|
|
Tuesday, June 21st, 2005
| |
8:00 pm
|
i find myself here again--
unsure of what to do with my apparent
disbelief in happiness.
it is not love that I do not believe exists
it is the IN love part i struggle with.
you marry the one for whom you have
fallen
but look at all those bruises from all
the other times you have fallen before
what makes this different?
is it just the choice that is different?
the 'well-we-are-in-for-it-now-heres-a-ring-forever' decision
that makes this one THE one
different from all the ones before?
and i read what i write and i hear fear
and i hear reluctance and even maybe dis-contentment
and they are not what i feel...
well maybe fear...
these matters of the heart are not familiar to me
i have no bruises
i have only refused to fall
and now wonder at the consequences of choosing to no
longer refuse
you see a sign in the clouds and i think of signs
i know you have seen before
and then i remember signs i've seen
and i wonder if it's a game of connect-the-dots or
if it is really make-it-up-as-you-go but justify it along the way.
i am happy
these are just thoughts.
wonderings.
which cause me to wonder at my inability to believe in
happiness.
i feel happy and question it.
when really i just want to lie under that tree again and listen
to the thunderstorm...
feeling safe...
...with you stopping some of the rain from hitting my face...
|
|
(1 comment | comment on this)
|
| Thursday, June 16th, 2005
| |
8:06 pm
|
The thing is,
I know that I am searching--
not accepting what is
and looking for what *might* be.
It's the mights in my life that
get me out of bed in the morning.
My kids at work are amusedly disgusted that
I do not own a hairbrush.
Sometimes I wonder if they didn't meet me
if they would ever meet someone who was
not like them...or strive for what they strive for.
Someone without straightners and trendy trainers
Someone without a shiny car and without clubbing stories
(at least proper ones)
Someone who doesn't like shoes and eats funny vegetables
and laughs at things that are not funny.
I am not this great answer to homeless teenagers
and I don't have the love to offer them that they are dying for
and I fail them regularly.
But I am not quite like everyone else in Lancashire
(being canadian and all)
and maybe that helps too.
hhmmmmm.
after a day of allowing the weather to cry for me
i am happy again.
|
|
(2 comments | comment on this)
|
| Tuesday, June 14th, 2005
| |
9:38 am
|
i am so sad.
sad that feels like my treehouse has just
fallen out of my tree--
knowing there is no one to blame
but that it cannot be fixed,
wishing desperately for a fairy godmother
to spring from out of a blossom
and blink away my troubles
that are not troubles but really
just disappointment
that makes me sad
because i will now disappoint someone else.
i hate it when i have to make grown up decisions.
there are times to be wild and reckless but i am afraid
this might not be one of them.
|
|
(comment on this)
|
| Saturday, June 11th, 2005
| |
4:35 pm
|
Nausea wells.
The sad state of your body language
echoes the despair building inside of me.
And I have to ask you to go,
knowing full well that for you, going leads to nowhere
When every child should have a home.
And another, who feels the weight of mistakes
Something overlooked bears consequence on him, not i.
The elation of this past week deflates as the result of a
pin-prick in an over-swelled balloon.
I asked for lessons of humility and love
they find me here.
.i weep and yet my eyes are dry.
|
|
(1 comment | comment on this)
|
| Wednesday, June 8th, 2005
| |
5:47 pm
|
I think i heard you say that
just one percent of the money that all
of those countries spent on weapons of mass destruction
would education the world.
I think I heard you say that
your mummy hit you in the face
when you were two.
I think I heard you say that
the opposite to love is selfishness
I think I heard you say that
you sacrificed your only child
what kind of world is this?
what kind of girl am I?
above all I want to love them
but i know that i do not
and cannot.
without you.
.i want to learn.
is this me being taught?
|
|
(comment on this)
|
| Friday, June 3rd, 2005
| |
11:44 pm
|
'... And what if Jesus, after he got here, frequented homeless shelters and bars and ate and drank with the kinds of culutres evangelicals have declared war against? And what if, when he came like a thief in the night, he came very quietly so that nobody noticed, and what if, crime of all crimes, he was ugly and when he went on CNN producers were uncomfortable with his appearance and only shot himi from the waist up in a certain light. And what if, when he answered questions, he talked with a hick accent, and only spoke in parables that nobody could understand, and what if...'
the snob in me was revealed reading these words.
have mercy.
|
|
(1 comment | comment on this)
|
| |
10:20 pm
|
I woke this morning on the floor of a house belonging
to three boys I met the night before, in a city three hours
away from my own.
I was there because the evening before I had
received a phone call 'Shirah. I'm in your country.'
And within the hour I was on a train heading to meet him.
*running up the street to hug you was like returning to myself*
*i forgot what it felt like to love the way we're supposed to
but not as boy and girl*
Seeing you, here, in my new country...amidst the chaos of my
mind was so stabilising. 'No, you cannot live like that--trapped
inside your mind.'
You see, you know me.
Me.
And you came like you said you would.
And we talked about Henri Nouwen and about the
boy and the girl in our respective lives.
And I didn't have to worry like I did, because it changed nothing
except the skewing of reality that was occuring in my head.
I like your response to the comments they've always made
'We were made like each other, not for each other'
I'm glad we didn't get that confused back then, because it is
so essential now.
the adventures...
only just began my friends.
sometimes the trainrides that go nowhere in the end
turn out to be the most important ones you ever take.
|
|
(comment on this)
|
| Tuesday, May 31st, 2005
| |
7:14 pm
|
tomorrow is inevitably too late.
i must begin,
for i tire of my habit of saying
that which
is so obviously not my reality.
if i love it so much, why do i not do it?
aha.
there you go.
I will do it.
i will do it now.
i will risk myself as it is all i have to give
and i am tired of hoarding and waiting and longing
for that which i refuse to find.
i can do anything?
fine.
here i go.
i will do it.
i will do it now.
and if i want to keep that suffocated feeling that
i have forgotten isn't necessary at bay
i will continue doing it
despite the consequences
despite the rejection i will inevitably come across.
i will do it.
i will do it now.
that my friends, is why we live.
to do
not just to talk about.
|
|
(1 comment | comment on this)
|
| Thursday, May 26th, 2005
| |
7:37 pm
|
I used to know a woman named Janice.
I liked her a lot.
She was kind of my boss, simply because my
actual boss was off sick for 6 weeks (my entire time
working there)...but how we laughed together.
Janice showed me that she loved me by saving
portions of her chow mein (she was a chef) from the
customers and sending them home with me...and by
making her scrumptious vegetarian lasagne as oftenly
as possible right before the weekend (which is when I got
free food).
Janice called me whimsical one day...as I flew into work
in my new floral dress (that I got a few sizes too big, assuming
I'd grow into it...she laughed) and my floppy straw hat from
Florence...
that was nicest compliment i think I've ever gotten.
she compared me to virginia woolf. I think that's where
my interest in her writings started.
if Janice said so, I wanted to be like her.
I thought today, as I walked around sunny preston with
my messy hair and my skirt over my pants and my strawberry-stained
fingers as I tried, unsuccessfully, to daintily eat my strawberries,
that she'd say it of me if she saw me now. The more I thought
about it...the more i floated around in my rubber green shoes.
I don't want to lose my detachment from reality...it turns out.
I'd rather assume that people are like me, than know that they are
tearing me apart behind my back. I am what I am. What you see is
what you get. It may get messy sometimes but ... I'd rather be in
your face than considered evil...
janice... i hope she still listens to dr. hook and dances
around the kitchen when she thinks no one is watching.
|
|
(2 comments | comment on this)
|
| Tuesday, May 24th, 2005
| |
9:27 am
|
my eyes are open
and I look ahead --
to what? to whom? To where?
last night we spoke boldly of empowerment
of strength of character
of building that in others.
what do I believe?
what is important?
what are my values?
if i were to have a child, what would I want them to
learn about life at an early age?
i wonder sometimes if my ideas do
not always match my actions.
too often i allow myself to slump
when i long to soar.
i value inspiration.
i value honesty...*integrity*
i value love? ... do i believe in it?
i value creativity ...do i practice it?
i value discipline
i value freedom ... do i exercise it?
...
and much much more
|
|
(comment on this)
|
| Saturday, May 21st, 2005
| |
9:44 pm
|
you marry tomorrow
i wonder what you're thinking
life isn't what it was, is it?
did we know it would be this way?
i am relaxed now about this funny
development in my life
and i think the tears that well for you
are pride and excitement...
tinged by a slight sense of loss
perhaps as much loss of the past as loss of you.
no one told me that growing up felt this way--
a funny combination of hope, bewilderment, sadness,
accomplishment and joy.
bewilderment takes the wheel these days.
congratulations...
|
|
(comment on this)
|
| Sunday, May 15th, 2005
| |
5:50 pm
|
my eyes close
my hearing fades
and my body shuts down
as my brain pumps away
trying to withdraw
resulting in overpowering
feelings of bewilderment.
'you', whoever you are
have always said that i can
do and be anything
and i am not like them
and i have dreams
but these 'cans' and differents
and dreams are what haunt
me
and push further towards
hiding from all that i am
and all that i am not
my ability to focus fades
i long for clarity but know
the whole time that it is me
who shuts it out.
i know the cost of going
but what worries me is the
cost of not...
|
|
(comment on this)
|
| Saturday, May 14th, 2005
| |
9:50 am
|
I find myself surrounded by people
with marketable skills -- marketable degrees
and I feel myself floundering.
*I yearn for a touch of clarity*
I do nothing. Yes I have a job which is
quite a miracle of a job
But it is not a long term option
I think
And all of the things I dream of
Are not financial options
FINANCES SUCK
Do I care? No. Only that I am able
to eat and be clothed
...
but even still I should make a choice
head in a direction
run...dance twirl...
somewhere
leaving my options open
really leaves them closed.
the problem is that the
things i really want are the scariest.
|
|
(2 comments | comment on this)
|
| Saturday, April 30th, 2005
| |
1:29 pm
|
shoulds
shouldn'ts
echo in my mind--
this tension building
sleeping and waking
neither brings peace.
is it me...or is it this
is it healing that i require
or am i pushing for what
is not really there?
I am not convinced that I am okay.
Panic and uncertainty have returned in full force.
The impulse to run beats steadily in my veins.
What was the trigger?
...
or
...
or
was it the way in which my eyes welled up with
tears and I couldn't bear to look at you?
you see...I am not fixed...there are so many layers of
this lifelong dilemma that you have not even seen yet. How
can I let myself be free when I don't like, or love or trust myself?
But obviously I cannot fix these things on my own--I've tried and failed.
FAILED. There you are. I fail. And the problem is you were not there
that day when I screamed at God asking why he fucked up when he made
me. And yet you unknowingly speak against it.
I do not even dare to ask for patience because I am not convinced
there is a cure. Maybe it's your turn to run.
|
|
(2 comments | comment on this)
|
| Wednesday, April 27th, 2005
| |
5:43 pm
|
Close your eyes--
what do you see?
what do you smell?
what is touching your skin?
My heart races with busy-ness as
I scurry around my purple accented office
like a mad hatter
or
worse
standing by that river last night did me
a world of good,
despite its brevity
(caused by a noise sounding far too much like
a large cat...who even know that there is such a thing
as an ocelot?)
we'll simply look for bigger adventures
closer by for awhile, don't fret.
or maybe it was the coupland book i read today
or maybe the funny conversation with the artsy boy
who wants me to play in his art
or maybe it's the chance I am being given to offer hope
to one I desperately long to save
or maybe it's you...
breathe.
reach up as high as you can and higher still.
let go.
of all of it.
of yourself.
breathe.
|
|
(1 comment | comment on this)
|
| Sunday, April 24th, 2005
| |
4:43 pm
|
I feel separated from my mind,
and distant from my boday today.
Tiredness haunts my eyes.
I have lots of questions today.
Like, why is it such a big deal that I am
un-interested in going to heaven?
So many times I get the response that why
would I be a christian, what is the point with
no heaven...but I don't love, obey or whatever
God so that I win some sort of eternity. I believe in
His princples. I am awed by His presence. Overwhelmed
by His grace, that I know i don't even understand.
Eternity has nothing to do with how I live my life. I'm
not after this great reward. I do it because I believe in it.
That's the point. I am giving all I have, even if that's just 80
years of existence.
And I'm tired of feefling like there's something wrong with
me because of it.
*I'd really like to sleep for a few weeks*
|
|
(4 comments | comment on this)
|
| Friday, April 22nd, 2005
| |
6:33 pm
|
As I sit here I slowly begin to
listen to my breath
Soon it becomes all that i hear
and a covering of calm
settles over me
i feel my spine straighten,
my shoulders unhunch
and my mind races in peaceful
activity.
Visions of colour and beauty
flash before my eyes.
How quickly and how often (ly)
I lose this place.
This surrendering and taking
back of control.
It is listening to my breath that
I remember to feel inspired.
I think I'm perculating.
I think something big is going to emerge.
*I cannot wait*
and
*I am terrified*
|
|
(2 comments | comment on this)
|
| Wednesday, April 20th, 2005
| |
9:07 am
|
you see the evidence of her brokeness
as she rolls up her sleeves,
each centimeter of self-inflicted wound
bearing her weakness
that fights against the sparkle in her
strong green eyes.
they forgot to tell me what my line is when
she says that she wants to die.
her mind fights her addiction
as we play jenga and talk about art
all i have to offer is distraction
not solution
although i have a Solution
that i cannot share
or is that i choose not?
they forgot to tell me the rules
for the game of life versus death
and then my eyes shut...
what will they open to find?
|
|
(1 comment | comment on this)
|
| Tuesday, April 19th, 2005
| |
7:19 pm
|
My fingers linger over the keys, just as
they have long lingered over my journal at
home.
Thoughts rush forward.
Things I want to exclaim.
What holds me back?
I wish you could see inside my mind,
for just a minute.
For just long enough to tell me that it's
okay.
That I'm not alone in my 'irrational' (hopefully)
confusion.
And then maybe it wouldn't hurt you when i
step away, drop your hand, and fail to mention
just precisely who you are in my introductions.
It's just that...my happiness is followed by immediate
doubt.
Fear that I'm following but not feeling
but how can I feel when for so long I've forbid
myself the option?
I wish that for just one moment you would see
where I have come from,
and understand.
My words do nothing to convey what I mean.
I don't want to hide anymore
but I've forgotten what it feels like to be seen.
|
|
(2 comments | comment on this)
|
| Thursday, April 14th, 2005
| |
10:40 pm
|
there are certain rules
i laid down long ago
and although you have
shattered just a few of my
barriers
i wonder what will come
of the rest?
some are still important
still valid, and
yet my self-righteous stance
behind them quickly dissipates
as you infiltrate my thoughts
and short-circuit my brain.
one day at a time...
|
|
(comment on this)
|
|
|
|
|