October 6: Struggle Builds Character, Crock of Sh#@, "Web" Dip

A lot of people have told me that struggle builds character.  That which does not kill you makes you stronger.  When the going gets tough, the tough get going.

I am here to say that all of that is a crock of shit.

Struggle sucks.  When I'm coming down with shingles because of struggle, it sucks.  When I leave work with my shoulders and neck full of little fists of worry, it sucks.  When I look through a pile of mail and find only bills, it sucks.  None of that builds my character or makes me stronger.  It just gives me sleepless nights and weary days.  Crock of shit.

So, my questions this Web dip Monday:

Will this struggle--all of it--ever come to an end?

And the answer from the spider book:

Dr. Dorian closed his eyes again and went into deep thought.  "Henry Fussy," he mumbled.  "Hmm.  Remarkable.  Well I don't think you have anything to worry about..."

Well, Dr. Dorian, I worry all the time, and not about talking pigs or Henry Fussy.

Saint Marty needs to go take a sleeping pill now.

And it sucked.

April 26: Understand Everything, Questions, Elaine Equi, "A Story Begins," New Cartoon

"None of us do," said Dr. Dorian, sighing.  "I'm a doctor.  Doctors are supposed to understand everything.  But I don't understand everything, and I don't intend to let it worry me."

Mrs. Arable goes to Dr. Dorian, worried about Fern.  Fern's been telling her mother about the characters in the barn, and her mother is worried.  She doesn't understand Fern's love of pigs and spiders and geese and sheep.  She also resists believing in the miracle of Charlotte's web.  Dr. Dorian tries to set Mrs. Arable straight about the need to have all the answers in life.

Over the past year, I have dealt with a lot of change in my life.  Changes I don't understand.  A church displaced me from my organist job after 15 years of service.  My hours were cut at the medical office where I work, and then I was cut from that job.  Things are changing at the university.  Colleagues are retiring.  The Department Head is leaving at the end of next academic year.  If I were to choose one adjective to describe the last year of my life, that word would be "tumultuous."  Tumult here.  Tumult there.  Tumult, tumult everywhere.

I have a sense that God is sending me some kind of message with all this change.  For the life of me, however, I have no idea what the hell the message is.  Maybe I should stop trying to figure out the message.  Maybe I should be like Dr. Dorian and stop trying to understand everything.  Eventually, answers will come my way.  I'm simply making myself miserable by worrying all the time, and all that worry is not helping me in any way.

So, I will accept my current state of being.  Accept the questions without worrying about the answers.

It is the last weekend of National Poetry Month in the United States, so, of course, I have to include a poem this evening.  This poem comes from The Best American Poetry 2012.  It's by Elaine Equi and was first published in New American Writing.  It's about stories we read and tell.  And it's about how life falls outside of plots and climaxes and denouements, in the bogs and swamps.  The messes.

You know, where Saint Marty has been for the last twelve months.

A Story Begins

by:  Elaine Equi

The same as other stories, but we follow along in case something different might happen.

Just one different thing.  It leads us to a ledge and pushes us over.

Every story has a climax in a way life doesn't.

It puts us back where it found us.  It opens our eyes which weren't closed, but felt that way because what we we saw was happening inside the story.

We are the excess of the story--that which it cannot contain.

Washed ashore.

What was the story about?

I can't remember.  A dwindling, dim-witted tribe.

Every month when the moon was full, they'd sacrifice another virgin, but could never figure out why the crops still wouldn't grow.

Confessions of Saint Marty

January 25: Miracles, How to Spin a Web, New Cartoon

Yes, I'm going to talk about miracles again today.

I've been talking about my sister in Utah who's been very sick.  After ignoring an infected tooth for over seven years, she developed multi-system sepsis.  The doctors have been running all kinds of tests on her over the last few days.  She saw a dentist and facial surgeon yesterday.

I've admitted that my relationship with my sister is, at best, strained.  We haven't been close for a long time.  It's not that I don't love her.  I do.  However, distance is a good thing for us.  If we lived in the same town, we probably wouldn't be speaking to each other at all.

My sister's illness has made me regret the rift that has developed between us.  I haven't allowed our bad blood to be passed on to my kids.  My son and daughter love their aunt and cousins.  That's something of which I'm proud.  And it's a little bit of a miracle, too.  There was a time when I wanted simply to cut all ties with them.  I'm not sure we will ever be close again.  It would take an act of God for that to happen.

But God can do some pretty remarkable things.  Dr. Dorian, in Charlotte's Web, tells Mrs. Arable:

"...A young spider knows how to spin a web without any instructions from anybody.  Don't you regard that as a miracle?"

Dr. Dorian is right.  Miracles are everyday occurrences.  Spiderwebs.  Lightning storms.  Hummingbirds.  Snowstorms.  Human beings are just too busy to notice them.  Maybe animals really do speak to us, and we're too busy to listen to them.

My sister is being sent home from the hospital this evening.  Her heart wasn't harmed.  Neither was her brain.  Her jaw bone and muscles are fine.  A dentist pulled the crown in her mouth and cleared out the entire area.  She's going to be on massive intravenous antibiotics for several weeks. But she's going to be fine.

That's a miracle.

And Saint Marty thanks God for it.

Now, to lighten things up a little bit...

Confessions of Saint Marty