A Letter of Inquiry

Dear Mr. Life,
So talk to me, dude?   Exactly what is your purpose?  According to the Baltimore Catechism Number Two , Lesson One, Question Three,  the purpose of human life is to show forth God's goodness and to share with Him in the everlasting happiness of heaven.  In order to attain that everlasting happiness in heaven we must know, love, and serve God in this world.  Explain, please.
Waiting for wisdom, I remain your curious student,
Queenie

Dear Queenie,
You always go to a source don't you?  You don't appear to trust your own self with an answer.  You don't have much confidence in your own ability to answer the tough questions.  Why don't you ask yourself what you want the purpose to be?
Waiting for your wisdom to arrive, I remain curious,
Mr. Life

Good day, again, Mr. Life,
Thank you for your prompt reply.  However, you didn't get me very far along the road here, dude.  I can ask myself all I want but who am I to know the answers?  I am just a tiny speck, a drop in the ocean, a moon around a distant planet in a distant galaxy.  You have answers and I demand that you share.  So there.
Getting impatient, I remain willing to learn,
Queenie

Dear Q,
My, my, my - getting a bit uppity now, are we?  But, you know, I like that in a person.  I like that you are asking questions and insisting on answers.  Okay, let's start with the Baltimore Catechism.  When did that become the end all and the be all?  Since when have YOU bought into those words?  Probably the last time was when you in elementary school but, you must admit, that even though you won that Catechism Bee in 8th grade, you were good at memorizing but clueless about what the words meant.  You had a sharp brain capable of memorizing anything but you also knew that none of  this made sense to you.  There was some kind of comfort in the rituals, and sometimes in the English translations of the Latin text (very poetical and that appealed to even the 10 year old you).  You even resonated with some of the music, especially the music where the words were in Latin and the chant was meditative (Orate pro nobis....) .  Now you regurgitate that back to me and expect it to make sense.
So put that battered blue and white copy aside and go for another angle.
How about the purpose of life is to be present in the moment and get the most out of your life?  How about leaving the world a better place because you were here?  How about learning and teaching?  How about loving yourself and loving others? How about there is no purpose, just life as it is?  Why so many questions and what difference does it make?
Wondering why you care, I remain your confidante and companion,
Life

Breaking

I am breaking, breaking into a million shards. There are tiny fragments  and there are big boulders.  The tiny pieces are sparkly and precious stones.  The boulders are hot lava remnants.  They are all the responsibilities that I have carried.  The shiny precious shards are the tiny pieces of love, the connections , the web of hearts that I have known.  The shiny pieces are my art work and my writing and the fragility that marks my life. They are also sharp - like needles.  They cut me , they inject me, they hurt me.  I need protection from the shards.
The boulders are heavy and black and grey and maroon.  They hurt my feet because I climb all over them. They crowd my life.  They hurt my shoulders because they are incredibly heavy.  I carry them everywhere and I can't tolerate them anymore. They are not pretty.  They bring their own pain
I want to reassemble the pieces but I don't' think it is possible.  I am too broken, too shattered, too far away to ever do this.   I'm not sure that I can ever be reassembled.  Nor am I sure I want to be reassembled

__________________________

And there is an a sheen of red on the ground, thick, shiny red.  It is going to dry to an M and M thick candy shell and the cover is shell to crack again.  The shards will be obvious.  The web will be there.

Lost in Life

     Ms Melancholy has that bag that she carries around.  I've been thinking about that bag and how heavy it is.  It's old and battered but it is very valuable to her.  I have the sense that something of mine is in that bag, something I have lost but I can't think of what it might be. Among the things I've lost in life are the following items:

baby teeth and wisdom teeth
that  bracelet that Grandpa and Auntie Anne gave me when I was 6 years old
my father
a kidney stone
love
my long hair
internet privacy
innocence / naivete
belief in and respect for the Catholic religious hierarchy
my youth
the red sweater that I left in San Francisco
my temper (repeatedly)
my patience (repeatedly)
my confidence (lost and regained repeatedly)
connections
my self
the kid I used to be (maybe that is the same as my self)
the truth
my optimism (most of the time)
choices
my grandparents (all of them)
childhood/adolescent friendships
knees that don't hurt
belief in the future
trust
time
that check I wrote last week
my first passport
transparency


Could any of these things be in the bag?

Ms. Melancholy

    Well, well, well, Ms. Melancholy has returned.  She seems to favor dark and gloomy days.  The sunshine and blue sky days make her stay in bed but the gloomy days give her boundless energy.  The funny thing is that she is dark and heavy and yet she can tiptoe through the day at any hour and no matter who else might be here.  She wears heavy black shoes - those old fashioned ones that Mrs. Downen used to wear - with, I guess, it is support hose.  Today she has one of those flowered dresses on but the flowers are not pretty colors.  They are shades of blue and grey and she does not have a very functional bra on (maybe she has no bra on - quite possible).  The dress kinda hangs down around her knees and has some snags on it. It looks as if she left a bit of this morning's oatmeal on the front too.  It's as if she wears the dress all the time (perhaps because it is comfortable?) and no one is going to make her change.

    Ms Melancholy (oddly enough her first name is Gladys) heaves a lot of sighs.  She likes to hover around me and just gets in my way.  She is, as I mentioned earlier,  very heavy and I sometimes ask her to please go sit somewhere else but she doesn't usually respond to niceties. I have been known to try to push her away but she refuses to leave until she is damn well ready.   About the only thing that can get her to take a hike is a funny movie, the sunshine, the presence of a good friend, a nap, or a productive and pleasant day at work.

     Ms Melancholy has been around my life for a long time.  I think I first remember meeting her when I was in high school.  She often came to the library with me during my first period study hall.  She would park herself at the table and act like she owned the place.  In fact, she acted as if she owned me.  She was unfamiliar to me and I didn't know what to make of her.  I had met her sister, Ms Sadness, and occasionally encountered her big brother Mr Angry but I understood them.  I seemed to intuitively connect with those two characters but not so with Ms Melancholy.

     Anyhow, I just realized that the silly Ms Melancholy often visits me at night and has been a frequent guest in my house on Sunday afternoon/evening.  At those times, she likes to settle in no matter what the weather.  She doesn't care what we are having for dinner or even if we are home for dinner.  Admittedly, she is usually out of town on Sundays in the summer time but she makes up for that by faithfully and resolutely being present pretty much every day during the first couple of weeks of the school year.

      Back to evenings, Gladys ( I think I can all her that since she is so damn familiar with me) sometimes likes to sit next to me on the couch in the evening.  She likes it when I start beating myself up about whatever transgression I may have committed.  She is in seventh heaven when I start ruminating on failures and the future.  And I just realized this:  sometimes she gets out dancing shoes at that time, as if she has been successful in reaching her goal!  She likes it when I start connecting with a friend and start commiserating one way or another (texting or email).  She has power over me at those times and she loves that.  She is one power hungry woman and I am a pathetic wimp in her presence. WTF??????

     I also just remembered that Gladys often brings a bag with her - one of those old ratty carpet bag things.  It is also flowered but these flowers are dingy green and musty pink.  The bag appears as if it has  never been laundered and it is unraveling near the edges.  The wooden handles are very strong though and she can haul that thing anywhere.  Once when she was taking a nap (yes, occasionally she doesn't really leave but just naps off for a bit) I broke the unspoken rules and tried to look into the bag.  It appeared empty but it was still very heavy as if it contained something I couldn't see.  I could feel its presence but I couldn't see it.  It reminded me of losing something and I wondered if what I had lost was in the bag.

     Well, well, well, Ms Melancholy.  You think you are hot stuff, don't you? You think your glumness is attractive, don't you?  Guess what?  Not so much.  Your presence invades my strength and takes over my smiles.  How am I going to deal with you?  I could make friends with you.  I could embrace you when you come around and paint you and play with you.  I could take you for a walk or tell you that you need to go shopping.  I could stand up and say, "Get out of my house."  Let me think about this for awhile....

Back to Breathing

"Listen--are you breathing just a little,  and calling it a life?"
— Mary Oliver

       Ugh.  Why does this speak so loudly to me?  In fact, it seems to be all I can hear at the moment.  A best friend suggested recently to me that I could live big.  Live big?  I am almost 5'4" (lacking a quarter of an inch) and that's as tall as I am going to get.  How can I live big?  I think these notions reflect the same idea.  Breathing just a little is barely living.  Living small means being hidden from life and , in fact, hiding from life.  How do you hide from life?  Stay small and don't make waves. Breathe too big and  you might make a mess.  You might break your heart, or your bones, or your life.  But at least you will know you are alive.

Doing AND Being

Road trip!
Let's go!
Bridges, buildings, urban trees
and lots of asphalt.
Fog horns, rain on the rooftop,
and wailing voices
pitched to impress.
Do we have to?

Fear of getting lost.
Fear of Ms Melancholy
 riding shotgun.
Twisting in the driver's seat,
 tired of sitting.
Distracting the mind with stale crackers
and warm water for dessert.
Really?

Night turns to morning and
concrete trails open
to reveal forest hikes
and rivers gathering
rain drops.
Bicycles ride by
and smiles fall off the seats.
New friends
and good times.








Blues, greens,  pink
ocean mist tries to capture
and wine warms
the solitary evening.
Why road trips?
Perspective.
Breathing time.
New visions.
Family ribbons  tied again.

Road trip
and life as a
river tripping to the sea
meandering, sweeping
in brilliant blue
to the open ocean
and home.
Home again.
Damn!

To Do Or To Be?

  
      In theory, I know life  isn't an either / or situation.  Life is a blend but my conundrum is what is the overlying aim?  In this case,  I am considering  the best use of my time.  This is always an issue for me.  I am forever considering how I want to live my life, how I want to spend my days.  I am determined to make the best use of my life but I can't decide what that means.

       On the question of to do or to be, I am flummoxed.  Do I spend my lovely summer days "being"?  Specifically, "to be" means to stay in a comfort zone.  "To be" means to stay where I am uber comfortable - mostly at my house, in my
neighborhood.  It means to read, to write, to paint, to futz with the yard work, to ride my bike in the extended neighborhood, to go out with friends, to chill with my beautiful daughter, to romp with the new kitty, to nap in the afternoon sun.  In short, "to be" means just that: to be comfortable and settled with my days.  No surprises.  No novelty.  Only comfort, familiarity, and ease.

        "To do" requires more effort. "To do" compels me to move out of the familiar and into a place that necessitates more energy, more work.  The payoff, however, is adventure. The reward includes  new experiences, new people, new memories.  I expand
my world.  I learn and become more of who I am.  I challenge myself and presumably become a richer person in the process.  There are surprises.  There are cranky moments.  There are lonely times and times when familiarity seems king and adventure sucks.  I have more currency to add to the bank of JT.  For me, however, "to do" is hard work.  If "to do" means travel or taking a class or volunteering somewhere - it all means I have to put out precious energy.  That's the roadblock.

    Again, I am well aware that it isn't an all or nothing sort of situation.  How about balanced portions of both to be and to do?  For some strange reason, I find that much easier to say than to do. Really, I want to plant myself right here in Sebby  and just "be".  But a part of me screams in anger:  you can't do that!  You have a life to LIVE.   Get out there and do it.

     I had this conversation with someone I know recently.  His take on the conundrum is that if you are happy, it doesn't really matter whether you be or do.  Your life can be rich and full even if you never leave the house.  If you are happy (or even content) living a simple and unencumbered life of reading, writing, and "being", then that is your ticket to a full life.  If that is not enough for you, then, yes, toss in some "doing".  The "doing" however should not be forced.  It should reflect what you find makes you happy.  To go out and "do" for the sake of experience or an expanded life or because you think you should, is not sufficient reason to take you out of your comfort zone.  If you are happy "being", then be.  If you want to do, then do.
For him, the idea is to be happy.  I get the impression that, for him,
being happy means living an uneventful, predictable life.  I can buy that.  It is an easy life.  I can see where that life would be cozy, sleepy, and content.  But rich?  I am not so sure.

  

Breaking Hearts

"It is better for the heart to break, than not to break." 
— Mary Oliver

      I question this one.  Really? And exactly why is that?  What is so impressive about a broken heart?  Broken hearts mean tumult, hurt, sadness, regret, tough times all the way around.  If a heart doesn't break, it is spared all that grief.  Sure, I know, I know - Life might be sterile or lack depth without heartbreak but it might be much cleaner, much less painful.  Without a broken heart, you have the energy to be open, energetic and alive.  You don't get bogged down in fearing the broken heart.  You just live, unattached and whole.


   Do you want to avoid a broken heart?   How about just not letting the heart land in the wrong hands?  If you hold on to your heart, if don't give it to anyone, you will know exactly where it is and in what condition it lives.  If you are foolish and careless enough to give it to someone (or even just to give part of it to someone) then you have to take what you get.  In theory, you could be wise enough to give it to someone who will protect it.  That is awfully sweet.  But how often does that really work out?  And when you give your heart away, how does that make your life better?  If you hold on to your heart, guard it with everything you've got, you don't have to deal with heartbreak.  Oh but then there is the chance that you might just drop it yourself.  Oops.  Splat.  Bye bye protected heart......

Life Lessons by Lulu

Heya, World!

   It's me, Lulu!  I've been on this planet for about nine weeks but I have a  lot to tell you. See how cute I am?  I didn't do anything to get that way.  I just am.  Just like you. I am what I am and I am proud of it.  See me strut my stuff!   Take a lesson!  Be proud of who you are!

     I am fascinated with  this world.  I  have big eyes that want to take in every inch of it. There is so much to see, so much to explore.  I kick around every leaf, every spider, every piece of discarded paper.  I don't want to be mean - especially not to that spider - I just want to see what will happen.  I want to see what they will do.  I want to look under, over, and very closely at every glint that catches my eye.  And you want to know the funny thing?  It doesn't matter how many times I have already looked at that leaf or how many times I have batted that paper towel roll around.  It is still fun to do it again!  Sometimes I even catch on to something I hadn't noticed before.

    Don't get me wrong though.  I am not irresponsible or careless.  I know it is good to be a bit cautious.  Take chances in life, sure!  Be bold!  Be daring!  But don't be stupid.  It's okay to watch the world for a while, to plan your next move. Sometimes it is actually far more satisfying to be an observer rather than a participant.  Sometimes I can learn a lot by watching.  And sometimes I can be so entertained just by watching you humans.  You act so goofy at times.  You make faces at me or at each other.  You jump around trying to impress me or maybe trying to get attention from each other.  You yell at those boxes in your living room and you make your fingers dance all over that thing on the table.  You clean off tables and counters with a sponge and then you throw colors all over a big piece of paper and act proud of yourselves.  Sometimes you laugh at the oddest things and then sometimes you cry when no one else is there.  You get up early and play with me but then, just when the fun is really getting going, you leave and spray water all over yourself.  Yes, you are so funny!

 I do like to explore stuff.  I wonder why this thing with the black squares takes so much of your time?  and who is that other kitty who comes around when the black squares are open?










   I like toes a lot.  Actually, I like human beings a lot.  I like how you smell and I like how you let me cuddle up to you.  I don't understand why you humans don't do more of that?  Why don't you always rest in each others' arms?



    Inside or outside, there is much to see in your world.  One of my favorite things to do is to sit in the window and watch the leaves and the dogs next door.  I don't have to move much.  I am safe behind
the glass.  And it is warm and sunny here too.

    I like to play explorer and under the table is  cool.
No one can find me here and they go crazy looking for me!  Fun!  I like to tease those silly humans!  They take life waaaaaaaay too seriously sometimes.  Life is short, silly humans.  Your brows get so furrowed and you seem so daunted sometimes by the future.  Really?  It's not that big a deal!  I've only been around for a while but I can tell you something important.  Everything will be okay in the end.  If it's not okay, it's not the end.  So there.

     Here's another bomb for you:  sleeping is good!

                                                                                                                                                                             

You humans work too hard.  Go! Go! Go!  You always have a to do list.  You get up early and immediately fly into motion.  And you run run run off to work, off to work out (huh?), off to do chores - go go go go go go go go - get my point?  Lighten up, silly people!  Slow down.  Take a moment.  It will make all the difference in the world.

    Speaking of working hard, I have had enough of this writing for now.  I am going to go nibble on some kibble and snooze while the sun is shining.  Meow meow for now!

A Love Letter

Dear Summertime,
I don't know if I've told you this lately but I do love you.  I have always loved you and I always will love you.  You make me feel alive.  Your warmth and gentle nature captivate me.  Your shining and beautiful colors stun me and make me want to just feast my eyes on you and never look away.   I love how you make me laugh and how relaxed I feel in your presence.  You never seem to annoy me and you never fail to make me smile.  I love how you make the daylight start so early and how fresh and cool you feel at 5:30 in the morning.  I embrace the sleepy nap time that is a natural response to your afternoon warmth.  And I am in heaven when you embrace me at dusk with your colors and your balmy breeze.  On top of all of that, you provide me with the tastiest fresh fruit and vegetables!  The gift of just off the vine tomatoes or fresh berry pie - you feed me so well!


         I love how, when you are in town, I get to wear shorts,  tank tops and flip flops. My bike rides take on new energy when I am not wrapped in layers of clothing.  My arms and legs bask in your sunbeams and my toes dance when dressed up in polish. My skin loves the feel of fresh sunshine and begs for more of that sunscreen fragrance.

The best part of our romance is that , when you are visiting, there is an attitude in my world that speaks to freedom and adventure.  My days are open and all my own.  I can get up and enjoy the morning, drifting from interest to interest.  I can paint before I do anything else.  I can work out without feeling rushed.  I can sit down and type a love letter  and not be worried about being late for work.  I don't have to go to work at all!  If you invite me, I can go to the beach on any day.  If you invite me, I can take a nap with you at any time.  Because of you, I can lounge among all the books I have saved up all year and read them without feeling pressured to go do chores or go to work.  When I am ready, I can hit the road and go visit other towns, other people, other beaches, even NYC, if I choose!  I can have adventures.  You are really my best friend!  I love you!

    The saddest part for me is that you don't stick around.  You always leave me.  I know it's what you must do but still it doesn't please me.  I know you offer me the Fall colors as a parting gift but you also slam the door shut tightly with the cold, grey, wet winter.  By the time February arrives, I feel entirely abandoned and forgotten by you.  I mourn your disappearance and I wonder if you will ever come back to me again.  So far, you always have but why must you leave?  I miss you so.
For now, though, I want to just be with you.  I want to enjoy what I have in the moment.  I want to treasure these days with you and love every moment.  I will survive if you leave again as I know you must.  But, for now, hold me tight and never forget me.
I love you.
Love,
Queenie