sueeeus

At some point early on, the notion formed that I had to do something meaningful in my life, something BIG; I couldn’t just be.  Later, I reformed the notion from having to do something meaningful, to wanting to do something meaningful.  As time progressed, the notion fell further and further behind, buried somewhere deep in the recesses of my mind.

I haven’t given much thought to mortality for quite some time.  In my twenties I had a dream in which I died, and it was all so clear and unterrifying.  From that point on, I no longer feared my own death.  Nor did I think of it (not that I’d given my demise that much thought prior to the awakening).  That is, until I became a mother.

Suddenly, I am keenly aware of my mortality.  I have children to raise, and I want to see them to adulthood.  The recent loss of a dear friend amplifies the awareness further still.  In less than two months, she went from the vibrant friend I’ve known for the past twenty years to a memory.  Cancer exposed its ugly face and devoured her, and just like that, she is gone.

I’m very goal oriented, so I tend to focus on the destination more than the journey.  Even in the most literal sense, as a traveler, I’m the one saying, “Are we there yet?” rather than, “Hey!  Look at that!!”  Thus far, I’m not very good at the journey.  My life has been a series of goals; it’s how I survive.  Get a job, get a home, get a car, get out of debt.  Those are the easy goals.  Those are the goals over which I have control.  Then there are the personal goals.  Find true love.  Build a family.  Live happily ever after.  Find inner peace.  Live a meaningful life.  These are the goals that challenge me, because these goals require me to focus on the journey.  I need to learn to enjoy the journey.  I need to just be (to the best of my ability).  I need to convince myself that it’s okay to just be.  It’s okay.  I don’t need or have to do anything big.

It’s all about the journey.  I already know that’s the answer.  Somebody with far more wisdom than I have already went through the effort to find that.  Live joyfully.  Go thy way, eat thy bread with  joy, and drink thy wine with a merry heart.  Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might.

New goal.  In the morning, when I rise, I shall ask myself, “How are you going to love today?” and in the evening before I sleep, I shall ask myself, “What did you love today?” In so doing, I live a meaningful life.

The stepkids started whispering between themselves the other day, and when asked to share what they were talking about, they said it’s a secret that has nothing to do with the rest of us, and we’ll find out Sunday.

Oh?  Father’s Day? 

No, it has nothing to do with that.

So.  It turns out that the big secret is that according to their church, they aren’t to work on Sundays.

I wonder if they were complaining to their mother that I was having them work every day.  I only assign actual jobs on weekdays, and on weekends we do whatever, and sometimes that includes work, but it’s not scheduled labor, by any means.  I was planning on seeing to it that we do fun family things on the weekends while they’re here, but I’ve just lost all my oomph for that.  Gone.  Vamoose.

I’m a bit miffed, and maybe I’m taking it all wrong, but I said something about how we’ll not be doing anything tomorrow, because we’ll make it a day of rest and respect.  So, no movies, no games, no outings, no shopping.  A day of rest.  And meditation.

Gadget thinks I’m being ridiculous.  Or mean.  Or both.

I could see the importance of observing the ‘day of rest’, if they were actually people of devotion with gentle and meek souls, who lived their beliefs by speaking kindness one to another, showing consideration to others, and being generally wholesome in nature. 

Instead, I see it as an excuse to wield their will over mine, and I wasn’t even planning on imposing any chores on weekends, other than the things that need to be done daily anyway, like clearing the table and washing the dishes.  So now I want to be belligerent, and tell them that if they’re hungry, they can get themselves a bowl of cereal or a slice of cheese, because I won’t be working on cooking tomorrow.  And if they won’t do the dishes, I’ll save them for them to do the next day.  And by no means will I allow television during the day.

I’m a hard ass.  I know.

And my blood sugar is sky high.  180.  Most distressing.

I pray. Why? Because the effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much. And I believe that.

I think about beliefs and why we believe the things that we believe. People kill and maim and fight wars over differences in beliefs. If I could project myself out into the heavens and look down on the earth, so as to get the big picture perspective, what would I see’ Would it make any sense’ I would ask myself, “Why'”

There is faith, there is tradition, and there is loyalty. I see fierce loyalties to things like sports teams, towns, schools, countries, religions. There is intellectual loyalty and emotional loyalty. I can understand intellectual loyalty, because it has a basis of reason. I am somewhat baffled by emotional loyalty. Why does it matter if Team A beat Team B’ Did they play well’ Did they play their best’ Do I have to side with Team A because they’re based in my home town’ What if I think Team B is the better team’ Will I be ostracized for favoring Team B’ Why does it matter if I’m a Star Bellied Sneech or a North-going Zax’ Loyalty is a very strange thing indeed.

There are those who are loyal based on tradition. Something is taught and passed on, and perhaps not ever questioned or understood, but held fast to all the same. This also baffles me. To me, loyalty is something that must be earned. Questioning is therefore essential.

There is patriotism. Now that makes almost no sense to me. Who can control where they are born? I’m GRATEFUL to have been born into a (relatively) free country. And I love the land of my youth. Because it’s the land of my youth. But I’m not patriotic in the sense that I think my country is better than any other country. What would give me that right? But to delve further into these questions would mean that I’d have to delve into politics and other things of which I am painfully and shockingly ignorant. And that wearies me. So I will let it rest that I am thankful to live the life that I’m living, where I happen to be.

There is a book movement sweeping the country, fueled in part by Oprah, I suspect. Eat, Pray, Love. I haven’t read the book, but for some reason, Mr. Gadget put Oprah on the other day, and that was the topic du jour. He then left the room. It was very strange on his part, and I sat scratching my head in bewilderment over his behavior, while listening to the women and their stories. I have seen the book in passing, and thought that it sounded interesting. Anything that starts with ‘Eat’ and ends with ‘Love’ must have some sort of goodness to it. One thing that struck a nice chord with me was the suggestion to write down the happiest moment of every day in a gratitude journal, and to ask yourself what you really, really, really want. (It’s an earnest way to probe.) I was going to start blogging my happiest moments each day, but am a bit wary, due to that nanomobololrorljrmormeoeremrmmooo hullaballoo. I know that these things can become tedious if one makes a commitment. (I’m not so good at commitments, I acknowledge, because I knew better than to sign up for nanonaonemoemrn and I’m just about ready to quit seeing my chiroquacker, which is mostly due to him wanting me to “commit to my health.” And while we’re on the topic of commitment phobia and true confessions, let me just say that I was filled with an overwhelming feeling of Good LORD, what am I getting myself into and WHAT AM I DOING???? and no I DON’T! I know not what when I uttered those two words, “I do.”) All that aside, I bought the book, and plan to read it. Perhaps over Christmas break. Either way, I’m making a deliberate effort to think of the happiest moment of my day each night, just before I fall asleep. It’s good to end the day on a high note.

I don’t know where I was going with this post. I started the draft eons ago. Maybe just to document that I am perplexed about life in general. Or not. I must have been inspired about something. But for now, I’m concentrating on each and every day’s happiest moments.

Today’s? Remembering a dream from last night, in which Mr. Gadget and I shared on of those I – love – you – through – every – fiber – of – your – being looks, and kissed a long and beautiful I – love – you – through – every – fiber – of – your – being kisses. Even if it never happens during consciousness, at least the angels have reminded me that there is love. I’ll treasure that moment, even if it was only a dream. (Oh yes, there is love, but the expression in real life… …is not so sweet as the perfection found in dreams…)

And the husband, reading only fragments over my shoulder, says, “Who is James Five Sixteen?  Your blogging pal buddy friend that you’re writing secret messages to?”

Yes Dear.  That’s it.

Don’t answer a fool according to his foolishness, or you’ll be like him yourself.

That would be Proverbs 26:4 — just the sort of thing I have to say when idiots indulge in road rage.

And Mr. Gadget’s rebuttal would be something on the order of Proverbs 26:5…

Answer a fool according to his foolishness, or he’ll become wise in his own eyes.

Is it any coincidence that this morning we awake to find the truck vandalized, with both windows broken and strewn across the driveway in thousands of bits of blue-green glass? Now, he would say no. I, however, am not fully convinced.

Perhaps there is no relationship between the two, but I stand by my conviction that Mr. Gadget should by no means attempt to “teach them a lesson or they’ll never learn.” Not unless he wants to pursue a career in road-patrol in which his capacity is official and warranted. And especially not when his wife and child are in the vehicle. Especially NOT.

Hello? This is not Small Town America, in which people know each other and lessons might actually be effective. No, this is Suburbia, in which nobody knows anybody, and crazies mingle with the masses. People carry guns, drive by and shoot each other. The odds of encountering a crazy are amplified if one chooses to provoke.

If it weren’t for the Zoloft, I think I would have given him the tizzy of tizzy fits over that selfish display of immaturity. As is, I gave him the standard sharp and curt lecture, and didn’t speak to him for the rest of the evening. However, with the dawning of a new day, and a freshly vandalized vehicle, I find it hard to imagine that these incidents are unrelated.

And it totally sucks that someone would do this to us. At least nothing was stolen. Due to the abundance of gadgetry, it took the entire day for Mr. Gadget to realize that something had, indeed, been stolen. His GPS. And why didn’t the alarm go off? What good is it if it doesn’t detect breaking glass? So now I’m worried that whoever it was will be back. I’m not one bit happy. Mr. Gadget has run off to the car gadget store, to have an updated alarm installed.

Maybe it is unrelated, but it doesn’t matter. There is no call for a stupid display of road rage. None. It serves no good whatsoever. Nope. I’m not one bit happy.

1. Contribution :: to humanity
2. Ryan :: O’Neal
3. Minimal :: amount of effort
4. Cleansed :: and refreshed
5. Centered :: and alive
6. Arrow :: broken
7. Beyond :: all reason
8. Execute :: kill
9. Intuition :: faith
10. Apology :: sorrow

Well, I have an abundance, or overabundance of feelings, but I don’t feel like writing about them right now.  At least not publicly.  Which isn’t meant to sound as though there’s anything mysterious going on, because there’s not.  It’s all just blah blah blah blah blah.

Well, I was up half the night tending to a child exploding from both ends.  Poor little guy.  Carpet cleaner and washing machines were both running in the middle of the night, and the house, it does not smell good.

The nice door to door religious people have been by again.  The JWs are especially nice, and I like them, but never invite them in.  The LDS boys are nice too, and they come because Mr. Gadget is on THE LIST.  I don’t let them in either.  I am so rude.  I don’t know what it is with them and keeping track of their people.  It drives me bonkers.  Actually, I sort of know, after reading on several ‘recovering from M’ sites, but don’t have the energy to get into it, and religion is just one thing that I can’t discuss reasonably with MG, so we just let our differences be.  Long and tiring story.  I will say that it really bothered me when his mother added me to their official genealogy.  I did NOT want to be on their list.  It’s so hyppocritical, anyway.  MG’s biological father is not on their list, because she’s ashamed that she got knocked up while separated from her husband.  So.  Hrumph again.  She got my middle name completely wrong, and I haven’t corrected her.  Parnath.  Who ever heard of Parnath   And how could she get that from my name   It beats me.  Parnath it is, as far as the LDS are concerned, and that’s okay with me.

I don’t particularly like the door-to-door conversion pushing experience.  Not that I have anything against the pushers.  I was once very zealous and pushy myself, but have learned that people aren’t receptive to that.  So I back off.  I try not to consider myself lukewarm.  I’m just not actively evangelizing or proselytizing, and I believe what I believe, and not without foundation or reason.  I’m not blindly following or accepting a particular sect or system, just because it’s how I was raised or how I was taught.  I sought and I found.  Enough said.  I tend to feel bad about not letting them in (the door-to-doors), but they have a charter that I don’t agree with, so they won’t be making a sale with me, no matter what they say or do.  It’s a waste of our time, theirs and mine.  I could invite them in and try to convert them, but that’s biting off more than I want to chew.  I ought not be so lazy, but I think that if I simply let my actions be loving, and leave it at that. then no harm, no foul.

I think the great commission is largely misunderstood.  Many sects zero in on it, and they think they need to knock on doors, make passionate altar calls, broadcast to the universe via satellite, or travel far and anon to spread the good news.  I say start small.  In your own body.  In your own life.  Live by example.  Live clean.  Live uprightly.  Live love.

Love is what it’s all about anyway, isn’t it   It’s the golden rule.  If we love one another, and treat them as we’d like to be treated.  Well.   The world would surely be a better place.

All this from some unconscious mutterings.  My sweet little sick child is asleep next to me, his feet on my lap.  He’s so precious.  No explosions for several hours, and so far he’s kept some soup down.  I hope he’s feeling better.  Poor little guy.

My spirit breathes with yours
I have heard your call
I know your name
Fear not, and be at peace
Be strong, yes, be strong
For from the first moment
When you did set your heart
To understand
Your words were heard
I am come for your words
I hear you speak the words of a prophet
But do you know what you say
I hear you speak the same words
Over and over again
Your heart cries
Sentences only begun
And I, I know the answers
To the questions you ask
And you, you shall know the truth
And the truth shall make you free
How bold you are
To bare your heart to a grasping world
Who only wants more
When you’ve given it all
Not I, no, not I
When you seek to know the truth
With your heart
It will be found of you
And the truth will make you free
So be at peace, be comforted
Dear kindred spirit
You are not alone

–sueeeus, 1990s

Here in the wide wild west
The good guys don’t wear black
People give their trust
To those who wear white hats

The masses with canine vision
Find those white capped ones
Placed high on mighty steeds;
And join them as they charge

Caught in panting fervor
They shout with unison
Hysteria in the stampede
They are solaced in the bond

I speak to you, O silent one
For I am silent too
Open your eyes, watch and learn
Never be afraid

Come and see what canine eyes
As yet can not perceive
Carry this brightness which pierces dark
And scatters the light of day

Know the enemy
For it is certain
That he indeed knows you
What tactics has he tried
Look for something new
Seek in the obvious places

They walk among the masses
Watching and learning
Seeming to belong
In all appearance true
What color are their hats
Be not deceived

But play the game
Open your eyes and learn the move
Go where you don’t belong
Hide among the wolves
Don’t let yourself be seen
They devour even their own

Things are not as they seem
I am wearing black
You won’t find me in the masses
I walk in desolate places
Among mottled faces, void of expression
Bobbing on an endless sea
Where the wild things roam

Yeah, our shoulders may even touch
But they will not see me
Nor can they harm me
I venture out into darkness
Following a beacon not discerned

And I, a chameleon in black
Will find my brothers
And clasp their hands as we pass by
Our eyes will meet only briefly
In this most dangerous place
For we must not be seen

But they will know who I am
And when our hands touch
I will give them of my brazen torch
And my chameleon cloak

We will wander the wilderness
Seeking other brethren
As the hidden flame burns brighter
Growing, kindling, strengthening
Waiting until that day
When it will burst forth in a mighty flash
Consuming all the darkness

Then the cloak I wear
Will no longer be shrouded in black
But the colors will shine in brilliance
And then will I don my hat
Ablaze in glorious white

I will raise my arm to my champion
My silent lips will open
And I will shout his victory cry

–sueeeus, 13 Feb 1993

Truth is absolute. Perception is relative. Reality is relative. Reality is based on perception. After all, beauty is in the eyes of the beholder. Red is red and green is green, but to one color blind, green is red and red is green. It’s not truth, but it is reality. One does not lie, to say red is green. Yet, in truth, red is not green. Does truth matter, then, if it is perception and not truth that influences and molds how we think and who we become I maintain that truth matters. I seek after truth, but am impaired by reality.