Sto-mach aches

Ugh, been sick for a couple daze days. Now Seth has it. NOt happy.

4 the meme is the word

From Brenda!

4 Jobs I have had in my life:
I worked the circulation desk at a local newspaper
I worked for the Chamber of Commerce in Traverse CIty
I worked in a coffee shop in a mall
I worked in a custom built furniture shop/barn

4 movies I watch over and over:
Pride & Prejudice BBC version
Strictly Ballroom
Hellboy
Hope Floats

4 places I've lived:
Edinburg, Texas
Holland, MI
Williamsburg, MI
Grand Rapids, MI (Yeah I know boring...)

4 TV shows I like to watch:
LOST
Veronica Mars
Ghost Whisperer
My name is Earl ( I could keep going because I TiVo!)

4 places I've vacayed at:
(Hmm. never really vacayed much in my life.)
Colorado
Disneyland (the one in Orlando)
Taquamenon Falls, UP MI
Chicago, Illi Noise

Now I have labored in Albany, NY; DC, Mexico and Florida but I wouldn't call it a vacay.

4 websites I visit daily:
Loudbuzz
Beerhorsts
Capt Wow
Waiter Rant and about 100 more that I peruse.

4 places I'd rather be:
On a road trip to Texas
My studio at home
Chicago Art Museum
Any Art Museum or the British Museum of Natural History or in France eating cheese or Italy drinking vino or in Mexico climbing my peeps pyramids or ... !

The Beauty of Death - Draft one

(This post was written a couple weeks ago, I put it away and I am working on it now. Here is a sample. I dedicate it to every one I love and claim as belonging to me - yes even you in the blogosphere!)

I think of death in a different way now. I used to be afraid of it because I never experienced it in a personal way. I had never been to a funeral in my life and the people that have died whom I love where so far away that it never really seemed real. More like they went on a trip somewhere and they aren't back yet, I still expect to see them. ( I have never claimed to not be a weirdo.)

As a follower of Jesus/God/Holy Spirit I have started come to certain ideas about life and death. What I mean is that we never really belong to anyone except God. He created us and loves us and calls us unto life and calls us unto death. Not like we're slaves or pets or anything, but because we are loved. So... I think of us being "lent" to the World (people) until Jesus comes back to complete the promise of heaven on earth. I believe that "heaven" isn't the end for us - he said we will have everlasting life and that we are foreigners here. So I'm thinking that death isn't an "afterlife" so much as a continuation of our "true" life, the life that was supposed to happen before the whole garden fuck up thing. So I figure we spend our lives trying to get back to the Garden, death is when we finally get in.


WHY I LET MY DAD DIE
As much as I wanted my dad to "live" I could never deny him to be with the Father. After all isn't that what Christians say they long for? To be with their Father in Heaven? God designed it so that heaven would be on earth. That was his intention when he created the world. That hasn't happened yet, but it will. That means that I will see my dad again and his body will be healed and perfect. I may not even recognize him, but I'll know it's him because I will have love with me always. I know this breaks down for people who don't believe in Jesus or in God, but I think that God has a plan for that too. I just don't know what it is. I just know what he promises and that he is good. My dad believed in God.

About 2 months before I was married ( 5 years ago now) he accepted Jesus as Lord. He became a follower of Jesus. When he learned he had cancer ( my first year married) he did all the things a Mexican man would do. He avoided the Doctor and called me instead. I knew it was bad as soon as he described his symptoms, he knew it was bad. He had major surgery to have the tumor removed, but he knew it was bad. The cancer came back and he told me that he would do chemo because that is what the doctor told him to do. I researched everything I could and I knew he would die anyway. He knew he would die too. The doctor never said a word about it until it was so bad there was no point in pretending ( sorry doc) . That's ok, but I know my dad. I prayed and cried out to God, but I knew that this happens- people die. My daddy was dying. So, I decided that I would trust God with my dad. I had to. I believe the whole thing about Heaven and it not being finished with us and everything. I thought about how my dad was going to prepare a place for me- Him and Jesus were picking out the perfect spot for me. I think that is so cool. I decided to honor my dad by letting him die. I didn't want to be one of those people who wouldn't surrender their desires for the people they loved. I wasn't going to start taking my dad to faithhealers or prophets or witches or asian herbalists .. I wasn't going to allow him to become an experiment or lab project. He didn't want that either. I have to respect my dad's wishes as painful as it all is. So I tried to make his last days the best I could. We had a birthday party for him on his birthday, I cooked him great meals and we went on road trips and we talked about all the beautiful and scary stuff of life and death. We bought a house he could be proud of and he moved in. He was there for my 30th birthday and my friends came and he got to see that I was loved and would be taken care of. He smiled so much! I left my job and spent good times and bad with him. I drew sketches and cleaned his car and bought him robes and slippers. I picked up Wendy's chili for him in the middle of the night. I made sure his brother and sisters knew he loved them and they came and stayed with us ( 15 under one roof) My dad experienced family in all the fullness that I could provide short of a grandchild. But he got to know my then-new kitten, Harry. so almost a grandchild.. a grand kitten!

My dad told me that he had lived his life and he had experienced more than he ever hoped he would. He said he was surprized at how well everything turned out. He just wanted for me to live my life as best as I could. He told me he wanted me healthy and happy. He told me to trust my husband and love him as hard as possible. He told me that death was just another part of life and not to worry so much about crap like funerals ( yes he said crap). That his body was a husk for his soul and that it really wasn't important- he was seeing God soon anyway. Some drunk would probably piss on him at the cemetary anyway ( yes he said piss). That's my dad and that why I forced my self to be ok with letting him go. That doesn't mean that I don't miss him or feel sadness or feel anger that he's gone. It just is.

Hidden Meanings

I was reading Rick's post about the laundry basket, http://studiobeerhorst.hartville.org, and I got prickly about it. It got under my skin and I had to wander away and think about other stuff for a while. I wonder why that is? There wasn't anything terrible in the post. I felt raw reading it though. Then I wandered over to Steve's blog and read the update on his family. His father in law is dying. They are in that space where I was 3 years ago. Those thin spaces when you have to remember to breathe and aren't sure what the future holds because what is coming is so sad, so painful to look at that you wish you were blind. Have you ever noticed that when you are hurting, even when you close your eyes, you still see too much of everything?

Today the sun is shining and I can feel the warmth on my arms and on my thigh. It shines right into the office window and hits the right side of my body just so. Like the very lightest touch of hands and fingers. Every now and then I have to turn to the window and look over my shoulder to reassure myself that no one is standing there.

I have a weird haunted feeling today. I should be in an episode of Ghost Whisperer and find out who is trying to communicate with me. Someone who can't cross over because they have to tell me about the paper hidden in back of the canvas of the picture they painted for me before they were cruelly taken out of my life. Jennifer Love Hewett will turn to me with those huge cow eyes and flap those huge eyelashes fringed with tears and say "they want tell you that you are not alone..." and then I will cry and say, " I can feel them!" and the camera will zoom in to show the ghost standing by my face holding my hair and staring at me saying, " I love you" and then I say, " I feel so peaceful." Damn, I really love that show!

Being hispanic, I come from a tradition of people who really believe in the supernatural. When dad died, my aunts would say to me that I would dream about him and to pay attention because he would speak to me and that it would be a blessing. Sure enough, I did. And I kept dreaming about him for several months. He would appear and want to take me to lunch. He would forget that he took his medicine already. He would moan and moan that his stomach hurt. Sometimes I would wake up sobbing into my husband's shoulder. I would say to him, " Daddy, you're gone now, it's okay. You're okay now, see the cancer is gone. ." Or I would feel angry because sometimes it wasn't my Daddy but something else. Sometimes I would cry out to God to deliver me from the dreams and let my dad rest. Let me rest. Later I realized that I was working through the grief of caring for him during his illness and not allowing myself to truly ackowledge that he was dying. I was ashamed that I had feelings of just wanting it to be over with. It was terrible to endure watching someone seperate from life, watching my dad dissolve. So painful and so beautiful. I think that people who don't believe in the supernatural can lose this essential part of the beauty of death. The elements of working it out in the spirit realm can bring so much healing. I don't know if this makes sense. But my aunt's were right, I listened to my dad and I was blessed.

Finally!

Heh, I just figured out how to add links. It only took me 1 year.

The next steps

I was at a discussion group yesterday for the Emergent Church ( West Michigan). One of the pastors involved shared that he was late because a church member had called to ask for ministry. They had to make the decision to take their father off life support. The father was a vital man in his 60s and 2 weeks ago had a brain aneurysm. He went from vital to vegetable. It was a heart wrenching story to hear. Earlier this week I had spoken with a friend of ours who had a similar experience with her aunt. The week before last my co-worker had to leave town because her dad had a heart attack and couldn't take care of himself, the hospital had sent him home after 3 days and he couldn't even feed himself. Loudbuzz has just written about his father in law and the harrowing experience last night. The feelings of his post were sorrowful and expectant and immenent. I see the next steps of carefully placing one foot before the other and walking that shadowy road of grief coming. Like trying to stand in Lake Michigan with the waves crashing into you and the water current surrounding your legs like great arms wanting to wrestle. My social worky side says to tell people, " Hey! You need to talk to your loved ones about what to do if something should happen. You need to have it in writing so they don't suffer more by having to figure out if you want to stay alive at all costs, if you prefer to donate your guts or get torched or put in a box. You owe it to them to have a plan and not be afraid to notice that anything is possible in life and death. Don't avoid this discussion, it gives them an opportunity for peace of mind! That is so precious! Talk about stuff like the cost of chemo or life support, have it written down so that everybody knows exactly what you meant to happen. Make the time to write down a will and directions for your arrangements take the time to think about your legacy-tell people you love them what you always meant to say and for God's sake DO IT already. "

I am reminded of the last year of my Dad's life. I remember the pain of chemo and watching his spirit dissolve before my eyes. I remember trying to bathe him and feed him and the long final hours of oblivion before he entered into peace. I remember the stress of selling his house and taking his things to Goodwill. Of not sleeping for what seemed like days, of fighting to stay with him and not allow him to enter death alone. Of giving him communion and annointing him with oil and burning incense on the sill of his room. Dancing around his bed and singing out in many tongues. I remember how scary it was to help him write his will. I remember how I ached the last time I combed his hair and the silence.

I still have his 2 suits, one which he wore to my wedding. They hung in my studio in a plastic bag. I just moved them to the attic. I still cry when I think about him. I cry in joy and loneliness and compassion, but today I am full. I am alive. I have times when I feel life struggling its way out of me to stain the things around me. To stain the air with its vitality.

Today I feel so alive and restless with life. I told Steve I would send him my life through the air. Soft breathy clouds of Life. The extra energy that I have I will send out and let it trail it's way to Lansing. I know it sounds wierd, but I feel it building up for times just like this and if I get to know you I can send it to you. I notice that people all around me need the extra I have. Maybe that is why I am here.Maybe that is why this last week I have been drawn into so many similar stories.

For a long time I was a creature of death. I didn't know I was nurturing death. But I was and I reaped a lot of sickness and illness and emptiness for it. I think I idolized it or something. This has changed for me, I am racing to God with everything I am that I was created to be. Aware that God made me alive. He keeps building me up too. ahhh this post could last for a long long time.

Pretty little secrets

trouble can thump you on the head
if that's what you want
or you can be giddy and stand in the breeze
capture the dandelion
capture the mist from the sprinkler

stare at your face in the spoon
dream of an oyster or a caribou
all you can do is ride
keep your pretty little secrets inside


I love the phrase Pretty Little Secrets. I just do. right now I am languishing in the warm weather and the sunshine and the sound of birds outside. The air feels full. I like that.
I feel full. I am enjoying living.

closed for the wax people olympics

Did you feel that if youlost they wouldmaybe turnaround and[k]no(w) tice that you neverbelongedneverwithdrewfromsomethingyoucouldn'tbevulnerableto?vulnerableBecauseyouarefearfearfullyandwonderfullymadeyouarelivingand (re)-livingand-present tothepointyourskinsingswithironyandcutenessandbrokenessandhope ofhealingness and desireandpassionandpulsationandsmell?

AND THEN:
She woke up to the dream of her sister climbing out the living-room window of the old farm house where they grew up. Her little brother was hiding in the grass trying to crawl away from the woman in the building that was not our house but a beer soaked memory of drowning in a childhood of fearandbedwettingandviolenceand scorn.

She woke up with a giggle trapped in her belly of the vision of the farmhand glaring at her brother riding a pushmower down the old Lake Rd. He was sweating in the heat and concerned for getting away and not knowingwheretolook for safety. Then the dream changed to more panic.

They found her/me/him/she hiding in the upstairs bathtub of a neighbors house; desperately holding our breath the three of us pretending to be asleep so as not to notice that the evil woman and her minions are standing over us looking on and preparing to hurt us from beyond the shower curtain. When the curtain was pulled away there was just one body in the bath tub and not three, but in her dream she felt the three of them nestled in acrylic fear.

She woke up not understanding why she would dream of things that did not happen and ache of things that did and wonder what was happening to her broken sister, her broken brother at that moment. Did they escape at all or were they still there strapped inside her, one body in the tub?

She woke up and was reminded how like wax people we are, like wax pilars that appear solid and smooth, yet easily disfigured by warm fingers and flames and sunshine, pilars so carefully strangled by the wound wick of our soul . Wicks ready to burst with the fury of going into light.

She woke up from her dream.

Uhhh I thot I was Mexican?

You Are French Food

Snobby yet ubiquitous. People act like they understand you more than they actually do.

What Kind of Food Are You?

Scorch

Plastic seats can ruin the rippling effect of the water and the stones

you sigh
you soak in the cactus warmth and the sand heat
the sunflower seeds have salt
they coat your lips
tender veins of oro and plata search for your feet
chill the big veins in your heart
the chambers echo with blood-love
See plump red in your hands from the fruit
sweet waters dribble and stick
you got watermelon and you got seeds and your miles from the Sonic
from the Fina station
from the rumble of the engine
from the streets that changed their names
from the dust on the rock
where I sprinkled your remains...

Sweet Mysteries

All I have to say is that I am grooving with the posts over at www.loudbuzz.blogspot.com . I have put away the church drama, we are praying about what to do. For sure I have no new insight about that. I am tired about it though so it has been nice to not go there for the last week. I am also going back to old favorites. The stuff that feeds my soul.
Like music. Ya'll have to listen to Ray LaMontagne http://www.raylamontagne.com and his CD. There is a smokyness to his voice and sorrowful pulsing lyrics. I am also into Coldplay, Ani Difranco, and Jack Johnson. And Somebody write some dang poems already!




Poemme 1#

Listening to Alice is like wandering...
thru Sushi fields
Her soft raw skin is flaked
Pink and startling and sharp
She looks to the Queen
Who takes her hand
limply lifts her limbs
the air particles around them on an upswing
She sighs
They walk

Horseradish and seeds and salty sweat rain
lush cucumber stalks and grassy smiles
looking at knees that appear to be clean and scrubbed
I took issue with her presentation

The clouds were too much for my eyes
too much to breathe the fishy dew
too much to taste

The Queen's laughter breaks the rainbow in her eyes
and poor Alice retreats back
retreats back
retreats
re-
treats.

THE LOST MEME

A long time ago ( like in October) Capt Wow meme’d me first. I was too lazy to post it, but I did it. So har it ays.

Five Things I will do before I die:
1. Hopefully, have a baby by birth or adoption
2. Lose at least 50 more pounds
3. Learn to climb stuff like trees and mountains
4. Visit Europe or another grouping of countries not Canada or Mexico
5. Plant a church

Five Things I say most often: (honesty, right?)
1. Craptastic!
2. TIVO hog!
3. We’re out of cheeeeeese.
4. Honey can you take care of the animals today?
5. Dork!

Five Things I cannot do:
1. Burp silently
2. Behave myself
3. Not, not give my opinion
4. Reach the cupboard shelves without a stepladder
5. Keep from making stacks, piles, collections, staging centers

Five Things I can do:
1. Paint pretty pictures
2. Make quick and delicious meals from virtually nothing
3. Read a page in my book in 30 seconds or less
4. Run a Mackey Sound board & tell if you sound like crap in a microphone & fix it
5. Tell what water cress, wild carrot, and jack in the pulpit look like

Five Things that attract me to other people:
1. People that are genuine and sincere and honest and like truth
2. People that can laugh at themselves without being cruel to themselves
3. Strength and fearlessness and ingenuity
4. People who have character
5. People who thrust themselves into scary places whether emotional or physical they pursue the edges of a different box.

Five Celebrity Crushes:
1. Johnny Depp
2. Claire Danes
3. The big brother in Prison break * The one that is to be executed not the little brother with the tattoos
4. Harrison Ford
5. Colin Firth

Okay, now you do it! And somebody meme me again, cuz I am lazy and these are fun...