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July 31, 2003
To cry a scream of pain and not know where it comes from, or knowing where it comes from, scream the louder - thus is the quandary I face.
What weakness within would bid me toss my visions away?
What weakness and how susceptible am I? The weakness of craving 'respectability' so much that I might dull my vision, hide its results, couch it in apologetic terms, ever hoping for 'people to like me'. This is the ugliness I face.
I know this ugly demon. Say what you will of the rest of the pantheon. This is the thing that hisses and looks ugly. Because it is ugly. Anything that would make me toss truth for 'acceptance', this is ugly.
And of what susceptability have I to it? Am I still the child, craving my gramma's approval? I know I am at times.
I hear the lure of the 'easy' road, the one to which few object. And a certain Rebellious Force whom I dearly love, says ''Why didn't you pick that Other thunder god, Zeus? Or better yet, why didn't you become a Presbyterian?''
And sorrow fills me, for weakness I know it is. Say what you will, you who might disapprove of me, may honesty be my redemption in any case. Of this even YOU might find virtue.
Though this should not be my craving. To say that I NEED 'redemption', you know what 'ism' this comes from - the one in which we are all 'sinners'. Well, mistakes we do make, but of the wretched, craven kind? How willingly do we choose these?
And yet you will claim it, those who say I am in love with darkness too much, love its lure, the taste of it, the feel of it, its heady aphrodisiac of power. I am smitten, bitten, and know not the reasons for your objections.
Though I do know. 'Humankind must lower themselves so that diety can raise itself'. Crap diety that is, and I dare say it. (ducking flying projectiles of 'luv'.) Augh. Remember I am being honest here, cruelly honest, honesty may be my only salvation.
And from what would I need saving? This crap desire for the 'easy' path, yes that would be it. This crap desire for laurals from the pillars of society, who would otherwise toss painful projectiles at my Prince and Queen, to say I am painfully twisted and depraved, sunk so low to glorify such within myself.
But ugly is your world of 'humble virtue'. Surely I most willingly admit fault, honesty demands no less. But to believe myself 'low' in relation to the gods? This is a demand of only the monotheistic worship demanding prig... well I won't go any further. I won't throw urine on your deity. It is enough some professed 'artist' put your symbol in urine.
Disrespect in such base methods is just base. But naming truth in whatever strong terms it takes is simply the clear vision, nothing 'smoothed' to make it pretty, all the sharp lines just as sharp as they are, jagged and thorny.
Such is my sorrow, that I want all to like me, and this is not possible. But I name this weakness, bring it into the open that it be given the clear air of examination and not be allowed to fester.
Left to fester, it becomes a consuming disease, dis-ease, that rots all in its path. If brought into the clear light, this thing is kept small and manageable.
Here is my burden, here is my shame, that I could sell my soul for an approving word. May wariness of the weakness keep my vision pure, and my recording of it pure. Nothing else can preserve me.
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August 15, 2003
He's been called a 'demon of lust' by some who don't appreciate the nature of their own 'daimonic selves'. Tonight I 'asked' Charlie, WHO ARE YOU?
The following is what I received:
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Who Am I?
I am:
'the face left behind',
the forgotten one.
Claiming hir power,
I am now no 'faceless' one,
for now you have given me a face
and I like it -
Thank you!
I am, and will continue to be,
the inspirer of dreams, visions and hopes.
I will be:
All that you ever hoped.
I am always here,
I will not leave.
I will be with you until the end,
when darkness meets the shore of Death -
(May it be long until that day).
I breathe because YOU
have given me life,
YOU are the goddess
who created me, birthed me -
Do NOT forget that!
Listen not to the words of fearful people,
they will not profit you.
Angry words,
born of fear,
leave them to their ignorance.
All that you need is within,
light tool, that,
as you explore the world.
Mystery abounds,
but the CLUE is within.
Remember that KEY
and be not afraid.
I embrace you,
if you embrace me.
All is there, in that embrace.
Wild, now, the dreams of darkness,
they ARE the 'night-blooming flowers'
and pleasant, you have found their fragrance.
Heed not the
words of fearful people.
I am 'Charlie',
I embrace you.
JAL, 8 - 15 - 03
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In September, we had a small crisis, as Julia became very ill and bled from her hind end. After seeking the advice of a nurse, I took her to the emergency. In a few days, she was well enough to come home. They advised she get a colonoscopy, which she did in late September.
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September 12, 2003
Oh, so sweet is Julia's morning song to Venus. It used to be spoken Latin text, but now she makes a song of it. Every Friday, when she is feeling well, she sings this song in a gentle alto voice.
I missed her song last Friday.
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I was worried about my dear Julia:
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October 5, 2003
For many years I've known the value of what is sometimes called 'automatic writing', in which the writer just takes down the words as they come to her. Now I am learning the value of 'automatic drawing', in which I just let the pen move where it wants. I created two doodles last night which prove reflective of my inner mood.
''Illuminaria Looks Outside, Worried''
''Sad Charlie''
The sad, ready to cry, emotions at the surface portrait is my inner child, Charlie, who is always close to my emotions. The lady observing out the window is my inner parent, Illuminaria, looking for what lies ahead on the horizon.
She has cause to be worried, for tomorrow we learn the results of Julia's biopsy. I hope these doodles are only recording my inner worried state. My thoughts also go to Julia's sick mother, who has lung cancer.
In any case, this is a new way to record the truth of my inner self, and one which I'll use often.
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October 6, 2003
All through out the day, I thought of Julia, wondering what the results would be. I looked at the clock every little bit, to see if it was 3:45pm yet, the time of her appointment and when all would be revealed.
I told myself we will stay optimistic, what ever we are told. I read while in the doctor's office the day of her colonoscopy of Lance Armstrong, the bicyclist who won the Tour De France five times after getting cancer. Clearly, it's not an automatic death sentence.
While traveling home after dropping the co-worker off, I envisioned what kind of magical spell I could do, should the 'worst' prove true. By the time I arrived at the door of our home, I was feverish with curiousity.
I ran through the door, and asked her how it went. Julia began to ramble about the difficulties of getting a cab, how it arrived late and she barely made it to the appointment. I empathised with her long wait in the sun. But finally I had to interrupt her, loudly,
''Tell me what the RESULTS were!''
''Oh, yes, it's a bit complex . . .'' And then she sat down and told me what she remembered. The colon can have two different types of polyps. One kind will never become cancerous. The other kind has the potential for cancer. Julia has 'the other kind'. The two polyps tested benign, so there is no cancer in her now. But they want to keep an eye on her, as she has an extremely large number of polyps. The two removed were only samples.
Also, she does have diverticulosis and internal hemorrhoids. The high fiber diet is essential for her. However, it is nearly impossible for her to get all the fiber she requires via diet alone, thus a supplement like Metamucil will be necessary all her life.
BUT SHE DOESN'T HAVE CANCER!!!!
I will encourage in every way possible the diet rich in fruits, vegetables, grains and nuts and low in saturated fat. I need it as much as she does. We will do our best to keep cancer and poor circulation away. Since I've been eating more carefully, I've not had any troubling numbness. We have the power, if we are vigilant.
So I am encouraged. I am so relieved.
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Seeking a solution to the intense sunlight here in the desert southwest, I sent for a hat:
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October 19, 2003
In order to assure a properly fitting hat, I had to measure myself. My head is 22 inches (56cm) in circumferance, which is a size 7 1/8, considered 'medium' as head sizes go. On a lark, I measured Julia's head, a perfect 24 inches around (61cm)and a 7 3/4 hat size. One 'foot' equals twelve inches. Yes, she does have a largish head, curiously supported by a neck and shoulders which are narrower than mine. We are all a contradiction of anomalies. You can see her anomaly in the picture of her in the mysterious light in Thursday's entry.
Anyway, it is funny what Julia said. One 'foot' equals twelve inches, so she made this observation: ''My head is two feet. I travel more with my head than my feet!'' And, indeed, this is true, both of her and I, whose head is two inches short of 'two feet'.
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Such rejoicing, indeed!
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A Voice, Heard Loudly At Night
Voice crying in the wildnerness,
who do you think I am?
Mad woman quite possessed,
who do you think I am?
Does it matter?
The night time rising of power
calls to me,
and I hear it.
Would a woman sing sweeter
at any other hour?
Sing, sweet lady of blessing,
Di Efchon!
We will bless what we wish to thrive,
laugh in the face of adversity,
we are the mad women now,
and 'nothing can stand in our way'.
Well, it can,
but we will ignore it.
Sing loud, our song anyway.
Di Efchon!
With Blessings, we shout.
We are the young ones who will not grow old.
Say what we will of 'joints',
all such surface,
this temple.
Look Who resides within!
Better carpentry within.
Laughing 'mad women'
sing in the night.
We play the records over and over
and sing along.
Such rejoicing,
if you can follow along.
JAL, 11 - 8 - 03
(while listening to Haris Alexiou's 'Blessings')
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~ ~~ ~~~ ~~ ~
next section, year 45 until July 15, 2005
Book Of Life Index
© JAL:
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