I have prepared my papers
I have done my research
It is time to sit and do
The thing I’ve always wanted to do.
But a cup of coffee would be nice to go with it
Steamy, rich…
And I do have that new coffee maker
And even some sweet cream.
Wait how many beans do I grind?
I will have to look it up again
Where was it
I can’t remember…
You know what I should do
Create a notebook with this info
Just a place to jot down important stuff
OOH I’ll just use my organizer
Oh shoot, I am behind with my organizer
What did I do the other day
To record it for my timesheet
I need to be better with this thing
Oh Yeah, that happened
I can’t believe that happened
I can’t believe they did that
Or I said that…
Ugh…
What was I doing again.
All I can think of is that thing they said
Or that I did…
If I could just focus
I wouldn’t get so behind
But today is my day off
I was going to do something special
But I can’t believe they said that
Or that I did that
I need to think of something else
Or I’ll go insane
It’l be like the last time
and It will just get worse
Ok, time to think of something else
Why am I so stupid?
STOP
BEING
STUPID
DAMMIT
Not mud, nor a shell, just cold
Leaving the loving embrace
So soft, so warm, not cold
hugged by a fluffy weight
But waken we must
And forward we go
The dark night is my friend
But so is the light of day
Because hope comes in the morning
Even when it’s ignored.
I get what you say
Just let me sleep longer
You can’t
There are musts to do
And those musts will have their do
And you won’t even hate it
Your just comfy right now
hugged by a fluffy weight.
Because hope comes in the morning
Even when it’s ignored.
You will sing songs
About sorrows and joys
You will feed puppies
Who love you without question
The musts aren’t that bad
if I can just move a bit
To embrace the cold morning
Though hugged by a fluffy weight
Because hope comes in the morning
Even when it’s ignored.
I have been reflecting on my ADHD and Depression through poetry, I hope you enjoy this poem about getting out of bed in the morning.
The worm begets her work today
In the Chrysalis she makes
And all the energy involved
As through the shell she breaks.
I wonder of the texture touch
The one her hands have found
When the future needs thee push
I wish to not be ‘round.
The sun breaks through the window pain
In the cold cold winter air.
The warmth beneath the blankets call
And scream not tarry there
The shell around my body firm
The need outside it roars
And though I’d rather not go out
Nay breaking winter storm
The winter of my life it comes
Even when the spring begets
And lost are days and sometimes found
For death above regret.
Some days are filled with riot
Some days are full of rancor
Some days full of hard hard work
And some of battles wild
Other days just like nights
And sleepy sleepy echoes
When all the day long nothing comes
And …Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah, ugh…
And God’s own Son they called him Christ
A busy busy bee
Would turn the temple tables
And thousands he would feed
But the night with ebon pinyon
He brooded or the vale
He sought the lone embrace
An absent father fails.
But even other lighter days
He’d sit and walk with friends
Or alone for thirty years
Just trying to blend in.
I wonder if Christ’s depression
Was anything like mine
I wonder if he tossed and turned
And finally his night resigned?
Or if there were days no living face
Could rouse him from his bed
Even in the early
Before the thorns up on his head
Oh hell, I don’t know
It’s just a thought of mine
Oh, holy Christ I just don’t know
Where all my hope has gone
And the blankest days
And the empty nights
And the times of muddled mind
[I had a thought now gone]
There is a place inside, deep and hollow Where echoes abound and silence to harrow
Emily felt it in her brain, and it went down, down. It is a chamber in my belly, infinite and sound.
It is a vacuum, a hungry ghost it is insecurity, a plutonian boast a nothing, a something, an empty so full so quiet, so loud, and discordant… in order.
They tell me to breathe when I cannot They tell me to hope with terror so fraught.
And the heart beats loud. in my ears My chest feels stuck, my breath is gone and inside a scream, that is never drawn Inside a pounding where there should be silence.
And fear… fear… fear… fear… fear… fear.
So much fear…
And then collapse, I’m in the land of dreams Floating endlessly until I see it. A door that takes me home.
As you prance before me, seeking attention, I look into your eyes, large and full of love .I rest my head against yours and feel the warmth I hear you sigh as you rest on the floor at my feet.
Born to this world with eyes closed, your mother licked you clean. What was it like to open your eyes the first time and see? Who did you see did they look at you with love? What did you hear as you fought to suckle for life.
And then the other face. The one that turned you out. Leaving you at a gate, for others to find. Did they yell? Did they scream? Did they set you quietly in the seat next to them?
Sometimes I wonder how they felt, But most often I don’t care. I wonder if it was quiet in the vehicle that brought you I wonder if they refused to look you in the eyes when they dropped you.
You breathe deeply while you sleep Your breathing brings me peace when chaos reigns. When you look up at me with only love With affection so pure, there is no doubt you are my family.
I hope that you know, this is your home, Your bowl will have food. Your belly will be scratched And you will not be turned out.
This is my covenant and hope And this is my prayer to all yet unhomed. That you all find a place to be loved Because there is no doubt you will first choose to love.
At the beginning of the pandemic, I started baking bread. Since that time I have collected many of the receipes in a small binder, being the person I am, I wrote an introduction to that Binder, this is that introduction.
I was with my grandmother one afternoon; I am not sure where we were going but we meandered by Jones St. Outside of Wheeling West Virginia to the apartment she and my grandfather lived in when they were first married. She told me rent was 30 dollars, 15 to be paid twice a month. She talked about the months when there wasn’t enough money or work to go around. In these times she would say to my grandfather, “I can’t afford food and rent, what should I do?”
He responded saying, “Pay the rent, buy flour, and I will make bread.”
I don’t remember much about this context, I don’t remember why we were talking about it, but the strangest thing I do remember while listening to her, is that she told this story as if she were reliving every moment in her head. She wasn’t sad , or angry about it, she was simply thoughtful.
My grandmother had a pantry, full of canned vegetables, fruits, and all other things necessary to survive. Today a “prepper” might call it a 6-month pantry, she just called it the basement. They grew their own food, canned their own vegetables, and once a year made a giant batch of applesauce. If I were to ask her why they did it all I am sure she wouldn’t understand the question she would just say something like, “That’s just what we did.” I know looking back, that she grew up during the great depression, and that the memories of hard times were burned into her being, she came from a generation that truly understood that all jobs, money, and security were passing. What held her together, was her family, her faith, and trust that even if the worst happened, she was not alone.
I don’t think my generation understood that, and I don’t know if the generation before me did either. But the generation that are children now… they may know better than ever, life can be turned upside down in an instant, and in moments systems can fail. I wonder if they will be more like my grandparents, I wonder if they will have pantries full of home-grown vegetables, and applesauce.
When the nation went under quarantine for Covid-19 I thought about my grandmother as I read through Facebook and saw someone post a recipe to make a sourdough starter. I had time and I didn’t have anywhere to go. So I thought of my grandmother’s story and my grandfather’s words, “Pay the rent, buy flour, and I will make bread.” But I never asked Grandma while she was alive, so I had to learn now, how to bake bread.
These recipes did not come from Grandma, they came from the internet and from friends. They are my process to baking bread.
Like many of you the most recent pandemic has been very difficult for me. I learned a lot about myself, most of which is that I was not prepared to live though a pandemic. During this time, I often found that I was keeping myself busy. During times like this I often learn something new and continue to work through older things I’ve learned. Basically, I pick up hobbies. I did find however, that through quarantine I struggled with my depression and anxiety. And just in case you are curious, I don’t bare shame about my depression and anxiety. In fact, I am open about them. I choose, as a minister and all-around human being, to be open about them because of social stigma around mental health. Mental health is no different than any other health issue, in fact the refusal to practice self-care around mental health exacerbates other issues you may have. But that isn’t the topic I have chosen for today.
As a religious person, I try to practice spirituality, you might have heard this called spiritual practice. One of the ways I do this is through living authentically. Jean-Paul Sartre once said, “My life and my philosophy are one and the same.” When I consider spiritual practice, I think of Brother Lawrence and Saint Therese Lafleur. I think of my life lived as spiritual practice, also what makes me feel alive. The biggest thing that helps me through difficult time is throwing myself into something I’ve never done and learning a moderate proficiency in it. Often these are the things I post about in my blogs. The problem is that during the pandemic I started to learn a lot of different things, and the one thing I didn’t feel like was processing those things spiritually.
I had plans, during the pandemic do write about my Commodore 64, but before I could I started baking. I actually prepared some articles on the baking but before them I threw myself into a live action role playing game called “Call of Cthulhu.” I was considering an article on that, when I began to work on my ham radio license.
While all this was happening, I lost two canine members of the family, you may have seen my post about Princess, two weeks later we lost our friend Gizmo, he was a shock, his death broke me. Oh and there was work, adapting the church to a fully online model took a lot of time. I no longer just though about how to have a service, but how to do it livestreaming and archiving legally.
However, having said all of that, I hope to still add posts about bread baking, my Commodore 64, RPG, Ham Radio, spirituality, and even my friend Gizmo. I am beginning to feel renewed, let’s hope for a while.
I’m staring at empty space trying to work. I never knew silence could be so deafening.
Princess on a trip to the Mississippi Delta
I’m used to hearing the click clack of little dog feet. I’m used to looking down and seeing big eyes staring up at me. It was an absolute joy to adopt Princess in her last two years of life. Don’t get me wrong, having a geriatric dog can be difficult. She had to be penned in at night and surrounded by pads because she was losing control of her faculties. Most mornings we woke, and we found a mess, but we cleaned it up and moved on without day. She was a little dog, so as she aged, she began to struggle more and more getting up and down the two steps into our back yard. Understand Princess was already in decline when we brought her home, but we knew that whether it was 6 months or years she would be a perfect addition to our home.
Her owner had died, and we loved her, so we thought the best way to show that love was to take care of her little Princess.
Every morning when I came out, I looked at her and said, “Good morning little lady, lets go outside.” She looked up at me with acceptance and love, one of my greatest joys upon returning home after a long day was hearing her excited howl as I approached the door. When I picked her up just right and held her against my chest she would chitter very quietly, almost like a purr, then she would sigh, try to turn and lick my face.
Princess in her pretty sweater
In the last few months, her decline had become obvious. She was tripping over shoes, she could no longer climb easily into her bed, and she tried to hide from us when she couldn’t control herself. That’s when we start having the conversation. If you’ve never owned an elderly animal you may not know what I am talking about if you have you are probably crying just a little while you read this.
See, our animals can’t tell us when they are in pain, and unlike us, they don’t have an active imagination with a wonderful history to pull on. I am not saying they don’t remember, but for them, the moment is primary. I begin to ask, how are the moments that she’s having. More often I would reach down, and she would back away for just a moment because she was frail and sometimes touch hurt. Some mornings she couldn’t get out of her bed and I had to pick her up and walk her to the yard and set her down, and others she would pop right up and be waiting at the door.
The problem is, we don’t want to go too soon, and we don’t want to wait too long. There is no simple answer to this question. I know only that she shy’s away from our touch, she has little control when she has to go to the bathroom, and she sleeps most of the day. Oh, there were other signs but none of these seem good enough, because they are so good at loving us unquestionably and they want to make us happy too, and letting go of that is hard.
Then princess had a seizure.
I first laid her down on her bed, and her mouth immediately locked on her blanket. Then, powerlessly I picked her up and wrapped her in the blanket she was unable to release. She lost control of herself when I put her in my car, and she looked up at me with shame. I knew then that we could never let her go through this again. When we went to see her, she was so excited to see us, she reveled in us, her seizure had passed, but she was still 16 and I remembered her eyes when I laid her in my car to take her to vet, they were like a prayer. Maybe we could have gotten a few more days, weeks, or months of love, she would have given freely, but then I’d have to reckon with her eyes that moment that I laid her in my car.
Saying Goodbye
She was my little lady, and her eyes alone spoke volumes of joy and love… and trust. The decision is hard to make because it can’t be unmade, because if we can get just a little more love from them if we can just feel that acceptance one more time, but when does that become selfish? That is the price we pay for their love and that is why no one should take on pet ownership too soon. Having a pet is forever, maybe not our forever, but theirs, they trust us, depend on us, they love us, and want to see us happy. It’s more than walks and feeding. It’s more than spending time with them, they are family. The ultimate responsibility we have, is the willingness to say goodbye when their forever is over. And we have to make that decision, they cannot.
See, there is no real way to repay the love that comes from owning a pet, but then true love can never be repaid. But there must willingness to love them truly and that their pain is just as real as ours and they can’t always tell us.
It has been a day, my little lady is gone, I didn’t have a mess to clean up, I don’t hear the clip clop of her feet, I am not babysitting her to make sure she can get outside in time. But you know what I miss the most, her eyes, her eyes when she gets excited, when she pretends to bite my fingers, or licks my face. I miss the clip clop of her toenails on the floor. I miss the way she sighs when I pick her up and hold her against my heart.
And though I know it was not too soon, I will spend the next few months wondering if she went too early, that is the final price we pay for their love. And it is proof that we loved them truly.
