constancevigilant

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“You deserve a relationship that enables you to sleep peacefully at night.”

— R.H. Sin

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The hero we deserve.

I cannot stand the parodies of modern major general, they're overdone and simply not as good as the original. They've done them about everything, whatever topic, big or small.

And when i notice one of them my eyes will always start to roll.

The diction's always slurry when they rush the complicated words, and adding many fricatives will turn it so cacophonous. The slanted rhymes are silly and they keep just making more and more, please someone stop the parodies of modern major general.

The scanning of the lyrics in the meter is unbearable, they emphazise the syllables in ways that are untenable, in short in matters musical, prosodic and ephemeral, i cannot stand the parodies of modern major general!

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A year ago, I was recovering from melanoma surgery (successful! I'm good!) and then was almost immediately diagnosed with lymphedema in my right leg (don't recommend! but I'm mostly fine!). One thing I started doing was walking every day, which was a balm for my body and spirit, and helped me mitigate the lymphedema.

But I found I couldn't walk for more than 30 minutes without significant pain in both heels and tendons. I'd never had an issue like this previously and it's been a year of discomfort; sometimes more, sometimes less, but never not present. As the year went on, I slowly backed away from my daily walks, because it distressed me.

I've been seeking answers to this in a lot of varied places, and I'm finally seeing some results. I didn't realize it until recently, but I've been avoiding getting back to my regular walks. I've been afraid that I'd find that my progress was only wishful thinking.

I decided to break the seal on walking today. It was almost entirely discomfort-free! Only toward the end did I feel any pangs, but it was a shadow of what I'd been experiencing. I am thrilled and hopeful!

These are some trees that called to me. 🍁🌲

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I’m all scratched up and I can still taste spray paint in my mouth and my husband almost fell out of a tree BUT THE GHOST SCULPTURES ARE FINISHED!

They’re finally finished and I’m so happy with them!!

Some progress shots:

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Episode 1: Patient #12-D-10 (Sam)

Download on iTunes

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GRIEF (Raymond Carver)

Woke up early this morning and from my bed looked far across the Strait to see a small boat moving through the choppy water, a single running light on. Remembered my friend who used to shout his dead wife’s name from the hilltops around Perugia. Who set a plate for her at his simple table long after she was gone. And opened the windows so she could have fresh air. Such display  I found embarrassing. So did his other friends. I couldn’t see it.  Not until this morning.

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The quiet peace is sometimes overshadowed by the day-to-day stress, excess and plain ol' mundanity. Thank you for your service in this past year, Quiet Peace.

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The unfettering begins...

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Theatre Impressions by Wisława Szymborska

For me the tragedy’s most important act is the sixth: the raising of the dead from the stage’s battlegrounds, the straightening of wigs and fancy gowns, removing knives from stricken breasts, taking nooses from lifeless necks, lining up among the living to face the audience.

The bows, both solo and ensemble— the pale hand on the wounded heart, the curtsies of the hapless suicide, the bobbing of the chopped-off head.

The bows in pairs— rage extends its arm to meekness, the victim’s eyes smile at the torturer, the rebel indulgently walks beside the tyrant.

Eternity trampled by the golden slipper’s toe. Redeeming values swept aside with the swish of a wide-brimmed hat. The unrepentant urge to start all over tomorrow.

Now enter, single file, the hosts who died early on, in Acts 3 and 4, or between scenes. The miraculous return of all those lost without a trace.

The thought that they’ve been waiting patiently offstage without taking off their makeup or their costumes moves me more than all the tragedy’s tirades.

But the curtain’s fall is the most uplifting part, the things you see before it hits the floor: here one hand quickly reaches for a flower, there another hand picks up a fallen sword. Only then, one last, unseen, hand does its duty and grabs me by the throat. 

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My self-assigned summer homework is to finally read The Dark Tower series from beginning to end. I've read through #4 as they were released ages ago, before I lost the thread. What I would always do is re-read all the previous books as the new one came out. And that's probably why I lost steam... It was too daunting to keep it up with each new book. (You might ask why I didn't just stop doing it that way. That's a good question and it hints at a mild obsession I can have with patterns that frequently doesn't serve me in normal life. Instead of breaking the pattern, I feel more comfortable aborting the entire mission.) Anyway, consequently, I don't remember anything about #4, but I clearly recall the narrative highlights of #2, and I could give you a decent summary of #3. And this will be my 5th time reading The Gunslinger, some parts of which I feel are burned into me because they made such an impression back then. I kept buying each book as it came out, so I've been carrying them all around for years, waiting for the moment. I'm excited, and actually a little nervous. I loved the series back then, and I'm a little nervous that it won't hold up. Wish us luck, me and Roland. I hope I haven't forgotten the face of my father.

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bear fear

Fear is "There's a bear out there!" and Anxiety is "There might be a bear out there ... sometime." Only one of those is helpful for survival. (paraphrased Merlin Mann) And there’s nothing wrong with taking prudent measures to protect against the possibility of a bear. But even that it only helpful if you are near where bears hang out. (excellent addendum paraphrased from my friend Christopher Comte)

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Misery is easy; happiness takes work.

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wild to mild

When I was a teenager, one of my favorites "meals" was Chicken McNuggets. I *loved* them. I always got them with the Hot Mustard Sauce. And boy was that shit HOT. So spicy, I could hardly eat it! I distinctly remember the first time I tasted it, I freaked out. But it was an interesting and good pain, and I persevered until I was eating it by the mouthful, smothering each one of those delicious nuggets.

Turns out ... McD's Hot Mustard Sauce is not actually all that spicy. Very mild, in fact; I eat way hotter things now. But my palate was inexperienced and narrow, and so my initial taste of Hot Mustard made me uncomfortable and blew my mind a little bit.

And what if I'd never tasted it? Or what if I'd quickly denied it and stuck with ranch because of that little bit of discomfort? Maybe I wouldn't have ever sampled the incredible and wide variety of spicy food that I love now.

Life's like that. If you just breathe through some initial spiritual discomfort and persevere when new experiences are thrown into your path, you might discover you really quite like that brave new (to you) world. It's how we grow.

I wonder what's wild to me right now that will be mild to me in 10 years?

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consequences

Words and actions have real-life effects and consequences. Even if I really really super like or love somebody. Even if they didn't mean it the way it came across. Even if I will remain their friend and defend their humanness.

And I can remain someone's friend and defend their humanness and yet also have strong opinions about their actions and words. Fierce loyalty to a person does not equate to blind acceptance.

When I stayed up late drinking wine and whiskey and eating late night food and contemplating the mysteries of the universe (i.e. my 20s), I loved to dig into the concepts of unconditional love and unforgivable sins. I firmly disbelieve in both; I find them upsetting, instilling me with a kind of hopeless anger. Love is always conditional, and yet there is no sin that is unforgivable.

Forgiveness is also conditional. A sin needs to be baldly and often painfully acknowledged, and penance needs to be performed with humility. If I do this with truth in my heart, internal forgiveness is achieved. This is the most important piece of forgiveness; even though it’s the least public. Even if those rituals are performed truthfully, though, it’s the person who was wronged who decides if external grace is granted. This sucks and it’s really hard, but it’s righteous. They may have been too badly hurt; they may have granted grace one time too many for them (either to me or to others before me) and this was the last straw; they may simply not choose to forgive. I can’t control it and I must respect it. I may think it’s unfair, and maybe it is. But because love is conditional, they get to decide.

And then I get to decide what to do with the consequences, wherever on the joy/sorrow spectrum they may be. Always forward.

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Give me a little wine, my throat's dried out with wine.

John Steinbeck, East of Eden

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"Some people think it's an insult to the glory of their sickness to get well."

John Steinbeck, East of Eden

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A thing so triumphantly illogical, so beautifully senseless as an army can't allow a question to weaken it.

John Steinbeck, East of Eden