I really don't know what that means, but I am listening to it on Pandora...and it is just so...incredibly pleasant and calming. While making coffee and cleaning the kitchen, I listened to NPR, which only affirmed in my head we are all so selfish and uncaring...and greedy...as a group. All of that "deregulation" that began in the 80s with Reagan (forgive me if I have got that wrong, that was when I began aware of the hungry dogs ready to take advantage of the poor. I was told of such things before then, but I refused to believe that people would be so mean, to step on others in order to get ahead...) Whatever the sources, all I hear and see now is such an abuse of power. And the chilling truth is, I am part of the problem.
I want to water my grass. I want my air-conditioning. I want clean water to drink. The scary story in the Dallas area right now is the large pipe that broke in the mid-cities. A pipe that was designed to last 50 years broke down at 30. One could argue someone used cheap materials to build it, but the comment I clung to was "corrosive materials" destroyed the pipe from the inside. That kind of makes me want to ask, "What is in the water we are drinking?" No one really drinks it anymore. No one trusts it. I saw a video on FB of a child getting a drink of water from a hose and everyone was laughing. I looked in horror at what might be going into that child's body. Another video of a child and a dog playing tug of war with a plastic bag. I shuddered to think that the dog might get a piece of plastic lodged in his throat and die. But everyone was laughing. Another story on NPR about Thomas Edison, who really wasn't such a nice guy. Decided to battle Westinghouse for the A/C vs D/C superiority with a test of electrocuting a "bad" elephant.
And then I could bring up the news I caught last night.
The music on Pandora is infinitely more soul satisfying than listening to what human beings are doing to each other and to this world. I ponder the question: Is it reasonable for me to go to music when the world is being violated on every level by selfish people...including me: with my coffee, my filtered water, my electronic light, cool air and satellite sent preprogrammed music?
I had a poster once:
Sometimes I sits and thinks.
Sometimes I just sits.
In my garage: a bumper sticker on my freezer reminds me every time I get out of my car:
The secret of life is to live it.
There has not been a moment in history that was not horrific and barbaric in some way. Something is always trying to kill you, steal from you, destroy your bliss, oppress you...some who are aware of this remain bitter...and become mean and greedy...grabbing their piece of the pie and damning anyone who gets too close. But there are others who have learned how to live...outside reality...and into a super-reality.
Yesterday, my day included watching parts of "The Godfather," one of the "date movies" of my youth, Bill Moyers "Genesis" part one, TED Talks on perception and illusion, reading bits about the Peloponnesian War. It began with a trip to the library, and checking out "The Iron Lady" with Meryl Streep. One priest told me, when he went to see it, that it reminded him of me. I thought of that yesterday, as I wandered through the library I had not visited in a long time.
I went because I needed an egg taco from Aparicio's. I bought tortillas...oh so fresh! And then went to the resale shop and bought a granny quilt for 99 cents. I decided to drive through the "old neighborhood, and passed my church, now a school, and remembered the day I sat on my car and had my first vision of Christ dying on the cross. And I remembered how the minister there gave me a key to the church, so that I could come a pray anytime I wanted to. I looked at how so much had changed and how much stayed the same. Such a sweet old neighborhood with tiny beautiful houses. And then the library. I looked around, glad to see people there. Saw two old friends. One was planning to retire after 25 years of library service. Still as beautiful as ever. I thought back then, how I wanted a job there and didn't get it. And I was so depressed...I decided to go back to school and get a math degree, and then a master's degree...and all the interesting jobs I had...and I wondered, if I had just gotten that library job, I'd probably be celebrating my 25th anniversary there...and Bob would have been satisfied that I was making money...and maybe we'd still be married.
When I left the library...and looked at the streets ahead of me, I realized I had to go to the place where Bob had grown up...and say good bye there. Remember...and let go. Just as I did last spring when I drove to Navarro Junior College under a different pretense...and looked at the plane...and the planetarium...and the auditorium, where Bob had his first concert...mostly Beethoven. Young people were on stage singing...and I thought about the father of my children.
I drove through the old neighborhood, where the 4th of July parties were huge and Bob would make omelets for everyone on the block. I looked at the great greenness of the street. I looked at the house that used to have the pyrocanthra bush that pierced Bob's eye. The ditch where he would take his infrared pictures of the old pipe he fell off of...and had to get stitches. I said thank you and good bye to it all.
Why did I care? And how did I not know how much I had loved him?
So seeing the movie "The Iron Lady" which seemed all about how, despite all the incredible things this woman had done, her most important relationship was with her husband. The movie was about telling him goodbye.
God, you are so funny. HA!
Is it really true God exists? As illogical as it appears, how can God not exist? He seems to be messing with me every damn day.
I kept going with the input into my brain. Genesis, the politics of the Iron Lady, why people go to war, the great big picture...and the teeny tiny one that is my life. Then to process, I cleaned and cooked and gardened. And I thought a lot about the conversation I had with the priest the day before.
Yes. It seems I am motivated to write when I have the conversations I most want to have. I do love my priests. They are the only ones who make me feel...real. Not a freak. God have mercy on them, I know I am a challenge.
The dawn is looking pretty out there, green leaves looking a bit golden as they are greeted by the sun. The choral music resonates in my bones. I cannot make the world be nice...play nice. I can, however, accept the tasks placed before me. And know that the past...will resolve itself outside of my hands. Even my past.
The priest reminded me to ask the right questions. Some questions go nowhere. Why is not so important as what. What am I going to do next?
I just googled "lux aeterna"
Eternal light.
oh...
God, you are such a delightful lover.
Surprise me again.
Love, Cindy
I was telling him about my
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