Friday, July 10, 2009

I will bury you….

The princess felt the pea through countless mattresses, the Great Wall and the Pyramids reached heights unforeseen on the broken backs of slave labor, but a princess she remained and mighty they still are so does the curse of what lies beneath forever haunt what remains in sight?

Is the princess no less royal for her super-sensitive back and silliness, or the feats of ancient civilizations any less inspired and magnificent because untold numbers died unwillingly in their creation?

I write about the past, fleeting moments made real only by memory, and others read my tales and stories about baggage and trauma and regret and scarred lives, and they  reach out impulsively with sorrowful souls for some kind of emotional connection, but why?

Am I less perfect, less human, in need of more or different mattresses because of what I share? Is my coming into this creation and being present today any less grand because I arrive at the now through a terrible series of moments in my past?

At what point, then, do we forgive ourselves and others for the sins of yesterday(s) and permit them and ourselves to live out the shared miracles of our lives?

If we say, ‘He got what he deserved’ or ‘what she did was unforgiveable’ then do we say the same about ourselves by default?

As I approach next week’s interview I return to my past and the choices I made and those made for me by others and I see now that they matter, and yet that they are irrelevant also. I am now and here, not there and then, and never will I be again at the same point in time in precisely the same way, so I remember the past but only that – I choose to be here not in spite of my past, or because of it, but because I simply am….here. Now.

Related media that inspired this reflection:

Come out come out
No use in hiding
Come now come now
Can you not see?
There's no place here
What were you expecting
Not room for both
Just room for me
So you will lay your arms down
Yes I will call this home

Away away
You have been banished
Your land is gone
And given me
And here I will spread my wings
Yes I will call this home

What's this you say
You feel a right to remain
Then stay and I will bury you
What's that you say
Your father's spirit still lives in this place
I will silence you

Here's the hitch
Your horse is leaving
Don't miss your boat
It's leaving now
And as you go I will spread my wings
Yes I will call this home

I have no time to justify to you
Fool you're blind, move aside for me
All I can say to you my new neighbor
Is you must move on or I will bury you

Now as I rest my feet by this fire
Those hands once warmed here
I have retired them
I can breathe my own air
I can sleep more soundly
Upon these poor souls
I'll build heaven and call it home
'Cause you're all dead now

I live with my justice
I live with my greedy need
I live with no mercy
I live with my frenzied feeding
I live with my hatred
I live with my jealousy
I live with the notion
That I don't need anyone but me

Don't drink the water
Don't drink the water
There's blood in the water
Don't drink the water

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Tuesday, July 7, 2009

Life update

It’s been some time since I’ve posted, not out of an intent to ignore my readers (what few must remain!) or this journal, but only because I’ve been both busy and feeling a tad vulnerable.

The past month has seen my daughter baptized (and what a fiasco the was having so many people over – the gifts she received just about covered the cost of tossing a weekend long party for twenty people), my job transitioning to the west coast, without me, and then of course the whole falling down the stairs, laid up, physical therapy thing (maybe a week left of that?).

Toss in a job search in the middle of the worst recession since the Great Depression and the stress has been interesting.

It’s not that I’m feeling over-burdened (I’m not), but more scared that there is some other celestial boot anticipating my next move and gleefully preparing to clobber me about the head. Fear? Quite probably. Self-doubt? There is some present. I think though that my lack of writing really comes down to feeling vulnerable.

When I write I open my heart and mind to try and create powerful words that have meaning and impact, purpose and resonance, and accessing those parts of my mind and soul can sometimes be dangerous. I don’t always like laying everything out here for people to see, and while that was the whole point of starting Courage I am feeling reluctant to do so now. Maybe it’s the whole primal John Wayne-father syndrome (MUST BE STRONG FOR FAMILY, GROK!), I don’t know, but this entry is a step in confronting it.

And no, this wasn’t a planned entry, and I didn’t proof read – stream of consciousness, baby! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, as Ric Flair says!

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