Lyrical self-destruction
Through liquid
Through metal
Through fire
Through blood

Through hope where nothing can be

Through memory where nothing ever was

Through the raw, vulnerable ache of the art, the want, the curve of your lips, the depth of your sad, the cracks in the facade that score your surface and break your heart.

The only chance to break down what isn't working, to be broken in a way that leaves space for something I can't even imagine to exist.

with credit to Jose Esteban Munoz for the title and inspiration

How I define my beliefs as a Christian
A conversation on a board where I post spawned some reflection on my part and resulted in my current draft of what I guess is my belief system--or part of it, anyway. Seemed like decent blog fodder, so I'm pasting away.

Feel free to ask questions. Or not.

I believe in Jesus. I believe he was a holy man, I believe he walked the earth, I believe he was a radical peacemaker and on my good days, I would like to strive for that as well. I believe he had few qualms about reaching out to those different than him (though he struggled with that, which is in the Bible, though we rarely hear about it).

I believe in God. I believe in the Holy Spirit. I believe in eternal life, but I don't know what that means. I believe that life is too precious for it to last only decades and for that to be the end. Is there a heaven? Will I be reincarnated? I don't know, and it doesn't really matter to me.

I believe that the Bible is the Word of God as translated by fallible men. It is not the be-all end-all, but neither can I throw the entire thing out.

The most meaningful moment in the Bible, for me, is this, from John:

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2 He was in the beginning with God. 3 All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being 4 in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. 5 The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.

And that's how I try to live my life, with the idea that there is a light, that we are all that light, and that even in the darkest of times, it will not be overcome.

Incremental progress is still progress
The sun is out, literally, which helps. The effexor seems to be kicking in, which helps. People, lovely people, have called and texted and written and all kinds of things, which humbles and amazes me, as well as a pack of other ridiculousness that I'm going to need to trot out one at a time and work through, clearly, because how can your friend who's the ONLY person who knew you the last time you were a suicidal maniac calling you and offering to get on a plane FROM ANOTHER TIME ZONE if that's what you need, how can that be painful? That's fucked up, man. Fucked. Up.

I've showered, which is huge. I ate something before two o'clock. I haven't screened any calls. I'm wearing real clothing. And I'm about to LEAVE THE HOUSE.

My point, here, is that I'm feeling some better. I still have the crazy, it's still kicking my ass and making me think that nothing is better than something, but something is making a good showing, now, and I can see hope, even if I can't yet claim it as my own.

And, for now, I'll take it, if for no other reason than: LOOK! WORDS!

And the part of the day where Kissa the fabulous tabby lit her fur on fire on a candle is not even the low point
Things aren't good for me. They aren't good at all. I haven't felt this much like checking out for good in about 20 years. It scares the hell out of me.

I have good people in my life--people who are calling to check in with me from the road, people who are bringing sushi for dinner and an evening of hanging out with the cats, people who are texting and emailing and all manner of stuff.

I have only told two people IRL (the one calling from the road and the one bringing sushi, who is turtle) how bad things really are, and I suspect that turtle doesn't really know how bad things are, because I don't think I actually told her, now that I think about it. So I guess I've just told one.

And now, because I'm posting this, some other people IRL are going to know and that, too, scares me, because this thing that I have around my heart, around my neck, it's a huge source of shame for me, and I fear the power that it has to change my life when I least expect it.

Still nothing from me, but something from Sarah McLachlan for the time being
I will be the answer
At the end of the line
I will be there for you
While you take the time
In the burning of uncertainty
I will be your solid ground
I will hold the balance
If you can't look down

If it takes my whole life
I won't break, I won't bend
It will all be worth it
Worth it in the end
Cause I can only tell you what I know
That I need you in my life
When the stars have all gone out
You'll still be burning so bright

Cast me gently
Into morning
For the night has been unkind
Take me to a
Place so holy
That I can wash this from my mind
The memory of choosing not to fight

If it takes my whole life
I won't break, I won't bend
It will all be worth it
Worth it in the end
'Cause I can only tell you what I know
That I need you in my life
When the stars have all burned out
You'll still be burning so bright

Cast me gently
Into morning
For the night has been unkind

It's Ani's turn
You give me that look that's like laughing
With liquid in your mouth
Like you're choosing between choking
And spitting it all out
Like you're trying to fight gravity
On a planet that insists
That love is like falling
And falling is like this

Feels like reckless driving when we're talking
It's fun while it lasts, and it's faster than walking
But no one's going to sympathize when we crash
They'll say "you hit what you head for, you get what you ask"
And we'll say we didn't know, we didn't even try
One minute there was road beneath us, the next just sky

I'm sorry I can't help you, I cannot keep you safe
I'm sorry I can't help myself, so don't look at me that way
We can't fight gravity on a planet that insists
That love is like falling

Blinking while the sun hits my face
Yesterday I went for a long walk, longer than anything so far this year, what with my foot in a cast and all. I went with a woman I've sort of been seeing--that is, I feel like I'm seeing her, she's less certain. We have similar amounts of baggage, though the quality and timing of it varies, of course. She has dogs and we took one of them with us and just sort of wandered around this series of paved trails (it was big with the mud yesterday and Baby Grrl had just had a bath and was all fluffy and good-smelling and wonderful...at the beginning; by the end, of course, she had a muzzle full of mud and a back full of grass where she'd rolled and wiggled with the sun on her belly).

While we walked, there was lots of conversation and probably an equal amount of silence. I try not to say EVERY fucking thing that comes into my brain because, you know, I have the crazy, but I do tend to over-think and before I know it it's been many minutes since I've said anything at all and I have to sort of shake myself a bit to recalibrate and remember where I am, where my feet fall, where it is that my skin is feeling the sun and the breeze on this particular day.

I've been thinking a lot about touch--how we touch, how we are touched, how we ask, how we demand, how we react, how we respond, how we crave, how we deny, how we ignore, how we practice the not wanting to deal more easily with the not having. Physical touch, psychic touch, heart touch, it's all wrapped up in this body of mine that's walking through the tall grasses, stopping to see the small woodpecker perched on a stem, pecking and looking confused as the breeze comes up and the grass bends.

Radio silence
Sorry, y'all. I'm hibernating a little bit. When the words come, I'll post them.

frog