...but I can't get my shit together for the 15 minutes it'll take to tell you all all about it.
Right now my brain is all cheese! book! shiny! ow, fell down! car! washing! meeting! TMA! avocado! movie!
I know, terribly intriguing. But I guess you'll just have to wait.
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Thursday, April 12, 2012
The good moments
I just wish sometimes that it was the bad moments that filled the cracks between the good moments, rather than the other way round.
That the weight of the voice that says, fuck, I'd don't know if I can do this today, this week, this month, this year wasn't quite so heavy.
That there was a little more progress, instead of a week's good work and then two weeks' worth of paralysis. And that I didn't know that 20 or 30 years from now, I'm going to be screaming at myself now, asking her desperately why she's wasting time, and not getting on with...everything. Because That Moment will come. Maybe that's what's stopping me from moving, becoming better, being a better person, a better worker, just generally better, rather than all promises and no delivery.
Fuck, I don't know. I'm so tired. I need a holiday. And I DON'T want to spend it brooding on my failures. Is there ever going to be ENOUGH?
Holiday first, brooding later. That's the deal.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
That the weight of the voice that says, fuck, I'd don't know if I can do this today, this week, this month, this year wasn't quite so heavy.
That there was a little more progress, instead of a week's good work and then two weeks' worth of paralysis. And that I didn't know that 20 or 30 years from now, I'm going to be screaming at myself now, asking her desperately why she's wasting time, and not getting on with...everything. Because That Moment will come. Maybe that's what's stopping me from moving, becoming better, being a better person, a better worker, just generally better, rather than all promises and no delivery.
Fuck, I don't know. I'm so tired. I need a holiday. And I DON'T want to spend it brooding on my failures. Is there ever going to be ENOUGH?
Holiday first, brooding later. That's the deal.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Sunday, April 08, 2012
Easter Sunday
And suddenly what was dark and mournful and melancholy, is bright and new and full of light. I think I understand the melancholy more than the rejoicing.
It's easier to grasp sadness by the tail sometimes, I think, than trying to get a handle on resurrection and redemption.
"Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning."
It's easier to grasp sadness by the tail sometimes, I think, than trying to get a handle on resurrection and redemption.
"Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning."
Friday, April 06, 2012
Good Friday
"No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him."
And to the bizarre woman, who apparently thought I shouldn't be taking communion and should just ask for a blessing, and then DEMONSTRATED how in the aisle and totally killed my concentration, to her I say pfffffft, and wtf?
And to the bizarre woman, who apparently thought I shouldn't be taking communion and should just ask for a blessing, and then DEMONSTRATED how in the aisle and totally killed my concentration, to her I say pfffffft, and wtf?
Things I learned on Maundy Thursday (or had forgotten and learned again)
That at the Last Supper, and through his time in Gethsemane, Jesus was surrounded by human frailty. He loves us in spite of our frailty, he died in spite of our frailty. Or because of it. Or for it. "We should love like that," the minister said. "But how do we love when we are broken?"
That taking communion on the night we remember the Last Supper is just FULL of poignance. The events that came after became so vivid, that Jesus moved from Passover to Gethsemane to betrayal. It made it riveting.
Watching the church being essentially readied for mourning was incredibly moving.
During the vigil, every ten or fifteen minutes there was another reading. People were free to leave at any time, but people left during the reading where Jesus asks his disciples why they can't just stay awake with him for one hour. That made an unexpected impression.
Every year I tend to go straight from Palm Sunday to Easter Sunday, from the entry to Jerusalem to the resurrection. It feels right, better even, to give every moment leading to the resurrection its proper weight, rather than rushing to the end. It's all in the layers, and I keep missing it. Plus, it seems to matter more this year.
That taking communion on the night we remember the Last Supper is just FULL of poignance. The events that came after became so vivid, that Jesus moved from Passover to Gethsemane to betrayal. It made it riveting.
Watching the church being essentially readied for mourning was incredibly moving.
During the vigil, every ten or fifteen minutes there was another reading. People were free to leave at any time, but people left during the reading where Jesus asks his disciples why they can't just stay awake with him for one hour. That made an unexpected impression.
Every year I tend to go straight from Palm Sunday to Easter Sunday, from the entry to Jerusalem to the resurrection. It feels right, better even, to give every moment leading to the resurrection its proper weight, rather than rushing to the end. It's all in the layers, and I keep missing it. Plus, it seems to matter more this year.
Wednesday, April 04, 2012
Wild Geese
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting --
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things. Mary Oliver
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting --
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things. Mary Oliver
Tuesday, April 03, 2012
Spring
To what purpose, April, do you return again?
Beauty is not enough.
You can no longer quiet me with the redness
Of little leaves opening stickily.
I know what I know.
The sun is hot on my neck as I observe
The spikes of the crocus.
The smell of the earth is good.
It is apparent that there is no death.
But what does that signify?
Not only under ground are the brains of men
Eaten by maggots.
Life in itself
Is nothing,
An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs.
It is not enough that yearly, down this hill,
April
Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.
~Edna St. Vincent Millay
Beauty is not enough.
You can no longer quiet me with the redness
Of little leaves opening stickily.
I know what I know.
The sun is hot on my neck as I observe
The spikes of the crocus.
The smell of the earth is good.
It is apparent that there is no death.
But what does that signify?
Not only under ground are the brains of men
Eaten by maggots.
Life in itself
Is nothing,
An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs.
It is not enough that yearly, down this hill,
April
Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.
~Edna St. Vincent Millay
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)