Let It All Go/People Help The People

I don’t know why, I don’t know why
We need to break so hard
I don’t know why we break so hard

But if we’re strong enough to let it in (in, in)
We’re strong enough to let it go
Let it all go, let it all go
Let it all out now
Let it all go, let it all go
Let it all out now

Who says? Who says?
Who says? Who says?

Who says truth is, beauty after all
And who says love should break us when we fall

But if we’re strong enough to let it in (in, in)
We’re strong enough to let it go
Let it all go, let it all go
Let it all out now
Let it all go, let it all go
Let it all out now
We’re strong enough to let it go 

——————————————————————-
And this one…  People Help The People  <—–watch/listen
 
God knows what is hiding in those weak and drunken hearts
I guess you kissed the girls and made them cry
Those Hardfaced Queens of misadventure
 
God knows what is hiding in those weak and sunken eyes
A Fiery throng of muted angels
Giving love but getting nothing back
 
People help the people
And if you’re homesick, give me your hand and I’ll hold it
People help the people
And nothing will drag you down
 
Oh and if I had a brain, Oh and if I had a brain
I’d be cold as a stone and rich as the fool
That turned all those good hearts away
 
God knows what is hiding in this world of little consequence
Behind the tears, inside the lies
A thousand slowly dying sunsets
 
God knows what is hiding in those weak and drunken hearts
I guess the loneliness came knocking
No one needs to be alone, oh save me
 
People help the people
And if you’re homesick, give me your hand and I’ll hold it
People help the people
Nothing will drag you down
Oh and if I had a brain, Oh and if I had a brain
I’d be cold as a stone and rich as the fool
That turned all those good hearts away
——————————————————————-
I cannot stand with the tribe of dead-hearted, blind and deaf power mongers and control freaks who thrive on the suffering and exploitation of the vulnerable and powerless. I may be a sucker for redemption and connection, but I am no longer anybody’s fool.
God help me, I have no brain. I will always love him, and until death do us part, as far as it depends on me, will fiercely protect and keep alive an avenue of love and reconciliation for him to choose…or not. If that’s not the Way of Jesus and Whatever God There Is, then I guess I deserve to be pitied and shamed above all humans, but I’ll go to my grave with this holy delusion.

YOU CAN, BUT I CANNOT

YOU CAN, BUT I CANNOT

You can
call me names,
call out my flaws,
falsify what
you never saw,
slap my jaw,
parade around
man of straw,
throw me around,
for I’ve no quick-draw,

try to ice me with your cold,
so I can never thaw,
fling me down
some endless maw,
act as though my gifts from G-d
are no reason for dropping jaw,
tell me my words matter not,
that I just hem and haw,
you say nothing happened
when it was stars I saw.

You can
throw me to the floor,
bang my head
against the door,
slam my hands
in the drawer,
overwhelm my pleas
with your roar,
take my oars
so I can’t reach shore,
take everything I’ve got–
demand you’re owed more,
slash my sails
so I cannot soar,
insist my plea for life
is to you, an act of war.

You can
try to erase me,
try to outpace me,
you can bellow
I wont escape the chase,
you can put me away
in a lonely place,
tell me I ought not
show my face,
take from my deck,
for yourself, all the aces,
you can cram me
into your personal vases,
bad mouth me
tell everyone
I deserve no kindly spaces.

You can strip me of
my dignity,
toss my corpse
away abhorrently,
you can try to force
me to act abortively,
you can say the truths
I tell, are absurdities,

But I promise you this
though you can
try to break me,
my heart and more,
tho you call me a whore,
tell me I am wrong
to the core…

you cannot have
the Sun inside me
the One who glows
all the more–
no matter what comes,
no matter what goes–
You cannot still,
nor stop the Sun
that glows inside me.

Even in blood,
this Sun shines,
even surrounded by black,
this Sun grows the vine,
even though you try to
take from me ‘my Thine’
even though you
hurl and break my holy shrines,
this Sun is in no decline,
this Sun is my sign
that my soul is safe times nine.

You can take what is takeable,
even as you maim my heart,
try to tame my wild,
break my smile.
But no matter what
no matter the trials,
no matter those who make fun,
take joy, in my being shunned,
I cannot give you my Sun.

I cannot,
will never, as long as
there is breath,
even as you attempt
to demean me by stealth,
for my Sun is
my insurrection against death,
my Light will one day I pray,
bring me again
to a new day
of complete resurrection.

_________________

The poem YOU CAN, BUT I CANNOT, ©1965, 2016, by clarissa pinkola estés

The Terrorist

terrorist

It all boils down to a stock photo. That’s all there is or ever was to it.

 

My Littermate writes (until such a time as I can/will again) – “Ever been in a relationship where the other significant person is like a terrorist? Just…walks around all the time with a relational suicide vest on, and ya never know when they will thumb that trigger and just friggin’ blow up and just wreak havoc on all…even those with nothing to do with it…
I wrote this in 2013 with that image in mind.
At the time I was writing to transphobic people/person(s)…but in light of my recently becoming aware of the personality disorder of the Sociopathic Narcissist, I think it fits there too.”

Charissa's Grace Notes

BACK!  Git Back,
Burka Bound Bitch!
you dare to undrape
and go graceful and glad?

You are nothing but
double trouble and toil
and you violate my space
with your notions of liberty.

I SWEAR!  Ima
BLOW MYSELF UP!
Ima blow you up!
Iffn I don’t git my way.

Your soul belongs to me,
your heart, keep it hidden and draped
in my fables of your self!
You undraped is the universe
shitting on me special

(I’m soo special the
fucking UNIVERSE makes a point
to shit on me!!)

You uncocooned
is affront, threat!
Fingers jammed
into my ears
and palms over
eyes and mouth
you are
seeevil-
hearevil-
speakevil!

You have no place like me…
for I have been
natural borned
to my bone crusted throne!
Earned by springing from
the spiritual loins of
My Ancestors…
the great woman haters of history…
the great race haters of history…
the great religion haters of…

View original post 59 more words

I Don’t Miss Him

fire

 

Is it any wonder I relate to Charissa’s awakening and transition so hard? I (and quite possibly one or both of my adult children) would have died had she not appeared at the exact moment everything I’d depended on as “love” went toxic malignant. There are 150 or so people I have surgically removed from my life who would have been perfectly OK with and even preferred our quiet deaths to experiencing the slightest discomfort of reality themselves (all of them “Christian” and most of them Trump supporters). I don’t miss them. I don’t miss him – any more than one would miss cancer once in remission. I surely have missed me. 27 years is a long time to be separated, dissociated, dismembered, disconnected from the reality of love. Feeling weak and disoriented as one does waking from a fever dream, but I am awake and on the mend and relieved to be so.

Charissa's Grace Notes

Ima go ahead now,
pick up glowy embers
radiant and stinky
with the fires of days
long past…pick them up

with new hands and tender
soft flesh that has never
known shackles and chains,
calluses, rough edges.

Don’t gasp, they can’t hurt me!
I’m alive now, and wreathed
in grace and I’m shrouded
in mysteries of mercy
falling on the hungry

hard flames of agony.
See?  There they are…
the remnants of him,
gone at last, and frankly
I don’t miss him at all,

in the slightest, and really
all I had in common
with him was this body,
“Guffaw of the Universe”,
but not him, nothing

in common with him…well
except air, we both breathe
air…well, I breathe air, but
he doesn’t anymore…breathe.
And I don’t miss him.tumblr_nvg937KivG1qdxn3oo1_r1_1280

View original post

Anthem

The birds they sang
At the break of day
Start again
I heard them say
Don’t dwell on what
Has passed away
Or what is yet to be
Yeah the wars they will
Be fought again
The holy dove
She will be caught again
Bought and sold
And bought again
The dove is never free

Ring the bells (ring the bells) that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything (there is a crack in everything)
That’s how the light gets in

We asked for signs
The signs were sent
The birth betrayed
The marriage spent
Yeah the widowhood
Of every government
Signs for all to see

I can’t run no more
With that lawless crowd
While the killers in high places
Say their prayers out loud
But they’ve summoned, they’ve summoned up
A thundercloud
And they’re going to hear from me

(Ring, ring, ring, ring)
Ring the bells that still can ring

Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything (there is a crack in everything)
That’s how the light gets in

You can add up the parts
You won’t have the sum
You can strike up the march
There is no drum
Every heart, every heart to love will come
But like a refugee

(Ring, ring, ring, ring)
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything (there is a crack in everything)
That’s how the light gets in
Ring the bells that still can ring (ring the bells that still can ring)
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything (there is a crack in everything)
That’s how the light gets in
That’s how the light gets in
That’s how the light gets in

–  Leonard Cohen –

Good Day

It is a good day to let the feelings flow

As they will, unadulterated, without shame or restraint

With no fuck or fear given to how YOU would feel about them

Knowing all too well how you would

Dismiss – Distract – Deflect ~ Connive – Contort – Convince

Me (hell, everyone we know) that I AM not real 

And upon realizing you’ve lost that power

Slink away to wallow in the cowardice and shame

I will never again bear for you or shrink myself to accommodate

Yourself alone remains to delude that I AM the one who abandons and betrays

It is a good day to do the tedious work of gathering scraps of grace

The only place I find them in this chasm of separation I did not choose

Today…it is a very good day to be 2000 miles away

I AM

Happy, Happy new year and a warm and massive cyber hug to all as we enter 2017. I’ll take and freely give all the hugs and love and kindness possible wherever they are found.

I’m going to use my first post of the new year to introduce myself as the new me that has actually always been. There are some things about me you should know to put everything I write going forward into some context. There was a time in my old life when I would have written separate blog posts for each of these things, explaining them in detail in the hopes of persuading people to at least respect what I see instead of shitting on me for it.

Life has radically changed for me, and ain’t nobody got time for that in the new life that is. So much shit has rained down on me that I now dance in it and make art rather than try to outrun it or hide, or worse, deny its existence or try to pretty it up to be something it’s not (LIE).

The old life was 25 years of marriage, 22 of those spent in evangelical christian ministry together, the last 5 of which we (Love of My Life and I) embarked on an exodus out of Church World to plant a funky little honest church ourselves that was doomed to “fail” from the start because it was one where any human of any persuasion, any belief or lack thereof, was welcome to participate, love and be loved as is. We gave up everything and ultimately ended up losing more than we’d ever imagined possible – our very lives together – though isn’t that exactly what Jesus said was the price to be considered? Anyhooo, that truly is for a separate blog post.

So, in the new life (whatever that’s now totally free to be), here’s a quick summation of my current (and fluid) theology/psychology/ideology/methodology around which everything I say and do emerges, and I care not one whit what anyone thinks of it. If you follow my writing for whatever reason, even if only as a vulture to feast on the carcass of my family to poop out as gossipy judgment (why would you stop now after the last 5 years of pecking away at our flesh before we were even fully dead?), knowing the following will at least put things in perspective:

  • All God talk is human talk. All we have are human ideas about God. The only experience we have of Whatever God There Is happens in the gray matter between our ears, individually. The second anyone tries to enforce any idea of God as absolute certainty is the second I smile politely and disengage. The second anyone does harm to others with their god-in-their-own-twisted-image certainty is the second I go into verbal smack down mode. I have no pride, shame or fear left in me to cause me to either shrink back or have any further need to self preserve, defend or explain myself. I’ve never been more confident and peacefully assured in my faith and absolute uncertainty than I AM now.
  • I have always had an awareness of and communed with Something Other both wholly outside myself and wholly inside myself that I learned to call God since my earliest memories, around age 3 or 4. It was always plural – a They – and there was a definite female component. I never thought to question it as it fit perfectly into my Tribe’s doctrines of the Trinity, with the exception of the female part. I’ve always gone against the grain of my tradition and personified the Holy Spirit as female, though also knew very early on to keep that shit to myself if I wanted the belonging and acceptance (which was THE most important thing to me) of my Tribe.
  • I AM is the identifier God gave Moses. Jesus invoked I AM for himself, and that’s good enough for me. I simply AM. What is, IS. God is existence. God is reality. To be who I AM with full integrity and to let everyone and everything BE what it IS without inserting my own desires and agenda for any of it is, to me, to engage, participate in, and BE the divinity that is inherent in being human.
  • I’ve always read and understood the bible for myself for what it is since childhood – and loved it. I never really found value in taking any of it literally, though I forced myself to suppress my true instincts and knowing in order, again, to be accepted by my Tribe. To question the “inerrant” literal truth of the bible meant brutal and immediate rejection. To do it as a girl at any age? Forget it. More shit I absolutely knew to keep to myself – even from myself until recent years.
  • Whatever meaning or “truth” to be found in life is in metaphor, patterns, echos, cycles, seasons…and the bible is my endlessly rich base source for the poetic language I use to tell my own story and I will continue to dive into and mine scripture in order to do so, now more than ever. But I am not bound or restricted by it. Sacred metaphor is absolutely everywhere and I call it when I see it, however, wherever it presents itself. “Love Thy Neighbor As Thyself” is echoed throughout all cultures, eras, ancients and contemporaries, poets, artists, children, old women, heathens and holy men alike – and I pay attention to them all. If I had life to do over, I’d be a professor of anthropology and religious studies. As a profession it’s not practical at this point, but the studying and going wherever my fascination takes me is just getting started. It is an exciting time to awaken and go after my own life.
  • I AM a Christian, an identifier I’ve decided to keep for myself alone and to myself alone without any further need to justify or explain my right or reason for doing so ever again. I identify my entire story, my entire life with Jesus and the birth/life/death/resurrection metaphor of his and the sharing in his sufferings of rejection and humiliation that I’ve gone all the way and lived out and will continue to cycle through until my last breath. Salvation and redemption are to be lived out HERE – NOW.

The above picture is me at age 7 (AKA the real Princess Leia), the last time I was the most me as I AM that I can remember before learning, as we all do, to shove the truth of my divine self down deep, believing that was the only way to be worthy of human love. I’ve missed that sweet nerd so much. Almost 40 years later, she’s back. She’s awake. She has surfaced, and she’s gunna rock the world.

Mama, Help Me

Mama, help me! Please be real

Mama, help me! Hold my hand

This absolute brilliance

To see things as they truly are is more than I can bear alone

Mama, help me…help me…help me

I listened and followed you out

My senses instantly assaulted with stench and horror

A legion of putrid corpses exposed

Mama, help me! Hold my hand and walk with me through

Mama, help me! Please be real

Don’t leave me here to die in the light…alone

Journaling That Doesn’t Suck 09/24/2016

Are you strong enough?

God I feel like hell tonight
The tears of rage I cannot lie
I’d be the last to help you understand

Are you strong enough to be my man
My man

Nothing’s true, and nothing’s right
So let me be alone tonight
‘Cause you can’t change the way I am

Are you strong enough to be my man

Lie to me, I promise I’ll believe
Lie to me, but please don’t leave

I have a face I cannot show
I make the rules up as I go
Just try and love me if you can

Are you strong enough to be my man
My man
Are you strong enough (to be my man)
Are you strong enough (to be my man)
Are you strong enough
My man

When I’ve shown you
That I just don’t care
When I’m throwing punches in the air
When I’m broken down and I can’t stand

Would you be man enough to be my man

Lie to me, I promise I’ll believe
Lie to me, but please don’t leave –

Sheryl Crow