In lieu of tenable art or a contribution to advancing human dialogue, here are some random facts:
- Periodically Life sort of bashes me up against a rock in the course of natural events. I call this rock Growth, or sometimes Transformation. It is possible that, rather than Life bashing me into this rock, I am the one swimming into it. Either way, there I am, happily drifting on the surf and, next thing you know, up against the granite ledge I go. While there, I try and feel around to figure out the nature of the rock and the reason for my presence there. Then, the tide swells outward again and I drift gently away, not too badly damaged, perhaps wiser. I find I am up against a rock again this week. Not a huge one, but a rock all the same. It is a little hard to write from here. Everything I say or scribble sounds like cats mewling at 2 AM and the nattering of crazy trolls. Afterward, I'm sure it will be very inspiring. Sorry for the general silence.
- Last night, I woke up at 11 PM. 11 something PM, to be precise. Which meant I slept for one and a half hours. After that, I thought repeatedly and involuntarily about a problem at church that is troubling me and read The Financial Lives of Poets. It is an excellent book. However, I am at the point of exhaustion where I believe that I could easily begin having auditory hallucinations.
- This week, I ordered a Tibetan singing bowl from China. I believe this bowl will solve all my problems. We have a huge one at church. When it chimes, like Pavlov's dog, I fall into a trance-like state for just a few, blissful moments. (I don't salivate, so perhaps my analogy is weak.)
- When I ordered the bowl, I received a communication on eBay from the seller. It said: "Dear friend: hello, a few days ago because the network of problem eBay cannot open, can't see information, can't delivery, I'm very sorry. I thank you for the great buyers like you. Your project has been put through the China postal mail and you should accept it within 15-25 days." I read it several times. All my communications this week can be exemplified by this message, which seemed to contradict itself in a friendly way and require an endless cycle of need for more communication.
- My hens need a qualified hen therapist and it turns out that is not me. I am disillusioned beyond words by this lack of aptitude on my part. They simply cannot be made to like one another. My little red hen is intent on the death of the lovely little hens I have raised so that she could have friends. I cannot get across to her how wrong-headed she is being. If you can help me with this, please send reinforcements.
- I have lost my ability to appreciate disagreement this week. I will have to temporarily rename this blog "Faith in Avid Temerity and Intolerance." I am a fraud. I have to sit on my hands to keep from posting snarky and dismissive comments in reply to everyone with whom I don't agree. It turns out if you subtract sleep, this is my personality. I find that disturbing.
- Sometimes it is like that. So it goes.
- Keep the faith for me. For a short time, I will lurk like an angry troll under my bridge, flipping off songbirds until I get a decent night's sleep. Send espresso and friendly comments. Also, I need hen advice, links on homeschooling children with APD and someone to thin my garden beds. I can pay anyone in roasted green chile and troll faces. I also have feathers of various sizes and shapes.
- Popcorn. Just for perspective.
Even when you're grouchy you're poetic. I like that about you.
ReplyDeleteI hope the sun shines on your beautiful face very, very soon.
Thanks much, Darlene. I actually felt much better by afternoon, because of all the caffeinated Diet Coke. Even the birds stopped ticking me off. :)
DeleteThose effing songbirds. Bastards think *they* have it all figured out and want to pollute my auditory channels with their nattering on? Seriously, eff 'em.
ReplyDeleteI send you hugs, hot tea, and enough inappropriate jokes to make you laugh until you finally sleep peacefully and feel less like a troll.
Hey, Tara & Margi,
DeleteThis is a little over the top (and there's "bad" words in it), but stick around til the end to find out you're not alone in how you feel about birds. ;)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1vPBWL0IlwA
Oh God, that shouldn't have been as funny as it was, MM! That was really funny. Maybe it's the sleep deprivation. Thank you. I will be giggling all day.
DeleteGlad you liked it. My favorite part is when he accidentally throws the DVD--the look on his face! I first saw it two years ago and I STILL giggled like a fool this morning.
Deletewonderfully snarky and so honest. Sleep deprivation is something I know all too well. "It turns out if you subtract sleep, this is my personality. I find that disturbing." totally understand that line. great post. Wishing you happy chickens and the ability to sleep at will.
ReplyDeleteThanks. I wonder what would happen if food was removed? It doesn't bear contemplation.
DeleteWhat does it mean that I totally get "can't delivery?"
ReplyDeleteI get it. I wish I could begin using that it sentences without it sounding mean-spirited. It is such an appealing turn of phrase...
DeleteHugs. Prayers. Good thoughts. and more hugs.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Larissa. I deeply appreciate it and I will pass one of those on to each chicken and hope it helps. :)
DeleteWhen Christy was pregnant with Emory, she went to this crazy witch midwife for Tibetan bowl therapy*. I was, and still am, convinced it was all hogwash, smoke and mirrors, & general crazy old lady nostrums and potions, but somehow Christy went in a ball of nerves with aches and pains and left like an angel floating on a cloud.
ReplyDelete*Luckily this woman was no longer performing births. On her bookshelf were several books on obstetrics, gynaecology (I always opt for the British spelling) and midwifery that looked like they were never opened. But "The scientific art of crystal healing and dowsing" was always near at hand and had dozens of bookmarks and hundreds of hand written annotations.
I am totally amused by the idea of a midwife with this perspective and once more grateful retrospectively for my medically-trained, nurse practitioner midwives who never once mentioned dowsing. The thing I have often found even more fascinating than the Tibetan bowl is the didgeridoo. At the hippie fair in Sonoma County, you could get healed by one, which became the subject of several mean-spirited jokes on my part. This was intended to malign incredulity and general flakiness rather than Aboriginal spirituality, but either way, it was beneath me. I could probably use a good didgeridoo healing.
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