Hell-ish

With the excitement of the apocalypse over, I suppose I don't have a good reason not to march onward with the Thirty Days. I haven't wanted to write this entry, but I've reached Day 8:

Someone who made your life hell
Perhaps the irony of my answer is that this person isn't really IN my life at all. In fact, my sister, the cardiac patient, has fought and kicked and sworn and slammed doors to kick me OUT of her life.

At the same time, I'm working through counseling and some of the things that come up go waaaaaay back to when we were little. I have unanswerable questions about how her birth and traumatic health problems began a pattern of independence and self-reliance that really wasn't appropriate. Attachment disorders, self-esteem issues, control problems. How much stems from the fact that I was the older, healthy child who didn't "need" attention the way the sick baby did?

She is incredible in her tenacity, though. She's more than doubled any life expectancy every given to her. She is the sole surviving patient who had a particular Fontan procedure done - it was discontinued because of complications later in life. She pursued a double-major at Northwestern University, despite needing pace-makers and repeated surgeries.

She's also gotten herself in a whole mess of trouble and she is on my mind a lot...mostly wondering if she's even alive, let alone safe. There's nothing I can do for her but have faith that she is where she needs to be in the Grand Scheme.

*sigh* I don't blame her, nor do I blame my parents. There is no fault for the complications of a disabled sibling. It's just hard...sometimes hell-ish.

End of the World?

Merry Solstice! The precise midpoint is 11:12 UTC on 12-21-12. Mayans declared this the end of their calendar, and there are many "End of the World" parties tonight. Some experts have said rather than being predictive of anything profound, the completion of those 1,872,000 days is more a matter of bookkeeping.

1,872,000 days. That's a lotta days to forecast. At some point, your accuracy must get a little less...um...accurate, and that is pretty much the answer for this calendar. This is like the odometer of your car turning over. It doesn't stop running when it goes from 999999 to 00000. In fact, the Mayans not only did not leave any trace of doomsday theory, but they wrote down some dates for events beyond the end of the great calendar cycle.

The prophecy is one of optimism. It is the time of Pachokuti (pacha means earth or time; kudi means the end of, or to step outside of), the one who brings an era to a close. [Note: Pachoduke build Machu Picchu and expanded the Inka Empire to a territory larger than the United States.] Some have suggested that this is the end of humanity's self-absorbed focus, that we are about to evolve into Homo luminous.

This does not mean that there will be no labor pains in birthing a new humanity. Alberto Villoldo states, "We have to dedicate ourselves to becoming comfortable with our shadows as well as our light, healing the wars within us a best we can so that all of humanity can heal and evolve." Each of us must play a part in becoming the Pachakuti. We can choose to evolve into Homo luminous. Imagine whom you want to be.

First Rude, then Beloved

I have mentioned my friend, Rude13, a few times on here. He's been a friend pretty much as long as I have known Beloved, was a long-time housemate, and is Boy's godfather. He is also an artist. I own a couple of his early works.

Recently, he undertook a challenge. Thirty landscapes in thirty days. Personally, a thirty day challenge of ANYTHING is tough. I mean, really...all I am trying to do is type on the computer and I haven't managed to complete a challenge on time. To do it in an artistic medium? In paint?!?

I'm not an artist, but I have played with paints a little. It's not as easy as it looks. Some of these are really fantastic! Take a look!


Speaking of the 30 Day...here is my 7th day on the Truth List.
Someone who has made your life worth living for

Is it any surprise that I name Beloved? No? *chuckles* Well, it shouldn't be.
When I met Beloved, I was dating another guy...but it wasn't a good place. My boyfriend had gotten involved with other things and in my desperation to regain his attention, I was starving myself to get skinny. I was wear clothes I wasn't particularly comfortable with. I was working retail and in full teenage-angst with my dad. I was taking A&P and doing human dissection, and typically reeked of BioPerm or Quat, depending on the day.

On Tuesday, March 14, 1995 my study partner invited me to join her at a cafe for a "double date", mine being blind. If you ask him, Beloved will tell you that when I stepped through the door, he decided he was *going* to meet me. For my part, I nervously glanced around the crowded room, found my partner, and glanced at the guys at the table. Approaching, Beloved and J stood up, taking my hand and kissing it, introducing themselves.

They were best friends with long hair, black leather jackets, combat boots, and wickedly romantic. By the end of the evening, we were playing mancala with sugar cubes and deciding when to get together again.

By the end of the second get-together, I was thoroughly smitten with Beloved. J was very sweet and IS a fantastic friend, but the sparks were sharp and brilliant with Beloved. *wry smile* My study partner never forgave me. Ah well.

Beloved took to catching me after my lab, stealing my book, car keys, etc. and refused to give them back until he had WATCHED me eat. As the spring wore on, I found bouquets of violets on my windshield in the FULL parking lot. We'd lay in the new grass and chase the goslings when they got too close. By the end of April, I told my boyfriend I was leaving him. By November, Beloved had asked me to marry him.

It's been seventeen years, and the more things change, the more I realize what a gift I have in my soulmate. No one in my life has questioned me so little, accepted me so much, and made me laugh and smile more. Even in the worst times, even when I have screamed and fought and pushed him away, he hasn't given up on me. He values my input, yet tucks me in to bed like a child. Without a doubt, he has made it possible for me to wade through the dark days and helped me fly on the bright days. I wish I could give every person what Beloved has given to me.

Never again...

Something you hope you never have to do

I hope I never have to choose between evils.

Sure, there are lots of times that we don't like the choices that are presented, but they aren't truly evil. I hope that I never face the desperation of choosing between options that I will regret for the rest of my life. I already carry a taste of that burden in my heart, and I hope to never, ever face it again.

Hope

Hey...remember, I was working on a 30 Day thingy! I find myself sitting in a house with dirty dishes, a mountain of laundry to fold, and Christmas decor that needs attention...so, what the heck! I'll blog!

Something you hope to do in your life.

"Life is not measured by the moments of breath you take, but by the breath taking moments."

I want to live recklessly, to let go and fly high. I want to create the breath-taking moments, cherish them, share them. I want to make a difference in this world, one that I can look back at as I wander out of this life and nod sagely, and say, yes, I made that difference.

I used to think that it might be something huge, like becoming the first female priest in the Catholic Church (yes, that was in fact one of my goals, once) or curing cancer. I grew up a bit and thought maybe I'd make a difference by running for office or otherwise investing myself in politics. I evolved into a kinky-poly person and presented a few times, and thought maybe I'd be a sex activist of some sort. I became a mother and I wonder if the difference I will make in the world is in the life of children...mine, in particular.

Deep down inside, I am not satisfied with what I have accomplished so far. It isn't that the works I have done, the ideas I have put into the Universe are not of value or don't make a difference...it is simply that I am not fulfilled. I have not found the core calling for my existence yet. Still...there is something out there waiting for me, and when I find it, it will change everything.

Terror

A friend posted on Facebook that she was afraid to drop her kindergartener off at school today. The terror of the school attacks in Newtown, CT and Chengping, China on Friday, as well as the reports of averted attacks in Indiana and Oklahoma, are indeed heart-wrenching.

Still, I don't know how to respond. Am I a bad parent because it honestly didn't even cross my mind as I made Boy's lunch this morning? Am I a bad person for believing that we are ALL at fault for allowing a community to develop where such things are possible? Am I jaded and cold to say that life will go on and that I doubt much will change for the better?

Terrorists will continue to chip away at our communities, and they will continue to win. They are adept at finding weak points and exploiting them. They make us weak through isolation, encouraging us to shutter our windows and lock our doors.

People are afraid of their neighbors. Every thing we do is on surveillance because we don't trust anyone. The crusade for democracy abroad, largely unsuccessful in its own right, has proven remarkably effective in building a technological template that could be just a few tweaks away from creating a domestic surveillance state -- with omnipresent cameras, deep data-mining, nano-second biometric identification, and drone aircraft patrolling "the homeland."

People are afraid of immigrants and foreigners. What happened to the Land of Opportunity? Where is the "melting pot"? I have friends who have come to the US of A to learn, and they have shared their difficulties in finding housing because they are from Italy or Canada or Israel and have an accent. I know people who are afraid of visiting ME in my home because there are billboards printed in other languages.

The lives lost are a tragedy. I, too, have lost loved ones and I know that mourning goes on through the rest of your life. However, we do not have to allow the losses to cripple us. Instead of being sad or angry because of what has happened, reach out. It is our connections and our willingness to be open to each other that makes us strong! If everyone knew the names of every person on their block, how much stronger, how much MORE could we do?

Association and causation

There is a difference between 'cause' and 'association'. Consider the example of a correlation between increased ice cream sales and violent crimes.

The ice cream sales (or consumption of ice cream) is not the cause of the increased violent crime rates, though. Both are caused by higher temperatures, and in reality have nothing to do with each other.

You can test associations to see if they are causal fairly easily with two questions.
* Does the presumed cause precede the effect?
* Does removal of a presumed cause lead to a reduction in the risk?

Obviously, if you banned ice cream in the summer, there would still be increased violent crime. There is no causation between the two.

All well and good. My question is am I simply perceiving an association between an increase of nightmares/sick kids/rough nights and the nights that Beloved is gone? Or is there a causation involved?

*sigh*