When I wrote that August 22nd post, the one about being in love, I knew you'd be the first to comment. And I knew you'd be happier for me than anyone else. That is the very nature of you.
The boy and I were curled up on the couch last night talking. I told him that while catching up on your blog, I learned that our days of reading each other are coming to an end. I explained a little about AS, about how it has affected you. He said, "It's like everything's been stripped away...like she's been deconstructed."
I understand how it may sound that way. But to know you is to know what has been left. It is to know the seed--the very seed of love and peace and joy--that lives, completely unscathed, in you.
I am going to miss you like whoa, girl.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Friday, September 9, 2011
The older I get, the less I know for sure...and the more this feels like a powerful, peaceful, liberating kind of knowing in itself.
I grew up with fundamentalist Christians. I knew a lot of things for fucking sure. I had a firm grasp on most of what was so clearly the black and white, good and righteous truth.
It only makes sense to me that this truth still exists. To say that it is relative or that I could just live my own version of it would be to betray an ignorance of the very word. But, it makes even more sense to me that something as righteous as this cannot ever be understood by something as human as me.
When I say that I know there is a God, I am not convinced of my rightness. I am, instead, sure of my experience. While those things may sound the same, they feel like the difference between Jerry Falwell and Anne Lamott.
The older I get, and the more I have some experience of God, the more I know that, mostly, I just don't know. Resting in that, in a God that understands that, feels like grace.
by Terroni at 11:23 PM
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
they walked on ahead of me, I thought, “If I could take a picture…it
would be of this.” The Boy and the dog, walking next to each other on
that horse trail, her leash clipped onto his backpack, his arms
swinging, her tail wagging, trotting along, both kicking up a little dry dirt with each step. He sang the mostly wrong words to Free Falling…
It’s a long day livin’ in Raseda.
There’s a freeway runnin’ through the yard.
Something, something…cause I don’t really miss her.
And I don’t know the words to this song.
…and, for the fifth time that week, I fell in love with my life.
by Terroni at 4:12 PM
by Terroni at 4:00 PM