Illusion

suddenly humbled.
no,
that's not honest.

reminded and humbled.

patterns created when i was 10. 13. 15. 19. 25.
continue.

motivated by a need for acknowledgement. a desire to be wanted. needed.
adored.

humbled again.
i feel foolish when i look at my angst from the view of an outsider.
how silly.
foolish.
childish I can be.
Why don't I already know that I am worthy of the love and care of others?
Why is it an unfillable hole?
Someone tells me
shows me
reminds me that i am loved
and
into
the
bottomless
hole
it
goes.

Oh, at first, It feels good.
Ahhhhhhhhh.
Like the hole squeezes together just past the opening.
It's filled.
Feels warm and knowing and good.

But in moments
hours
days
months.

The hunger is there again.

Humbled when I look at myself.
How I long to fill others.
Because I love them.
Because I want to show them how I want to be loved.
Because I hurt.
Weep quietly in a silent isolated place inside myself.
Sometimes even when joy abounds
outside the walls of my body.
Weep
at the emptiness that I
really
do
know is a lie.

I am projecting the fact that I don't love myself the way
I want to be loved.
Humbled.
Awed.
Can I love myself
and
fill the unfillable hole
so that I am no longer driven to create situations
to prompt others to fill it?

But I do love them. So much.
I do love me.
Someone
Something
Sometime
painted my canvas with colors
dull and lonely.
Colors that tell a story of not good enough.
Colors that bleed through the bold beauty of red
and gold, sea blue and sunshine orange
that I have created in my life.
to create spots of not so pretty
that surprise me
when they
become more clear than is comfortable for me


Humbled.
Questions.
Not answers.
Knowing.
that there is no need to find them.
But to know.

Despite the intensity of the illusion.
An illusion it is.

recycle

there are people
shadows of heartfelt memories
of people
spaces uninhabited
in my heart
but felt.
still.

my heart longs for people it has loved.
it hurts to think that i am not
anymore.

is that possible?

Why is it feasable for my heart to allow relationships to alter ?
evolve
change
grow
find a new place or definition.

yet for them
it is not.

my heart longs for
their eyes. their voices.
their intentions. their families. their values.
their songs. their views. their laughter. their magic.

i miss them.
i miss many.
i have been priveledged to have experienced.
so blessed.

i wonder if they even know that their
absence in my life is felt
noticed
pained.

not everyone feels as i do.
once a relationship fails to fit in the box we purchased it in
it is released
discarded
recycled
regifted.

not how I feel.

feeling this way.
is lonely.

yet
maybe
having
known
them
at
all
is
the
gift
.

new friend

in my life
i trust
that
the ongoing
gift.
the waterfall
of
friends
will continue.
drop.
by.
drop.

i trust
that
life
will honor
myrequest
for the next person
who will
open
my
eyes
and
bring joy
to my mind.

More colors
to the palate
of my experience.

thank you for being
a reminder.
and a new drop
of
color.

Sunday Morning

Lazy waking
eyes slowly peeling open
to the persistant mews of
the smallest cat

Gentle movements
of my happy
groggy
husband

The sound of the shower
his whistled tune
glorious alarm

The sound of coffee
beginning to brew
against the
canvas of morning silence

click click click
the dogs nails
saucer eyes asking
for
food

Slow rituals
a lazy brook
contentedly meandering
around
glistening
boulders

Clinking of spoons against
coffee cups
and the
beginnings of
a slow
starting
day.

belief

what's the difference
between what i believed then
and what
i believe now?



believe seems such a weird
and odd
word to me now.

BELIEVE.

What is that anyway?

To state that something
is
TRUE

even though there is no way to know?



I've heard it said
that's what
faith is.



I feel like an ogre
in that I have a problem with the term.

but i do.

Maybe belief and faith
are not the same thing
at all.



Believing may be accepting as true something

something
that
cannot be
or has not
been proven.



Belief in....



A needed savior of the world
Aliens
Joseph Smith and his seer stone
That God wants women to wear burkahs

and the list

goes

on.

So, what has changed for me?
I no longer cling to a belief,
or a doctrine
or specific covenant

but have faith
that
there is something.

and that when i strive to know it
and live from a place of
love
and
responsibility
that

I participate in
God
in
this
moment.

afar

saying goodbye is difficult for me.
even when it is clear to
every
clear
minded
person
that goodbye is the right course of action.

i often get commended for keeping in touch with people I have known.
i am quite good at it.
If I do say so myself.

but what they don't know
is that
there is
a
girl that lives within me
that fears
letting go
and being left behind by those i have been loved by.

sounds silly
i know. im working on it.

i reach out to people i have loved

recently
long ago

because
when i love someone
i never don't.
love.
them.
in.
some.
way.

a hard concept for some to imagine.

yet, it seems within the
joys of possibility
that
a love
can take many forms. and can shift. or change. or learn to be. something new.

a lover
a friend
a husband
a confidant
an occasional but real connection.

it has taken me quite awhile to see that
there are people who don't see it this way

at all.
when a relationship alters, it is gone. for good.

rest
in
peace.

well, i have made best friends and kept them
because my affinity for them
has an iron grip.

i wouldn't change it
for the world.

but there are hazzards in the practice.
and i have to be reminded
that there are some
people that i have loved
that i
would be wise to
love from
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
afar.

friends.

i have amazing friends.
i really do. if i have done something outstanding in this lifetime, it is to have made
incredible friends.
some of them i see often.
some rarely.
but i cherish each and every one.

i had lunch with an old friend today.
i haven't seen this person in almost 2 years.
yet, when we sat down, the distance melted into nothing
and we were right back where we always are when we get together.
it's like the rest of the world is
happening in a morph where i can see it
but it just doesn't matter
because i am enfolded in joyous contentment

sharing secrets
encouraging eachother
affirming truths
laughing together.

it was good.

I have seen many of my dear friends of late
and i am so grateful

reminded of
what i love
about
them.

If I have done one thing for which I am very proud
It is to have made these friends.

A
treasure
more
valued
than
gold.

crap i tell ya.

looking glass
looking glass

why do i feel shame
so often
when i look your way?

where did i read somewhere
long ago
that there is a list
of ways to be
when gazed upon?

The Book of You

Chapter One through never ending....

smooth skin
clear like a babies
always
aging must not show
narrow lines
hide
round
curves
for they will offend

When was I taught that the lines
my experience on this planet have written
on my eyes
are wrong?

Where did I accept that my soft
round
belly and behind
are
a sign
of failure

Why was did I learn that
there is always something
that is not ok
with
me
?

How has it taken me
forty glorious years
to realize that
this
is
all

CRAP.

:)

thanks

i am so grateful
for every moment that i realize that
there is something for me to

learn

i am grateful for the wisdom of those who have come
before me
since me
for those who have the courage to speak

wisdom

no matter it's source.

Buddha
Jesus
Aunt Jane
Crazy Ned on the corner
Father Patric
Bishop Jones
Mother Theresa
your 3 year old child
a whisper of love during a still moment alone


the wisdom that lives in

life

that lives
in

it
them
you
me

i am grateful for every moment
that a corner of
darkness is illuminated
by

a word
a thought
a deed
a song
a choice
a gift
a seemingly meaningless act

I am grateful that every second is rich with abundant love

if
I
am
willing
to
see.

Chicago is....

i'm in Chicago
my home away from home

i love it here.
honestly.

even when the air feels like warm sticky soup

like
it
does
today

i love it.

i love the bricks carefully stacked one upon another in the year 1928
the artist having had no idea
that a million years later
i would take such comfort in his creation

of a home
a temple
a building
a place

where generations of loves and questions and anger and growth and failure and births and deaths have been housed

whether in oak park
or ukranian village
or boys town
or uptown
or lakeview
or wrigleyville
or wicker park
or korea town
or evanston

I'm home

and my heart sings

to the man standing at the end of the on ramp at Fullerton and the Dan Ryan.
to the crazy lady painting with black and grey and white in the cafe while she argues with invisible combatants at Borders in Uptown.
to the 30 something yuppie mom with her $300 stroller in Lincoln Park oblivious to any lifestyle but her own.
to the drunk Cubs fans staggering down Clark Street after a game elated by a win, or a loss.

I love passing the place I lived in Ravenswood for what feels like a million years
and
I love seeing the church where I found God and the place where I lost him and the place where I found her again
and
I love knowing I am within minutes of the best thai food anywhere on the planet
and
I love passing under the El and having to suspend conversation because the roar of metal on metal takes precedence to any thought I might be sharing
and
I love watching the tattooed doe eyed girl with a pink mohawk and safety pinned thigh highs saunter down Belmont with her friends

and
and
and
and

Chicago.

My
kind
of
town.

Annoyed

Each day we encounter situations which wrankle our egos.

Damn that driver.
Boss annoys the crap out of me.
Why does my mother have to say exactly what will push my buttons?

And
on
and on
and on.

What if, these situations were presented to us specifically to help us become?
Become exactly who we know we can be, but generally haven't been.

WHAT IF?????

The person you know you can be.
Think to the moments you have given yourself a hard time.
You judge yourself because you're not....
the person you can be.

That feeling of who you know you can be at your best
is
a
gift
from
Life.

It's your map.

Know that every moment that bugs you, or annoys you, or pisses you off is an opportunity.

To become. Who. Your highest self. Knows. You. Can. Be.

So next time your boss bugs you. Your kid annoys you. your spouse makes you crazy.

Say thank you.

And grow.

Freedom

it's father's day again.
every year
it seems
i
understand more
that
fathers
are

just

people

too.

I wonder if everyone thought their father's were Gods.

Some might think that holding a man
on a pedestal
is a sign

of love of adoration of admiration.

But
is
it
fair?

Knowing that the men...
the people
who have been my fathers
are simply
men.
flawed.
real.
learning.
growing.
trying.

Frees me from feeling not good enough.

This fathers day Dad
I
give
you
freedom
from
unrealistic
expectation.

and
I love you for exactly who you are.

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving has come and gone.

turkey carcasses slumbering at the bottom of trash cans awaiting the garbage truck.
sweet potato peelings making healthy headway toward being compost.
The silver snuggly wrapped in their special places until the next occasion.
Aunt Jenny and Uncle Bob
headed back to anywhereville
adorned with their Christmas sweatshirts and left over fixins for the road.

Thanksgiving makes me think.

We gather, in whatever way we do, to give thanks.
For whatever it is we do.
Health.
Family.
Money.
Our newest toy.
The recent boyfriend.
The kids.
The ability to visit parents in their fancy schmancy house in Scottsdale.

Then there are others.
Maybe those who dined over a card board box
on a donated turkey and box stuffing.
Yet they give thanks. don't they.
For the love they share.
The hope they have.
The possibilities.
The gifts that they do have.

Then there are others.
Who don't.

Does everyone have something to be thankful for?
The homeless man living under the Wacker Avenue Bridge?
The woman afraid to go home to the drunk, flailing fists of her husband?
The teenager unable to process the pain of growing up?

Who am I to say that they don't have something to be thankful for? Isn't that what I believe? That we all can? That maybe that's the point?

Yet, I want to be cautious when I give thanks.
To remember, that maybe it isn't the things or the specifics that I should be thankful for, but for the fact that we all can.
No matter what.

To remember that the family still living in a trailer in New Orleans are rich with the intimacy that love and tragedy can bring.
To know that the homeless man may have had the most magic interaction with another person when a hand was reached
a meal offered
a smile shared.

Maybe those people
sometimes
have more to be thankful for

than me.

Change

I just got back from a visitation.
The kind you go to when someone you know has died.

I didn't know this guy.
I mildly know his wife. Amy.
She's a light-filled being that I admire.
They have a one year old daughter. Sadie Grace.
Her husband had a heart attack 2 years ago.
He committed himself to health.
Changed the way he ate.
Started working out.
Riding his bike.
Rode in fund-raisers and competitions.
A 180.

Monday night he went out to ride.
Training for a 100 mile ride to raise funds for Childhood Leukemia.
He didn't come home.
Amy didn't think much. He rode long distances.
She got a call.
We couldn't rescesitate him.

Gone.
No more bedtime stories from Daddy.
No more walks at dusk.
No more daily love texts.
No more kisses good morning.
No more dutch ovens under the covers.
No more of him.
In an instant.
Gone.

Life changes.
Life changed for her.
In the shadow of a benign evening at home.
Life changed.

The whole thing has cast a shadow on me.
Challenging me.
I believe this isn't the end.
I believe we can make it through anything set before us.
I believe that dying is like birth to another experience.

Then
Why
Does
It
Scare
Me
So
Much

Why do I want to hold Eric close and gasp with gratitude for every extra day I have with him?
Why do I wonder if the next moment will take me?
Take him?
Take someone I love?

My mind and heart are full of tumult.
Not questioning.
Not even truly fearful.
Yet, on some level, I sit alone in a corner, covered by a blanket, my knees pulled tight.
Shuddering.
Weeping.

Don't change my world.
Please.
Please.
Please.

It's the condition of life, change.
It will.
It is.
My world changes in every blink of every moment.
Even if it's not within the walls of my house today.
It changes.
It changes for someone.

Monday night.
It changed for Amy.

Same.

there is love in the midst of every moment,
every disaster,
every conflict.
between the cracks of hate, you can find love.

a hand offered, a bed given, a meal, an embrace, the forgiveness of petty anger,
in seeing the big picture,
in experiencing oneness.

what is going on in the world right now is a mirror. the flipside of love.
showing that on this planet we are the same.
the same challenges, the same struggle. the same humanity.
the same desperation. the same anger. the same want.
the same harried attempt to feel that we have some guage of truth.

it is the darkside of what makes us beautiful.

love lives is in the space around me.
Love cannot be mandated.
It springs up organically when the facade is destroyed.
when the waves sweep ones world to the sea.
when the majestic creation is turned to rubble.
when one's desperate need to be right gives screams out in violence to make it's point.

in the still small spaces of the canvas of those drastic paintings are the places where love can take root.
When you can see another and see not a different person, but your brother. Your sister.
Made of the same stuff as you.
The same hurts.
Pain.
Desire.
Frustration.
Need.
Fear.

Same stuff. Different labels.

What is going on in the world is hard to watch.
Hard to know that people are hurt and suffering and abandoned and alone and in pain.
In those moments
perhaps
someone is reaching them
and the love that underlies all humanity is born.

again.

Protected

i don't like guns.
i think they are part of the problem.

i believe that everything has an energy which effects the world.
i don't like the energy of guns.

they are created only for hurting.
killing.
maiming.

you might say for protecting.
protecting with violence.
with bloodshed.
with ripped flesh.
protecting with hate.

I can't accept it.
i can't.
I don't want it near me.

I believe that the energy I put out attracts back to me.

I put out love.
I do not put out violence.
I do not expect violence.
I expect love.

From there, I have to trust.

Should I be in a situation where I might find a gun handy, then so be it.
I face it. However I can. The best I can.

There are too many factors.
Too many directions.
Too many unknowns.
Too many......

call me naive.
I call myself protected.

Peep's Words

I have, as long as I can remember, had an issue with my weight.
Well, since I was 9.
It's the first memory I have related to my body image.

I remember that I was walking with my mom and my dad's father.
Peep was what everyone called him.
Anyway, we were walking in one of the parking lots in the apartment complext that Peep lived in. It was evening and there was a light snow. My mom said that she was cold.
I proudly responded that I was not cold.

To which Peep stated something that, as benign as it was intended, influenced the course of my life.
He said, "That's because you are fat."

It had never occurred to me that I was fat before that. In fact, I don't think I had ever had much awareness of a body image.
But there it was.
A statement of fact that I soaked up like a sponge in warm water.
Truth be told, I wasn't fat. I was an average 9 year old.
That all changed soon.

After my mom died when i was 10, I did indeed begin to put on weight. Not enormous amounts, but noticable. Mom died during 4th grade, and I remember my 5th grade school picture.
Round face.
Bad bowl haircut. (Could this be where my deep belief that if i'm fat then i have to have long hair came from??)

Since that time, my weight has vascilated between the heavy side of average, and the more socially acceptable side of overweight. With some pushes toward heavier than that.

I have lost between 20-35 lbs several times. The first time I lost 25 lbs in response to grief. I had recently broken up with my longtime boyfriend and (wisely) responded by working out 5 days a week. Once the grief wore off, so did the consistent exercise.

The second time, I lost with the aid of some brand of ephedra. You know. Ma Huang. Since been made illegal in some states. Effective, while giving you the sensation that you just drank Juan Valdez' entire stash. I lost 20 lbs that time.

The third time, I lost 30 lbs doing Atkins. I really liked this way of eating. Amazing what no sugar and lots of cheese can do. Go figure. I felt great, had the support and eating companionship of my boyfriend, and looked pretty good.

The fourth time I lost 35 lbs, doing Weight Watchers. It works. Until you stop doing it. But, that's the case with everything right? Start replacing celery with ding dongs and you're going to get a different result.

Now, at the low metabolic age of 39, I have begun low carbing again. When I think back, I feel like i responded best to this way of eating. However, I began over 3 weeks ago and have not had the dramatic response that I remember.

I began officially on July 5, 2006, and today, on Aug. 1, I have lost 6 lbs. That's not a lot considering the low-carb diet guru's tout that you ought to lose 8-13 lbs in your first 2 weeks.
I have been following the general direction of the Southbeach Diet. Me thinketh, however, that I was eating too many nuts and cream during this time. After the 3 week mark, I decided I should add in a little fruit. I'm up 1 lb since then. Ugh.

I know that I need to think of this as a long term deal. Perhaps the daily weighing is a disservice to myself. So, this will be a year long journey of discovering what works, and where I'll go with it.

I believe that no matter how many times one says that they are changing their thoughts to change their lives, if their lives haven't changed, then neither have their thoughts.
This applies to me well in this situation.

As I work on looking for the best way to fuel and love my body, I will also work on letting go of Peep's words.

The Hoff

Life is so heavy.
Also hilarious.

I'm sure you've noticed the recent resurge in popularity of the ever loved in Germany, David Hasselhoff.
The Hoff
as he likes to be called.

Is he funny? Well, no.
Talented? Depends on your country of origin.
Handsome? Um, in a spray on tan, nip/tuck, trying too hard sort of way.... sure. I guess.

Amusing?

Oh my yes.

I am quite sure that he doesn't try to be amusing in the way that he is. We all remember him from Baywatch. Well, I didn't watch it honestly, but I know that show, and the ever so serious and mysterious Night Rider, are where he draws his original fame.
Could be there is more that I'm unaware of. I do not claim to be a Hoff-o-phile. My respect and complete confusion to those of you who are.

Have you seen this guy on the newly acclaimed, filling the gap for real television entertainment during the summer, show 'America's got talent'?

Wow.

Really. that's all i have to say.

Please check out this link and read the blog called, "Don't Hassle the Hoff". You'll take a wander through the long and admirable career and wardrobe of the Hoff.

Get a kleenex.
You'll likely cry - either from horror or hysteria. For me it was the latter.

http://www.snarkywood.com/

Gifts

People stand on righteous pedestals and proclaim truth.

about morality.
about God.
about choices.
about musts.

It is so!
Believe or be damned!
This is the truth!
Accept this or you're....

Wrong.
Hellbound.
Stupid.
Daft.
Horrible.
Immoral.

This is done from many a platform.
It's done from the pulpit, the news reel, the theater, the literary masterpiece,
the cave in a desert.

Thing is.

When we shout our particular understanding of "truth", we forget that it is a a joyful and divine privilege to be able to come up with and create a theory of our own.
To look within, put the pieces together and come to an understanding that makes sense to us.
We forget that to share these understandings with the world is a gift.

These things are gifts. for everyone.

There truly is no way to know for sure if what we proclaim is true for anyone, let alone everyone. absolutely.
We can feel it overwhelmingly. Know it in our spirits. Our hearts.
Strongly.
We can claim our understanding, and our experience.

Then we give it.
Give.
Give.

Gift.

Take this. See if it works for you.
Feel this and guage whether it feels right.
Take it if you like it. If not,
don't.

When you give a toaster to a bride at her bridal shower, do you tell her that she had better use this toaster for all time or she will burn in hell?
Do you tell the new mother that if she fails to embrace this bouncy seat that she will have to accept the inevitable consequence of having her home destroyed by rockets?
On your best friend's birthday, do you demand that she love your gift or you will reject her?

Probably not.

As people, all we have to give are gifts.
Anything else is an illusion created to make us feel safer in our own minds.
To assure to ourselves that we, indeed, are right.

Certainly I have given my "gifts" with a heavy demanding hand.
Certainly so have you.

If Life is showing me anything right now, it's that all of us could stand to look at how we give.
Of ourselves. Of what we "know". What we believe. What we long to share with the world.

With a fist and a scowl?
With a voice of condemnation?
With a demand?

Or with an open hand.
And no expectation.

I've always thought gifts were nice.

I offer these thoughts to you.
Take them.
Or not.

Rockets Red Blare

Several years ago, I was wrangled by my insatiable curiousity about the mysterious into reading the Book The Bible Code.
I know.
Kooky.
Ok, I'll give you that.
But also thought provoking. Fascinating Even.

Then, I read the Bible Code 2 when it came out. Bleck.
Horribly written, and therefore, held litle credibility with me.
This was sometime soon after George Bush didn't win the 2000 election.
You remember that don't you?

So, anyway. I'm reading the ill written book and it says that within the Bible Code it says that there will begin a World War III in the year 2006.
It will be largely surrounding the middle east, and our dear Mr. Bush will play an integral part. Peshaw.
Peshaw.
?
Perhaps substandard writing doesn't negate prophesy.

So, here we are, more than knee deep in the year 2006.
Now, I don't know for sure that the last several day's international events will escalate into World War 3.

Countries hurling explosives at other countries.
The USA at Iraq.
Pakistan at India.
Israel at Lebanon.
North Korea at..... the UN.

So, no. It's not world war 3. Yet.
But countries are aligning.
Big bad boys from every corner of our planet barking at eachother.
You do the math.

The whole thing makes me wonder about people and makes me very, very sad.
Like, REALLY sad.
I can feel my heart well up with confusion and compassion.
Generally, it isn't these big barking dogs that suffer at the hand of war.
It's all tacks on a big wall map for them.
Intellectual and personal philosphies being held to hearts like personal survival.
But they will survive.
Won't they.

It's the family in the village just miles from the Lebanon border who's cinder block house is demolished by a rocket that suffer.
The Indian child who's father never comes home because his train was exploded.
It is the American mother who goes to the airport to recieve pieces of her first born.
It's them.
It's not the suit, or the turban, or the flowing robes that sit safetly in the SITUATION ROOM.

I wonder if the people at home felt this way during WWII.
Or was there so much American pride that there was no real compassion for our human family members?
I'm sorry, I just can't feel that way.
If we were fighting another planet, there would be no division among country or race.
There would be people. Just people. All of us.
Earthlings.
Do we have to start an intergalactic war to see what is really real?

It's a fight between big ego'd boys in a sandbox multiplied by ..... a what. Gazamillabillion?
It's stupid. Every part of it is stupid.
Call me a commie. Call me anti-American. Call me whatever you want.

I'm human.
I'm spirit.
I care.
I care about whomever you are. Whether you believe what I believe. Whatever you wear or what you eat or how you talk or whether you like me.
I care about you.

So, what do I do?
I just care.
I smile at the people I pass.
I tell the people in my life that I'm grateful for them and that I love them.
I make sure what I do in this world makes people feel seen and known and understood.

It won't stop rockets as far as I know.
I hope it does something.