shit face and the optimist Tuesday

It starts with not wanting to wake up. Waking up inevitably wins. Not wanting to take a shower. Not wanting to change out of pajamas. Not wanting to go outside. Not wanting to leave my bed. I get hungry. it's not worth it to actaully do it. All because I am waiting for one big thing to fall into place. That one thing is dependent upon another person. Waiting for this runs over into waiting on everything. This is stagnation in wake of impending failure. Failure.

It starts with a dull, hollow ache in the barrel of my chest. Not wanting to be strong anymore. Wanting to be selfish. Wanting to say, knowing there is nothing to be done about it. So, I mourn. I give myself one day, when I the months have built past what can be numbed and closed up in a dresser drawers until my time is complete. I sleep with the tissue box. Fists full of soft white papery wrapping for my quiet crying. Guilt for having this in control of my time and schedule. Need for it to be. So, I stay in bed and cry in silence. Until the pieces let up to be patched together again. Patchwork lady. I am a patchwork lady. A lady I surely must be. Must stride forward. A Lady. Lady Patchwork. lady Triumphant. And patched together, for the time being.

I get out of bed. I shower. I change out of my pajamas. I eat.

I rise up. I carry on.

life of perpetual touched Wednesday

small electric fan blowing from the floor Tuesday evening

With all that I write from all that I experience and contemplate I exist in the knowledge that life is good- for me. I also exist in the knowledge that I have extraordinarily tiny wrists. Or, maybe it is just that my hands are so perfunctorily square that my wrists are bystanders in a sort of optical illusion. The point, as I see it, is that I was born in a fairly free situation in life.
I have access to clean water, as of now. I have access to all manner of education- though that means being indebted for all time- I have the option to learn anything. I have access to knowledge and learning in every waking second. I can pay for food to be prepared for me, served to me, and all my dishes cleaned up- food from hundreds of cultures and culinary traditions. I have fast and private transportation. When gas becomes redonkulously priced or scarce- I will most likely have access to bicycles and rollerskates. I have health care. I have health care. That's crazy! Life is good, for me, for now.

My inner workings wrestle with the eminent possibility that all of these externals will flee.

We ARE all just one paycheck, one accident, one foot's slip away from poverty and deprivation. From losing all. (and possibly physical life.)

That is what I wrestle with. What I incessantly write about- conversing with myself as in a state of war.

I have food. I have shelter. I have running and clean water. I have access to physicians and medicine; natural medicine adn healing practices. I know how to read and write. I know how to work to decipher falsehood from what is true. I know that I do not know everything (even when I am bent on expounding otherwise- old habits...). I know that mine is not the ultimate and only valid view- nor is my culture's, nor society's view. Nor is any one else's, nor any other culture's nor society's.

That's all I have so far.

adherence tendencies Sunday am

I wrestle with, in long heaving spurts (typically when I am in an environment requiring communication with other human beings), transience. My whole life up to this point has survived on transience. Brevity. Perhaps deep & intimate contact with a select few. Still, always brevity. Even in long term relationships with others my innermost person allowed exposure only briefly and, then, lights out for anyone but myself. Lights out for me sometimes as well.

The conflict. I adhere my heart into the lives and person of each one I know & meet. It cuts me. Sharp precise jabs of hurt when I love all the while knowing it will not be reciprocated in kind. Thus, brevity. Transience.

I am working on this. My transient heart. My transient soul. My transient spirit.

happiness invades the wee am Tuesday :)

awake Saturday 1am

I do not believe that God wants us to hurt.

I do believe that magic exists.

I do not believe that music is simply to be listened to or played in marionet.

I do believe that each human carries the same value as each other human; priceless, and loved.

I do not believe in myself.

I do believe in myself.

I do not limit the holding of beliefs to one finite resolution.

I do love water.

I do not agree with Americanized Jesus.

I do accept and strive to listen to those I do not agree with. :)

I do not believe that God wants us to hurt.

I do belive that God wants us to exist in Love.

I do not believe I have answers.

I do believe.

jim croce radio on pandora Wed. pm- Thurs. am :)

Insane searching for real! Truth! Genuine humanity! I imbibe you,open hearts with honest mouths, to the craving marrow of my soul and bones!


Helpers-

The Wisdom of the Enneagram
Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith
Earth and High Heaven
The Siren
A Whole New Mind
Rose Daughter
Spindle's End
*everyone affiliated with my family of the outdoors.

one more thing Sunday night

The Paul Young Interview from Recycle Your Faith on Vimeo.

listening to frou frou Sunday night

I am in an in-between state. I need to go to sleep and I am not tired. My body is telling me to stop- stop what, not sure. My mind is telling me to go- go where...


My papers need organizing, my kitchen needs cleaning, my laundry needs re-doing (as I have discovered my error in only using the pr-wash cycle these past weeks). I spent all day yesterday hauling wet gravel, shoving around bark, digging, digging, digging. My body was pleasantly sore until an hour ago. Now it is whaling at me to fix, fix, fix! Fix these problems of muscle, tendon, bone, and organs! I am at a loss as to what I need. I am hoping for exhaustion to slam into me and create unconsciousness. :) That is the plan for now.


ps I really, really enjoy the Finally Woken album by Jem. Mucho. Que bueno.


Have you ever had several days of sporadic chin spasms? It is awkward beyond humor. Particularly when it is localized to only one half of the chin. Quiver face. Hot.


Why aren't there more 24 hour 'we always deliver' food places in the world? I love those places. Why can't you live in my neighborhood? Just that one New York convenience without all of the inconvenience of New York. :) We should work this out.

----

My used-to-be sweet lil' ol' neighbor lady just sent me this:

"I am sending you my first official text message to you. My niece has shown me some of the tricks of the trade, but like any new learning adventure it takes time to learn the basics. So don't "lol" (laugh out loud). "GTG" (got to go)."

Oh life. I did laugh out loud. I don't even use GTG! Hahaha! She wins. :] So cute.

----


I love you all. All of you humans. Crazy, full of beauty, people.

Goodnight.

kings of leon radio pandora style Thursday

I have these moments. In my vehicle. Driving.
I am driving and there is no other reality, never has been any other reality, than Jesus and I in motion. I sigh knowing that Jesus is there, has always been with me. Like the best friend, older sibling, otherworldly diety of dieties whom basically lives at your house. I think that is actually the other way around. I am that friend. The one climbing the tree into Jesus' window to stay up talking and watch the sky while the rest of the world turns around us. I tell Jesus everything. I tell Jesus how much I love my husband, and all of the details as to why I am desperately grateful for him. I tell Jesus how much I miss my husband. I tell Jesus how I am ready to leave this life when it comes to that. I tell Jesus how I am afraid of being old- really old; it terrifies me. I tell Jesus of how I think, in spite of my fears, sagely beauty will be the best fit for my soul.

I cry and beg Jesus never to put me in a situation where I am blackmailed to the forfeit of another's life- physical or otherwise; I will ALWAYS forfeit mine. I cry because I know my husband would not understand why. So I beg Jesus to not put me in that place. Then I cry in softer shades of acceptance if I ever do get put there. I know my decision. Jesus will take care of everone else.

I sigh and smile like a deep green river. That is the best I can describe the feeling resonating within me. When Jesus and I see good among humanity. When I see clouds. When I curl my fingers with Jesus' and we watch the rain. Jesus is there when all I want to do is kiss the trees. Jesus is there when all I want to do is burn everything while I wail from the depths of all fucking sorrow and anguish. Jesus loves me when I yell at people in my mind. Jesus takes my hands when I raise them to the sky instead of cringing "Fuck You All" through the cracks of my teeth.

I do have these moments.

Someday they will be my every moments.


Thank God.