Yesterday's exercise in following will over flesh: success! I did not accomplish everything on my home to-do list, but that's because I underestimated how much time some of the tasks I undertook would take, not because I got tired or gave up. I kept going, and I have not had to pay for it. I paused at a decent time to have some dinner and took a reasonable amount of time to enjoy it, then stopped at a decent time (around 8:30-ish) to start work on a commission. All in all, it was a good evening, and I was so pleased with the success of will over wanting that I rewarded myself with a piece of honey pita (pita toasted with cinnamon and drizzled with clover honey) and didn't feel any guilt at not accomplishing everything on the list, or having a little treat. I was able to fall asleep easily, which is always a lovely thing for a life-long insomniac.
Today I shall resume this endeavor, focusing on the things I didn't get to yesterday, and adding some time for exercise and fun jewelry-making. I'll be seeing my future sister-in-law this weekend (Eric's brother's fiancee), and I'd like to have a little gift for her, a little congratulatory present, something that will "match" her engagement ring (white gold with pink diamonds). We shall see. I also need to wrap the bracelet I made for my soul-sis for her birthday. I've had it for a while, but I haven't wrapped it.
Four more sessions to teach this week; I'm looking forward to them. Two of them are straight "here's how to use the library in the context of an English 102 class," and one of my friends teaches the classes. Another of my friends is *in* one of them, so YAYZ. The other two are only focusing on plagiarism, one of my favorite topics to talk about, so that'll be good, too. Only thing? Two of the classes are 8am classes. Blech. But anything for Jerry (that's my friend who teaches)!
Anyway, I have some stuff to do. I just thought I'd share my little success from yesterday!
8.26.2008
can't do a thing to stop me...
...well, that's not entirely true. I most often drag [my]self home half-alive at the end of the day. Never mind how fast my mind might still be going; the flesh gives up. But the mind never stops, never ever never ever. This will, this mind - they are determined. But this flesh hates pain, like most flesh does. Perhaps being a masochist would have been a blessing, in this context.
But my will - I will let it dominate today. I will teach my session this afternoon, and then I will go home and I will do all that I want to do. I let the flesh have its way yesterday, but today is *my* way, and I will accomplish all I want to accomplish.
So perhaps you can't do a thing to stop me. Perhaps nothing would ever stop me, if I could really believe in mind over matter. I'm made that way, to want to believe in it. But I'm also a realist, and I can't deny the reality of the pain when I'm not careful.
Where's the middle path? Where's the happy medium? Would that I could find it. Perhaps if I try harder and am more careful, cautious, and observant, I will figure it out, sooner rather than later. I have hope - for all my realism, I still have hope. And perhaps *that* is my real strength.
But my will - I will let it dominate today. I will teach my session this afternoon, and then I will go home and I will do all that I want to do. I let the flesh have its way yesterday, but today is *my* way, and I will accomplish all I want to accomplish.
So perhaps you can't do a thing to stop me. Perhaps nothing would ever stop me, if I could really believe in mind over matter. I'm made that way, to want to believe in it. But I'm also a realist, and I can't deny the reality of the pain when I'm not careful.
Where's the middle path? Where's the happy medium? Would that I could find it. Perhaps if I try harder and am more careful, cautious, and observant, I will figure it out, sooner rather than later. I have hope - for all my realism, I still have hope. And perhaps *that* is my real strength.
8.21.2008
as sure as you have eyes, they've got no right
...I'm scared. I'm scared, and overwhelmed, and doubting myself, which is something I don't often do. I have been blessed with a keen sense of self-awareness, so it's not often that I doubt myself or my desires, or my abilities. I usually trust that I'll be able to do whatever I put my mind or will to.
...we've seen the last of good King Richard...
*sigh* I'm being ridiculous, I think. It's just...there are variables at play that I can hardly control, much like the last time I went through something like this. And the lack of control is terrifying, and adds to the stress. Never mind the fibro, and how it's responding - I'm having tummy issues. I know they are psychosomatic and that nothing's wrong. But being intellectually aware of all this does me no good. *wry smile*
...and drag yourself home, half-alive...
I wish I could be less realistic and more optimistic, but it's that realism that's served me so much better in the past, over the years. I'm no fool. I haven't gotten where I am by just going with the flow...tooth and nail, my friends, tooth and nail, and realizing that, at any moment, the world could turn just slightly, and all would change, and I could do nothing about it. I don't despair at that fact; I accept it. Checks and balances. It's a rule I live by.
...you feel no pain, and you're younger than you realize...
I nurture a certain image in my mind: looking out over the swamp from I-20, before the Maurepas buck in the bridge - the sun skipping on Maurepas' face, and the swamp as green and gold as it was before Katrina...New Orleans is just a thought in the distance, a happily anticipated guest an hour from arriving. If I can keep this in my mind, this and the emerald-and-amber Holy City, then I know I can be okay. If I can imagine the amethyst sky over the Holy City, I can be okay. If I can convince my blood and bones that it will be okay, and that they don't have to protect or overreact, then I can be okay.
The trick is, actually doing it.
...we've seen the last of good King Richard...
*sigh* I'm being ridiculous, I think. It's just...there are variables at play that I can hardly control, much like the last time I went through something like this. And the lack of control is terrifying, and adds to the stress. Never mind the fibro, and how it's responding - I'm having tummy issues. I know they are psychosomatic and that nothing's wrong. But being intellectually aware of all this does me no good. *wry smile*
...and drag yourself home, half-alive...
I wish I could be less realistic and more optimistic, but it's that realism that's served me so much better in the past, over the years. I'm no fool. I haven't gotten where I am by just going with the flow...tooth and nail, my friends, tooth and nail, and realizing that, at any moment, the world could turn just slightly, and all would change, and I could do nothing about it. I don't despair at that fact; I accept it. Checks and balances. It's a rule I live by.
...you feel no pain, and you're younger than you realize...
I nurture a certain image in my mind: looking out over the swamp from I-20, before the Maurepas buck in the bridge - the sun skipping on Maurepas' face, and the swamp as green and gold as it was before Katrina...New Orleans is just a thought in the distance, a happily anticipated guest an hour from arriving. If I can keep this in my mind, this and the emerald-and-amber Holy City, then I know I can be okay. If I can imagine the amethyst sky over the Holy City, I can be okay. If I can convince my blood and bones that it will be okay, and that they don't have to protect or overreact, then I can be okay.
The trick is, actually doing it.
8.18.2008
Can't do a thing to stop me....
I was on my way to baby shower in West Monroe Saturday, listening to one of the new "mixtape" CDs I recently burned and enjoying the rainy-ness of the day...when I was struck by that longing, that familiar burning for the Holy City. So many of my memories of New Orleans are tempered with rain; rain has never dampened my desire to wander when I'm there.
But it wasn't so much the City Proper (i.e., the Quarter) that I was reminded of while I was driving to the baby shower. I was reminded of the River Road - the old road that runs along the levees all the way into New Orleans, sort of parallel to Airline. The little shotgun houses, the tiny wooden houses, even the little modern brick ones that have cropped up - they look like they belong in the midst of rural Mississippi or Louisiana, not there on the cusp of Metairie and New Orleans, between suburban sprawl and the swamp....to be honest, I would live happily in one of those little houses, for all my love for New Orleans proper.
...nostalgia burns in the hearts of the strongest...
I'm not a particularly sentimental soul - I have my weaknesses, yes, and I am a packrat, much like my mother. I'm somewhere between my mother, who keeps EVERYTHING, and my aunt, who keeps NOTHING. My aunt says that she keeps nothing because her memories are more important to her than the material things. Which I understand - but the material things allow us to have a more vivid experience of the memory - it provides a sensual object on which to fix the experience, something for this age of reason...
*sigh* Anyway - so I was pretty melancholy by the time I got the party, and was perhaps quieter than my friend, for whose daughter the shower was given, had ever seen me, as well as several other co-workers who attended. Driving home again, I was accompanied by that same sense of mood, hungry and lonely for the City. Later that day, as the Captain and I watched TV, some commercial about New Orleans came on, and it went straight to my heart, crystal arrow. The Captain reminded me that we would be visiting the Holy City in September...but that does nothing to assuage the burning that winds through me now.
But with the patience that has served me for years, and the constant knowledge that something always takes me there with a regularity that keeps me sane, I will make it to September, and I will not give in to the restlessness that plagues my steps. I am not one of those souls that requires instant gratification - I delight in the delay of satisfaction, and always remember the sweetness of hunger finally answered in the right moment.
So I will nurse this longing with all the right songs, and all the right memories, and I will bide my time. I will be good, I will be right, and I will be rewarded.
But it wasn't so much the City Proper (i.e., the Quarter) that I was reminded of while I was driving to the baby shower. I was reminded of the River Road - the old road that runs along the levees all the way into New Orleans, sort of parallel to Airline. The little shotgun houses, the tiny wooden houses, even the little modern brick ones that have cropped up - they look like they belong in the midst of rural Mississippi or Louisiana, not there on the cusp of Metairie and New Orleans, between suburban sprawl and the swamp....to be honest, I would live happily in one of those little houses, for all my love for New Orleans proper.
...nostalgia burns in the hearts of the strongest...
I'm not a particularly sentimental soul - I have my weaknesses, yes, and I am a packrat, much like my mother. I'm somewhere between my mother, who keeps EVERYTHING, and my aunt, who keeps NOTHING. My aunt says that she keeps nothing because her memories are more important to her than the material things. Which I understand - but the material things allow us to have a more vivid experience of the memory - it provides a sensual object on which to fix the experience, something for this age of reason...
*sigh* Anyway - so I was pretty melancholy by the time I got the party, and was perhaps quieter than my friend, for whose daughter the shower was given, had ever seen me, as well as several other co-workers who attended. Driving home again, I was accompanied by that same sense of mood, hungry and lonely for the City. Later that day, as the Captain and I watched TV, some commercial about New Orleans came on, and it went straight to my heart, crystal arrow. The Captain reminded me that we would be visiting the Holy City in September...but that does nothing to assuage the burning that winds through me now.
But with the patience that has served me for years, and the constant knowledge that something always takes me there with a regularity that keeps me sane, I will make it to September, and I will not give in to the restlessness that plagues my steps. I am not one of those souls that requires instant gratification - I delight in the delay of satisfaction, and always remember the sweetness of hunger finally answered in the right moment.
So I will nurse this longing with all the right songs, and all the right memories, and I will bide my time. I will be good, I will be right, and I will be rewarded.
8.12.2008
Opening Ceremony: Not Olympics
In order to keep things consistent, I am closing Rue St. Divine as a personal journal. It will be attached to and used for the online store the Captain (my husband, for those of you just joining us) and I will be opening soon - maybe even this week, if we're lucky. The Rue St. Divine blog will include entries on jewelry projects I'm working on, commissions that others might find interesting, trends in jewelry-making and materials, and a variety of other topics related to the store. I've been thinking I'd also post clearance/sale news in there as well.
*THIS* blog is the outpouring blog, the wishes blog, the melancholy blog, the...frustrated-at-the-world blog. This is the blog where I try not to filter, and I try not to hide. I try to be as unadulterated in expressing my thoughts and feelings and hopes and fears - basically, the contents and products of the soul/mind complex - as possible. This is not a journal where I'll be PC or considerate; it's an outlet. I'm not going to intentionally be offensive or pejorative; it's not my intent to alienate or discriminate. I'm here, in this journal, expressing those things, those thoughts and emotions which well up and require release.
I'm a poetic soul, a philosophical soul, and - dare I say it - an artistic soul. Malice is not in my nature. Hatred is not a language I speak. What I want is a place to speak my mind and my heart without derision, and a place that others may come and read and respond and think. I hope this journal lives up to those expectations, and that those who read it might find something comforting, something inspiring, something illuminating, and something...provocative that helps them understand themselves, the world, and maybe even me a little better.
*THIS* blog is the outpouring blog, the wishes blog, the melancholy blog, the...frustrated-at-the-world blog. This is the blog where I try not to filter, and I try not to hide. I try to be as unadulterated in expressing my thoughts and feelings and hopes and fears - basically, the contents and products of the soul/mind complex - as possible. This is not a journal where I'll be PC or considerate; it's an outlet. I'm not going to intentionally be offensive or pejorative; it's not my intent to alienate or discriminate. I'm here, in this journal, expressing those things, those thoughts and emotions which well up and require release.
I'm a poetic soul, a philosophical soul, and - dare I say it - an artistic soul. Malice is not in my nature. Hatred is not a language I speak. What I want is a place to speak my mind and my heart without derision, and a place that others may come and read and respond and think. I hope this journal lives up to those expectations, and that those who read it might find something comforting, something inspiring, something illuminating, and something...provocative that helps them understand themselves, the world, and maybe even me a little better.
7.11.2008
OMG....AAAAAAAAAnnnnnd we're back
..and though we had a blast, I'm glad to be back at work. I'm feeling energized about work again, and I missed the structure. It's good to go on vacation and play things by ear, yes, and I agree that my life is sometimes a little *too* structured (at least, according to the Captain), so going on vacation and doing things when we want to do them is good, but...I also need structure. I do a poor job at creating structure for myself, so work is a good thing - not only does it provide me with structure, it also pays me. :) So: mental well-being + money = GOOD THING.
And I promise to post a proper account of our trip. I haven't uploaded all of our pictures yet, and you really need pictures to appreciate the trip. In any case, highlights: the Smithsonian Folklife Festival in DC; heckling the Towson 4th of July Parade, and admiring the multiple bagpipe groups in the parade; fireworks over the Harbor; petting goats at the Maryland Zoo @ Baltimore; the Jones Fall Farmers Market & eating some of the best spring rolls EVAR; the Post Secret religion installation at the American Visionary Arts Museum, but more so the All Faiths Beautiful exhibit (which, technically, the Post Secret thing was part of, but in my mind they're two installations); Nadia's homemade pesto-pasta dinner; spending loads of time with Nadia, needless to say; and stopping in Natural Bridge, VA, to see...the Natural Bridge. :)
But I've had my fill of the Road for a while, needless to say. This little body can't do what it could before, whether because of age or fibro. I was not so tired or pained as I thought I would be over the course of the B'more trip, and I was pleasantly surprised by that. Seems like my body was saving up, though, for when we got home. I haven't slept well lately, and it's mostly because of the pain. I took a hot bath last night, which helped a little, but this morning, the body demanded Lortab, which I took. It's helped, but that's two Lortabs in two weeks, so I must be careful.
AND: trouble amongst the friends. :( One couple has already dealt with their problem, which is good - Tara being sad and unhappy is unconscionable. But the other couple...well, their problem is more serious. Not that Tara's wasn't - but there are more far-reaching ramifications for L & T. L has become dissatisfied with life and doesn't feel like herself anymore and wants space; her husband, T, is scared of losing her, and is unsure what to do. The words separation have entered their discussions. I am not opposed to divorce, but I do share my friend's Tony sensibility: too many young couples (L & T have only been married 2 years) bail when the going gets rough. Things are "perfect," then...things aren't so "perfect," they get scared, they figure they must have made a mistake getting married, and break up. The reality of the situation? Healthy couples go through rough patches; it's okay. The Captain and I went through a rough patch in our second year of marriage. But we toughed it out, and it helped us grow as a couple, and as individuals.
I think part of L & T's problem is that L isn't sure what she wants, or what's really rattling around in her head, i.e., she doesn't feel like herself anymore, she's bored with her life, but she's unsure of how to deal with those feelings, and is feeling ashamed (this part I don't know for sure, but Tony agrees with me) because she has those feelings. T told L that he and I had been talking, and that seems to have opened a door for more communication. Tony recommended that they seek couples counseling, and I agree - this situation is better dealt with by a professional. I'm emotionally invested in these people, they are my friends, so I can't be as unbiased and objective as a counselor would be, and that objectivity and lack of bias will go much farther in helping them understand their situation and working through it. I am not going to judge my friends; none of us are perfect. But people are always afraid that they will be judged, and sometimes they don't get help when they should, because they are ashamed, or afraid.
But we'll see. Things will work out, one way or the other. L & T are good people, smart people, and I am confident that they will handle this situation like adults. I know they're both suffering, yes, and I am sorry; but they both know we're here for them, and that's the best thing I know to do - be available.
Anyway: what's on your plate today?
And I promise to post a proper account of our trip. I haven't uploaded all of our pictures yet, and you really need pictures to appreciate the trip. In any case, highlights: the Smithsonian Folklife Festival in DC; heckling the Towson 4th of July Parade, and admiring the multiple bagpipe groups in the parade; fireworks over the Harbor; petting goats at the Maryland Zoo @ Baltimore; the Jones Fall Farmers Market & eating some of the best spring rolls EVAR; the Post Secret religion installation at the American Visionary Arts Museum, but more so the All Faiths Beautiful exhibit (which, technically, the Post Secret thing was part of, but in my mind they're two installations); Nadia's homemade pesto-pasta dinner; spending loads of time with Nadia, needless to say; and stopping in Natural Bridge, VA, to see...the Natural Bridge. :)
But I've had my fill of the Road for a while, needless to say. This little body can't do what it could before, whether because of age or fibro. I was not so tired or pained as I thought I would be over the course of the B'more trip, and I was pleasantly surprised by that. Seems like my body was saving up, though, for when we got home. I haven't slept well lately, and it's mostly because of the pain. I took a hot bath last night, which helped a little, but this morning, the body demanded Lortab, which I took. It's helped, but that's two Lortabs in two weeks, so I must be careful.
AND: trouble amongst the friends. :( One couple has already dealt with their problem, which is good - Tara being sad and unhappy is unconscionable. But the other couple...well, their problem is more serious. Not that Tara's wasn't - but there are more far-reaching ramifications for L & T. L has become dissatisfied with life and doesn't feel like herself anymore and wants space; her husband, T, is scared of losing her, and is unsure what to do. The words separation have entered their discussions. I am not opposed to divorce, but I do share my friend's Tony sensibility: too many young couples (L & T have only been married 2 years) bail when the going gets rough. Things are "perfect," then...things aren't so "perfect," they get scared, they figure they must have made a mistake getting married, and break up. The reality of the situation? Healthy couples go through rough patches; it's okay. The Captain and I went through a rough patch in our second year of marriage. But we toughed it out, and it helped us grow as a couple, and as individuals.
I think part of L & T's problem is that L isn't sure what she wants, or what's really rattling around in her head, i.e., she doesn't feel like herself anymore, she's bored with her life, but she's unsure of how to deal with those feelings, and is feeling ashamed (this part I don't know for sure, but Tony agrees with me) because she has those feelings. T told L that he and I had been talking, and that seems to have opened a door for more communication. Tony recommended that they seek couples counseling, and I agree - this situation is better dealt with by a professional. I'm emotionally invested in these people, they are my friends, so I can't be as unbiased and objective as a counselor would be, and that objectivity and lack of bias will go much farther in helping them understand their situation and working through it. I am not going to judge my friends; none of us are perfect. But people are always afraid that they will be judged, and sometimes they don't get help when they should, because they are ashamed, or afraid.
But we'll see. Things will work out, one way or the other. L & T are good people, smart people, and I am confident that they will handle this situation like adults. I know they're both suffering, yes, and I am sorry; but they both know we're here for them, and that's the best thing I know to do - be available.
Anyway: what's on your plate today?
6.05.2008
*dark laugh in the back of my mind*
I'm pretty certain my mind has a rich inner life of which I am partially unaware. Sometimes swatches and snatches of that secret life wash up on the shore of my consciousness, and I marvel at the flotsam and jetsam: ragged ballgowns; half-burned manuscripts; empty wine bottles; fully-formed, self-sustaining creatures of mythology; self-aware manifestations of the fractured pieces of the Self; shining, gem-studded swords; indestructible laptops and iPods with limitless memory; portfolios of architectural design, of fashion designs, of interior design; love tokens; and letters conceived but never realized. And so much more - a Mardi Gras haul of fantasy, reality, and what-ifs.
Left to my own devices, I might would self-destruct, trying to bring these treasures fully into the world. I would probably destroy the life I'm living, too, given that certain aspects of my morality would go by the wayside, and the ferocity of my desire would inevitably repel those I love best. I often feel as though I am hair's breath away from doing that - losing control, tearing down that tight inner discipline, and doing something I've dreamed of doing, but couldn't honestly imagine doing: becoming a hedonist. Not to the degree of the Marquis de Sade, but certainly more than sufficiently to be truthfully called a hedonist. There's an epicurean tendency in me, to be sure, but my traditional Western spiritual values - and my intellectualism and ability to rationalize the potentially harmful side effects of epicureanism and hedonism - are stronger than that tendency. Which is sometimes disappointing.
*shakes head* It's hard to reconcile all aspects of the Self, all the impulses of the conscious mind and unconscious mind, the desires of the heart and the desires of the flesh.
Sometimes I wonder what the world would be like, what my life would be like, though, were I to divest myself of those things which keep in check the ferocity of my will and my desires....temptation is certainly insidious, sensual, sexy...and dangerous....
...and I still hear that dark laughter in the back of my mind, that dark voice that asks, "What if?"
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