Spirit Life Shaped by Small Soliloquies of Solitude: Christmas 2024

The monologue whispered in starts and stops to my captive audience of one. I was mostly unaware that I was being witnessed because I had to stare at a metal dot above the presence hovering beneath. It was a new method called Spot Therapy I was encouraged to try. The audience was captive because I was paying him to be, yet he was also familiar. As a child he was a neighbour much younger then I, that I occasionally looked out for. Now in an odd twist of fate he was looking out for me. 

My first thought was, “Life is strange and the moments of coinciding serendipity can be so odd.” It took a few minutes to get over the weirdness of it all, but I felt my other two therapists were right. Talk therapy for 19 years could only do so much. It was time to access the back part of the brain, backed up by the science and research on a MRI, to deal with subconscious triggered trauma that occurred mostly in my twenties but a few childhood experiences as well. 

Oddly, this progressive scientific process was being done in a church. Yet, I was paying good money for it. When previously my other therapy was in a clinical setting for free. It all felt rather upside down. A wonderland induced to find my muchness. It suited my path. 

For once, I didn’t have as many words at the ready, but the small bursts of soliloquy to myself were both perplexing and profound. I felt silly at first, but over the time spent almost alone, yet witnessed, I was shocked to find a few tears slipping down my face. I didn’t feel overall emotional, and I’m not prone to cry in front of others unless enraged or confused. My dramatic discourse no longer felt dramatic in the negative sense of the word. It felt real… yet strangely othered … like a bubble was wrapped around trying to puncture my subconscious. My brain almost felt tired and itchy. The tears were coming from a place in the back of my brain that I was not fully aware of. 

The compassionate witness gently spoke, startling me from my reverie, “Tears are common. In fact it’s rare not to experience them when the process is working. They are almost a visceral response from the brain body connection. Can you tell me what you’re feeling in your body?” 

I was used to telling everything I’m thinking or feeling. 19 years of regular therapy will do that to a person. But speaking accurately about what my body is doing at an exact moment? As an autistic person I am both insanely in tune with my body and completely out of touch with it. It’s a frustrating paradox. Panic attacks from smells seem ridiculous in hindsight. Under reacting to a broken foot is disjointed. I usually process AFTER the incidents happening to my body or I bury the memories and kill off any lingering feelings with determined diligence. To be asked what I was feeling in my body, in practical terms, felt like a complex math test. At times, during the process, I thought, “Great, something else I am incapable of doing. I can’t even engage in spot therapy properly because I’m thinking too much. This isn’t working.” Yet when I spoke those words out loud while staring at a metal dot, immediately a breakthrough happened. On the heels of doubt and honesty, a shift of consciousness happened. I couldn’t explain it… I still can’t. The process was not fully finished in one session but something both scientific and mysterious happened. 

Faith feels like that. Mystical and practical. Mixed. 

“We aren’t really taught to value little things in our world or to be faithful in them. From the close of our childhood, we are taught to reach for the stars, to trust and value those who accomplish big things. As if the bigness of an accomplishment, an audience, a sales figure, a degree, an idea proves their worth. Trust what is big, follow what is mighty and successful, give everything to become this too. I must confess I hesitated to open this chapter with the story about motherhood because so often the insight culled from the care of children is seen, even by those who think they value it, as too small for universal application or spiritual insight. But Jesus claimed, and lived, the opposite , I mean, obviously, he said the kingdom of heaven was made up of those who had hearts like children. But he also and almost continually refused the importance, the bigness and visibility, that we seem to think is so vital for influence or significance in the modern world .” (Pg. 134)

The above quote is  by Sarah Clarkson from her new book “Reclaiming Quiet,” which I have happily devoured twice. This has often been my trajectory in life- a battle between being seen and then submitting to the small. Pursuing those like me, the misfits and misunderstood and often tough to love. The ones drawn into my story because they want a witness too, for a brief moment. The ones, the world, including the Christian world often, look at in a Nietzschean mindset. Purposefooled people.  I don’t have any accolades nor can my story be shared in a way that shows any lasting impact. Yet, I can state, after years of wrestling and lasting moments of deep, fulfilling (sometimes lonely at first) quiet that I am immersed in the presence of that I AM. I’m in good company and perhaps it’s not meant to fit in or feel comfortable most days? Perhaps each encounter is a season? The hurt done is normal, yet dramatic each time. The glory given is a holy hush. It’s a Both/And situation. One does not negate the other. 

“I’ve been reading the gospel of John each morning before sitting down to write this book, and I’ve been amused and a little disturbed in myself for how often Jesus confounded his disciples, and all the people who loved him by his refusal to walk the paths of influence or visibility that everyone thought he should. They kept on thinking he would in someway, storm the gates of power. They kept waiting for him to declare his authority and more in such a way that he could rally an army to his aid. And he… Healed grungy, desperate people, and told him to keep it a secret. He spoke in parables that children might love but the adults misunderstood, ducked out of sight, and went up on lonely mountains by himself. He cuddled children and went to houses of ill repute and pursued powerless people.” (Pg. 135 Reclaiming Quiet, Sarah Clarkson) 

The author points out, that after the feeding of the five thousand, a power filled moment, when many probably thought it was regime changing stuff… Jesus basically hid. “And thus, they couldn’t king him or force him upon him a power he did not seek or approve. This follows a series of little dramas to leave those who follow Jesus confounded in their notions of influence and power and belief.” (Pg. 135 Reclaiming Quiet, Sarah Clarkson) 

Often I’m immersed in a soft soliloquy, unaware of my audience. Yet, this audience is in me, around me, immersed and saturated in my Being- if I only choose to see this fact. The Spirit of Three, is still there, even if I don’t choose to see. My life is much muchier with sight. The wonderland suddenly feels "right" or at least righteous upside down. The sense that was nonsensical is now made noble, pure and true.  “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” John 1:1-5

Established in one sentence is an interconnected relationship. The life of ALL mankind. Are three in one in every single bit of ALL of creation? In all things Good? Surrounding us with no end and beginning? And if so, is this life coming gently through the whole universe? Even in unbelievably atrocious people is there a thread of potential light? (My answer would be a resounding YES!) 

 Is everything God? NO. But is there a consistent union yet…distinction? I believe so … and in the moments of solitude I can taste and see…

The other side to this freedom, also means that I, as a unique person, can choose to turn the flow of God and all that is Good … to evil. Yet, out of the love of a Triune God-  came life, each one of us encompassed within a trinitarian unity … but with a choice. Life always has an element of The Light, but life lived without love, can choose to dwell in a moment of dark. Yet, I’m loved so much, I am encompassed by this Force that is willing to endure all things, For and WITH me, so I can become more of a fully fledged person- dwelling in light even while suffering… This applies to the Christmas seasons that are pictures from Courier and Ives or chapters of Faust.  Obviously, my wish would be for each reader, that the Courier and Ives picture print is more of an accurate depiction. 

The goodness I choose to see, is often shaped by small moments of solitude interconnected with intentional community. My Beauty is made GOOD by a Refiner’s fire of quiet and relationship. A Peace that transcends all understanding where the North Star beckons. I often get chills on my arms picturing the angels in the field by night beckoning a messy birth.* The supernatural mixing with shepherds covered in the smell of earth and sheep dung. Sanctified. A vulnerable baby celebrated while also being hunted. Tender mixed with the tough. The mess does not negate the beauty.

"For unto us a child is born." May you feel that blessed encompassing good this Christmas and know you are not alone, even if it feels like the end of all things. 

Song Choice (See Below) Silent Night - Journey to Bethlehem - Lecrae and Fiona Paloma - movie scene Journey To Bethlehem - The Nativity Song (Lecrae, Fiona Palomo) (Movie Scene) ft. Lecrae

* Some Religious peoples or Christian’s may not like the above clip or movie, due to some inaccuracy and cute cheesy moments, but  I feel the heart of it is accurate- I love the musical “ Journey to Bethlehem.” Not only is there a gorgeous song of Mary singing “Mother to A Saviour and King,” but there is a moment where Lecrae appears with the angels in the field and sings “ Fall on your knees, oh hear the angels voices.” And every single time I get teary and goosebumps. Because that moment would have been even more miraculous in real life! How amazing!!! In a sense, that moment is even sometimes offered to me in the ordinary. How astounding and humbling is that?!?!?!

The 'Wicked' Movie- A FULL CIRCLE Moment

* There are no spoilers for the movie unless you know nothing about the original broadway play.*

The first time I heard this song Defying Gravity in 2005 my heart beat wildly. My aunt had sent me a fuzzy Broadway bootleg clip of Idina and Kristin. She stated, "I think this will be up your alley." Little did she know that she would fuel an obsession that would take me through the next twenty years of my life. I watched Defying Gravity and the emotions thrumming in my chest sang, "This is it. This is the song I have always been looking for!" The untold story of the Wizard of Oz through the Broadway Play Wicked hit my heart in a very personal way. While I loved the bubbly character of Glinda, it was Elphaba, the seemingly wicked, whom I could strongly relate to. I found pirated versions online of Idina Menzel playing Elphaba and Kristin Chenoweth as Glinda. (In those days there wasn't streamlined social media nor the clips we have today. It took hours of searching and I also did not have any Broadway friends. I was alone in my Broadway obsession's at the time.) 

I bought the full soundtrack on Itunes and listened to it over and over again. I had to guess the storyline from the songs until mainstream media finally had more accessible information on the entire play. I ordered Broadway merch online from Ebay. Anytime I saw the word "Wicked" on anything Halloween I would buy it. My husband has the soundtrack memorized from the multiple times I played it to the city and back. Also, whenever I was upset (which was a lot in those days) I also played it. I fell in love...my only other prior loves coming close to that level in media were Gene Kelly dancing in the rain and Judy Garland singing in any movie, but Judy especially singing Over the Rainbow in the Wizard of Oz. I wanted to be Judy Garland until I read her biography at age ten. I was five when I cried for hours over the shortness of life. I cried for my teddy because he didn't have a soul. I sobbed for Judy Garland because she was no longer alive. It was my first metaphysical crises. I don't know what brought it on exactly. I think the main trigger was that I had just finished watching Meet Me in St. Louis with my mom and she happened to mention that all the people in the movie were dead. Maybe, she thought, that being only five, this fact would breeze over my head. Instead it breezed into my brain and remained there forever. The truth of time was already hammering its rules into my subconscious. 

Each year I would google Wicked movie remake rumours, hoping my favourite original Broadway gals Kristin and Idina, would be included. Fast forward to this year of 2024, the night before my movie attendance, and I woke to nightmares of hating the movie. I was nervous and dreading it more than I was excited about it. Would they ruin it for me forever? Would the obsession that calmed me during my post baby blues of my third child, carried me through my Autism diagnosis at a time when barely anyone was discussing Asperger's Syndrome/ Autism, and brought me through lonely hours of washing dishes as a mother of three belting out the soundtrack over and over again, be irrevocably ruined forever by this movie?

From the moment the opening started, I was left breathless. The dashing Jonathan Bailey Dancing Through Life completely crushed any lingering whispers of doubt. He may have surpassed Gene Kelly for me in that moment, which is saying A LOT. The movie did not feel like 3 hours - I could have stayed longer (which anyone who knows me would be surprised at, because I constantly check the time at theatres as I tend to have panic attacks in them.) I am eager about part two. It also helped, that a journey that began as an isolated obsession, was shared with a van full of 6 theatre gals, whom belted out the showtunes from the original the entire way there, playing with harmonies and expressions of each character. We even dressed up together, which I did often as a Witch from 2005 onward, but in a conservative town, the word Wicked was often just chalked up to the evils of humanity (along with most witchy things until Harry Potter movies created a happy mainstream beauty to that witchy wonder.) I can not count how many times I was asked why I had that word 'Wicked' all over my house or what my obsession with witches meant, or the meaning of the lyrics to Defying Gravity that were a decal on my library wall. Which is understandable when it is out of context, but I would get so excited when the odd person would know what it was or be open to hearing ALL about it. To come to a place in societal time when dressing up in costume is barely a blip on people's radars (or gets the full compliments) and Wicked is one of the most searched news currently, it feels like a full circle moment. 

A couple years ago, when we did our renovations, I gave most of my Wicked stuff to my daughter. I was trying to be more grown up. I was trying to fit more into my town. Maybe if I had less Wicked words around my home, the church people groups would host more events at our home? I noticed that while people raved about our family and our home, when we offered to host official churchy things, it was gently rebuffed even though our home is set up to entertain and host. Luckily, we are still massive hosts in the community to those who may not fit, and those who love to be a part of our family existence. But at the time of getting rid of stuff, I thought that maybe people would be less scared of me? Although, the caveat to this was some very conservative friends, whom loved me, knew about my obsession, and even though they did not understand it, they would buy me witchy things for my home. One friend brought me a signed photo from Idina Menzel (I cried) and another brought me witchy shoes and brooms ( cried at that one too!) One of my dearest blog friends from down in the States, made me a witchy quilt with parts of my shirt from the Broadway version and other material I sent her. It is still one of my most treasured possessions. In fact, I can think of many lovely gifts my home was filled with from people who cared including wicked T shirts and memorabilia. I adore that about my life.

 

Needless to say, last night I asked my daughter if I could have my stuff back. To which she replied, "Of course mommy, I kept it for you, I know you go through these extreme stages and I knew it was so much of your soul that hopefully something would re ignite and remind you of that." Maybe the decal can eventually find its way back on to my living room sliding door at least? I miss it. 

In all honesty I still feel you can’t beat Idina or Kristin in Broadway’s Wicked but it didn’t ruin it for me at all. 

Today, I dug through my old blog archives from a previous blog I took offline, and found more than a few posts on the topic of Wicked. When Glee sang their first Wicked song, I bawled. Finally something mainstream was sharing my love with me. Finally, I heard people talking more about Wicked.  Broadway across Canada brought it home to me a few years later, and each time it came to my vicinity I attended. First with my sister, than my entire little family, and then my good friend and finally my husband and I. I found the post I wrote after my first attendance written in 2011. I feel I have had a lot of growth since the writings of the post, but the core of whom I am, and the deep love I have for each song in the musical has not changed. Now the world shares the love with me, and I am better for that sharing. Now I have friends who are re igniting my love of musicals and Broadway. The heart of whom I have been since a toddler, but often pushed aside in social circles due to baffled looks, is now understood by multiple people outside of my sister, children and husband! That old soul is rising like a Phoenix. I see those past years of becoming as tumultuous and full of drama and mistakes. I was awkward (still am but not quite as much.) I sometimes was self absorbed while trying to figure out who that self was. I lacked confidence often due to sometimes being quite isolated. But now, I see that the person I am today is slightly more balanced. I quite like her. I know she is IMAGO Dei. I see her in a different light. She also now fits the swirls of both pink and green comfortably without needing excuses as to why. Wicked was a large part of that journey. I know without a doubt, that the CREATOR of all that IS good, loved her and this journey for her too. The one WHOM IS has a surprisingly different set of standards and I know that while I was singing, SPIRIT was enjoying the heightened joy of my soul, right along with me.

(The broom a dear friend gifted me with too and I also got teary. I love it!) 

To see that full circle journey, I am sharing my old post down below along with some previous photos. Enjoy!

***Below posts were Written in 2011. Keep in mind that terms I use like "Aspie" were ok at that time and even promoted. Also, there are aspects of myself then, that I have let go of now...but I find it beautiful to see this full circle of what was written more than a decade ago!***

Excuse me for this completely frivolous post. I am shamelessly promoting 'Wicked'. One word:

Phenomenal.

This is my favourite Broadway Musical. The comedic script inconspicuously brings several deep themes into the audience's mind. Contrasting the hidden depth is the artistic design. It is apparent from the tiny beads covering the gorgeous costumes, to the dragon head topping the magical set, that all the little details showcase talent. Exceptional. I have listened to these songs on Itunes with the Original Broadway Cast recording over and over. Indina Menzel and Kristin Chenoweth sing for that compilation. If you are a fan of Broadway hits at all I would recommend looking it up on Itunes. 

The lyricist Stephen Shwartz is brilliant. My spirit flies high when I hear 'Defying Gravity,' My passion is ignited with 'As Long As Your Mine,' laughter is invoked for 'Popular,' and 'For Good' brings all past friendships to the forefront of my mind. 

These passionate feelings simply from listening to a few songs were nothing compared to the live experience. "Everyone deserves a chance to fly...To those who ground me- take a message back from me. Tell them how I am defying Gravity. I'm flying high."

To anyone who longs for a place to belong, or the soul who feels a bit different... WICKED speaks to you. I would not recommend the original book. Although the writing is well done, I found it quite perverted. (This is coming from someone who can be quite comfortable with sexual content but I found the original Wicked book lacked taste.) However, the play would not be in existence without the book... which gives a slight point of redemption. The themes in the play focus on friendship, misunderstanding, discrimination, judgements, and the age old adage that appearances can be deceiving.

(It was tough to perfect a wicked look when hundreds of people were waiting their turn for a picture. Ah well.)

My sister gave me tickets as a Christmas present...and I have been waiting ever since. We both decided to go full out. Not many were dressed up for an afternoon which made it that much more fun. We even bought cheesy matching shirts and indulged in a pre-show Ozmopolitan drink. ( Fabulous green vodka.)

I think she wanted me to stop saying "yay we're here" so she stuffed the cherry down my throat. I at least kept hers a bit away:) I cracked up when the picture was done...after I stopped gagging...

At our after show meal, my waiter asked if I was one of the actresses in the Broadway production. (The bonus of living in a hick city full of wranglers and cowboy hats. Needless to say he was tipped well:)

I completely relate to Elphaba...although I have some ditzy pieces of Galinda in there. I think perhaps that is why I love this show. I may not be green but I can relate to not being the skinny gal, the spunky blond, or the gal whom life comes easier to (although let's be real, sometimes it does and I am happy for those times.) I understand wanting to hang out in libraries or museums instead of clubs and parties. I understand passion at an injustice threatening those who may not stand for anything. I understand finding fulfillment in books or a craft. I often make a mess out of trying to do good...which ends up being bad. I understand being misunderstood. Being taken as wicked or witchy when I am just being me. In fact the more I think on it, the more I see myself in Elphaba...at least she gets some magic out of the deal...well, and the man too I guess. Thank God I did get that!
 I am in love with Wicked. If you ever get a chance to splurge...
Try Wicked.

"Something has changed within me. Something is not the same. I'm through with playing by the rules of someone else's game."-(Defying Gravity) My life anthem. In three sentences. A song that I want played in the video montage at my funeral. (Yes, I want a cheesy video montage.) (lol 2024 update - I don’t want this at my funeral. Ha ha;) 

In  the book Asperkids Jennifer Cook O Toole describes her Aspie daughter's obsession. "The following summer, when her dad and I went to see Wicked: The Untold Story of the Witches of Oz (2003) on Broadway, she was so enthralled with my descriptions of the plot and music that she literally begged me to pull up bootleg recordings of Elphaba the witch on Youtube. The soundtrack became background music to our lives, posters decorated her room...That love has never gone away. Last year at age 7, I finally took her to see Wicked...(Jennifer goes on to describe that her daughter also has an obsession with Athena and the Percy Jackson series...I also love those.) So what did this tell me about my child? Actually, it wasn't that hard to see if I sat with her "friends" for a while. In WICKED, we learn that the villain  the one who is "different," is actually the heroine. Against all odds, Elphaba will "defy gravity," flying upwards, embracing the awkward witchy costume others have assembled for her as they continue to misunderstand her efforts to "do good." From high atop the theater, she sings defiantly to the jeering mob below, rejecting their slanderous name calling. Elphie is free of their intimidation and condemnation. No. No amount of disdain can topple her..."- Jennifer Cooke O Toole

"As loud as my daughter could yell, as tall as her little body could stand, my daughter was saying that yes, she knew she was different, but that was because of- not in spite of- her very differences that she mattered, that she belonged..she too was hoping that there was a real place she belonged. She needed the world to know that she was neither wicked nor weird, she was just supposed to be. And so I spoke in her language. I hugged her and sang a line from Wicked, because I knew nothing would be more potent than her own special interest in letting her know I GOT it. I heard her. Softly I called upon the lyrics of friendship and admiration. She, too would change the whole world, like Elphie had changed those who truly knew her, "for good."- Jennifer Cooke O Toole

Like Elphie sings, "I'm limited. Just look at me. I'm limited...and just look at you. You can do all I couldn't do Glinda." The fact is...I AM limited. I feel continually misunderstood in my efforts to do good. Those who are normal seem to get accomplished easily what I sweat to put into practice. I have often longed to be free of the condemnation and constant correction of others. It's an Autistic/ Aspie issue. I know it definitely is, which may be tough for some to understand, but my differences have coloured every interaction of my life. When all I want to do is change someone indefinitely for GOOD.

I want to know that I have impacted my friends to the point that they would be tempted to use For Good at my funeral. Yes, I am that passionate about it. "I've heard it said, that people come into our lives for a reason, bringing something we must learn, and we are lead to those who help us most to grow, if we let them...and we help them in return."(For Good lyrics) I feel many people have been led to me and away from me. I do believe it is because I stretch people...and they definitely stretch me. I would not have it any other way. I want to have that impact. That strong reaction. I think it is why many can not foster long term relationships with me, and why many women are either intimidated or loathe me. (Yes I have heard the stories and I have bawled my eyes out because I did not know what I did. I was myself. And by being myself I am often disliked. I am not saying this for pity. Just stating a fact like Aspies often do.) The song goes on as Glinda sings to Elphaba, "But I know I'm who I am today because I met you...who can say if I've been changed for the better but because I knew you I have been changed for GOOD." That line is the greatest compliment ANYONE could give me. It's the inner desire of my soul. Elphaba sings back, "So let me say before we part, so much of me is made from what I learned from you. You'll be with me like a hand print on my heart. And now whatever way our stories end. I know you have re written mine by being my friend." That is how I feel about every significant friend that has crossed my path. There are some crucial friends who have made ME because of what I learned from them. Being an Aspie, I absorb characteristics, I watch nuances, I find personality traits I want or can relate to and fashion them into myself. I partially make myself up out of facets of whom I choose to be friends with. It's just how we learn to relate. Luckily, I have chosen well. I would say I have very good taste when it comes to people to imitate, give back to, and become friends with.

I make a lot of mistakes. I know I am not the easiest friend to live with. I make people passionately angry at me, and slightly annoyed, and also strongly endeared. It can not be easy to sit on that rollar coaster ride. I often send this line out to all I know; "Because I knew you. I have been changed for Good. And just to clear the air. I ask forgiveness for the things I have done you blame me for."
Glinda sings back, "But then I guess we both have blame to share, and none of it seems to matter anymore." I WANT that. I want the blame to be shared. I want my contacts to see that in their own lesser way they also had a different part of responsibility...and then I want it not to matter. Because it does not to me once reconciliation is talked upon.

(My husband gave these figurines for my thirtieth and he hand painted Galindas hair as they were both from the Wizard of Oz but he wanted them to be reminiscent of wicked. There wasn’t much streamlined paraphernalia and I squealed when I opened them!) 


The Wizard and I...This song hits home because Elphie sings about how she hopes the Wizard will explain her curse/gifts ect and change her exterior to match others, and how she will finally have some merit after living with constant rejection. In childhood I was often overlooked, or chosen as second best by my friends. The song, "I'm not that girl" sums it up perfectly, "Every so often we long to steal to a land that what might have been but that does not settle the ache we feel when reality sets back in. Blithe smile, light limb, she who's winsome  she wins him. Gold hair with a gentle curl, that's the girl he chose and heaven knows I'm not that girl. Don't wish. Don't start. Wishing only wounds the heart. I wasn't born for the rose and pearl. There's a girl I know. He loves her so. I'm not that girl." I feel I should be one of those girls who manages to keep nails immaculate. The ones who complete a polish of their entire being on a daily basis. I wonder with awed curiosity how they live? As much as I lived under that illusion in my past or can create it for photos; I am NOT. That. Girl. Perhaps that is why Elphaba is one of my favourite roles? Perhaps that is why I cried through all the songs in Wicked's musical the first time I heard it 8 years ago? Perhaps it is why I play the songs in my darkest times to remind myself who I am? Perhaps many school mates thought high maintenance when my name was brought up? Truthfully, I am the green girl who does good deeds only to be accused of being the witch. No good deed...The only factor of high maintenance on me was the self inflicted time constraints of the illusion I created. While dusty memories were created by these illusions that won't be traded, I still wonder how many more could have been without it? Maybe it would have been worse? Illusion can also bring beauty. Beauty can hold inspiration. But not all the time. Sometimes a hazy sort of lovely bliss is also in the messy. The undone corners. My best galpal was like Glinda. She wasn't blond but she was everything else. She knew how to make people laugh, what to say, how to be sociable, how to move...everything I was not. I may as well have been painted green. I was awkward, had a lot of heart but did not always know how to communicate it. I was bookish like Elphie. I was interested in justice, and doing good despite what the current rules were. It was too serious for most adolescents. My husband came into the picture and finally I felt somewhat worthy. (?)  I felt like maybe, just maybe, people were seeing me for who I was. "As Long as Your mine" is my top passionate song. My husband gave me those feelings and it helped me grow into future choices. "I need help believing you are with me tonight...My wildest dreamings could not foresee, lying beside you with you wanting me."(As long as Your mine Lyrics) Even being passionately loved she doubts. My life's cross to bear. No matter how much I am loved, there will be a part of me that doubts. Her love interest sings back, "Maybe I'm brainless, maybe I'm wise, but you've got me seeing though different eyes. Somehow I've fallen under your spell and somehow I'm feeling it's up that I fell." WOW. Perhaps this is why I have always wanted to be a witch in any play. I want someone to fall under my spell...my husband says he has:) I always wanted to help someone see life through different eyes. My husband paid me the ultimate compliment by turning to me once when this song was playing (not knowing any of my hidden thoughts at the time.) He seriously spoke, "That is how I feel about you. That is what you did to me." My mouth dropped open and then I laughingly started to cry from pure bliss.

When Elphie and Glinda sing "What is this feeling" about how much they loathe each other when they first meet...I can relate. Most of my friendships started with mutual dislike in some form or another..and then we overcame it...which made our ties even more powerful. We came to understand and by understanding we found our preconceived notions powerfully fall away.

The ultimate song for me is still Defying Gravity, ""Something has changed within me. Something is not the same. I'm through with playing by the rules of someone else's game." I AM through...finally near age 30, I am done playing the games of the normal world. Religion, School, Rules, Social conduct, Should's, Grammar..."proper " ways to speak... "Too late for second guessing. Too late to go back to sleep. It's time to trust my instincts. Close my eyes and LEAP. It's time to try Defying Gravity and you can't pull me down." I just want to live my life, "I'm through accepting limits cuz someone says they're so! Some things I can not change but till I try I'll never know. Too long I've been afraid of loosing love I guess I've lost." There has been a lot of love lost...and this song made me realize that it is time to be done regretting it...or being afraid of loosing what I already have lost. "Well, if that's love it comes at much too high a cost. I sooner try Defying gravity. Kiss me goodbye I'm defying gravity...Everyone deserves a chance to fly...and if I'm flying solo AT LEAST I'M FLYING FREE. TO THOSE WHO GROUND ME TAKE A MESSAGE BACK FROM ME! TELL THEM HOW I'M DEFYING GRAVITY. I'm flying high. I'm defying gravity." -My favourite line. I think of so many moments since being married, so many moments of people telling me what I am, who I should be, how I am selfish when I was trying so hard to be the opposite, and all the confusion with relationships that were surface level (Friends of mine- do not count yourselves in this) and I would rather fly SOLO. Freedom is integral to my being. So is acceptance but I am learning that is a bit tougher for an Aspie longterm.

Elphaba is more than a character to me, the songs are more than melody, and Wicked is more than an obsession. As Jennifer Cooke. O. Toole writes, "I hoped if I could devour enough names, dates, and places, God would send me to a time and place far away where I truly belonged. Obviously, this wasn't it. And that is what a special interest is. To those outside the Aspie world, our perseveration of a topic is exhausting  ..To an Aspie, our special interest is the gateway to the world we construct out of facts, fantasy, and logic. As much as you hear, it is only the tip of the ice burg of the wealth of thought, the seduction of belonging, the sacred- YES SACRED-dimension where we cannot mess up or be excluded. Where no one will ever skip and sing in celebration that we are "dead."(Jennifer Cooke O Toole. pg41) My sacred heart calling is to be accepted, to change the world for good, to defy the stupid rules and make an impact.
Love
Kmarie

 

Whatever Is Good

Be still and KNOW...

The pattern of fringes hanging off the table linen caught my eye. The diamond shapes were in close symmetry despite the cloth being washed numerous times already. Rainbow reflections from the sunlit crystals hanging from my windows danced over the patterns. My eyes traced the swirls imprinted above the fringe. It was not until much later that I realized I was simply absorbed in the moment. I wasn't thinking of what I needed to do, who needed my attention, or who I felt I should be. I just WAS. My heart was encompassed in stillness. I felt this unexplainable peace (that surpasses all understanding) and an indwelling of gratitude. I was immersed in a simple Holy Hallelujah. I KNEW deep down that I was more than I seemed to be. I was in Imago Dei - BEING God's Image.  

Each one of us is made in the Image of God, but it's easy to forget to REST into this fact. It feels more like a validation of our own being when we are "doing." Not to say that doing is wrong. Doing is beautiful to activate in our human form. But doing is secondary to being KNOWN and KNOWING. Ask anyone in love (not just lust) if this is true. 

Taste and see...

It used to be odd to me that the descriptor of taste is used to see that the Lord is good. Taste? Really? Taste invites most of our senses to be present. Taste is a physical knowing and a beautiful contemplative moment (if it is Go(o)d.) 

An interesting product of secret prayer (not shared) is that there is no one to witness the goodness of God. This communion instead becomes a private, sacred dance. It's a giving and receiving in a profoundly personal way that can not be fully explained outside of the moment. Much akin to the purely erotic (and not the profaned Porneia that Eros is often mistaken for) that symbolizes the joyful union of creation. Private prayer cannot be bragged upon, inflated with ego, disguised as gossip, or made to get a point across. I often wondered why Jesus was often described as "going into a quiet place" just as much as he was described as helping others. I sit in this similar contemplation and the mystical understanding underpins my confusion.

Private prayer is the being still to KNOW. It is edifying, gratitude filling, and often is both comforting and can lead to suffering. Yet, this is the kind of suffering that involves the growth of self. The falling off of old ways of ego that are not good for the self but are strangely addicting. It's the refinement of burning ashes before the Phoenix rising. This beloved mirror shows more of what we ARE instead of simple personhood. This mirror is Divine. This mirror is Imago Dei. 

Synchronicity is no longer coincidence. The fabric of existence begins to be seen on a micro level of divine threads of colours too numerous to mention. Each tiny thread has the choice and potential to walk closer to the larger Divine cohesion in a solid piece of more... or to a frayed, tattered version smaller, less muchier inclusion of that Divine. Deep down most of us want to be the whole vibrant thread but often instead, we choose to be frayed by our own doing.

Is it good? Is it noble? Is it right? Is it pure? Is it lovely? Is it admirable? Is it excellent and praiseworthy?

When the thoughts and actions we have are most of the above descriptors, an odd Presence of peace is within. That Presence is always accessible yet not often accessed. It is a JUST MERCY. A Grace freely given but often not taken.

It seems that the path of least resistance is to focus on the bad, the ugly, the injustice, the profane, the wrong, the disgusting...or if not blatantly focusing on these things, to instead bury ourselves in busyness to avoid. Instead of RUNNING to ALL THAT IS GOOD. 

Advocacy is good but not if it is done while also trying to rip other threads in the tapestry. Action is good but not if we are not recognizing the true mirror of Being first. Being informed can be a part of growing intellect but without Love, without compassion, it's just another empty state of mind. Beauty can be corrupted but why do we run from true Beauty? Why are we not eating the sunrise with our eyes or soaking up the sunset into our souls? Each day we are given little mercies in the guise of Beauty. There is no economic status, personality type, religion, family of origin, sexuality or any other set aside descriptor required to look at a blade of grass or a flake of snow and SEE a moment of intricacy...a gift shared for everyone. ( For those who can’t see there is a gift to feel - or another type of Knowing given.) 

A relationship is with a noun, a personhood, not a verb. Relationships must be put before issues. Whatever is good...think on these things. But seeing Good is almost an exercise in the paradox. It's a trained existence (ironic.) Mystical and practical blend. Becoming is a dance of the BOTH/ AND of life.

Our senses must become attuned. Often, when I think I am misunderstood, an outlier, seen as not welcome to most in my home town, or frustrated at my own daily incapability, I am in an adventure of missing the mark. Even if each of these statements own some truth at times, they are not THE Truth. I am missing the mark of Beauty. I am missing the true mirror. I am forgetting to LISTEN. When I retreat to contemplation an interesting path opens up. That path can wind through months of both agony of refinement and the joy of becoming. Books I never knew I needed show up with truths that soul sear. Seers of music, people and experience join the journey and point upwards. If I listen, I suddenly am a person who is BEING THROUGH the OTHER. Imago Dei. God THROUGH the tapestry of BEING. God encompassed in the threads woven into existence.

Whatever is GOOD. Think on these things.

Song choices: To Know Me- Lauren Diagle ( https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=cWQGJAhjFRc ) Such a gorgeous song! Moved me to a teary state 💝🥹

Thank God I Do- Lauren Diagle (  https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=wfR6XLXRNy0 ) 

 (Verses loosely quoted in this post come from: Psalms 46:10, Genesis 1:27, Genesis 1:31, Romans 1:25-28, Psalm 34:8, Phillipians 4:8-10, Mark 6:31, Luke 5:16, Matthew 1:35-39, Malachi 3:2-3, 1 Corinthians 13:1, Job 29:18, Matthew 11:28, John 20: 21- 22. Romans 15:13)

Recognized and Valued BECAUSE of One of my Worst Moments

 As I walked out the door I heard, "Wait!! I think I know you and I feel like it's significant!" She grabbed the door and I recognized her too but did not know why. We exchanged names but neither of us recognized the other. She tried again, "If it helps I teach nursing at the local college and have been a nurse for years."

"Ooooohhhhhh," I sighed, "If you worked about 15 ish years ago I practically lived at the hospital."

"Really? It must be that...but I feel like..."

And suddenly a memory came to me and I asked, "Wait. You wouldn't happen to be the nurse that held me?" And she finished my sentence, "In the hallway on the floor?" 

Before I knew what was happening she started crying and I was swept up into her arms, "You changed my nursing career! You impacted my life so fully! You left me a note and flowers stating how important that moment was to you. For years I thought of you and have used you as an example of how to follow your heart in nursing. I wasn't sure if I was crossing a line..but I felt so strongly that you needed me but I was unsure even after...and then the next day your flowers and note came to the anonymous nurse who held you...and I cried."

I was still being held by her through this whole dialogue as she was occasionally swiping her tears...to the point that I was tear filled from her expression. I have a terrible memory so it surprised me that I even thought to mention it. It has been so bad lately that I have simply given up on trying to salvage memories and instead I have prayed, "Please in the moment help me to remember what is important to other people or what is significant to share from things I should know." I'm so grateful this moment (however humiliating it was to me at the time) came to me.

"Thank you for following your heart," I sincerely stated, "I thought I was dying that night. I was so depleted from years upon years of being on IV and pain meds through horrible attacks in my abdomen and bad rashes and pain. I was constantly at the hospital and most nurses after awhile treated me poorly and attributed it to hysteria or anxiety but I could not make up the pain. The pain triggered the anxiety. Not the other way around. Years later I was diagnosed by a natural health practioneer with long term Lymes Disease (though not acknowledged by public health), Fibromyalgia from my former Doctor, multiple cycle diseases (PCOS, Andenomyosis, Endometriosis, Chronic low ferritin and Anemia) and finally Celiac. That night was my final straw because I was strung out on fentonyal (which I hated as it made me so loopy) and had been puking my guts out to the point of a little bit of blood coming out plus sitting on the toilet. I was so exhausted and desperate that I took my IV with me out into the hallway, slid down the wall and started bawling...and there you were, with your arms around me and I felt like it was an angel. Later I was appalled at my desperate drugged out behavior but you stuck with me. You gave me hope. You also changed my perspective slightly on nurses."

She gave me another hug and then her mother came around the corner, "MOM!! this is the girl! The girl that left me that note that changed my nursing career!" I recognized her mom too and she smiled, "Hi Kmarie (insert real name) I remember you. I worked as a receptionist at the hospital for years."

A part of myself shrunk inside. Of course the previous receptionist remembers me by name! I did not recall hers but she stated it and it was immediately familiar. I almost can't believe that was my life. Most of the time, if my health is brought up with new friends, it almost feels like I am lying. Because even though I struggle with energy and pain...I learned how to mostly manage my conditions to a degree. The pain attacks stopped exactly three years after my last taste of gluten. I still get them lightly if I accidently get glutened  but it is not near the same as that terrible 24-48 hours of a tight rubber band wrapped around my abdomen to the point that I could not even have a sip of water for a full day. It was absolutely hell on earth sometimes. To hear that I impacted someone in one of my worst moments was both validating and jarring.

I was at my worst on that hospital floor. I am a germaphobe by nature so the fact that I was even sitting on the Emergency room floor says something. I also am not naturally a person who likes to pubicly share my pain or be recognized while I am in a state of duress...so that fact that I was out of my room also shows my desperation. I was stinky. I was pale and shaky. I was out of it from the drugs coursing through my veins ( that did nothing to touch the pain by the way but only made time feel both longer and shorter which made everything more confusing.) I was completely vulnerable and weak...and when I arrived at the hospital one of the nurses gave me the "Oh it's you again" look and treated me with cold contempt. 

So for this nurse to say I changed her at that moment??? That truly testifies to me that sometimes when we are at our weakest, God is there to use us regardless. We are still a worthy vessel. We can still impact lives. We can still be given a different type of strength.

In all honesty, this is a tough story to tell. I was embarrassed to even show up with flowers and a card that was addressed "To the nurse on call Thursday night and the one who held me." I felt that the entire staff at the hospital was mocking me almost. I felt foolish but something in my spirit told me I needed to be acknowledge that beauty. I was taught by my Grandma, who lived in and out of the hospital with Colitis and a bowel pouch and then cancer, to treat those who help with extreme gratitude. She taught me to leave flowers for my Pharmacist, Notes for my Doctor, Christmas gifts for those who really helped me get through tough times... It was not until one of my friends was shocked that I did these things that I realized many people do not do this. And then I felt silly again.

I was between 20 and 30 when this event happened. I will be forty this year. I wish I could go back to my younger self and say, "You are legitimate in your pain. You WILL figure some of this out. You will suffer and continue to suffer with depression due to pain and energy on and off through the years. However, you will find supporters. You will find information. You will find some answers and some triggers. And believe it or not, you will not visit a hospital (besides blood tests and breaking your foot) for NINE years! You will avoid them like the plague instead of running to them! And you will find some angels on earth...

I wasn't going to the event where I met this nurse last week. I was not feeling well (again.) With chronic illness I pick my battles. My son specifically asked me to please try to be with my family...so I went. I was making a hasty exit to go lay down when this lady ran to me and held open the door as I was trying to escape. I didn't feel like talking. Yet, I have often found that in my weakest, Spirit shows up. Or that sometimes when I don't feel I have much to give, Spirit is still given. Or that sometimes someone needs me, even when I do not feel like showing up, and if I force myself to BE present, something magical happens.

Invisible Chronic illness is a tricky thing. I don't like to talk about it anymore yet it is still a huge (mostly secret) part of my life. I look like I am in the prime of health most days, besides being extremely pale for the native blood I have, but with a ferritin of two and a blood saturation of 0.13, that is to be expected. I went through a huge phase in my late twenties when I needed to blog about health constantly to work through the diagnosis process. I feel that is legitimate. Just like I feel this phase of rarely speaking about it is legitimate too. But I am grateful for a few lessons from my weakness.

1. If I have hidden things to deal with, it's easier for me to remember that everyone else has secret struggles. When I am dealing with someone I try to recall this fact.

2. In our weakness, Spirit shows up. A verse that has always been of great comfort to me has been, "Blessed are the poor in Spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven...and blessed are those that mourn for they shall be comforted." There are silver linings in struggle too.

3. Sometimes weakness allows another persons strength to shine. Sometimes our weaker moments can also later be turned into a strength.

I am not glamorizing illness. As I stated, I go through depression dealing with it on a regular basis. I find it tough not to compare. It’s hard for me not to wish I was only tired from a busy life or a bad night and not blood tired ( which sleep does not much for). Yet, I also don’t want to be a complainer or known for “ being tired.” It’s a state that I just live with. Some days it beats me, other days I try to befriend my own Being. I’m this fallen world, it is what it is… but I’m still SEEN. 

My family and I love to watch The Chosen series ( free on YouTube or the App) about the life of Jesus and his disciples. Even if one doesn’t subscribe to the faith, I would still recommend it for its historical accuracy, storylines, and beautiful sets and costumes. Anyway, in season three there is a story of the bleeding woman who I’ve  related to since puberty with my extremely heavy cycles. This woman is ostracized from her family in a time where being alone as a woman is dangerous. She is culturally considered “ unclean” due to the laws. She is anemic and exhausted from bleeding for years. As a desperate attempt she touches the hem of Jesus garment as he’s walking through a crowd on his way to visit a dying sick little girl. Jesus has an excuse to be in a hurry. (The little girl dies but he revives her later.) Instead the lady is immediately healed and Jesus stops and asks “Who touched me?” He knew, but he was giving her a chance to be SEEN and for her to use her own voice. No one, especially a man, would deem her worthy to speak to. Then he calls her “daughter.” This is not creepy but significant because her own family would not claim her due to her disease. She was unclaimed and thus, unprotected. By stating this protective title, Jesus was stating in essence “You are seen. You are worthy. You are protected. You are healed.” 

Maybe it’s ok to be seen and recognized and remembered for one of my worst moments?

I get bleary eyed each time I read that story but seeing it on screen ... I wept. I may not be healed in a huge way, but if I’m honest, I have small ways of healing. I have moments to be grateful for. I’m protected. I have loved ones. I’m valued in some of my communities. I have much more than this woman. But what we have in common is that we are SEEN in what we perceive as our wretchedness… when we are heavily bleeding and hurting and so so so tired… and we are still loved. 

May it be so. 

Song Choice  Woman at the Well (which is a different biblical story about a woman being SEEN):

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JVfI1b2aK64