When I talked to the artist Jean (with the French pronunciation) on the corner of 9th and Boulevard, he kept saying to me, "I haven't always been this way. I used to really have things together."
I think of those words as a gift. He gave them to me and today I pass them onto you. I haven't always been this way. I used to really have things together.
I am not going to post anymore of my But I AM Home book online. Doing so has been so illuminating for me, but I have made a pact with my MADness that I will follow Her like a white rabbit and this morning She told me She is done posting the home book on my blog. She doesn't care that this makes me look ridiculous. She doesn't care that my word needs to be my word and that I gave you my word. She doesn't care that I like to be known as a person that finishes what she starts, a person that totally has her shit together.
I want you to contact me if this feels like a let down. I want you to contact me if by chance you are hanging on every word (it could be my ego that suspects this). I want you to contact me if you truly have a question specifically about my spiritual story. I will be VERY present to you if you are out there. Other than that, let's move on, shall we?
With these above paragraphs posted I now feel like a book in the wind, my pages blowing forward several chapters at a time.
It is how I read the end of Rumi's Red Book last night, skimming words, reading only a couple on each page because MAD has taken what She needs for now and is moving on. I am learning to trust Her movement and Her pauses. I wanna be right with Her. She doesn't want to belabor the spiritual turmoil one second longer. She is lighter on my feet. She doesn't pay homage to things any longer than She feels necessary. Her Devotion is haphazard. "Don't screw anything to the wall," She says. "Let's not be so transfixed and worshipful that we stagnate."
This past weekend She peeled me away from Twitter. She pulled that long Matrix rod called Facebook out of the back of my head. It felt like torture, until it was gone. "There is nowhere to promote," I keep telling Her. "I know," She says softly. "I know."
I call everything She does a MAD experiment because it terrifies me. She doesn't call it anything. She simply lives, moves, breathes through my flesh.
Today I cried when a stranger surprised another stranger with concert tickets to a performance of her favorite singer/songwriter. I excused myself because I had to get a tissue and blow my nose!
What is going on inside me?
Today I asked a stranger if she would be willing to let her toddler go where she pleased, knowing full well that "where she pleased" was up on my lap to push keys on my laptop. Mad says, "Come on then!" And up the little girl came, kicking her leather moccasins in so much excitement I thought my heart would burst.
What is going on inside me?
You thrashers, you delicious Wild Beasts that feel spewed out of Christianity (or fill-in-the-blank with your religion) because for some reason God stuck a finger down His throat and said, "Out with you," I love you so! I don't know where you are exactly, but for me, it is time I stopped circling around the carcass of my Christian body. As that man in the film Love Actually says so aptly, "Enough. Enough now."
From now on I will refer to these thrashing memories like a fuzzy dream. I will see them like I'm squinting down a cardboard pirate's telescope, gazing back to that distant coast where my ship took a most unfortunate turn during that one horrendous storm. I might even say at times, "Hmmmm, I can't quite remember." It will be sort of warmly legendary when I reminisce on it. You will be able to tell I am feeling things about it that just can't be gathered into a language.
I will honor those years like the wrinkly old woman Rose who weathered her own shipwreck. Rose who clutched a blue jewel to her breast, a breast that knew the cost of feverishly nursing a tender, achey, passionate heart, but still had to watch it die before it could truly live.
That was then. A swirling, dark, risky, ravished then. Today I Am the incarnational MADness. She is wiping my memory. She is returning me to my innocence. Ask me now if you need to know because I can't be sure what I will remember. Isn't it wondrous?