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Liza's Rant

Judith Toy

Blog #5 of 262

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November 6th, 2019 - 10:48 AM

Liza

Walking to her car in the lot, Liza moved stiffly under blackening skies. propelled by outbursts of lightning and the fury of the heavens. There was scant motion in her demeanor. Her heart was still open just enough for tears to well up in her eyes, like two overflowing bowls. But she wouldn't give in. In her truck, as the rain began to pour she looked like the cadaver propped in the corner at an Irish wake, making only the smallest moves in order to stay her course, she stared straight ahead, feeling discarded. Besides having just been crushed by Jasper, her other senses felt swollen and hyper like someone who serves as an intermediary between the living and the dead, or paradoxically, like a beached fish.

The skies ripped open in with a gully washer. Still she stared straight ahead, engaged the wipers at full speed and fought back tears. So what? she said to herself. I don't need any G-D man. I bring home the tofu and fry it in a pan: I'm woman! W-O-M-A-N, momentarily embarrassing herself with the trite old TV ad. How dare he run hot and cold, build me up to break me down? Wait, is that another song? she asked herself. And without missing a beat, What happened to the obvious flirting? What happened to the kind preacher? It's a good thing I'm seeing him in his true light now rather than later. If he calls, he won't get an answer from this chickadee. And so on...rationalizing, scolding, refusing, holding tight her belly.

After a long hour of this rant, she arrived home, slammed the car door shut, left her bag, phone and glasses in the car, got soaked on the lawn walk from the shed to the porch, and stormed through the door. I need to take refuge, she said to herself. The cushion beckoned. Her breath was erratic. She lit a stick of Sitting Zen incense and reluctantly dedicated the offering to Jas. Hold him in the light, she told herself. She sat on the round black cushion in a half lotus. Relaxed her belly. Crawled into the womb of her breath. All is well and all is well and all manner of thing is well, she recited. This is hopeless, she whispered into the dark.

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