Missives

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Location: Rochester, Minnesota, United States

Saturday, January 14, 2006

Heard It Through the Grapevine

Hail to thee, oh minute orb
which doth contain the sweety meat.
Hail to thee, oh pungent vine
which doth produce the tasty treat.
Hail to thee, oh tall strong oak
which doth produce the mellow barrell.
Hail to thee, the blacksmith's smoke
which doth contain the oak tree's marrow.
Hail to thee, young tender feet
which in its prime does press with toes.
Hail to thee, the strong forearms
which guides the pressing nectar floes.
Hail to thee, the glass which holds
the sweet and subtle gift - Shiraz.
Hail to thee and hail to me,
do I love it? Bet youraz.

Friday, January 13, 2006

Hey Nineteen

[I wrote this essay about four years ago. I no longer remember why, what for or how the original inspiration came about. It is religious in nature, but not evangelical. In no way am I asking anyone to believe in God, Satan, or James Frey. It was just a theory and I found it interesting re-reading. But I put in the disclaimer so that those who think I'm forcing religion down their throats can get a grip and lighten up. In fact, if you do lighten up, you'll probably realize this has more to do about life that we all have experienced and less to do with theology. Metaphors and all that. Or, it could have been written after a night of Grand Marniers- I tend to wax philosophical after two of those. And after three I just throw up.]





There are those who would have you believe that Satan is a disfigured, innately evil, malevolent daemon, tortured by nature, who thirsts for souls and power and wars against God for the pleasure he takes in its perversity. There are those who believe that the worship of the Fallen Angel in macabre form pays him homage and creates in them a "dark(er) power".


I know Satan. Not from worship or admiration, but from understanding. I know the nature of hell. Not the simplistic definition offered up by those who look for easy answers in an increasingly passionless world. I understand the true nature of hell and what it really means to Satan.


Satan, or Beelzebub if you will, had it all. He was in possession of everything sublime, everything blissful and all that could make an eternal being happy. He was a member of the heavenly host. Not just a member, but THE member. He was God's favored. The beautiful one. God not only loved him, but cherished him. Can you imagine? God is all things, omnipotent and all powerful...and he lives to please the one He cherishes most of all. That, my friends, is true power. Everything that defined Beelzebub and what he wanted from (eternal) life was his, given to him without reservation or penance, handed to him without trials or tribulations because he was loved, he was adored, he was cherished and he was deserving. Let's not forget he was, at that time, deserving.


There is a reason he is referred to as the "Fallen" one. No one honestly knows why Satan turned his back on God. Some might call it the folly of youth or a quest for independence. On the surface, it may seem just that. But no one, not even a member of the heavenly host, walks away from sublime divinity for so little. We must, first, understand that angels are not perfect -- else they'd be God and not angels. Beelzebub was obviously a tortured soul. How it came to pass that his heart and his mind were so tormented I cannot venture a theory. But I think it must be clear that he started with a firm foundation of anguish and built upon it with blocks of arrogance, ignorance and stupid, stupid pride. God did not "cast him out". No, that is a phrase that came about because some unimaginative soul could not believe that anyone would be obtuse enough to walk away from Heaven.


Beelzebub not only walked away, but he did it for not one single apparently good reason. Perhaps he thought he could do better, perhaps he needed freedom to make his own mistakes without retribution. Then again, perhaps he was running from his own demons that he had yet to acknowledged pursued him. Perhaps God, in his all-seeing, all knowing way, failed to recognize the imminent departure because God was an ostrich: his head buried in the sand, pretending that if he couldn't see it, it wouldn't happen.


So Beelzebub left Heaven. Maybe, just maybe, he didn't even know that it was Heaven. If he had yet to experience Hell, how could he even know that Heaven existed? So he left. He walked away from encompassing, forgiving, virtuous love. He searched and he experimented and he failed miserably to attain anything fulfilling or concrete. His life became shallow and he became obsessed with those things were later labeled "sins" (pride, lechery, adultery, sloth, greed, ignorance, irresponsibility) simply because they were not the way of God. At this juncture, we must remember that the villain is always the hero of his own story. He does not make decisions based on what he thinks will make him hideous, he makes decisions on what he thinks will make him happy. But because he does not understand his own nature and the nature of the world around him, he cannot understand happiness. All he knows is that when he was in the Kingdom of Heaven, he was not satisfied. It never occurred to him that his dissatisfaction had everything to do with himself and nothing to do with God.


I have no doubts that God waited, quite some time, for Satan to return to the Kingdom of Heaven. I believe that God checked in with his beloved Angel every so often, just to let him know that he was still loved and still welcome. I also conceive that God's silent and unencroaching pleas for return ignited an anger in Satan that was fanned by failure.


Fast forward several hundred years... Something, anything, has caused Beelzebub to take stock of his "life". I like to think that a certain responsibility caused him to deal with those demons which haunted every waking, and some dreaming, moments. Whatever it was, you must understand that Satan actually began to understand. He began to see things as they were and would be. He comprehended the nature of true bliss and how to attain such a state. He became so cognizant of who he was and what he wanted that he also began to see how he had been and what suffering he had caused.


Eventually, Satan became achingly aware of all his true desires.


Hell is not some lower level plane of eternal damnation where eternal fire and torment rack the body with pain. Hell is not seven levels of torture and pitchforks and twenty-four hours of listening to your dysfunctional family argue over inconsequential tediums. Hell is much more unadulterated than those childish and "unenlightened" determinations.


Hell is the absence of Heaven. Only those who have willingly turned their backs on Heaven can truly comprehend the nature of Hell. It is pure absence. Pitchforks and burning and all things grotesque are for those simple minds who cannot fathom that to be deprived of something could be torture enough. Their hell is for those uninitiated who have been so spoiled in their lives that deprivation is not a consideration.


My heart breaks for Satan. I pity him. How long God must have waited for his return before he finally said, "He is dead to Us." How tormented the ache when Satan realized that all he ever wanted was all he ever had. The true hell must have come in the realization that he was deprived by his own hand. That he would never be allowed back into the Kingdom of Heaven, that he could never right his wrongs or turn back time. That he must live eternity knowing that he created Hell and all the forgiveness in the Heavens would ever return to him that which he rent from himself.


Satan does not tempt us to thumb his nose at God. Satan gives us every opportunity NOT to make the same mistakes as he. He warns us of our folly and attempts to awaken us from our own indifference. Satan cannot relish the company he keeps. His existance is shallow, hollow; without honest passion or forgiveness. Satan must live with his own emptiness for all eternity. He must mourn his self-imposed exile with every breath.


It is an agonizing thing to realize that you have walked away from Heaven. It is torturous to be forced to appreciate the suffering and torment you have caused...not only in your own life, but in the lives of those who only wanted to cherish you.


Hell is the absence of Heaven. With the realization comes acceptance that the rest of your days will be lived with the consequences of the pain you inflicted upon your own soul.

Thursday, January 12, 2006

The Sound of Music

Okay, I really need to know how to put a sound file on my home page. Anyone? Point me in a direction? Please?

P.S. For those following the soap opera - Sweet Addies is back on. And I just became acquainted with 40 new women. Most of them not only under the age of death, but under the age of 55. Who knows? I might even make a friend in a few months, when they finally learn my name.

Wednesday, January 11, 2006

I'm Bidin' My Time

I was going to look up the definition of "drudgery" but I can't find my dictionary. I picture that garbage lady from "Princess Bride" - 'Boo! Boo! Boo!' "Why do you do this?" "Because you had true love...etc...get to the good part...so bow down, bow down to her. Bow down to the Queen of Slime, the Queen of Garbage, the Queen of Putrescence. Boo! Boo! Boo!" Okay, maybe that's not actually drudgery, but I love the way she says 'putresence'. Providing I even spelled that correctly.

I am grateful that we could finally afford a house in this New England, out of control prices market. I am grateful that my children are healthy and relatively happy and that I am blessed in being able to raise my littlest one every day and see the amazing growth - sometimes it seems minute by minute. But it takes more than that to have a healthy, happy, productive life. Anybody who says otherwise isn't one of the people who gets it. And they probably don't have a healthy, happy, productive life. Spending three evenings at week at the Albion ain't productive. It's not even happy, it's haze-happy.

I wonder how these last five months are affecting me. I see some signs. They're not all that good. I'm losing some aspects of my character that I've always been fond of - but hasn't always endeared me to others. I think one of the biggest things is that I rarely smile or laugh - only for the baby and that's forced most of the time. I find that hard to believe. Me. The two things I do best of all are smile and laugh. I don't understand people who think that my living in an inefficient and sometimes dangerous house - with no place to relax or be surrounded by the things I love and appreciate - that spending twenty-one to twenty-three hours a day with my youngest either on me or keenly under my supervision (or feet), that having little or no adult conversation for days, sometimes weeks on end, is something that I should put up with because "[I'm] the one who wanted to have a baby."

It is drudgery to do the same thing day in, day out with little variation. Get the teen-ager up at 6:00 am. Get the teen-ager up at 6:10 am. Get the teen-ager up at 6:20 and remind her that her walking companion will be here in little less than half an hour. Lay on the couch while baby finishes sleeping on me. Take teen-ager to school in inclement weather. Argue with TA about appropriate attire. Feed baby breakfast. Dress baby. Take trash out on Wed's, recyclables on Thursdays. Put in laundry. Fold laundry while doing "The Dino Dance" = which I count as exercise. Take baby to bathroom so I can go. Snack. Outdoor tromping. Lunch. Nap. Yell at TA for inappropriate attire. Cat box. Bathtime. Computer and phone monitor. Arguments with the TA (and trust me, there's a lot). Fixer of lunches and dinners. Dishwasher several times a day. Grocery shopper. House painter (and a piss poor one, apparently). Mail collector. Stamp buyer. Cleaner. Mopper. Do it all over again, almost word for word and action for action - all without help, appreciation, thanks (the baby hugs me when I do good), conversation or...company. And when I do have company, it's constant arguing and sniping. And I'm supposed to be grateful for this? I'm supposed to be raising a family, not be Dobby the House Elf. How can I raise my family when I don't go anywhere, do anything or talk to anybody. I do not function as a woman or a human, just a mommy and an indentured servant.

I am a woman. Not a girl and no longer someone's daughter. I shouldn't have to ask permission to live my life. Promises have been broken and broken and then broken again. I have been blamed for everything because of my need to multiply and I have been forced to give up the only career I have ever known, the only family there is to love me and the only place I have ever called home. These were my decisions. All mine. I made them based on misinformation and trust and I relish admitting my faults and mistakes so that someday, if I'm ever stupid enough to find myself in a like position, I most definitely will NOT make these mistakes again. Take a breath, Warbler. Feel the force flow through you. Let go of your anger, you must, or the Dark side will you be.

Now, that being said...my asthma is finally under control and I have been cancer free for 14 years. I've lost 50 pounds since the baby and I'd like another 15, but I can't kickstart it and the Dino Dance really is about all the exercise I'm getting these days. My hair is still thick and bountiful = which really surprises me considering how much I lose in a day. I shed more than the dog and both cats all together! Actually, if I shaved my head, I'd probably lose another 7 pounds. I still have friends through my computer - although some friendships are starting to fade from the time/distance/we-have-a-life-and-you-don't thing. My oldest is gifted with the written word and my youngest is verbally advanced and still showing signs of musicality. My children need a father. A good father. I need some company and to restore my self-esteem. None of that's gonna happen any time soon, so I'll continue to vent my frustrations into the cyber-ether and then try to find and focus on the positive. Like these really cool pink satin jammies with purses and shoes printed all over. And my good skin. And my beautiful babies. And chocolate. And Shiraz. Ahhhh, there we go...


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