Arizona

There's something that's not being said. Granted I haven't read many blogs; granted I haven't listened a bit to Pacifica or read indymedia so this may be an entirely unoriginal thought. But there's something more here than the specific violent rhetoric and imagery of Palin and co. It's more than the "polarizing of debate" or the need for a middle ground. It's the militarization of a nation, still deep in the longest war in our history. And maybe this, too, is nothing new. Why should the militarizing of debate be surprising in a nation where endless war, in this century, is all we know? I think this when I think about school violence, about bullying; why are we surprised when young people follow what their elders hold as examples of problem-solving? When guns are the solution to international conflict (or simply a means of procuring resources), why should they not be the means to ending political debate? Or more to the point, when the military is an untouchable assumption, why should it not become the prevalent metaphor? And when it becomes the metaphor, why should it not be the solution?

this blog

I began this blog in, I believe, 2004. It was in another form on another website and I'm fairly certain that those writings are archived... somewhere.

I can probably count on one hand the number of people who have read this blog, and they correspond roughly (though not nearly exactly) to those precious few I've allowed to enter my life in other intimate ways.

That's patently silly. Yes, everyone blogs; no, blogs are old news, everyone tweets; no, that's old news, too. What's the new news, then? Ask a fourteen-year-old. I can't keep up. But five years of secret blogging is rather silly for a person who decided at age 12 that she was going to be an artist (yes, that ought to be here too) and a writer, and not a musician (we can all see how that turned out).

So now here we are. The noughts, or aughts (http://www.slate.com/id/2239014/ - not any kind of endorsement of that particular news source) have come and very nearly gone. My friends and I have entered our thirties, for the most part; we've entered the next phase of life, mostly partnered and n0w with cute babies starting to make regular appearances (and the most important reason to use social networking sites).

And here I am, and you can read this blog but it probably won't tell you much about the mundane or the crucial details of my daily life. Instead it will tell you about the mythology of everyday life, as promised (that twelve-year-old decided at ten to become a philosopher, though a budding mystic is probably more accurate).

Since I'm not great at keeping up with old friends, it might be a good idea for me to include actual updates here. But since I have no children about whom to blog, I'll stick to the mythology, with a healthy dose of political commentary that seems to keep creeping up but probably isn't as interesting to read.

public space/private space

So I had a conversation with a friend recently, in which we discussed the new word, "annualism" - as in the movie Julie and Julia, in which the protagonist decides to cook every dish in the other protagonist's famous cookbook - in a year. Lately, I see the connections between annualism, marathon running (recent, publicized deaths - much higher numbers of marathon runners recently, resulting in undertrained runners succumbing to the physically taxing exercise), and even NaNoWriMo - as much as there are people I deeply respect who are involved in this last one - people who have been writers forever, who have pursued degrees and careers in writing - but still.

Why, I asked my friend recently, do people take on such projects as knitting, gardening (yes, I garden; I am included in this trendiness, no doubt), cooking each of Julia's dishes in a year - but kosher? They need a project, my friend says. Well, I tell her, if they have the energy and motivation to take on a project, I (naturally, I - for I need a project just as much as them) could direct them to any number of projects that actually have consequences on the daily lives of human beings in their own communities, suffering from hunger, homelessness, inadequate education, or on the natural resources that support their very well-being. If they need a project, I could find them a park to clean or a person to feed.

But, my friend tells me, being involved in such a project would inevitably involve following the orders of a volunteer coordinator, showing up on a certain day at a certain time in an inconvenient location for a beach cleanup or a feed-the-homeless-downtown event. A one-time deal.

Oh. I reflect on this, and it makes me angry. That's not true at all, I say. Anybody can find a need in their very own neighborhood, organize their neighbors, and complete a project of their own from start to finish. Nobody needs to be coordinated by a volunteer coordinator in order to make positive changes in the world.

My friend doesn't believe me. And I have nothing more to say, because I try to think of a time I've done this sort of thing, and I can't. I can think of times I've wanted to do this, times I've come up with workable plans to do this, and I haven't seen them through. I'm a hypocrite.

Hypocrite or no, I come to the following conclusion: annualism is a result of the paralyzing feeling we - we, the privileged - have, that we cannot have any effect on the public sphere. Even in the era of Obama, in the era of Yes We Can and a recommitment to service - we do not believe that we are capable of making changes to the world that all of us share, and in our frustration we search out short projects with a beginning and an end, projects that give a fleeting sense of accomplishment, of self-discipline actualized - projects in the private sphere, projects that give a sense of purpose while having no purpose whatsoever.

And out there, the world continues to spiral in whatever direction we choose for it --

And I recommit myself to the public sphere. I refuse to be a hypocrite.

Dearest Mary: A romance told through salutations

Names changed to protect the innocent.

July 3: directions
Salutation:
Hi, Ben,

Closing:
Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow!

Mary

July 3: Re: directions

Salutation:
Mary,

Closing:
See you tomorrow,

Ben

July 8: Re: Resource List

S: Ben,

C: fondly,

Mary

July 9: Home and Actually Awake!

S: Mary,

C: Fondly,
Ben

July 16: West Coast...?

Mary,

Fondly,
Ben

July 18: Re: West Coast...?

Dear Ben,

I'm looking forward to planning this adventure together!

Mary

July 19: Re: West Coast...?

Ben,

with anticipation,

Mary

July 20: West Coast!!!

Mary,

I'm really looking forward this trip with you, We'll talk soon,

Ben

July 21: Re: West Coast...?

[...]
[...]
[from Ben]

July 23: Reservations Made...

Mary,

Ben

July 23: Re: Reservations Made...

Ben,

Mary

July 26: Re: Reservations Made...

Mary,

Fondly,
Ben

July 26: Re: Reservations Made...

Ben,

Mary

July 27: Places...

Mary,

Ben

July 29: Re: Places...

ben,

Mary

July 30: Re: Places...

Mary,

Ben

August 1: Other Big sur campgrounds....

Mary,

Ben

August 3: Fwd: Farm Tour Interest

Mary,

Ben

August 4: Re: Fwd: Farm Tour Interest

[...]
[...]
[from Mary]

August 7: itinerary

[...]
[...]
[from Mary]

August 8: Re: itinerary

Mary,

Talk to you soon,

Ben

August 10: packing

[...]
[...]

Mary

August 11: Re: packing

That's wonderful of you to think of that, Thanks Mary!

Looking Forward,

Ben

August 11: Re: packing

[...]

Mary

August 13: Re: packing

[...]

Mary

August 14: Glad you made it!

[...]

Ben

September 1: Thank You....

[...]

With Love,

Ben

September 1: Pictures...

[...]
[...]
[from Ben]

September 1: Fwd: Talent Show- You are Invited

Dear ben,

Missing you and looking forward to seeing you Friday,

Mary

September 2: re: Fwd: Talent Show- You are Invited

[...]

Wish you were here also,

Ben

September 15: thanks

My dear Ben,

love,

Mary

September 18: Shanah Tova!

Dearest Mary,

Love
Ben

September 18: Re: Shanah Tova!

[...]

love,

Mary

September 22: staying dry?

Dear Ben,

love, Mary

September 22: Re: staying dry?

[...]

with Love,
Ben

September 22: Re: staying dry?

[...]
[...]
[from Mary]

September 24: travel plans

Dear ben,

<3

Mary

September 25: Re: travel plans

Mary,

Love
Ben

September 25: Re: travel plans

[...]

love,

Mary

September 27: Re: travel plans

Dearest Mary,

with Love,

Benjamin

September 27: Re: travel plans

My dear,

with love and respect, even when I'm feeling frustrated,

Mary

September 27: Re: travel plans

[...]

with love and respect,

Ben

September 28: Re: travel plans

Thank you, Ben.

with infinite love...

Mary

September 29: Re: travel plans

Mary,

Love,
Ben

September 29: Re: travel plans

[...]

Talk to you soon...

Mary

October 2: hi

Dear ben,

love, Mary

October 4: Re: hi

[...]

So hopefully your weekend has been better,

Benjamin

October 8: Hi...

Hi Mary,

in joy and with love,

Benjamin

October 8: Re: Hi...

Dear Benjamin,

with love,

Mary

October 11: Re: Hi...

Dear Mary,

With Love,

Benjamin

October 14: Re: Hi...

Hi, Ben,

be well,

Mary

October 15: Re: Hi...

Hi Mary,

In Joy,

Benjamin

November 11: hello

Dear Benjamin,

I hope you are well,

Mary

November 15:

Hi, Mary,

Glad to hear life is going well for you.

Benjamin

I love you

I love you. I love you. I love you. This is the intrusive [ha!] thought that's taken me, recently. I think it's not a new thing. I think these words have intruded in the past but because they seemed misplaced, they seemed false, they seemed directed to nobody or everybody in particular - because of that I batted them aside as the crazy spewings of a tired and confused brain.

I love you. I love you. I love you. I let them come now, let them arrive and think them and think them of everyone I haven't loved, everyone I have, everyone I wanted to love, everyone who loved me, everyone. Plants and animals and friends and parents and family and lovers - lovers I didn't love, would-be lovers I did - I love you. I love you. Love for the world and the universe and myself. And myself. The words that I haven't said, no, never, in three decades of life.

But no more. I think them, I whisper them, and when the time is right, I shall say them with blessed abandon.

meditation

This week: that every feeling is sacred, that every feeling is blessed. Positive, negative, uncomfortable: to move through each one, to accept it as a blessing, to know that it is a part of a flow, that that flow moves on and I move through and on to another feeling soon, but that awareness allows me to experience the feeling. Not to blame myself or somebody else for causing it. To accept it and know that it... that it is a part of being human. It is nothing to be ashamed of, neither need I dwell in it. When I know this, it is easier to stay present with the feeling and the situation surrounding it, to forgive whoever or whatever caused it, to know that it's not the end of the world to have this feeling - I'm still here - that I will feel it again in the future. And then to let it pass.

prayer

Thank you.

Thank you for answering whenever I ask.

When I ask to let go, then quickly, every so quickly in a flash I am able to let go. A few days, a week, and I've let.

While losing blood each month, fiery ball in the abdomen, my dreams become more vivid. I do not recall whether this was less true when I chemically modified my cycle, but know that now, slightly sleep-deprived (as often, usual, most of the time), and also when socially deprived, they are prophetic, haunting, colors - yes, I do dream in color .

And so now, having heard prophecy in fitful fiery sleep, having asked for direction as I need to do so often, having been answered and answered so swiftly and surely, having prayed in a group tonight, really, voices mixing [my student today asks: "Did you do music today?" "Yes, I make music every day." "Every day? Don't you get tired of singing?" I think for a moment. "No. No, I don't get tired of singing."], asking and smiling and crying -

And leaving tonight, knowing I am not a part of that community, am I a part of any community? Coming home to an empty home but full of ideas and a home that is a home I have made for myself, a home of growing things (intentional, most of them) and things created and things, so many many things to be created -

And knowing that this empty space is here to be filled with creation - sounds and colors and words - sounds and colors and words - were my life to consist of nothing but those, then it would be complete - and I have only to choose which to create, to manipulate and swirl together and jam against each other and wring out and perfect and whittle until they shine, until they swirl and mount higher and higher -

Because they are all an act of constant prayer, of gratitude for the amazing blessing of being able to see and hear and feel them -

Thank you.