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 Power of Potter

I started reading through the Harry Potter series a couple months ago with the kids. We are currently on book 4 (Goblet of Fire). It’s turning out to be wonderful therapy for us all. It’s double wonderful for me as the plot and themes are fresh to them as they are experiencing all the emotion and applying it to their own lives without knowing what happens next. We’re feeling Harry’s frustration, rage, confusion and wonder right along with him.

I know how the story ends. I know Harry has as much potential to be villain as hero throughout, and the line differentiating the two maddeningly blurry. What heroism he displays is awkwardly stumbled into, often with much reluctance and resentment. All he ever wanted was a “normal” life and family – what any of us want – to be loved and valued and to belong. 

I am experiencing the stories in a whole new appreciative light. The overarching theme is how the damage of trauma, grief, injustice, and family-of-origin dysfunction common to every human uniquely manifests in each person based on their individual choices and experience, complete with the extreme of malignant narcissism brilliantly developed in the character of Voldemort.

For the last year I’ve been on the run hunting down horcruxes and figuring out how to destroy them one by one, and I’ve had to go into some desperately dark and horrifying places to do it. I would not have survived alone, much less conquered anything, without the help and talents of the most faithful and loyal few.

I’ve seen ahead to the reality of the shattered, pitiable, subhuman soul of the one obsessed with power, total control, chaos and destruction.

voldemort

All the Dark Lord sympathizers, the sycophant Deatheater posers, have been identified and dealt with. I’ve learned how to keep the dementors at bay. Now all that’s left is to point wands at each other amid the crumbled, smoking wreckage of our life together and end it.

harrygif

Knowing J.K. Rowling’s back story and the life circumstances which gave birth to these stories, it all makes perfect sense.

I too have conceived my own story and have been scribbling notes for quite a while. I’ve gone about it rather backwards (’cause like Harry I have no idea what I’m doing until I do it), but I “published” those scribbles on my blog ahead of the actual book I didn’t know I was writing. Now that I finally do, it’s time for me to make the most of this sacred awful gift of “down time” I find myself in to do it for reals.

Today I am thankful for the power of words. For expression. For the expansiveness and fluidity of metaphor. For life become art and art become life.

snapefair

It’s never escaped mine. My kids hate Snape right now. Maybe by the end of the books he will become their favorite character as he is mine.

Winter is Coming

Two years ago this day. The death blow came from the back and it was inflicted by my husband. The kids and I were always (and continue to be) the sacrifice the Bros of God are willing to make to save and advance themselves. Lil added bonus content if you open the original post and scroll down to the end in the comment section for anyone who gives a crap. The kids and I no longer do. As for me and my house, it is Spring.

Cage-Free Christian

Winter is coming. Those damn Starks have been telling us so forever, but we grew tired of hearing it and dismissed them as crying wolf (insert GOT fan groan).

But winter is coming, and it’s coming for me, so I might as well go out with all the drama and flare of a butchered Jon Snow…bleeding out, lying motionless, fading to black.

In my physical world, it is autumn, which in central California means this morning was the first time my kids and I broke out a light sweater to walk to school with a predicted high temp of 79…may the gods, old and new, sustain us.

Autumn, however muted in this part of the country, still retains an element of anticipation and haunting beauty as a prelude to death; a transitional season leading us out of one extreme and into another. There’s a whisper in the (ever so slightly chilled) air…

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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…

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No Freedom Without Love, No Love Without Pain

pain

I firmly believe this. All addiction to hate and control (the mechanics of narcissism and addictive behavior in general) is deferred and projected personal pain. This awareness allows me to forgive and have compassion for those who despise and harm me, but it doesn’t mean I have to offer myself up to take it. For almost 3 decades in marriage and ministry I took it like a good girl – literally a thousand other people’s projected insecurities and pain – and almost died (as did my oldest 2 children). I take no one’s deferred shit ever again. I will embrace and deal with my own pain and failures and exorcise my demons out in the open and out loud as I’ve always done. It’s the only way for me to avoid drowning and being assimilated into a culture of callous dehumanization (and not want to kill roughly half the population of America that seems intent and content to kill and silence me and my loved ones).

I’ve discovered my superpower – An insanely high pain tolerance and compulsion to run straight at that bitch – name it, dissect it from every angle, and own it until it manifests as love.

No Freedom
Take it by your silence
That I’m free to walk out the door
By the look in your eyes I can tell
You don’t think I’ll be back for more
Try to think of the world
Where you could stay and these safe hands could go
Take your heart above the water
Wherever I choose to go
No love without freedom
No love without freedom
No love without freedom
No freedom without love
Even when you don’t see me
Even when you don’t hear
I’ll be flying low below the sun
And you’ll feel it all out here
No love without freedom
No love without freedom
No love without freedom
No freedom without love
No love without freedom
No love
———————————————–
No freedom without love, no love without acknowledging and embracing the pain of our unique-to-every-individual human damage.

Killing Liberty Grace

Everything I wrote about coming out of church world was/is a prophetic direct parallel to coming out of my abusive marriage, none more so than this one from 2 years ago this day. I now know at the time of this writing he’d already dove hard and I was walking dead. Today I sing “Fuck This Shit I’m Out” as a beautiful, rowdy benediction. Won’t you stand and join me?

Cage-Free Christian

Meet my big-thinker Mini Me, Liberty Grace. I’ve never been so in love with a name…almost as much as the girl. As much as I laud reason and practicality in my expressions of faith, there’s always been a significant vein of mysticism and natural contemplative spirituality winding through me too. I truly consider my daughter’s name to be prophetic. It was while I was pregnant with her that the first rumblings began…a stirring within me that God was up to something new for us, something powerful and free. God was indeed going to fulfill my lifelong yearning to experience Them in fullness and abundance, but there was going to be an extreme price to pay. Was I willing?


THE SPIRIT OF LIBERTY GRACE

Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty.

I’d ached and prayed for this since I was 16, but now…

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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

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Agony of Light

Originally posted December 27, 2016. September 27, 2017, nine months to the day, I will be spreading my wings and escaping the darkness forever as it no longer has any hold on me. No one can hold on to Nothing. The detox is complete. I am clean, clear and free.

——————————————————————————————————–

The hardest part is not the darkness. No. You can still imagine things to look much better than you feel them to be in the shadows; imagine things to be what you wish them to be, need them to be, want them to be.

No, it’s the light that is devastatingly hard and why most avoid all but selective exposure. One cannot pretend in the light for their own comfort or false notions of safety or perfection.

I brought (have been bringing) my entire self into the light for a while now. I was not in any way prepared for the very last things to come out, which in actuality were THE thing it’s all been leading up to. I guess it would be more accurate to say I was finally ready to see BECAUSE of all I’ve been through – to have to acknowlege just how dependent I’ve been on “love” in the shadows – the idea of something I wanted it to be verses the reality of what it actually is.

My physical circumstances have more or less been the same for quite a while and will not be radically changing. I’ve been sleeping (when I’m lucky) and crying alone in bed and have been carrying the bulk of child raising for years.

But what is the thing that terrifies and crushes me? It’s the exposure of an idea that I’ve clung to my whole life as false that causes the most intense pain I’ve ever experienced. What a strange thing to admit…to be violently detoxing from the loss of an idea like it was heroin. But that’s exactly what it feels like. I’ve needed someone to be something they could never be and I numbed and sabotaged and stole from myself, denied my instincts and my true knowing and handed over my power in order to get and keep the fix I thought I couldn’t live without – to believe he was what he was not and could not be – to place an impossible burden on him. It’s what we’re all conditioned to do to each other. He and I are, and have always been, extreme cases. We don’t do subtle…ever.

In the light, there is only love most real for whole persons (myself first) separate from any selfishly projected ideas or expectations of them. It is a brutal, brutal detox to let go of my desires and let it all be whatever it will while resisting the urge to counter spin in my favor as every fiber of my being screams for resolution and relief!! But the light is no fix. It is the abrupt and harsh exposure of what truly IS.

I have to let whatever IS – BE…hands off…free to be and do and be seen for what it is by whoever can and will.

The darkness will kill ya, but damn do I miss how good it felt even at its worst compared to this. The light feels every bit like torture and death right now.

I have moments of unprecedented clarity and calmness that punctuate the baseline aching void of despair that at times swells so intensely I feel like I could literally drown in the feeling of loss and fear and “I DON’T WANT THIS!”

God, please have mercy and get me through this withdrawal to a place of peace, wholeness and love in myself. 45 years worth is a lot to work out of my system to get clean.

The only way out is through and there is no going back or unseeing. Woe to those who have seen and known the light and then reject and deny it. That is the blackest self-imposed darkness rooted in a self-loathing lie that will kill all ability to genuinely love or accept love permanently.

I exposed the love of my life, so entrenched and enmeshed in my being, to the light he once used to guide me to, and then began to let go as a final (and first, really) act of unselfish love for him. To do so meant the death of my addiction and codependency and sent me reeling into this tortuous detox. There is nothing but pain for me in it. He has kicked and screamed and spat and spun violently all the way because he knows I will not and cannot hide anything anymore. It all comes into the light, but I cannot keep him with me there.

Whether in light or darkness, he is who he is and will always be the love of my life.

Into the fire we all must go, one way or the other, and we all must go alone. All I can do is be my own light and to do so I must burn.

Mama, Help Me