08.15.05

I sat myself down this weekend and gave myself a Very Stern Talking To. Y'see, I've fallen into thinking that I'm Terribly Important--and I sure as shit ain't. Well, I am to me. *laugh* Not so much to others. They're busy being Terribly Important to themselves. I think my crappy attitude has gone a long way towards souring my interactions with strangers. That is not good mojo.

I realized that things I've been doing for others haven't been done open-heartedly, but more in anticipation of their gratitude. Euw! That doesn't work for me...or it shouldn't. I would rather give whatever I have out of generosity of spirit rather than expecting "payment" in the form of obligation from the recipient. To do otherwise taints what is given--in my opinion.

Feeling pretty good about that. And I will until I stumble into that slough again. Which I will. I hope *heh* that I can yank myself out more quickly. Perhaps one of these days the lesson will stick. Hell, we're all just stumbling around and dancing as best we can, neh?

In other news, I went to a book release last evening at Reading Frenzy. The book is a posthumous collection of the works of Eli Coppola and is titled, Some Angels Wear Black. Her poems are both sophisticated and simple. What she does with line breaks. ...

Whoa.

One of the poems that really works for me is "Gold Boots." Oh honeychile, it's got legs.

Speaking of poems that have legs, a friend read a poem at the Beat last night called "Gender Bias." It's a call out to not judge him by his gender--he is a man, not all men. We talked afterwards, and he said that he was nervous about reading it. If you're scared to read a poem in public, you've hit on a truth.

The fallacy lies in believing that there's an absolute truth that we can point to in every situation. It's something we yearn for (goodness knows, I do) thus the popularity of religions and rituals--they lend an air of permanence to our very impermanent and finite selves.

There's true, and there's real. The truth is mutable; what's real, isn't. To me, what's real is that we're born, we live, and we die. That may seem defeatist and pessimistic to some; I see it as a great possibility. After all, until we're dead, we're alive. *grin*

Speaking of religion....

Is it religion's role to comfort, or is it a stepping stone to making sense of the world? I can see it fulfilling both roles; every religion has its seekers, and every religion has its followers. I don't know if one path is better or more true than any other. There are times when we are seekers, and times when we are followers. The problem for me is when we are told to be followers only.

Ick.

Goodness. See what happens when I spend most of the weekend by myself? Oof-dah.

Go. Be fabulous. 'Cause y'are.

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