I imagined that the end of my mobility training would have clear and dramatic lines, but the end has been prolonged and is petering rather than exploding.
I took Tamar to lunch on Thursday, to thank her and to say goodbye, but we decided to meet one more time so she could teach me about the logic behind the madness that is the layout of Los Angeles. That will happen next week, but it still feels as if my time with her has come to an end, and also as if it never has to entirely come to an end. I know that she will be around and available if ever I need some more lessons. So, what now?
I am in my air-conditioned apartment, avoiding the heat wave that is suffocating Los Angeles. I write and try to reflect on the past three months, how my life has changed now that Zelda is in it and how I am still so resistant to that change. I decided to be kind to myself around the resistance; I am not on a clock; RP has no adherence to time and I can incorporate Zelda into my life in whatever ways I choose.
Right now, I look at Zelda and I feel exhausted, and like a failure. I always imagine myself as so strong, able to go into a situation with fearlessness and embrace whatever fucked up thing I am forced to undertake; but this is my fantasy and, inevitably, I come out the back door, the same chubby, middle-aged, screwed up person who walked through the front door. But, this is just one side of the coin, and although it is pressed pretty flat to the ground at this minute, I know it can be flipped.
On the other side are all the discoveries I have made about how Zelda can change the landscapes I traverse. I own the moments when the world came to life through sound and touch, and how those things allowed me to shed my anxiety. I recognize that it takes courage to bring Zelda into my life and to write about it in the most honest way I can.
Next week will be my last official lesson with Tamar and my last O&M post, but I think Zelda and I may still have some adventures to come.