1. Shit’s scrambled eggs
2. Someone’s smart and bored
3. Emotionally Labile
1. Shit’s scrambled eggs
2. Someone’s smart and bored
3. Emotionally Labile
You know what is cool about the Bloods? They don’t just have a backbone for themselves, they have a strong backbone for each other. I have no clue what horrible things gangs are up to today, I haven’t been following that part of journalism.* But I do know that the Bloods actually have a strict code of ethics in how they treat each other, making it a safe place to belong, if you follow those ethics. I don’t agree with a lot of their core values, all that money and power and bitches and stuff, but I have always admired their backbone.
All of my friends, I want you to know this. If I ever do something like steal $18,000 dollars from you, or one of ours, you and our whole crew, please, drop me like I’m hot.
Because I know what’s up. To allow foolery would upset the value of our crew. Thank you for allowing me to be a part of a very valuable crew.
*If it is someone’s thing and they want to educate me, that would be really cool!
Why would God care? Just get there!
small kine is hawaiian pidgin talk meaning “lil’ bit.”
The other day I was at the beach and I was sitting with this guy and this new couple and we laughed about something and this new couple walked off smiling at each other and I was smiling at them because even though this guy is best friends with the 47 year old man who Brock Turnered me and even though he blamed me for it, I actually like quite a lot about him and believe he deserves this beautiful new girl he is finally with. I was legitimately just thinking “Wow, sure is great to be me when I see this guy like this and it makes me feel affirmative and happy and whole and I want to know this girl more because I can tell she is actually cool” when this other chick who I know doesn’t have much respect for me sort of slowly dances by and says to us, “Isn’t it nice to see people so happy? You know,” and she looks at us, “some people don’t like to see other people happy. Isn’t that weird?”
And my new friend looked at her quizzically and said, “Like what do you mean? Oh, yeah like jealous people!” And I wondered if she was trying to send me a shaming message because she deduced that since I felt so strongly that my perp should be held socially accountable for his actions against me and should be guided to stay-the-hell-away-from me, I couldn’t possibly want him or his friend to be happy. I could have easily been selfishly paranoid though because trauma, even small kine like major betrayal, has the effect of making you more self-centered, no matter what, at least temporarily. That is just the physiology of it.
No bad days!
People like me don’t have that luxury, but you know what? I’ve never wanted living only with what we usually call positive feelings to be my end all goal in life. I’ve always felt that that positive insistence is just also sort of a lie. And kinda a mean lie at times. As my favorite comedian said, “Oh, that’s so nice of you, you go up to people in wheelchairs dancing? ‘Look what I can do!'”
Bliss is my inherent baseline but that doesn’t mean I shove the clouds away when they start rolling in.
The other day, or yesterday actually, I was packing up the van with a mother I deeply admire and I said “It’s a perfect day for the beach,” without really thinking about it because I was happy it was chilly and a little windy and threatening rain. Her face did a funny flash and then she smiled because she knew what I meant.
My body is like the Hawaiian Islands. Even when the clouds roll in, I am so grateful to call my body and my heart my home.
I don’t ever want to insist that I have nothing but good days left in my life because really, that’s pretty damn selfish of me when the world is burning.
And sometimes, I may look recklessly emotional, but I am on to something powerful and moving.
Have you ever seen Kill Bill Vol. 2? The end is my favorite. My mom looks just like Beatrix Kiddo when she sobs. She got her little girl back but she had to murder her man and she’s sobbing tears of everything.
I had a night recently where I did just that. All night. And I wrote a little bit. And I kept just saying “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” because my heart feels so full and good and hopeful and even though I clean up everyone’s poop for a living, even though the guy I have a crush on doesn’t even look at my snap stories, and even though my car drives like a bumper car, I feel so rich and full and moved by everyone in my life and finally at home again in my heart and body.
That is called life satisfaction at thirty.
Dear children, let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth.
-1 John 3:1
“Truth, purity, sweet thoughts and one-pointed attention are all qualities that make one suitable to see the true Self.”
-The Yoga Sutras
“Authenticity is a collection of choices that we have to make every day. It’s about the choice to show up and be real. The choice to be honest. The choice to let our true selves be seen.”
“Only the truth of who you are, if realized, will set you free. ”
“What draws people to be friends is that they see the same truth. They share it.”
“Truth, like love and sleep, resents approaches that are too intense.”
-Wyston Hugh Auden
Without going to a dictionary, my definition of truth is the reality of that which actually is. Going to a dictionary, I found it uses the word itself in the first definition which I thought was something dictionaries were not suppose to do. Well, it says “true.”
The facts, the science, the math. I have long been absorbed and agitated and motivated by the idea of truth. They call people like me “seekers.” That was my goal from age 11-29. What’s the truth?
“All of this is just a game!” I told my dad when I was 17.
“We are all just so full of shit, I can’t do this, this game is so stupid!”
“Play the game, Abby! You’re perfect for it!” He told me, “at least go to church, people will respect you more. Just go to church.”
At 12 I went to church camp and came back certain that Jesus was the truth, and infected by our counselors fears, I was terrified of any of my peers being sent to eternal damnation. “I know he huffs paint and listens to Nirvana but he is a genius and a sweetheart and his childhood was not at all easy, how could Jesus, embodiment of love and compassion, possibly send him to hell if I wouldn’t even send him to hell?” Questions like that gave me reasonable, innocent and heartfelt doubt to the narrative I was being served. I read and read and read when I should have been socializing and absorbed in school drama. I flipped courses and found the kind of logical dogma of the likes of Niles Eldridge and Richard Dawkins and was convinced that that was the path to understanding truth. I did not at all make a good atheist. The outside world seemed so empty and my insides felt ill equipped to deal. I went to kill myself when I was 16, with resignation that on the other side, maybe I would finally see the truth… the reality of that which actually is. Instead, I tripped balls, embarrassed myself to the maximum degree and was thrust right back in to the world I was trying to escape. When we say God is Truth, those of faith are saying God is Reality. It just is. God is the facts, the data, the science, the whole thing that not one single person can ever fully get a grasp on, especially because biologically we are designed to push it away, for our own individual protection.
A W E AND R E V E R E N C E
That’s the only individual truth I can hope for, the only fun I can cling to. My faith is so strong now. I don’t need to defend it in the same way I don’t need to run around the streets of Kailua at night insisting and checking that everyone recognize the sun is going to rise tomorrow. My faith is strong and we still need each other to understand truth. I need to check with my humanist atheist friends and my Christian friends and my gun enthusiasts and my social justice warriors and my rape-apologist adrenaline junkies and my Grandma and most importantly, your kids.
la illah ila Allah
There is no god, but God is one of my favorite declarations of faith.
Hell is a place of eternal separation from God and souls can go there but they can also leave. A soul cannot leave Hell through self-will, payment or hard work, but only by Grace and Love. Anyone telling you anything different is trying to steal from you or sell you something.