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There is strength inside of pain
wisdom whispers soft and still
for I've learned to trust the rain.

Wild spirit trumps the brain
doctored by a solemn pill.
There is strength inside of pain.

Daily rushes done in vain
shout and tumble, push and spill.
I will listen for the rain.

Does it matter if I'm sane
labeled "crazy" "weak" or "ill"?
There is strength inside of pain.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained?
You may make your way with will;
I prefer to trust the rain.

Blizzards rise and breezes wane.
I fear neither drought nor chill.
Here is strength inside of pain;
Now I've learned to trust the rain.

I haven't stopped watering the tree
I told him
I have learned to trust the rain.

Each person has a black wolf
and a white wolf,
the grandfather tells us,
showing how high each wolf stands
in the firelight,
hand at his waist and rising.
They are of equal strength.
He has enough food for one of them.
Which wolf does he feed?

We know we are supposed to say
the white wolf.  Everyone knows
you are supposed to say, the white wolf.

But grandmother interrupts.
She tells us that we need the black wolf too.
She tells us that the black wolf
guards the whole camp,
while the white wolf
guards only the fire.
She tells us
that the white wolf knows how
to feed himself.
If you do not feed the black wolf, she says,
he will come at your throat,
growling, and hungry for your blood.
If you feed the white wolf
he will grow bloated and fat and happy with himself.
His eyes will cloud over
with satisfaction and pride.
You will forget about
all the other people
with their wolves,
all the other hungry black wolves
who need a bone now and then.

Feed your black wolf,
she tells us.
Feed him enough to keep him quiet
and close to camp.
Feed him enough to keep him from your throat.
And send the white wolf out
to hunt.

The perfect birthday has elements of surprise woven into the fabric of the day:  a sudden view of an eagle, an unexpected moment of quiet, bumping into a friend you've not seen in far too long.  The weather is perfect: sunny, warm, not too warm, but you don't need a jacket and don't miss it.  People remember you -- they don't jump all over you or anything, but they do small and thoughtful things throughout the day.  They take the time to text.  They maybe pick up a little something for you if they're going to see you.

Today:  was the perfect birthday.  I found sudden quiet moments, birdsong, a few moments in a small forested space with a running stream.  Coffee with a friend.  The love and devotion of a thoughtful daughter. Cuddles with my son. The calm and peace of leading a meeting.  The perfect blouse.  Having my crush compliment me on the sound of my voice.  Beauty in small things.  Flowers.  A thoughtful present or two.  Money in the mail.  Dozens of facebook well wishers, old friends and new.  Hugs.  A little cake.  A nice dinner with my ex-husband and two kids.  Our family. 

Happiness today, and peace through most of it. 

In the coming month or two, I want to establish a new habit:  I want to get out of the house first thing in the morning, walk across the street to the community college garden and sit and meditate in the gazebo for a few minutes before coming back here for coffee.  I think that habit, that one half hour change in my day would mean a world of difference in the quality of my life.

Another habit I want to establish:  just writing.  Every day.  Every, every day.  Even if it's just this kind of thing, and just here.

Love and Peace - Virginia

The fiber of this day is frayed and lifeless, and I despair of ever living a life of meaning.

Can you tell I've been reading Tolstoy?

I am a little depressed...not because of Anna Karenina.  I'd never read it before and after I'd become accustomed to the conventions of the writing it was a great read. 

But today is flat; I've slept past 1:00; I haven't left the house and have no desire to...or no.  That is, I have a desire to have left the house and to be out somewhere quiet, like the Chinese garden across the street, but the effort between here and there (showering, dressing, moving out the door) seems insurmountable.  Once again, I am faced with the granite wall of my own sloth and I have no ability to see around or past it and nothing with which to move through it.

So: I'm faced with what is quaintly called in AA my "defects of character" and never has it been more apparent to me that among all flawed human beings I am firmly in the top half of flaw-ed-ness.  Plus, I can't write.  The day I was supposed to have started with a medical appointment and went from there to meandering around Capitol Hill, coffee and writing with Elaine, and starting the Wellness Recovery Action Plan group.  WRAP.

I can't even count how many hundreds of flat days have started with me calling in sick...to school, to work, to appointments, to social events.  Hundreds and hundreds.  Thousands. 

the house smells like gingerbread -- Karen is upstairs right now making the last of our gingerbread houses
Sam and Tera got along well today -- no fighting
got to a women's meeting today -- Kevin gave me a ride there; Talina gave me a ride back
opened the day by texting all my peeps:  what's the best thing you've done today for someone else?  got back some interesting answers
have had only a couple of coughing fits today -- getting better
fitday.com
daily health challenge -- I'm now on the "getting active" track and have a couple of connections on the site
googled myself (I know; I know) -- enjoyed seeing how much I've littered the web with over the last 10 years.  Feels like I have roots there.
for that matter, feels like I have roots in Seattle, in real life.  I've been here now for 17 years this March.  Holy crap. 17 years.  Married and divorced here.  Had two kids here.  It's home now.
water -- clear, clean water to drink; and coffee -- really good strong smooth coffee with half and half.  That's what i drink.  And tea: Gypsy cold care with honey.  I've had these things to drink today.
the permission to become nocturnal while I'm on Wayne's care team
the opportunity to take care of Wayne
grateful too that I don't have to take things personally today that aren't really meant that way; grateful my skin is thicker
i love the way my hair feels
grateful to have had an honest looking and moderately attractive face most of my life;  primarily I appear friendly and nonthreatening
grateful for my sense of humor
for my grandmother's health at 96, for my grandmother and her reliable birthday and holiday gifts of a hundred dollars, always coming in handy
for my parents, for their love and approval and guidance and wisdom and amazing inspiration -- for how much they care about their health and how fully they live their lives -- for the credit card debt they paid off (and grateful to myself for making regular payments on that for 40 plus months before losing my job) -- for the small and large gifts they give; for the ways they have helped me make the transition to disability; for the surprise gift of a kindle
for a year clean and sober and for the (thank GOD!) fact that that first year is over and I don't have to announce my sobriety date again until next December.
for the world's greatest sponsor
for living in a city that has a center for sex positive culture
for the prospect of dating again, and for the experience I've had with dating that makes it not such a scary or weird thing to do, although it will take a little getting used to again
for my children -- for penny, who walked in on my crying today and knew exactly how to distract and comfort me; for sar, who challenges me, keeps me sharp and alive and teaches me all about how to set and keep boundaries (and shows me the consequences when I don't) -- for how much they love me and how much I love them and how willing they are to cuddle
for James, who still values me as a housemate even after 3 years of living with me.  God bless his little atheist curmudgeonly heart. 
for Karen, who built me a platform and helped me cut my bed down to a single bed yesterday and is actually helping me make my little room work well!
for good, healthy food, for cheap rent and for the ability to contribute to the lives of people at home without having to go out every day

...for all this and more, I am truly grateful.

Looking for cyber Robin Hoods to redistribute wealth, beginning with the 400 top wealth-holders on this list.  Suggested recipients of electronic redistribution:  social security, dshs, school districts, medical programs, hospitals, homeless shelters, food banks -- and what the heck, let's throw in NPR.

I might give up the internet for something else -- a spiritual purpose, perhaps, or to live a great adventure in space. Or for the next huge paradigmatic leap in information sharing. Would I give up the internet for $10 million? Today?

God. I'd have to get a phone book again. And go to libraries. And nod knowingly in conversations about politics instead of referring someone to a link to the Daily Show. It would be...humbling. Probably good for me. It's bleak to think about. No instant connection to distant friends without actually having to get together with them. No hours and hours of leveling up in my games, thus depleting me of my sense of accomplishment in life. Would I give up the internet? Should I give up the internet?

Maybe I should. Maybe my quality of life would leap forward if I had no internet; I would meditate more, and pray. Make more effort to be in person with people. Get to bed on time. Save money by not shopping. I'd have to pay my bills in person or by check. That would be weird.

I think...I think I would give up the internet. For even just $5 million. That other $5 million would just be extra incentive.

I was downtown today and waiting for my bus when I saw this young guy, really, really out of it, land his bag on the bench nearby me and start changing his shirt -- from one sort of clean shirt to a really clean shirt. He was really doped up, but there was something else about him that drew my attention -- didn't seem like the usual homeless drunk. He changed and then sat down next to me and asked if the 55 had been by and he seemed very, very sad. I asked him if he was ok, and he said no, and I asked what he'd been taking and he took out his pill bottle and showed me his PRNs for anti anxiety. The bottle was empty. He said he'd taken three last night and two today because his mom had died two days ago and if he didn't take them he'd be a screaming and running and crying and couldn't cope. He'd been the caregiver for his mom and she'd been on social security and they'd recently been evicted because ...and here the story broke down a little because he was unable to continue it.

There was no doubt in my mind that there was something he couldn't cope with, and the pain was real. I was concerned that he had taken too many and told him I'd go up with him to Harborview if he wanted to go in but he declined. I asked building security to call 911 to get him a medical evaluation, and they asked him if he wanted a medical evaluation and he declined. After building security left, I apologized for getting into his business but told him I was worried about him and he looked like he really needed help. He said he did need help, but what he really needed was money and to get his phone working. Habit kicked in, and I denied having money, other than the .47 cents in my pocket. I've lived in this city a long time and spent too much time downtown, being conned, knowing it, not being a Christian or bound by charity. I was afraid to give him my phone and afraid to reach too deeply into my purse for money, aware that I had my rent money in cash in that purse.

I wish that I had risked a little more for him. I missed my bus and waited with him for his, but I wish now that I'd stayed with him longer. Ridden to West Seattle and made sure that he had a place to go; hung out while he figured stuff out. I couldn't have brought him home, but if I had a place of my own without kids or housemates I might have.

He reminded me of Jim, a young homeless man I'd tried to get hooked up with social services of various sorts when I lived in Kansas City. I helped him find a place to live with mutual friends, but that went south and he got drunk and ended up getting beaten to death under a bridge in Kansas City at the age of 26. The situation reminded me of the guy who showed up at my door at Cottonwood Court back when I was 20 or so -- the stranger who needed help I couldn't give him. I shut the door on him and he killed himself in the parking lot behind my apartment. I know I'm not at fault for these deaths, but damn, it's such a cruel world for those who can't defend themselves.

This boy I met today -- and he wasn't much more than that -- was so confused. He had nowhere to go, had no idea what to do. He was going to West Seattle to try to find a friend's house, and the friend didn't know he was coming. I wish we lived in the kind of world where it would be automatic to pick up a stranger and help him get what he needed. I wish today I'd done more to make it that kind of world.

Not hungry, angry or tired.  Lonely, though.  Edging toward self-pity.  Which is dangerous territory.

Today is Monday; I'm watching Sam & Tera this morning while Karen is at an appointment (I almost said "Bible Camp" but it's a chiropractic appointment -- how do I get Bible Camp out of that?).  I'm watching them and my kids later today when Karen and James have "date night".  That might involve Karen wandering around by herself for awhile.  James is taking Natalie to Lakewood to meet up with her mom.

Yes, my life is full of people.  People who love me, and in whose love I am secure.  Why am I lonely?  Must be some flaw in me, some trick of human nature.  Maybe I am lonely for God.

The gods.  Goddess. The spirit of the sub-atomic particle.  Maybe I am lonely because my connection with the universe isn't concrete enough to matter (literally) to me.

I'm home again today.  I haven't been out of the house by myself since last Tuesday.  I'm not sure I *can* leave the house by myself at this point, but the disability lifeline hasn't come through yet, and my main anti-intrusive-thought medication ran out last week and I don't have insurance yet to refill it.  The anti-depressant is still working.  I'm not depressed.  But I've had "intrusive thoughts" twice today -- just flashes of violent images in the middle of thinking about other things.

On a positive note, I am writing again.  Notebook writing.  Pen on paper writing.  And look -- the occasional one-off journal entry.  I have more than no money -- some cash left before I go broke.  This is my 3rd day without coffee (maybe I'm lonely for coffee?) and the headaches are much milder.  I'm discovering tea again -- with caffeine, so I'm not totally pure -- and I'm remember how much I like just basic tea - English Breakfast, Darjeeling.  Yes, in packets.  I mean, I like exotic puehrs and oolongs and so-ons, but I'm not set up for the brewing ritual.  As I decrease my caffeine intake over the next few weeks, I'll rediscover herbal teas.

Another positive note:  I read a great book today.  Alexie Sherman's The Absolutely True Story of a Part-Time Indian.  It's a quick read and a great one.  One I recommend to anyone with half a soul (or a whole soul).  I cried and I laughed out loud, and that was in the space of 2 hours or so.  I'm also reading Jack Staub's 75 Exceptional Herbs for Your Garden, which nods to the medicinal and culinary uses of the herb and how to plant it, but really excels in the history and mythology of the herb.  And:  I have stuff to look forward to:  the meeting tomorrow night, the meeting Wednesday night (if I can get to it). 

Tera's up now and showing me her new shoes.  Yesterday she was wandering around in new shoes, underwear, and a toque with an Elmo face on it.  Today she is dressed more conservatively -- actually wearing a dress with her boots, although probably no underwear until we make her wear it.  Ah. Suspicion confirmed.  It is a very short dress.  I've sent her off to add to her wardrobe.  

Let's see...what can I tell you about Penny and Sar?  They're both so beautiful right now and such easy and wonderful kids.  And I'm not the only one who thinks so.  One of the adults who is new to Duwamish said they were the nicest kids he's ever met before.  Which gladdens a parent's heart. They're in "Time Traveler's" Camp this week -- mornings at Pacific Science Center, afternoons at Seattle Children's Theater.  I'm so, so, so grateful for the scholarship that lets Kevin and me provide this experience for them even though I can't afford to ride the bus right now.  (Could you?  It's $2.25 each way!)

They've both been doing painting classes at The Pink Flamingo with a parent of one of Penny's classmates.  They're really good.  Claire has said she'd teach Penny free because of her talent, and I think Kevin bartered most of their fee by creating a working lighting structure for the studio.

Speaking of Kevin, his girlfriend Brook is moving in with him this week.  The kids are excited because she has a cat.  I am maybe not as excited.  I'm glad he's moving on and that he's ready to take this next step with a girlfriend.  I'm put out because the car isn't as available and because there are more considerations when looking at kid logistics.  And I'm afraid that she will come to the same conclusions about Kevin that I did -- but that's not likely, because she's a different person.  So is he, for that matter.

I'm still doing well at Dragon House.  Karen has opened the house as a neighborhood drop-in center for the summer for Tues, Weds and Thursdays.  She has a structured activity in the morning, followed by chores (every kid who spends time here has to do a chore on that day) and free play.  I fear that she'll burn herself out by mid-summer but I aim to support this because, secretly, I love having lots of kids around the house.  Don't tell anyone though.

Hope you're all doing well.  Be good to each other. 

V.

I'd wish that the richest person in the world would be no more than twice as rich as the poorest person in the world.

Penny posted a sign awhile back at the entrance to her loft.  It says, in giant letters, "DO NOT ENTER".  Just noticed tonight that underneath that, there is a tiny PS:  "No harm intended." 

Damn, I love that kid.

Just defriended...well, everybody. So no.  It wasn't personal. 

 Feel free to de-friend in kind & I won't be offended or anything.

Be well.  I'll be writing. 

I woke up after having a dream in which Nazis set loose dogs once a day among my people, and the dogs were trained to go for the throat and kill everyone except for the person/people who were sitting on this one section of a hospital blanket.  So at first I was trying to hold on to Penny and she and I survived several rounds of this massacre and then she decided she was going to let the dogs eat her and I was desperate to keep her, but she said "It's ok mom" and she went to her bunk and let the dogs eat her.  I stayed on my spot.  As the days wore on, the spot got smaller and smaller and the Nazis kept inventing new tricks to make blanket people leave their spot.  In the last part of the dream, the spot on the blanket had shrunk to a square just large enough to stand on.  To say this was a nightmare is an understatement.

No doubt the dream is about getting disability accommodations in a hospital environment where every 15 minutes is measured and HR sees no reason for deviation at all.  I've been granted temporary accommodations but the department thinks it will cause "undue hardship" to give me flexibility of schedule long-term.  DSO thinks there may not be a department in the whole University system who would find it possible to grant me flexibility of schedule.  And the case manager (the one who is supposed to be on my side) said things like "you need to be able to perform the duties of the job with or without accommodation to stay employable."  She encouraged me to go on disability leave, but hello?  Not paid.  She encouraged me to start searching for jobs outside of the UW system. 

I wouldn't ask for these accommodations if I didn't need them.  And the flexibility of schedule that I asked for was just same-week flexibility and would still necessitate my coming in every day at 8:00 to unlock the door and staying until 5:00 to lock the door. I just want flexibility so that on a tough day I can take some time to go to a meeting or a counseling appointment or even take a walk for a few minutes at a non-break time. I feel like I'm up against not only the University, but All of Society with their prejudices about mental illness. 

So that was my dream.

I was thinking about you yesterday.

I work in an ugly building on a very beautiful campus.  Many people work in the hospital all day and go home, never knowing about all the beauty behind the hospital if you just cross this little road and skirt a couple of buildings. There's a canal from Lake Washington, and it leads out to the Sound.  There are woods and a path, and you can go under the University Bridge, which is a drawbridge, or you can walk, or you can sit and stare at the water. 

Yesterday I found a grassy patch between two trees and sat and fed crows for most of an hour.  I breathed.  I tossed food to them, tiny bits of almonds, crackers, even green beans--they loved the green beans.  There was one crow who was molting -- a skinny bird who often got shoved out of the way when the bigger birds fought for food.  It would watch two other crows -- one would shove the other out of the way whenever there was food, regardless of how much food there was.  The other one would open its beak and do this little crow-rage thing--yelling (not cawing, the bird was yelling) and then pecking at and chasing the bigger bird.  It did this several times.  The molting crow would watch these two other crows and then while they were busy fighting, it would rush in and get a bit of food. 

The molting crow was very brave, braver than the other birds.  It hopped closer and closer to me -- was the only bird who looked me in the eye, and the only bird that got within a 5 foot radius of me.  So I'd throw a bunch of food, a handful, to the left and far away for the whole murder, and then I'd sprinkle a few to my right for the molting crow.  So that's how I spent my lunch yesterday, and it was peaceful.

Now this is interesting.  And relevant, given last night's discussion about the use of will, and the dream I had just now about making choices and having the same deaths happen.  For example, the woman I was with had the power to relive moments and change them, but no matter how she changed them (especially the big ones) the outcome would be the same, or similar.

Poets Of The Fall - Sleep

This is the kind of music I'm attracted to at 3 a.m. 

Goddess,
Love and hold me,
protect and enfold me,
as I walk through this day clean and sober.
For the good of all,
and according to the free will of all,
so it must be.

I am publishing the best of LJ (among other things) on my tumblr account, where I am MysticSavage.