Circumstances

She grows overnight
(to my eyes)
and blooms

Tendrils and roots
to depths and breadths
she drinks

basks

glows...

*******

One example. A snapshot that I arrange at the top of the stack to mask what lies below. With them, it's always progress and regress. A cycle or a spiral that moves in millimeters forward toward wisdom. With us, with all.

Maybe the circumstances make the difference. Maybe small class, fewer distractions, more urge to aspire.

They grow, as we all do. The process isn't always pretty, or encouraging, and sometimes the glimpses of glory become far too distant. Sometimes the letting go becomes a learning experience for all of us. First steps, balance, topples, griefs, getting back up. Repeat. And for us, letting go and trusting. "Let go and let God."

Sometimes they grow wild.

****
shoots and leaves
bloom and
fruit bittersweet
green but
blushing
maybe brazen
explore and
conquer
unhindered

Expression

Her words expressed more than I wanted to learn. Maybe she wrote only the dregs of her thought - I can't imagine her being this heartless. But their history is ragged and scarred. Kay had all but abandoned her when she was in the hospital last time...maybe she wants to throw this in her face.

Is this another warning? First day, already tragedy...

already...

Random thought via the never-sleeping interpreter. He was always carefully measured, precisely attuned to effect and appearance. Would it be, then, wrong to assume his appearance of haste that night to also be a precise instrument? No shirt, the ubiquitous trench coat hanging open. A planned exhibit of my ability to drive him to my door with my words? Or a demonstration of what I would be losing. The Grecian Urn body. He proved in that case that he cared only for what he supposed I desired of him. Perhaps he could never fathom the possibility of my wanting his mind more than his body. Perhaps he fell in love with his self-portrait.

Your bones
will clatter in my skull
until I bury you
in words.

Alone?

Sometimes I swear I need to be alone for good. Although I know that seclusion only looks good because I wouldn't have to deal with the problems that lead me to want to run away in the first place. I'm just tired of feeling the need to fix something about myself. I just wish that I could be who I am without any reference to "normal" or "expected." But I suppose I can't do that. Being part of a social situation, I have to do some things to make myself acceptable.

I have this recurring fantasy about becoming a Buddhist nun. But even then I would be among others and I'd have to change myself in some way.

I jump to conclusions very easily. I can take any situation and blow it out of proportion in moments. Unintentionally. I don't mean to be a closet drama queen.

Enough for now.

Sometimes I think he tries to cling to his beliefs. He's not ready yet to venture outside the limits he has grown up with.

i was thinking today about coming out of the broom closet and what that would entail. and of course i ended up having a mini internal conversation with the missionaries or people who try to tell me that i'm wrong or satanic or something of that nature. and i also thought about keeping it private. essentially, it's not anyone else's business. now, i know that i would probably be banished from Chris and Leah's presence - i know Chris would rather die than leave me with Corey or Emmy or Nathan. He already thinks the peace symbol is evil. and i guess that's his right - to shield his family from what he considers to be dangerous - or what the church considers to be dangerous. i won't fight him on it. it's not like i'm going to teach the kids to do spells or anything of that sort. but in the end, i think it would cause more trouble than it's worth.

i was thinking, though, about how the whole church thing would play out. it's not that i don't believe the church is untrue. not that i negate what's happening or the validity of the church in any way. it's just not right for me. it's too constricting. Dave doesn't agree with me. he wants so badly to prove to me that my beliefs can be encompassed by the church. if one stretches and blurs the lines, yes. but i think i finally understand what Andrew was saying. if someone says they are of a certain faith, then they accept everything that the faith stands for and lives accordingly. one can't say "i'm mormon" but take issue with half of the doctrine. i can't say "i'm mormon" and dabble in paganism. i don't know where i will end up, but for now, this is my path.

off-roading

maybe i'm just crazy. and i guess for a while i will try not to censor myself for the sake of continuity. i just want to be happy for once instead of constantly worrying about the impact my decisions will have on other people. i wish it were that easy. but i spend most of my time stressing over how my actions will appear to other people. i worry about judgment, about nearly everything. almost paranoid, worrying about how i look to myself in the mirror. so i think that's why i intentionally do things to shock people - just to get things over with. because i expect to screw things up. i expect to make people angry or embarrass myself somehow. i expect to be judged. and i expect to be wrong. i expect to be wrong on all my actions or decisions. i just want to be happy with myself for once instead of making everyone else happy with me. i just want to be happy for once instead of faking myself for the camera. i just want to make peace with myself. to find something within me that is genuine. something that is the kernel of myself. my soul. i feel like i've been exorcised. seriously. did i ask something in that tossed me out? no...i felt like this far far before now, before last fall. i felt like this for years and years. have i come to the point that i can't even distinguish myself from the layers of expectations? do i even know myself enough to recognize myself? i feel mummified. wrapped in layers and layers of rags that don't belong to me - over my eyes, my mouth. suffocating. wriggling like i'm molting again. again. shedding skin shedding skin like a snake. another evil image, but one of nature. and looking to the serpent healed the dying. i want answers but i'm afraid of answers. i've been ignoring things like i ignored my grandmother's illness...i didn't want to face it because i knew the result was going to be disastrous. painful. it's been over 6 months since her death and still i get sting-y in the eyes. hide away, focus on yourself because otherwise you'll suffer. amazing how quickly the Buddhist comes back.

the problem is me. i've locked myself away for so long that i'm like an immigrant. i don't know how to communicate with the locals. i don't know how long this has gone on...maybe since childhood. i can even remember the first time i was utterly rejected by my peers. kylie someone. i wanted to play with her and she rejected me. i don't know if i cried or what i did, but it was a gut-wrenching experience. i was only a little kid. damn. for some reason, that feels so much better. like telling Dave about my brother. it's amazing how much shit we carry around, how much sorrow we suppress voiceless. amazing. and i feel like i have to keep writing because the core might be coming in the next few layers. i remember having a crush on a kid named Bobby Clawson. i even wrote a poem with his name in it. he threw a rubber playground ball at me and it smashed my face. and during 5th grade, the pioneer project i messed up and my whole group berated me. i was never good enough - never Sara enough. i guess i always looked up to Sara as my role model. pretty, well-dressed, smart. popular. i guess i've always seen her as a level to exceed. i wanted so badly to be like her that i picked clothes out that i though she would like. and...yeah, nothing. we're so different now. always were. there was a definite preference for her in my family. always. i wanted to badly to be like her...she was the reason i started really trying to read in elementary. i wasn't doing well and she was acing it and i was NOT going to let her beat me. hell no. but she's married with kids and is co-authored in a few scientific papers and i'm just here. the school teacher.i know that i should feel like we're equal because i still have my relative freedom (childless) and my future still lies before me. to be honest, i'm not sure i would be as happy as she is in her place now. i know that i'm content with where i am. i still feel like i've got everything before me - possibilities and potential. like later - always later - i will find my place where i am satisfied with myself. don't know if that's possible. i may never be satisfied. so i'm peeling layers of myself away tonight, i guess. rejection, pain, a general sense of not measuring up. i've always been "behind" on things. takes me a little while longer than most others to "get it." found out it took me forever to learn to walk. i don't remember it - any particular struggle. i guess i march to my own tempo. and in a way, i don't think i recognize how much of a blessing that can be. that sounds self-judgmental. guiltyguiltyguilty. no, really, i'd rather honestly keep up with the herd. i think i get weird a lot because i don't want to make it look like i'm slipping behind. i pretend it's an intentional break from the pack. look at me...lalala...i'm doing something strange. in the end, though, if i were to keep up with the pack, would i discover that i'm unhappy there? surrounded by so many others? maybe i'm just to the point that i don't want to be in the pack anymore. like being pushed out was the biggest blessing in my life. but i still don't know. i'm not certain about anything right now. my life feels so stagnant at times, so pathetic. and i know it's not. i have blessings beyond measure, but something is still missing. this must be the hole that people speak of - the missing element that makes the whole puzzle true. i guess some people fill it up with booze or drugs or sex or religion. i think it's more elemental than even religion. i think it's other people - gods help me. :) i think it's a feeling of community. i guess i'm not as cut out to be a hermit as i had thought. i need people around every so often to remind me of myself.

i hate to sound childish, but being on facebook reminds me of how insignificant i am. and how easily i get lost in the crowd. my little life means nothing to most of the "friends" that i have on that website, and i know it's no recrimination on the people themselves. we're just so damned isolated now. nights like these i miss my husband immensely. as long as we have each other, we'll be ok. really though, people rarely say anything to me on fb. i know that i have a serious isolation issue. maybe i have beaten dog syndrome.

but I don't have any examples of total alienation from others. nothing to warrant the kind of fear i have of people. i think i might have taken my rejection experiences in school much more to heart than was necessary. i think i internalized things much more than i needed to. i have a very sensitive nature, even if i act tough. especially when i act tough. it was high school. teenagers are notoriously rancid creatures. and college isn't much better, really. i remember the girls in the lounge at my dorm talking about the girls who had signed out recently. they talked about me, though they barely knew me. one said something like "she never shuts up." I think that might have been the point when I began to shut down. i had expected UMHB to be very open, loving, inspiring. and a lot of the people were, but that moment killed me. even Christians reject me. what the hell is wrong with me that so many people don't like me?

even if I know it's all superficial shit, and we're all human, it still hurts like hell. i think i was hurt more by my shattered idols than anything else.

maybe equally hurt.

why is it so damn hard for me to open up around people? i guess i expect them to hurt me, but in the end it doesn't matter, especially if they have no power over me? no real knowledge of my character. hell, maybe i don't want them to know about my character. that's pretty damn shitty too.

judge and prepare to be judged. that's what he said. i think i took that to heart as well.

i think my soul is suffocating under layers and layers of make-up, too. image. i want people to think i'm a certain way. i want people to accept me as one of their own. i want to be loved by everyone. accepted. appreciated.

i think i need to do some magick tonight. banishing work.

here's the deal. i want to be accepted. liked. respected. but i don't want to fake it anymore. i want to be genuine, sincere. i need to find the joy within myself instead of sapping it from others. begging for scraps, so to speak. wow. that's really how it is, isn't it? I'm begging for scraps instead of sitting at the table. my god! please please like me? don't I have a cute tail, a cute face? aren't i charming? likemelikemelikemepleeeeeeease! within myself, i need to find myself. i need to bust that starving suffocating mummified soul of mine and set her free.

caterpillar to cocoon to butterfly.

nautilus

chatted with sabrina for a little bit tonight. feels a little awkward...her soon-to-be-ex-husband is our roommate and I'm worried about both of them. i don't know how much to believe about any of it...her behavior toward mike in particular. it seems so out of character for her, but then i don't know her character that well. on the other hand, i think i know at least a little of where she's coming from. nothing like divorce is ever cleanly one-sided. she sounds like she's confused about things. i may be superimposing my own concerns and questions onto her, but maybe not.

i want to be honest. she might be questioning the church, which, in her situation, is a deciding element. mike is a great guy, certainly not a model church person, but he tries. he is a "true believer" in a way. i respect him for that, for his ability to hold to his beliefs in spite of what he has experienced. actually, i respect anyone able to hold to belief in the church - it takes a lot of psychological energy. I couldn't do it. :) he says his goal is to get to the celestial kingdom, and to be honest, it would be unfair to him to stay with him if she's questioning enough. i can see how that might be a factor. if it's a factor. i don't know. she might just be confused as hell about everything or she might be possessed. who knows.

the thing that really annoys me about church doctrine is the idea that a person has to be married in order to enter the CK. doesn't make sense. in the end, it feels like a vice - all that pressure to stay within the church. callings to fill up your time with more church stuff, meetings, lessons, it felt like i gave my life over to someone else. gave my mind over. myself.

no, it's just not me. i wish dave could understand that. he thinks he can somehow stretch the boundaries of the church to encompass what i feel, but what he doesn't understand is that i don't want to be encompassed within it anymore. there are those who fall effortlessly into it, who have found their true happiness in it. they believe it wholeheartedly, and desire to fulfill it. that's great for them. for them. i don't have a testimony of it anymore, if i ever really did. it was a part of my path and an agent for my rehabilitation, but it's not enough for me - i just don't feel comfortable in it. yes, there are lessons to be learned from it. i'm not saying it's false, it's just not right for me.

she might be thinking something similar. or she might just be possessed. who knows. but eventually mike will be gone, and it won't feel so much like betrayal talking to her.

no, eventually this part of our lives will pass, and we can seal it off. move on. grow.

Pagan Christianity

The premise: much of modern Christianity's methods, contents, etc., are actually variations of pagan themes. To be perfectly honest - well, duh. Islam is a derivative of Judaism; Jainism and Buddhism have correlations; the Irish Catholic Church has some pagan elements; the doctrine of much of Christianity in general has been filtered through either Plato or Aristotle; Christmas, Easter, take your pick of the Christian holy celebration - it's all variations on pagan festivals. The idea of the Trinity is not purely Christian, the Holy Son is not uniquely Christian, even much of what Christ taught is not specific to Christianity. One thing I will credit the LDS church for - opening me up to understandings of Christianity that parallel pagan themes. Like Heavenly Mother. Now that I think about it - duh. Not that I think their take on heavenly parents is necessarily correct - it has considerable merit. It led me to a fuller openness to the God and Goddess.

In Buddhism, there are many "dharma doors" or paths to enlightenment. No point in insisting upon one straight and narrow road that has, ultimately, split in many ways. Sometimes I think that "straight and narrow road" thing was added in protection of "authority." Like a requirement by a conqueror.

Ultimately, it doesn't matter which belief was "right" first. Should we not strive to find the correlations among beliefs rather than fight each other over who has rights to the label "truth?"

The school year is in its final throes. Amazing how it careened by. I refuse to do what I normally do, look back with sadness or guilt at all the mistakes I made, feel like a failure, obsess over what I will do next year. Next year will take care of itself. At least that's one positive about CScope. It takes away all pressure of creating a curriculum and lesson plans.

If it hadn't been for the great students I had this year, I think I would have had a mental breakdown. I was close on a few occasions. Not that all my students were amazing - but here in the final yards of the year, even they aren't really terrible. I can laugh at their antics like I should have been doing all year. I think I even got over the frustration of their not working. Makes it easier on me to grade.

I think I might even try to get over the need to fix them.

I think next year I might just relax. I thought about becoming super-bitch, but that's not me. No doubt I will be super-bitchy at times. I hope, though, that I can corral this fibro a little this summer so I won't be so worn out next year. Being exhausted during 2nd period is not helpful.

It helped not watching Freedom Writers this year. I don't feel the need to compete or to change the world. Or maybe I'm losing my will to change the world. Whatever.

Ambivalence reigns. :)

now begins another fucking slow death. another one. FUCK i'm so tired of this.

it's funny how, in the midst of destruction, i feel like creating destruction for the sake of destruction. i want to rip something, to throw something, to take this all out on something that doesn't matter. i don't want to hurt anyone, just break something. transfer some of this rage and despair from something indestructible (the cancer) to something inanimate and worthless (the calendar under my computer, the can of soda at my left, whatever).

what lunacy to think i just have a cursed school year! that once the term ends, things will somehow get better. to think that i'll be able to escape any of this any time soon.

to think i'll have to watch my husband's exponential sorrow and have no way to abate it.

to feel utterly powerless against something so fucking minuscule, so mindless, yet so determined to destroy.

in the big scheme

this is all so damn irrelevant.

1:04 pm - why I'm glad for my marriage. why I don't make a big deal about - everything - that pisses me off at times. why I love my husband. :)

A little shout out

Thanks to Sarasvati, Goddess of Learning for a rather painless first night of essay writing. Normally it would take me all day to get three pages out, but with her help, and some crystal magnification, I pounded out three pages in a couple of hours.

I figured, since I was focusing on the Indian Diaspora again this semester, I would do a little outside learning of the Indian pantheon and draw some of their aid.

I'm delighted at how easy this is, how right it feels. Part of me still thinks I might regret it, but that must be the subconscious strident moralizing guilt bands still around my mind. I think I may deal with those for a while...as long as I continue to listen. Deal is, if I listen to them I have to listen to the fears that maybe the fanatics might also be right. Where does that land me? Belief through fear? I'm afraid it might be true, so I believe it? There's no joy in that...only paranoia.

No, my Goddess candle flickers joyously beside me, and I feel like I'm actually connected to something intimate and pure. And exciting. :)

one step out

maybe two. i finally admitted to being a witch to my husband. he had already kind of guessed (what with all of the witchery books i have collected), but i think it did us good to talk about it a little. i know he's not ecstatic about it, and he hopes it's just a fad ("it's what you believe in right now"), and i'm not sure it's not a fad. that's really not the point right now. i'm happy.

one of the meditations last night was about breaking out of an egg shell. and yeah, i think that's what this has felt like for years. being pushed against the sides, suffocating, beating the walls trying to break free. and the walls have been home, safety, conformity. i guess i'm just not cut out for conformity.

definition

seems all of my life i have defined myself by others. i am a pleaser. i want people to accept me, love me, so i do what they want of me. and i follow my own way in the dark. behind doors carefully closed, but not locked. i have to admit, after years of denial, that i "accepted Christ" only because i knew Rom wanted me to. and i followed my cousins in a way because it was expected of me. i rejected what i was expected to reject, accepted what i knew i must accept. it was home, my place of definition, my bounded terrain. even through college, i acted in ways that gained acceptance. i went to praise and worship, bible studies, church (for a while) because i knew it was expected of the person i wanted to be. but then, even when i was going to the clubs, getting drunk, whatever else, i was still playacting. it's a hard realization that half of my life has been a facade. i've lied to myself and others - but not intentionally. i repressed myself so well that i didn't know. i know i am drawn to spirituality - that is an absolute part of me. but i have no easily distinguishable path. i know that i'm not interested in mormonism anymore. part of me knows that i converted for dave, anyway, because i wanted him to have the temple wedding. i wanted to make him happy. and part of me craved the familiarity after a year of wandering. i'm just not there anymore, and dave is scared/frustrated. i don't want to go to church anymore, i don't want to sit in classes anymore, i don't want to sit in the foyer and pretend anymore. that's why i've spent so much time outside during church.


i think dave is upset at me because of this. i think he knows. i think he's also struggling with his own sense of restlessness. he says he's beginning to see church on sunday as one more thing to do, even though he knows he "shouldn't feel like that." really? we shouldn't? if we do, then something is wrong. it's not speaking to us anymore. for me, it's just one more voice telling me how to live my life. for dave, it's one more obligation.

one of the chapters in the theory book i'm reading talks about home, and the ways/reasons we feel "at home" in some places, and not in others. it has to do with familiarity, community, definition. i realized this morning that i have "left home" in a sense because i am beginning to define for myself rather than let others define for me. i started when i was in college station, with the objectivist stint. maybe even before then, when i realized i didn't really want to go to church. i endured the terror of possibilities like being damned for eternity for my agnosticism, for considering other paths. while yes it hurt, it was like home sickness. i didn't have any predetermined definitions anymore bounding me within the safe zone. the results weren't pretty, my direction was all wrong, and i ran back to the safety of home. back to christianity, back to my family, back to belonging. but, back to the sense of pretense. back to considering in the dark. when i started the graduate courses, and realized for the first time (at least in a long time) that my bounded and defined world wasn't absolute, that i had a voice, a mind and a duty to myself to use them, then i began to gain strength. i think i had assumed that my duty is to silence myself, to silence the conflicting voices and to keep faking. but it's gotten to the point that i don't want to silence them, i want to sing with them. i'm working on erasing the definitions and redrawing myself. ripping the pattern apart and starting over.

dave hasn't left home yet. he says he grew up without a really clear sense of the gospel, not really living it, but it was there, all the time. it was the definitions and boundaries of his life. he might have left the physical home on his mission, but he never left the definitions, the boundaries that he grew up with. he still defines his life by them. he doesn't understand how i can *not* base all my premises on the gospel. i've experienced too much to make that narrow assumption. he says to start with the atonement. no. to start with the atonement means to start with myself innately flawed and in need of sacrifice. automatically wrong from the start. to start with the atonement means to start with the premise that christianity is innately right. i have to start by excluding all other options. i can see the missionary in him coming out. guide and direct. once a missionary, always a missionary. don't go astray, go apostate, lose hold of the iron rod. don't lose your place in the celestial kingdom. worse yet - don't lose your family. everyone else will be there - you'll be all alone. it's about keeping what makes you feel secure and familiar. the smell of certain things, familiar sights, the knowledge that you will fit right back into a groove. no matter where you go, it's always the same. fear and guilt. fear of the unknown, of judgment, of being wrong. guilt because everyone is worried about you.

no i don't want to me in this place anymore.

balance is falling out and rediscovering center. in nearly everything. like emotions. i completely let my emotions drive my mouth and i said something very harsh to a kid that is dealing with a lot of upsetting issues. all hail the omniscient delayne. i'm such a bitch at times.

this has been a sucky week. the only thing that has made it worth-while has been the emails from aaron and our conversations about paganism, and the walk i took in the park on wednesday.

i'm only 31. what wisdom do i have? i still feel like a kid. who the hell am i to be a leader? a teacher?

found

so, a friend who i haven't seen in over a decade has popped back into my life via facebook. hard life, divorce and a 6-year-old son. i'm not sure how i feel about this - we didn't part on very good terms. i wanted her out of my life because she reminded me of the parts of my life that chained me down. like prometheus. but then, i'm not the same person i was in college.

i suppose this is the full circle that we wind. we stretch to the furthest reach out in all directions, but end up right back where we started, in the end, only battered and wiser. that might be the point. to return with hindsight. am i any wiser?

so, nearly all my high school friends have found me again.

orbits

facebook makes spying easy. so i spied on my ex-boyfriend of nearly four years just to see how he's doing. married i knew he was. apparently a father, too. doing well, and happy. pictures of their honeymoon (?) in Vegas. a new house. pictures of a life. and i look through these pictures with something like distant serenity. happy for him (them). and not in the least jealous. in spite of the material things that i could have had with him, i know that i would have drowned. i was drowning while i was with him. drowning in normalcy, in conformity, in tradition. my life might have slipped into a coma of routine stereotype. no, the myriad possible pleasures would have done nothing to buffer the wild hunger for change and autonomy in me. i think i would have lost myself or divorced him. dave couldn't have come at a better time - right at the moment that john and i were starting to move back into our orbits of familiarity.

what would his family have thought about me being wiccan?

would i have had the strength to rip myself free of those orbits in the first place?

i was fine...

until i learned one of my students was murdered...

howl

wolves sometimes howl simply for the joy of howling. head up, eyes closed, full throated into the air. because sometimes, the need is too great to ignore. the joy of the song too bright and overwhelming.

this may be my next great endeavor. to learn to howl for the joy of it. to live for the joy of it. to be myself for the joy of it.

only, right now, i don't know who i am.

maybe that's why i can't howl yet. the howl is the affirmation of the wolf's "wolfness." how can i howl my self if i don't know fully who that self is?

maybe i'm just so accustomed to locking my howls inside. being what everyone else wants me to be. the daughter, the wife, the employee, the teacher, the mentor, the periphery.

perhaps i have to howl myself into existence.

where am i? moving, it seems, through the labyrinth toward the center. through the passages that wind and twist through myriad ideas. moving, i think, away from the comfort again toward something less familiar. less familiar, perhaps but closer to me in spirit.

and an act that seems like nothing, but holds such significance. like putting them away, storing them in the closet says with some finality that i have moved away for good. not that i ever really felt a mormon. i've never felt like anything. just myself - attempting to find some parameters but not finding anywhere where i could feel comfortable.

i think the pain has ended, for the most part. the nagging doubts of my academic abilities that plagued every page i wrote on the paper were brushed away with one word: "excellent."

finally...and i can breathe.

let's go.

rrg

i don't think i realize how condescending i sound when i'm writing. at least i think i sound condescending. i know my brother-in-law does. among other things...

anyway, the political hullaballoo we had last night has, at least to me, blown over. i'm sincerely already tired of fighting it. there's no point or end, just a continuous wreck of clashing perspectives and misunderstandings. and un-conceded points. so whatever.

the thing that puzzles me is why he had corey erase the peace sign from the drawing he made for me. corey made a point to tell me that first thing this afternoon when i got there.

i don't agree with them. but, i must keep my mouth shut because i don't know anything.

rrg.

my father in law had to get his two cents in. so i gave him my fifty bucks.

i guess this leads back to my previous post about perspective of history. i had yet another post on my facebook by someone who likes to - as i have heard before - drink turpentine and piss in a brush fire. what a mess. i unfriended him and all of his many "aspects" and one lady from my church who happens to share his views. i am not anti-republican or anti-conservative. i'm pro-reason and anti-mob invective. she got upset and messaged me about it. i explained my position as carefully as i could without turning stoic. but then my father in law had to put all of these posts about freedom of speech and patriotism aimed at "shaming" me for my behavior. so i wrote back all of the things i wanted to say to mr. baker et al. that the language he used was not that of a reasonable person wanting the best for his country. that the blessed forefathers would not have appreciated his remarks. that what he said was tantamount to the mob-riot invective used during lynch mobs and witch hunts. full of passion and spit-fire, but utterly devoid of intelligence and perspective. used to whip up anger and malice, violence. destructive and narrow-minded. rrg.

perspective of history

why are the loud ones so often also the ignorant ones?

i feel like apologizing on behalf of a blind and ridiculous nation. if i read once more about Pres. Obama being a socialist/communist whatever...not that i agree with everything he's done, but i think for the most part he's battling something bigger than just Congress. he's up against human nature in the 21st century. an idealist confronting general ignorance and herd mentality.

because we intake at such a rapid and constant rate, we lose sight of the progression. we also look for the quick and easy fix that doesn't require us to change our lifestyles much.

2010 is a shitty year for idealism.

rock-heart

at times i feel so fragile. i ask myself if i have the strength to physically turn my world back around. at times i think i can see the bridge i stand on engulfed on both ends. i'm trapped by my own actions. things would be so much easier had i just...obeyed...but no, not really. my troubles are sincerely trivial - should i rebel or not? should i wear jeans on tuesday or not? should i go to church or not? trivial, meaningless, pitiful. i've realized, though, that the trivial decisions lead to the larger, the meaningful, the pivotal. every little act of rebellion strengthens my ability to act in the future. only...many times, i'm not really rebelling for a good reason. it's some ridiculous laziness that caresses me into inaction. or fear. fear of reprisal. which is silly, because the rebellion ensures reprisals.

sometimes books anger me by luring me into false beliefs of justice or hope. no, no, no, things don't turn out for the best. but i can't sit still and fail to move just because i fear for misaligned fortunes.

i'm getting so tired of the feelings of antipathy.

today, they spoke of what they would do for a million dollars. or a billion. and what these actions would mean in reputation, but not in self-respect. some of the girls were shocked that i said i would not sleep with someone other than my husband for money. the label "gold-digger" becomes almost a title of respect. at least, they say, they would have the money to show for it, and money can buy the replacements. i couldn't believe them - and i knew they were not serious - but even in jest - the implications of their greed shattered me. 17 years old. self-respect means nothing when money is involved, and if they have money, they will have self-respect. they think. i can't believe they believe that shit. but i've seen it splattered all over the media, all over their environment, the relentless and soul-less pursuit of money. money so they wouldn't have to work. money so they can have what they want. money so they can gloat. money so they don't have to struggle. in the media, i see musicians flaunting fat stacks of money, wearing designer clothes, showing off the material fodder of greed and desire. and the attitudes...the idea that money covers up flaws. money compensates for being a jerk. money and fame compensate for character. it's a world of glitter and facade and delusion. nothing lasts because it's so easily made, so easily lost.

i still sometimes yearn for solitude...for the possibility of a life so far removed from this counterfeit hysteria that it doesn't touch me. i can find my happiness in nature and the slow turning of seasons, in family and the serenity of space. i've learned in the past few years that none of this matters - the *stuff* around me. i'd give it all away if i can find some lasting and deep-rooted peace and meaning. this pelf is absolutely worthless.

the periphery changes, but the "rock-heart" remains the same.

i think he likes to see the momentary hurt in my eyes before i can shield and retaliate.

i think i care too much.

i don't think i can change that.

i may have set the fuse too short.

i may have to remind myself why the fuse was set in the first place.

we shall see...

crone

i love the crone. not necessarily the crabby, nasty wicked-witch-of-the-west crone, but the grandmother or grandaunt who has "been there, done that" and has wisdom in excess to impart. i had a crone in my life until recently, and she visited me in my dream last night. things like this happening have become more significant to me lately. it was a very pointed visit. i even remember my vision narrowing to her on the stairwell - thinking to myself "that's Gramma. but she's dead, how can she be here?" then the lucidity took over. i sat down beside her and we talked for a little while about my mom, and how i'm not very communicative. this was supposed to be, i guess, after her my mom's birthday, because Gramma asked me what i did for my mom's birthday. i didn't feel any reproach, just advice. she's always been straightforward - she doesn't beat around the bush or leave hints. i need to communicate more with my mom. that's the message.

i've always been eager to be old. i know that seems strange - normally women attempt to postpone age forever. i don't want to. i cherish my grey hairs. i want more. a few nights ago, dave and i were walking behind this lady who had the most beautiful white hair. i was envious. :) sometimes i feel like i'm in a holding pattern - like my life will really take off once i reach a certain age. i've never been afraid of getting old. i have to admit the pains are a little grievous, but i don't think i'll ever "feel old." maybe that's a wish or a younger person's projection on the future. maybe i'm fooling myself.

in the meantime, though, i look at the crone with a heaping measure of respect. yes, there are women who deplore their wrinkles, and who resent the young for their vitality and - well, youth. my young life was undefined - or maybe over-defined. at some point, i think i will burst the definitions and finally become myself. maybe that's why i resonate with Hecate.

death, though, i only partially and objectively understood. i thought i had an insider's perspective. i thought since i "understood" the concept of rebirth i could handle another's death. it's only been three months since Gramma died. three months ago, on this day, i had no idea how close her end was. not sure she knew exactly, but i think she had a precognition. no matter, though. indeed, they become dearer in absence.

so i'm looking forward to the day i'm old enough to join the ranks of the Crone. wondering if at that time i'll just be a wise old grandaunt.

i looked at the wrong time.

and men make no sense.

mike and dave were watching videos on youtube - videos from iraq of people getting blown up, shot, etc. mike was kind enough to wait for a few videos until i was in the kitchen, but i heard some noises and curiosity drew me out. i inadvertently watched a man blown up by a tank round, and another man shot several times in slow motion. i should have learned the first time.

men make no sense because they were watching this intentionally. mike held off on the truly appalling footage until i went back upstairs. i appreciate that he wanted to shield me from it, but why watch in the first place? he just came back from this - is there something about war and violence that addicts?

in one video, men were saying "Allah is great" as they loaded grenade launchers. we joke about "ahmed the dead terrorist," but this is serious to these men. they believe this is a holy war. and would we not fight just as viciously if we were in their place? and would we not love just as savagely if we had the opportunity? i'm beginning to disbelieve in the diffusion of love.

i'm tired of war, of death, of hatred, of savagery, of ignorance, of life in general at times. not enough to pull myself from the roll, but enough to find immense weariness and pain. enough to want to FIX it, but frustrated at my helplessness. i'm sure by now if someone would have been able to fix the situation it would have happened already. maybe there is no solution. maybe because we have no sense of history or future we have no sense of obligation. in the perspective of history, one life occupies so minute a space - almost a worthless position. but - take out one life and things do change...imperceptibly at first, then manifold...

hiding solves nothing, ignoring or denying changes nothing. but i'm so tired of being in this fucked up world having to see it having to turn away in order to keep my sanity.

Profile Pic

distressing. i care too much about appearances. i was looking through my profile pics on facebook and the thought careened through my head: "what will people think of me based on these pictures?"

not like any of them don't already know i was the weird one in high school...

we don't change much. only the periphery. changing the center takes Olympian strength of will. in essentials we remain very much as we always have been.

so far from home...

about 8 years ago, i was deliriously mad. i was a stranger in familiar territory, having moved to another city to be with my then boyfriend. i broke up with him a little over a year after i had moved, and that suddenly shoved me outside of myself. i hated that place - but what i hated most about it was the person that i became while i was there. desperate, hungry, naive, pathetic. i witnessed the shameful depths of myself, i think, while i was there.

but i also witnessed the disparity of other people, as well. former friends who loved me only because i was part of my boyfriend's life. other friends who came out of the woodwork to prove that they loved me once i left john. strangers who tried to seduce me with talk of houseboats on the lake. tried. the revulsion welled up. men who thought that whispering that i "looked fucking great" into my neck would coax me. my ex-boyfriend who found sadistic pleasure in telling me how great his life was while i was cracking apart. no sympathy, no compassion. people whose characters burst in so many different directions so suddenly that i couldn't keep up. sincerity, lust, spiritual depth, arrogance. but i was bouncingspinningsinking too. i hated myself.

i think what i hated the most was the knowledge of how low i had touched. the depths of my shame and what i would tolerate. what i was certain to tolerate again and again, had i not been rescued.

no, i can't go back there.

voiceless

what good could i do from such a distance? my family hovers like vultures around my grandmother's estate, nipping at each other. the siblings, not the grandkids. we're all watching in disgust and heartache.

i think they have forgotten, in her absence, that she can still see them. that their words wound still, maybe worse, for being sincere and unfiltered. now that they don't have to worry about "upsetting mom," they stab all the more vehemently. one, in particular. merciless, scathing. childish.

i want to do something. scream at them. punch one of them. anything. but i'm voiceless, paraplegic. getting into it would only mire me further, anyway.

a high school friend emailed to tell me that i have been visiting his dreams often of late. and this dredges up the muck that was my obsession with him all those years ago. the uncannily ironic and lurid humor that is fate. i would have, 13 years ago, moved heaven, earth and all universal bodies to hear him tell me that he dreamed of me. but years, events, and marriages create tiny islands out of the mightiest mountain peaks. i read this email with an acute sense of pain and confusion. pain for the reawakened memories; confusion that he would find it appropriate to tell me that he had been dreaming of me.

i had been blessed, our Senior year, with the gift of opportunity. i had chosen him as the recipient of a class assignment. i had to write a poem to and about him. and...read it out loud to the class. shy, insecure, and in raptures, i labored over this poem for weeks. just like in the movies, it would be the moment of discovery. my words - stumbling and timid and affected when spoken, but ringing, fluid and sincere on paper - would spellbind him to me. he would recognize his love for me at that moment.

only...

my fluttering heart choked my spell my tongue blustered my self-possession crumbled and rattled to the floor and i burst into unaccountable tears groped blindly for my desk and wept bitterly for my exposed vulnerability and mangled hopes. the classroom awkwardly echoed shifting feet and glances of sympathy

for him.

it only makes sense that 13 years later, my winged prayers would finally find their mark and stir up dreams now asynchronous and bitter. ineffectual.

yet, i must consider that out of the circles upon circles of friends, he would still remember me, want to be my friend. even subconsciously.

friendship baffles me.

slowly, i am maneuvering my life back into order. little victories, i guess.

my friend is going through a divorce. he's discovering realities about his soon-to-be-ex wife that he couldn't have realized while deployed thousands of miles away. that his wife was not really ready to grow up, no less get married, have kids and live alone for so long.

i think, to a degree, that i understand at least part of what's happening with his wife. she's not content with the "molly mormon" lifestyle - much less the military molly mormon mommy. she's struggling with herself, her faith, her choices. i don't blame her - she hasn't had much opportunity to really form her own life. i'll bet she's questioning everything that she's ever believed. i know she's drinking - maybe heavily.

hindsight, you know. months ago, when i was talking to her about her tattoo, she said she was thinking about getting another one - that she needed the "fire" again. i sympathized - i needed a lot of "fire" in my life as well, in order to make some decisions. i didn't know her fire would be this devastating. i think, though, that she will look back and realize, someday, that she made a huge mistake. then again, i don't know what her intentions are.

makes me think, though, that a marriage is not guaranteed just because it's begun in the temple. the church isn't a fail-safe. i think dave is worried that i might follow sab's pattern and go down the apostate plug-hole. nope. i may not be a good mormon. i may kick and scream at parameters and boundaries. i may question and hypothesize and rebel. but i don't want to drown again, like i did before. i know where sab is heading, and it's not pretty. she'll have a worse time of it than i did - i don't know what's grounding her, if anything at all.

it takes a lot of fuel - of fire - to break out of the earth's gravitational pull. i'm afraid she might use up all of her fuel on the lift-off, and have nothing left for the return journey. she might wander in the orbit for years. who knows.

i'm not scared for her because she's doing things the church warns against. it's not the label "apostate" that causes alarm. it's the possibility of harm that her actions bring.

a diet of rage

i know when i have reached the dregs of my energy when i fuel myself entirely with anger. i let the frustrations drive me. and i'm reckless in my direction. this is the time of the year when motivation dwindles and the end of the school year seems far and wee. i hate grading because i can tell they aren't trying. and i think 'why bust my ass when they won't?' becauseyoulovethemandyou'rejustpissedoffandtomorrowwillbedifferentandkarmawillcatchupwith
youandthemandfranklyyoudon'thavemanyalternativesjustmakeittospringbreakandyou'llbeok.

aw, hell.

i've read that God evolves, like we do. i've also read that our comprehension of God evolves as we we do. then why do we cling so vehemently to the old stages of understanding? why is fundamentalism so rampant? i understand that the "old ways" are more comfortable. time-honored. so are the old fears and hatreds. i think the "old ways" merely give a sheer of legitimacy. we use God to scaffold our ignorance and intolerance.

Kingdom of Heaven - "God will understand. If He does not, then He is not God, and we need not worry."