I had an appointment this morning at Planned Parenthood that I was a little anxious about because I thought I would be getting an exam. Turns out if I make an appointment to get birth control they don't assume I'm getting an exam. I'm supposed to say that. I think I got really lucky, the woman aggreed to give me six months and set up a future appointment for the exam. So nobody prodded that most delicate area with a metal tong and a large swab. Which means I'm not starting the day feeling oddly violated. What was disturbing, though, was a man with a sign on him with a collection of very graphic images of aborted babies pleaded with the women who went in not to go on the grounds of what they do to unborn babies. I was nervous when I realized I would have to pass him to get in and disconcerted by his entreating me not to support such a place. When I set this appointment I had a moment when I did wonder about giving a place that performs abortions my business. Am I supporting that service indirectly? I have complicated personal views about abrotion, I would never personally choose it, but politically I do not oppose it being legal. I could never encourage another woman to get an abortion, but I would never judge her for her own choices. I don't want to support it. But I also see Planned Parenthood as providing services to women that are not provided by anyone else. I respect and appreciate this fact. What ever pain I may feel in the face of ethical and moral dilemnas is muted in me now compared with how these things rocked me to my core in the past. I do not feel my salvation threatened in these moments or being beaten back and forth by a terrible storm. I merely feel a need to identify what is right for me to do in relation to what I believe and to clear what ever confusion lingers between me and a simple decision. The freedom I enjoy at this point in my life is more than I ever imagined possible for me.
I had a dream last night that sat ill with me when I woke up. I was watching a movie (I think- it's hard to tell with dreams- I was watching at any rate) about a family of women. A mother, a daughter (and others, a grandmother and sisters perhaps?) All gathered around a hospital bed with the daughter in it. She spoke to them about how she had ended up there, about her own poor perception that made her situation unavoidable. I remember she spoke a very specific word, "divination", that she had been in her own mind very intuned with her own divining and in this last instance had not been tuned in. And when she said that word my mother turned to me with a very significant look and alert air and repeated that word "divination" with a nod of her head in comfirmation. I knew the word was powerful and that my mother strongly believed in it. She also spoke of her uncle having done something wrong to her, a violation. She was 13. She wore a brown linen tribal style dress that was formless and loose with delicate embroidered detailing around the neck in the same color as the cloth and there was a large blood stain in the center of her chest on the dress. She was languid and restless in her movements. Tossing about on the bed as she told her story. I was troubled and afraid of what was coming. The uncle she spoke of was sprawled out on the floor head lined up with the foot of the bed- feet with the head, in appearance and dress extremely eccentric. He had on velvet clothes in flamboyent colors, many layers and a silly hat. The other women looked down on him to hear his account in reference to the daughters charge. She had called them to ascertain from him anyway. He was mopey, he spoke in a petulant whine like someone who felt everything was unfair and weighed on his actions heavily. He sniveled. He told them that she had come as this playful little girl in her own game and spoke a nonsense langauge in which he was expected to reply and agree. He repeated all her little sayings that were a series of meaningless words and to each he gave his light response of "oh, yes", "of course", etc and in the end asked the women to please tell him what he had agreed to.
I remember nothing else. I wonder vaguely if it relates to the same topic my dreams have been exploring lately. At 13 I lived in Germany. With mixed effect on my outlook and feelings. I felt perhaps lighter, I no longer disappeared in a large crowd of students, instead I was constantly seen by a very tight little group. I felt more individual. I started as an outsider in all ways and gradually conformed to what mattered in this peer group. I went from having very specific and enjoyed tastes to not recognizing them anymore and reflecting what was average around me. I think after two years of that I slightly recovered and regained personal opinions. I think I changed because my own style had been exposed to me as a bit strange and eccentric. I remember on my first day of school I wore a two toned power suit with a skirt and shoulder pads. Purple and black? One half of the jacket was purple the other black. It was some combo of colors that was rather showy. It's funny to think I chose, this time, to disappear, that being in a small group, so closely seen, the safest move was to conform and disappear from public criticism. I was ruled by this little world and relinquished most of my individuality. I gave up my own feelings for theirs, my behavior for theirs, my appearance for theirs. (I seem to be gradually working my way through my life to the present in dreams.) I felt a sort of power and was content with the exchange.
Last night with my arms wrapped around Jeffs shoulders, caressing his hair, his head nestled under my chin I longed in my heart to ask him something. It's strange to me, maybe more fascinating, how a desire can enter my mind and linger with little emotional drive then suddenly come to life in one moment with an urgent power. The thought of getting a place with Jeff has been an appealing consideration for a week perhaps but last night it gained a deeper connection. I have struggeld with myself to ask him and found it so difficult to say. I at least had the sensibility to recognize moments that would have been inappropriate or deprived the question of it's importance. I did not want that. So I let it linger in me and wait. The purely logical part of myself was critical of this compulsion, I could not justify it rationally. What was I waiting for? The gods to light my path and bless the perfect moment with their consent? Was I waiting for an invitation? I guess the faith in me, at this point in my life, to obey my spirit has gotten stronger than my cynicism. In this quiet moment between us, in the restfull dark, I believed that Jeff was aware of my energy and knew that something trembled near the surface waiting for release. And he gave me that invitation. His brother Brian had apparently been thinking about having Amy move in with them. I needed nothing more than the very subject on my mind being brought up to say what had been brewing for days. I felt very full. I love him. It is hard to imagine him becoming more precious to me. I feel full in my heart, to bursting.
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