The world was kind to me this week. It really was. I had a couple of little adventures with my friends, which to me is just the most delectably perfect way to exist. And it made me realize, I truly do love sharing this life with people. I'm not pretending about that one.
First off, I managed to gather my little posse together to join me at the Yamashiro Farmer's Market! I got them into it last summer, so they were all eager to return. I walked up there to meet them, and Bethany and Johnny spied me by the oranges and we all went to sample the kettle corn until Jessica and Agatha arrived.
What a good night! That place never ceases to impress me with the mood it invokes. The music and people and lights of the city below. And everyone got the sliders from Yamashiro's own food stand, while I nibbled on the homemade chips dipped in what we think was Sriracha ketchup. Kind of amazing.
And we shared wine and then walked into the Japanese gardens that wrap around the front of the hill below the restaurant and found an available bench and some of us sat in the grass by this small pond, the pond, that, yes, I suggested jumping into because I simply cannot be near a body of water without wanting to jump into it. Everyone said it was probably the scuzziest water ever, but still, even with imitation nature, I am still tempted to dip my toes in. As with everything.
Being up there at night is just so extraordinary, especially in those gardens with a glass of wine. The city is sparkling, and the music is like LA's heartbeat in the background. Here you are. Love this all. All is well. Look around. All is well. Which is something that I need, moments like that, just feeling everything alive and taking it in. It's something that pacifies me and helps me regroup when I think too much and things start to feel a little confusing again.
And all really was well that night up there. It's nights like that, when I am just surrounded by so many of the things that I love, that just nourish my whole being. And I am dumbfounded with awe. How did I get here? What is this and how can it be so painstakingly glorious? Just sitting on a hillside by a fake stream with my friends, so happily. And somehow we all ended up here and ended up crossing paths and ended up living in this life together. It's always going to be ok. It really is.
We met up again the other night to watch the Mayweather fight at Bethany and Johnny's new apartment. Now, there's a story, because, I mean, if you know me, you're probably wondering what I'm doing going to watch a boxing match. But, to tell the truth, I'm rather seasoned and well-versed in boxing at this point.
The first boxing match I ever signed up to watch was the last Mayweather fight. It's kind of a funny story. Some might say embarrassing, but I am me and forever will be. And my friends, they love me for that.
We got together to watch that first fight at Jessica and Agatha's place. Same crew, different night. I had no idea what I was in for, to be honest. I mean, I know what boxing is. But I have sort of intentionally sheltered myself from the general viewing of beatings as recreation and sport, so it's not exactly old hat.
However much I logically did prime myself to watch that match, I guess I couldn't prepare myself quite enough. I went over it very pragmatically beforehand, too. They are getting paid a lot to do this. They are choosing to do this. They are using a skill set that took time and training and devotion to acquire. It's a sport. They are physically and mentally anticipating being punched. They're not mad at each other.
Well, it wasn't quite enough. There was a fight before the Mayweather match. My first boxing viewing ever. It was all going all right, and my logic was working, until the red headed kid from Mexico, well, toward the end of his fight he had the upper hand and just started railing into his opponent so hard that I burst into tears, to my own surprise, because, I mean, I was ready for this, and just immediately got up and exited the room.
And I hear that Johnny looked at Bethany and was just like, "Is she…crying?" And sweet Bethany, knowing me so well after all of these years, was just like, "Yeah, she is, she's fine." And I was in the other room literally laughing out loud at myself because I was crying at a boxing match, even after all of my preparation! I mean, I knew it was ridiculous. But something about that sudden surge of punching a human being triggered something in me that I could not help. At some fundamental level of compassion, in that split second, I could not register that it was a consensual sport.
So, praises be, I commend them all for even inviting me over to watch boxing again! Because I sure don't want to miss out on a gathering. But, I guess, we'd all rather be with each other just as we are than not at all. Those are true friendships. When they don't want you to see the world how they do, but love you for seeing it how you do.
Well, the other night, I immediately recognized that red head from Mexico. He was in the match prior to Mayweather once again. I was just like, ooh, that guy. I remember him. And I remembered body stats and everything. Everyone was surprised by my boxing knowledge at that point, but I could never forget that kid.
I handled myself much better this time. But I knew what to expect, too, and so I primarily focused on the pizza and vegetable platter, for the most part. I occasionally watched the calculation of the fight at slower moments, and had some opinions on technique, but still, I did turn my head when it just felt too brutal, which was most of the time. Because I will never really be unaffected. It does seem barbaric.
But that's me, and the way I've always been. I can't even squash a bug. I just look at the little guy and think, he's just playing his natural role in the eco-system. We're all just trying to get by and serve our purpose. It's tough enough as it is without having to worry about someone squishing you.
Still, though, I like having my loving and understanding group of friends who will invite me to watch the boxing match even though I'm so sensitive. They just take me for what I am. And would rather have me there, even if I cry at boxing, than not have me there at all. Those are good friends. I am forever blessed. It's a good life.
And all is well.