Chapter Two

"And he sang to them, now in the Elven tongue, now in the speech of the West, until their hearts, wounded with sweet words, overflowed, and their joy was like swords, and they passed in thought out to regions where pain and delight flow together and tears are the very wine of blessedness."
-The Return of the King, J. R. R. Tolkien


She wiped her own tears with her fingers, but felt no blessedness. She sings to herself in an unknown tongue.




Copyright 2007-2009 Parin Stormlaughter, The Carmelite's Habit, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. I do not grant reprint permission. Contact me to request permission to link. And remember that if my work gets published anywhere else, I'll pray for you. And perhaps take legal action. Rest assured, prayer is far more effective.

Free Lodging

Utilities not included

Copyright 2007-2009 Parin Stormlaughter, The Carmelite's Habit, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. I do not grant reprint permission. Contact me to request permission to link. And remember that if my work gets published anywhere else, I'll pray for you. And perhaps take legal action. Rest assured, prayer is far more effective.

Moody Girl and Untitled Man

I write poetry every now and then. This offering is the product of this mood funk I'm in.

Untitled Man



Your lesson is to learn to let him go.
Let him go. Let go.
You know.

I will do it, Mother, I will.
I know how.

Then you know it will hurt you, dear one.
Close your eyes and I will help you.

Shred the bark from the trees,
Blast the dirt into the air for miles,
Incinerate the face of the entire world,
Leave nothing alive.

Rage, raise your flaming arms and burn the very air.
Shake the planets like dice.
Close in around the sun, crush it, crush it.
Leave nothing as it was.

Let him go. Let him go. Let him go.

Turn now.
Turn.
Turn.

Swirling now, going up.
Wrap yourself in everything you've destroyed.
Swirl, like a tornado, that's the way.
Carry everything away.

The earth is a steel ball now.

Naked, standing, eye to eye.
Don't approach. Don't hold. Don't touch.
He's gone. He's gone. He's gone.
(Close your eyes, dear one.
I will help you.)

Your lesson was to learn to let him go.
The scorpion's now stung herself to death.
Remind yourself if should you think of him and join him,
and forget.

Copyright 2007-2009 Parin Stormlaughter, The Carmelite's Habit, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. I do not grant reprint permission under any circumstances. Contact me to request permission to link. And remember that if my work gets published anywhere else, I'll pray for you. And perhaps take legal action. Rest assured, prayer is far more effective.

Hello Darkness, My Old Friend

"Hello darkness, my old friend,
I've come to talk with you again..."
Sounds of Silence, written by Paul Simon


"He's here!"
Legolas, speaking of the mind of Sauron, from LOTR: The Two Towers, the movie adapted by Phillippa Boyens, Fran Walsh, and Peter Jackson



Early every year, generally during Lent, I have a huge mood crash.

I heard the Chinese gong of tinnitus in my right Meniere's ear earlier. I have four separate tones and timbres of tinnitus that I hear bilaterally, every day, 24/7. The Chinese gong sound is not one of them. A full-blown Meniere's attack is coming.

In the last three or four years I've developed mood crashes in association with Migraine attacks too. Full moon next week, Tuesday I believe, the Worm Moon as this one is called. Full moons always trigger Migraine attacks.

This year, the absolutely perfect alignment, and my old friend has come.

Death. Impending world-wide disaster (be under no illusion, I've dreamt it in the last week and saw it--it's coming). Loneliness even, and that's an odd thing to trouble me. I relish solitude and silence, cannot get enough. A week from tomorrow will be 18 years since the last time I was with my ex-husband. I'm a sworn celibate since my divorce. It's...tough.

Longing for God that cannot, and I mean cannot be expressed. It's a soul thing, souls that have no five senses to process information. How does a person talk about an event that doesn't come into the mind through one of the five senses? How does a person continue to live like this? St. Teresa of Jesus tried to talk about it. Once she said that she died because she could not die. I understand.

It hurts, to want like this. To want God so utterly inexpressibly, to want that which by everything I hold to be right would be completely wrong, to want to be already past the coming purgation, to want to adjust time and erase the last two years completely from all remembrance. I smolder without being consumed for the future, that which for me may forever remain just beyond the tips of my sparkling fingers. The pain is...exquisite.

Darkness, my old friend, is never far away.

It's 3:00AM.


"....'Take my arms that I might reach you,'
But my words like silent raindrops fell,
And echoed in the wells of silence.
The Sounds of Silence, written by Paul Simon


"No one knows what it's like to feel these feelings,
Like I do.
And I blame you."
Behind Blue Eyes, written by Pete Townshend of The Who



Copyright 2007-2009 Parin Stormlaughter, The Carmelite's Habit, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. I do not grant reprint permission under any circumstances. Contact me to request permission to link. And remember that if my work gets published anywhere else, I'll pray for you. And perhaps take legal action. Rest assured, prayer is far more effective.

Cancer and death

Please, if prayer is in your belief system, pray for my cousins and Aunt Mary. And my mother, who has been hit hard by this.

The doctor told my cousins that my Aunt Mary had two hours to live, when my cousin called this afternoon. She has most likely died by now.

I've only got eleven cousins on my father's side (got thirty three on mom's side) so we're somewhat closer. My poor cousin cried and cried while we were talking.

My mother has lost some ground now. Her husband and now her sister-in-law, gone from cancer in nine months.

We love you all. Please, please, please get checked for cancer. Get treated. Please live.



Copyright 2007-2009 Parin Stormlaughter, The Carmelite's Habit, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. I do not grant reprint permission under any circumstances. Contact me to request permission to link. And remember that if my work gets published anywhere else, I'll pray for you. And perhaps take legal action. Rest assured, prayer is far more effective.

Happiest Birthday to Me

Today is my birthday. I'm 48 years old.

Today is also the Feast of St. John of the Cross, my hero in Carmel.

As we say down here, "We po'fokes". I told Assistant Offspring to save their money and not get anything for me. What they did for me has made me giggle all afternoon. They bought a card, and baked a small chocolate cake.


The cake is amazing. Here it is with my halite lamp behind it, sitting on a coverlet that's more than 100 years old. It was made completely by Mary Alice Fisher. She was my maternal great-grandmother. Keeps me warm of a night.







Only one candle but it looks like it's on fire... :)


But the card took the cake. Open it, and it plays--The Hampster Dance.

I screamed. We all sang at the tops of our lungs. I love Hampsterdance. And Assistant Offspring knew and had bought this card a while back and saved it for me.

Microwaved birthday cake and a Hampsterdance card. And love, so much love.

Have I ever had such a wonderful birthday? If so, it was nearly 30 years ago...

I love you all.

Hampsters and the Kung-Fu Gerbil battle it out

Unconditional Love

We've had a thread going on the www.menieres.org bulletin board about unconditional love.

It's been eye-opening to read the opinions.

Once I set my will to love, I never rescind it. Ever.

I might not live with you, I might not talk to you, I might not pay you any attention if you've hurt me or threatened me with no apology or attempt to make things right, but if I have set my will to love you, love you I shall now, henceforth, and forever.

I said this to someone who has my unconditional love:

Need blood? You can have mine. Need new lungs? You can have mine. Want a new heart? You can have mine--wait, you already have my heart...

I'm not going to put myself in the way of someone who is going to hurt me, deride me, mock and scorn me. But if I love you, I love you. Forever and ever.

Amen.

Fix it or don't. It's all the same to me. Decide if you want to be friends or not. Your decision won't have any effect on whether I love you. That has been decided.

I'll continue to pray for you, love you, and do it all in the quiet of my heart. If you seem to me to need sweet reminding, I'll remind you. But I'll say this again: I'm not going to put myself in the way of someone who is going to hurt me, deride me, mock and scorn me. And encourage others to do the same things.

Unconditional love? Or tough love? Is there a difference?

Beware of shysters and taking a break

The Carmelite's Habit staff is taking a short break.

I verbally jerked a knot in somebody's tail this morning and made myself sick in the process. Doesn't matter that I'm in in the right. Anger this intense, emotions of this intensity regardless of the circumstances good or bad, have made me so sick in the past that it's gotten away from me and I've ended up in bed for a week.

Stress is my number one Meniere's trigger and right now, tinnitus in my ears is screaming. I'm nauseated and my chest is hurting. I'm stress-eating Reese's Miniatures.

Beware of shysters.

The Shining Knight of Smoke

I
In a Castle underground,
Lived a knight of great renown.
Known for deeds of manly strength,
Done for love of man.

And he would laugh in the moonlight,
Sing in the dark,
Ride through the starlight,
Swiftly, 'til he

Reached his Castle, cold and grey,
The Shining Knight of Smoke.

II
In the Castle with him lived
Stately Jester, deeply hid,
Under miles of granite will,
Safe to make his rhymes.

And he would laugh in the moonlight,
Sing in the dark,
Write in the dawnlight,
Swiftly, 'til he'd

Conjured monsters for his lord,
The Shining Knight of Smoke.


II
From a castle in the sky,
Came a Spectre, weary-eyed.
Through with seeing, face to face,
Deux ex machina.

And so she rode through the darkness,
Cursing the night,
Tripping and falling,
'Til a voice from

Earthward broke the spell and said,
"Behold the Knight of Smoke."

And then they rode through the moonlight,
Lord and Ghost,
Down to the Castle,
When the Jester

Saw them coming, lit a fire,
and filled the night with smoke.

(c) 1983 Cordia Enterprises USA


Lyrics of a song I wrote in 1981 and copyrighted in my Collected Works in 1983. The full song became part of a term paper for one of my university English classes. It's one of Libchik's favorites.

Angel of Autumn

Just wanted to share this pic from my back yard.

Does the cloud sorta look like angel wings with a halo? Does to me. :)

I hope my next column will be about a theory of why all major cultures around the world commemorate death at the end of October and the beginning of November--Halloween, All Saints' Day and All Souls' Day here in the US. I read about this theory in a book about the mythical lost Atlantis. Fascinating, just fascinating.

It's Raining, It's Pouring...

It's raining,
It's pouring,
My love life is boring me to tears,
After all these years.

No sunshine,
No moonlight,
No stardust,
No sign of romance..."

Barbra Streisand, No More Tears
Songwriters: Roberts, Bruce; Jabara, Paul


It's my own fault, you know--that my love life is boring. I'm not doing anything about it. If nothing is what you do, nothing is what get's accomplished...

Right now, it's pouring rain outside. Lovely, cool, sweet rain, making the grass wet and the trees drip. I love water. I love rain.

I'm grateful for the rain. It has been so, so dry and bright and hot. No real cool weather in sight yet but Aikichik and I are ready for it. Libchick says that even she is ready for cool weather and that's a shock. She wears sweaters and hoodies in the heat of summer.

Had to reset the Meniere's ticker because of the storms so I thought I'd share my mood whilst I was here.


"No more tears,
No more tears,
No more tears.

I've had it.
I've had it.
You've had it.
She's had it.
No more tears..."

Quit Hollerin’, I’m Fixin’ to, or I’ll Slow Down if You’ll Hurry up!

Folks down here tickle me.

We live in the Deep South and have for more than two hundred years. My family contributed to the development of such things as Southern Hospitality and Southern Drawl. We’re a typical Alabama family: I have 33 first cousins on my mother’s side alone; however, none of us are married to one another.

The Language of Alabama is truly something special. Down here, we’re always fixin’ to do something.


Grandma: I’m fixin’ to go to Piggly Wiggly.
Grandpa: Well Honey-baby, if you’ll slow down, I’ll go with you.
Grandma: I will slow down if you’ll hurry up!


My parents had that conversation the other day. Those old folks just tickle the snot out of me sometimes.

We also have Standard Pronouns for gender: Man, Woman, Boy, Youngun, and Sweet Thing. Down here, Youngun and Sweet Thing are pronouns.

Granny: Hey, Man, bring us in some firewood. Let’s have a fire and I’ll put me on some of that cologne from Christmas.
Grandpa: We hain’t got time, Woman. Them younguns is gonna be here shortly and that boy is bringin' that sweet thing from down at the mill.

Old Alabama joke
Question: What’s the plural of “y’all”?
Answer: “All y’all”

I don’t imagine any single word is as closely associated with deep south speech as the word “y’all”. A contraction of ‘you’ and ‘all’, it has a couple of pronunciations including one that sounds like ‘yaw’.

Freddie: Yaw come on, Jamie and me are fixin’ to go swimmin’ at the quarry.
Barbara: Y’all go on, we’ll be over there in a little bit.
Freddie: Yaw gonna bring some KFC? Jamie’s got the beer already.
Barbara: Who all is coming? Can I go get Tammi and them?
Freddie: Sure, all yaw can come. We’ll have us a good time no matter.


And bless our hearts! If there’s any problem we can’t solve for someone but want to show we care anyway, we can always bless someone’s heart.


Jeanetta Rae: Bless Freddie’s heart, that poor youngun hain’t got a ride to work ‘cause his truck’s broke down. He’s fixin’ to walk.
Georgia: Y’all got that motor bike out there. Cain’t he take that?
Jeanetta Rae: That boy duhdn’t know how to ride that bike!
Georgia: Yaw didn’t show him how?
Jeanetta Rae: Naw, uhn-uhn!
Georgia: It’s a good five-mile walk to the plant, bless his heart. He’ll be wore out ‘fore he gets there.

And yonder is another colloquial gem.

Eddie: What’s that over yonder?!
Cleo: Old turkey buzzard.
Eddie: Naw! That thing further out yonder!
Cleo: You just lookin’ at that smoke from the trash pile, sugar.
Eddie: No!! Way out yonder!
Cleo: Hmmm...What the hell is that?
Eddie: I don’t know, but I’m fixin’ to go get my gun. Looks like a damned UFO to me!


Holler is both a noun and a verb here in the Deep South. Right after my mother bought her farm land, she and my father encountered hunters who politely knocked on her door and asked if they would direct them to Meat Holler. They were referring to a lovely dale with a natural artesian spring visible from my parent’s back deck. It is a hive of animal activity and the hunters had heard they’d find quarry in Meat Holler.

We also holler to speak. An alternate spelling is holla.

Granny: Boy, holler down to yore Grandpa and tell him lunch’s ready.
Freddie: Yes ma’am. Can I holler over and see if Jamie wants to eat?
Granny: Yeah, you can holler at him too, bless his heart.
Freddie: [at the barn door] Grandpa!
Grandpa: Holla!
Freddie: Granny says lunch is ready! And I’m fixin’ to holler at Jamie to see if he wants to eat too.
Grandpa: He’s way out yonder at the fence down in the holler. Better take the truck.
Freddie: Cain’t, Grandpa. It’s broke down.
Grandpa: Well youngun, I guess you’d better make tracks if yaw gonna get back ‘fore I’m ready to sit down.
Freddie: I’m fixin’ to go right now.


Wonder what would all these sound like strung together?

[Jeanetta Rae and Georgia are drinking iced tea on the porch]

Jeanetta Rae: Bless Freddie’s heart, that poor youngun hain’t got a ride to work ‘cause his truck’s broke down. He’s fixin’ to walk.
Georgia: Y’all got that motor bike out there. Cain’t he take that?
Jeanetta Rae: That boy duhdn’t know how to ride that bike!
Georgia: Yaw didn’t show him how?
Jeanetta Rae: Naw, uhn-uhn!
Georgia: It’s a good five-mile walk to the plant, bless his heart. He’ll be wore out ‘fore he gets there.

[Grandma walks out the front door, Grandpa right behind her]

Grandma: I’m fixin’ to go to Piggly Wiggly.
Grandpa: Well Honey-baby, if you’ll slow down, I’ll go with you.
Grandma: I will slow down if you’ll hurry up! [they leave]
Jeanetta Rae: You heard what Eddie and Cleo saw the other day?
Georgia: Naw
Jeanetta Rae: She and Eddie were out back and he said, “What’s that over yonder?!” and Cleo says, “Old turkey buzzard.” Eddie said, “Naw! That thing further out yonder!” Cleo says, “You just lookin’ at that smoke from the trash pile, sugar.”
Georgia: Eddie can’t see for nothing!
Jeanetta Rae: So Eddie hollers, “No!! Way out yonder! Well then Cleo says, “Hmmm...What the hell is that?” Eddie says, “I don’t know, but I’m fixin’ to go get my gun. Looks like a damned UFO to me!”

[Later in the day. Great smells are coming from the kitchen]

Granny: Boy, holler down to yore Grandpa and tell him lunch’s ready.
Freddie: Yes ma’am. Can I holler over and see if Jamie wants to eat?
Granny: Yeah, you can holler at him too, bless his heart.
Freddie: [at the barn door] Grandpa!

Grandpa: Holla!
Freddie: Granny says lunch is ready! And I’m fixin’ to holler at Jamie to see if he wants to eat too.
Grandpa: He’s way out yonder at the fence down in the holler. Better take the truck.
Freddie: Cain’t, Grandpa. It’s broke down.
Grandpa: Well youngun, I guess you’d better make tracks if yaw gonna get back ‘fore I’m ready to sit down.
Freddie: I’m fixin’ to go right now. Jamie’s gonna holler when I tell him Granny’s made chicken and sweet potatoes.
Grandpa: Yep, not many women can cook like yore Granny. Now go on and git!

[After lunch, girl-next-door is over for a visit]

Freddie: Yaw come on, Jamie and me are fixin’ to go swimmin’ at the quarry.
Barbara: Y’all go on, we’ll be over there in a little bit.
Freddie: Yaw gonna bring some KFC? Jamie’s got the beer already.
Barbara: Who all is coming? Can I go get Tammi and them?
Freddie: Sure, all y’aw can come. We’ll have us a good time no matter.

[Later that evening]

Granny: Hey, Man, bring us in some firewood. Let’s have a fire and I’ll put me on some of that cologne from Christmas.
Grandpa: We hain’t got time, Woman. Them younguns is gonna be back here shortly and that boy’s got that sweet thing from down at the mill.

And so on, as the barbecue turns on the grill...

I love my home in Alabama. If y’all up yonder ever come down this way, slow down and holler at us! We’re fixin’ to eat right now.

When Love Slows Down to the Temperature of Absolute Zero

There is no living, moving love left in this entire world.

People have put their starved souls off somewhere else, where they won't have to see their own slowly turning, tumbling spiritual bones.

If by some ACCIDENT your body and soul become integrated units the way God intended them to be, and you see the state of this damaged, children's-rhyme and Tinkertoy-world and it HURTS you, for God's sake there are medicines and doctors and you have a responsibility to take care of that, young lady.

Heaven is watching the living love on Earth slowly reaching the temperature of absolute zero. If in theory all matter ceases to exist when it reaches absolute zero, what will happen when love on Earth reaches absolute zero?