Posted on

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

Posted on

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

Posted on

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.

Posted on

Road Rage

THE MOMENT:

Asshole meets me.

He loved my bumper. He was so sexually attracted to my bumper he tried to kiss it. He got so close to my bumper it thought it was with child. I was only going 70 in a 65 zone and I was just trying to pass a truck but NO! Asshole could not abide by my truck passing, he decided to inject me with some of his hot masculine tailgating and swearing on the road (with eye contact) at stupid “bitches” (oh so I think that is what the third finger in on the right hand means).

WHY did I lag speed? Why did I humor him? Why not pull over on the side of the road and lick my wounds at the nearest bar?

I did not lick my wounds. I dropped to a slow 55 in a 65 zone and made the bastard suffer. He had no way out and I was heading the pack. He was mad when after several miles I allowed him to pass.

My road rage is no gun, nor a middle finger, nor a heart attack. I simply will fight for what is mine, the right to drive on the damn road my taxes pay for. No middle aged, power hungry, small penis asshole can take that from me.

Why the hell did I do that? Because I am tired of being pushed around by some stupid asshole that I do not know that makes me feel like shit just because, like most of us, I am trying to maintain peace and obey the laws on this planet. I want to go fast. Oh, I want to speed, shit, I want to run over people but I don’t. When I pass I smile and when I merge in front of someone I wave (whether they made room for me or not).

Why did I even bother my day with this asshole?

Because I am a petty, stupid, sensitive and compassionate idiot that simply cares too much about what is happening around me and all the other poor, peaceful idiots that care about what is happening to them.

Posted on

The Universe Spoke

And so the silence lay like a blissful martini above my mind but no. It was not a martini or some dream of life and love and thoughts of past, present, future.

Yes. I was dreaming of the universe. Very, very large. And very much not a passing drink.

Everything for me is measured in volumes as like so many people whom are allotted; I self medicate.

This dream like so many others always comes at just the right time. And this dream, unlike so many others was just enough to change my mind.

But this dream was followed by a friend. And I do not believe in friends, only foes. And I do not believe in dreams only dark. But I can share this as well as any medication.

To float out in the “UNIVERSE”? Pretty fucking scary. We have all see Alien-Alien 3 right?

This floating? Not so scary for me and mind me peoples’ I had an ambulance once pick me up on the side of the freeway for a “panic attack”. Yes, 500 $$$ bill to boot for that 6 mile trip to the ER to hear my brain had some minor “problems” with controlling my ability to cope with stress and was handing out adrenaline to my blood stream like a drunk bartender. Shit, I thought grim was a knocking on the side of my pretty white honda. I digress…

I am floating around in this solar system and the beauty it bestow is beyond letters put together purposefully. The clam sense of anti fear, anti worry and anti heartache is much greater than any dream dare provide before. As my pudgy body floats aimlessly out of the solar system into the universe I am gently confronted by a large undefined face forming out of what looks like space dust (cheesy I know but bare with me).

Simple as can be, in a strong voice neither guy nor gal, the face speaks to me lovingly of accepting my life and enjoying all experience, good or bad, simply because it is the experience that is needed to grow. It speaks of no fear as fear is attached to the body and is discarded after death. It speaks of after the physical death when what is left of the consciousness makes its way back to great beyond to a entirely different existence. Of life, love, pain, fear, misery, loss, happiness all being generally the same only seen through milllions of different eyes.

What can be said? It was one of those very personal things that I have decided to post on my blog because I am an ass.

As for the friend that followed.

We all know I love wolves beyond all things and hold them in the highest esteem. Well, the morning after the dream, purly by coincidence I followed a van all the way back to my home that had a huge picture of a wolf on the back staring right at me. I just know it was a sign as wolves are my “spirit guides”. I know the driver of that van felt something too, shortly before he pegged me as a stocker after I cut off another car to remain behind him.