Bungling Bear Claws

Not much I wouldn't give for a pair of sweatpants and a nap. Ahhhh. Well this morning in the interest of expirimenting I tried overloading my system with sugur and carbs in pastries, and cake... To see if it would make me feel better. It didn't work. If anything I feel worse, and have a bloated stomach on top of it. Although I have tried this expiriment thousands of times with similar results, I thought I'd give it just one more try and see if maybe it worked out this time. Why? If something is uncomfortable I feel compelled to DO something about it. If I don't do something it I must sit amidst the discomfort. I don't like that idea, so I will even try remedies I know to be false. Well, according to Einstein that would make me insane. He defines insanity as trying the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Hmmm. I feel better knowing I am just a little insane. I think I like myself better too. Sanity is a little hohumdrum if you ask me. Insanity means I can give up the hopless pursuit of normalcy, sophistication, or or some lasting security in myself and in life. But how do I balance insanity with rationale and maturity? It is not my aim to offend or hurt anyone else, but what if I do unintentionally... or I don't mean to embarrass myself and behave with shameless abandonment - or perhaps I do - but I don't intend to offend others indirectly by doing so. Insanity shouldn't be an excuse. What if I am a wild thing inside a person inside a world that is all complexified and turned in on itself from years and years of evolutionary advancement, rule-making, convention upon convention, fractioning off of people and groups... What if I don't fit into anything. What if I don't want to fit into anything? There is still some propriety required just in order to function society. A lot of times I don't have the energy or the heart for propriety. And then I want to fix myself with something. The alternative is to do nothing. This is something to which I am obviously still unacustomed. To do nothing. To be there - present in the moment with whatever feelings there may be, and accepting of the shakiness, the insecurity, the pain, the not quite right and not feeling good, but to somehow be honest and compassionate all the while. If I am continually striving to get the ground under my feet, to be free of suffering, I will only find further dissapointment and pain. Pema Chodron says:

"If we're willing to give up the hope that insecurity and pain can be exterminated, then we can have the courage to relax with the groundlessness of our situation."

Suffering is not necessarily wrong. Its ok to not feel right. Suffering is part of life. Instead of trying to fix it perhaps I can be content to wait, relaxing with the panic or embarrassment or with the dissapointment, the anxiety... To have a joyful peaceful life I must give up all hopes of getting out of the present moment, escaping the present feeling... This is where I can make friends with myself and stick with myself through those times, instead of frantically finding something else to feel.

Still initially anyway, this is so unpleasant. I feel so like a little kid, and I feel like I need a parent to scoop me up and comfort me. Why can't things be that simple anymore?

And when it comes to loss, the absence of someone I had come to depend on, I am lost myself. I don't know how to do it, and a big part of me doesn't want to. Acceptance acceptance, no no no... Acceptance acceptance. My resistance doesn't do anything, makes things harder I suppose, but it feels better... It feels like I am faced with a most violent foe, and am stubbornly refusing to surrender my home, like I am making the heroic stand to hold on to my own dear familiar loved order of things, or lose my life. It feels like if I turn my back and walk away I'm going to lose something vital. There are so many millions of little things and fleeting moments that together define a unique and irreplaceable relationship. Words and pictures and facial expressions flash through my mind at the oddest times and I never know what will trigger them. And there are millions more that I can't even remember that I want back so that I can value them moreand so that I can freeze them in my mind, that leave me with just a big heavy undefined longing. I am afraid of losing all this if I "move on". I couldn't bear it. But it's all trying to bring him back. I don't understand this. I don't know how to grieve and let go at the same time and still love that sweet friend of mine. I feel tired. And it seems like time has gone way too fast and way too slow since he's been gone. It seems like it's been forever since I talked to him, but it feels like it all happened only yesterday, and I just got that phone call - and I'm sitting here trying to process it and prove it didn't actually happen. All of that is so vivid.

I think he would be proud of me for getting this far. I'm proud of me. My Mr. would say you're a strong girl and you're trying so hard. Don't let the bad guys get you down...

There's nothing for me to do but open up my hands, open up my heart, and let life run it's course. I can't control things, there are no elixirs, no escapes. It will never be perfect or easy. There is only acceptance. In this time I'm flooded with memories... And of course the old what if and why questions... What if I had done this? what if that event hadn't happened? what was he thinking these days? what were his last thoughts and feelings? what if I had noticed that tone in his voice? why didn't he tell me? why couldn't he just wait another week? why did he tell me he would see me soon? I am used to these questions and have acknowledged their futility... But they're still there. And then the memories... The good ones, all the things I loved about my friend, all the things that made him special, special to me, all the sweet loving things he did and all his wild wierdnesses and unique ideas, things we laughed about and times we cried, scary things, exciting things, traumas and hardship we overcame together, sacrifices we made, hopes and dreams we had... So many things. It's all priceless. And I miss that boy. I always will. And I do feel like I have him as part of me... Kinda like I carry him with me through my life. And I guess it will be the same with all those that I love. I'll think of them whenever I see a beautiful sunset or hear a beautiful song or have a feeling a want to share. This is life. And a Life that is insightful and compassionate requires a relationship with hoplessness and death.

"and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant, and whatever a sun will always sing is you"

countdown

Big day coming. Are you ready? How can I be ready for something that has already happened.

Je suis prêt
I am ready

That is the motto of the Highland Frasers. Yep.. ready to keep fighting. Ready to fight and win. Or fight and lose. And all the people in the house say

Prêt et capable
Ready and able

Day by day by day... onandonadnonandon.

Perfection Wasted

And another regrettable thing about death
is the ceasing of your own brand of magic,
which took a whole life to develop and market --
the quips, the witticisms, the slant
adjusted to a few, those loved ones nearest
the lip of the stage, their soft faces blanched
in the footlight glow, their laughter close to tears,
their tears confused with their diamond earrings,
their warm pooled breath in and out with your heartbeat,
their response and your performance twinned.
The jokes over the phone. The memories
packed in the rapid-access file. The whole act.
Who will do it again? That's it: no one;
imitators and descendants aren't the same.

John Updike

Failure

It's not my fault she said
counting on her fingers reasons why,
and moving on to toes she thinks
it's just not worth it.
I must have missed something
between the here and the there,
and reasons don't change anything
and neither does prayer,
it seems.
It's still upon my very own shoulders
which seem to wax and wane
with the season, and the weather.
Either you do, or you don't
and then the chance is gone.
As she gets older she tries hard to see
that each failure contains potentiality
for analysis and gain.
And this guy named Winston said
success is the ability to go
from failure to failure
without losing enthusiasm.
Perhaps, though hard to fathom
it's not the failure itself
but lack of willingness to try again
that is the true weakness.
As she sits there with a crease
in her brow, she tries to figure how to
change her focus
from excusing to improving,
from scourging to encouraging,
from punishment to adjustment,
and with a sigh
her little mope is slowly stolen by a little hope.