Good things are happening.  I have hope and faith that you will provide, God.
You will provide.  You will provide.

You provide enough time, energy, brainpower, help, direction, love.

Your rod and your staff they comfort me.

God will make a way.

Life is so short, let's live.  Let's let small things go.  Let's bless like crazy and go big.

Thank you, thank you, for a husband that loves me, for a warm place to live, for families that love us, for amazing cats, for getting me into and through school, for the right people at the right time, for showing me how to share.

Thy rod and staff they comfort me.

You will provide.  You will provide.

Fear fighting is not a guns-a-blazing battle.  Fear-fighting is a steady, calm, comfort. It's a gentle nudge towards the next step and then the next and then the next.  What a sheep I am!

Your rod and staff they comfort me.

Thank for this job.  Thank you for this job.  Thank you for this job.  Thank you for amazing opportunities and seasons and flowers and every time I think of ways I fail, or can't fathom how things will work, I trust that you will bring me through, nudge by gentle nudge.

The Lord is my Shepard; I shall not want.  He makes me to lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside still waters.  He restores my soul.  He leads me in paths of righteousness for His name sake.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death
I will fear no evil,
For Thou Art with me;
Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me.

You prepare a table for me in the presence of my enemies
You anoint my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

Surely goodness and mercy will follow me
All the days of my life
And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
Amen

How to tell my work story.  I think I can tell it pretty well. 

How to tell my story in terms of change management--

--Hold up.  Why am I terrified?  

What am I scared of?

I am not lying.  I will be honest about what I've done. 

It is not as small as I think it is.

My work was neither big nor small.

It was work.

It was good work.

I did good work.

The ideas that I am incompetent

Incapable

of comprehension

retention

leadership

Are lies.  Lies from the Devil.

Straight from hell. 

I'm serious.  This is some serious b.s. straight from the enemy.

God is not a God of fear.  He is a god of courage and faith and hope and love.  And his perfect love casts out all fear.  ALL OF IT.  

So I CAST OUT ALL FEAR IN MY HEART IN THE NAME OF JESUS.

BY HIS STRIPES, I AM HEALED.

I AM NOT AFRAID ANYMORE>
I AM NOT AFRAID.

God ordained, God chose what's next.  God knows.  God blesses, God makes, God gives, God takes away

Blesssed be the name of the Lord.

Yahweh.  God almighty.  The only God.  The one true God.  The one by whom I am saved.

So yes, I will prepare.

But I will also walk into there knowing, without a shadow, without a doubt, that HE WILL WILL WHAT HE WILLS AND HE IS PROTECTING ME AND GUIDING ME.

I cannot go outside of His protection when I seek Him

Seek me and you shall find me

Ask me and it shall be given unto you

God, I ask for the right job

and I ask for favor with God and man, that I would be called righteous again

That's what hurts the most with TP is I did screw up

because it hurt to be there so much

I stood on the train tracks like that dog days song

waiting to get hit so I could feel happiness and freedom

and I'm sorry. Please redeem me

so that I might do good work in your name.

Please give me a chance to bless others in your name.

Please give me a chance to use my talents, whatever you think those are.

Please give me a chance to use my experience, my skills.

Please give me a chance to grow!

To learn!

To RETAIN!

TO use skills!

To help others!

To love others!  To have a faith of works 

and a faith in work

Please cast out fear

I am yours I am yours I am yours

I am sorry

for hurting Noa as I flailed

your will be done

your kingdom come

i believe

i still believe

in your miracles.

breathe life into these dry bones. tomorrow. tonight.  please

please forgive me

and let me try again

i'm sorry i'm so so sorry

i'm so so sorry

don't give up on me, with you, yet

Jesus you didn't have the coporate world.

Do you understand it?

Are all cultures the same overall because they all have the hearts of men?

Nay, you understand all because you are God.  I get that.  I think it's just historical Jesus that's so hard for me.  Like the stories make you more real and less real all at once, because you're human but you're also historical, from a culture that's not mine and with context that's not mine.  I'm sorry that's been so hard for me to get over.  I need help with that.  I need help hearing, seeing, feeling, trusting you're close.  

I am hopeful and yet I hurt, and I am grateful for the hope.  I am sad about Josh and I want to run fast

for my mother fast for my father

run for my sisters and my brothers

leave all my loving my loving behind

if i carry it with me i won't survive

the dog days are over

the dog days are done

hear the horses coming

here they come

hallelujah hallelujah

hallelujah hallelujah

I have a list of things to do.  I am excited about tomorrow.  Today with Ann was great.  We had a great time talking and though it feels a little like dating and I need to practice not talking over her, it was a fun date.  The movie would have been tragic for me 10 years ago but now just feels like art. The minds and souls of children are indeed blessed--I'm not sure how one would go through life without a callous or two.  But maybe being emotionally honest with you, God, is the way to that childlike heart. If you can peel and heal everyday, then maybe I can stay holy.

Weird things: I feel myself being drawn to you via new agey methods.  I am starting to like self-help books.  This feels sacreligious to the religion of my memory,  but the concern is vague.  I am trying to gt closer to you and me, too.  A mI wrong to beliee there is some of you inside of me to be found?  I have always been taught and followed an anti-navel gazing mindset, but so far that I have trouble hearing myself.  What do I want seems like the craziest question.  But that Barb Shay or whatever her name was guru person posed hearing inner spirit as similar to the gut check you make when you decide on what you're hungry for.  Though this too is a hard analogy--I was taught to eat (and like) whatever meal is in front of me.

The point is, we all have affinities, at least in the moment.  Like picking an ice cream flavor.  Right now, without a doubt I would choose cookies and cream.  Ask me in two hours, though, and this may change.

So 1. am I *allowed* to get in touch with my affinities?  Is this inherently selfish?  Is doing so inherently ungodly because it is not directly from you, not necessarily of service, and not biblical? I can tell you though, that my gut is screaming that this is what I need.  I need to know my own voice.

I get angry when I compare how easy a time others seem to know what they want.  With all my heart I hope I can teach my kids to understand themselves and their wants.

In the path of emptiness I still have myself.  I have you too, but you are not visible but through my mind and heart and soul.  You are speaking through me.

I don't like, God, how Christianity has paled to me.  How I'm not excited about the things I repeated in my youth.  How even the whiff of corporate church makes me sick.  (For example, city church, which seemed to have good people with good, righteous intentions.  Maybe it was the blue and purple lights that triggered my revulsion?  Idk.)

I don't know what makes me light up anymore.  I have been trying so hard to quiet everything inside so to function.

When were my last moments of True joy?
Car ride with mom and Josh to pickup my dress/look for a wedding location: feeling like family, with our own weird language; some couch/living room moments like that too.

grand canyon: freaking beautiful and sharing those sights with Noa.

hot air balloon: also freaking beautiful and sharing that with Noa.

crater lake: freaking beautiful.  sharing the freaking beautiful with Noa.  Swimming in it.

nyc: independence, travel, confidence builder, doing stuff I wanted, living w/o fear

having written something good for Brian's writing class: crafting something to perfection & receiving props, feeling heard, hearing myself

drawing class in Honolulu art academy: exploratory, able to 'feel' it out (except for perspective)

dancing in the halau: when we received instruction.  being mentored.  working toward perfection.

swimming out past elks: freedom to go as far and long as I want.  solitude

the wednesday minor league class with john russell teaching: because the energy was high, i was ON, it was higher caliber

when holzer asked if instead of their money back for a missing interface, they could 'get more Ho'onani time': because they had found value in my work

being formally accepted into the MBA program: having hope for a future career

signing up for Bridges to volunteer: a place I can learn and do good work

Walking the path from the Myer's to saturday market--because it was new, lovely, and Noa was with me

Volunteering at the rose garden: beauty and community and rose flavored shaved ice!

Hanging out after improv two weeks ago

Getting rid of clothes: feeling lighter, like I can have freedom to move and travel and create clarity to define who I am.  I want to make choices that are honest to myself, that draw lines on an identity.

float my f'ing boat.
God, help me to say it well and say it right.   Amen.  The opportunities and what I did was indeed awesome.

Goals for 2017:
1. Finish all classes with As (Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall)
2. Pick a summer study topic
3. Write weekly.
4. Workout 3x week.
5. Build *muscle*
6. Pick a writing class before 7/24 at the Attic (likely needs to be a Thursday).
7. Apply for a new jobs.
8. Organize bedroom. (give shit away, put shit away, go through boxes)
9. Organize desk area.
10. Shred papers.
11. Organize / shred cabinet area items.
12. Cat vet Rx
13. Apply for financial aid for you and Noa.
14. Prayer time with Noa.
15. Pay off Hawaiian CC debt
16. Save 6 months savings
17. Journal about improv.  Think through it, put learning hat on.  Decide to commit. Grow. Study. Do Summer intensive: Wednesdays then Wednesdays and Sundays then Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Sundays.  Be confident in *who* you are, grow in *what* you know.
18. Read that leadership book. Email Nikki.
19. Apply for passports
20. Go to DC this summer.
21. Stay in touch with your parents.
22. Prepare your mind for babydom.
23. Keep a clean house.

Not An Exercise

Let's run until we hit the zone forever
We won't even know what we were worried about
Life will be so fucking zen
And we'll know we're living

If 90% of everything is actually nothing
What the fuck were we doing

People die fast and slow
But they die always and always once

Tell me the thing about running you said again? You weren't running anywhere, really?
You were already there, when you were there?


Suppose heaven is silent
What the fuck were we doing
Pretending to be too good to sing

Do you think we were created to be nothings
Nothinging our way to nothing towards nowhere?

We all know the sky is blue. If I ask you right now, you'll tell me without looking.
But it's not, it's not, God damn you, it's fucking magenta, and we're all still dying.

Maybe God is God because He sees the color of everything at every exact moment, in the whole universe.  And we refuse to believe in Him because we can't convince ourselves to look with Him at our little part.

Birds know God, I know this for a fact.  The tiniest of birds sings a song at the very break of dawn, and we, roll over sleepily, annoyed at the tired darkness.

This tiny bird is bigger than us too, she has seen thousands of miles under the beats of her wings.  She knows the treetops and valleys and chimneys like God knows the hairs on your head.

I'm not saying to fucking fly.  I'm just saying you're here and I'm here and when you see me, hold my hand and know its weight and its ridges and
maybe next time
fuck me with your eyes open

The prudent thing

Never really 

Helped anyone

Prudent means

Pretending to control

As though limiting your joy in the moment will imcrease your joy in the future

Everything that I want to do is not prudent.

So I do nothing.

I would like to run around dancgin, just dancing.  

I would to be brave and talk to strangers.  

I would like to travel and be uncomfortable.

I would like to have sex every damn day.

I would like to have a kid right now.  In the middle  of the city.  With lead paint walls and noise all night and no money.  

I would like to spend my days writing and reading and draw and dance my feelings.

I would like art to not need to be an event.  I would like art to be default.

I would like to put all the things away in the bedroom.

I would like a job where I talk to people again.  (But this one IS prudent.)

I would like to write songs and sing them at open mics.

I would like to be a better improv-er.

I would like to run until I permanently hit a zone.

I would like to be the parent that is comfortable getting dirty.

I would like to call my mom.

I need to call my dad.

I should call Nana.

note to self: don't read client comments on cases after just waking up.  you will be too tired to actually respond and will not have your emotional shield in position yet, so all their stupidity will be extra annoying.  wait until you've showered and dressed, just as though you're going out to work, even if you work from home.

a side question: what is it about the customer/client relationship that allows them to feel like double checking things and being nice are not necessary?  how can we foster better? or are they trained from other life experiences?

A miracle is only a miracle if you acknowledge it.  You must have eyes that see and ears that hear.  If you forget the sound of the wind because you become deaf, you may still feel it brush your shoulders, but part of its mystery is lost.  (When you observe something in its full mystery, you are enlightened. When something in its full mystery is observed, we are enlightened.

Jackson was a place where crows came to die.  Crows themselves are intelligent creatures, watching everything below as though it were a puzzle. Humans tended to view them as simple, which the crows knew too, and because this, the crows also knew that they themselves were the smarter species.

No human had ever figured out why crows died in Jackson.  They came from all over--as far as two counties away--to land on the Jackaranda trees in the middle of Ms. Staton's yard.  Hundreds of them a week.  Once landed, each would stay perched on its branches, never leaving until losing its grip with its final breath.

Ms. Staton was eighty-nine last year.  Her children grown, her husband dead.  She felt alone, but not lonely--she chose to follow a routine that kept her company with each hour.  At 6 a.m. she made toast and cut a grapefruit in half and wrapped the other half with plastic wrap, leaning her body against the kitchen counter for balance.  At 7 a.m. she watched the Today show and though she didn't understand all the things the anchors talked about, she liked their energy and their familiar smiles, like friends waving from across the room. At 11 a.m. she would slowly bend into the pink loveseat in front of the television and watch her soap operas, waking up somewhere between 2 and 3 p.m. to the sound o
Somewhere between 5 and 6 p.m. she'd water her plants and feed the two cats and heat up the second half of yesterday's TV dinner.  By 8p.m. the dishes were washed, she had sponge bathed herself with a warm, wet washcloth, and she was in her old silk nightgown headed to bed.

PREFACE:
This assignment was a painful reality check as it calls for me to decide do things I've wanted to do but haven't, and for me to face up to my intolerance for change and my overall social atrophy.  I tried for many days to write this assignment in a stoic, non-disclosing manner that portrayed my reality in a better light, but kept failing at making something worthwhile--the nature of the exercise requires honesty, and so I've given into writing some pretty baring truths. I have been afraid that the honest descriptions below will cause some sort of loss of respect (though we don't really know each other well so the potential loss is perhaps not that large).  Yet, I wish for guidance and mentoring that I believe would be most fruitful if I write/speak honestly. So here goes/warning.  (And also a request for confidentiality.)

ASSESSMENT/REASONING FOR EXPERIMENT SELECTIONS:
It has always been the case that I've worked hard to keep up the appearance that I am confident and capable in life, but this effort of farce has been especially true recently.  One way to save face, that I've taken on recently, is to simply not show face--that is to isolate myself from all things challenging, new, social, etc.  This withdrawal began before my brother's murder, but gained undeniable momentum after it. Two key reasons for my earlier withdrawal were: 1) workplace frustration (this was a originally a conscious decision, stemming from many years of systemic sexism in software development that I was no longer willing/had the energy to fight), and 2) becoming a remote worker after moving to Portland in 2014 (which meant that I no longer naturally had opportunities for creative/interactional challenges within most of my work and was mostly relinquished to grunt work).

My decision to pursue this MBA program, though I didn't dare write it in my essay, was essentially to fight to return to the person I had once seen both in my work and personally, and towards the leader I hoped yet to be. I needed a force beyond myself to begin to progress again, and believed this program would be a gentle way to wake up all my skills. In the past few years, my husband often urged me to 'just get a new job.' I do want a new job. But being a deconstructed version of myself right now makes that hard to envision, let alone to sell my qualities to a hiring committee.

This said, reading the week's excerpt from Act Like a Leader, Think Like a Leader was the first time that I've felt that my self-deconstruction might be a blessing.  I have experienced wondrous successes in life via my work and my charisma leading to achievements, and these successes once led to a confidence that evolved into pride.  My pride seemed rational to me back then, as it was based on previous experiences.  But I am nearly certain it would have blocked me from trying out new methods and attempts to act and think differently.  Thank you for sharing this text, it rekindled hope for me and provided a purposeful context for my challenges--I have purchased the book to read!

PROPOSED EXPERIMENTS:
Experiment 1:
From the Rejuvenating & Restoring and Time-shifting & Replacing genres: go to the gym (M-Sat) first thing in the morning, so to become strong mentally and physically as well as to set a mindful precedent of self-value by setting aside time for myself
Metrics:
-Did I go to the gym this morning?  Today?
-Did I go to bed at reasonable hour so to get up early?  How much sleep did I get?
-Did I feel angry/sad/victimized about giving up too much time on work/others today?

Experiment 2:
Out of the Grow Your Network exercise, Appreciating & Caring genre, and Revealing & Engaging genre: be bravely social and practice vulnerability with a friend/friends/coworkers, as a step to expanding to other social networking opportunities
Metrics:
-Did I meet with or have a 15 min phone conversation with someone this week?
-Did I reach out/ instigate the conversation/meeting?
-Did I talk/ share during the meeting or revert to only listening?
-Did I communicate beyond work tasks with my work team this week?
-Do I feel more interested in expanding my network than yesterday?

Experiment 3:
From the Focusing & Concentrating and Revealing & Engaging genres (and interview with him as a Stakeholder): quality time with my husband to improve home happiness, willingness for vulnerability, and communication skills
Metrics:
-Did we schedule time together this week?
-Did we talk face-to-face for 30 mins without distraction twice this week?
-Did I learn anything new about him this week?
-Did I share how I am feeling during these times or revert to listening?
-Did he feel like he learned anything about you this week?

Experiment 4:
From the Tracking and Reflecting genre: Read Act Like a Leader, Think Like a Leader and journal about it and my other experiments daily. In order to solidify what I learn from the other experiments, I need to take time to reflect and pray.
Metrics:
-Did I write about my experiences and readings today? Did I pray about them?
-Did I read the book today (until finished)?
-What did I learn today?  What have I learned overall?
-Have I talked about what I'm learning with others?

CONCLUSION:
I am really looking forward to conducting these experiments.  They seem simple but having a clearer strategy and means to measure them makes them actionable.  Thank you for this class and for helping ensure it is a part of the MBA curriculum.  I hope to work with you further if you are willing/able.


Notes:

4 Way Wins / A pocketful of prospects:

What could I do within a month or so? 

Ideas:

-Find a mentor and/or meet with Niki

-Exercise regularly to start my day/ return to regular sleep schedule

-Take a vacation and try out the things I once loved = play

-Reconnect with home, family & faith = foundation

-Schedule coffee dates with Noa to share yourself & connect face to face

-Find someone to talk business with as a mentor

-Continue therapy

-Meet with people/socialize 1x week or at least call them.  Build relationships.

-Be willing to relearn. Take on a beginner’s attitude, shift your thinking to it being just an experiment, not the definition of your ego.

So, I think I need to full out do cash envelopes.  I need to feel the bills leave my hands, otherwise it's too easy--it's just a collections of numbers that I plug in and my transaction is complete.

It is time to diet, in all ways.
-Buying stuff (decrease):
---Pay off HWN card (~$7000).  Keep no larger than $3500 balance
---Pay off ON card (~$500)
---Start taking out cash from US Bank for personal use.  All personal items must be bought in person and with cash.  
---Eliminate online shopping

-Cleaning stuff (increase)
---20 mins tidying everyday--keep main areas clean
---Fix the bedroom.
-organize/put away all clothes (check weather and decide what stays out)
 -Get rid of unused coats (BR, ON red, brown puffy, maybe silver vest (try on), college black.  Keep fur and red or black for mom visit.)
-Wash and store snow clothes
---Fix the desk area
---Last: do all the hang laundry and put away

-Overeating & sugar/carbs (decrease)
Coffee with cream AM, salad & yogurt afternoon, 1 luna bar ok.  subway PM :(.  No candy or sweets.
-Oversleeping (decrease--wake up every morning and start day with light cardio workout)
-Exercise (increase)
Go in mornings and participate in classes when can.
-Mon-Fri = AM cardio downtown, evening optional zumba/UJam; Sat = Hula & UJam (Pearl)

-Also: PM: Library study.  Class is about to require regular focus again.

Early this morning I found myself trying to remember exactly what Noa was wearing that night we first kissed.

I couldn't do it.

I remember now there's a picture, somewhere, at Kayla's birthday party that should show us dancing together--and what we were wearing.

Today while riding the elevator down to leave our apartment, I was struck with the notion that I was not really living and I only have one short life to do so.  I thought, well I would go back to school, or take a class, or buy a piano, but those are costly.  And then I remembered looking at a $1200 beige purse on my phone for a half hour while sitting on the toilet last night.  And then I thought, I could have a purse, or I could have a life.

And then I thought, I would really like that purse though.

I would have totally eaten that marshmallow as a kid in that famous experiment.

The thing is, I think I would still eat that marshmallow.

So what now?

The fruit of the spirit is love joy peace patience kindness goodness faithfulness & self-control. Against these things there is no law.

Self-control is a fruit.  Help, God.

You know what I love more than getting the thing?  Dreaming (asking myself, what do I want) the thing, and finding the thing,  Creating a target that I can lust after and even achieve.

So maybe I just need some real goals in my life.  Setting the bar as low as a $1200 bag seems like a wasted life.

Help, God.


So what do I want?

Where do I find it?

How do I get there?


I don't know.  I used to say I wanted to help people, but right now I feel so disconnected from You that I don't feel that anymore.  It's just a weird, guilty memory.

H.S. chills right now.  I confess.  I confess.

What do I want?

I want to write, with breath.  Alo-ha.

I also want to read.

I want to read soul.  Read powerful sounds and thoughts.

I want to find voices I can align with, including the Bible.

I want to live how the H.S. guides.

And I do want to help people, but only with You.

One more thing.  The caveat of good writing (from me): it must stem from true awareness, which can only come with an open, grateful, heart.  So He is indeed, still The Vine.

So it seems, which makes the past ten years feel wasted
That the only way for me to learn is to reflect
And the only way to appreciate what you are making inside of me
Is to write
So
I'm sorry for the last ten years.

I'm sorry I didn't write when I learned to love.
I'm sorry I didn't write about the sweet and slow breezes in Waikiki
Where human body met human body met stars
When my brother was still alive and I could hold him
When everyone I loved had a home, and the biggest struggle was hitting it big or getting a car or graduating high school or gaining the respect of a boss

How ironic, right, that those were the years that considered so carefully, surrounded by piles of dusty photobooks, the magical 20s, where my parents were beautiful and almost cool looking, where I didn't exist.  What will my children see?

This MBA program is not a writing program.  It's something else, it's interesting but not a purpose.  It's something else.  But I don't want the next ten years like the last.  I know now, I want to write.

And it is powerful to know a thing that is ingrained, predestined
But it is a north star, a map, and not an airplane--I still have to travel on my own.

I hate it when people call themselves writers.  Maybe I'll get there. I don't think I have to, though it may come.

I am really tired of reading bullshit, fb posts, news.  But I very much want to read something meaty, and of the heart, something poetic, rough, and real.  And not white.  I'm sorry, just can't right now.

TIL 1/4/17:

That love feels like grace

That love is a kind of faith

Or faith is a kind of love

Though I trudged through downtown

In 'feels like' 16 degrees F

Wide rubber snow boots stomping out a path

With a loud swish with each swing of a arm or leg underneath my double layered grey parka

I noticed, I was warm

I felt like I was floating, like I was gracefully sweeping a single 1' above the sidewalk, never touching

There are moments I feel like I am Mary

Where I understand the sweetness of the gift you are blessing me with

Monday Jan 2 afternoon in the diner downtown

Empty because it was a holiday

And it was freezing outside

And in those teal blue bucket booth seats

The white winter sun shone blinding bright through our section's window

We smiled at each other, fearless

Like that second date at the hamburger place in Kahala

With more faith in letting go than per usual, per ever, save a few religious holy-spirit moments of knowing

So if there is a baby, there is a baby, and it is of God, and be it unto me as you have said

Nothing is ready except our hearts.

almost funny

I used to watch Mr. Roger's Neighborhood  on TV as a kid.  My favorite part of the show was when they zoomed into a painting of a stoplight and then zoomed out into a 2 minute bit on how things are made.  It showed the behind the scenes of certain jobs, like a crayon factory, and blew open the doors to a dimension of the world I had never considered: that crayons had to be made, and that someone made them, and that there was a process to that.  

I feel like I am watching one of those bits again.  A portal opening to a world I was unaware of.  Instead of crayons, I am watching what it's like when your brother is murdered by gunshot.  

-The matter-of-factness of it: googling "how to get over a loved one's murder"

-The sick humor in it: my stepdad texting me a picture of my mom and a backpack from the airport: "mom and josh say hi".  Josh's remains are in an urn in the backpack.

-what a dead body looks like when it's someone you love, when it's someone that died young

I am desperate for meaning.  For some good work to do with my hands, with my brain.

In my desperation, I am ignoring the work in front of me, the job I have now.

Logically and slightly emotionally, there are two paths that I can see.

But neither path is lit ahead of me.

Lord your word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path.


If all this world is to fade, what is the point of saving it?  Of caring for it?  Why do I desire to do so, perhaps even more than the souls that you have given us?

The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God will stand forever. --Isaiah 40:8

Why do I cry in Jurassic World when the Brontosaurus is dying but not when the humans are?  What is wrong with my heart?  Why am I so closed to the pain of other humans?  Why do I protect my heart so fiercely?

We are talking about kids.  I don't want to have kids out of giving up.  But if kids are the right path, then that's different.  

God light our paths,. please.

I am burying talents so hard.  And yet all I want is your approval.  Do we just move and ask forgiveness later?  I don't know where to find the balance of waiting and moving.  And I don't know which way is forward.

I still believe you're true.  That your promises, even the ones I don't know, are true and forever.  I believe that your son, Jesus, is real and will intercede for me.  I believe in santification and salvation.

I just want to know if what I'm doing is ok or not and where to go.  What is the point of a relationship with God if you can't hear him?  

If I am spiritually deaf God, heal me?  If not, show me, sign language something please.  Interpretive dance your message?  Do something you know I'll understand?

Is that all I am?  A mother?  Is it that the small things are really the biggest?  Is that the lie I've been following all along, that I have it inverted--where regonitioon and pay are more important that love and relationships? 

WHY AM I SO SET ON DOING SOMETHING 
ON BEING SOMETHING
AND WHY WON'T YOU LET ME???

i feel like you gave me all this fracking talent and then
no where to go
and just said no?

like a mute with a beautiful voice

are you doing something?

I need to feel that peace, that closeness, I need to feel you here, please.

If you made me an INFJ why the frak would you not let me do something
it just seems so cruel?  I get that it's not up to me.   

Where is the line of my part vs your part.  Why is that so hard for me?  

alone

We've been married almost four years now.  It went by quickly.  What I wanted to write here, before I forget, is the pearl of wisdom that just came to me whilst looking at a wedding picture just now of us raising champagne glasses:

I laughed just then, because I realize how wrong I was from the start.  I was so afraid of marriage, because it would strip me of my being alone.  I realize that most people, or at least, many people, get married to leave their loneliness--to always be together.  But I am not most people.

I was afraid of having to sacrifice the core, quiet, completely whole and compact self that I am.  The part that doesn't need or want anyone, anything.  The isolation I adored seemed selfish.

But I was so wrong.  For nearly four years now, I have been mourning the loss of self and trying to melt into something indistinguishable, wrongly equating formlessness with selflessness and service.

We (husband and I) have been in pain because of my incorrect conclusion and where acting upon this conclusion has taken us.

More than anything, Noa wants me to live fully, because he loves me.  He longs for, prays for, me to "be happy."  What he really means, though, is to be something, to do something, to become all of me that I can be.  To take a form, to define the lines boldly.  To be.

Ever since we got serious (thought we might get married), I have worried about losing him in the distance as I sprint towards where my inner compass points as true north. We did talk about it once, in the car, parked at a gas station across the street from the ice skating rink (another story for later). We sat there for an hour, going back and forth about hypotheticals.

'What if I want to move to a foreign country?'
'What if I want to be a missionary?'
'What if I want to start a business, or a non-profit?'
'What if I want to go save the world, and it takes all of me?'

In that car, he told me the truth.  I wasn't ready for it.  It didn't seem fair, but I knew that didn't matter.

'If you want to go to a foreign country, or save the world, you have to lead it--it's just not my thing.  But I will go with you anywhere and support you with anything.  I will be your co-pilot,' he said.

'How can I be the pilot? Shouldn't you be the pilot?  I kind of want you to be the pilot as the man.'

And we did get married, so I have tried to die inside.  To wait for a miraculous stirring in his heart to dream big and shake up the world.  Something is budding--God is doing great things and is changing his heart to want to serve.  But leadership is a few years out.

I don't have to wait to be me for him to be him.  Doesn't that make sense?  To think that somehow God needed my sacrifice, like penitence for his heart to grow? Where the heck did I ever think that my sacrifice was good enough for anything?  It is only by Christ that anything is done: 'Apart from me you cannot do anything'--'I am the vine, you are the branches...he who remains in me will bear great fruit...'

So I need to be attached to the vine.  I need to live fully, abundantly.  For all of us.  Fruitless me is hurtful to me, God, the world, and the man I love.

This is going to be a streams of conciousness sort of thing.

Let me start with there is sunlight right now.  Sun.  Shining.  blue skies.

How do people deal with these seasons?  This long delay of despararation. Of burying desires until they blossom again with each spring?

I  forget how sad I am until the sun comes out and I feel happier than I can remember.  

I don't know how much I need to be outside until I am inside all day.

I forget how good it is to love and be loved until I spend all day at home and have no friends.

I am becoming something by having nothing.  I always wanted to know I am, who God made me to be.  Maybe this was a necessity, a necessary evil, this dark silence?

Birds, birdsong.  Amazing.  They feel the sun and celebrate for this short hour before the early sunset at 4.  

I want so badly to be in the sun.  

I want so badly to be back home.  To swim in the ocean.  To smell the air.  To be able to drive to see my family.  

Just a few years, right God?  Ii am thankful that you will use this fast to sort something out.  I givie ti to you to do that.  

God I long for clarity, for direction.  I feel like the next word is on the tip of my tongue...but it never comes.  And so I am breathless and silent.  Watiing with bated breath.

Things where I feel movement, like a baby in my belly:

Mom being back and my fear of  losing her, of seeing her frail, of missing my time with her and her time with her potential grandkids

Noa cousneling me with wise H.S. counsel in Dennys

Being asked by Sharon to sing with her, asked to join worship team.  In a time when i couldn't care less.  When i don't want to be public, don't want to be a figure, don't want praise.  

That moment, getting out of the car at the Ponzi wine estate in willamette valley.  The air and the freedom and those birds, and the silence, the only movement soudns were of birds winges and trees shaking when they land and take off.  I was free.  Knowing that somewhere in my heart you placed a seed in me to be outside.  To be something.  Something defined.  Every no is a yes to me because I started with no boundarieds.  So thank you for ievery no.  Thank you thank you thyank you.  But I still want to do sthing And I don't want to run away.  I don't want to hide in the beuaty of nature away from you.  I don't want to hide liek adam and eve in the gardene.    If you tell me to go somewhere where my heart cant dream of where I don't long to be, I will go, and I will be happy to serve.  I have the hardest damn time thinking that you would want me to be where it feels like ..joy.  What the hell is that ?   That I can't serve you if it is pleasant/  Is that some weird precomception and misconception?  Does serving the Lord need to be painful?  Hard?  Full of war and trouble?   

what does it mean that you want to give your children good things?  could it possibly mean that we could be free?  and do things differently?

And if that is so, God, what about all these worldly skils I have worked out?  What do I do with those?  HOw can I use those to glorigy you?  Should i just trash them and leave them behind?  

Come

Now is the time 

To Worship

Come

Now is the time 

To Give your life

Come

Just as you are

To worship

Come 

Just as you are

To Serve your God

Come

One day every knee will bow

One day every voice will sing

Greater is the one who remains in me

I gladly serve him now

Where do you want me to go?  PLEASSE PLEASE PLEASE KEEP TALKING

What hte heck are are the talents of the parable?

great website just found: theology of work

Mountains Out of Mole-hills

So the mole isn't cancerous.  I was really hoping they could take a biopsy without taking the whole thing.  

But it all happened so fast.  I didn't know I was agreeing to remove it all.  And now it's gone.  And it feels weird, the new skin is growing in tight and bothers me when I turn my head or lie on it or have a collar that touches it.

I am actually saddened by the loss of this little thing.  I know my response is pathetic.  I have a friend who just lost the very little bit of vision she had left by trying out a surgery that was nearly guaranteed to help her blindness.  And I just, I can't even imagine.  I love my senses, because they help me love life, even when circumstances are shitty.  On the worst day, I can see the color of a leaf or sky, hear these leaves rustle in the wind and I am happy.  I can feel the smooth thin petal of a rose between my fingers and roll it into a ball between my palms and smell it on my hands, put the petal ball in my mouth and taste its sweetness, its acidity.  My friend is heroic everyday, at least to me.  

So this silly mole.  The thing that makes me sad is I never knew it.  I only noticed it a few months back and it was much larger than any others that I did recognize on my body.  It was on the back of my neck to the left of my nape.  If it was truly new, I'd be OK getting rid of it because it was an evolution, new growth.  But if it was there my whole life, I will be sad to have so hastily rid myself of it, because it was part of me--holy.  

I can't even imagine an amputation or a mastectomy.  What a baby I am.  Actually I understand something like a removal that is necessary.  But preventative removal?  Not sure.  

All I can think is maybe that mole was there during my wedding pictures--the only pictures I think I have of shots of the back of my head.  Noa didn't seem to recognize it as part of me, so that was slightly encouraging that it might be new. But not much as he is bad at recognizing detail.

It just raises this issue of not knowing myself.  Really not knowing myself.  Like not recognizing my own body and its physical parts. 

Also, the haste that occurred in removing it was reminiscent of that half-understanding, half-awareness I had the first time I chose to have sex.  Reluctant, but urgent.  I was leaving the country that afternoon and this was likely the last time we would see each other, whatever that meant.  Half of my mind had to go somewhere else in order to belay the immediate regrets during it, half of my mind was watching from above us in curious shock of what it really looked like to do this.  I would take that morning back if I could, because I lacked full confidence in my decision and also because I wish I could have shared the moment of innocence with Noa (though it pretty much felt new with Noa since 5 minutes of dissociative sex, far away in Africa, in my mind, did not feel like I had de-virgined myself).

But the thing was gone, and this thing is gone.  Both hurt somewhat, both physically and symbolically, but soon I will forget both to the point of a foggy memory. 

So someday, when my daughter asks, I will be honest.  Because it’s not fair to pretend life is easier than it is—that is no preparation for what life is like.

The idea of a easylife brings me to one more topic.  I don’t think I deserve the simplicity of Noa.  He just loves.  He just does things.  He does think through things like card games or chess, loves to strategize and learn battle techniques in that way, how to master movements.  But with life, real life—not abstract games?  He just does, just acts.  He just sees what is there.  The shape.  The outline of blank space.  The values.  He categorizes, figures out patterns and sticks to them.  Schemas are his good friends.

And I don’t know how to let any of me out in that situation.  But the truth is, I never could zip down and open up and bubble out—to anyone, because it is too much, and too garbled to make sense of anyhow.  So what is the point?

I map the overflow (I don’t plan on unzipping fully maybe ever) out here.  Each word is a dot, a wave pattern, a longitude or latitude.  Maybe someday I can read this all and actually see a shape, a terrain of mountains and oceans, cities and roads.

Goodbye mole.  Thank you God for making me beautiful.  Sorry I wreck it sometimes, and without enough thought until hindsight.  I'm certain, despite my unawareness, that it was lovely.