Sacrifice

Maxine stood in the gas station and tapped the carton of cigarettes. There were three left. Without thinking too hard she pulled out one of them and lit it. She had smoked her entire life. At least she didn’t remember a time without these long pale friends.

The mood was not happy. After this pack was done there could be no more.

Her daughter had screamed at her, “If you never smoked again, we would all be better off.” There was a basement full, a shaft full, of people who would be better off.

The street rippled before her as she walked. She chanted, “light, last cigarette/ last light cigarette/ last light ever cigarette.”

On the ground in the gutter under the window behind the warehouse lay a little black shriveled thing on its back. Something had to die.

Women Don’t Have Magical Powers of Mind Control

Rant In: The skirt last night… OK honestly, I believe Vanity when she says she can’t fell that her skirt has ridden up. There’s a lot going on, she is wearing two pairs of tights, and since a skirt check wasn’t programed into her show some times it does whatever. Not saying she gets a free pass for not having a skirt check in there. I mean if I’m wearing a short tight skirt I check it constantly. My head and body are aware of each other. But give the woman a break! I’m sure, now that y’all’ve toughly embarrassed her, the skirt check is in now. You could have been a little more tactful about it.

As to modesty at large, because thinking of short skirts reminds me of all the Galmasaours Rexes at the clubs, it’s pathetic to be skanky but it’s repressive to be overly modest. Don’t think you can avoid sleazy men by hiding. They love to find you. In fact they take it as a sign that you’re insecure and therefore ruled by a victim mentality. That’s why “nice” girls get raped.

Dudes have a responsibility to control their thoughts and actions too. Don’t blame women for your failure. Because when it comes to sexual excesses it doesn’t matter to you what the vessel looks like as long as you get what you want. All I’m saying is don’t blame the vessel for your decision to abuse it. The abuse is your fault she didn’t make you do anything. Surprise! Women don’t have magical powers of mind control, you control your thoughts. Rant out!

Not Really the one Under Attack

After much thought and being caught without words, though I know what I ought to say, I sit to write this. It’s the only way I can think of to clearly say what I feel losing as little meaning as possible. In my experience when something is written the reader takes time to understand it but when it’s spoken it slips away.

Many times below deck Dark Star has asked me how I stay calm despite the chaos and anger. I have never given her a complete answer because it isn’t one secret thing that can be told in a sentence or it is but it takes forever to explain. Honestly, I don’t handle it. That is my secret. Someone else handles it.

I’m free to let the darts go because I’m not really the one under attack. They are miserable and lash out in a feral manor because they are wounded not because we did or said anything. I can see how hard it is to be immersed in their environment clearly seeing the damage but unable to do anything to stop it.

Harmony is a better place to live.

Acknowledging the limited role we can play in this scene is essential to surviving it. Learning our own faults and humbly asking for forgiveness is the first step toward harmony. Not holding the attacks in but letting them free in acts of kindness and mindfulness are ways we avoid being deeply wounded ourselves. By abdicating the burden to someone else and refusing to be ruled by feelings I no longer live in the hating place. It is Christ in me who is wounded and acts.

You can experience this too but the training is brutal. Life will never be simple but you will come to do and survive more than you thought possible because the burden will not be yours.

The problem I have with Vanity is that I don’t know how to be kind to her. The rest of you are more transparent to me. I know what attentions I need to pay to you. But she is isolated in a mind foreign to me; that I’ve been slow to figure out. Clearly, if this ship is to cruise forever, I must learn what kindness is to her.

It’s occurred to me that Smurfet stopped enjoying work around the time Vanity came. Watching that dynamic, their mutual jealousy, is sickening. That is the worst relationship in the room. My prescription would be for one to shut up and listen and the other to fight for herself. But these are things out of my control.

When the crisis comes I pray that I can speak my mind in love. I want to be the first on the scene. I don’t think Mother Bear understands the conflict in the same light that I do and it would be very different to have me yelling instead of her. We’re sort of used to that.

Sleep well friends I’ll see you on the morrow.

Fate vs. Choice

A friend of mine posed a question about fate vs. choice in regard to marriage saying that, your views on the subject would reflect your view of God. Now, I've struggled with this fate vs. choice thing in a different area of my life, namely my career. I don't know if fate or choice dominated. Yes, I chose to ignore some opportunities. I chose the field of study I pursued. I'm not working in retail or food service, stereotypical fall back professions. Nor do I think I'd ever choose that or that it's purely my choice.

I don't feel I chose this path, like sitting down and saying, "plus column, minus column..." In fact, I didn't want to be in the arts. It pays so lousy, the hours suck and hardly anyone is paying attention anyway. Could I change industries? You bet. I'd go into HR somewhere or project management. Would I be just as happy? How should I know? (Maybe I'll find out) I think in a Christian's life, a life commanded by God, fate and choice work together. God presents us with a series of decisions that lead to our fate. Not being able to make both decisions at the same time to know what the outcome would be limits us in knowing whether it even mattered what decision we made. But God in his omniscience can read our lives like a history.

We can't see it that way. We control so little in our lives. We see fate or choice and think they are mutually exclusive. But perhaps, some things are fate and others choice and that it would be different for each person.

The reason we control so little, going back to that idea, is that, there are other people out there making decisions that effect our lives. I have no control over them and you have no control over me or them. The only person I have control over is myself. This is humbling. Humans don't like to be humbled. Humans tend to fight because they want control. But they can only enjoy the illusion of it. They, we, can never really posses it. At best it's on loan. If you are a good steward of power it will be with you as long as you need it. If not you're Gaddafi and that isn't pretty.

Another interpretation of fate vs. choice has to do with a persons basic feeling toward Humanity. One who ascribes to fate is pessimistic toward Man. For Man is incapable of making a decision independent of a predetermined plan. Therefore nothing is left to his actual control. One who ascribes to choice, on the other hand, is optimistic toward Man. For choice would have it that not only is Man capable of deciding what to do but that he is an active participant in the shape of his life.

I've noticed when I make a certain type of decision I have a feeling of rightness. Like duh, this was the only thing I could do. What is that? Is it fate or me being a cleaver smart ass? I, like most people, don't analyze my decisions unless something went terribly wrong or some one makes me. The feeling of rightness could be ascribed to my brilliance or to benevolent outside forces or a combination. Which is likely? All of it. Why not?

I realize that as a Christian I believe my brilliance comes from God making me out to be a fatalist. This may be true. But we'd still have the problem of evil to wrestle with. Ah, there is always some thing to think about. I'll leave evil for another day.