The earth is flat
Speaking with Jon this morning, a close colleague, he said, “Rachel, I’ve been thinking about you so much right now, my heart is with you.” And then he asked the ubiquitous question – “How are you?” – Empty I said to him, that’s how I feel and I don’t think I can answer that question any other way right now. So I went on to tell him that I also hurt for those I love who are going through so much hurt that I have caused, shared, or just know about and that it was a heavy weight to carry around. He said but are you taking care of Rachel? You are always taking care of everyone else, but I don’t hear you taking care of you? I said, I don’t know how.
Which made me think of the first missive – “well it’s finally all about you now isn’t it?” Really? Maybe that is how this may seem at first but surely you don’t think that now because this is NOT about me.
I looked up the definition of insanity and it said “a person who cannot distinguish between right and wrong” – qualified, certifiable, it was insanity. Now I feel as if the insanity might be dissipating. I started to write about the white elephant but maybe it is best that I wrote about me first. I’m the white elephant in the room and last night I realized with grand clarity that I have/had to get out of the room because nobody is going to say what they need to say or do what they need to do until I leave, sane or not. So exit, unwind, withdraw. And hope for the best even if it is not the best for me, just best for everyone involved.
The Times Picayune headlines says “Katrina weaker than thought” – oh really? Can anyone tally the toll of losses that Katrina wrought on this city – C joked last night that now Katrina has made everyone a “home-a-phobe” – ha ha, right? Hard to find the humor in it right now.
Nance and Les and I walked with all dogs in tow around the bayou. A flock of nuns spilled out of Cabrini and rounded the corner. The nuns are back!!!
Walked outside the coffee shop just now and heard EmmyLou on the speakers and again longed to sing, or to be able to sing. Recent criticisms about the blog and writing in public, this is how I sing, those that don’t grasp this might not embrace the same world I do, might believe the earth is flat, might not understand the need to sing, to paint, to write. I think of Cindy Bullens whose 11 year old daughter battled cancer and died. A little redheaded girl with no future. And the songs and the album she produced from her suffering the loss of a beautiful child or any of us suffer from having an innocent eleven year old girl suffer. The songs are wretched and heart breaking and in some way freeing – Boxing with God – etc – I think of this mother trying to air her grief in public and work through it through her music and how difficult it must have been to sit on her back porch and sob, and write songs about her little girl, and the tragedy that befell her life. Maybe some people think that if you are the cause of your own problems that you are not allowed to grieve, or write about it, or air it, because you don’t deserve to or because others want to be more closed about it and keep it under wraps and keep it in the home and private and away from those who might be affected or altered by it.
This afternoon my favorite little boy came over and sanity rode in on winged chariot. A drive by the LaLa house to check on his lab and make sure his “stuff” was still there, a visit to Nance & Bill to say hi to them and Renny and Kitters where he remarked, “That tree is not real!” Then to the playground in city park where after swinging and climbing and running, we moved to the Greek Temple and he made me stand in the middle and exclaim boldly – Abra Cadabra – and then took me to the ends and made me kneel down with my hands in prayer and state, “God, Unleash the Good” and then a run across the bridge to battle the darkness and the shadow who followed us and find the buried treasure and then chased by the shadow back across the bridge with yellow steps because good was battling evil and good always wins. Back to the temple to call in the good – we stood by the edge and waved our hands inward to bring the good and peace and then walked a straight line through the temple with hands outstretched feeling the good that had come in.
Who needs therapy – good lord this child was the first wave of joy I have felt in a while and his goodness, and sweetness, were a good slap in the face to get on with life and let others get on with theirs. Unfortunately, in my extrication I gave up this little boy because seeing him inserts me where I don’t need to be and therein lies my greatest pennance for having been insane.