Yezida, A Goth Club, and Johnny Cash

On March 14, yezida mad the following post, which I am sure many of my friends will enjoy and appreciate:

Last night at the Goth club in Oxford, the DJ put on a song that I recognized but could not immediately place. The dance floor cleared. Ah. I recognized it now. It was Johnny Cash, with the opening chords of "Hurt" by Trent Reznor. All of a sudden, the club turned into a church, with everyone standing respectfully. Listening.

A few people mouthed the words, but the overall feeling was of a stillness overtaking the revelers, with the exception of the waifish 18 year old metal head at my table, who complained that she didn't like Johnny Cash. Her friend shook her shoulders in mock chastisement at the blasphemy. She shut up.

A whole nightclub. Still. Listening.

That is power.

More Clearing

Today has not been as productive as I had wanted on an external level, but I really needed the time to do some internal consolidation. So I spent a lot of time catching up with my friends on LJ, updating a recent filters poll, and tending this particular garden of my life.

Then I spent an hour or so lying on my bed reading Infidel by Ayaan Hirsi Ali, which I think many of you would find fascinating. And that too was good.

Now I'm helping my daughter get her room together. Specifically, I helped her get started on sorting her clothes and getting them up on her shelves. I'm afraid that when we were getting started I was very sharp with her about some things: finding one of my good walking socks in a pile behind her door, ditto a half-full bag of popcorn, and etc. I saw her face get more and more tight and sad, but I myself was too overwhelmed with frustration about the state of her room -- and my own contribution to her not being more orderly -- that I was not ready to back off.

Later, as we were working together, I did apologize. I told her what I just wrote above: that I was feeling overwhelmed too and it made me crabby, and I should not have been as sharp with her as I had, and I apologized. She smiled and hugged me and said, "That's okay."

I shook my head. "I'd like you to think about something. When someone apologizes, it feels like the right, nice thing to do to say 'It's okay.' But that makes it seem like something bad didn't really happen. Did you feel sad and hurt when I said those things to you earlier?" After a moment she nodded slowly. "If you say 'It's okay,' it's like pretending that it didn't hurt, and that dishonors yourself. It denies your hurt. If you say 'I forgive you,' you acknowledge that you were hurt but that you're willing to let it go." I saw her eyes begin to glaze over. "I'm starting to do grown-up babbling again, aren't I?"

"Kind of," she admitted.

"Do you understand what I'm saying? That I think it's important that you agree that you were hurt? That you respect yourself and honor yourself that way?"

Another pause, then she nodded, and we hugged again. "Thank you for forgiving me," I said.

Now she is working on her clothes, saying she's fine working on it herself, and I'm doing more clearing too, inside and out.


It's feeling good to be inward centered today.
I may choose to remain so this evening and tomorrow morning as well.
This may be a take-myself-out-to-dinner evening.
Sunday afternoon I'm going to return to the Meditation Circle I went to last week.
I need more time to journal, to do inner journeys, to just be quiet on my own.

And then there's groceries. . .

Letting Go: Quilting & Sewing Things

When my daughter was an infant, 11 years ago, my mother and I took a hand quilting class together. A friend of mine built a fairly nice wooden chest to store my supplies. In this chest I have several (8?) 12"x12" finished squares. I also have the backing, the batting, the thread, the patterns, the rolling cutter, and etc. I have a sewing box too.

I also have one square, quilted and edged, hanging on my wall.

It would be nice to finish the quilt someday, but after 11 years I think it's time I admitted defeat. But I don't want to let go of the completed squares.

So here's the deal -- a couple of deals, actually.

First: I would happily compensate any quilter or other fabric artist on my flist (I know many of you are textiles-oriented and/or handy with a needle) for putting my finished squares into some kind of nice blanket or fabric wall hanging.

Second: if anyone wants my supplies, I'll give them away free. If no one here pipes up, I'll take them to Value Village.

Third: The chest is solid, but the white paint is dirty and one of the strips needs to be pounded back in. It has leather lid joints that are in good condition. It might make a good SCA tourney chest. If any local person wants it, he or she can have it once I get rid of the contents. If someone wants the chest and the supplies, all the better!

One thing is sure: I don't intend to move this stuff into a new apartment in a few months.

Grrrr

I did not take my ex-husband's last name when we got married.
I certainly do not use it now.

Getting all sorts of junk mail credit offers is bad enough.
Having them addressed to [My First Name] [My Ex-Husband's Last Name] makes me grind my teeth.