Desert Moon

Desert Moon,
originally uploaded by ObedientMuse.

I love my world! This moonset is a wonderful occurrence in my space, in my back yard. I can't believe I'm here; I am alive in this world. I wish you could know where I came from, you'd know what an amazing process life is when you have hope. Just a little, a smidgeon of hope can keep one going until something changes. It's not always a dramatic change, but those little changes ever flowing toward some destination that keeps the river moving, carving stone and making a difference in a person’s landscape.

The most destructive thing one human can do to another isn't on the outside. It's more intimate, more personal, more evil than any physical scars can show. The invisible scars: only visible to those who also process similar scars. We can recognize each other in a crowd, by the avoidance of eye contact, the bow of a head, the acquiescence of personal space, the half smile of someone who wants to beam a smile but is too afraid to let their inner self show. When one human usurps the personal power of another, makes them second guess themselves, makes them not trust their desires or intuitions, that is life destroying. No therapy will repair that kind of destruction. That is equal to putting a human on the edge of a mighty precipice and saying, ‘if you feel you’re going to fall, don’t trust it, but stand still, do not try and save yourself’. That is torture of the worst kind. You, eventually, are your own jailer.

Possible rain

Possible rain,
originally uploaded by ObedientMuse.

Is there a moral god?

If God is moral and just then who’s morality and justice does he/she follow?


I have a neighbor boy who has a quad. He rode it all day yesterday until dark, which was from around 9:00 to about 5:30. I have been sick and so I thought my level of intolerance was due to that, being sick. I wanted to open the windows but all I could hear was his brrrr…. brrr-room…… brrr…. brrr-room… as he drove his quad round and round his little acre of dirt and jumped hills. For eight hours. Okay, the neighbor boy between us got a drum set for xmas and I figured that would die out too. After two full days of drums until 9:00 at night it did. Now I’ve hardly heard any drumming. I never said a word. My usual tactic.


I began to pray. I prayed his quad would seize up and he’d not be able to repair it, or that he’d grow tired, or that he’d wreck. Now, the last I’m not proud of, I didn’t want him hurt really badly, just enough so he’d stop. I mean, he’s about 10 years old on a full size quad anyway, isn’t that illegal? I know I'm rationalizing.


That’s when it hit me, what if my prayers were answered? Who decides? I live a good life, I don’t cheat people, I tell the truth even when it doesn’t suit me, I try and live as honestly as possible and live a life of integrity and continuity. I’m a good person. I don’t steal, I honor the land, and my neighbor’s land, I am kind to animals, I do volunteer work (rescue animals, rehab them, find then healthy homes and never ask for a penny), I pick up trash that isn't mine, I don’t drink, smoke or eat fast food. Don’t deserve to get what I want too? I mean, there are plenty of religious people out there saying tons of prayers for whatever it is they want, they live hipocritacly, lie, tell the truth when it’s to their advantage, cheat, throw cigarette butts on the ground, let their trash blow away and prentend it’s not theirs, ignore trash when it’s not theirs, look the other way when they could help, and dishonor their animals and children. And they get their prayers answered. So, why not me?


Around 11:00 I spoke to my husband. I realized that I usually shut this off, the annoyance, and try to emulate a holy person by showing compassion. I’m not that compassionate! I want to be compassionate toward myself. What about me? When is someone going to say, You know, I’ve been making noise for the whole weekend, maybe I should give my neighbors a break. Why can’t I have a voice? I don’t want to make my neighbor upset… but the drum boy’s parents finally told me my dogs were barking like crazy when we left. I had no idea. I put a stop to that immediately! Now, all I want is one day to write, read or hang outside without the constant varrooommmm, brrr-room… I didn't agree to live on a racetrack.


Off I go. I figure I’ll speak with the boy. Not his dad, since he's making the noise.

The walk two houses down is long. I feel like I'm being watched.

I motion for the boy to come over. He does. I say, listen can we find a compromise? You rode all day yesterday, how about give me today for a little peace and quiet? Is that fair?


The boy knods in agreement.


Good, thanks. I say and walk home. I take the dogs to the river back behind my house. I can’t think of anything else, but how I might have started something. Something that I could have let eat my guts up. What right do I have? I'm not telling him to day anything, I just want a compromise. I can ask, right? I can just ask for what I want. It doesn’t mean I’ll get it. Or should I keep praying?


I'm back in my office.


It’s been 45 minutes of quiet. He’s riding again. What should I do? Pray he breaks his neck? Or do I call the cops? He’s thumbing his nose at my request. No compromise at all? Do I stand up for what I want or just be passive and let it go? Or do I sell my house?


I explain this to my husband. He says lets go over. We walk together. The boy drives up to his dad and says, Dad their here!


His dad, skol cap, denim shirt tucked into too tight wrangles and boots, stands tall stoic and has one foot on the quad tire rolling it back and forth.


He asks us, how ya’ doin?


Fine. And you? I say. My husband says something similar.


Good, how ya’ doin? He says again.


Good, thanks. I say again. He’s nervous.


My husband presents out case, asks for a compromise and leaves it at that.


Quad boy's dad says, what about compromising with me? The boys only here ever other weekend for two days.


So many things make immediate sense. The boy rides his dad's guilt away, is spoiled, or dad wants to be the cool parent...

Okay, I say, so he’s going to ride his quad all day for two days straight? Is that what I can expect?


Mister looks me up and down like he’s sizing me up.


I wanted to have a talk with you, find out what to expect. When it’s going to end.


I’ll be honest with you, Mister says, I’ll tell him to take a break but he’s going to ride it again.


I say, so, there’s not going to be a compromise? Is that it? I can expect him to ride all day for eight hours four days a month?


Well, I was going to take him to the airport to ride, but I was cleaning up here… He sweeps his hand toward the yard of junk.


My husband says, it’s loud and we’d like not to hear it all day. My wifes been sick...


Mister looks my husband up and down, sizing him up. Mister scowls. Is this how he compromises?


I’ll be honest with ya, he’s going to ride it. (I’m thinking, no, lie to me. Please don’t be honest with me. This is the most ridiculous thing someone can say).


This goes on with more words, he says this is the first time he’s ridden this bike. I say, it can’t be the first time, look at the track it’s worn down from one time? I'm not going to stand here and let him blantantly treat me like an idiot. I can see it's not his first time.


Well, no, but… then he says that neighbor so and so has ridden his and neighbor so and so rode his etc.


I say, they don't ride all day for eight hours. Listen, I’d like to open my window without hearing this thing. I’d like to know when this is going to end, what to expect. Now that I know it’ll be for eight hours two weekends a month… Is that right?


I’m going to take him to the airport road… Just cleaning up here. I'll tell him to take a break.

Thanks. I’d just like a day of peace too. I gave yesterday for eight hours and he rode until 5:30 last night.


Mister looks at me like he’s surprised I’d know that bit of information. It’s odd, when you live your life so “out there” and don’t expect people to know details about your life.


I say, okay, then thanks for listening. I appreciate it.

A Two Headed Fish

I’ve not felt like writing for some time. My shoulder has been bothering me again. When I say, “bothering” I mean it is in a constant spasm. It is so painful I want to vomit and can’t concentrate on anything else. I’m not going to get into it here, but I’ve tried just about everything logical and reasonable. Yesterday I went to a guy in Sedona. I’ll keep his name out of it until I see the results, but so far I’m a bit better. I feel somewhat confused about it since I can’t get my head around what he did, but then I don’t fully understand astrology either. That’s why I study.

Yesterday the moon entered Virgo. I studied astrology over my lunchtime yesterday and before my doctor’s appointment. I’ve gone into that headspace again. With the moon in Virgo we can expect practical adaptations. (Maybe that’s why I study astrology in a way to see the practicality in it, see how it actually works in my life.) Nice time to refine emotional reactions to perfect expression. (Paraphrased from Stephen Arroyo’s Chart Interpretation Handbook.) This would be a great time for an actor to take a workshop, or anyone to work on things that have previously been emotionally overwhelming. I’m going to the H.E.R. Weekend tomorrow. We’ll see how this works for me. I’m going to look at my “shadow” self, to heal anything left I cannot see. Although I know there will always be “stuff” it doesn’t have to rule my life, like I know it does sometimes now. Can we heal all wounds? I believe we can, even those deep psychic, soul damaging ones. I’m here to prove that to myself. I survived for a reason. Even if that reason is only to heal. Now that’s a bummer and a paradox. I sometimes think that my successes will be equivalent to my damage and wounds. Maybe that’s why I dream so big, why I have such high ideals and hope for myself. I’m the only one who can believe there is no limit to what I can do. No one else is going to do that for me. It’s my role as a human, as the parent of that past child who no one protected, as the one who is doing the clean up work after another parent’s neglect.

I’m reading Spontaneous Healing by Dr. Andrew Weil. It’s fascinating and hopeful. I believe too, that all physical maladies can be at least changed with nutrition. What goes in must effect the body. Most people treat their bodies like garbage disposals by finishing off the bag, or what’s on their plates, so it won’t go bad, so they won’t waste the food. But isn’t it a bigger waste to stress the body and then pay the consequence in a large health bill later? What if every time you cleaned off your plate you had a headache? Isn’t it possible since your body is dealing with an overload of food, working too hard to process all the processed food? We talk about toxic waste in our waterways, but what about the toxic waste in our guts? All that processed food: chips, soda, protein bars, cereal, anything that has two or more steps in preparation and more ingredients than you can rattle off, is processed. That’s my rule of thumb. Those types of toxic foods do not clean the body, are not alive, but so dead it takes preservatives to keep them from rotting BEFORE you eat them. So, what happens to that in the body, in the gut? Does it nourish? Does it make for beautiful skin and hair? OR does it stop the hunger/emotional desire from sending the message your body needs NOURISHMENT? The goal is not to just stop the symptom, but address the source. That’s our culture’s way, stop the symptom and we think we’re cured. But what if the symptom just mutates in a way that is not detectable at that time? What if it changes the body chemistry and goes deeper, some place that the effects aren’t seen for years and years until one day you have a lump? Or are 100 pounds overweight? What if that’s what’s happening to our world? We don’t see the trash so we think it’s all being taken care of, but then our fish grow two heads and are so full of mercury poisoning they are no longer edible for us or other animals? What if we are not living with all of our senses and our intuition is our greatest source of understanding?

I believe that all things begin with the self. If we are living at our greatest potential, then we can give more freely. It’s of greater service to mediate on “Self” on the God that lies within, then it is to wash someone’s feet. That’s a long way from the nutritional aspect I was writing about, but that’s the jump I go to. I know I’m my best physician, but I can’t seem to understand what is going on with my neck and shoulder. I’ll keep reading and keep working to understand how my body responds to foods.

Thanks for listening. With love- OUT!

Dog tired

I’m dog tired. Why is that a saying? Dogs get more tired than the rest of us? They sleep harder? They are sleeping one minute and barking the next… how is that possible?

I saw pictures of Mariah Carey in a magazine and I’d like to know why she stirs up an unsettling feeling in me. I see her and I’m nervous. Maybe I’m afraid one of her breasts will fall out, but then so what? Or maybe I’m afraid some weirdo guy is going to jump her. What is that to me? It’s what she represents to me, her archetype. But what is that? Is she the sacred prostitute? Don’t get me wrong, I think she has an amazing voice, but I’m not referring to that right now. I’m more interested in what she represents. I don’t care how she dresses and there are other celebrities who dress like she does and it doesn’t evoke the same feelings, Mariah and Britney Spears generate the same unnerved feelings. Why is that you think? I see Angelina Jolie I think she’s doing her own thing and that she’s her own person. I think she’s an Artemis. What is the difference? I also think there is some hidden information about myself if I could uncover the “why” I feel this way about these types of women. There are other not-so-famous women who evoke similar feelings and if I could get to the root feeling, the core, the essence of this feeling it could change my point of view on a lot of other things I don’t even know yet.

That’s about all I have tonight.

Out.

509 Phone calls

I’m tired, my shoulder is burning again and I have to brush my teeth and go to bed.

I answered the phone today, did two loads of laundry, scooped the yard, (dog poop) made a ton of phone calls for work like “is my 941 correct?” and then faxed the payroll journal to my bookkeeper, put calls into the realtor, answered the phone at least 509 times (okay, only about 50 times, but it felt like 509), went for a quick walk (keeping my stretch with my sisters), watered the front and back yards, made myself lunch and some snacks all the while standing at the island, went to Office Max, and then to Mt. Hope (eggs, toothpaste, etc.) and home again. Oh, did billing, made a deposit (thank god) and about five or six hundred other little things I’ve forgotten.

Before I did any of that I emailed furiously this morning, comments about my friend, Taryn’s, brilliant short story, which is essentially an excerpt of her larger work. It’s really good. I know, everyone says that about a friend’s work, but I’ve watch her write this over the last four years and it really is a world of it’s own. I can see this having a cult following. I can see it grow beyond all reason. I feel the heart of the story and the talent is most defiantly there, along with the desire and discipline. I can’t wait to hold her book in my hand and know that I saw this come along. Anyway, I couldn’t help but jump in the conversation this morning since I read her story last night. I can see that world. The streets, the characters, the mammoth Spirit Tree- now I can see the tree, finally- it’s amazing!

So, for anyone who I should have written too and haven’t, I’m sorry. I know I owe Brooke an email. She wrote the nicest email and so vivid. Her paintings are fun and clever and light hearted but clearly backed by a gifted painter. I’ll write, if you’re reading this, soon. This is all I can do before I crash.

Maybe tomorrow won’t be so busy.

Sprinkler heads

I pulled out onto the highway (small highway) and had to pull over immediately. The huge truck in front of me stopped. For a second I was confused and thought the truck stopped because I pulled out in front of him. Then I saw the ambulance coming the other way. I felt stupid for about 13 seconds.

I want to tell everyone to stop looking at my house if you’re going to have a shitty attitude. (I’ve had bad attitude many times maybe this is my karma.) If you’re going to smirk and make side-ways comments make sure you’re not standing near an open window to where I’m sitting. “Oh, this must be there sprinkler system” the last looker said with his legal note pad under his arm. I stood up and said to the real estate agent outside, “just so you know a new digital timer was installed for the irrigation system. There is a dead spot right there and we didn’t think it a good idea to trench up the yard to install a new head while we were showing the house.” He looks down and sees the sprinkler head. “Oh, I see it.”

Cripes! I wanted to say, take your smirking ass and get the hell out of my house! I wouldn’t let you live in my house or swim in my pool or eat at my new granite island. GET OUT!

But I didn’t. I just felt really sad and lost and like we’re never going to find the right people for our home. Maybe we shouldn’t sell it now. Maybe the house we’re in escrow with isn’t our next house. Maybe we aren’t meant to live in that town. Who knows.