Booklust

So even though I'm off the buying of the books, I do still browse. I have a list of books I'm interested in obtaining, either through borrowing or direct purchase.

And I wonder about this list. I'm eager to maintain it, look at it, wonder about the goodness (or lack thereof) contained within the pages referenced. And I wonder how is this *at all* keeping the spirit of the Fast?

The fast is not about self deprivation, but drawing closer to God. It's not about what I do or don't give up, it's about resisting the passions that separate me from God.

But *I'm* doing it all. I've become this proud little big dieting person who's also not buying books or music instead of one who is fasting and refusing the passions. My greed is as strong as ever. Prayer is something I can hardly focus on, for all my lazy desires. I'm as cursatory and rude as ever, likely worse than I care to acknowledge. I'm weak and I don't know how to affect change from within, though I can perform on the outside just fine.

Fr. James says healing is natural, that we don't have to fight or command it, that we are designed to be healed.

I am still trying to force it and I don't know how to do otherwise.

лорд имеет пощаду

Eeeeek!

Les is coming for a visit! Oh how I hope and pray to have a few moments with her. Just to be - nothing big or formal. I've so strongly felt her presence, prayers, and care for me over the last months even though our words are few and our distance is great. She knows more than I this life of devotion and I so cherish her love and friendship.

It's funny, as I find feeling returning to my spirit after a long, dry, numb period, I am so drawn towards the things of God, the Church, and her life in a genuine way I have not known since the early days of my journey to Orthodoxy. Actually it's not so funny as it is humbling. I had thought myself beyond being able to return. Not that I have humbled myself as the prodigal, the thief, or the sinful woman by any means, but I recognize the pull of the Lord on my heart. May this lenten journey be a time of learning to truly repent. Psalm 51 is the song of my heart today.

Pitter patter goes the heart

The only thing that keeps me from him is our religions. He is embedded in his and I in mine. We can admire one another from where we are but neither will move to the other's world. Perhaps I would have a year ago, but not now. What's mine is too hard fought to give up for that which I do not truly believe.

Well, that and he's a Texan. A thoughtful, generous, honorable Texan, but one in Texas nonetheless. I would only go to Texas after a lobotomy. (At least I'm honest?)

I had to learn the hard way to let her pass by, let her pass by.

Timety time time time

Self is guilty so take no ranting as being directed anywhere but here first.

I read an article today about how if we ate like the French, we'd not be so obese as a nation. The article was actually a reaction to another that stated such. In the one I read first hand, the author basically poo-poo'd the idea, saying that we in our busy society have no time to sit down and enjoy a meal, let alone prepare one from either scratch or close.

As I started my condemnatory round of thoughts, I had to acknowledge how often I plead inconvenience, lack of time, etc. And then go mind-numb ahead watching a game or Law & Order, etc again as my arse continues to grow and I continue to loathe my body.

I know part of the reason I eschew time intensive meals is that I am eating alone and a lot of time and effort seem only to create a lot more cleanup. But is this really so? Yes and no, I think. Yes for obvious reasons in that I am the sole prep, consumer, and cleaner in the home. Not really because I think I am 'saving' time that I am not spending well.

Let's examine my experience eating veganly. I like being closer to my food, eating less junk, eating veggies and even fruit (!). I think it is a good thing and if I allow myself, I do become more mindful of how we were intended to live. My body feels more energy. I like the shopping experience of picking out items with recognizable ingredients and also having a colorful plate of food. I learned last summer that I can eat a beet and not curl up and heave. I learned last fall that celeriac is totally rock awesome to the max. I learned last week that potato soup is so utterly easy I have no reason not to boil myself some up. I could go on and on.

My point is that in this world where I claim such demands on my time, I am deceiving myself. Certainly when school is in session and I'm up north a few nights a week, I have less free time. Certainly there are days when I get home and am tired, not wanting to be in the kitchen. However, with better foresight I could indeed make more beneficial choices and improve my quality of life, my health, and my culinary abilities. It's about minimizing the junk and maximizing the life.

So would I not be obese if I ate as the French do, meaning smaller portions, slower foods, and being intentional? Likely. But I know for certain that I will not be obese in the future if I continue to give myself the honor of taking care of my body, mind, and spirit as I should and as I am learning to do. It's not my nationality, it's my behavior. It's not my scheduling, it's my prioritizing. It would be simple to blame my schedule, my obligations, my insert whatever here, but that would not reduce the weight.

My transformation from slob to healthy will occur gradually as I continue to act and behave as if it's the least I can do for myself. Period. Healthy foods, quality exercise, better sleep patterns, etc. begin with my attitude. If I believe I am worth it, I'll work for it. If I believe I am a waste, I'll continue to waste. It's up to me.

It's a curious thing, this not hating myself constantly. Whooda thunk.

Remembering

I think of Jeffrey. The fourth anniversary of his death is coming up and I wonder who aside from me and his mother will bother to remember. He was unremarkable and surrounded by people who use others for their own gain, so it's not surprising that he is lost to time, lost to his addictions, lost to the age I will soon be.

He felt shame for his station, his addictions, his life.

I loved him in a weird way. Not with the passion he wanted from me, but from sadness along with a deep longing. I wanted to love him differently, to love him 'for real', but I could not bring myself to such a reality and in retrospect, I'm so thankful that couldn't and didn't happen.

He was beautiful and great fun, but also too devoted to his problems. He had destroyed so much of his mind with drugs that he was nearly incapable of practical thought that went beyond the moment. He wanted me, he wanted us to have a family, he wanted to take me home to his family - to show them he had fixed himself and landed a respectable woman.

If only we could have been frozen in those wild summer days - those lazy mornings and three hour breakfasts. If only we could have stopped time to keep us dancing and twirling around each other. If only late night walks would have been enough to sustain a relationship. But it wasn't. Play time ended and reality set in.

I had to go. Instead of him raising up to be with me, I was sinking to stay with him. I didn't want a child, but he needed me to be his caregiver.

I remember his mom pleading with me to stay with him a bit longer, saying that he was 'almost there'. She did not see the son who hid in doorways and literally ran from confrontation. She did not see the son who lived in hotels and couch surfed when he lost his jobs every few months. She did not see the son who pretended not to know me, the 'love of his life', when his ex-girlfriend came to the bar one night. She did not see the son who would literally not let go of me when my friend Jeff was around, who made a scene of kissing me aggressively in public, knowing I hate public displays of smoochery.

I was told it was me who drove him to his death. If I hadn't left, he wouldn't have gone back to his first love and it wouldn't have killed him. If it weren't for me, he would be alive.

I know that's shite. I didn't kill him. I've loved him longer and better than most others. They have forgotten him, have forgotten his quirky dances, his stupid jokes, his bald head, his scratchy voice, how he tried to hide his smile. I didn't love him the way he wanted me to but I have loved him well. I do love him and I carry a part of him with me all my days. I wear the ring for him. I will never forget, never really let him go.

Nobody knows, nobody sees, nobody knows - but me.

Oh the passions!

There is nothing easy about this week. The Great Fast has begun. And it is finals week. And I'm still not quite over my cold.

My papers are done and off to the prof, my cold is not debilitating and I actually prefer this voice.

My mind is on Lent and all that this time entails. My stomach is cranky and my body is tired from the last two weeks. Even still, the most difficult piece is trying for even a few minutes to not be obsessed with my passions.

I'm finding out how seriously addicted I am to money and greed.

Since I decided only to purchase essentials for myself during Lent, I went on a spending spree in advance and procured a variety of new clothing items. I *needed* them, I told myself.

I have been in the school bookstore twice this week, poring over the shelves, my mind thirsty for me to grab and purchase several. On Monday, I think (day one!!) - I had a list of four books I need to get that first week of May. Today I found a few more, though I declined to put them on a list.

I'm still thinking about the two cd's I said I was going to purchase before Lent but didn't. I'm fighting with myself about whether or not they should be grandfathered. (The answer is no but the battle rages.)

My meals this week have been a sandwich and soup at night. On Monday I was convinced I needed to buy more bread, despite the fact that I had several pieces of two different loaves still in the fridge and they each toast well. And don't get me started on the hickory smoked Wildwood tofu (schlup) issue.

I went home to lunch on Monday and instead of resting or reading, I rolled change.

I'm planning what all I will get on my extra 10% off at MadMarket. This week and next.

The thoughts are endless, the greed is overwhelming. If I have ever been hit upside the soul with a blinding light of what I need to work on, it's this. The forty days have barely begun and I feel as if I'm in the middle of a never-ending battle.

My wallet is empty and I'm committed to not food shopping until after the pre-sanctified and not doing the rest of it during Lent, but the struggle is there. The passion is there. The temptation is not going to go away.

What is victory? It is not in the resisting. I can resist and dig my heels in and still do nothing but obsess. I can come out of Lent starved for my passions.

Or I can begin to humble myself, truly repent and allow the Lord to work on changing me from within. To loosen my dependence on material goods and let them go. To be grateful for what I have and to live within my means. To endeavor to build a life around my claims of loving God.

This time is meant to be one where, like an athlete training for an event, we work more towards the things of God. We tithe of our time, our bodies, our monies. Even so, as St. Basil said, it can all be for nothing. If I fast from foods but have a hardened heart, am I not the Pharisee proudly proclaiming my sacrifice?

I don't know how 'well' I will do with this fast. I have my hopes, I have my prayers, feeble though they be. I would prefer to have the discipline to keep the fast with reason, but ultimately whether or not I eat cheese is irrelevant. It is turning my heart, soul, strength, and mind towards God that matters. Kyrie eleison.

True fasting lies in rejecting evil, holding one’s tongue, suppressing one’s hatred, and banishing one’s lust, evil words, lying, and betrayal of vows. ~ St. Basil the Great

Monkey Butts and Pink Cabbages

Great fun was had by most at my wee bash yesterday. Pin The Loss was a hit, as was the secret word obsession. Glad I spent the time and effort on the nonsense. Will have to think about making it an annual event or not. The element of surprise was a big part of it though...


bow down to Washington

As Sir Oliver's song said...

be thankful for what you have, look 'round and you will see. Your treasures are everywhere, the best ones found are free!

I am hereby thankful for opposable thumbs and the days I can breathe without thinking about it. I'm thankful for when I can sleep through the night. I'm thankful for eyes that aren't always watery. I'm thankful for days when I don't have headaches.

I'm not in a good way this week, having two stoopit health issues and a stoopit computer swallowing the final paper issue.

I won't get to rest until the weekend following this one. Next week is so spiritually and physically demanding I wish I was going into it with better health.

Doxa si o Theos, imon doxa si.

THUMBS UP!!!

Gar. After six weeks of constant pain, me went to the doctah and found out me has some sorta tendonitis in me wrist. So on goes a cast and up goes my thumb and there goes anything called a simple task.

I'm glad I finally went in and that I'm getting what I need to heal. I still need to examine why I waited so long, thinking they wouldn't want to help me. A bit off the normal charts is that thought.

I also have a head cold. On Monday, I foolishly thought to myself, "Since it's been so springlike all winter, I probably won't have to worry about a spring cold this year. Yay!" Five hours later I was miserable and have stayed that way.

My paper for class remains undone. I have done *jack squat* beyond typing up the intro and the reference page. I'm in for a long night. Joy to my world.

Even so, all is well. Life is good, God is gracious, I am gaining in health.

the world was moving and she was right there with it and she was

The nightlight above my head is buzzing

With all the brilliance my wee mind can muster.

Let's say that yesterday I spoke with my nearest and dearest on the phone. Then let's say that she told me that she had been to a certain place of former employ for the both of us. And while she was there, she heard that a certain former coworker is now engaged.

Now the relationship we had with said engagee was not a pretty one. Initially, he and I were bang up friends but then the real bang came along and we were no longer on friendly terms for a variety of reasons. L despised him and I loathed him with all my being. As is the nature of such grudges and animosity, this affected me and not the object of my loathing. I became one bitter bitch towards him and everyone knew it. I could justify it by saying how he was disliked by everyone no matter their level in the company. I could also say more than one tale of his jackassian behavior, proving me to be in the 'right' with my attitudes.

Truth be told, I self indulgently enjoyed being the mean psychotic, because at the time I thought it was a proper release and hell, he didn't deserve any better since he was such an unmentionable bleepity bleep. I milked the hate and rage, celebrating it in gossip with many and constantly dreaming up elaborate plans of revenge to entertain my mind. Basically, I was the jackassinal bleepity bleep I accused him of being.

So yesterday just a few minutes before my convo with L, I was pondering my need to let go of grudges and the like as part of my healing.

So when she told me the news and I let fly with typically funny yet utterly condemning remarks about the dude.

Then went the nightlight. Like Beavis, I paused with confusion at the strange sensation. In that moment, I was given the awareness of what I was doing as I was doing it. I had to stop myself in midslam and correct myself. It was kinda cool. I got to apologize to L, revise my statement to one where I simply said, "I do hope the best for R and that he is happy and at peace."

And I meant it. It felt so damn good to be genuinely happy for the guy. All that time I wasted hating him wasn't worth anything except this lesson. Not that I'd do things the same way if I were to get in the capsule and travel back to those days. I don't get to choose my neighbors and as the Good Book says, to love your neighbor as yourself is one of the biggies.

May the light continue to flicker as needed. May it someday be needed with less frequency.

you can bomb the world to pieces, but you can't bomb it into peace

The beauty of youth

One of the great luxuries of my job is that I get to spend time with amazing students. Many of them have become my friends.

One such friend is graduating this spring. She's a beautiful woman, full of a quiet strength and grace I could only realize in my dreams. We had a fantastic hour of conversation this morning - about politics, abortion, religion, sex, dating... all the stuff you're not supposed to discuss.

I got to hear her heart, her fears, her passions, her strengths, her vulnerability. She's a realistic person with optimism. She has hope and confidence. She is a woman of faith. It was a blessing to have the time to sit and be with another person. Just being.

I wonder if I was at all like her at that age. I think there was a smidgeon of it in me somewhere. I look forward to recovering what I've lost of myself between then and now as I go forward.

it's never too late to start the day over