I Went Down In The River To Pray
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So, the wild woman of borneo is in the hands of the holy rollers. They aim to cleanse her of her unholy urges, I guess.
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It is a measure of our desperation that we are glad of her being there.
Imagine that.
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The best thing in the world to me is that she is alive and breathing and happy to see us. Starved for us, it seems like. After years of being the most hated and despised creatures alive, we are once again worthy of ....what? Her love? Her affection?
Yes. And yes.
I don't pretend to understand it. I am just grateful for it.
It is like drenching rain after a long dry spell.
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All the pain, all the anger and worry and heartache. How lovely that it can all be pitched overboard in an instant.
And I'm talking about my pain here, not hers.
She's done me wrong a thousand different ways.
I don't give a good goddamn.
I will yet love her.
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If it use us up, so be it.
Not that we will let her destroy us, not that. But would we spend ourselves on her? Of that, you can have no doubt.
There is nothing like salvation in this world. There is only the dogged determination to love, and to reach out, and to help, or try to, while there is yet breath in you.
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You don't get to know if it helps or not.
You can only put your money down, or quit the table.
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Today I was wondering if I am crazy because I think all the time about how crazy I am, or if that means I'm not crazy at all.
I have a sneaking suspicion about it.
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And on a lame note, I hope that you will stop in and comment, although I am a poor sport about responding. I read them all and I love them all. I just feel a little stupid and shy about responding sometimes.
How about that?
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Namaste.
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posted by tearful dishwasher at 5:31 PM
15 Comments:
hi. no idea what you are writing about, except that I understand completely. My daughter is a heroin addict. Am I close? I too love completely and may or may not be crazy. namaste
And I thought, a mother. With a daughter, you can't help but love; a mother, you might have to choose. Anyway, Dishwasher, you hearten me. My head's busier than my heart most of the time; I don't mind if someone gives the latter a squeeze, to remind me. May your loving endure and be allowed to do its work.
blood can exile you to the reaches of the earth, or bring you home. makes my head spin.
we shoulda figured out, oh, ages go--like age 5, that so much of life is about dogged determination. but some of us wanted rabbits out of hats and endless silk scarves out of vest pockets. and we get one bloodied foot after another. with the occasional meteor shower and call of the loon, so spectacular that we forgot to hope for it.
i hope you get a raft of stuff you forgot to hope for.
I went the holy roller route once in my black days. I didn't last long but I came away changed. Cynical at last. But the black days undid themselves eventually with time and attention to the inner self. The thing is, you are a good father no matter what you think of it yourself. You feel like a good father to me even though you are younger than I which we both know makes no difference. If the Wild Woman can get some joy out of it and a circle of support and some singing and hand holding and swaying and maybe a for true Baptism she won't be the worse for it. And you don't have to respond because I can hear you when you post your art.
love,
Rebecca
It makes me happy to read of the gentle hope and grace in this particular time with your daughter. Like a deep sigh of relief. Just for now.
Love, I think of it as the one gift we can offer, even in the leanest of times. Even when we are not allowed close enough to deliver it in person, we can hold it in our hearts and trust that somehow it is transmitted. Extend the same love to yourself, no matter what your mind speaks. Tears here, too.
someone said it i think. love is the every, the only answer.
I'm put my money down on the table a long time ago. Still putting it down. Every single day.
funny. i feel a little shy and stupid about commenting. most times.
(:
"Today I was wondering if I am crazy because I think all the time about how crazy I am, or if that means I'm not crazy at all."
I used to walk around feeling like an alien, a complete non-human being. I was abnormal. I was an outsider. I wanted desperately to feel like an insider. I wanted to be normal. I wanted to be a card-carrying member of the human race. I wanted to be a member of the club that would accept me as a member.
Now? I don't think about it anymore. I am what I am. So what if I don't fit in. So what if people think I'm odd, unusual, different. My whole life, people have been saying: I've never met anyone like you. Or: You're not like anyone else I know.
I think you are crazy, brother. Don't worry; I am too. Which is why I feel safe in your presence. And Radish's. And a few other folks that haunt your blog.
I don't want to be an insider anymore. To hell with normal.
I am what I am, dammit. Love me as I am or fuck off.
That's my motto. And I'm stickin' to it.
Your posts are always so beautiful. Maybe the holy rollers will save the wild woman. The mormons saved my brother.
love you people!
Hi. Stopping in and commenting, per your request.
Clay-
Hey, man! I missed this the first time around or something.
Thank you.
I don't know if I've told you this, but I admire the hell out of your writing and your art.
Anyway, thanks for saying hello.
yrs-
Scott
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