whiterosechild's Blog

  Odd title, I know. But this is a bit of an odd post, and why bother thinking of a rational title for a post that I don't even know whether anyone else will "get"...

   Does anyone have that feeling, somettimes, that no matter what else happens to be going on in their life, that right now - whether that's for a few minutes, or an hour or two- everything is okay? That it is, in fact, perfect?

   That's the kind of sense I got today. I was up early studying for a biology test. (It pained me to skip my yoga for biology study, believe me. ) First period in school, I realized I had a French assignment I'd totally forgotten about- and my teacher wanted me to present it today. I wanted to groan myself into oblivion. I hate being unprepared. 

  Second period was just as fun. We have a different biology teacher from last year, and she's not nearly as organized as our last one. The test was horrible- covering more material than we've ever had to learn for a single test before, and many of the questions were not clearly worded, or didn't look familiar from what we'd actually studied. Our teacher then proceeded to inform us that it was a mere "quiz"- we still have to finish the other half of the unit for the full unit test. Arrrgh. In eleventh grade, I was a star in biology. This year I doubt I'll be able to keep that up. 

   Third period was for my distance course, but I decided to use it to get a start on that French. My friends came into the library to work on something else and we got into this disagreement. They were making jokes about prostitution. I asked them not to. Personally, I don't find that there's anything remotely funny - or, in any context, acceptable- about prostitution. They told me to "lighten up" and one of them went into a very self-assured spiel about how prostitution should be legalized. Maybe I should become more educated on the issue, but to my mind, prostitution of any sort has no place in any imaginary, harmonious world... so why talk about "better" conditions for it to happen under? 

    I spent a lonely lunch hour continuing my French project. After lunch we had math, and that was a bit less miserable. I mean, considering the fact I hate math, at least I have a really nice teacher. But English class, last period, was when things really changed. Well, nothing changed, except for some subtle little shift in me. 

     We were studying this beautiful piece called The Shack (I'm convinced it's by Margaret Laurence, but it was a printout so I don't know for sure). Generally, English is heavy and deals with rather depressing themes... but The Shack is just an essay of a woman talking about the wildlife and the people around her lakeside cabin. Being a nature lover, I especially enjoyed the imagery she used and her appreciation for what is simply wild. Alone, this wouldn't have been enough to send my mood soaring free from the hole it had been cowering in. There were about a half-dozen other things that nudged me up. 

    For one thing, I got a couple of grammatical questions right that nobody else could answer- that's always a perk. And I was sitting with a friend, Chris, and something our teacher was saying made me think of Chris' Hallowe'en costume last year, so I whispered to him and made him grin. No, I do not "like like" him- he's claimed in any case- but he's a good pal and I like to see him laugh. I'm not usually the one with a sense of humor, so when I actually have something amusing to say it's twice as much fun. 

     And one girl I don't hang around with volunteered her opinion about the theme, and Mr. Alexander declared she was absolutely right. I know she's smart, she just has a kind of rough life, I think, and it warmed me from all the way across the room to see her pleasure at the unusual praise. And Mr. Alexander was sitting near me in his swivel chair, so while I listened (I love his lectures) I watched his leather shoe tap; it jabbed the air with extra oomph on any words with emphasis. Don't ask me why this fascinated me. At this point I was feeling a little dizzy from all these tiny bits of cheer. And I glanced at another friend, Janelle, a few feet away. As the dismissal bell rang she stretched, and in her soft rounded curves and lustrous hair I saw something exquisitely feline.  

    As I recognized, just for a moment, the beauty of a wild goddess in my perfectly civilized classmate- who, on occasion, drives me crazy- a sense of how all things wild and human are connected.... Regardless of whether I always like each individual part of that matrix, the fragile and invisible chains that link us exist. They truly exist. In L.M. Montgomery's  book "Emily" trilogy, the main character would call it "the moment when the curtain lifted." The chains became visible for me, and in a flash of joy I became certain of hope once again.

    I thank the powers of the universe for such experiences. What glory this fallible human creature is honored to witness.   

   I want to reach out. I want to share love with the world.

     When I am alone, sometimes, and have been working or walking or attending to my own fun- sometimes, I feel so peaceful, and happy, and as though I need nobody, really, except me. My own spirit is complete in itself. But within that completeness I feel the complexity of "my own" spirit: how interconnected and interconnecting that spirit really is. As bizarre new-age physics people say, we're all part of one big energy field. There isn't an 'out there' and an 'in here' to any of us. We're all twisting, rushing, evolving energy in this void in which there is, actually, no time.

      Ironically, though, at other "times" after I've been hanging out or talking to others, especially friends... how perplexing it is. I have this notion that we must get along perfectly- agree on everything- never ride through those long silences when every pothole in our relationship seems undeniable and irreconcilable. On my side of the equation, anyway. I don't know how the other/s feel. Probably they have a much more sensible and realistic idea of the requirements entailed by friendship.

     Don't think I'm not aware how ridiculous my insecurities are. Nobody gets along on every topic, all the time- and so much can be stocked up to mood and unrelated circumstances in any given situation. Obviously there is more in the sphere of cause-and-effect than a single meeting or conversation. I can't talk sense to myself, nevertheless. If a friend says she's not feeling well and has to go, I immediately feel I've let her down, somehow. Then I go through every single word I uttered, and her responses. Analyzing stuff like this is not only unwarranted, it's vain and irrational. AND unproductive. It makes me miserable. It really does. 

     Gosh. To any drowning readers, I'm awfully sorry. I've just read The Catcher in the Rye for almost the second time in two weeks. It must be doing bad things to my concept of what's worth writing down. 

      All I'd like to know is, why does being with people make me feel more detached and failed in the venture of humanity than simple solitude? My torrents of words here are useless. I just feel so sad.

   First off, please be aware that I have never posted a blog before. Well, okay, virtually never. The last time I tried, I was about thirteen and one post in, I decided it wasn't worth the technical bother- decided that I didn't have anything to say, anyway.

    How much has changed in the intervening four years, I don't know. That is, I don't know if I have anything a great deal better to say. However, I know that some people blog just to practice their writing skills, and such is my objective in doing so. Currently I don't write enough, and even this effort will surely bring improvement. If anyone reads and/or enjoys it, brilliant- but I haven't really the foggiest where I'll head with this. Just so you know.

       I had a terrific sleep-over with my three closest school-friends last night. (I won't hesitate to use their names because there's next to zero chance they will ever visit EP, much less find me on it.) It was Chelsea's birthday and we enjoyed watching her open gifts, eating ice cream cake, and generally goofing off together. A very normal seventeenth birthday celebration- and probably her last party we'll all be together for. Next fall will be university, with us "madly off in all directions".  There was a larger group at first, but after the movie, people drifted out till just the four of us were left. 

       The movie is important here. It was "Donnie Darko". Not being culturally well-informed by any stretch of the imagination, I hadn't heard of it, but those who had seen it assured me it wasn't like "Kill Bill" (I ended up in tears during that one). So I watched it.

     It's a hard film to define- psycho-thriller, drama, sci-fi, whatever you try to call it, you think of another element that would go by another title. I won't go into an explanation of the plot, but for those who haven't seen it, "Donnie Darko" is one of those that surprises and shocks you, and leaves you more than a little mystified. I felt a bit stranded, trying to sort out the different themes in my head and make sense of the "point" of the film. It was deep, that much was clear- too deep to make the dive to understanding in one breath. I'd probably need an airtank. 

     My friends and I, afterwards, somehow got talking about viewpoints of different characters and whether or not we agreed with them. A certain guy, for example, had been sort of a self-help guru- an exaggeratedly infuriating one, who turned out to be a jerk. Nevertheless, I agree with his claims of fear being a negative, self-defeating force and love being a higher energy that can overcome fear. My friend Amanda disagreed- here's where our small debate began.

   "He was full of **it. There's more fear than love in the world," Amanda said casually, selecting a crinkle chip. 

    "I don't think so. It all depends on your viewpoint," I countered. "Look at all the good that's happening in the world. I stay hopeful by focussing on the positive."

     "I prefer a realistic viewpoint," Amanda replied. "Jeez, look at what's going on out there. The world's not ruled by love. Sure, it's real, but there's way more hate than love." 

    "But that depends on your definition of realistic. If we believe that hate is going to win over love, in "the end"- or whatever- how... how can we keep going every day?"

     "Well, I'm not saying there's no chance of love winning in the end. But the way it's going right now, I'd say hate and fear are the more powerful emotions."

      We kind of fizzled out, since this conversation wasn't of much interest for Janelle or Chelsea (two words: animé addicts). Besides, I couldn't have kept going in an intelligible stream. Amanda is extremely smart and an eloquent speaker, and I'm just not. I do better with a pen (or a keyboard). I feel my beliefs, in my very core, but it's harder for me to put them into the words that we are obliged to use in this lifetime.

     It would be impossible, and against my philosophy anyway, to change her mind for her. What you choose to focus on here is an individual decision. I can't, not being in her shoes living her life, say that I blame her, or that she's wrong. Insistence upon being "right" certainly isn't love. And if Amanda doesn't believe in the overwhelming existence of love, there's no way for me to show it to her in a mirror. I can't take her by the hands and say "Let me tell you what love is, Amanda." It would sound like Latin to her if I tried to express my idea that we're all pure love, beauty, harmony, every one of us, that's our essence; and sometimes that gets clouded, but we have so much potential for love... she would certainly think I'm ridiculous. Perhaps she'd be correct, I don't know.

       But I know what resonates with my soul, what makes me happy, and what keeps me moving from day to day with a song of gratitude and determination in my heart. I need to know that there is a point to the sorrow and suffering. That I, even small, insignificant Amber! - can make a difference and maybe nudge another being towards joy. We ALL deserve joy. Even, I dare to say, myself- despite the fact I sometimes want to shed my own skin if that would relieve the ugliness inside my mind.

      Honestly, I believe in our human compassion to overcome our human evil. Slowly, perhaps in a thousand times as long as it takes Mount Everest to be eroded into dust- but these souls, this universal soul that consists of the pure positive energy that created it, will one day find its way home.

     Believing that, I have a vision, and a hearthold.