How I spent Lent

First, I read Gary Null's book, Death By Medicine, which promptly gave me a kidney stone.

Well, okay, I know the book didn't, but it sure felt that way.

For those interested, my weight loss is going extremely well. I am told that actual numbers "trigger" people in various and sundry ways, so I will refrain from providing actual poundages. I will simply say that my BMI is now in the merely "overweight" category, and has exited the alarming "obese" category. I lost 10% of my body weight during Lent, which believe it or not, wasn't that hard. Now we are approaching the same weight I have dealt with my whole life, which likely will be hard. Still, I have to say, after being repeatedly guaranteed that a woman my age with thyroid disease SIMPLY CAN'T lose weight, I am glad to report that this is another myth. Yes, it is possible... and in fact (here's the dirty secret), I think it's far easier since I no longer have a surplus of estrogen coursing through my body, demanding that I eat to ensure the safety of my progeny. You know those deadly-serious cravings you get about 10 days before the end of the menstrual cycle? (I guess the time-span is different for everyone, but you know what I mean.) Well, I am happy to report that THE CYCLICAL CRAVINGS ARE GONE. Along with my estrogen, that is... which of course means there is a down side to everything.

And I feel great (sans kidney stone), and my left knee stopped hurting!!! (Right knee? A stubborn lil sucker!) I took the kidney stone as a symptom of rapid weight loss, as gallstones can be also.

After reading Gary's scary book, I decided to avoid doctors, since I knew exactly what they would say anyway (I typed medical records, including nephrology, for a good long while) and realized they would use this golden opportunity to test me to an obscenely-expensive fare-thee-well. No tests, no crap, no sirree Bob!

I figured: 1) it probably was a stone, from the symptoms and likely cause and 2) ain't nothing you can do about it except take their nasty toxic drugs and wait for it to flush out. (I also knew that I should go to the ER if I started running a fever, which was virtually impossible while sweating non-stop, as I was.) So, I opted for what I tell my customers: literally gallons of dandelion tea and magnesium citrate. It passed within a day, but it was um, quite memorable... and during this unpleasant time, I locked my keys in my car while it was running and had to call Mr Daisy away from work (he was unusually kind and sympathetic about my stupidity!)...

~*~

If you think it's easy for a big-mouth like me to shut up for 6 weeks, you are RIGHT. Thus, I didn't.

I commented here (Alas, a Blog) on the newest pedophilia scandal in the Catholic Church, and called on the Pope to resign. Of course, no one seriously replied to me (as they never do over there)... but I needed to post that somewhere to get it off my chest immediately.

Easter Sunday, woke up to more infuriating news that the whole scandal has been reduced to "petty gossip" by the Vatican.

(((Daisy yowls for emphasis)))

~*~

One of my favorite spiritual books, The Joy of Compassion by Lama Zopa Rinpoche which I also posted about here. It's a wonderful study guide for the layperson to use!


I had two genuine moments of all-encompassing karuna during Lent, that took me by storm. I was startled and unprepared. They were only a few minutes or so in duration, but they were overwhelming.

I was reminded of a passage from the William Butler Yeats poem, Vacillation (and such a perfect title):

My fiftieth year had come and gone,
I sat, a solitary man,
In a crowded London shop,
An open book and empty cup
On the marble table-top.
While on the shop and street I gazed
My body of a sudden blazed;
And twenty minutes more or less
It seemed, so great my happiness,
That I was blessed and could bless.

I felt great compassion for everyone on earth, even the people I dislike most. Maybe especially for them; I could suddenly see how they had become the people they were. I could see their suffering, and how they/we have bent ourselves into all sorts of unreasonable shapes and angles, to avoid that suffering (which of course, causes even more).

In both cases, in both instances, I was left very shaken by this awareness. I felt myself almost deliberately withdrawing from this consciousness in the last instance: But I don't want to feel compassion for bad people! And I was fighting my own awareness. Concurrently, I realized I was withdrawing my request for enlightenment by fighting the compassion. My ego, my innate desire to feel superiority to others, my desire (need?) to dislike others, all defilements rooted in the material world, fought my desire for enlightenment.

And I heard my deepest self's incredulity: But isn't this what you wanted?

Ego replies: I don't WANT to feel compassion for evil people, they don't deserve it!

Deepest self: Do you deserve it?

Ouch! I remembered the Eucharistic liturgy, and the specific request that God not grant us what we truly deserve. During the (endless) Good Friday liturgy, and subsequent Veneration of the Cross, I took note of the role of the laity in the liturgy: we are the ones who shout "Crucify him!"... it isn't someone else who does it.

Give us Barabbas, not this one!

Do we forget our role in the Passion? Why do we think it would be any different if He returned now? We would do the same thing, all over again.

Look around, we do it all the time.

~*~

Glad to be back. Hope all is well with you, and please take note of my new moderation policy, inspired by people who would tell me getting an abortion is majorly right-on and terrific, but chew me out over trying to prevent a heart attack. No more, folks. New sheriff in town, etc.

I loves you guys and I missed you!!! (((sobs)))

First Sunday of Lent: Lenten blog break

Stained glass from St Mary's, Greenville, SC: Christ stills the tempest.




In case you all haven't figured out by now, I am taking a blog break for Lent.

I did not initially announce this, because I wasn't sure I could do it. Last year, I tried it and had to break my silence over the death of my favorite author. This year, I thought I would do likewise, when I heard about the death of a well-known American war criminal.* Then I thought, NO, I will not break my Lenten devotions for.... him. I might, though, for something or someone of towering importance. (The official rules are that Lenten devotions are suspended on the Sabbath, so I will try to update you on my spiritual progress every Sunday, if I have anything to say.)

~*~

I need to get centered, and perhaps I need to get my blog-stats way down first, before that can happen. I have been thoroughly confused over various Blogdonia incidents of late (such as being banned at FWD/Forward without explanation), and once again wondering if I belong here, Land of the Ultra-Connected and Always-Trendy Grad Student. Certainly, I am not as smart as ANY of these people. (And they like to tell me so, often.) But I am committed to the idea that even us not-smart people deserve a place to hang out, and deserve to have our say, even if we aren't up to the standard of FWD or similar high-toned blogs.

Does everyone have to be a genius these days? When Dubya was president, the communication standards were much lower! ;)

~*~

I'm also trying to figure out how to talk/write about fat, of all things.

I have usually worried that anything I wrote about fat, fasting and/or calorie restriction had to be very careful not to "pile on" in a fat-hating, fat-hysterical culture. As is the case with disability, it is very difficult to discuss things honestly when dread, misogyny and negativity are the rule. But the fact of the matter is: fat is not good for me. Fat is trashing me. It is indisputable that 50 extra pounds on one's knees and feet (regardless of the source of that weight) are going to be pretty damn rough on that person's knees and feet, especially if they stand/walk all day. I have decided that drastic action is necessary to prolong my working life and my overall bodily health.

In feminist Blogdonia, it is not considered progressive to say anything negative about fat, and I have therefore been very reticent to write this, although I have written about the calorie restriction movement (CRON) and related issues in the past. In a culture that thrives on jokes about the likes of Jessica freaking Simpson being fat (!!!) ...well, this is obviously not a healthy environment to talk about fat. Duly noted and understood. But I am post-menopause and at my highest weight since my pregnancy. This is not good, and I am changing it.

In the process, I have noticed that our culture's negative-obsession with fat has dovetailed with the "personal acceptance" of fat overall. We all weigh more than ever. I remember when Archie Bunker was considered a fat guy, and now... well, go over to TV-LAND and have a look at him. Does he look fat to you?

Our standards have radically changed.

I was regarded as one of the biggest girls in my school. Looking at crowds of kids congregating outside of middle schools now, I am utterly amazed by their average size; that would certainly not be true today. My middle-school-sized self would not even be considered big at all, by today's standards.

Americans are just plain consuming too much. And not just food, but in every respect. Food is only one of many things we plow through at an alarming rate. We use most of the world's oil and other natural resources. We ship our garbage everywhere. As I get more and more involved with the Green Party, these matters are increasingly on my mind.

And I am meditating and praying and will get back to you. I loves you guys! (((weeps)))

~*~


*To the right wing trolls: I will not argue this point with you and will delete all comments defending ALL Nixonian-era mass-murdering swine. Thanks in advance.

Dead Air Church: Learning from the Dead

Down the road from my house, in a peaceful meadow in the hollow of our hill, lies a small Catholic cemetery. It is set between our tiny golf course, pocked with granite boulders, and a track of houses. Many mornings, I walk our little dog along that road and pass the cemetery. Every time, I pause and think about the lives of the men, women and children buried there. I think of the complexity of their emotions and relationships, their efforts to find good work, make a home, and raise their children. I'm reminded of the shortness of their lives and of mine. I wonder about the mystery of it all and feel the bittersweet awareness of lives so engaged with the struggle to be, cut short by the inevitability of death. But my visit with them is always a happy one. I feel a conviviality there, a community with a history and a personality, people who laughed and enjoyed life. I talk to them and ask their help and offer my thanks for the generosity of their lives. It's a short meditation, yet for me it is a genuine spiritual practice. Do they hear me? Am I talking to myself? Does it make any sense? These questions don't come to my mind. I feel an invitation to open my heart, and I respond.

--Thomas Moore, CareoftheSoul.net

~*~

Instant Karma - John Lennon



PS--I need to pause for a decidedly unspiritual question: Is that a sanitary-pad wrapped around Yoko's head? (Hey, not that there's anything wrong with that, Yoko can do what she wants, I am just asking.)

Odds and Sods - Texas and Ohio primary eve edition

By tomorrow, we should all know if Hillary can pull out a win after losing 11 straight primaries. As of tonight, it's still up in the air, and I have been compulsively flipping channels for all the campaign news. The polls are tight. Hillary claims she's "just getting warmed up"--according to Politico.com:

BEAUMONT, Texas — A pugnacious Hillary Clinton refused to handicap tomorrow’s critical primary elections, unbowed by suggestions that she abandon the presidential race if she doesn’t win in delegate-rich Ohio and Texas.

Asked for her measure of success in Tuesday’s four primaries, Clinton was both blunt and vague.

“Winning. Winning. That’s my measurement of success,” she said during a press conference in Toledo, Ohio, before flying to Texas.

Clinton declined to explain whether that means winning the popular vote in all — or even in just one — of the four states in contention: Texas, Ohio, Rhode Island and Vermont. Nor did she say whether it meant winning enough delegates to justify a continued bid.

Asked specifically what she would do in the event that she won narrowly in Ohio but remained behind in the delegate count, Clinton also wouldn’t say.

“I am not a political pundit. I will leave that to all of you,” she said. “I think I know what’s happening, and I believe we are going to do well tomorrow, and I believe that’s going to be a very significant message to the country. And then we move on to Pennsylvania and the states beyond. So, I’m just getting warmed up.”

Much has been written about how Hillary is pulling out the stops, going for broke, doing whatever it takes. This past weekend, she's hit Saturday Night Live, 60 Minutes, and everything in between. Politico's Roger Simon writes:

The stage has been set for a Hillary Clinton comeback on Tuesday.

Nobody knows if she has the votes to do it, but the opportunity is ripe.

She not only is vigorously attacking Barack Obama but simultaneously portraying herself as a victim.

It is a nifty political two-step.

She is a victim because a male-dominated press corps has counted her out, she says, and has lavished praise on Obama without submitting him to any real scrutiny.

At a Clinton rally in Westerville, Ohio, on Sunday, one woman carried a sign that read: “DON’T LET THE PRESS BOY-CRUSH PICK OUR PRESIDENT.”

Time’s Karen Tumulty noted: “Indeed, at Clinton’s first event of the day, there was almost an anger at the idea that the pundits and the press have anointed a winner before the people have voted.”

And Clinton told the crowd: “We’re coming back. … We need someone in the White House again who is a fighter!”

Stay tuned, fight fans!

~*~

Another plug for the Blogswarm Against the War, which will be March 19th. Hey fellow residents of Blogdonia, don't forget to blog against the war!

~*~

If you need some specifically spiritual reading for Lent, check out the wonderful Emerging Women community. Weekly links round-up with always-thought-provoking discussions of where Church ends and We begin! I just love these ladies!

Ren's got some great commentary and links at her place, for International Sex Workers Rights Day. Educate yourself and learn the issues! I just love this lady, too!

And hey, Texans and Buckeyes--don't forget to vote!

Dead Air Church: Backwater

Left: The Greenville County Recycling Center, Stone Avenue in Greenville, SC.


Here at Dead Air Church, we're in a mostly Buddhist mood this 4th week of Lent. Even though wonderful Belledame has just reached the astounding and enviable goal of 250,000 hits on her blog, I have to say, I had one of my lowest hit-counts this weekend, so I am fairly certain no one is reading. One can choose to abandon the blog at this juncture, or progress into even more obscure cultural corners of the Daisy-psyche.

Thus, Dead Air Church brings you the best in 90s Cowpunk nostalgia today, with the Meat Puppets' wonderful BACKWATER. This song is from Too High to Die (1994).

At this time in your humble narrator's life, I was working two jobs (about 50 hours a week); one at a small, community college, and another at a locally-owned video store that was uncomfortably close to the reality of the film CLERKS. In addition, I was madly scurrying to and fro in manic, 90s-soccer-mom mode, dropping young Delusional Precious off at choir rehearsals, sleepovers and clarinet recitals, trying to recycle and leaflet for candidates like a good doobie, attempting to be a good Catholic and never miss Mass, and wondering why I never had any time to myself. It was around this time that my thyroid simply fizzled out, looking backwards half-unconscious from the pain. I felt as if I was in a never-ending foot-race, always bringing up the rear, with no clean socks in the house for ANYBODY.

During this time, in which my life is a total blur, the song hung over my head; constantly serenading me through this addled, sleep-deprived period:

Hey, I'm blind
Good, fine
Roll the time
On whose dime?

And so, arguing with Delusional Precious in the car (no, you can't wear that to school) and trying to remember to let stubborn stains soak, dealing with the unpleasant fact of a dead pet bird (don't ask), driving, driving, driving, to work, to school, to recycle, home, and .... often forgetting where I was going mid-route... ah, those were the days, weren't they? Where did the time go?

The anal-retentive obsession with Recycling took on spiritual significance; something BETTER will come of my wasted days and wasted nights, I thought to myself. The song became a sort of nihilistic personal hymn to the lost hours, microwaved burritos and lack of sleep.

In short, there was some spiritual-sanity there, that these guys were communicating to me. I welcomed their wisdom, then as now. I didn't have time to stop and smell the proverbial roses, but sitting at traffic lights all over the upstate, I heard their words:

In the backwater swirling
There is something that will never change.

Absolutely true. Enjoy!

~*~

Meat Puppets - Backwater

[via FoxyTunes / Meat Puppets]

Sinner's Prayer

(by Slaid Cleaves and Rod Picott)



I'm not living like I should
I want to be a better man
A sinner's prayer upon my lips
A broken promise in my hand
I know that there will come a day
A heavy price I'll have to pay
I keep pretending to be good
But I'm not living like I should

I'm not living like I should
I've let the mystery slip away
The night goes by in dreamless sleep
I'm chasing foolish things all day
I walk this town just like a ghost
I don't know what I miss the most
I'd believe in something if I could
I'm not living like I should

When people see me on the street
They think they see an honest man
They don't know what lies beneath
But some of them would understand
They know the soul and what it hides
You sometimes see it in their eyes
A guilty man where a child once stood
I'm not living like I should

I'm not living like I should
The wolves howl, the robin sings
The world keeps spinning round and round
I wait for mercy's angel wings
Another day another year
Death keeps whispering in my ear
I say a prayer, I knock on wood
I'm not living like I should

I'm not living like I should
I want to be a better man
A sinner's prayer upon my lips
A broken promise in my hands
A squandered gift, a wasted day
Time chases life away
I just wanted to be good
But I'm not living like I should

~*~

Slaid Cleaves - Sinner's Prayer (Live)

[via FoxyTunes / Slaid Cleaves]

Because I do not hope to turn again

Happy Ash Wednesday to everyone. Since I'm seeking my saving grace today, I decided Saving Grace would be our opening Lenten hymn.

(I actually sat through that entire Super Bowl halftime, hoping they would play this song. Ha! Far too intense for the Super Bowl, and besides, only hit songs are allowed.)

I think this really sums it all up, for some of us anyway. Enjoy.

Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers - Saving Grace