I just hit upon something I'm certain about. ** how the fuck about that?
nice, actually, the feeling of it. . . is this what normal people feel all the time? is there some trick of naivete in it, stupidity even ? in certainty?
**gah, i take it back.
what do i know?!
Tuesday, January 26, 2016
I just hit upon something I'm certain about. ** how the fuck about that?
Monday, January 25, 2016
I may be a gardener, appreciative of the full glory of the percolation of hibernation, but it doesn't mean that i'm not weeping into my downward dog. I'm trying so hard to keep my sorrow from the kids, and its not really working... it just spurts out in 'short-temperedness' and apologies. and i feel so for the three year old that i will cry in front of, because i think she is too young to understand, because i think i'm fooling myself and shortchanging her. so much change, so much sorrow .
and surprise. so much that i wasn't ready for... the silence, man. thats a killer. not knowing if sending a text is appropriate, not knowing what to share, striving for normalcy but not knowing what that even is, anymore.
and, fully, realizing that i am on my own, that i might not get any response at all, much less the interest and curiousity that i am pining for. i told a friend that i am a keeper of the flame, and i am aware that i hold the light, but am filled with sorrow that noone is looking for this flickering... the mystery is too deep and right this second i am in sink.
Friday, January 22, 2016
Definitions are in flux here, these days. Incorporation of all this new stuff is leaving me feeling unstable. like i'm a popcorn popper starting up without the lid... a quarter in spin .
Yesterday I momentarily won a battle with the 'what he thinks/feels/wants' game, and did spend some time focused on self-definition. (the game is awful, it requires me to make-believe, and fill in blanks in conversations that aren't actually happening. It frequently results in tears or in telling myself to shut up.)
It was a victory, however fleeting, and I have clutched it to my heart. These days I am a gardener. In winter. I am in it for the long haul tending, learning of chemistries that kill and bolster. I am prepwork, and whole cycles. I am every part of the process, from seed to death, to seed again. Check me preparing for winter now, while the snow is flying, tending my tools, gathering my dreams of seeds, and the invisible, buried, and faith-based lurk of life.
Tuesday, January 19, 2016
i'm a home maker, that is what i have done for the past ten years, babies, home. and now, i have to let go, and spread home to some other place that i may never see, with their dad. and i am having a great deal of trouble with this changing definition of home.
there are thousands of thoughts on home, what it is, who it is with, and i am conscious of that, but i am stuck in singularity.
and that is a weighty sentence, and another weight is not exactly what i am looking for these days. shedding and winnowing are where i would like to be. but they are words that i am not happy with. coldness and wind. i am trying it out, stretching more and more when i thought my times of stretching my walnut heart were through.
winter . and as always, spring seems far ahead.
there is so much here, i could be days in the thinking and processing and ... i just can't... but here...
I am reading something rather perfect for this ... :
by Stefan Kurten, two dots over the u, painter. and also Rebecca Solnit, writer. My god, I obviously do not know how to make a link show up anymore.
This is good writing. Non-fiction, its more of an essay on women and definitions of home, and men, and things domestic and material. It is really good writing, though of a more casual style than say, Dostoevsky. (i write this with a hysterical burble, i mean, DOStoeyvsky?!) For instance, this is one sentence, and whacked at the end, read it slowly.
"It often seems that the house is an extension of the female body, the car of the male body, for thus go the finicky and exacting arenas of self-improvement, the space that represents the eroticized self, and in these female interiors and male rockets lies the old literary division of labor, of travelers and keepers of the flame, of the female as fixture in the landscape the male traverses, conquers and certainly historically men had far more mobility than women. Until Odysseus comes home, but then the story stops. "
There is more, and more, and it is worth the slow read that will get you through the whole fifty six pages. It is interspersed with the paintings of Kurten, with those damn dots above his u. The whole is a modern, bleached out California postcard.
I've got another Solnit to read, called Wanderlust: A History of Walking... and i am very much looking forward...
Monday, January 18, 2016
I feel, essentially, like the instigator of this drama. It is a trick, of course. ALL the words, feel, instigator, even drama, and the lie of 'essentially'. there is no truth boiled down, and the tangle of truths is singularly complex.
heh. see what i did there. i failed college philosophy. well, not really, but i was really shite at it, felt like it was layer upon layer of nothing. not that what i said up there is nothing, but man.
layer upon layer.
Saturday, January 16, 2016
it is so easy to fall in thrall to fireplace geometries.
the one sentence...
(last night and today are my first time with the kids away at their dad's. something allright about it. and so many things not. had potato skins and watched foyle's war, had a nice fire going. really, allright. )
Friday, January 15, 2016
there's obviously been a lot going on here, and much of it, piss-ass poor. there is so much that is out of my control, and in the last few years, i have really isolated myself and allowed my fears to continue that process. the only thing i have added in has been exercise. somehow or other, i decided in the fall to start it up, to control the one thing that i know for sure is a positive, that i know for sure, is good. so i've been working out. i have a fair amount of embarrassment for this, i mean, if you are picturing me all perfect and pressing iron bars into the air and shit, you would be doing a laughable thing, so cut it out. i look exactly like i always have, i have had three babies and there ain't no way i'm going to show you my abs.
its an online support group that has done it for me. the people post what they do for exercise and one healthy meal per day. (this allows the other meals to be whatever the good goddamned you want them to be, which is definitely my style.) What i have found is that it keeps my choices and their ramifications present for me, and that is wild. Watching people much bigger than me, make choices to walk their dog after work, to do bicep curls during commercials, to go running after years away, to make their kids eat zucchini boats, this stuff is keeping me 'present', which is something i can really hold on to.
in the past few months, i have not lost weight. my pants are tighter at the waist because i have muscle under the baby belly and the scars. this is ironic and pitiful to my ego, but dude, i have muscle! who even knew that could happen?!
i workout at home, after the boys get on the bus, and it is not pretty. i flail, i swear, i sweat. sometimes i give up and lie down on the ground in a fit of 'i'm not strong enough'... pushups? jumping? and then i get back up and do any motion at all while watching tiny people on the laptop flex their muscles... and i keep moving...
i have a quote on the board by the computer that says, 'nobody but you'. and it reminds me that nobody else can make me strong, nobody else can do the work that is actually required to heal my heart, change my shape, nobody but me.
and its really something.
this is really something.
its helped me get through all this personal upheaval and kept me at an even keel. on an even keel? i'm confused by my boat analogies.
the boat is called 'beachbody' and yes, i'd like to rock a momkini at the beach this summer, but we'll have to see how i feel about that when it gets warm again. again, with the abs problem. there is a coaching element to beachbody and i've signed up. anybody want to do this with me? i'll put you on a list, and you can see what i'm talking about, and see if it keeps you present to this health thing we should all be striving for... you don't have to buy anything or sell your soul, its just a bunch of people working out, and sharing it, privately, so the world doesn't have to know that I talk about 'fitness'. good god. maybe i should move to california.
also on the quote board? : one strength leads to more strengths. the serenity prayer. walls are for pictures and people for praising. beginning-to-end is not really that. the waves on the shore are attended by birds.
so there. let me know.
Wednesday, January 13, 2016
just one sentence:
i had thought my time for waiting would end. but now i find myself waiting for things i had never noticed, heavy boots on the stairs in the morning, messages that are missing, tiny dots left off the page...
Tuesday, January 12, 2016
I took out the wrong number of forks to set the table.
i have so much to unlearn.
Monday, January 11, 2016
HubsJ and I are no more. No matter what will be in the future, what is past... has ended. He is going to live somewhere else as of this weekend. It is a terrible horror, and hope lies in all the change, but first we have to get through it. don't nobody ever let you believe that this is not a nauseating freefall of pain and sadness. three kids and a good fifteen years.
I read in 'The Sun' magazine an amazing article about a man who was a pediatric oncologist. so, sit with that one for a bit, and imagine his worklife. and he said that he had lost his faith at one time, that he was still an athiest as far as that God went, but that he was ever seeking a new belief, in a new God and a new relationship with his faith and understanding, and this gave me hope and a new understanding of some of the things turning about over here. we'll see.
Sunday, January 10, 2016
one word is all i can handle sometimes, and breaking down a task long-procrastinated into a manageable one has turned into this: just write one sentence. Just ONE. and move on from there. if that is all that be done, that is all that be done. maybe i'll do a series of one line posts on the blog.
i am going to write just one sentence... just one... in hopes that alltogether they will pile up at some point, like this here paragraph has ...
i shake my head like a marble box, to get my thoughts back where they ought to be, to shake loose those negatives, to get them flattened by the self-centering. i look like a wet dog doing this, but so be it.