Rebellious Thoughts of a Woman

It’s getting harder and harder to keep up my positive attitude. There comes a point when even the most bright-eyed and bushy-tailed among the cheery crowd needs to drop the pretense that willing it, visualizing it, focusing on it, breathing about it, and sending out positive vibes will not move Reality Mountain. That is where I am right now. The wall I have been trying to move appears to be immovable. Have I failed in correctly visualizing? Have I not breathed correctly to allow my positive thoughts to impact the universe? Is there a formulation that I didn’t get correctly? What is it? What have I missed? And why have I missed it?

I just came back from Friday night services in my synagogue. And, as usual, I was unable to stop the tearing up when the choir sang and the prayers were recited by the congregation. Maybe it’s the feeling that is felt without even being aware of it that I am in the midst of people who are reaching into themselves, who are reaching out of themselves, who are there for the sake of their own peace and reflection and who are invoking God to help them, to help others, to be there for them, in the sense that they are strengthened in the very act of thinking about a Being who has no ulterior motive, whose existence rests in their perception, whose existence enables their perception.

When I got up to leave, the friend who I was sitting next to asked if I had been remembering a loved one (hence the teariness); I replied that it is my life. She then said, “You are a treasure to all of us.” I barely made it out of the sanctuary before the real tears began. And there was a message from my parents on my cell phone.

But I came home to a full house: monster man and my two daughters. I turned off the AC (it’s 65 outside). He had, of course, closed my door. I opened it and turned on the radio and cranked it up. My hour and a half of praying and calmness did not make me want to turn any cheek (luckily I’m Jewish, so I don’t have to feel guilty about that) but STAND UP. And my daughters asked me to turn it down. I did, and then back up a little, and a little more. He came out, of course, to turn the AC back on. Oh, and he talked into his little tape recorder friend stating that I have purposely turned up the radio to ANNOY him. YES, you got it bud. Call the cops. Call someone to complain. Bring it on!

What are you going to tell them? Are you going to tell them that you cancelled another settlement meeting? Are you going to tell them that you have been playing with people’s lives for nothing other than your twisted sense that you deserve what you want but nobody else? Are you going to tell them that you are a morally-deficient creature who is torturing a woman, and her children, because you have lost all understanding of right and wrong, all RESPECT for others and their right to live unencumbered by your psychosis. TELL THEM!

Ah, the AC game is still on. There was an “Idiot” uttered as he left his room once again to turn the AC on.

He’s on his tape recorder friend again. Yes, it’s 10 and I am listening to Donna Summer at full volume. Is there any other way to listen to disco?

Yes, I am evil. Talk to your little machine. Tell your machine that I have annoyed my daughter with the music. Oh, did I mention that one daughter is wrapped in a blanket and the other is wearing a sweatshirt because it’s cold in here?

He’s getting tough. He has opened his door so I can hear that he is listening to what, CNN News?

Okay. “Loser” and he slams the door. And he opens it again. Oy, I need to go to sleep. I need a good night sleep, not the sleep that a loveseat brings.

I need to breathe and breathe and breathe and close my eyes and bring back the feeling of community that I felt just an hour ago. Just an hour ago I was surrounded by people who united for the common cause of praying together. Of wishing well for themselves, and their families, and their friends, and their community, and the world. And now I am home. And I have none of that.

Here comes Poops, my dog. He is here to be with me; he snuggles against me on the loveseat. And I know that there is a life outside of this place.