In Love

I just came out of the shower with a rather interesting feeling. I know what you are thinking, no, not that.

I was feeling the hot water (it is very cold here in Oregon) and the relaxation it brings. I had this moment of feeling the hot water, being embraced by the steam and seeing the water drip and fall from various objects. Believe it or not I felt as though I sensed the presence of God. Not the God most of you know but the God I believe in which is very different from the Christian God. I have felt this feeling before, not too often these days but all the same, I know this feeling.

I am a very depressed person as you know and I have chosen not to accept “treatment” as you know. So this feeling was very welcome and beautiful for me. It made me feel as though I was in love. That some how underneath all the crap that I am, all the fat, all the scars, the bulimia and the alcoholism that inside there is still that spark. The eternal spark of the universe and of love and acceptance. Everything I believe God is.

This beautiful and somewhat creepy emotion made me think of everything that I am and my refusal to change myself with medication. I ponder my death everyday, to very obsessive degrees. I came to the understanding that even if I never change my ways, feel happiness or win the lottery so I can save wolves with cold, hard, politically accepted cash; at least I will die in love.

I am not speaking of the “in love” that just any relationship can bring (though I do not doubt their powers in their own rights), I am speaking of the love that you feel so deeply that is has NO relation to sex or anything natural, it is purely unseen and belongs only to the core of the mind, if you will, the soul. I believe this love is the most profound and most evasive love of all. Many a philosophers have studied it, many poets have written it, many people have known its presence.

I do not think this love belongs only to a married man and woman. I think this love can belong to anybody at anytime. I feel this love for the Great Mystery (God) and I share this love with my husband. I have also seen this love before, written on the very face of my grandfather.

When I was a young , insolent teenager, my mother and I went to see her father, my grandfather who was very ill at the time and beginning his journey into death. He lived a ways from my mother so the trip was special. As my mother and I sat in the car, preparing to depart, my grandfather came to the screen door to see us off. Even in all of my hormonal bad attitude I was shocked to see his face as he looked at his daughter behind the wheel. How fragile he looked, so tired from life and now illness. I could see the history and the emotions of that history pass between them. I had never seen that look before. I have only seen it twice since. The look of utter, complete, undying, true love. In the moment I remember the feeling of having my feet kicked out from below me and emotions of wonder and silence cover me. It was then I first saw true love. How he loved his daughter, my mother, his most precious child. I want to explain it more but I cannot, it was between them, him and her.

I still stand in awe at that day, in awe of those emotions. This love passes between people. But I think it is very hard to see. I am 30 and have only seen it thrice. The face of my grandfather, the eyes of my husband and the stance of my father as he faced me for the last time.

My grandfather died in love. I am sure he loved many others aside his daughter but I was witness to the moment between him and her, I bear witness to the moment the love moved between them and passed. My very first, life changing glimpse of true love. I see it in my husbands eyes when he looks at me. I wonder if anyone else can see it pass over our faces. I feel it in my eyes and in my mind. I have no doubt that my grandfather’s final thoughts were truly of my mother, his daughter. I have no doubt that my final thoughts will be of my husband. I have no doubt that my mother’s final thoughts will be of my father and I have no doubts that my father’s final thoughts were of my mother and I.

Through all of the hell of this disease and of this life at least, we die in love.

Through all the misery and pain. At least I will die in love.

I thank the Great Mystery for this.

For you have my heart great darkness, unknown, you capture and rupture me. You allow me to see as I am blind and allow me to love as I know hate. We are friends, yes?

– Unknown

The Rancher

This morning was a very troubled morning indeed…

To sum it up the morning from hell partially consisted of a car that wouldn’t start, a bathtub that was very difficult to scrub, a bottle/can recycling session that resulted in a typical “sudden Oregon downpour” and the inevitable fall on a freshly washed floor that is now covered with mud, blood and lingering swear words. The rest of the morning, I will leave to your imagination.

Any who… A completely irrelevant story came to mind. It has in no way any connection to my morning but it was a story I always wanted to tell the world. Yes, the story you are about to hear is true and entirely not connected to the passing of my morning stress.

The dear friend of mine whom told me this story is third person, as the person who was driving behind the main character of this story and decided to stop her car to watch it play out. If there is a truly unique mystical way to the universe the Rancher will either read this some day and feel appreciated or has won the lottery, I am sure he would prefer the latter.

My friend was driving on I-5, north of Sacramento, Ca and witnessed a large truck hit a dear and send it flying to the side of the road, my friend, in shock pulled over in front of a pick up truck that had pulled over immediately after the accident. Needless to say the actual truck that hit the deer did not stop, as far as I am concerned, they never do. People suck, I hate them..Wait, I am telling a story. I will try to keep the emotions in check. Seriously, this story is one of the only reasons I have a VERY small amount of faith in humanity.

Ok, so she pulled over and and ran towards the pick up that had pulled over to find a man and his wife emerging from the cab. This is what she told me.

The man and his wife ran up to the deer to investigate while my friend watched and apparently, others pulled off the road to “see” what was happening. The man checked the deer to see if there was anything he could do, I think this is when they found out he was a rancher. The doe was pregnant and very far along my friend said. The Rancher proceeded to get a knife and his wife, a blanket from the pick up. My friend said, right there on the side of the busy freeway with growing spectators he proceeded to cut open the doe’s belly and then womb to remove the baby fawn. The fawn showed no signs of life, and get this, the Rancher proceeded to do CPR on the fawn, mouth around her little muzzle and pressing on her chest in rhythmic motions.

Apparently after several minutes the fawn started to breathe on her own. He had actually saved it. The Ranchers wife came in with the blanket and swaddled the baby fawn. My friend said everyone there clapped for the Rancher and a dozen questions came fourth but, my friend said, the Rancher and his wife were eager to get home to see if with a bottle and time they could get help the fawn survive. And so, they were off, as was my friend with a huge smile on her face.

This story for me came at a time where I can honestly say, I hated humanity. I can also honestly say that if not for these events, I would have even less faith in humans than I have now. I hope that this can bring some contentment to someones heart. At least if you are a person who is tired of selfish, cruel people and “road kill” as they call it. As for the man who killed the deer without stopping to at least acknowledge it, well, if at all lucky the Rancher one the lottery and the deer killer got a call from the IRS.

Thanks for listening.

Wait. I remember now. Soaking wet, on the way home I saw a deer in the graveyard we live across. What da ya know?

Am I God?

God is simply and most safely a “person” we imagine that holds a mirror to ourselves. So that we may look in that mirror and see who we are, bit by bit, thought by thought, emotion by emotion, wrinkle by wrinkle. In this mirror we see ourselves, only ourselves viewed by and judged by; only ourselves.

God is the person we envision being their as we see ourselves in all honesty, in all nakedness and truth. God is very simply a inner image of someone that sees us as we see ourselves and loves us anyway. This person that god is. Well, he (or she, or it or whatever it is that you see) is the person holding the mirror that only we see that does not judge, or comment on, or scold. God is us seeing the true image of what we are and hoping that that is good enough. God is us, we are god. To only god can you pray but only you will hear these prayers as only god can hear.

God is the only person you can trust. Your instinct and your mind, your heart and your truth. Never allow another man to tell you who is god.

Only you know who god is. As god only speaks to you. Every man has a different view of god and yes, god talks to every man. Not two, three , four men. Every single human is spoken to by god alone. You see?

Only you can hear the words of god as they are meant to you.

To tell others that they can only accept the words that god has said to only you is false and against god.

God speaks to everyone. In their own language.

God is the only one in the room of my mind, god is there with me as I hold the mirror to myself, only god and I know who I am.

See? God does not rule us, god does. Ourselves trying to comprehend something so simple we started wars for it, raped children for it, beat women for it, and killed innocents for it. And “it” is bad. Not god but bad men. Bad, bad men.

god is ourselves, crying to be seen by all, but unheard still.

“And in likeness, we were created”.

Anonymous. Published. 2006

Hair I am

I cut my hair today. Finally the inches and inches of it. All gone. I never cut my hair. It has been to this date nine years since I have cut it.

When my father died I took off 7 inches of my beautiful Lakota hair. Today I cut off ten.

I watched my mother in a full blown panic attack and realized that she and I have had enough. She and I have been to hell (only to go straight back). The hair is bundled and ready for the ocean. I took my hair to the ocean nine years ago for my daddy. Now I cut it again. My Grandmother past away this last month but in truth, that has nothing to do with anything that comes to my silly hair.

I cut my hair to invoke change, to acknowledge change, to become one with it.

I am within public display of my horrid, painful folly.

I cut my hair because the past is dead. Because the past has become so painful I cannot breathe.

I cut off the past, I found my husbands arms covered with my own tears. Without the past I do not know who I am. My hair is gone, my beauty, my pride. Now I feel worthless. Now I can become worthlessness. I only can accept that I am what I am with or without my precious hair.

If I had balls, they would be very engorged. It took all of my strength to cut my past from myself and face still, my own face. Hair or no hair, God or no God, dreams or no dream.

I could feel the knife upon my vein (oh, how I wanted it). I can still feel the clean cut that severs me from all of this.  But I took the blade to my hair, not to my life.

Death screams to me but I chose to sever the ghost of the past. Not sever the ghost of the future.

Blade covered with hair, not blood. I am satisfied by this.

Dec. 10. 2008. StarDate3490.804.20080.12

Dear Dad;

I really, really fucking miss you. I am so mad at you for leaving I can barely control it anymore. Did you really expect me to be able to hold this family up? I mean, what the fuck were you thinking? You don’t talk to me for years then you come back to me and tell me you always loved me then you travel up to see me and die! Really, what the fuck was your soul thinking? Did you really think mom and I were going to leave the hospital and be OK? Did you really think she and I would survive your ignorant death? You know that it is seven years later and it is still the same for her and I as that night you died. You die everyday for us, over and over again. Do you have any idea what I went through? Do you have any idea what she went through?

Let me tell you, you absolute asshole.

After years of longing for our damn relationship to return to normal, after years of self hatred at the thought I had done something so wrong as to lose your love, after years of lingering around your bedroom door waiting for forgiveness you come back to me. You decide to forgive me (much to my shock) for being a crappy teenager. You travel your ass up here with my mother in tow, not once but twice, back to Oregon where we should have stayed. You forgive me, acknowledge me, hug me, cry, tell me you are proud of me, tell me you love me. Then you fucking die. You have some stupid heart attack that kills you while your on the fucking road.

So here it is you jerk. This is just me remember, mom has some words for you too.

My fucking day at work, I begged and begged my boss to get off early so I could spend as much time with you and mom as possible but there was so much to be done that I had to stay all through my shift. By the time I get home, so excited to plan our night together before you get back to California, I give mom’s cell a ring to check status on our plans. Let me tell you now how you destroyed every moment of my life, for the rest of my life.

Panic on the other end of the damn phone. I had no idea. Mom was on her way to the hospital with you. You were already dead. I didn’t know you were dead dad. I got in my Honda in a fury and started to drive in your general direction. You should have died in Portland, not so stupid town 30 miles away. You could have done the damn antique shopping in Portland. I had no idea where I was going, stopping at a Les Schwab in screaming tears to ask where the fucking hospital was in a town I had been to only once before and only in passing.

Oh, let me tell you about the traffic, see you decided to die right before rush hour. I was trying to get to you, putting cigarettes out on the floor of the Honda in panic screaming, no God, you won’t take him, he will be fine, it was just a heart attack, he is alive and we can get his heart fixed, no God, you would not take him from us, no God you just would not do it, never take my daddy, not now, not now when I just got him back.

You see dad? I thought you were still alive and it was too close of a call. Even though my panic was so bad I think I knew you were gone. But I did not know. After an hour in panic in traffic some miracle guides me to the hospital in a town I didn’t know, off of roads I had never travels to rush, crying into the hospital asking for you.

Listen up dad, it gets better.

The nurse did not tell me you were dead. She put her skinny arms around my shoulder and lead me to you.

See dad, she didn’t tell me. I ran to you on that hospital bed, telling you I was there and it would be ok from now on. You just had a heart attack and now we could get your heart fixed and you would be ok and we would be a family again and I loved you, God how much I loved you.

See. You were dead and she didn’t tell me. I really didn’t know until I had stopped talking to you and looked at my mother. You left us there. Alone. You left us for dead. It gets better still dad, see the Grim Reaper may not have taken our bodies but when you died he took our souls.

I screamed my way out of the hospital and put three beautiful dents in my baby Honda. They called the police on me dad. The stupid nurse, shit she probably called, “some crazy girl in the parking lot kicking a white Honda and screaming”. Lucky for the cops they didn’t even touch me. I was ready for the gas chamber.

After that the nothingness set it, not the good kind of no-thing-ness but the empty silence of absence.

I got in a fight with the clerk at the hotel you and mom had been staying at. That son of a mother fucking, ignorant, bastard. When my mom had stated (still in shock mind you) that you had just past away he did not care and demanded that she pay extra to have her room unlocked because she failed to check in. “Sorry, I thought, her husband was busy dying and she had just lost her entire world” but of course, pay the extra damn fee.

I threatened to kill him. If I had had a gun dad, I would have. He told me it wasn’t his fault you had died and I agreed but when I screamed that he could me more compassionate to a widow he just stared ignorantly with a supreme smirk on his face. He didn’t understand. I wish he was in the grasp of death, even now.

Dad. You left us for dead. Now it is Christmas time and you are not here. Oh, you ruined Thanksgiving too. You just had to die Thanksgiving Eve so we eat pizza on Thanksgiving and cry.

I have made every attempt to end my life. Life has little value. Even my beautiful husband, special son and enduring mother cannot convince me to stay. I am coming for you. It was all I ever, really wanted. Just want my God damn daddy.

-Cass