Thursday, October 30, 2008

Random Example Guy

There was silence

but for the echo of your words

long after they were spoken.

You said my name.

Never heard it like that,



and I don’t know what to do

with these thoughts

of you. Coming gently

at first… like rain

on a trailer roof



can’t be ignored.



getting louder

I shut my eyes

drowning in the sound

of what it might be like

knowing you.

Thursday, October 23, 2008

Dependence

I kneel in heart at the foot of you,
head bowed toward the earth.
You beg me “Look up!”
Your silhouette
as the sun detonates
in its worship,
my eyes cannot comprehend
the austerity,
the vastness of you.
Yet you beckon me
to abandon my will.
A recklessness
annihilating my sufficiency.
Claiming my gaze upon you.
Taking my brokenness,
you poor it upon yourself;
the hill I climb.
This ache
crescendos in all
my being as
I offer it to you,
my feeble sacrifice.
I stand at the peak
empty and bare.
Your hand of Mercy
bends my knee once more
and again
I kneel in heart at the foot of you.

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Self Check Out

Self Checkout


I had to grab a few things for dinner last night. I hate, I repeat hate shopping. No I am not your typical women in this regard. I generally find the whole experience appalling, from the assault on the senses to the constant push of things new and improved. Couple that with the rising cost of everything under the sun and an inability to buy what I truly want makes for an unpleasant experience on a good day. Add loneliness I can’t put my finger on and you may find me standing in the SELF checkout line in my sweat pants and a baseball hat with tears threatening to spill onto my cheeks like a glass of milk at the dinner table.

That is how you would have found me yesterday. I was buying food for dinner with my son. My daughter didn’t come. The relationship is very strained at the moment. Matt from Mary Free Bed is coming in the morning with my new computer/printer. I’m apprehensive about this for a few reasons. My apartment isn’t clean. I have a lingering cold thing happening and I’m in pain from my current biking brokenness. Plus receiving that computer is another step into the unknown which brings more questions. Another step into responsibility and growing up. Another step into commitment which I am not good at. Not that I don't want to be responsible and committed. I do. I really do want to be. But that is the problem with SELF. It’s sabotaging.

I stood there in line contemplating this subject matter. The lane I chose was the new and improved self check out model with an actual belt plus rollers. I thought by picking this “new and improved” lane I would be getting a new and improved experience. I watched every single customer struggle; each in a different way with the SELF checkout. The lady in front of me had to keep going to the end of the belt because her purchases kept bottling up at the end preventing the computer from receiving her next item. Her frustration mounted. She sighed. She ended her order and tried to pay. The machine wouldn’t accept her payment. Every register was in the same state of half finished, half functioning, half assed existence. The attendant was working harder running from register to register than she would have in a regular checkout lane. I looked over to the regular lanes. You know the ones I’m talking about. There’s generally a human standing at the register hopefully eager to do their job. They may even talk to you. Occasionally they smile as well. I had an instant longing to be in one of the lanes with a cashier.


Some days my life seems like a self checkout lane. It malfunctions. It jams up. Other people like a scanner read me wrong. Or I don’t make myself clear. It malfunctions. A head light is out. I need new tires and my transmission is shifting hard. Rent is going up along with everything else but my income is actually going down. The sense that I’m a complete odd ball uncomfortable in my own skin is on the rise. Maladjusted to life. This lane just isn’t working right. It all jams up at the end of the belt and I can’t process anything else.

I had a psychologist once tell me she believed I might be on the autistic spectrum. I remember her telling me this as I was standing in line. Aspergers she called it. I remember how I was offended. My mom used to tell me I was retarded; now I had a psychologist confirming it or so I thought at the time. I didn’t really know what autism was then but now I think she may have been right. My ears hurt from the overhead blasting music and the random employee announcement. Every lane has a monitor running with different “you must buy” ads. The colors in the store are magnified to the tenth power, and I can literally feel the hum of the mercury lights along with every beep and buzz of electronic devices all around me. I have no defense against the negativity surrounding me and I’m going it alone. I think of that psychologist again and curse her under my breath. Loneliness mounted as my lane finally cleared. I quickly checked my things out. I dashed out the automatic doors into the cool of the night. Sensory overload. The tears fell like hot oil on my face.


It‘s on these days that I long for the other lane. You know the one I’m talking about. Coffee in the morning, sharing the dreams we had during the night, wrapped up together in a flannel blanket stroking each other’s skin. Reading to each other. I’d rub your back as you stretch like a cat and as you yawn I stick my finger in your mouth. You of course would gag and WWF smack down would follow as you try to take me down and tickle me(not too much though ‘cause I can’t stand being tickled) ‘till I piss on the floor. Then it’s off to the shower to help each other prepare for the day. These moments I would not want to end but as “real life” beckoned me out the door I could face the day a little braver and more assured knowing that you left as well with me on your heart. Trust. This is what I imagine a morning in the other lane would be like. I’ve never had that.

I’ve succeeded through much prayer and acceptance to be okay with being alone, for the most part. I try to get outside as much as possible where I am reminded of God and his creation. I’ve tried to stay focused on doing the next right thing and asking him for guidance. I’ve asked him to fill that pit of loneliness that I was born with. Some days it’s not so noticeable. These days I can’t get away from it. I turned on the TV last night to distract myself from it. P.B.S. was running a documentary on Johnny Cash. I think it was mostly home movie clips. He and June are sitting on the couch with a few close friends and family around. He’s strumming his guitar and singing songs that had not yet been recorded. He starts singing about the beauty of nature and how it feeds his spirit but flesh and blood need flesh and blood. I get the feeling once again that my heart has been hi-jacked and somebody stole my words. I closed my eyes because they start to sting again. I love Johnny Cash. I’d marry him except he’s dead and his heart totally belongs to June. He’s another perfect choice for me.

In an attempt to quell these feelings of loneliness I have recently started posting and bantering back and forth with people on line. I’ve met a few of them. It’s been fun. There was one who sent me a private message about wanting to meet but said he was not “available” This is where the self sabotage kicks in without me even realizing it. It’s hard to see the movie when you’re the star of the show right? To make a long story short I started a shit storm on line totally ensuring that this guy would never want to meet me. I already knew a few things about him; just enough for me to know that he was “out of my league.” Eric told me he was definitely not my type which I took as code for “He’s not a loser and he has his shit together” which translates to “You’re really not his type Jody.” It proved to be so and that’s OK. In his own words he’ll make a “great friend.”

After the shit storm clouds dissipated he sent me another private message. In part it went like this: “It's worth it to take the time to learn to love yourself and to appreciate your own strengths. When you have done that, your life will blossom in ways that may be hard for you to contemplate now. Your best is yet to come.” When I first read that I cried because I thought once again I am being misunderstood. Hell I love myself so well that it hurts on a good day. Reading it again today it has new meaning. My strength today is knowing what my weakness is. At first glance it would seem to me and everyone else that loneliness is my number one weaknesses. It has proven to be in the past. Perhaps it is but at the core of that is a desire for true intimacy and that will be my strength in the end. I believe that God wants the best for me today. I may not always believe I deserve it, but I do believe that it is what God truly wants. Always. For this reason I know I don’t have to settle for anything less than Who I’d like to meet. God willing I won’t. That list is added too almost daily as I meet different people. They reinforce what I don’t want and almost always give examples of what needs to be added.

The more I do the right thing and love myself the lonelier it seems at times. A well meaning friend of mine said that maybe I couldn’t afford to be so picky given my circumstances. That was a lie I believed most of my life no matter what the circumstances were. Not anymore. I told him it’s because of my circumstances that I can’t afford not to be picky. And so I’ll stay in the self checkout lane for now. It’s okay there most days. I’m willing to stay there until the real deal comes along. Until then I’ll kick back with Johnny and wait…



Beside a singing' mountain stream
Where the willow grew,
Where the silver leaf of maple,
Sparkled in the morning' dew,
I braided twigs of willows,
Made a string of buckeye beads.
But flesh and blood needs flesh and blood,
and you're the one I need.
Flesh and blood needs flesh and blood,
And you're the one I need.

I leaned against a bark of birch,
And I breathed the honey dew.
I saw a northbound flock of geese,
Against a sky of baby blue.
Beside the lily pads,
I carved a whistle from a reed.
Mother Nature's quite a lady,
But you're the one I need.
Flesh and blood needs flesh and blood,
And you're the one I need.

A cardinal sang just for me,
And I thanked him for the song.
Then the sun went slowly down the west,
And I had to move along.
These were some of the things,
On which my mind and spirit feed.
But flesh and blood needs flesh and blood,
And you're the one I need.
Flesh and blood needs flesh and blood,
And you're the one I need.

So when this day was ended,
I was still not satisfied.
For I knew ev'rything I touched,
Would wither and would die.
And love is all that will remain,
And grow from all these seeds.
Mother Nature's quite a lady,
But you're the one I need.
Flesh and blood needs flesh and blood,
And you're the one I need.

Friday, October 17, 2008

No Chai

He put his hand

on the small of my back.

Drawing me forward

closer to him.

“What would you like?”

I couldn’t say,

so I ordered a latte instead.


He fidgets;

“It’s almost eleven…”

Diverson.

Unavailable.

Begging preservation,

or maybe I just make him

Nervous.

Monday, October 13, 2008

Purpose

Hovering in the night

over my heart

The eye opens and I

I awake to the truth.

With each breath I take

this brokenness reveals itself

to be the purpose

of my existence.

Open wide the arms

preparing to embrace

the severity…

I cry out.

You hear me not

and I feel

and I feel…

The luring of

rebirth,

gentle and innocent.

As you make me

with this purpose

new again.

Again

and

again~

Wednesday, October 8, 2008

Cinnamon Toast

Last week was something else! I had to go to Mi Works every morning to attend these personal growth classes. I wasn’t necessarily jazzed about going. Red tape to get the funding for school right? I had just listened to a sermon last Sunday about grumbling and complaining so I decided to approach it with the “Ok God, I’m listening” frame of mind. Who would of thought I would learn a lesson about my own blindness.

The first class was about potential, how our beliefs are built, and accountability. We watched videos and had group discussion but my favorite part of these things are the group experiments. I find them fascinating. I always go into them thinking I‘ve got some kind of slant on things and I am always humbled.

Our instructor handed out these cards with shapes on them. They were odd random shapes. I have no clue what you would even call them. One looked like a sideways hat, a faucet, ect. She asked what we thought the shapes were. We all started saying sideways hats and faucets ect. Then the most remarkable thing happened. She told us it was actually a word and as she said that I was actually able to see the word. The card said FLY. Later she handed out another card with a black and white photo on it. She asked us what we thought it was a picture of. I said dead skin! A guy in the class said it looked like a leaf. A majority said it was definitely a duck. When she told us it was a cow I almost fell out of my chair. I still couldn’t see it. She came around and showed each of us individually and sure enough there was a cow there. After watching a few more videos and more group excersises I’m starting to see how blind I am, and how my blindness affects others.

Check this out. The next card she handed out had a sentence on it. “Finished files are the result of many years of scientific study combined with the experience of many years.” She told us to circle the f’s in the sentence. No problem I said to myself. I’m not blind! I can recognize an f when I see one right? So I promptly blurted out "I count three!” My brilliance is shining so brightly people are putting on their sunglasses. It turns out there are other geniuses in the room as well. The three people to my left agreed with me. Then one of the ladies sitting kitty corner says she counted six. The guy across from me pipes up and says six as well. I look at my card. It’s definitely a full blow conspiracy now. They just want me to look dumb. The guy even had a smug look on his face. Can you believe that? I ask if everyone got the same card. Of course we did. The first sixer lady and I exchange cards. I look at hers and sure enough there are six f’s on that thing. I look at her and do you know what she says? (This is a remarkable example of how we influence each other’s reality.) “There are only three f’s on your card!” I’m shocked because by this time I know the truth. I’ve got her card in my hand! I have to tell her to look again. It took a minute but she was finally able to come back to the truth. I was dumbfounded. I could hardly hear anything the rest of the class. Now I am not only aware of my present blindness but I am also deaf and speechless.

For the rest of the day memories came flooding back and I wondered what the truth is anymore. For the longest time I believed there was nothing good about my childhood. If I tried to look for anything positive I couldn’t see it. This phenomenon is called a scotoma. That’s Greek for blindness, not being able to see what’s clearly in front of you and I suffer from it.

On of my biggest challenges is having a healthy relationship with my daughter. Saturday night we had it out. She’s almost 18. Lately, (like the last five years !)we don’t get along at all. Sometimes in the heat of things I get this surreal feeling. It’s like I’m arguing with myself. Anybody that has ever argued with me knows that they can’t win! So you can imagine how drained I was by the end of the weekend. She wanted to go back to her dad’s early. Normally I wouldn’t let her but I just didn’t have the will to continue with our pattern for the weekend. As I walked out the door for church she was standing outside waiting for her Dad, a picture of my failure to just love her the way she is. I turned to look at her. Her pride shining like a crystal prism. Refracting the truth until the origin is a blur and the shards of light are blinding. Just like me. I’m sad. I see her scotoma. She can’t see anything good right now.

Fighting yet another mental death spiral into the same frame of mind I open the garage door. I see my bike propped against the wall. It’s coated from the ride with my Private Poet the morning before. It reminds me of cinnamon and sugar. I think about the ride and how beautiful Yankee is at sunrise. It inspired me to write poetry. It’s a good memory with good company. A warmth rushes over me as I ponder the coating on my bike. It reminds me of something good from my childhood. Cinnamon toast after school. Sometimes half a loaf before I would escape on my bike. It was a comfort in the midst of uncertainty. I never knew what I was walking into. I still don’t. But I have a glimpse of the truth today. I’m being shown through my bike and the people I ride with. You’re like my cinnamon toast. Thank –you.

Sunday, October 5, 2008

My Private Poet

He grinds

Over their toes

Cresting the hill

They weep.

The arms of the sun wrap around

His body and I see

His spirit escape;

Disinherited.

Transcending the atmosphere

To be drawn in again

Deeper

Suffering…

The augmentation of his soul ~

It's like poetry.