Strike a Pose

Last night was the night for the figure study group. I arrived there about 25 minutes early. I went inside the building and met with two of the people that brought it all together. They were both nice and welcoming. As time passed a few more people began to arrive. I was showed where I would be, which was a small stage of sorts, in the middle of the room. It was warm enough and the lighting was all facing where I would be standing and/or sitting. I spoke with two of the women about this being my first time and they offered up some advice as to what to do. This advice mostly consisted of being comfortable. A couple more women arrived and everyone decided it would be time to start getting ready to begin. I walked off to the bathroom, changed out of my clothes, and slipped on a robe. I walked out of the bathroom and onto the space in which I was to position myself. We started out doing quick poses, which each lasted for 2 minutes. We did 5 minutes, 10 minutes, then everyone stated that they could use having longer periods for drawing. I did a couple poses for 20 minutes. We took our first break after the first 20 minute pose. I got up, put my robe on, moved my joints around and walked around a bit. I briefly chatted with a couple people and shortly after we got back to it. 

We did a pose for 25 minutes, then launched into an hour pose. I sat for this pose. The lights were directed at me and I stared off into the distance. I thought about whatever was going on in my current world, made images out of the designs on the walls, and tried to fight off a serious coughing fit. Needless to say, that last little part did not work out so well. I got the cough out and put my arms back where they were prior to the coughing. I focused back on the wall and went back to making images in the wall and the wood surrounding the wall. Half an hour had passed and we took a break for a couple minutes. I went back to the same pose for another 30 minutes. Music played softly in the background, the furnace would kick on and off, and the scribble of art being made were the symphony that filled the air. The alarm sounded, marking the end of time for the last pose. I stood up, put on my robe, and changed back into my clothes. 

When I came out I thanked them all for the opportunity and told them it was nice meeting them all. Everyone was so kind. They thanked me for being willing to come out and told me that they would like having me back if I wanted to do it again. I never did end up seeing any of the work they did, but I would be interested in seeing some of them.

Overall, it was a great experience. It was not scary and it was not as difficult as I had originally made it out to be in my mind. I had to move my body around a bit once I got home. Although it was not something I normally would do, I am glad that I took the chance. I am definitely grateful for the experience. If the time arose to do it again, I believe that I would.

A Step Out of a Comfort Zone

Early Monday morning I woke up and had received a text message from a girlfriend. She was asking me if I had ever done nude modeling. I said that I had not. I mean not officially. I had posed nude for a man I dated many years back. He was (and still is) an artist and I had posed for him and him alone. It was not a paid gig or anything big. She mentioned that a friend she has was in need of a model for a group and asked if I was interested. I will admit that it sounded exciting and a bit scary. Not only do I not know the folks that run this group, I do not know any of the adults in it. I said that I would be interested. I was given the contact information for the woman that puts on this group. We text one another and as the day went on I received a text message from her stating that it was all set. She knows that I have never done this before. I will admit that I am still a little nervous about going. I am certainly comfortable with my body and do not mind posing for the sake of art. The part that actually makes me nervous is not knowing what to do with my body. How I might need to pose my body. I am under the impression that I am the one that will decide how to stand or hold myself. Part of me just laughed because this is something I struggle with in my everyday life. The old, "What do I do with myself?" I have searched on the Internet for inspiration. The group is meeting for 3 hours tomorrow evening. For 3 hours (with breaks), I will be posing for their figure study group. This is not something I normally do. I generally will not step out of my comfort zone enough to go to places in which I will know absolutely no one. I will, and I have, but it is not something that would be considered the norm for me. 

This will be good for me. I will try doing something very different than what I am used to doing. I will also meet a group of brand new people. I honestly believe that this will be a great experience and will help to pull me out of my comfort zone and allow for me to expand. I will gain something out of it. I know all of these things, yet still have a stomach half-full of nerves. By tomorrow, it will be filled with nerves. The only thing to settle those nerves will be to simply jump right in. It will be a way to open myself up, be vulnerable, and to meet new people. 

Some people might think this is absolutely insane. Perhaps. I am a fan of art and I am more than happy to help out when it is needed. There is little of that left in the world, or so I perceive from the world. I am grateful for the opportunity. Soon enough there will be an update of what becomes this experience. Until then, it will be getting naked for art's sake. 

Happiness in My Lawn

Early in the afternoon I walked out into my backyard as I let Miro outside. I was taking in the cool air and the starting of a slight, nearly nonexistent snowfall. I looked around the yard and saw it. My last dandelion wish of this season. It made my heart flip and sink in the same moment. I was happy to see it. I was also sad that I knew it would be the last that I would enjoy until Spring arrived once again. I walked up to the spot in which it was growing from my yard. I crouched down to the ground in order to get a better look, perhaps my last glance. Part of me wanted to pull it from the earth and make a final wish. More of me wanted to let it remain in the yard to do as it pleases. I sat on my heels for a moment and simply savored and let my soul drink up the sight. I pulled out my phone and took what I believed may be my last dandelion picture for the year. I stood up and walked back into the house. I left home shortly after and drove to my folks' house. On the way there I started to think that when I got home that I could pull up the dandelion and save it in a plastic bag. My thought process on this was that once the weather returned to a nearly consistent warmth (whatever that means in Ohio), that I could pull the dandelion out and spread those little seeds. Maybe in doing that, I could be one of the firsts to have them sprout up in my lawn. I went through the day, somewhat leaving these thoughts behind. On my drive back home, I could only think about living in a place in which I could have dandelions year-round. If only. I am not entirely sure where my love for dandelions comes from. Most people that I encounter can only view them as a weed or something that needs to be removed. To me, they bring me happiness and make my heart soar. Until the weather warms, I will hold onto that last picture. 

Authentically Living

In the last several years, I have embarked on a journey with myself to live my life authentically. Throughout this time I have gained a decent amount of perspective. I have also stumbled upon a certain amount of awareness of myself and my life. Each day, regardless of how tough it might be, I get out of bed and attempt to do the best. At times, I do struggle with my awareness. I know what is right for me and what I ought to be working to achieve. I still do not always choose to take the path that I know is right. There are times in which I intentionally choose to go down a path that will cause unnecessary hardship and/or heartache. I consciously (most of the time) make that decision. I am not perfect and this will always be an ongoing process. 

My head and my heart do not always agree with the path. Generally they want to pursue two different ways. More often than not I choose to follow my heart. I want to live and to feel. I want to feel both the highs and the lows of life. Though I would definitely rather feel the highs. I do not want to live automatically and numb. 

I do not want to be content. I want to be full and happy. I want to be me. I do not want to miss out on experiences because I am afraid. Down the road I do not want to wonder "what if" about the decisions I failed to make. This is not to say that I go through life recklessly. I simply do not want fear and the unknown to keep me from walking down a particular path. If being afraid of the unknown prevents me from making a decision I will only end up wondering about that unknown anyhow. 

I try to be open and honest with all of those that I interact with. I do not want to give the wrong impression. I do not want to be untrue to myself or others. I hope for those that are in my life to know me. I will not lie to them. I am a terrible liar anyway. The hardest part of living authentically is that it seems that there are less people doing the same with their lives. Those that are in my life that also live and love this way are my tribe. They call me out on my crap. They encourage me and love me. They stand by my side regardless of what decisions I make. Those in my life that do not live in this manner, I still love them and offer my patience, support, and encouragement. There does come a time in which some of our paths cannot continue to run together. I have had to divert my path from their path. This is not because I do not care and do not love them. It is because I cannot hold them up and take care of myself. I won't give up on me, you, or us. I only need to put my focus elsewhere. 

Living this way can be difficult (and I do not always follow it exactly), but ultimately it is much more fulfilling. 

A Literal and Metaphorical Tumble Down the Stairs

It was necessary for me to do. It was only building into a nearly insurmountable swell of feeling. Perhaps the alcohol pushed me over that tip. It is possible that it merely intensified the feeling or it might be that it simply made me brave. I finally found the courage to stand up for my heart. I told you how I felt. I told you what I thought. I told you it all. Or the majority of it, anyway. I let you know that I have deep feelings that I cannot help. That there was love in my heart set aside for you and you alone. There was and is only you. I do not need you. Don't be fooled by those words. What I meant and expressed is that I take care of myself, my son, my life, it all, on my own. I do not need someone to get through this life. I wanted you. I want you. There is a difference. I do not need you. I want you. I want to share our lives. Am I the best possible option for you? Maybe. Maybe not. Are you the best option for me? Perhaps. Perhaps not. We will never know without trying.  I, of all people, understand that it is scary to feel this way for someone else. Nothing in life is guaranteed or promised to us. Life itself is day to day. Tomorrow might never arrive. I told you that I had wanted to give you everything. Damn Jameson. Some of the words that spilled from my mouth might have been better to hold in. It is too late now and I know I would not take back anything I said. I meant every single word. 

I am not afraid to try. I know that there is the possibility of heartache if we jumped in completely. At the same time, I know that heartache will come if we never tried. Will it be forever? There is no way to know. As I stated already, nothing is promised. I am not afraid. I would rather find out than spend countless hours, days, whatever duration it may be, wondering about the possibility, potential. I expressed that this is who I am, raw and vulnerable. I will always be who I am and I will not ever pretend to be anything other than me. 

Now you know and I am relieved. To some extent. My heart still sits a little heavy. I am not entirely sure of the outcome. Too much alcohol and that severe brain hurt through a large portion of this morning and afternoon did not help to clarify. Either way, I said what needed saying. I stood strong for my heart, that has always fought fiercely for me. I do apologize for the alcohol fueled outburst of the emotionally charged verbal diarrhea. I am sure there may have been a better time and place for the conversation. However, you did begin the conversation and I was honest. I made myself raw and vulnerable. I was me. Or at least a slightly intoxicated version of me. My words still hold true. Even after all of the alcohol has cleared my body and that serious ache has eased in my head. I meant each word. I am a little lighter knowing that you now know and for no longer carrying that around in my heart. 

Beyond that bit of intensity for the early morning hours, I also showed you that I am awkward, clumsy at times, and absolutely ridiculous. That is who I am.