The Emperor's Clothes

As we judge, so we live & experience our lives. How many times have I cried in the last year, two, three??

There are countless challenges waiting to happen; that have happened, and I have not been stopped in the living of my life. I have been challenged, hurt, broken down to my finer pieces, and I've done what was necessary for me to continue as me - but more than myself, because I hope to constantly build on the blocks I was first given.

And there are moments when I can step back and say, "Look this is happening, but I know I can do this. I don't want to, but I will do this."

And that is only a slight warmth of consolation. But it is better than stopping, than saying "I give up. I cannot do it, therefore I won't!" Because how could I ever live with myself if I did that? What elaborate phantasms of rationalizations would be created to convince me I was not a coward?

Is that still an appropriate word? Coward? Yes. I can cower before fate, or I can move on, weeping if need be, but moving.

Sisters

Come, witness my strength.
Be silent as I access my own fortitude.
There is always a moment to feel bad,
but so many more to be exactly what is needed.

Come and witness my strength.
There is no question of what I'll be
only what I have to be, have to do,
have to take on.
The elegance of not falling apart but
falling up to the challenge.
There is no room for cowardice,
no room for indecision.
Only a plan and action.

Come, witness my strength.
This is where my life meets the road.
Here are the places my Being is.
I will work from common spaces to bring
us together, to meet the passing moments
with open eyes, to be everything you
taught me to be.

Come witness my strength,
strength my steadfast witness.

Up late, work in the morning

Not that 11:30 pm is truly late, and I don't actually have to work first thing in the am...I don't have to be there until 11:30 am (twelve hours from now). I need my wind down time, my relax and take a breath time. Even though I'd rather spend more time talking in galleries on the 'Neck than going home to prepare to rest, the wine I chased the beer with has given me a headache.

A light has gone off in the closet of my mind lately. A birthday come and gone and I'm taking stock, what is important and what do I need to pay more attention too? Some things definitely need to change. Others I need more or less of, and priorities are getting rearranged to be more beneficial to my writing life, my soulful life and just because I spend more time caring for my parents now, does not mean I have to start thinking like them. -can I get an Amen to that?

Amen.

Lines and Limitations

It hurts sometimes to take what I need. To pull away from someone who needs so much because if I keep answering that call I will have nothing left for me. I've reached some limits; trying to do my best while living for my next day off. Saying no to some people while struggling to get others back into my life on a regular basis.
Life cannot be all work and doing for others. This is the only one I have.
An acquaintance asked me today if I was still writing. I need to give my writing life back to myself.
Is The Cafe a novel waiting to happen? Will Josepha be personalized? Or Lal find herself in the mundane excerices of her research?

Everything is just here. Probability through annihilation.

And just another turn of the apple we call earth

Forgive that last post, some stuff just needs to be proclaimed once in a while.

And as for Jesus, lets be clear my final paper for Christolgy in theology school was entitled, "Against Christology"....and yes all reference to Kierkegaard but not in the way you may think at first.

So aside from being hit by other people's retrograde Mercury(!) I have been seriously gifted by graceful kindness too. It's nothing is never all. So everything always is, didn't Bob say something like that once?

I'm pledging myself to as much creative silliness as I can handle while I sail the present sea, and even if Titus proclaimed "I am the sea, hark how her sighs blow!" in utmost despair; I'm floating it about in defiance of being engulfed by tsunami, swells of obfuscation, and just one bitch of a life schedule lately.

I'm hoping life will settle, that I'll have more time for me in the near future, a month or so....

stay tuned...

Violences

All sort of petty violences add up; the evil done between family members, lovers, strangers: passive-aggressiveness, verbal abuse, physical, sexual, the careless slight and the intentional avoidance.
Every day violence is committed somewhere. Faraway in a place where people are fighting for their lives with guns and a multitude of other weapons, or close to home in the silences that strangle.
Something dies in us when we are afflicted by the violence of others: A sense of security, a comfortableness in the world.

So many types of violence; the overt, the almost intangible but insidious that makes us doubt, neglect, betrayal. "Twenty ways to leave your lover"; how to hurt someone, we are good at it, well practiced. We know just what to do when we want to cut the deepest. But we always have the choice to hold back, to not harm and to find solutions other ways. Not everyone takes that opportunity.

I'm not Jesus, I will not forgive all abuses. I don't think that's what the story really meant when he sacrificed himself. I hope he was trying to instruct us that life often calls for us to sacrifice, but we can make the choice as to how much is too much, and when we need to stand our own ground. I do not believe it makes me a bad person to leave unacceptable acts unforgiven, it's a "truth" I learned to live with.

I refuse to give up my home in the world to people strangled by their own pain, too selfish and afflicted to see anything else. These are legion, unfortunately, and we run into them in many places in our lives.

How did life prepare me for this?

Life only prepares us for more...not any particular, just more.
When you find yourself a provider of care for the people who raised you it can be crazy busy, emotionally taxing, frustrating, sad, anger can play a role too. I mean who picked me for this? Isn't this supposed to be all planned out, aren't parents the ones who had the plan when we were kids?
What will my plan be? Will I ever be in a position to make one?
Questions like these are detours, there's really nothing left to do but accept the issues that arise and deal with them as best I can. That was something, as I may have said before, that I learned in theology school. Life/god wants a response. That's what I am here to do, respond to life with all the gifts I've been given, learned, and earned.
And when it comes to caring for parents you love profoundly and problematically (or some combination like that depending on yours)it crystallizes some aspects in your life - clarifying as it also causes you to neglect really important things too.

It's hard to maintain the juggling act of all aspects of my life, and all the aspects of theirs. I've dropped some important stuff for me, that I need to pick up. But the when and how of it will not become clear for a while.

For me...

That’s for me.
The darkening purple haze on the horizon and the rhythmic lapping of the waves.
That’s for me.
The seaside apartment just a short walk from the rocky cliff and the ocean, huge and immaculate.
That’s for me.
The howling cry that erupted from my mouth, alone in the car.
That’s for me.
The comforting feeling of sitting on granite, arms around my bent legs hugging myself in the sea breeze.
That’s for me.
Whatever I am called on to do: for family, for friends, neighbors or job.
This is for me.
An ocean side home, a cat waiting on the couch. The sea breeze and the smell of old salt and fathoms of depths that beckon.
That is all for me.

Your parents will grow old

I've had some time to think about my parents aging. In my wonderful circle of friends, I am one of the youngest but I have the oldest parents. I am the youngest child in my family and I have made a point of talking to some older women I've known about how they cared for their parents.

It is a hard thing, because roles reverse. I am taking care of my parents now, out of love and gratitude for the life they've given me. It's hard work and I worry about them all the time. If you haven't experienced this yet, prepare yourself for a very hard and hurtful time if they get ill and their quality of life begins to decline. There isn't all you can do to prepare yourself for that except to do whatever is in your power to help them, no matter how small it may seem to you.

One thing, don't get too upset in front of them, it can make them feel they are burdening you unnecessarily. A long drive on an interstate at night is a good time and place to scream your head off and cry like mad.
Do what you can to help them, learn as much as you can about whatever ails them and search out resources to help you. Local agencies, social workers, medical information websites etc...
And the best thing to do, the most wonderful part of spending more time with them is having more opportunity to hear their stories; personal and family histories that can be surprising, maddening, beautiful and funny.

My mother is a beautiful, funny, poetic and intelligent woman. Sure she has her faults and there are times when I wish she would not tell me exactly what she thinks, but she's mine.
My father is in the hospital now and that really defines what a person means to you. How scared I was when I called for an ambulance, how afraid when two days later I had a chance to cry alone over the possibility of him dying. It's hard to contemplate life without him, knowing that someday he won't be in his favorite spot in the living room, or just on the other end of the phone.
Unfortunately we all know that will happen at some point.
Well he is not a death's door any longer, but he is going to need more care than he ever did before. I've a few days now for myself; to rest and recharge before I need to go back to them and help them get through a few more medical hurdles.
I am tired and drained, but I miss them already and will be happy to see them again.

It's tough that so many families live away form each other. My family is pretty spread out across the Eastern seaboard and west into Texas. It's a 2 hour drive for me to get to my parents house. That makes it hard on all of us now. Families can think about the support networks they will need as they get older, as parents age and babies are born. It takes that community of family to make a family function.

Character Intimacy

I had tried in The Cafe to create a kind of timeless, somewhat myth/folktale inspired atmosphere. Those of you who've read it will understand what I mean. And maybe I achieved that too much, as I was talking yesterday about it and received the feedback that anyone could have written it, it's not very personally about me. (well...it is and isn't) But I understand what this friend was getting at because I had started to feel the same about my new story...that I'm not close enough to the characters.

I feel like the pronoun use, as well as of proper names, holds them at arms length away from me. Which is not my intention, I want to be in these characters skin, in their thoughts and feelings.
I think I achieved this better in my scifi story about Mireille.

Hopefully some of you who've read both Mireille and The Cafe could chime in on this.

I think I've been , in the last several years, holding myself back in the fiction writing process. Not really letting all of me inform it for fear of making the people close to me uncomfortable when reading it. Or trying too hard to emulate a favorite author.
This is a good opportunity, now in my life, to try a new approach, a more true approach.

Turn on a dime

In the last three days, I think I was a little manic, or Carrie Fisher is, as she admits, catching.
I did read her latest book, Wishful Drinking, and really liked it a lot.
After Tuesday, having a turn around through a dream about a specific perception I'd been carrying around, I went on to pee in a cup on Wednesday for my annual physical exam. I then cried while doing the dishes on Thursday because I found out my cat has renal (kidney) disease (see #1 of my 25 Things list posted Feb 4th, below) - Thursday night is another story for some never other day....and today was just like a breath of fresh air.

There are joyful moments in the mundane chaos of life. I'm almost tempted to say care-free but that is not the right sentiment because I am full of care, for myself, my loved ones, the world at large. But today felt like a brand new day where chaos can subside and anything is possible.

I feel a calmness in the face of the unknown future that lays ahead of me, an exhilarating settling-in of accepting life as it is now...tomorrow may suck, but this moment is perfect just the way it is.

How do you spell or say a pictograph?

Isis, or rather Is.t - the closest approximation to heiroglyphs...the Coptic is Ese, I believe.
There have been numerous discussions, scholarly and othrewise about her and all the
similarities to other mother goddess persona. These are not what I am
concerned with in this moment. One of the things that intrigues about her
is her ability to wield magic. She resurrected Osiris.
She was called upon by numerous devotees to interceed with magic on
their behalf. I read somewhere just today (after numerous other inquiries)
that Egyptian religion began to be heavily influenced by her use of magic as
her cult grew, as it had not been for thousands of years prior.
A good book on the subject of her worship is by R.W. Witt Isis in the
Ancient World. Another good book that touches on her impact is
The Veil of Isis by the French philosopher, Pierre Hadot. Hadot's book
is not primarily about Isis, but rather about the conceptualization of Nature in philosophy
and science in the western world. I found it incredibly interesting (and yes I'm a huge thinking
geek sometimes) and it's influence will be found in the lastest story I'm presently working on,
as well as a piece of the goddess's own story.
I just loved this image I found too; she's co-mingled with Hathor here, the horned headdress, but
it will just have to do.

Cadbury creme eggs, untidy cat, and dreams, baby, dreams

1. I'm addicted to creme eggs, love the fake yolk centers, and that chocolate is the most desirable on the planet as far as massed produced goes...
2. My lovely, fair cat likes to drink water by licking off a paw she dunks in her water glass, which then also drips all over the floor.
3. I woke up from a dream this morning that at first glance was fairly disturbing. But then, after I gave myself some time and distance from it, I realized it was an ingenious way of my brain pointing out an invaluable lesson to me.
And how do you like that? My brain actually trying to help! I take it experience is either finally sinking in, or Pema Chodron's book is impacting me in ways I wasn't realizing....or as most things, probably both and a few more.

And I went back to work on My work today, which feels excellent. The pages are there, opened to where I'll continue putting the story together, as I add in more bits and pieces and then to take off wherever it will lead. I am excited by the characters, by the intent evident so far and am lately wondering why I don't put much of my poetry up anywhere. (Random I know but see what I am getting at with my brain?) The last post below being the current exception.

It's not on my feeble website, nor Facebook. Well correction, there is a prose poem of sorts on my website, but it's not that good. And I mean that in a "it's a gut feeling when a poem is good or not" kind of way. Surviving Quicksand wouldn't be a bad performance piece, but I have avoided performing poetry readings for a while since the only ones I know by heart are old ones.
It takes awhile for me to memorize. A terrible excuse I know. The not so terrible excuse is that I get bad stage fright every time, and that's alot since I used to do readings weekly.

So more poetry to come.

razzamatazz and kallamazoo

I'm having a hard time getting back to my work...the story is there, is waiting...it's hard to pick it up because it is all wound together in the same notebook with my recent ending and I am stuck in my own holding pattern, trying to feel these moments, trying to stay with my pain and not let it drive me crazy, just let it Be.

There is a reason why I try sometimes to keep creative and journal writings separate....it is still to close to read back over that.

Reading others' words, talking - but there is no substitute for time, and things don't get better with just words alone...

The House of the Law of the Heart

Live in the house of the Law of the Heart
Keep warm by the fire, the bitter cold out
Safe to the letter, down to your bones
Nothing gets better with just words alone

The basket is empty the table has chairs
Rhubarb, cherry, cheddar and kale
Seat to be offered, knuckle-down bones
Nothing gets better with just words alone

Out of the kitchen and into the fire
Law of the Heart is never a liar
Sealed and delivered, no broken bones
Nothing gets better with just words alone

More thoughts on Being

I'm complicated, but in a very simple straight-forward way. It's only because I've lived a very varied life, and there's a lot of different and sometimes extreme experiences behind this 'me' of the present moment. This isn't unique, we've all got this in some form. So how do we move about seemingly so integrated and seamless when we're this complex design of impulses drafted from the memory of thousands of decisions?
As some say it's because only the present moment actually exists, but the existential question is still there, I am not remade in each moment - am I?? It doesn't feel like that. Rather I respond to the present moment based on my response to all the previous moments.
Does my brain relive my entire life in an instantaneous moment to react to something new? Or are we creatures of instinct, habit?
Both. See complicatedly simple.

Because it's when we recognize our patterns of decisions that we empower ourselves to change, grow and mature into our lives.
I'm giving the god all my old patterns, he can hold them in safekeeping. I'm making some new ones.

"Never economize on flowers"

Marjorie Hillis said that, an editor of Vanity Fair in the nineteen thirties. It's wisdom to live by, because it's not just on flowers, but what flowers symbolize...the beauty of impermanence, the passing of time, the experience of opening buds and falling petals.
These are things not to be cheap with, not to skimp on because it's noticing that moment of beauty when the tulips are bursting with vitality the second day in the vase and the graceful slump of the stems as the days wear on.
I love the solid soft color of tulips. Ever since I was younger and saw a bouquet of red ones in a clear glass bowl on my great aunt's dining room table. How splendid they were, crossing stems grass green and petals the red of a mother's lips. It struck me as a noble and steadfastly romantic flower. Not the romance of lovers, but the romance of Life.
Tulips are like an old friend, comfortable to have around and sad to see them gone. Here in the earliest reaches towards the first hint of Spring, I'll keep a vase on my dresser reserved.

The "25 things on Facebook" phenomena

I did my 25 things but didn't widely publish it on Facebook. I'd rather use Facebook to reconnect or stay in touch with friends. If you want to know about me other than that, you'll just have to read the old blog here.

There's a richness in life changes that is overwhelming at times. Change for good or bad...how do we explore it, express it, assimilate it into who we were, who are we now?
The daily minutiae of living has an impact on my perception of where I am on my journey in this life. Moving to a new apartment, a new neighborhood doesn't change who I am, but it changes those little details of things I do that are formed by who I am and opportunity. Imagination comes into play, what shall I do with the new opportunities presented? I live closer to the ocean, will oceanside walks become more frequent than before? Will I just walk or stop and look? Exercise or Observation?
Are eider ducks just winter residents or are they a type of skelkie searching for their lost loves?
Do Northern Robins wear down underwear or are their feathers just different colors?

It's rebuilding, reaffirming and revitalizing to have a fresh change of pace. Paces get old and weary and something is bound to be not what you thought it was. My Zen calendar tells me to remember that, there is always something that is not what you thought.
Stop trying to make reality too real. And for me in particular, bring clarity to discernment of what is really there at all.

So here's 25 things
1. I love my cat profoundly.
2. There's way to much white in interiors and never enough hooks to hang stuff.
3. the ocean is a soothing balm and I can't live without it.
4. I really want to get published (again) but it frightens me a little.
5. I love and hate being alone
6. I'm addicted to Rite-Aid brand chocolate covered peanuts
7. I kick ass at making a place "My" space
8. our society really scares me sometimes.
9. Intellectually I don't get Jesus
10. #9 was tough in theology school
11. going to theology school was one of the most amazing things I've done
12. if god truly wanted to suffer he'd have come to Earth as a woman, see Mary.
13. I really believe in the thing most people call "god".
14. I don't have a good name for divinity yet, but it's all about the mystery anyway.
15. All these "I" statements are not aesthetically pleasing
16. My new neighbor just brought over some Toll House cookies she made.
17. I love Rockport.
18. I don't really want to think of any more things to list.
19. So I'm stopping now.

Ch ch changes...

Moving into a new apartment and a new phase of life, the solstice is passed, and Imbolc is coming up, the festival of the first pre-Spring births.
I've a new story in the works, a new home to move into next week and a new sense of commitment to myself.
Jeanette Winterson used the phrase, "Love is an intervention" in her last novel Stone Gods, I was recently reminded that the opposite of love is not hate, but fear. Fear is also, unfortunately an intervention. We've all experienced it. We lash out, behave badly, do something we're ashamed of, or unable to forgive ourselves for things we don't really need to be ashamed of, but can't help that reaction. We can surprise by letting fear rule, and not embracing the love we hold for our innerselves, nor the people around us. It is a limiting and isolating experience.
My man M.A. (see last post) repeatedly states that we are not isolated beings. Humans are made to be here for each other, teach and comfort each other. We are social, community driven animals and to go against those essential drives is to thwart human nature. Of course we also all need to be alone sometimes, as a writer, solitary is required.

Fear, and love, are too much for us sometimes. Each is what moves us, and what we can do is react to the best of our abilities, every time we are able.