>postal pleasure

>For a long time (read: 10+ years of zine publishing) I have had a love/hate relationship with the United States Post Office. I have had some really nice experiences at the PO, and some really horrible ones. I’ve been kind of ambivalent about the new post office I’ve been frequenting lately. None of the employees have been very nice; at best they’ve been cordial on occasion, but often bordering on surly. Today, however, the woman who waited on me was shockingly pleasant and upbeat. She has waited on me before, and at the time didn’t bowl me over with her good nature. I don’t know if she was just having a really awesome day today (it was Friday, after all) or if the PO has instituted some new radical customer service indoctrination program (somehow I doubt this). Anyway, this experience made me feel really good and helped put a nice spin on my day. And it also reminded me of this essay I read on the NPR site the other day, which I will now share with you:

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=18463814

If you scroll down to where it says “Kevin Kelly’s 2007 Christmas Card,” you can read the full essay, which is well worth it.

>light through a crack

>this morning the sky hung apocalyptic above me. i rode through the streets, the air mild around me, and felt good. it has been awhile. i’m not sure what exactly is wrong. maybe i just hate the winter. maybe i keep sabotaging myself. maybe the constant tension is necessary. actually i know it is. the rubber band stretched across my heart dials me in to where I need to be. but the synaptic gaps cannot widen too far or all will be lost.

coughing up words

>There is no glory in cynicism, only smug satisfaction. In these times, though, there is always tension. Tension in mind, tension in life. Tension like taut twine tying together these moments. Moments of uncertainty. Moments of elation and moments of despair. Pure moments of love. And pure moments of complete and utter bafflement at what life is about and what to make of it.

>new growth

>I feel some delicate new shoots begin to grow. I must be careful to shelter them from the storms around me. I only hope that I am not too thin a layer of soil for strong roots to take hold.

>the weakness in passive voice

>A familiar staleness tasted on the lips, spreads outward to mix with the hopelessness of the city. Every week another young person, bright and filled with fighting promise, erased in a snuff of abstruse violence. There is always so much to learn about the things in life, not easily understood until it is too late, when I am weary from throwing myself into constant merciless flight. I don’t belong here. I don’t belong there. Everywhere I go, within moments short or long, I feel far removed and out of place. Others around me seem to know what they are doing and why. But I am always lost and confused, bathed in unease. Two steps behind, perhaps I walk too slow. I seem to always have, in the past.

juggling this mortal coil

>All this death and illness lately has made me sort of nervous. For the most part, I am comfortable with my own mortality. But recent events have shook me. Scratchy’s death was one of the most difficult things I’ve had to face in a long time. The fact that it was so out of the blue scared me. My grip on reality shattered instantly as fear, despair, and helplessness ripped through me when I found him lying there, cold and motionless. I suppose it is common to write about the finality of death, but its irrevocable nature is uniquely difficult to process. It makes me think about all the people (and animals) that I love. They could all equally be harboring some unknown condition inside them that might lead to their death. The same can be said for me. What has now been drifting around in my head is what to do with this information. Maybe Scratchy’s death was an elaborate reminder to me of the fleeting nature of life, and also a wake-up call to plan better for an unknown future. And maybe it too is a simple reminder that I need to more gracefully accept the constant changes hurtling around and through my life.

R.I.P. Scratchy, July 1996 – December 31, 2007

Scratchy, the Super Cat
It is with the deepest sorrow that I write on here today to report the sudden death of my dear feline companion Scratchy. He passed away yesterday afternoon from a heart attack. Unbeknownst to me, Scratchy had developed a heart condition called feline hypertrophic cardiomyopathy (HCM), which is a heart muscle disease where the walls of the heart thicken over time, thus limiting the amount of blood that can be processed by the heart. Often, this condition develops with no visible symptoms, as it did in Scratchy’s case. He appeared lively and healthy up until the point of his death. Complicating the heart condition was another condition, of which I was also unaware. Scratchy was born with one kidney that worked at only a small fraction of the level of his other healthy kidney. With only one kidney filtering his blood, he endured an additional strain on his heart, which likely accelerated the effects of the HCM, leading to his sudden death before any symptoms ever appeared.

HCM is a serious condition for cats, often younger or middle-aged ones, with some evidence suggesting that male middle-aged cats are most frequently struck by it. Although there are medications to help treat the illness if it is caught early enough, the prognosis is rarely good, and most cats don’t live past a year or two after diagnosis. There is no known cure, and eventually the cat will suffer heart failure.

I am so thankful that Scratchy did not suffer. He knew very little pain during his full life, and he likely died almost instantaneously. I found him in the tub, where he had most certainly been engaging in one of his very favorite activities: drinking from the faucet.

As those of you who met him know, Scratchy was a very special cat and he touched a lot of people’s lives. He never failed to win over everyone who met him, even the most hardened of non-cat lovers. All he ever wanted was love, and he had plenty to give in return. He was such a sweet boy, so full of life, and he offered his love unconditionally. He will always remain in my heart in a very special place.

If any of you who read this have a memory or anecdote about Scratchy that you would like to share, I would love to hear it. Please either post it here or email it to me.

somewhere else

dialing in static

>I feel vaguely self-destructive. Flashes flood through the cracks in my psyche. I’m sliced down the middle, split in half, unable to walk on just one leg or the other. Not in the dark, at least. I need more sunlight. I need to not have what I don’t want. And then I need to want what I still have. And when I only have what I want, I should have nothing. Stitched up then, with two legs, and a psyche smooth as polished glass.

our eyes point forward, not backward

As I sat in the kitchen this morning, I looked up from my coffee and newspaper to see a pair of red-winged blackbirds alight on the feeder. What a pleasant surprise it was to see those bright red and yellow patches against a pitch black field of feathers, even more pronounced with the white snowy trees behind. It set my morning off right.

This recent trouble of straying from the now vexes me. It shakes me that even at this point in my life, those feelings can still find me and shuck away my not easily acquired confidence and security. As I stare down the irrational, shooing it away with the love pumping vigorous through my heart’s valves, I am reminded of the need for constant vigilance. I am a human and I am imperfect. At any time, I can unfortunately revisit my past, with all its mistakes, steps untaken, and warped thoughts and feelings. This keeps me vulnerable, while at the same time reminding me of how far I’ve come. The damage cannot be undone, but it can be healed. It can also, with practice, be looked at objectively, learned from, and recognized as a point I have moved far beyond. And I need to allow myself to also see other people’s pasts in this same light. For we are all living together in the now, and what matters most is what happens between us in the present. It is also in part what determines the future. So, in that regard, it is much stronger than what lies in the past. The now is the essence of our resilience as humans. The now is where you and I are, building our lives together one moment at a time.

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