words mostly about words

  • time to play and time/to work; let us blur these lines/and find paths to joy

    I ran into this lady who lives in Alaska. She is here visiting her ailing father for a little while.

    She too is looking into Catholicism. Tired of being a “loose cannon” she is.

    She wants to wake up with a purpose every day and accomplish things.

    I also feel very often like a loose cannon. The thing is, sometimes, I like being this way. I need to become more fiscally responsible and find out what I can do and do it. But I still like a bit of free flow to my day, a bit of aimless wandering.

    My favorite quote by Heraclitus is “Time is a game played beautifully by children”

    Today I feel like I played the game of time fairly decently, although perhaps not beautifully.

    For the past couple of days I have been downright exuberant. I don’t think I am having a manic episode…

    It is just that my mom has trouble smiling…She looks a bit strained in pictures. It troubles me. Anyway, for the past couple of days, I’ve been smiling a lot.

    My friends put on the “Mobile Bay Psychedelic Society” picnic at the Fairhope Pier. I stumbled into the role of manning the free kombucha samples. I had so much fun. Even when I discovered my friend had accidentally locked my keys in my car (it was the second time in a week my keys got locked in the car. I don’t have a spare) I just kept smiling and giving out kombucha.

    Anyway, yeah, Catholicism…My friend I ran into likes the idea of “boundaries” because she feels she hasn’t had enough boundaries in her life and feels that this faith will give her a lot more structure…

    Jesus said “the truth shall set you free”…But at the same time, my friend is looking for some constraint, it sounds like.

    I guess we can’t escape the tensions…Nouwen the Catholic writer in a book called Reaching Out talks about these three polarities in spiritual life

    The first is the tension between loneliness and a more fruitful “solitude” in our relationship with ourselves.

    The second is the tension between hostility and hospitality in our relationship with others

    The third is the tension between illusion and prayer in our relationship with God…

    I haven’t read far enough into the book to know exactly what he means by “illusion”, but I am still struggling with feeling like I am not really praying when I try to pray.

    The past couple of days I feel a little freer though, and I don’t know if it is because of the centering prayer practice or is just some temporary reprieve from feeling like I am in a mental prison cell. Time will tell I guess.

    I have learned that a proper human freedom doesn’t consist in doing whatever you “feel like”. But I am still utterly confused about what to do with freedom. I know what it’s like to spend a “hard day of nothing much at all” and wind up at the bar all too well. I still don’t know how to strike the balance between rigid order and unconstrained license. Obviously there is middle ground I need to find…

    For the past couple of days, I’ve been spontaneously helping people and striking up a lot of light conversation and it’s been really fun. I have just been feeling slightly more natural with people, slightly less like a deranged alien. It’s nice.

    Alright, enough about me.

    Good luck everyone, playing the game of time and using freedom wisely.

    ,

  • We pray for the safe/passages of the children/in our fragile lives

    I was entrusted to take my three-year-old friend to the park all by myself yesterday. It was a bit of a daunting adventure.

    I noticed a couple of the parents stopped their small ones from climbing too high, etc. I just let this little guy mostly do as he could. He climbed with his usual sense of determination, and didn’t fall once.

    This is good. I let myself be anxious without stopping him too much. I don’t want him to become afraid too.

    There were so many children there! My little friend is extremely friendly, not at all shy. He expects everyone in the world to respond to him in turn. He would even say to strangers: “Say hello to Courtney” (that’s me).

    Anyway, we did okay all in all. There was a slight poop situation (he is still procrastinating about going to the bathroom a little) but we made it through.

    I also witnessed (maybe it is ultimately all lovely to witness) an acquaintance in town sweeping up glass in the middle of the street. She did not break this glass, just found it early one morning and got to work. I thanked her this morning as I very well might have driven right through it and she said “I couldn’t leave it there”.

    It is still so difficult, though, for me to feel present. To feel like a loving human being. There is still so much fear, and a feeling that overcomes me all the time as if someone or something has just zapped me. I don’t know how else to describe it.

    Today though, I am on a two day streak of having done a tiny bit of yoga again along with the corresponding body scan meditation. I actually do feel slightly less intense, slightly less “zapped”, slightly more able to “go with the flow”

    I really don’t mean to be so manic about yoga. The expectations I had based on what I had read and been told were outsized expectations. And it is difficult if not impossible to get up early enough to pray, meditate, do yoga, make breakfast, shower, etc. etc. all before working. Everyday, it seems something must be skipped. I get angry at God frequently because it seems to me that we human types are just too hard to take good care of…

    Alright. Good luck everyone, taking good care of yourself.

  • White clouds and blue skies/remind us that life goes on/with abundant grace

    Major mother issues. I guess a lot of us have them.

    I inherited a lot of fear, some paranoia, and a seeming inability to focus on anything enough to become skillful at it

    She had my dad to take care of her so she didn’t bother to really deal with any of the above

    I am angry and confused and very very frustrated

    I had a therapist who told me every one was doing the best they could given their skill level. She wanted me to learn certain skills so I could better deal with life. For some reason I was already so exhausted I didn’t feel able to learn these skills. She told me which books to read and I read them but for whatever reason it didn’t help.

    Co-dependent No More; The Mindful Way Through Depression, etc.

    I read them; I think more than once. I just ended up feeling more guilty and more inadequate.

    Okay okay okay.

    I don’t really get mindfulness. Focusing on my sensory experience just overwhelms me. Then again, so does focusing on my sometimes frightening thoughts. I feel like I am currently between many rocks and hard places. But that’s life, isn’t it???

    Yeah, life…I don’t know if…

    Well…

    I am about to go see a lady about possibly doing some sort of work for her. I just feel like such a wreck I don’t know.

    She is a poet.

    Through the round window/clouds against blue sky remind/us of faithful sun…

    Alright. I’m going to go meet with this poet.

    Good luck everyone, forgiving your mothers. Good luck finding your true capacities. Perhaps that is easier than honing skills for us focus-challenged folks.

    (My mom’s name is Grace by the way…I didn’t think of that at first)

    , ,

  • ebbing and flowing/with the strange moon tides shall we/give it one more dance?

    really struggling with the notion of beauty…

    with the “positive” effects of beauty

    with emotion and paralysis in general…

    too much I guess to fit into one blog post

    My new therapist is really into mindfulness

    As you know I’ve been trying to practice mindfulness and yoga for well over 10 years now and have felt very little benefit

    My thoughts have always been too intense and overwhelming to seem like clouds passing through the sky

    And they seem to camouflage my real feelings, which apparently are things I am supposed to feel and then let go of

    Yeah, I don’t know how to do that

    I don’t know why being human has to be so fucking complicated

    Or I am just addicted to making things more complicated than they need to be

    I am not sure. But I have been awfully frantic this morning

    It is as if I imagine some state of perfection, of every thing accomplished already…paradise…and I can’t seem to make it through the rough patches or fully accept that earthly existence isn’t perfect

    It is still the little things that I notice sometimes that people do for one another that make life bearable

    But lately sometimes I feel like I am just putting on a show, and the role no longer fits

    The need to feel an inner sense of “kindness” to accompany any “kind” action, but perhaps that comes later…Perhaps there is really some truth to that damned expression: “fake it til you make it”

    Alas I had an ex-boyfriend who bemoaned such advice “But I don’t want to fake it”

    Anyway the upshot is, life is difficult and you have to let go of a lot to move with the many changes and vicissitudes

    Oh, if only I were “good” at “letting go”

    To circle back to beauty…I just take it from years of listening to other people and reading books that the experience of being in nature is supposed to be calming and rejuvanating

    I usually get instead a mild sense of despair when I am looking at beautiful things…

    Is that weird?

    I would like to accept that there is a constant cycle of life and death and I am a part of all that

    Instead I feel a strange sense of alienation, like some character in a Sartre novel

    I even accidentally wrote “I am apart of all that” before I realized and edited it

    Gosh golly, I don’t know what my deal is. I just know that everything people say they do to “feel better” tends to make me feel worse and it really really really pisses me off

    Is there a force, typically called God, that will make sure all of us crazies find our way one way or another???

    Sometimes I would like to think so, but often the whole notion irritates me…Like…I don’t want to be beholden to this force…

    As if no matter how obvious that doing things “my own way” for the past 40 plus years has not been yielding the best results…It is still hard to reckon with some Absolute…to bow, to yield, to pray, to surrender

    So who knows??? I need to go to work today. Last week I didn’t work and I drank too much and that is surely part of the reason I have been especially out of sorts.

    Good luck, everyone, finding contentment with the beauty of the world. Good luck, everyone, accepting all the ebbing and flowing of our lives. Good luck.

    ,

  • Tough beginnings may/yield promising avenues/for our exploring…

    Tough getting started today

    As usual, questioning this blog’s value, and my own value

    Did I tell you I met this lady who told me to do this “Dynamic Meditation”?

    You say to yourself 20 times twice a day “Every day in every way I am getting better and better and better”

    Okay so I’ve been trying to do this and she told me to give it at least 7 days. I think I’m about 5 days in. I feel a bit foolish about it but what do I have to lose?

    I told my new therapist yesterday that one of my biggest obstacles was that I wasn’t sure I really wanted to get “better”. Especially when people tell me they love me the way I am–I literally get afraid to change

    I was wondering earlier if in all the planets in all the galaxies there was some other species as weird as I find humans to be

    Attention span especially off today–I apologize

    I did drink slightly too much yesterday

    Some of the bartenders I know pour especially heavy shots of bourbon

    I must confess I don’t object

    But I guess it isn’t the best thing for me

    Which makes me consider and reconsider purpose and what a difficult thing I consider having purpose to be

    Perhaps though not in the end as difficult as having no purpose

    I recall the story told in a book about Christian meditation about a young man who when he was told to have more purpose went out and joined a hate group

    Not all purposes are good ones

    Ultimately no matter what I do I find myself feeling unable to put sustained attention on anything

    My mind, perhaps poorly trained in spite of philosophy, won’t hold still.

    Is walking around trying to see beauty in everyone I look at a good purpose?

    Will I have something to show for my life? Do I need something to show for my life?

    This is a big question for me.

    It never ceases to amaze me how differently abled we all are

    I don’t know how to try any harder but my efforts don’t feel like they yield much

    I don’t know how to try hard in a way that isn’t self-condemnatory

    I went to a Rotary Youth pancake breakfast this morning

    As usual I felt out of place, but it was alright

    I suppose this is partly why I am once again so deeply questioning purpose

    And the enterprise of trying to do “good”

    After all this time, I am still trying to find my place

    Good luck, everyone, avoiding heavy-handed bartenders and finding your true place

  • So many things I/cannot understand but must/live with nonetheless

    For some reason there is suddenly a less attractive font on this site. Can I change it? My boss could attest I am not so great with technology. I don’t know if I can write with this ugly font. I hope they change it back.

    This is a little better. I will have to keep experimenting.

    Oh, this one is much better: “Alegreya”. The problem is, as you know, I use a lot of spaces to indicate that my thoughts are diverging from a single topic.

    And ooh, do you like this one? “Bodoni Moda” Fancy. So anyway, every time I put a space in it goes back to the default ugly font.

    This one is Cormorant. I think I like it best so far. But all this font changing is certainly interfering with the flow of my thoughts…

    Certainly irritating (“EB Garamond” quite nice)

    Figtree, this one is called…Well, I’m going to have to give up if we are going to get anywhere today, ha ha ha

    (I know, I never really seem to get anywhere)

    As I have iterated, I watched the Bill Moyers interviews with Joseph Campbell far too many times in my formative years…

    The two things that are sticking out in my memory now are his oft-quoted advice to “follow your bliss” and the fact that he did not believe in a “personal God”

    I think for years I assumed that because I didn’t find work blissful I was doing something horribly wrong…

    I felt cheated…But I know so few…Actually I know pretty much no one…who finds their work blissful

    What does blissful mean? Is it related to being “blessed” or is that crucial vowel difference telling?

    We encounter many difficulties, each in our own way, in our work lives…Does that mean that work precludes bliss?

    Does the radical intrusion of technology into our work lives make it harder to find those places of bliss?

    What is bliss???

    Why do so few of us seem to find it???

    What is going on???

    Did Joseph Campbell in the end know nothing about our lives???

    Like many who teach in universities???

    And then there is the whole personal God thing. Campbell mentioned that because he was a “maverick” who did not stick to one tradition, he would never have the experience of a “saint”

    So many attest to miracles, to a relationship with a divine presence.

    So who is right?

    Can someone even be “right” about such matters?

    I am ever unsure, especially since I feel I have never felt divine love or a divine presence but more like something sinister within

    Something that blocks me from living a full life, from experiencing authentic love, from being able to get “out of my head”

    From really being able to work as well, to even find my “bliss”

    When I went to that priest a couple of years ago now, I guess I might have wanted some kind of quick fix to years of what feels like mental oppression

    But of course it isn’t like that. I don’t know my faith. If I could only make myself believe “wholeheartedly”

    And alas I am not sure where my heart is…

    I just know I had a lot of big old vague dreams and many absurd and “baffling” thoughts that kept me from feeling connected to myself and those around me, not to mention any sort of “personal God”

    Alright, have we made any headway, after all this time?

    Good luck, everyone, having enough faith to live in this world

  • Belonging not to/ourselves but to each other?/one way to see it

    It is odd to find one can still live after this much disillusionment

    all my castles in the air collapsing

    My friend once wrote in a card about life in general “It is all just lovely to witness”

    Did I tell you that?

    I still think there is plenty that is rather unlovely to witness…

    Someone asked me if I was happy yesterday.

    I said no. I think I added that being happy is too one-dimensional for me.

    That isn’t really a fair assessment. I guess being happy doesn’t have to be one-dimensional.

    It is okay to go through periods where you aren’t really sure how you feel about your friends anymore, or how you feel about anything

    Life will go on

    I listen to so much talk and really feel I can’t participate in much of it.

    My “liberal” friends, my “conservative” friends…I just smile and nod.

    Maybe that is dishonest and unethical.

    Sometimes in all the polarity it seems we talk at rather than to each other

    Perhaps we write in order to find a forum where we can express what doesn’t easily offer itself up in conversation.

    I just picked up a book called Women and World Religions. I’m pretty sure I’m not going to read it. I can’t really read anything. I am actually the member of a Feminist book club but I’ve never been to a meeting or read any of the books. I can’t seem to join anything. This need to belong is very troubling to me. I seem to have just as strong of a need not to belong.

    And then it was so odd, trying to become Catholic…but not wanting to be told what to believe…Ugh…This stuff drives me nuts and I am trying to put it to the side because my brain on religion is even scarier than my brain on most things…

    The man with his cane/and slow cadence wanders off/to the fiction stacks

    Well, once again, at an impasse. Perhaps I’ll figure something out tomorrow.

    Good luck, everyone, figuring out where you belong…

  • a calm day in the/library after stormy/weather out and in

    have been feeling mostly frightened and fragile

    Last week at work was tough for my boss and me

    I actually had to help with office stuff, and paperwork makes me crazy

    all the letters and numbers that have more or less become meaningless to me

    Yes, there were a lot of letters and numbers

    I hope I didn’t screw anything up too badly, in my duress

    Even as a child, as I read the information they would send home with us for our parents, I was struck by how cold and strange the language used for official purposes is

    My old desire to understand meaning instead of just use the information in a practical way really makes it difficult to deal with grown-up matters

    I get stuck wondering what the etymology of “invoice” is, etc., etc…

    Anyway, having such absurd issues with language is making it harder and harder to truly conceive of myself as a writer

    There has just been so much intellectual lust on my part and I feel burnt out by all that

    We look around to/see the culprit who did not/turn their cell phone off

    Yes, my brain is very tired

    I truly thought I was so special…

    like I would unearth some great treasure if I kept thinking, thinking

    and then of course I would dazzle the world with my brilliance

    Ha ha ha, I truly harbored that fantasy in my silly, dark mind

    Oh to just be content to be a being…

    Alright…good luck, everyone, letting go of counter-productive fantasies and other hang-ups

    ,

  • Interruptions Are Part of the Work

    Feeling slightly more patient with distress

    Perhaps it is that I spent the bulk of my week dealing with a three-year-old again.

    I have trouble engaging with people, so I have been practicing with this young toddler…practicing being more engaged

    Putting his needs first instead of feeling stressed that I am “not getting enough done” seems to help a lot

    There is an anecdote in a book by Catholic writer Henri Nouwen about someone telling him that for years he became stressed out about “interruptions” from his work until he finally realized that the interruptions were his work

    Thinking about that made me feel much more peaceful when my young friend spilled milk all over the table and floor in the kitchen and I needed to sop it all up before moving on to other things.

    I was thinking about maybe not writing this blog anymore

    I feel such grave doubts about the value and meaning of current human culture

    perhaps all human culture

    Where have we come to?

    I try to slow down but often it already feels like I am moving too slowly

    I really don’t know that I value high art more than ordinary human interaction. I don’t. I don’t value “high art” more than ordinary human interaction.

    This morning at the Waffle House with my dad we were waiting on a booth to clear. Another family was waiting and their father asked if we were waiting on that table instead of barging ahead and taking it. I valued this moment and his consideration. I valued it more than I value written poetry.

    Wow. I didn’t know this about myself.

    Well, I have dishes to do and what not.

    Good luck, everyone (or just one as the case may be), dealing with “interruptions” and finding civility among us humans

  • “How are you”, she asks/her troubled friend and is met/with a douse of truth

    Yesterday I asked my friend how she was and she responded by telling me how much she hates that question.

    “Everyone just says good. Everyone is not good. No one really cares.”

    I have always found the question troubling too, especially as I have always felt mired in either one big existential crisis or many smaller ones. I hate the feeling that I am lying, but it feels socially necessary to do so.

    Time is ticking on. I need to go to work. I think I left my phone at my boss’ house and cannot reach her to tell her I stopped to write in my blog.

    Questions of religion and literature still overwhelming to the point of unbearability.

    “Why am I all storied out?” I asked myself in a now burned journal (Damn my acute verbal memory)

    There are two opposing ideas in my mind about “story”:

    One is the “story” I’ve always been told–Stories help us live; Stories express things in ways that mere literal narrative cannot do, and we desperately need this…

    But then there is another kind of “story”: the potentially harmful narrative you are telling yourself about your life…the kind of story about which Byron Katie says: “no story, no suffering”

    Something in my possibly autistic brain can’t understand that these are two different uses of the word “story”; that there might be a good kind of story and a not so good kind of story.

    Because I am always looking for the link to my own life…some sort of “clue” perhaps as to how I should behave, live, and feel in this world…Like I need to know right now or I simply can’t go on another minute…

    Because of all this I have trouble just reading for pleasure. Also because of the aphantasia, or inability to visualize, that so deeply stunts my sense of being able to understand things.

    No. I can’t read for pleasure. I don’t know what that means. For me, I feel I have to know, understand, fathom, be transformed.

    At the same time, I feel as if I can do none of these things…

    It is kind of a nightmare, but I am trying to accept and evaluate where I have gone so wrong.

    And perhaps, not be such a “drama queen” about all this

    Well, still so much to sort out…

    Good luck everyone, telling people how you are and finding the spark that truly cares

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