Coinage

I've repurposed the word "fruity." Instead of meaning dippy, sentimental, schmaltzy, or whatever negative thing you might think it means, it now means delicious, sustaining, energizing, juicy, and good for you.

I know a lot of really fruity people.

Life on the Island

I watched just a little of King Kong today before church, the new one with Naomi Watts. It was funny how the surprises themselves became predictable--I knew that once a character thought he was safe, an even bigger menace was on its way into the frame behind him. As far as I could tell, the premise was that everything on the island was huge and dangerous. The displaced humans had to find a way back to safety. Simple enough.

I thought about how life sometimes seems like that island, with everything giant and threatening, a new monster everywhere you turn. It feels like there's no safety, no escape. I had a recent spate of badly timed bad luck and bad news that was like that (see the entry, "A Sledgehammer and a Sidewalk")--I'd get over one wretched thing, and another would arrive. I even started expecting it. Eventually I gave up in a sense, decided none of it was my fault and I was ready for something else awful to happen. In the movie, after a big fight with a growing number of Tyrannosauri, Kong walks away, but Naomi Watts calls to him. He picks her up, as if to hurt her, but then he puts her on his shoulder and keeps walking. That's what it felt like--being slapped around, passed from T-Rex to giant gorilla, and then lifted to safety by a gentle hand once I stopped fighting.

tidings of the overwhelming

In my most recent workshop piece, I wrote more about God than usual, in my usual-for-school safe, vague, impersonal terms. A classmate called me out in his written comments, said, "Use I and God in the same sentence. Be explicit." Good advice, but I was sad because it made me realize how noncommital I am in certain communities--I'd rather have everyone like me than alienate them by talking about God. And then in certain other communities, where I'm supposed to talk about God, I'm afraid to because my beliefs might shock and divide. So here's what's on my mind, for a start.

I love God and Jesus. I don't love churches or religions. Religion is a human creation, so I feel free to pick and choose elements from each and still call myself a Christian.

Jesus died for my sins and for yours, whether we wanted him to or not.

I am probably saved, and you probably are too, even though I've never formally "asked Jesus into my heart." He's always been there. It's not up to me.

I believe in karma. I believe in meditation and yoga. I believe in the Four Noble Truths and the Five Pillars of Islam. I believe every religion has a lot to offer anyone.

I don't believe anyone but God has the authority to decide, or even guess, who's going to heaven. It is not our business. Each person should focus on whether she is doing the right thing, not converting her mom or the pizza guy or the African who's never heard of Jesus. Similarly, I don't like it when people think admission to heaven requires a certain set of steps, a certain way of life. That's not up to us.

The Bible is a great book. A holy book. It has a lot to teach everyone. And it is divinely inspired. But so is Mary Oliver's poetry, so is Haven Kimmel's fiction, so is my friends' and my writing. The Bible is flawed because its writers, however inspired, were flawed. For example, it says not to mix fibers like cotton and linen in fabrics you wear. And we've totally rejected that law. We've rejected a lot of the laws dealing with meats and food. So if we feel comfortable ignoring those, why do people get so fixated on other laws and use them to hurt others? The laws about homosexual activity appear alongside outdated hygeine laws we ignore, so why not be lenient about that, too? And don't even get me started on the stuff about women. The Bible is a product of a time and place with prejudices just like any other, and we should try to extract the wisdom and guidance without getting bogged down in the hurtful specifics. We should also read other religious texts and focus on the commonalities, the deep truths that apply to humanity rather than a sect of it. (The title of this post came from the Koran.)

Anyway. Mind your own business. Love everyone. Give more than you receive. Pray and trust. Read holy things. Don't worry about the rest of it. God's got it under control.

The Perfect Country and Western Song

For weeks and weeks, I've been trying to remember what song Bob and Madison used to play on G105 on Friday mornings when I was in elementary school and woke up to them every day. They played something, something kind of country, every week, and it came to symbolize Friday for me. But what was it? I haven't been able to remember even a snippet, but it's been nagging me. Then, tonight at Azaleafest, I heard a riff of outdoor karaoke and suddenly remembered the line, "you don't have to call me darlin', darlin'. You never even call me by my name." Came home and Googled it, and now I have bookmarked the lyrics and a YouTube video of "The Perfect Country and Western Song" by John Prine. What a relief, and more than that, a feeling of accomplishment and recovery of something lost.

I've also been writing a piece about my old neighborhood, working my way through memories of each family in each house, and it's surprising how many stories life holds and how easily they slip under the surface of immediate need to know. So, it feels really good to remember things you forgot for a long time. And the Internet is like God because it's so huge and crucial that I take it for granted.

My hair is long enough to go in pigtails now, if I pin back the sides. The plant by the window is thriving. Skirts and tank tops are coming out of storage. We're almost home free on schoolwork, which is good because I've got Montana on the brain. So the future and the past are in pleasing balance.

A Sledgehammer and a Sidewalk

That's what I thought I'd need, along with wine, ice cream, and Office Space, yesterday when I counted to myself all the things that have gone wrong lately. I'm having some problems with guys and friends, all of which came in quick succession, on top of the yearly April-in-school meltdown, departmental politics, looming projects, and untrustworthy weather. So yeah, it's been a hard week.

BUT. I went to a beautiful wedding this weekend and saw some old faithful friends and felt like I might believe in love. The library book sale is this week, and I picked up Thurber, E. B. White, New Yorker cartoons, a book by Gordon Lish (Raymond Carver's controversial editor), a New Journalism anthology, and essays on Superman. I did watch Office Space (and what a help!), but I haven't engaged in carb therapy, and instead of taking a sledgehammer to the sidewalk I've kicked a few sturdy trees. My friends here have come through in ways I wouldn't even have hoped for. A book for me came in the mail from my mom. My favorite professor winked at me and said I could join his class in the fall even though it's full. I am blessed even in my whining.

A word about those New Yorker cartoons. I very rarely find even contemporary ones funny, and the old ones hardly ever. I enjoy them not as humor but as zen koans. Tiny, moment-sized knots that you untie just a little with every looking.