November 4: Just Want You to Know, Truth, a Little Out of Control

There in the hospital, Billy was having an adventure very common among people without power in time of war:  He was trying to prove to a willfully deaf and blind enemy that he was interesting to hear and see.  He kept silent until the lights went out at night, and then, when there had been a long period of silence containing nothing to echo, he said to Rumfoord, "I was in Dresden when it was bombed.  I was a prisoner of war."

Rumfoord sighed impatiently.

"Word of honor," said Billy Pilgrim.  "Do you believe me?"

"Must we talk about it now?" said Rumfoord.  He had heard.  He didn't believe.

"We don't ever have to talk about it," said Billy.  "I just want you to know:  I was there."

Again.  This passage is all about facing a truth that you don't want to face.  Rumfoord must, if he accepts Billy's version of Dresden, alter his version of history.  It seems as though Rumfoord is in the denial stage of grief, mourning for something he has lost.  He's been alternating that with anger.  Denial, anger, outright ignorance, denial again.  Rumfoord knows that Billy is telling the truth.  Now, Rumfoord has to decide how to deal with that truth.

Truth can be a bitch sometimes.  It forces you, sometimes, to confront things about yourself or your life that may not be very comfortable.  For example, I have a crazy existence.  I work two basically full-time jobs, although one is categorized as "part-time."  I have another job on the weekends playing the pipe organ for a Catholic church.  My Poet Laureate position adds yet more (wonderful) chaos to this existence, with readings and workshops and events.  Then there's my kids.  Dance lessons and concerts and recitals.  Last night, after two weeks of non-stop 17- and 18-hour days, I had to acknowledge that my life is more than a little out of control.

Of course, now that I have come upon that truth, I have to decide whether to do anything about it.  Last night, I decided to go to bed much earlier than I normally do.  That may be all that I need.  I'm just feeling a little exhausted at the moment.  A little quiet time is what I need, perhaps.  Time for focus on . . . well, nothing.  I can't really remember the last time I've done that.  Maybe in August, when I went on vacation with my family for a few days.  Although, I did plan for a couple poetry readings and a workshop while I was away, so I don't know if that counts.

Please don't misunderstand me.  I love what I do.  Love reading poetry, sharing poetry, talking poetry, writing poetry.  I love teaching at the university.  Love playing the pipe organ.  I even, to some degree, love interacting with patients at the medical office.  Perhaps, it's just the combination of all of those things that seems overwhelming right now.

So, that is my truth at the moment.  I am not angry.  I'm not in denial.  I have created my truth.  Usually, I love my truth.

However, Saint Marty needs to take a nap from his truth today.

June 17: Ate Heartily, Local Story, Prayer for Love

Wilbur ate heartily.  He planned to leave half a noodle and a few drops of milk for Templeton.  Then he remembered that the rat had been useful in saving Charlotte's life, and that Charlotte was trying to save his life.  So he left a whole noodle, instead of a half.

One thing I love about Wilbur is that he's so accepting.  Sheep.  Cows.  Spiders.  Horses.  Geese.  He loves all the creatures in the Zuckerman barn.  Even Templeton, the rat.  Despite Templeton's shortcomings, Wilbur cares about him enough to save part of his dinner for him.  We should all emulate Wilbur the pig.

There's a story in the local news that's creating quite a stir.  A local man married his life partner this past Saturday.  They've been together for close to 30 years.  This man also happens to be a member of a local Catholic church.  He lectors, sings in the choir, serves on the parish council.  He loves his church family.  And he's gay.

This past Sunday, when he showed up to attend church, he was told he could listen and worship in the vestibule.  He was banned from being in the actual sanctuary.  I'm not sure of all the details.  I don't know who told him he couldn't participate in the celebration of the mass.  It could have been the priest or the bishop.  I'm not certain.  But there's no getting around the fact that what happened was wrong.

Pope Francis, traveling with members of the international press recently, held an impromptu press conference aboard Shepherd I, the Vatican's jet.  One reporter asked Francis about his opinion of the Catholic Church's stance on gays.  The pope's response:  "Who am I to judge?"

I think some members of the local Catholic church need to take a cue from the Holy Father.  So, my prayer focus this week is for love.  I'm going to pray that there's a loving, Christian reconciliation to this situation.  One that involves understanding, not judgement.  I hope that all my disciples can get behind that prayer.

Saint Marty is with Pope Francis on this one.

I've got Frank's back