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Reading rosyxxx's journal

I checked my e-mail today, and found a message from harold_maude about how it makes her very happy to see people who are broken into pieces becoming whole again...to see birds with broken wings become healed and fly free again. I can almost feel her love and kindness radiating through the airwaves and thoughtwaves.

I must confess though, the last few days, it's been hard for me to give. Coming from a place of being overwhelmed by constant negativity...I became a little confrontational again. I'd just reached a place of 'evenness' when New Orleans was flooded. At first, I was just happy that my sister and her kids were safely here in St. Louis. And then I thought about my brother-in-law down there...yet, I wouldn't wish the catastrophy on him or anyone else...I'd just like to eat all the marshmallows out of his Lucky Charms box to piss him off. Heh.

At any rate, I then began thinking that all of my sister's friends were primarily in New Orleans, and wondering if they were okay. I knew she would be almost at her wits end. This is devastating. Though people had way more warning than those in the Thailand Tsunami, it still has destroyed lives. Countless. And yet, the outpouring of help and caring is there. I know this...and yet, somehow, selfishly, my mind wanders to my problems.........

And I become aware of the fact that I am on the eve of potentially ending what I longed for to be a second chance at what was once a beautiful meeting of minds and flesh. The breaking point for me came last night, almost synonomous with the flooding of New Orleans. And the first time something this devastating happened in this same relationship of mine, it's very undoing was on the eve of 9/11. Yet this time, I only quietly voiced my grief. Apparently these world tragedies seem to have a corellation with my own personal miniscule ones in comparison. Yet they dwarf my pain.

And I feel somehow wrong for complaining. I know the tears will pass, and all that stuff...but I'm almost positive that I can see the writing on the wall, and I have to go through this wall of grief. Grieving for what I may lose, and what I probably never really had, as well as worrying intensely about my sister and her loved ones in New Orleans. I find myself moving beyond my annoyance and distaste for her 'own' manipulative behaviour...to caring only that she is safe and alive. It's gotten down to brass tacks. It's come down to simply: 'caring'. And maybe, that is the message here AGAIN for me to take home. 'Caring' while being a little detached from the pain, so that I can see my way to being not only a 'help', but a force for change.

I had to not watch the news programs because it was making my eyes well over with tears. And as far as my own personal tiny problem in comparison, I can hope that this will be some kind of turning point that will bring us closer, but....I don't know. I don't know. I just don't know. I have no gut instinct on this, and that is because I think that the decisions have not really been made by either of us. Everything may well rest upon what is said to each other later this morning. Or what isn't.

I am so full of anxiety that my heart is rattling in my chest. It's trying to get out. It wants to fly away from the pain. It doesn't want to grieve. And yet, I am. And when I grieve, I cannot eat. Shakes from Smoothie King go down, and I can eat in front of the computer, or with friends...but that's it. I want to just fall on the floor and pound my fists into it until they are bloody, and broken. But I can't. I just recovered from my ankle injury, what would I do with broken wrists? I wouldn't survive, and I'd be no help at all to myself or anyone. I can't drop anchor in that zone...I must forge ahead.

And yet, I only want to go back to the beauty of this past Sunday morning, where I was blessed with not one, but four wonderful occurences. I fell into the 'blissful zone' at work, and I just radiated love to everyone around me...then my love came home with me, and we listened to olive as we horsed around in the bathroom, and I stood on the edge of the tub to see how much taller I could be, and we fell into each other's arms holding on for dear life...it was so blissful, so beautiful, so opening for me. Like my heart was opening a little wider this time...and then I did my yoga while he slept. And the most beautiful thing was watching the candle flame sit perfectly still in a draft, no less, while my eyes never blinked, never teared, and the light grew into a column, and the darkness became hazy and everything was darkness with a core of light. I told him about it, but I don't think he understood.

Yet, I began to understand more, when I realized that Sunday morning was the last day of my practice of the "Om Mani Padme Hum" mantra. The jewel in the lotus of the heart. And this wasn't a 40-day practice. This was attainment of mantra siddhi with 125,000 repetitions. All that remains to do of that practice is a puja. And the rest of my 1 and a 1/2 hour practice continues...while my grief at the last few days' events grows. Kali is hitting me and everyone else over the head, right now. Kuan Yin was much kinder.

There is a silver lining in all of this...one of my cousins, whom I haven't spoken to in years, by default, called my father yesterday to inquire about my sister. None of the relatives knew that she was here now. They thought she might have perished in New Orleans. Thankfully, she did not.

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Postscript: Do you ever find yourself wondering if what you think about happening will happen? That if you reserve judgement the door is open wide for all kinds of possibilities? The short version of this would be the phrase: 'a self-fulfilling prophecy'; which works, and yet is an oversimplification. But then typing that last clause is ironic, because what it all boils down to is that I think I've been personally dealing with too much verbosity. Maybe I should simplify more...just not by hardening the future into the shape in the stone that I 'think' it will be.

I just want to be able to love without expecting anything, and being genuinely grateful and happy when things do happen that make me happy. I'm not saying being a dog, but just that I want to stop expecting that things should be a certain way.

Dad gummit, why does it take me so darn long to say what I really mean: I want to learn to go with the flow. To just be at peace.

Why do I always have to say it in a 1,000,000 words or more? I annoy myself.

If mountain goats like living at high elevations, why do none live in high rise apartment buildings?

This post was edited by rosyxxx on Sep 01, 2005.

I'm sitting here..hard to read or write through the rain that's falling from my eyes.
Someone turned the key and opened the doors.
Seems alot of things lately bring the rain up from my heart and soul and it just runs, inspite of me...

You write through the pile of clothes that sit on top of the one thing your really looking for, and it takes a while. That's one of the nice things about writing here, one among many, that it's ok to write volumes.
There isn't anyone standing over your shoulder saying you can't or looking at some clock and tapping their fingers or foot waiting impatiently for you to get done because this all interfears with some over booked schedual their on and you just happen to be in the way.

It's amazing when you think about it really. The freedom to just let it all flow out, in what ever order it comes. To write until you find the thing you want to say.
It's a gift that we who read get to open and see as we open it, the world from your eyes.
How it touches your heart, how it makes your soul turn and twist, and the threads of color and bits of silvered dust that float through your mind.
Like going to a library where all the books are about the people that the owner of the library knows and has known.
Pretty cool.

If you think about it, we who read what you write get a very unique view, it's like standing behind your eyes for a little while.
And that is extrodinary. So please don't ever feel bad about writing long posts.
You have much to say.
And I for one would miss your wanderings if you got right to the point.

My world would be not quite so bright if you didn't write the way you do.
You make good food for the mind heart and soul. Like a really great pasta, with the perfect alfredo sauce and beautifully seasoned bits of chicken hidden among the noodles...

So please, please, please don't ever appoligize for long posts.
There is a reason why you write the way you do.
It's part of who you are...the flow of your life.
And it's worth every word you speak, and every emotion you feel, both good and bad.
It's a very good thing that you made the decision to stay when you were thinking about stopping writing awhile back durring that mess with that person, we won't mention names here...
If you had stopped writing, everyone here would be that much poorer in the things that really do matter.

Gifts that come in wonderful wrapping. :)

It only looks that way because your standing on your head.