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Warren Easton’s marching band is parading around the neighborhood making Carnival almost unavoidable, but that’s alright because honestly, let’s just get in and get out. Again, Mardi Gras is early this year – February 17 – and I’m barely recovering from the holy trinity of Hanukkah/Christmas/Kwanzaa not to mention New Year’s.

My friends are all going nuts it seems with more couples splitting up than hooking up, and I have to say all of the madness makes me wonder if people ever really figure it out. I know there are those in long-term relationships that have no thoughts of anything else – and yet for my couples that are like that, I’ve had one of them die within a year of cancer diagnosis, and another die of a stroke. What?

Right, which is why during these times of chaos that are no different from any other time of chaos, it’s about laying some ground rules. And ground rule number one is be kind and compassionate to yourself. Number two is keep yourself nimble and flexible because just when you settle into that good old knowing, something you don’t know is about to slam through your window. And three I’d say is learn to be present.

The best thing I ever learned to do is to not care.

I know – that sounds horrible doesn’t it? But I had a real issue with caring too much before and I say this because recently when Stanley got a little jealous he said it was because he cared too much and I said, hmmm. Too much? Nah, there is something else going on. There is fear. Similarly, I just had this conversation with a friend whose perfectionism in her job has led her to having her soul vaporized. How can I stop caring so much, she asks. Caring too much isn’t bad, fear is what is bad. So let me rephrase that, I learned to not fear what was going to happen next.

The best thing that I ever learned is to not fear what happens next.

Now I do have to tell myself this several times a day sometimes to make it stick, but remembering it has given me the ability to make myself present, to not worry about work and whether this project is happening or this client will be around tomorrow, and it certainly has helped me with matters of the heart because I truly believe in what will be, will be. What is meant to be. Or more to the point, what is.

I know it sounds detached that I am cool with my lover moving to Destin, but I am – I have a busy life – filled with motherhood, working, social justice projects, race reconciliation projects, friends, and my biggest love affair – me time. I need time for ME at the end of these raggedy days – time to go to bed early, time to take hot baths, time to read on my sofa, time to take long walks with my dog, time to garden.

So don’t let the smooth taste fool you, I’m still a sentimental softy on the outside, a woman who cries at weddings, funerals and even recounting stories of my life or listening to you tell me yours, but I’ve become hardcore in my “core” and that means you and events cannot rock my world – because – in the words of Maya Angelou – life don’t frighten me at all.

A friend stopped by the other day and left me with a very poignant saying: “Se rascan las pelotas mientras la mujer trabaja.”

Translation: He scratches his balls while the woman works.

That fully informed a conversation that was had around the table at a friend’s daughter’s sweet 16 birthday party last night. And it has a lot to do with why I’ve realized how convenient a lie it is that women need to be partnered up. What man who walks into a house that is homey, that has good smells coming from the kitchen, clean clothes folded in the drawers, and flowers blooming in the garden doesn’t want to cozy on up and live there.

But I digress.

I was thinking as I started writing this post about teaching myself to fly because I feel that up until recently I’ve been a master at tying myself down, anchoring myself to stone, burying myself in other’s expectations, and seemingly afraid to fly. Yes, I’ve done my work – there is the Tai Chi, the QiGong, the meditation, the zen, the Aikido, and the walks and endless talks with myself about how to be, and how not to be. And yet, I forgot to ponder the art of flight.

We were watching a heron take flight over the bayou and Tin said to me, “Aw, I wish I could fly.” And I said, “Aw, I wish I could too.”

And why not? I dreamed last night that my bindi was left of center, that my panties were not folded just so in my drawer, that details were skewed and needed to be put in fine order. This is a clear sign that three weeks of Tin out of school, endless eating, too much champagne and wow, I’m not going to be able to fly away because I’m laden with weight.

What better time to think about being weightless than the day before 12th Night? Tomorrow, the Joan of Arc parade announces the beginning of Carnival season here in New Orleans. I have two 12th night parties to attend. Yes, you’d think I’d be throwing in the towel but no, I’m going to at least give a nod to the season and then I’m going to step back and take a much needed recovery.

Mardi Gras will be here before you know it – but I can’t keep the pace of the holidays like I used to – so I am going to fly away from here and it and all of those boulders that want to weigh me down. I’m going to study flying – in my drifting thoughts, day dreaming flights of fancy, back to work somnambulism, cracking manuscripts, Zumba moving, morning walking, Aikido falling, energy flowing and breathing exercises – this zephyr heifer needs to get up up and away.

E N G A G E.

2014 was a year that was a pivotal year for me and this household. This was my first full year in the Spirit House and they say that a house is truly not a home till you break bread with loved ones at the table (multiple checks), experience death and loss (my friend, Dina Ann LeBlanc May 29, 1964 – June 5, 2014), welcome a newborn (Stella) into the world, plant something in the ground, and start a new relationship.

I’ve gone from creating debt, to just getting above it, to just beginning the journey of getting out of debt – that was the money cycle.

I overscheduled in 2014 which was similar to 2013, 2012, 2011, and pretty much any year you could pick out of my life. But I am getting better at saying no. Or at least I think I am.

I planted a vegetable garden. I planted palm trees and ginger. I planted a satsuma tree and a pear tree.

We celebrated Tin’s 5th birthday here on his trampoline, we celebrated Mardi Gras, Father’s Day and Mother’s Day and held a seder, put skeletons out for Halloween and lit the menorah for Hanukkah and the kinara for Kwanzaa.

I took in a roommate for a few months, which affirmed my faith that living alone is what my soul needs now more than ever – particularly at this stage of raising Tin.

And as luck would have it, I met a man who fits nicely into my life. Stanley. He says there is a “comfort” between us, I say there is a knowing between us. He is moving to Florida in a week or two –  that’s not so far away. He needs to be there, and I need to be here. Proving you can be sweet on someone and not have to follow their dreams.

Did I mention I love road trips? He’ll be 4.5 hours away on the beach.

Who doesn’t love the beach?

Stanley and I went to the beach in Gulfport to celebrate the New Year. I realized that more than the big events – the DEATHS, the BIRTHS, the CELEBRATIONS – there are the moments (witnessed as fleeting) where memories unfold that punctuate our lives. My Yogi tea zen dropping was this:

I will not hit you with a bunch of superlatives, but I will say I let Stanley come to me and going away with him was one of the most memorable New Year’s eves I’ve had in my lifetime – and keep in mind, one of my marriages happened 25 years ago on New Year’s eve day, so there are big events within which I compare.

FIREWORKS on the 1st – then a slow steady flame throughout 2015 … I’m grateful for the way this chapter is unfolding.