untitled

perhaps this lady had the right idea?

perhaps ...

post number ...

... and i feel like a pair of deflated boxing gloves, left on the shelf to rot.

this date ... this very date ... weighs on my mind. one year ago tonight ... that's when i left. funny ... how the passage of 365 days seems to make no difference in so many ways. or perhaps this ... this is payback? if you believe in that sort of thing. maybe this - feeling i have - 'left on the shelf to rot' - maybe its kharma. maybe its fate's payback for my behaving so badly 1 year ago. maybe ... maybe i'm meant to now assume the role of receiving - receiving the pain i dished out 1 year ago.

i suppose, then, i have only myself to blame. i made my bitter pie. now i gotta eat it?

funny - i do not really believe that. but - i have no other explanation to offer.

and soon ... oh so soon ... i will stop seeking any explanations. i will stop bothering to reach out to the one of whom i speak.

i tire of this. really, really tire of this -- neglect i feel. and have felt everyday for several weeks. today ... i have the distinct feeling of my skin disintegrating, right before my very eyes. i feel powerless to stop it. i feel powerless ...

just me. togetherness - unity - its a load of fucking BULLSHIT. just another one of those lies society's always trying to shove down our gizzards. or so it seems. to me @ this moment. i am just me. that's all i am. alone. no skin. the skin - i think its an illusion. its non-existent for me, right @ this moment. i have no connection. just the illusion of a connection. and it leave me feeling sad and insignificant.

that's all.

silver harbour - pt 2

SILVER HARBOUR – pt 2 (for pt 1 - see february 26th, 2007 post)

NB - the following post discusses a place we moved to a few years back.

noticeably absent from the landscape? starbucks, blenz, and the rest of the frou-frou coffee shops on every city block. city blocks. concrete phallic symbols – aka skyscrapers. construction cranes dotting the horizon. and … oh, the horizon! one which you could see for miles and miles. open to the possibilities that one could make for oneself. a lonely, empty horizon, beckoning new life. silence abounded. everywhere. it seemed i’d rode into a cell of still life. nothing. remote. noticeably absent from the landscape? retail enterprises within walking distance. and all the beautiful, shiny, happy people. you know? the ones that like containment … of life. the ones that tell us to stuff our raw, delicate emotions into rubbermaid containers, where we can no longer see or feel them. well – i could see no shiny happy people in the vicinity. wysiwyg. i had entered wysiwyg land.

i failed to notice how alone, insignificant and powerless life still left me feeling, as i marvelled at the wonders of wysiwyg - remote rural life. did i embrace this life change as fully as i believed? perhaps … perhaps … i only embraced it as an escape from the status quo. the one i believed i left behind in vancouver. however … one must often learn the hard way – status quo = oneself. status quo cannot fall away from oneself through a mere change of scenery. status quo can only fall away with an intense bout of molting. as in … a giant snake molting its skin. life still felt like something happening to me … as opposed to ME, happening to IT.

i marvelled. at the silent simplicity of each day, as its petals unfurled. i marvelled. at the silent, steady and constant resolve of the people who dotted the landscape. i marvelled. at the gentle wisdom of the does and the stags, the elk and the coyotes … who shared their quarters with us humans, in this place. i wondered …. what words lay on the mouth of lake winnipeg, whom I could hear, sighing ceasely, from the tiny cabin we would call home for the next year?

hummingbirds fluttered ceasely, like the beating of my unsettled heart, right outside my lving room window. the matrix of nature – in its purest form – weaving itself masterfully, before my wonderous, weary and sad eyes. the icey breath of old man winter brought desolation, utter paralysis - a chilling silence, as the sighs of my friend, the lake, grew silent. silence – a flawless reflector. of oneself. it strips a soul. leaving it naked, defenseless against the elements. and so – i stood. naked. shivering in the wind. shuddering at my petty insignificance. for all the world to see.

i wonder …. what did i see there, in my SELF?

corona

darkness descends
she waits. patiently. knowing.
light will shine once more.

*a pairing of two of my favourite things - hope and magnolias. inspired by my friend, infini.*

from the archives

a few of my favourite fotos, which i have collected from here and there. no theme to this post ... just a collage of pictures slapped into the post box. that's all. some eye candy - and yes ... may of these foto really seem like visual poetry to me. i want to write something, but that coming here to this fucking internet cafe and telling myself, 'okay. now, write,' - that's not working for me, right now.

straight up

straight up, i asked him. just went up to him, at just before getting ready to leave. and asked him ... if anything about me made him uncomfortable. asked him - was i doing anything to cause the awkwardness between us that i sensed? was there a problem ... with me? something i needed to fix?

he responded no. he loved having me around. i shouldn't worry.

ok. and them we chatted a little more until rudely interrupted. and that was that.

and now ... in the days that follow. it seems by naming the awkwardness, i have made it disappear. whether or not his response reflects reality ... its not the point. he gave the only answer reality can handle. of course he would answer no. but ... i have silently acknowledged the chemistry between us. and its made our interactions pleasant, not and uncomfortable series of successive shut-downs.

interesting ... and holy fuck - that straight up thing ain't easy to do! but it sure felt good!

full circle?

[written saturday, 21.4.07]

full circle. i ponder the circle. almost a year to the date. not quite. and here, i find myself again. wondering, this time - do i remove the ring? or leave it, and believe? i chose ... to leave it and believe. its my skin, after all. what other option would i chose?

but ... still ... i felt such abject sadness friday morning when he had not appeared overnight ... or in the am, as promised. i felt such abject sadness ... that i did not wear my glasses for the morning commute. and for the first few hours @ school. spectacles have little effect, when the tears trickle ... and trickle.

i felt ... martin had forgotten. just plain failed to consider. that i might worry ... wait ... with angst in my heart. failure to consider .... me. a huge gesture, i thought. me, who so proudly felt adored by my wolf. just cast aside by same. adoration? not anymore ... perhaps.

and ... so i felt. and the feeling would not subside. and ... of course ... my instructor noticed. and provided the tenderest, most compassionate attention ... to this tearful student ... to hold her together. the gesture of this interaction did not escape me. i needed it. it buoyed me. gentle concern/compassion and a tiny bit of acknowledgement and attention can go a long way. and i wondered ... what happened to my wolf, that he just let me down so?

and ... only a few hours later ... i see my beloved wolf, with luggage in tow. he came right to me. straight away. and ... so he had not forgotten. or stopped loving. or stopped adoring. just ... didn't think. he felt my despair ... my sadness ... at his failure to connect. and he aquiesced. and he promised .... he would send a sign of life. and love.

and ... we spent his time @ home - less than 24 hours - enjoying each other ... laughing ... chatting ... loving. and now ... he's gone, again. ETA - some time on may 4th.

a resolution and strange energy

strange energy. between us - instructor and me. i feel it. i consistently doubt myself, but i feel it. i do not think i have confabulated this. its like ... we feel drawn to the other ... and this creates some weird block. like - some anxiety - as in your nerve falls into the basement whenever that person lurks near your personal space. i wonder. it fascinates me. and this man - he appeared in my dream at least once. a prophetic dream. i wonder .... it feels so surreal.

the issue of the answer key i think has met a resolution. when the director brought the larger group together, he never made mention of the issue. just provided encouragement and strategies to enhance learning for us - the programming students. i felt something still. cowardly - for not approaching the instructor directly. somehow ... i could not. and it nagged me. he deserved my directness. and so i spent several hours, emailing him, last evening.

i am writing this, instead of telling it to you face-to-face, because my written
articulation skills far exceed my skill @ articulating myself in speech. first,
i have wanted to tell you so many times, the reason for what may seem like
erratic and inconsistent effort on my part - particularly with respect to
attendance. i have tried to give you some sketchy background @ times in the
past, but, a sort of fear prevented me from full disclosure. and, also, i have
often thought that too much disclosure = immodesty. and so i err on the side of
caution; and leave you wondering, i'm sure. second, i wanted to share some
thoughts on phase 1, learning c-sharp, and why its such a challenge for
students.

first - about erratic, inconsistent me

anxiety - i mean, like, pathological anxiety, the kind that makes one physically ill. in a
nutshell, anxiety is my biggest hurdle. severe anxiety actually forced me to
give up practising nursing. i could not get passed the huge and crazy panic
attacks to go to work. that's what happened when i tried to resume nursing after
several months of burn-out. you know the concept of supernova? well, that was
roxanne. a huge explosion that ejected most of my mass. i'm speaking
metaphorically, of course. but, you get what i mean, i think. taking a menial
part time job and returning to cdi was my first foray back into 'reality' after
a very debilitating 'supernova' and several months of rocky recovery.

anyway .... anxiety. i wanted you to know. because, all those days i
have called and said i can't come to school because this or that little ailment
... its really just that i cannot get passed the anxiety that seizes me as soon
as i awake each morning and prepare for school. and the late days .... those are
the days when it took a while, to get past the inertia of anxiety. of course, my
life since i have started this course has been filled with radical changes and
personal turmoil, so anxiety threatens to swallow me whole daily. i have given
up my job, and so now cdi is my only demand. my efforts and energies can now go
toward this course of study fully and completely. i am responsible for my own
learning and i intend to make it a success. the anxiety/panic demon still
plagues me, though, and i just wanted you to know. roxanne is anything but a
slacker.

second - phase 1 & c-sharp difficulties

i thank you for your compassion and patience with my slowness of getting thru the material
as i managed my various personal crises. the c-sharp material did not make much
sense to me. i felt such disappointment in myself that the assignments were such
a struggle to complete. to have to consult the sample you gave me .... it made
me feel 'dirty' .... for lack of a better word. of course, i perseverated on the
matter, to the point where it felt like a festering wound. i am not sure why i'm
telling you this. just ... perhaps you'd like to know just where i'm coming
from. its never, ever my intention to cause trouble. just .... i have a
conscience - a pushy one, at that. i just want you to know .... whatever the
perception may be ... that i'm on your side. i know there's some negative energy
buzzing around me, i politely deflect it.

alas, though, i am one of those people that like to 'raise to bar' wherever i go ... and so i suppose
that's what i hope for here - to find some way to make phase 1 less of
despairing challenge for others that follow. perhaps part of this means
increasing the interactiveness of the c-sharp portion? speaking personally, that
would be part of it. and ... i respectfully submit your workload as part of it,
also. workload, as in, the ongoing challenge posed to you in balancing office
application students (who seem quite needy, at times) and programming students.
perhaps its not my place to say .... but that's my observation.

that said, i have been a professional long enough to know workload is workload and
one must simply make do with what one has available. we all must make do ....
and that brings me to the next point. i have an idea - now that i have gotten
into the meat and bones of SD2E. after reading about use case realization i have
experienced a sort of elucidation ... with respect to some c-sharp concepts. it
seems what i needed to grasp c-sharp and its application is some sort of
theoretical underpinning. i can tell you, in retrospect, that, in completing the
c-sharp coding assignments, i think it would have been helpful to me to have
something that summarizes object-oriented concepts and relates them to the code
creation. in talking to katie, i have this sense that's where her frustration
and learning block also lies - in the fact that she cannot get a view of how 'it
all fits together' because she has not had exposure to the OOP theory yet.

i have some ideas ... have started to put together some points that
would help connect c-sharp code concepts to the object oriented theoretical
stuff. i.e. it was not apparent to me, until today, that methods are simply
messages objects send to other objects, and that the genius of any application
lies in its design ... any coding simply brings the design to life. the trick to
speaking any language is not just knowing 'how to say it', but knowing just what
is the right thing to say when. and the concept of classes, etc. which you went
over in that seminar, i think students do not initially grasp these concepts to
their fullest application, and yet do not realize they don't grasp these until
the assignment comes their way. anyway, i have begun writing something - notes,
point form - that might help. if it turns out to look remotely worthy of ever
seeing the light of day, i may share it with you ... and/or fellow students. i
am telling you all this because you might find it useful. nursing practice made
me a teacher of sorts, and so, i have tried to see this situation from that
perspective and share my insights with you, for what their worth.

ok. i did not intend this email to be so lengthy. my apologies. i hope you receive all
that i have disclosed here in the spirit i have intended. i ask, only, that you
treat my personal disclosure to you (ie panic/anxiety attacks, etc) with
discretion; i know that you will, but one must clearly specify these things,
just to be sure.

i want to just say one final thing ... about your dad.
i know it sounded trite when i said it before ... but i have witnessed and
endured lots of loss, professionally and personally. i know the funk of losing
someone so intrinsic to oneself as one's father does not dissipate so easily and
can settle on you like a fine mist. my sympathies to you .... is all i wanted to
say.


hoping i have not offended, or lacked respect or modesty here
in this email,


kindest regards ...

it took a lot to write this email. its too early to tell in any concrete way, but i sense that he received this well. that's what i sense. that's what it feels like.

the chemistry - the strange chemistry lingering here .... it still exists. it sits quietly, understated, in a very remains-of-the-day sort of way.

a bloody dove and the rocky road

its all so painfully surreal - all this loss occuring all around the world. i watched a newsclip of a rescue scene this am: some paramedics performing chest compressions on a man who was in a car that broad-sided a moving train. it made me cry.

and then i change the channel, just in time to see some mexican fisherman (a crewman of some giant spanish fishing armada) fling a giant sea turtle off the side of the boat, into the water - to its death.

and then i change the channel and hear about all the deaths in afghanistan and iraq. and then i just push the best button the remote offers me: OFF.




and ... i try to live with that unnerving anxiety that, those i love will die before i see them again. or that someone will do something ghastly to me in my sleep. all of these people killed suddenly - i bet their loved ones expected to see them once more ... those that slept in the dormatory - i'll bet they didn't wonder what they would do if a crazy dude with a glock got into their room and started shooting them. i will go crazy if i perseverate on this. but - in a chilling and twisted way, its a fascinating thread of thought. and precisely the meaning i load into that phrase i love to utter - 'one never knows.'

i want to hear and feel and see some good news, for a change. is there any?



i cannot watch TV, save for those ridiculous things like trailer park boys, rick mercer, this hour has 22 minutes, little mosque on the prairie, corner gas, robson arms. anything else i watch seems dripping with loss, violence, carnage, cruelty. for sure - any and every news cast makes the silent tears flow. all this collective grief, i feel it, @ times, coursing thru my veins.

it almost all makes me wanna go out there, after class, and find a copy of hannibal - one of the hannibal lector books. extreme, i know. (what i really want to read is hannibal rising - but i cannot afford the hardcover price.) but i crave the sort of read that provides a story about a character, suffering a most intense, and concentrated, almost unbearably painful existence. or ... the alternative is go to that used CD store on granville and look for magic & loss. what're the chances i'd find lou reed in the used cd store? pretty good i figure. hmmmm ... maybe if i make myself a reeeeeal guuuuud bargain hunter, i can buy both. i like that thought. i like it alot.



ok. now my thoughts have swirled into some lovely, silly, colourful salad of detail and sentiment. its amazing to me - i know this seems silly - to observe my own self growth, thru my actions and responses to others. sitting here in class, i hear the mutterings of students who feel frustrated by rocky course of learning a new skill or concept. it generates negative energy. they don't know what to do with said energy. they complain. they rant. the blame. instructors get the brunt of it - in much the same way children love to blame their mothers for just about everything.

and ....

i can no longer get hooked into that passive-agressive style of frustration management. so i listen, politely deflect any invitations to gossip, and suggest positive actions i would/have take in a similar situation. and i ask myself silently, why does anyone expect that their learning work entails writing the tuition cheque and showing up for class? what happened to personal responsibility for own learning? the instructor did not get hired to solve every student's difficulty. the instructor - s/he's our sherpa, guiding us thru the rugged sojourn of raising one's own learning curve. but the work - its the student's. make no mistake about it. your sherpa will guide you up the path ... but s/he will certainly NOT carry you to the summit! you must carry yourself to that height! and ... hey - sometimes the sherpa maybe needs to consult the map - what's wrong with that? nuthin, i say. nuthin at all. its good modelling - demonstrating that one's learning experiences never really end. just a little plug for instructors and teachers everywhere. we would never get to the destination we seek, if not for teacher - my thanx to you all.

first quarter - COMPLETED!

ok. here's what all the fuss was about. essentially, the assignment required me to design a computer program that simulated the functioning of an ATM. here's the screen shots of the three windows forms that make up the application. of course, its fancy - what else would ya expect from roxanne, but fancy and tweaked? and i figured, hey - its a good addition to the portfolio ... and, i feel for the instructor, who must get bored as fucking hell, looking @ the same ugly shit all the time ... he needed some spice, i decided. so he got some ... functionality and entertainment all in one! haha.

~i just thought you'd all like to see what the big fuss was about - so there you go~






~photos from Associated Press~

thursday, april 12th

when i arrived home, no one greeted me. no one - as in, no one had arrived home yet. strange, i thought myself late and quite expected to see martin there, puttering about waiting for my return/arrival. not so. surely he finished work, by 1700 hours? i called, to check. indeed, he had finished. so .... where could he have gone? it puzzled me. martin - he's not a man given to wandering off for hours or days on end, like his brother. my martin - he comes home to me. if he does not - it means something horrible.

and so ... i began to think. about the baron, who died suddenly 28.03.07 of a brain aneurysm. his only symptom - a headache. and his passing struck us all (in the blogosphere) so suddenly. who would have guessed ... until after the fact? after all, one never knows. and so my thoughts became more and more unnerving. and my anxieties, more and more intense and ugly. to the point where i felt this incredible urge to just jump out of my skin. and ugly, fearful place to exist. i thought ... for at least 2.5 hours ... martin had died. and so, i stood outside, in the middle of the street, in the pouring rain, wrapped in a red blanket, uttering (in some crazed echolalic speech) 'please come home. please come home.' and he did not. not yet.

i went inside eventually, hoping to distract myself from the new reality i had painted for myself, in my mind's eye. i put my weed away, in anticipation of the cops knocking @ my door - what if they came a-knocking to tell me .... and i had this stuff on the coffee table, in full view? and so i put it away. and i contemplated my life ... without the one, whom i decided, last year i could NOT leave. i could NOT leave him. long periods of physical separation feel like long periods in anoxic chamber. oppressive - all the fear and anxiety squeezes my soul. how could i possible resume the road of life without martin? sentiments such as this looped thru my head - and infinite iteration. and i cried. sobbing cries, that emanate from the rawest visceral core of oneself.

i needed to leave. i needed to stay. i kept the cell phone close at hand. did he have his wedding band in his pocket when he died? did he have even the tiniest piece of paper with his new address on it? what if he died, alone, in the strange ugly world, and no one could get to me? no one could connect martin to me? what if .....

i needed to go outside. and smoke some serious drugs. i could not. inertia paralyzed me. and the last time i went out to smoke a joint, i ended up standing in the middle of the street, crying, begging for his return. and so ... i do not honestly know how long i sat there.

i thought. thought of who i would call ... anupam flashed into my mind. but his far distance precluded the viability of that preference. andrea - but my having burned that connection precluded that. and ... somehow - it didn't seem right. and then i knew who i would call. teresa. my dear friend of 25 years. my beloved childhood secret-keeper. one who knows me still. that's who i would call.

and i thought. some more. perseverated. obsessed. insanity. its so much closer than any of us think. one has really no idea just how close. insanity lurks so near us all, my friend, you can feel his breath on your cheek. in fact, on that evening - thursday, april 12, 2007 - insanity touched his lips to mine and drew the deepest breath. that's how it felt.

until ..... until ....

i heard the key in the door. i could tell by the deft, swift movement, the key holder's identity - not logan. and so then .... martin. and ... indeed, the wolf came home. late ... oh-so-late .... but he came home to me. of course, he had a completely reasonable and logical explanation. but .... in the meantime, truth = perception.

and that truth i lived for 2.5 hours? indescribable. ugly. frightening. surreal. completely and utter surreal. a place i do not want to revisit .... ever. though, i know i will, some day. hopefully long in the future. because, i can not do without him just yet. not just yet.

friday the 13th - a good energy post

a grey and dreary friday the 13th on the outside.
a clear and surreal day - with stuttered sunshine - on the inside.

i have completed my project. my instructor has such compassion and patience - afforded me far more time than i should have had to complete this beast, and has not pestered me, spoken pedantically, or condescendingly. how lucky am i. he - instructor - needs a little more dynamism in his teaching approach. and we're working on that - our group of programming/web developer students is working on that.

i feel a small success at the fact that i may have set this latest enhancement in motion by disclosing to the campus director things about learning here that bothered me. i had a choice. let the matter fester inside me - eat me alive. or ... deal with it - face it, head on. **ughhh - that means confrontation, right? fuck, that scares me to death!**

finally - a sign to myself that i have learned from past misjudgements - particularly those many attitude misjudgements i executed thruout my nursing career. it seems a simple common sense thing - but not so obvious as we live it - its always best to just know our Selves and the things that bother us and do something about it all. stewing and ranting and raving - that's not action. its inaction ... its generating energy that's counter productive. this impression we have - that the festering wound will heal itself if we ignore it - its a load of sh!t, really. the wound will just start to smell more. and hurt more. until we can no longer stand it. and then .... all the poison that accumulates will just cause a system wide infection.

i made the smallest concerted effort this am - made sure to give martin and hug and kiss goodbye before he left the house. one never knows - and that's the truth we must live by and with, each and every time we breathe and with each beating of our frail, iron hearts. i will be honest and say .... it scares the hell out of me. and makes me think of a song, by enya - if i could be where you are.



things that make life good?

1. seeing Susan's most recent post first thing this am
2. blooming magnolia trees
3. dark swiss "FRIGOR" chocolate (we got some - yes, from switzerland - for easter)
4. refried beans and really cheesy macaroni and cheese (that's comfort food for me)
5. birds
6. giant, towering, mossy trees
7. the sound of a steady, constant rain
8. i'm with Susan on the movies choices
9. really great, kewl, surreal photography
10. enya, johnny cash, leonard cohen
11. the sound and smell of the ocean
12. clear, silent, and windless starry nights
13. sunshine
14. mocha frappuccinos from starbucks - complete with whipped cream
15. a big ole piece of toast with nutella spread on it!
16. blogging and the wonderful people i have met in this bloglandia
17. the smallest success of everyday life
18. my big, red, IKEA drapes
19. my big, red, velvet couch
20. my stuffed moose, whose name is (are you ready for this?) ... Moose
21. my family - all of them ... even the ones i choose not to acknowledge ... i know they enhance the world, simply by living in it
22. my son .... who lights my world, and whom, i must confessed, has grown into quite the 'hottie' (can a mum say that about her boy? its not wierd, is it? please, say its not) and also the most compassionate and giving 21 year old.

death, how do you know?

DEATH, HOW DO YOU KNOW?
Death, how do you know
That you do not give us
A false rest?
"Pilgrim, how do you know
That your life on earth
Is not a splendid illusion?"
Death, I know that my life on earth
Is not an illusion
Because
I play here on earth
With God and His Sound-Life.
"Pilgrim, come and enter into me.
You will see me playing
With God and His Silence-Soul."

~ sri chinmoy ~

another vision of the baron

an excerpt from an email to a dear friend of the man who died 28.3.7:

I had another tiny experience, yesterday when i stopped to sit in the park
and scratch a little inspiration into my writing journal. I got some thoughts
about Lance, Susan, You, and the whole passage from life to death issue. And so,
i had to stop and write a few words down, before they disappeared .... as got
deep into my thoughts and as the scribbling got furious - the feelings intense -
i received a visit from the loveliest and most beautifully unusual bird. Just a
single one. It swooped down and landed mere inches from my feet. (I had no food,
still it stayed so close to me, physically).

This bird - a raven-black pigeon - all lovely, shiny black, save for the beautiful ring of iridescent purple around his neck. His eyes had a warm and glowing golden chestnut colour and his legs, a lovely bright red colour. He appeared to me, a most ravishing,
most striking and stunning specimen of a bird. (I should say that I dearly love
birds and believe they have some sort of supernatural connection to the spirits
of the recently decease - call me Krazy if you like .... I just have that belief
.... about birds). I have this sense my lovely visitor was Baron's presence,
lurking about. He lingers, perhaps, to sprinkle some measure of peace onto those
he loves - I am a conduit, perhaps? Or someone who has peaked his curiosity in a
time of transition?

a dream

a dream. he appeared in my dream. i did not know him. did not exchange words or comments with him directly. yet the man whom they called baron ectar appeared in my dream. he spoke. i cannot tell you what he said, specifically. just - peace, and light and tranquility filled the spaces in between the breath of his spirit and mine. i awoke only knowing that a strange man had visited me in my dream. and only knowing this surreal sense of peace which trailed in his mist. and feeling as though i should share ... share this experience with certain individuals.

and so, i must.

emerging, alone, from the darkness

alone in the darkness. illusory - this solitude. and - all the while - my lucidity regarding said illusion remained clear and strong. still, an immense and incredibly powerful and extremely debilitating sense of sorrow - grief, intense grief - settled upon my soul. and paralyzed my spirit. much the same way a tiny spot of dampness renders an fresh bag of brown sugar inert and impenetrable. like that. i could not enter myself. i could not extract myself. trapped - this self of mine - beneath a thick, icy layer of flaming and poisonous grief.

cuddly as a jellyfish. that's how martin described me late thursday evening when i began to emerge from the grip of the devil of darkness that lurks within me. we laughed. and now i have yet another clever and descriptive phrase to ad to my bylines! and, i do no feel ashamed to admit its true. 'cuddly as a jellyfish.'

once again, i released myself from the darkest grips of that devil that lurks inside my soul. but, fools yourselves not! s/he always resides close @ hand. ever close. ever longing. ever restless. indeed, susan - its like having the devil inside you. and you know? sadly, i have grown to believe that it never goes away. that, those of us who house this devil ... must learn to balance its demands with the rest of life for ... all of this earthly existence.



i have spend my time cut off from the collective energy source called the internet contemplating death, life, knowing.

death & life - i wonder - have we got it all wrong? does artificial extension of life really honour its sacredness? what if we have ignored g-d's call for a soul? what if we have extended some lives beyond their ethereal purpose? what if ....? we have not heard g-d's call? because we have busied ourselves too much with our own call? what if ...?

death and dying - what has occurred to many of you only in light of baron's untimely death has rattled around in my heart and soul for a while now - for many years, in fact. the humbling reality of mortality. ours - humanity. for each of us - the end could come at any time. how do you really know you will see that buddy again? or your son, daughter, husband? you don't really. you just develop a certain amount of complacency to hopefully obscure the discomforting sorrow of reality. one never knows. death comes. she does not discriminate. at times we can cheat her - but only @ some expense, the cost of which will only become apparent much later down the time line of our existence. do not mistake this doomsayer-ish-ness for the nihilism of depressive thinking. its not. its a realization of the sorrow that plays a role in the circle of life. humanity likes to deny death. in doing so, we deny life. in doing so, we kill with abundance.

knowing - so few of us really possess knowing. i mean, really possess it down to our viscera, feel it boiling in our very bone marrow. many of us think we know ... oh so much more than we do. 'ignorance is bliss.' true - this old adage, in a surreal sort of way. i think, when one really submits oneself to the humbling reality of the delicate mortal finiteness of existence on earth, one cannot help but feel a constant twinge of sorrow for what loss exists somewhere in the moment. forget not, dear reader, that the circle of life continues to spin - whether pride and fear obscure your view of said wheel or not.

we think ourselves so smart. yet - we do not know. the birds know. the trees know. the grass knows. the magnolias and the cherry trees know. the willow trees know. the hyacinths, the tulips and the daffodils know. the see knows. and it waits, so patiently. the mountains, brood in their knowing. and still, we do not know. those of us that do know - that feel this ancient, silent, mystical knowledge brewing in our very bone marrows - we bear the label unstable, odd, eccentric, mentally ill, even.

i know. i feel this knowledge boiling in my blood. a silent, constant knowledge. it cannot speak as loudly and forcefully as power, or glamour, or ego, or vanity. it cannot speak that language. the knowledge i feel speaks a silent, ancient and enigmatic dialect. it takes gentle patience and solitude of self to decipher its code. its a labour of love. and a life long work in progress.

~here's a poetic musing of our long walk in the sunshine~

an honour guard of grand old cypress and pine trees
protect the dead from the living
an explosion of verdant textures, shades and blooms
tickle my senses
out of the corner of my eye - a late bloomer -
a surreal sepia image - a suspension of time and space:
a young tree, with delicate chestnut buds
and a strange patch of dessicated, pale brown leaves
a chorus of ravens serenades us with their stuttered
and angular sounding spring melody
the sparrows, the starlings -
the blossom-scented breeze carries their songs, too.
its raining the loveliest kind of rain shower
any princess could have on a warm, sunny day -
a delicate and steady shower of the tiniest pink blossom petals.
i breathe. deeply.
i inhale. inspiration.
i exhale. more inspiration.
i live. deeply.
intensely.
down to the cellular level.
i live.
what a gift i possess.
life.
and what a grace -
to know.

wrestling angels & demons

we moved. with great difficulty. but we moved.

its hard, oh-so-hard, to keep on the sunny side, when the clouds overhead seem so dark. madam rouge, the evil queen of menses, made her visit early this cycle. day 23. as opposed to day 29 or 30. and she crept in quite stealthily - no OMG-where's-the-heated-frying-pan cramps, no knife wrenching vaginal pain. just 6 days of quasi-hemorhaggic bleeding. not bad. it caught me off guard - no kidding. so much so, that i laughed out loud, when i looked down and saw the evil madam rouge, perched there, looking somewhat dark and sinister.

i have fought this debilitating sadness for a week @ least. an unceasing grief for and invisible loss. one of those times i describe as sensing a collective loss ... i suppose. my intense connection to the internet got cut off, also. i now know how a borg feels when his/her link to the collective gets terminated. liberated. and so very saddened and alone. its humbling, to feel how alone one really exists, in this vast expansive universe. particularly after feeling the protective link of the energy of such a rich collective, so close @ hand.

i decided to disclose, regarding my instructor, who gave me the answer key, when i asked for guidance/help. it began to eat me alive. it made me feel dirty. and dirtier, when i needed to conult said answer key to complete an assignment in a timely fashion. i could not put it out of my head. and so i disclosed. to my admissions advisor. who put me on to the campus director. i hate the role of whistle blower. i do not want to be, roxanne, champion of students @ my college who share the same frustrations as i do regarding the same instructor. i just want to be roxanne, who remains sane, and passes her courses and can complete her assignments successfully and to her standards, without consulting the answer key. does that seem to much to ask? i want to feel clean, about myself. can i?

i have contemplated death, of late. and how it really seems so close @ hand. and how that reality humbles most humans to the point of no return. and of how i think we've got it wrong. i think, sometimes, that extending life artificially, may be the wrong course of action. and that g-d just lets us go .... as a learning experience for us - 'ok, see where that course of action leads you.' i really think that's how we mess stuff up - by refusing to hear the call to death. by denying it with our shallow science. it degrades. dehumanizes. turns organisms into meat slabs and latin procedures.

i see life as a gift - a sacred gift. not something that we bargain away with our machines and medical intelligence. not a flame we keep resuscitating, merely because we lack the strength to forge our own path in the inevitable darkness, thru which each of us must pass. the stark reality of mortality - its what made me so sad, throughout my nursing career. whenever i part from a person, i always think, i wonder if this person will die before i see them again. or if i will.

there but for the grace of g-d go i.

life.