Have you ever found a wounded wild animal and decided to take it home and nurse it back to health to eventually release it back into its habitat strengthened and ready for its next round of survival? Generally you find some kind of box to put it in, add a warm comfortable place to sleep, access to food and water, and a little area reserved for the creature to release its waste. Many of us do not stop there. We add a few rocks or leaves or plants to try to make the place resemble the animals natural habitat and make them feel more at home. Do we really belive that a few twigs and stones feels like nature?
I'm sitting in a public library in downtown Fresno.
Appearanty it is the only one in town, and it took me hours to find it.
Driving around this town I feel like that animal in it's box. This town has every thing you need I suppose, but something seems to be missing. I have yet to meet a person here who doesn't seem exhausted. There are tiny ants crawling all over my body from sleeping on the floor at my friends mom's house. One just crawled across my cheek.
I've been traveling for almost a week now with my friend Chrisopher Blue. We're both at a crossroads in our lives, and this trip has largely been a space for us look at our lives while standing at a distance from them. It's funny how the things that made me feel uncertain about leaving Seattle are starting to disolve the further away I get from it. I like being a stranger in a new town because it makes more sense than feeling like a stranger while surrounded by friends.
The ants that piled into my purse last night while I was sleeping are now emerging. I feel like one of those villans in a comic book whose power is derived from insects. I roll into town dressed all in black with ants crawling all over my body and surrounding areas.
I think I might be hungry.
Tuesday, December 28, 2004
Tuesday, December 21, 2004
Serendipity
Seven years ago when I was a student at Seattle Central Community College, I met a woman in the park across from school. Her and her partner at the time had just come down from BC and were living in the park. I sat on a blanket and ate lunch with her as she told me at least some of the details of her life that had led to that moment. She had fled an abusive marriage and was avoiding doing time for growing pot in California. Every time I saw her on the streets after that day, she was excited about something. She was constantly looking into programs that could help her find her feet again which is a challenging thing to do when you're disabled and homeless. I let her stay with me from time to time and have a shower and a bed, and brought her loads of food from the burrito joint I worked in at the time. In exchange she became this radiant karmic angel that would appear in my life when I needed her most. Like when I had suffered a severe head injury in a surfing accident and didn't have medical insurance. She found me crying on the curb outside the 45th street clinic and calmed me down. She gave me all the phone numbers I needed to find sliding scale medical care, convinced the nurse at the clinic that had refused me to let us use the phone, and even got me on the right bus so I wouldn't get lost. As she became a mother to all the motherless street kids on the hill, she never gave up her efforts to better her own circumstances. No matter what challenges were thrown her way, she always focused on the positive side of things. In fact, only once did I see her broken down. She had been looking into low income housing, and selling hemp jewlry on the streets to come up with the cash. But once all her work had finally paid off, she found she was fifty dollars shy of getting into a place. Now, at the time I was living off minimum wage plus tips... but I took a look at the situation. Fifty dollars to me meant that I would have to live off burrito joint scraps for a week or so. To her it was the difference between a place to live or a sidewalk. I gave her fifty bucks, and had a friend deliver an old futon I didn't need so she would have a bed. She had achieved the goal that had been consuming most of her energy, but she didn't stop there.
She grew in her jelwry making and was able to make enough to get by. Now with the basic needs of food and shelter mostly taken care of she focused on her health. She had surgery for pelvic cancer, got new braces for her deteriorating knees, and was even able to see a dentist. She cried when she smiled at me the first time with her new teeth. She said the smile had always been in her, it just wasn't represented on her face.... now she could show it to the world.
With all of this going on, most people wouldn't have the energy to take on much else... but most people aren't Mama Sara. She loved her street family and took their needs very seriously. She had been through the system so much that she was getting very skilled at doing paper work. She put her go getter attitude to work on forming a homeless youth advocacy group called PSKS (Peace for the Streets by Kids from the Streets) and runs a program called CHEW (Capital Hill Eats Well) which focuses on proper nutrition for homeless people in the area. She has become an active spokesperson and advocate for the homeless community and has appeared on several local and national television programs on the subject. When she walked into my station tonight to be interviewed for the Real Change program, we saw eachother and squeeled. I ran down the stairs and we embraced for about three minutes. I was so proud of her when I heard about all that she has accomplished since our paths last crossed. She was elated that I had graduated with a double degree and was using it to work for a non-profit community media center. I proposed that our organizations team up and teach street kids how to produce their own media messages to bring awareness to the issues that concern them most in their reality. Mama Sara has proven that you're voice can be your power.
It was really amazing for me to run into her tonight. The producers of the program were so touched by our reunion display that they asked me to come on the show and talk with Sara about how we met, and what we hoped to accomplish together in the future. I am excited for this new relationship. Tonight two people who met as a homeless woman and a fast-food worker exchanged buisness cards and made plans to treat ourselves to one anothers partnership in empowering a very disinfranchised group and adding a new perspective to the media. We truly are some BAD ASS Women!
She grew in her jelwry making and was able to make enough to get by. Now with the basic needs of food and shelter mostly taken care of she focused on her health. She had surgery for pelvic cancer, got new braces for her deteriorating knees, and was even able to see a dentist. She cried when she smiled at me the first time with her new teeth. She said the smile had always been in her, it just wasn't represented on her face.... now she could show it to the world.
With all of this going on, most people wouldn't have the energy to take on much else... but most people aren't Mama Sara. She loved her street family and took their needs very seriously. She had been through the system so much that she was getting very skilled at doing paper work. She put her go getter attitude to work on forming a homeless youth advocacy group called PSKS (Peace for the Streets by Kids from the Streets) and runs a program called CHEW (Capital Hill Eats Well) which focuses on proper nutrition for homeless people in the area. She has become an active spokesperson and advocate for the homeless community and has appeared on several local and national television programs on the subject. When she walked into my station tonight to be interviewed for the Real Change program, we saw eachother and squeeled. I ran down the stairs and we embraced for about three minutes. I was so proud of her when I heard about all that she has accomplished since our paths last crossed. She was elated that I had graduated with a double degree and was using it to work for a non-profit community media center. I proposed that our organizations team up and teach street kids how to produce their own media messages to bring awareness to the issues that concern them most in their reality. Mama Sara has proven that you're voice can be your power.
It was really amazing for me to run into her tonight. The producers of the program were so touched by our reunion display that they asked me to come on the show and talk with Sara about how we met, and what we hoped to accomplish together in the future. I am excited for this new relationship. Tonight two people who met as a homeless woman and a fast-food worker exchanged buisness cards and made plans to treat ourselves to one anothers partnership in empowering a very disinfranchised group and adding a new perspective to the media. We truly are some BAD ASS Women!
Friday, December 17, 2004
crossroads
where are you tonight?
where are you tonight?
you're hiding from the light
of what you used to think was right
and you're walking around town
staring at the ground
trying to retrace
the steps that made you loose your place
and you're waiting just to wait
choking back the hate
that builds inside sometimes
when people make you loose your mind
and it all comes back to home
it's what you've always known
saddness with no end
the kind that makes you need a friend
and I'll be there for you
if you want me to
The past has come and gone
and you're feeling so alone
but somethings gotta give
you've got so much more life to live
it's ok to be afraid
but just let those feelings fade
it's always hard when you get started
to keep yourself from being disheartened
but I know you will make it
you've got what it takes kid
no need to turn around
your feet are on the ground
looking back won't do no good now
but ghosts still haunt your neighborhood
and you're leaving them behind
to find some peace of mind
things won't change but you'll grow stronger
you won't need their cure any longer
and I know you can do this
just put your heart to it
these words were taken from a song I wrote for a friend of mine who is going through some very real challenges in his life. I wish I could play it for him now, but I'm too shy to sing my little 3 chord diddy to a real musician.... at least for now. Anyway, I hope it helps. -Jill
where are you tonight?
you're hiding from the light
of what you used to think was right
and you're walking around town
staring at the ground
trying to retrace
the steps that made you loose your place
and you're waiting just to wait
choking back the hate
that builds inside sometimes
when people make you loose your mind
and it all comes back to home
it's what you've always known
saddness with no end
the kind that makes you need a friend
and I'll be there for you
if you want me to
The past has come and gone
and you're feeling so alone
but somethings gotta give
you've got so much more life to live
it's ok to be afraid
but just let those feelings fade
it's always hard when you get started
to keep yourself from being disheartened
but I know you will make it
you've got what it takes kid
no need to turn around
your feet are on the ground
looking back won't do no good now
but ghosts still haunt your neighborhood
and you're leaving them behind
to find some peace of mind
things won't change but you'll grow stronger
you won't need their cure any longer
and I know you can do this
just put your heart to it
these words were taken from a song I wrote for a friend of mine who is going through some very real challenges in his life. I wish I could play it for him now, but I'm too shy to sing my little 3 chord diddy to a real musician.... at least for now. Anyway, I hope it helps. -Jill
Friday, December 10, 2004
paradise or a nuclear explosion?
There are dilemas in life that we could never have anticipated.
The heart has deeper capacity than most will ever feel.
Do we want to see ourselves in the eyes of another?
Do we want it to stir our physical being with a touch or a breath?
I've seen it in their eyes... the dark and the blue.
Watching me being me, watching them watching you.
Increasingly aware of the many sides of the number two...
I'm a goner in this lonely woman's battle for the front.
But I'm watching this race at my own little pace...
caught up in the haze of the truth that's kicked up.
The heart has deeper capacity than most will ever feel.
Do we want to see ourselves in the eyes of another?
Do we want it to stir our physical being with a touch or a breath?
I've seen it in their eyes... the dark and the blue.
Watching me being me, watching them watching you.
Increasingly aware of the many sides of the number two...
I'm a goner in this lonely woman's battle for the front.
But I'm watching this race at my own little pace...
caught up in the haze of the truth that's kicked up.
Sunday, December 05, 2004
today
Today I fell like a small tree on one of those little strips of nature that exist on interstate medians. I was put here to bring beauty and stillness to a fast-paced concrete world. But I don't belong here. I long to be around others like me in the wilderness. Would the commuters notice if I were gone? Perhaps.
But in my daily life I am overlooked. Once a beautiful thing in an ugly place, I am becoming covered in exhaust, and neglected by all but the rain. I long to shake my shallow roots free of this poisoned ground.
But in my daily life I am overlooked. Once a beautiful thing in an ugly place, I am becoming covered in exhaust, and neglected by all but the rain. I long to shake my shallow roots free of this poisoned ground.
Thursday, December 02, 2004
skeleton box
little box of death
you material thing
carved out of wood
dyed with black ink
inside your depths you held the cure
for life and all its suffering
the poison that you once secured
removed upon your offering
you laid in wait... collected dust
that settled between your bones
while skeletons called out to lure
a sick man to their catacombs
but even in his weakness
he found his will to live
he doesn't need to partake of
the things you have to give
he said it's hard to look at you
he's given you to me
I'll dust you off and find someone
who doesn't know your history
'cause if I kept you in my room
you might just start to sing
a siren of the after-life
whose song is a way out of being
you material thing
carved out of wood
dyed with black ink
inside your depths you held the cure
for life and all its suffering
the poison that you once secured
removed upon your offering
you laid in wait... collected dust
that settled between your bones
while skeletons called out to lure
a sick man to their catacombs
but even in his weakness
he found his will to live
he doesn't need to partake of
the things you have to give
he said it's hard to look at you
he's given you to me
I'll dust you off and find someone
who doesn't know your history
'cause if I kept you in my room
you might just start to sing
a siren of the after-life
whose song is a way out of being
Wednesday, December 01, 2004
a holiday greeting
Consumerism is killing us.
North Americans are the most horacious consumers on the planet.
The cost of our consumption is great.
Our air and our waters are poluted from industry.
Our beautiful suburban homes are built on land fill from years of wasteful ignorance.
Our lust for material validation keeps us in jobs we hate, and the more we aquire, the emptier it all feels.
But the new SUV in the drive way sure makes you look good to your neighbors.
Nevermind that wars are being fought, and people being killed over the very substance your monster requires in excess in order to perform it's ultimate purpose of shredding nature with its big ol' tires.
So where am I going with this?
Oh, that's right, it's Christmas time once again.
That festive time of year that started as a pagan celebration for the winter solctice, and later became renowned for the birth of "our lord" Jesus Christ (who I hear was actually born in the summer).
In many ways, Christmas has not changed much. It is still a time of intense rapture and worship.
In awe of the material gods, billions of people pay homage by sacraficing rolls of highly valued paper adorned with symbols of their culture.
I wonder how many single mothers go into debt every year to buy toys that their children will tire of in a month, but they absolutely had to have because the television babysitter that keeps them occupied while mom pulls a double shift to pay for it all won't stop screaming about it.
Do you know who makes those toys?
Little elves maybe?
Well, that's pretty close. I mean, they are little.
Children in sweatshops in third world countries will produce the majority of the products Americans will gobble up in the inevitable consumer binge that is December.
But Christmas is about more than that you say.....
It's about family, and charity, and good will towards all.
Well pardom me if I point out a little observation I've made.
It seems to me that the act of designating a time of year to celebrate the values of love and compassion serves as a good excuse for many to ignore these ideas for the rest of the year.
People who are hungry at Thanksgiving are often hungry in January and February, and March...
Where is your concern for these people then?
Can you even say hello when they ask you for your change? Can you?
And what about family?
Well, for all their strengths and weaknesses, I love my family....
but I'm not sure that only seeing them on Christmas is such a healthy pattern.
It has meant that I have only seen my family when I am broke, stressed, and usually sick.
We engage in meaningless ceremony that gets us no closer to who we really are and how we really feel than would watching old cartoons in silence. We usually end up fighting like whinny toddlers in desperate need of a nap over little things that represent larger deeply rooted issues that are inherant in our family dynamic.
This year I am going to spend some time with my best friend in wine country instead. I am going to buy several small canvasas and some oil-pastels and charcoals and make a unique piece of art for those who are dearest to me, and ask that unless you find yourself creating something with me in mind, please no gifts this year.
The path I am on is asking me to lighten my load, and rid myself of attachment to material things.
check out these inpirational web-sites.
-Jill
http://www.adbusters.org/metas/eco/bnd/bnd_xmas/
http://adbusters.org/home/
http://www.adbusters.org/metas/eco/bnd/
North Americans are the most horacious consumers on the planet.
The cost of our consumption is great.
Our air and our waters are poluted from industry.
Our beautiful suburban homes are built on land fill from years of wasteful ignorance.
Our lust for material validation keeps us in jobs we hate, and the more we aquire, the emptier it all feels.
But the new SUV in the drive way sure makes you look good to your neighbors.
Nevermind that wars are being fought, and people being killed over the very substance your monster requires in excess in order to perform it's ultimate purpose of shredding nature with its big ol' tires.
So where am I going with this?
Oh, that's right, it's Christmas time once again.
That festive time of year that started as a pagan celebration for the winter solctice, and later became renowned for the birth of "our lord" Jesus Christ (who I hear was actually born in the summer).
In many ways, Christmas has not changed much. It is still a time of intense rapture and worship.
In awe of the material gods, billions of people pay homage by sacraficing rolls of highly valued paper adorned with symbols of their culture.
I wonder how many single mothers go into debt every year to buy toys that their children will tire of in a month, but they absolutely had to have because the television babysitter that keeps them occupied while mom pulls a double shift to pay for it all won't stop screaming about it.
Do you know who makes those toys?
Little elves maybe?
Well, that's pretty close. I mean, they are little.
Children in sweatshops in third world countries will produce the majority of the products Americans will gobble up in the inevitable consumer binge that is December.
But Christmas is about more than that you say.....
It's about family, and charity, and good will towards all.
Well pardom me if I point out a little observation I've made.
It seems to me that the act of designating a time of year to celebrate the values of love and compassion serves as a good excuse for many to ignore these ideas for the rest of the year.
People who are hungry at Thanksgiving are often hungry in January and February, and March...
Where is your concern for these people then?
Can you even say hello when they ask you for your change? Can you?
And what about family?
Well, for all their strengths and weaknesses, I love my family....
but I'm not sure that only seeing them on Christmas is such a healthy pattern.
It has meant that I have only seen my family when I am broke, stressed, and usually sick.
We engage in meaningless ceremony that gets us no closer to who we really are and how we really feel than would watching old cartoons in silence. We usually end up fighting like whinny toddlers in desperate need of a nap over little things that represent larger deeply rooted issues that are inherant in our family dynamic.
This year I am going to spend some time with my best friend in wine country instead. I am going to buy several small canvasas and some oil-pastels and charcoals and make a unique piece of art for those who are dearest to me, and ask that unless you find yourself creating something with me in mind, please no gifts this year.
The path I am on is asking me to lighten my load, and rid myself of attachment to material things.
check out these inpirational web-sites.
-Jill
http://www.adbusters.org/metas/eco/bnd/bnd_xmas/
http://adbusters.org/home/
http://www.adbusters.org/metas/eco/bnd/
my reading
I just got this little free reading online. It's pretty amazing to me how accurate it is. Just curious if other people who know me find it to be so. Anyway, check it out! -Jill
For you, Jillian, this lifetime revolves upon the theme of experiencing your emotional depths, and penetrating the surface of life to explore the hidden, dark, secret or taboo. What lurks in the shadows or in the inner depths of the human soul is what concerns you, and it is your task to become aware of and express what you find hidden there. What society at large may fear or repress, you are fascinated with and drawn to experience and understand. This may include both a fear of and absorption with death and the mysterious side of life, delving into the politics of sexuality and power and experiencing strong, "dark" emotions such as passion, jealousy, revenge or a desire for control. At times you may feel like a misfit… that your yearnings, desires, and true inclinations are somehow wrong or bad, or even that you are bad. You could take on a social persona which is dark and hints at something sinister (such as always wearing black, going out only at night...). However, your feeling for the dark undercurrents of life and your drive to experience life passionately and intensely, without avoiding any of it, may be expressed less overtly. You are attracted to crisis, those transition times in life when people are tested, when their social masks do not matter anymore, and the true person is revealed. You may feel most alive and most yourself in life and death situations, whether you are involved in saving lives (as a doctor or healer), in destroying them (as in war), or simply by seeking out dangerous situations and dangerous companions. Often you will create your own crisis (especially in the arena of your close personal relationships) in order to pit yourself against the challenge. Other people may view this as a self-destructive urge in you, Jillian, a masochistic (or sadistic) streak. The truth is you would rather feel pain, than to feel nothing at all. You want to be fully immersed in it, deeply and passionately involved. (Life for you is not a spectator sport).
For you, Jillian, this lifetime revolves upon the theme of experiencing your emotional depths, and penetrating the surface of life to explore the hidden, dark, secret or taboo. What lurks in the shadows or in the inner depths of the human soul is what concerns you, and it is your task to become aware of and express what you find hidden there. What society at large may fear or repress, you are fascinated with and drawn to experience and understand. This may include both a fear of and absorption with death and the mysterious side of life, delving into the politics of sexuality and power and experiencing strong, "dark" emotions such as passion, jealousy, revenge or a desire for control. At times you may feel like a misfit… that your yearnings, desires, and true inclinations are somehow wrong or bad, or even that you are bad. You could take on a social persona which is dark and hints at something sinister (such as always wearing black, going out only at night...). However, your feeling for the dark undercurrents of life and your drive to experience life passionately and intensely, without avoiding any of it, may be expressed less overtly. You are attracted to crisis, those transition times in life when people are tested, when their social masks do not matter anymore, and the true person is revealed. You may feel most alive and most yourself in life and death situations, whether you are involved in saving lives (as a doctor or healer), in destroying them (as in war), or simply by seeking out dangerous situations and dangerous companions. Often you will create your own crisis (especially in the arena of your close personal relationships) in order to pit yourself against the challenge. Other people may view this as a self-destructive urge in you, Jillian, a masochistic (or sadistic) streak. The truth is you would rather feel pain, than to feel nothing at all. You want to be fully immersed in it, deeply and passionately involved. (Life for you is not a spectator sport).
Tuesday, November 30, 2004
the things I couldn't say
You've given up on things
that I still need to believe in
You've relinqueshed all your power
let apathy creep on in
No longer charmed by magic
your brilliance has grown tired
I wish I could have known you
when you were still inspired
Sometimes I see it in your eyes
then you drown it with a drink
and close your mind to new ideas
that hurt too much to think
You closed your heart off to a love
that would have proven true
when all she ever wanted
was to bring life back to you.
You're beautiful... and lost it seems
still claiming to be found
I'm trying to call out to you
but my breath can't form the sound
You said that you were feeling bad
and when I asked you why
you said it's because I sounded so sad
It's your hopelessness that makes me cry
'Cause you talk so big about things you would do
if your head found the right space
while you shelter yourself from the things that move you
and exhaust yourself by running in place
So you'll "do the right thing," and settle on in
to a life devoid of passion
but if you ever change your mind
I hope you'll find me once again
'Cause I think that we could break the rules
that feel wrong to obey
and turn the things we really feel
into the words we say
For now I have to let you go
I only wished to love you
Please know that it's already so
and that I'm thinking of you.
that I still need to believe in
You've relinqueshed all your power
let apathy creep on in
No longer charmed by magic
your brilliance has grown tired
I wish I could have known you
when you were still inspired
Sometimes I see it in your eyes
then you drown it with a drink
and close your mind to new ideas
that hurt too much to think
You closed your heart off to a love
that would have proven true
when all she ever wanted
was to bring life back to you.
You're beautiful... and lost it seems
still claiming to be found
I'm trying to call out to you
but my breath can't form the sound
You said that you were feeling bad
and when I asked you why
you said it's because I sounded so sad
It's your hopelessness that makes me cry
'Cause you talk so big about things you would do
if your head found the right space
while you shelter yourself from the things that move you
and exhaust yourself by running in place
So you'll "do the right thing," and settle on in
to a life devoid of passion
but if you ever change your mind
I hope you'll find me once again
'Cause I think that we could break the rules
that feel wrong to obey
and turn the things we really feel
into the words we say
For now I have to let you go
I only wished to love you
Please know that it's already so
and that I'm thinking of you.
Friday, November 26, 2004
lost and looking
I didn't know where I was
when I woke from my last dream.
I can barely hold together
what is fraying at the seams.
And I want to find a place to sleep
where chilling winds won't find me.
Where ghosts of memories have no more
power to remind me
where magic in the air will carry
the thoughts born in my head
to warm your lonely body
shivering in it's lonely bed.
And while the pain I'm feeling
calls out for reliefe,
dams show signs of spilling
from the pressure of my grief.
I walk softly in the aftermath,
the ground has turned to mud.
The only thing that's messier
is the status of my love.
And I don't know what I'm doing
or which direction's up.
The words I need to live have drown
in the bottom of my coffee cup.
And I'm looking for the strength to rise
to lead my own resistance.
But when clouds block the light from finding my eyes
I can't even be sure of my own existance.
And I might just up and leave this place.
if I do, don't be surprised.
I'll rest my bones untill my soul
has finally been re-energized.
And when I emerge from the wood work
with something that will blow your mind,
finally you'll realize
we're two of the same kind.
And as our bodies disintigrate
we're approaching our own death,
we'll shake the earth with every step
make wind with every breath.
And we'll find the beauty of our lives
from here until the grave
not in the things that we took from this world,
but in the love and the art that our two hearts gave.
when I woke from my last dream.
I can barely hold together
what is fraying at the seams.
And I want to find a place to sleep
where chilling winds won't find me.
Where ghosts of memories have no more
power to remind me
where magic in the air will carry
the thoughts born in my head
to warm your lonely body
shivering in it's lonely bed.
And while the pain I'm feeling
calls out for reliefe,
dams show signs of spilling
from the pressure of my grief.
I walk softly in the aftermath,
the ground has turned to mud.
The only thing that's messier
is the status of my love.
And I don't know what I'm doing
or which direction's up.
The words I need to live have drown
in the bottom of my coffee cup.
And I'm looking for the strength to rise
to lead my own resistance.
But when clouds block the light from finding my eyes
I can't even be sure of my own existance.
And I might just up and leave this place.
if I do, don't be surprised.
I'll rest my bones untill my soul
has finally been re-energized.
And when I emerge from the wood work
with something that will blow your mind,
finally you'll realize
we're two of the same kind.
And as our bodies disintigrate
we're approaching our own death,
we'll shake the earth with every step
make wind with every breath.
And we'll find the beauty of our lives
from here until the grave
not in the things that we took from this world,
but in the love and the art that our two hearts gave.
not just a man.
So on it goes
with a thought and a spin
weaving a yarn
just to write ourselves in
and our dreams are the lives
we put upon our pages
and whispered spells of fantasies
to summon our internal mages.....
Don't make light of me lover
because you know as well as I do
the fires that you need to burn
ignite from the things that inspire you
things that leave traces
like golden thread on pillows
a strain in your head
my sweet scent in your bed
it's in my nature to desire you.
I won't apologize for what's there
lurking in my heart
but the love that you betrayed must end
if this love is to start
and I think it might be plain to see
our spirits that are suffering
just might find something together
that we couldn't find apart.
with a thought and a spin
weaving a yarn
just to write ourselves in
and our dreams are the lives
we put upon our pages
and whispered spells of fantasies
to summon our internal mages.....
Don't make light of me lover
because you know as well as I do
the fires that you need to burn
ignite from the things that inspire you
things that leave traces
like golden thread on pillows
a strain in your head
my sweet scent in your bed
it's in my nature to desire you.
I won't apologize for what's there
lurking in my heart
but the love that you betrayed must end
if this love is to start
and I think it might be plain to see
our spirits that are suffering
just might find something together
that we couldn't find apart.
Tuesday, November 23, 2004
what do you want?
So I was standing in my kitchen this morning relating a current romantic fantasy to an ex lover. I can't say how the conversation got to where it did... but he looked at me and asked me, "so is that what you really want?" When I couldn't answer a firm positive, he scoffed and muttered something about how women never really know what they want. What I'm not convinced of, is that "what do you really want" is a fair question. To answer such a question firmly means that there is one outcome to your current set of circumstances that you would find most favorable. One situation that would make you happy, and an infinity of regretful ones. If I don't know what I want it is because I have come to understand that getting to what you most desire in life is a process. There is no instant gratification. Genuine fulfilment takes effort. I also know that getting closer to realizing your dreams is a long journey, and journeys are designed to change us along the way. I know that the things I desire most will change as my journey brings me closer to them. If I don't know what I want, it's because the context of the question contrasts so deeply with the perspective of the ultimate answer. The only place to go from here is to accept being lost and take joy in it. I'd rather be lost in a forest than find myself in a prison. And lost people can often find themselves in one another. Let's all change our assosiations. Lost, found... free or bound. What will it be Jack?
Sunday, November 21, 2004
sitting down to write a eulogy
With all the death I have experienced in my life, I have still never writen a eulogy that has satisfied me. No set of words arranged in some particular order have ever been able to convey what I feel inside when I loose someone I love. I've written plenty about broken hearts, but those heal with time, and writing about them is just part of that process. But you never really heal from death...... at least I never have.
There are two people inside me looking out at the world and often staring intently at one another. There is the writer, and the emotional self. The writer has been guilty more than once of subjecting the emotional self to people or situations that will be difficult for her to endure for the sake of good material. In fact the writers exploitation of the emotional self is at times almost criminal. Still, the emotional self is not defenseless. In the most extreme of circumstances, the emotional self has mastered the art of denial. She simply refuses to feel the emotions that give the writer her sense of depth and ritchness. The writer is unable to perform without access to these feelings, so when the emotional self shuts down, the writer becomes weak and helpless.
But without the writer, those tender feelings have no voice. She may close up out of stubborness, but ultimately she knows that she must open up to the writer again if she ever is to heal. For as much as they battle one another at times, ultimately they find they need one another. In fact, their co-dependancy has served as a terrible example for my own relationships.
We can see it taking place as I write.
I sat down to write a eulogy for my dog Angie who was put down due to severe suffering on Friday. I meant to write it that day. I meant to write it the next day. I intended to write it now.
But when I sat down, I realized that all I have access to are memories of her, but no feelings. I know she deserves better than this. I know my father deserved better than that horrible patchwork of moments and dull sentiment that I read at his funeral. I know my friend mojo deserved better than that half-assed poem I read to a room full of half drunk college kids. Ed's suicide left me with nothing but a bad metaphore about a train ride. The writer is now asking herself "what the fuck is wrong with me?"
So I intervene. I ask that the two make ammends and learn to be good for one another. But the emotional self is wounded and has trouble trusting the writer. At last she recognizes that the exchange could be a good release for her, and says that the writer should start with the memories, and perhaps some sentiment will be attached.
The writer is understanding, being fully aware of the pain she has created. She bows in acceptance of anything the emotional self is willing to give.
to be continued. ...........
There are two people inside me looking out at the world and often staring intently at one another. There is the writer, and the emotional self. The writer has been guilty more than once of subjecting the emotional self to people or situations that will be difficult for her to endure for the sake of good material. In fact the writers exploitation of the emotional self is at times almost criminal. Still, the emotional self is not defenseless. In the most extreme of circumstances, the emotional self has mastered the art of denial. She simply refuses to feel the emotions that give the writer her sense of depth and ritchness. The writer is unable to perform without access to these feelings, so when the emotional self shuts down, the writer becomes weak and helpless.
But without the writer, those tender feelings have no voice. She may close up out of stubborness, but ultimately she knows that she must open up to the writer again if she ever is to heal. For as much as they battle one another at times, ultimately they find they need one another. In fact, their co-dependancy has served as a terrible example for my own relationships.
We can see it taking place as I write.
I sat down to write a eulogy for my dog Angie who was put down due to severe suffering on Friday. I meant to write it that day. I meant to write it the next day. I intended to write it now.
But when I sat down, I realized that all I have access to are memories of her, but no feelings. I know she deserves better than this. I know my father deserved better than that horrible patchwork of moments and dull sentiment that I read at his funeral. I know my friend mojo deserved better than that half-assed poem I read to a room full of half drunk college kids. Ed's suicide left me with nothing but a bad metaphore about a train ride. The writer is now asking herself "what the fuck is wrong with me?"
So I intervene. I ask that the two make ammends and learn to be good for one another. But the emotional self is wounded and has trouble trusting the writer. At last she recognizes that the exchange could be a good release for her, and says that the writer should start with the memories, and perhaps some sentiment will be attached.
The writer is understanding, being fully aware of the pain she has created. She bows in acceptance of anything the emotional self is willing to give.
to be continued. ...........
Thursday, November 18, 2004
yesterday
Yesterday I took the day off to process some shit in my mind.
As part of the new "Action Jill" persona, I decided that even though I had called in to work depressed, I didn't have to stay home and wallow in it all day. I did do that for most of the day, but I also went and paid a visit to a place in Seattle called the Richard Hugo House. It's a place for writers that offers classes and workshops, hosts events and readings, has a theatre space for playrights, and a nice library with several computers.
You see, I'm trying to get more comfortable with sharing my work and accepting constructive criticism. I'm looking forward to participating at the Hugo House and once again finding a community of writers to share my passion with.
Check it out.
http://hugohouse.org/
As part of the new "Action Jill" persona, I decided that even though I had called in to work depressed, I didn't have to stay home and wallow in it all day. I did do that for most of the day, but I also went and paid a visit to a place in Seattle called the Richard Hugo House. It's a place for writers that offers classes and workshops, hosts events and readings, has a theatre space for playrights, and a nice library with several computers.
You see, I'm trying to get more comfortable with sharing my work and accepting constructive criticism. I'm looking forward to participating at the Hugo House and once again finding a community of writers to share my passion with.
Check it out.
http://hugohouse.org/
beliefe and skepticism.... truth and perception
Growing up I always thought of my mother as a believer, and my father as a skeptic. Now I am realizing that we are all a little of each. In fact they can not exist without one another. To be a believer one eventually runs up against ways to believe that contradict one another. Perhaps this is why so many sects of christianity exist. To believe strongly in one set of ideas often turns to strong skepticism of other ideas. On the reverse side, to be a skeptic you must also believe. The things you are skeptical of seem wrong in comparison to something else that seems more probable. So if you zoom out and take a look, you see a world in which there are an infinite number of ideas that we can either favor or reject, and billions of people representing billions of combinations of these ideas. If you were able to examine the hearts and minds of each human you would discover that their own set of genuine beliefs would be as unique as a zebras stripes.
When I was growing up, I thought of myself as a skeptic, but I wanted to believe in something. I was skeptical because I had not yet crossed paths with an idea or set of ideas that fit my own personal truth. I am coming to realize that truth is not a thing, it is an emotion. It is something that we feel when the world refelcted back to us jives with our own perceptions. There is not an absolute truth.... there is only our perceptions, and our feelings of truth.
These are not such profound ideas. In fact I'm sure they occur to most people at some point in their life when they are forced by circumstances to re-evaluate their beliefs. Why then is belief such a powerful force on our little planet? Why do beliefs have the power to create murderous rifts between segments of the human race? Why do so many of us take our beliefs, or our desire to believe to such extremes that they become dilusional? My theory is that everybody is consumed by two primary activities through out their existence. We are all just trying to survive this life and find some sense of meaning and purpose. When survival is difficult due to unfavorable circumstances, it can become the meaning on it's own. We honor survivors as heros in our culture. But in the ritchest most powerful nation in the world, most of us do not have to primarily concern ourselves with our own survival, so we look for meaning outside of ourselves.
Still, even when we find something to believe in, our skepticism often leaves us looking for validation. The desire to believe becomes the desire to belong. Perhaps this is why so many believe despite themselves. Then what happens is that because of their own inner skepticism, they become defensive of their views, and absolutely unwilling to hear any other ideas for fear they might feel truth where it is not appropriate, and loose the support of those with whom they belong.
In my life, I have come to a place where the things I believe come from the emotion of truth. They come from my experiences, my perceptions, and yes, my desires.
At the public access television station where I work, we have a program called "Star Born." It's a weekly astrology show put on by a woman named Karen Campbell. Over the years I have helped her set up her lights and her set, and she has gifted me with my own personal weekly astrology reading. It was novel at first. But as my world grew increasingly complicated, and the need for perspective became greater I looked forward to these readings more and more. They became more complex, and at the same time more accurate as time went on. I thought about the concepts behind it, and realized that the idea that the universe and all it's planets and their magnetic pulls can influence beings made mostly of water the same way they manipulate the tides is not only probable in my view, but beautiful and poetic. So I am a believer. When I look towards the heavans, I see the celestial bodies, and I believe in their influence over my life and use it to help guide me. Perhaps some of it comes from my desire to believe. Like now I am looking forward to Venus moving into Scorpio because it is supposed to bring me luck with love, particularly with another water sign. I have a crush on a man who is a cancer, so the belief that the stars will help bring us together gives me something to look forward to. I suppose looking forward to eternal paradise after death might have the same effect on christians. Much of my believe in astrology comes from my knowledge of astronomy. The planets can answer my personal questions, while science helps to answer the larger ones such as the origin of the existance of the universe. But at some point, even science comes back to faith. If you believe in the big bang theory, then you must just accept that the gasses that caused the explosion that created all matter just existed on their own. They just were. If you are a christian and believe that some divine male archetype created the universe, you may struggle with the concept of who created this god, and come to the faith that he just is.
So when you take any philosphy to it's logical conclusion..... all the way back to the how and the why of it, the truth is that nobody knows. It just is. That is all. there is no greater meaning other than those that we create for ourselves. There is only our belief, our skepticism, and our perceptions of the truth. We are here to survive, and find meaning and beauty in our lives.
But if we are to live peacably amongst eachother in this life, we must grant one another the right to our own personal truths.... our fingerprint. If you feel the need to force your truth on others, it is because you are secretly skeptical and looking for validation. If you believe from your heart, your beliefs might change and evolve over time, but they will never need validation.
So, believe when you want to
Doubt when you need to
Call it truth when it feels right
Percieve the world through your own view.
I love you.
-Jill
When I was growing up, I thought of myself as a skeptic, but I wanted to believe in something. I was skeptical because I had not yet crossed paths with an idea or set of ideas that fit my own personal truth. I am coming to realize that truth is not a thing, it is an emotion. It is something that we feel when the world refelcted back to us jives with our own perceptions. There is not an absolute truth.... there is only our perceptions, and our feelings of truth.
These are not such profound ideas. In fact I'm sure they occur to most people at some point in their life when they are forced by circumstances to re-evaluate their beliefs. Why then is belief such a powerful force on our little planet? Why do beliefs have the power to create murderous rifts between segments of the human race? Why do so many of us take our beliefs, or our desire to believe to such extremes that they become dilusional? My theory is that everybody is consumed by two primary activities through out their existence. We are all just trying to survive this life and find some sense of meaning and purpose. When survival is difficult due to unfavorable circumstances, it can become the meaning on it's own. We honor survivors as heros in our culture. But in the ritchest most powerful nation in the world, most of us do not have to primarily concern ourselves with our own survival, so we look for meaning outside of ourselves.
Still, even when we find something to believe in, our skepticism often leaves us looking for validation. The desire to believe becomes the desire to belong. Perhaps this is why so many believe despite themselves. Then what happens is that because of their own inner skepticism, they become defensive of their views, and absolutely unwilling to hear any other ideas for fear they might feel truth where it is not appropriate, and loose the support of those with whom they belong.
In my life, I have come to a place where the things I believe come from the emotion of truth. They come from my experiences, my perceptions, and yes, my desires.
At the public access television station where I work, we have a program called "Star Born." It's a weekly astrology show put on by a woman named Karen Campbell. Over the years I have helped her set up her lights and her set, and she has gifted me with my own personal weekly astrology reading. It was novel at first. But as my world grew increasingly complicated, and the need for perspective became greater I looked forward to these readings more and more. They became more complex, and at the same time more accurate as time went on. I thought about the concepts behind it, and realized that the idea that the universe and all it's planets and their magnetic pulls can influence beings made mostly of water the same way they manipulate the tides is not only probable in my view, but beautiful and poetic. So I am a believer. When I look towards the heavans, I see the celestial bodies, and I believe in their influence over my life and use it to help guide me. Perhaps some of it comes from my desire to believe. Like now I am looking forward to Venus moving into Scorpio because it is supposed to bring me luck with love, particularly with another water sign. I have a crush on a man who is a cancer, so the belief that the stars will help bring us together gives me something to look forward to. I suppose looking forward to eternal paradise after death might have the same effect on christians. Much of my believe in astrology comes from my knowledge of astronomy. The planets can answer my personal questions, while science helps to answer the larger ones such as the origin of the existance of the universe. But at some point, even science comes back to faith. If you believe in the big bang theory, then you must just accept that the gasses that caused the explosion that created all matter just existed on their own. They just were. If you are a christian and believe that some divine male archetype created the universe, you may struggle with the concept of who created this god, and come to the faith that he just is.
So when you take any philosphy to it's logical conclusion..... all the way back to the how and the why of it, the truth is that nobody knows. It just is. That is all. there is no greater meaning other than those that we create for ourselves. There is only our belief, our skepticism, and our perceptions of the truth. We are here to survive, and find meaning and beauty in our lives.
But if we are to live peacably amongst eachother in this life, we must grant one another the right to our own personal truths.... our fingerprint. If you feel the need to force your truth on others, it is because you are secretly skeptical and looking for validation. If you believe from your heart, your beliefs might change and evolve over time, but they will never need validation.
So, believe when you want to
Doubt when you need to
Call it truth when it feels right
Percieve the world through your own view.
I love you.
-Jill
Wednesday, November 17, 2004
and so.....
And so I found myself on a large boat known as the Kingston/Edmonds ferry.
I went up to the deck and looked out over the water, but the sky was so black I could only make out the sea by the sound and the smell of it. Oh yes..... that's right it was a new moon.
The new moon is a great time for renewal. The night before I had burned sage in my room.... particularly in one corner where a pocket of the previous tenants energy had become trapped. I had left it there for a long time because it was comforting to me. But his presance mixed with his absence was unbearable at times, and I knew I needed to move on. I burned the smudge stick, salted the windows, and wished the presance a peaceful escape from the room. I haven't felt him there in my sleep since then, but the memories created in that space are still with me.
I arrived in Port Angeles around nine o'clock. Played some pool at a local tavern and conversed with a group of boys who were too young to be there legally. When I woke up in my hotel the next morning, I had the familiar sensation of not having any idea where I was. In a hotel room there are few ques to bring you mentally to where you are physically. I took me longer than usual to become oriented. After some breakfast, I headed west again to the olympic hotsprings.
Bathing oneself in the earths waters is, in my view, an essential element to any renewal process. In the past I have done this by going surfing, but I was recovering from a cold, and felt that the warmth and stillness would be better than cold and rough water for this particular cleansing.
Having had no real idea of where I was going when I set out on my journey, I hadn't prepared well for the hike. I had no money to pay the parks entrance fee, no water, and only a single pear for food. Luckily for me, the hitchiker I picked up in the park had a pass, plenty of water, and a lunch that he didn't mind sharing with my measly little appetite. We hiked together to my destination (which was a little out of his way) and shared the kind of conversation you can only have with a complete stranger when your away from home. I was looking for solitude, but found his company so enjoyable that it didn't make sense to send him away. We relaxed in the spring together, had a nice picnic, and shared stories of our traveling adventures. In the car, and on the trail, I hadn't looked at his face much. But now sitting accross from him, I realized that he had an amazing resemblance to Harrison Ford. I thought about asking..... but decided that if I were him, and I were a celebrity, I would really be enjoying having a real moment with a real person who had no idea who I was. I left it at that. Soon it was time to say our goodbyes and go our seperate ways. I enjoyed the return hike at my own pace.... limping slightly from the blisters forming on the bottoms of my feet. Just when I felt I couldn't walk much further, I turned the bend and found my horseless chariot awaiting me.
I went up to the deck and looked out over the water, but the sky was so black I could only make out the sea by the sound and the smell of it. Oh yes..... that's right it was a new moon.
The new moon is a great time for renewal. The night before I had burned sage in my room.... particularly in one corner where a pocket of the previous tenants energy had become trapped. I had left it there for a long time because it was comforting to me. But his presance mixed with his absence was unbearable at times, and I knew I needed to move on. I burned the smudge stick, salted the windows, and wished the presance a peaceful escape from the room. I haven't felt him there in my sleep since then, but the memories created in that space are still with me.
I arrived in Port Angeles around nine o'clock. Played some pool at a local tavern and conversed with a group of boys who were too young to be there legally. When I woke up in my hotel the next morning, I had the familiar sensation of not having any idea where I was. In a hotel room there are few ques to bring you mentally to where you are physically. I took me longer than usual to become oriented. After some breakfast, I headed west again to the olympic hotsprings.
Bathing oneself in the earths waters is, in my view, an essential element to any renewal process. In the past I have done this by going surfing, but I was recovering from a cold, and felt that the warmth and stillness would be better than cold and rough water for this particular cleansing.
Having had no real idea of where I was going when I set out on my journey, I hadn't prepared well for the hike. I had no money to pay the parks entrance fee, no water, and only a single pear for food. Luckily for me, the hitchiker I picked up in the park had a pass, plenty of water, and a lunch that he didn't mind sharing with my measly little appetite. We hiked together to my destination (which was a little out of his way) and shared the kind of conversation you can only have with a complete stranger when your away from home. I was looking for solitude, but found his company so enjoyable that it didn't make sense to send him away. We relaxed in the spring together, had a nice picnic, and shared stories of our traveling adventures. In the car, and on the trail, I hadn't looked at his face much. But now sitting accross from him, I realized that he had an amazing resemblance to Harrison Ford. I thought about asking..... but decided that if I were him, and I were a celebrity, I would really be enjoying having a real moment with a real person who had no idea who I was. I left it at that. Soon it was time to say our goodbyes and go our seperate ways. I enjoyed the return hike at my own pace.... limping slightly from the blisters forming on the bottoms of my feet. Just when I felt I couldn't walk much further, I turned the bend and found my horseless chariot awaiting me.
Tuesday, November 16, 2004
good morning
I slept well last night, minus the noise in my head from being too tired to stay awake and write it all down. It's fine..... made for some interesting dreams.
Speaking of dreams, I want to relay a little series of events that came from a dream.
My friend had just given me a dose of tough love....
told me to quit sitting around feeling sorry for myself and do something.... go somewhere.... anything. I had been depressed, hadn't felt motivated to leave my bed, didn't feel like anything short of him adorning me with sympathy and love would help. It really pissed me off when he hit me point-blank with the truth. It wasn't his love I needed more of. That is always there. What I needed was a little dose of self-love. To learn to enjoy my own company again. To not accept that lonliness is an inherent part of being alone.
That night I had a dream in which I sat down at a poker table and laid it all down. All or nothing. I wasn't just betting money, I was betting my life.... my heart and soul.... all or nothing. I felt so lost that I needed to hand my fate over to someone else. I felt so broken, but inside shined the tiniest glow of hope that by making this gamble.... by putting it all out on the table.... perhaps the universe would find a place for me.
Four cards were delt. I picked them up all at once and looked at the spread. I held in my fingers a divine hand, but I didn't know what it meant. In front of my eyes I beheld the three of each suit..... only something was different. The three of diamonds for example, had a three in each corner with a little diamond underneith.... but in the center there were none. Instead one of each suit was represented. you had a heart, a spade and a club in a diagonal line. Each of the other suits had the same situation so that all suits were represented equally in the total hand.
I laid the cards down and looked up at the dealer. she had turned into a gypsy and she looked at my cards and smiled. All suits, she said...... all possibility.
All possibility!
Those words rolled around in my brain as I stumbled toward conciousness.
I awoke to a beautiful Saturday morning.... through a backpack with a change of clothes, some good literature, and my journals into the car, grabbed my guitar, and pointed myself west.
To be continued.......
Speaking of dreams, I want to relay a little series of events that came from a dream.
My friend had just given me a dose of tough love....
told me to quit sitting around feeling sorry for myself and do something.... go somewhere.... anything. I had been depressed, hadn't felt motivated to leave my bed, didn't feel like anything short of him adorning me with sympathy and love would help. It really pissed me off when he hit me point-blank with the truth. It wasn't his love I needed more of. That is always there. What I needed was a little dose of self-love. To learn to enjoy my own company again. To not accept that lonliness is an inherent part of being alone.
That night I had a dream in which I sat down at a poker table and laid it all down. All or nothing. I wasn't just betting money, I was betting my life.... my heart and soul.... all or nothing. I felt so lost that I needed to hand my fate over to someone else. I felt so broken, but inside shined the tiniest glow of hope that by making this gamble.... by putting it all out on the table.... perhaps the universe would find a place for me.
Four cards were delt. I picked them up all at once and looked at the spread. I held in my fingers a divine hand, but I didn't know what it meant. In front of my eyes I beheld the three of each suit..... only something was different. The three of diamonds for example, had a three in each corner with a little diamond underneith.... but in the center there were none. Instead one of each suit was represented. you had a heart, a spade and a club in a diagonal line. Each of the other suits had the same situation so that all suits were represented equally in the total hand.
I laid the cards down and looked up at the dealer. she had turned into a gypsy and she looked at my cards and smiled. All suits, she said...... all possibility.
All possibility!
Those words rolled around in my brain as I stumbled toward conciousness.
I awoke to a beautiful Saturday morning.... through a backpack with a change of clothes, some good literature, and my journals into the car, grabbed my guitar, and pointed myself west.
To be continued.......
Monday, November 15, 2004
here it is....
First of all I'd like to express my appreciation for the good friends (see blog links below) who inspired me to use this medium to help get me moving forward. It will serve as a homebase for my own personal resistance, a place to view writing that would otherwise sit in a pretty little book by my bed unseen by human eyes, and a sort of Darwinian journal monitoring the evolution of my human condition.
Let's face it.... we are up against a lot right now. Misguided rage and apathy are the extremes that have gotten the human race to where it is today. I'm hoping this blogging experience will help make my anger productive, and retire my apathy.
I'm going to post some poetry soon, but kind of wanted to wait till I figure out the audio posting thing so people can hear my work as it's meant to be heard.
for now, you can see several of my poems by going to http://www.voicesinwartime.org/voicesinwartime/ or http://poetry.com/ and searching Jillian Rood. There has been a lot of frustration lately as to how to best focus my energy.... how to turn talk into action. From this moment forward I vow to begin moving forward on the ideas that live in my head. However, I won't post things I plan to do, only things I'm actually doing. For now I'm starting a blog.
http://chrisopherblue.blogspot.com/
http://actionasdreamkiller.blogspot.com/
Let's face it.... we are up against a lot right now. Misguided rage and apathy are the extremes that have gotten the human race to where it is today. I'm hoping this blogging experience will help make my anger productive, and retire my apathy.
I'm going to post some poetry soon, but kind of wanted to wait till I figure out the audio posting thing so people can hear my work as it's meant to be heard.
for now, you can see several of my poems by going to http://www.voicesinwartime.org/voicesinwartime/ or http://poetry.com/ and searching Jillian Rood. There has been a lot of frustration lately as to how to best focus my energy.... how to turn talk into action. From this moment forward I vow to begin moving forward on the ideas that live in my head. However, I won't post things I plan to do, only things I'm actually doing. For now I'm starting a blog.
http://chrisopherblue.blogspot.com/
http://actionasdreamkiller.blogspot.com/
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