Thursday, October 7, 2010

Green is the Grass

I'm generally not one to post random thoughts or idioms. I like to write with meaning and purpose - a beginning, a middle and an end. But tonight my mind is cluttered.

I am dancing, ever so lightly on my feet, like Ginger Rogers - backwards and in high heels.  I have opened up the channels and dialed up the frequency, not so much intentionally but I think more as a result of not having had a sip of alcohol for two weeks now.

I recently received my wake up call and I'm proud to say I picked up the phone and I listened with the ears of a woman who had been broken.  Hello, do you realize you are it for your kids now?  Do you understand it is all up to you? All of it. Everything they need for the next two and half years is on you. There is no family, no sugar daddy, no benevolent aunt - you are it baby.

I thank God, the universe, my dead mother, my dead father, my dead brothers, aunts, grandmothers and grandfathers for getting together to remind me that I am loved enough to be broken.  I am leaning into the pain, into this bitter wind, the winds that bring forth change, washing away the old. I am not resisting.

The bible says, do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, with the measure of faith God has given you. Done. (The bible didn't say 'done', I said that.)

I am becoming. I am not being. It is a life long journey to become the me that I was made to be.  And guess what?  God doesn't want me to be anything else than what I was created to be. Glory hallelujah!  But that implies I also have to be everything he created me to be.  Shit.

On the other side of death is freedom. Death of a lessor self is essential to allow a more noble intent.

I know what my intent is now and I will not fail to thrive.

The Talmud says, "Every blade of grass has its angel that bends over it and whispers, 'grow, grow'". If  you believe that, then you begin to comprehend how much we are loved.  Not to say we are more important than a blade of grass, for I can't really speak to the that. In the end, it may be explained to me how a single blade of grass served its purpose better than I did, but I am hoping that is not the case.

Call it low expectations but I'm fairly certain I can one-up a blade of grass.

Geesh, now I'm really asking for it.

I warned you this was random.


  1. Love you Angie. You are so awesome. I remember the first time I met you. You walked in with that buttoned up to the top shirt, and that long hair. You were so full of confidence. I have always admired your "spunk"....You will make it through all this. I know it is very painful, but damn it, that is just the way life is for most of us.

  2. Sounds about right. It is a subtle shift, really, to the center of yourself. It is just thick with pain.

    Not that I am there.

    Didn't want to sound like that. It is just so vulnerable and raw. And has so very much beauty in it.

  3. Thanks Judy M - at least I think that's you commenting up there! It's so funny you saw confidence in me back then, what was it, 1987? I was all buttoned up for a reason. Another place, another lifetime. But good to hear my spunk was shining through even back then. Love you.

    Robin - Rarely are you wrong but on this one I'm calling you out. You are here. You are with me always. True enough.


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