goodbye

I've been reflecting some on the inevitable fading away of something that meant a lot to me - and making sure to remember the joy in what's new and in what endures.

So it's fitting that I found this poem where I did:

THE GOD ABANDONS ANTONY
C. P.Cavafy

When suddenly at midnight you hear
an invisible procession going by
with exquisite music, voices,
don't mourn your luck that's failing now,
work gone wrong, your plans
all proving deceptive - don't mourn them uselessly;
as one long prepared and full of courage,
say goodbye to her, the Alexandria that is leaving.
Above all, don't fool yourself, don't say
it was a dream, your ears deceived you:
don't degrade yourself with empty hopes like these.
As one long prepared, and full of courage,
as is right for you who were given this kind of city,
go firmly to the window
and listen with deep emotion,
but not with the whining, the pleas of the coward;
listen - your final pleasure - to the voices,
to the exquisite music of that strange procession,
and say goodbye to her, to the Alexandria you are losing.

well well

Merry Christmas! And if you can believe it, things aren't that bad.

Only one random blowup. Lots of goodies, with promises of more goodies. My favorite cherry coke jello salad with HOMEMADE RIBS for dinner. W's idea of having "a project" has paid off.

Still, though, 75 hours to go.

commentary

Updates from the home front.

About a trip to Disney:
"The worst people were the Spanish speakers." - S
"Yeah, daddy, the Spanish and the Orientals!" - L

and, later,

"There were two people cussing up a storm. A guy from New York and some black guy." - S
"Oh, honey, where was the black guy from? Where else are black people from?" - J

unwell

Tomorrow morning I will board the plane, and it will be five days until I get to be happy again.

Oh, I'm not doing well. Not doing well at all. The anxiety finds new holes to seep out, like fresh cracks in the hull of a ship. Besides the eye twitch, which is pretty standard, I have found a new way to be crazy. I don't want to explain it here, but I've never felt more like the tattoo on my back -- circling round on myself, consuming. My lips are bitten raw.

My mother called, thrilled that I'll be home for so long. I wish I could say: this is your present. Don't expect to see me back again until fall.

But that never does anything but maker her cry.

I wonder what a good family is like.

timing

This morning I took a look at the All Souls website, just to see what was new with the church. I haven't made it to church in a while -- a month or more -- and I wanted to check out past sermons, read the newsletter, see any new pictures.

The feeling I got when I loaded up the All Souls website caught me off-guard. A sick rolling in the bottom of my stomach, the same feeling I used to get when I hadn't done my homework in middle school. Guilt, shame, anxiety.

But why did I feel that way? One of the great things about All Souls is that the community doesn't judge if you've vanished for a while. It wasn't that I thought anyone would be upset with me for not showing up; it was that I was upset with myself. My conscience was gnawing at me in a way I hadn't felt it in a while.

I know why I haven't been going to church lately: I've been blowing it off for "more fun" things to do, whether it's sleeping in or going to brunch or nursing a hangover. I've been neglecting a very important piece of my life and development for immediate gratification, a warm bed or a mimosa in the morning. And now, after a month or more, I'm starting to feel the effects.

I went to The Golden Compass this weekend. In that fantasy world, people's souls manifest as animals who travel beside them for their whole lives. Inconvenient at times, sure, but in a way that seems lucky. It's impossible to shoo away your soul when it's hovering around your face or curled up at your feet at night. But with such an intangible soul as ours, neglecting it is as easy as forgetting to do your laundry.

Maybe I'll go to Quaker meeting or yoga this week. I need to get centered; my soul, though it's certainly no beast beside me, is mewling for my attention.

love

God, there is gold hidden deep in the ground
God, there’s a hangman that wants to come around

How we rise when we’re born
like the ravens in the corn
on their wings, on our knees
crawling careless from the sea

God, give us love in the time that we have

God, there are guns growing out of our bones
God, every road takes us farther from home

All these men that you made
how we wither in the shade
of your trees, on your wings
we are carried to the sea

God, give us love in the time that we have

home

Two days is just the right amount, I guess. After that, someone starts crying.

Dr. Janet G. Woititz identified in her book, Adult Children of Alcoholics, thirteen primary characteristics of Adult Children of Alcoholics:

• Guessing at what normal behavior is.
• Having difficulty following a project through from beginning to end.
• Lying when it would be just as easy to tell the truth.
• Judging themselves without mercy.
• Having difficulty having fun.
• Taking themselves very seriously.
• Having difficulty with intimate relationships.
• Overreacting to changes over which they have no control.
• Constantly seeking approval and affirmation.
• Usually feeling that they are different from other people.
• Extreme responsibility or irresponsibility.
• Extreme loyalty, even in the face of evidence that the loyalty is undeserved.
• Impulsivity - tending to lock themselves into a course of action without giving serious consideration to alternative behaviors or possible consequences. This impulsivity leads to confusion, self-loathing and loss of control over their environment. In addition, they spend an excessive amount of energy cleaning up the mess.