reluctant christian

 long time no blog........
How can anyone possibly condense, thoughts, feelings, reflections, and experiences of the past 9 months or so into a couple of paragraphs?

I became a Christian. There I  said it.
Shocking?
It was for me.

I don't know if I actually chose to become a Christian, in fact I don't believe that's what happened at all. I believe Christ chose me.

And I have no clue why?
My life was far from what the popular culture would have pegged as "Chirst like."

I have been savagely crtical of Christianity and the church.

And yet, it happened.

Goes to show you God has got to have a sense of humor.

Let's pick this broken down ol' alcoholic stand up comic and work through her..I can hear the Angels plucking an off chord note on their harp strings in surprise.

I guess I was saved for God's rainy days.

I suppose it was always lurking my shadows- Christianity.  Some Jesus-shaped heart was beating within me somewhere.  I remember at one of my many low points pulling open the Bible and just letting the page fall anywhere, it was in one of those "Godelpme" moments (you know, "God help me, God help me, God help me....) and it fell open at Isaiah 54.

My heart is on fire, and it isn't indigestion, it isn't a hot flash, and it wasn't chemically induced...it wasn't even something I wanted or expected. But it came to me, that Holy Spiit, that Amazing Grace and it hasn't left.

what on earth do I tell my atheist friends?

Thy will be done

Thy will be done.
Because I stumble clumsily through love
and relationship
I bumble like an old man walking through
a field of rabbit traps...

Thy will be done
because my words fall- often insignificant-
not giving shape
to the truth I want to impart, but dilute
through unhealed fears.

Thy will be done
because the oversoul holds the power
I cannot fully embody
in this time and space, this earthly place
where I live and love.

Thy will be done
because I am your reflection,
a clearing channel for your subtle grace
a candle lit only by your flame
to shine where you would have your light seen.

Thy will be done
because when my will was done
all was ego ridden force
a wild woman on a horse with no reins
trampling truth and creating pain.

Thy will be done
because when I am out of my own way,
I feel that love, that which reason
cannot fathom bring its magic
bring gifts from a greater mystery.

The broken wolf

The wolf at my door lay splintered and broken
 No more howling at wooden moons.
Why fix that? Why mend what bit and choked me?
I no longer need golden crosses and silver spoons.

Lot's wife once salted my tears, stuck and frozen
tributes to grief, stinging open wounds.
Why hold that? Why cling as if I was pain's chosen
child, a wild mourner singing melancholy tunes

over and over and over, being both torch and song
hiding my light behind heavy death masks
Why wear that? Why the ashes and sackcloth
when the time for grief has long since past?

And so Kali came, disguised in storm and wind
ripping off masks, breaking wolves, melting ice,
leaving me naked, bareboned and awakened
I was loved although chastised

by a higher power, her beauty direct. Strong.
Pennies in a plaster shrine glazed in water
welcome new hope, change immediate. Birdsong
heralds the new love. Venus I am your daughter.

The thirteenth step.

Are you another bluebeard
with bloodied keys?
Puppet master or Ice King
another heart tease?
with a suitcase packed, loaded
up with promises
sandcastles, lies and kisses?

Wives, girlfriends, lovers past
all your ghosts
broken hearts and lives
lined up like soldiers
in firing lines, your tongue
poison tipped and poised
bullet laden hands squeezing
out the noise.

You lick your fingers to turn the page
of a big book you quote
with carefully controlled rage
closing it with a snap
you smile through borrowed teeth and
say, "keep coming back."

Turning wine into water

Caught, stuck in trumped-up overwhelm
wine into water
i'll be my own jesus, but
i'll not let you crucify me anymore.

i can surrender, i can transform
turning wine into water
i'll be my own jesus, but
i won't wear your crown of thorns.

at odds with those who claim to know the master
turning wine into water
i'll birth my own jesus, but
i'll save myself, i'll rise faster...

than a holy ghost at a Baptist's wake
turning wine into water
turning divine into matter
turning death into life
turning hurt into prayer
turning wine into water
the Goddess' daughter.

Lovers they owned.

I don't know how much love I can bear;
my experience has shown me it can tear
a soul to ribbons-
shreds of past promise
shreds of past dreams
that appear ghost like, as echoes,
as shadows in schemes.
I've stood on mountains
I've stood on towers
I've walked on fire coals,
I've trampled flowers...
I don't know why I let love
take me down:
with full faith destroyed
my heart disowned
by "promise you men"
who's true face lay hidden
behind flesh and bone
inked cartoon clones
only animated by
the lovers they owned.

The anti affirmation

If words are important, and shape our futures, why are there so many stupid
sayings hanging around? At the risk of being accused of "having no sense of
humor" (the war cry of the non empathic), I feel very often like stopping people
from hanging their word shit on me. Concious or not, it often strikes me as little more
than passive aggressive verbal abuse by its arrogant projectors:

"anti affirmations" like "Bless your crooked little heart"
and "you are a mess" and "Jesus loves you." I've even heard "keep coming back"
used as a sarcastic taunt.

I'll give you a comeback alright.

No, my heart is not crooked.
No, I am not a mess - or at least if I am, it's up to me to define it and no one else
and let Jesus (or Buddah, Allah, etc) speak for himself. I don't remember
him making you an apostle.

Acceptable affirmations are "bless your heart"
"I believe in you" and "you are loved".

Use your words wisely.....

Stupid Dickheads!

curing celibacy

Celibacy? Abstinence? Making a concious choice to engage in a lifestyle encompassing these goals hardly seemed ideal to me months ago. (Although I note ironically there were times in my marriage where I had already involuntarily engaged in abstinence for some time periods!) It seemed to be an outdated and too rigid a value system for me to embrace.

It's turned out to be the best gift I could have ever given myself. Taking time out to examine the
less than desirable course my life had taken running from relationship to relationship has been a valuable and worthy excersize. Becoming sexually concious is the wonderful pay off. Paying close attention to the sorts of male energies who sometimes circle me at this time has been enlightening, if not down right annoying at times.

Unfortunately I'm finding that the old cliche about "men only wanting one
thing" seems to be true. The risk I run in making that statement is being accused of being a "man hater" or "bitter". I dare to suggest that these are simply attacks by some men unwilling to take a good honest look at their own instincts and behaviors. I am not taking any of that crap onboard anymore. I am no longer willing to seek male approval at the expense of my sanity.

I'm not willing to be pitted against other women in some stupid male based "you can be the queen of my harem" competition either.

For example I had a conversation with a man recently which quickly devolved into perverse sexual babble. I had -honestly, but perhaps unwisely- mentioned I had been very hurt
 re my relationships with men and did so with the intent of letting him know gently that I am not looking for any kind of sexual or romantic liason at this time. What I learnt was that I was dealing with someone who had no sensitivity filter. Instead of taking that hint before continuing in conversation, he seemed to take it as some sort of personal challenge. I listened patiently while he spoke of what he believed a relationship ought to entail ("give and take") and how "sorry" he felt for me (nice, but I wasn't looking for sympathy.) He then proceeded to talk about the kinds of orgasms he felt I must have endured (WTF, who mentioned orgasms? who mentioned sex?) and I remained silent. He continued to talk about the kinds of orgasms I could have etc. And rather than be "thrilled" as I suspect he thought I ought to be, I felt kind of revolted.

After the conversation, I went through the usual self examination and doubt routine, "what did I say or do that might have elicited or attracted such a perverse diatribe?" I can accept that my faults include an openess and honesty that borders on naive, but I also have enough nouse to know that I can draw a line and recognise when someone is just being an opportunistic dickhead. This is how this man behaved. It is not mine.

I made a concious decision to remain abstinent. What is it about sexual abstinence or chastity or celibacy that our culture seems to despise? Before this blog I have not been very open about this personal decision of mine, (it's not necessary.) On the rare occasion I've had to have reason to share
this information I have been met with some very mixed reactions: disbelief, anger, ridicule and respect. It's utterly bizarre.

There have been hilarious but sometimes hurtful assumptions made about my sexual health, my sanity, my emotional and sexual availability, and sexual orientation- all because I decided- let's be honest...I want a year off sex!

I had no idea my vagina's activity (or non activity) could create such a reaction.

It's possibly a good guage of the types of male energy I have attracted around me (unhealthy), so I can remain patient and watch to see if this energy shifts, it would be good to have emotionally healthy respectful male friends in my life.

I do have a few, and continue to be grateful for their company, honesty, humor and insight.
I often worry that some might linger in the hope that they can "cure me of celibacy" ...

I know I open myself to male attack, "who'd wanna f*** you anyhow" and "freak" etc etc. I have heard all that crap before, so I've developed a rather thick skin about it all now.

What I am curious about is where this takes me. The energy of passion and desire can be channelled into so much more for me. A beloved sought, not found on the basis of desire and sexual longing, but on shared interest, respect and friendship evolving into passion is my new goal. Concious sexuality as opposed to the foolish ways I reacted to these energies in the past is the new pathway I walk, the new bed I shall make.  

Men who brag about their sexual prowess, or push, complain, whine, "joke" manipulate and try to flatter their way into sexual liason will no longer be treated 'gently' -why? A swift "f*** off" is all they understand and all they deserve.
There isn't an orgasm on earth that is worth selling myself short for anymore.

This joyful discipline isn't born of any noble spiritual belief system. It's just common sense. My cure for celibacy is love, and I wait patiently for it's coming.

Unreasonable love

Love is not reasonable.
It doesn't follow any set of logic.
There are no timetables, no equations to fix it to any dimension.
It sits bleeding between duty and passion
between memory and hope
between loathing and longing
between clinging and surrender
between ego and spirit...
It is the binding
behind beauty and compassion
behind holding or letting go
behind solitude or belonging,
behind singing and celebration
behind sorrow and sweat.
Love is the pause between breaths
invisible fabric, a force beyond death
propulsion of the oversoul
sweeter than a doughnut hole...
it may have some rhyme,
but never ...never ever  has a reason.
love defies all explanation, all definition
love is not reasonable.

Sane, sober and single.

Are bachelorette pads supposed to be all full of white lace and iced pink gingham? Or are you supposed to go all cougar-ish with leopard print bedspreads and black vinyl throw cushions?
I'm not sure. I am still trying to get used to decorating a place without a partner involved. It seems I have spent half of my life doing "compromise" interior design; so much energy trying to work around bloody big stereo speakers and giant tv screens...football posters, cheesy girlie shots, or beer ads, and there's no way of feminising a porch wall full of proudly displayed hand saws (looked like a wall of death)....now it's all down to you, your bucket of paint and your divorced household leftovers to create a new environment. You begin to realize that everything around you is a little statement about you. I have my family photos. I have food in my cupboard. I have my paintings and sketches on my walls.

I have a single bed.