dropping out for a week

Friend,
I will have to keep you waiting a little while for my thoughts on Ash Wednesday and Lent. But I do have forty days right? I am off to the land of sunshine, old people and dial-up. Taking a break from my life here. I will return. That is of course unless I decide to give myself up for Lent and find me a fisherman with a boat. Preferably one that will not need me to gut anything!
Here is to hoping I return a little more rested, and maybe a little more sane.

ash wednesday

Because these wings are no longer wings to fly
But merely fans to beat the air
The air which is now thoroughly small and dry
Smaller and dryer than the will
Teach us to care and not to care Teach us to sit still.
--t.s.eliot

Although it is now ash friday, I feel compelled to report on the recent passage of the Wednesday in question, that being "ash" Wednesday. My mother used to tell us when we were little and compelled to give up things we really didn't want anyway, like lima beans, or bathing, that one day we might be called to a higher form of Lenten activities, such as Taking Something On. First, I should admit that I have never made it through Lent without cheating. Ever. Also, I don't really think of myself as a Christian--more like a Buddhist, but sometimes Jewish, or even Muslim. The word "syncretism" was made just for me. A friend once told me,"You don't really KNOW Jesus do you?" It really hurt my feelings, but I admit, I do not, even though I once wrote a short story where He showed up as a really hip pizza delivery guy.

I took on a spiritual practice for Lent. Meditation. I also took on one carbon-offsetting activity per week--riding my bike to work--because I received an email that asked me to do it, so I did. I receive all sorts of emails asking me to do things. I don't. Not usually. But I liked the idea of mixing up religion with something as complex and imminent as the destruction of the planet via emissions. I think Jesus would approve, and would probably be biking to work right now if He were here. (Would we still HAVE Lent if Jesus were here?)

My grandmother still gives up chocolate for Lent. It's the Big One for Episcopalians, who I think of as an elite class of consumers who truly suffer through the giving up of chocolate. That's why God gave us Easter.

I don't think there's much difference at heart in the tradition of Lent, and other abstaining traditions such as 40-day Sadhanas, or Ramadan. It's a time of year intended to do far more for us than I think we can gain from just giving up chocolate, "Prayers, fasting, charity, and self-accountability" are a few (can you cite Wikipedia without a reference note?), and sometimes just holding still, just for a moment.

little towns she might have stopped in

I can’t NOT take the bait on that one. I have my philosophical front to uphold, and such a large investment in identity dilemmas that I will, of course, circle back to it, but imagine, if you will, just for a moment, a whole city of Johnsons. Would we dare go there alone, or would we walk down the sidewalk clutching one another’s elbows and giggling? (Now I do venture off into the Vagina Mono-blogs…)

A verse from one of my favorite poems:

You want to ask, am I lonely?
Well, of course, lonely
as a woman driving across country
day after day, leaving behind
mile after mile of
little towns she might have stopped
and lived and died in, lonely


I have that fantasy, too. I think this is partially a true story I have crafted into my own fantasy: a woman lives in a trailer on the edge of an abandoned landing strip in the middle of the Texas Panhandle. Her passion is photographing lightning. She has no friends, occasionally sleeps with cute cowboys she meets in bars, but never takes them home for fear that she might become attached to something other than the intense smell of ozone after a thunderstorm.


“If I'm lonely
it's with the rowboat ice-fast on the shore
in the last red light of the year
that knows what it is, that knows it's neither
ice nor mud nor winter light
but wood, with a gift for burning “

-Adrienne Rich

Johnson City

As I was falling asleep last night I was contemplating your idea of shedding ourselves completely and starting anew. A number of years ago I drove to Johnson City. It has since become a thing, an idea, a verb. In my photography days I came across a pickup truck from the 30's. I took an entire roll with that subject. One shot in particular earned a printing, the title of the photograph was "johnson city". Small towns make me think about shucking myself and picking out a new identity. Maybe even give myself a new accent to create some mystery about me. "Have you met the new tennant over off of MainSt? I hear she just moved here from _______". Getting lost in a big city is more obvious, I like the challenge of a small town. I do think however my true self would eventually emerge, as would yours. Johnson City is out there and not going anhywhere, as are my deep seated views of how I should look.
I am in a reading lull at the moment but this came across my lap last night and made me think of you:
"Out there things can happen
and frequently do
to people as brainy
and footsy as you.
And when things start to happen,
don't worry. Don't stew.
Just go right along,
You'll start happening too."
Dr. Seuss

blind horses and snow

Joko Beck says that sometimes we can try to push so hard through something that we just push whatever it is we are trying to break through underground. I see myself mustering as much intensity as possible to blindly get through what I cannot see, but only feel, like a great barrier. Blind horses being led to safety, or wild horses straining against their own release. Which is it, G., or is it both? I like that thought the best, blind wild horses in falling snow. You get the gently falling, healing snow, the ability to see Grace amidst the tanning salon clientele--I get constraint and escape, dialectical opposites and hard choices, and meanwhile miss the silence of the snowflakes.

I thought about you this morning in terms of your designation as G. Prayerful yet filled with life, following and breaking all the rules in turn, finding peace amidst the chaos. You abide, like no other. And you are funny. I have always loved that about you.


N.

Chasing wild horses huh? Funny because over the years I have seen you as a kind of wild horse looking to escape. I have watched you bang your head against the conventional fences that keep you. The house is nothing but a motivation to escape. The thing you need to remember is that for a horse to escape fire it has to be blindfolded and lead out.
As for new identities some believe N and G are not two separate individuals but one split. Which one stayed behind as the teacher? Which one left? They both did.
I dreamt of snow. Do you remember the kind of snow that comes down in large flakes? The silent snow that warms the ground? That was the snow of my dream. In the dream I was irritated with my job. I was working in a tanning salon and was very annoyed that my life had come to that. Then it began to snow and I left a room full of pastey people holding towells and goggles to go outside and look up at the snow.

quit your tents

Here G.is pondering the fate of her soul, and I am still narcissistically hung up on my new identity as N. This is probably because I’ve been hung up on identity for many weeks now, and playing identity fantasy scenarios like: What would happen if you walked out of your life completely, changed your name, clothes, hair, and all your preferences about everything--would you be the same person, or would your true self hunker down someplace inside you like a dormant virus just waiting to attack?
Prayer is a much more sane thing to be contemplating, G. And thighs, of course. I can be walking down the street all worried about global warming and suddenly think, Oh my God, I’ve got to lose weight. It seems do-able, within reach--not as daunting as figuring out how to live a carbon-neutral life.
We were talking about dreams. Here’s one for you, G. I was in a house designed by one of my favorite professors, D., somewhere near the edge of the mountains. All the students were touring the rooms, and staying over night. After dark I realized that the forest nearby was on fire. I rushed down to the barn by the river to try to let the horses out, but they were so wild, I couldn’t get close.
Anyway, prayer. Recently I re-read one of my favorite essays by Annie Dillard, “Teaching a Stone to Talk":

"The soul may ask God for anything, and never fail. You may ask God for his presence, or for wisdom, and receive each at his hands. Or you may ask God, in the words of the Shopkeeper’s little gag sign, to not go away mad, but just go away. Once, in Israel, an extended family of nomads did that. They heard God’s speech and found it too loud. The wilderness generation was at Sinai; it witnessed there the thick darkness where God was…It scared them witless. Then they asked Moses to beg God, please, never to speak to them directly again.”

N.

firsts

I am feeling the fear of being the first to write. I am not a "first" kind of person. I usually react and leave the acting to others. With firsts comes risk, with firsts comes vulnerability, with firsts comes a brash attitude of "Here I am! Look at me!" I don't spend my time trying to forge new paths for myself,rather I would prefer to improve upon the path I am comfortable with. And that may be the one of least resistance. Last night I lit a candle of the Virgin Mary. I said a simple shout out to her "Mary help". No novenas, no counting beads, a generic request for help. Help me sleep through the night, help me lose weight help, me clean my house.
The candle was blinding in my otherwise dark room so I figured I would get no help on the sleep issue. Is it okay to ask for Divine Intervention for my thighs? Will having buns of steel bring me any closer to God?
I don't really expect Mary to help me with my housecleaning, we have already been told that "cleanliness is next to Godliness" I can only assume that this means I am meant to use my own elbow grease. But if this is the case is my self cleaning oven sent from the Devil and I am hellbound for cheating?
My Dear Friend, as you are off trying to improve upon and create new things in the world trust that I am here contemplating the fates of my thighs and the effects of modern technology on my soul.
G.