Been thinking lots about....

This post is kind of a sequel to the last one, which has stayed with me the last couple days.

One habit I didn't mention is my love of used books -- when I go into a bookstore, say Powells, I like to purchase and bring home the copies of books that have damaged covers and wrinkled pages. They are just as deserving of love, if not more. They've been places, seen things, gathered scars. The same rule applies for all my mannequins and dolls; I tend to be drawn to those with missing limbs or cracked faces or dirtied clothes. We all need a little rescuing now and then, don't we?

Been thinking lots about "hyper-vigilance", or what I think of as "the flinch method". The last couple years have brought so much change into my life -- or, more accurately, I've brought and accepted change at a seemingly rapid rate -- and now there is a certain stillness to my days. This makes me uncomfortable at times. I'm finding myself trying to fill my time so I don't always have to "think." Luckily, most of my time-gaps these days have been healthy ones (i.e. going for long power-walks with my headphones and getting my heart-rate up and feeling the earth thunder underneath my tennis shoes). I was talking with Meagan about all this yesterday; she's the one who told me that what I'm feeling is called "hyper-vigilance" in social work lingo. In other words, I've been used to "bad" things happening, and my body and heart have been preparing themselves for the next "bad" thing. But, first of all, I have used these as opportunities to become stronger, so in the end they're not bad at all. Secondly, bad things are ALWAYS going to happen! I don't mean that pessimistically. It's just inevitable that we'll go through a breakup, or lose someone close to us, or have something change in our career, or get into an argument with a close friend, or discover something dark about ourselves our somebody we love. But it's also inevitable that we'll feel hope, and strength, and connection, and forgiveness. So right now my body feels like a teacup. I'm filling up with strength; resting; gaining momentum. Letting the Universe incorporate all these lessons, letting the lessons flow through my veins and actually be felt. Really, really, really felt. This has been kind of scary. But it is also filled with grace and a raw, innocent curiosity.

Mom was just telling me about Sarah Palin's new book deal, and we talked about Palin's hunting laws in Alaska, and I can't this image out of my brain: a bear left to bleed and die with its foot in a trap because it's not protected under Palin's laws that got passed. I picture wolves getting gunned down from the sky, their blood spilling over ice and snow. And now Palin is getting paid what, $5 million, to tell her life story and get a book published? How fucked up is this world sometimes?

I've also been thinking lots about my comments in my last post about my characters, their ink-and-paper lives. I wonder why characters chose to come into our realm, and us into theirs maybe. What is it that makes all of us want to leave our mark? Why do we crave a canvas or book spine or name on a monument? These are questions Margaret Atwood addressed in her The Blind Assassin, and these questions haunt me continually. It all seems about immortality, a tangible kind that grounds us in ways that seem...physically safe. Because spiritual immortality can feel abstract, and filled with literally an infinite amount of questions.

Isn't it strange how in one day we can feel gray, and so fully alive with everything crackling through our veins, and sad, and curious? I think it's about making life like a tapestry, letting these various emotions ebb and flow and be one with each other, rather than trying to separate them and overanalyze them.

Hmm.