On the Other Side: The Good, the Bad and the Ugly | Marvi Matos

On the Other Side: The Good, the Bad and the Ugly | Marvi Matos.

There is so much of this we have in common with the author…

I too have discovered the true colors of people in my life…and I am sorrowful to say it, but among people who previously knew me, those colors have been cut and run coward and Judas.

Even knowing Them my entire life, and aware They are with me, I am nearly overwhelmed with the separation, the othering, and the distance that has happened due to me being myself…it is really discouraging and troubling, and honestly at times it seems the best option is to simply go away and be gone forever.  I mean, I am so evil as to be othered and judged and policed, so what difference would it truly make if I were not here?  Sadly, the WordPress-osphere would have a ripple or 3, and then go on in its same old same old posts and poems and articles and artifacts.

Thankfully, there have been people brought into our lives we never knew before…and they have made all the difference.  I do believe they would indeed be wounded and wounded deeply…as would my dearest darling, who has very openly asked me to stay for her, cus she likes me a lot…

but I won’t lie…there are days…those days of discouragement, when people you have given all you have to give abscond with it and your name too…yeah, those days.

CONTENT WARNING:  Constance, be aware that at the link there are other links to things that are potentially disturbing to some readers, both in the headlines mentioned and the links themselves.


How Jesus ‘the Glutton and the Drunk’ Embraced Life Beyond the Religiously Accepted Limit | Mick Mooney

How Jesus ‘the Glutton and the Drunk’ Embraced Life Beyond the Religiously Accepted Limit | Mick Mooney.

I really really like this article.  I resonate with it.  Key takeaway, and then go read:

As much as we love Jesus, I think until we allow our own reputation to become as trampled and dirty in the eyes of the religious as he allowed his to become, we’ll never quite understand him, nor his message. Until we break free from the prison of maintaining a religiously acceptable reputation, we will continue to read about the wild Jesus in Scripture, but we’ll struggle to truly understand him, and the way of life he exemplified.

Jesus was a reckless lover of people, and he refused to bow down to the religious expectation of loving from a distance. He was up close, real, and embracing of all people, from all walks of life. He was hated by the religious not for this theology, but for his love, for his love was not made up by words he spoke, but by the life he lived.

It’s a daring thought, a wild, revolutionary act, to consider your religious image in society ‘rubbish’ (to quote the Apostle Paul) in order to come to truly know Christ. But I believe it’s worth it. You might end up with a reputation like Jesus: “Here is a glutton and a drunk, and worse, a friend of prostitutes and sinners.” . . . but isn’t it Jesus we hope to be like in any case?


Sands and Shadows and Pearls

tumblr_n8uexsxvE21svnysso1_1280I do shed tears, these days
(and nights…it is strange to wake
and find the wet residue of sorrows
dried and digging at the corners of my eyes),
I also shed dreams too
(like tears).

I dreamed, last night
(last night…it is strange to wake
and find the dry remnants of dreams
moist and pressed, pushing into the spaces between me and my pillow),
I also shed tears too
(like dreams).

I think…yes.

I dreamed that I walked lands crying
and my tears fell on red sands glistening
(my tears glistening, not the sands, they lay leering, skulking, glaring flat and angry).

my tears
(the ones in my dreams, the ones with no shadow)
my tears on red sands sizzled
because I had no shadow, they had no shadow
(the tears and me, not the sands and dreams)tumblr_n7toayaEkz1sifsb9o1_1280

and then in that glaring sun unbridled, that staring star unfiltered
they (my tears) became pearls
of white
and ivory
and pink
(like the armpits of abalones, who also learned to live without shadows)

(my tears, not the abalones, or the red sands, or the shadows)
became pearls of My Mother, the Mother of Pearls
(born of tears shed on red sands glaring, tears glistening and without shadow)
and then I saw, Her (not shadows or sands) walking there,
sowing in tears and reaping in pearls with nary a diamond in sight
(because diamonds have shadows and slinky songs and glittery platinum brittle best friends)
and She turned to me, She bid me pick them up
(the pearls, not sands and shadows)

and take…eat…and I did and where they lay the sand was gone
(like shadows flee daylight)
and green grass jumped lush into my eyes with verdant glee!
And the pearls tasted like honey
(and clear thirst-quenching shadow-clearing life)
and the pearls became glory within me
and I rose up on glory, I rose up in glory,
glory within me and glory in the air
(and the pearls of my Mother, not the sands and shadows)
and I saw my shadow, distant and crumpled and pinned to the ground
for always by arrows and spears and the knives
of those children of red sand and shadows.

And just as I began to wake
I realized that ever would they gather there,
around that shadow pinned and empty of all save their vitriol and hate
while I walked free but achy across the red sands, with no shadow
between me and that stark sun except for the glory
that’s given by pearls plucked from green grass so verdant
that used to be red sand hot
on which was shed precious
tears without shadow.

So I wake, each time
(not to day, not in night, I wake to me)
I wake and realize I do not need a shadow
to stand between me and the sun and some something
to tell me that I am, I am.

I just need those tears
shed on sands red and glaring
become pearls from my Mother
to wrap me in glory and glory wrapped in me
and no shadow
my shadow forever

and pearls




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