Tuesday, November 29, 2011

numb

now is the itching time when my tiny heart craves a chaos that allows it to disassociate from the chaos inside. i want to run wild and naked through dark alley streets, "go out and embarrass my self by getting drunk and falling down in the street", hop on the back of a strangers bike to follow the need for a hit and search for something real in the arms of another being.  everything is filled with angsty need. all the unified cells of my being scream "DO SOMETHING NOW".  Sunset Blvd and Hollywood call, the night view of her lady of the angels from Griffith's high seat and the late night creations of a studio by the river. smoke fills up my mouth and lungs, wine down my parched throat, here i sit hoping that these elements will offer a mediation between the tangible and the spiritual. i need connection and music and love and creation...i want to feel alive again.


Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Legion





Legion has stuck it's claws deep into your heart taking the place of light and filling your eyes with dark. Like a shifting storm on the Galilean sea, the army takes hold and you cease to be. I've see those moments of beauty where your truest heart shines but the clouds soon cover over and the storms fill your windowed eyes. Slicing your wrists and your invisible dreams you seek for destruction of goodness with the call of a drink or two or three. Yours is a slow and meandering death. My heart-breaks and I wonder if you'll be able to break your fetters and rise again. That humanity still lingers deeply hidden inside, Gollum torn between desire for life and desire for the ring. Redemption standing waiting listening for the call only to receive prayers followed by the fuck you at the end of the latest close call. Under no delusions I hide in the boat well aware that salvation is not part of my scope, love it runs deep but must stand back afar for the many has you deep in it's reigns and that's a game I just can't play.


(inspired by mark 5:2-13)






calling

Everywhere around me there is hurt and pain, oppression and destruction of life. So many mouths to feed, hearts to mend and shelters to find...my meager offerings feel just that meager and ineffectual against a tidal wave of injustice and crookery. And it's not just "those people" over there, I hold the keys to life or death for myself and others in each choice and step and breath. Do I hold my comfort, and let another suffer that lack, to I hold my darkness to afraid to act? I want what I want but at what cost? Does my having mean your loss?

Do I give over my life like St Teresa of the lepers? Selling all I have, releasing all I desire and all I hold dear in the service of love and care? No? Then what shall I do, give what I have as meager as it is, trust that the gifts and the heart I have choose love over death will find a means to tell stories and offer tangible justice and hope and a friend.

My heart breaks, it's spilling tear come through the voice now dead on the radio. His calls for justice echo mine, as my voice echos his in space and time. I want to follow to see the changes to run into not away from the call of love. To sing "what's happen to you" to see the transformation of those so dear into the creative and bright beauties they were destined to be. Here in my room cold and late I hold on to the dreams and desires to create for myself for others for the needs of the hidden.

Monday, November 21, 2011

clear sight

i stand in a small little room facing dreams and that which destroys them. with each note and step forward i choose in the moment to trust and hold faith. slowly with practice and the late night encouragement of dear friends i believe in the gifts already at my disposal. it still floors me to stand here. my life is suddenly a space where the desires of my heart's hidden corners come to fruition before skeptical eyes. in beauty and grace i see the hope of a dawning new day.

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

ghosts and restless tides

it's the madness and chaos of hormones and night that make me want to chuck everything out the window right now or burn it down, right? is it that sickening dread that sits like a dark and evil ghost at the end of my bed. the fears of pent up crisis crawling out of my mind and taking shape in the real world. sleep calls and comes but her draught isn't sweet. it's the stuff of haunting dreams and rude awakening on 333. the claustrophonic sense hovers as the grief weights down like a hard and cold rain...this can't all be mine this emotional baggage. who's sending me their bad juju, have i been mistaken for a angel of reckoning? the white queen of restoration unable to pull herself out of the shallow grave?

here the fairy godmothers are on strike and the genies distracted by union bartering...rumpelstiltskin's in the corner make bets faster than a bookie on the last fight of the night. he'll give you a loan but the price is always on the steep end of high. there is no magic wand or spell to make this go away. assaults and sorrow come through the overheard great words of advice, their truth is the knife just a bit too dull and tight. i guess it's that season of wintertide depression, the reminder of my need to hibernate and hide.



Tuesday, November 15, 2011

alone...

A gypsy heart with a timid soul, I was made to wander the world in the company of people. In their absence my mind plays tricks on me and my feeble heart fills up with lies. Hours filled in with mindless baking and television's talking heads. Nothing feels quite right...the color has been slightly bleached and nothing tastes as it should.  My essencial energy is drained, with all the wanton chaos that has taken to squatting in my body...through that building they enter the other two, heart and mind. These are not your cool social justice keep power from the man type squatter thoughts oh no! These bastards are ruckus teenager thoughts bent on  the destruction of something because it's not their own and there for not sacred. Demon beasts, armed to the teeth with years of self hatred and doubts they spew out emotion violence like it was the new hip style. After years of learning I know how this game is played...throwing kisses to the dog with promises of return. I run to the city armed with music, car keys, and a phone. Into her arms I move to be enveloped by people, by friends, and by life vivid and moving fast. To wash away the unrightness of being alone.


slug growth...

These are the days of slow steps, little inch-like movements across the floor. Each forward movement seems to be met with counter tension and balance, pulling back the way from which I came. The little budlings of hope are just breaking ground when the torrents begin to pummel. Tenaciously the weather each assault with determination. Life feels much like trying to pull something out of a contained tide at the just the right moment...snapping photo after photo trying to get that perfect smile or fling of the head where his hair catches air. While it seems like treadmill time, there is the slow movement of molasses, the ever so steady dropping of that damned leaking faucet. And someday, soon I'm sure, it will rush like a wild river an unstoppable flood. I will find my heart's creative path and fall in love...maybe just maybe even have babies. In those days I will miss the lazy pace of this time. The space and time filled endlessly with breath. A vast open book as yet unwritten and unread.


Monday, November 14, 2011

Visions of Christ....(NFTPL #60)


Both of my parents worked in the arts and theatre world. My mom triple majored in art, theatre, and dance in college (just realized where my over achiever education strain comes from) and my dad worked in radio, multimedia and the theatrical world. This being the case my brothers and I grew up surrounded with musical theatre...at least half of the vinyl collection in our house was in that vein. Ian and I systematically would dance around the house to the opening of Jesus Christ Superstar and Switch on the Classics.

Jesus Christ Superstar and Godspell are two of the defining musicals for my childhood, along with Company and Westside Story. In fact over the course of my childhood my mother directed and choreographed at least two productions of Godspell. These artistic expressions also have had an impact on how I view God and faith, I think in part they are responsible for my broad view of theology and artistic interpretations...in my conservative artistic household both of these were acceptable. Looking back it feels like such an oddity that they were so embraced because so many other things were not..."The Last Temptation of Christ" for example. Yet for whatever reason the musicals passed mustard and I soaked them up...especially the conflicts of the Mary Magdalene characters. In each musical the women have key transitional songs, "I don't know how to love him" and "Where are you going?" and it was these two songs which I kept coming back to. Not so much as an in love with Jesus because honestly that idea still for me is a bit skivey (a bit too much of the Jesus is my boyfriend mentality), but rather as the means for expressing my desire to be wanted and wanting another's love and all that come with that.

I also think that these two musical visions of Christ are what opened my eyes and heart to portrayals like "Jesus of Montreal", "Last Temptation of Christ", or even the Harry Potter series...the humanness of Christ became more evident to me through encountering these at a young age. I needed that a human God (Christ) rather than the all knowing all powerful dominating God which ran through my childhood. 

Wednesday, November 09, 2011

really no slavery....i beg to differ

this afternoon i was informed by the child i nanny for, that her teacher, (LA county school & wealthy neighbourhood) told her that there was no slavery in california! better yet that it wasn't slavery because people were aware of what was happening to them, in essence that they had chosen it so it couldn't be slavery. first of all my internal reaction was "what the fuck", i mean really this is totally a bullshit line of reasoning ie blame the victim. but what i told her was that in spite of everything on this one issue her teacher was very very very wrong. the reason this even came up was because, this child is very inquisitive always wanting to know where i am going after work and what i am doing. so the morning after the "not for sale campaign" event a few weeks ago she wanted to know all about the organization and why (beyond black rebel) i would want to go to an event like that. i told her a bit about the fact that on a daily basis there are women, men and children who are being sold into slavery or abused by other people and that is human trafficking. i even showed her slavery map http://www.slaverymap.org/ and where close to her house on a map there have been documented cases of human trafficking. she wanted to know why this would happen to someone...how could it happen to someone, the same questions i find my self asking. i think in part she was impacted because in her class they are talking about slavery in the forming of the united states government. so while i am completely appalled that a teacher would say this i am so thankful for the chance to challenge a curious young mind on the reality of abuse.  it also reminds me, because of my reaction, how i need to get more and more involved in fights for justice, especially in the areas of marginalized women and children.




http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OG7O8d_4eTA&feature=related

Tuesday, November 08, 2011

tension and neurosis

i seem to have this pesky habit of getting completely irrational and neurotic when something good presents it's self in my life. suddenly i doubt everything especially that good and think that everyone involved dislikes me and that i am capable of completely fucking everything up. i also get this over whelming desire to run far away in the other direction...because fear has gotten it's sticky fingers locked on my heart.

so with the flood of goodness that has show up over the last few months this has become a near present reality in my brain. after every positive experience or interaction i over analyze every comment and nuance and only see the negative or off moments. in the moment i can trust the truth of the situation but after that truth high tails it out of town leaving me with chaotic brain. so i battle for the truth, i tear my finger off the doubts and trust in the fact that i am not where i am based on my own merit. rather i am here because opportunity and doors opened and i was willing to walk through them. each moment is a battle of wills but so far neurosis has lost most of the battles and the tension has spurred me to keep moving forward.

Thursday, November 03, 2011

little by little with my small hands

how does the call of social justice, artistic expression, and faith weave together to create the tapestry of a life? each feels like it's call is all consuming, demanding everything...those higher up in one have the luxury of combinations but for me the poor graduate student with looming student loans the fusion seems impossible. there must be mentors and those further on the journey that can lend light and guidance...stand as fortifications and bulwarks when the terror sets in. that terror that eats at my mind when i am laying alone in the dark wondering how in the world i will be able to live and have space to create.

yet a marked heart cannot separate those things which call and scream of it's needs... those desires that i cannot escape. it's no ordinary life of houses, salaries, and new cars for me...it may not be phds and educational institutions or tour buses and protest marches but my life will be something unique and binding.   today i was called by the earth, land, and social justice by the harm of not dealing with sexuality and embodiedness. i can't escape into a world where i turn a blind eye to slavery, the buying and selling of people, abusing the land and nature, physical violence and domestic abuse, and the harming that happens so often when people receive power. the rocks and ground cry out when the voices of people are silenced. the whole of creation screams because of the abusive harm happening every day.

i don't know much and it all seems so overwhelming, as it should says the wise old woman, yet little steps day by day bring about change. so i must trust in the opportunities and the process instead of allowing the weight of needs to stop my efforts as small as they maybe.