Rumination

Meant to write this big fancy post starting with a few words by Rumi and what glorious insights occurred to me while sitting in a dark theatre listening to Coleman Barks read---(if you ever get the chance to hear him read in person I highly recommend it)---but that mental thread has pretty much petered out...

The 6th Dalai Lama's name, Tsangyang Gyatso, by the way, means, 'Ocean of Melodious Songs.' (Barks read his poems as well.) Mine, according to Meaning of Baby Girl Names dot org, means 'Darling'. Darling...Hello, my name is Darling.

What's been on my mind lately:

1. To surgery or not to surgery. Probably, yeah. Or risk having a miscarriage later on as these benign thingies suck life giving blood away from my future fetus...

That ultrasound, btw, was the most frightening test I have ever, ever taken ---(this feels...unusual, said second opinion doctor with her fingers up my...) as I waited to see if my life was about to turn into either a life and death struggle or a life and soul struggle. What if she found something non benign? Could I accept infertility? Probably not well. One woman I know who had similar thingies had to have her entire uterus removed. Then again she had a stomach like a full balloon (How could she let it go that long?) and I do not.

2. Art.

Or...?

I hate it when I go through the art or what? struggle. I've been contemplating grad school to learn medicine or social working or joining some gigantic government run machine (peace corps/world wide charity/etc.) so I can get away from all this uncertainty and contribute to the world in more direct ways by helping to save lives and other such deeds. But do I really want to do any of those things? Maybe after I retire, if I ever do. But if I went back to school right now I'd just want to study either writing or art history. So I guess I have to come to terms with the uncertainty of my profession. It's really comforting to know that every artist, from Cezanne to all my heroes in animation and illustration, has gone through this What am I doing? am I good enough? struggle.

3. Ice cream. Mostly chocolate, fruit flavors or pistachio. I am craving ice cream like crazy these days. So why, why did I get Trader Joe's soy ice cream? If I had no idea what real ice cream tasted like I might like this stuff. Otherwise, with every bite, I think god I wish this was real ice cream.

4. Stories. I was watching Michael Wood's Shakespeare documentary and thought this would make such a great novel and/or movie. Two cousins, two great poets, Robert Southwell and William Shakespeare, one the most wanted Catholic outlaw of his day, the other the greatest playwright. Southwell dedicates a book challenging poets to write for and about God to his cousin Shakespeare which his cousin, by nature, cannot comply with any more than Southwell can give up being a Catholic though he must have known it would lead to his death. And while one is stuck in prison being repeatedly tortured before he is finally executed by the Queen's henchmen the other is writing things like A Midsummer Night's Dream and Love's Labour's Lost. Each, in their own way, a threat to the higher ups of state religion and monarchy. Faith, survival, exquisite language, family drama and all that, set in a really interesting time in history. Maybe, when my glorious film and illustrating career is over, I'll dedicate a few years to this story. Maybe not. Just another story running through my head these days.

5. In regards to my is this friendship worth saving? post, I decided...it wasn't...because I'm just profoundly tired of this person's anger and her neverending depression. I would genuinely like to stay friends but don't see how she and I can be friends right now. So I wrote to tell her how I wanted to end things on a note of love and forgiveness, how it was she herself who ended this friendship, little by little. And she was free to stay mad at me but I was moving on and I left it at that.

What decided it was that after all the crappy things she's done over the past year she had the nerve to throw a tantrum when I demand time to myself. And the nerve to assume that if I should need time to myself it can only be because I'm upset with her---because of course everything has to do with her.

I want to have more compassion. I've been there myself. But she has exhausted my compassion supply. She is a grown woman after all. But if it's not her supervisor then it's her sister, or she doesn't make enough money, or she's too something, something, too what the f--k ever. It's always someone or something else's fault. And one time too many she's tried to make it my fault.

But I meant what I said about moving on, which to me means not holding onto any anger or blame whatsoever. I want ---because this is a sad end to any friendship---to just feel glad we were friends at all, because she really was a good friend once upon a time.

Ok! Sorry for the long post. I'll end with something Coleman Barks mentioned, the Hasidic proverb, God made man because he loves stories. Adding that at the end of your life you'll have to review the novel of your life with God, so make it something he can enjoy.

Off to write some stories now. Have a great weekend everyone!!!