Wednesday, December 31, 2008

thank god it is almost over

In the words of one of my more sympathetic correspondents, it has turned out to be an 'Annus Horribilis'. I suspect that I am not alone in thinking it so. (On 24 November 1992 The Queen gave a speech at Guildhall to mark the 40th anniversary of her Accession. In it The Queen referred to recent events as part of an 'annus horribilis'.)

I'm with the Queen on that.

Thank god the year is over.

Oddly, my spiritual death began this time last year, on this very day.

Although not optimstic, truth be told, one can only hope (lessly or not) that 2009 promise some small improvement ...

s.

Monday, December 29, 2008

Sleep

I awake abruptly, completely.

My jaw aches, the grinding echo of my anxiety throbbing in the closeness of the room. I reach, knowing, and feel you gone.

I lie quiet in the smothering embrace of an empty room and feel hot acid tears etch their way down the softness of the skin at the outside corner of my eye, and snake, tickling into the curls at the side of my head.

My jaw aches, my teeth throbbing and sore. I realize that I don’t sleep really, that part of me, like a feral animal lies awake ever watchful, cautious, hiding behind the facade of rest, crouching in the shadows pooling at the back of a hidden crevasse, anticipating, waiting, for the next attack.

Instinct is like that.

Rationality can debate and argue certain realities, certain apparently inescapable fact; but instinct is from the reptile part of our brain, the ancient, dark primitive part; in its own way, uncontrollable because instinct removes itself from emotion and rationality and instead just reacts... and ultimately instinct bases its cautiousness on the realty of experience and thus, in the cloying embrace of darkness, I await with a despairing knowledge of the inevitability of your wrath.

At the end of it all, my rest is shallow, any true sleep escapes me. I sense your presence leaving and then the hot breath of your body when it returns.

I wonder where you wander in your midnight excursions. What thoughts and emotions cloud and roil in your mind and heart and where your fingers bring you in your angst and despair.

I think of G. and how we shake our heads in disbelief at what we perceive to be his delusions and yet, here in the lonely expanse of bed, I see that delusions are something each of us embraces. We dance, you and I, around the seething mass of rage and suppressed emotions that ooze like a putrid puddle of silent screams in the corner of the room. We wade through the noxious clinging excretions every single day and like G., smile and pretend the burning, acid tendrils of regret and accusation, of belief and knowledge, do not exist, surreptitiously, frantically, brushing off the sticky, cloying folds of its implacable reality.

I have never managed, despite all my struggles, to free my voice, which flutters beneath the pale column of my throat like a captive spirit. When the small trilling of the possibility of escape has sighed through my want, I have felt your fear batter it into a frightened retreat.

Like the flesh which smothers me in noxious folds of rejection, I feel the swelling blister of unspoken words roiling beneath the prison of your frantic deafness.

I think, like him, you hide behind a facade of normalcy and cling with desperate fingers to the splinter of fantastical fabrication you have created to survive.

My tongue, unbidden, seeks the hollow of the crumbling reality of my anxiety made flesh and I find it in myself to marvel at the complexity of the human spirit and its ability to weave lies into the fabric of reality as if the truths were real.

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Rolling Stones - Time Waits For No One


How do you define yourself?

Do you perceive and accept your faults and foibles? Do you reject the little quirks that are so essentially a part of your nature that to suppress them would be to change the essence of self?

The older I get the more I realize how intricate a creature is the human species. Rational in many ways, our irrationality (also an intrinsic part of our personalities) drives us into behaviours we abhor, controls us like puppets, binds us about with self-imposed rules and isolates us from what our emotional and spiritual beings crave.

Our sexuality, for instance, is such a compelling part of our basic makeup- probably one of the most fundamental urges is to procreate and engage in pleasure ... yet from time immemorial we have bound this natural urge about with rules and strictures, hung emotional angst on its basic need and created sometimes insurmountable barriers to the simple enjoyment of sex.

The reality is that influences in our lives create a want and need in us – and in the way of the beast, we second-guess, decipher, deconstruct and create issues about our “wants” until we have created in our minds a dysfunctional creature to be suppressed, denied and derided...and in the process, destroying an essential part of our psyche, thrusting it down deep into the innermost recesses of our minds and denying it egress to the daylight world.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Time clicks away the moments of our lives, one second at a time, eating away the fabric of our realities and nibbling into oblivion and chaos the moments that might have been.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Every moment we live disappears forever in the unwinding ribbon of reality which vanishes behind us. It cannot be recaptured nor relived; memories only are the legacy of risks taken and efforts made. Time is fluid yet inevitable. It erodes our possibilities as surely as our failure to seize the moment which lies within our grasp is a monumental mistake that cannot be rectified ever.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

For every inaction there is a reaction. For every reaction, there is a consequence.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Constant naval-gazing and introspection can provide a semblance of movement that in the end, proves misleading and eats time as effectively as the rotation of the sun.

And the other truth is that with the minute erosion of time against the reality of your soul, there are changes- overt and subtle – the flux of dynamics which are inevitable and insidious. “Truths” themselves are not inviolate but subjective – and how your perceptions arise, play out and then flow into oblivion are as real as the ticking away of day into night. And perhaps the very worst thing is not to do anything at all. For as you stand frozen, life flows around you and the flux and eddy of other lives crash up against the stone of your obliviousness and then part and find another path ....for that is the nature of the river of life ...to find a path and flow ...

I grasp the rich tapestry of my sexuality to myself, pulling the crimson swollen want around me like a cloak, enveloping and comforting, but in the aridness of its embrace I sense the echoing of lost opportunities. I gaze ahead and dread the bleakness of a future where erosion of want and being wanted creates arroyos of despair and austerity.

On a lighter note ... Reindeer Dogs!






and then there is the GINORMOUS Xmas Tree in our tiny living room ..

Monday, December 15, 2008

Believe

Secrets.

I despise them.

Like a creeping form of cancer, they burrow deep within the soul and heart of a person, attaching themselves to the essential reality of existence, moving furtively beneath the surface, unseen but not unfelt. Insidious, creeping abominations, destroyers of hope and possibilities, berserkers who lurk unseen until the optimum moment when they leap out to destroy hard-won equilibrium, to destroy the fa├žade of contentment and reveal the paucity of truth.

I fucking HATE lies. I’m not talking stupid lies – lies where you tell someone you paid $40 when it was $100 or that you did something you said you would do, but hadn’t (but you really DID mean to and WILL). I’m talking REAL lies – lies that hurt and rend and tear when the reality bites occur … AND reality ALWAYS bites.

Lies and trust are inextricably entwined… one destroys the other.

And there are, in MY view, lies of omission. When you know there is something NOT being told, something not being volunteered or offered for discussion, lies of omission are almost worst. Because it allows the individual to feel they are “not lying” but merely choosing not to tell. When the reality is that actions where omission is practiced, deliberately, with forethought, with full knowledge that one is NOT telling because one is unable to vomit the secret which is choking them … are LIES nonetheless.

Despair envelopes me with a smothering cloak of despondency. The cycle of life… the turn of the wheel, I remember this place so very well. I thought the wheel had turned and this grey miasma of desolation left behind, but here we are, back again in the familiar environs of a bleak room and looking around, I detect the detritus of other days and other nights and scent the clinging, malevolent effluence of rotting promises.

I’m stronger now though.

That’s a good thing isn’t it?

I can see clearly now … of course I always question the veracity of my own conclusions; I second-guess and wonder if indeed the things I see are indeed there, concrete and inescapable or merely figments from an overactive imagination. When your entire belief system has been systematically eroded and destroyed over time, when realities you thought absolute truth are revealed for the flimsy creation of myth and creationism they in reality ARE, then it is increasingly difficult to find any reason at all to believe in anything at all.

As trite as it seems, trust needs a solid foundation of truths on which to build.

When those “truths” have been revealed again and again to be a fabric of supposition and fantasy, then the foundation is inevitably fragile and unstable.

and not something on which to build.

I want to build. I want to believe. But damn its hard when the “truths” you know are there, have never been revealed. When the names have never been named … and the realities never revealed. So how do you build on a foundation as liquid and unstable as bog?

Monday, December 8, 2008

Storms

Snow stings colour into cheeks flushed from the exertion of morning routine. Night clings, its charcoal breath glowing in the refracted paleness of fresh snow which crunches beneath my boots. Despite the arctic breath of winter which exhales stinging sleet against exposed flesh, I breathe deep and relish the nip as frigid air slashes into my lungs reminding me I am alive.

Memories. Random thoughts of time and remembrances of past times of good and bad. Odd how certain tastes, smells, visions trigger them. Many of mine, oddly, are winter memories.

Like a mantra, my mind revisits certain scenes of my youth. I close my eyes and raise my face to the snow which spills down in a glittering rainbow of cold light which shatters against my face and arches into the roiling storm of wind to be whipped up again into the grumbling dark sky.

A quiet moment on a pristine Maritime night when the snow lay deep and untouched and the sound of our boots in the frosted hushed midnight hour created such a painfully poignant sense of our isolation in a world of our own that to this day, I remember his hand in mine, the warmth of his breath against the cold of my cheek, then his tongue, hot and fervid against my mouth. I remember the feel of the cold clapboard of the house against my back as he burrowed beneath the tattered, ratty fur of my ancient, Salvation Army coat, his fingers cool at my waist, making me shiver. Then his cool palm against the aching, swollen tip of my warm breast, cupping and squeezing the soft, firm flesh, pulling the aching need from between my trembling thighs, his body against mine, his breath hot and moist and his teeth against my neck ….

We were young then, he and I, with all the complicated, interwoven threads of our lives still to be lived yet already with a twisted skein of memories and experiences already shared, reaching back into a past unravelling into thought and belief.

Life is not static. It is not silent nor simplistic. The apparent sameness of days which roll one into another and leach away the spontaneity of thought and movement are an illusion for each moment of time which ticks away the reality of existence and nibbles another second from my mortality are unique and in their static brilliance, endless. Each brings with it a drop of possibility and pushes its nanosecond of reality into the weave of what becomes the now.

I find it curious, affirming even, to see that others struggle too with the tumbling stream of time and the vistas which each twist brings to our wondering eyes.

The simple reality is that we cannot put ourselves nor others into motionless moments of existence and expect those moments to be always. The nature of life itself is change, endlessly compromised and created second by second, impacted and shaped into uniqueness by our own experiences and the impact of our lives with others in this odd world in which we exist.

Which is always why I found it so questionable when I saw absolute statements being made. When people created chess pieces out of the throbbing, complicated reality of a human being and thought determination and desire and hope would make that piece move in the direction desired.

So many times over the years have my hard-won belief systems been shattered, leaving me disillusioned and broken among the detritus of broken dreams. Yet somehow, you pick yourself up and painfully piece together the remnants of thought and emotion and as the glue hardens, the essence of the individual sparks new possibilities and hope and in the quintessential nature of the human beast, slowly moves forward yet again.

The reality is that there are no absolutes in this world; there are NO promises that can’t be broken nor dreams that can’t be destroyed. Perfect relationships do not exist and perfect people are an illusion and to my way of thinking, an abomination.

My eyes sting as the arctic wind licks hurt into their green depths. I release the leashes and the dogs bound up the steps to the door, gambolling and prancing and nipping each other’s flanks. I stand in the gloaming dark of the early morning and slowly unzip my coat. My hand goes to my waist and feels the soft flesh of my belly then pushes up and under the wire of my bra until I cup the hot warmth of my breast and staring out into the glittering river of snow, rivulets of snow streaming from a roiling sky. I feel my flesh in the cool of my palm and watch as the pale tip reddens then contracts into a hot aching need and remember other nights and sighing, release my flesh and turn and follow the dogs into the warmth of the house and to him.

Thursday, December 4, 2008

Ache

As I plunge into the morass of mud and subterfuge that is the web, I see the euphemisms and pretence and find it contemptible. justifications, narcissistic self-pity, dismay at covert action cloaked in a smug self-pitying want …

In many instances, it is a supreme example of our naval-gazing, self-obsessed society.

For somehow, the generation that glorified friendship, acceptance and the doctrine of following your heart has created subsequent generations of selfish consumerist grasping “have to have it and have it now” individuals who can find endless excuses as to why they are not “cheating” … that see in their need for an ever-expanding sexual repertoire and in their quest for the ultimate excitement and exploration of those hidden corridors of mind and heart, a necessary and ultimately justifiable reason to betray.

I see the same self-justifications over and over again – “he doesn’t understand me”, “she doesn’t give me what I need”, “I’ve tried, but she doesn’t ‘get” me”…. excuses! And then you see the feint and gamble, the repartee and innuendo and sometimes, the outright almost smug admittance of an affair.

I don’t care if someone wants a damn affair.

If they choose to betray someone to whom they committed.

If they choose the flickering insubstantial flame of an internet affair to the solid reality of flesh and blood, of history and promise.

But don’t pretend it is anything other than a scratch you want itched.

Don’t try to dress it up as something internally so needful that without it you will explode, self-destruct, wither away.

The reality is that it is a CHOICE – one you make rationally or otherwise- one the repercussions of which you must live with – and if “outed” that your family must live with.

and from my perspective it is as inimical and destructive as any flesh on flesh affair.

There is an element of pity in me for those individuals who choose the insubstantial amphorous nature of an online “relationship” over the reality of a solid foundation, because I am very cognizant of the fragile nature of our human psyche and, here in the waning aftermath of endless accusations and a 4 year emotional bloodbath, I find my tolerance both less and more.

More, because I look around and I see the reality of those who have strayed and the terrible emotional toll it takes on them, their families and on their lives. And the bottom line is that I hate seeing people hurt – the ones who caused the hurt and the ones who are hurting because of another’s choices.

I find it particularly inimical because of events occurring in the periphery of my life that have had (are having), nonetheless, a rather massive impact on my own. Events transpiring which have opened wounds not yet healed, dug deep sharp claws into emotions still raw, that have in their tragedy, such an element of familiarity it is frightening.

But the same motivation that made this person cheat were generated in part by the behaviour of someone...which eerily and horrifically reflect the worst behaviour of someone close to me. Detritus of a damaged psyche.... aftermath of abuse and emotional horror. Destroying all these years later the best of who they are – and echoing through the years to destroy any good they have tried to grasp in their own, now mature, lives.

I can even grasp to some extent the perfidy - the constant emotional barrage, the stalking, the lurking intimations of rage and underlying suffocating need are emotionally and supremely difficult to deal with... BUT

I find my tolerance is less, as well because, bottom line, each of us makes choices - I have always felt and believed and continue to, that if one gets to the point where one seeks intimacy, seeks love and friendship and caring OUTSIDE your relationship, then it is time to move on ... but move ON.. not TO - I think it a HUGE mistake to move from one relationship directly into another ..... you are (to my mind) seeking escape, not making a rational choice.

The bottom line is that each of us must find in ourselves the strength and conviction of our own worth, then couple it with the ability to find grace in inner strength and ability, to understand that peace and contentment comes from within and should never be placed entirely in the hands of another individual. That while of course, a committed, caring, loving and deeply passionate relationship can bring great joy, true happiness can only occur when you are comfortable in your own skin.

Tuesday, December 2, 2008

I LIKE americans - so THERE

So had a GREAT visit to my sister who resides in the gorgeous Poconos in Pennsylvania - and here are a few of my favourite things ...

Manners - USA Rocks

Seriously , not sure WHY Canadians have the rep for being "polite" - my kids and I were constantly giving each other the "look" as yet ANOTHER American held open a door, smiled, chatted in a non-stalkerish but friendly manner, said "go ahead" ... we were like WOW!!

Now, granted in the polyglot of cultures, races, religions and ethnics that make up Toronto, we've become somewhat jaded ...for frankly, a LOT of cultures sure don't' have ANY concept of "politeness" but more a viewpoint that if you don't TAKE, you won't GET .... and manners are wasted .. so it was immensely refreshing to once again revisit what used to be the norm....

Portion Sizes

But hey, dear Americans - WHAT is up with the PORTION sizes???? I asked for a medium coffee and got the equivalent of an EXTRA LARGE in Canada. Politely, I say in my Canadian way- sorry, I ONLY asked for a Medium - ...well, apparently that IS a medium. Now if those type of portions were limited to black coffee with a sweetener (how I take it) - then it would hardly be a big thing ... but translate that into fries, burgers, POP and all the other mindless, calorie crunching, non-nutritious, deadly crap OUT THERE and you are talking MAJOR health problems ... no wonder so many people I saw were larger than life! The problem with those types of portions is they become the "norm" and they are almost inevitably BAD for you.

Coffee

and while I'm bitching ... WHERE are all the coffee shops??? As a card-carrying Canadian citizen, I require a coffee infusion roughly, every couple of hours - I went for HOURS and HOURS without access to an easily accessible off-road coffee shop! Wake up and smell the COFFEE - Coffee is a MAJOR food group!!

Scenery

We came down past Rochester, through Syracuse, and spent a good part of our time in gorgeous New York State - what an incredibly gorgeous place! I felt like I was in Trapped in Paradise! Picture perfect farms and little towns, with storybook homes festooned with Christmas lights, snow on the ground (but roads dry)... it was so utterly lovely! And then into the mountains of Pennsylvania with its winding roads, and gorgeous trees, little hamlets and vistas that took my breath ...

just one bitch ...

HUNTERS ... are they REALLY allowed to shoot so damn close to the road? They were like cockroaches in the woods we passed ... orange vests alight between the starkness of grey trees denuded of leaves and leaf-strewn meandering paths - I swear to GOD we counted at least 150 hunters just through ONE stretch... Kealin was like "mum, isn't a little dangerous if they SHOOT so close??" - umm. YES, one would think so!

Gas

DEFINITELY way cheaper BUT... confused the hell out of us. All I can say is there has to be be a lot of Americans who steal gas! I mean, we had to pay upfront! THEN pump... very weird. We kept trying to swipe our debit card, then they told us we had to tell them how much and they would charge our credit card??? I don't KNOW how much - and just to give you an idea- doug initially said better give it $50 as we were under quarter tank ... it took $23!!! Weird - but ominous in a way as it suggests a lot of dishonesty happening ....

Black Friday wasn't

Not something I was interested in but my kids were - dropped them off, crazy insane lineups but truth? Prices were almost identical to Canada - EXCEPT add the 25% exchange rate and things were MORE expensive ... People where we were (Scranton, Penn) were fine according to the kids ... apparently the poor bastard security guard trampled to death as the crowds broke down the doors in Long Island wasn't so lucky - I'm still appalled and disgusted; same for the idiots that pulled out guns and shot each other in Toys r Us .. but thank god - except for what I noticed was MASSIVE security, no issues at all where we brought the kids.

Overall, a very enjoyable trip to the States - even the quizzing going over the border was tolerable although made me feel like a criminal!