smo emailed me a touche.

what's important for me to remember about this momentous email exchange with stephanie is that my perception of the energies around me doesn't validate [in any way] my experiences. my reality isn't valid. it's just not. (so much of these words as i type them are steeped in a self-centered martyrdom and self-hate... i'm a narcissistic mess... there I go again, self-impressed by how well i can put myself down).

this also goes for the pride and sense of accomplishment i've felt through my progress in understanding my insecurities. in reality, i'm sifting through years of cowardice and refusal to actually heal and communicate. and once i start slowly and silently making some mental headway, i give myself a cookie.

third coast beer, arvo pärt, cries of wolves

opposed to ryne, the feeling is one of selflessness. having spent my entire life void of suffering or mourning, it's very easy to look around me and see nothing but myself. i realized this when i was 18 and vowed to never live a life where my ambitions and comforts were even considered. i was going to live selflessly, sitting with those in mourning and fighting for justice as one of them.

as moriah wrote out (with a patient hand), justice has yet to be found in chechnya and i am here in america wondering how i can start my farm.(different kinds of justice? are moriah and i on the same team?)

an attitude change needs to take place with me. there is a large part of my heart (my alive heart) that aches for those in suffering. it beats for the poor and longs to dwell with them. only there will actual life be lived- only amidst strife and injustice can true human emotion be experienced. under those human conditions, bread would be sweet and water would be life to your body.

(am i really understanding this again for the first time?)

too much of everything here in this land. over-fed, over-stimulated, over-saturated, over-

as far as my personal reaction to cries of wolves, i am overwhelmed. my heart hurts and i was near breakdown when the play ended.

why

do i feel like i have to prove that that means something to me- that these feelings i have seem to express lasting convictions. why do i keep returning to the idea of a life alone (where i am in control and i SHOW THEM with my farm and peaceful lifestyle)? where did my heart for people escape to. this is a problem.

suddenly i don't care if i ever learn to play the cello or have a garden to sustain me for a whole year. all i want to do is live with the poor and feel their pain and fight with them.