Please visit my gofundme.
by Allen Ginsburg has to be one of my favorite poems. It comes back to me at different stages in my life as I ponder what is real and what is perception, what is emotion and what is chemical and whether they are all the same anyway…
This week has been a roller coaster and I am left contemplating such deep things that it makes my chest heave and my breath seize.
I have many things to be grateful for, so many in fact I cannot even fathom a guess to how long that list would be. Yet I still find myself worrying about things that I cannot control or affect anymore than I am so I must just let go.
Is there a 12 step program for control?
I have a friend who just found out their partner has a pretty progressed brain cancer that may or may not be treatable at this point; they have no insurance. All they can do is hope and wait and cope in ways less than healthy. Some social worker I am, all I can do is say I am sorry and that sucks. Try to offer band-aid solutions. I know they appreciate it, but I feel so helpless and then I feel bad that I feel anything. This is about them, not me. Their reality and mine in this situation are so different. I can’t join theirs but I can be there as a shoulder. That’s all. I have to let go of thinking I can do anything else at this point.
And that isn’t me seeking to feel apathetic.
I have friends that are only now starting the process of long term relationships and maybe marriage and careers and buying houses and thinking about children and I kind of resent that they are there now, with all this preparation and education and money to make it work. But I KNOW that all of those things don’t make it easier, just different so why am I jealous?
Been there done that and it never suits for me long…I have wanderlust. I never want anything for long. I’ve come to the conclusion that traditional life trajectories never will work for me because it isn’t what I want, it’s what I have been conditioned to think I want…Perhaps that is a rationalization…I don’t know.
Then I think about it being Memorial Day weekend and all the people who won’t be bbq’ing and all the people who are away from their families because they chose to serve and it makes me feel pretty fucking selfish for feeling sorry for myself being away from my family because I chose to move away for a man and all the other ridiculous reasons I told myself it was for.
Then I think about my baby brother going to Afghanistan. And my other friends going to Korea and Cambodia. And my uncle is probably going to end up somewhere because that is just what the 116th does, they go somewhere always. And then I think about my son wanting to enlist in a year and just
Shit gets heavy.
My life is good. I have fat white American first world problems.
Those are the comparative terms in which I think of my reality.
Hug your peoples.
Happy Veteran’s Day to my lovely husband, as he sits cussing at his Donkeys on the TV I am glad he is here. Not there. For those still there, physically or otherwise, those going, those coming back, and everything after and in between, THANK YOU.
Have you thanked a veteran today? They are all around you. Young and old, broken and whole. Male and female, and every affectual orientation you can think of.
In Flanders Fields
In Flanders Fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
By: Lt Col. John McCrae, MD (1872-1918)