Friday, January 31, 2014

I don't know, man.

suckitude reigns, and i can't even make a list of gratitudes, but i might try. possibly.

i can't say what is going on, its too defeatist, too deafening, too much of all the magnification of what was already there... and i am down for the count with the grieving, man.
after these two months, i feel sometimes like i am getting  grip on how to ride this 'life' of grieving and missing my father, handling the dynamics of the family with a gaping hole in its midst.  but only sometimes, the other times are blank, formless, sob chokes.
it sucks. 
i am keeping my finger on a pulse.  in our mashup familypile, i'm not sure whose it is... but i am keeping my finger on it.

i went to chakra carol this week, it was good, but i am filled with self-loathing. that sucks.
i went to "Seekers" group at Meeting this week, it was also good, but i am filled with judgement of others, and realizing that its so pervasive, sucks. it was restful and worshipful though, so there is that.
i tried to go help at the eldest's school but there was a sub and the teacher had forgotten to leave me copying jobs so i came home, and my mom and i talked about grief and where we are now, two months into it... guess how that was...
i've been feeding the birds and watering the plants, and there is an immediate change in the world when that happens, a visible response in the world, and i am aware enough to appreciate that, and it is a change and a comfort.
i am planning to make a raised bed in my yard this year, a keeper, to grow my carrots, tomatoes and basil, and perhaps a bunch of kale or a green pepper if i want. it is good to have a thumb on something that grows and changes, and is a knock against futility, for a little while.

thats all i got, and it wasn't actually a gratitude list, so whatever. at least there is an attempt. if 'at least' counts for anything.

Sunday, January 19, 2014


.this weekend my eldest has been away, at a church youthgroup retreat type thing... those Quakers and their wild youth gatherings.. the title of it was 'sometimes God is like a wet bar of soap'.   really.  i tried not to let my brain go in inappropriate directions, but i am nothing if not a sinner. 
anyhow, he is off for two nights of loving guidance and capture the flag with a bunch of Quaker kids and their adults, and the house is startling in its emptiness, with just one absence.  startling how different things are.
.i'm trying to completely stop with the cigarettes again.  they are making me cough and in the past two months i have been chimney-like.  and while i get my reasons and all, the cigarettes are actually not helping me with anything, they are not relaxing, they sap me of my 15% energy level and they smell.
so we will see how that goes.
i have very very low expectations.
.i wrote my first thank you note yesterday, thanking for the people who've given support during this fall season of death.  i have a lot more to write and while that is horrific, it is amazing that i do actually have some sort of community going on , even with all the self-immolation/isolation that i do.
.eldest will return this afternoon and have a real burn of re-integration, and so all the glow of my love for him will burn off in the shock of his behavior.  sweet.
.i have not had a very good week, and i'm impatient but so low that i can't even deal with my impatience. i look it smack in the face and shrug, letting it flit and float and be its little pouf self.
.i can't think of anything else. 

just making it through today,


Tuesday, January 14, 2014

TOLEDO, are you out there?

are you really HOLY, Toledo? I've been saying so for quite some time. . .

if there is a twisty vine called bittersweet, it is the helix of death and life, the reality of the intertwining begininnings and endings that we just cannot clip, for the sake of the birds... for the damn beauty that is in the truth of bittersweet.

so say we all...

open roads...

i do wish i could have joss whedon fill in the rest of my imagination blanks these days.  i have been angling back towards trying meditation again to calm some of my fears of impermenance. today i got about three breaths in before i quit or was called on to deal with other living people. deal.
make a deal.

its not really that pretty a word. deal.  i'm not sure its not quite a negative-carrying bunch of letters... i don't feel this way about 'seal', or 'heal'... must be in the 'd'... and also, in its verby fashion, its meaning. 
no whitehaired kenny crooner, no bargained slimfit microphone... this is something forced.  perhaps, therein lies the rub.  its the forcing, the semi-unwilling nature of the trudge towards accepting something unwanted.

p.s. do you think there is anyway in which someone should ever use 'rape' as an analogy or a metaphor? i don't .  ever. and i get all pissy/attacky when i hear people doing it. men or women.  but especially men.
doesn't really matter that something like a third of rapes are against men, the connotation has not sunk in ...

Friday, January 10, 2014

Captured in Stone

last night hubsJ was gone, and will be away for the weekend.  boys and I settled in to watch 'The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe'.  the babe was obsessed with getting her body into a small box.  acheived. both boys  have seen the movie before, multiple times, and both had forgotten much of what was there. as had I .  it is a beautiful film, well-done, and satisfying to watch.

i grew my faith as a child with the Narnia books. it was how i first understood the magic of Christianity and I don't think the 'CHURCH' pays quite enough gratitude to C.S.Lewis for his proselytizing. sp?

part of what i have struggled with in this chunk of time is the worry that i have lost my grasp on the magic in my faith...  if things 'do NOT turn out right in the end'.... and i don't have the inner vision to see what might be the good in this new reality, then where is my faith in Aslan? where is the belief that it'll turn out allright in the end?  what if the good guy dies? isn't saved in the nick of time?

I am in a daze, a fog of magic turned to stone. drifting fog, misty air. grey green, moss-covered, slight chill, sculpture garden.
when part of your psyche is fighting 'reality', what then? maybe it explains my lack of ability to set the table for the right number of people. last night there were two extra places set.  really.

i am no Job.  I am not saying that the world is too much with me, or that I can't survive or that I've been through too much. I'm not, I don't feel that way.

my mom hasn't taken my dad's voice off the answering machine and today i was able to listen to it without hanging up in themiddle or before it clicks on..  so there is that.  i miss my dad.  i love him a lot.

i am handling a large dose of disbelief. utter. still.

Monday, January 6, 2014

Strutting and fretting


my insides ?   fishing net tangle.

we are all placed  here so tentatively, so delicately.   and we power about the stage, worrying about clothing and memorization of lines. 

humility is no joke, and doesn't seem to be a fly-by drone either.

shakespeare.  good lord.