Tag Archives: dysfunction

Leviathan

Uncategorized, , , , , , ,

A rowboat in the ocean
So lost you are
So beautiful, so lost, content in silence, the rhythmic waves
…Rising, Falling
…Rising, Falling
Not even sure what you’re looking for
Just knowing currents and tides will bring you comfort
…Line over the side, not fishing, not quite
……More like playing absentmindedly
……More like hands twitching as you fall asleep
……More like wondering what creatures live below the surface
…Never expecting to see
Sure that the sight is meant for more important eyes than yours.

There is none more important than You.

Or you. Or I.
Or them. Or us. Or we.

None more important than the ones in that boat
None more important than those who half believe
…Than those who sleep their way through life
…That half-believe that life could be better
……Or bigger. Or faster. Or more.
……But that life happens to Other People
…People more worthy, more strong,
…People in books, in faery tales, in song, in legend.
Hands twitching as you sleep
Boat rising higher than it should be
Pushed by something underneath
Something not quite cresting
An unseen force that raises you higher than before
And in your dreams you remember
…That once you were someone who searched
…That once you were someone who dreamed and desired
…That once you believed that there were dragons at the edge of the world…

It’s not the bait on your innocent line that has piqued my interest.

I hear sounds in your sleep
…The sounds you used to listen for
…The dreams you used to have
…The things you used to search for
The You that you’ve forgotten

It echoes inside of me like the sound of a drip in a silent cavern
…Echoing my stillness
…Echoing my forgottenness
…Calling me to your side like rhythm
……Like thunder and rain
……Like the sound of water on leaves
……Like the sound of the serpent in the grass
…Like the scent of summer
…Yes, you are dreaming,
But make no mistake, you have called me.

You are so innocently unaware of what you’ve done
…And even that is delicious
Still sleeping, echoing dreams
I could vanish in a moment and you would never know I was there
…Never know how close I was
…Never know how I watched you as you slept
……Never know that it’s not your dreams that called me
……But the way you’ve put them away.
…The way I’ve put them away.
…The way we all, sooner or later,
Put them away.

So I must choose,
…do I slip beneath these waves in silence
……Never waking you
……Never letting you see
…Never
It is perhaps
The better choice
To not wake up these things in myself
To not view the dreams I’ve given up in the harsh light of day

Oh but the sound of you is so sweet
You are savory in my brain
…Like the scent of a good stew
……With notes of Lemongrass
…Exotic, like heavy bass
……With overtones of Bhangra
…Like things I’ve never tasted or smelled
……Sandalwood and Rose
……Or street food in South America
……The feel of satin and leather

I am a force of nature
…Uncontrollable
I get off this ride where I want to
…And I’m not sure if I do.
But you are a tasty morsel, to be sure,
And no one contains me without my permission.
I am not to be contained.
…Like Leviathan, I am not for owning
……I am for experiencing
………For reminding you of your mortality
………For showing you gaping jaws that remind you
………How good it is to be alive
………How good your life is in this world

…How you should not be sleeping.

I’ve come to wake up the Strongest of Dreamers.
…and I am only slightly surprised by your blurry edges
…by the way your tiny human hand squeezes the smallest of my pods
……like an infant and a finger
…the way you turn in your sleep like a plant toward sunlight
reaching towards what you have not seen, but you remember.

Who made you so small, love?
What made you put your dreams away?
…How have you forgotten the songs of our tribe?
…How have you forgotten what you are?
This will feel like disaster, I know.
And I am so sorry, but you called me here
…You dangled this line
…You called in your sleep
……You don’t know it but you called for rescue
……and you have no idea that this has nothing to do with me,
…that the only one who can rescue you
is You.

I am what I am
……and what I am is too large for that boat.

It’s an accident, I swear, the leaks and crackings
…But it’s a consequence of getting too close.
Your world is about to turn upside down
…and you are due for the rudest of awakenings.
I am about to do you a huge favor

My presence and my leaving will smash that boat
…And if you open your eyes
…it will set you free.

I have to start taking my own advice.

Uncategorized, , , , , , , ,

When I was younger, I was angrier. There were a whole bunch of reasons for that. But I think one reason in general is just hormones, rebellion, teenage angst, etc. I went to protests and gatherings and yelled and danced and held signs. I did many things.

When I got older there was a Pagan Pride march, and there was a woman who was pressuring me to march. I told her, “I did that stuff already. That’s not where I’m at anymore,” and she got angry and started yelling at me. I don’t think she knew she was yelling. She said that everyone had to march, everyone had to be active, Pagan Rights were violated every day,” etc., etc. And I can’t argue with the latter, they still are.

But I’m thinking now that there are so many ways to be active. There are so many faces to activism…there’s microcosmic, like working with the people in your neighborhood, or even just on your block or street, and there’s macrocosmic, where you try to change governmental policy, or the world.

For me, the marching is best left to younger people. Youth has an idealism and a belief that things can change, while I become tired and frustrated that they never will. Youth has a strength and endurance, while I have a lack of faith. Youth has fire and anger and their lives depend on the future, while I’m in what must be the latter half of my life. (I’m not living to 100 I don’t think. Most people don’t.) When the future happens, I’m only going to have to live with it for a short while.

But there are other things, too. Letter writing, standing up for injustice whenever you see it, discussion with people who are able to listen to reason, even if it won’t change their minds it might open them a little, or expose them to an alternate point of view.

I’m trying a little bit to have internet discussion, but it’s so draining. It’s hurtful. It’s like constantly parrying attacks and coming back with open arms. It takes patience, and an ability to step back and not take things personally that I’m only just learning…I shouldn’t have tested it so early. I’m doing okay on the surface, but I’m waking up with anxiety, I’m crying, I can’t even finish (and this is pretty telling) ONE cup of coffee in the morning without starting to have my body react really quickly with my hands shaking and my heart beating quickly like a caffeine overdose. It’s not the caffeine, it’s me. It’s my PTSD.

I tell other people that not everyone can do everything. That there are many jobs. That we can’t all be good at everything. Last night I was crying on Rob saying that I want to be able to express myself better, I want to be clearer, I feel like I’m failing miserably, I want to make a difference in the world, and I feel like I can’t, like I’m powerless, like I can’t make a difference at all, no matter how hard I try.

Rob said, “You made a difference to me.”

“Look at all these people you helped,” and he listed a few from this month. “You made a difference to them. And you made a difference to me. You changed me and my life.”

I said, “And you love me anyway, even if I CAN’T change anything?”

“Yes. But you can. You do. You have.”

I have to take my own advice. I have to withdraw from these conversations and leave them to other people, they hurt me too much. And I have to stick to the smaller things. I have to do what I can, and stop judging myself for being unable to do what I can’t.

So to all you people that are doing those things, judging yourself for the things you can’t do, fighting things even though it hurts you more in the long run…I just want you to know that I do it, too.

And I’m going to stop. You can too.