Saturday, April 09, 2011

She Wasn't Sorry For It


The Buddhists say we all take turns, being one kind of thing and then another. They seem to have a lot of good ideas about how to break down the intricate, high walls our ego erects around the little button of our soul, trying in vain to protect it.

The Buddhists would say there is nothing to protect, and nothing to be protected from.

I yet reserve judgement on this.


After several months of hopeful, if incremental, progress, the Wild Woman of Borneo has gone off the reservation.

Whereabouts unknown.


Maybe it only seems like utter destruction. From this vantage point it's hard to tell. Of course, by the time we figure it out, we'll all have been swept so far downstream that the knowledge of whether some past event was what it seemed like it was back when it happened will be of small comfort either way.


There is all kinds of destruction afoot. Women swinging axes at the foundations, monkeys with fire poker peg-legs crying doom, dog-bite curs underfoot, embers and soot in the air all around. Just because the devil is urging them on doesn't mean what they're doing is all bad, right?


Just making room for the new.


It could be that I am the most fearful little boy there ever was.






Anonymous Anonymous said...

i am fiercely thinking good thoughts.

9:30 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

p.s. i have various family stories with widely varied results. happier endings can never be ruled out. hope is never foolish. interestingly, i've been thinking about your girl lately. i will focus my fierce good thinking.

9:33 AM  
Blogger Elizabeth said...

I, too, will hone and focus my thinking, however fragile or even non-existent my ego. All good thoughts to you and none of the other kind. When I am desperate about my own daughter, I remember that her life is a journey of her own. That doesn't so much release me as relieve me, a bit. Only a bit, but a bit is a bit.

10:06 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

oh, thank goodness for the little islands of refuge we are cast upon from time to time, we certainly need them between storms. I am so sorry for your current terrifying storm, and sending my light along with all the others, perhaps to be a beacon of hope.

10:16 AM  
Blogger 37paddington said...

God, that is a stunning image. I stare at it and stare at it. Talk about burning down the house. And yet the chair. The chair, empty, waiting, expectant, saved, it says hope to me.

I am glad the fearful little boy has the man to protect him. I hope the man knows how much he is loved. All we can do in the face of the unknown is live through the bated breaths and hope. It's not nothing.

ah. i wish i could make it different.

10:58 AM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...

dottie kee bones-

i am glad and grateful for it.

i feel the flywheel in my chest is askew and throwing hard sparks, grinding to its conclusion. my hands want to destroy the whole circus.

you know what i mean.



2:36 PM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...


I don't know if you've seen the Bourne movies, but there's a scene in one of them where the deadly assassin has mortally wounded another deadly assassin who was sent to kill him, and the dying one looks up at Bourne and says,

"See what they make you give?"

We're all in the same boat. Gutshot and bleeding out in a field somewhere, wondering what the fuck just happened to us.



2:38 PM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...


Thank you. I know it's heartfelt and real, and I'm glad for your good thoughts.



2:39 PM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...


I try not to spend too much time gnawing on the bad bones of this world, but right now I am mad with it, mad with anger and despair and desolation and I'd kill every living thing in my spite and stupidity.

But it is merely pain, and only a small one.

Despite what it feels like to me.

Your love and support are a balm and succor and I do not take them lightly.



2:41 PM  
Blogger Ms. Moon said...

All right. Another candle. Can't hurt. Love flying your way.
I mean it.

7:08 PM  
Blogger Petit fleur said...

I'll sending prayers/wishes/focused thoughts for the Wild one's safe return and indeed for all 3 of you.

Deep breaths. Very deep.
Peace & love,

7:36 PM  
Blogger T. said...

Whens one's child is at sea the world is a desolate planet.

Indeed, there are all kinds of destruction afoot, wolves clawing at the flimsy doors of an illusory protection, the hinges clinging to their last rusty nails.

What to say of this world?

As Leonard Cohen says:
"There is a crack in everything. That's how the light gets in."

I come here for comfort, and find it even in your despair.

My blessings.

12:08 AM  
Blogger susan t. landry said...

scott, i dont think, since i've been following your blog, that i have seen a more perfect match of image and message. the face on the young woman in the art; well, she's been there, done that, hasnt she?
there is a strange and harmful unrest, gnawing at many of us; i keep thinking of Claire's (Claire Beynon) incredible installation of perfect, small boats set afloat; so vulnerable each, by itself; so powerful en masse. a flotilla of promise.
xo susan

6:38 AM  
Blogger LKD said...

She Wasn't Sorry For It conjures Wyeth's girl in the field.

Christina's World.

In yours, instead of crawling toward her world, she's destroying it and walking away.

Making a new world.

Like that god of destruction, Shiva.

Sometimes, the forest has to burned to encourage new growth.

There is nothing to protect.

And nothing to be protected from.

I think I'll be carrying that perfect white pebble around in my soul for the rest of my life.

11:18 AM  
Blogger Marylinn Kelly said...

Like Claire's paper boats, a fragile yet resilient flotilla of promise. I believe we get to hold hope for each other when we can't grasp it for ourselves. A place of safe-keeping when our personal vision of safety has evaporated. I am sorry for these hard times and gladly hold visions of better outcomes.

11:23 AM  
Blogger LKD said...

Also, that image of yours of the barn burning behind her conjures a haiku I hold very near and dear:

Barn's burnt down --
I can see the moon.

Look for the moon, Tearful.

Disregard the flames.

Look for the moon.

11:23 AM  
Blogger Claire Beynon said...

Dear Scott
The shape and scale of our respective aches, match.
As T says, 'when one's child is at sea, the world is a desolate planet.' Leonard Cohen's song also suggests we 'give up our offerings of perfection. . .' so much easier said than done? We;re on a constant quest to create coherence out of chaos, or to find meaning in both places? It can be sore. It is right now. There is pain everywhere. Your honesty - your ability to say things as they are, here and now - gives us (me) permission to rage and weep for the things that seem impossible to get our heads around.

And yet. . . within the pain there are miracles, too. We have to believe it?

I wish fresh miracles of kindness and grace for you, your beautiful woman on the verge and your precious daughter. I have candles burning for both our daughters today.


12:36 PM  
Blogger Mel said...

It is crazy making, the need to protect that which cannot be protected. I understand the urge to try.

I'm sorry for your recent turn of events. I'm reading and re-reading your sentence about being swept downstream. And thinking about what it means to be fearful, where love is concerned. Fear sucks.

Wishing you calmer thoughts, peaceful outcomes and hoping making the art is cathartic.
Thank you for sharing the art. This one will stay with me for a very long while.

Take care out there.

1:26 PM  
Blogger james said...

we each fall down in so many ways, it's only right we should succeed in a few, even if no one is aware of it but maybe god. bless you and her in your separate but commingled journeys

4:17 PM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...

Ms. Moon-

Thank you. I don't know what else to say.

5:33 PM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...


you, too. thank you. i'm glad of your good thoughts.

5:33 PM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...

T. Clear-

I'm astounded at your generosity in this time of your own deep personal crisis.

I find comfort in your words, and in witnessing the grace with which you endure the hard knocks.

here's hoping you find a measure of peace each day.



5:35 PM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...


With every word you write here you reinforce my idea of you as an incredible intellect married to a huge heart.

thank you.

5:36 PM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...


Until you pointed it out, I didn't see the parallel between this piece and Christina's World, but you are spot on as usual.

And that haiku is perfect, perfect.

I will keep it with me now always.



5:37 PM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...


Thank you.

5:38 PM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...


I am sorry you are struggling with your child, too. I don't know what's wrong, but I know the pain is a deep one.

Thank you for your kind words and thoughts. I'll be adding a candle for you and your daughter to my altar.

Rage and tears. I feel like I could kill the whole world for what my kid is going through. I keep seeing the beautiful child she was, with all this love and joy, just a goddamn miracle of love, and then I see who she is makes me soul sick. Like my heart has been poisoned.

You think you'll die from it, but you don't.

anyway. prayers for you.



5:43 PM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...


thank you for the kind words and good thoughts.

5:44 PM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...


I am amazed that hope is so hard to kill.

You are a good friend and I thank God and the Devil both for you.



5:45 PM  
Blogger Mim said...

I'm sorry, dear Tearful, and hope and trust you will find the strength you need.

9:39 AM  
Blogger Clay Blancett said...

I keep coming back to this post to see if there's any news. So..

Any news?

Of course none of this is any of my business.

Best Anyway


10:45 AM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...


thanks for your thoughts. and you know, you have to do if you have the strength or not.



11:04 AM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...


She's still off the res, man.

You know how it is, when you start back up after a long run clean, you don't start from scratch, unlike sober life.

You get to start right from where you left off.

It means the world to me that you felt like checking up on her, on us, in this place.

It's damn good of you.

I don't know if she's going to live through what she's hell bent on.

I hope she does, though.

anyway, thanks a lot.



11:08 AM  

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