Digging up bones

Last night my sister in law had a movie night with her best friends in our shared home. I told one of the friends to check out the Qatiaf recipe if she is interested on my blog. Her response:”You have a blog?! What is it and why don’t I subscribe to it??!”

Her enthusiasm apparently excited something inside me to get back to MissCorrigan. Maybe it had to do with remembering how much I enjoy close friends doing nothing but enjoying the evening. Maybe its the power of nostagia; or the need to make sense of things so not to lose perspective…its so easy to go off track.

Earlier that evening, I lost perspective (for the upteenth time) and yelled at my husband for a couple hours-what was the reason for my anger? Ok-Anything that comes to my mind in anger-I went through the crawl space of my subconscious and found some things in there…

Spilled Milk

Spilled Milk

Then I went to sleep and dreamed that I was in the front seat of a roller coaster that I knew was completely absent of track at the end. It went way too fast and ended in a loopdy loop at the end dropping to the ground and ending my life. I felt the very end of it-my life and woke immediately.

But somehow today my mind is clear. It is currently uploading 42,900 memories  into my brain theater. I remember how I told a concerned adult at 16, when I felt the first twinges of real sadness (that is part of all lives but too deafening to deal with adequately as a naive human) that the reason I was depressed had to do with some girls at school making me feel bad. Almost 20 years later I am doing the same thing with my husband; telling him the reason for my tumultuous feelings had to do with this or that, him or her, and ultimately he was to blame.

But it never really is about any of that, is it?

Sunset on Hilltop

Sunset on Hilltop

Why do the saddest songs have the most enjoyable beats and catchiest lyrics? (See for example Slave Driver(B.Marley))

I also threatened to leave. And it hit me the many times I did just that to people in my life. The times I walked away, couldn’t forgive, gave up, started fresh. Usually I am thinking of those who left me in one way or another. Why at that moment when I yell at my husband do I actually believe that that is what I want? When my head is clear, its absolutely absurd.

“They say time can play tricks on a mem’ry
Make people forget things they knew”

I was mean too, as mean as I could be. I wish I could always be clear. My only hope is to pour my emotion into art, into body, and into mind. And leave the real joy that is real life for the loves of my life. They deserve nothing less and really, neither do I.

Hands in at all times. Except for when they are courageously up in the air in delight.


Life flies

Life flies. No I mean it. It is as fleeting as a the hummingbird. Whenever there is something I am looking forward to-say a birth, it is here before I know it. When the moment comes, it is as if it has always been there.

Our backyard is brimming with life, spring is here. The apple tree is blossoming after so many days being dormant, it bloomed with a flourish, as if to say I have always been here.  If there is anything I will regret it is the moments I spent caught up in the daily bustle. I will mourn the moments that I lost because I was too busy getting ready for the next thing.

It is only natural for us to be caught up, that we must tend to our spirituality in a conscious manner. It is because we must tend to it, do we reap the special rewards from doing so. Prayer, reflection, and patience in life’s most mundane moments are where I can find the spiritual energy that is bursting everywhere on earth.  There are times when I want to say forget all this mumbo jumbo. Life is short and then we die. (A saying I found to be most prevalent in the dinosaur exhibit at the natural history museum.) However, when I quiet the mental chatter, and the beauty flows into my being, even if it is for a moment, I am capsized by the audacity of life’s offerings.

An example:

Once while I was downstairs cleaning the dishes, the light streamed into the windows just so that I lay pause to my work. I stopped and was suddenly overcome with this warm immense joy. This joy was so intense it brought me to tears and nearly to my knees. After a moment I gathered myself together, and as it happens when I feel such emotion I seek out the ones I love to tell them how much I appreciate them. But as I went searching for my husband, I found that he was directly above me. And he was praying…

Even prayer can seem mundane, and maybe even crazy. I must wrestle with this feeling of maybe not really meaning it, going through the motions so to say. But it is practice that makes anything else better, why would prayer be any different? Every so often, prayer is not mundane, it is essential and stirring.  When it is, it is as if God has always been there, and that knowledge can give a girl new life once again.