**originally written 9/12/09**
Why is it that the idea of being with you
Scares me more than being without you?
What kind of sane person chooses that?!
It's like I chose what was behind door #1:
The certainty of emptiness,
A black hole for a spotlight,
The solidity, the beautiful, concrete solidity
Of nothingness.
Because I couldn't handle the storm tossed seas
Behind door #3.
Wave after terrible wave,
Crashing
Crushing
My little boat of a body,
Making me feel like the only reason
I was drowning was because I never learned how to swim.
And door #2?
The straight jacket of you?
Forget it!
Can't live
Can't breathe
Can't move
Cuz I'm too scared that if I do
I'll lose a drop
A breath
A word
Of you.
No freedom versus the freedom of nothing. . .
Hmmm. . .
It's safer here in the quiet without the sound
Of my boots knocking---
No reference implied
To what you'd want to do with me on a Saturday night.
It's safer with the pain of knowing I'm alone with
Nothingness
Than knowing I'll have nothing for the pain
That'll come to spill my guts---
Open me up so far in
And forgive all of my sins---
Maybe.
Maybe.
Maybe, baby.
That terrible word of "maybe."
A gray zone of uncertainty.
Not light
Not dark.
Pre-dawn fog
Still not sure if it wants to lift
The filmy veil of night.
Maybe means waiting.
An eye of the hurricane,
A loosening of a strap---
A prison
In its own writing of the word.
Bye baby maybe.
Hello. . .
Nobody.
Eeny
Meeny
Miny
Mo,
I choose. . .
This.
. . . . . .
What a way to go.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Uncertainty
It's always so hard to know what
To write in these messages.
You think that you're being witty and clever
By referencing
(Subtly)
Something they said in their profile.
But in reality, you look like some idiot who can't come up with an
Original thought;
And so you have to resort to merely
Looking like you have some semblance
Of wit and humor,
Which ends up being a big turn off for them,
Leading to their silence and leaving you
Wondering what it was you said.
I can't seem to remember this ever happening with you.
You who I met,
You who I wrote to,
Almost two years ago.
Somehow with you I knew it was different.
I knew that when I wrote
"Hi, I'm Beth and I like taking long walks off of short piers, preferably at sunset,"
You'd get it.
But you didn't.
You didn't just get it.
You loved it.
You said it was, quote, genius.
Unquote.
And, to my suggestion that, instead
Of the traditional ho-hum meet up for coffee
Or dinner and a movie,
We go and do laundry,
You replied, quote,
Beyond genius.
Unquote.
And somehow, some way,
That acknowledgement told me
You got it.
You got the subtlety that it was not,
In fact,
That we were on
A date doing laundry,
But that we were doing laundry
And on a date.
And it was the best first date
I ever had.
I beat you at two games of Gin Rummy
While we watched our clothes dance in the machines.
You showed me a different way to fold shirts and
Kept me laughing through dinner.
And at the end of the night,
Not a kiss with the mouth,
But with words to my ears
And a sincere look in your eyes,
"I had a really great time."
You got it.
And after that we seamlessly rushed in,
Full speed ahead.
I wasn't quite sure
But the fish that was you
Swimming around in circles just below my feet said,
"Come on in, the water's fine."
For the record, I didn't jump in
So that I could make you mine.
Nevertheless, I jumped, fell in over my head. . .
And then you were gone.
Later on
You said,
"I wanted you in, but not all the way."
Yet something tells me that, even if
I had let the bottoms of my feet sink below
The surface,
You wouldn't have stayed.
And so I was left soaked through
To my bones,
Not knowing what else to do
But wait for your return.
Slowly, I climbed out, shivering
My body in shock from the cold.
And waited.
And waited.
And finally began to realize that,
As scared as you were
To swim with another,
I was just as afraid of falling in.
The idea of doing so was magically
Thrilling.
But when that water hits your face like a
Stone cold brick of ice,
You wake up.
The fear, the doubt, setlles in,
Like the weight of water-logged shoes pulling you down.
What if?. . .
What if I get too tired and can't feel my legs?. . .
What if there's a storm?. . .
What if I drown?. . .
What if some giant whale comes up and swallows me whole?
What will become of me then?
It's safer to wait.
Even though I know
That if I see you swimming around again,
And hear you ask me to get
More than just my feet wet,
Promising me that your little fish ass
Won't swim away,
I won't believe you.
So now I'm stuck with writing words
Of wit without
Knowing how they'll be received.
There is no certainty in this search,
As you so well proved.
But it is what we are compelled to do,
If we allow our hearts to be moved.
To write in these messages.
You think that you're being witty and clever
By referencing
(Subtly)
Something they said in their profile.
But in reality, you look like some idiot who can't come up with an
Original thought;
And so you have to resort to merely
Looking like you have some semblance
Of wit and humor,
Which ends up being a big turn off for them,
Leading to their silence and leaving you
Wondering what it was you said.
I can't seem to remember this ever happening with you.
You who I met,
You who I wrote to,
Almost two years ago.
Somehow with you I knew it was different.
I knew that when I wrote
"Hi, I'm Beth and I like taking long walks off of short piers, preferably at sunset,"
You'd get it.
But you didn't.
You didn't just get it.
You loved it.
You said it was, quote, genius.
Unquote.
And, to my suggestion that, instead
Of the traditional ho-hum meet up for coffee
Or dinner and a movie,
We go and do laundry,
You replied, quote,
Beyond genius.
Unquote.
And somehow, some way,
That acknowledgement told me
You got it.
You got the subtlety that it was not,
In fact,
That we were on
A date doing laundry,
But that we were doing laundry
And on a date.
And it was the best first date
I ever had.
I beat you at two games of Gin Rummy
While we watched our clothes dance in the machines.
You showed me a different way to fold shirts and
Kept me laughing through dinner.
And at the end of the night,
Not a kiss with the mouth,
But with words to my ears
And a sincere look in your eyes,
"I had a really great time."
You got it.
And after that we seamlessly rushed in,
Full speed ahead.
I wasn't quite sure
But the fish that was you
Swimming around in circles just below my feet said,
"Come on in, the water's fine."
For the record, I didn't jump in
So that I could make you mine.
Nevertheless, I jumped, fell in over my head. . .
And then you were gone.
Later on
You said,
"I wanted you in, but not all the way."
Yet something tells me that, even if
I had let the bottoms of my feet sink below
The surface,
You wouldn't have stayed.
And so I was left soaked through
To my bones,
Not knowing what else to do
But wait for your return.
Slowly, I climbed out, shivering
My body in shock from the cold.
And waited.
And waited.
And finally began to realize that,
As scared as you were
To swim with another,
I was just as afraid of falling in.
The idea of doing so was magically
Thrilling.
But when that water hits your face like a
Stone cold brick of ice,
You wake up.
The fear, the doubt, setlles in,
Like the weight of water-logged shoes pulling you down.
What if?. . .
What if I get too tired and can't feel my legs?. . .
What if there's a storm?. . .
What if I drown?. . .
What if some giant whale comes up and swallows me whole?
What will become of me then?
It's safer to wait.
Even though I know
That if I see you swimming around again,
And hear you ask me to get
More than just my feet wet,
Promising me that your little fish ass
Won't swim away,
I won't believe you.
So now I'm stuck with writing words
Of wit without
Knowing how they'll be received.
There is no certainty in this search,
As you so well proved.
But it is what we are compelled to do,
If we allow our hearts to be moved.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
The Virtue of Honesty
**Originally posted on OK Cupid as a journal post (same date)**
For those who have read the first line of my About Me section, you know that I believe honesty to be a virtue. But it isn't only a virtue that I expect myself to have: it's something I want in the people I date as well. Honesty doesn't mean saying the first thing that comes to your mind, nor is it being a smart ass just because you can (and you feel like if you are not acting like a smart ass, then you're not being "honest"). Rather, it means divulging information that is relevant to a given scenario and doing it not for the sake of ego, but for the sake of the other person (or even, perhaps, for the sake of relieving yourself of a guilty conscience...whatever the case may be).
I am tempted to go over the recent event which prompted me to write this entry, but I feel that it wouldn't do much good. What's done is done. I held my ground when I found out the truth and acted accordingly. I don't need to dish out crap when it isn't warranted. The person who made the mistake is decent and kind, but made a serious error in not being upfront. That's all that needs to be said on that count.
All I can say is, to anyone out there reading this: if you're planning on witholding information, it will catch up with you, and it may not end well. Granted, we don't want all of our skeletons to be revealed within the first few dates; but when it's pertinent information, don't hide it behind the curtain. Yes, you may be rejected by someone you like because of your chosen honesty, but what's worse in the long run? Deceiving someone (even with the best of intentions) for a long period of time, and possibly hurting that person in the end, or being upfront from the start with the strong chance of getting your ego bruised? No one likes getting their ego crushed for sure, but I don't think anyone likes to hurt other people that they could possibly care about either. And that's what you have to consider: the bigger picture.
We all want someone who will accept us for who we are in our entirety. (Ok, maybe some of us are on here strictly for the casual sex. I am not one of them, but, to each their own.) And if that's really what we want, we should act accordingly. Honesty may not get you everywhere you want to go, but it will get you to the places that really matter. Lying only gets you so far, and usually ends up going nowhere. Take your pick.
For those who have read the first line of my About Me section, you know that I believe honesty to be a virtue. But it isn't only a virtue that I expect myself to have: it's something I want in the people I date as well. Honesty doesn't mean saying the first thing that comes to your mind, nor is it being a smart ass just because you can (and you feel like if you are not acting like a smart ass, then you're not being "honest"). Rather, it means divulging information that is relevant to a given scenario and doing it not for the sake of ego, but for the sake of the other person (or even, perhaps, for the sake of relieving yourself of a guilty conscience...whatever the case may be).
I am tempted to go over the recent event which prompted me to write this entry, but I feel that it wouldn't do much good. What's done is done. I held my ground when I found out the truth and acted accordingly. I don't need to dish out crap when it isn't warranted. The person who made the mistake is decent and kind, but made a serious error in not being upfront. That's all that needs to be said on that count.
All I can say is, to anyone out there reading this: if you're planning on witholding information, it will catch up with you, and it may not end well. Granted, we don't want all of our skeletons to be revealed within the first few dates; but when it's pertinent information, don't hide it behind the curtain. Yes, you may be rejected by someone you like because of your chosen honesty, but what's worse in the long run? Deceiving someone (even with the best of intentions) for a long period of time, and possibly hurting that person in the end, or being upfront from the start with the strong chance of getting your ego bruised? No one likes getting their ego crushed for sure, but I don't think anyone likes to hurt other people that they could possibly care about either. And that's what you have to consider: the bigger picture.
We all want someone who will accept us for who we are in our entirety. (Ok, maybe some of us are on here strictly for the casual sex. I am not one of them, but, to each their own.) And if that's really what we want, we should act accordingly. Honesty may not get you everywhere you want to go, but it will get you to the places that really matter. Lying only gets you so far, and usually ends up going nowhere. Take your pick.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
The Cost of Freedom
"Find the cost of freedom buried in the ground. Mother Earth will swallow you. Lay your body down." ~Find the Cost of Freedom~ Crosby Stills Nash and Young
I'm writing this entry on Memorial Day weekend. Usually people make use of this three day weekend to get great deals at local retailers, get together with family and friends for a barbeque, or just take advantage of a day where they get to sleep in. I admit, I'm guilty of this as well. But this year, for some reason, I got to thinking. There is so much propoganda around this holiday, both related and unrelated. The related propoganda comes in the form of "Honor those who have fought for freedom." I have no trouble honoring a good majority of service men and women. It truly is a form of service that I know I wouldn't be able to do. But my beef is with the idea that they are fighting for freedom. What does that mean exactly? What does someone fighting over in Iraq have to do with my civil liberties? (And frankly, haven't our civil liberties been somewhat diminished since this whole war on terror started?) What freedoms are they protecting? Who exactly is threatening these freedoms? While I will gladly honor those who have fought in past wars and even in the current ones--though I do not agree with the motives in which those wars were and are being fought--I have a difficult time swallowing the sound bite of "fighting for freedom." If they are fighting for freedom, does that mean they're fighting against the bill that was passed in Arizona which makes it easier for police to target brown people? Are they fighting for the rights of LGBT people to have their marriages legally recognized? Are they fighting for a woman's right to low cost health care? Are they fighting for people to be free from the oppression of poverty?
The answer to these questions is, obviously, no. The freedom that is mentioned in that line of propoganda is abstract. While some may sum it up as, "They're fighting so that I can continue to live my life as I please and don't have to worry about someone coming in to tell me what I can do or say" it isn't clear exactly how fighting in a war is the best insurance policy for those rights. Furthermore, as alluded to by the questions above, exactly which freedoms are they upholding? I honestly believe that those in uniform are not fighting for freedom, but against some potential (yet unspoken) threat to those freedoms. In today's events, that threat may look like Muslims who want to take over our way of life by way of Caliphate. So of course, we need to pass state laws that forbid Sharia law. And we need to engage in wars in predominantly Muslim countries (except Saudi Arabia, cuz...you know...they're the good guys). You get the idea. This isn't about a fight for freedom, at least in the case of the wars we are currently engaged in. This is about a perceived threat. Maybe not even that. Maybe it's something that's only been vocalized as being perceived without actually consciously perceiving it. In other words, it's been said that this threat is perceived, but no person with an adequate amount of brain cells would actually perceive that to be an actual threat.
When I think of people who have fought for freedom, I think of the Freedom Riders, the people who marched in Selma, Ida B. Wells, Susan B. Anthony, Frederick Douglas, Rigoberta Menchu, the Zapatistas, Cesar Chavez, Howard Kunstler, Jesus, Moses, and many countless others who have fought and continue to fight on the side of the oppressed. Because if anyone is in need of freedom, it is certainly those who are oppressed--whether directly by a malicious dictator, or indirectly through laws passed by governments or even citizens themselves.
The bumper sticker that says, "Freedom Isn't Free" is true in a very literal sense. Many people have paid with their lives in the struggle for freedom, both in this country and throughout the world. But what is also true is the quote, "No one is free while others are oppressed." Think about it. If men and women in uniform are willing to lay down their lives for some greater cause (i.e. freedom, or as discussed above, the perceived threat to freedom), and yet our own government continues to chip away at our rights, then what exactly are they fighting and dying for? We honor our soldiers with federal holidays and yet the government constantly takes away health care (including mental health care) for veterans. We proudly display American flags, and yet women recruits and soldiers are raped and sexually assaulted by their peers, and have very little support within the structure of the military to press charges; not to mention that should these women become pregnant as a result and choose to terminate their pregnancies, their abortions will not be covered under their insurance provided by the government. Again, what freedoms are being upheld? What freedoms are people dying for?
What I am about to say next may anger some, but I'm willing to take that risk. While I know that it may never happen, I do not think that Memorial Day should be just about those in uniform who have lost their lives in combat. I think it should be about remembering all of those, both known and unknown, who have fought against oppression and have died as a result. And it shouldn't be just for those who have died in our own country, but from all over the world. Perhaps the weight of known and unknown names will give us pause before we light up the barbeque or head out to that three day sale at Macy's.
Ok, I know this won't happen. It won't. And if it did, it would probably end up being commercialized just like everything else that's appropriated by the mainstream. "Be sure to come in and get your free Ghandi gift bag with a purchase of $50 or more!" My point is that, in the current state of things, the real cost of freedom is losing the very notion of what freedom is. By honoring those who have supposedly fought for it, we buy into the illusion that we are free from oppression, as well as being protected from those who would serve to take our current freedoms away. We have let the earth swallow up our conscience, our awareness of how things really are, and we have erected an abstract and false idea in its stead. Should we continue to worship this idea blindly, a new form shall be erected: a simple marker, much like a headstone, which reads: Memores libero.
I'm writing this entry on Memorial Day weekend. Usually people make use of this three day weekend to get great deals at local retailers, get together with family and friends for a barbeque, or just take advantage of a day where they get to sleep in. I admit, I'm guilty of this as well. But this year, for some reason, I got to thinking. There is so much propoganda around this holiday, both related and unrelated. The related propoganda comes in the form of "Honor those who have fought for freedom." I have no trouble honoring a good majority of service men and women. It truly is a form of service that I know I wouldn't be able to do. But my beef is with the idea that they are fighting for freedom. What does that mean exactly? What does someone fighting over in Iraq have to do with my civil liberties? (And frankly, haven't our civil liberties been somewhat diminished since this whole war on terror started?) What freedoms are they protecting? Who exactly is threatening these freedoms? While I will gladly honor those who have fought in past wars and even in the current ones--though I do not agree with the motives in which those wars were and are being fought--I have a difficult time swallowing the sound bite of "fighting for freedom." If they are fighting for freedom, does that mean they're fighting against the bill that was passed in Arizona which makes it easier for police to target brown people? Are they fighting for the rights of LGBT people to have their marriages legally recognized? Are they fighting for a woman's right to low cost health care? Are they fighting for people to be free from the oppression of poverty?
The answer to these questions is, obviously, no. The freedom that is mentioned in that line of propoganda is abstract. While some may sum it up as, "They're fighting so that I can continue to live my life as I please and don't have to worry about someone coming in to tell me what I can do or say" it isn't clear exactly how fighting in a war is the best insurance policy for those rights. Furthermore, as alluded to by the questions above, exactly which freedoms are they upholding? I honestly believe that those in uniform are not fighting for freedom, but against some potential (yet unspoken) threat to those freedoms. In today's events, that threat may look like Muslims who want to take over our way of life by way of Caliphate. So of course, we need to pass state laws that forbid Sharia law. And we need to engage in wars in predominantly Muslim countries (except Saudi Arabia, cuz...you know...they're the good guys). You get the idea. This isn't about a fight for freedom, at least in the case of the wars we are currently engaged in. This is about a perceived threat. Maybe not even that. Maybe it's something that's only been vocalized as being perceived without actually consciously perceiving it. In other words, it's been said that this threat is perceived, but no person with an adequate amount of brain cells would actually perceive that to be an actual threat.
When I think of people who have fought for freedom, I think of the Freedom Riders, the people who marched in Selma, Ida B. Wells, Susan B. Anthony, Frederick Douglas, Rigoberta Menchu, the Zapatistas, Cesar Chavez, Howard Kunstler, Jesus, Moses, and many countless others who have fought and continue to fight on the side of the oppressed. Because if anyone is in need of freedom, it is certainly those who are oppressed--whether directly by a malicious dictator, or indirectly through laws passed by governments or even citizens themselves.
The bumper sticker that says, "Freedom Isn't Free" is true in a very literal sense. Many people have paid with their lives in the struggle for freedom, both in this country and throughout the world. But what is also true is the quote, "No one is free while others are oppressed." Think about it. If men and women in uniform are willing to lay down their lives for some greater cause (i.e. freedom, or as discussed above, the perceived threat to freedom), and yet our own government continues to chip away at our rights, then what exactly are they fighting and dying for? We honor our soldiers with federal holidays and yet the government constantly takes away health care (including mental health care) for veterans. We proudly display American flags, and yet women recruits and soldiers are raped and sexually assaulted by their peers, and have very little support within the structure of the military to press charges; not to mention that should these women become pregnant as a result and choose to terminate their pregnancies, their abortions will not be covered under their insurance provided by the government. Again, what freedoms are being upheld? What freedoms are people dying for?
What I am about to say next may anger some, but I'm willing to take that risk. While I know that it may never happen, I do not think that Memorial Day should be just about those in uniform who have lost their lives in combat. I think it should be about remembering all of those, both known and unknown, who have fought against oppression and have died as a result. And it shouldn't be just for those who have died in our own country, but from all over the world. Perhaps the weight of known and unknown names will give us pause before we light up the barbeque or head out to that three day sale at Macy's.
Ok, I know this won't happen. It won't. And if it did, it would probably end up being commercialized just like everything else that's appropriated by the mainstream. "Be sure to come in and get your free Ghandi gift bag with a purchase of $50 or more!" My point is that, in the current state of things, the real cost of freedom is losing the very notion of what freedom is. By honoring those who have supposedly fought for it, we buy into the illusion that we are free from oppression, as well as being protected from those who would serve to take our current freedoms away. We have let the earth swallow up our conscience, our awareness of how things really are, and we have erected an abstract and false idea in its stead. Should we continue to worship this idea blindly, a new form shall be erected: a simple marker, much like a headstone, which reads: Memores libero.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
This Doesn't Make Sense
It's amazing what Facebook can do. It lets you find that old friend from elementary school. It allows you to get in touch with and make amends with people you have wronged. It lets you post anything and everything of interest, from the mundane to the hilarious to the fascinating. You get to tell your current partner that you no longer want to be with them just by changing your relationship status (who said breaking up is hard to do?). And, of course, you get to "stalk" your exes. But on Thursday evening, I got the shock of my life when I learned that a former classmate, commrade and friend was murdered in her home that morning.
Her name was Melanie. She was 27, full of life, love, passion, and joy. And this beautiful life was cut short by the man she was dating, who decided that her life was something he wanted to possess and destroy because he thought so little of his own. He stabbed her. I don't know how many times. I don't even know what led up to it. But he stabbed her, and then left. Someone in her house (or possibly herself), called the police who then arrived at the scene before 5:30am. She was taken to the hospital and pronounced dead. That was it. Mel was gone.
Even describing it now seems unreal. It just doesn't seem possible. Who could do that to anyone, let alone her? I hear it all the time on the news: someone in this city was gunned down, there was a drive by in this area, a robbery gone wrong in this neighborhood. On and on and on. These are tragedies for someone, but they have never been for me. I love watching CSI (Las Vegas, never Miami), and watching everyone connected with the murder victim come in for questioning and try to figure out "Whodunnit?" But now, I know who it was, I know what happened (mostly), and I know she's gone. And somehow it still doesn't make sense. I can't wrap my brain around the idea that I won't ever see her again.
She and I weren't close, but I always enjoyed her company whenever I was around her. She had a happy personality, and she was real. There was no b.s. with her, no faking it. Just Mel. She had a passion for social justice, too, and I loved having her around at meetings. I don't remember anything specific about any one meeting in particular, but I remember I always liked having her there. It wasn't until about a day after I heard the news that I remembered there was a picture of us together after we both graduated from De Anza College (she graduated with honors, btw). I remember posing with her, and how after we hugged each other, we said we'd stay in touch. We never did. Then Facebook came along, we were added to each others' friend list, and still there wasn't much contact. I took her presence for granted.
I'm not going on some kind of guilt trip here. I'm just realizing that life is unpredictable and to not take anything for granted. Trite, I know...but it's true. Mel wouldn't want me to feel guilty. I think she would want me to know that she's all right where she is, and that, while what happened to her wasn't fair and shouldn't have happened, the fact remains that it did. And now it's up to us who are holding the weight of grief in hearts to decide what to do now.
On one of my friends' statuses, a few of us began discussing issues of domestic violence (since this was one of those incidents, as someone pointed out). Someone else said that they would make an effort to honor her at the Womyn's Day march next month. On her wall where someone left a condolence message, two people who hadn't seen or been in contact with each other for more than 20 years reconnected. I dedicated my yoga practice to her the following evening, and was able to find some sense of peace in knowing that she was all right.
This was and is a tragedy. There was absolutely no sound reason for this beautiful, young and vibrant woman's life to be ended so soon. It makes no sense whatsoever. I've heard a lot of times people saying that God has a plan. Honestly, I don't buy it. If tragedy and severe hardship are part of God's plan, then we believe in (and worship) one sadistic cosmic asshole. I believe that God's plan is for us to find our truest and most authentic selves. It's when we deny that process of exploration that tragedy like this occurs. People make choices every day. The choice that her murderer made, for whatever reason, was a poor one that has affected many. And I hope he lives with it. I hope he finds his own authentic self and can take responsibility for what he has done. I hope he realizes that the life he took was well on its way to being authentic and true, if it wasn't there already. I hope we never forget her light. I hope we never forget our own light, and how, even in this dark and difficult time, we can let it shine.
Her name was Melanie. She was 27, full of life, love, passion, and joy. And this beautiful life was cut short by the man she was dating, who decided that her life was something he wanted to possess and destroy because he thought so little of his own. He stabbed her. I don't know how many times. I don't even know what led up to it. But he stabbed her, and then left. Someone in her house (or possibly herself), called the police who then arrived at the scene before 5:30am. She was taken to the hospital and pronounced dead. That was it. Mel was gone.
Even describing it now seems unreal. It just doesn't seem possible. Who could do that to anyone, let alone her? I hear it all the time on the news: someone in this city was gunned down, there was a drive by in this area, a robbery gone wrong in this neighborhood. On and on and on. These are tragedies for someone, but they have never been for me. I love watching CSI (Las Vegas, never Miami), and watching everyone connected with the murder victim come in for questioning and try to figure out "Whodunnit?" But now, I know who it was, I know what happened (mostly), and I know she's gone. And somehow it still doesn't make sense. I can't wrap my brain around the idea that I won't ever see her again.
She and I weren't close, but I always enjoyed her company whenever I was around her. She had a happy personality, and she was real. There was no b.s. with her, no faking it. Just Mel. She had a passion for social justice, too, and I loved having her around at meetings. I don't remember anything specific about any one meeting in particular, but I remember I always liked having her there. It wasn't until about a day after I heard the news that I remembered there was a picture of us together after we both graduated from De Anza College (she graduated with honors, btw). I remember posing with her, and how after we hugged each other, we said we'd stay in touch. We never did. Then Facebook came along, we were added to each others' friend list, and still there wasn't much contact. I took her presence for granted.
I'm not going on some kind of guilt trip here. I'm just realizing that life is unpredictable and to not take anything for granted. Trite, I know...but it's true. Mel wouldn't want me to feel guilty. I think she would want me to know that she's all right where she is, and that, while what happened to her wasn't fair and shouldn't have happened, the fact remains that it did. And now it's up to us who are holding the weight of grief in hearts to decide what to do now.
On one of my friends' statuses, a few of us began discussing issues of domestic violence (since this was one of those incidents, as someone pointed out). Someone else said that they would make an effort to honor her at the Womyn's Day march next month. On her wall where someone left a condolence message, two people who hadn't seen or been in contact with each other for more than 20 years reconnected. I dedicated my yoga practice to her the following evening, and was able to find some sense of peace in knowing that she was all right.
This was and is a tragedy. There was absolutely no sound reason for this beautiful, young and vibrant woman's life to be ended so soon. It makes no sense whatsoever. I've heard a lot of times people saying that God has a plan. Honestly, I don't buy it. If tragedy and severe hardship are part of God's plan, then we believe in (and worship) one sadistic cosmic asshole. I believe that God's plan is for us to find our truest and most authentic selves. It's when we deny that process of exploration that tragedy like this occurs. People make choices every day. The choice that her murderer made, for whatever reason, was a poor one that has affected many. And I hope he lives with it. I hope he finds his own authentic self and can take responsibility for what he has done. I hope he realizes that the life he took was well on its way to being authentic and true, if it wasn't there already. I hope we never forget her light. I hope we never forget our own light, and how, even in this dark and difficult time, we can let it shine.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
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