Heavy

I am feeling the heaviness. The weight of broken relationships, the gravity of choices made in situ, the reverberating impact. I wish I could explain. I wish I could convey "the why," wish I could find a listening ear instead of a lecturing voice.

I wish I could reconnect instead of splicing the wire, one small thread at a time. If only I was enough. If only my actions were consistent; but aren't they? Is it not obvious that this is a struggle for me? It's not cut and dry. It's hard. It's heavy. It's ugly. Nobody chooses to do this to themselves or those around them; I know my choices have led to this, but I never intended for things to hurt anybody like this.

I wish I could convey the struggle. The tension. That this is not at all cut-and-dry. It's not black and white. That I desperately want to make things right. That I don't want to isolate.

I really am like a wrecking ball. I wanted to bring healing and hope, and here I've brought destruction in all directions. How do I repair with my tiny needle and thread what has been demolished in one fell swoop with a giant mass of steel? How do I do right by the people I've wronged? I can't go back, I can't return to where I started. I can't rewind... and pretending that can happen isn't going to help any of us.

Grace

Walking with God. Seeking Life. What is God?
What does it look like to reflect God? -- Image the divine?
Reflect back grace where there is ungrace.
There are no boxes here, but opened.
God is love, God is truth-teller, speaker of the voiceless.
God is mercy, gives undeserved grace, rains refreshing life down on "good" and "bad"
alike.
God is Life. Where there is life, look for God.
What does it look like to reflect God? -- Image the divine? What is God?
Food for the hungry (all must eat). Water for the thirsty (I'm so thirsty). Clothes for the bare-skinned, comfort to the despairing, hope for the hopeless, strength for the
week...
What does it look like to reflect God? What is God?
Hope in more than this moment. Happiness in more than this fleeting moment. Fulfillment in more than this fleeting fucking moment.
Who is this Hope? Who is this Life? Who is this Living Water? Where can this God be found?
Breaking the cycles of ungrace. Breaking the cycles of entitlement
and judgement. Breaking the cycles of poverty. Breaking the silence. Where is this voice?
Walking with God. Seeking Life. What is God? What does it look like to image the divine?

What about the flaws? the mistakes. the misgivings. the broken trust. the broken promises. the rigid fears of disappointing, of judgment, of anger, of rejection. what about the daily failures? the apathy. the hurt. the impatience. What does it look like to reflect God with these present? Image the divine where there is a broken reflection, and shards, and blood, and anger, and fear...?

God is Life. Walking with God. Seeking Life.

Messenger

My work is loving the world.
Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird--
     equal seekers of sweetness.
Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums.
Here the clam deep in the speckled sand.

Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?
Am I no longer young, and still not half-perfect? Let me
     keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work,

which is mostly standing still and learning to be
     astonished.
The phoebe, the delphinium.
The sheep in the pasture, and the pasture.
Which is mostly rejoicing, since all the ingredients are here,

which is gratitude, to be given a mind and a heart
     and these body-clothes,
a mouth with which to give shouts of joy
     to the moth and the wren, to the sleepy dug-up clam,
telling them all, over and over, how it is
     that we live forever.

-Mary Oliver

Nothing is far from God.

-St. Monica

sadness

today i am sad. i need sleep, but feel myself fighting it. fighting to not sleep, to not rest, to not settle in. Stretched out on the couch, cat on my belly, comfy t-shirt, bare feet, heart tunes. So comf, but... not quite. Not... complete.

my reflections today have revealed something. i realize now what i fear most. 

i'm not afraid to be a lesbian, not afraid to be divorced, not even afraid to disappoint people. what i fear most is losing influence. let me flesh this out. when people are around me, i want them to be comfortable, to feel welcome, to feel okay. by choosing a less traditional path, i think i fear losing that... "comfortableness." i've never been an extremist, because I have seen that people have extreme reactions to extremists, dismissing valid points made because they feel so uncomfortable by the assertiveness of the total. they dont listen, just continue on. i have wanted to be more subtle, trusted, within normal limits, and from that point speak into situations and bring change. a trusted voice, a steady and gentle persuasion. i'm afraid of losing my [perceived] ability to influence. the ability to affect people. the power to plant seeds and new ideas.

maybe it's the "fear of disappearing."

but is this reasonable? would this happen? who am i thinking i influence anyway? mainstream americans... i guess i just can't predict. my friends, normal american families, teens in the midst of teenage angst... i dont know. i guess i want to be that cool sweet girl who people trust, and i fear that these decisions would destroy the trust, and i disappear.

i miss her sounding board, to bounce these fears off, to hear if any of this makes sense.

sleep. that is what i need right now. sleep.

.my heart.

why are you sleeping in my ventricles?

moon

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xDf2JZXrCsQ&feature=share&list=PLC_6q-UlQMS2CRw32yxfRa86vyeDhVTL5

.saturday.

I turn to late-night conversations, laughter and honesty combined.
I turn to early-morning coolness and dew, speaking of hope, new every day.
I turn to cat, who trusts in me day in and day out.
I turn to music, keeping the beat to my heart, my feelings, my body.
I turn to sleep, resting my weary self, though restless, being the empty half of a whole.
I turn to work, to engage my hands and brain in service, something other than these thoughts that turn over and over, concluding the same each time but not sure how.
I turn to prayer, which feel so familiar, yet so foreign, and I try to open my heart up from its clam shells closed tight.
I sleep, I clean, I hydrate, I walk, I work, I sleep, all the while checking for the text that isn't there, the call that I know isn't coming, the missing hug that would hold me, the look that makes my heart shift within it's cage...
I know I could do this indefinitely, just me, just the rhythm of my heart, my routines, and I could be okay. But I miss so much the color of her lips
the depth of her eyes
the softness of her cheeks
the smell of her skin
the feel of her frame next to mine.
The thoughts shared in process, in hope, in fear, in truth.
The connection between us, that strong bond of her heart and mine.
Presence. So much in one person.

So much...

time

time. solitude. rest.

how strangely refreshing it is, simply caring for the things around me, tending to health, nurturing beauty.

problems

could it be an addiction, as to a substance, abused?  

could it stem from abandonment as a child, first as a little girl waiting for the ship to come home, and later as a little girl holding flowers feeling angry for being angry? 

could it possibly be that hers were the arms that held me? my nest, my safety, and let me be me, unquestioningly let me question what that meant?

could it be an undiagnosed emotional disorder, gone unmedicated?

could it be fear of losing the one that kept fear away?

was it guilt, from what? rebellion? against norms, against traditions, against boxes imposed? confusion? 

who is this girl? so easily tossed by the winds? swayed by the voices in the air? 

who is this?

who am i?

LB

.wednesday.

How do I get through all this with my self intact?

LB

(For now, I live it one day at a time.)