Late night poetry

Go, velvet twilight.

Try very soon

to surrendeer

a moon.

A slow news day

God answers prayers specifically

I was driving home after work one night in my five-speed Toyota in 1989 after the big Loma Prieta earthquake in San Francisco. Since the Bay Bridge was damaged, traffic on the two bridges that span the East Bay from the Peninsula was packed. I was sitting on the Dumbarton bridge kvetching to myself because I had to keep shifting.

As I was sitting in traffic, I suddenly had what I thought was a bright idea. I asked God to total my car so that I could get an automatic with the insurance proceeds (this from a claims person!). "I don't want anybody to get hurt, Lord," I said, as usual placing conditions on things. "Just let someone hit it when it's parked or something, okay?"

I went home and took a nap, then about 7:30 headed out for the Friday night NA meeting at Laney College near my apartment in Oakland. After the meeting, as we always did, a gang of us headed out to meet at Biff's, a downtown 24-hour coffee shop, a fixture for those in recovery. I had actually worked there in my teens, but that's a whole other story in itself.

As I was making a left turn to go onto Grand Avenue and into Biff's parking lot, a drunk kid made a left and smacked my car. The total damage to my car was $1,500, but it dislocated my shoulder and it never healed quite right. God had answered my prayers, alright, but I think He sent a bigger message.

Another example of God's answers is when I received my liver. Before the transplant center puts you on the transplant list, you have to interview with a team, and I mean team, of psychiatrists. There were about six of them in the room, all I really recall is a sea of white coats. They asked me how I felt about having someone's else's organ in me.

Despite how sick I was, I hadn't totally lost my sense of humor, but I felt I'd better let the wording of that question pass. I did say that I didn't have a problem with it, but I had one request. I told them that I'd always been slightly pissed off, I wasn't sure why. I said that I believed the liver controlled emotions and that I hoped that I would get a happy liver.

They were trying not to laugh when they answered me, but I could tell they were pretty amused and thinking "This one's a coo-coo bird." The head of the team told me that they were going to get me a liver because I'd led a "phenomenal life," but they couldn't guarantee that they could find me a happy liver.

"Well, I guess then any liver will do," I told them.

At a year post-transplant, I wrote a letter to the donor family. The letter they sent back said they'd sent me a picture of their five-year old daughter who gave me her liver so I could she that she "was such a happy child."

How's that for God's answer to my prayer?

Today when things get tough, I know that there is a light at the end of the tunnel. That light is God's love guiding me toward Him. "It's better over here," I think He coaxes sometimes when I'm doubtful.

They say fear and faith cannot exist in the same space; that fear is lack of faith. I know that I can be scared to death but still have faith in God. I know that ultimately all will be well, but the steps I have to take in the meantime sometimes frighten me.

After all these years clean, I can finally say my faith is strong. Until tomorrow, I feel your love and thank you for your friendship.

P.S. Be careful what you pray for!

Look what's outside my office window today!

I am in for a treat for the next few weeks. God gives us these little gifts; I'm so glad today I have the ability to notice them.

Gallup, New Mexico

Isn't this mural cool? It's on an outside wall on the Gallup Historical Museum. I am happy to be home safe and sound.
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Here's a word of warning. If a line on the map looks straight, don't trust it. I took a slight unexpected detour and wound up on 100 miles of windy, hilly road just before dusk. It ain't the way to see Oklahoma, let me tell you.
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Another word of warning: Don't listen to NPR when you're trying to look for road signs so you don't end up on an unexpected detour. It makes you think too hard to pay attention.
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Thanks for all your prayers! I know you guided me home. Tomorrow when I am bright-eyed and bushy tailed, I'm going to blog about how, in my limited understanding of my HP, He specifically answers prayers. Stay tuned.

The Grand Canyon

I'm in Tucumcari tonight; in other words, I didn't make it very far. I didn't go to the Grand Canyon, but I did see several Kaibab squirrels with Dr. Spock ears. I'll find a pic for you; you just have to see them.

I stopped in Gallup today, missing the All-Indian Nations Pow Wow by one week. I'm bummed. Gallup is the best place in the world, I think, to buy Indian jewelry or crafts. The craftspeople often come in from the reservations and sell their wares. I spent a few hours mogging through the jewelry and craft stores. It was really fun, but it put me a bit behind.

Tomorrow I go through the Texas panhandle then into Oklahoma. If you ever go through Oklahoma City, just a few miles off the freeway is a memorial for the children killed at the Murray Federal building. Swing by and see it. It's heartbreaking.

Well, I'm heading to bed. Until tomorrow, thanks for the prayers. I almost crashed into an idiot Audi driver today who thought he'd dart in front of me. I missed him by a hair and your prayer. So until tomorrow, sleep tight.

Heading home

I'm in Flagstaff tonight at one of my favorite hotels, Little America. I spent the morning watching 26 feet of furniture being loaded onto my truck. I've been without all this stuff for almost two years all together; I guess maybe I don't need much of it. It's amazing the stuff I've collected over the years. I think it gave me some sense of security, somehow.

I realized, though, as I was facing my mortality before the liver transplant, that it's all just "stuff." You can't take it with you. I learned that first hand. My sponsor has assigned me a new twist on the 4th Step. "Take a physical inventory," she recommended, getting rid of what I don't need. She was pleased I'd finally made the decision to get my things from Arizona. She also told me to use the two-and-a-half days I'll be on the road to talk with my Higher Power. That I can do.

I had a nice time in Arizona; I always do. But I'm also glad to be on the road home to Missouri. In addition to seeing my sponsor, I was able to see my good friend Pat who helped me so much when I was ill and has been a good friend for many years now. I don't think I would have lived if she hadn't been there to be my cheerleader when I was ready to give up and my advocate when the doctors were giving up on me.

I also learned that Diana Heywood, an old-time NAer and friend of our founder, Jimmy K., died yesterday from cancer. She was a unique woman and helped many, many addicts get clean, along with her husband Bill, who died from liver disease about five years ago. She was a good friend to me and to many Phoenix and Los Angeles addicts.

I would like to relate a few Bill and Diana stories, but suffice it to say, I know first hand quite a few addicts who probably wouldn't have stayed clean if it weren't for their tough love and tolerance. Any time you dropped by their house there was someone there, often sleeping on the couch detoxing. That's how Bill and Diana were. Their house was NA Central wherever they lived, in LA, Phoenix and later in Lake Havasu. Thank God for people in these rooms who are willing to go to any lengths to help addicts recover.

I know Bill will be waiting for Diana and that her Higher Power will welcome her Home. Until tomorrow, say a quick prayer that my journey is a safe one. It's the first time I've made the trip without a dog and I feel almost naked.

Another killer Arizona photo

I'm about 40 miles from where this picture was taken. Tomorrow I'm picking up my furniture and heading back to Missouri. I spent some time today with my sponsor today, visited a few friends, worked with another friend on a project I'm doing, and ate Japanese food twice in two days. Ain't life grand?

I'll try to get photos as I go. This is the first chance I've had to blog since I've been so busy. Hope you are all well.

I'm a 15 (a Bill Clinton)

Obviously, I am surrounded by Commie pinkos.

Take this quiz!

Let's have some fun today. I am often being accused of being "too liberal," whatever that means. One of my recovery friends from the Skull Valley Old Shoe group in Skull Valley, Arizona, who I consider more conservative than me by far, took this quiz and she scored a 19. Hmm.

It judges how conservative or liberal you are. I'll tell you my score one of these days if you're interested. Take it at here.

For my international friends, this may be difficult to understand if you aren't highly familiar with some US politicians, but substitute some names of your own country's political swing groups and at least have fun.

Happy birthday blog

Yesterday was my blog's one-year anniversary, but somehow it doesn't feel right to be celebratory given the circumstances in our nation today. My heart and prayers go out to the Virginia Tech students and their families. This tragedy speaks to the need for more dialogue in our nation about the violence that bombards us in movies, videos and music. As these tragedies continue, like an addiction, they seem to escalate, one shooting more horrific than the rest.

Does anyone remember the "bo-bo doll" experiments from the 60s? Completed by social psychologists, they put large inflatable dolls called bo-bo's in a room with small children. If the kids punched the dolls, they would spring back and then forward. Kids who were exposed to violence via comic books or television programs or motion pictures were then observed to determine their behavior toward bo-bo dolls.

The findings were that kids exposed to violence via different mediums like comic books were more likely to strike the bo-bo's than kids who weren't. In my day, the most violent cartoon we had was Roadrunner; today's violence surrounding kids is simply astounding.

Part of what's come out of the Don Imus debate is the hope that more dialogue will help our nation with our racist attitudes. Do you think this nation will ever address its increasing fascination with violence?

Before I get off on another rant, I'm going to close by saying "Thanks" to you who made comments re my blogging. You have been a source of inspiration to me over this past year and I hope to continue blogging as often as I can at this point.

Until tomorrow, please remember the victims of yesterday's tragedy in your prayers. They, and our nation as a whole, need it.

Resentments

The topic at yesterday's women's meeting was resentments. I had just finished reading this month's Grapevine, where the topic was the same. There was one particular article in there that was great and provided me with a new tool to better resolve resentments.

The writer said that he was having problems with a person to the point that he literally couldn't stand to be around him and they, as I recall, were active in service together. Finally, he couldn't stand it any longer. He wrote a lengthy resentment list about this person, writing down every reason he could not tolerate him. Then, he erased the other person's name at the top of the list and wrote in his own name.

He said it took him a few days, but he quickly realized that every characteristic he hated about this other person he could say honestly was one of his own character defects. I thought that was very interesting, so I resolved to try this myself.

For months, I've been struggling with a lingering resentment with a woman in my home group who has, despite doing many kind things for me when I was ill, said some pretty terrible things about me, which of course have gotten back to me. I had decided, after working my 10th Step with her and getting nowhere, to just write off the relationship. But I decided to try this exercise and see if it worked.

Yesterday I was at my home group talking with my boyfriend and another man who were laying flooring at the hall where we meet. This woman's name came up, and I just had to get my two cents in about what she had done to me (as I perceived it). I left and almost immediately felt ashamed of myself. I was doing the very thing that I so bitterly resented about her: gossiping.

This morning I wrote a list of the things about her that irritated me and boy, every thing on that list I could truly say were my character defects, as well. Although I work hard to become a better human being, sometimes I slide down the slippery slope of judgment and self-righteousness. The answer for me lies in the Steps.

This little tool, writing the resentment list and comparing it to my own defects, allowed me to look at my part in our relationship. If I expect her to be kind about me, even if she doesn't necessarily like me, I need to be kind about her. As one article about resentments said, "I can put down the porcupine."

There also a simple rule: The exact energy I put out inevitably comes back to me with a wham.

I leave Friday for Arizona to pick up my furniture, so next week's blogs will be spotty (althought great photos may ensue; it's springtime in the most beautiful state in the union, IMHO). However, as I approach Two Dogs Blogging's 1st anniversary, I'm weighing whether I should continue Two Dogs or put the energy I put into this blog into other areas that might yield better results, both for me and for others. There seems to be so many places where I could help and this blog, although I've cut back a bit in writing, takes up a lot of time. So that, kids, is where I am today. That and battling the sinus infection which has crept back with a roar.

Until tomorrow, hang in there. Your love and shout outs over the past year has made my recovery so much stronger.

Imus out

Until someone else picks him up, that is. I attend a Black Land Grant college and last night in my social problems class, most of the discussion was taken up by the thoughts about Don Imus' comments and how the mostly African American students felt about his ousting, which was announced just before class began.

We had two ministers in attendance, my instructor and another campus minister for a discussion on students working in Mississippi on the Katrina flood, complete with a slide show. Then the topic went directly to Imus (it may have been my fault), and we spent two hours in earnest dialogue.

One topic the minister asked about was why Black rappers can use "ho" and racial epithets and it's "okay." One of the comments of the evening went to a wonderfully funny African American social worker, who said, "The women who audition for rap videos are "hos" and the women who buy rap are "residual hos." The entire class fell out laughing. I'd never heard of a "residual ho," but maybe I've led a sheltered life.

We didn't solve any sweeping social problems last night, but we talked with the Dean of Students, who was there, about how the college can better work to bring the races together. One thing I asked was about was the cafeteria. I've been to the cafeteria a couple times for lunch (I'm a night student mainly) and the food is really, really good. Yet I've never seen a white student there. What's up with that?

The Black students said that they don't go there because it's too loud. And the White students, they told me, bring their lunches and eat at one of the halls in a break room. I think, personally, the White students are too intimidated to go in because it's loud and extremely "Black," as one of the students said.

Fear is often at the heart of things, isn't it? I think the races in their hearts don't hate each other so much as they fear each other. My parents didn't bring me up to be racist; the most they said is that if we intermarried, it would be hard on our children. My parents were way ahead of their time and I thank God for the tolerance they taught me. I am not afraid of differences; I only fear that we can't heal these differences.

What gives me hope is that some are at least willing to engage in tough dialogue about how we can heal this great racial divide in America. As I've pointed out before, what Imus said was not a joke. He can hide behind that lame excuse all he wants. He is a racist and a sexist, or he would not have said those horrific comments to those beautiful, courageous women. By the way, did you watch the interviews of the women from the Rutgers team? Did they look like hos to you?

To my women readers and my readers of any color than White, if those women are hos, then we are all hos. I'll paraphrase Alan Ginsberg here by saying, "Ah, ho, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time."

To quote Ginsberg directly, "While I'm here I'll do the work. And what's the work? To ease the pain of living . . . " This incident has caused me pain. It should cause me pain, because it speaks to a great, great problem in America. Despite the Civil Rights movement and despite "integrating" our schools (have you been to a school in Compton lately?) and despite the lip service we pay to racial equality, this nation stands divided. I, for one, believe we can do better than this.

Romy's latest handiwork

My poor dog has lost it. I came home to a chewed coffee table (thank God it was a thrift store quality), a chewed software package box, and last night found her chewing on an electric cord. I'm not sure what's up with my pooch.

I'm sick at heart

The news has been all over Don Imus' comments on the Rutger gals' basketball team and frankly, it makes me sick at heart. If you haven't read his comments, suffice it to say the gals were referred to as "nappy-headed hos" by Imus and his producer. Comments are all over the board, but here's my feelings on this. This was no joke; this is how many, many White men feel about Blacks, male or female.

My heart hurts for a country that has this deep hatred for people of color. I have spent a great deal of my career, unfortunately, working around men just like this, trying to ignore their hatred and their racism and their prejudices. Today I'm grateful I don't have to put up with it anymore.

What hurts the most, though, is that there seems to be so little I can do personally to make racism and sexism better. There are many people around me, given the state I live in (although it's not just my state) who are racist to the core and in deep denial about it.

If you don't like how people act, Black or White, hate the actions, not the skin color. It isn't about how people act based on their color; it's usually about how they were raised. This lack of upbringing affects all people, White, Black, Hispanic, or striped. When Imus makes statements like this and gets away with it because he generates big bucks, I sink further into believing that I, also a second-class American citizen due to my gender, will ever feel at home in America.

Yesterday I spent an hour-and-a-half in church being reminded of Christ's message. It was, I believe, simply love. I'm tired of hearing people hide behind their Christianity yet, to their core, despise other races.

Urban Semiotic posted some great cartoons and thoughts on this issue.

It goes back to what I can do in my core of influence and that is to practice love. By the way, I think love is a verb.

Another day clean

The last few days I've been a bit herky jerkey, although I'm not sure why. Yesterday I was letting someone else's stress get to me and today, well, that's a whole other story. But the woman's meeting was awesome today.

One of our members took her 7 year chip. She's just coming out of a relationship fiasco as is one of my sponslings. Relationships are tough. When we suffer major losses such as a breakup or a close friend or parent's death, often the accompanying feelings go much deeper than just that loss -- we're grieving many, many losses in our lives.

One of my friends with many years sober whose husband just relapsed again said that she was feeling like "Maybe God has lost my file." I, too, know that feeling. You too probably know it. It keeps hitting the fan and you keep asking "Okay, God, what's the message here?" I call this "when the rubber hits the road" in recovery because this is where you either get into action, feel your feelings or get loaded.

I haven't been to as many meetings as I normally attend the past few weeks because I've been working more. In my recovery, though, I've found that I need three to four meetings a week to stay on point and I'm not feeling on point today, I'm feeling slightly irritated and discontent.

The topic at today's meeting was mainly relationships, but one of the daily meditations talked about integrity. The program has given me integrity because prior to coming into the rooms and despite my parents trying to teach me this trait, I had none. I remember many times when I was using (and I'm missing my mother this weekend because it's Easter, I guess) my mother arranged for me to meet her and my aunt for lunch. Often, I just didn't show up. Usually I was too hungover to get out of bed or I didn't want her to see me high. When she finally tracked me down a few days later she'd say "We missed you, dear." I would feel like a slug, which was a good reason, not that I needed one, to get loaded all over again.

Today if I say I'm going to do something, I generally do it. I can be depended on. That's a gift, to be this person I am today versus that wild woman I was for so many years. So while it's not a really great day for me today emotionally, all in all, I'm grateful that I found this program and I decided, and yes, it is a day-by-day decision, to stick around.

Some days, just stay in bed

Some days, it just doesn't pay to get out of bed. I received an assignment from a new client last Friday. He needed the copy turned around by Monday, which I did. I thought I did a pretty good job. He, however, sent me a nice e-mail saying "it wasn't what I was looking for." I wasn't sure what to do, so I sent him a note and asked if he wanted me to rewrite it. No response.

So this morning I got up and rewrote the copy entirely and e-mailed it to him. He had promised me a lot of work if this panned out, so I am pretty disappointed. However, I learned a few valuable lessons. I am not going to start projects without more clear direction and an outline that I send to the client rather than guess I know what I'm doing then find out it's not what the client envisioned.

Next, I'm not going to get discouraged. I did; it really threw me because I know I can write copy, especially on the subject matter, which of course would have bored the pants off most writers nor would they have been able to write two pages on the topic because it's highly technical.

When these things happen, my mind goes back to the believable lie, the "I can't do anything right" one. I have to fight that like crazy, because the reality is if I get into that thinking, I am tempted to give up.

Tornado-like winds have been swirling around us here in Mid-Missouri. The sirens went off for awhile, but I bravely continued shopping. There is little that gets between a hardy shopper and her goal--more stuff.

So until tomorrow, I feel better just writing this. Send a "hey" to the universe that my business keeps on rolling, because I'm a little discouraged right now.