Do you see why I am tottering on the edge of the crazy the loon? Heaven came to earth in a tiny package. The person of Jesus. The body and the blood. Right now, for me, this is true, though I don’t know what it means. Is it a metaphor? Of course it’s a metaphor. But it’s also truer than anything. It is beyond my kin. And I am thankful, thankful, thankful.

Nothing much doing today. I just woke up a few moments ago. Time to get going. Time to think and think and think some more. Time to arm for bear. The beast is cruel and just now, though it makes no sense to me at all, God is cruel and mighty and full of love and teeth. All things are possible for those who love the Lord. All things work for good. And he wants me to snap to it. I must needs listen. I must needs get about this business.

~r.

Dale and I watched Melancholia tonight, and it sucked all religious feeling out of me; it sucked everything out of me. It was awful and beautiful and amazing and wretched. And I loved it. It is a bit like Solarius, the original one, and it’s a bit like On the Beach, but even that most-depressing movie has at least some hope at the end. This has NOTHING. In that way it reminds me of the movie Pitch Black, which is so terrible and so outside everything human. There’s an awful beauty to it. Sometimes I think of what the earth was like before humans evolved, before higher thought and “reason” entered into the world, before good and evil, before black and white. I imagine the time before animals entered the world. Lots of pollen and enormous plants and shifting sands. The wind comes along and stirs the leaves around and around. The rain comes. And there’s no one and nothing to see it or smell it or listen to it. No one needs to run indoors for an umbrella. No one rushes to gather the wash from the line. No, there’s only a blessed stillness and peace. Maybe the earth will be like that again one day. And that is a terrifying and amazing thought.

I have thought of Captain Kirk today. He would tell me that we need the darkness to recognize the light. He would tell me that without darkness, I wouldn’t even be able to conceive of happiness. And he would be right. The human condition. The good and bad of it. No matter what happens, your hands will get dirty, the dust will settle, the paint will chip and the roof will eventually fall in. Governments come and go. Kingdoms rise and fall. Nothing lasts.

The Bible says that God is the beginning and the end. Maybe there’s some truth in that. Maybe all this is a wink of God’s eye, a little swirl and swish in the bottom of the glass. There is theology that says that all the universe is praising God, except for us. The Earth has gone astray. God is trying to draw us back to him, but we don’t listen. Maybe there’s truth in that. Maybe God created us with an awful, creative power inside us. Maybe he made us very much like him. Maybe he gave us that gift, and we created evil. I’ve always figured that God was the source of everything, but maybe it’s more complicated than that. Maybe God chose to give us creative power and we have perverted that. Maybe we can’t help it. Maybe he became one of us to try and talk to us, to try to get us to understand our purpose. And maybe we killed him. Maybe there’s just no getting through to us.

I am awash with maybes and thoughts of maybes. I know nothing and understand very little. In space, matter isn’t very dense. There’s like one molecule per cubit meter. That’s a whole lot of emptiness. Here, in this arm of the galaxy, we exist in this state. I am a swirling mass of atoms all moving together to the tune of the universe. That’s God’s music. I can only understand when I speak in metaphor. Some things are beyond language.

Dale says that if I believed in the Great Spaghetti Monster and said that the Great Spaghetti Monster is inside everything and is the source of all good things, well, you get his point. But okay. So maybe I DO believe in the Great Spaghetti Monster. He’s an awful big monster. Maybe I will fall into his mouth and he will swallow me up. Maybe he will bring me buttered toast tomorrow morning and give me the desires of my heart. Maybe I’m full of nonsense and there is no meaning in any of this.

I will attach myself to the hem of his robe. I will ride with him through the hills and vales and city streets. I will stir up the dust at his feet. The women will wash his clothes in the river and I will swim away into the sea, into the salt that bore me. I will curl myself tighter than tight. I will fit into a water droplet, into the space between thought and breathing. I will be still and listen for God.

~r.

But all I want to do is read this new book. Lanie pulled a muscle yesterday, so can’t work out and I of course want to use that as an excuse not to work out myself. I faced the music this morning, weighed myself, and recorded my weight on Weight Watchers. I’m not sure if I feel committed or not though. The good health news is that I haven’t smoked since I left for vacation and that seems to be going well. Last night, and the night before, I drank a good deal of wine with Jackson and didn’t desire a cigarette. But the real test will be tonight when we go over to Ben and Kiki’s, a place where we always smoke a lot. That will probably be a temptation. And though I am reluctant to write about it, I have prayed (a little bit) about it. I actually feel rather strange about praying for things for myself, so I haven’t done a lot of it, but. But the weight thing. If it weren’t for my chin, I don’t think I’d much care. That’s the solid, ugly truth. It’s hard to commit to a weight lose program when you aren’t really worried about your weight. It’s the ongoing struggle, as you know if you read here.

But I am conflicted about something else this morning, or rather, I was last night and this morning I am thinking about it. What, when one is bathed in light, when one is full of God, what does one do with darkness? There is a dark impulse in my writing. I explore dark things, because I’ve always been drawn to them. There is a dark impulse in art, in living, because we are drawn to dark things. They are compelling. They stir us up. They are part of the human condition. But what does one do with darkness when one is on the path to enlightenment, as I suspect that I am? How will this affect my art? In my past, I’ve read Christians who say that everything should glorify God—EVERYTHING. All our music, all our art. The whole of our lives and being. And on the one hand, I get that. Recently, one of my students told me he had a girlfriend and things were getting serious. But he had never even mentioned her! That was shocking to me. But the more shocking thing was when he mentioned, casually, that he was a “really religious guy.” That shocked me because I’ve known him for a couple of years now and he’s never given any indication that God is in his life. Sometimes in my classes, students will write about their religious views, but more often they don’t. And I may be to blame for that. Certainly I haven’t encouraged them to write about their faith, though I’ve never discouraged anyone. Anyhow, if I am on fire for God, which is how I feel just now, how will that manifest itself in my life? What about all those dark stories? What about my little fucked-up, dark dream of a novel? A long time ago, I wrote a story, a disturbing story, and Kiki asked me how I could possibly publish it, which was a real surprise coming from her.

The darkness titillates, like pornography. It delights us. It’s like watching The Avengers, when the Hulk beats up on the bad guy. It’s funny. It’s a gimme-gimme moment. In Gone With the Wind, Scarlett is sickened when she kills the Yankee soldier, because she blows away part of his face, because it is gross, because she has KILLED someone. But close on the heels of her first impulse is a kind of sweeping gimme-gimme joy. She wants to grind her heel into the hole in his face. She feels triumphant, she feels ALIVE. I think that violence, or at least our vicarious experience of it, is like that. When I see violence on the screen, like in The Game of Thrones, my middle twists up. I have to hold onto myself, often looking away so that I can bear it. But at the same time, when the little girl has her friend kill the bad guys, I feel a kind of dark joy. Is it simply the feeling of JUSTICE being done?

And what of violent video games? It’s only a matter of time before we have holo-decks like they have in Star Trek. And if you’re willing and eager to kill in a holo-deck, in a simulation that feels, tastes, smells, sounds, and looks absolutely real, then what does that say about you? Dale and Alex both play violent video games and there’s not a violent bone in either of them. But…but…but.

All this is to say, what? That I don’t want to let go of darkness? That I don’t want to be happier? That I don’t want to be more fulfilled? That I don’t want to spread the news of God? Is that the real problem? Am I ashamed? I suppose on some level that I am embarrassed. All those holier-than-thou Christians who think that their way is the right way and if you don’t believe exactly what they believe then you’re headed for hell, those people have given Christianity a bad name. I have no desire to be associated with those people. They seem hateful to me, even though they may be trying to be good. They want to shut people out. They don’t seem enlightened at all.

This sharing of God has always been a sticking point with Christians. It’s not easy to proclaim your faith to the masses. It’s not easy and I don’t really feel the impulse to share, at least not in the let me tell you what Jesus has done for me way. But now that I’ve plugged in, it’s bound to change my life, and I’m curious what those changes, those manifestations will be. Maybe I’m a little bit scared. I’m not sure. But I do know that I don’t want to lose my edge, my sharp bite. Losing that scares me. Maybe what it all boils down to is that I’m afraid that I won’t be able to write, that my creativity will go away. As so many writers know, it’s harder to write when you’re happy. It’s harder to write when things are going well. Now, I think that I may be worrying about moral messages. I HATE moral messages that try to BE moral messages. But what about the end aim of art?

Oh my. This is something that will take a lot of thinking and pondering. And doing. I haven’t written anything lately, haven’t wanted to write, which isn’t unusual. But what if it’s all over?

~r.

I learned that I truly am needed at this church. It is struggling, as am I. The priest is only part-time, which explains why there’s not more church. I will work to change that, if I can. We need more church. It’s funny. The whole body and blood thing used to repel me. I found it offensive. Now I want it, I crave it, I want it every day. That seems just crazy to me. The priest, Jon, suggested that I read the mystics. So I started Julian of Norwich today, and I’m not sure what I think. The language in this translation is so archaic that it’s hard to read and understand. Anyhow, it’s a start.

I also discovered a book today that I’m eager to read. It’s called, Christianity for the Rest of Us. It’s a sociological study of some mainstream churches. Not the wacked-out oh-so-conservative, I’m right and you’re wrong and going to hell mega churches that have taken over, but traditional Christian churches. Now that I’m a Christian again, I want to immerse myself in all things Christian. I’m sure this first blush will pass, that secular things will call me back their way, but for right now I am thrilled with all things for Christ.

And mentioning that, I finally went to the 2^nd Chapter of Acts website and ordered some music. Holy shit! I have been depriving myself all this time of this glorious experience. This music means more to me than I can possibly say. I downloaded one album, and the rest are coming in the mail. The one I downloaded, I had in the past, and hearing it again, listening to the harmonies of these freaking ANGELS. My god. Again, my prayer, the thing that keeps recurring, is THANK YOU, THANK YOU.

I just can’t believe it. I am back in the church, its arms are folded around me. And I have so much to look forward to. Today is Ascension Day, the day Jesus ascended to heaven, forty days after Easter Sunday. Tonight there is an evensong service at St. Paul’s, the church I’ve been going to for noon Eucharist this week. I am really, really looking forward to this. I have been to very few evensongs in my life. This should be really sweet. I just wish it were taking place at Christ Church. I hope for such things in the future. But for tonight, I am thankful to go to St. Paul’s. Praise be to God! Can you just hear this crazy girl? She is off her rocker! She is a holy-roller. Well, not quite. Dale told me what that really means. I don’t think I’ll be falling down in Holy Sprit fits anytime soon, so I’m not really a “holy-roller,” but you can see why I’m using the term. I have jumped off the high dive and this time I’ve haven’t closed my nose with my fingers. No, this time I have embraced the water. I will blow out, and blow out, and sink to the bottom like a stone, like a slab of marble.

On to it then. I am going to read a bit, then head to church. Then we’re off to Rick and Terri’s for Idol results. Now that my girl Skylar is gone, I don’t much care who wins, though I think, based on talent, it should be Joshua.

~r.

Yesterday I got an acceptance for a poem from Stone Highway Review. I think they are new, so it’s always a risk when you don’t know much about a journal. I once published in a journal that only printed one issue, the issue I was in. Oh wait…that happened more than once! But that’s just how it goes. Anyhow, they are taking “Womb,” and it shocks me that no one has taken this poem before now. It’s a great poem. But it took me forever to get “Behind the Revival Tent” published, too. I just never know what someone will like. I showed a bunch of poems to the Bitter Oleander editor and he ended up taking only one, and that one is one I’ve never felt comfortable with. It’s weird.

Hey, guys. Check out my poem at PLUME. This is a vicious poem and, once again, I’m surprised that no one has published it before now. I suppose I haven’t submitted it to very many places, but I thought someone would snatch it up right away. But here it is, at last. And just look at the folks published in this journal. I am in SUCH good company! And I will be published in the next issue, too, or the issue after that. He took three poems. He is a very nice editor. Submit to his journal. He will get back to you in good time.

Overall I feel fine today, though I had a hard time getting up. I had to force myself up, then I went to the gym, then I went to church, then I went to lunch, then I went to the library, then I came home and had a Diet Coke and a Mrs. Freshley’s nutty bar. Then I took a nap and slept until Annette called and woke me up. Then I got a text from Jackson asking to drop over for wine and Idol, which was a surprise. I didn’t even know they were back in town. Should be fun.

As for my spirit and all that stuff I was wrestling with last night…I feel okay. I can only do what feels right at this point, and that means going to church. Tomorrow morning I am going to see the priest and maybe that will help. Maybe he will tell me to run for the hills, or that I’m not welcome. We will see what we see.

Now I’m on to it.

~r.

I keep praying for a right heart. I keep feeling things, and then the absence of things. I am sure of only one thing—that God wants me back. Dale says that that, too, is a metaphor. Maybe he’s right, but something, someone, is calling me to action. I am convicted. I want to do God’s work. I want something more. I am yearning toward God.

God is huge in my mind’s eye, in my heart, huge and amazing and full of love and grace. I cannot pigeonhole him. I cannot assess him. It. Her. The Divine Light. The universe full of stars and matter and spin and spark. God is in us all, and we dwell in God. We have the choice to be aware and live in light, or to be closed off and live in darkness. We are all divine, but we can ignore this, we can pervert this, we can close our minds and hearts to the truth. God wants me back. But why?

Why now? Just because James got sick again? When he got sick the first time, I didn’t feel this way. I didn’t feel the need for prayer. Why now? Why did I actually go to church today? What did I feel there? Honestly, I’m not sure. The only thing I could think of to pray was “thank you for this.” Thank you for this.

I want God, in all his fullness. I’ve spent much of my life fighting against enlightenment. I have said, over and over again, that I don’t want to be enlightened. Now I feel that light is upon me, every corner lighting up, whether I like it or not. I am plugged in.

Do I think that this will change me on some fundamental level? I don’t know. I certainly still have road rage. I am still very impatient. But I feel wings stirring and sprouting in my shoulders. Maybe I am just insane. Maybe this is just another manifestation of my bipolar illness. Maybe God will have to turn me inside out before I am willing to just let it be. My brain works and works and strives and strives. Meanwhile, I will go to church. I will read the crazy, mixed-up Bible. I will talk to the priest on Thursday morning. Maybe that will help.

Dale says that this is what I do. I explore things. I question things. So I guess he’s right. I am exploring. I am yearning. Open me God, open me and fill me with stars. “My god, it’s full of stars!” I am knitting the apple back together, deep in my belly. I am pulling it from my throat. I am hanging it on the lowest branch. It is growing in the garden, the original place where God first found me and dug me up and breathed into my mouth. I am running my hands along the moss, dipping my fingers into the stream. There is a rush of love all around. I am alone in God’s eye. I am singing. I am dreaming of my feet clacking on a flagstone floor. This is his body, broken. This is my body, broken. There is a hole in me, a string dangling out of it. I am tying myself to God. He is reeling me in. And under. And through. My God. He’s full of stars. And so am I.

~r.

And I have been listening to preachers this morning, listening and arguing in my mind and finding some truth even so. I like to listen to the Christians from time to time, to see what they’re saying, especially in an election year. But even now, when issues are so hot, there is still usually some truth to be found, if you have an open mind. And my mind is OPEN. I am LISTENING.

I will read and recoup today. I will watch TV. The last few days of our trip we were barely going, dragging ourselves around. We were at Epcot the last day for Moroccan food for lunch, and we were supposed to stay there until supper at China. But we didn’t make it. We ended up going back to the hotel and ordering pizza for the room. Even so, we ended up with one table service meal and lots of quick service meals on the meal plan that we didn’t use. These are meals we paid for in advance but didn’t eat. Next time, no dining plan.

But oh the dining. Germany—lovely vegetarian choices on the buffet with liter-sized beers. Tokyo—sushi and tempura and the best miso I’ve ever had. Boma—African food, a buffet, simply amazing. And the highlight for me—The Wave. I had wonderful food, a curried-vegetable stew and a flight of pinot noir. And I discovered the best wine I’ve ever had—2012 Spy Valley Pinot Noir. Simply the best. I’ve never had a wine with such a finish. I didn’t even want to get drunk on it. It was just too good for that. And the Wave was fabulous looking. It’s in Disney’s Contemporary Resort, which still looks awfully good. I would love to know what it was like back when it first opened. It must have been shocking.

Overall, the trip was very good, though I am Disney’d out for now. My favorite park is Hollywood, at least that’s the day I had the most energy, before my serious foot pain. I like the Sci-Fi theater where we had lunch while sitting in a vintage “car” and watching B movie footage. I like the back lot tour and the car show and the great movie ride and Indian Jones show. I love the Rockin’ Rollercoaster and the Tower of Terror. And the park is just so very cool looking, great atmosphere, etc.

I also love Animal Kingdom. The highlight of that park, and perhaps of the whole trip, was seeing a Lion King show. We were in the front row and it was amazing, lots of dancing and joyous rollicking. There is also a wonderful ride there—the Everest Expedition, the best coaster in all the parks. That was a good day, though a short day. I wish we had gone earlier. There were things we didn’t have time to do, but it was a good day.

Our Typhoon Lagoon day was a bust. A storm whipped up and it brought the coldest rain. James wanted to leave, even though it was starting to clear up. So we left. I didn’t even get to catch a wave. That was a disappointment. But, overall things were good. But I will never attempt a lot of that type of walking without Birkenstocks. Never again. My feet didn’t bother me this much in Rome. The hardest thing on the feet is the standing and waiting, which is a lot of what you do. Standing is awful. And it was so frustrating because I didn’t get tired or out of breath. My knees didn’t bother me. It was just my left foot. Terrible. But enough complaining. I have until June 27^th to do whatever I want to do. And do it I will.

~r.

Found out this morning that our house appraised for less than I was hoping, like twenty thousand dollars less. I knew in my gut that this would happen. Now we have to scrap together some cash if we still want to refinance. Bummer.

God is with me in the middle of the night. I slept in spurts and starts last night, which happened a couple of nights ago also. And I was awash with theology and sort of prayers. It’s weird, but not disturbing. I wonder what it would feel like at home. Which I almost miss. My little corner of the world.

I have to hop in the shower now.

~r.

God is with me, in little ways. Today I wished for a right heart, dropped a dime into the small world water and wished. God is with us all. Walk in the light. That’s an old hymn. I love old hymns. That’s the one thing wrong with the Episcopal Church. They don’t sing the old hymns that I grew up on. I wish they did.

Dale has Family Guy on and I think I’m going to rub my feet.

~r.

Dale is in the shower now, and then we can go get something to eat, and make our way to the park. We are doing the Magic Kingdom today. I hope we have enough energy to stay until the fireworks tonight.

I am just dumb this morning. Dumb, dumb, dumb. But once we eat, I think I’ll feel better.

~r.