im anxious on a saturday and my usual coping methods don’t work like i planned: the shower is lovely but the hot water does little to warm the ice that lines my stomach; cleaning the bathroom hands and knees is a useful distraction but short lived, the beadwork is relaxing but ive got a troubled mind that keeps chattering about sick beds and infection, plane tickets and home owners insurance.
i shop sterling and turquoise at the vintage market and buy some hefty turquoise pieces from my favourite jewelry dealer (i didnt need more turquoise).
my travels take me to the park to collect feathers and watch people. there’s an evangelical christian praise jesus event happening.
people raise their hands to the sky holding cans of cream soda and beer.
there’s a dramatic play happening where actors play out events that might challenge the faith of the believers and the answer to all scenarios is trust god, pray. i watch for longer than i would like to admit. not too far away, a homeless guy is shooting up. words of praise in my ears and the reality of poverty and mental illness collide. i can’t help the guy shooting up so i do pray for him while i clutch my feathers standing amongst the crowd.
there’s a guy with a custom jesus motorcycle and he asks if i want to go for a ride and i say no but i actually really want to. psalm 91:11-12 is on the fender
“for he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways; they will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone”
the guy offers me a prayer book for bikers and a sticker in the AC/DC font that says “jesus: highway to heaven” and i laugh and he laughs too. he has kind eyes i notice and i regret not taking the ride but i have grown a little risk averse as i have aged – figure i have spun the cylinder in deaths revolver a few too many times already. but i love the bike like i love all devotional objects. ive got a blog and he’s got his bike.
i wonder if jesus would ride a motorbike if he came back now – beats walking i guess.
i wander the beach and notice people and notice people noticing me.
a girl recognizes me from instagram (hi) and she’s pretty in that perfect summer way – shorts and a flannel, a nose ring and dirty old chucks. a snapshot of her could be in any photo album from 1979-2026.
i watch a storm roll through the desert city, black clouds looming like the anxiety that drove me to the park in the first place.
i realize that i miss him on the drive home.
hospital vespers 