Thompson the Octopus

I doodled this guy today. My son has named him Thompson.

Another Doodle

Here's to the Girls

Here's to the girls:

To the ones who learned, from the start, to be quiet and to be nice. Who learned to speak in "maybes" and "I thinks."

To the girls who learned to sit still and not to jump in puddles, to play baseball better than the boys, or to climb too high in trees.

To the girls who were told they were too tall, too chubby, or too skinny. To the ones who learned, at an early age, that their bodies would never be good enough, and that, therefore, they would never be good enough.

And to the ones who were praised for their beauty, who learned, at too young an age, that their looks were all that mattered, and that, therefore, they would never be good enough.

To the ones who were told they were "too smart for their own good." To the ones who were told they couldn't be good at math or science.

To the girls who believed they had to choose between being smart or pretty, between being successful or popular, between love and respect.

To the girls who were taught they couldn't be priests, ministers, or rabbis. To those who were surrounded by pictures of a male Deity, who never really felt they were created in God's image.
To the ones who were told they weren't funny.

To all the girls who were abused in subtle and unsubtle ways, who hid themselves and were never seen, who were afraid to show themselves, but wanted, desperately, to be loved for who they were.

To the girls who survived.

To the ones who didn't give up.

To the strong ones.

Here's to them.

Small Mercies

March is not greatly improved over February. Still healing slowly, still broke, still heartbroken. Last night, my phone bit the dust, and today I found out that I have six weeks to find a new place to live.

I have a very Lenten attitude, so I suppose it's fitting. It's like being in a holding pattern, waiting desperately for spring, knowing that no amount of effort can make it arrive sooner. My meditations in the last couple of weeks have been about this: reminding myself that, even when life seems secure and settled, that it's impossible to know what will happen next. These times of living in limbo are really no different in fact than the times when we think we have a definite future ahead of us; it's only a difference in emotional perspective. The feeling of security, of thinking we have the next month or year or decade planned out, is nothing more than an illusion. The future is always being written. It can change at any moment.

A friend once told me that, when everything around you seems to be going downhill, that the best you can do is look for the small mercies. Like when you lock your keys in your car, and appreciate that you did it after arriving at work, instead of before work, in the snow, while wearing patent leather shoes.

Maybe it's a fatalistic attitude, recognizing that things could always be worse, but this is the same friend who told me that I shouldn't look to karma for a reward, because "Karma would have to shower you with diamonds to make it up to you, and we should keep our expectations within the realm of possibility." I'm pretty comfortable with existentialism, all told, and understand entirely the attitude that meaning in life is found in the struggle to thrive. Sometimes the best you can do is to appreciate that you've managed so far, that you're strong enough to bear the constant uncertainty of this frail thing we call life.

So, in the spirit of "things could always be worse," here are a few recent "Small Mercies":

No matter where I end up living, I won't have to live with my ex husband.

The world still has ice cream, puppies, and daffodils.

I know some really awesome people.

Spring is just around the corner. Which means Lent will be over soon. Which means I can drink coffee again.

I Wish for You...

This, and many other good things, besides.