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dance of the walking dead

I want a vacation. I want to totally rest. I think it is a fools errand to take vacation to go do stuff. I want to do nothing. I want to expel no energy whatsoever.

Here is my plan for a restful vacation. I have saved up some money and I am going to admit myself to a hospital. I am going to demand tube feeding because it is a suckers game to spend all that time chewing and tasting. I would forego food all together but I think that dying would take more energy then just maintaining a caloric intake. Originally, I thought I would want to be on a ventilator so I didn’t have to breath on my own, but It looks rather uncomfortable. I decided on an iron lung. That way I don’t have to use muscles to expand or deflate my lungs. Again, I had an errant thought that perhaps I could retrofit one to also be a suntan booth, but I don’t even want my melanocytes to have to work that hard. There could be a TV in there playing movies that I didn’t have to think too hard, but all the energy of keeping my eyes open seems exhausting. There was one flaw to my plan, yep my heart. That silly thing just keeps pumping, it speeds up and slows down but it seems to be more reliable then any Timex I ever had. When I was an intern working in the ER, I was disimpacting a bowel (hmm another thought) when this horrific plunging noise came from the trauma area. IT repeated every 8 seconds or so and I had to see what was making the racket. “Hold everything,” I said to the constipated patron. In the other room was a huge machine with a plunger like apparatus. IT was shaped like a c-clamp and the plunger dove down the middle pinching to the gurney. Beneath the gurney was an enormous blue limp fellow. The only movement was the reflex movement or his arms and legs as “the thumper” performed CPR. The ER attending explained that the man was so big that no one could compress his chest well enough to perform CPR I asked how well it worked, and he replied, “only slightly better than not doing it at all.” My over active imagination immediately saw it as a garbage disposal for damaged hearts. I’m going to need “the thumper” please. I think 5 days will be refreshing and give me enough time to be ready to return to work, pale, thumped, and well rested.

I have lived a life on life support. The reality I am facing is that I spent time just surviving and not really living. I didn’t let my melanocytes work and it stopped the glow of joy. I feared life and it dulled my experience and my participation. I hid in the darkness, shutting myself off from the Sunlight. I refused to be inspired or to inspire. I longed to breath but held my breath wanting to keep what I had at the cost of not letting anything else in. I begged for the thumper, my heart is broken and damaged and instead of letting it heal, I covered it in layers of inert thought living it on like fatty tissue. I kept longing for the old familiar beat of every 8 seconds instead of letting the changes occur naturally and living into them instead o running away. I help on to the waste and garbage. I retained all the pain and despair .I was the walking dead.

There is a moment in time that all life began. Regardless of world view, at one point nothing, in the next everything. I have had 2 such moments. One I don’t remember except for some masked man spanking my cold butt. The other was nothing more than a whisper. It said, “Trudge.” For me the definition of trudge is “walk with purpose.” Slowly, I listened. The word echoes in my brain and in my heart (now beating on its own, thank you). I knew I was not completely sane if I was choosing death over life and I made a decision to follow that voice. I began by looking at and eliminating the waste I had accumulated. There would always be residual and more would appear, but I can deal with that when it happens. I asked the voice to remove the thumper and teach me to mend my broken and misguided heart. As that happened, I began to be inspired by others who have begun to dance the dance of the living rather than the walking dead. I joined in the mainstream of life. I took a deep breath, letting the wind dwell inside. The Ruah (wind or Holy Spirit) danced inside. It was gasping and choking breath at the start. It felt foreign and unnatural. It burned like when it is hot and humid outside. The Spirit inspired.

There are times that I still want a vacation. It isn’t always easy. I am still mending a broken heart and will breath short rapid breaths that do little to fully inspire. I long for easy. I long for love. I strive to Trudge.

 

 
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Posted by on July 8, 2017 in journey, life

 

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dark passenger and the stranger

It rides me like a dark passenger.passenger

I was unencumbered. I strode with cocky assurance. I was unaware and feeling on top of the world. IT happened in a flash. I almost didn’t recognize it. Actually, I didn’t recognize it. I didn’t feel my shoulders slump with the weight. I was unaware of his voice in my ear. It was familiar and strangely comfortable. He whispered posing questions of my deserving to feel happy. He tormented me with thoughts of arguments lost, disappointments gained, and opportunities unattained. He reminded me of history, blotting out successes and highlighting failures. I stooped. I buckled under the weight of the stories and the pain. The sky darkened and my mood followed.

I could barely move one foot in front of the other. I lumbered on like Charlie Brown, full of hope but eyes to the ground. I tried to keep going. I tried to put on a brave face. It was a lie. The voice rumbled, echoing in my subconscious. It reminded my of hopes dashed in the past. It reminded me of love lost and pain present. The voice urged me to stop moving, to turn and flee. It beckoned me to return to the past, the known, the familiar. It cautioned against risk. It pointed to the scars on my heart and soul. It giggled as I cried. fear

My eyes rose and rested on a stranger. I cant even recall if it was man or female. It seemed unimportant at the time and even less important now. The clothing was casual and nondescript. The face seemed to glow. It radiated. IT was blinding and yet I could see clearly. It was magnetic. The eyes, the smile seemed to pull me in. It would not let me go. It would not let my eyes sink again. The stranger said, “Ask.” I knew exactly what the stranger meant. I couldnt form the words. The stranger waited patiently, stood there lovingly. The eye, the wonderful star on the strangers face, winked. wink

“Take away my Fear, take away the Dark Passenger,” I blubbered. At once, I commenced to outgrow Fear.

 
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Posted by on January 27, 2017 in journey, life, Uncategorized

 

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moments in the Sun.

“Do or not do, there is no try,” He bellowed. He was the scariest fellow I have ever met. He is the scariest guy I call my friend. He said this as he used a 6 inch knife to remove a splinter from his finger. It was 10 degrees outside and he was wearing shorts. I have only seen him wear long pants once, it was zero degrees. He is one of those strong but not muscle head individuals. You can tell his build comes from hard work, not the pansy gyms I enjoy. He has scars and abrasions. He is crass. He swears and uses harsh and sometimes abrasive language. He buzzes like neon and you get the feeling he is constantly ready. There are times, I wonder how he sleeps with all the noise you feel oozing from him. My first impression was that this man might well have no heart. I wondered if he cut it out himself and ate it, protecting himself from emotions and making sure no one else could get to his heart. I wonder if it was still beating as he swallowed it whole, chasing it with a pint of ice cream.

And then he spoke. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t eloquent or in iambic pentameter. It wasn’t flowery or soft at all. It was direct and to the point. It was piercing. It was powerful. I would say it was straight from the heart, but I am still not sure he didn’t eat his heart. He spoke truth. It was riveting. It was powerful. It was humbling. It was motivating. It was laser focused on solution.

Years later, I would be in a different state, a different time, a different meeting. My head adrift with finding the perfect response. Planning an eloquent answer. Id seek to make eye contact to be called on and deliver the soliloquy. It would work and I would be chosen to speak. Suddenly, I’d feel a splinter in my finger that really wasn’t there. I’d flash on that knife and my legs would be cold. I would forget everything I had been thinking. It was as if I swallowed my brain. I spoke truth. I spoke from the heart. My soul echoed his words, “God is everything or He is nothing, whats our choice to be?”

 
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Posted by on January 13, 2017 in life, Uncategorized

 

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ghosts

I’m sitting here alone in a much too big house, starting yet another year, watching the snow fall on a foreign and unfamiliar place. Ive done this a lot over the last few years. Nothing has been familiar or trustworthy. I have tried to find a solid to hold onto. I find myself grasping air, ghosts, at the best, liquid. When particularly afraid, I try to hold on tighter, which just makes me tired and more desperate. Ive been chasing ghosts, spectors, illusions, dreams, and lies.

It started a long time ago. I have always wanted the dream. I wanted to be happily married. I wanted to be popular, successful, brilliant, and tall. I led a façade life. IT was play acting. I was a good actor, well good enough to believe my own performance. I thought that was me. I pretended I was popular, successful, even brilliant. I never did get to be tall. As the turmoil of not being who I really was began to rip me apart, I ran. I was in full flight from reality. I hid. The separation of who I was grew from the truth. I chased the illusion of becoming what I wanted to be. I believed I could be what others wanted me to be. I kept running. I kept grasping. The wind ran through my fingers as I sank more and more into despair. The ghosts haunted me. They teased me. The pointed out how I failed. They showed me who I really was. Over 10 years ago, God spoke to me in a church basement through a group of people that also ran to ghosts. HE told me, “Find me or die.” He said I had a choice to keep moving away, or to stop and change directions. I have tried. I wanted life. I wanted to be whole. I wanted to be a real little boy. I learned. I clamored. I sought. I keep trying. But it feels lie chasing ghosts again. I feel the presence of the Spirit. I can see His hands, feel His love. When I try to hold it, it vanishes.

Since the original message, I chased several ghosts. I tried to chase the ghost of love. I asked for a time to heal my family. I sought real connection I was rejected and tried to seek heart through different ways. IT failed. The host turned on me, biting and hacking. IT was nasty. IT reminded me of the scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark, when they open the Ark and the beautiful angel turns into a ugly spector. It kept getting worse. My screams and pain only fueled the vengence. The venom, the hate would leak from my wounds. I would lose my life, my kids, my illusions. I would be erased. I held onto the ghost of love, hoping that the love of the kids would outweigh the hate and hurt. It didn’t. I keep sharing my heart. I keep putting the whisper in the wind. I speak love. I speak connection. I speak truth and solid. MY wind is not as strong or present at this point. It aches.

I chase the illusion of success. I have struggled to rebuild a life and a career. I make decisions that I think are the right ones. It all seems to fall in line and then crumble. The illusion is maddening. It taunts me that the success of being who I am is not as important as what I do. I know it to be a lie, however it would be easier to give in to the lie. It would be easy to surrender to the false self again. Chasing the ghosts has worn me out.

I search for the ghost of love. I panic when it eludes me. I open myself to its wind and am met with cold and heartless breezes. The breeze hurt, it leave icicles on my ribs, shielding my heart from the warmth. I close myself again, deciding to not open up again, only to find myself aching once again. The world is so worried about being hurt, we cant open, we can no longer love without fear. Again, I am confronted by the same condition, “Find God or die.” I can fight for that connection to God’s Spirit or die, existing for chasing ghosts. The same ghosts that my heart and mind crave, desire, ache for.

I’m sitting in a foreign land, watching the snow fall, covering the world in ghosts. I’m afraid.

 
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Posted by on January 1, 2017 in divorce, journey, life

 

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I just sparkle

There is a great song. I think it is by Shawn Mullins. It talks about being born to shimmer and born to shine and born to radiate. I love that idea. I love the idea that we are meant to reflect the light of our creator. I love the idea that trapped inside of each of us is a spark that ignites who we are. I like that our fires can join and rage. I like that our candlelight can become a firelight.

I mourn that we dim our lights. I dimmed my light in judgement. I dimmed my light in rejection. I dimmed my light in low self esteem. I tried to drown it with alcohol. I dimmed my light in faking that everything was ok. I let the clouds roll in from the lands of conditional love and performance based relationship. I hid in the dark shell, trying desperately to warm myself by the thin waning light of my soul. The flame sputtered and choked. MY heart screamed, my soul cried. IT was just as cold inside as from the stern stares as outside.

I began to weep. I began to shiver in the cold. I whispered a small prayer, “Help me.” And He did. The shell cracked and I began to grow. I began to honor my light. I felt the warmth and I began to like it. I let God call the light, “Good.” I let the scales fall away and let Him began to rebuild. He comforted. He quieted. He ignited. He loved. I sparkled.

 
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Posted by on August 8, 2016 in journey, life, Uncategorized

 

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Zelda the psychotherapist

I think I might be Brittny Spears.  Well, at least I am channeling her songs. One in particular, “Oops, I did it again,” rings true. I don’t know if Id go as far as wear the cheerleading outfit she did in the video, but I am certainly humming the verse.

I mentioned that I think my VW bus is magical. I think Zelda is also a psychotherapist. She is more of a sit and listen patiently while you talk yourself into a hole or self revelation.  She seems pleased with either outcome. zelda

I took her on our maiden camping voyage this weekend and felt waves of realization and actualization pound against my brain and heart like a hurricane on a dingy. I discovered and uncovered truth after truth. I was diminished and rebuilt.

I have been reading about how our childhood traumas leave scars on our ability to relate. We never learn or forget how to be flexible with other people and even with ourselves.  I am not laying blame with anyone.  However, at some point in my childhood, I learned to get attention by crying, and to put on a false bravado would protect you from harm.  I carried that on for a long time. The disparity of who I was on outside and who I was on inside was cavernous. I begged to be told I was ok, good, attractive, smart, whatever. I needed it because I had lost my true self.  I had hidden behind my false self.  I think everyone does that to a certain extent. I had just done it completely.  As the cavern grew, so did the pain. I drank it away. I flirted it away. I laughed it away. For awhile.

I thought I had truly met myself and was emerging as my true self over the last 9 years. I reacted differently. I enjoyed life. I tried to be alive. I dug into my heart and soul. I was dumbfounded with my need to escape once again a few years ago. I needed to feel intimacy. The marriage I was in had no real intimacy. We had lost the ability to communicate and also the desire to want to grow together. The need consumed me and my world exploded.

Again, I thought I had worked through that in counseling and self exploration. But, oops, I did it again. I tried to become what I thought someone else wanted me to be. I was afraid of not being good enough. I was afraid of being less than.  Again, I ran and hid. My life changed. I retreated into my soul and mind.

Zelda the Wonderbus allowed me to see that I have been doing it all over again here. I wanted to be respected, but I wasn’t respecting. I wanted to be liked, but I wasn’t liking. I wanted to be accepted, but I wasn’t accepting. I didn’t ing anyone or myself. I was not allowing for Namaste. I wasn’t allowing for the God spark that is in me to shine and frolick with all the other God sparks out there. I didn’t know my spark was just as valuable, just as beautiful, just as worthy as everyone elses. Not knowing kept me in darkness, hidden and afraid.

That Zelda—she is a wonder.

 
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Posted by on August 31, 2015 in journey, life

 

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Zelda meets the boy

zelda and meZelda the Wonderbus is magical. I knew it as soon as they unloaded her from the trailer. There was something special about her. I imagined adventures rivaled only by Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. I jumped in and wheeled around the block. I got a few honks and waved proudly. The horn didnt work or I would have tooted gleefully. It was a few days later that I found out my brake lights and turn signals didnt work and decided the honkers were not waving at me like I thought. I had that fixed and got to work. I put in a laminated wood floor. I stained the cabinets and got new hinges for her. I put in a sound system. I bought seat covers. I sewed a new screen on her tent. We bonded. I think she cherished our time together. She always starts and she garnishes grins everywhere we go. She is even playful, once popping out of gear as I wrestled with the netting. She just wanted to be close to me as I had to scramble to the front to apply the brakes. Zany Zelda.

I have been in a quandry as of late. I find my self romanticizing the past and dwelling on love lost. I have oscillated between feeling like I should live out an 80’s movie and hold up a boom box or some other grand gesture or dive into self remorse and flagellation. I have been doing counseling and trying to learn about myself and why I function like this. It hasnt been easy. What I have found is that I have been unable to really relate to people my whole life. I have not been good at forming attachments or relationships. I, immediately, go to the needy stage and live only as others see me. I had no true self.

My long term relationship worked because she was all too happy to feed me an identity. After I got sober and started to come alive, it disturbed her. She withdrew and I panicked. I did not know myself and I did not know how to be in a relationship. However, I was tired of being dead and couldnt go back again. It crumbled and neither of us knew how to deal with it as evidenced by how nasty it became.

I spend some time trying to understand. I stood strong with my daughters and against some of the slings and arrows. I didnt crumble. I got knocked down a lot and always got back up. Things kept getting worse. I kept soberly moving forward. It started to brighten when I reconnected with an old friend of mine. We dated on and off for about a year. Looking back, I wasnt ready. I still had no idea how to be in a relationship. I had no idea how to love. What needed to start from the inside wasnt there. I quickly saw myself only as she saw me. I wanted to be that guy and was willing to try and be so. When I fell short, I would run away. It became too painful for either of us. However, I still cherish the time we spent together. I did better in that relationship than I had ever done before.zelda with seven

Zelda and I went camping this weekend. She is spruced up and full of style. We decided to stay close but go somewhere I hadnt been before. I have been really pondering who I am and how I fit into this crazy world and taking a break from that would be awesome. Zelda is magical. Not in the fortune telling way like the machine in, “Big”. Or in the fantasy way like in the video game way. She is magical as she just wanted to be with me. She trudged her way up the hill at 60-65 mph (impossible many VW owners say). We found an unoccupied free camping site right next to a stream. We parked and I set up the site. Really, I unfolded the bed and put my memory foam topper on it. I sat with her and read. I listen to her sounds. She listen to me breath. I will neither confirm nor deny that I spent some time talking with her. The magic part is that she allowed me to see what had happened to me and what was happening now. She opened my eyes to the fact that I had isolated all over again. I was afraid. I have ben afraid since I was a kid. I am afraid that someone will tease me. I am afraid that I wont be liked. I am afraid I will be called a coward. I am afraid that I am “less than.” When the bottom fell out of my life, I didnt have to be afraid anymore. I knew that I could survive and be ok with next to nothing. As friends, collegues, family turned their back on me, I saw the truth of who was left. As I scrambled financially, I saw the truth of wants versus needs. As I felt unforgiven and judged by the church universal, I say the loving and forgiving Grace of God. I felt the comfort of Abba. What Zelda showed me is that I am afraid again. I moved to an unfamiliar state, took a different job, left a love interest, set up house in a place 8 hours from anyone I knew. I went to meetings that have a different style and felt wrong. I agreed to restrictions I found silly and misdirected. I was over my head, alone, and without defenses. I was scared. I didnt think I was. I had fought hard to get here. I figured I would just keep fighting. The meetings got wierder, the job prospects unsteady. I wanted to go back to where I was before. I needed someone to tell me who I was and that I would be ok. I was addicted to avoiding my inner self, my true self. Zelda showed me. Under the fear, behind the locked door of my heart, hidden in the corner is that scared boy. He wants to relate. He wants to love. He wants to not be afraid. His arms are outstretched. I hugged that boy this weekend. I told him he was very brave for trying so hard. He was very smart for figuring out a way to get his needs met for so long. He is “just enough.”

Zelda started right up when I headed home.zelda front

 
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Posted by on August 30, 2015 in journey, life

 

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