The End (A Poem)

There are so many thoughts running through my head. At first I thought I would just journal, but then I thought maybe there are some other people who are experiencing these things.

So, as a writer tends to do, I will share. This piece reflects on issues within the last few chapters of THRIVE: HOW I BECAME A SUPERHERO and serves as a reminder that even when we've gotten through part of the journey, there's always more time to be in the crucible.
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How can a parent consciously choose something that would be bad for their child? How can a parent willfully choose the interest of a friend, stranger, or the altar of an all-mighty idea over the best interest of their child? Their grandchildren?

How can a person not see what is in their best interest? How can a person not see what will be the best for their family? Community? City? State? Country? World?

I thought these things were obvious. I feel like they are obvious. They are so GOD DAMN OBVIOUS HOW COME YOU CAN'T FIGURE THIS OUT?!?!

It must be a lack of empathy.
It must be some an attachment to a mental self unrelated to reality. So they vote for their pretend best interest, instead of reality. This is torture.

Did you know there are black churches burning in the south? In a week. Less than every 2 days...one lights.

The mustard dried up.
And the brush burns.
What a sickly gas!

I cough and sputter when smoke blows on the wind. The sun grows dark and I close the windows hoping it passes - thankful for people trained, given full benefits, and protected by unions who brave the flames.

And it's one thing when it's a dusty canyon. It's another when it's a wooden church. A church - a place of prayer, of love, hope, and peace. A sanctuary - where people seek shelter from the storms of life, of which there are so many....crossing the mid-west it feels like pinball.

Bouncing us all around, pick a season, pick a weather - you will find it here!

And here we are. And I keep watching people on their journeys, sharing their excitement - sharing their successes and while I smile I can't help feeling I should be further along.

I was supposed to be further along.

I'm supposed to be more than I am.

I was supposed to have a house, a newer car, a career, a savings account. I was supposed to have a name for myself. I was supposed to be established. I was supposed to feel secure.

I was, I was. I was!

But I am. I still am. It is hard to read another peer bought another house. It is hard to see another peer beginning their family in safety and comfort. They don't have my worries. They don't feel my squeeze.

I remind myself this is transition. I remind myself this is not forever. I refuse to let this be much longer. I refuse to withstand this longer. I can't watch my husband sacrificing so much - so much, for so little. He deserves so much more. We deserve so much more. Our son deserves so. much. more.

I will find it. I will get it. I will have this. I have this. I got this. Just a little more. Just a little longer. By this time next year, the world will look differently.

I feel this. I know this. It sits in my gut, a burning coal.
I could choke on the smoke, but I don't.
I'm Ms. Fusion in a lake of flame.
Nothing touches my heat.

And you know, the world doesn't end with water.

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My Introverted Experience of Glide Memorial

I went to church today in a place that was not what I expected. Well, I did know some of what to expect. I knew Glide Memorial is a well known presence in San Francisco. They seat around 2000 people every Sunday. They have a band and a choir ensemble. You have to wait in line to get in.

And I found out people love it.

But not me.

Admittedly I was not completely awake this morning. That said, the band was as loud as most concerts. With my sensitive ears, it wasn't celebratory, but physical torture. I was literally in pain. The only way I was able to stay in church was by finding a hidden pair of earplugs in my purse.

The exuberant nature of the service could easily work for many, but it is far from where I am when it comes to interacting with the divine. I need a little more meditation, and a little more rock (less gospel). I also need a lot fewer people.

I'm not comfortable hugging strangers. I'm not comfortable with songs where I can't tell when I'm supposed to sing because I don't know the music style. I'm not comfortable with a high amount of performance while participation is limited to clapping and dancing.

I can see how others would appreciate this, but it's not where I am. To me, it is in my face and frighteningly overwhelming. It is so much so that I almost began sobbing.

That said, I did like one of the soloists and the song she sang. I do like the mission of the church and its accepting nature. But this is not enough to keep me when the worship is so intense it makes me shut down. Literally, I didn't sing once. For those who know me, you will know that I sing constantly. It takes a lot to keep me from singing, but this place silenced me. Not only did it silence my voice, but my spirit. It is impossible for me to nurture my soul when I feel physically attacked.

It hurts me. I wanted to like this place. I really did. But it's not the place for a reserved introvert who prefers the peace of Zen meditation or an isolated hike.

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