7:28 a.m. - 2005-07-13
Possible (hope not) Ending Rant
...And afterwards she bare a daughter and called her name Dinah".
Dinah was the daughter of the despised Leah who, through no fault of her own, was sent in to trick Jacob on his wedding night in place of his beloved Rachel, for whom he had worked seven years. Leah, of slow eye. Leah, the rejected.
Dinah, too, was tricked. Wanting to see the world of the pagan women, Dinah ventured into their festival. There she was seen by Shechem, who deceived and raped her. "And his soul clave unto Dinah," is the way the Bible describes what followed. He "spake kindly unto the damsel". He petitioned his father to procure her for himself in marriage. She was willing, as this provided the only way to cover her shame. Her brothers intervened and all does not go well.
Seduced by inordinate desire for mortal love ... this is her story. This is my story.
"When you know anyone's story, you know everyone's story."
-James Finley
"You are only as sick as your secrets"
- Twelve Step slogan
As I often see more clearly in reverse, what you just read is the preface to what has gone from diary to (hopefully someday) book.
I am going to Hawaii tomorrow, Thursday 7/14 and will not be able to post another entry 'til Friday, 7/22.
I will miss all of you & I'm sure I will be wondering how each of you are doing as I sip my Lava Flows in the tropical sun (except I really do mean it ... I will).
I offer one possible ending to my story ... just in case (not to be dramatic, but I am a nervous flyer - what a metaphor for "Dinah Soars" - I used to love planes as a child. It is yet another thing I learned to fear, although I'm less anxious than I used to be). Anyway, I am sure His angels will keep charge of me and, God willing, guide my plane safely back. In which case, I will continue to ponder, to revise and to add fresh adventures (because this is not really the organic ending - so please, keep reading).
If, by some remote chance, I am not to return ... know that you, the residents of Diaryland, have provided immeasurable solace in so brief a time and have inspired this potential book which I carried like a weight all these many years. Your generous comments have coaxed it to fruition, leaving me so much lighter. I thank you. (How maudlin is this? Bluemeany must be upchucking there in Iraq, where she lives daily in ACTUAL DANGER. I, on the other hand, am just a neurotic traveler on her way to Hawaii, for God's sake!!!!!!) Be that as it may, here is today's entry:
Menageries springing out of rubble. Order out of chaotic gaseous heaps. Spinning. Spinning. Primitive elements purposefully colliding. "Water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink." Terrarium of creatures, rubbing their eyes. Trying to make sense of it all. Humid tangles pressing the glass. God scratches His hoary chin, startling stars into existence. Atoms pick up speed. Light, be! Canopy of glitter. Intoning the daisy. The bear. Me. New as a firefly. His child. Not his, not theirs', not even mine. I stretch like a cat, awakening into that initial sunrise. Graceful. Silky. Preceding hope. My eyes, shaking off sleep, open onto windows of ochre and teal. Subtle longings take on flesh. I am who the Son sets free. Inherent on the earth. Home. Belonging fills me like a child's beach pail. Castles arise out of nowhere as He continues to churn. I am His. He is mine. Paradise.
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