lack

God be my ladder. God be a thick ladder that's right in my way please. b/c I feel so much lack, and i'm so sour about waiting. And that' no good, and are you just so dissapointed? I want to come clean, I want to be on it. I want damp in your Glory. I want a finished circumcision. The kind where I make it to the other side, The kind where I really cut off the chaff. I want to wait on you with gladness. when i focus on lack, that's not dwelling in you. I have a hard heart a lot lately. God I wish you would change that. I think I need to start serving. It's that time of year when that downness tugs on me. when i look around and am just lonely.....but I get stuck in that and that is putting my energy where it doesn't need to be.......ok i'm not writing so well now. but that's ok

bangs

bangs. I have new bangs. It's so good to have them. Like I can reaquaint myself with myself. Back to my Alias. It's back to being Russian. And it's really back to being 10 years old too, since that's the last time I had them, with a mother who always made me have pixie bangs. My arms crossed then. My hands at my back today, a grin....... And really it's all i can do.

Crying

I was in The Ugly Mug earlier this evening staring at my laptop, couldn't come up with anything to write. .....
Went to church and it was gorgeous about how we need to forgive the church b/c it is full of people like us who make mistakes. and we need to forgive the church to heal the church. ... The song was so right. about I'm amazed by you, that you would like a person like me, that I, out of all the insignificant people would be your ransom......i'm trying to conjure the jist....... and it hit me. wow. for once i'm right in the right place. that this whole knowing of the guy has brought up such wide insecurities, all the ways i'm so-so.....all the ways i'm not all that,.....but this song in a weird backwards way made me go, "oh my gosh, at least i'm in the right place here, b/c i'm a loser. but that puts me in the right place with Christ. That I get to be all my unappealingself, and that's exactly what Christ died for, I'm just what christ wanted........ And it was when B put her hands behind me and just held me, she just holding me and was rubbing me. and really holding my back, and we were singing together, that I just began to cry. Because she had me so well, and I was like "Oh my God!" it's been so long that someone held me like that. and how much I want a real person to love me. And it's been so long. And I was crying. And her love was pouring out and I knew it was Christ's love, that's what I knew later. And also Wendy spotted me heading to the bathroom and caught up to me. She's my girl being my other March 13th babe, birthday baby like me. And she was so sassy her foofy skirt. And we had this little adamant adoration for each other moment, much more than usual. "Oh I love you Molly" and she looked at me like she found me. It wasn't a cute hangy phrase, but we spotted each other in this special way, and she was telling me so.
And later when I discovered the real dissapointing stuff about the boy and now it makes sense? ..... I went into the shower, and just lost it, crying crying out "Why won't they (as in he) give me a chance!" to God and to my own story, to the 25 year old Molly that gets it and is tired and is losing hope. and who gets so much hope each time. Who feels she gets him each time, who feels this connection, which turns out they don't? For once feeling like there was this sliver of a someone who I really really wanted, like a good man. like more than is usually extended. and you can try to make some "Moral of the Story" dear reader about them not sharing my faith, but i know this person was put in my path. And so it goes, but I feel much better after my shower. much better. in fact, i feel ok. I mean overall, it feels good to feel. like i haven't cared about something tangible, specific of mine in a while. Sure there's been my new faith and my friends. but that's all very la-di-da on one level. This spot of sweetness and sharing .... i mean that's how i was made to be. I just don't understand why there never seems to be that someone who's all about me. who I inspire.

The Commotion

The Commotion has stopped. I had a fervor of a day, plomping down in LuLu's for 7 hours today. 7 hours! blogging and reading the Brothers Karamazov. Didn't realize it till I left that I was sort of in a frenzy. Came to church. Was awe-struck in worship. never realized how incredible of a song, i mean breathtaking is "Oh Holy Night." I feel so right now. smooth and fresh. i just feel satisfied. completely satisfied. and my night so kind to me. having a sweet little one. made the sweetest best little scramble egg. sipping on some ciider.

The ridiculousness of trying to explain it

How do I express that this is really real?

I know this kind of faith could seem ludicrous. This is my conversation, my inner-wrestling with all the smart people I know, all the good people and conscious people, the lived people, where I am left so stumped or embarrassed or stuck in my own imagined, dead-alley ways. So I don't even try.
Any help, you who read my blog? I invite your blatant or messy truth.

I could say that I am deeply moved.
but those who know me know how moved I am by even Christmas Trees (see my last post).
I could say that I am moved in a different way, in my deepest way (but that may seem unquantitative to you).

I could say how the Word has reworked my soul, has broke into my heart and changed it, softened it. or how the Word is different than reading other texts of inspiration (but you would think of Tolstoy, once moved)....And you would scrutinize my heart-claim, calling me a Softie, and doubting the severeness of my so-called "prior-harshness," however tumultuous I testified about it.

I could say that there is a big difference with Jesus, that He is the one, the Savior, the King of Kings, the Host of Hosts, that he is God....and I could compare to my whole parade of Spiritual trials involved in: Hinduism, Buddhism, Judaism, Mother Creator worship, pagan, and so-on, and then show how they fall short. Showing myself expertee of both sides.
But would that seem conclusive to you? Like I am all the more willing to believe in the supernatural? Would you think me a woman of easy-faith? and would you dismiss what I call a proved crashed-test faith as just an incessant tendency to believe or like the dramatic woo-woo? or a liking for surrender, I myself a Pisces.

I could tell you about the big changes that have occured, and how uncharacteristic they are for me, this once way free-spirit firl, whereas God has now given me conviction and boundaries, and a way out-of-the-harbor. And most of all the Fresh Spirit. But would you hear it as cheap redemption? A story like many whose lives are changed by the next intentional seminar.

I could speak the word from the bible and the promises but would it be extemporare to you? And in a way you couldn't hear it, it not being inside yet. Would you recurse at the "Absolute" vibe of them and think of the military.
I could speak how these words have matched what I needed to hear at just the right time and turned me around in all sorts of desparate or tender or selfish moments, but would you nod and remind me of Tolstoy again, your last moving read. And would you call me a Softie again/

I could speak about how I observe that Christ gives people strength when they can't do it, when they are too weak. The way grace gives strength to even those not seeking to be "spiritual", as much as are at there last rope, and how it saves. But then would you call it a crutch? The obvious next step post climax followed by weakness?

Just give me some obsure person

The day is pleasant. It's warm, as to be suspected on December 3rd in Santa Cruz. But the sun is specially held without much wind. I am at LuLu's reading the Brother's Karamazov, totally delighted here in the corner. Another run-in with Joanne, here at LuLu's and we chattered together. All a tickle in this flat-line establishment made of ipods and loptops. This is the steady sit-down spot. A place for each their own self-absorbed projects. Words are flutttering in my head and this is the best way. I am contagious to myself here.

But let's talk about my propensity to be consumed. Today, I will champion this as I exit stage left. Today, I put down my unhelpful inclination to lean. The line feels slack (almost too familiarly) but today I don't need to check the pulse. I don't need to make any kind of heap out of this.

I have a fever and wild talent for naming things: cars, kitchen objects, my computer...I befriend a gross amount of entities--even wildly becoming close to inatimate objects. I found my Christmas Tree yesterday, pacing through the Tree Farm. I was beside myself to meet it, delighting in its personality and knowing the quarkiness behind it, my fat, plump little tree. Eager to name my new tender and scared tree--So heroic and pathetic at once. So if I indear to these unassuming objects like I do, then imagine how I feel about people: it is even more vast and precious! Just give me some obscure person--I will love them, I may even love them heroicly. And in no naiive way. I will be stricken by all the parts to their perforated soul, with all the more respect. (my severeness will nod.)

How my appreciation for them becomes so concrete is besides myself, but there it is--flinty and relentless. somehow spreading mysteriously. On my fingers like chalk. Of course, the chalk is on my elbow. and inevitably there is the chalk on my forehead.

I simmer with the potentials that relationships lend. The characters I become enthralled with. My uncontainable glee that people graft in me, however gruesome or handsome they are. (How I love a man with a long face!) However insignificant that person seems is of no event to me. With my insatiable hunger for some conquering rendezvous, or better, yet another immature episode of mischief with uneventful corners, readily new no matter how played or what age we have passed.

Reticence

This whole thing has reticence. A liking and fondness that keeps concealed, then peers out.

a little post

I guess it was that I was afraid for the same let down, the same pass over. I want some immediacy, and who could blame me? Someone eager for me. I pray for something to arrive. And maybe, just maybe, this person who wants to hang out. and sweet. there's that. and someone with a little courage, with a little need.

Meeting Esther and Joanne in Lulu's

An evening vast and inky.
finally left the domain, where was home stir crazy, went to Kelly's and ran into Paul and Lacey, and 'Pops' the near blind old man, their friend. "Eat Eat!" Eat some of my Pecan pie! Eat more chicken" I was fed from the heaps of mad gourmet.

Went inside, no wireless, so did the old fashion best thing, "duh?" read Dylan Thomas and short stories of Borges.
was deeply moved by Dylan when he wrote "I liked to walk through the wet town after midnight, when the streets were deserted and the window lights out, alone and alive on the glistening tramlines in dead and empty High Street under the moon, gigantically sad in the damp streets by ghostly Ebenezer Chapel. And I never felt more a part of the remote and overpressing world, or more full of love and arrogance and pity and humility" And more I tossed myself into this leak of lamp of his.


Got a new red messenger bag.
i am going into a red thing now.

Wound up at Perg to meet Alice, as usual I can't find a flow in that little disgruntled cafe and the punk music was gritting on me.

knew i had to get to LuLu's for some reason walking all across pacific in the bare cold. (with a red coat to not give in to the impossible coldness)

and soon came and Joanne, my friend, and Esther, my new friend, with her unabashed spectacular fro. We loved each other, all three of us, and delighted in each other. We talked of God and the craziness we've come from, and the old ways we'd paper-sail to get to truth, a truth we could never fully bring home. and truth that took us ot dead-ends, the truth that makes one bitter. and realized. and the more the more the quenching we've all got. the banner that God makes us. The little ways and details of a God that will take us there. how mad cool. and i felt so mad cool with them and we were freaking out in LuLu's, all astir, and demonstrative for the Lord, making incomplete sentences starting "the Glory!" like a new revelation every time. and it's like that. not b/c we forget, but because He is never redundant. The faucets, going our hands up, her hair out. our delight, the people not lifting their eyes from the laptops. our hands on each others back, leaning in, mouths open agasp, sweetness, hearing each other, really reveling, reveling one another and relishing. stoked, so stoked. flood of stoked. and taken in, taken back. Fully satiating.
We said about when He returns, He will really be on us and the difference will be we won't be looking for Glory or worshiping, or praising him here and there, it will be that we are all dazzle. in the dazzle, all the time.

restlessness. Come pace in this post.

I was restless today, as with the new shape of our family, with inlaws and grown-up, slightly deeparted, we now go to my sister's inlaw's house. So our Thanksgiving Dinner is due at 6. I was so restless, nearing stir-crazy in my house, trying to ready Borges, to read Thomas, even Frank O'Hara, and the bible. Trying to find an adequate online Hebrew concordance. Trying to better understand the word cut. to cut a covenant. I have found something beyond with this etymology..... More on this when my mind has gained some patince. Finally I am at Lu-Lu's and I actually found a free table, tucked in the back corner no less! ha!
I have been struggling with expressing my faith to others, especially those I relate to, the smart ones, the writers, the philosophers, the lived-in people.

And here we are these "Christians." We are believing people. We are in conversation with God. all these daggers. these sublte and flooring ways that God surrounds us and tells us exactly what to do. We follow not bcause we are being supressed by our religion, that we are being told what to do (I am adressing the Christians I know) Any man made rule is flimsy, and can only go so far. Man-made rules do not overturn people's behavior, they do not carve people out of their sad and done-for state, or change them 360. So we, we are adamant, we've received this full package by God. We are reborn.

I think where the "literary people" and the cynics get nervous about us is when it seems we've ceased to search for truth, and to question. We get so gung-ho about our superhero God, that we forget to show the parts of us that still may be trippin-out. cuz guess what, my bet is that even those parts of us that are trippin, may bein a dialogue with God. And that there will be a story there. So my christian gang, I encourage you to be weak. in fact, sharing these ways you are weak and wrestle will speak to others.

I love the stories in the Old Testament where a person is crying out. is crying out. is given-up. That's usually when God show up. to those self-hating, lowest, loser people.

I get tired of the Christian personality that is very brainy, that gets shooken up for the word "energy" or "emotions" for yes, there is an emphasis on "will" and making "decisions" and the brain, and so on and so on, and then you end up with these Christians who've stuffed their wounds and sadness and grief. And you can call out scripture and you can do all that and that is healing and good, but sometimes that is bandaging lots of emotions and let-downs and un-understanding. oh let it out! let it out and let God heal these parts! but it's so important to feel these things!

I am starting to notice that wounds really linger. AS years go by. i'm seeing lots of wounds that are still there! even for insignificant things, are things that happened when I was a teenager, and yet they stand there. my mind knows it's OK, and that I was almost a different person when these things occured, but still they sit in me. I am working on healing. and this week i think i will be challenged, this is a sort of sad time for me classically. i don't want to feed into that. so i'm watching where i go.

This morning I woke up feeling far from God. not really having much unhurried time with God this last week. When I woke, my heart felt dry. LIke my whole being was crying for God, like a whimpering dog. a whimpering dog.
So i went for God. OK, I can't hang like this anymore. I was pre-verbal and pre-thought, waking up early and grumpy and before my head had caught up to the day (plus being sick). So without full sentences, or much direction, what I said to God today was "God cleanse me." God cleanse me. Cleanse me.

Today

Today i am thinking of Joshua in the bible. I am thinking about the ways that God cuts in front of me too, as he did the people of Israel and the water of the Jordan.

bobby pins

Started with Kick-boe this morning. My favorite part of Saturday. Knocked through that, was annihilated, throwing mad doses of punches and kicking, and felt like a new woman 5 minutes after the class was over. as always. Last night got to witness Carmen having a Clove with TB. She chuckled to herself as she came in 2 drags later, and feeling all a buzz. 3 days ago Dan says in the Palette meeting. "Does anyone have a cigarette?" Then asks the young Isaacson if he has one. 3 days before that I bummed a cigarette from some guy in front of the attic, was all astir and anxious. waiting on lame text messages.

Spent the whole day at home, cleaning my car and vaccuming. Carmen was making soup, I came in to her having-at-it with the blender, agressively shaking that blender to chop that Butternut. We ending up cussing out the kitchen, cussing at the blender. (Our men have retreated).
Just found 3 bobby pins in the study by the door, remembering their evidence of something actually eventful. it was the Saturday before Halloween. I was an agent that night, for whom I cannot tell you--classified information. What started as a night alone, out by myself, turned out to be night of 5, my friend Lacey her husband Paul and Paul #2 and a girl named Michelle. eventually paul #2 gives me a ride home. I kicked down 2 poems to this fellow writer. and he nailed me, he nailed my whole objective when I write. He nailed my motive as a writer. We had a fat conversation and he left, but just before he left he wanted to see what was truly behind Sophia. No way! no agent would do this. pleased in my alias that night. but I couldn't resist. and from behind the study door and removed my wig, throwing down the bobby pins and casting them to the printer and the corner of my desk. Parts of my hair were still rigged up. My hair had taken to the twirled Mahem. And there I was, another version of me.
and then there were adventures that felt wide and vast. There was the gang of us that went skateboarding at 1 am on the Westside. I was on cruiser with a long black coat, my shadow transfiguring the Wicked Witch of the West, or some kind of chase involving Dorothy. Skating in the tennis courts. Long shadows. a full moon.


The adventures seem vast.
The passages struck my heart.
and i also freaked out. quietly. how i wanted this little plant to grow. as it usually doesn't

Now 3 weeks later I am back in my little square. Less worried about my posture. my every move. less even loathful in my thoughts towards myself. I had seen myself as someone so unclimactic. Totally not understanding why someone rad would find me venturesome. The Good news is that this time, I don't feel like I was "passed-over" as I usually do. like some predicatable side of canned fruit. This is the rerun I have worn over and over again. So to be friends. I'm looking forward to not trying, to not lip-sincing a role, to positioning myself in any way that will work.

Not to mention the dilemma of my faith. The tricky way to not know how in the world to explain it to someone so smart in that way I relate to. how fictitious this all seems.

a classic November 16

I can almost taste it. This November element. It comes on so strongly every year. I would say November is my favorite month of the year, always with the drapery of something significant encroching. Maybe it's just the time when I can really get sober in my head. (I'm not talking about drinking here, I'm talking about a mindfulness). Tutto Posto. that's how they'd say it over there. it means everything set. A knowing of the elements, I have some kinship with November. like i was knit in it from before.
I have a thing for being melancholy. i admit it. That receding thing, it's something I need desperately. I find it in November. I just always feel I'm on the brink of something when fall comes. like something is arriving for me. There's this crackle in November. i can hear conversations better in November. There's a way that voices fall. everything is honed in on. It's like the world gets this ceiling. and you almost feel like what you're doing in this time is really important, even if it's not. I can almost hear my hands fumbling or unfolding.
OK, I'm getting too elusive. But I have to do something with this. feeling all like i had a chance. and wondering if the plant could grow. and it didn't. that's a bad attitude to take. it's just that i've never had someone so rad check it out too. and i was freaking out of course. My lowself-esteem drumming.

It gets a No.

It gets a No. This is what it is about. When Jesus was talking to Peter predicting that Peter would deny him 3 times he says "Satan has asked to sift you as wheat. But I have prayed for you, Simon, that your faith may not fail. And when you turn back, strengthen your brothers." The first you is plural. -that he asked to sift all of you as wheat. But I have prayed for you SIMON---- that God so much has his mind on us, is really mindful of us. And look almost how He talkes about "when you turn back" knowing he will, and when. But the sifting, the sifting is tremendous. The stuff we don't want anymore, the stuff that God doesn't want anymore, the dead stuff. That we should want to be sifted like wheat if there is a part of us that needs sifting. It gets a No. LIke God is saying "This has got to go. If we are going to go, this has got to go."

Bjork and Leaving my Longs Bag

In fact, there is no way to dismantle it. I have tried. I was listening to bjork coming home from "The Brick" after our women's meet. As usual I could only sort of make out her words, and it was another crazy syncopatated song, so what i heard was "The nerve, the nerve, the nerve. the nerve." Truly this has been me, in these years of trying to put away the past. And really all i have to do is to remember that I am who God says I am.
That even if I am seen as false that that has no revelence, when I am worthy of God. And that that false read cannot even near blanket me, when my creator beholds me. My creator beholds me. Can anything else stick to me?
when i am made "To the praise of the glory of the grace, wherein he hath made us accepted in the beloved."Eph.
I hear this like a record, us children of God are set to, molly set to, tracks to the praise, to the glory to the grace. And in the beloved. right there.
And later it says "Wherein he hath abounded toward us in all wisdom and prudence."
He abounded towards us, towards us. abounded.
**So I am putting away the propensity to be offended, to mutter "the nerve." and i'm not trying to lighten the load i've taken, but I'm putting myself back to where I belong.

Tonight: What a God manuever, me leaving my Long bags of books at the Brick (our coffeeshop), so that I would go back at almost 10. strongly I knew "go back" to get my Longs back and it was all for me to have this phat prayer with B, and a heart-to-heart. We prayed in the parking lot. There was a need.
and finally going home really OK. and bringing in that pouring together. knowing each other, how so? it's only been a handful of months of our knowing, but still we know each other, some kind of way our being in activated.

So i go to sleep encouraged, pressing into God, pouring with God. a little fount. just even for my little fold. and he comes so delightfully, everytime. and i can't even imgine how much more, how much more God to come.

October 1

This day hardly seems like much anymore. Today is the 13th anniversary since an event. an event when i almost died. an event that left me in a 5 day coma.
i used to really relish this day, and i still do. but the event is so long gone. so out of context. so much a part of me I know, but it's way down ther, and I can't articulate it. I tried to make this day special today. and it really was pretty random. but that's ok. I was in marin, with Sarah, with Sumayya, my two girls. sumayya had a hard time waking up as usual and i stressed about it as usual, trying to find just the right way to wake her up without being annoying. i made myself a great goulosh of eggs and potatos and it was very oily. I cleaned up well since this was the "estate." sumayya's new place next to Domincan College, a mansionesque kinda place with 12 roomates. Sarah was already at the house by the time Sumayya woke up with her board on the car and ready to ge to Pacifica to surf. WE came along and sat at the far end of the beach on the railing. It was soggy and cold and I had my new boots on so didn't feel the need to stomp all over the beach. we tried to keep our eyes on Sarah but she was just another little black body with a yellow surfboard. we played the game of "Where is SArah" for an hour. but we saw her first wave which she catched. and carved into it with muscle, and i was like "damn" seeing how much more she held it then last time I saw her surf in pacifica. that time she was just beginning. she ripped the tag of her bodysuit and stood up for a moment on her shortboard. she was born to surf and anyone who knows her should know this.
Anyone who knows me should know that this is my time of year. anyone who knows me knows how I like to recluse in the fall. anyone who knows me knos how i like to get into the rain. anyone who knows me might know that times like these I mumble the words as i type, as i type right now i speak them into being.
recently a weird situation occured. i was going to a charismatic church just a group meeting in houses actually. many intense and special things happened. and the pastor had a little bit of a superstar personality, but the meat of God still showed up and I tried to see past that personality thing. And B and A came with me the last time. we prayed that the real spirit would be revealed. that the tree would show for the fruit. and surely it was the weirdest night, bare almost, with the girls my age that i like not there. and the elevator worship music going a little two long. and division and chaos. and a weird pressure. and false statement made at the end by him. showing just how no it was. and i prayed more all that week and God just made it very clear for me, it was not for me to be involved with anymore. and a filfty spirit of attack back towards me. him attacking myfirends for thier spirit of restistnece, as if he can just really know everything there is to know about the holy spirit. and he wasn't listening to me, and he asked me questions that put me in a corner, made me feel less. and that is just wrong. that is not speaking to me out of love

Praying in the bathroom

Oh please God, this issue is so important. Quark keeps crashing for Anne, she can't build the MindBodySpirit Page. My ads are mostly there. We're are passing the deadline. I go into the bathroom and pray over the toilet paper rolls, under the power of the Lord. Put it there. Put everything there.

Going to Portland

I'm going to portland, I used to live there for the beginning of college! i'm flying in a little plane with Aaron O'neill pilot and Aaron Fox Copilot and amanda and I, a little plan. i'm so excited! this is so dinky and cute and great. yes out of town in a city i roamed when i was 18 and 19. i think this trip will be very redeeming. i'm so excited to see joei, my friend from high school, i wonder what it will be like to spend so much unhurried time with her again, us all grown up and her all married and me all ... me....

Melancholy and the Infinite Sadness

The third time I saw him, I thought this must be a joke. In line at Cafe Pergolasi, I shake my head and almost laugh. He says "what are you following me?" Another time to stand there, to not feel threatened, however much my heart beat going fast. There I stood, him no longer looming so much, but just but then, then as I went back to the *gden and her Mr. Bronk, it dawned on me. "wait a second, was that MY shirt?" And going BACK to him, "Hey is that my Melancholy and the Infinite Sadness shirt?" "Yeah, I told you I had it and you said you'd get it when you got back [from Italy]. I get compliments on it all the time!" He rubs in. I am breathless and looking at this incomprehensible picture. MY Melancholy and the Infinite Sadness shirt 1997, when the Smashing Pumpkins came out with that Album, when they smashed the scene and the brink of my High School Years and everday was an undercover soliloquey to Billy Corgan and that sweeping album. I was 15. And I was 16, 17. I was 18, 19, when I wore that shirt. wearing it in all times, these Big times, these useless times and everyday times, but it was mine. I'm tripping there in Cafe Pergolesi seeing this guy who once wasloaded, now listless almost, now vacant. And he's wearing this shirt of mine with infinite memories, my whole high school years pouring out from this shirt. LIke a sea around this shirt, them washing up on the shore. (of him?) no, he was vacant there, listless there. Not belonging of my shirt.,
I have been thinking about the way we are clothed. Am I faking myself to believe that he wears me? that he wears some eternal piece of me? Well on that day I saw that he did not wear me, as much as he had my shirt with the best times ever I could see it had nothing to do with him, that he was random in it. that he could not participate. And how relieving to feel the throngs of those times wash up at me, and to know that he could not touch them, he could not touch those innoncent blooming days of my late 90s. And how much also then wishing that he does not stain all these days of consequence that did give him, and have given him since in the haunting, the haunting, the sunken downhearted. I am so tired so tired of carrying this. at all.,
This shirt, the Melancholy I loved to summon as I listened to the Pumpkins "get" the waning pain. the constant. the fertileness of it and I would lie there plush with that good ache, and the nudge of so much more to come, so much turning in my life of great chances and knowing that I would be so many persons of me and wear and render with all kinds of aches and longings and basement creations. And it pleased me then that I would have so many aches to find. And I would have so many long nights, in th way track 1 spills from the Infinite Sadness Album, long nights without cover or ceiling. I felt so big so big with the night and even me in my surburban neighborhood marked untouchable especially in track 2. OK, here is a messy little unfancy poem I wrote about it:

Wearing My Melancholy and Infinite Sadness

He was wearing my Melancholy and Infinite Sadness from 1997,
My shirt hung on him like a mast,
All my ripe memories sail by
of all my teenage inklings and nights brimming,
my long hair reaching,
the mischief,
and the nights of nowhere.

No, he wasn't wearing my Beforeness.
It had no resolve upon his vacant figure.
I stood there now seeing
my Beforeness spill out like lacquer.

My first boyfriend in his car listening
to "Tonight, Tonight" and going home.
The orchestra in Track 1 swelling:
The Civic Center. Duck Pond. Waiting in
the traffic jam to get out having just seen Billy.
Smashing Pumpkins: the music
so massive my fist closed to not lose it.
Or sitting with Richard and talking however I want to be,
or Going to Kaveh's house
with my big and hard heart.
And all times uneventful, and all times mine.

My beforeness is full of nowheres and surburbia,
It's full of the loser boyfriends
and their "I'm breaking up with you"
and losing myself in it
like the bottom of a soggy lunchbag given-up.
My Beforeness is hailing Rage Against the Machine
and trying to be harcore and chasing friends who didn't call me back.
And call girls "Girl!" at school even when they didn't like me,
like I could put up my homey-tent regardless.

My Beforeness has The Northgate Mall and bold girls around me
and being bright no matter what and
rushing to Bolinas at midnight to go in the Ocean.
It's making Daryoush dance with me to Cranberries
and knowing that he liked me.
It's liking the boys even after they dumped me
and stressing out over History Class.

But my Before is mine.
My before is mine. My Before had my
friends smoking Pot before it was my time. And
loving my sister a lot.
And holding my grandma's hand.

But my before can float.
My before is not lost on him,
it doesn't know him.
My before sails by
everybody in the room.

My before is where went Sarah,
My before no longer stores soreness,
it floats wide.
it sits there uncompromised.
It's not even bummed, and I can't even beckon it.

My beforeness is a sadness that can no longer grow.
It has no binds
He opened the blinds
to a light that escapes him,
a light of my melancholy infinite.
He can't fan.
so much mine, like leggings they are mine
The left place he can't go groping.
My infinite me.
uncaptivating with seam.

Permanent

Just finished a 12 hour Theophostic Training. My whole world/spiritual view is blown. GET TO THE NEXT PARAGRAPH. READ THIS POST. How Jesus wants us to be whole and free. So Theophostic is rooted in the belief that emotional pain experienced in a present situation is as a result of a mental associal to a historical event from childhood being triggered. What Theophostic does is invites the Lord to take that person to the origin of their pain, (the person doing Theophostic does not make any suggestions or offer any advice, they mearly ask questions and allow the person receiving to take them to the memories that are revealed). Then the Lord is invited to bring truth to the situation, and like that Jesus can come into a memory of a tramatic experience and speak truth. And it's amazing because going through this process can bring Permanent change and lasting healing. It's about getting past tolerable recovery, settling for healing that we have to maintain. No it's about being free and free indeed. I think when Christ really comes in the situation and brings light and truth, the trama, the wound is unplugged. It is about not standing on top of your pain, but the pain being over. that unbearable pain. It's like turning on a light in a very dark room. Once you turn the light on, the darkness is gone immediately. and the darkness can't come back to the room, the darkness can't remain. And this is important, it is important that we correct our history, not to invalidate the fact that we go through genuinely awful things. but we can correct the lie that is implanted, or the imprint, whether it is a lasting sense of not being good enough, a fear of rejection or abandonment, a sense of being alone, etc, etc. We can go into those memories which are containers for lies and bring christ into them, and release the lie that has woven itself into our whole life.
But what I do want to share is some amazing insight.
When we forgive, we are asked to forgive not the person or relationship but the debt. the debt. like the story in the bible when the king asked to servant to take account. He did the inventory of the debt and he forgave the debt, which was unpayable. So in otherwords we are not asked to forgive the person or the relationship, that would take reconciliation which takes the other person giving an account of their wrong, it would take the other person coming clean. and this does not usually happen in life, right? we have these people who are never going to fully get it, or fully admit, or fully show-up. Right? The broken relationships with father, etc, and guess what everybody. WE don't have to forgive that whole relationship. We can't reconcile unless both people in the relaitonship are willing. But we CAN forgive their debt. Like in the story of the king who forgave the servant's debts, First he called him to "settle the account." And the servant he owed so many minas it would have taken more than a lifetime to payback. In other words, the debt was unpayable. And isn't this the case with those people who have wounded us, especially our family? Like let's say an absent father, is that payable? not really, you can't get that time back in your childhood, even if he did apologize or realize or what not, that loss or offense would not be payable. So you see this parable is very strong in its likeness. So the King in the story, though the debt is huge, forgives the man's debt. Now the man does not owe him anything. And think of the Lord's prayer. Jesus asks us to forgive those for their trespasses. for their actions, their debts. I am so relieved for learning this slight new angle. WE are not asked to reconcile a relationship, but just forgive the debt the person owes us, their actions. this we can do.
And let me tell you, all the terror of that situation, of that past relationship after going into the stuff, then seeing that person 2 more times last week. That terror has melted away.. I feel that he doesn't owe me anything, like there is no debt. Their is no need and no more violent fear.
Here is another thing I learned from yesterday: a misconception is "I can never be free until you are healed." being dependent on another person getting it, or doing what we project to be the right behavior towards us, for us to be enabled or OK. And no! we can be free when we are free. I'm not limited to you. I'm not limited to those people who have wronged me.
And the cool thing about this, is it just really speaks to the person. You can try reasoning or counseling someone for hours about how logically some chiildhood event was not their fault, or logically show them tools for when they get triggered to realize (with Logic) that they are reacting from a so-and-so need, and you can tell them great phrases about how they are not in that tramatic state so they can let go of it, and etc, etc. but that is logical truth, and our experiential truth speaks larger than the logical we keep on our bookshelf. and man, that logical truth is darn hard to really coat some unbearable early memory with. And weve all done this, wehere we tell another a logical truh and then when our own stuff comes up, we still feel those darn feeling which we know to be untruthful in our minds, but still feel yanked on just like we're back to being that little boy, or little girl. So this is putting the light and truth in the experiential knowledge, and to grasp it in every way today.

The Sequel to the Show Down

The day past after my confrontation, and for the whole day I couldn't shake that I didn't get to say the one important part (TO ME) the real truth, full truth to why I would not have a conversation with him. B/c in all my experience of him apologizing, he would make me feel very small. he would assume a position over me where I would end up with little to say, and the one apologizing. And for some reason it was important to me, and i went around wishing i had said this to this guy, as little as it seems. I sat with Hannah after work, we walked around, we got a taco, we sat and had coffee. me remorsing this little thread. we decided to write, "2 minutes" then share, but ended up writing for 45 minutes, i writing into the junk, tumbling my exhaustion out for this 3 year waining situation. And as we crossed the street, I was midsentence bringing up again how i wished i said that part, and there he was. in front of the roaster, and i went up to him, eager, "i was just talking about you" very myself and almost with a smile on my face, (like, I can handle this, like "ok let's do this") and even introduced the guy to hannah and they shook hands. She went inside. And I told him, i told him that last part. And he offered again to talk to me, and i refused again. and I wont get into the all details, but i said that little bit, how whenever he apologized I'd feel small. When I walked away inside Hannah hugged me, we coarsed all around the avenue using the back alley ways to not run into him, but this time I was not scared. we were just thick in our reveling conversation. She saw that when he was talking to me he was very seated. he was humble and he was taking in what i said. "That was 3 years ago, he pushed it as the past" but at one point he said "your feelings are valid" and though I kept it inside my little heart breathed. I was myself. I was just talking to him, I have woven in a saffe memory, an natural interaction, a unfolding calm moment with this hikedup hurling shadow. I feel so good today, I feel the worse chunk gone. I feel so less scared and threatened. i feel it is going to be OK, i feel the end of an era just occured. And how good god Gave me the chance to express the small thing of me feeling small. God gave me just one m ore interaction to speak into the past, to name. There is more work, I know and more healing, but I feel the bullets drop from the loaded gun in my back, in otherwords the disarm.

The taqueria downtown

The run-in replays over and over in my mind. I had an appointment at 2 with Katie, to go over my little parable writing lesson for the kids at VFC. I got there at 2, ordered, turned towards the soda machine, and there he was. I sat in the corner, and katie came. He came up to me, we spoke more words then ever. than 03. I was shaking. I have made some steps of progress today. It wasn't as scarry as every other time. And Ironically, I just worked with a pastor in San jose on some of this stuff last night. Theophostic. And it was good, we took the long trail that my mind went and that christ showed and yep, all this childhood stuff and recent stuff, and the feelings came up, and i forgave my dad, i put it in a big pile and Brian (pastor) told me to do it, and i thought oh man this is too quick, so i muttered as much as i could about all the sadness and madness i felt and let down and this morning i felt the all of my chest really with space, really like so much junk gone. and we were on the tip of the boat and that was what Jesus finally told me at the end of our session. I heard the phrase "jump off the boat" and i knew there's this tendency for me to stay hostil on the boat with those i don't want to be going with and i just have to get off. as soon as i'm not dealing. like what am i searching for from this guy? here i am feeling bad that I didn't say more of my whys, why i won't sit and have an "adult conversation" why i'm so overwhelmed. its that he makes me feel so so small, even when he's apologizing in his high and mighty how good am i and knowing way. why am i trying to make him get it so badly? i took a good step today, i dindn't feel as disarmed or unsafe.
But here is what I did say, when I went back to where he was in the Taqueria, I said "What I was trying to express to you before [when i got in his face and pushed back] was that that relationship was very destructive to me." And that's all I could say, he tried again to tell me he'd talk to me, as he offered before. and I "I feel to overwhelmed by that, i'm not comfortable with that. You are the only person in the world who I can't even sit with or be around."

Glory is heavy

The Glory is heavy, that is what i'm learning from the Fresh Fire Worship meetings in San Jose. This was my fourth night. To Call on the Spirit! To Demand! The warmth when He knocks in your body. The prophecy over me was this, that I had a musical talent in my family line, and that I was annointed to prophecy myself. And that I would use music, i would use art. And I really think there could be. My grandma was a singer on the radio and ever since I could make sounds, I was making sounds. And a mantle of rhythm. I flow, and though i'm not extraordinary, I will keep going. I can just keep injecting words that make for good breaks, words that come up out of water, when they've been under for as long as they come, and they come up for that gasp of breath. And then i know how to dig into the beat and around it. I was walking around the Art museum and the pastor was prophecying over me while I was on the cell phone. and shucks. it sure felt like a match for me. He said I would relate, relate to their hearts, that I would gain a command over scripture, and be able to quote it like that, pick just the right scripture to speak into someone's life, so that they go"hey that was just what i needed to hear" or "that spoke to me on all these differnt levels" and what i see with myself so far is that is a gift, that i can relate to people, especially many non-christians or new-agers, and I can speak about christ in a way that makes them smile, or go "wonderful" i just say things in new way. ...

mute point

Why do I reach the same mute points? I mull on this after the Rob's talk. the splinters, and if they lodge. and that i only know how to really be a mute point. with certain people, my family.

my ship has sunk

My heart sank when I read the letter from VFC. That Rob is leaving, or Part-time, but probably leaving. I am so bummed. He is part of our fragrance of our church. He nurtured my faith when it was wirey and seedlike and stormy.
I am so bummed.
This brings up a whole issue of whether a church should tells its body if its financially vulnerable. I believe we should have. Because we are a family, and we are the fabric, and its ok, it's even important that we know. ohterwise, the church is only presenting itself as a high and mighty, almost separate institution, if a church opens up about its tougher spots than we the parishoners get to see that we really do make up the function of the church, we see that the church really does need our support in all ways. We see that the church is this vessel and we WE need to put the gas in it to go. We are propelled to really step up and take care of our precious church. i was a DJ at KZSC, a non-commercial radio station, and we had to set aside time to really remind our listeners to contribute, that it was needed. that it was time. now i just feel so horrible, how i was tithing indeed but at a low input. and though my income has been so unsustainable and up and down and ive been so worried and caught up in it, i still feel that i really only gave a little. but my equation was never adding up! but still I wish I had poured back to the church. I wish I had committed my best in that way. I feel i have put myself before God. And Rob! he was always out there in the hallway, tending to the roaming personalities, knowing when to be subtle and when to say it like it is. He knows how to relate. He is an anchor for our church. He is the pastor I say "Dude!" to and can be so down and real with.

Life is Good, Life lets you down, both

Life is Good this last week, how i love my new job. tromping to Pete's Coffee, being Downtown. How much I am in my place and I know. I died and went to heaven when I saw the Office Supply Closet! I am booked all next week with appointments. I work for the Metro, in sales. not only selling advertistement to businesses but designing the concept for their ad. I write the headline, chose the picture, design the strategy for the campaign. and they have handed the "mind, body, spirit" section to me, since I know all the alternative docs in town, and the regular docs too. I knew when my coworker said at our meeting "What is a cranial-sacral therapist?" how much I was the expert on all the alternative work. i know their lingo. I know who they are. So next week I'm booked with appointments with NDs and acupuncturists and chiropractors and physical therapists.
I like the respect and honor I'm receiving at my job. the freedom, the space.

a wash

Today i feel Him washing him, so kindly, so precious. my heart is getting a bath. From monday to wednesday (last night) i felt subtly demented all week, subtly away from God (hard to pray, not Him close, all tired and worn and in my head) i felt that familiar dry spot, that desert, of when you can keep going and going with that fuel, without that covering of God. And i went to the prayer group yesterday, of kristen's, and was nervous, and even during it felt acquard at times and not so cool, but saw it through, I showed up. And sure enough, sure enough, as i tried to peep to God, to pray to God in my little head last night: "God, please wash me! wash me!" pried I and tried I, knowing my mind was junky and heavy and leadlike and limping. my muttering, and He heard. How sweetness and dear waking up this morning to my cup overfowing, my heart crinkling and lapping this little water firing up. a little pond. the lord lifting me and loving me, this cup in my heart. his nearness. my holding. his keeping. this good good God.

She landed it

I did it, I landed it. I got the job! At the Metro in Sales, getting clients to advertise, designing the concept and layout of their ad, working with them to find out what they want. I feel so so good today, I woke up with my heart sparkling. I walked to work, I feel completely relaxed and taken care of. I feel hopeful. I feel set. I feel God so closely almost as though He is kissing me, i feel this unveiling. This huge sweet good yes safe on bless bringing mine canness tucked sealed takenfor perfect unsunk back place. I feel like until now i've been swimming in this goo of discomort and panic. like yeast like jesus said, that icky you can't put your finger on but oh it spreads, when things aren't aligned, when there's something foul deep in the trunk. when the tree is bad. knock down the figs.
i feel this sweetness, and gentleness inside. like this place i'm back in myself. easy on myself and gentle and just me. no more trying and pushing it and showing up for a workplace where somehow under it I was so valued and discounted and being used.
it's like i'm out of this paste of darkness. and my own trying to conquer it and movve it around and handle it was just not working, it was not tameable, and it was too much for me to deal with, and it was never mine to begin with. this convincing that i'm really worthy of bigger pay, or convincing that i'm doing an outstanding job and managing so much.

Now ive got this feeling of bread, of doughy bread rising that's mine and that is and is free and is warm.

no more underscore.

I've landed it.

going back (prepanicked posts)

Last Sunday I went surfing with Sarah girl, and the goodJosh, and Mr. D. What a rich day. Am learning to surf. Caught a wave. am very content with just lying on board and not even getting to the standing position. i still get that soaring gliding like going, catching that wave. Sarah came close to standing. I took a turn on the boogie board, and was way out. Sarah left to smoke a cig. Josh paddled on. I was out on the boogie board. And then the waves quieted. And I was so far away finally in my own head. And I really like this was a God quieting.
The waves literally held. They stopped breaking. And suddenly i was very aware of God, and very aware i was alone, and very comforted. and for the next 20 minutes not one wave broke. I climbed on the boogie board just a little more, so i fit in a way that was just right. The rejection of the boy B draped on my heart. I kept showing it to God. "OK God, here it is. This is yours. what's up God?" Then I asked God "OK God, What direction do you want me to go?" and right then looked up and this huge formation of birds was going overhead in a perfect V, almost check-mark. And they were close enough that they seemed so big and stretchy and surreal.
The V etching above me huge and going so seemingly fast and smoothly. Just then Josh way to my left (the birds were above on my right) calls out "Molly!!" so i tried to stop watching them to look his way, which i couldn't quite do, couldnt quite let them out of my sights. so i glanced back at him. "I'm going back! Are you OK?" "Yeah Josh! I'm fine! I'm staying here!"
And there it was. I asked God which direction to go and he showed me a flock going in a clear direction, simultaneously my named boomed across the ocean from my friends mouth. my good friend going "Molly!" like God literally took my friend to say to me "Molly!" to say "Follow me! These birds are for you! just follow my direction! whether it is this way or thought, go my clear way.

tonight

all i want to do is listen to glycerine by bush. thankyou limewire, my whole set last night, the whole party was the music from the 90s. so today it is so soothing. i play bush over and over, "come down" then weezer "say it aint so" and daniel power's "bad day"
thankyou bush

more

i feel so false, so unauthentic. i feel like i've been acting all puffed up and attituded, and smooth, when i'm not i'm not smooth i'm janky and i've been yanking and on some kick. ok, so it's not that it's fake or wrong, but on one level i'm just reacting, spinning out, acting all up in this homie way when theres some of that, but there's also a very small girl, or real person on a swing alone just sitting there.

i know god has brought me to this moment, i feel this is a very deliberate day, where god is crushing my wishes and wanting me to own up to a part of me thats been hurried about and ignored and muscled. but its not muscle it my arms flailing as if i had impact. i'm shouting about as if I have to be loud to reach others. i'm on my toes like i'm afraid i'm going to be passed by. passed by. as if i have to arrange my next step. as if i'm mighty. as if i was all that. as if people were really drawn for me for me, and not just the little funny way i freak out and get excited. i feel like people only like me bc i get all excited and enthustiastic and say these funny weird things. but how about people who just want to be in my company because i add to them or help them or the people who feel me. why am i so much on my sleeve? i think that people miss a lot of me. and its my own fault i go about carrying myself out like this spazzy yodeling, rappying funny girl.
any ps. no one needs to get alarmed by my blog, i can't even write right now, i haven't blogged for so long. and i'm super unmotivated right now and it will all be okat somepoint, i don't feel like tidying up this or making cool metaphors.
i really want to be slower with my words this week and softer as i am in my interactions. i really want to be soft on myelf and gentle on myself and ......

you know i think what it is is there's a girl in me that sometimes doesn't know what to say or how to follow or make a comeback. there is a very easygoing girl and she's getting lost in my trying, and my forcing it.

the worse day

Today I had the worse day. It is ironically the first year anniversary of my baptism.
And today was surreally devastating. I found out I didn't get the job at the middle school, where I really wanted to work. I also found out that my friend completely talked to the guy I've been really set on. she confirmed that he's not interested, but he was, and he misled me, and blah blah blah. and i guess he said i'm just really intense, and it's a little much. and looking back on this whole thing there's this familiar way that when i really go for something, and if i'm nervous i get more intense, i get all showey somehow. i act tough, when really i'm not. he said he's never met someone so argumentative. oh man! i thought i was just being sassy. and that comment in itself is not totally right, when i listen listen to this guy talk about himself and his grand stories which yes are grand but he's a little arrogant. and never did he ask about me. and how much did i try to offer myself, in a present and interested way to his deal. i was really stoked about this guy, a saucey christian for once, very close to God, almost legalistic, but absolutely engaged and fiesty. so now i know, it's not just a "he's just not that into you" but it's a pointblank no. and i guess he just hung out with me that one night because "i was giving him the eyes" but i give everybody the eyes, because my eyes just go there, and he had blue eyes that sort of caught upto mine. anyway. my crush is crushed. and i was really sent by this boy. i mean, i can't even tell you how i was impacted. by this guy at my church who i was very fond of. i feel like the dumbest thing on earth. and now that i told my boss i'm leaving she's being so intense and cold and cutoff from me, and the whole surrounding everywhere is making me so uncomfortable. and this whole recent crush thing has made me realize that there is a way i go where i get intense not just being molly but because i'm nervous and trying to force a connection with someone. and there is a mellow molly, that is almost as much as intense molly, and i tromp around as if i'm all ballsy and selfdeclared but mostly i'm a softie. i've been cuffing this edge i'm tired of it. i'm really tired of it. i am so uncomfortable right now. i just drove around in my convertable which helped. i had the top down, it was evening and the light was so nice. but then i just felt like being under my hood and covered so i put the top up.
it helped. oh man, i feel misplaced.

I'm back

oh bloggy blog,
smoooch, smooch.
how i've missed you, i kiss you all over your face like miss piggy to kermit.

Ms. bloggy, I've been gone, dashing about trying to get a new job. what a process this is. I'm ready to be in the corporate world! i want the coworkers, and the 9-5, and the coffee maker! i'm working just with one other person now, except for the patients that come and go, and i'm ready to be amongst many. i'm ready to be a little more anonymous, and to be a part of something bigger. some projects and deadlines, etc, etc.

Went down to the beach down highway 1 with Amam and the Apilot. we walked through a field and picked artichokes that were coming up. we pretended to find atlantis. i was laughing too hard, we climbed down a rope to get to the beach.
OK, this post is ending, i know it is undramatic, but i'm rough with my blogging.working myself up to it.

The poem that didn't make it.

Here is the poem, however fond I was of it, that didn't become THE poem that I recited on Easter--that poem that God gave me all in the package.
but this poem, is from me (I know because it loves the parenthesis and it changes tenses and i keep moving the lines about and inserting this or that) But i like it, and it is about the beginning, when i first met God. here,

THIS HOUSE IS AN OCEAN

Your shower begain in the basement of my body,
Your Holy barreling through my body,
Covering all my ache-full misgivings.

The water went widespread inside,
You bringing your best,
My tired arms,
Your thickness at the door of my thrashing.
The lid flew-off
my heart "At last! At last!"
(waiting to be unhoisted).

(Your beaming water).

When Your Vastness came,
Every Mast in me recognized,
when you put the ocean in my house.
(so sail after sail can open and set out).

You're put the ocean in my house,
Every shore of me met,
Every floor felt -- every ceiling reached.
This bath,
this beyond you lay on me.

Now heavenly streaming flows through my body,

like honey

he poured. At 3:30 in the morning, I woke up. Then suddenly it was my time. I knew "oh here it is". It was easy to get up.
And i began writing. It was like I was being given the lines.
He was having me just move the lines, plunk them in a new spot and I could see how fine it all was working. He was showing me the way.
This sweet poem. The words just fit, and they were not from my imagination, but real. Holding the meat of God.
I had the fondest time and I felt that You were fond and that it was all clear.
There were no extra words, it was like talking to You and I delighted in it as i went and it was easy, like oil I went. I did one line, then the next, containing it all, just easy, and lovely, and good and intimate and enabled and knowing and having. Then some moving and inserting of lines was where the lines got really thick. Everything fit, The comforting way I went with my words, not grabbing but making the way for the Lord.
Truly this was not me. I had never written like this before. There was not that cut-and-paste. And I knew. I knew what to do. I erased lines, thinking "nope. That's not it." I never do that, I usually save all the pieces until i'm tangled in too much, archiving separate documents of anything i cut. usually there's some place where the poem doesn't work, or where you wish you could say it just right. but here in this poem, there is nothing like that. And i knew when i was done! it was like God put on my heart, "you're done." and i had nothing more to say. And everything fit! He gave it to me whole!
This just increased my faith.
Just as Michelle and I had talked about, as i was going through the process. I hoped that the process of the poem would reveal something about God to me, that I would become something new through the poem.

And truly, this poem just increased my faith. I feel as though i really just met God.
Here is what I wrote in my journal that night.
I get it.
You deliver the whole.
You come on your promise.
You delight.
You show-up.
You can do this. with anything.
I get how it's supposed to be. to get the whole package from God. ready made, and full and whole and easy and pleasant and ridable.

I went to sleep sunken hearted.

I've been asking God for a poem. A poem, a poem God. I was asked to write and read a poem for our Big Easter Service, with our two churches merging. And have been wrestling for the last month.
The other night I was trying, doind my usual way of writing which is very cut and paste, and pulling pieces from here and there. but no, I wanted a whole poem, a whole message. I wanted it to be as God does, where He gives you the whole thing. where he gives you the whole package. i had such little faith. i didn't think it was going to happen. The night before i went to sleep sunken hearted, fading from trying to pull something out of my poem that just wasn't working.

Then at 3:30 in the morning I woke up out of the blue, i was awake. I thought, "Ok God let's Go." And I sat there, and the poem poured through. I took the platform of what I had. And really I wrote in this way i have never written before. He did it!

I wish

[My Post from a week ago]
more than anything more than the world, (there, there).
oh it's an "into the woods" song and here i am here i am, trying to write a poem, asking the LOrd, inviting the Lord, I have been asked the most highest task, to write a poem for the Easter service. the Service of my Church moving to another location, joing First Pres, 2 separate churches we remain, one mission.
how high of a task. how holy.
my mind is vacant, i keep pulling great beginnings of poems but i feel they are just myself trying to dig up. where is the annoited word of the lord? where is the whole message unbridled, bridled ready for my pouncing and deliviring up. delivering through. i told mmadda how i wanted it to be truly the word of the Lord, truly his message.
what does all this show me? how much i am a new creation, in that how i create is totally new. i do not create on these old devices, these whims, even these landslides of inspiration.

Nothing come. Words, all metaphoric, all pulling,

The March post

hello, my blog, i have missed you, missed you, have had a rough time these months and sunken heart. but i'm back. i'm back. don't know what to say to you. i feel like a traitor to you my blogg. i have longed for you, but been without the usual words roaming in my head. My birthday came and went, was hoping something "spiritual" would happen, was hoping the whole gang would be all about it. celebrating my day, and the first anniversary of my coming to God. or God coming to me.
and so tonight, i think, i think of where i am now. This IS a good spot to be in, this is a very good spot to be in. i would not have guessed last march 13th that the christian thing would have become contagious as it has, and pleasing, and fitting, and . . . .
we had this all church prayer meeting last night, and one line so please me from this old hymnal, it went "heart of my own heart"
That is why, it is all so dear, the LOrd inside me. and it is so very me and intimate and dear and good and for me, and of my own.
and infinite.
ok, my rusty words are coming again. molllllllll

back (from L.A.)

I'm back from LA and i'm relaxed. i feel so good, so good infact. i think the trip had an accumulating effect, whereas now i'm feel back to my self. i love life again. it was so fun, the alice in wonderland party.

it was so fun getting ready with juliette and Tony, writing "Eat me" and "Try me" on the muffins. watching alice in wonderland while going through Juliette's box of lipsticks, at least fifty, i was in heaven. she let me pick out any I wanted. turns out "whatever" and enigme and Truly were my matches. jotting down on the liners of the white rabbit.
Fact #1. I AM the white rabbit: this spazzy, panicked, fretting character.

My favorite lines:
"oh me, oh my. Oh dear."
"No use. Can't wait. I'm awfully late."
"Don't just do something, stand there!"
so I went dashing about the party. I'd get all nervous and scurry away.
Tony (Mad Hatter) kept telling us it was Teatime.
Alice did Not chase me.
The Queen of hearts (Juliette) was dangerous.
It was fun dancing with Andrew (Amber's boyfriend), we were slowdancing (the pals we are) while freestyling--i kept going and going like the word-bunny I am with this wickedly rhyming waterfall of words.

MEET the Tony:
He's the one to bring for commentary. He kept making what would-be another boring aaron into some coated spongey experience. I nodded in the car, mulling all his collected back-alley know-abouts and anecdotes.
But this guy--one minute he's somewhat dettached and observant in the background, the next minute he's the craziest intent guy singing on the mike,at the Par-T he was the mad hatter and by the way dressed to the T. He was totally into it. There he is singing on the mike every word to I am the walrus, and aerosmith, and hogging the mic, he just took over the floor all of a sudden and you can't stop him. I'm looking at him like "who is this guy?"

we were all up so late, and as withered as we were, we still just stayed in there. there was always one person on the dancefloor, however little motions they made or energy they had, but they were there, maybe pointing at someone else, maybe just talking to themselves, we were funny like that, we all sort of took turns.
i got a foot rub.

we all piled on the couch in our folded ways.
i met michel (pronounced Meechel) from Mexico, who was very special. We danced very in sync with each other. just enough space between us, stepping straight forward, forward, forward, back, back, back, and the just right amount of turning. to vogue was the best. and juliette kept trying to get us to notice each other. "he'd be perfect for you!" and the more she told me, the more i was "maybe" and he was very sweet. i noticed him right when he walked in the apartment, i thought he was italian. he was striking. And so she kept talking to him, her friend of 8 years, "I really like Molly" she reported to me his notice.. .. . . ... ...... ...... .... The next day I was smiling Tony told me 3 hours to go till we were to meet Michel at the Good LUck Club, then Amber would come, and Michel did call the next day, and yes. the Good luck club was this lounge, I fell for right away, I loved this lounge, the people all chatting way, the sound filling the room, low celings and lanterns hanging about, the overall hue of red and a lowwave orange. the jukebox with the odd assortment, forties albums, the police, the beatles whitealbum, country, willie nelson, johnny cash, Jimmy Cliff, Jackson 5, Nina Simone, and so on. well we had a pleasant time.
the whole weekend was so smooth, i kept being handed off from friend to friend taking turns kickin it with me.
Amber and I had a very good day today, which is monday. we went to the urth cafe and had the most satisfying omelet i've ever met. Tricky was right there at the CAfe, Tricky the DJ and producer, collaborated with portishead and known for all his own haunting and hypnotic downtempo. i used to play him on my radioshow, RPM ignited. 'Do i say hello Amber?" i decided to feel it out, walking by him on the way to the car. so i just reached out, and swooped my hand by him (without touching him) in this swinging kind of wave. "Hey man! i used to play your music all the time on my radio show in santa cruz!" and nods with this big smile "hey! alright. where is santa cruz?" in his british accent and in this cool "yep oh yeah!" kind of accepting way. and there we all were, i'm nodding, he's nodding, he's cool, I'm cool, it's like we were all making each other's days.
Then Amber says "Tricky, I've got to tell you that there's been many a time I've made love to your music." and he was like "ohyeah" and he says "you have?! alright, well, I hope that maybe someday my music can help to make a baby!" and she's laughing and we're all soaking it in, stoked on this new information. he introduces us to two guys with him, all cool and DJ looking, puma hats on, sunglasses. They're nodding too and they looked really stoked about our approach. like we were these two bomb california girls coming up all cool to congratulate and give thanks. we were fabulous! Man, it was so weird, though i was coming up to a celebrity, we really all made each other cool. I shook his hand and said "hey. I'm Molly, or DJ Gem" and he said "DJ Gem? Alright!" Wow, I feel like my DJ name was just sanctified. i mean Tricky took my hand while speaking my name. he confirmed it! he restamped it.
and it was so cool, i went up to him like i had every right to, like of course i'm gonna say whassup to tricky. it was so down.

2 more cool things
the first sign i was meant to be there was when juliette (sicker than me) pulled out some cough syrup that her accupuncturist had given her. I told her "my accupuncturist gave ME cough syrup too, I couldn't bring it on the plane b/c it is glass" struck by that similarity. And then she pulled out the exact same cough syrup. both our accupuncturists had given us. so we started the weekend on that same foot, both sick, giving each other coughsyrup.

Fact 2: I have turned into a small-town girl. I was dumbfounded by the distances, Tony and I were walking, walking to get to the Grove. the block went on forever, with nothing on it, much. and we went to west hollywood KMart, it was so big, everywhere we went i was blown and verbal about it.

10-4 4 now.

the worse day

my bossed yelled at me, in an attacking way, i was just trying to go home i'm sick, i'm busting my butt for her, and she s got no back up, its' not my fault. then the tb-one had a talk with me. and she's right, i'm not keepin gup the space. but i feel so awful, i feel like a failure. i think i'm really stressed, and spinning out at home and all else. sometimes i feel like i'm drowning. i' mgoing to LA, i don't even want to go, i'm sick, i'm crushed.
i hope it goes ok.
i'm sad b c i bumm out my roomates, my desk is always a spill.

the worse day

my bossed yelled at me, in an attacking way, i was just trying to go home i'm sick, i'm busting my butt for her, and she s got no back up, its' not my fault. then the tb-one had a talk with me. and she's right, i'm not keepin gup the space. but i feel so awful, i feel like a failure. i think i'm really stressed, and spinning out at home and all else. sometimes i feel like i'm drowning. i' mgoing to la, i don't even want to go, i'm sick, i'm crushed.
i hope it goes ok.
i'm sad b c i bumm out my roomates, my desk is always a spill.

This weekend. rewind.

I'm starting this post at the end of my weekend (just now) and working my way backwards. like a good episode of Alias. I think it's best this way.
Just drove in from San Fran, celebrated Christmas tonight (January 8th) with my family, delayed b/c we were all too busy until just now. I'm glad in my heart, after returning from them. This was my Mom, my sister, and her husband Ben. And this time, it was just us, no other inlaws or friends or random people or acquantences. it was just us. It was so dear. My sister made me these fabulous glasses and etched into them. perfect size for some sparkling water or wine. on one is a crown, on another is a heart, then also a lotus. They are so sweet. I got my sister this gorgeous wallet, and she loved it.
I hugged Ben a lot tonight for somereason (my sister's husb) sometimes he just makes me so happy, he's an editor and a director, he has a theater company. he's kind of cynical and witty and sarcastic, but i love the guy. they've been married four years about, and now my comebacks to ben come quickly. my mom was really sweet tonight. driving back in Romona I had aretha franklin playing pretty loudly. i was so happy. these songs i was singing. it's nice not to be on anyone's case or into someone. i mean, my heart is not sticking, and that's a good thing, there's no nostalgia, no longing, no remorse. there's no sticking in my heart. i was also listening to LIve 105--Love line. a 25 years old guy called speaking about how messed up porn is, and drew was saying it's girls acting out their trama and not a healthy thing at all, and the caller, this guy was so upset, saying we need to really express this to more guys, and how mad he gets about it, b/c every girl he's with has been raped. I was so happy that this guy called, knew what was up, AND actually cared about it. I noticed that on live 105, the music leads after the commercial breaks are choppy, and i realized how cool i have that ear now. I was a DJ last year on KZSC, so now I can hear the tiniest slice of dead-air from a mile away and other glitches.S
Seeing my mama and sis, its good, they're my people, we fit, we're ok, there's nothing rejected or secret going on in each other's mind, there's nothing i need to worry about. my sister just gave me a bag full of fabulous clothes, San Francisco long sleeve classy simple straight cut stuff. She gave me an orchid, i had to really pack it carefully in my car to not touch anything else. it's red, an inky red, and crisp. today earlier got pretty sunny and nice out. yesterday night saw King Kong with the gang. we were packed in the back of Eugene's hatch back. blankets and jabs in the side as we kept fidgeting trying to fit the four of us. after about 1 hour and a half we gave up and turned the car the normal way. it was fun we kept screaming and dunking our heads under covers when the nasty spiders and dinasour lizard things kept attacking. we all fell in love with Kong, I loved his nostrils. And his thumbs. we kept talking, being that there was so little dialogue almost making our own, and it became obnoxious but we all just kept talking back to the screen. That morning I was in capitola, stayed over there b/c i went out on town on friday, so saturday went to mr. toots and then went to car and locked keys in car, called tow truck, and to wait went to zeldas on the wharf. these girls were so rude to me, i got a menu from the hostess, sat down, and no-one came, and i waited and waited, and they ignored me gossiping. i got up and said "im not going to be ignored, and they freaked out, "we're switching shifts!" but it didn' tmatter, there were six barristas and nobody came, so i walked out it felt so good, then sat at the wharf house, ordered a hamburger, but they were out of hamburger meat, "what's with this morning?" im going in my head. so i get the omelet with pesto, waiting for tow truck. The tow truck lady came. and one of the waitresses from zelda's came, the cool one from alaska, the real one. she and i conferred about the bogus catty girls inside all makeup, not paying attention, how frustrating. she was from alaska that's cool, i told her, and then the owner of zeldas comes out and tries to take away the towtrucklady's tools to do it himself, not realizing that she's a towtrucklady, she's professional, and no thanks, shes got it. she was short with him and who wouldn't be? he was yanking on my door and messing it up. so we fished for a while with her stick in the crack of my door till we finally unlocked it, like those pincher hand games in the front of Denny's where the claw drops to grab a toy, but you never can retrieve the toy, but we did it, we opened the door. last night went out with my boss and we went out and were dancing. and we felt fabulous and bonded, "Youre such a good dance!" my boss had no idea and we took over that place, chatting it up with everyone. I told the DJ if he needed to go to the bathroom I would take over the turntables. what was i thinking? he looked at me "yah right" i'm sure he was saying inside. then i said to myself later.
The moral of the story is that i was feeling blue when i went up to the city, and now i came back just super contenta.

on Trying to stay put

I am trying to stay put today. I am trying to not leave the house at all, to not go anywhere. This is very hard for me. I am never home, i've been working 2-3 jobs for the last 2 years and I am used to running in and out of the house, i'm used to having to always go somewhere, do something. Today I have the day off. I just recently lost my editing job. poor communication between author and I. I think I cut more than he could handle, and he just wasn't giving me any feedback. I had landed that autobiography gracefully, if you ask me, trimming it from 650 pages to 250. I had shored it up and streamlined it.
but now i sit today, a day off my main job as receptionist. I am trying to do stuff. I'm trying to get up my guts to clean the bathroom. I just cleaned my portion of the fridge, it was an amazing purge. The storm was going off this morning but now the rain has stopped.

New Years Day

New years Night, really. Actually it's now january 2nd, i'm up. I'm empty.
. not that i didn[t have a really good weekend, i did, and the couples from LA came and went. Ambrosa and her new addition. Drew, very engaged, somewhat cocky, but overall a good sport, he and i had good sprees with our hypothetical longwinded situational jokes. "Oh yeah?" we'll let's say after i came out from the bush and I saw you and you were standing there dorky and alone but i was kickass and there's a stevie wonder song going. . . ." I'm not sure if we ever fully made sense to oneanother but it was sure fun to kick it with him. Then Juliette and I talked about velvet skirts and the tactile significance to clothes. That was the shallow of it, but there was piles of deepness too i won't mention here. and then tony was cool, and first seemed unmentionable and as I imitated him on pacific "Hi, i"m Tony" in this regular Joe way, but then as he seemed to wake up over the weekend, he proved to be fabulous, and fabulously endearing.
Then Ambrosia had her perfect blend of Santa Cruz and L.A. She comes up this time with a corderoy coat with fakefur, her santacruz stripe scarf and her L.A. designer jeans.
she makes the orders which was a good rank to be in this weekend. #1. Brasil, #2 Kiva, (Hot Tubs) #3 Pescadero, to retrieve 5 different kinds of Goat Cheese, including the Goat cheese pressed with flowers, the Pepper Goat Cheese, cherry Goatcheese, And dill Goat Cheese (amongst my favorites). my orders were to #1 Alias, #2 Sri (Sri Lankan Food at end of block) #3 Alias,
I think I will be better in the morning, I've run out
s

A Storm that won't quite Come

There is this huge storm that is upon Northern California. They keep talking about it on the News, showing the rivers rising, the water finding its way higher. It hasn't hit here yet, it's been due to, and due again, and due. "This is going to be big!" and yes, it rains hard, for about 2 hours, and then it's over. i love the rain. I want the day when it rains all day, Hard. but it comes and it goes in the Santa Cruz fashion. it can never commit. I just left Church, our church is on Sunday Evening. I started there feeling pretty squared away. And then, then it hit me as I listened to the sermon weave in and out about our expectations for the year. And I realized, that I have this dread. This dread about this year. I'm not excited at all. I'm fearful. I started to ask myself, "why?" "why am I not looking forward to this year? This last year has been a mix of good, really good, and bad. hard stuff lately, and hard pressure from working overtime, but also wonderfulness with discovering Christ this year, and feeling at home at home, and sharing with Tibisay, and also with Camille. there's been worry, worry, consuming worry, and there's been grace, and friends. There has been betrayal and bonding. HOnestly, i feel like I'm going to lose someone close to me. i have this feeling. I really hope i do not. i do not know how to pray to God over this. I don't want to lose my mom, or sister or friends, my dear sweet girls. I pray God protects my family. I have drawn closer to my Mom out of this dammage that all came down> I love her I don't want to lose her. Maybe I'm worried because things are relatively good, i'm at a good place in my life, and i'm scared that things could only get worse. I think my biggest fear is that people will leave me. This is my storm that won't quite come and show its self to me. Maybe I should just get down on my knees. I started weeping in church and i had to dismiss myself. but then i felt together again and came back. I'm trying so hard.

My favorite

Have been with such cool people from L.A. all weekend. friends of my girl Ambrosa. Juliette and I got in zoom fixation with each other, and became real pals real quick. and Tony grew on me. starting off grumpy, and then coming out of that haze. So hey, i want to put my old poem down, i was just reading it to juliette. and it made me want to cry. This is a 3 part poem. its premise is clouds. section 1 is cumulus clouds. section 2 is Nimbus Clouds. Section 3 is Stratus Clouds. It follows three lives, and the incapacity they face. And what happens when they refuse their incapacity, when they refuse to falter. When they have had enough. One story in it is true, and the others are of another realm. The epiteth on the beginning has a footnote, so scroll down to footnote 1. and you'll see the backdrop to the character quoted. This is about dropping your anchor.

The Incapacity of Clouds
"May you be an incantation of that flicker within." - Boromis (1)

Cumulus Clouds

Most people were worried,
the clouds seeming so cross,
but I was eager and driving while
they were congregating overhead,
not whispy or moving but mounted
to the lower edge of the sky,
as if resolving to carry nothing anymore,
not even the wind.

No kites, no diving birds, no helicopters,
No more amassing our sighs, no flimsy prayers,
or any under-the-breath attacks--
enough blank stares from dazed people,
or flat attempts to sing a high C sharp.
The clouds simply could not boost
this earthly agitation anymore--
our accumulating woes and wishes--
finally admitting that no-where
else could solve our discomfort.

The clouds were done hoisting-up
everything redundant or easy.




1. Boromis: God-like hero of aviators everywhere: he refused to land. The first-and perhaps only aviator to make it out of cloud. His departure is still a mystery; In short, he vanished in Late-February from the Cumulus clouds gathered over Colorado Plains. Some are still looking for Boromis with Magnets.



Nimbus Clouds
I was driving to see her recovering.
I wanted to get there so badly,
to touch her bandages,
sneak in these sodas.

I wanted her legs to be settled this time,
more chunks taken from her feet
and now the skin already closing
the stitches as they eased from her soles,
her arches recalling their trusty lunge
where they denied and pressed into the ground.

This was her latest complication.
She never shunned her ailments or complained,
but she was stubborn and deserved to be.
She was tired of thanking that vague strength
that would someday come from this mess.
Why should she have to exist so faintly?
(these redundant pillows).
Some say her life would always rain
like this. like nimbus clouds.
But she had husk to her, a Chicago-grown
girl, and though the sky was faltering above,
she would craft her own vessel.
She was making those testimonies to herself.

I wanted to be that worn-in friend--
I wanted her to call on me,
to be more than lining
or distraction.
I wanted to meet her in the unsettled parts,
to sit with her,
and let her recede.








Stratus Clouds

Somewhere behind these rowdy clouds
must be aviators bolting:
tunneling aviators,
the shameless aviators and inconsiderate!
keen aviators followed by those ducking aviators wishing lasers were included,
crumpled aviators shouting something about desertitude,

One desperate aviator looking for Boromis, convinced that Boromis would give him departure from this muffled place of cloud (everywhere fading back into white).

He was tired of this clunky shuttling, if he could take flight in some way more deliberate. He prayed for Boromis to ignite his plane--its rickety propeller--into a supernova:
to make him into a vessel so lustrous
and huge that people on earth would
look up and fix their eyes to him by
impulse, having no idea what scorching
his remote glint made. He knew he was
made to throb, all kinds of particles
gravitating towards him--that he could
close the fissures in the sky--

and somebody dwindling below
would spot him--a stud admist
the little mines in the night--
he would change the very
sequence of the sky.
This was his heart demanding cadence,
this was his heart in fugue.
He would roll for them--
his form repeating, his fugue asking,
his form repeating a fifth above and a fourth below--
he would finally reach his minor relative points.
His arpeggio flying,
the audience enveloped,
remembering octaves
they never knew they had,
hearing his A minor
one-day while strolling.