...I'm a nomad, I can't feel bad about the way I am...
So: weekend was spent guardedly contemplating my identity. Two major causes of said self-examination: a day spent in the company of my parents and a evening spent in the company of one of my soul-sisters.
I am, in a very real way, the sum of both of my parents. My parents lost their first child, a son named Greg. He was born and died in 1977; I was born in the early part of 1979. I spent the first year of my life in and out of hospitals with various health issues (one of which nearly rendered me unable to walk). Needless to say, they doted on me - I was spoiled, not because of my own machinations, but because I was so desperately wanted and loved. Consequently, they kept me very close, the outcome of which is I was very sheltered and depended greatly on my parents for entertainment, with which they complied. I am a lot like my mom (they don't call me Barbara Junior for nothing), but I am also like my father in some very real, though very subtle, ways. Spending most of the day with them, riding around looking at houses and land, really brought home how much I love them and how much we have in common. It also reminded me that I want my life to be like theirs - rich in spiritual things, deeply in love with life, and simple. For as long as I could remember, I wanted a marriage like theirs (without a lot of the crazy my mom brings) - an honest and committed marriage forged in the simplicity and folksiness of the 1970s, built from a pure and strong love founded in the tumultuous 1960s. Bottom line: I was born at the end of the 1970's, but a lot of my sensibilities, I think, are from that era, and that is a big part of my tastes and desires...
The second part of that - an extended visit with my soul-sister Tara - was less simple and not a little uncomfortable. Not because of her, but because of what our conversations revealed. She's coming out of a 9-year relationship: divorcing after 2 terrible years of marriage. When I met her, she and the SOB she's divorced from had just started out, and she was an extremely happy and outgoing person, unwilling (and maybe even unable) to give a damn what anybody thought about her. That changed over the next few years - she was more bitter and less herself as time went by. When she finally got free, it was like water to a neglected plant: she bloomed, flourish, came alive again. And we talked some about that Saturday night, as well as many, many other things. And I got to thinking, while we were talking, how much I envied her, and I couldn't figure out why at first; then it occurred to me: she had found herself again. And I asked her about that, when she first realized it, and we talked about that, too.
I guess I feel like I've lost myself. Maybe I have in the complicated bullshit politics that is higher ed; maybe I have in worrying so damn much about things; maybe I have simply because I've neglected those essential spiritual parts of myself in favor of taking care of those problematic physical parts of myself. My mom made a comment not long ago about how she was just really beginning to figure herself out at 56 and that she envied me knowing myself well before I was ever an adult (which is true, I did). But I don't know that I know myself that well anymore, and I can't really figure out why.
I know this, though: I'm not giving up. I can find my way. I won't just wallow in self-pity over a shaky sense of self. I found a strong sense of who I was before I hit puberty - I can do it again, and I will do it again, Lord willing and the creek don't rise.
9.10.2007
8.27.2007
Sometimes it rages....rock a little...
Je ne sais pas. I relish silence, sure, and solitude, and the ability to be alone in the midst of people. Surrounded as I was all weekend by my family - and I love my family very much - I was also left to my own devices, and that form of solitude is precious: to do as I want, and no demands are made of me.
Being alone on the Road gives you time to think and feel in a very real way, and I did just that all the way to Jackson, and all the way back to Monroe. I cried, I sang, I smacked my bubblegum. I thought about God, and New Orleans, and freedom. I thought about my bones, my muscles; I thought about blood and the ties that bind. I thought about my brother, whose heart is still wounded. I thought about my sister, whose spirit is a little broken. I thought about my father, who is scared. I thought about my mother, who is dreaming. I thought about the Captain and how lost I am without him. It is not the dependence of a helpless woman that makes him so indispensable to me; rather, it is the peace that he means to me that makes him necessary for my well-being.
I am tired this morning, equal parts in muscle and mind, sinew and soul. I've been reading the words of my soul-sister and wishing I had her fire. I used to have fire - I don't think I do anymore. I think I gave it over in favor of sleep and painlessness. But I miss it. I miss that sleeplessness that comes from passion and intensity. I miss that restlessness that conquers sense. I miss some of the recklessness that used to boil in my blood.
It's not that I'm lost, or dead, or even asleep. I don't think it is. I just know that something rages deep down and wants to wake up, or wants out...or just wants.
Being alone on the Road gives you time to think and feel in a very real way, and I did just that all the way to Jackson, and all the way back to Monroe. I cried, I sang, I smacked my bubblegum. I thought about God, and New Orleans, and freedom. I thought about my bones, my muscles; I thought about blood and the ties that bind. I thought about my brother, whose heart is still wounded. I thought about my sister, whose spirit is a little broken. I thought about my father, who is scared. I thought about my mother, who is dreaming. I thought about the Captain and how lost I am without him. It is not the dependence of a helpless woman that makes him so indispensable to me; rather, it is the peace that he means to me that makes him necessary for my well-being.
I am tired this morning, equal parts in muscle and mind, sinew and soul. I've been reading the words of my soul-sister and wishing I had her fire. I used to have fire - I don't think I do anymore. I think I gave it over in favor of sleep and painlessness. But I miss it. I miss that sleeplessness that comes from passion and intensity. I miss that restlessness that conquers sense. I miss some of the recklessness that used to boil in my blood.
It's not that I'm lost, or dead, or even asleep. I don't think it is. I just know that something rages deep down and wants to wake up, or wants out...or just wants.
2.21.2007
keep me anchored, keep me sane,
I strongly and deeply wish that we could have stayed in New Orleans for the rest of the week, like our traveling companions are doing - they'll be there until Saturday. We had to come back this morning, as I had to come to work (and work on a paper). I didn't want to feel down about leaving, didn't want to feel depressed about having to come back...but I just can't help it. For all the pain I'm in right now - muscle weakness, spasms, and some serious damage to my heels - and the hellholishness of the "guesthouse" we stayed at - it was pretty damn ghetto, and the hot water line to our section of the house busted, so it was all cold water, all the time - I can honestly say I was having a blast. I hope our friends have better luck the rest of the week.
We had such a good time. We started our Mardi Gras experience Monday afternoon and "partied" well into the night. Got up early Tuesday and continued having fun (though I was giving out very quickly and easily). We roamed around the French Quarter (always fun), watched parades (Monday saw Proteus and Orpheus, Tuesday saw Zulu - Rex ran too late for our tastes), and wandered into stores that struck our fancy, whether in the Quarter or in the Riverwalk. It was truly a lovely time - the weather was nice, we never felt unsafe, and we all got some nice pictures to remember the experience. The Trueloves, our companions, are wonderful to travel with: flexible, adventurous, and easy-going!
But I'm depressed now: having to leave New Orleans and come back to Monroe wrenches the heart in a way I can't quite explain. I want to live there, be there, more than anything, and now, in this moment, I am regretting so greatly not taking the job at UNO. I know it was not the right job, or the right time, but I can honestly say that I want to be there, and I might have endured another bad job just to be there. Eric and I can hardly wait to get down there; we've already decided that we want to try to live on Magazine - there's a section of it that's like a little community, and it struck our fancies greatly.
It's a twist in the soul to think about it all now, to reflect, to savor the knowledge that I slept underneath that purple sky, wreathed in the satisfaction of being there, having listened to the murmur of the Mississippi, and slunk through the streets of the Quarter. Yes, Mardi Gras is fun - but it's the soul of New Orleans, the spirit of the city, that sings to me, and I can't hear it enough. Only when I am there, living there, and her song seeps completely into my bones and my blood will I begin to understand what mortal peace is.
We had such a good time. We started our Mardi Gras experience Monday afternoon and "partied" well into the night. Got up early Tuesday and continued having fun (though I was giving out very quickly and easily). We roamed around the French Quarter (always fun), watched parades (Monday saw Proteus and Orpheus, Tuesday saw Zulu - Rex ran too late for our tastes), and wandered into stores that struck our fancy, whether in the Quarter or in the Riverwalk. It was truly a lovely time - the weather was nice, we never felt unsafe, and we all got some nice pictures to remember the experience. The Trueloves, our companions, are wonderful to travel with: flexible, adventurous, and easy-going!
But I'm depressed now: having to leave New Orleans and come back to Monroe wrenches the heart in a way I can't quite explain. I want to live there, be there, more than anything, and now, in this moment, I am regretting so greatly not taking the job at UNO. I know it was not the right job, or the right time, but I can honestly say that I want to be there, and I might have endured another bad job just to be there. Eric and I can hardly wait to get down there; we've already decided that we want to try to live on Magazine - there's a section of it that's like a little community, and it struck our fancies greatly.
It's a twist in the soul to think about it all now, to reflect, to savor the knowledge that I slept underneath that purple sky, wreathed in the satisfaction of being there, having listened to the murmur of the Mississippi, and slunk through the streets of the Quarter. Yes, Mardi Gras is fun - but it's the soul of New Orleans, the spirit of the city, that sings to me, and I can't hear it enough. Only when I am there, living there, and her song seeps completely into my bones and my blood will I begin to understand what mortal peace is.
6.21.2006
Best. Song. Ever.
Standing firm on this stoney ground
The wind blows hard
Pulls these clothes around
I harbour all the same worries as most
The temptations to leave or to give up the ghost
I wrestle with an outlook on life
That shifts between darkness and shadowy light
I struggle with words for fear that they'll hear
But Orpheus sleeps on his back still dead to the world
Sunlight falls, my wings open wide
There's a beauty here I cannot deny
And bottles that tumble and crash on the stairs
Are just so many people I knew never cared
Down below on the wreck on the ship
Are a stronghold of pleasures I couldn't regret
But the baggage is swallowed up by the tide
As Orpheus keeps to his promise and stays by my side
Tell me, I've still a lot to learn
Understand, these fires never stop
Believe me, when this joke is tired of laughing
I will hear the promise of my Orpheus sing
Sleepers sleep as we row the boat
Just you the weather and I gave up hope
But all of the hurdles that fell in our laps
Were fuel for the fire and straw for our backs
Still the voices have stories to tell
Of the power struggles in heaven and hell
But we feel secure against such mighty dreams
As Orpheus sings of the promise tomorrow may bring
Tell me, I've still a lot to learn
Understand, these fires never stop
Please believe me, when this joke is tired of laughing
I will hear the promise of my Orpheus sing
---
"Orpheus"
David Sylvian
The wind blows hard
Pulls these clothes around
I harbour all the same worries as most
The temptations to leave or to give up the ghost
I wrestle with an outlook on life
That shifts between darkness and shadowy light
I struggle with words for fear that they'll hear
But Orpheus sleeps on his back still dead to the world
Sunlight falls, my wings open wide
There's a beauty here I cannot deny
And bottles that tumble and crash on the stairs
Are just so many people I knew never cared
Down below on the wreck on the ship
Are a stronghold of pleasures I couldn't regret
But the baggage is swallowed up by the tide
As Orpheus keeps to his promise and stays by my side
Tell me, I've still a lot to learn
Understand, these fires never stop
Believe me, when this joke is tired of laughing
I will hear the promise of my Orpheus sing
Sleepers sleep as we row the boat
Just you the weather and I gave up hope
But all of the hurdles that fell in our laps
Were fuel for the fire and straw for our backs
Still the voices have stories to tell
Of the power struggles in heaven and hell
But we feel secure against such mighty dreams
As Orpheus sings of the promise tomorrow may bring
Tell me, I've still a lot to learn
Understand, these fires never stop
Please believe me, when this joke is tired of laughing
I will hear the promise of my Orpheus sing
---
"Orpheus"
David Sylvian
6.12.2006
Getting my spine back
Will not and cannot accept the fibro. This is -my- life; I will not have it controlled by a syndrome. I am stronger than that. I am -high octane-, I am a shark--gotta keep moving or die. And I don't want to die. I have been delivered from the demon of suicide too many times to want to fool with that feeling.
Maybe I'm crazy. Maybe I'm taking a chance. But then I look at my mom and how she lives--full-throttle, open all the way, in spite of the damage done by chemo, and I think, I can do that. If she can, I can. I'm willing to deal with the consequences.
And the more I think and pray about my decision to -not- go to UNO and New Orleans, the better I feel. And strangely enough: I feel as though I have overcome my life-long fixation on NOLA. I still love it, no doubt, but it's no longer an overwhelming motivation.
And to think: just days ago, I thought I was going to lose my mind and pitch headlong into madness again. I was moments away from another breakdown. And now I feel truly that I am the master of my fate, commander of my will. Guided by God, beneath the stars, on the earth He created for his beloveds--there is much to live for, and time to live.
Maybe I'm crazy. Maybe I'm taking a chance. But then I look at my mom and how she lives--full-throttle, open all the way, in spite of the damage done by chemo, and I think, I can do that. If she can, I can. I'm willing to deal with the consequences.
And the more I think and pray about my decision to -not- go to UNO and New Orleans, the better I feel. And strangely enough: I feel as though I have overcome my life-long fixation on NOLA. I still love it, no doubt, but it's no longer an overwhelming motivation.
And to think: just days ago, I thought I was going to lose my mind and pitch headlong into madness again. I was moments away from another breakdown. And now I feel truly that I am the master of my fate, commander of my will. Guided by God, beneath the stars, on the earth He created for his beloveds--there is much to live for, and time to live.
6.06.2006
the wind is pushing me around
It's what I know
X-rays came back normal, which pretty much indicates that I have fibromyalgia. Wanted to be depressed about it, wanted to cry--but then I got over it. I'm tougher than that. I'm smarter than that. It's all about managing it, maintenance, planning, finding the limits. I can do that. I have a great family and great friends; I'm not alone. I'm not helpless. I am loved, and that makes all the difference in the world.
So I'll have to slow down a little. Is that really awful? No, it's not. Fibro is not degenerative; it's incurable, but it's not debilitating. It doesn't have to be debilitating. I'm young, I'm intelligent, and I have pharmaceuticals to help me manage. I have friends and family to help me. I have God.
Okay, so I'm in pain. It's bearable right now. I can keep it there, if I'm smart, and I'm smart. It's all about planning. Maintenance. Making careful choices. I can do that.
The fibro can become a non-issue, if I became adept at its management. I think I can do that.
After all, I'm not alone.
X-rays came back normal, which pretty much indicates that I have fibromyalgia. Wanted to be depressed about it, wanted to cry--but then I got over it. I'm tougher than that. I'm smarter than that. It's all about managing it, maintenance, planning, finding the limits. I can do that. I have a great family and great friends; I'm not alone. I'm not helpless. I am loved, and that makes all the difference in the world.
So I'll have to slow down a little. Is that really awful? No, it's not. Fibro is not degenerative; it's incurable, but it's not debilitating. It doesn't have to be debilitating. I'm young, I'm intelligent, and I have pharmaceuticals to help me manage. I have friends and family to help me. I have God.
Okay, so I'm in pain. It's bearable right now. I can keep it there, if I'm smart, and I'm smart. It's all about planning. Maintenance. Making careful choices. I can do that.
The fibro can become a non-issue, if I became adept at its management. I think I can do that.
After all, I'm not alone.
5.05.2006
D.H. Lawrene would have liked it
A full-blown rainbow, a complete arch, bent its beauty over Monroe yesterday, in the late afternoon. It was vivid against a sky of dark gray clouds, as the sun seemed to collapse into the earth. It was perfectly formed. And I couldn't help but think of the first rainbow I read about as a child--the rainbow God showed to Noah after the Flood, the Covenant, God's promise to not destroy the world in water again.
As if the beauty of the rainbow weren't enough, you would not believe the light show the clouds were hosting. I haven't seen lightning like that since I moved out of Mississippi. It was prettier'n the heat lightning storms I remember watching in high school, when it was so hot, but so dry, and the lightning would spark from cloud to cloud, pink and pristine, precise and dangerous.
To see those electric veins leap from cloud to cloud behind the rainbow? Well, mankind cannot produce such things without effort. Nature does it without thinking.
I wish, sometimes, that I could exist without thinking. "The unexamined life is not worth living," said Socrates, and I couldn't agree more. I live the examined life, the self-examining life, so the brain never seems to turn off. I wish I could turn it off, for a little while at least, so I could hear more clearly what my heart was saying, what my soul was saying.
There are so many things dervishing around in my skull. Pros and cons, possibilities and losses, gains and guesses. It's not easy to sort and process all the data, all the knowledge, all the wisdom, when it flies around like debris in a hurricane, which is what it's doing right now.
This afternoon is my phone interview with Chaffe McCall, the law firm in New Orleans looking for a librarian. It's the oldest firm in New Orleans and boasts clients such as AmSouth, Pfizer, Louisiana State Employees Group Benefit Plan, the Royal Bank of Scotland, Sherwin-Williams, and several other large and well-known corporations. Am I afraid? Maybe. Of what? Many things. That I'll be offered the job. That I won't be. Of working there. Of staying here. So many things. I'm overwhelmed, overshadowed, and bursting.
I guess there's no point in worrying about anything, though. There's nothing I can do at this point but my part: be there when the phone rings and answer their inquiries to the best of my abilities. The rest is in their hands...and in God's, and there's where my comfort rests.
As if the beauty of the rainbow weren't enough, you would not believe the light show the clouds were hosting. I haven't seen lightning like that since I moved out of Mississippi. It was prettier'n the heat lightning storms I remember watching in high school, when it was so hot, but so dry, and the lightning would spark from cloud to cloud, pink and pristine, precise and dangerous.
To see those electric veins leap from cloud to cloud behind the rainbow? Well, mankind cannot produce such things without effort. Nature does it without thinking.
I wish, sometimes, that I could exist without thinking. "The unexamined life is not worth living," said Socrates, and I couldn't agree more. I live the examined life, the self-examining life, so the brain never seems to turn off. I wish I could turn it off, for a little while at least, so I could hear more clearly what my heart was saying, what my soul was saying.
There are so many things dervishing around in my skull. Pros and cons, possibilities and losses, gains and guesses. It's not easy to sort and process all the data, all the knowledge, all the wisdom, when it flies around like debris in a hurricane, which is what it's doing right now.
This afternoon is my phone interview with Chaffe McCall, the law firm in New Orleans looking for a librarian. It's the oldest firm in New Orleans and boasts clients such as AmSouth, Pfizer, Louisiana State Employees Group Benefit Plan, the Royal Bank of Scotland, Sherwin-Williams, and several other large and well-known corporations. Am I afraid? Maybe. Of what? Many things. That I'll be offered the job. That I won't be. Of working there. Of staying here. So many things. I'm overwhelmed, overshadowed, and bursting.
I guess there's no point in worrying about anything, though. There's nothing I can do at this point but my part: be there when the phone rings and answer their inquiries to the best of my abilities. The rest is in their hands...and in God's, and there's where my comfort rests.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)