Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Hang On, Hang In. Spring Will Come.


Swirling and whirling and dipping and diving and trying like hell to keep the demons from dancing on my chest and fucking up my breathing.
You know what I'm saying?
God, I hope not but I can't imagine you don't. You wouldn't even be here if the words Church of the Batshit Crazy didn't resonate somewhere in your soul.

I told Mr. Moon this morning that really, I should be living one of those lives where my big plan for the day is to walk down to the market and buy an egg. Or a mango. Whatever. But no, here I am, a woman in the United States of America living a somewhat normal life here and I have four children and a man and a sort-of life, although I have tried desperately to keep that life as low-key and uncomplicated as possible.
Yeah well.

And there's nothing really going on. Well. Just little bits of worries that snip and leave hangnails that I am powerless not to worry and rip and tear and make worse. This is my way. Is it yours, too? Again. I hope not.
I chastise (sweetly) Ms. Fleur for having the Chicken Little Syndrome but I only recognize it because I was born with it. The sky is always falling. Don't believe me? Well, don't look up.

Yesterday I threw myself into the physical and it was about time. I went to yoga, I took a walk, I spent hours working outside cleaning up the chicken's house and coop and picking up branches from the size of pencils to the size of small trees and hauled them to the burn pile and I did laundry and I studied lines and today all I have to show for it is a sore body and a lot of new chicken poop. I still didn't know all of my lines last night and besides that, we were all in a weird, goofy mood because well, the story I haven't told you is set and centered in the Opera House and the title of this play, "Sex Please, We're Sixty!" is more than apt and the two people who play the central characters are the ones who have left their spouses and the fall-out is raining down on their heads in this tiny little town where people can't stand the truth. The Christian Taliban, as one of the sweethearts so aptly calls the Religious Right which serves on every board and every committee, and my mortal enemy who has gathered her minions to use this love to her advantage in fulfilling her evil plot to take over the Opera House, have joined forces and oh my sweeties, it is not good.
Sorry about that sentence.
Bottom line- people just want to judge. They stand in wait, peeking and clucking in whispers to each other in corners to use whatever Book Of Standards they clutch in their sweaty palms to justify their nosy interest, their JUDGEMENT. Meanwhile can I just say that he who is without sin may certainly cast the first stone?
Because it ain't me, babe. No. No. No. It ain't me.
But anyway, here we are, seven of us onstage and three off stage, working together to make this silly play and we are just in LOVE with each other, all of us, and we have this tender bud of a couple who hold each other and tell each other that it will be all right, all right and we want to enfold and protect them, we want to MAKE it all right for them and we end up being goofy and crazy, probably trying to distract them, and if you wrote all of this in a play, no audience would believe it. A play within a play and art imitating life and life imitating art and how in the world can Colin come up with one more joke about ending up with his face in my crotch?
I don't know but he will.

But that's not all of it. That's just a little part of it because honestly, although it affects me, it doesn't affect my livelihood, as it affects the couple and I still, unlike them, have a place to live.

No, I have to throw in such outrageously complex issues such as Jessie having some skin thing going on that she's going to see a dermatologist about today (is it something horrible she picked up in Jamaica? does she need to go on a yeast-free diet? is it stress? is it leprosy?) and I need to make soup because the world must eat even as the sky falls (it's not really falling, don't worry) and Mr. Moon is worried that we'll end up in a box under the interstate overpass again and it's FEBRUARY and I haven't planted spinach and basically- I think I skipped ONE DAMN PILL this week and my weak little mind is unable to function properly without that constant dosage.

As if it ever functioned properly.

But hey- you know, it's all going to be okay. The lovers will figure it out and they will know for sure who they can trust and who they can't and they will be together and that is that. We will either sell a million tickets to this play or we will be boycotted. The Opera House will remain standing but I swear to you- if my Mortal Enemy gets control of that place I will never step foot in it again. The Christian Taliban will eventually find something else to get their pointed little noses in and the doctor will figure out what's wrong with Jessie. I will learn all of my lines and will be able to reproduce them, even on stage.

The Super Bowl will be played. Someone will win. There may be an advertisement during the game espousing the fact that abortion kills and there will probably not be one where a gay couple is involved. The sun will come up, the toilet will flush, spring will come.

The picture above is a swelling bud on an oak-leaf hydrangea in my yard. Doesn't look like much, does it? Well. Wait a month. It's small and it's brown but within it is all of life and all that life promises and whether or not we take the time and use our eyes to see it, it's there.

And I guess I'm trying to say that even as we fuss and fume, even as we try to make our way to the market to buy an egg but are confronted with hundreds of shelves of tens of thousands of choices which we try to make the best of, life is going on and will spring forth as it will.

Here's a line from the play which I, as my romance novelist character delivers to one of the lovers: "Give into the passion which dwells within your breast. Do that which up 'til now you have been afraid to whisper."

Who knows what passion dwells within what breast and who knows what others are afraid to whisper and why must the world come crashing down when that passion is acted on?

I don't know but I need to make soup. That should give me some surcease over those demons. That should even out my breathing. And I get Owen this afternoon and then again tomorrow and we all know that he is better for me than all the pills and all the philosophizing and all the soup in the world. When I am taking care of him it is enough to make sure he has a clean diaper and his every smile bathes my heart in something so good that I can't help but be happy.

Spring will come. Look at that bud. It is reaching up. It's not thinking about another freeze or anything at all. It simply IS. And despite all the cold weather we've had, all the rain, it will bloom into something very beautiful. In fact, the cold weather and the rain will make it even more beautiful.

I'm hanging on to that promise. I'd say it ain't much but I know better.
It's everything.

You hear that demons? You hear that?
Good.
Now shut up and let the rest of us be.

Thank-you.

22 comments:

  1. AMEN.

    There's magic in the repitition of certain actions, like cooking or changing a diaper or digging in the dirt, that let's you loose your demons.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Just popping in to say I love you!

    ReplyDelete
  3. I tried to call you yesterday... I have been having some Henny Penny moments here across the fence too. Maybe we can cluck each other out of it~!

    I did have a question about mouse poop, but I'll save it for the phone.

    Dear God, I MUST see this play! I wll tell you one person who created a story within a story, and that is Baz Luhrman (maybe misspelled his name) It is one of the reasons I ADORE Moulin Rouge so much. There is so much genius in it, but on the surface it looks like just a tacky, cliche movie with music.

    Anyway, this can be a more down home Moulin Rouge experience! Will call.
    xo

    ReplyDelete
  4. The Christian Taliban ~ love that.

    I hope the demons shut up.
    I'm glad they don't keep you from writing.

    Hope you enjoyed the afternoon with Owen. He is so adorable, and I'm looking forward to a new picture.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Amen and thank you! What a great post about everything. And the drama! If only a documentary film crew were there, this would be a Sundance pic for sure.
    Thanks for the hydrangea reminder, it is everything! Good luck learning your lines. Oh my. The word verification is emote. Indeed.

    ReplyDelete
  6. This really spoke to me today. I don't know if it's the weather or the small disappointments, or the repetitiveness of this life of mine, but I am feeling sadder than I have for a long, long time.

    I haven't been writing about it because I don't want people to write "HUGS" or "praying for you," or anything else nice like that.

    Does that even make sense? I know that this is a season, and I need to move more and think less, but oh my God, I am having such a hard time.

    Are you tired of being everybody's Mother Confessor?

    ReplyDelete
  7. Oh yes for sure. I've been in that Depression Circle of Hell for a while now partly with reason and partly winter and partly just being morbose. A friend of mine made up that word, and it's right on target.

    I do hope it gets better and guess it will since it usually does. Next year I'm going somewhere else during the last of January at least. Maybe that hotel in Apalachicola.

    ReplyDelete
  8. Steph- I agree.

    DTG- I love you too.

    Ms. Fleur- I know all about mouse poop.

    Deb- He's here napping right now.

    Mel- I can certainly emote. New pictures of Owen will certainly be showing up today or tomorrow.
    And that is so true about the documentary thing. Lord!

    Nancy C- First off, no, I do not get tired of being anyone's mother confessor although I think of it more as a sharing of what we all go through and it makes me feel very good to provide a safe place for that. I know what you mean about being hesitant to write about bad times because really, it's not to get sympathy, it is just another in a long series of "this is how it is today and I know it will probably all be better tomorrow."
    Or someday.. Yes! Definitely some day.

    Joy- Morbose is a wonderful word. And before you plan to spend January in Aplachicola, remember- it does get cold there too.
    I recommend, oh, Cozumel.
    But Apalach in the spring would be perfect!

    ReplyDelete
  9. Amen and hallelujah!

    I have a couple oak leaf hydrangeas in my front yard that never, never bloom. They just create this enormous bunch of huge leaves. What do you think is wrong with them? I want the flowers!

    ReplyDelete
  10. I saw my first snowdrops the other day. To me they mean hope, Spring will come again.
    On the other hand, it's snowing again!

    ReplyDelete
  11. You know those damn gossiping punitive Christians need to get lives. If they were busy having sex themselves, they wouldn't have time to worry about the sex lives of others. They are just jealous, but they are assured they are going straight to heaven, because you can't have any damn fun and go to heaven or so those idiots think.

    Tell Jessie I send my love and will light a candle for her damn rash to go away. I will, too.

    I love you and yours Mary Moon!

    ReplyDelete
  12. The redemption of Spring is waiting in the homely brown bud -- now there's a message to take us through a passle of gray days!

    I am puttin the mojo on the Mortal Enemy and the Christian Taliban from over here.

    Hang On, Hang In! x0x0 N2

    ReplyDelete
  13. Swirling and whirling and dipping and diving and trying like hell to keep the demons from dancing on my chest and fucking up my breathing.

    Yes. This. I am struggling to breathe today.
    Beautiful, wonderful, true, good, helpful post.
    I decided last night to put 17 year old Casey dog down. Appt for Friday.
    It's hard to grieve when you're also just in general a mental case. To sort out the real saddness and anxiety from the demons.
    Real life stuff just wants to topple you. Or make you stronger I guess.
    Buds.
    Hm.
    I will miss her forever.

    ReplyDelete
  14. WEll, I meant ME, not you. You knew what I meant right?
    I can't see straight today.

    ReplyDelete
  15. Mama- Beautiful post. I really can't wait for spring time. I'm looking forward to coming home and seeing all your lush plants and taking walks with you.
    And thank you so much for going to the dermatologist with me today. I will never forget how you openly laughed at the young doctor when he introduced himself. Priceless. I really think that was the funnest appointment I've ever had, thanks to you. "Hobbies?...Sex" "No, put mandolin" "Oh, ok"

    SB- thank you for sending your love and for lighting a candle for my damn rash- My very cute doctor thinks it's from my roommate's cat. Well, I guess it's possible. I do let her sleep on my pillow...

    ReplyDelete
  16. The demons are easy to catch up on us, sometimes, aren't they?

    Love the little Johnny/June line you slipped in there :)

    ReplyDelete
  17. Actually I've been thinking about Cozumel quite a bit lately. Thanks for the escape advice! I'll remember Apalachicola for spring.

    ReplyDelete
  18. My dear Ms. Moon, I do shiver in the company of your beautiful, astonishing circle. Just reading your comments (well, their comments) is like a drink of love. Thank you for everything, and I hope you don't mind the liberty I took with your angel biscuit post. I wasn't able to pull apart your intricate, delicious spaghetti of words, so I served it whole. Love you.

    ReplyDelete
  19. The Christian Taliban always finds something to talk about or to judge. Best thing to do is ignore them. Let them talk until they froth at the mouth.

    Hope you aren't too sore from so much physical activity. Took a spinning class the other day, and I'm in so much pain, I can barely push the keys down on this keyboard. Blessings to you, dear Ms. Moon.

    ReplyDelete
  20. It just keeps snowing here, and I'm sick with a sore throat and cough and I'm pissed off about my 'hostile uterus' and really, spring doesn't seem likely. I think bears have the right idea, with that whole hibernation thing.

    ReplyDelete
  21. Spring will come is my mantra, too. And we have to keep believing it.

    It sucks that you're feeling so bad, though.

    I hope your star-crossed lovers get the support they need. It sounds like they already have some in the opera house.

    ReplyDelete
  22. Elizabeth- I have no idea. They like shade. Are yours in full sun?
    And they like moist, I think.

    Alice- Well, they are called "snow drops."

    Ms. Bastard- We share so many sensibilities. And me and mine love you.

    N2- If only good always prevailed.

    Bethany- I am so sorry but if I were Casey, I would be ever so grateful to you. I wish we humans could be as humane to each other as we are to our animals when we release them. I hope things are better for you, dear. I hope your heart is able to beat more freely today, your breath come more easily. I really do.

    HoneyLuna- You are always so sweet to come and admire the things in the yard with me. I know I am tedious about these things. But you make me so happy when you show interest and when you want to come home and be with me and your daddy.
    And don't worry- your hobby will be sex again one of these days when you find Mr. Good-Enough-For-You. I promise. Until then, there is always the mandolin.
    I love you.
    And you make everything fun.

    SJ- Actually, Bob Dylan wrote that song, I think.
    And yep- we have to watch out for all sorts of demons.

    Joy- Cozumel will creep up on you. It gets in your blood. It sure is in mine. Sigh.....

    Angie C- Of course not!

    Angie M- We always think we're going to get physically fit in ONE day, don't we? Ha!

    Rachel- And when those bears come out of their caves, they're all skinny!

    Mwa- Spring will be here for us much sooner than it will be there for you but keep heart- it will be there. As for support- oh yes, they are getting some good support but meanwhile, the people who do not support them are busy, busy, busy.

    ReplyDelete

Tell me, sweeties. Tell me what you think.