The way of the Wuss Warrior

Oh, indecisive, lazy me.  On the days when I have stuff to do, I cram in as much other stuff as possible.  A full day means much accomplished and a clear conscience.  It also means that I often have to crash the following day.  I accept that, even though a stuff-day with only one or two tasks distresses me.  Vicious, wussy cycle.
Anyway, today is one of the trying-to-avoid-doing-anything-useful days and I am cleaning out my computer.  Well, not cleaning as in clearing out and getting rid of things, but finding the tons, probably, of things that I have found over the past few months or so that held some energy for me at the time.  When I find that stuff, if it still gets me all juicy, then I will put it here so that I might have a better chance of having it when I need it.

Tis true my form is something odd,
But blaming me is blaming God;
Could I create myself anew
I would not fail in pleasing you.
If I could reach from pole to pole
Or grasp the ocean with a span,
I would be measured by the soul;
The mind’s the standard of the man.
Joseph Merrick

 

Rumi
The Guest House
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

 Some of my stuff.

I hear him laugh and I remember what first attracted me.
I loved his smile.
He made me smile and laugh all the damn time.
It was great. 
It made me feel cherished because he made the effort.

Sometimes I will catch a glimpse of the back of his neck.
My heart flutters, takes flight.
If he walks away I can hold to those feelings.
If he turns to look at me, my heart quails at the hate I see there.

I wrote this on the occasion of the 150th birthday of Ted Giesel, better known as Dr. Seuss.  Ted Geisel rhymed his way into the hearts of children and parents through the more than fifty books that he wrote.

Please join me, and the Fox and Knox and the fish and the Cat and Horton and the Sneeches and Marvin and Sam, and my personal favorite, the Lorax in a rousing chorus of (With sincere apologies, please Ted, no spinning in your grave, OK?)

Happy birthday dear Seuss
We are happy and loose
Whilst enjoying your cake
That we sliced with a rake.

The Cat brought the goat
And the ham in the boat.
Which we're eating for lunch
"Cuz we sure have a hunch

That our mother will say
In her sweet, grumpy way
That today is for treats
And for jumping on sheets

That are still on the bed.
("Although, don't bump your head!")
"Cuz your birth we do honor
With a proclamation from the 'guvnor.

Who is happy to share,
Whilst the Cat licks his hair,
That today is your day,
Hip-Hooray-Hip-Hooray!!

Billy Collins.  I am certainly not the only person who loves him, but I might be the person who holds him most dear.  The following was inspired by his poem, The Lanyard ( http://www.billy-collins.com/2005/06/the_lanyard.html )

Have I truly waited six decades to discover the poet and his lanyard?  What quality is there in this particular space and time that brings me to this page?

it was never about the the sickbed ministrations, the cool cloth on my fevered brow.  it wasn't connected to adequate clothing or healthy meals or strong bones or teeth.  The lack of those things hasn't destroyed my life, only made me stronger in their pursuit.

but it was about the lanyards that i gave to her.  not the actual, long, thin strips of colorful plastic, but the gifts and sacrifices i gave her from my meager resources and the tattered remnants of my heart.  The bits of me that i wove into every single attempt that i made to try to convince her that i was someone worth loving.  she never took the multi-toned weaving from my needy hands without disdain, distrust and outright disgust.  but, she was more than willing to take my time and my money and to suck the marrow from my bones if it so pleased and benefited her, and she were so inclined.

a life of indenture to a hope that was destined to be, and remains, unfulfilled.

even now, while i still spend myself to try to keep her from being expelled from the one place in the world that still allows her to stay, her response is, as ever, resistance and vitriol.  Is there, somewhere inside of me, the same attributes, the same behaviors?  Oh, dear god, if there is, please, my friends, let me know so that I can tear it from my breast and be free of this graveyard legacy.

what could i have accomplished had i not been caught in the thrall of my need to unravel her pathology, to find a way in, belly-crawl my way, undetected, to cower and settle at her feet, an unseen and un-assaulted pet.