Monday, 5 October 2009

Drink Your Tea

I just called out to Dave to come over to me, I had to show him something. He eagerly came running ... under the mistaken impression "I want to show you something" was code for "sexy love time." So he's standing there all happy and expectant, and I turn to show him my computer screen. I told him I wanted to show him a poem.

He walked over, grumbling something about "Dumb poem ..." but he let me read it to him.

He has been so busy, and stressed, and not himself. For ages, now. He's stuck, in the middle of trying to make some major life changes because of everything the cancer taught him. His values ... both of our values, have changed. It's good, but the transition is a killer.

We just lived 17 weekends in one .... a comedy of errors and bullshit and tangles. Drove down to do a recovery convention in Sydney, have a big blow-up in the car, I storm off and slam the door in the MIDDLE of Sydney traffic. Because I'm psycho and dysfunctional like that. Five phonecalls and one public crying session later, I make it to the convention. Walk in ... every meeting has a different topic. The meeting I walked into? Relationships in Recovery. HA. Thank GOD I did not get asked to share, is all I can say.


I'm halfway through emailing/blog commenting on everybody who wrote such lovely comments to my last post. It sucked to write it out, but it's done now and helped me work through some stuff. Thanks. A LOT. It's taking me some time .... I need to apologise to Almamay properly, tell Free Man how his comments are like a breath of fresh air .... I need to read where other people are at in their lives, take it in, and comment properly. It's satisfying, but hard. I'm woefully behind on everything. I suck. And then I don't post because I haven't responded and then I get emailed and then I post but I always feel bad. Does anyone have a commenting strategy? Help!


This afternoon, I took Rocco's nappy off. It wasn't even halfway down his legs when he promptly did a big fat wee all over me. I'm mopping it up, he's in his room ... I go in there, SHIT EVERYWHERE. All over the carpet, in clumps. I pick him up, put him outside his room, I then kneel IN SHIT ... he starts doing the biggest wee all over the floorboards. So there's piss and shit all over the house, a cranky baby, an even crankier mother. My brother is standing there in shock .... "DON'T HAVE KIDS!" I hissed, on my way to the bath.

But I didn't mean it.


So. Dave's poem. I told him Universe chose it just for him, and was using me as a conduit. He looked at me strangely, wishing he'd just gotten a blowjob instead.


Drink Your Tea


Drink your tea slowly and reverently,
as if it is the axis
on which the world earth revolves
- slowly, evenly, without
rushing toward the future;
Live the actual moment.
Only this moment is life.

- Thich Nhat Hahn


  1. I dont think your husband, or mine appreciate these types of gestures.

    DUDE- Soleil has started to take off her diapers when she poos and flings it over her crib, with shot on the floor, in the crib. Then she starts crying, "caca" hysterically, like she cant believe she has shit in her bed. Well, you wouldnt have shit in your bed if you didnt take off your diaper, now would you?

  2. I meant with *shit* on the floor

  3. Loved the poem. Thanks for that.

    As for shit and transitions and meltdowns and comments. Ack. No wisdom here, just recognition. Check. Check. Check. Check.

    It's always good to see you ... in a post, in a comment, on someone else's blog, on twitter, wherever. I think everyone has trouble keeping up ... no one has time for it all. And if they do, it's usually at the expense of something, eh? So take care of yourself. We love you. Drink your tea.



  4. Thanks fuck the Little Guy never was a nappy-taker-offer! That tale made me dry retch.

    *Applause* for the fucked up walk-out in traffic, been there done that. Obviously you made up 'cause now you're being all nice and finding him monumentally lovely poems. I does like that one.


  5. The juxtaposition of Rocco's nappy and that poem are brilliant. Because THAT'S HOW LIFE IS!

    Thank you, Eedz, for shifting me today.

  6. I find it's much easier to respond to comments when you have no readers ;) However, I love reading you so that won't work. Just know that we don't type messages waiting for responses. We say what we say so you know how we feel.

  7. Relationships in Karma??

    Did I ever tell you the story about S2 taking off his FULL OF SHIT diaper, putting his pants back on BY HIMSELF, and about an hour later, wet the pants (I couldn't figure out how it came through the diaper---the one I didn't know he took off..)while I was walking around trying to figure out where the shit smell was coming from. He hid the diaper behind a chair.

    He is so lucky to still be alive, and I cannot wait till he has own kids :) Once again...karma.

  8. Oh it's so nice to have a girl who was never interested in the contents of her diaper. After the second day of daycare potty training boot camp, she hasn't really had a serious accident (it's only week 2, though). I hope it continues.

    I hope you gave Dave the blow job he was hoping for too! :)

    It would probably make him appreciate the poem.

  9. Na, go see Red Cliffs - a Chinese shoot em up that talks a lot about tea. He'll really get it AND have fun.

    Not as much fun as a bj, but, you know ...

  10. I laughed how he stood there happy and expectant. :)

    VERY good poem. Very good. One we should all try to live by.

  11. That's a beautiful poem. The shit and piss on the floor and your knee, not so much. Hope today is better.

  12. I would have been annoyed if I were summoned to read a poem as well, but that's not really a poem so much as a nice little snippet of life wisdom.

    Truth be told, in the mood I've been in lately I would be annoyed to be summoned to read a nice little snippet of life wisdom.

    And as for reading/commenting/guilt stuff - don't bother with it. If people are commenting because they expect a comment in return then they can just get over it. I read you because it helps me deal with myself, if you know what I mean.

  13. Oh that description of poo every where just gives me shivers. That's scary stuff.


Write to be understood, speak to be heard. - Lawrence Powell

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