help me understand what YOU see".

Even the closest people I can account for in my life are not 100% obvious to me. Just like I am not 100% obvious to them. If I spend all my time trying to get what they are saying and stick it to them, what the hell is that going to do? Where the hell is that going to get me?

Nowhere.

And it isn't going to make them budge either.

To support a breakdown is to listen FOR.

For the person who's hurting.

For the person who needs my support.

For the person who wants so desperately to find his own resolve and happiness.

Not for me.

Not for my way of "giving".

Not for my own abilities.

Because that makes me a know at all. It makes me a person who sees herself as actualized and ahead of the game and in it, not watching it.

That's what it's about.

Listening FOR gives me the chance to be in it and one with the person who's asked that I lend that ear.

It's not about me.
It's not about them.
It's about happiness and finding it in others to foster it in ourselves.

IaMuNoRdInArY: Hello Ted

IaMuNoRdInArY: Hello Ted: There's a man seated across the way from me on the 4 train right now. He's unassuming. He wears a suit. His hair is brown, receding, but...

Hello Ted

There's a man seated across the way from me on the 4 train right now.
He's unassuming.
He wears a suit.
His hair is brown, receding, but thick and well-kept, definitely cut every three weeks.
He has a deep furrow in his brow and subtle crows feet.
He sits like he's tired.
His nails are short, bitten. Not in a bloody, nic-fit/nervous/need a fix sort of way. Just bitten.

There he goes, chewing his right thumb.

He's got a watch on his left hand.

Watch is nice, shoes are nice, shirt is pressed, tie doesn't match all that well, but it's kind of sweet that it doesn't.

I could give him a story.

He could be an attorney. The kind that sues people.

He could be a banker. The kind that does private equity or investment banking. Although, it is only 6 pm. Kind of early for an investment banker to be heading home. Definitely not a trader. The market closed hours ago and this guy definitely hasn't had a drink.

He could be a copywriter, worried about a deadline on a campaign for Gillette that's better than "the best a man can get". Maybe one where the girlfriend steals the gel to shave her legs and it runs out and he goes to use it and is mad for a second but then he touches her leg and realizes this is still the best a man can get.

Good one.

He could be out of work having just spent the whole day interviewing and trudging around the city trying to get a break.
He could have been at a funeral, his eyes are looking a little worried and sad.

I could use my creative genius to turn him into a womanizer, tired because he went home with some girl he met on OKCupid last night and went straight to work this AM, bolting before she woke up.

Or I could make him a poet, full of brooding and beautiful words that he could recite to me as a drift off to sleep. That is, after he courts me for months trying to make things perfect and comfortable enough that he can show me this side of him.

He's probably Jewish though. That thick hair.
That means he's got a overly involved mom and he adores her. It also means he's the marrying kind, but it's off limits here because I'm Shiksa.

His brow's probably furrowed because his boss is a jerk and he just wants to stick it to him and start his own hedge fund.
It's in the works.

His eyes are puckered because he's single and he doesn't have a woman to show him how to use eye cream.

Men do it if you tell them about it.

His watch on the left means he's a righty. Probably really stiff and calculated. No imagination there. And his clothes are so together that its boring and annoying. His tie doesn't match because, come to think of it, he probably still lives at home with his mom and she laid his clothes out for the day when it was dark in his room and accidentally grabbed the hunter green instead of the navy.

We wouldn't last two weeks.

He just caught me looking at him.

He just smiled.

He just said "what are you doing over there?"

Turns out his name is Ted. He's 32 and he's an accountant. His week was really long but the overtime is worth it because he's saving to buy his girlfriend a ring. She's angry he comes home so late, especially tonight because she's going to Massachusetts for the weekend to visit her best friend. She just had a baby.

I told him what I was writing. He laughed.

He's going to read this.

He told me what his story was about me.

That girl is pretty. She looks like she's about 24 (yahtzee) and is probably married to some rich asshole because she is in those LuLu Lemon workout clothes that my girlfriend likes and it's 6pm so she obviously didn't work today. I feel bad because she seems so interesting. I wonder why she picked a jerk like that. Maybe the money?
She's reading Viktor Frankl. Whoa, existentialist. Maybe she's a lesbian. The lipstick kind. I bet her girlfriend is hot. Or maybe they're married now. They probably own a yoga studio.
Her hair is cool. And she's not wearing any makeup.

In NYC? Definitely a lesbian.

Whatever, she still looks good. I think lesbians are cool.

What is she doing? She keeps looking at me. She just looked and then wrote something in her book. She's chuckling about it. WTF? Bitch.
-No thoughts for a few minutes-

She just looked again, damnit. Eh, it's cute, I'm asking...

It's amazing what we come up with without asking. It's amazing how much we judge without knowing.

It's also amazing how easy it is to get to know something about somebody and to make someone smile.

Ted gets off at Atlantic av. I get off 2 earlier.

I could imagine where he lives or what his girlfriend looks like. Instead, we exchanged numbers and I'm going to I to his cookout on may 6th in prospect park.

Just thought I'd share. and Ted, I want to check out that place on union. Sounds pretty cool. You aren't square at all are you?

IaMuNoRdInArY: I shan't introduce you as an acquaintance. I'd li...

IaMuNoRdInArY: I shan't introduce you as an acquaintance. I'd like you to be my friend