easter

I went to church on Sunday. It has been over a year. It was a baptist church and it was easter. I like the concept of easter, the pagan concept that is... rebirth... rejoicing in the newness and celebrating fertility. Jesus beaten and hung on a cross does not appeal to me. Neither does a screaming pastor or whatever the Hell I witnessed sunday. I cried. They played loud music and clips of Passion of the Christ (which I have never seen because of the jesus beaten and hung aversion). I remember thinking as the clips played and the music surrounded us that if any of these Christians saw what was truly in my heart they would pity me I am sure, pray for me, and close their mind to me as well. Yes, tears fell down my face as Simon took the cross from Jesus, but not because I believed that Jesus was resurrected for my sins, but because of his suffering and another man's willingness to bare his burden out of love. That is a beautiful thing to see. The rest of the scenes were overly barbaric! There were young, young children in the congregation. It made my skin crawl. When the pastor started yelling about the risen Christ, we snuck out, one at a time. I sat in that church knowing that I am not a Christian. I felt almost like a fraud being there. I was not moved by the 'spirit' , though others may have thought I was. But, they do not know me and they do not know that the Disneyland commercial in which a little girl tells Mickey Mouse ,"I've waited my whole life to meet you" moves me more than the thought of a man (glorified by men) died on the cross so that I could be good enough for the god that created me.

Afterward, we dyed eggs and ate pizza and lasagna. We didn't even pray. We truly are heathens. I am going to read The History of God again. I am lacking spiritual edification.

not with a bang but a whimper

I am not sad, I have moments of sadness, but I am not sad.
I am feeling almost set free.
He brushed the hair from my face today. Why am I so weak that I mistake a tender touch for love?
He only sleeps or leaves now.
I don't understand why there is no argument except when I mention that we should work things out.
I know I don't want to fight or put effort into this.
I have always known where I stand.
this is the way MY world ends, this is the way MY world ends, not with a bang, but a whimper.

brave

When one of my sons was young he used to ask for something. I would say,"no."
It went like this:
"Can I have a cookie?" from my tow-headed two year old.
"no."
"can I have a cookie?"
"No."
"I brave you.... can I have a cookie?"
What does that mean? What was he saying and where did he hear that word and was it I beg you he meant to say and where would he hear I beg you?

That is what I think of when I think of the word brave.

But, I need to brave, I am trying to be brave. I brave myself to be brave. It's time to move on and be brave.

ever?

Do you ever feel like you just don't exist? There is no real reason that I should think that there should be a connection somewhere, some when or with someone. I wanted one. I wanted a discussion, a jolt to my reality, something to make me feel that I was more than ethereal. But, there was nothing. The kids noticed me, like I was a bump in the middle of the night that woke them enough for them to yawn and turn on their other side. The husband spoke to me, but mostly avoided any real conversation, too painful maybe. More than likely, not ready to face the music. And here I am, alone in a house filled with people who don't really see me. If only I played world of warcraft, maybe then I could connect.

conditioning

I am a fan of deepak chopra. Something that he says really strikes a chord with me. He says that in our lives, as we grow up we must overcome the conditioning that we recieved as children. Hmmm. Just like a dog of Pavlov. And what conditioning am I forcing on my innocent children.
I see my kids' foreheads furrow and tone of voice deepen angrily and I know that they get that from me.
When I was young, when they were young there was so much innocence and curiosity and joy in us. Is anger conditioning? How do you overcome that? How do you help your children overcome outlooks that you have inflicted upon them?

things to start

on my road to self betterment here is my things to do list and it goes like this:
I want to start:
painting again (in curvy simple lines that create moving pictures for my own happy, yes happy)
writing in my journal or on this blog that only I read anyway (all the views are my own)
hiking in the appalachian mountains and actually pushing myself
watching less television (my life is being tevo-ed away)
exercising more and loving it
playing the guitar again, even if I sound horrible, I will play and sing until my voice and fingers are raw
scrapbooking (I have genealogical photos to put in a book, old ones just sitting in my closet)
going back to college (WHY AM I LETTING FEAR RULE ME?)
meditating (close my eyes and breathe)
expanding my mind (I feel my IQ dropping on a daily basis)
canoeing with my boys (there is nothing more bonding than hours of teamwork in a confined space)
taking more pictures to document these times in my life
listening more aptly when others speak
loving people more generously

outside

I eat too much.
I drink way too much.
I find that I am trying to fill the voids in my life with things that only create more voids and hangovers the next day.
I miss having babies and purpose and wonder.
I am sad and moody.
I lie to myself and think that I used to be happy back in the day, but I was sad and moody then too.
I lie to myself and think that if only:
I had more money, I could be a stay at home mom, I didn't have to work, I read more good books, I kept my house cleaner, and I spent more time with my kids, and made love to my husband more often, then, yes, then I would be HAPPY! But, it is a lie.
I am trying to change my outlook. Instead of listening to hateful music, I bought a Jason Mraz c.d.
Yes, it sounds shallow and non-life altering, but maybe if I start my day with Lucky or I'm Yours instead of Razor (foo fighters) I will be a little more optimistic. I find Jason Mraz is annoying as hell, but cheesy happy too.
I think maybe I miss having religion... Jesus, in my life... I'm sure that most Christians would say oh Yes Yes, if you were saved.... But, I remember how imperfect and stuffed into a box I was when I was Christian even though the thought of a higher purpose and a loving God is a shiny,
gleaming, wondrous, fairy-tale notion. I am a skeptic by nature and I suspect that even if an angel appeared at my bedside to tell me that God loves me and handed me a flaming haired baby girl, I would only shrug it off as a trick of the eyes and heart.
I need to get outside my own dirty, dilapidated mind and be more than a cesspool of diseased thought.
I don't understand why I am so good at the facade of being happy, but happiness does not absorb me.
I know I have SO MUCH do be grateful for, the list goes on and on and on, but still I am this, me.
I heard somewhere that it is programmed into the human psyche to never be satisfied and always want something more. It is a survival mechanism. Well, all I have to say to that is how shitty! I want to be satisfied. I want to just be... I don't want to have all this anger and dissatisfaction and mostly I do not want the indifference.
So, I guess I will start with Jason Mraz. And, maybe I will just hug my kids more than I usually do, or maybe tickle my 15 year old and ruffle the hair of my 14 year old. I will definitely cover my 12 year old's face with kisses even though he protests yelling gross with a huge smile on his lips. And I will definitely tell my 10 year old how amazing he is and I will go on that nature walk with my 9 year old and a camera to take pictures of the flowers of spring. I will find inspiration in a flower's new beginning and become cleaner and crisper and more vibrant in the spring sunshine and maybe even more optimistic. I'll find time to just revel in being.