A Poem by Dennis O'Driscoll

I saw this poet speak at Macalaster College recently; I'm not a poetry aficionado by any stretch of the imagination, but hearing a poet read their work really brings it to life. Here is one of my favorites that I found online (I didn't have the money to buy the book at the time, so the poem that I really liked I couldn't find!)

Missing God
by Dennis O'Driscoll

His grace is no longer called for
before meals: farmed fish multiply
without His intercession.
Bread production rises through
disease-resistant grains devised
scientifically to mitigate His faults.

Yet, though we rebelled against Him
like adolescents, uplifted to see
an oppressive father banished -
a bearded hermit - to the desert,
we confess to missing Him at times.

Miss Him during the civil wedding
when, at the blossomy altar
of the registrar's desk, we wait in vain
to be fed a line containing words
like "everlasting" and "divine".

Miss Him when the TV scientist
explains the cosmos through equations,
leaving our planet to revolve on its axis
aimlessly, a wheel skidding in snow.

Miss Him when the radio catches a snatch
of plainchant from some echoey priory;
when the gospel choir raises its collective voice
to ask Shall We Gather at the River?
or the forces of the oratorio converge
on I Know That My Redeemer Liveth
and our contracted hearts lose a beat.

Miss Him when a choked voice at
the crematorium recites the poem
about fearing no more the heat of the sun.

Miss Him when we stand in judgement
on a lank Crucifixion in an art museum,
its stripe-like ribs testifying to rank.

Miss Him when the gamma-rays
recorded on the satellite graph
seem arranged into a celestial score,
the music of the spheres,
the Ave Verum Corpus of the observatory lab.

Miss Him when we stumble on the breast lump
for the first time and an involuntary prayer
escapes our lips; when a shadow crosses
our bodies on an x-ray screen; when we receive
a transfusion of foaming blood
sacrificed anonymously to save life.

Miss Him when we call out His name
spontaneously in awe or anger
as a woman in the birth ward
calls to her long-dead mother.

Miss Him when the linen-covered
dining table holds warm bread rolls,
shiny glasses of red wine.

Miss Him when a dove swoops
from the orange grove in a tourist village
just as the monastery bell begins to take its toll.

Miss Him when our journey leads us
under leaves of Gothic tracery,
an arch of overlapping branches that meet
like hands in Michelangelo's creation.

Miss Him when, trudging past a church,
we catch a residual blast of incense,
a perfume on par with the fresh-baked loaf
which Milosz compared to happiness.

Miss Him when our newly-fitted kitchen
comes in Shaker-style and we order
a matching set of Mother Ann Lee chairs.

Miss Him when we listen to the prophecy
of astronomers that the visible galaxies
will recede as the universe expands.

Miss Him when the sunset makes
its presence felt in the stained glass
window of the fake antique lounge bar.

Miss Him the way an uncoupled glider
riding the evening thermals misses its tug.

Miss Him, as the lovers shrugging
shoulders outside the cheap hotel
ponder what their next move should be.

Even feel nostalgic, odd days,
for His Second Coming,
like standing in the brick
dome of a dovecote
after the birds have flown.

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Moving On

"When one door of happiness closes, another opens; but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one which has been opened for us." -Helen Keller.

I've been thinking about this quote recently. How incredibly easy it is to get so wrapped up in our failures, our broken hearts, dashed dreams, and deflated hopes, etc, that we can't see the wide open pastures right in front of us. I don't know if I'd say that I subscribe to the notion that "everything happens for a reason" (I think it sounds like one of those things people say when they don't know what else to say and they are trying [in vain] to cheer you up) but I do firmly believe that while we cannot control what happens to us, we can control how we react to it.

Yes, my heart was broken. Yes, I cried. A lot. I cursed him. I was angry. I wanted to break things. The wind and rage howled through my heart, violent tears rained down my face and my whole body shook with what seemed like flashes of lightening and thunder in my core. There were a few wild nights in my world. But just as the storms that Mother Nature bestows upon our physical Earth eventually lose strength and blow through, so too has this storm inside begun to pass. The diligence of good friends, the company of beloved furry critters, and the healing power of fresh air, sunshine and yoga have all helped to pull me through.

Rain washes the earth and is necessary to sustain life, and without it there would be no rainbows. One day soon I will find I have come through this stronger and better off than I was before, this chapter will close and I will begin anew writing the next.

This summer has been an entirely unexpected unfortunate series of events, and now more than ever before I await my favorite season of autumn with anticipation and hope for renewal.

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The Power of Self-Delusion

I just realized that I knew a month ago that things with Mr. X. were already over. But I wanted so very much for things to work out that I talked myself back into it. Funny how we can convince ourselves of anything and become completely blind to what is staring us in the face if we want it strongly enough. Previous journal entry:

July 8, 2007 10:30 pm:

I am at such an utter loss. I, who over-thinks absolutely EVERYTHING, am at a loss. For words. For emotions. For ideas, reasons, rationalizations, suggestions, energy to even contemplate any of this anymore. What to do? What to feel? I am paralyzed. Should I be mad? Hurt? Do I even have the right to be? Am I missing something? Maybe there's some simple explanation for all of this. But why do I feel so betrayed? Maybe because I betrayed myself. Letting my guard down, letting myself dream again, hope that maybe this time it would work out. Offering my heart, only to have it quietly- politely- declined; so well done, in fact, I didn't even notice the refusal at first. Am I wrong? But it seems to me that you checked out of this a long time ago. Maybe you were never even in it. But I was. You see, I'm ham, you're eggs.
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The End

So dear cyberspace friends, the saga with Mr. X. is officially over. As quickly as he came into my life and captivated me with his beautiful blue eyes, his sweet and gentle nature, his loving caress, his intellect and witty charm; he is now gone.

All that is left is a gaping hole in my heart and memories of the future I'd imagined with him that now stands no chance of ever coming to fruition.

I try to remind myself that I am strong, that life goes on, that I still have a lot to enjoy, to be proud of, to look forward to. But somehow, none of that really means very much anymore. He breathed life into my life in a way that no one had before. What was once in vibrant color and high-definition, is now broadcast on 13" black and white with bad reception.

How do you make yourself un-love someone? I don't even know if that's possible, but it seems like the only way I will get past this. Because living knowing that someone I love is not a part of my life is unbearable. I've become a teeth-grinder again. I can't sleep. Tears well up in my eyes at the tiniest reminder or thought of him, and often at very inopportune moments. I push my body to its limits to bike farther, harder, longer, as though putting on more miles on two wheels will help my heart to escape his hold on me.

And so it is.
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Letter to Mr. X.

Don't worry about me kids, I'm OK. Needing closure, finality, I sent this letter to Mr. X.:

My dearest Mr. X.,

I suppose you are probably surprised to be hearing from me so soon, and via such an unconventional method (snail mail?!?! What’s that?) I just have some things I wanted to say to you that I don’t think I could articulate over the phone or in person. More than anything I want you do know how much I do still care about you. I understand that what you’re going through is critically important for you right now- how could I be angry with you for taking care of yourself? I am angry with the gods, angry at fate, angry at the wind- that somehow being with me was the trigger that sent you down your path of self-discovery- but I cannot be angry with you.

A few things I’ve learned that might come in useful: Make a conscious decision to take this time for yourself, make a sincere commitment to work at it. Allow yourself to be selfish without guilt. Re-evaluate frequently. Don’t be afraid to examine everything about your life closely. Be genuinely honest with yourself, anything less and you’ll only be cheating yourself. Find what gives your life meaning and never compromise it for anyone. Write prolifically, it can help sort things out. If nothing else, it often makes you feel better. Search out new experiences. Do what you love on a regular basis. Sleep. Eat well. Exercise. Taking care of your body takes care of your soul. And, take chances, you might be surprised.

And don’t worry about me. A part of my heart will always belong to you, but it’s the size of Mt. Vesuvius, so but that’s ok. Take comfort in knowing that “The fact that something ends does not negate the time spent together.” Perhaps with time and contemplation, we will come to see that something good did come of this time our lives spent coursing the same path. Click here to read more...

Hanging in the Balance

So I realize I never really followed up with the "Saga of Mr. X" that I started a while back. What can I say? It's been a busy summer. Full-time school compounded with my accident and subsequent surgery and follow-up doc visits and hand therapy- it has not been a time conducive to blogging.

And unfortunately, the second episode of this may very well be the last. After three months of pretty amazingly good times, my future with Mr. X. hangs in the balance.

He called me yesterday afternoon, obviously with something on his mind, yet we ignored the elephant in the living room with small talk for a few minutes. His mum had been in town visiting, I'd had my birthday party pub crawl last Friday, so chit-chat away we went. And then, bluntly, he said "I've had a few things on my mind." "Oh?" I queried. "So, um, what are you thinking about us?" Oh boy. That kind of question never means good things. So we talked a bit. I asked for clarification, he told me how he's been thinking about how we don't seem to share very much in common (an opinion I'd argue actually, but that's not the point) and then he laid down the clincher "I'm not so sure I'm ready for a relationship." Ouch.

Hurt, angry, disappointed, sad. Yes, I select answer "E", all of the above. But, more than anything, I feel more than a little deceived. An odd thing to feel, I know, but it occurred to me while I was biking home this afternoon. I'd been feeling ill at ease ever since this terrible conversation, but I couldn't really put a finger on it. Yes, I've fully invested myself in this relationship and I would most definitely suffer a loss if it ended, but as much as I would hate it, I'm a resilient gal and life would go on, albeit a little less contentedly for a while. I've done it before, I could do it again. That's not it. It's the deception that I don't know how to deal with.

You see, I've dated guys who've told me they're "not ready for a relationship", and while I could post a whole separate entry about the soundness of that sentiment, that isn't the point either. Whether it was after one date, a few dates, or a few months, hearing this line is a blow that one can never protect against. I was actually grateful to the one who said it to me the soonest, because at least I hadn't gone and completely fell for him yet.

But, I like to think I'm a smart girl, and that I've learned from my past broken hearts so that now I ask. Fairly early on Mr. X and I had the ever-important "exes" conversation. I told him that I'd been engaged at one point, that I'm on friendly terms with another one of my exes, he told me about his ex-girlfriends, especially notable that he'd recently (5 months ago) broken up with a girl he'd dated for 6 years and had lived with for around 3 of those years. Yikes! I thought. So I asked, in a more eloquent manner of course, "So, are you really over her?" He assured me he was. Later on after a little bump in the road, again I asked. I checked in a few times after that. I made very clear that if he had any questions, issues, doubts, that I was there for him, that I wanted to hear them, that it was better to bring things up early before they become major issues, etc. After getting the same affirmative "I'm ok, things are good" type answers, I stopped checking in. I didn't want to seem insecure, be that annoying girlfriend, always wanting to "talk about us." I started to gain a little more trust, I thought it was "safe" to look ahead, to make plans, I thought we were on a little more solid ground. I thought I had done everything I could to prevent exactly what has now fallen in my lap.

And, aside from open and honest conversations that I thought we had had, the manner in which we met also provided me a certain sense of security, which unfortunately turned out to be false. We connected through an online dating website. Perhaps this is naïve on my part, but I always thought that before one puts up a profile on those websites you would have already gone through a sort of honest conversation with yourself and have come to the conclusion that you are indeed ready for a sincere and candid search for a meaningful relationship, not just a few dates. Isn't anything less kind of false advertising?

In the end, this isn't about placing blame, because as with everything, I am 100% responsible, but so is he. It may even not be about "saving" this relationship. Blogging is for me, in a way, therapeutic, a place to express myself in hopes of working through my feelings, gaining a little insight, and with any luck, doing better next time.

For now, here I sit, waiting in the balance, avoiding finishing the conversation that we started yesterday. I was (am, technically) in the midst of final exams so I kind of used that as an excuse to postpone this chat. But perhaps more than needing to concentrate and study, I just want to hang on to this shred of hope a little longer, to pray that maybe, just maybe, this impending conversation will actually be a discussion or a negotiation, not simply Mr. X. informing me of what he has already decided on his own.

I can't bear to deal with another broken heart just yet…

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