So I'm walking into Union Square with my friend, who is legitmately dressed in Army gear. The square is quiet, a few skateboarders, but not the hum of protest, and I think of how ironic this is. I'd almost bought an anti-Bush t-shirt in that very spot hours ago. He is full fleshhearted River Niger-style poet/philosopher and dressed for war. People stare, having no intelligence regarding his battlefields. Even I don't know his battlefield. What I do know, makes me feel fragile. Reminds me, I once (and maybe still) had the deepest crushaffection for a boy from West Point, the United States Military Academy. While I was at Sarah Lawrence(?) Figures. (didn't I promise not to go here on this blog? Here goes.) Anyway, I couldn't understand the rigidity of the place. But finding a heart like his in the mix, was worth the phone calls at odd hours. and Oh, the bike ride. Let me tell you about the bike ride. So of course they have to stockpile their leave time or something. So one saturday, he bikes all the way down from Bear Mountain to SLC in Bronxville (2 hours). Mind you, he only has about 4 1/2 hours total leave time. So he bikes down, not knowing exactly where on campus I live or might be, knowing he has about a precious 20 minutes to find me in the rolling hills of Sarah Lawrence. By chance (which I don't believe in) I was strolling past the pub (the greasy spoon on campus) and heard him hollering at me from the school gate. 10 minutes and he was biking the 2 hours back to West Point. What kind of softness says, I just want to see you. It doesn't matter how long. My heart didn't know what to do with itself. Same softness that kept putting on that uniform...How do you live like the rules matter and break convention into heartshatter. I think it's an incredible sign of inteligence. The permission to have inner war and let all parts of you participate. (JR wherever you are and whatever you're doing, just know that meant a lot to me. No one takes the space I carved out for you.) Today in the Square gave me such a flashback. The defender in me wanted to say to everyone that looked crosseyed at my friend, you have no idea about what the heart is wearing based on what the body is wearing. Even our smiles and gnarled eyebrows don't tell the whole story. Why would an outfit?

I can't even begin to tell you why it's been 3 weeks instead of one.
(And I have no idea why this entry has line breaks:)

Truthfully, I'm so anxious
I can't write about the things that are making me anxious.
But when the storm blows over, prayfully the house built upon a rock will still be standing,
and I'll have a few more stories to tell.

Oh, nationals.
Oh moving.
Oh unrequited love.
Oh fiddlesticks!

In the meantime:
From the MESSAGE:
(note the MSG is an interesting interpretation of Biblical Text...
I find it extremely forward, sometimes awkward,
but it has its access points)

Proverbs 3:3-6
"Don't lose your grip on Love and Loyalty.
Tie them around your neck; carve their initials on your heart.
Earn a reputation for living well
in God's eyes and the eyes of the people.

Trust God from the bottom of your heart;
don't try to figure out everything on your own.
Listen for God's voice in everything you do, everywhere you go;
he's the one who will keep you on track."

Having had a less than fine day, I needed the encouragement.
Looking at this, I like the imagery of love and loyalty around my neck.
I'm a hugger so that gets me in the center as I meditate on it.
I think about the arms that have offered comfort, sincere love,
at times when I've needed them most.
Your initials ARE carved on my heart.

That business about earning a reputation
before God and the people just overwhelms and frustrates me.
I recoil immediately.
It makes me feel as though I'm supposed to be a perfect model.
So I try to find a balance if the scripture seems to offer it...
"don't try to figure everything out on your own."
I think some people hear "so let someone else figure it out" in that line.
and not for nothing. There's evidence of something all over the world.
Something else resonates with me though when I hear that line.
"If the you that is obssessed with perfectionism figures it all out,
there'll be no room for improvisation, and that's our favorite part..."
Remembering: the part of self reliance that doesn't work
is the part where I beat the heap out of myself
out of guilt or shame or in repsonse to imprefections.
What a hindrance.

This business of trying to integrate my love for these words
with the reality around me and in my heart has been an 11 year struggle.
I feel like I'm rounding a corner. I can't talk about it or write about it enough.
Having gone through the most challenging spiritual year to date,
and found myself in a tangle of contradictions, (how human of me...)
it feels like everyday I'm stretching new muscles.
And when I hear about the
Right-Wing-Fanatic-of-a-Christian-who-is-undoing-america's-fabric
on the tongues of angry liberals,
I feel like screaming, we're not all like that.
Does that fall as dull on ears as the white american person who insists s/he's not racist?
Is there something in my choice to follow this adoration
of Yeshua that inherently puts me in the same category?

Good GRIEF CB, what does it matter.
Following the strong suggestion to love with my full heart
is hard enough without me throwing energy into what people across the world think.
It's that silly perfectionism rearing its ugly head again.
I think I'll be allright.
Colossians says, put on love.



Having had such great success with "The Roar of Waterfalls: Meditations on the Psalms"
last fall,
I'm hoping to write a show based on the Proverbs,
and then eventually another based on Song of Songs
to offer a complete evening of David & Solomon-isms
in a brilliant 2 hours of theater. We'll see.

4 Now, Later.
AK. Finally going to bed.