gratitude
A few friends I want to express special gratitude to right now: Amy, Ned, Martha and Faith.
A few friends I want to express special gratitude to right now: Amy, Ned, Martha and Faith.
Ok. I get it. There’s no trick, no magic bullet, no paradise…but there is this one person who takes the edge off, who turns the volume down when I’ve cranked it too high, who’s face when I look at across the table from me makes the world seem a little less cruel.
I read that on a bumper sticker once. I wish I could take that advice to heart right now. It’s as though my mind is searching around for some new torturous thought or image to do battle with. Good lord, do I have to be such as expert at beating myself up?! It is amazing feat. I am able to conjure up the most exquisitely painful scene, the hook ever so sly and subtle, but once I take the bait. . .
I understand how people turn to Jesus, not that I’m going there, in hopes of alleviating their suffering, heal their addictions, restore their humanity damaged by stealing or cheating, redeem them from their cruelty. I understand it because the belief that there is something outside myself that’s gonna save me from me, man, that’s a very, very enticing idea.
I’m scared and sad and feeling terribly lonely, in other words heart broken. And I can’t find one damn distraction that works to get a break from it all. I tried to go to a movie last night, but just couldn’t escape into it, so i left about 1/2 way through, and came home and made some angry art, hoping it would alleviate that big fucking knot of anger. And there was a little looseness but not a lot. And then I stayed up way too fucking late, because I didn’t want to have to battle my thoughts as I tried to fall asleep. Instead I got to wake up to battle them them a little this morning.
I don’t want to go down this fucking stupid heartbreak path. Again. I’m just so fucking sick of it. C’mon! If there is no there there, what’s the point of this awareness and practice. Fuck process. This shit is not like a movie or a song where the right something comes along and makes things better. There is no right thing, even if there are a lot of wrong things. There’s just fucking practice.
I’m angry and sad right now and don’t want to talk about it in any detail, because if I did it would just be long version of fuck it. So instead I’m offering up some quotes.
Sometimes I am amazed that I inhabited this world at the same time as Martin Luther King, even if only for a scant 6 years. And I’m saddened the image of him commonly celebrated on MLK day is so sanitized. He’s been de-radicalized for public consumption, wrapped up in the “I have a dream” sound bite. It’s as though we want to forget what led him to speaking about having that dream – that to be an African-American in the U.S. during that time and long before was nightmarish.
Thinking of King this week I read Letter from a Birmingham Jail and I cried a bit: When you have seen vicious mobs lynch your mothers and fathers at will and drown your sisters and brothers at whim; when you have seen hate-filled policemen curse, kick and even kill your black brothers and sisters; when you see the vast majority of your twenty million Negro brothers smothering in an airtight cage of poverty in the midst of an affluent society . . .
I encourage you to read or re-read it for yourself. Note this is PDF.
Today is a brief list of things I want to accomplish this year, not so much goals, as areas of practice:
Today’s list consists of some of 2007’s food hilights.
Some things I do when I’m at home and I’m avoiding getting work done.
On a big ass freelance project this week so I’ll be keeping things short here for the next several days. I think mostly posting lists and today it’s about what songs made it onto my 2007 end of year play list: