New Home

Welcome to my new blog! I have just finished moving over my archives, so at least this site will have something on it until I have time for new postings.

I am still undecided what exactly the purpose of this site will be (commentary on current events? political ranting? emotional venting? all of the above?) but in the meantime, I'm learning the ins and outs of this site and navigating my way around. See you soon :)
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The Cave of Timelessness

Painting and Poem by Jane Evershed, socially conscious artist.

In the cave of timelessness

Where the moon comes up

Over the sea,

There lies a great lesson for me...

Back home where every second

Is a plan of action,

And every nano-second

Is broken into fractions...

I can be, the rock in the cave,

Roll my mind into the quiet sea,

Feel and breathe eternity

Held in a moment of bliss.

© Jane Evershed

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Love in permanent hibernation

"And ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation."
-from Kahlil Gibran's The Prophet

Does this ring painfully true with anyone else? I read it a few days ago as I was about to fall asleep and was stopped dead in my tracks (well, figuratively anyways.) I was so struck because I'd experienced exactly what he's talking about.
It wasn't until after the relationship was on its way out the door that I even realized how much Mr. X. had come to mean to me. I suppose there are worse ways for relationships to end, with bitterness, anger, even hatred. But Mr. X. left my life with me loving him, and I still do even today. No, my heart is not pining for him; I don't wallow in sorrow and harbor false hope that he will come back to me, that's not what I'm saying. I'm not even trying to tell you to recognize your love before its too late (though I suppose that would be a good idea.) I've gotten to that point after a break-up when the strong emotions have subdued and yielded to reason and objectivity; what I've come to learn is that love is the strongest and most enduring emotion and it does not have to die even if a relationship ends, it just goes into permanent hibernation. Love cannot be used up; giving to one does not render you unable to give to another. Nor does loving mean wanting. Love can be a powerful antidote to all the negative energy that surrounds a break-up. I like to think I've wrapped Mr. X. up in an ethereal mist of love and tucked him away in a corner of my heart. While he may have been in my life only briefly, I don't negate what we went through and what the experience has taught (and continues to teach) me. I am quite certain that I will be wiser next time around, thanks in part to him. I wish him well and if he reads this, gros bisous, cheri.
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One Minute Poem

My attempt at quick poetry.
I looked down and wrote about what I saw :)

A Reflection on Breasts

Orbs of flesh hanging from my chest
In their lopsided regalia

Commanding, beautiful, sensuous
Annoying

Coming out when they should not
Getting in the way

Inducing lust unwanted
Announcing their frigidity

Why such ridiculous attention?
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First Kisses

This is the one of best descriptions of first kisses that I've ever heard. I know, I know, I'm such a hopeless romantic!

"For a kiss to be really good, it has to mean something. You want it to be with someone you can't get out of your head, so when your lips finally meet, you feel it everywhere. A kiss so hot and so deep you never want to come up for air. You can't cheat your first kiss- trust me, you don't want to. Because when you find that right person, the first kiss is everything." Click here to read more...

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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Revisiting Jewel

For whatever reason, I recently picked up my copy of Jewel's book of poetry, "A Night Without Armor." Regardless of her poetic correctness or talent (or, some say, lack thereof,) as I page through it, I can't help but be reminded of my teenaged self, of how much her words spoke to me years ago. I often felt like such a ravaged and tortured soul back then (didn't we all!?!?) Now, all I can think is "thank god I got through that!!!" Here are a few of my favorites, for old times' sake:
Saved from Myself

How often I've cried out
in silent tongue
to be saved
from myself

in the middle of the night
too afraid
to move

horrified the answer
may be beyond the
capability of my
own two hands

so small

(no one should feel this alone)

Insecurity

you don't call
I check again
I become uneasy—
is this a frame?
Suddenly I'm not so sure
I check my sources
each conversation becomes a crumb
how easily I'm led
how stupid I've been
to believe
you could be
loving me
you who can not be seduced
by anything other than
the temperance
of need
each one facilitating the next
and suddenly I see my place
the phone rings
you say hello
but I don't believe you

I Guess What I Wanted Was

I guess what I
wanted was
to hear

you'd stay with me always.

I guess what I
wanted was
to see

those hands vowing
never to leave my own.

I guess what I
wanted was
to know

I am not loving in vain.

Lost

Lost
is a puzzle
of stars
that breathes
like water
and chews
like stone

Alone
is a reminder
of how far
acceptance
is from
understanding

Fear
is a bird
that believes itself
into extinction

Desperation
the honest recognition
of a false truth

Hope
seeing who you really are
at your highest
is who you will become

Grace
the refinement of a
Soul through time
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Fear of Being Alone

When I was growing up, one of my greatest fears used to be that I'd "end up alone;" not physically alone of course, being isolated from the world and having no contact with people, but emotionally, spiritually, and psychically without a mate. It was one of those irrational fears that for some reason I kept coming back to, I used to cry myself asleep afraid that no one would ever, or could ever, love me "that" way. I figured it was one of those "raging hormone" teenage mood swings that really was without explanation, but sometimes I still wonder why I would think such a thing, and, perhaps more interestingly, if those deep-seeded fears have had an affect on me as an adult.


I witnessed my mom become a very strong woman, not by choice, but for her own sake and for that of her children, due to the progressively declining mental health and emotional stability of my father. What had been a partnership became a one-woman show. Somehow she got through it, but at times it deeply saddens me to think of all those years of hardship that she endured, without a partner. Granted, she was still married to my father then, but he wasn't present in the way a spouse is intended to be. That's the worst kind of lonely- the kind that you feel even when you're "with" someone. I witnessed this unfold in my junior high and high school years, though I didn't really understand until recently the possible implications these events may have had on my life.

I don't still carry those fears of truly ending up alone; whether or not I have any sort of "romantic" relationship in my life I know that I still have friends and family that I hold dear. Perhaps my fear now is of letting someone get too close, of letting myself become that vulnerable. I realize that this is not a unique fear, but I wonder if the way I come into it might be. My mother "survived" because her instinct of self-preservation kicked into overdrive. She had two young children that needed her and a partner who could no longer be counted on. Is my self-preservation instinct also on overdrive, but unnecessarily? Sometimes I wonder if I am really as "career-driven" as I think I am, or if I am just insuring myself a livelihood should my partner fall apart; or if my refusal to "actually" move in with a partner (as in not having an "back-up plan") stems from all of this. Consciously, or more likely not, life has taught me that the only person I am guaranteed to spend the rest of my life with is myself. It is extremely difficult for me to let anyone really take care of me. I wonder then, is my self-described identity of "fiercely independent, driven woman" really just a guise for my fear of being left alone?

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Shannon Olson's "Bunny Theory" of Dating

One of my favorite books of recent past has been Shannon Olson's "Children of God Go Bowling." It is a perfect read for the late-twenties to thirtysomething-ish female who is besieged by reminders that her life is anything but normal. When it seems like everyone around is blossoming in marital bliss, owns a home, is having babies, blah blah blah, and yet in this march to adulthood, somehow you've been left behind... It is truly a hilarious and heartbreaking story of a semifictional woman (part autobiography) making "her life happen when it doesn't quite happen for her."

This particular passage came to mind last night when I was reflecting on recent problematic events in my own dating life:


I called my brother and told him about my date. Even though my brother had been married for almost ten years, he was still usually good about offering reassuring stories from what he called his "Frozen Burrito Days."

"I don't know," my brother said. "My experience of dating was that women were usually really timid and cautious.... and that the best thing to do was to back off a little and let them set the pace."

He called it his "Bunny Theory." Not all, but a lot of women were like rabbits: nervous because they had so often and so aggressively been pursued; and the best thing to do was to set the carrot in the grass and wait quietly. If they were interested, they'd come and check it out.

"I guess as an image that could be misinterpreted," he said.

"Right," I said. "But I get it."

Anyways, it seemed to him that instead of being patient, most guys would see the bunny in the grass and go, "BUNNY!" and start chasing after it, which was the cause of the whole problem in the first place.

"So, I just need to find the guy who won't shout 'BUNNY!,'" I said.

"It's a theory," said my brother.

Identifying details aside-- someone absolutely incredible has come into my life recently and I couldn't be more excited. We'll call him Mr. X. So, what's the problem?!? My damn overeagerness. I haven't seriously dated anyone in a while, mostly by choice (school, volunteering, work, family, etc = lack of time), partly because I wasn't finding anyone I actually wanted to date who felt the same way towards me. So when Mr. X and I hit it off (like "rocket blast-off" style hit it off!) I latched on like gorilla glue and immediately hit the fast-forward button to infinity. All of a sudden it was if we'd been together 6 months when technically we were still on date #3 (or #4?) Granted I wasn't alone in this venture (it does take two to tango, after all!) but I feel a lot of fault. I recognized what was happening and did nothing to stop it because I was loving every second of it. I figured that he must be OK since he was right there in it with me.

But, he wasn't OK. I found out after the fact that while I was surfing on that tidal wave of "new-relationship bliss," turns out Mr. X is still kind of doggie-paddling in a way, trying to get the hang of it. I was so far gone, I didn't even notice. And for that, Mr. X, from the bottom of my heart, I am truly sorry.

What have I learned from all of this? More than anything , my impatient nature has been confirmed (just in case I'd missed that about myself!!) But now I've seen more than just the fact that I am impatient, now I recognize just how destructive it can be. Secondly, I've learned that it isn't just women who can be like Shannon Olson's "bunnies." When it comes to dating, I bet there are just as many guys out there who get scared off by women as there are the other way around. We'd probably all be better off being patient with those we adore.

And since patience doesn't come naturally to some (i.e. moi!) taking up a new hobby may be helpful. Personally, I've started home coffee bean roasting as a distraction :) Yes, I am now an official coffee snob. So, when Mr. X. comes "hopping out of the grass" so to speak, I'll have a kick-ass cup of joe waiting for him. More on that later....

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HOPE

Peace Activist Reverend William Sloane Coffin dies at 81. I know this is old news, but I was thinking about it today.

See NPR story.



"A true patriot is someone who maintains a lover's quarrel with his country."

A few nations have arrogated to themselves the right to build, own, threaten to use nuclear weapons while policing the world around them against their production. Well, nuclear apartheid will not succeed any more than racial apartheid succeeded in South Africa.

"Hope is a state of mind independent of the state of the world. So if your heart's full of hope, you can be persistent when you can't be optimistic; you can keep the faith despite the evidence- knowing that only in so doing has the evidence any chance of changing. So, while I'm not optimistic, I am always very hopeful."

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