Late last night I realized that I had talked to all four of my siblings in one day, and not because there was some disaster or news. Strange. We haven't been in the same place since Bubby's wedding, which was in...lemme think back...November 1999.
Wow that was a long time ago.
We are a strange bunch, the five of us.
Four girls, one boy.
Three fathers.
Two kids with criminal records.
One quirky mother in the middle of it all.
And we're all conspiracy minded too; like we all have this sincere belief that someone (or something) is out to get us. Talking to Bubby (who is two years older than me) she is absolutely convinced that carnivals are out to get her in some way, you know, eat her children and whatnot, and we talked about this at length on my drive to work. Then I started getting text messages from E(who is four years younger, lives in Oregon and is an uninspired pastry chef) who seems to have a rather vivid fear of lesbians. He deserves his own flow chart and complementary therapy session. When I got home from work K, the youngest by 8 years, was frantically IMing me from three different screen names, paranoid I might put up an away message, thereby showing my absolute hatred for her, or worse, blocking her from IMing me. This keeps her up at night.
But Bubby is on top of things and was gracious enough to remind me that it was my niece's birthday and to call and say hello. So late last night I called California to talk to Bobo and family (Bobo is 9 years older than me, is about 5'1", 98 lbs soaking wet and has an uncanny resemblance to an Asian woman. Sucked when she worked at China King for a few years in high school) and got to tell my little 2-year old niece happy birthday, before a sprawling, 95-minute convo with my sister til well past 12:30 here. Bobo is someone I will always want on my side in any battle, because that little woman is FIERCE. And she will come after you with teeth and nails and spittle and feet and rough you up good. She has it in good authority that the Republicans are indeed the scum of the earth, heartless bastards whose greed is surpassed only by their overwhelming lack of a soul. I love talking to her, but it does make my stomach lurch to realize all the injustice and evil that lurks. We all want to make a change but don't know how or where to start. Overwhelmed by our own humanity.
Somehow, in all that negativity that causes us to almost seek out the bad in the situations around us, we still manage to love each other dearly, and trust each other. Odd.
Wednesday, March 30, 2005
Tuesday, March 29, 2005
Telling Stories
I am finishing up The Virgin of Bennington by Kathleen Norris and have thus started the first novel I have read probably all year, The Red Tent by Anita Diamant. Both books are amazing reads, but latter has surprised me in a way I did not expect.
I am struck by the history and pride of storytelling.
I think about "Beowulf", that ancient literature that existed for hundreds of years as an oral tradition long before it was ever written down. Today we seem to toss aside our stories as we let time erode their significance. We tell the facts but not the story and do not pause to ponder the greater issues addressed in the daily frustrations of humanity.
The Red Tent is the story of Dinah, the only daughter of Jacob, sister to the eventual 12 tribes of Israel. The tent itself was where the women went during their monthly cycle, as it was culturally inappropriate for women to be around men while they were "unclean". But in those few days in the tent, what did the women learn, teach, and pass on as tradition and wisdom to their daughters? What did they impart? Midwifery, herbal medicine, spindles and weaves, gods, cooking, pottery, song, story. How women talk and what wisdom comes out of it, and maybe insight into where we are today.
That coupled with a conversation I had with my friend's mother this morning renewed my awe at the relationship of women to each other and how deep and complex their communication pathways are. Sisters to mothers to daughters to friends to lessers to greaters to crones to maidens, through tears and trials and breakdowns and breakups and births and deaths and blood and cramps and giggles and roars and confidante and loneliness, to assurance and love and confrontation and honesty and affirmation and praise and affection and moodiness and fits and snuggles and joy. Stories form the history and make-up of who we are as a gender and as a people, I wonder what to do to preserve it. .
I am struck by the history and pride of storytelling.
I think about "Beowulf", that ancient literature that existed for hundreds of years as an oral tradition long before it was ever written down. Today we seem to toss aside our stories as we let time erode their significance. We tell the facts but not the story and do not pause to ponder the greater issues addressed in the daily frustrations of humanity.
The Red Tent is the story of Dinah, the only daughter of Jacob, sister to the eventual 12 tribes of Israel. The tent itself was where the women went during their monthly cycle, as it was culturally inappropriate for women to be around men while they were "unclean". But in those few days in the tent, what did the women learn, teach, and pass on as tradition and wisdom to their daughters? What did they impart? Midwifery, herbal medicine, spindles and weaves, gods, cooking, pottery, song, story. How women talk and what wisdom comes out of it, and maybe insight into where we are today.
That coupled with a conversation I had with my friend's mother this morning renewed my awe at the relationship of women to each other and how deep and complex their communication pathways are. Sisters to mothers to daughters to friends to lessers to greaters to crones to maidens, through tears and trials and breakdowns and breakups and births and deaths and blood and cramps and giggles and roars and confidante and loneliness, to assurance and love and confrontation and honesty and affirmation and praise and affection and moodiness and fits and snuggles and joy. Stories form the history and make-up of who we are as a gender and as a people, I wonder what to do to preserve it. .
Friday, March 25, 2005
Nudities
(scribbled in the butterfly notebook after four laps around the traffic circle at 2am with a friend I talk to too much but who still has amazing things to say...)
I had a friend in college who had little problem with being topless or even naked around strangers, but balked at the thought being in a serious, personal relationship with a guy. I thought it strangely ironic how one classification of nudity could be so appealing while another could produce paralyzing fear. My how many ways to naked.
Tonight I wonder, how and where do they meet? To connect the depths of emotional, physical, spiritual and mental intimacy to each other--to create this web in which one may be hung or one may be saved-- what does it entail?
I am Jacob and this is my angel.
I am mystified by this web and cannot fully fathom how to connect them for those I love, or how to accept them from another. Too many careless gifts given and received previously have marred my reactions to the nudities of the human condition, and left me frustrated at my sudden prudish nature.
I had a friend in college who had little problem with being topless or even naked around strangers, but balked at the thought being in a serious, personal relationship with a guy. I thought it strangely ironic how one classification of nudity could be so appealing while another could produce paralyzing fear. My how many ways to naked.
Tonight I wonder, how and where do they meet? To connect the depths of emotional, physical, spiritual and mental intimacy to each other--to create this web in which one may be hung or one may be saved-- what does it entail?
I am Jacob and this is my angel.
I am mystified by this web and cannot fully fathom how to connect them for those I love, or how to accept them from another. Too many careless gifts given and received previously have marred my reactions to the nudities of the human condition, and left me frustrated at my sudden prudish nature.
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
Eeyore's Got Nuthin'
Today I got an email from that one friend I have whom I haven't seen in years but seems to have the innate ability to call me out on things that no one around me seems to notice. I guess some things are clearer from further away. Anyway, she essentially told me that I was arrogant--well, that the things I had written to her were arrogant.
This disturbs me greatly, as Amelia tends to be very keen on such things.
And, looking back (with the help of another one of those very keen friends), they really were.
At the time I was in this spot where life just seemed to suck; I don't see that as overwhelmingly negative or arrogant; it just genuinely sucked. However, I was (and am) in horseblinders in a way. All I could see was the stuff that was flying at me, weighing me down. I saw nothing else. And I'm not saying what I felt was correct or proper or that she isn't right, but it's still a kick in the crotch.
The conclusion is I've lost the ability to see past my own nose, don't seem to see anything positive in any situations and have taken a liking to wallowing longer than need be. I say that as fact, not to be negative or to make it seem more overwhelming than it is. I do believe there is a time and a place to wallow, but one must stop wallowing before one becomes one of the pigs themselves. All that being said, I need to learn to identify my negativity in situations, or at the very least acknowledge the positive. So yeah, all this shit happens--what else? How are the people around me? What am I doing to enrich or fulfill or love them? How am I serving? How have I been used? How do I accept the love that is given me? Puppies and glitter?
Of course I am a writer, and part of being a writer is obsessive self-analysis and/or self-depreciation, but still, there's a line and if I am ever to be anything in life I need to stop thinking I deserve everything. And learn to see that even the bleakest times have the best opportunities. Or something inspirational like that.
This disturbs me greatly, as Amelia tends to be very keen on such things.
And, looking back (with the help of another one of those very keen friends), they really were.
At the time I was in this spot where life just seemed to suck; I don't see that as overwhelmingly negative or arrogant; it just genuinely sucked. However, I was (and am) in horseblinders in a way. All I could see was the stuff that was flying at me, weighing me down. I saw nothing else. And I'm not saying what I felt was correct or proper or that she isn't right, but it's still a kick in the crotch.
The conclusion is I've lost the ability to see past my own nose, don't seem to see anything positive in any situations and have taken a liking to wallowing longer than need be. I say that as fact, not to be negative or to make it seem more overwhelming than it is. I do believe there is a time and a place to wallow, but one must stop wallowing before one becomes one of the pigs themselves. All that being said, I need to learn to identify my negativity in situations, or at the very least acknowledge the positive. So yeah, all this shit happens--what else? How are the people around me? What am I doing to enrich or fulfill or love them? How am I serving? How have I been used? How do I accept the love that is given me? Puppies and glitter?
Of course I am a writer, and part of being a writer is obsessive self-analysis and/or self-depreciation, but still, there's a line and if I am ever to be anything in life I need to stop thinking I deserve everything. And learn to see that even the bleakest times have the best opportunities. Or something inspirational like that.
Sunday, March 20, 2005
Cloister
(Written on my palm pilot while sitting in the training room at a small Christian college in PA. Don't ask.)
Thought #1:
I am brought to epiphany in repetition and single words. The other day the word cloister came up three or four times, and it is only then that I perk up and pay attention. Cloister: it is solitude, spiritual hermitude. It is devoted to seclusion. The vocabulary of faith, of walk, of decision. A season, a place between the peaks and popularity in which to simmer in the silence. Strange word to have identify me.
Thought #2:
To truly commit to anything has to be a daily choice. For me I cannot simply say "I will do this/choose this/be this until x time" because it is too overwhelming--a day of decisions is all too often too much. I know now why AA's motto is one day at a time; why Joshua said in frustration, "Then choose for yourselves this day whom you will serve,"--any more and defeat will crush any under the weight of time. Am I that weak that the thought of 48 hours of such virtue is exhausting? I wish I could say I'll do or be something for the rest of my life, but I can't be sure. I can, however, commit to it today. Today I will choose who I serve, what I believe, who I love, what I will stand for and what I will let go. It is conscious, cautious and often clandestine. And today, for only today, it will be enough. (Is that weak, wrong or just short-sighted? You tell me)
Thought #1:
I am brought to epiphany in repetition and single words. The other day the word cloister came up three or four times, and it is only then that I perk up and pay attention. Cloister: it is solitude, spiritual hermitude. It is devoted to seclusion. The vocabulary of faith, of walk, of decision. A season, a place between the peaks and popularity in which to simmer in the silence. Strange word to have identify me.
Thought #2:
To truly commit to anything has to be a daily choice. For me I cannot simply say "I will do this/choose this/be this until x time" because it is too overwhelming--a day of decisions is all too often too much. I know now why AA's motto is one day at a time; why Joshua said in frustration, "Then choose for yourselves this day whom you will serve,"--any more and defeat will crush any under the weight of time. Am I that weak that the thought of 48 hours of such virtue is exhausting? I wish I could say I'll do or be something for the rest of my life, but I can't be sure. I can, however, commit to it today. Today I will choose who I serve, what I believe, who I love, what I will stand for and what I will let go. It is conscious, cautious and often clandestine. And today, for only today, it will be enough. (Is that weak, wrong or just short-sighted? You tell me)
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