Life is so full of opportunities to live on the edge of the knife. Balancing on a thin blade that sometimes slices you up; other times you gently float away to avoid harm. This tiny little line is your redemption so you cling to it... this tiny little border between you and what scares you to pieces.
There is so much poetry in your denial. There are so many times you can shout and not be heard, or otherwise scream and shatter your lungs. I can't say I've done it all, but I've done most if it. And every time I close my eyes, the images surface of things that want to live... the little wolves posing as sheep, just waiting for me to climb down into the ravine so they can shed their wee fluffy costumes.
If you wake me up, I will suffocate you. If you take me up, I will take you down. If you chase me I will run, but if you run I will evaporate. If you evaporate, I will collect your molecules for a science experiment or a cake recipe. And around and around we go.
Some things are just too beautiful to ignore. The beauty that throws me against the wall and takes my breath is in essence the thing I can't live without. That is truly the most exceptional elegance of human existence. A glossy film that keeps your blood out of the streets and puts it, instead, onto the canvas. There is a place to lay my head. It is a place that my heart beats without the rest of me even being present. The knife's edge... the living, the dying, and the in-between.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Monday, December 27, 2010
My Glorious Salt Water Beginnings
I come from the sea. I am a sea creature... I throw myself into the ocean only to feel catapulted back into the womb. She is my true birth mother, full of vivid colors and wild animals swirling about. I understand her mood swings, powerfully charged emotions and deep seated need to take me under and swallow me whole. I know that she won't give up until she owns me and dissolves me completely.
This explains my hesitation to commit myself to her in any type of formal relationship. It exists anyway, with no need for proclamations or grand gestures on my part. She greets me with a great show of excitement and affection, always with her waters threatening to suffocate me. I visit and submerge myself in her embrace; I tread lightly on her surface, always knowing I am at risk of being engulfed by maternal filicide.
She recognizes one of her own, no matter how infrequent our encounters. Others clamor for her attention, but if they are not natives from her depths, they are rejected or treated with apathy.
But when we meet, we know. We both know.
This explains my hesitation to commit myself to her in any type of formal relationship. It exists anyway, with no need for proclamations or grand gestures on my part. She greets me with a great show of excitement and affection, always with her waters threatening to suffocate me. I visit and submerge myself in her embrace; I tread lightly on her surface, always knowing I am at risk of being engulfed by maternal filicide.
She recognizes one of her own, no matter how infrequent our encounters. Others clamor for her attention, but if they are not natives from her depths, they are rejected or treated with apathy.
But when we meet, we know. We both know.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Raw Baby Baba
I fed Eugene some of my raw baba ghanoush, and he was unimpressed. I added some Sparkle Powder and drops of Infinite Patience and he was very pleased with the changes. We agreed it was a success. He had two servings!
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Creatified
I need to harness that energy - that moment with NB. It was such an intense experience, and when I left, I was so renewed. I had such an openness about making art.
Now, I just feel used up. Sleeping. Where there was a longing, there is an open meadow. Where there was rabid desire... there is now white light and soft clouds. No anger, no angst... just bliss. And every time I look at white canvas space, I think, "Yes. White. That's fine just as it is." No desire to make color, make line, make image, make life.
I still see things before I go to sleep, but the desire to catch them in a net and fling them onto the canvas has escaped. Escaped me. I want the net to catch me, and fling me. Upward, toward those clouds. Toward the whiteness. Toward light that has no line, no image.
Fling me. Fling me hard.
Now, I just feel used up. Sleeping. Where there was a longing, there is an open meadow. Where there was rabid desire... there is now white light and soft clouds. No anger, no angst... just bliss. And every time I look at white canvas space, I think, "Yes. White. That's fine just as it is." No desire to make color, make line, make image, make life.
I still see things before I go to sleep, but the desire to catch them in a net and fling them onto the canvas has escaped. Escaped me. I want the net to catch me, and fling me. Upward, toward those clouds. Toward the whiteness. Toward light that has no line, no image.
Fling me. Fling me hard.
Monday, August 2, 2010
The Power of Sparkle
Eugene here. The Girl has taken a break to run off some energy created by an internal tsunami of sorts.
Now, not to be an armchair Pegasus Psychologist, but today there were some pretty intense conversations at Race Training, and I attempted to give my winged brethren a bit of a motivational speech. Some of the Silver Colt squad we were complaining about the rigorous nature of the obstacle course for this year's Round Realm Tournament. I overheard their grumblings, and had to have a chat with them regarding the effect this would have on the morale of the Red Foals observing the trials.
Every single day is a new day to begin again. Pegasi were never meant to sit around all day fanning themselves and eating Sparkle Power Victory Cakes™. We were meant to FLY - and to fly as high and as fast as we can. Some of our kind are not as fast as others, and many of them never make it to the finals, let alone the Round Realm Tournament - but they make great trainers, nurturers, scorekeepers, cheerleaders and companions. We Champion Pegasi would be lost without our loyal instructors by our sides, who are often hampered by old flight injuries or bone growth disorders, reading to us from Ye Olde Peglore Book of Flight and coaching us to "Go higher seeking Glory!"... which is a little disconcerting because my old Universe of Champions roommate (and sometimes nuzzle mate) was named Glory. But I digress...
There are so many Pegasi that would love to do what we Champions do... see what we see. But for various unfortunate circumstances, they cannot and never will. We must fly for them. We must be their wings. We have to make sure that the legacy of what makes our kind Magical lives on on the hearts of those in our community who are less fortunate. If we do this, we will truly attain the Regal Mind and Sacred Heart that our revered mentor, Galaxy Bo, wrote about all those years ago... and that our professors tried so desperately to instill in us when we were in school.
We might stumble now and then, go tumbling though the air, wing over wing... but we can steady ourselves with a little help and a lot of determination (okay, okay... and also the occasional Sparkle Power Victory Cake™.)
I made all of this very clear to the Silver Colt squad and then I couldn't help but chime in, as awkward as it was, when they excitedly started chanting, "Go higher seeking Glory!" and soared into the air.
Just another day at the track.
Sincerely Yours,
Eugene (Champion Pegasus, Golden Elite Squad)
Now, not to be an armchair Pegasus Psychologist, but today there were some pretty intense conversations at Race Training, and I attempted to give my winged brethren a bit of a motivational speech. Some of the Silver Colt squad we were complaining about the rigorous nature of the obstacle course for this year's Round Realm Tournament. I overheard their grumblings, and had to have a chat with them regarding the effect this would have on the morale of the Red Foals observing the trials.
Every single day is a new day to begin again. Pegasi were never meant to sit around all day fanning themselves and eating Sparkle Power Victory Cakes™. We were meant to FLY - and to fly as high and as fast as we can. Some of our kind are not as fast as others, and many of them never make it to the finals, let alone the Round Realm Tournament - but they make great trainers, nurturers, scorekeepers, cheerleaders and companions. We Champion Pegasi would be lost without our loyal instructors by our sides, who are often hampered by old flight injuries or bone growth disorders, reading to us from Ye Olde Peglore Book of Flight and coaching us to "Go higher seeking Glory!"... which is a little disconcerting because my old Universe of Champions roommate (and sometimes nuzzle mate) was named Glory. But I digress...
There are so many Pegasi that would love to do what we Champions do... see what we see. But for various unfortunate circumstances, they cannot and never will. We must fly for them. We must be their wings. We have to make sure that the legacy of what makes our kind Magical lives on on the hearts of those in our community who are less fortunate. If we do this, we will truly attain the Regal Mind and Sacred Heart that our revered mentor, Galaxy Bo, wrote about all those years ago... and that our professors tried so desperately to instill in us when we were in school.
We might stumble now and then, go tumbling though the air, wing over wing... but we can steady ourselves with a little help and a lot of determination (okay, okay... and also the occasional Sparkle Power Victory Cake™.)
I made all of this very clear to the Silver Colt squad and then I couldn't help but chime in, as awkward as it was, when they excitedly started chanting, "Go higher seeking Glory!" and soared into the air.
Just another day at the track.
Sincerely Yours,
Eugene (Champion Pegasus, Golden Elite Squad)
Friday, July 30, 2010
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Charlie
You came rushing toward me, screaming obscenities and flailing your arms about. You were so obviously damaged and agitated. The sounds threw you against the wall and the fluorescent lights overhead sucked out your eyes. I held my breath; my skin was suddenly on fire. I looked straight into the holes where your eyes once were and hoped desperately for any hint of embers. "Come with me, Charlie," I said sweetly, concealing my fear... "You just came through the wrong door, that's all."
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
How You Become Me
I cross paths with them over and over again. Different names, but sometimes they resemble someone else from my past. Same eyes, different smile, different religion. Or no religion. And they are as if I imagined them - erased them - and then wrote the character differently. No, no... he wouldn't say that... she would never do that... they wouldn't look like that. So I change a shirt, they change the sheets, she sips water with lemon and he smokes a cigar. He abruptly pushes the chair back from the table and says it was a delicious meal, but he simply must get back to Milan. They climb the stairs and he stops to listen stories of the rats as they chew on something he can't see because it is too dark. She tries to hide the glitter on her skin as she makes her way to the shower while he has his back turned. He wonders why there isn't a note in his pocket. She thinks about the babies that drowned.
No matter what happens - if you choose this ending - you will have to accept the choices you made that got you there. Here, there, and everywhere.
No matter what happens - if you choose this ending - you will have to accept the choices you made that got you there. Here, there, and everywhere.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
This Tree
An ode to a tree
So cliche and pathetic
and
Genuinely expressed
Hoisting ourselves
Into the branches
Defacing lovers' names
Smearing mud across their
Jaggedly carved letters
Later I carved my lover's name
Into my skin
To know what it was like
To be a tree
I am this tree
So cliche and pathetic
and
Genuinely expressed
Climbed
Defaced
Carved into
Ignored by
Insolent passersby
Revered and embraced by
Children and artists
Keeper of dreams
Silent witness to violence
Monument of memories
Ladder to the heavens
You are this tree
So cliche and pathetic
and
Genuinely expressed
So cliche and pathetic
and
Genuinely expressed
Hoisting ourselves
Into the branches
Defacing lovers' names
Smearing mud across their
Jaggedly carved letters
Later I carved my lover's name
Into my skin
To know what it was like
To be a tree
I am this tree
So cliche and pathetic
and
Genuinely expressed
Climbed
Defaced
Carved into
Ignored by
Insolent passersby
Revered and embraced by
Children and artists
Keeper of dreams
Silent witness to violence
Monument of memories
Ladder to the heavens
You are this tree
So cliche and pathetic
and
Genuinely expressed
Saturday, June 26, 2010
La Luz de Mi Vida
Buzz has heard the words, "When I went to Spain..." so many times in our life together, surely at this point he cringes. I often recount the tale of my trip to Spain (which occurred almost ten years ago, right after we had met and started dating) in a way that makes it out to be one of the most profound moments in my life. Maybe because it was.
Traveling, for me, was the most amazing adventure you could ever have. Every destination held something sacred... newness and the potential for anonymous incidents of art and romance. Different cultures, foods, architecture... all adding to your life as if your existence is shaped like a puzzle of the globe and every new place welcomes you to retrieve it.
However, up until that trip I had never flown before. I have an intense fear of flying, and I mean... INTENSE. My life had always been defined by this particular handicap, and it meant that there were very few options for me to travel overseas. But this trip was special: it was subsidized by my honors program in college and would not cost me very much, and it was timed coincidentally with my divorce from my first husband. I hopped on that plane with hesitation, yes... but also determination to start over.
The take off was tough, and I was terrified for quite some time. Eventually I had a glass of wine and trailed off to sleep. At some point, I woke up and people were standing up, looking out the windows. Immediately my heart started pounding... there was an eerie light in cabin... what were they looking at??? What had happened???
I leaned way over, out of my seat (too afraid to unbuckle my seatbelt) and asked another passenger, "What's going on?" and she smiled and said, "They are all looking at the beautiful sunrise," and gestured for me to come closer. I unbuckled my belt and clumsily made my way to her window seat and looked out. Instantly, my eyes were accosted by the brightest pink glowing light I've ever seen... we were flying over a perfect blanket of hot-pink clouds that covered the entire sky from horizon to horizon. I smiled. The pace of my heartbeat slowed. The passenger smiled. The entire cabin united in that moment of awe. We were one.
When I returned from that trip, I was a changed person. I had come to terms with the ending of my previous marriage, and I was ready to move forward with my new love and hoped for the very best from that blossoming relationship. I wanted to be stronger and less afraid.
Since then, I've flown thousands of miles, to many different destinations. And even though I am still afraid (oh trust me, glasses of wine are still consumed) I get on the plane and I go anyway. Because the fear is nothing... NOTHING compared to the love in my heart and the light of my life, sitting next to me. My then "blossoming relationship" became a fully functioning I'm-still-madly-in-love-with-you-after-all-these-years marriage, and new adventures await us both if we can face our fears together.
Just ask Eugene: if you can, you simply have to fly.
Traveling, for me, was the most amazing adventure you could ever have. Every destination held something sacred... newness and the potential for anonymous incidents of art and romance. Different cultures, foods, architecture... all adding to your life as if your existence is shaped like a puzzle of the globe and every new place welcomes you to retrieve it.
However, up until that trip I had never flown before. I have an intense fear of flying, and I mean... INTENSE. My life had always been defined by this particular handicap, and it meant that there were very few options for me to travel overseas. But this trip was special: it was subsidized by my honors program in college and would not cost me very much, and it was timed coincidentally with my divorce from my first husband. I hopped on that plane with hesitation, yes... but also determination to start over.
The take off was tough, and I was terrified for quite some time. Eventually I had a glass of wine and trailed off to sleep. At some point, I woke up and people were standing up, looking out the windows. Immediately my heart started pounding... there was an eerie light in cabin... what were they looking at??? What had happened???
I leaned way over, out of my seat (too afraid to unbuckle my seatbelt) and asked another passenger, "What's going on?" and she smiled and said, "They are all looking at the beautiful sunrise," and gestured for me to come closer. I unbuckled my belt and clumsily made my way to her window seat and looked out. Instantly, my eyes were accosted by the brightest pink glowing light I've ever seen... we were flying over a perfect blanket of hot-pink clouds that covered the entire sky from horizon to horizon. I smiled. The pace of my heartbeat slowed. The passenger smiled. The entire cabin united in that moment of awe. We were one.
When I returned from that trip, I was a changed person. I had come to terms with the ending of my previous marriage, and I was ready to move forward with my new love and hoped for the very best from that blossoming relationship. I wanted to be stronger and less afraid.
Since then, I've flown thousands of miles, to many different destinations. And even though I am still afraid (oh trust me, glasses of wine are still consumed) I get on the plane and I go anyway. Because the fear is nothing... NOTHING compared to the love in my heart and the light of my life, sitting next to me. My then "blossoming relationship" became a fully functioning I'm-still-madly-in-love-with-you-after-all-these-years marriage, and new adventures await us both if we can face our fears together.
Just ask Eugene: if you can, you simply have to fly.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
LOST Ending
If you are not a fan of LOST, you might as well exit now. Really, this post will be of no interest to you. It will bore you. You won't get it.
However, if you stick around long enough, you might get *something* from the post.
The other night I had a very complex and beautiful dream, and it was structured as the End of LOST:
There is a battle going on between the remaining Oceanic Flight 815 passengers and the Others. It is dark, and you can hear gunfire and people screaming in the distance. Jack, Kate and Sawyer are huddled together in the jungle just outside the Others' community of houses. Ben is inside one of the houses, and Jack needs to get to him and finally learn the truth about the Island. He asks Kate and Sawyer to cover him as he makes his way to Ben. They exchange knowing looks, as if this will be the last time they see one another.
As Jack gets closer to the house, it begins to get brighter outside, and he is a bit confused because dawn shouldn't break for a few more hours. He hears gunfire erupt behind him, and makes a mad dash toward Ben's house.
When he gets inside, Ben is in the kitchen with his back to Jack, pouring himself some milk. There are cookies on the kitchen counter. He doesn't turn around as he says, "Help yourself to a cookie, Jack." Jack just stares at Ben and says nothing. Ben turns around, and with a sarcastic tone he asks, "Milk?"
"You know why I am here Ben."
"Yes, yes, Jack, I know why you are here. But I don't think you truly understand the difficult decision you are about to face."
"Help me understand it, then. What is the Island? The time has come for you to tell me." Jack gestures to the gun in his hand.
"Oh, threaten me all you want, it won't do any good. You can't harm me any more than I can harm you... and certainly anything you did to me would be nothing compared to what they have done."
"Who... Jacob? The Man in Black?"
Ben nods. "Okay Jack. I will tell you everything. But when I am finished, you will go. That isn't optional." Jack looks puzzled and frustrated, so Ben continues.
"You are dead. All the Oceanic Flight 815 passengers are dead. Your plane landed at the bottom of the ocean, but your souls landed here. You know the 'heaven' you learned about in Sunday school? Well, they didn't get it quite right. None of us did." He stares at a bookshelf full of spiritual and religious texts. "Everyone thought they had a clue." Jack just listens, and Ben goes on.
"You see, Jack, the afterlife is a choice, just like the choices you made in life prior to your death. Just like the choice you made not to eat a cookie. Just like the all the choices you've made here on the Island, thinking they mattered. Jacob and the Man in Black represent the good and evil in all of us - and the choices we make. They represent faith and skepticism, benevolence and passionate desire. They are the rulers, and we are their pawns."
"So why does it feel like I am still alive?"
"Because that is what the afterlife feels like for people who choose it. There is an eternal struggle between good and evil, faith and reason - and Jacob and the Man in Black have been battling since the beginning of time. So long ago that no one knows how it began - that is the only thing we got right about religion. That no one knows how it all started. Anyway, Jacob believes that humans will choose an afterlife for the purest of reasons - love. To spend eternity with the ones you love, and to live a peaceful, compassionate life full of altruism and joy. The Man in Black, however, argues that the only reason a person would choose an afterlife is for selfish reasons - greed, fear, hunger, sexual desire..." He trails off and takes a bite of his cookie. Mumbling through his chewing, he says, "You have a choice, Jack."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you can choose not to have an afterlife, and then you simply die. You let go. But the sacrifice is that you dissolve into nothingness and knowingly leave behind all the people you ever cared about. You will be done, and everything will go dark, and you will cease to exist. If you choose the afterlife, however, you can stay with your loved ones forever. You will eventually meet your other family members and friends here if they choose the afterlife too, and you will hear their stories and continue on with them. But, for this to happen, you also have to accept the terms of the Island life. Jacob and the Man in Black are at war with one another, and their dispute causes the souls here to get caught up in their 'tests'. For all eternity, there will be no peace while they continue their experiment to see who is right about why humans make the choices they do. They fill the Island with mysterious animals and sounds and trick the souls into situations that will determine their nature by the decisions they make. Kill or be killed. Heal or comfort or torture and maim... there will still be pain and suffering. Lots of it."
"So the only way to escape the Island, is to let go... and choose to let the end be the end."
"You got it." Ben smiled his snarky smile. "Many of your pals out there will never believe that they are even dead. You can't convince them."
"So what is your role in all of this?" Jack asked.
"Well, obviously I have my own reasons for staying here... I am not ready to go yet. And Jacob and the Man in Black... let's just say that they like to choose a 'go between' to administer their tests for the inhabitants here. I was a candidate, and then I got the job. Now, it seems, they are looking for other candidates. That is how most of you got here. Their experiment gets a little tricky out there in the real world. Sometimes the Rules can be bent. But you are here now, that is all that matters. The problem is, Jack... now you know the truth. What are you going to do? Jacob and the Man in Black won't let you disturb the other souls. You heard all those voices in the wind? Those are souls who learned the truth and the truth drove them mad. Ever heard of Lost Souls, Jack? Well, the Island is full of them. You'd be asking too much of them."
"So this is it?"
"Yes, Jack, this is your shining moment."
Jack turns and looks out the window. It is daylight now.
He walks outside. His intention is known. It just rained, and there is still mist in the air. A huge rainbow streaks across the sky. As he stares at the sky, the light gets brighter and brighter... and then...
nothing.
However, if you stick around long enough, you might get *something* from the post.
The other night I had a very complex and beautiful dream, and it was structured as the End of LOST:
There is a battle going on between the remaining Oceanic Flight 815 passengers and the Others. It is dark, and you can hear gunfire and people screaming in the distance. Jack, Kate and Sawyer are huddled together in the jungle just outside the Others' community of houses. Ben is inside one of the houses, and Jack needs to get to him and finally learn the truth about the Island. He asks Kate and Sawyer to cover him as he makes his way to Ben. They exchange knowing looks, as if this will be the last time they see one another.
As Jack gets closer to the house, it begins to get brighter outside, and he is a bit confused because dawn shouldn't break for a few more hours. He hears gunfire erupt behind him, and makes a mad dash toward Ben's house.
When he gets inside, Ben is in the kitchen with his back to Jack, pouring himself some milk. There are cookies on the kitchen counter. He doesn't turn around as he says, "Help yourself to a cookie, Jack." Jack just stares at Ben and says nothing. Ben turns around, and with a sarcastic tone he asks, "Milk?"
"You know why I am here Ben."
"Yes, yes, Jack, I know why you are here. But I don't think you truly understand the difficult decision you are about to face."
"Help me understand it, then. What is the Island? The time has come for you to tell me." Jack gestures to the gun in his hand.
"Oh, threaten me all you want, it won't do any good. You can't harm me any more than I can harm you... and certainly anything you did to me would be nothing compared to what they have done."
"Who... Jacob? The Man in Black?"
Ben nods. "Okay Jack. I will tell you everything. But when I am finished, you will go. That isn't optional." Jack looks puzzled and frustrated, so Ben continues.
"You are dead. All the Oceanic Flight 815 passengers are dead. Your plane landed at the bottom of the ocean, but your souls landed here. You know the 'heaven' you learned about in Sunday school? Well, they didn't get it quite right. None of us did." He stares at a bookshelf full of spiritual and religious texts. "Everyone thought they had a clue." Jack just listens, and Ben goes on.
"You see, Jack, the afterlife is a choice, just like the choices you made in life prior to your death. Just like the choice you made not to eat a cookie. Just like the all the choices you've made here on the Island, thinking they mattered. Jacob and the Man in Black represent the good and evil in all of us - and the choices we make. They represent faith and skepticism, benevolence and passionate desire. They are the rulers, and we are their pawns."
"So why does it feel like I am still alive?"
"Because that is what the afterlife feels like for people who choose it. There is an eternal struggle between good and evil, faith and reason - and Jacob and the Man in Black have been battling since the beginning of time. So long ago that no one knows how it began - that is the only thing we got right about religion. That no one knows how it all started. Anyway, Jacob believes that humans will choose an afterlife for the purest of reasons - love. To spend eternity with the ones you love, and to live a peaceful, compassionate life full of altruism and joy. The Man in Black, however, argues that the only reason a person would choose an afterlife is for selfish reasons - greed, fear, hunger, sexual desire..." He trails off and takes a bite of his cookie. Mumbling through his chewing, he says, "You have a choice, Jack."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you can choose not to have an afterlife, and then you simply die. You let go. But the sacrifice is that you dissolve into nothingness and knowingly leave behind all the people you ever cared about. You will be done, and everything will go dark, and you will cease to exist. If you choose the afterlife, however, you can stay with your loved ones forever. You will eventually meet your other family members and friends here if they choose the afterlife too, and you will hear their stories and continue on with them. But, for this to happen, you also have to accept the terms of the Island life. Jacob and the Man in Black are at war with one another, and their dispute causes the souls here to get caught up in their 'tests'. For all eternity, there will be no peace while they continue their experiment to see who is right about why humans make the choices they do. They fill the Island with mysterious animals and sounds and trick the souls into situations that will determine their nature by the decisions they make. Kill or be killed. Heal or comfort or torture and maim... there will still be pain and suffering. Lots of it."
"So the only way to escape the Island, is to let go... and choose to let the end be the end."
"You got it." Ben smiled his snarky smile. "Many of your pals out there will never believe that they are even dead. You can't convince them."
"So what is your role in all of this?" Jack asked.
"Well, obviously I have my own reasons for staying here... I am not ready to go yet. And Jacob and the Man in Black... let's just say that they like to choose a 'go between' to administer their tests for the inhabitants here. I was a candidate, and then I got the job. Now, it seems, they are looking for other candidates. That is how most of you got here. Their experiment gets a little tricky out there in the real world. Sometimes the Rules can be bent. But you are here now, that is all that matters. The problem is, Jack... now you know the truth. What are you going to do? Jacob and the Man in Black won't let you disturb the other souls. You heard all those voices in the wind? Those are souls who learned the truth and the truth drove them mad. Ever heard of Lost Souls, Jack? Well, the Island is full of them. You'd be asking too much of them."
"So this is it?"
"Yes, Jack, this is your shining moment."
Jack turns and looks out the window. It is daylight now.
He walks outside. His intention is known. It just rained, and there is still mist in the air. A huge rainbow streaks across the sky. As he stares at the sky, the light gets brighter and brighter... and then...
nothing.
Show Some Peg Respect
Egads, that last post was a doozy. I don't know if you fell asleep, but she did. Looks like the girl had some pent up thoughts that needed purging, and she simply exhausted herself. All that drivel about enlightenment and lava rocks... and what was that final thought about dogs and peanut butter about anyway? Perhaps now that we've gotten that initial ridiculously verbose post out of the way, she'll settle into abbreviated expressions of her more abstract thoughts, which I am certainly a fan of.
Since she was asleep anyway, and I had taken a break from race training, I (Eugene, if you had not guessed by now) decided to take a gander at the internet happenings when lo and behold, I find THIS site in her bookmarks:
The Oatmeal
Not really a big deal... I laughed a bit myself I guess... but then I saw this:
Now, that is just downright insulting. Making out with a Pegasus? How offensive. If you have any respect for our kind, please make a note to send a message to the creator of this nonsense and make your displeasure known. I certainly will. Hmph. Everyone knows that true gentlemen prefer tea.
Sincerely Yours,
Eugene (Champion Pegasus, Golden Elite Squad)
Since she was asleep anyway, and I had taken a break from race training, I (Eugene, if you had not guessed by now) decided to take a gander at the internet happenings when lo and behold, I find THIS site in her bookmarks:
The Oatmeal
Not really a big deal... I laughed a bit myself I guess... but then I saw this:
Now, that is just downright insulting. Making out with a Pegasus? How offensive. If you have any respect for our kind, please make a note to send a message to the creator of this nonsense and make your displeasure known. I certainly will. Hmph. Everyone knows that true gentlemen prefer tea.
Sincerely Yours,
Eugene (Champion Pegasus, Golden Elite Squad)
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Zen and the Art of Cutting Grass
Luckily she is thousands of miles away right now and cannot reach out and strangle me for what I am about to write.
This post is devoted to a dear friend who recently wrote to me, "Have you heard my theory about white picket fences and grassy lawns? It's like: we water the grass; we fertilize the grass; we aerate the grass. Then we cut it. The more it grows, the more we cut it, the better we feel. Except it doesn't make me feel better. It makes me crazy. And then everyone looks at me and they're like: she's fucking crazy. Why doesn't she love to grow and cut grass like everyone else?"
Indeed. How long have we been doing this to ourselves? I recall when Buzz and I purchased a big house with a big lawn. I should have known better from the look on his face every time we viewed a home with a big yard... but alas, his will was not as strong as my plea for an herb garden and red lava rocks around the trees. We moved in, and immediately I got started on my beautiful front yard. Oh, how glorious it would be when the rocks shouted, "See my beautiful intense redness against this luscious green grass and worship me!"
So, we arrived home from the Home "Improvement" Store, with our eight or so bags of rocks. We sprinkled them around the trees only to discover that we didn't have nearly enough to cover the ground in the manicured portion of the lawn. Back to the store we went... to get more rocks. Again, the same thing. No matter how many rocks we bought, it seems they would never cover the ground we needed them to. Finally, we bought several more bags and said enough is enough, no more. And at that very moment, the war began.
The weekends came, and hanging over us was a the burdensome thought: YARD WORK. Buzz would have to mow the grass. I would have to trim the trees, pick up leaves, and... pull the weeds from between the rocks.
The rocks were quickly overcome by weeds. The tarp underneath did nothing to stop them. Weed killer only turned the red rocks white. Over and over and over again... the weeds invaded my life and wreaked havoc on our lawn. Why did we do this? Neither of us were "lawn people." Neither of us wanted to spend our time this way. We never really spent any time in the yard other than to "work" in it. Otherwise, we only went through these motions to ensure our property value and that we complied with the Neighborhood Association. The Cycle of Maintenance. It can be such an exhausting routine.
We learned so much about ourselves in those years. We knew that once we moved out of that house, we would never have a yard again.
But other lessons were not so easily learned. Everything that meant... the desire for the aesthetic, the need for approval and attention, the need to keep ourselves busy doing the things that humans are "supposed" to do to occupy their time... this would not be so easily rectified.
How much do you need to own to be happy? How many dresses, pairs of shoes, comic book art, jars of peanut butter? How many items can you fill your home with until the fear subsides, that without it all, you are invisible? When will the insatiable need to "acquire" and "consume" end? You are taught all of your life to be "successful", and now, in our world, that means so many things: college degree, nice car, nice home, nice clothes...
For me, it had to do with launching myself so far from where I started. Consider that my life began in a dirt pit, surrounded by vicious dogs that didn't know whether to raise me as their own or eat me. A nice man came along and rescued me from the dirt pit, and left the dogs to snarl and gnaw on one another. But that dirt pit and the sound of their growling haunted me. The only way to prove to everyone that I did not share any qualities with the dogs in that pit was to run faster and harder toward "goals" and polish myself into a shining gem of a human being. That didn't come without a price, and many stumbles along the way. But the process, for as much as I learned, took its toll on me. I wanted more - nothing was ever enough. "I'm sorry, I only scored 100% on this test? Surely there is extra credit..."
Funny thing: Becoming who you need to be, to find true happiness, has nothing to do with TRYING to become that person. The more you try to achieve this, the further from that you will be. In all my desire... in all my longing to escape the trauma of the dirt pit... my fear kept the dogs in my rear view mirror at all times.
Over ten years ago I had a dream that I recall clearly and think about often: I was living in a community and all the houses were haunted by evil spirits. After much pleading, I convinced the whole town to burn the houses down. I woke up, but when went back to sleep, the houses were in tact, and I was horrified. I got in my car and drove away as fast as I could... but in my rear view mirror I could see a tiny white speck getting larger and larger. Something was getting closer to me. It was a dog. The faster I drove the car, the faster the dog ran, and soon it was running beside me, foaming at the mouth and trying to attack me through the window. I managed to speed up a bit and get past it, and woke up. Again, I went back to sleep and was again in the car, driving. I happened upon a small town, and parked the car. When I got to the town square, there was a faceless master and his dog, waiting for me.
Moral of this Post: don't feed your dog peanut butter. The end.
This post is devoted to a dear friend who recently wrote to me, "Have you heard my theory about white picket fences and grassy lawns? It's like: we water the grass; we fertilize the grass; we aerate the grass. Then we cut it. The more it grows, the more we cut it, the better we feel. Except it doesn't make me feel better. It makes me crazy. And then everyone looks at me and they're like: she's fucking crazy. Why doesn't she love to grow and cut grass like everyone else?"
Indeed. How long have we been doing this to ourselves? I recall when Buzz and I purchased a big house with a big lawn. I should have known better from the look on his face every time we viewed a home with a big yard... but alas, his will was not as strong as my plea for an herb garden and red lava rocks around the trees. We moved in, and immediately I got started on my beautiful front yard. Oh, how glorious it would be when the rocks shouted, "See my beautiful intense redness against this luscious green grass and worship me!"
So, we arrived home from the Home "Improvement" Store, with our eight or so bags of rocks. We sprinkled them around the trees only to discover that we didn't have nearly enough to cover the ground in the manicured portion of the lawn. Back to the store we went... to get more rocks. Again, the same thing. No matter how many rocks we bought, it seems they would never cover the ground we needed them to. Finally, we bought several more bags and said enough is enough, no more. And at that very moment, the war began.
The weekends came, and hanging over us was a the burdensome thought: YARD WORK. Buzz would have to mow the grass. I would have to trim the trees, pick up leaves, and... pull the weeds from between the rocks.
The rocks were quickly overcome by weeds. The tarp underneath did nothing to stop them. Weed killer only turned the red rocks white. Over and over and over again... the weeds invaded my life and wreaked havoc on our lawn. Why did we do this? Neither of us were "lawn people." Neither of us wanted to spend our time this way. We never really spent any time in the yard other than to "work" in it. Otherwise, we only went through these motions to ensure our property value and that we complied with the Neighborhood Association. The Cycle of Maintenance. It can be such an exhausting routine.
We learned so much about ourselves in those years. We knew that once we moved out of that house, we would never have a yard again.
But other lessons were not so easily learned. Everything that meant... the desire for the aesthetic, the need for approval and attention, the need to keep ourselves busy doing the things that humans are "supposed" to do to occupy their time... this would not be so easily rectified.
How much do you need to own to be happy? How many dresses, pairs of shoes, comic book art, jars of peanut butter? How many items can you fill your home with until the fear subsides, that without it all, you are invisible? When will the insatiable need to "acquire" and "consume" end? You are taught all of your life to be "successful", and now, in our world, that means so many things: college degree, nice car, nice home, nice clothes...
For me, it had to do with launching myself so far from where I started. Consider that my life began in a dirt pit, surrounded by vicious dogs that didn't know whether to raise me as their own or eat me. A nice man came along and rescued me from the dirt pit, and left the dogs to snarl and gnaw on one another. But that dirt pit and the sound of their growling haunted me. The only way to prove to everyone that I did not share any qualities with the dogs in that pit was to run faster and harder toward "goals" and polish myself into a shining gem of a human being. That didn't come without a price, and many stumbles along the way. But the process, for as much as I learned, took its toll on me. I wanted more - nothing was ever enough. "I'm sorry, I only scored 100% on this test? Surely there is extra credit..."
Funny thing: Becoming who you need to be, to find true happiness, has nothing to do with TRYING to become that person. The more you try to achieve this, the further from that you will be. In all my desire... in all my longing to escape the trauma of the dirt pit... my fear kept the dogs in my rear view mirror at all times.
Over ten years ago I had a dream that I recall clearly and think about often: I was living in a community and all the houses were haunted by evil spirits. After much pleading, I convinced the whole town to burn the houses down. I woke up, but when went back to sleep, the houses were in tact, and I was horrified. I got in my car and drove away as fast as I could... but in my rear view mirror I could see a tiny white speck getting larger and larger. Something was getting closer to me. It was a dog. The faster I drove the car, the faster the dog ran, and soon it was running beside me, foaming at the mouth and trying to attack me through the window. I managed to speed up a bit and get past it, and woke up. Again, I went back to sleep and was again in the car, driving. I happened upon a small town, and parked the car. When I got to the town square, there was a faceless master and his dog, waiting for me.
Moral of this Post: don't feed your dog peanut butter. The end.
Back from the Pegasus Races
Once upon a time in a land far, far away... a struggling artist in love had a Livejournal account. That blog, like most, captured and collected rants and raves, tumbleweeds and paint brush strokes, cat whiskers and journeys aplenty. Alas, the time came to close it down when the artist girl decided to take her adventures offline to see what the real world had to say about her bags of shiny treasures and stories of exciting near-misses.
The girl found, however, that although the real world tolerated her passionate musings about the death of ideas, Pegasus races, under-water tea parties, and other delightful descriptions of dreams come true... she never truly felt comfortable expressing herself there. So, she asked me to write an introduction to her new blog - the title of which is also the title of one of her fanciful paintings found at www.missingdoll.com. She is back, to tell her stories and rant her rants, and I for one am very pleased and also relieved. Last week she launched herself skyward and tried to jump on my back during a race, screaming, "Fly, fly, fly me to the top of the universe!" all the while gesturing wildly toward the heavens. I averted her attempts to mount me, and managed to win the race anyway. This blog should keep her busy and spare me any further indignity.
Sincerely Yours,
Eugene (Champion Pegasus, Golden Elite Squad)
The girl found, however, that although the real world tolerated her passionate musings about the death of ideas, Pegasus races, under-water tea parties, and other delightful descriptions of dreams come true... she never truly felt comfortable expressing herself there. So, she asked me to write an introduction to her new blog - the title of which is also the title of one of her fanciful paintings found at www.missingdoll.com. She is back, to tell her stories and rant her rants, and I for one am very pleased and also relieved. Last week she launched herself skyward and tried to jump on my back during a race, screaming, "Fly, fly, fly me to the top of the universe!" all the while gesturing wildly toward the heavens. I averted her attempts to mount me, and managed to win the race anyway. This blog should keep her busy and spare me any further indignity.
Sincerely Yours,
Eugene (Champion Pegasus, Golden Elite Squad)
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